#tee i literally cried

[seiwas]

omfg i ran out of tags talking abt this tee but !!!

there’s this line: maybe he’s fine just coming home to you

and it just!! was the final blow !!! my heart clenched !!!

i love it when people talk about one another as if they aren’t talking to each other if that makes sense… or people talking abt themselves ! but in third person idk !!! there’s something so flirty snd teasing about it !! but also so shy and i love it 🥺 when u say things like that !! with the maybe’s and all, it’s so soft !! and honest !! and tender !!

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ LUCKY — GOJO SATORU.

contents. baths + non sexual nudity, established relationships, tired toru :(, lots of kissies and praise for the babie :(, solid proof in the form of writing of how embarrassingly lovesick i am for this FOOL

it’s past midnight when satoru walks into your bathroom. he doesn’t even question why you’re in the bath so late—just gives you a lopsided grin tiredly as you smile.

“you’re home,” you brighten.

“look at you,” he coos, staring down at you with amused eyes, “waitin’ for me?”

satoru is tired���you can tell from the way the his shoulders are slouched and his blindfold is clutched in his hand. “i was,” you hum in agreement, “c’mere.”

it’s all it takes. he’s stripped down and waiting for you to move up so he can slide behind you in seconds, hand waving to motion you forward. but you’re stubborn—you shake your head as you hold an arm out for him.

“baby,” he whines, “c’mon i was out fighting big bad curses all day. jus’ lemme hold—”

“no. just come here, toru,” you insist.

there’s something about it—something about the way your voice is so gentle, so insistent, so knowing. it’s like you can read him more than he can, sometimes. satoru is tired, you can see it, you can feel it. you can’t carry his burdens, but you can hold him while he holds the weight of the world for a night.

maybe it’ll do for now—maybe it’ll even be enough and more.

“what? feelin’ like pampering me today?” he teases, “aren’t i a lucky guy,” he hums—but he climbs into the tub anyway, settling between your legs, leaning his back against your chest as his head falls back against your shoulder.

instantly, two gentle kisses plant themselves against his head, and his eyes flutter shut. he’s starting to feel the beginnings of a headache form—the gentle thump in his skull just barely there, but persistently present.

your thumbs rubs along the sides of his head, enough pressure to soothe the pain like you know it’s coming—he thinks you must.

“you are a lucky guy,” you giggle, “look at me. such a catch.”

he grins, chuckling that boyish chuckle of his freely in your arms as he relaxes. it’s been a while since he’s relaxed, you think—it’s half past midnight and he’ll be up with the sun in a bit to head back to the school, but it’s nice to know he’s relaxed. even just for this short, rare moment.

“oh yeah,” he nods, lips curled into a grin as he cracks an eye open and peers up at you, “s no catch like my pretty ‘lil baby. i’m living it up.”

“glad you know your privileges,” you murmur contently, shaking your head in amusement as you wrap your arms around his body. one hand rubs over his abs—he wants to tease you about feeling him up, wants to make a sly comment about missing his body more than him while he was gone. but there’s something about it, about the way it’s so slow and soothing and soft—it’s so painfully soft, satoru swallows.

finally, he lets his body go slack against yours, sliding down so his head rests against your chest and the water soaks more of his body. it’s warm. the water and your arms. it’s all so, so warm and forgiving.

“aren’t you gonna tell me how lucky you are too? i’ll listen, don’t worry. no interruptions.”

“yeah?” you chuckle, threading fingers through his hair and pulling a soft sigh from him, “wanna know how lucky i am?”

“course,” he murmurs, “well, i already know you’re lucky. it’s me after all—but i’m not opposed to hearing it.”

“how humble of you, satoru,” you snort.

he grins wider—he hasn’t had a chance to smile all day. not properly, at least.

“feel free to start any second,” he says with a wink. then his eyes flutter shut again as your thumb traces his cheek, ever so gently running along the soft angles of his face.

it’s pretty—everything about him is pretty. there are no ugly parts to satoru. just the parts painted from cruel hands. they’re beautiful too, you like to think, in their own, fragile little ways.

“okay,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his head, “i’m very lucky,” you murmur into his hair.

he hums, mumbling a quiet, “knew it.”

“lucky i have such a handsome face to greet,” you pepper kisses along his forehead and find his cheek, giving it an affectionate little bite that makes him huff out an amused chuckle. “and he’s so tall too,” you add, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“that all he is?” he pouts, “just a pretty face? you’re breaking my heart, baby.”

“no,” you say quietly, grabbing his hand and brushing a thumb over his knuckles, “he’s also kind. too kind, sometimes,” you say quietly, “he comes home a bit later than usual every once in a while because he took his students out to eat. he loves them a bit too much, i think.”

“no such thing as too much love,” he hums, squeezing your hand.

you smile, admiring him as he lays against you, small in your hold even with the larger than life weight he carries.

“and he’s strong,” you add, “really strong. it’s not fair sometimes,” you whisper, “he’s got so much on his plate.”

“he handles it fine,” he assures, “he always does.”

“and then he still makes time for little old me,” you say fondly, kissing his shoulder, “never lets me feel lonely. he’s too good to me.”

“there’s no such thing as too good for you,” he gasps offendedly, pouting like you’ve insulted him, “he’s definitely not—”

“and sometimes, he comes home tired. and he tries to act like he’s not because he’s a bit of a prick who doesn’t let me help, but i’m smart and i know him well so i’ve figured it out. and if i’m extra lucky, i might get to hold him for a bit like this and help him relax.”

you squeeze him gently for emphasis, holding him closer as you press your nose into his neck and breathe in his smell. it’s like cologne that’s rudely expensive and that sweet smell only satoru has—it’s all you want to breathe in for the rest of your days.

you hope he’ll allow you that much. something tells you he will.

satoru swallows thickly at that, rubs a thumb over your bare thigh as he rests his free hand over it, the other still in your grasp.

and then, quietly, “maybe he’s fine just coming home to you,” he shrugs, “who can stay tired with such a sweet face waiting at home?”

“i don’t know,” you say thoughtfully, “he’s got a lot to take care of. wonder how he does it.”

“he’s probably the strongest,” he shoots with an easy grin, “sounds like the strongest to me.”

“he is,” you nod, “he’s a lot more than that too. i’m lucky he’s mine.”

“oh yeah?” he drawls—there’s something a little shaky about his voice though.

you choose not to mention it, pressing soft, delicate kisses along his jaw as you murmur, “yeah. he makes me feel really, really lucky. love him so much.”

“love you too,” satoru breathes, “guess we’re both really, really lucky.”

don’t talk to me i don’t want to be perceived. that’s enough softness for a lifetime so the next time i write him he’s getting hit by a bus

[pompomflan]

god work is so embarrassing like yes i promise i look better outside of these clothes

[toytle]

everything abt this is outdated but ykw. tag yourself anyway, i’m jean and fred

text ID under cut:

lasik (scott): 1) gifted kid burnout + eldest sibling syndrome 2) leader by choice(..?) 3) “this is fine.”

mom jeans (jean): 1) leader but not by choice 2) never forgets a birthday 3) gets away with things due to her reputation

fuzzy elf (kurt): 1) tries to be hip with the kids (is a kid) 2) honorary catboy 3) fingerguns his way out of situations

:3 (kitty): 1) impulsive shopper 2) livetweets everything 3) says ‘omg’ and ‘ttyl’ outloud 4) bakes muffins for her friends! they are inedible!

skater boi (evan): 1) cool guy syndrome 😎 (undiagnosed adhd) 2) steals food off his friends' plates 3) PARKOUR!

e-girl blueprint (rogue): 1) hopeless romantic 2) only child AND middle child energy 3) knows the best thrifting spots

“””team leader””” (lance): 1) tries a lot, fails a lot 2) anger is default emotion 3) probably named his car betty or smth

actual team leader (pietro). 1) cool guy syndrome 😎 (unmedicated adhd) 2) causes problems on purpose 3) motivated by attention

toad (todd): 1) thinks he's just soo funny. well, he is. 2) hasn't showered in a month 3) stays out of drama but Will grab the popcorn

bombshell blonde (tabitha): 1) self-loathing vs superiority complex: fight! 2) flirts with friends 3) parties to avoid being alone with her thoughts

scarlet bitch (wanda): 1) hates authority figures 2) cuts her own hair. and clothes. 3) in a constant state of overstimulation 4) deserves to snap tbh

hey it’s (fred)!: 1) cries easily 2) would literally murder for friends 3) treats plushies like living creatures

professor clean (xavier): 1) “hello el gee bee tee que community" 2) adopts every child he sees 3) knows everything and yet nothing at all

grrrr (logan): 1) that sounds like a you problem." 2) acts like he hates kids but tacks their drawings to the fridge 3) believes that violence is the answer

weather report (ororo): 1) everyone's bisexual awakening 2) has high expectations for everyone, including herself 3) live laugh love 😊😊😊 or else

mr beast but like actually (hank): 1) god, i could really use a drink." *makes chamomile tea* 2) longs to be a smooth rock basking in the sun 3) gives unwarranted life lessons

another blue one (mystique): 1) #girlboss 2) “gay rights but only for me" 3) loves her son but will dropkick other children

magnum dong (magneto): 1) heterophobic 2) "you have the moral backbone of a chocolate eclair" 3) does not love his son AND will dropkick other children

[chososlittlecrybaby]

₊˚⊹♡ CALLING JJK MEN DADDY!

WARNINGS : spanking, back shots, missionary, dacryphilia, mean!nanami, squirting, size kink, choking, breeding kink, public sex, cunniligus. fingering, thigh riding, reverse cowgirl, double penetration(sukunas part) pussy slapping.

GOJO, NANAMI, CHOSO, SUKUNA, GETO

GOJO SATORU

“Pretty girl.. you need to be quiet. Yaga is next door.” Gojo said, sliding his middle and ring finger through your wet folds. You grip onto Gojos hair, yanking it. “It’s hard to be quiet when you’re literally playing with my pussy.” You spat back. Gojo then stuck both of his fingers into your dripping cunt, taking his thumb and gently rubbing your clit. You became a mess in mere seconds. You slapped your hand over your mouth, squirming under Gojos touch.

“Stay still and stop moving.”

You shivered, his voice sending butterflies through your stomach. Gojo sped up his violent movements in your pussy. Tears started to come out of your eyes. You shut your legs, trying to catch your breath. “Open ‘em back up pretty girl” Just as he said that, He wiggled his fingers in your cunt. It took you over, you opened your legs and let out a loud moan, not giving a care in the world that Yaga was a wall away.

Gojo gave you a kiss, sliding his tongue into your mouth. You reached down to grab his wrist. “D-Daddy it’s t’much.” You whined. Gojo stopped all his movements. “The things you do to me girl” Gojo said, his dick now rising up against your back.

NANAMI KENTO

“D-Daddy I’m sorry!” You whined. Nanami slapped your ass again. Flesh turning red from the rough treatment. “Pretty girl, you know better than to act like that with me.” He said, hand coming down to your ass again. You cried, it hurts, but it hurts so good. “I-I’m sorry nami.. I won’t do it a-again!” You jolted mid sentence feeling nanamis hand slap your ass again. “Lay down f’me girl.” You turn over and lay on your back, spreading your legs open.

“Such a pretty fucking pussy.” He said, slapping your clit. “ you arched your back off the bed. Nanami takes his dick and lines it up with your cunt. He pushes in stretching you out instantly. “Ooh shit.” You moaned, going to rub your clit to ease the pain. “Daddy you’re so big!” You cried out when he began to move. “Fuck.” Nanami groaned and the tightness. “Gonna teach you some fucking manners.”

CHOSO KAMO

You grabbed on to chosos shoulders grinding your pussy onto his clothed thigh. “You got it mama.” Choso said, voice deep and reaching. You shook from the cold air in the room. “Choso I wanna cum.” You said pouting. “You wanna cum pretty girl? You think you deserve it?” He said, hands on your waist moving you faster on his thigh. “Yes daddy, please!” You said, tears in your eyes looking at him.

He took his hand, softly caressing your face. “Go ahead mama, make a mess on my thigh, show me how much of a slut you are.” Choso whispered in your ear. That’s all it took for you to crumble apart on his leg. You immediately squirted on his thigh. His sweatpants wet and his white tee.

RYOMEN SUKUNA

You usually called him king, but today he was hitting your shit exceptionally good.

“Oooh, fuck! Daddy slow down!” You cried. Sukuna had both of your arms behind your back while giving you straight back shots. Both of his dicks filling you up real nice. Sukuna took one of his hands and grabbed your neck pulling you back towards his chest, while another hand went to play with your clit. You were a crying mess. “What a pretty sight to look at.” He said. You looked at yourself in the mirror displayed in front of you. For some reason, you came. The sight of you being manhandled and tossed around by the king of curses, made you cum.

SUGURU GETO

“Let me cum in you.” Geto said, watching you bounce on his cock. “Watching you bounce on my dick like this is making me wanna make you a mommy baby.” He grabbed your ass and slapped it. “D-Daddy you feel so good” you said, hips stuttering from the pleasure. “Fuck. Keep going girl.” You happily obeyed. You sped up your pace, not going too fast but not going too slow either.

The feeling was so good, you let out a loud moan before cumming on getos dick. Pussy tightening around him. Geto moaned. “Please cum in me daddy I need it!” You begged. “Okay pretty girl. Ima make you into a pretty mommy. Walking around with my children. Fuck.” Geto said, cumming deep inside you, not pulling out until all of his nut was deep inside you.

DIVIDERS FROM!!!

@cafekitsune

[yeostars]

𓆩♡𓆪 ateez as girl dads / boy dads / or both ;) imo !! {Hyung line ver.}

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Hongjoong- both .ᐟ

I swear, i spent 15 minutes thinking how hongjoong would be a perfect girl AND boy dad.

Like, imagine hongjoong and his s/o have fraternal twins- aka both boy and girl twins. My man would be the happiest dad alive, proud to be the father of two lovely kids, having the best of both worlds.

Something that hongjoong loves the most about his two kiddos is how they are the literal carbon copies of both him and his s/o. Like his baby girl resembles hongjoong and baby boy resembles his mom. He finds that interesting and funny how the twins are literally mini versions of the parents.

Hongjoong, being the fashionista he is, absolutely LOVES dressing up your twins in matching clothes. Everytime he goes shopping with his s/o, he makes sure that every single clothing for both the twins is matching atleast in some way- same pattern, colour, etc.

Takes tons of pics with his kiddos wearing matching clothes. Nearly cries over how adorable his twins look and makes it a mission to make them his little fashionistas & gives them a sense of clothes & their pairings at an early age. Patting their heads in an endearing way is something that is so natural to him.

Expect him to buy matching tees with his s/o too, and sometimes even buy the same printed tee for all four members in the fam, and hang a family photo with the same in your living room. He's blessed to have such a perfect family ^^

Seonghwa- girl dad .ᐟ

See, i always had this vision of hwa being the sweetest girl dad...like, i can definitely imagine him being on cloud nine when he learns that him and his s/o were going to be parents to a baby girl. Literally is more excited and worried about the birth of their baby girl more than his s/o itself. CHEEK!KISSES!TO!HIS!DAUGHTER!ARE!A!MUST!

He's the gentlest and most patient dad ever. he would let her do whatever she wants, would let her do makeup on him and apply nail polish to his nails in the messiest way, while his s/o couldn't stop laughing on how funny hwa looked and high-fived her daughter for making her dad look like a clown. Hwa would be laughing himself, saying that your daughter wouldn't be a small child forever and that he wants her to have a playful and memorable childhood.

When his daughter grows up, she would literally feel like she has two moms. NO SERIOUSLY. hwa acts like a mom more than his s/o itself. literally taught his daughter about cleaning and its importance since she was a mere toddler, was more stressed about her growing up and puberty problems more than the daughter itself.

My conclusion is that hwa would be such a perfect girl dad >< A dad with the traits of both mom and dad. His daughter turns out to be a carbon copy of her dad, no kidding

Yunho- boy dad .ᐟ

GUYS. just hear me out. Yunho's s/o would literally feel like having two Yunho's around in the house after their son is born. One is Yunho itself and another one is baby yuyu aka mini yunho. Yunho literally has heart eyes for his son :(

What Yunho finds the most adorable is when his son tries to copy every single thing Yunho does. When he notices that his son tries to copy every little thing he does, he realizes that he needs to set up a good example for his son, and takes it as a opportunity to teach him basic hygiene and good manners slowly. He's quite successful at that task and his s/o would be impressed and happy that Yunho is doing a great job at parenting.

The most playful dad ever. He encourages his son to indulge in outdoor activities and play sports since a young age, so that his son turns out to be a fit and happy kid.

His s/o notices how their son turned out to be a little ray of sunshine in their lives, just like Yunho himself. Yunho raised his son to be a bright, cheerful kid and his s/o taught him to be patient and caring. Don't be surprised to see him quietly crying in the corner whenever his son does something to make him proud. Actually, anything thay his son does makes him proud :)

Yeosang- girl dad .ᐟ

I would say that its the end of discussion, atleast for me that yeo is a girl dad 😭 he just radiates such girl dad energy its insane- i feel like he'd be quite similar to how hwa is as a girl dad. He'd be just as patient and caring and sweet as him. He never fails to take care of both his s/o and their daughter after she was born. He feels like both their responsibility is now on him, and he never fails to make both of them feel loved and cared for.

Yeosang is the best dad ever. At first, he'd be a little clueless as to how to be a good parent to a baby girl, but as time passed, he feels like all his efforts and hard work paid off when his daughter grows up and calls him "the best daddy ever". Happiest dad to a lovely baby girl.

I can't miss out on the fact about how yeo would love to show off his daughter's skills and achievements ever since she was a little baby to everyone, including his & your parents and his members. He'd be like "That's my baby girl everyone, look at how talented she is."

Forehead kisses while saying good night are a must. Although he isn't someone who initiates physical affection, he loves to do small things such as holding his daughter's hand, patting her head & giving her forehead and cheek kisses whenever he can.

He loves to style his daughter's hair into plaits or something mildly fancy. He loves such quiet moments where he can take care of his daughter and cherishes every moment where spends time with her :(

[beefboyandbabygirl]

Goodbye, Fourth of July (18+)

pairing: lee chan x fem!reader

genre: college au, best friends to lovers, angst w a happy ending, smut (MDNI!!), hints of crack?

description: it's the fourth of july when you realize you're in love with your best friend. unfortunately though, it seems that he doesnt love you back, and this knowledge sends you spiraling. you push him away, but chan just wants to know why you're so upset

warnings: v v sad, pining, brief mention of s/a, chan is kinda dumb in this fr, reader is dramatic af tho, unprotected sex, desperation, praise kink, finger sucking, titty sucking, use of petnames (baby, pretty girl, sweet heart, good girl, cumslut once), mentions of alcohol and weed, irene is chans gf in this but shes not a villain shes mother fr

quotes from my proofreader: "my soul left my body", "no this is too personal", "i feel like im having a panic attack"

wordcount: 8.2k

Fireworks exploded across the sky the night your life was ruined. 

Down the gray, dim corridors of your campus where room after room was ablaze with idle lights, daring to imitate the stars above them. Every crevice of the left wing was filled with the noise and decorum of a college frat party, where people lived out their own lives simultaneously to yours - yours, that was shattering into millions of pieces onto Yoon Jeonghan’s kitchen floor. Every moment of teasing, of lingering touches, of adoring smiles, of secret memories and exchanged glances came hurdling onto you on the 4th of July, red solo cup long forgotten in your hand. You were in love with your best friend. 

“I’m in love with Chan,” you whispered, looking blankly across the room to see him leaned back against the couch, flashing a bright smile at Mingyu beside him. His blonde mullet - the one, that he had been so terrified to get, and only did so, when you told him he would look great - was tousled and spiky across his neck. He was wearing a red bomber jacket over a white tee, and he looked so good you thought you might cry. 

Soonyoung wouldn’t have heard your confession - was it a confession? Admittance? Defeat? - had he not been standing right beside you. He thanked God that your words were not lost to the music and to the ambiance, to lay and die in the sticky, hardwood floor. “What?!”

He was yelling over the music. You turned over to him, mouth cracked into a frown. “What?! You’re in love with Chan?! Seriously?!” He started bouncing and giggling, ignoring your hands coming to grab onto his forearms. He had predicted this exactly five months ago. 

“Shut up, Soonyoung, seriously!” You were yelling too, barely overcoming the booming voice of Kesha on the speakers. Bathed in pink light, letting your nails trail over the kitchen counter, you felt your heart becoming soft and trembling.

Your life was ruined. 

“What the fuck am I gonna do?” you cried, feeling Soonyoung spin you at your shoulders until he was right in front of you, alcohol dampening the air between you.

“What do you mean? You’re gonna confess to him. You guys are literally in love with each other” He said it as if it was the easiest thing in the world. As if you hadn’t been best friends since freshman year; as if you didn’t know his favorite animal cracker shape and the exact model of his everyday sneakers. 

“I can’t do that.” 

“Yes, you can.” 

“I can?” 

“COMINGGG THROUGHHHHHHHH!” Frat-house dork Seokmin pushed between you and Soonyoung with a sky-high Vernon on his trail. Vernon shimmied apologetically, eyes sunken and red. “Getting cross-faded,” he supplied helpfully. 

“As you should,” Soonyoung mumbled, slightly peeved in his tone, but Seokmin and Vernon seemed too intensely high to notice his disdain. You were too floaty to be offended by their sudden intrusion. The party, the floor, the music, the stench of sweat had become distant and you felt very alone with your heart. And Kwon Soonyoung, of course.

“You can! Right now! I’ve been telling you for months!” He shook you by your shoulders, apparently sensing your distance. You looked up at him with furrowed brows, tugging at the strapless end of your short, glittery dress. “But he’s-” you inhaled sharply. “He’s not gonna love me back, Soon.” Soonyoung cut you off with a scoff. “He’s so in love with you! He looks at you like you’re the only girl in the…” 

Soonyoung trailed off, eyes peering past you into the crowd. “Oh shit,” His eyes widened, settled on you, then flicked back up. What the fuck was he looking at? “Uh, as I was-” you moved to look, struggling against his suddenly deadly grip on your shoulders “- no, don’t look!” He moved to stop you, but it was too late. You scanned the crowd with narrowed eyes, finding yourself confused as to what he’d been crying about. That is until you saw him. Red bomber now discarded, Chan had removed himself from the couch and was currently grinding on your biochem-classmate, Irene. 

Oh. Okay. 

You felt like cold hands grabbed onto your throat from within, as it contracted and tears stung your eyes. There it went, your heart and all its pieces on the floor, and weighing you down like an anchor, was the knowledge that you’d spend the rest of your life picking them up. 

”God fucking damnit. This is awful, I’m awful,” your head was spinning, and you could barely make out how your fishnetted legs started moving, let alone how the tips of Soonyoung’s fingers brushed against your bare back to pull you back to him. You needed to get out. Out, out, out. 

You squeezed through the tight crowd, avoiding the gaze of your classmate Seungcheol, who tried to smile at you from where he stood. This had to be some sort of mistake. Some sort of illusion brought upon you by the rhythmic movements and the loose slip of alcohol. Maybe you were hormonal? You didn’t know, but you couldn’t think while some bass-boosted playlist built dams of pressure on the sides of your head.

You finally squeezed through the door, closing it behind you and locking away that cursed, wretched memory. The further you got, the fainter the image of him. By the time you were slipping out of the hallway and into the yard, you could almost convince yourself that it was a mistake. A foolish moment, that you would tuck away and keep in a locked chest. 

God, you were cold, shivering in your scrappy fabrics, as you slid down the brick wall by a flower bed, staring into the sky. It was the fourth of July, and your chest had exploded in fireworks while looking at your best friend. Every line had simultaneously been crossed and uncrossed. 

You had realized it just a few minutes ago, just standing in the kitchen, when Wonwoo from history had asked you for a lighter. It had just been a graze, but you’d still felt it, in the faraway reaches of your purse. Amongst crumbs, concealer, a couple unraveled cigarettes and wired earphones with only one working side. What was that? You’d handed Wonwoo the lighter and then dug around for it again. A little slip of paper, edges soft and worn. You pulled it up. 

It was just a drawing. A little scribbled dinosaur. God, you couldn’t even remember when he’d given it to you. But there you were smiling at it. And then looking at him. And then you knew. 

You started crying. Hot, fat tears dripped down your cheeks, and your lips were trembling, and suddenly your body was stuttering and convulsing against the wall, and you were in love with your best friend and he was obviously not in love with you. 

“Y/n?” 

You snapped your head towards the door and the person you wanted to see the least in that moment (that thought made you cry even more, because when had you ever wanted anyone but him by your side when you were upset?) was peeking his blonde haired head through the door. Chan had such a heavy frown, looking down at you from the wide opened doorway. 

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong, sweetheart?” He was immediately crouching down, hand burning hot on your back, stroking the muscles. Another hand on your knee and it was all too much, so you pushed him away. He backed off immediately, and you wished you missed the flash of hurt on his face. He looked at you with so much worry. “What happened?” 

He was sitting across from you on the pavement and you couldn’t bear to see him, lit geometrically by the moonlight and the explosions in the sky, brows creased. Averting your eyes, you fiddled with the edge of your dress and sniffled. What were you supposed to say? It was hard to say anything. You fought down the tears pressing at your eyes again, swallowing your emotions before you looked at him again, almost robotically.

“I’m fine,” you said, nodding, and only adding more when his face twisted in confusion. You were always honest with each other, he thought, why were you lying? “It’s stupid, I’m.. I’m on my period and my hormones are just.. Bleugh.” You found it in yourself to giggle.

Silence, only decorated with the constant stream of fireworks and distant laughter of drunk college kids. Chan studied you for a moment, legs crossed and arms slung over his knees. “Cheol said you looked upset.” 

“Yeah, I, uh, I was thinking of that sad dog movie.” 

Another pause. “Old Yeller.” 

The distance between you had never felt wider and you were certain Chan could feel it too. 

“You know you can tell me anything right?” You wished your laughter hadn’t been so heart-achingly bitter. He looked so confused. All he wanted to do was make you feel alright, why wouldn’t you let him?

A nod. “Yeah,” you breathed in deeply, tear-streaked makeup drying from the gentle wind. “I know.” 

The air had become so thick, you had to gulp down breaths. Chan cocked his head to the side and looked at you soulfully. You were staring at your knees, nervously playing with your fingers, and a flush had crept up your neck to the very tops of your shiny cheeks. He sighed. “I can get, uh,” he hesitated for a moment, “I can get Soonyoung down here. If you want.” You nodded before he was even done talking. Anything was better than sitting across from him - not now. This time you knew better than to look at his face, because you knew your entire facade would break down the moment you’d catch the frown on his face at those words. 

The moment Chan left, you sighed so deeply, relief and despair coming in a pair to crash over you like a wave. Soonyoung came not two minutes later and, ever the great comforter, immediately tried to make you laugh, sitting in the grass right in front of you.

“Oh my god,” he put on his best Jennifer Coolidge voice, “you look like the fourth of July!” _____________________________

Your first instinct was to hide - to turn over a stone and lay under it without breathing. Maybe then, if you separated yourself from him the feelings would simply dissipate, like perfume throughout the day. But you and Chan had a ridiculous amount of classes together, - something you used to enjoy and cherish - and every interaction had become half-awkward. 

What also didn’t help is that him and Irene did not seem to just be a party fling. You were walking the halls with him, backpack slung across your shoulder, and listening to him drone on and on about a date.

“I think it’s the blonde,” he explained, “I think she likes the blond.” He peeked his eyes over to you, as you walked and you nodded. “It looks good,” you smiled, heart crushing when his face lit up, that sharky smile playing on his lips. “Right? But I don’t know what to wear. I don’t think she liked my jacket. You know, at the party.” At the mention of the party, his giddy expression faded a little, eyes flicking back to look at you again.

You’d been different since then. A little quiet and every word a little strained, every breath a huff, every smile somewhat unable to reach your eyes. He knew something was wrong, but he couldn't figure out what. For the life of him, Chan couldn’t. You’d told him when you got a tampon stuck a couple months ago, you’d told him about your awful dates, about your most embarrassing moments in your life. Something had to be serious, he thought, watching the way your eyes had become darker and sunken, for you to shut him out completely.

“Y/n,” he said and his voice was abruptly so, so soft. His hand came to cradle your own, stopping you in your tracks. Your eyebrows cinched together when you looked at the way his thumb caressed your knuckles. “You are okay, right?” and all of a sudden he was so close to you, head bopping downwards to catch your eyes, a little breath becoming humid on your cheek. For just a split second, he saw how scared you were, an emotion that took up all the space in your head, widened eyes darting up to his. Then it was gone. You smiled a tight line, ripping your hand from his. “I’m good. I’d be better if we actually made it to class on time.” 

You were bouncing away and for a few moments he stood still, watching you. 

“Alright,” he whispered to himself.

_____________________________

 You and Chan met through Seungcheol. It was your first year and you were fresh-faced, young and a totally different person. It was your first biochem project and the teacher had paired you with Seungcheol - Seungcheol, who you just so happened to know was amongst the most popular guys at school. He was sweet though, if not a little slow, but he was excited to get into the project and had invited you to his place to study. You had graciously accepted, seeing as your roommate-situation at the time was less than ideal. 

You had just hunkered down with stacks of books and laptops open on his desk, when Seungcheol got a call; to this day you’re not sure about the specifics of it, and all the information you’d later been able to pry from Seungcheol was that “Jeonghan was in trouble”. Whatever the case, the man had taken the phone and immediately taken on a crease in his forehead and a small frown on his lips, before apologizing profusely and promising that he’d be back in 20 minutes or so. 

And there you were, wearing a dress and hairclips and sitting idly at his desk, while his roommate sat, just a few feet from you, on his bed with a controller and a headset on. That was the first time you saw Lee Chan. He had sharp eyes that you found intimidating at the time - especially with the focused grimace he wore, something you later found endearing. And, of course, you knew he was popular as well. How couldn’t he be, when his muscles were showing through his t-shirt, and he looked beautiful even in the domestic state you found him in. Maybe especially in that situation. 

“D’you wanna see me play?” he’d asked, eyes not even leaving the screen. “Um,” your voice was meek, “sure.” 

Seungcheol didn’t come home for another three hours. The sky turned from a bright blue into an orange hue outside the campus-curtains, and you sat cross-legged beside Chan on his bed, watching him play Overwatch. Had it been anyone else, you were sure this would’ve been the longest, most awkward three hours of your life. But for whatever reason, you and Chan just clicked. It was all laughter and smiles, and it felt like you had known each other forever. Fate had whisked the two of you together with a gentle push. That was two years ago. 

Chan defied all your expectations. Surely, a young man who was attractive and popular would be an asshole, you’d thought, but he was so sweet, something that was most apparent when he smiled and laughed, eyes becoming crescents and toothy grin becoming sharp at the upturned edges. 

Maybe you’d always liked him. You’d started reflecting on your relationship after that party, and came to realize that there’d always been a faint mist in your chest. A soft hum that drummed within your ribcage, when you saw him. It was warm, pleasant and constant when you felt his warmth at your side. 

And sure, your relationship had had its moments. You distinctly remembered sitting between his legs while watching a movie once, and how you’d been so uncertain if he was okay with the skinship. His face behind your ear, you heard the smile in his voice, as his hands ran along your arms: “It’s okay, N/n. I’m cool with this if you are.”

You found yourself thinking about that often, but now there was a distinct pain to the memory. It was especially painful, when the gap between you and Chan was widening with every day. He tried to reach out, tried to catch you in the halls, but you were always “busy”. 

Chan caught on to the fact that you were avoiding him when you started showing up late to classes, just so you wouldn’t have to walk with him; hear him talk about Irene, while that once soft drum had become a marching band in your chest. So you scrambled inside 5 minutes late, much to the dismay of your professors, and found a spot with some random classmate - far away from Chan. You’d have your eyes turned to the board, but you couldn’t focus, not really. Like a constant thorn in your side, you felt Chan’s sharp eyes across the room, boring into with such an intensity you thought you might catch on fire. Scribbling useless notes and focusing your energy - what little energy you had - on the class, you determinedly avoid his eyes. Had you seen them, never once darting astray from your form, you’d see the tenderness they held. “Why are you avoiding me?” His eyes said. 

And then: “Why are you avoiding me?” his mouth said, out of breath from chasing after you in your hurried exit. You turned to him, almost bleeding into the blue of the accented-wallpaper. His eyes softened at your wounded expression. You were gently ripping apart at the wish to see him and be around him, with simultaneous urge to ignore him and become free from his scrutinizing gaze. He would never not know that something was wrong.

He scanned the crowded hallway, and gently, almost as if testing the waters (which he hadn’t felt the need to do in years) placed a hand on your upper arm. “Come on.” 

You gave in. God, it was so easy to give in. You missed him. You missed him like a fish might miss water, had it been taken away from it. You missed him like a priest misses God, when his presence ebbs away and the sky is suddenly so very empty. So it was so easy to be led on, to sit down in the passenger of his car and just close your eyes and enjoy how it felt to be beside him. Chan scanned you as he drove, laying there with closed eyes, willing yourself to not look at him again, and realize you had to throw this all away. 

He said nothing that entire car ride. Maybe he sensed the desperate need you felt to just have this silence. You clung to it as if it were tangible, as if someone would take it away. He would, once you entered his apartment. Seungcheol was nowhere to be seen. You placed yourself on bed and played with the fraying edges of his IKEA duvet cover.

“I miss you.” he said. You sighed, pursing your lips and looking at your fingers. “I miss you too.” 

“You���re avoiding me,” he said, only a faceless presence in your peripheral. 

“I’m not avoiding y-...” you trailed off when he crouched down in front of you, your entire vision cursed (or blessed?) with his frustrated face. “You are,” he said, eyes boring into yours. You trembled. “I’m not, I’m just busy.” He backed away, sulking, and you tried not to make it obvious that you heaved in a shaky breath from the proximity.  “I can tell when you’re lying, you know?” 

You laid down on the bed, arms crossing over your chest as if you were a corpse. Was there a way out of this, you wondered. Every glance, every touch, and every word that dropped from his mouth poked and prodded at you sadistically. 

“I’m not lying.” 

You heard fumbling and raised your head to see Chan, having discarded his shirt, putting on a new one and you cringed at how your heart sped up, seeing his toned stomach, before it disappeared under a sweater. “What are you doing?” you asked. He sighed. He glanced at you before studying himself in the full-length mirror Seungcheol had stolen from Mingyu. 

“I’m going on a date with Irene in, like, twenty minutes.” 

A pause. You sat up.

“Oh.” 

He went on, throwing around scattered clothes and grappling for a cologne in his bag. “I’m sorry, I can’t cancel this, I don’t think she’ll really appreciate it,” he laughed a little. Throwing his head over his shoulder, his smile faded when he sensed your sorrow. His heart hurt then, so he moved, freshly spritzed with the cologne you bought him last Christmas, to stand in front of you on the bed. Your breath hitched when his hand found your cheek and he was suddenly dripping with sincerity and an emotion you really hoped wasn’t pity. “I just- I really wanted to talk to you, Y/n. I’m really worried about you.” You leaned into his hand pathetically, almost whimpering against it. You missed how his embrace felt. His thumb brushed over your cheek and he lingered there, eyes trained on you for just a moment - perhaps a moment too long - before he pulled away.

Suddenly he was putting on a jacket and ruffling his hair in the mirror again. “If you want you can stay here until I come back? It’ll only be, like, an hour and a half, two hours. Cheol will be home soon, he can keep you company.” 

“Yeah, maybe,” your eyes were huge, when you willed yourself to stare at the floor. Chan must’ve sensed the meekness in your voice, because he looked over at you through the mirror, a frown on his lips. “I promise we’ll talk, I just- I don’t wanna disappoint Irene.” 

It ached when you responded: “There’s nothing to talk about, Channie. I’m fine.” 

“I’ll see you in a couple of hours?” you only nodded half-heartedly. 

“Bye, N/n.” 

“Bye, Channie.” 

He left with a rustle of his keys, and when the door was closed, your body contracted, muscles pulling inwards until you were hugging your knees in his sheets. And you were crying because it smelled like him, and because he had held your cheek with such care, only to leave moments later for another woman. Everything you held dear, every moment you lingered on was just one-sided. Your tears were crystalline confinements for your most treasured memories with him and you were bleeding out on his bed, sliced in the heart.

It was Seungcheol who found you there like that, curling up in his roommate’s bed with painful sobs squeezing your whole body. You told him. Maybe you shouldn’t have, but you did. “I love him,” you cried, and Seungcheol stroked your back, as he listened. “And he doesn’t love me back.” 

You apologized abashedly when you had calmed down, but Seungcheol only tutted and shook his head. “That’s what friends are for,” he’d said and patted your hair, and you giggled even though you felt all silly with your red face and your puffy eyes. The older man promised not to say anything, and you found yourself trusting him completely. You bid your goodbyes and felt a little lighter.

When Chan came home a heavy duvet of regret settled in his stomach. You were gone, only the faint mist of your perfume left behind in his room. When night fell, he slept on a bed stained with your tears. _____________________________

A week passed and you spent every moment alone in your dorm room, ignoring papers and deadlines in favor of lying completely still under the covers. Soonyoung came over with food every once in a while, and always left devastated at how completely disarranged you were. He felt powerless and if there was one thing Kwon Soonyoung didn’t like, it was feeling powerless.

That was how you found yourself in a very John Mulaney-like situation on a monday afternoon, sitting before Soonyoung and, surprisingly, Seungkwan, Soonyoung’s roommate, in a nearby café. 

“What is this?” you asked, arms crossed and leaned back in your seat, unimpressed. Soonyoung smiled sheepishly, sliding a paper across the table. It read “Intervention” in big, bubbly letters, colored with cheap highlighters. “An intervention?” you said incredulously. 

“Yes, we’re worried about you!”

“He’s worried about you. I’m skipping physics for this,” Seungkwan butted in.

“The community is worried about you,” Soonyoung gave a harsh glare to the younger boy, who was mirroring your distaste for the current situation. “So we’re hosting an intervention.” 

“This is bullshit,” you said. “Agreed,” came Seungkwan. 

“Alright, you two! Let Daddy explain,” Hoshi waved his arms in outrage and the two of you groaned at the word choice. “Y/n. I am sick and tired of watching you cry and cry and sit at home over a boy who is fricken’ in love with you!”

“Did you just say ‘fricken’?” 

“Unimportant. The point is get your act together and tell him or get over him!” Soonyoung was determined. While you felt his point of view was certainly unfair to you, your demeanor gave way a little. He was right, you knew. This was ruining you more than you’d care to admit. “You are worth so much more than this.” 

“As much as I hate to contribute to this, Soonyoung has been telling me all about.. Your situation, and I have to say I agree. I thought you and Chan were dating until Soonyoung told me this,” Seungkwan said, smiling sympathetically at you. You frowned. “It doesn’t matter what you guys think, you know. He doesn’t see me like that.. It just fucking hurts.” 

“If he doesn’t see you like that, then fuck him--”

“Don’t say that, Soonyoung--” 

“You need to put your energy into a man who will know your worth!” Soonyoung sassed and Seungkwan snapped his fingers once for emphasis, face totally blank.

“I know you’re right, okay?” you reasoned, sighing. “It’s not as simple as that. I know you want to help, Soonyoung, but.. I just need time.” 

Soonyoung deflated, but he understood. I guess he was a little powerless in this situation. Even Seungkwan, who definitely was not thrilled about missing physics, smiled sorely. You watched them and hated yourself for bringing worry to everyone around. Like an oil spill in the ocean, your black mass infected everything around you. They’d done nothing and here you were, parading your sadness like My Chemical Romance in 2006. 

“Thank you anyway.”  _____________________________

Chan was theorizing. There were only so many things that could happen so suddenly, that could make you push him away like this. He hadn’t seen you in a week and he’d begun biting his nails again. Every waking moment had become consumed with this question: why? Why were you acting like this? Irene would pointedly comment on how quiet he was being, and his lies came like flowing water. 

Chan was certain that he’d never experienced anything harder than watching you unravel everyday. Every morning more disheveled than the last, every smile more dull. Let me help you, he’d think, watching you slump in your seat on the other side of the room, running an unsteady hand over your face. You’d even found a way to avoid him after class. Day after day he’d run after you when you sped out of class, and when he reached the hallway where students were pouring out, you’d be gone like a faint ghost. 

Irene ended things with him over a text. “I just don’t see us working out anymore,” it’d read and lying in his room he’d sighed quietly. He couldn’t bring himself to care. The text diverted his attention for only a minute, before he was staring at the ceiling again, thinking of you. It had to have something to do with him somehow. But no matter how much he scrutinized every interaction you’d had, he came up blank. 

“Are you okay?” It was Seungcheol, standing in the doorway and hanging his jacket on their clothing rack while eyeing him. He’d hardly heard him come in. Chan heaved a sigh, long lines of worry oozing out of him. 

“Y/n’s been acting really weird with me. I can’t figure out if it’s something I did,” Chan squeezed his eyes shut. “I just want her to be okay.” 

Seungcheol frowned sympathetically. “Maybe you should just leave her alone.” Chan’s eyes sprung open and he grimaced, before ruffling the sheets where he sat up on the bed. Seungcheol was settling himself onto his bed, phone in hand and head against the headboard. “Why are you saying that?” 

For a moment, Seungcheol flashed his brown eyes with a hint of ‘oh shit’ in them, before they relaxed and he regained composure. “I don’t know, maybe she just needs some time away from you.” 

A pause swallowed the room. Chan studied his friend with furrowed brows. “Did she talk to you?” 

“Uh-” 

“You know why she’s acting like this!” Chan raised his voice, weeks of frustration crackling in the pit of his stomach. He stood up, so he could tower over Seungcheol’s bed. “Relax, man, I don’t know anything-” 

“You do! Tell me what’s going on, Seungcheol-” Only a few words had been shared, but they’d tugged at the right strings, and suddenly Chan’s muscles were tightened as they buried into Seungcheol’s collar. The older man scowled and wrapped his hands around his roommate’s wrists in warning. Chan’s hold untightened and unscrewed and he slumped in on himself like a piece of paper, “please, Seungcheol, please. I’m going crazy.” 

Seungcheol’s gaze softened. He pushed the boy’s hands away and sat up on the bed, voice a low, solemn grumble. “I can’t tell you.” 

“Fucking please, Seungcheol. What if something happened to her? At that party. I keep thinking about it, how I wasn’t with her, and what if some asshole harassed her or something. I googled it and Google said women can feel lost, lonely and embarrassed over stuff like that,” Chan started pacing. “And then I was thinking what if it was a friend of ours? And maybe that’s why she doesn’t want to tell me, but, of course, I’d support her in anything she told me.” 

Chan stilled in his wandering across the narrow floorspace. “Can you at least tell me she’s okay?” 

All sharp eyes and blonde hair and panted breaths Chan stood in the middle of the room and waited for Seungcheol to tell him that you were okay. Chan would’ve even been at peace with Seungcheol telling him that you never wanted to see him again, fuck, as long as you were fine and you still laughed and smiled, even if it was with Soonyoung and not him.

But the answer didn’t come. Seungcheol frowned and fiddled with his watch. “I don’t think so, man.” 

Whatever ties had held Chan back before snapped. He stood still for maybe three seconds in the unlit room, before his body burst into action and he was scrambling for his jacket and keys.

“Fuck this.” 

Sprinting down monotonous corridors, a hard-headed Chan let wisps of blonde hair flow behind as the air kissed his cheeks. He wore the crease in his brow that had become permanently etched onto his features. Chan had a one track mind; maybe that’s why things didn’t - wouldn’t - work out with Irene. Currently, the record spinning was you and he’d gone damn near insane, so this time he’d made up his mind. He was not leaving until you talked to him. Whisking past door after door in the quiet nighttime, catching Wonwoo exiting some random dorm and smiling sheepishly, he ignored him and braved forward. 

It was not until he was standing right in front of your door that he hesitated. The door framed his figure entirely, trapping him within its confines. What if Seungcheol was right? What if he was making things worse? 

But for Chan, he wasn’t sure that he could go any lower. Every day had become a new rock bottom, every day that you avoided him, every moment wondering what he could have possibly done. He missed your smile. So then he was knocking at your door.

“Fuck off, Soonyoung, I’m not going to anymore interventions!” you yelled, voice hoarse from beyond the door. Intervention? Had you developed a drug problem? He knocked again and heard you groan, before heavy footsteps thumped towards him. 

“What do you want, Soonyo-” you paused, door half-creaked open. Your eyes were two moons, and your nose and cheeks were red. “Chan,” you breathed, voice nasally from a stuffy nose. Chan said nothing, only pushed past you to get inside. You sniffled.

Your heart was a bomb, or maybe a firework. Chan had lit the fuse and standing before him, where he was half lit in the middle of your room, you knew it was only a matter of time before it exploded, chest blazing with a parade of colors for the fourth of July. Because it was him, a greek fucking god in your toy-decorated room, in his sweatpants and a white t-shirt, and it was you, wimpish and thoroughly out of order, in pyjama shorts and a pink sweater. 

“Come. Here.” He wasn’t asking. You nodded and took two steps, and the moment you were within arms reach he enveloped you in his chest. His arms were so strong and warm, one wrapping around your waist and the other bunching up your hair to keep you pressed into him. Your cheek bunched up against his heart, you closed your eyes and heard how fast it was beating. He was scared. 

“Talk to me,” you could hear it, too, the fear. His voice was trembling and even though you couldn’t see his face you could imagine his brown eyes glazed over and lips in a pout. The thought squeezed at your heart. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. He squeezed his eyes shut at the raspiness in your voice. “Don’t be, just talk to me. Please,” his voice was a wavering breath. He pulled away, head ducking down to peer into your eyes. Your cheeks burned and you looked away, becoming completely enamored with the white of his shirt, just for the sake of not seeing his eyes. Then both his hands were on your cheeks, a little harsh at first, but then softening. “Look at me.” 

He leaned closer, one hand straying from your cheek to hold you by the back of the head. “Look. At. Me.” he gritted his teeth and you felt the warmth of his face hitting yours. You did. You looked at him, saw him again, really, the guy you’d been avoiding and simultaneously praying closer to you standing before you like a kicked puppy. Suddenly you were crying. It felt like he’d turned you inside out. 

“No, no, no, don’t cry, pretty, talk to me, talk to Channie, okay?” he frowned before he was pushing your face closer, nosing your cheek and hair, just a big baby in front of you, with hot and humid breaths on your freshly wetted skin when his lips brushed over it. His hand on the back of your head was only urging you closer, and his back was hunched in a long arch just so he could be with you, as close to you as possible. 

And while his touch was bliss for a moment, the reality of it came crashing down, and your hands waved him off, taking a step back, which Chan followed with a step forward. He looked so hurt, hands held out for you to take but you shook your head.

“Don’t- Don’t do this to me, Chan. Not when-” you were shaking when you reached up to rub over your eyes. “Not when- Not when you have Irene to go back to.” 

“Irene?” He asked incredulously, almost in outrage, almost as if the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. It spurred you on. “That’s what this is about?” 

“No!” you cried, “Or- yes, I don’t know.” 

Chan was silent for a few moments when you began pacing, hands over your eyes. “You were jealous?” 

“No- That’s not the point!” your lip trembled when you removed your hands and looked at him again, his arms at his sides, now that he didn’t have you to hold.

“We were never going to stop being friends, you know-” his voice was quiet and yours overpowered his easily, when you screamed at him to say: “I didn’t want to be friends!” 

Boom goes the dynamite, indeed. Fireworks filled every crevice of your ribcage.

“Because I love you,” you paused only to flick your eyes over to his, and you sucked in the fear. Your voice shook when you continued: “And I think I have for- for, like, a year? And I only realized on the fourth of July and there you were with Irene, and I just… And I thought if I backed off these feelings would go away, because you obviously don’t-” 

“Irene broke up with me,” his voice was much quieter than yours. You wanted to scream and cry and yell, because what did that matter? Why did that matter when it changed nothing? But then he spoke again: “She broke up with me because I kept thinking about you.” 

Silence. It hit you that Chan was not informing you, he was telling himself this.

“Yeah,” he scratched at the back of his neck and chuckled dryly, “I kept being quiet on our dates, ‘cause I was thinking about you. I guess she sensed it.” 

You were looking at each other in the dim lights. He was so beautiful, cheeks shiny and soft lashes curling over his lids. You sniffled. “Does that mean that you-” 

Yes.

Yes, it did, because before you could even finish your sentence he was taking a step forward and his hand was on your cheek again and this time his lips were on yours and fireworks, fireworks exploded in your chest and on your lips like bursts of static, but this time it wasn’t pained, it was beautiful, and you’re melting into his hold, just as he was yours. Lips moving in perfect unison, he tilted his head down and you tilted yours up, and grabbed his neck, and his other hand slid onto your waist, resting there, as the two of you rocked under the artificial light of your overhead lamp. 

Everything you yearned for was in your hands and you didn't dare to pull away, only whimpering when you ran out of breath, and chasing his lips when he pulled away to breathe. He chuckled, mouth curved upwards in that beautiful smile that you love. You love it, and there’s no point in hiding it. He pressed his forehead against yours and you’re panting into each other’s mouths.

“I love you too,” he said. You grinned, a perfect blush spread across your rounded cheeks, and his heart soared so much that he had to kiss you again, pecking and mumbling it again and again against your lips: “I love you, I love you, I love you.” 

His tongue slid over your lip and you opened your mouth with a squeak. His tongue was wet and warm in your mouth and his hands were suddenly on your hips, pushing them into his. Then he pulled away, blushing himself when a string of spit connects you. “Is this okay?” he asked, so softly, so gently, and you nodded, flushed and out of breath and pathetically desperate.

“Yes,” you whined, “need you so bad.” He cooed when you pressed your hips into his, long fingers brushing hair out of your face. “Channie’s gonna take care of you. Channie’s gonna make it up to you,” and yet again it's almost like he was saying it to himself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when he lowered the two of you onto your bed. Hair strands stretched from their roots in your head, when you hit your plush pillow, and you were all shiny and sparkling eyes, laid out before him in a way that he never dared to imagine. “Too pretty,” he whispered, kissing you again. 

He was grinding into you, anchoring himself on your waist and whimpering into the corner of your mouth at the feeling of your warm center through your shorts. “Baby, need you so bad. Can I take this off?” he tugged at your shirt and you nodded, unable to get anything out but whines. He pulled off the pink fabric, marveling at your bare chest before him. Of course, he’d seen it before, in tight shirts, on days where you’d decided to forgo a bra, and he’d always cursed himself for imagining the real thing. “You’re so beautiful,” he cried, as he hit your core just right and he stared at your tits’ slight jiggle. 

“Such a pretty baby, so ready for me, can I touch them, please, please?” he was babbling, somehow already pussydrunk, but you were no better, eyebrows cinched together in pleasure, nodding without even an ounce of hesitation at his request. He groped at your chest, thumbs brushing over the hardened buds, before he ducked his head down to suck on one. You’re gasping, as his tongue flicked over you, hands tangling themselves in his hair, moaning his name into the air. He hummed loudly, and you felt a thick glob of wetness escape your pussy at just the sight of him, hunched over you like a wild animal, panting into your chest.

“You’re so pretty,” you whispered and he let go of your tit with a small ‘pop’, lifting his head to look at you. He was grinning ear to ear, face still hovering over your chest. “Am I?” and suddenly he was so cocky, hand cupping your heat through your shorts, and watching as you buck into his hand with a strangled moan. “Needy girl, need pretty Channie to touch you, hm?” He teased, fingers gently rubbing over the fabric of your damp shorts.

“Please,” you whined, thrashing in the sheets, desperate enough to cry. He cooed and shushed you, hovering over you by one, strong arm: “Shh, sweetheart, shh, I know. I got you, I’ll make you feel good.” As much as Chan wanted to make you beg, he was desperate too, and he couldn’t help the slight guilt of what you’d been through. The thought almost made him frown, but he pushed it away and peeled off your shorts and underwear in one swoop. 

You cried out when his fingers were finally sliding through your folds. Your eyes, half closed, flicked up to see him, gaze trained on your core in amazement. “You’re so wet, baby,” he purred, spreading the warm slick up to your clit to start circling it with two fingers. “Just for you- Mngh!” 

He plunged two fingers into you with ease, wetness coating his fingers to let them slide in. You were panting and thrashing and moaning his name, and he just watched with the biggest hardon he’d ever had, how he made you feel good and how pretty you were, and how much he never wanted to pull his fingers out of your sopping wet heat. 

“Do you want my fingers in your mouth?” he asked, and you squeezed your eyes shut and nodded vigorously. “Hey, hey,” the fingers that weren’t plunging in and out of you and curling into your pussy’s sweet spot, squeezed your chin. Your eyelashes fluttered open, and you stared at him with blown out eyes. “You gotta look at me while you do it.” 

Then his fingers prodded at your lips, and you opened them with a whine, willing yourself to keep them open, to see how he smiled adoringly down at you. They were filling you just right, one hand stuck in your pussy and the in your mouth, teasing over your tongue. Your orgasm was approaching, knotting in your stomach, embarrassingly fast. 

He groaned at the sight of you, looking up at him with huge, adoring eyes while sucking his fingers. “Fuck, fuck, good girl, such a good, appreciative girl, taking my fingers wherever she can.” You clenched around him at that, and he chuckled knowingly. “Yeah, you like being my good girl? Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum in my fucking pants.” 

You released his fingers only to moan - almost scream - his name, as you came around his fingers, curling into you and working you through your orgasm. “That’s it, sweetheart. Cum on Channie’s fingers. Look so pretty when you cum.” 

You were still dazed on your bed in the glimmering aftermath of your post-orgasm, when you heard Chan shuffling beside you, and then he was leaning over you once again, shirt and pants discarded and cock proud and stiff and leaking precum onto your stomach. You groaned at the sight, hand trailing over his exposed stomach, where abs dipped and rose, glistening softly. Then your thumb caressed and pressed against his slit and he hissed, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. 

He nosed at your neck, pecking a little, before speaking, voice too strained and too pretty: “Can I fuck you, baby? Please, please, I need to feel you around me so bad.” He had shut his eyes tight, fighting the urge to grab hold of your back and press your tits into his chest.

“Please,” you came back equally as whiny, writhing in his hold, where his thumb was rubbing soft circles in your hip bone. “Please, wan’ your cock. Need it.” He smiled into your neck, grabbing your head and kissing your cheek. “So cute.” 

You felt the head of his cock slide through your still impossibly wet folds, then pressing against your entrance. You were murmuring his name over and over and he was panting into your neck and licking a stripe of wet glistening saliva onto it, as he began to push in. 

You were writhing so much he had to place his hands on your hips to still you, whispering soft reassurances until he was pushed all the way, clit pushed into his abdomen. You’re so full, you can’t stop the wanton moans at the feeling of his pretty, red cock, every bulge and vein pressed against your gummy walls. “You’re so fucking tight,” he spat, fearful that he’d spill his load into you immediately from the way you were clenching him. Then, slowly, he was rocking into you and the both of you were clambering onto one another. Your hands found his neck, his hair, his flexing biceps, and his your hips, waist, boob, and then clambering up to hold your face and look into your eyes. 

“Look at me,” you almost didn’t catch the way he repeated those words from before, but you looked into his brown orbs, blonde hair curling over and tickling your forehead. “So fucking pretty, so cute, my little cumslut. Say you want my cum, baby, please, say it.” 

“Wan’ your cum!” you cried, as he angled his cock inside you to press into that spongy spot. He was giving in to all his wants at your words, pulling you up by pressing his arms under your back, so your tits pressed against his chest, and he was nosing at your face again, trailing kisses everywhere he could reach. “So good for me, so pretty, all mine. Fuck, sweetheart.” 

“All yours,” you babbled mindlessly, when his hand snaked between your bodies to rub circles into your clit. “Cum for me, cum for me, baby.” 

His thrusts were growing sloppy, and you felt the knot tightening in you once more, pulled tight and ready to snap. “Cum, cum, come on, my pretty darling. Fuck, Y/n, I love you!” 

At those words you came, pussy pulsating around his cock and clenching so tight, he was unsure if he could even pull out in time. He did though, pulling out just in time to see his seed spill all over your soft stomach. 

Panting and out of breath, his arms gave out and he collapsed on top of you, body covering yours. “Ugh,” you groaned and looked up at you, laughing softly. “Chan, you’re heavy,” you complained. “I’m a weighted blanket,” he countered, but climbed off of you anyway, lying down next to you. You looked at him, with the side profile of a god, and his blonde hair tousled and chest rising and falling.

“You are pretty,” you said, and you could almost cry when he looked at you and blushed. 

“You should’ve just told me,” he whispered, turning his head to gaze at you. You frowned and nodded. “But it doesn't matter now,” he reassured, one hand climbing from the sloping, bunched up duvet and running his hand through your hair. He tilted his gaze towards your cum covered stomach, some of it having smeared onto himself, and he pushed himself off the bed. "I'll get a towel."

Naked and divine, he disappeared into your small bathroom.

“Oh, God..” you groaned suddenly, face morphing into anguish.

“What?” Chan called from the bathroom.

“Soonyoung is going to be the most insufferable person on the planet when he finds out about this."

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

matilda - m. murdock

a/n: hey guys i have back pain and i have daddy issues so i wanted to write a quick blurb about it. so. sorry if you guys cant particularly relate to this one it's for me <3 warnings: ANGST, reader cries a lot, probably cursing, lots of daddy issues, lots of being upset, mentions of fathers being drunk, matt picks up the reader but matt in my brain can lift like 250+ so, uhhhh i don't know guys just angst and daddy issues ! word count: 1.2k summary: you have daddy issues and back pain. matt does his best to help. pairing: matt murdock x gn!reader now playing: matilda - harry styles "i don't believe that time will change your mind/in other words, I know they won't hurt you anymore/as long as you can let them go"

Matt finds you on the floor of the kitchen, your knees hugged against your chest. He is so tired, bruises starting to really hurt after sitting all purple and blue on his ribs and his arms. He’s just in his boxers his hair damp from a shower.

You are just in a pair of boxers and a muscle tee. Your knuckles are white, and you are staring into space in the most literal definition. It’s four a.m. You are a twenty something year old adult, you have not slept in your mother’s bed in years.

And yet, you feel like a child.

And your back is fucking killing you.

Matt sits next to you on the kitchen floor, goosebumps shooting up his skin as his feet and palms feel the cold, rough tile floor. His hand finds your arm and gently rubs his thumb against your skin.

“What’re you doing on the floor, sweetheart?” His voice is low and thick with sleep. He is so tired, that his words aren’t nearly as poetic, sappy or flirtatious as he wants them to be (maybe not all at once, but he most certainly wished they were better than that).

You consider lying to him for a moment. Really, you do. You could tell him that the floor is just more comfortable, that you want him to fuck you right here against the tiles, that you just could not sleep, that there is nothing deeper than a busy brain that cannot calm down.

“My dad called me while you were away.” You tell him, your voice soft. Matt will be able to hear it no matter how loudly or quietly you say it. And at your confession, he tenses. He has a complicated relationship with your father, but his relationship is calm compared to the raging waters that make up how you feel about the man.

“Okay,” he starts, rubbing your arm gently. “And what did he say?”

You blink.

“Nothing. Nothing that should have made me feel like this.” You tell him, a horrible taste in your mouth. From what, you do not know. Matt doesn’t respond right away, waiting for you to tell him more. “He was drunk.” You say quietly.

“Oh.” He knows you don’t drink. He knows you have a very complicated relationship with substances. “I can understand why that might be upsetting..” he tries, and you shake your head, your face twisting into frustration, anger, and perhaps a hint of sadness.

“He’ll never change.” You whisper, too afraid to be any louder, too afraid that maybe from miles and miles away, your father will hear you. That maybe if you say it any louder, it won’t be a secret anymore, and that you’ll start crying if you say it any louder. “He’ll never ever change.” You say, and your head turns to look at him.

And you stare at the man that you love, and you stare and stare, and you think about Jack Murdock who loved his son so much that he was willing to die for him to have a better life, that he was entirely selfless when it came to the person you are lucky enough to call yours.

And you think about how your father wants nothing to do with you. He never did. Not really.

That’s when you start to cry.

It starts with a few tears rolling down your cheeks, salty and fat, as if they hold all of the memories your brain has locked away to protect you. Then, the tears come out faster, and faster, until you are choking on your own breath, racking with sobs. Matt’s arms are around you in an instant.

He pulls you close to him, and you feel bad for getting tears all over his skin. He’ll tell you it’s his fault for wearing just briefs. He pulls you into his lap, and while you cry into his neck, his hand comes down to your back and slips under your shirt, gently rubbing it up and down.

You twitch at the feeling, your back still aching as you sit with him, the pain contributing to your tears. Matt’s lips kiss your forehead, and he just holds you for a long time. Your breathing becomes short with how violently you’re sobbing.

“Hey, easy..” he says softly before he tilts your head up to look at him. “Your breathing isn’t healthy. Come on, watch me,” and he takes deep breathes in and out, expecting you to copy his attempts. When you’re finally at a point where you an breath on your own, Matt begins wiping your tears gently.

“Sorry…” You say quietly. He just shushes you softly and leans in to kiss your cheek.

“You never have to apologize for your emotions.” He promises, “I love you so much. I am so sorry he’s like that,” and now Matt is crying and he’s not sure why, but you feel awful about it, so your shaky hands come up to wipe his tears and he wants to laugh at your attempt at gentleness because he wonders how often you were shown the same kindness and his heart aches at the most realistic answer.

“Honey, you never have to worry about him again. You made it out, he can’t hurt you anymore..” He tells you, and you try to believe him. “You’ll never feel anything except safe and loved, I promise.” He says quietly, before leaning in to kiss you gently. “Is there anything else?” He senses that you are in physical pain too. Partially because he can tell by how your jaw clenches that you are tense, but even without his super senses, he just knows you aren’t feeling well.

He knows you too well.

“My back is killing me.” You confess, and he frowns. “And my head now.” Your head always hurts after crying.

“Okay,” He nods, “Hold tight,” and somehow, your fucking angel of a man picks you up off the floor and carries you to bed. He steps away only to grab you a glass of water and some Advil. You take it quietly, chugging the water before he sits on the bed next to you.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” You whisper, still upset, but so so grateful. He just smiles sadly and leans in to kiss you gently. Then, he pulls away to ask,

“How about I give you a quick back massage and then we get to bed? You must be tired. I know I am.” You sigh and nod, shifting so you’re laying on your stomach.

Matt leans down and kisses your shoulder before whispering, “I meant it you know. You made it out. You’re safe. You’re loved.”

And even without being a human lie detector like him, you can tell he’s telling the truth. It makes you cry more, but Matt stays to wipe the tears away. He’ll always stay. And he’ll always tell you as much when you need the reminder.

You’re safe.

You’re loved.

These words echo in your brain as you drift off to sleep, Matt holding you close, fingers tracing patterns into your skin as you fall into a dreamless sleep, focusing on the warmth that radiates off him.

[puplee]

TOBY ROGERS HEAD CANONS I HAVE !! ☆

.* CW ; Mention of drug use / sh. *.

None of this is necessarily supposed to be taken seriously so please don't tug on my balls or anything. :')

I'm gonna do a list of HCs that lean on the more " realistic " side and then some that are just kinda for fun !! YAYAYYAYAYAY !!

★ —

Okay firstly, Toby absolutely smells like shit and sweat. (*DUE TO HIS CIPA, NO HE DOESN'T ACTUALLY SWEAT*) There is NO doubt about it. I gotta admit, seeing HCs that are like "He probably smells like vanilla!" just don't sit right with me because he definitely is a very smelly man

He chews on things he isn't supposed to ( real ) ( technically canon ; did it to his cheek and hands )

He probably mutters to himself on the regular like, nonstop, incoherent bullshit that's literally about nothing

He drools out of his cheek gash unintentionally

* He would probably be a stoner. Whenever he actually attended school he got his hands on it every once in awhile, probably STINKS of weed

HE IS AN ABSOLUTE LOSER. Probably listens to midwest emo music and cries to it like a bitch 😒

If he holds hands with someone he fidgets with their fingers

He's really nitpicky about his bandages, if they aren't wrapped on the correct way he hyper focuses on it for hours until they're just right

HE PLAYS WITH ACTION FIGURES. Not necessarily in a childish way but he likes to pose them

He paces

* Self inflicted scars like all across his body ( this is technically canon but we ball )

Can barely grow like any facial hair so whenever he starts to have a little bit of a stache coming in he savors the moment

Cannot cook. Burns his food

Loves raccoons so much. Tries to cuddle them but usually gets his face mutilated by some claws if he even gets near one

His favorite hero is Wolverine because he relates to him in a way

Sits down in the shower ( whenever he actually remembers to shower )

One time he got caught in a bear trap and walked around with it clamped to his leg for like a day

Major jealousy problems, especially whenever slenderman is giving the other proxies more attention than him. He takes it so seriously because he sacrificed his relationship with his mom to live this life

Gets hella annoyed when his goggles fog up because they do A LOT

Picks bugs up off the ground

He has HORRIBLE posture

AWKWARD LOSER

Of course we're all well aware of his regular get up but whenever he's chilling at the mansion he's always wearing some beat up band tee and some sweats or cargo shorts

I THINK THAT THAT'S IT FOR RN!! But I'm obsessed with him so I'm probably adding onto it and making a few changes here and there

:3

[sadesluvr]

Sins of the Flesh

The one where a religious housewife fights temptation with her gardener.

(JJ Maybank x Reader)

A/N: Second JJ fic! (I haven't forgotten about The Hills!!) This was based off of Charlotte & Trey’s marriage in Sex and the City, specifically the episode where she kisses her gardener! Also, based off Gaby & John in Desperate Housewives, but less weird. Reader is literally the both of them combined, with religious guilt turned up to 100. Check the tags before reading, and minors DNI.

This is a long one, so the ending is a little rushed…Enjoy!

Also credit to @starfxkr and @dulc3vida for their lamb! readers which was a big inspo 🫶🏼✨

Word Count: 5K

Tags: SMUT / Slow burn / Themes of religion / Blasphemy / Infidelity / Cuckolding / Religious guilt / Lots of discussion about pregnancy / Misogyny, kinda / Kook! Reader / Moments of soft! JJ / Unprotected sex / Oral sex, F receiving / Creampies / Corruption & Religion kink / Dirty talk (JJ is a yapper)

Gif by @cyberpunkes !

Your dreams always started off the same.

The sun peeked through the sheer linen curtains, warm rays tickling your nose as it whispered to you that dawn had arrived. Gently, you brushed the sleep away from your eyes as you writhed amongst your silk white sheets, morning breeze making your sensitive nipples harden ever so slightly. As you awoke from your slumber, you stroked the opposite side of your bed, frowning as you found it to be empty.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, glancing around the room in search of something familiar. The hand carved dresser in the opposite corner? Check. Your Bible on the nightstand? Check. The soft, distant cries of a baby from another room? Unfamiliar.

It was always then that you’d wake up, coming to realise that your dream wasn’t so far from reality after all.

You lived on Figure Eight, a place where only the wealthiest and most desirable citizens resided in white palaces with acres of greenery surrounding them. Of course you were no exception; having married an heir to an automotive company just under a year ago.

It wasn’t as if you were unfamiliar to a life of luxury - you’d been born a preacher's daughter right up until you’d become a wife - and had always been told that God had intended for you to be more fortunate than those around you. Yes, you worshipped the crucifix, but yours had always been diamond encrusted. It was just what God wanted.

Much more than anything else, it was your duty to continue his wish by remaining a virgin until you were married, and subsequently continuing the lineage with children of your own.

Apparently, that part did not come as easy.

Hank, your husband, had insisted that it was nothing more than a case of trying, yet at every turn seemed to fail. You’d begun to have a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t a problem on your end, but his, despite his growing insistence otherwise.

Each passing day meant that your biological clock ticked away, and it was weighing on you that you were failing at the one thing you’d given most of your life towards. On days like these, the only thing that brought you peace was your garden, its lush greens and vibrant purples reminding you of the hours spent at the community garden of the chapel of your fathers church.

Things, whilst relatively breezy, just weren’t so simple anymore.

Gasping, you tightened your baby pink robe around your body as you dragged yourself out of bed, hoping to at least greet Hank with a beverage before he went to work.

You practically glided through the house as you made your way along the mahogany floors, down the grand staircase and out of the double doors, careful not to fall down the porch steps as the slight humidity hit you.

Your husband was by the steps, but he didn’t seem alone.

“Honey, I’m sorry, I —-“

You paused once you realised he was speaking to someone. A young man, with blonde hair, a loose fitting tee and shorts, was sitting on the stairs - as if he were being told off - his face seemingly lethargic and uninterested. You caught his eye as he angled to face you, and he quickly adjusted his cap, shifting the brim around so that he could see you clearer.

You flashed him a brief, somewhat uncomfortable smile before you were pulled into a side hug, with Hank placing a kiss to your lips.

“You were asleep, I didn’t want to wake you,”  Hank said softly. “We did get rather rowdy last night, didn’t we?” he murmured, and you patted his chest, not wanting an outsider to hear of such unsavoury things.

“This is the time, I feel it,” he announced before nodding at the blonde. “That’s why I’ve hired a gardener. Now I know you love your plants, and you can still go about the little things, but all that labour just isn’t going to work.” he told you. “We need you in top condition, especially once the baby arrives. The smallest things can affect our chances, you know.” he finished, and you nodded.

There was certainly no denying that Hank was a good husband. What man would want their young wife out in the North Carolina sun for upwards of two hours a day? Not to mention all of the wild plants that could’ve lurked. Even if you weren’t yet pregnant, it just made sense, right?

“I’ve given him a basic rate,” he said, adjusting his tie before lowering his voice. “Money’s on the table and our valuables are in the safe. He’s one of those Pogues…just watch him, you know how they are.” Hank warned quietly, but loud enough to assert dominance.

With a final kiss he was off, and you were left with the strange Pogue boy on the front porch. As odd as it sounded, perhaps the boy’s presence would be a blessing, for as much as you loved solitude, it was rather lonely at times. You supposed it would give you something to do.

“Blink twice if you need help,” a cool voice said, causing you to whip your head towards it. You hadn’t noticed that the blonde had been staring at you, nor that you’d been momentarily zoned out. 

“Kidding, I know how you Kooks operate…” he said, vaguely judgmental as he stood to his feet. Even though he was on the step below you, you couldn’t help but notice that he was bigger than you, in height and muscle, making you step back in shock and bunching your robe up in your hands.

“I’m not going to do anything to you, Lady. I’m just here for the money. ‘Names JJ by the way,” he said, and you were surprised to see him stick out his hand.

Regaining your senses, you shook it back, giving him your name and a soft smile. He didn’t respond, instead allowing for a smirk to appear across his face before shoving his hands into his pockets.

“So, uh, where d’ya want me to start?”

༼ ♰ ༽

The first time you’d had an unsavoury encounter with JJ Maybank had actually been later that day. The boy hadn’t been shy - in the slightest - about staring at you, peeking over the bushes as he watched you prune your bonsai on the deck, face as close as possible to its leaves as you made sure it was immaculate. Unfortunately, this had meant that you were hunched over, giving the blonde a view of the top of your cleavage; not enough to be considered adulterous, but enough to tempt him into some lewd thoughts.

You’d made eye contact with him, and he’d made no effort to break it with yours, instead smirking and flashing you a disingenuous nod. Pursing your lips, you remembered the look in his eye; as if he were trying to figure you out and yet simultaneously seeing right through you. Being a preacher's daughter, it was a look you’d been given a thousand times before, and yet you’d never been so unsure of its intentions until now. Perhaps it was because he was a Pogue boy, and you were a Kook housewife, alone in a house together whilst your husband was at least an hour away. You’d heard all the stories about their savagery; how life in The Cut was so brutal that everyone was on edge, just waiting for an opportunity to go off.

What was JJ capable of? Would you be a good enough wife and Catholic to withstand it? 

More importantly, why did it worry you so?

“...The bush is lovely, by the way.”

His voice drew you from your thoughts.

“Excuse me?” you blinked.

“Your bush,” JJ said with a grin, pointing to the plant in front of you. “It’s all nice and shit. It’s trimmed perfectly,” he mused. “Either you’ve got a lot of time or you just have magic hands…That’s because of all your Jesus stuff, right?”

You sucked in a breath.

“I adore plants,” you said rather bluntly. “They keep me busy.”

“Funny. I usually prefer to smoke mine…I guess you don’t have much going on anyway,” he continued, dropping the hedge scissors to his side as he stopped his motions, giving you his full attention. “Other than what? Look pretty and have babies? You Kooks are swimming in so much you don’t even know where to begin —“

“Are you rather done?” You interjected, ignoring the fact that he’d complimented you. “We’re not paying you to talk.”

JJ chuckled and scratched the back of his head, seemingly enjoying your outburst.

“Hey,” he shrugged. “What your old man doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

༼ ♰ ༽

The other time came after a particularly strenuous lunch with Hank’s parents at the country club. As expected, you were met with the question of grandchildren, to which all you could do was nod and drink your sweet tea, insisting that you were “praying to God”. Of course, that wasn’t an entire lie within itself, but the nature of your prayer was much more defamatory to their very son - something that would make your father’s head spin with utter disgust if he’d ever heard. All of the trying, near misses and downright failures were beginning to take a toll on you, and the deepest, most hidden parts of yourself were questioning whether you wanted a baby at all.

Sighing, you remembered how you barely had had a break, as the moment you’d taken your heels off JJ had arrived - surprisingly on time - ready to get to work. It had seemed like he’d just come from the beach; his signature cap jumbled around his blonde locks and his button up rather undone, exposing his toned chest. Whether it had been from the droplets of the ocean, or beads of sweat from the long journey up, you found yourself strangely enticed by the condensation on his chest, only visible when illuminated by the sun, as if it were his own spotlight.

“Afternoon, ma’am,” JJ nodded, flashing you one of his signature cheeky smiles. You mustered a soft, vaguely curt smile, instead taking interest in his necklace. 

“Shark tooth,” he said, watching you with wide eyes. “I think it’s pretty cool, but I don’t think it would match with your getup…Those things eat girls like you alive,” he finished, running his tongue over his lips as he let out a smooth hum. 

Surprisingly, you laughed.

“I’m not a girl, JJ,” you insisted. “I’m a woman,”

“Yeah,” he scoffed, shifting his weight as he glanced at you, a distant, but glossy look in his eye. “You may be married, but you’re still just a little girl playing make-believe…You and I both know something’s missing.” he finished assuredly, cocking a brow knowingly. 

Instead, you bit the inside of your cheek and shook your head.

“Nothing’s missing,” you said through gritted teeth. “And even if it were, it’s between me and my husband.”

“And God?”

You tutted. 

“And God.”

You could hear him chuckle at this, and imagined his cheeky smile as you turned to make your way into the house, with JJ following after you, parting off into the garden as you disappeared into another room. 

You didn’t know how long later; perhaps thirty minutes or five, but you found yourself by the window to the back door, watching JJ through the sheer curtains as you took in his physique, specifically his lithe fingers and firm grip as they pushed the lawnmower. For some reason, he’d stripped his shirt off, and there was no denying that the sight was making you forget about your terrible afternoon, much more causing a tingling in your loins. You knew all too well that it was the feeling of sin.

Distracted, you hadn’t realised that JJ had caught you looking. He grinned, nodding his head in your erection before he hunched over the handle, flexing his chest muscles in the process.

“I hope you don’t mind, it's pretty hot out here,” he shrugged, a brazen glimmer in his eye before he glanced down at his body, and back up at you. “Plus, I know you liked the look of my necklace, so…”

༼ ♰ ༽

“This is the third smoke sesh you’ve almost missed,” John B said, brow raised as Sarah nodded. “What’s up with that?”

JJ chuckled, shaking his head as he sat down on a chair next to Pope and leisurely cracked open a beer. Around him were faces of intrigue; though more concerned if anything (given his nature), and he tapped an index finger on his lips.

“Getting some of that sweet Kook cash, my friend,” he drawled. “You all should try it sometime,”

“Since when do you work overtime?” Kie snorted, cocking her head.

“Since the day I found out that the business dude's wife is a total MILF,” JJ shrugged, rolling a blunt. “And she’s not even pregnant yet!”

Kie and Sarah scoffed and rolled their eyes, with the tanned girl flicking her hair back before she spoke.

“You know she’s only like, 26, 27? Hank’s like 45 or something, it’s kinda weird…” Sarah said leisurely. “She seems sweet though, even if all the other wives are weird about her,”

JJ excitedly slapped the table before raising his hands in victory.

“So I’m in!” He declared before turning to Pope, who was, if not a little uncomfortable, certainly wide eyed. “I’m telling you, man, say the word and I can get you in on this. It’s like those movies, y’know? Except it’s way hotter because she’s like super religious and is practically a virgin…You should see the dresses she wears - oh, man - they’re like all girly and proper…She’s like the First Lady, bro — I’m telling you, I’m like, in love with her —“

Pope shook his head.

“...That’s not love, dude.” 

“It’s gotta be, cause we haven’t even hooked up yet,”

“Yet? She’s married!” Kie exclaimed.

“Marriage doesn’t mean shit, trust me,” JJ shrugged, leaning back as his legs bounced uncontrollably. “I’m this close!” he said, making a motion with his fingers.

“Hank will literally kill you!” Pope spluttered. “And by de facto that probably means us too!”

JJ shrugged, thinking of the way the sweetheart neckline of your sundresses clung to your chest and rode ever so slightly up your thigh as you’d sit down.

“Hey, of all the ways I could die, that would definitely not be the worst,”

༼ ♰ ༽

“Did you take it properly?”

“Yes, Hank,” you sighed, masking your frustration as much as possible. “It’s negative. Perhaps we should wait a while, maybe a family isn’t part of our journey yet —“

“Nonsense,” he interrupted, wiping his hand across his mouth. “We’re inviting the pastor over this Sunday and we’re talking this out. It may be embarrassing but…”

You couldn’t bring yourself to listen to him much longer. What more was there to say? You’d tried every diet, been to every specialist and had tried some rather strenuous positions in bed all to knock you up, and yet somehow it was still a problem on your end. Hank was a stubborn man, and no amount of prayer would change that.

Instead, you noticed JJ, leisurely cutting at your rose bush as he listened into your conversation, his head cocked and jaw clenched. He was dressed in one of his vests; the sides split dangerously low as they exposed his muscular arms and toned stomach, and you hated how much you wanted Hank to leave right there and then so he could peel it off and work shirtless. From your usual view by the window you never noticed how impressive his legs were either; how his calves curved perfectly as they rose up and disappeared into the material of his shorts, nor how they rode up slightly when he’d bend down, exposing his large thighs. He reminded you of all those boys - the ‘charlatans’ who, according to your father, only wanted you for one thing. 

It was painfully ironic that this was the one thing you were craving.

Hank was still talking - though the subject had inexplicably changed - when you noticed that JJ was staring at his index finger, squeezing it as red liquid oozed from his fingertip. Your eyes widened, and you seized the opportunity to finally send Hank away.

“Bandages are in the bathroom under the stairs,” you said, turning to the blonde, and breaking the older man from his thoughts. JJ nodded and walked off, all under the watchful eye of your husband.

“You shouldn’t let him in there alone,” he murmured, and you sighed, distracting yourself by fixing his collar.

“He’s been with us for three months now…I trust him,” you said softly with a shrug.

Hank grunted.

“Maybe if you stop talking, I could go in there and supervise him.” you said with a soft, inconspicuous chuckle. He seemed to get the point, and you quickly said your goodbyes, sending him off with a custom kiss to his lips. On all the other days you’d done this, it had felt special, but today it was noticeably empty. Perhaps you needed the pastor more than you’d thought.

As expected, JJ hadn’t returned outside, instead leaning over the marble countertops of your island, a bloodied tissue balled up in front of him. He looked a little different than he did in the direct sun; possibly due to the golden haze affecting your vision (and judgement), as the cool tones of the interior made the cerulean of his irises pop just a little more, showing off his pupils, widened under the wanting glaze in his eyes. You never felt scared around JJ - rather the opposite - but his fixed gaze and silence in the moment was particularly ominous. 

“...How’s your hand?” you said, clearing your throat.

“Fine,” he mumbled, glancing down at them before looking up. “I’ve had worse,”

“Let me see,” you announced, walking around the island to sit next to him, closing the gap between you. You took his lithe fingers in your own, analysing how red and raw his knuckles were. For a young man, his hands were somewhat aged; likely because of his life as a rogue, which both somewhat scared you and made you sympathise with him more. 

Fixating on his finger, you tried to ignore the way he leaned into you, shifting his weight so that he appeared taller, the warm skin of his arms pressing against your own. He smelt fresh, if not admittedly a little musty, and the smell mingled with your own daisy perfume, making your heart skip a beat.

“You’ve got a splinter,” you continued. “This has to be removed or it could get infected —“

“It’s not —“ JJ said defensively, and you cut him off with pleading eyes.

“Please, I insist,”

He softened, nodding his head before you moved around the room to find your first aid kit. You’d done it with such ease; as if you were some kind of Mary Poppins - or better yet the Virgin Mary - and he suddenly couldn’t seem to figure out whether he wanted to take advantage of your kindness, or be on the receiving end of it. As much as his cock throbbed at the idea of fucking the repressed, religious housewife and cucking her POS husband, he couldn’t help but think of all the times he’d fallen - literally and metaphorically - and all the times his ‘dad’ had hit on him, ultimately coming back to how much he’d needed someone to nurse his wounds. In an alternate world, you could’ve been that somebody, but he was lucky enough to have his friends.

Once you'd made your way back to him, you sat down on one of the stools, careful as you handled his slightly swollen finger, going through the motions of wiping it with antiseptic before you began to poke at the skin with tweezers.

Moments passed, and you’d spent it in silence.

“Any luck?” JJ perked up.

You nodded and wiped the tweezers on a section of gauze.

“It’s all out now, just make sure it’s cov—“

“With the baby,” he said, cutting you off. Your blood ran cold, and you dropped his hand, staring him in the eye. Part of you was mortified, no matter how obvious it had been that JJ was listening in earlier. 

“That is far too inappropriate to talk about with you,” you stammered.“And it’s really none of your business,”

JJ pursed his lips and flexed his limbs as he watched you scramble. It was as if this were amusing to him.

“My bad,” he snorted. “I just think he’s an asshole, y’know, and you’re so good to me…” he said, pausing to run his tongue over his lips as he stared at you. “Other than the money, why are you with him? Isn’t the whole point of the Bible to be nice to people and stuff?”

Pitifully, you chuckled at his childishness as you shook your head.

“It’s also about being a provider. He loves me, JJ, he really does —“

“Yeah, ‘cause you being a virgin had nothing to do with it…” he spat, causing you to anxiously tug at your crucifix,  “He can’t even give you a baby,”

“…I mean, that’s the thing you want most, right? What does it say that he can’t even give that to you?”

The statement rang true in your head as you ran your palms down the sides of your sundress, strangely desperate to hit something. Was that the right emotion? You couldn’t tell; you just knew that your body was hot, your heart racing as the pulse of blood flooded your ears, and there was an inexplicable urge to surrender, even though you wanted to run. You couldn’t even face the boy as you spoke, instead beginning to make your way out of the room.

“JJ…I-I think you should go…” you stammered, burying your face in your hands as you left, the sound of JJ’s boots hitting your marble floors telling you that you weren’t going to be alone anytime soon. He shook his head and bit his lip in frustration as he followed after you into the sunroom.

“Hey, wait — fuck — I didn’t mean —“

“JJ please!” You begged, facing him as your chest heaved and your eyes were as wide as saucers. You shouldn’t have strolled into here; the heat that poured in from the glass was unbearable, and you longed to open the doors and indulge in the feeling of cool air. If you could just do that, perhaps you’d feel better? If not, you’d certainly be seeing the Reverend about a dip in the water of penance.

Either way, everything was too much, and you had no clue about just how much worse things were about to get.

“You’re not crying, are you?”

“No,” you sighed. “I-I just feel awful. I’m a horrible person, I’m going to hell, I –”

You wanted to fight against the fact that JJ had pulled you into a hug, but as you buried your face into his neck you felt otherwise. There was something strangely arousing about his musky smell, and judging by the feeling of his cock against your thigh, he felt the same.

As if you didn’t know that.

“Shh, it’s okay…You’re fine…” he whispered, pulling away to glance down at you, gauging your reaction. “Let me take care of you…”

“JJ, I can’t —“

Your words were swallowed by his kiss; his lips hungry as they attacked your own, whilst his hands invaded your body, planting themselves on your hips before moving down to grope your ass. You let out a soft moan as he gave it a gentle squeeze before he made his way back up to your face, cupping your cheeks in his hands. He pulled away, eyes burning into your own longingly, yet still a little dumbfounded; and stayed there, his grip unwavering.

“I’m dying for you, Mama,” he said earnestly, gaze flickering down to your heaving bosom, your crucifix twinkling in the sunlight. “Daddy’s gonna take care of you, ‘kay?”

You nodded as you peeled the straps of your dress down your shoulders, heart pounding as you revealed yourself to a man who was not your husband - and yet it felt like your wedding night all over again.

JJ sucked in a breath as he watched you undress, unable to hide his smirk as he shifted off his shorts with ease and palmed his cock through his boxers. He could see the outline of your nipples peeking through the lacy, baby pink material, and knew that he wouldn’t be able to restrain himself once he had his hands on you. Fuck, he could barely even do it now.

“C’mere,” he commanded, silver rings glistening as he beckoned you over. A heat began to pool in your stomach as you walked over to him; sensually, reverently, skin breaking into goosebumps as his fingers danced along the skin of your back, swiftly unhooking the material of your bra. You were straddling him now, running your fingers through his tousled hair as you kissed him, gently grinding along his clothed cock and making JJ let out a soft groan. He revelled in the feeling of your warm skin against his own, and slid his hands down your body to grasp your hips, pushing them down with gentle force against his pelvis.

“JJ…” you gasped. Your heart fluttered, not ready to accept the fact that you were about to take another man’s cock - one that was longer, and probably far more satisfactory. “It’s –”

He shushed you again.

“I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you…Just let go…” 

You couldn’t deny how good the act of dry humping felt, the folds of your aching clit tangible through the sheer material of your panties as his cock traced and embedded on your core; a blob of precum spreading across your inner thighs. JJ’s pink lips were latched onto your nipple, sucking and biting at your skin, determined to leave a mark.

He wanted your husband to see that his property had been defiled - by a Pogue boy no less - all under the watchful eye of God.

After a few moments, he flipped you, your head falling to the other side of the couch as you now found him on top of you, his necklace dangling in your face as he gazed down at you.

“ ‘He ever eaten you out before?” he said snarkily.

“…Huh?”

“Didn’t think so,” 

Before you knew it, he’d disappeared between your legs, sliding your panties down in a swift manner and burying his tongue inside of you. He hadn’t given you any warning, but the hot, wet sensation was surprisingly pleasurable. 

JJ was touching you like no man had ever before; using his mouth and hands to explore your crevice, flicking and lapping at the obscene amount of juices that coated your folds. You whimpered and gripped a pillow, frantic to find some sense of security - only for JJ to pull it from you, tossing it to the other side of the room.

“Nuh-uh,” he began, his voice muffled. “Fuck the pillow. You hold onto me, baby…” he drawled, a hand sliding under your ass and onto the curve of your lower back to angle you higher; silver rings digging into your skin as he held you there. Biting your lip, you fought the urge to blaspheme and laced your fingers through his hair, digging at his roots as he fucked you with his tongue, searching for that oh-so sweet spot.

“You taste so good, Mama…” JJ cooed, lost in your walls, borderline breathless from the way you were squeezing his head between your thighs and drawing him deeper. “…I bet that pussy feels like heaven,”

Perhaps it was the mention of paradise, but his dirty talk sent you over the edge. It was as if you’d been shocked; as if an electrifying pulse of light had run through you, making your back arch and toes curl, swallowing JJ’s face whole. 

It was incredibly obscene. 

You’d barely caught your breath when JJ had climbed back up, indulging you in a passionate kiss and smearing your juices all over your face. Tracing your fingers down his spine, you didn’t break eye contact with him as you pushed down his boxers with one hand and palming his aching cock. It was somewhat heavy with a considerable length, and he chuckled as you shut your eyes and said a silent prayer - not only for what you were about to do, but just how much you were going to enjoy it.

“Hold still,” JJ commanded, breaths shaky as he began to push into you. “‘Imma give you what you want baby…Fuck –”

JJ was loud, but you didn’t care.

It was all too overstimulating; from the dull pain that came from your legs spread so pornographically as they dangled off of his shoulders, to the sound of his pelvis slapping against your own as he rutted into you. You left graceful scars along his back as your manicured nails dug into his sun-kissed skin, crawling at him as you begged for him to go deeper.

“You like this, huh? I know Jesus probably wouldn’t be too happy about this, but pretty girls like you deserve to get what they want…Shit…” he groaned, sliding in and out of you with ease. “Besides, if I give you a baby it’s just me being a good neighbour, right?”

A baby.

That had been the whole reason for your foul mood as of late.

Would Hank ever know? Could you explain it away? How could you function with JJ still around? Your family, your friends…God? How could you ever atone for such a sin?

Realistically, none of that mattered now. Especially not when JJ was fucking you like a rabbit; his hair buried in the crook of your neck and his legs bent as he pressed you into the sofa, yearning to consume you. 

“JJ…” you whined, “I think I’m gonna –”

“Shit, me too baby,” he groaned. “This pussy is so fucking good…Just swallowing me up ‘n shit — I should’ve started working earlier…”

His balls were slapping against your skin now, and you began to see white as he fucked into you, his tip hitting your sweet spot and making you clench around him, legs trembling as you came. It wasn’t too long until he followed after you, your clear juices mixing with his hot cum as he continued to fuck you, rolling his hips in a slow but sensual manner as he made sure you felt - and were filled - with every inch of him.

Which was why it wasn’t surprising that you found yourself pregnant two weeks later.

EPILOGUE.

[vivithefolle]

Hi Vivi! I'd like to ask something as a Ron fan. How abusive is Ron really in book six? He gave Hermione the silent treatment, and when I decided to research about the silent treatment I found it's a form of psychological abuse???? WHAT??? I love him so much but he literally disgusts me in this book, making girls cry, and what he did to Hermione isn't exactly forgivable. The more I think about it the less I like him which is a shame, because I would defend him with my life but the hbp makes it IMPOSSIBLE for me to feel sympathy for him. And it kinda icks me how hermione keeps crying over a boy who might not even be worthy her tears. Jkr clearly wants to villainize him in some way and make us hate him and think he's gross and unworthy. And unfortunately, that bitch succeeds by ruining his arc

Okay okay, valid. Somewhat.

Because. Really. Remember.

Who's the one who later *extends* the silent treatment?

I'm sure you've read some asshole basher's take on HBP!Ron and yeah it's certainly not his proudest book. But know who else is an absolute dickface who's not worthy of Ron's tears in that book?

Hermione.

Hermione and her "spared Ron one look of disdain". Hermione and her treating Ron coldly when he reacts to Lavender being nice to him (while Hermione withholds attention from him deliberately, WHICH IS ABUSIVE BEHAVIOUR but Rowling justifies with "oh but that's how girls are like tee hee"). Hermione and her "golden bullets", Harry and his "yeah Ron you may have just gotten assaulted but shouldn't YOU apologize to Hermione cause yknow it's basically your fault if she's an unhinged violent asshole who thinks she's allowed to hurt you as a form of retribution?". Hermione and her "I like really good Quidditch players". Hermione and, when Ron *immediately* tries to talk to her once he sees her upon returning from Christmas, her blatantly ignoring Ron and keeping the silent treatment going UNTIL RON'S BIRTHDAY IN MARCH. RON KEPT THE SILENT TREATMENT GOING FOR LIKE ~3 WEEKS, HERMIONE KEPT IT UP FOR MONTHS.

You see, the book keeps crowing that Ron is immature and stupid and isn't Hermione just so out of his league and so much better than him, isn't it such a tragedy that such a good girl cries over such an unworthy boy?

But then you remember the actual events, you remember the stuff that Hermione actually did and that Rowling treats as though it's just desserts for Ron or "girl stuff", you remember that Rowling talks at length about all that Ron fucks up and how he's sooo mean and horrible for making girls cry waaah... but then remember. Remember Hermione's actions, remember how Hermione treats Ron as though he belongs to her, how she consciously withholds affection from him to control him and once he subverts that control? She consciously, deliberately, physically attacks him. Then starts months of silent treatment that only end when Ron ALMOST FUCKING DIES.

At every turn, she proves worse than Ron ever is - Ron accidentally harmed Demelza, Hermione deliberately harmed Ron; Ron did the silent treatment a bit, Hermione prolonged it even as Ron tried to reconnect; only thing she didn't do is make Ron cry and that's because Ron isn't allowed to express hurt by crying because he's a boy, but she definitely hurt him just like he hurt her, and perhaps even worse because she deliberately targeted his insecurities.

And remember, Hermione is supposed to be "the mature one". "She who is out of Ron's league". The sacred all-knowing brilliant girl who is so nice and loving and only the worthy may wield, or something.

This is the behaviour of our "mature above all" goddess? Ron's behaviour, except worse because she does it for longer and with full intent? If Ron's behaviour in HBP makes him unworthy of Hermione, then what does Hermione's behaviour in HBP make her? I think, perhaps, it makes her unworthy of being considered someone Ron should "prove" worthy of.

In short: whatever Ron does in HBP, Hermione does, and worse. It's just that Rowling deliberately puts more emphasis on Ron's behaviour so you will think he's bad, and "softens" Hermione's bullshit with "oh but she's a girl, she's emotional, and it's really just Ron's fault she acted like an abusive dick :/" which in my language we call victim blaming and sexist double-standards.

Ron gets ruined by Rowling. And Hermione? Hermione is Rowling's idea of a perfect girl. A bossy, controlling nightmare who can make your "best friend" think it's YOUR fault she hit you. A dickhead who weaponizes her tears as a shield to deflect any form of criticism, an actual child who can't reflect on her behaviour for shit and will always make it everyone else's problem, a tantrum-throwing brat who for all her supposed "intelligence" has nothing to show for it but grades that don't mean shit in an actual job.

If Ron isn't "worthy" of this, then I'm happy for him. Indeed it feels more like Hermione, despite Rowling's intent, is less of a prize and more of a curse.

[notjustjavierpena]

The Making of Ellie - Part III: Reveal

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Y’all are literally flooding my inbox about these two, so here’s a little wholesome piece whilst I write more smut.

Summary: Your gender reveal is interrupted by pregnancy nausea.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: Completely safe for all ages, but beware of talk about vomit, pregnancy, tooth-rotting fluff, joel is so soft and emotional here, joel just loves taking care of his pregnant s/o.

Word count: 1.2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49183051/chapters/124280383

Reveal

It was supposed to be a nice night. Tommy had come over for dinner, Sarah had her boyfriend come over too, and for dessert, you were having cake that Sarah had carefully instructed Tommy in making for a very low-key reveal of the baby’s sex. He’d gotten food coloring to make both pink and blue sponge cake, and Sarah had happily told you and Joel about how she’d stood with her back to him in his kitchen as he whipped up the cake batter. Obviously, not without also ranting about gender stereotypes. 

But not even at your third bite of dinner, you had excused yourself from the table and run out to the bathroom. Joel found you with your head in the toilet, arms braced against the seat with tears in your eyes. 

“It was supposed to be a nice night,” you’d cried as he stroked your hair. The guilt in your voice had made his chest hurt, tightening and pinching as your stomach continued rejecting its contents. 

Joel loves to take care of you when you are pregnant. This does, however, not mean that he takes pleasure in seeing your body fight against you as you are growing his kid, betraying you by making you throw up your dinner and causing you to cry in apology. He wishes he could take that exhaustion and pain away from you, put the strain on himself so that he doesn’t have to see the downturn of your mouth when your bottom lip starts trembling. He’d suffer through anything for you to keep you smiling. 

Joel finds you an hour later in your bedroom, lying on your side with a blanket all the way up to your nose. Your hair isn’t sticking to your forehead anymore, and your normal color seems to have returned to your face but God, you look tired beyond words. 

When he closes the door behind himself, you stir awake and turn onto your back. Your eyes are barely open, fatigue at its highest from being pregnant and denied the energy of food due to said pregnancy. You don’t even seem to notice that he places a plate and a glass on the nightstand.

“Hey,” he says softly. He sits down on the edge of the bed and turns his body towards yours, “How ya feelin’?”

“I’ve been better, but I can come back downstairs soon,” you say with a groggy smile. He gives you a moment to wake up a bit more, not at all in a hurry because he has sent Tommy home and Sarah is in her bedroom with her boyfriend, which he tries not to think about too much. 

“No need, I sent Tommy out the door,” he replies, reaching out for you to rub a gentle hand over the blanket along your hip and waist. He can feel you’ve taken off your skirt despite it just being a piece of fabric with an elastic band around your waist, wearing only underwear and the loose-fitting tee from earlier.

“God, can’t even join my own dinner party,” you groan, pulling the blanket up over your face to hide your shame.

Joel yanks it down again, “‘S not your fault. Kid’s just a troublemaker like their momma.”

“So it is my fault?” You raise a brow at him.

“Shut up,” he rolls his eyes whilst you snicker. It’s contagious, and only he talks again when he has stopped laughing himself, “Can you sit up f’me?”

You sit up carefully, but your nausea has died down enough to make you stay upright. You scoot back to sit against the headboard, “What is it? Oh no, did I miss the cake?”

“No, no. Ain’t gotta worry about that. ‘Course we didn’t start without you,” he tuts. Even in your woken state, you’ve been too busy staring at him to notice the snack and drink that he has brought you. Joel doesn’t complain. He takes the plate in hand and holds it up between the two of you, “Brought ya somethin’, sweetheart, but I can eat it if you don’t feel like it. There’s plain water too.”

You look down at the tiny cupcake on the way too big of a plate for it. There’s slight confusion on your face, “What’s this?”

“Came prepared in case of an emergency. Told Tommy to make an extra for just the two of us if this happened,” he smiles a little shyly. He has always taken care of the people he loved, but not quite like this before. 

There are tears in your eyes, a sudden sob escaping from your mouth, “Seriously? Fuck, Miller. I—“

“I know, baby,” he soothes. He doesn’t put the plate down to comfort you, but instead bumps his forehead against yours gently. 

“Wanna take a bite?” He asks. 

You take the plate from his hand but then shake your head, “No, I don’t wanna possibly ruin this. You do it.”

Joel can feel something catch in his chest. He sits up straight. He usually never feels nervous, pushes the feeling down and away whenever he’s presented with it, but he looks down at the cupcake with a racing heartbeat. He takes it, pulls the parchment paper down, and bites it all the way through from top to bottom. 

The taste is too much, too sugary and he doesn’t understand how you enjoy these so much. He chews quietly. Then he screws his eyes shut, turning the half-eaten cupcake towards you so he doesn’t have to look himself, doing it in a dramatic fashion to hide that he is scared beyond belief. It’s better for you to rip the bandage off.

You gasp loudly, then, “We’re having a girl?”

Joel wants to collapse into you. His heart rate spikes, “We are?”

Sure enough; the inside of the cake is bright pink and the look on your face is gorgeous and excited. He is suddenly the one to down the glass of water he has brought for you. 

Joel isn’t sure when it starts, but he feels tears welling up in his eyes and running down his cheeks until they drip down from his chin and onto his shirt. It’s overwhelming. It feels embarrassing too. He has been here before with Sarah’s mother, but experiencing it with you makes it feel brand new. He sits on the edge of the bed with the empty glass in his lap. 

“Joel,” you fuss, quickly putting down the plate. You cup his face and kiss his frosting-stained lips, “Don’t cry, yeah? And don’t get a heart attack. It’ll be highly impractical for me at this point.” 

“Shut up,” he repeats like earlier, sniffing. You pull him into your chest, resting his head on your shoulder. He looks up at you, “‘m not squishin’ you, right?”

“No, definitely not,” you hold him close, kissing his hair repeatedly, “You are the cutest.” 

“Do you think she’ll like me?” He asks after a tiny grumble. He’ll let the word cute slide for now. 

“Ellie?” You say the name that you’ve already settled on. Joel likes it, “She already loves you. You calm her every time you speak. Like a baby whisperer.”

Joel chuckles quietly. There’s a pause. 

“And me? You think she’ll like me?” You add. 

Joel cannot see the irony in thinking that it’s the most ridiculous question he’s ever been asked. He doesn’t hesitate, tuts softly, “‘Course. You’re her momma.”

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[ariseur]

Hey, How are you? Just read so many of your DMC head canon and I liked them, good work don't think it's against your rules, if it is, just ignore this.

But wanted to request Dante with fem! Reader who just had a baby girl.... Dante's reaction to having a girl and how he is with a newborn.

dante with a baby girl 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

dante (dmc) x reader (?)

┊ ˚➶ notes ｡˚ 🎼

this has been sitting in my inbox for so long, my apologies!!! this was a really cute request and i love dante sm ugh i have dante brainrot rn

┊ ˚➶ warnings ｡˚ 🎼

babies n mentions of pregnancy ( obviously ), intended lowercase, lmk if i missed something!! 💕

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

❥ let me tell you how cute i think this actually is.. like dante with a little baby girl??? it’s??? just so?? cuteee??22?2?2

❥ i can honestly see dante as a boy and a girl dad, but since we’re talking about girls here!! let me just shed some light on how awesome of a dad dante would be regardless of what gender his kid is.

❥ as a newborn, i can see him being both super goofy or uncharacteristically careful. dante is literally so scared to do something wrong so he leaves most of it to you, but if you use formula for your baby or if.. part demons don’t need milk (?).. then he’ll take over that. it should be easy enough, he says, right? right???

❥ wrong. he let you have some time alone to let you go out and actually be baby-free for a little while and he partially regrets it. the only reason why is because he’s stuck on the couch rocking the baby back and forth while she cries because dante doesn’t know how much to feed her.. which is how he ends up calling you on your alone time

❥ dante’s behavior as a dad depends on how old he is ( what game we’re talking about ). as in dmc 1-3, he’s more so carefree and although he’d know being a dad is a lot of responsibility, he’d still have somewhat of goofy, dumb mindset within him. meanwhile as he progresses in dmc4, he’s learned a lot and has gotten better, so i think this would be the start of a really good era to raise a baby. and then finally in dmc5, peepaw still got it, okay?

❥ while i see dante enjoying his beauty rest, i can also see him sacrificing his sleep to get up and take the fall of a crying baby rather than wake you up and ruin your sleep schedule. dante’s pretty good at entertaining babies for some reason, what can i say?? they just love the guy i guess

❥ even before you’ve had the baby AND after, i feel like dante would pick the goofiest outfits for her omfg. like, you’ll be sifting through the clothes and looking for some cute onesies or something and all of a sudden you hear, “babe—!” and you turn and it’s dante holding up a baby tee with a cannabis leaf on it

❥ dante would absolutely remember his baby’s birthday, and on the off chance he doesn’t and he only remembers because you or nero brought it up or something, he will run on the other side of town just for her. you’ll call him and be like, “you got the cake, right?” and he’ll be like “ohhh, yeah— don’t worry, i got it” and he’s literally fighting like six antenora and hellbats rn but dont worryyy!! afterwards he’ll just stop by the bakery all bloody and ask for the cutesiest cake available and he’ll start showing the baker photos of you and his baby girl. he’ll be like “ugh, they grow up so fast 😊” as he’s picking out demon blood and residue from his air

❥ read a post where it was headcanons about if vergil and dante had a baby that had blonde hair like eva’s and WHOAAA. if dante’s daughter somehow received a recessive trait and she has blonde hair like eva’s, it will pull at dante’s heart strings from birth. he thinks it’s a sign, a sign that she’s still watching over him and that’s she’s there— she’s there enough that you’ve acquired her hair color. he believes her love is just that strong, and that makes him try a little harder every day. he will not let her memory be forgotten, and he’ll tell you and his daughter whatever stories he remembers from when he was a kid, especially ones with vergil ( partially to spite him ).

❥ growing up would be the hardest thing for dante to accept. he’ll always love her unconditionally but it makes him sad knowing that this is the youngest she’ll ever be and the oldest she’ll ever get ( if that makes sense ). but, he’ll always love her even when she’s not a baby anymore. he’ll love her when those onesies turn into t-shirts and he’ll love her when that teddy bear turns into an algebra textbook or a phone or jewelry.

❥ dante will forever cherish his family, and he yearns for that domesticity you two have created with your children. he’ll love you and his daughter regardless, and he’ll always come back for you. he is the legendary devil hunter, of course.

[janovavalen]

living dead girl .°୭̥ ❁ ˎˊ˗ aegon targaryen x fem!reader

summary: the life of y/n was changed forever all because they thought it was funny

warnings: blood, knives, stabbing, gore, demonic tendencies, killings, horror story, jennifer’s body and tamara themed.

this is a part story of the continuation of what i want to write, it was meant to be written when it was halloween but i literally had work on halloween..and school😔.

‘hello?’ she wimped, her voice trembling, body shaking and cold from the room she was in. hearing something fall she turned in a hurry, screaming out as it echoed through the room she saw nothing.

her breath shaking left her body—‘is someone there?’ she asked once more—‘please just come out already…’ hearing a chuckle from behind her she turned and was met with a slightly taller figure, her eyes meeting some chest and chin before looking up to see aegon.

‘oh…aegon its you’ she smiled softly, her eyes glistening while looking at him as he smirked down at her.

‘yes, it’s me…what are you doing here all alone?’ he muttered. she looked around at the dark room once more before back at him.

‘i don’t know where i am..im just happy your here’ she admitted softly, her smile making his drop ever so slightly.

‘your happy to see me?’ he whispered. she gulped a bit, nervous beyond belief.

‘y—yes…i am’ she said once more as he seemed to frown even more.

‘i’m not…i’m not happy your the only one here..now i’m stuck with you.’ he said with a hardened voice. y/n felt her heart shattered to pieces.

‘huh? wh..what are you—‘

‘do you think i want to be stuck with you? i don’t even like you, and yet you like me..you pay attention to me and i don’t even see you’ her eyes started to well up as the tears in her eyes dropped down her cheeks.

‘s..stop please’ she started to step back as he walked to her.

‘you don’t even exist to me..you never did and you never will’ she started to grow saddened by the moment, ever harsh word he told her she felt her heart sink even more. she stumbled back onto something she never even saw and fell hard on the cold wet ground under her.

‘your pathetic, low life, stuck up, little bitch!’ he yelled while she sat on the ground and cried harder and harder.

she didn’t even know what was happening and didn’t know what to do, the fact the two were alone together and the fact she loved him very so, although for what he said with his cold gaze down on her she still knew she’d forgive him.

‘please..stop..’ she whimpered her heart beating faster and faster, just then, he started to kick her leg, over and over, yelling out in pain as he laughed, the sound of it starting to pain her head, she cried and cried, blood started to pour down from his mouth and eyes as he laughed harder at the cries.

‘stop! stop! please! just stop!’ she yelled even louder until she heard something.

jumping up she breathed heavily looking around to see she was in her softened bed with her curtains open, revealing the light from outside, sighing she whipped her hand with the back of head, the sweat from her nightmare making her whole body full with a cold sweat.

looking around once more, she looked at her lock and seen she was just in time to get ready before school.

getting up before grabbing her glasses to place them on her face, she walked to her bathroom and got ready, taking a shower to wash the sweat off of her body and out of her hair, she did her return routine, placing jeans and a tee shirt on along with tennis shoes and grabbing her finally items before walking downstairs.

‘oh, good morning darling’ her mother said, her father eating breakfast on the other side of him while he smiled at his daughter.

‘morning mom’ she said, walking to the kitchen to grab some water and a apple.

‘oh honey, you don’t want to stay and eat? i made your favorite’ her mother saddened a bit while y/n shook her head.

‘no no i’m okay, i have a big test today anyways and i don’t think miss.winston wants me to be late for it, but i’ll definitely eat that for a snack when i come back’ she smiled as she gave her mom a hug and kiss, walking to her father to do the same.

‘alright sweetie, have a good day, okay? be safe!’ her dad yelled as her mom did the same. walking out and shutting the door behind her, she locked it and went to walk her way to school. with her headphones over her ears and her hands gripping her book bag over her shoulder tight, she kept a steady pace down the sidewalk.

it was fall around this season, so the breeze outside was chilly but soothing, she loved this time of year and loved how the trees looked as their leaves fell to the ground and painted the view orange, brown and yellow.

her song in her ears is simple and beautiful to calm what she’d dreamt about just moments ago. sighing to herself she continued to walk until she got to school.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🧟‍♀️　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

getting into the school as y/n stuffed her bag into the small locker, she held her books tightly against her chest trying not to drop all of her books for every class.

just as she placed it onto its hook, she felt a pain in her back before being pushed into her locker. her books falling to the ground as she groaned a bit.

hearing the same laughs she heard every time this happened she didn’t bother to turn around and face the girls that’d been tormenting her since freshman year of highschool.

‘look at here bending down to pick up all her shit like always, poor girl hasn’t even been touched’ the girl—casey muttered he last part to her friends as they laughed and snickered at y/n who hid behind her hair, it falling to protect her face perfectly away from them.

getting up and not paying them any attention, they pushed her back once more as she ignored them, knowing if she paid any attention they’d do much worse.

getting to her class with her books bending and moving out of her arms, she sat down in her usual seating and ignored the rest of the lads getting in.

the teacher spoke as she listened closely. opening her notebook to do what was told on the board for studying, she pushed her glasses up with her finger and moved some hair behind her ear, just then the door to the classroom shut, gaining her attention.

as if the room gained a new light, y/n adjusted in her seat. there he was, aegon targaryen. his hair a crispy blond with his roots growing its natural color once more, his brows thick and frowned like all the time. his clothes today fit him perfectly, amazing.

she felt herself smile a bit but was quick to hide it, having her head go back to her paper but occasionally looking up and over at him with her eyes. she knew enough about him to grow a life long crush on him.

she knew his sister and brother, helaena and aemond, aemond being slightly younger but ten times taller, his sister being the sweetheart of the whole school. she had a small amount of fan followers who had a crush on her for her light spirit and eyes.

y/n and her had been pretty close for a while now but not enough to walk around in the hallways and talk about boy problems together. they’d have occasional sleepovers or even hung out whenever she was free.

‘psst…hey’ she heard, looking over slowly to see aegon smiling at her, she smiled sweetly back.

‘yeah?’ she mumbled, trying not to get the teachers attention.

‘sorry to bug, i was hoping you had a pen i could use? or even a pencil? i don’t bring a lot of stuff to school’ he smiled awkwardly as she laughed a bit quietly.

nodding as she reached for her bag and grabbed out a pen and pencil, she reached over and handed it to him, he smiled sweetly and whispered—‘thank you so much, really saved me today’

turning sound once more, she felt her heart warming and beating so fast, her hands had grown sweaty and shaky at the same time, her face grew warm as she looked to the paper on her desk, placing her fingers to graze across her lips she smiled sweetly.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🧟‍♀️　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

at the end of class y/n turned in her test on the desk as she held her books in a struggle once more. giving the teacher a small smile who gave one back. walking out and into the hallway she walked to the library, opposite of the lunch room.

she always had her own lunch anyway, and had nobody to even sit or talk to, so she found it pointless to go into the lunch room. the loud chattering and conversations around her, an occasional fight happening between two couples, one cheater and another who already knew but was fed up.

getting to the library, she heard the librarian speak—‘aw, hello y/n, lunch in here again?’ she asked sweetly.

‘yes ma’am..i hope it’s okay?’ y/n mumbled.

‘oh, don’t be ridiculous, you can stay for as long as you’d like, i’m happy you find this place soothing as much as i do. i used to be like you at your age. always here and always quiet’ she smile as y/n did back.

walking to her usual table she laid out all her books and walked around for a book to read for lunch, she also had a free period next so she had no urgent need to leave for class.

finding one that looked good and reading some of the back, she decided it would do, walking to her table and beginning to eat her lunch and read.

this was what she didn’t mind about school, she didn’t mind being alone. she had her mom and dad to give her company. although; she did wonder what it would be like to have a best friend like in the movies…or a boyfriend.

a boyfriend like aegon. she’d heard around school he was with someone but they were exclusive nor a ‘real thing’ they had occasional sex or hung out. y/n wished sometimes it was her. but knowing she’s a person of her stature, he’d never go for her.

he was loud, party hard, exotic and sexy. she was everything opposite. quiet, introverted, closed off and not to the appeal of everyone. trying to forget it all, she moved some of her hair out of her face, eating her lunch and reading.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🧟‍♀️　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

walking out after the second bell of the class some had but she didn’t, walking through the hallways quietly she was shoved in the locker, her shoulder shooting with pain while her books stayed still in her hand.

groaning out in pain she heard laughes and snickers but the same people once more .

‘can’t catch a break huh?’ they laughed as she shook a bit, trying not to move as if she could become invisible.

‘huh? what was that? speak up bitch!’ one of them yelled before shoving her head into the locker so hard she felt like it was bleeding—‘ah!’ she yelled as they laughed, looking at one another.

veronica stepped closer and up to y/n as she trembled, how much longer, how much longer, how much longer. she repeated over and over in her head. why her, why her, why her?

‘speak the fuck up, we asked you a question, now answer!’

‘i didn’t say anything…’ she whispered.

‘huh? what’s that?’ she grinned at her friends who laughed hard.

‘i didn’t say anything!’ y/n yelled this time, catching their attention—‘ouu, little bitch speaks now?’ veronica said to her friends who shrugged.

‘please just let me go…’ y/n begged, veronica snickered and cringed at the fact y/n wasn’t giving in completely to her, shoving y/n once more before she scurried away.

‘hm..i heard she likes someone, someone special to you’ her friend mumbled. veronica turned and and looked at her friend—‘who?’ she mumbled.

‘aegon..word has it she blushes and everything’ grinning at veronica who seemed to get mad, she scoffed—‘i have a fun idea’

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🧟‍♀️　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

at home y/n ignored her mom who called to her helplessly, running up the steps and throwing her bags onto the ground before getting to her shower, she stripped from her clothes and got into it. the water was cold but soothing to her.

getting in she let the water fall over her body and back, her shoulder that had seemed to form a bruise from before was hot but gained regular body temperature and the sore of it lightening.

shuddering slightly she let her hair wet and falling straight.

‘y/n? honey you alright?’ her mom worryingly asked through the white painted door. y/n turned but didn’t attempt to get out to open the door.

‘yeah mom..i’m just ready for bed..i’ll eat what you made tomorrow’ she spoke back, her mom nodded to herself before letting her hand that was set on the door as if she could feel y/n, she walked away from her door and shut the room door as well.

y/n stepped out the shower and let her wet body dry with the towel she had, and dried out her hair, looking at herself in the window she cringed before hearing her oh one ring in her room.

walking over to it and picking it up, she mumbled—‘hello?’

‘h—hey, is this y/n?’

jacaerys? she felt her eyes widen.

‘yeah, yes it is. why are you calling me so late?’ she asked while holding her towel tight against her body.

‘i was just wondering if you wanted to come to this party at veronica’s?’ he asked, veronica looking at him with a snicker and he friends laughing as well.

‘a party?’ she mumbled, why would he ask her this? since when did veronica even want her there.

‘yeah..she doesn’t know but aegon wanted you to come, said he wanted to tell you something.’ veronica covered her mouth with her hand to cover her laugh as y/n stammered over her voice.

he wanted to talk to her? he wanted to talk to wanted..he wanted her? she smiled deeply while her face blushed, biting her bottom lip as she smiled—‘u—uh yeah, when was it?’

‘right now, i hope you can come? did you need a ride or—‘

‘no! i’m fine i’ll walk, uhm, is there anywhere he wanted me to be?’ she asked, jacaerys felt all wrong about this, something was up but he couldn’t stop, veronica knew about everyone and she damn well knew about him.

‘the bedroom upstairs with the lights around it..see you soon’ he told her before y/n hung up.

she smiled and squealed to herself before running to her closet. getting whatever good thing she could find, she dressed and soon went to the bathroom.

she had makeup but very little, mascara, lipgloss and eyeshadow was all she had from her mom. putting the lipgloss on and smiling at herself she walked out her room and down the stairs quietly.

her mom and dad were most likely sleeping already so she didn’t want them to know she was leaving.

walking out into the dark and walking down the steps that lead to the sidewalk she grew so nervous all over but tried to see it through became, aegon wanted to talk to her.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🧟‍♀️　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

So I don't really have a concrete theory or anything, but...

Dany dreams she is fighting the "usurper's rebel host" (aka Robert Baratheon's army) but these icy enemies are obviously Others; see how they melt away the way Ser Puddles did when Sam killed him.

That night she dreamt that she was Rhaegar, riding to the Trident. But she was mounted on a dragon, not a horse. When she saw the Usurper’s rebel host across the river they were armored all in ice, but she bathed them in dragonfire and they melted away like dew and turned the Trident into a torrent. Some small part of her knew that she was dreaming, but another part exulted. This is how it was meant to be. The other was a nightmare, and I have only now awakened. She woke suddenly in the darkness of her cabin, still flush with triumph. Balerion seemed to wake with her, and she heard the faint creak of wood, water lapping against the hull, a footfall on the deck above her head. And something else.

Dany III, ASOS

In a later Jon chapter, in the very same book, an "enemy" bursts into the fray to scatter the wildlings. This enemy is a Baratheon king - Stannis. This Baratheon king claims to be the legendary Azor Ahai, but he's not (Dany is, "the dragons prove it").

Trumpets were blowing all around, loud and brazen. The wildlings have no trumpets, only warhorns. They knew that as well as he did; the sound sent free folk running in confusion, some toward the fighting, others away. A mammoth was stomping through a flock of sheep that three men were trying to herd off west. The drums were beating as the wildlings ran to form squares and lines, but they were too late, too disorganized, too slow. The enemy was emerging from the forest, from the east, the northeast, the north; three great columns of heavy horse, all dark glinting steel and bright wool surcoats. Not the men of Eastwatch, those had been no more than a line of scouts. An army. The king? Jon was as confused as the wildlings. Could Robb have returned? Had the boy on the Iron Throne finally bestirred himself?

Jon X, ASOS

I find it interesting that Jon initially thinks it's his brother, a military commander with a near spotless record, coming to rescue him. Then thinks that it should be the king on the iron throne; he's expecting a boy, but it's wasn't a boy who came.

I think that we're going to see a repeat of this in ADOS, with Dany as the real Azor Ahai and king coming to rescue Jon. Upon hearing that the Others have come and receiving Watch's call for aid, Dany will immediately choose to go North. Think of Stannis saying:

"Yes, I should have come sooner. If not for my Hand, I might not have come at all. Lord Seaworth is a man of humble birth, but he reminded me of my duty, when all I could think of was my rights. I had the cart before the horse, Davos said. I was trying to win the throne to save the kingdom, when I should have been trying to save the kingdom to win the throne.” Stannis pointed north. “There is where I’ll find the foe that I was born to fight.”

Jon XI, ASOS

Also notice how Dany's Trident dream alludes to a fated battle involving icy monsters.

This is all just conjecture right now but, Jon's chapter has Stannis breaking the wildling siege on Castle Black. In Jon's (obviously prophetic) ADWD dream, he's besieged by a wildling host who turn out to be Others/wights - this dream is literally a play by play of the battle at Castle Black; like to a tee, it's crazy. Jon is fighting alone in that dream, just as he was alone among the wildlings before Stannis came.

So my thinking is Jon gets besieged and he is fighting alone, in need of a helper.....

They are all gone. They have abandoned me. Burning shafts hissed upward, trailing tongues of fire. Scarecrow brothers tumbled down, black cloaks ablaze. “Snow,” an eagle cried, as foemen scuttled up the ice like spiders. Jon was armored in black ice, but his blade burned red in his fist. As the dead men reached the top of the Wall he sent them down to die again.

Jon XII, ADWD

...then enter Daenerys, who is above all a savior.

“But,” Prince Aegon said, “without Daenerys and her dragons, how could we hope to win?” “You do not need to win,” Tyrion told him. “All you need to do is raise your banners, rally your supporters, and hold, until Daenerys arrives to join her strength to yours.” “You said she might not have me.” “Perhaps I overstated. She may take pity on you when you come begging for her hand.” The dwarf shrugged. “Do you want to wager your throne upon a woman’s whim? Go to Westeros, though … ah, then you are a rebel, not a beggar. Bold, reckless, a true scion of House Targaryen, walking in the footsteps of Aegon the Conqueror. A dragon. “I told you, I know our little queen. Let her hear that her brother Rhaegar’s murdered son is still alive, that this brave boy has raised the dragon standard of her forebears in Westeros once more, that he is fighting a desperate war to avenge his father and reclaim the Iron Throne for House Targaryen, hard-pressed on every side … and she will fly to your side as fast as wind and water can carry her. You are the last of her line, and this Mother of Dragons, this Breaker of Chains, is above all a rescuer.

Tyrion VI, ADWD

Dany dreams her fight is for the iron throne, but she is obviously fighting the Others. Tyrion thinks Dany is coming to rescue Rhaegar's son in his bid for the Iron Throne, but she will rescue him as he fights to save the world (and not doom it with more war). Notice how Jon atop the Wall dons house Targaryen's colors. Notice how he too is symbolized with Azor Ahai imagery, waving a beacon to light Dany's way. It's Aegon the Conqueror reversed. Dany's not here not for the throne. She's here to fulfill a prophecy, which Aegon never did.

TL;DR

Dany will save Jon while he's besieged by the Others :)

(small rant below)

This initially started as a post talking about Dany the war commander and kinda morphed into something else....

But it's funny to me that when people talk about the war for the dawn, it's always Jon and/or Bran who are made to be the natural war commanders or battle planners. And that's not a bad thing...but neither one of them has experience planning for and staging pitched battles. Bran has zero military experience to begin with and didn't receive the same education that Robb did. People assume that he'll be the commander because his skinchanging can be used for reconnaissance and thus battle command, but the one who canonically uses their skinchanging to spy on enemy troops and use the intel is Jon.

Jon, on the other hand, has battle experience but he was defending against a siege and not leading a fight in an open field. And that's not to say that he would be a bad tactician. He did an incredible job in ASOS defending the wall and ADWD also shows us that he can come up with intelligent plans on the fly. Anyway, aren't we told that people get stuck in their castles starving and with nowhere to go? Jon has experience leading sieges so he's the most suited for that. But he's not the most suited for breaking sieges and leading open battles because he doesn't have experience doing so.

DANY is the one who actually has experience as a more well rounded military commander. It's literally in her name: Daenerys, the sacker of cities. She has a spotless record as a military/war leader in Essos. That's Robb Stark level of prodigious ability, yet she does not get nearly enough respect in fandom. Robb will often get touted as one of the top commanders, even making top three/five for a lot of people, but doesn't Dany have similar stats and way more disadvantages? Shouldn't she be up there too? So out of anyone, shouldn't she be the war commander?

I was just annoyed that she has this insane record overturning enemy lines and breaking sieges and no ever talks about how that invaluable skill can be used against the Others. It's always "someone else will command her to go here and do this and do that". When talking about what looks like a war of attrition, why is no one mentioning the human battering ram being the key to success?? Feelsbadman :(

[gemini-sensei]

Back on my angst bs

Imagine if Reader was dating Hawk when he was still in Cobra Kai. It was great at first and he always treated her right, but as he became more violent in the dojo, it started to scare her. They argued about it a bit before she finally broke up with him, struggling with his attitude and how it progressed.

She does everything to move on and get over him, but it gets hard after a few weeks when she finds out she's pregnant.

It's hard, but her friends rally around to give her support. They help her through the tough emotions and the early stages of pregnancy. She gets through it.

At school she hides any changes to her body with giant hoodies and sweatshirts. It isn't obvious at first, but as time goes on, her pudgy belly rounds out and she wants to hide it. She doesn't want Hawk or the Cobras to see. She doesn't want anyone but her close friends to know. It's hard enough as is.

But then she's struggling to get something in her locker and everything just falls to the floor. It's frustrating and it upsets her, which quickly turns into her crying over it, thanks to her hormones, as she's trying to pick everything up. She's on her hands and knees just doing her best when Kyler and a few Cobras come around and see her tears.

They start laughing and jeering at her, pointing at her and calling her pathetic. It only makes her cry harder. She's struggling and instead of helping, they're laughing. Not that they or anyone else around knows she's pregnant, as she's done literally everything to hide it.

However, next thing anyone knows, Kyler is getting slammed into a wall of lockers and Hawk is breathing in his face.

"What's so funny, dumbass? Forgot how to spell your own name again?" He throws him down and kicks him in the side, again and again, until he stops trying to get up. "Oh man, look at you on the floor. If only someone would help! You! Up!"

Each word in punctuated by another kick. Then Hawk spits on him and grabs him by the shirt, picking in up off the ground like a piece of trash. He throws him at his friends.

"Get him outta my face!" He grunts. "Fuck off!"

Everyone nearby takes the warning. Everyone but Reader, who is a little stuck.

She's sitting on the floor, unable to lift herself from the floor, never mind everything she dropped. She can only watch, tearstained cheeks hot to the touch.

Hawk turns to her and his whole face softens. "Did they hurt you?"

She shakes her head, a little embarrassed. "I can't get up."

He offers his hand and she puts both of hers out. He grabs them and pulls her up, but she loses her balance and stumbles. He catches her and she falls into him, her belly pressed up against his stomach. She looks away from him as she gets on her feet properly, but all he can do is stare.

"Reader..."

She doesn't say anything as he grabs the bottom of her hoodie. She doesn't try to stop him as he lifts it up and looks at her belly as it sits under a stretched out tee shirt. She closes her eyes as he puts his hands on her round midsection.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he whispers.

She starts crying again. "You beating the snot our of Kyler is a pretty good example as to why, for starters."

"He deserved it for treating you like that," he says defensively. He pulls her close and shushes her tears gently. Her cries echo down the empty hall anyway. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry. If I had known-"

"I found out after we broke up," she chokes out. She hides her face in his hoodie, his familiar scent comforting. "I would have told you, but I didn't know how. Not with cobra kai still hanging around."

"I'll leave cobra kai. I swear."

"No, you won't. You love it."

"Not as much as I love you. Not as much as I miss you." He's ready to start crying as he holds her, just hoping she hears the sincerity in his voice. "You and this baby are more important to me than some dojo."

She's quiet for a moment, then looks up at him. "Babies."

"What?" he asks, dumbstruck.

"Babies," she repeats, then smiles through her tears. "It's twins."

He takes her face into his hands and looks her in the eyes. "I'm never going back to cobra kai, okay? Never. My place is right beside you, you and our babies."

She smiles and cries some more, but he wipes her tears away with his thumbs before kissing her. All this time he's wanted her back, wanted her by his side. He's missed her something terrible, but never knew what to do to win her back. But now that he has he back, he's not going to screw it up. He can't afford to.

[kairiscorner]

I am here to suggest the ultimate shy highschool Miguel concept:

Miguel trying to ask you, his not-so-secret crush to prom, with Gabriel's help of course 🧡 ~🍄

OH MY GOD, YES !!!

will you... — high school!miguel o'hara x gn!reader

only less than a week until prom, and miguel still hasn't built up the courage to hand his dream date the letter he had been working on for a long while now. this is probably the fifth letter he's written, and you can say he might be a bit of a control freak, but, he just wants to tell you exactly how he feels; he doesn't wanna beat around the bush or tell you in a wordy way something that can be said in three words–he wants to say seven words, but can't even handle the thought of speaking either one of them in one sentence to you without losing his composure and feeling weak in the knees. he's clutching the letter in his hands and sighs, he adjusts his glasses on his face again and practices going up to you as if you were the mirror right then and there, and tries to 'play it cool'. "would... you... go with me t-to..." miguel stuttered, and as thoughts of you and your beautiful self debilitated him; he bit his tongue and quit talking, and eventually, he had fumbled for the umpteenth time all over again. miguel clutched the letter in his hand and sighed, running his other hand through his curly dark locks, looking frustrated as ever. "miggy, are you being a dork about it all over this again?" asked his younger brother, gabriel, as the boy entered the room and raised an eyebrow at him.

miguel, in his flustered daze at the sudden arrival of his little brother, threw the letter for you in his drawer and shut it closed. "wh-what letter?" he blurted out hurriedly, making gabriel very suspicious of his older brother's actions. "...i didn't mention any letter, but okay." he said as he looked at miguel up and down and sighed, shaking his head. "ay, mi hermano, you can't ask them out like this." gabriel said in a disappointed tone, pointing at miguel's disheveled appearance, making him look down at himself and raise an eyebrow at his younger brother's comment. "not like you get any dates, either..." miguel murmured, making gabriel faked heartache and dramtically grabbed at his chest and cried out in fake pain. "at least i'm confirmed to be cuter than you, hermano..." the younger boy quipped as miguel rolled his eyes and looked back into the mirror, running his hand through his dark curls. miguel sighed as he took off his glasses and ran a comb through his hair.

"i don't even know why i bother, it's not like i'd be any choice of theirs; they just know me as... that one cranky kid that always gets the science tests perfectly, they don't even... know how i look at them." miguel muttered as gabriel walked over to miguel and got him some gel. "well, isn't you telling them how they'll be able to find out?" the younger boy asked as he styled his older brother's hair up with the gel. miguel shrugged. "...i mean, sure, but not like..." "not like what?" miguel sighed as gabriel opened up his brother's closet and whispered in spanish how 'crappy' miguel's fashion sense was, asking him if he had anything but graphic tees or plain white shirts. "it's not like they'll take it happily." "and why not, because you dress up like a shut-in? of course, nobody wants a nerd that wears three variants of the same shirt, i know i don't." "you know that's not what i mean, gabri." miguel said in a monotonous voice as he glared at his little brother, making the younger boy stick his tongue out at him.

gabriel chuckled and scraped together a decent-looking outfit for miguel to wear that didn't look tacky nor corny and was just the right color palette that suited him. "well, you don't know; you can solve literally every math problem out there and discover all kinds of scientific phenomena, but you'll never be able to predict love, hermano. si está destinado a suceder, así será. si no, entonces no lo será," gabriel explained as he smiled up at his brother and patted his shoulders comfortingly, extending his support to the hopelessly in love yet doubtful little idiot that miguel was at that moment. "they'll come around eventually, whatever they feel for you now is out of our control. but if you ask me... they'd definitely love you, i'm sure of it, even if you have no problem with mismatched socks with sandals, they'd like you still. but i probably wouldn't." gabri joked at the end of his comforting words, with miguel chuckling and jokingly punching his younger brother's arm, making the younger boy giggle and jokingly punch him back. "drama king. but anyway... thanks, gabri. i needed that." he thanked his younger brother with a head pat and shoulder pat, with gabri extending his arms to wrap his brother in a hug, whispering in his ear how they seriously have to turn to miguel's closet for the next charity drive because of how many variations of the same shirt he has.

with a lump in his throat that he couldn't swallow, miguel hastily shuffled over to you by your locker, clutching the letter he made for you for the sixth time in his hands that began to sweat. he was thinking of too many things all at once, which troubled him deeply, but his younger brother was at the corner—cheering him on and reassuring him that he's got this. miguel takes in a deep breath and taps you by the shoulder. you turn to face him, and miguel's stupefied for a moment at how beautiful you looked right then and there. "oh, hey mig, what's u—" "wouldyouliketogowithmetotheprom?"

...

"uh, hah, what was that? sorry, you spoke too fast..." you told him with a shy grin, feeling a bit flustered at the only words you picked up from his hurried breath of a question. miguel apologized and fidgeted with the letter's ends for a bit. he stammered and blanked out for a few moments, but finally, he was able to ask you clearly while handing the letter, "would you... like to go with me... to the prom?" he asked you all softly, staring at your hand that was going to take the letter from his own; your fingers brushing over his, which made him whimper a little. you smiled and chuckled, gently holding on to his hand over the letter for a lingering while. "i thought you'd never ask, of course i do, mig."

"...really?" he asked you in a hushed voice, his face too flustered to not smile. you chuckled again and pushed his glasses back up on his face and nodded with a smile. "really." "yes!" exclaimed a high-pitched voice from the corner, it was gabriel rejoicing as he paused the recording on his camera, exclaiming happily in spanish how the nerd brother he has finally has a date for the prom! miguel groaned as you laughed, still holding his hand, you took the letter with your other hand and pulled away from him. "so... i'll be seeing you next week?" you asked him awkwardly as miguel stammered and nodded. "ah, y-yeah, i'll... i'll see you." "better wear one of your graphic tees then, dork." you teased him as you kissed his cheek and sent him to overdrive, short-circuiting his brain and keeping him frozen in place in front of the lockers as you bid him goodbye and headed off to class.

"and here is the nerd of the century, getting kissed by his date on the cheek?! wait 'till i tell mamá that he's hitting first base—" gabriel exclaimed into the camera, but miguel was quick and dashed on his heels, running after his little brother to stop him from utter embarrassment. "gabri, quit filming, you little gremlin!" the older boy exclaimed as gabriel screamed and ran off with the camera in his hand, calling miguel names and teasing him about him and his date... how you two were just the perfect little nerds together.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @hearts4gabri @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok @fictarian @yuridopted0 @simsrandomstuff @luvstarrstruck @popeheywardssecretgf @meeom @arachnoia @melovetitties @fable-library @ophanimgold @smokeywhalee @capnshtfce