#it was so much simpler and i was so much more— direction in life

[3-aem]

i genuinely yearn for the days when i did video game development and did not even care that they were working me to the bone because i had such a pathetically massive crush on my manager who very gay but believed in me a lot. and that was my entire braincell and also i always woke up at 6am rather than fall asleep…at that time

#delete later #it was so much simpler and i was so much more— direction in life #i do feel like he would be disappointed in me #precovid era me was wild #she had insane insane unchecked panic disorder #but was kind of a badass at her day job #that audio from rp #what happened to me #nothing that wasn’t my fault im sorry #that internship ended and covid hit and nothing was ever the same again #ALSO IN HINDSIGHT: he looked like getou #im so consistent

[astraystayyh]

The snow falls, we fall apart.

summary: when heartbreak looms on your life, and winter becomes a time you loathe, hyunjin helps you rewrite your memories with the season, and with it, everything you once believed about love.

genre: producer student!hyunjin x reader. roommates!au. friends to lovers. acute descriptions of heartbreak and general sadness. slow burn. hurt/comfort. healing and hopeless romantic hyune. very inspired by long for you so lots of pining and yearning. (wc: 13k)

warnings: mentions of alcohol. it is implied that reader was in an a very toxic relationship but no details are shared.

a.n: happy birthday to my hyunjin, my muse, my light. thank you for being so full of love that it made me love love again in return. this is i think my most personal piece, and i hope it reminds those who need it that love should be soft and kind, that it shouldn’t hurt, that it should heal not break. i love you guys and i love you my xi, writing this collab with you has been a true honor <3 also!! please listen to long for you while reading :,)

winter falls masterlist.

You’ve only ever felt utter despair twice in your life.

First, when you were seven years old, playing hide and seek with your cousins at your grandma’s house. It was a warm summer afternoon, the air sweetened by pastries you devoured hours ago. You decided to hide in a wooden cabinet up in the attic, only to end up stuck there. The walls felt like they were closing in on you, the oxygen seeping away from the cracks underneath the door, leaving you deprived of air, of life.

Second, at twelve, when you've come to discover sorrow's new facet, clad in grief's heavy cloak. Your parents adopted a hamster for your birthday, but they did not know he had a terminal disease. You were distraught, to say the least, when you awoke to its still form, death claiming a frail heart unaware of its imminent fate.

And now, third, many many moons later, you are knocking on Hyunjin’s door a few minutes after midnight. It is cold out, tears tracing rivulets on your cheeks, your fingers tinted pink from roaming outside in the harsh winds, your heart much heavier than when you were a child. More grief-stricken, at your own hands, this time.

A disheveled Hyunjin opens the door, his blonde ash hair tousled and sticking upwards, a clear indication of the many times he had run his hands through it in fits of frustration. His gray hoodie zipped up hastily, revealing the silver cross necklace he was wearing, nestling perfectly against his honeyed skin.

You've always had an aversion to seeking comfort, saw it as revealing your deepest vulnerabilities to a world that isn't always kind. It was easier, much simpler to do so when you were a clueless child— when you sank in your cousin Lia's hold as she attempted to steady your breathing, when your mother cradled you in her lap after Pinky died.

It is much harder now, much more embarrassing because Hyunjin has never seen you this sad, never glimpsed your shadows that now swarm his doorstep, unannounced.

“What's wrong?” he quickly asks, eyes darting over your figure in a rapid search for visible wounds. He wouldn’t find any. All your injuries stem from within— blood doesn’t have to be spilled for your heart to weep.

You had rehearsed a lie as you walked up to his doorstep. You would say that your car broke down near his place and ask if you could stay over for the night. He would insist he could drive you to your place and you’d refuse, saying that it was too late and you did not wish to bother him. You’d sleep on the couch and slip away in the early hours of the morning.

Yet, it is the genuine worry etched in his eyes that dismantles the fortress you've hidden in, melts the lie in your throat, morphing it into a steel lump coiling in your throat. He looks concerned when all you’ve had directed towards you recently was anger. And you missed someone looking at you in care, not reproach.

“I didn’t know where else to go.” You admit, your voice shattered, fragments of your vocal cords scattered out in the wind like a broken mosaic, the sound of it scraping against your ears.

Blow one hurt. It felt like your body turned against you as it deprived you of oxygen. The sobs that escaped you once you perceived the light pained you, perhaps more than being confined in the darkness.

Blow two was even worse, it was your first time experiencing grief. It was too hard of a concept for your innocent heart to grasp, too complicated for you to find solace in anything as adults do.

You promised yourself that you’d reserve blow three for monumental agonies— big pains and big sorrows only. That’s how you managed to keep all your tears at bay for most of your life. Would they be worth losing your third sob for? No, you've always found the answer to be.

And in all the twisted scenarios you’ve conjured up in your mind, deaths and illnesses and the haunting tale of failure, you did not imagine that it would happen on Hwang Hyunjin’s doorstep. That you’d burst into sobs at the compassionate look in his gaze, and the sad smile he sent your way. As if he knew, as everyone did around you. That you had handed a knife to a serial killer and it was only a matter of time before he stabbed you in the heart.

Two weeks ago.

“I’m trying to understand you but you aren’t helping me,” Seungmin is frustrated as he paces relentlessly before you from left to right like a swinging pendulum. You sit on the couch, beholding only his shoes, avoiding his gaze that would reflect the truth you dare not confront.

“He’s sucking the life out of you, can’t you see that?”

You can, out of everyone that surrounds you, you can see it the most. You feel as if you are carrying a skin that isn’t your own, weighed down by a relationship that has taken everything from you. But admitting it is admitting that you were wrong, in trusting him, in loving him. You couldn’t bear it.

“We are fine!” you shout back, the defiance in your voice surprises even you. This is a familiar script with Seungmin, a recurring conversation spurred by your puffy eyes and diminishing appetite. He tells you, begs you to leave, but where could you go? How could you leave a home where you've shed all your treasured belongings at the door— your skin, your bones, your very self.

What place would welcome you now that you're stripped bare of your soul?

“When was the last time he made you smile, huh? All he does is hurt you, and you...” he chuckles incredulously, running his hand through his hair. “You are letting him.”

Deny, deny, deny.

“This isn’t true. He loves me,” the words taste foreign in your mouth like rusty metal dragging across your lips. A small voice whispers that love shouldn't feel like this, but you quiet it down.

“Are you hearing yourself? Yn, I…” he kneels before you, his hands resting comfortingly on your knees. This is Seungmin, your best friend of five years. You know he has your best interests at heart, you are even more sure of it when his voice softens, shakes slightly when he utters your name. “Yn, please. I’m trying to help you. Please.”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” you push away his hands, standing up. “I don’t want your help, and I don’t need it.”

You quickly leave Seungmin’s dorm, your heart heavier than when you entered it, foolishly hoping that he'd ignore your distressed state after yet another fight with your boyfriend. But Seungmin doesn't understand, no one around you does— you’ve gambled your heart, and you cannot stop drawing the cards, even in the face of losing strikes.

❁ ❁ ❁

Hyunjin offers you a cup of tea with a gentle smile and you grab the steaming drink from his hands. The smell of chamomile wraps around your senses, and your brain fizzles out for a second before the soothing aroma. But it is a fleeting respite, the tempest of your thoughts crashes back onto you with an unsettling force, causing you to almost drop the drink as your hands shake. You place it down the table without taking a sip.

“I’m sorry for coming unannounced,” you apologize, wincing at the intrusion, “I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

“I always sleep late. Don’t worry about it,” he smiles, but you know it isn’t a genuine grin, because his eyes betray an unsubdued concern, refusing to morph into their usual moon crescents.

You’ve always thought that Hyunjin wears his emotions openly— when he laughed, he did so loudly, his boisterous giggles traveling around Seungmin’s dorm. When he hurt himself, everyone in the vicinity would know so from his loud yelps. And when something worried him, he would bite his lip, toying with the plush flesh to ease his nerves.

As he is doing now. Looking at you.

“We broke up,” you quickly say, and your words hang over you like a gloomy cloud. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Do you want me to fight him? I’ll bring changbin too,” he suggests a serious tone underlying his playful offer, and it manages to tear a reluctant giggle out of you.

“Changbin doesn’t know me well enough to fight for me,” you counteract and he shakes his head. “He’ll fight for me, I'm his princess.”

“Are you now?” The giggle escapes your mouth less forcefully, and the smile that graces Hyunjin’s face is a genuine one.

“I am. My proposal stands,” he extends his hand and you wrap your fingers around his palm. “Thank you, I’ll keep it in mind,” you smile but he frowns, flipping your hand around in his hold.

“You are freezing,” he whispers, using his other palm to rub warmth into yours.

“It’s fine,” you lie, slipping your hand out of his grasp, not feeling deserving of his kindness.

Wordlessly, Hyunjin stands, walking into what you assume is his bedroom. You only know of his place because you dropped off Seungmin here some time ago. You are too exhausted to even drink in the interior.

“Here,” he returns, handing you a navy hoodie of his and black joggers. “This will keep you warm at night.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, hesitating for a few seconds before speaking again. “Can you please not tell Seungmin, I... I can't face him right now.”

“Of course. I’ll be awake still if you do need something.”

Hyunjin’s clothing is warm, although peeling away your own garments felt like shedding layers of your skin, as if the fabric melted into your very flesh, just like memories from the day did. You have never felt this worthless before, discarded like a forgotten leaf on the roadside, one he stepped on for his own enjoyment, leaving you crushed in his wake, unable to fly away again.

Hyunjin’s rose perfume wraps around you, and you find relief in sleeping somewhere where your, his, scent was no longer around. You foolishly hope that if you close your eyes hard enough, you’ll manage to convince yourself that you’re someone else, tonight. Someone who isn’t tethered to the heartache, someone who can slip away from the clutches of a love that hurts more than hate could ever manage to do.

❁ ❁ ❁

Heartbreak isn’t beautiful, no matter how eloquently you try to dress it in the syllables of poetry, no words can soften the burn in your lungs, the searing ache that courses through your very core, reminding you that deep within, down to the fundamentals of your being and the most basic alchemy that ties your atoms together— you are unlovable. Whether you cut your hair or allow it to grow, change your heart, or leave it as it has always been, you will remain so.

You don’t remember much of the past week, blurry fragments here and there that float in your mind like a distorted water reflection. There is little room for memories when you are busy trying to remember how to breathe— one inhale in, one exhale out. The simple concept seems harder when there are unkind hands permanently lodged into your heart, squeezing it tight.

What you do remember is telling Seungmin through text the next day, because you couldn’t bear the way his eyes would soften if you spoke to him in person. No signs of surprise cast on his figure, because he knew that it was long coming, a train with one final inevitable destination— you in shambles, him okay.

You remember Seungmin cradling you in his arms when he came to see you, and you trying desperately to keep the tears at bay— too focused on pinching your arm to let Seungmin’s warmth radiate through your being, Hyunjin lingering uncomfortably by the entrance of his living room.

You remember begging Seungmin to grab your belongings from the apartment you shared with your ex because you were unable to face him, him, and everything that your old place spelled out for you. Stand in the ruins of what you once thought would be your permanent home.

And now, you watch as Seungmin and Hyunjin bring suitcases full of your stuff into the latter’s place. And you feel like an outsider in your own body, standing at the corner of the room gazing at utter destruction, unable to stop it, unable to mend it. Seungmin quickly reassures you that you could crash in his and Minho’s place until you find a new one to live in, already taking out his laptop to search for new apartments for you.

But you did not care for it, your eyes zeroed in on the satin shirt peeking out of your suitcase. The one he bought you on your first month anniversary. Back when love felt like a gentle feather running down your spine, and not a dull knife slicing away at your skin.

“This place's expensive too,” Seungmin sighs, rubbing his temple warily. Your logical best friend could not fix your heartbreak but he took it to heart to alleviate your other troubles. You would thank him for it, later, when your tongue finds enough will to move.

“What if you move in with me?” Hyunjin suddenly says and his words filtrate through the fog in your mind easily, as if he rehearsed them enough times so they’d roll out smoothly out of his mouth. “I mean, Felix is away for the next year since he went back to Australia. And I was looking for a new roommate anyway.” He shrugs and Seungmin turns to look at you, his eyes convey the question his mouth doesn’t articulate— is it okay with you?

“I don’t…” your voice is croaked, so you clear your throat. “I don’t want you to do things out of pity.”

“I’m not. If I was, I would've told you to move in with me for free. I still need you to pay rent,” he raises his eyebrows, a playful tease and you smile in relief, nodding, “Okay, I will. thank you.”

Heartbreak is ugly and all-encompassing, weaving through the roots of your heart and infecting each organ with its insidious touch. It renders you immobile, incapable of performing the simplest tasks, burdened by a weight unseen by the world. But you try your best, your very best to contain it.

You smile at the cashier as she hands back your money only to wonder if her soft, well-manicured hands would too crush a soul without remorse. You go to all your classes without fail but your mind is elsewhere, contemplating why the sun filtering through the windows no longer warms your skin. Can nerve endings perish when subjected to too much pain? What's left of life when you can no longer feel the caress of the sun?

You watch a movie at Seungmin's dorm but your mind is elsewhere, fleeting to this morning and how you refused to stay in the shower for more than three minutes because your thoughts might become haunting ghosts tempting you to follow them. You brush your hair and spray your perfume, only because you have to, because you live with Hyunjin and you wouldn’t want your sadness to taint him too. You wonder how long you’ll have to bear it. You wonder if it’ll ever leave you or if the veins in your heart have molded themselves after the pain and they wouldn’t know how to accept happiness anymore.

You greet Hyunjin as he walks past you, shaking your head when he asks you if you want to eat dinner with him, quickly retracting back into your room. You have ten unread messages and a pile of growing laundry you need to do, but all you can muster is to gaze at the empty walls, mirroring the void within you. Your mom told you to call her again and you don’t know how you’ll speak to her without bursting into a sob, how you’ll tell her that all it took was one person to break you. Or maybe it was two people, your hands and his tearing apart your flesh and bones. Maybe that’s the worst part about it. So you don’t call her.

And you only ever emerge from your room when you need to, just like now because your water bottle is finished and you need to refill it. You go to open the kitchen door when you hear Hyunjin’s muted shatter, Felix’s distinctive deep voice coming out of the phone speaker.

“Next you add the melted butter and stir it,” Felix instructs, the sounds of pots and utensils clinking in the background. You fidget slightly, mustering the strength to paint a fake smile on your lips.

“What next?”

“Sift the dry ingredients then add them to your wet mixture,” Felix explains, met with a few seconds of silence. You can almost visualize Hyunjin's perplexed expression, blinking rapidly in confusion.

“Explain it to me like I’m five years old,” he requests, prompting a small smile to etch itself onto your face.

“How are you surviving without me?”

“I’m not please come home,” Hyunjin sounds horrified as Felix’s rich chuckles fill the air. “Why do you suddenly want to make brownies anyway?” he then asks.

You go to open the door when Hyunjin’s response catches you off guard.

“They’re for Yn.”

Hyunjin's words resonate in the air, causing a hitch in your throat and Felix’s teasing whistles simultaneously, but Hyunjin is quick to stop him. “No, no, no, it’s not like that. They’re just a bit down and I remember them loving your brownies. So…”

It takes you a fleeting moment to dig the memory out of your mind, a year ago, right before your ex came to pick you up from Seungmin’s dorm. You had a bite of Felix’s brownies, a surprised gasp escaping your lips at its delicious taste, back when food had taste and happiness came easily to you. It was an insignificant memory, you did not imagine Hyunjin, out of everyone, would remember it.

But he did, and he’s now pacing before your closed door, contemplating how he’ll convince you to finally eat something with him. He throws a thumbs-up in the air for no one but himself, inhaling deeply before knocking on your door.

“Hey,” he greets with a hopeful smile, his gaze meeting your tired form. He hesitates for a second, clearing his throat. “Brownies?” You remain unmoving and he falters, “Hm? Please?”

“Sure,” you nod and a wave of relief floods through Hyunjin as you step out of your room. His joy is short-lived when he takes the brownies out of the oven, only to find them thoroughly burnt.

His mouth hangs agape, and he walks back shamefully to the oven, lowering its door only to scream inside of it.

“This will be more therapeutic,” you say, pointing nonchalantly to the fridge and he agrees, opening its doors and yelling once again in the much larger space.

Your melodic laughter fills the kitchen, Hyunjin’s embarrassment is suddenly a forgotten memory.

“I’m craving kimbap. Should we get it instead?” you propose, a touch shyly and he quickly agrees, afraid you’d change your mind and walk back to your room where he can no longer ensure you are okay.

Hyunjin absentmindedly dances along to the music blasting through the convenience store when a girl sidles up to his side, a saccharine grin on her lips as she looks up at him, “hi,” she greets and his tentative smile mirrors hers. “Hey.”

“Are you single?” she asks, her gaze briefly fleeting to the window. “I think you are really cute.”

“I’m…” he glances at you but you're suddenly engrossed in the ingredients of the tuna kimbap you are holding, pretending not to listen. “I am but I’m not interested, thank you.”

“Oh, come on,” she places a hand on his arm and he physically recoils. “Give me your insta and we could talk.”

“No,” he repeats, grabbing her hand to remove it when a loud voice startles him. “Baby, what’s taking you so— What are you doing?” Hyunjin watches in horror as the girl’s eyes grow wide, before she scrambles to the man’s side, feigning fear.

“He kept hitting on me when I said I had a boyfriend, baby.”

“What?” both you and Hyunjin gasped in comical unison. He would find it amusing if not for the escalating anger radiating from the man, who looks like he spends all his days in the gym. Hyunjin suddenly regrets not working out with Changbin.

The man strides towards Hyunjin. “Do you want to die?”

“No? there’s a misunderstanding,” he replies, swiftly standing before you and shielding you with his arm. “Your… baby,” he wiggles his finger in front of the man's face, “she was the one hitting on me!”

The man scoffs loudly, his face growing redder from the anger seething in him. “So you hit on my girlfriend and then accuse her of cheating?” His fist rises threateningly, prompting Hyunjin to step back, accidentally bumping into your chest.

“Wait, wait, wait! Let’s go talk outside, man to man,” Hyunjin pauses, his voice taking on a taunting edge, “unless you're too scared?” he smirks as he feels you pull at his shirt, whispering an incredulous- “What are you doing?” He shakes his head, grabbing your hand and leading you outside, throwing a sly wink at the man behind you now.

“Are you seriously going to fight him?” you ask, your gaze shifting towards the deranged couple who are about to step out of the grocery store. “No, of course not. I'm a lover, not a fighter.”

“You said you'd fight my ex,” you point out and his eyes soften surprisingly.

“You are an exception.” He looks back at the man, who's now walking towards you both. “But anyways, do you know how to run?” he asks and you frown, “who doesn’t know how to—” you pause as realization dawns on you. “No," you whisper furiously.

“Yes.”

“No,” you shake your head, horrified and he nods, eyes apologetic.

“Yes.” His fingers entwine with yours, he squeezes your hand once before he takes off running.

“Hwang fucking Hyunjin!” you shout and he looks back at you, a mischievous smile on his face. “I’m sorry Yn my face is too pretty to be beaten up.”

“He’s following us!” you yell, looking back horrified as the, even angrier, man runs after you.

“Well, run faster!”

“I’m wearing fucking slippers!” you curse and he giggles, tipping his head back, the wind slamming into you both, his hand never letting go of your own.

“Oh my god why is he still running!” you groan and Hyunjin picks up speed, moving you even closer to his sprinting figure

“I know, is it ever that serious?” he yells above his shoulder and you dig your nails into his palm.

“Shut up, this wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t so gorgeous.”

“So, you think I’m pretty too?” Hyunjin grins proudly and an incredulous laugh escapes your lips.

“Really? Is this what you’re getting out of this situation?”

“Silver linings, Yn, silver linings,” he shouts as you round a small alley, finally stopping to catch your breath. You both fall to the ground, heavy breaths escaping your chests.

“Holy shit, I’m not athletic at all,” he heaves, his eyes meeting yours. He expects to find anger lingering in your gaze but all he can grasp is your amused smile before you collapse into a fit of laughter, clapping loudly and clutching your stomach with your hand.

“Oh my god, I’m crying,” you laugh harder, wiping away at the tears falling from your eyes. Hyunjin’s weariness disappears in the blink of an eye— he did not realize how much he missed your smile until he glimpsed it again. And it is beautiful. Happiness looks beautiful on you.

“Idiot,” you hit his shoulder playfully, and his response is delayed for a few seconds, the warmth from your smile rendering him immobile.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckles, pulling you up. “Here, I’ll carry you home,” he squats slightly before you. “How impolite of me. How dare I make your majesty run.”

You shake your head, amused, before climbing atop his back, his warm palms holding your thighs securely. “Only because the slippers hurt my feet.”

You walk in silence for a while, your arms wound up around Hyunjin’s neck, the ghost of a smile still lingering on both your faces.

“They said it will snow tomorrow,” Hyunjin speaks suddenly and you stay silent for so long he starts to wonder if you even heard him.

“Mm? That’s nice,” your tone is melancholic, and he pauses at the peculiar sadness in it— as though you were trying to act nonchalant about something that has once meant the world to you.

“Don’t you like the snow?” he asks and your hold on his neck falters.

“I loved it. Loved ice skating and building snowmen.” Your voice is light and airy, like Hyunjin’s favorite mint chocolate ice cream. “But now it reminds me of bad times, bad memories.”

“I understand.”

Hyunjin knows what it feels like to relinquish parts of yourself you never wished to part from. For someone to grab your happiest places and to cast a gloomy filter atop them. Sometimes it is the loss of a season that hurts more than the departure of a person.

And Hyunjin loves winter.

He’ll do everything so that you’ll come to love it again too.

❁ ❁ ❁

Is it a nightmare if the person in it is one you once loved, looked forward to beholding with your gaze, hoping they’d never slip out of your reach? You don’t know, but you are growing tired of having the same dreams every night. Of waking up with an exhaustion that goes beyond your restless sleep but pleads from your soul to rest after almost a year of torment.

You sigh wearily, rubbing a hand through your face before walking to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water. You find Hyunjin there, eating a cupcake while standing shirtless, scrolling through his phone. You blink at the sight.

“Hey,” you clear your throat and he startles, dropping the cupcake on the ground. He goes to pick it up only to bang his head on the table, a loud yelp escaping his lips. You barely contain your giggles as you walk to his side, rubbing your palm soothingly on his head. “I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you.”

“At least pretend you are sorry,” he mumbles, pointing to your amused smile and you chuckle, taking his hand and helping him to his feet.

“What are you doing up now?” he asks as he grabs some napkins to clean up the pink frosting smeared across the floor.

You hesitate for a few seconds before whispering, “Just nightmares. And you?” you quickly add, not keen on pushing the subject any further.

“I'm working on a song,” he explains, as his gaze lingers on your sunken eyes, weighed down by dark circles from too many sleepless nights.

“And the cupcake?”

“Some people need caffeine to function. I need flour.”

“I literally see you drink three americanos per day.”

“Okay well maybe I need both,” he admits sheepishly and you grin, drumming your fingers along the countertop.

“Can I sit with you while you work?” you ask quickly, before the words linger enough in your mouth that you no longer wish to spit them out.

The smile that Hyunjin sends you is kind, pushing the shadows of your nightmares just slightly out of reach.

“Of course, yeah you can. Don’t even need to ask.”

Hyunjin walks first into his bedroom, quickly slipping on a hoodie while you take in the interior. It is a quite simple room— a large bed with gray covers, and a desk filled with what you assume to be his producing equipment sits adjacent. But what catches your attention is the dried rose hung delicately on the wall, and the array of paintings surrounding it. You edge closer to it, drawn to the well-crafted paintings— a sun-drenched beach, a couple lost in an embrace so intimate their forms can no longer be separated, and an elderly pair riding a motorcycle, their love radiating vibrantly as if enclosed in eternal youth.

“You paint?” you ask, turning around to find Hyunjin watching you. He steps closer, enveloping you once more in the fragrance of his rose perfume.

“In my free time.”

“You are amazing, Hyunjin,” you compliment sincerely, your gaze fixed on that imagery of the old couple, one that most likely grew together. It tugs at your heartstrings, stirs a painful longing within you, a memory of a time when you too believed you’d find such boundless love.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, before brushing his fingertips gently against your forearm, for a fleeting second. “Are you okay?” he asks, a tenderness you’ve been aching for latched into his question. Your eyes refuse to peel away from the paintings and the love spilling from each paint brush stroke, a love that refuses to rest on your being as if you were harboring an armor that repels it.

“No,” you reply sincerely, turning to face him. “It’s really hard,” you say with a smile, hoping that the mechanical display of happiness would keep your tears at bay, tricking your brain into believing you're not as sad as you feel.

It fails to do so, and the tears well in your eyes like a gathering storm. Frustration twists your features as you shut your eyes, tilting your head upward in a desperate attempt to contain the flood. It pauses as Hyunjin cradles the back of your head, drawing you close to the warmth of his neck. His palm glides soothingly along your spine, before patting your back ever so gently.

Your back stiffens, hands curling into tight fists, breath catching in your throat. You've grown accustomed to pushing away comfort, putting up tall barriers to shield yourself. But tonight, Hyunjin seems to break through your defenses.

Tonight, you soften, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, head nestling deeper against his tender skin.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he whispers and another sob wracks through you, but he only holds you tighter. “It’ll get better soon.”

“I loved him,” you hiccup, your voice breaks, “a lot.”

“I know, that’s why it hurts.” His voice is gentle, and yet his hold on you feels secure as if you could stumble and fall, and he would be there to catch you

“I want it to stop hurting.”

“It will, with time.”

Your next words are tinged with a childlike vulnerability, reminiscent of blow one, then two. But you do not care for it, in that instant, you crave the reassurance, you need someone to plant a seed of hope in your soul because your hands are too frail to dig for it.

“Do you promise me?”

His response doesn’t come hastily, carelessly thrown into the air like idle chatters. He takes his time, considering it with the gravity of an oath.

“I promise you.” He finally says, each syllable infused with sincerity. A brief pause hangs in the air before he adds. “And if it doesn’t then you can hit me.”

“On your pretty face?” you ask, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

“On my pretty face,” he confirms with a chuckle.

“What an honor,” you roll your eyes playfully as you lean back and he grins, tenderly wiping away your tears with the back of his fingers.

“I can't believe it took three minutes for you to cry in my room. This isn’t good for my reputation.”

“Good thing this will never leave this bedroom, right?” you point a finger at him threateningly, and he pretends to zip his lips, tossing away the imaginary key. “You got it.”

“So what are you working on?” you ask as you settle on the edge of his bed, knees drawn up to your chest.

“It’s a pretty sad song, wanna hear?” he offers, sitting across from you on his chair.

“Yeah, I'd love to,” you smile, and Hyunjin deftly adjusts a few buttons, before his melancholic whistles weave through the air, coupled with the somber melody of a piano. Your breath catches in your throat, the music reaching into the very depths of your soul. It's as if the notes are calling out for a loved one, for a time that has long passed, for a past that will never come back no matter how much we long for it.

The instrumental continues, each piano note and each violin string echo like a bittersweet lament, springing tears to your eyes. But the melody remains beautiful, akin to the beauty always found in the sadness— in the tears that cascade down your cheeks like glistening crystals, in the tremble of your hands akin to branches swaying in the wind, in the rise and fall of your chest with each breath, mirroring the ebb and flow of the waves.

Hyunjin watches you intently as the music envelops you both, his gaze softening with each passing moment. You bring a hand to your chest, almost unconsciously, too engrossed in the melody to even blink. He feels a blush sprout on his cheeks as your teary eyes hold his with the last fading guitar strings.

“You keep on making me cry,” you whisper, your voice choked with emotion, and he grins, tilting his head shyly against his shoulder.

“You like it?” he asks, a tad eager and you nod, not bothering to wipe the lone tears that are falling down your cheeks.

“I think this is what my loneliness sounds like,” you confess softly.

“As do mine.”

A silent beat runs between you both, it isn’t uncomfortable, but safe. Because you understand him, just as he understands you.

“Sometimes I long for things that have passed," he admits, “although I know I can't get them anymore.”

“The most terrible thing you can long for is yourself.”

“Because no one’s to blame for that loss but you?” he muses and you nod, a sad smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, exactly.”

You bite your lip, casting a glance back at the paintings adorning the wall. “I don't love him anymore,” you begin quietly. “I stopped a long time ago because there was no room for love anymore to grow amid weeds and thorns.”

He remains silent, sensing that this is a weight you need to unburden yourself from.

“But in the midst of it I think I stopped loving myself too,” you whisper, a confession too terrible to be uttered out loud. “That's what I long for. The things I used to love that I'm indifferent to now.”

“Like you’re a stranger before everything once familiar to you.”

“Yeah, you express it prettily,” you remark with a small smile.

“It's my job,” he grins lightly.

“I think when your heart is pure,” he begins after a while, pausing to carefully choose the words that will soothe your burn, help sleep come more easily to you. “You give love to others more readily than you do to yourself. And it takes time, patience, to redirect that love back to your own heart once again. But it's not a mistake to love, you shouldn’t hate yourself for it. Nor should you blame your past self for loving the wrong person because they did not know what you now do.”

“Think of it as a caterpillar in their cocoon,” he continues gently, “when they finally emerge from their chrysalis, they might long for who they were, where they once were because it is the only place they've ever known. But they do not realize that they've transformed into a beautiful butterfly, that they can now fly, and witness much more than their chrysalis. So maybe, your new self will love the same things as before, or maybe you’ll find new, better things to love that you would have not known before. But in either way, your heart is beautiful. That is what matters, no?”

A small pout draws on your lips, your eyebrows scrunched as you gaze at him.

“You have a very tender soul, Hyunjin.”

Your words linger in Hyunjin's mind long after the sunrise, as you lay peacefully asleep on his bed. The melody of the instrumental he produced continues to play faintly in the background, serving as a gentle lullaby that eases you into slumber, entwined in his sheets, your arms wrapped protectively around yourself, one hand cradling your shoulders and the other resting gently on your stomach. The image sears into his eyes as he sketches the outlines of a figure holding itself absentmindedly, long into the night.

Hyunjin has had his fair share of compliments, mostly pertaining to his face, and others to his craft. but it is you who seems to have sensed that a part of his soul resided in his art, that he left pieces of his heart hidden in the notes he composes and the lyrics he writes, hoping they’ll find soft hands that will take care of them, just like your own.

Five days later.

hyunjin [11:34 p.m.]: are you home?

yn [11:34 p.m.]: yeahh, do you need anything?

hyunjin [11:35 p.m.]: come downstairs, im waiting for youu

if you say no i’ll freeze to death..

hurry i can’t feel my fingers anymore (please please) ㅠㅠㅠ

“This better be a life and death situation Hwang Hyunjin,” you say threateningly as soon as you appear before Hyunjin, causing him to straighten up from the wall he was leaning against.

“It is a very dangerous life-altering situation that requires your immediate assistance, indeed,” he responds solemnly, ushering you gently to his car and opening the door for you.

“Which is?” you ask as soon as he settles inside the car and he simply grins at you, his left dimple coming forth like the very sun on a gloomy day.

“You’ll see.”

Hyunjin’s eyes fleet to your figure every now and then, but you do not seem to notice, your gaze lost into the blurring lights ahead. He can tell you're still not entirely yourself, so he was prepared to forcibly drag you along with him. He’s almost surprised you accepted to come down so easily.

“Is that… Seungmin?” you speak suddenly, pointing to a man waving in the distance, as Hyunjin parks his car near an empty field.

“And Changbin? And Minho?” you continue, squinting your eyes, “and a bonfire?” you giggle with a hint of excitement.

“You love s’mores during the winter, right?”

Hyunjin smiles, your soul softens.

“I do,” you say quietly, “I really do.”

You quickly exit the car, running into Seungmin's arms with a grin of disbelief plastered on your face. “This is insane,” you almost shout, squeezing him tight in a hug.

“It was so hard to find the perfect middle of nowhere for this,” Minho grumbles as you move to greet him, but the warmth of his embrace assures you he's only teasing.

“Thank you,” you say with a smile as you hug Changbin, who affectionately ruffles your hair. “It was Hyunjin’s idea,” he reveals, and you glance back at Hyunjin, who stands with his hands buried deep within his sweatpants behind you. You mouth a silent “thank you” to him, but he shakes his head modestly as if it is nothing to bring happiness to a bruised heart.

The night unfolds in endless laughter, with Minho and Hyunjin taking turns roasting marshmallows over the crackling bonfire, and Seungmin serving you hot coffee to keep your hands warm. Your stomach aches from the uncontrollable fits of giggles that overtook your being as Minho recounts the time he danced so vigorously on stage for his dance club that he ripped his pants, feeling a breeze where there shouldn't be one; and Changbin tells you the story of the time his voice cracked in the middle of a rap battle, and how none of the boys stopped teasing him about it for months to come.

And as the four of them take turns making you laugh, a quiet, tender realization dawns on you—you are loved. It is something he tried to convince you was impossible, that no one around truly cared for you but him. And even then, you weren’t deserving of his love whole, only scrapes of it, as if you were a beggar tugging at the outskirts of his heart.

But Hyunjin reminded you otherwise. And if your friends found something worthy of love within you then perhaps so will you again, one day.

“Did you have fun?” Hyunjin asks as he opens the door to his, your, apartment hours later. What he doesn't expect is for you to respond by wrapping your arms around his slender torso, squeezing tight in gratitude.

“Thank you,” you whisper and he nods, though you cannot see him, returning the embrace by wrapping his arms around your shoulder blades.

Hyunjin doesn't let go first, sensing that perhaps you need this hug more than he does. He smiles as your eyes meet his again, but his grin falters when he notices your gaze flickering towards your bedroom, a hint of unease clouding your expression. It's as if behind that door lie monsters only you can grasp, wearing the faces of people you once knew, once loved.

“Wanna stay with me while I work on the song?”

“Last time I ended up sleeping on your bed,” you say a bit shamefully, recalling the morning you woke up to find yourself covered with a thick blanket that wasn’t there before, alone in Hyunjin's room.

“It's okay,” he shrugs, “I missed sleeping on the couch.”

You stare pointedly at him and he chuckles, “Fine, I did not miss it. But you needed the sleep, so it’s okay with me.”

“Fine,” you concede, though you did not need much convincing for it. “But only if you promise you’ll wake me up if I end up falling asleep again.”

Hyunjin tilts his head, thinking to himself for a few seconds before shaking his head stubbornly, a small pout drawn on his face, his eyes semi-closed. “No.”

“Hyunjin!”

“Nu-uh,” he insists, shaking his head once more as he walks back towards his room. “I'm waiting for you!”

“I'm not coming!”

But you do eventually join him, after changing your clothes and washing your face. You find Hyunjin clad in beige and white checkered pajamas, his glasses pushing back his silky hair as he hunches over his journal, scribbling away before erasing what he wrote.

“Struggling with lyrics?” you ask, leaning against the wall and he startles. “Do you float on the ground? Why can I never hear you come in?”

“Or maybe you just love being dramatic,” you sing-song, laying atop his bed, much more at ease than the previous night.

Hyunjin sticks his tongue out childishly in response, and you playfully mimic the gesture before both of you dissolve into happy giggles.

“Kind of,” he explains once you both settle down, “I have this specific feeling in mind that I need to convey.”

“You'll do well,” you reassure softly, “your lyrics are always so beautiful. Remember Cover me?” you smile and he scratches the back of his ear, a shy grin spreading across his face.

“You still listen to it?” he asks and you nod eagerly, attempting to belt into Seungmin’s ending high note. You fail horribly and Hyunjin throws a crumpled piece of paper on your face to get you to stop singing.

“My poor ears,” he laughs loudly, and you retaliate by throwing back a pillow on his head.

“You just don’t get my artistic abilities.”

“I’d get them more if you stayed silent.”

You gasp, faking offense as you stand up to tickle Hyunjin on his chair, he starts squirming immediately, his loud giggles spilling all over the room, coating it in vibrant hues of happiness, and you’re suddenly captivated by the sight of him— his head thrown back, a golden lock framing his laughter-filled eyes, his top lowering slightly to reveal glimpses of his collarbones and the delicate veins that trace enticing paths on his neck.

You pause, your hand hovering over the side of his stomach, as a long-forgotten warmth spreads through your heart, like the first rays of dawn greeting the earth after a long winter night. It doesn’t diffuse quickly through your being, but rather drapes like sticky honey on your veins, making you well aware of your growing blush, of how beautiful Hyunjin is in his joy.

“Never singing to you again,” you clear your throat, laying atop his bed once again, and quickly reaching for your phone, anything to avoid his eyes which rival the crescent moon outside his window.

Hours pass before a warm hand gently settles on your shoulder, rousing you from your slumber. Blinking away the fog of sleep, you find Hyunjin leaning over you, his grin wide and infectious. “Wake up,” he whispers, but you only groan, burying your face deeper into his pillow.

He doesn’t yield, taking hold of your wrist and guiding your drowsy figure upright, before wrapping the blanket snugly around your shoulders. Without a word, he leads you out onto his balcony, carefully putting his neon green beanie on your head to shield you from the cold.

“It’s snowing!” he smiles, and his excited tone manages to dissipate the fog in your mind. You blink repeatedly and soon enough, you too behold the fallen snowflakes, each one resembling a tiny speck of light bidding farewell to the sky to greet the earth.

“You missed the first snow so I didn’t want you to miss this one too,” he explains, and his thoughtfulness blankets you with a warmth that seeps into every crevice in your body, drips down your fingertips and makes the cold of 4 a.m. seem less harsh, less biting to the touch.

You don’t know how to say thank you, because those two words don’t encapsulate the depths of gratitude that you feel for Hyunjin. Because he is speaking to the person within you who still loves snow, the part buried underneath layers of dust from a ground heartbreak. But you still manage to hear him, and you squeeze his hand tightly, and he doesn’t let go until you finally do.

❁ ❁ ❁

Remembering has become easier for you these past two months— both the good and the bad. And each day, the scale tips towards one side or the other. Sometimes you recall the suffocation you felt with him, the feeling that no matter what you did you could never please him, that your hands were crafted to break rather than mend. And on those days your wound grows, it throbs and bleeds different emotions.

Sometimes it's anger— at him for treating your heart so carelessly as if you were a being devoid of feeling. And then at you— for staying, for giving him excuses and desperately searching for goodness within him, for the one redeeming quality that would convince you he was worth the pain.

And other days bring an excruciating sadness along, a weight that presses down upon you until you're paralyzed. Because you feel bad for yourself and for everything you went through. Because you’re unsure how to rise when unseen hands push you deeper into the abyss.

And on these days, Seungmin becomes your anchor. He buys your favorite food, skips classes with you, and takes you to your favorite gardens. He talks and he talks and you try your best to laugh because you do not wish to worry him more. It is enough to be your own burden, you do not wish to burden him too.

But when he drops you home, your facade slips away, the smile fading from your face as if it were never truly yours to wear. You are too tired to pretend so you don’t, and Hyunjin doesn’t let you, either. He brews you tea and orders takeout because he knows you lack the energy for cooking. He goes with you on walks and drapes you in pieces of his clothing— scarves and beanies and gloves because he knows you couldn’t care less about a cold when there is a frost coating your bones. He lets you sit in his room while he works on his songs, and while he paints. Sometimes you talk and often you don't need to. But he’s there. He's there with you.

But you also remember the good. You remember your movie night with the boys, Hyunjin building an entire fort for you, adorned with twinkling lights and the softest blankets. How you watched movies until 5 a.m. your bodies so closely huddled together that there was no room left for sadness.

You recall Hyunjin begging you to build a snowman with him at the crack of dawn, the two of you collapsing in fits of laughter as you threw snowballs at one another, your footsteps marking the fresh fallen snow.

You remember being so exhausted after one of your showers that you simply laid atop the couch, gaze fixed on the void, too drained to even untangle the knots in your hair. Yet, it is not the tiredness that you exactly recall, nor the salty tears you shed underneath the scorching water jet. But it is Hyunjin's tender hands as he brushed through your hair, his fingers tracing the nape of your neck, his knuckles ghosting over the slate of your shoulder. You remember whispering that it was a particularly hard day and Hyunjin understanding. You remember him watching many YouTube tutorials to prepare your favorite seaweed soup, only for it to end up being too salty. But you still ate it all, because he made it for you, to lift your wounded spirits. And that alone was enough for it to taste good.

You remember your heart hardening then softening again, breaking then stitching itself back together, closing off then blooming like flowers on the first day of spring. You remember smiling only to cry then smile again. And you remember liking snow, a bit more than you thought you would. Because Hyunjin was there, holding your trembling hand, steadying it enough for you to rewrite your memories with winter.

So, you want to say thank you.

You do not wish to spell it out, because there are too many things to thank Hyunjin for and too few words to do so. Instead, you drag him to the farmer’s market near your home, and you tell him to help you pick flowers.

“I could be in bed watching my favorite show and yet here I am bestowing you with my enchanting presence,” he sighs, not too modestly, as you both eye the array of colorful blooms.

“Okay, Shakespeare, are you done?” you roll your eyes, attempting your best to hide your grin.

“Done annoying you? Never. These are very pretty,” he adds, pointing to the white roses in full bloom, their delicate petals emitting a sweet fragrance into the air.

“I agree, what else should we add?” you ponder, picking out four roses.

“Mm, Hibiscus? The red in the center is so vibrant,” he suggests, taking out his phone to capture the flower.

“Cute. Baby breath’s would look good too,” you say as you gather the flowers, heading to the cashier with Hyunjin trailing behind, still admiring the delicate blooms.

“Can I write a note?” you ask the middle-aged man as he wraps the bouquet in a powder blue paper.

“Sure,” he replies with a smile, and you return the gesture, quickly jotting down your words.

“Are you done?” Hyunjin grins when you return to his side and you nod, exiting the flower shop.

“What do you think?” you ask, angling the bouquet towards him.

“It's beautiful.”

“It’s yours,” you smile, growing shier at the intensity of his gaze as it lands on you, then the flowers, then on you again. “Take it,” you hand it to him, your cheeks flushing like the hibiscus’s crimson core.

“Actually?” he says softly, his fingers trembling slightly as he accepts the flowers and you nod in response. You bite your lip as you watch him take out the note, his eyes softening once he reads the words inscribed in it— thank you for making my winter less cold.

“Should we go?” you say a tad too cheerfully, turning away, but Hyunjin grabs your wrist, spinning you around once more. His fingers trail up your arm, coming to rest gently on your cheek as he leans down to plant a tender kiss there.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment longer than necessary. You think that if his soft lips grace your skin a few times more, your nerve endings might forget the harshness they were subjected to. If his gentle hands remain on your cheeks, then maybe, your heart would heal quicker, better. Maybe your past self that you long for would emerge again, maybe Hyunjin would be able to unearth it.

Your hopeful thoughts disappear as quickly as they arrive, overshadowed by a sense of helplessness that crashes over you, all of the sudden. You sense him before you hear him, the familiar anxiety that is only synonymous with your ex’s presence.

“Yn?” the sound of your name feels harsher in his mouth, the syllables spat out rather than spoken tenderly, as they are when Hyunjin pronounces it. Your veins run cold as his voice pierces the air, your heart skipping three beats at once before plummeting to your knees. You wrap your hand around Hyunjin’s forearm instinctively, and he looks down at you, his expression morphing into one of concern.

You’re unsure of what he sees in you— whether it is your pale face, the quiver of your lower lip, or the fear that has coated all your features— but his eyes harden, his brows furrowing as he gazes at the man behind you.

You refuse to turn around, bracing yourself for his next words. “Yn,” he repeats his tone laced with anger, his fingertips grazing your arm as if intending to force you to face him. But before he can touch you, Hyunjin intervenes, swiftly stepping in between you and your ex, shielding you with his own body protectively.

“Leave,” Hyunjin's voice is cold, dripping with a venomous edge you've never heard from him before, his jaw clenching with barely contained fury.

“Is this your new shiny toy, Yn?” your ex taunts and his voice cuts through your being against your will, triggering a flood of memories you've tried so desperately to suppress. Memories of his cruelty, his manipulation, and the pain he inflicted upon you—using your love as a weapon to bolster his own ego.

“What's in it for you?” you find your voice again, though it trembles when you speak. He is the very embodiment of your pain and everything you loathe about yourself. You wish for the ground to swallow you whole, for a bolt of lightning to strike the earth, anything to spare you from facing him.

“It's only been three months, I didn't know you were a whore.”

Hyunjin's fist connects with his cheek before you can register his words. It all unfolds so rapidly that you barely have time to comprehend it. Your ex staggers back, blood trickling from the cut on his lip, while Hyunjin stands before you, his chest heaving with restrained anger, his right hand clenched into a fist, the bouquet still held tightly in the other.

“Fine, I deserved it,” your ex chuckles, his voice laced with mockery as he wipes the blood from his lip. His gaze meets yours briefly behind Hyunjin's back.

“You might not be a whore but you are unlovable, keep that in mind.” He spits out before walking away, crude words that tear at every scab covering your wounds, reopening them with a brutal force. Hyunjin moves to follow him, but you grab his shirt, pulling him back.

“He’s not worth it,” you murmur.

Your words seem to snap Hyunjin out of his haze as he turns to look at you, worry cast across his figure. He moves to cradle your cheeks but you step back, refusing to meet his eyes. He swallows thickly, clutching the bouquet in his hands. “Are you okay?”

You let out a heavy sigh, your shoulders slumping as you shake your head slightly. “Let's just go home,” you whisper, eyes fleeting to his for a split second. All the lights in your gaze are muted.

You’re crumbling before him once again and he cannot stop it, no matter how much he yearns to.

It's long past midnight when you find yourself seated on the floor of your living room, a bottle of red wine placed between you and Hyunjin. You exchange it wordlessly, taking turns sipping from it, the alcohol warming your insides but doing little to ease the ache in your heart. You don’t exactly recall when Hyunjin sat next to you, but you don’t mind. You were too lost in your own thoughts to even register his presence.

“Yn,” he calls out softly and you hum absentmindedly, memories of when your ex spoke your name haunting you, each time he yelled your name, uttered it in disdain as if it was the starting point of everything wrong with you.

“Talk to me, please?” he pleads, angling his body towards your own. But you refuse to meet his eyes and Hyunjin’s heart twists in his chest. He is afraid of all the ugly thoughts that must roam your mind. He wishes he could enter it, open the windows wide, and usher the light in.

“I'm sorry you were dragged into this,” you say, your gaze fixated on the bouquet placed atop the table. The crimson painted on the hibiscus’ petals reminds you of the blood that spilled from your ex’s mouth, and your gaze fleets to Hyunjin's hand, slightly bruised from the punch.

“Don’t apologize,” he whispers, “there is nothing to be sorry for.”

It’s as though you don’t hear him, your fingers trailing gently across his scraped knuckles, tears pooling in your eyes the more you stare at his hand.

“Does it hurt?” you ask, voice thick with emotion, and Hyunjin’s quick to shake his head. “No, don’t worry about it. He deserved it.”

“You didn’t deserve to be hurt.”

“Neither did you.”

Your disbelieving scoff that follows scares him. What if you’re slipping away into a dark place yet again, one void and barricaded, in which the only sound that echoes is your ex’s hurtful words? What if he can’t reach you again?

“If the only person I’ve ever loved says I’m unlovable then maybe I am.”

You’re drunk, you wouldn’t have said such an ugly thing otherwise, wouldn’t have allowed this sentiment to materialize into the air, to take a tangible form apart from your abstract thoughts.

“No,” Hyunjin says in a panic as though he’s trying to quickly pull the brakes on your free-railing thoughts. He cups your face between his palms, your tears falling freely atop his hands but he does not move away.

“No,” he repeats, more calmly this time. “How he treated you is a reflection of who he is. And how you see him is a reflection of who you are. And you wanted him to be loving because you’re full of love. You wanted him to be good because you are a good person. And he can’t stomach that, can’t stomach that you are happy without him so he’s trying to ruin you again.”

“Hyunjin…” you shake your head but he only inches closer to you, his thumbs gently caressing your cheekbones. “No, listen to me. Seungmin loves you so much he couldn’t eat properly for the first few days you stayed here, texted me all the time asking me how you were and if you were feeling better. He isn't good with words so instead he tries to make you laugh. He wishes he could give up parts of his happiness for you.”

A sob swells within you but Hyunjin presses on. “And Minho, he tried to memorize all your favorite recipes so he could cook them for you. It isn’t a coincidence that every time we go over to their dorm it is your favorite food that we eat. He takes more pictures of his cats these days so he could send them to you because he knows it cheers you up.”

“You told me Changbin doesn’t know you well enough to fight for you but when we saw your ex across the campus one day he wanted to get up and beat him. He always asks me if you are well and if there is something he can do for you, anything.”

He inhales deeply, tears welling up in his eyes as well. “And me…” a tender smile graces his lips as he gazes at you, “you make this house a home. I feel like my true self when you are around and loneliness doesn’t come to me as often as it did. Because you are here. You are like a beam of sunlight that lightens up every life you touch, mine first,” he’s baring his soul to you, vulnerable yet resolute. “So tell me, Yn, what’s not to love in you when you yourself are so full of love?”

“Hyune,” you speak the nickname for the first time, and Hyunjin’s heart thrashes achingly around his ribcage. “If you keep talking like this I might end up loving you,” you smile sadly at him as if it is a terrible thing to be loved by you.

“But I don’t want to love you, because I won’t know how to, not anymore. So I'll end up leaving. And I'll long for you, and I don't think I can stomach longing for you from afar.”

“So please,” you place one hand atop his own, wipe away the lone tear rolling down his cheek. “Don’t make me love you, hm? You deserve more than to be loved by someone like me.”

You leave Hyunjin in the living room, alone before the white flowers you gifted him. He doesn’t want to put them away in a vase, for as soon as he grabbed them from your hold, everything around you both crumbled. So he leaves them there for the night, the creamy white petals aglow underneath the moonlight. He spends the night painting the bouquet from memory, but the petals end up too tinged with red, perhaps mirroring the blood his heart refuses to stop spilling still.

He did not realize it before, maybe he blinded himself so he wouldn’t see what was before him all along. But it is all the clearer to him now— that in his attempts to make you love winter again, Hyunjin only ended up loving you.

A week later.

hyune [1:25 a.m.]: i miss you

You and Hyunjin spent the last seven days avoiding one another, well you more than him. He just understood your silent plea when you took a step back the one time he tried to talk to you in the kitchen, swallowing thickly before inching away, allowing you to move past him.

You did not know how to face him after what he said, partly because you were embarrassed by your own response, mostly because even in your drunken daze, his words etched themselves permanently into your memory.

It is his reassuring words that echoed in your brain for the past week, not those of your ex.

hyune [1: 26 a.m.]: and i miss sleeping on the couch

You giggle, shaking your head before replying.

yn [1:26 a.m.]: no you don’t

hyune [1:26 a.m.]: no i don’t ㅠㅠ

but i finished the song

wanna hear?

Walking to Hyunjin’s room feels as familiar as going into your own. And when your gaze finally meets his you can’t help but break into a relieved smile. It was foolish of you to punish yourself, enough people have done that for you already.

“Hey,” he greets tentatively, and you respond with an awkward wave, a moment pregnant with anticipation passes before both of you dissolve into laughter.

“What is this? Are we in middle school,” he teases and you giggle, settling comfortably on his bed once more.

“I know. We are so lame.”

“You are,” he corrects with a grin and you gasp, pretending to leave but he quickly catches your hand, stopping you. “No, please stay. I meant it when I said that I missed you,” he repeats quietly, as if afraid that his confession would make you run away once again.

Your heart aches, the knots in your stomach tightening and unraveling all at once. “I missed you too,” you admit softly, and he smiles, his thumb tracing a gentle path above your pulse before releasing your hand.

“So it's done then?” you ask and he nods, running a hand through his hair with a hint of anxiety. “How do you feel about it?”

“Good. I hope you’ll like it, mostly.”

“I'm sure I will,” you reassure him with a soft smile, and he nods once more, pressing a few buttons before his melodious whistles fill the air once again.

Nothing could have braced you for the sound of Hyunjin's voice that followed, its timbre soft as silk yet imbued with profound sorrow. It's as though he recorded the song on one of his loneliest nights, his honeyed vocals dipped in an excruciating nostalgia that seeps into every corner of the room, every corner of your heart.

In the faded photo, I come across a smile spread across a youthful face, overlapped with the seasons.

Your gaze flickers to Hyunjin as a shadow of recollection dawns on you. You remember telling him that you couldn’t stomach looking at pics of your past, ones in which you smiled so freely because you were blissfully unaware of what was to come.

The night’s so cold that it’s almost unreal.

Because you weren’t aware of the winter that will follow and the biting cold that it would bear, for everything that will go astray in your relationship, for your ex's facade to crack like a glacier succumbing to the pressure of lies and pretense.

I wake up in another silence, and I close my eyes.

You remember Hyunjin confessing that silence haunted him more than words ever could, and you had agreed, sharing how sometimes you shut your eyes, pretending that the reality you woke up to wasn't the one you were living.

The white flower we planted together has bloomed. I do not dare pick it. Now it withers away.

You gaze at the white flowers you brought him, now wilted in the vase placed on his desk, yet Hyunjin refuses to throw them still. You see the card you wrote for him hung on the wall, right next to the dried red rose. He kept it. Though it withered, he kept it all.

So I long for you. And I long for you. And I'll long for you.

You remember the longing you both spoke of, how he understood a feeling you felt so incredibly alone in. How he tried to reassure you when he too was caught in the webs of the past. How you longed for him in the past week. How you wished he longed for you just the same.

So I can keep loving you. So I could be loving you. And morе.

The violin swells and so does the emotion in your chest. You remember him asking you ‘What’s not to love in you’ and how you've spun those words in your thoughts ever since. You remember thinking that if he gave you a few more weeks, just a bit more time, you might have found it in you to believe them.

You see Hyunjin’s glimmering eyes holding yours, you see his heart atop a platter handed to you, and you see the resignation in his being. Don’t make me love you, you told him. You didn’t dare to tell him not to love you in return, deemed it too foolish of thought to entertain.

For he was Hwang Hyunjin, the quiet producer who paints in his free time and who wears his heart on his sleeve. Who remains hopeful, loving, and tender, despite the thorns pricking at his side. Who is beautiful, so much so that he allowed you to see beauty in the universe once again, through his eyes.

How could he love you?

How could you not love him?

“The song,” you whisper, the words barely escaping your lips as you stand, trembling, on your feet. Hyunjin rises too, meeting you in the center of his room.

“It is about you. For you,” he says simply as if his words don’t cause your world to burst at the seams only to mend itself once again, too eager to fix itself and exist in the same timeline as Hyunjin.

“I don't… I don’t know what to say,” you say earnestly, feeling your heart pound in your chest, its beats resounding loudly in your ears.

It is wrong of you to assume he wishes you to say something. He is Hyunjin, the one who finds words in your silences too, after all.

“I don’t need you to say anything,” he shakes his head, taking another step closer to you. “I don't want an answer, I don't wish to pressure you. I just wanted to tell you that my love is here, it is yours to take or to leave, to cherish or to discard. But it is yours, because this is who I am. I am someone who loves you.”

“So do not tell me to forget you because I don't know how to. And don’t tell me that you’ll leave because I will love you still, because you’d still be you, near or far, you are you. And you are someone I long for.” He pauses, his voice softening. “And I long for you, Yn, more than anything I've ever longed for. And I've spent all my life longing.”

His lips meet your forehead tenderly, and you feel your entire being grow limp at the chaste kiss, as if your limbs wish to liquefy and form a puddle on the floor. His touch is soft, and you miss it the moment he parts from you.

“There must be something in this room that keeps on making you cry,” he smiles and you bring your hands to your damp cheeks, surprised to find there tears you didn’t realize had fallen.

“It’s you,” you pinch his arm playfully and he squirms away from your hold, stabbing his toe on the desk in the process. A loud fuck echoes around the room, and your laughter dissipates the tension clinging into the air.

“Can you play it again?” you request softly and Hyunjin’s theatrics fade as a shy smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

“Is it good?”

“It's everything to me.”

“It's called ‘long for you’, by the way.”

“Long for you,” you repeat quietly. There has never been a prettier combination of words.

The title all but makes sense as you lay on the bed, your gaze fixed on the paintings hung on the wall, Hyunjin sketching quietly on his desk, the song resonating softly in the background. You've longed for many things in your life—the person you once were and the tender love you once craved—but amidst it all, nothing has weighed heavier on your heart than the longing for the man sitting just two meters away, almost in your loving grasp. Almost.

❁ ❁ ❁

It is an excruciating five days that Hyunjin spends apart from you, the both of you too caught up in your assignments to find a moment to properly speak. But you do not shy away from him when he greets you, and your grin is kind as it drapes across his being, and Hyunjin swears he has never seen a prettier sight than you smiling.

On the sixth night, Hyunjin completes the cover for the song— a figure wrapped around itself protectively, mirroring the way you hug yourself in your sleep. He hangs it on the wall, right next to your thank you card and the white bouquet he drew once again, wishing to properly immortalize its beautiful flowers, to purify that memory from the tumult that followed it.

On the sixth night, the house is quiet, the full moon high up in the sky, snowflakes falling softly to the ground. Hyunjin wonders if you too mimicked the snow’s descent— both of you falling apart with it.

But then, there’s a knock on his door.

His heart catches in his throat, his body freezing as if it forgot how to move. You are here.

“Come in,” he manages to say, his voice barely above a whisper. You push the door open, and Hyunjin's words wilt on his tongue as he sees what you're carrying—another bouquet, filled with white flowers, yet again.

“Hey,” you smile, standing by the door.

He remains silent, unsure of what to say, or how to speak. He longs for you when you are away, even more so when you’re before him.

“We shouldn't let these white flowers wither away too, right?” you smile slightly, placing the bouquet on the desk before walking to Hyunjin’s bedside. His voice falters, vocal cords refusing to move and overshadow your voice.

You sit beside him, gently pulling his hand so that you’d both lie on the pillows. Your hand doesn’t leave his own, instead, it moves to rest on his cheek, reminiscent of the many times he had cradled your face before. Inch by inch, you close the gap between you, nuzzle the tip of your nose against his own. “Hi, Hyune”, you say softly, and he swallows thickly, his voice coming out just as quietly.

“Hi, my Yn.”

“If we take care of the white flowers together do you think they’ll survive a bit longer?” you ask, your gaze never wavering from his, countless stars twinkling in the depths of your irises.

“I believe so,” he says tentatively, too aware of the warmth of your palm against his skin, of the sweet ache unfurling within his being.

“Mm, and even if they wilt we can always buy new ones. We can learn how to care for them better, with time,” you say, and he nods in agreement, laying his hand atop your own, tilting his head to bestow a chaste kiss on your palm.

“With time,” he echoes softly and you smile, vulnerable yet secure in his gray sheets, in his hold.

“Will you give me time too?” you ask, and Hyunjin reads in your eyes what you mean, understands in the shake of your voice the question you are too afraid to voice. Will he give you time to heal in order to love?

“As long as you need. I’m not going anywhere,” he reassures, pressing his forehead gently atop yours, and you both close your eyes, as a running warmth encloses you both, blooms a blush on both your cheeks.

His arms wrap around your back, drawing you close until your chests are pressed together, your head resting naturally in the curve of his neck. And it is long forgotten in your mind, all the nights you slept in this very bed alone. You feel safe, safe enough to long for love knowing that it patiently awaits you behind the door, once you find enough courage to turn the doorknob. You feel serene, as Hyunjin’s warm palms glide soothingly up and down your spine, as every muscle, every nerve, every atom in your being relaxes in his hold.

You are healing, slowly, with each fleeting second that passes in which Hyunjin’s heartbeat resounds within your chest, as its melody runs through your veins, melds with your own as if it was destined to be there all along. As you rest in Hyunjin, as you find a safe home within his soul to discard your worries at the doorstep and breathe.

“It did get better,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade. “Hm?” He leans back to look at you, and he’s so beautiful, so tender as he gazes at you, you can’t help but trace the contours of his face with your fingers, hoping to commemorate him with your eyes, with your touch.

“You promised me it’ll get better, and it did,” you smile, as your legs further intertwine with his, and his rose perfume becomes an indelible mark on your skin. “Too bad I can't hit your pretty face now,” you joke and he giggles, tipping his head back.

He's so beautiful, body and soul, and he longs for you, you alone.

“But I can still do this,” you murmur before finally pressing your lips against his like a boat finally reaching the shore after months of sailing. You both exhale, in yearning, in relief, as your mouths move together in a slow, languid dance, his hand finding the pulse on your neck, yours settling atop his jaw.

He would kiss you again, this intimately, in the coming months, when your heart expands enough to contain the love Hyunjin deserves. He would kiss you again, when your past comes to haunt you, and healing sounds like an elusive myth you’d never encounter in your life.

And he would kiss you again, over the kitchen table and under the fridge’s light, in between paintings and in supermarket aisles, while picking flowers and watching the first snow.

He would kiss you, this tenderly, in the next winter, and the ones after it, as if his longing for you never wanes. Till blow three disappears from your memory, till all you remember is the love, the true one, the kind one, the soft one Hyunjin alone could have brought you.

#stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #skz x reader #skz x you #skz fluff #skz angst #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #skz au #skz scenarios #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagine #stray kids imagines #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin angst #hwang hyujin imagines #hyunjin imagines

[stilljuststardust]

Your desired reality already exists.

It's easy to hear "you already have everything" and respond reflexively with "no I don't, it's not here"

You are so much more than what is visible to you right now. Your soul inhabits multiple timelines, realities, and dimensions at once. You are spread across the multiverse. You have infinite lives and experiences that are as natural to you there as your life is to you now.

If you're shifting realities it's important to realize that everything you script is a natural part of that reality. You are not changing it or creating it you are choosing it as a destination.

Think of your script as a GPS. You type in where you want to go and it helps to take you there. What you've written is an address for the universe to identify your desired reality by.

You aren't forcing things to be a certain way because you scripted them. It exists that way right here right now and you just have to get there.

You want to change your appearance but worry that it's weird? You've literally always had that face in your DR.

You're worried your comfort character wouldn't love you without a script? They fell in love with you all on their own in that reality!! You aren't forcing them to love you! You're choosing to live in a reality where they do.

You want to be proficient in something but worry that by scripting it you're cheating in some way? The version of you in that reality still put in work! You're just moving to a reality where you worked your ass off for what you want!

Your DR is a place and a destination. It's just as real as a reality you would find at random. You wouldn't say that someones house is more natural because the directions they used to get there were simpler. It existed before you ever learned how to shift. You want to go there for a reason.

You're not bound to what you have now. It's not cheating to revise or script that something is different. You are just expanding your experience to different versions of your life. None of it is or ever will be foreign to you.

#current reality #reality shifting #shifting #shifting antis dni #shifting community #shifting realities #shifting reality #loassumption #loa #loa tumblr #shifting advice #manifesation

[harryslittlefreakk]

the pact

summary: you and harry made a childhood pact to marry if you were both still single when he reached 30. now that his big birthday is approaching, you find out whether your friendship (and your pact) have stood the test of time

warnings: mostly fluff, some smut :)

wordcount: 6k

a/n: i actually really like this one. it’s not proofread yet as i was so eager to get it up lol. hope you enjoy!

my masterlist can be found here! happy reading 🫶🏼

From the second you’d received the invitation, you were buzzing with a giddy nervousness. It had been years since you’d seen Harry, though Anne and Gemma were always so quick to share what he was up to. You’d followed his career silently for 13 years, still bumping into him every few years when Anne hosted Boxing Day, or he happened to be in town for your family’s annual summer barbecues. In your mind, he was still the cheeky, dimpled little lad you’d hide under the dining room table with, imagining you were explorers of far away lands.

But Harry wasn’t the young boy you’d chased after in your childhood anymore, the teenager you looked out for when you stuck your head over the garden fence to call your sister home. He wasn’t the handsome young man you’d spent countless hours swooning over with your friends in the bakery after school. Harry was a global sensation, the world’s sweetheart. You weren’t sure he’d even recognise you, a forgotten reminder of much simpler days.

Growing up next door to Harry hadn’t come without its challenges. You’d lost your childhood best friend seemingly overnight once One Direction formed, his life suddenly busy with meetings, tours and interviews. Anne still welcomed you with open arms, but her house felt a little too cold for you with his presence haunting the walls, memories etched into every surface of the house. You’d still hang out in his bedroom sometimes, his band posters and drawings left collecting dust in a lifeless room. When girls from school learned of your connection to him, they’d befriend you and treat you like the hottest new thing until you refused to give over any information. He was your Harry, your long-gone games and silly memories something you held close to your heart. It soon seemed easier to let him go altogether, move on to a new chapter, stop waiting for your best friend to appear again.

Still, you were glad to be able to support Gemma on one of her biggest days. She’d become such a regular feature in your household, she felt like family herself. Your parents had been more overjoyed at the news of her impending nuptials than any of yours or your sister’s recent achievements. They loved Gemma like their own, their ‘extra daughter’, as your dad called her. You knew this was as big a moment for them as it was for Anne, having watched Gemma grow from the tiny dark-haired girl your sister had raved about on her first day of school, to a woman about to become a wife.

Standing outside of the venue now, a beautiful old church overlooking the peaceful tides below, yours and Harry’s childhood pact suddenly hit you. You were laying on a blanket in your garden, tops of your heads pressed together as you made out shapes in the clouds above. “I will never get married,” you told Harry. Your parents had had their wedding album out that day, sharing stories with Anne and Robin. You squirmed and grimaced every time they spoke about it, never understanding how any girl would willingly share their life with a boy. “Yuck,” he squeaked from next to you. “Me either. I don’t ever want to live with a stinky girl!” You giggled together, the cool evening breeze washing over you. “Maybe, maybe I might one day though. When I’m really old and lonely.”

“Old like my parents?” you asked him. “Even olderer than that. Like 30.” You gasped, quickly trying to count on your fingers. “That’s really really old. Maybe we can be married when we’re 30.” Harry ran inside when you said this, leaving you chasing after him once again. He grabbed a napkin from the kitchen counter and scribbled on it in felt tip,

‘I ____ will marry Harry when we’re really super old’

“You have to put your name on that line or it’s not real,” Harry told you, handing the blue felt tip to you. You both signed your initials underneath, and proudly went to show your parents. They’d fallen about in laughter when you told them, promising to hold you to your pact. You hadn’t seen the napkin since that day, and you were sure it was long forgotten by everybody, especially Harry. You felt a small twinge in your chest at this, suddenly wishing you were anywhere but here.

“Hey Boo, you okay? Anne wants to get some pictures of us all together before the ceremony,” your dad told you, leading you through the crowd of guests. Boo was the only nickname that had ever stuck for you, starting when you and Harry decided to go as Boo and Sully from Monsters Inc. one Halloween. You’d originally wanted to be Mike, but with your big brown eyes shielded by little bangs and your signature pigtails, everyone persuaded you to be Boo. You’d outgrown almost everything else from childhood, but Boo was stuck with you for life.

“Oh Y/N, you look lovely darling,” Anne cooed as you came into her sight. She pulled you in for a hug, kissing your cheek as she pulled away. You had to admit, you did scrub up well. It was a long time since you’d really made the effort to look properly nice, still caught in the comfort of your pandemic wardrobe of leggings and sweatshirts. The olive-green maxi dress you’d settled on hugged your body in all the right places, a thick band of material draping over your chest and the tops of your arms, showcasing your toned shoulders. You’d always weirdly liked your shoulders and neck, an odd area to be proud of but it was by far your favourite part of your body. Your hair was scraped back in a sleek bun, tiny wisps framing your fresh face. “Gem and Sophia are still inside, they’ll be out in a minute. Gem’s so excited to see you, it’s been so long since we’ve all been together,” Anne gushed, running a hand up the outside of your arm.

She had such a delicate, warm presence, it was no wonder she’d raised two children as incredible as Harry and Gemma. Anne had been an extension of your own mum as you grew up, small traces of her as much as part of you as they were her own kids. She’d talked you through boys and heartbreaks, been there to wave you off to your school prom, one of the proudest faces in the crowd when you graduated university. She’d been stationed on the garden patio alongside your mum at every birthday party, the two women nattering away as they guarded the wine.

Gemma stepped out of the door, pulling you out of your daydream down memory lane. Your jaw went slack when you saw her, she was positively radiant. Her dress was a dainty satin, huge bishop sleeves adorning her arms and a beautiful full skirt, flowing around her petite frame in the gentle seaside breeze. Your mum rushed over to her first, smoothing a loving hand down the front of her skirt. “You look beautiful Gem,” she told her, tears glistening on her bottom eyelashes. Hugs and pleasantries were exchanged throughout the group, shoulders bumping gaily as you moved around. One thing was still missing though - Harry. You knew he’d never miss his sisters wedding, though he was absolutely nowhere to be seen. Just as you were about to ask, you saw him. With a deep brown suit jacket draped across his body, matching slacks hanging loose on his muscular thighs. A white vest hung low on his chest, his inked swallows sitting pretty on tanned skin.

You knew how good he looked these days, of course. Your tiktok had been full of videos of him performing, Anne’s house littered with framed photos. But seeing him in real life lit a fire in your belly. He’d always been pretty, green eyes and curls enough to charm any woman, but now he was hot. A great, big hunk of sexy man. He approached your parents first, laughing as your dad chose to forgo Harry’s outstretched hand, pulling him into a hug instead. “Here’s our not-so-little superstar,” he smiled, ruffling Harry’s messy curls. Harry pressed a kiss into your mums cheek, exchanging a quick but heartfelt hello. His eyes caught on yours as he glanced across the courtyard, your brown eyes still crinkled as you smiled, in exactly the same way they had when you were younger. “Little Boo!” he chuckled, striding towards you. His strong arms wrapped you into a firm cuddle, his musky scent spilling into your pores. “You look incredible,” he whispered into your ear, voice raspy and low. It wasn’t long before Anne was ushering you all into place to take some pictures, cutting yours and Harry’s catch up short. “Come and find me later,” he told you as you beamed for the camera.

—

With the ceremony long-finished, the party had spilled out of the church hall and onto the grounds outside. You’d danced, mingled and laughed for as long as you could before needing a minute of quiet. Brushing your hand across your mum’s back, you told her you were going for a little walk and would be back soon. You slipped out of the open doors, yanking your heels off in search of some quick relief. You spotted a little wooden bench overlooking the sea, a little way away from the other guests. A great oak tree shielded it from the warm evening sun, providing you just the right amount of peace.

“Thought you were gonna find me,” a voice suddenly came from behind you. You turned around to see Harry approaching your private spot, a sparkling glass in each hand. “Hey,” you smiled. “Just needed a little bit of quiet. Come sit,” you patted the bench beside you. Harry handed you one of the glasses as he sat down, murmuring, “saw you heading over here. Thought I’d bring you a little tipple.” You cheersed, the clinking of glasses cutting through a heavy silence. “How have you been?” he asked you, shifting his body slightly to face you.

“Been good, H. Thank you for asking. Work’s going well, was a bit slow with the pandemic and all but life’s been kind to me recently. I don’t really need to ask you, do I?” you laughed, suddenly shy in his presence. “No, I guess not,” he answered, smiling kindly at you. You settled back into an uncomfortable silence, not really sure how to talk to one another anymore.

“Mum told me you moved to London,” Harry said, seemingly desperate to pierce the awkwardness hanging over you both. “Yeah, I did,” you told him, explaining how Holmes Chapel had started to feel just a little too small, a little too cut off from the rest of the world. “I can understand that,” he told you, chuckling. You ran through the usual questions, telling him about your work as an illustrator, your little flat off of Finchley high road, the couple of girls from school you’d kept in touch with. “I can’t believe you live so close to me,” he gasped. “Mum could never remember what area you lived in, if I’d known you were only down the road we could have reconnected long before now,” Harry told you. You let out an involuntary scoff at this, telling him, “you know where to find me, H. You know your mum has my number, you know where I’ll be every Christmas and birthday. If you really wanted to reconnect it would have happened long before now.” Your words tumbled out, years of one-sided hurt and rejection suddenly pushing to the surface. Harry took a big sip of his drink, placing his hand over yours. “I’ve been shit, I know. Got caught up in everything and barely looked back. Wanted to reach out a long time before now but I couldn’t bring myself,” he told you. “Felt so bad for how I just disappeared and didn’t want to face it.”

You looked at him with sad eyes, searching his face for any sign of insincerity. “I get it, H. I’m really happy for you, I am. You had all your dreams come true, it’s amazing,” you set your glass down beside you and held your other hand over his. “Just feel sad that I lost my best friend overnight.” Your eyes welled up as you spoke, a combination of the free-flowing prosecco, the beautiful ceremony, and facing your hurt with the man who caused it. “Never had a friend who got me like you did,” you chuckled bitterly. Harry pulled his hands from yours and snaked an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to his side. “I’m sorry, little Boo, I swear.”

The pair of you stayed that way for a while, soaking in each other’s words and the idyllic setting. Just being close to each other for the first time in almost a decade, having said what you both needed to, was bliss. “I thought about you a lot, y’know,” Harry told you suddenly, the words bursting out as if he’d been biting them back for a while. “Yeah?” you asked him, sitting up straighter to look at him again. He nodded, cheeks twinged slightly pink. You weren’t sure if it was the booze or his confession. “All my big moments, always wished you were there.”

“You know I would’ve been if I knew you wanted me to, Harry.”

“I know,” he mumbled, watching his own trainer-clad feet kicking little rocks around. “My mum and dad went to a few of your shows with Anne, watched the Brits and the Grammys every year you were nominated.” You swallowed thickly, before continuing, “I’m really proud of you, we all are.”

Harry turned his head slightly to the sound of music blaring from inside, before asking you, “dance with me?” He extended a hand to help you up, placing his glass down before wrapping an arm around your waist. You stepped together slowly, bodies moving in unison with your head rested softly against his chest. The skies had gotten gradually darker as you’d spoken, closing in around you until only a faint glow seeped out from the open church doors. Harry pushed you out, spinning you around before tugging you back into him. You smacked against his chest with a little ‘umph’, the wind knocked out of you. Your eyes met his, a little dazed, and all you could do was stare.

It felt like a betrayal of your childhood self to find him so attractive now. He was your best friend, your first friend, the only one to ever understand you fully. He’d guided you through your awkward pre-teen stage, the extra years he had on you put to good use when he showed you cool bands and songs to make boys like you. But now, you wanted him to be the boy that liked you. You were so flustered under his gaze, heat tearing through your body. “Let’s head back in,” you told Harry, words shaky. He kept an arm tight around your shoulder, shaking you about as you approached the church. ‘I’ve got my little Boo back’ he laughed in a sing-song tune. You could feel the happiness radiating off his body, knowing without even looking that his toothy grin would be firmly nestled between two deep dimples.

Your parents were sat around a table with Anne, Michal and Gemma still doing the rounds. You could tell they were drunk from a mile away - your dads cheeks stained red with merriment and Anne’s hands gesturing wildly as your mum roared with laughter. You’d missed this. You still went home as often as you could, never missing an opportunity to enjoy time with your loved ones, but before seeing Harry today it always felt different. Gemma, your sister, and Harry had all moved on, never fully present. But being the youngest, you were the one left behind. Harry pulled around two chairs for you both, plopping down between you and his mum. She draped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss. “My special boy, where have you been?” she slurred.

“Been catching up,” Harry told her, a blush creeping up his cheeks as she looked between the two of you before winking at him. She was far from subtle before getting wine drunk, so now her entire head moved with her wink. She highlighted it with a loud “wink, wink” in Harry’s direction. “Anne!” you spluttered, choking out a laugh. Your dad reached over to snatch the two empty glasses from in front of you and Harry, promising to fill them to the brim so you could ‘get on their bloody level’.

The evening continued like that, the 5 of you drinking and laughing, reminiscing on your younger days. Your parents and Anne managing to bring up enough embarrassing stories about you both to put you off ever speaking to them again. “I think it’s time we all go to bed,” Harry started, holding his hands up. “Because we’re all fucking PISSED!”, he continued, yelling at the table. You banged on the table in hysterics, eyes screwed up tight as you and Anne fell into each other in laughter. Most of the venue had cleared out by now, guests dropping by your table to congratulate Anne on their way out. You’d barely seen Gemma all night, so content in her little love bubble that she’d spent the majority of the evening alone with Michal, feeding each other cake and slow-dancing.

“Come on, you big lump,” you tugged at your dad’s wrists who in turn pulled at your mum to stand up. Your dad swung his arms around you both, Harry and Anne joining onto the end, and you stumbled towards the exit in a fit of laughter. Harry tried to start a can-can line, kicking one big foot up into the air, but the 5 of you put together had far less coordination than even one sober person, so the idea was quickly abandoned.

The church had a converted barn outside, with rooms purpose-built for immediate family and friends to stay in. You hugged and kissed your goodnights to your parents and Anne, making sure they all got into bed without mischief. Now it was only you and Harry left, buzzed but significantly less drunk than your elders. “Care for one last round?” Harry asked you, slipping a little hip flask out from his blazer pocket. You knew this was a bad idea, a drunken evening alone with the man you’d been lusting after all day. But you certainly wouldn’t make the first move, and you were almost sure he didn’t think of you as anything other than the little girl who used to run around with him.

You followed him into his room, laughing to drown out the alarm bells ringing in your head. Once you saw the empty bed in front of you, you couldn’t help but just flop down on it, suddenly needing to be as comfortable as you could. The room was aged and rustic, but the bed was far more comfortable than it looked. Harry sat against the pillows beside you, long legs stretched out before him as he took a swig from the flask.

For the first time that day, the silence around you was peaceful. Just two old friends enjoying each others presence. Harry watched you as you took the flask from him, grimacing as the liquor went down with a burn. His green eyes were studying every little line on your face, every freckle dotted across your bare shoulders. There was so much new about you, so many little details and marks you’d gained as you grew older, all the little telltale signs of the years he’d missed. What he’d said to you earlier was true, he’d missed you with his whole heart from the second he’d left you behind, spent so many lonely nights wishing he had you by his side. He thought he’d outgrown you, his new-found fame taking precedence over the little girl he’d shared his dreams and aspirations with. But sitting here now with you, he knew you’d grown with him, no matter how far removed your life had become from his. “‘M nearly 30, you know,” he drawled, voice hoarse from the singing and the sting of alcohol in his throat.

“Huh?” you turned to him confused. “I’m 30 next year,” he told you. “Yeah I know, H. What does that have to do with anything?” you laughed, poking at the side of his head. “Means we have to get married next year,” he grinned. You gasped, remembering the pact you’d thought about earlier in the day, “you didn’t forget!” you laughed, sitting up against the soft pillows.

“Can’t do it next year though, two weddings in a year would send our parents insane,” you told him. “‘M finished with my tour now. Got nothing on next year,” Harry shrugged, a familiar cheeky smirk sitting pretty between his dimpled cheeks. You felt something shift in the air as he spoke, and he seemed to feel it too, edging closer to you until his face was only centimetres away from yours. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look today?” he cooed, one hand coming up to cup your cheek. His touch shot electricity through your core, a tingling sensation starting where his fingers touched you before washing over your whole body. You shook your head lightly, eyes fixed on him. He leaned in at this, his parted lips meeting yours. The beginnings of a moustache tickled your upper lip, his hot breath flowing into your mouth with every lick of his tongue. You shifted your body towards him as the kiss deepened, four legs and the now-crumpled duvet tangling together as you rushed to close the distance between your bodies. Harry licked into your mouth with the passion of a million years of unspoken longing, his movements saying more than he ever could with words. It was the kind of kiss you’d expect from someone who’d loved you for a lifetime, who wanted to love you for a lifetime, your tongues working alongside each other like this was routine, like you’d done it a thousand times before.

“Harry,” you whispered, hands pushing his blazer from his shoulders. He let you pull it off him, then stroked a hand up your thigh as you admired his upper body. One arm was littered in patchwork tattoos, though all you could focus on was his muscles, illuminated beautifully in the evening light. “Let me get you out of this,” he rasped, twisting your shoulders around to access the zip running down the back of your dress. He smoothed his fingers down your waist and to your hips before unzipping you, your body dwarfed by his strong hands. Harry pressed a kiss into the top of your back, then kissed up and down your spine, hungry for a taste of you as he unveiled more of your skin. You stood up to help him pull your dress down, resting one hand on his shoulder to steady yourself as you stepped out of it, leaving it discarded on the floor. “Matches my eyes,” he smiled. His gaze trailed from your toes, up to your knees, to where your panties wrapped around your hips, and higher still. Up your tanned abdomen to your bare breasts where your rosebud nipples sat perky, to your neck, and finally his gaze rested on your eyes. “Y’so beautiful,” he groaned, running a soft touch along the curve of your neck.

Harry pulled his tank top over his head, stepping out of his slacks as they collapsed at his feet. His body was unbelievable. So tanned and toned, firm in all the right places yet soft in the best ones. You could see the outline of his hard shaft through the thin fabric of his boxers, an almost silent moan slipping out as you took in the sight before you.

He stepped closer to you, backing you up until the side of the bed hit the back of your knees, then held a hand to your back to guide you down onto it. His hot, drunken breath washed over you as he climbed on top of you, one hand balancing his body as the other explored you. His fingers groped your breast firmly, mouth finding the opposite nipple, sucking it into his lips in one quick movement. Your back arched off the bed, pleasure so built up that it only took one touch to send you into a frenzy. Harry licked a circle around your areola, chuckling against your skin as you writhed under his touch. “Barely even started yet, little Boo,” he drawled, moving upwards to kiss along your clenched jaw.

His fingers danced down your body, smoothing over your mound as you gasped and groaned. They slipped under the soft material of your panties, blissfully cold against the heat of your entrance. You were already soaked through, much to his surprise, so he swiped a finger through your folds to collect your juices before landing straight on your clit. Harry rubbed you in circles, the friction leaving you a panting mess under him, head jutting out to press open-mouthed kisses on his throat.

He pulled your panties down your thighs tenderly, kissing every inch of skin they passed over. In the dim light of the room, mouth moving up and down your body, he’d never looked so handsome. His cock brushed against you as he moved back up your body to focus again on your folds, your juices spread across your mound in a mess. Two long fingers dived straight in, his rings leaving a harsh chill against your sensitive skin. The stretch of his fingers alone had you panting, a familiar burning starting in your core. Harry found your sweet spot insanely fast, fingers moving in a perfect beckoning motion just as you liked. He navigated your body like you’d done this before, like the muscle memory just guided him to what he knew made you feel good. “I want more, want you inside of me,” you whined, hips bucking towards Harry’s groin as he silenced you with a deep kiss. “Got to get you ready for me first, Boo”, he told you. You winced as he used your nickname, knowing you’d never be able to hear your dad call you that without thinking of this night.

Harry’s mouth found your breast again, sucking deep purple bruises onto the gentle skin as you whimpered beneath him. He smacked at your pussy as your moans got louder, causing your eyes to shoot up to meet his. “Gotta keep the noise down, sweet girl.” You nodded in response, teeth clamping down on your bottom lip to keep yourself as quiet as you could be. The second his tongue found your nipple, you felt your orgasm bubbling up in your core. Harry noticed the way your head lulled back, slipping a third finger inside of you and using his thumb to brush against your clit. It was like the holy trinity of foreplay, his skilled tongue and fingers hitting your three most pleasurable zones at once. Your climax hit quickly, walls tightening around his digits as you clamped your forearm across your mouth, desperately trying not to scream his name. He peppered kisses down your throat as his fingers rode you through your high, only pulling them away when you went limp under him. Harry held his fingers to his mouth, tongue darting out to lick off every trace of your creamy come.

He backed off you to kick his boxers down his legs, stroking his erection as it oozed precum. He found his wallet, pulling out a condom and rolling it down the length of his cock. “How do you want me, sweet girl?” he asked you, cock twitching in his hand. “Wanna go on top,” you told him, suddenly eager to impress. If his cock was anywhere near as good to you as his hands and mouth had been, you couldn’t only have him once. You needed to show him how good your pretty pussy could take him, make him want to come back for more.

Harry rolled onto the centre of the bed, hands guiding your hips down over his groin. His hand cupped the back of your head, pulling you towards him for a sloppy kiss. His mouth tasted of you, the familiar tingle of juices on his tongue. You stroked his member up and down quickly, before lining it up with your entrance and pushing yourself down onto his tip. “Fuck, H. You’re so big,” you whined, thighs burning as you hovered above him. He used his hands to move you up, then down, down, down, helping you to take him fully. The burn was like nothing you’d experienced before, his girthy cock crammed into every corner of your pussy. You stilled for a moment, hands resting against his butterfly tattoo, chest rising and falling quickly as you tried to push past the ache. He held a thumb under your chin, tilting your head to look at him. “You ok, pet?” he asked, needing to be sure before you continued. You nodded, moving one arm to pull his finger into your mouth. You licked circles around his fingertip, sucking it in down to his knuckle before releasing with it a pop.

Harry’s hands guided your hips to grind against him, helping you until you found your rhythm. He pulled them away, one landing with a loud smack on your ass cheek as the other crept up the front of your body, resting at your throat. He squeezed lightly, the sensation only spurring you on to bounce up and down on him, the combination of your juices squelching as your cheeks slapped against his groin. It was the kind of hot, dirty sex you’d only ever dreamed of, and it had you falling apart on top of him. You cried out a strangled moan, expletives falling out of both of your mouths. “Feel so good around me,” Harry groaned, “so fucking wet. S’that all for me?”

“All for you, H. M’all yours,” you whimpered. His hips bucked against you as you told him you were his, fingers pulling away from your supple ass. He spat on them before dancing them back across your asscheek and smoothing the spit around your second hole, eyes fixed on your pussy bouncing on his cock. “Can I?” he asked you. “Please, H.”

He pushed a finger into your tightness, filling you up so well. You felt so full you could burst. His eyes were clouded over with lust, tiny hairs slick to his forehead with sweat. He looked feral, and you loved it. He repositioned his feet to where they were flat against the bed, hips knocking into you as you moved up and down his cock, his thrusts sending him deeper and deeper inside of you. You were both panting now, barely able to contain your highs for a second longer. “Come with me, come with me please,” you begged him, your second orgasm of the night starting to rise through your core. His thrusts got faster and sloppier, obscene sounds echoing around the room, a clear sign of what you were doing to anyone who could hear you right now. Your orgasm crept up on you quickly, thanks to Harry tightening his grip around your neck and pushing his finger further into your tight hole. Your head was thrown back as you came, back arched making his cock feel as though it could burst through your belly button. Harry moaned loudly, hips jutting one last time as he flooded the condom with his come. You collapsed in a sweaty heap, totally unable to hold yourself up any longer.

“Took me so well, angel girl,” Harry drawled as he pulled out of you, padding across the room to toss the condom and rinse his hands. You lay there in total bliss, comfortable in the knowledge that your friendship was long gone.

—

“Let me go first and you can come after,” you told Harry, holding a finger up to shush him when he started to laugh. “We’re grown adults, Y/N, it doesn’t matter if anyone sees us come out together.”

“I don’t write songs about sex and drugs. My body is still untouched in my parents eyes,” you told him, hand slipping from the doorknob as he pulled you in for another kiss. “Just don’t come until you hear me leaving.”

You crept out of the room as silently as you could, heels and dress bundled under one arm. You’d heard Anne, your parents and Gemma head out to the courtyard already, so there was no danger of being caught by prying eyes - or so you thought. As you were padding across the hallway to your room, Anne appeared round the corner. “I was just coming to see if you were awake,” she told you, eyes sparkling with glee. “No wonder your mum said your bed was untouched.” She knocked on Harry’s door with a tight-lipped smile lighting up her face. He opened the door wide-eyed as Anne pulled him into a firm hug, pressing a sticky lipgloss kiss to his cheek. “I always hoped you two would get together.” She disappeared back down the hall as quickly as she appeared, leaving you and Harry blushing.

You decided to make your way outside together, knowing it wouldn’t be long before your parents put two and two together anyway. Plus, you knew Anne wouldn’t be able to resist telling your mum and Gemma what she saw.

—

You decided to spend the day on the beach, you and Harry with your parents and Anne, since Gemma and Michal had already left for their honeymoon. It was a perfect summers day, the sun warm enough to enjoy but not hot enough to irritate you, the gentle sea breeze cooling you down as it washed over you. Your mum and Anne were sprawled across a linen blanket, two bottles of wine stood in the sand next to their feet. They called you over, instant dread washing over you as Anne excitedly shouted your name. “Do you have anything to tell us?” she asked you, and you were sure there would be mischief glinting in her eyes under her big sunglasses. They sat up and scooted over on their blanket, leaving space for you to slot in between. “Nothing that I’m sure you don’t already know,” you smirked, a deep blush creeping up your cheeks. Your mum looked between Anne and you, gasping as she swatted at your leg. “So it’s true! You dirty little minx.”

You held your head in your hands, mortified that your parents knew you’d slept with Harry. “Oh relax,” your mum told you. “It’s nothing we haven’t done before,” she smirked, throwing herself towards Anne as they howled in laughter. Anne stopped suddenly, her hand tapping at your mum’s thigh incessantly. “If they get married, we’ll be real family!” she gasped, face pink with joy. “Well, the pact is what got us there in the first place,” Harry told them, sitting down next to you and snaking a hand around your waist.

“I forgot all about that,” your mum’s jaw went slack. “Do you still have it?” she asked Anne. “Of course I do. Kept it safe to show them when they found their way back to each other, always knew this day would come.”

part two

taglist: @sleutherclaw @harrysolaf @slutforcoffein

#harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry edward styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #Harry styles #harry styles fic #harryslittlefreakk #harry styles masterlist

[revvethasmythh]

Reminded again, as I periodically am, that there's a fair number of people in the fandom that think of Nott the Brave and Veth Brenatto as two different characters, and not fundamentally the same woman. In the absolute literal sense, this is false: Nott the Brave, returned to the body of her choice and using her real name once again, is absolutely precisely the same person she was before Caleb cast Transmogrification on her. This is, incidentally, one of her main sources of angst towards the end of the campaign! A part of Nott must have both feared (and, in some ways, hoped) that when she was changed back into a halfling, she would also be a different person. That the person she became traveling with the Nein would be an easy identity to shed, which she may have hoped for because it would be easier to fit herself back into her home life with Yeza and Luc--and because it would be easier to say goodbye to the Nein if that were the case. And she feared it because she liked this person she became, no matter how transgressive society would label her for it. And she loved the Nein and didn't want those feelings to be altered.

But she didn't change. Veth Brenatto is Nott the Brave and Nott the Brave is Veth Brenatto. This was always the point. That's why it's an anagram. It's just that when she's Veth Brenatto again, she is much more focused on the why of what she's doing. Why am I still with the Nein? Why am I still adventuring? Why do I have this reticence to return home to my family? Why don't I long for that quiet, domestic life the way I once did? Her emotional journey becomes intensely personal, sometimes subtly/quietly told, and wholly about what kind of future she wants for herself and how her choice could affect those around her. Her two families become anchor points pulling her in different directions and she has to deal with that. Which is a different story than what she was telling when she was still Nott the Brave. Nott's story was much simpler--I am a goblin and I hate it and I would like to be a halfling again. I would like to be able to be with my family again. It's straightforward and it's achieved! But that's not where it ends, because she still needs to figure out a real, functional future for herself once her goal has been achieved.

All this to say, I think when people say they prefer Nott over Veth, it's important to remember that you are reacting to a certain story arc for the character, not an entirely different character. It may also pay to ask yourselves why you think they're so different. Was "Nott" funnier than "Veth" to you? Does her ability to serve as comic relief fundamentally change whether you like her or not? Did you appreciate "Nott's" themes more than "Veth's"? Or did you even notice the themes being explored in Veth's later game at all?

#i'm approaching this in a two pronged way #1. gently trying to point out that they're literally the same person so you're reacting to a change in character arc not character itself #2. desperately trying not to be too much of a bitch about how reductive i think the idea of nott and veth being different fucking is #anyway veth's later game arc is so angsty and sexy it's literally a shame people don't appreciate that about it #veth brenatto #critical role #the mighty nein #nott the brave #yeah why not i'll tag them like they're two separate people. for shits and giggles i guess

[tetsuskei]

belonging - portgas d. ace [nsfw]

synopsis: it’s never the best time when it’s his birthday, but luckily he has you to show him differently

notes: two days late, but this is the bday fic dedicated to my soul, my luvr boy. poured so much into this that it kinda doesn’t make sense but we will roll with it <3 kicking off the year with him and wouldn’t have it any other way !

warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, self doubt, depression (ace has some dark thoughts), anxiety, praise, nipple biting and sucking, body worship, barely edited so probably lots of typos, reader has fem body parts

ace always assumed that ‘falling in love’ was something that happened to other people, not to him.

his entire life had been a series of doubts and questions to himself. doubts about if he deserved the good things that came to him and the people who entered his life.

but gone were the days where ace let out all his anger towards anyone and everyone in the world. if you could ask anyone about him now, they would have only amazing things to say about him. many see him as a brilliant leader, one not to be meddled with. his brothers admire his never ending strength and courage. his spirit was always there to uplift others.

so who would be there to lift him up?

only you have seen who he is once broken down. once he’s out of the public eye, and behind closed doors, he’s a much more sombre person. he’s clingy, and soft. sad, and vulnerable.

it’s not a surprise to you that he struggles with his mind sometimes. that there are days where he may spend too much time in his head, fighting off demons.

“what am i doing here?” he asked one time. it wasn’t a question directed towards you, and from the empty look in his dark brown eyes, you could tell he was having trouble answering himself.

having the blood of a devil circulating in his veins is a double edged sword. he always told himself to not let where he came from hold him back. that mentality had gotten him this far, after all. it became a driving point for him.

but after quickly rising up in ranks and making a name for himself just like so, his mindset started to change. he began to not really know what he was after. yes, he wants to be more famous than his father, but so what? what would come next?

he focused on a much simpler task. he wanted to live each day without regrets.

many considered ace like the sun. he shined so brightly on his own (literally and figuratively), but in a way, it was a curse. he shined so brightly that if anyone came too close to him, he would burn them. they’d scorch up in flames within an instant.

but you were different. despite how brightly he shone, you didn’t let that stop you. it scared him, to say the least. the only people who he was comfortable being vulnerable with in his feelings were his brothers, and yamato being another person. now you were the fourth.

you had picked and pried at him in a way no one ever had before. getting scorched (literally and figuratively) in the process. you showed him kindness and affection that he only saw in the pages of fairytales.

he knew very little about gentleness. but it didn’t mean it was impossible. the feeling of your finger tips running over his bare skin is enough to soothe him. it makes him feel like he is at home and belongs. and in return, he wanted to give you that same feeling.

he wanted to live, and always come back to you.

ace always seemed more tense around this time of year. a little more gruff, and on edge. but not in a way that makes him dangerous. or, at least to you. he just seemed a lot quieter, and more consumed in his thoughts.

his birthday, as it turned out, had always been a sore subject amongst the whitebeard pirates. no one ever pried too much into his past. even after he told you and several others of his father, of his mother, no one wanted to push him to speak more about it.

you don’t make the most grand gesture out of his birthday, only requesting help from thatch to make a grand spread of all his favorite foods, and small decorated cake.

“i’m not going to ask anything of you, but only for you to have a good time. no sulking, kay?” you told him that morning.

when finally getting time alone with your boyfriend that evening, you sat with him, holding him in your arms as the two of you watched the stars.

ace loved when you talked about the stars to him. you told him once that the constellations that sit in the sky are the same ones projected onto his face in the form of freckles. he thought it was the most ridiculous thing ever, until you said one thing.

“the stories written up in the stars are no different from the ones that live in your eyes.”

his eyes always told you what he was thinking. after all, you read him so well. you long since noticed the troubled look on his face, but remained impassive as you know he’ll come to you when he’s ready to talk. for right now, having you as his support is the best thing you could give him.

eventually, he told you that he ‘just wanted to forget about things’ and while you understood what he meant without a full explanation, you wanted to make it known how thankful you are that he’s here. that he was born. that he’s a gifted presence in your life—and so many other people’s.

one thing led to another—shared kisses and words of declarations as you shedded each others clothes off.

right now ace lays under you, a complete mess as you ride his cock. his hat was on your head at first, but now it lays somewhere on the ground.

“ahh~ fuck!” a pretty gasp leaves his rose colored lips, his eyes glazed over with tears. his adrenaline has his blood pumping like crazy, and his cock is of course no expectation to that rule. he’s twitching erratically inside of you, more than likely leaking heavily as he holds back his orgasm. his chest feels tight from how much your cunt is gripping him. it’s like you’re sucking the life out of him.

funnily enough, he’s already cum once, but his stamina, is unlimited. he’d be able to go for hours on end. that doesn’t deter you from your goal of completely fucking him stupid.

ace thinks you look beautiful above him the way that you do. like an angel that descended from the heavens. he doesn’t think he believes in any gods, but he knows surely you were sent by some celestial being to be the best gift he’s ever had in his life.

“you’re doing so good for me, ace.” you hum, leaning over his muscular form to kiss the shell of his ear. he keens when your lips then meet the sensitive juncture of his jaw and neck. your tongue swipes up any access sweat and you hum, cheekily biting him. “taste so good, too.”

his whole body is boiling to the touch, to say the least. black, greasy hair matted to his forehead. his brown eyes are blown out in pleasure, and he thinks he’s dying.

it shouldn’t be possible that he feels this good.

“don’t say that.” he grumbles shyly, hiding his face behind his hand. you pin it down to the bed, eyes glaring down at him.

“it’s true, though.” you argue, “and you feel so good too. always fill me up so well.” you moan, letting your head fall back as you grind down on him, pleasure crawling up your spine as his cock rides up against your cervix, kissing your gummy walls lovely.

“if you keep talkin’ like that i’m gonna cum again…” he warns, whining slightly.

you grin, “that’s the plan.”

ace groans, letting his head fall back on the pillows, “jesus christ, woman, you’re going to be the death of me.”

you laugh, “i would say death do us part, but i’d like to think we’d follow each other into the afterlife. i feel like that’s the true meaning of a soulmate.”

ace can’t help the tears that permeate at his ducts when he feels overwhelmed with love by you and for you.

“well, i hope that if we’re reborn, we find each other in the next life.” he says breathlessly.

you hum, smiling, “of course we will.”

he’s silent before his hands guide your hips, helping you bounce on him. there’s a deafening squelching sound from the combined slick and it drives both of you crazy.

“you’re so pretty, ace.” you say, kissing the freckles on his face.

he frowns, glaring at you, “the correct term is handsome or sexy. men aren’t ‘posed to be ‘cute’.” there’s a pout on his face and it only adds on to your statement.

you laugh, “sure, baby. whatever you want.”

“‘whatever’ my ass,” he says crudely, “why don’t you make yourself useful and cum on me?” he isn’t asking though, and brings his thumb to your clit.

a sharp breath of air escapes you as you realize how much your impending orgasm is creeping up on you.

“wait…” you start, hand reaching out to stop his own.

he swats its away. “you said to make sure i’m having a good time, and this is helping.” he smirks, “no ‘sulking’, remember?”

you don’t have time to answer when your boyfriend leans over you, taking one of your breasts in his mouth to suck.

a loud moan escapes you once a euphoric pleasure washes over you. you quickly seize up before you realize your cumming hard on him.

ace grunts, closing his eyes once he feels you milking him. you’re a walking sin, and the grievance between your legs would be his downfall.

he hooks his hands under your legs before flipping you over to lay you on your back.

“a-ace…” you stutter, looking up in shock at how much his energy has suddenly changed.

“my pretty girl.” he smiles, kissing your nose, cheeks, and finally your lips. “just relax.”

his hips began to steadily rock into you as he takes over the pace, his hefty balls slapping loudly against your ass.

still sensitive, you twitch and jerk under his grasp, feeling helpless and near limp as he rails you.

“nothing ‘cute’ about the way i’m fuckin’ you, now is there?” he grins, hand titling your jaw to the side before proceeding to suck marks into your delicate skin.

a keen slips from your mouth and you try to catch your breath, “o-okay, you proved a point.”

“damn straight.” he moves both of his hands downwards, holding onto your thighs before moving your legs over his shoulders.

the new angle feels as if the wind is knocked out of you. with the way he’s looking at you adoringly, and damn near shattering your pelvis you might as well be conflicted on if he loves or loathes you.

“always feel so fucking good. wish i could stay in you forever.” he moans, biting his lip. “so perfect like this. i’m so lucky.”

you gasp, your toes curling at the way his tip drags itself seamless over your insides. your eyes threaten to roll back but you fight it, seeing how ethereal your boyfriend looks when he’s feral.

he’s never been the best with words, but with the way he takes care of you, especially in the moment you share right now, you can feel the essence of his love. the way his hand reaches grips yours to kiss your knuckles.

“thank you…for always loving me.” he pants, “and for showing me things in life i never thought i’d be able to see.”

“thought i told you to stop thanking me.” you hit him on the head. you pull on his hair but he only groans, cock twitching.

ace pulls back from your neck, “i’m serious, i…i’ve never been this happy before.”

you only smile at him before grabbing his face with both of your hands, kissing him long and passionately.

he ruts into you, chasing his release. his vision is nearly spotting with how sensitive his nerves are, but his body has a mind of its own as it craves endless pleasure.

“s-shit! i’m gonna cum!”

shamelessly, you lock your legs around him, pulling him in closer wordlessly.

he laughs, sweat trickling down his brow, “ah~ you want it again, yeah? can’t get enough of my cum, can you?”

“always need to be filled by you, ace.” you moan, nails clawing helplessly at his back.

you lean forward before your teeth gently sink into a pert nipple, making him shout and swear as his orgasm is triggered.

and as he spills into you again for the second time that evening, you find yourself following him in suspension of death.

ace lays his weight on you, not crushing you, but knowing him and his narcolepsy, he just damn near will in a second.

you use all your strength to turn both of you over, and he grunts. if it was wet before between the two of you, it’s soaking now as his cum trickles down your legs.

“you’re wastin’ it…” he grumbles, holding your hips tight.

“not my fault you’re a human cum geyser.” you retort. “now let me get up.”

he pouts, “just…stay like this for awhile?”

“fine, but you’re cleaning me up.” you warn. “happy birthday, you animal.”

a sleepy grin appears on his face as he kisses the top of your head. “yeah, i love you too.”

and so maybe after all, he could learn a lot more about what life has to offer, especially if that means you’d be by his side. there’s nothing he truly wouldn’t fear anymore. not in life or in death.

#ace x reader #portgas d ace #portgas ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d. ace x reader #ace smut #one piece smut #op smut #op x reader #one piece x reader #portgas d. ace #portgas ace smut #portgas ace x you

[lovelybrooke]

Can I request underworld people dialogue about us?

Thank you for requesting this, I really wanted to write for some side characters.

Hypnos

Hypnos is more observant than people let on. Often, he hears the ramblings of Zagreus, which more often than not, is about you. At first, he's put off about it, but as he's forced to listen about you more and more, he learns to crave it. Before Hypnos fully realized your presence, he would listen intently to anything about you from Zagreus.

Hypnos dialogue is mainly takes after Zagreus, which can range from nothing to worry about, to intense obsessive ramblings.

"Hey--Hey! You're back sooner than expected! Thanatos was asking about you, no not you Zagreus, he doesn't ask about you. Anyway, maybe it would be good to stay a bit longer this time, relax a bit, you know? Don't give me that look Zag!

Thanatos

Thanatos in the beginning is turned off by Zagreus and his obsession with you. He views you as just another reason for why Zagreus is running away from everything. Like his brother however, his bond with you grows stronger as he's forced to remain in contact with Zagreus. His obsession is less obvious than the others, but still strange.

Thanatos's dialogue is chalked full of hidden messages and meanings, which if you don't think too hard about, is just normal Thanatos dialogue.

"You're never going to find them Zagreus. Even if you did, do you think no one else tried to get to them first? It's a foolish effort, though one I can empathize with."

Nyx

Nyx wants Zagreus to find happiness, and for a while she thought his mother was the answer to all that. It wasn't until she came to understand you, that she realized his motivations were much deeper than that. Nyx has to admit that in the beginning, she was warry of you and your motives, but as she comes to understand that you only want to help Zagreus, she grows quite fond of you.

Her dialogue is not as obsessed as the others, but still points to more sinister happenings.

"My child, this devotion of yours, are you positive they are worth all this effort. I don't doubt you, nor do I doubt them and their assistance, but I wonder, perhaps there is a simpler way to go about this."

Megaera

Meg is slightly disgusted by Zagreus obsession, not understanding how he could be so enamored with someone he hasn't met. She sees you as just another thing in her way, until she starts to realize it's not just Zagreus, the others, they also seem to be taken by the same devotion. Meg doesn't fully understand it, but she learns to except you. And while she'd never admit it, she also feels herself growing closer to you.

Megaera's dialogue is covered in thinly vailed insults, all of which hide a sense of insincerity in them.

"Back again, Zagreus. You know, you seemed distracted last time we fought, like your mind was somewhere else entirely. Zagreus, maybe next time you make direct contact with them, don't fight me. Or do, just makes it easier to kill you.

Achillies

Achillies always took a fatherly role in Zagreus's life, and because of that he's impartial to you. It takes long for Achillies himself to fully recognize the player, but when he does, he kind of understands the Underworld Prince. Achillies fatherly instincts projects onto the player, and more often than not, he wishes you were here with him. But Achillies knows he's no longer deserving of good things.

Achillies dialogue is often filled with worry for the player. Because of this, it's kind of hard to tell when his words are directed towards the player or Zagreus.

"You've been working hard. Too hard maybe. Perhaps this is a good time to take rest. I know my words are too little effect, but I worry about you, both of you. More than you know."

Dusa

Dusa loves Zagreus, and she wants him to be happy. That's why she supports him in leaving. It's why she'll also support Zagreus in his efforts to find you. You're much more elusive than they all originally thought, but Dusa will do anything she can to help. And maybe, if she just works hard enough, she'll get to meet you too, just maybe.

It's hard to understand if Dusa's dialogue is directed at you or Zagreus, since it's all so similar.

"Oh! Um--you're here...H-how are you...? Gosh, I sound like a mess, I-I just didn't expect you both to be here. I'll go now...

Orpheus

Orpheus spends a lot of his time reminiscing about his time with his beloved Eurydice. He wishes he could just turn back time, fix everything, but the past is the past and there is nothing more he can do. When Zagreus comes to him, waxing poetry of all his epic adventures, describing some omnipresent force helping him while doing so. For a moment, Orpheus assumes it's his godly relatives, but he quickly realizes it's more. It sends Orpheus down a rabbit hole, wanting to know more and more about this presence the son of Hades seems so involved with.

Orpheus doesn't hide his obsession well, trying to get anything about you out of Zagreus.

"My Prince, tell me again about them. I know it is out of turn for me to continue begging, but I do enjoy listening to stories of their adventures with you. If I may, how close do you believe you are to finding them?"

Eurydice

Eurydice values her time alone; she has to living within Asphodel. Even though, she grows to value the prince's visits, especially his appetite. Though, this doesn't mean that deep down, she misses the stories, the songs, the tales her love once sung to her. While she loves being able to do as she pleases, she secretly wishes for more. Zagreus, and by extension you, offer her that. Zagreus is how she's able to experience all you have to offer, and it's a nice change of pace from her usual routine.

Eurydice's dialogue is not that worrying compared to other characters. Like Achillies, it's a lot of worrying, so she doesn't raise any of your suspicions.

"Hey there prince! You look tired, you've been working to hard hon. Here, you should take this, don't worry about me needing anything in return, your visits are all I need."

Hades

Hades despises his son's relationship with you. He sees you as a distraction, a nuisance, and a bother. Like most things, if given the opportunity he would rip you from his son's mind without remorse. However, there is little the Underworld Lord can do regarding this matter, so he lets it be. Like a sickness, your influence on Zagreus grows and grows, and in turn does Hade's anger.

Hades cannot admit it to himself, but he feels your influence as well. He is a god, so like his brothers he feels you everywhere, and in some ways, he is scared. Scared of what could become of this, what could become of his house if they indulge in you too much. So, like any good Lord would, he plans on cutting you out the first chance he can get, less he also indulges in you.

Hades doesn't talk too much to you or about you, so it's scary when he does.

"You, boy, don't know what you're on about. You are naive, believing you will find some solace in this mysterious presence of yours. My brothers may indulge you, however I will not. This house will not be overrun with murmurs of someone who does not exist."

Chaos

Chaos is the creator of all things, knower of all things. So of course, they know about you. Chaos most likely knew about you before Zagreus did. You are such a curious thing, aren't you, involving yourself in the happenings of Gods. They have to admit, you are alluring, but they wonder why you chose to busy yourself with the Son of Hades when there are many gods willing to take his position.

Chaos is another character who doesn't talk about you often, but when he does, it's cryptic.

"Son of Hades, I wonder if that companion of yours fully understands the ramifications of their presence alone. They appear and even the gods themself are wiped up into a frenzy. You are lucky, aren't you? Or is it your companion who's the lucky one. Perhaps we'll never know."

Theseus

Theseus doesn't get to know much of you, since his position is mostly arbitrary in the grand scheme of things. Theseus hates this, he hates being out of the loop. He wants to know about you and why out of all the people withing the Underworld, you chose the spoiled prince to gift with your presence. It's just another thing to add to his lists of reasons to hate Zagreus.

Most dialogue directed towards you is just Theseus bragging about himself while also putting Zagreus down. So really nothing new.

"Halt there, Hellspawn! You dare approach the Champion of Elysium so casually. You may be a gifted warrior, but all of your strength is dedicated to them. I will not a spare an ounce of admiration towards you!"

Asterius

Asterius shares a lot of the admiration his brother has for you. He admires the strength you've provided Zagreus, offering Asterius a good battle. A part of Asterius wonders if he would ever be graced with your presence one day. While he may now be welcomed within Elysium, he knows his past wont easily escape him. You are kind though, and he holds out hope.

Asterius is yet another character who doesn't talk about you often. When he does, it's a lot like Theseus, claiming he's undeserving.

"Well, short one, we meet again. I believe this time will play out similarly to last, now that they are with you. I wonder, would you have even been able to reach Elysium without their guidance. No matter, it's all the same."

---

A/n: I didn't include Patroclus because, even in my longer game, I didn't get farther into his story. I know the gist of it, but I'll wait to do him for later. To make up for it, I'll write an extra-long, separate post for him and Achillies.

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #self aware hades #yandere hades game #yandere hades #zagreus hades #hades game

[madarasgirl]

'Batman' Alucard Gets His Way

T/W: Alucard (Ultimate) x F!Reader, pure fluff, shape-shifting, yandere, tit pillow, established relationship Words: 699

A cute little scenario popped into my head of living with Alucard while holding a day job at Hellsing and our vampire lover persuades us towards a more nocturnal routine. Feeling so soft for him lately. I promise the fluff I am pumping out for now will only last until my ovaries start speaking up again. ♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢ He said he wouldn't force you into anything. He promised you were allowed to live the life you desired even if you were to be involved with him, but it was a lie all along to reel you in. Your attempts to live a 'normal' daytime life were made impossible by a certain incessant, infuriating vampire.

Chittering met your ears with disagreement and you looked down at the fuzzy black bat nestled within your sweater at the bust with exasperation. He was adorable when sleepy like this, if only he was reasonable while you were at work! "You can't stay for long today, Alu. Once the meeting begins, you'll have to leave."

You caught a glimpse of ruby eyes and felt the muffled rustle of wings against your skin before the creature's eyes fell close.

---------------------

Alucard woke to hands tugging him from his nest, your gentle voice reminding him it was time for his exit. His eyes remained shut as he dug his claws deeper into the material of your bra, determined to stay put while surrounded by your scent and warmth, lulled by the comfort of your breathing and heartbeat.

Your voice grew pleading as he fell asleep once more, but he wasn't letting go. Who told you to work this job by day when you should be resting in his coffin with him at this time? It was merely the Hellsing associates. What they thought of him sleeping on you mattered little to him.

You ended up at the meeting that morning with a hand around your clingy bat to support his weight on your chest while countless eyes watched, though they tried –and failed– to pretend as if they were staring elsewhere. You squirmed sheepishly under their gaze as Seras laughed awkwardly and directed the attendees' attention away from her dozing master.

--------------------

A fingertip tapped his snout lightly. Your lips showered his forehead and face with affection. The Shadow King floated back to consciousness and he keened to lean into the petting under his chin as he stretched languidly.

"That's enough Alucard, this time you really have to go before the break ends!" He yawned, twin fangs glinting brightly as he settled his little furry body against the softness of your breasts and drifted. Such wonderful warmth. He nuzzled back into your silken skin, his mind clouded with the perfume of your scent swaddling him from all directions.

His peace was broken when you shook him and a low grumble echoed through your mind with displeasure.

That is thrice now that you roused me from my slumber, dear human.

“I am working! You can't just show up and sleep all over me like this! If you wanted proper rest, you should have stayed down in the basement!”

Finally the bat slipped through your shirt and reformed a tall, devilish man in crimson. His eyes were barely open with a half-hearted glower as he towered over you, his movements lethargic. All that sleeping and your lover was still drowsy!

“People are going to think us unprofessional! These are Integra's important allies and you are throwing Hellsing's reputation to the dust!”

The idiot vampire chuckled. "You concern yourself much with the impressions of others. Their opinions are irrelevant."

You huffed. You knew he would reply with something along those lines. Trying again, you told him, “Your actions are reflecting poorly on my performance!” What if you got dismissed? Though working a civilian job would be simpler than putting up with this insolence.

He appeared lost in thought when he unexpectedly relented. “As you wish, little one,” he murmured as he melted away from sight to your relief.

Alucard however remained quietly in your shadows, only causing mischief when any attendee became too unruly, though no one else was aware of his presence.  Settling yourself into the cushy seat again after the exhaustive meeting, you found your bat pawing to get back into your sweater. Did an immortal truly have nothing better to do? Then again, what does Alucard have if not time?

--------------------

Such a routine continued frequently until you decided that working another position that aligned your schedule with his nocturnal lifestyle would be easier on everyone's sanity.

~End~

♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢

**To be clear, if Alucard wanted to curl up and sleep in my shirt while I work, I’d be sure to somehow stuff a heated blanket up there to give him more comfort. My comfort vampire is welcome to all I have to offer ❤️**

#alucard x you #alucard hellsing #alucard x reader #alucard imagine #hellsing ultimate #yandere alucard #soft yandere

[iwhyzumiihajimee]

chefs kiss [ hq imagine ]

pairing: Miya Osamu x fem.reader

content: after outing, Osamu takes you to his home to cook and bake for you as promised. You struggle with self worth and you both open up to one another in the process.

genre: fluff/angst imagine, timeskip! au

word count: 2.9k

author's note: tbh this was originally written for iwaizumi, but i thought it would fit osamu character as well.

credit towards original artist (art work below)

Osamu opens up the front door with a smile, letting you go ahead of him. Once inside, the house has some things laid out for cooking that he talked about earlier. You notice a couple of pictures on the wall of him playing volleyball with his old High School team, so you can tell that it was an important and precious phase in his life.

“I was going to make a cake, but I think I can do something a bit simpler, as long as I can spend time with you. What do you think?”

Observing his place he brought you back to reality, and you responded with a nod "Mhm... I'd like that.

He smiles. “Then come on, let’s get to it. I’ll even make you lunch after.” He gestures for you to follow him and he leads you into the kitchen. He starts getting out some ingredients and putting some things together in bowls. “I’ve done this lots of times, so I can do it pretty fast now.” He smiles, he knows that he is very good when it comes to things in the kitchen. His hands are quick and sure as he moves around a lot.

"Was cooking and baking something you started as a hobby very early?"

He chuckles. “It's almost definitely my favorite thing to do. It's fun to be creative and see what I can come up with, even with simple dishes, like the one I'm making right now, I try to put some personal touches to it. Plus, it's fun to share it with other people. Cooking is awesome, I can't imagine my life without it now. But, it also helps that I'm lucky enough to be very good at it, so I'm glad I found this passion in my life.”

You admired his response. Because you were nowhere great or had the passion of cooking and baking. As long as you knew the basics and got something edible to eat on a plate then, it was all good. "Well seeing in the kitchen makes you very attractive." You said as you kept watching him.

He laughs and shrugs. “I don't know how to respond to that. But I'm glad you think so.” He smiles as he continues prepping everything. He seems quite confident in his cooking and baking abilities, and he seems pretty focused. He seems to really be enjoying himself, the cooking process is very relaxing for him. After a couple more minutes, he has everything ready that he needs and he starts mixing it all together.

"Need help?" You couldn't help, but asked. Him moving around so much made you anxious and just chilling across from him waiting patiently was not your thing. You're more hands on and want to make sure both of you are entertained.

“Sure, you can help me, I can tell you're interested in it too. Do you know your way around the kitchen? It's not actually too hard, I think you can do this.” He smiles at you and hands you something to mix together in a bowl. He seems more focused on you than he does on the cooking process, like he wants to include you as much as possible.

"Tell me what to do, chef"

“Just mix it together with both hands for about 5 minutes. I can teach you other things too if you want.” He leans in closer to you, watching your hands carefully as you mix the ingredients together. So far you guys have been getting along very well, and he loves that you seem to be learning this new skill fairly easily. It seems to be making him extra attracted to you, if that’s possible.

"Yes chef!" You say following his directions

A few minutes pass by and he checks the mixture. “Okay, keep going for a couple more minutes, I think it just needs to mix together a bit more. I can show you other recipes later too, but this is a really simple one.” He smiles at you and it seems to make him extra happy that you’re willing to learn more.

Finishing up being his assistant, you come back to you seat across from him. He comes over and gives you a quick kiss before finishing up his dinner preparations. “Alright all, it’s almost done. We just need some time to let everything come together, but I think we have enough time for you to see the end product.” He looks very happy with the way the dish turned out, there’s definitely a sense of pride in how it turned out. He then brings out the dish we made and it looks great.

He has it set at the table and he pulls you in for a kiss before starting to sit down and eat. “I really love cooking for you. You make me so happy. I feel really great when I’m with you, and just being able to make something special like this makes it all even better. I’m glad you really seem to like this dish too!”

Osamu watches you take your first bite, and you savor the taste. Tasting each flavor as it melts in your tongue.

"Woah~ this tastes amazing!"

He smiles and gives you another kiss. “I’m really glad you like it. My dad taught me this recipe, and it’s one of my favorites, and now you are my favorite person to cook it with.” He laughs softly, it seems like he really enjoys your company as much as he enjoys the cooking process.

"Aww appreciate that~ Now your kiss gives it extra flavor..." You joked.

He laughs at your joke, he’s very proud of this meal and your compliments only make him feel better about it. He can’t help but kiss you again, he just feels so happy with you. After finishing your plate, he grabs some ingredients out of the cabinet to get ready to make a dessert. “Let’s make dessert next, we gotta get something after this incredible meal. I’ve got a pretty easy recipe for that too, you think you’d like to help me?” He looks at you expectantly.

"Uhmm... The only thing I can think that's easy are cookies, but whatever you feel is good. I like watching you~" You intertwine your fingers and prompt them up for your chin to rest on as you smiled sweetly at him.

He chuckles. “Cookies are always a good option, but I’ve got a recipe for a chocolate cake that isn’t too difficult. I think I can explain it to you too so you can make it for me too sometimes later,” he says as he gets out the ingredients for the cake, his eyes are always on you even when he’s focused on the cake preparation.

He starts mixing everything together in a bowl. “This is really easy, I’ll tell you the ingredients you need to add and when. I’ll give you the easy job,” he says with a laugh, as it really doesn’t take much effort to mix the ingredients together in a bowl, but he’s still careful to not take the process too lightly either. He’s definitely putting a lot of himself into this cake, he wants it to turn out perfectly. It’s kind of like he wants your relationship to turn out perfectly too.

As you listen to his instructions and the way he explains everything in each detail. You understand his metaphor and you melt.

After some time the cake was already out of the oven and cooled down. He adds frosting and gives you a taste. You licked his finger subconsciously and the frosting tasted yummy "Mhmm!~" You hummed in happiness.

His eyes widened for a quick second when you licked his finger, there was definitely a small reaction. He looks at his finger and chuckles awkwardly for a second, but quickly he smiles again and keeps putting on the frosting. “I’m glad you like it. This was one of the first desserts I learned how to make all by myself. It’s one of my favorites because of that.” He’s very proud of this cake and the result. You can tell it means a lot to him.

He continues to frost up the cake and every once in a while he brings up his frosted up finger for you to taste.

He blushes as you lick his finger. It’s kind of cute how excited you are when you’re licking the frosting. He seems kind of turned on by it too. He continues to cover the cake in frosting, slowly icing the rest of it up with it. You patiently wait smiling, then sighed watching him.

He smiles as he watches you. Even though he is putting the frosting on the cake, his eyes are still on you. You can tell that he just really likes being around you. Once the cake is covered in frosting, he finally finishes the cake and sets it on a cake plate. He takes a deep breath and looks at it for a moment, making a mental note of the cake and how well it turned out. He starts to cut the cake and he makes sure to give you the first piece.

"Ehhh?~ It's soo goood!~" You faked cried as you took the first bite, then you take another piece and give him a taste as you two shared the piece.

He takes a bite of it too, and he seems even more impressed than before as his eyes light up while he takes a bite. “Oh man, this is really good, it turned out perfectly. I can’t wait to make more stuff like this with you around!” He smiles and leans in and kisses you on the cheek. He’s still so happy with the cake and he’s glad that you think it’s good too.

You continued to feed him pieces of the cake slice he gave you, and you enjoyed it as well. He then notices you had frosting on the side of your lips and he wipes it with his thumb and brings it over to his lips. He tastes it with a playful smile.

“Mmm, that’s really tasty frosting, it tastes even better on you though,” he says with a little laugh as he leans in and gives you another kiss. Your eyes widen and you blush away.

He’s still licking his lips after tasting your frosting. He looks straight into your eyes when he sees that you’re blushing. “You’re so cute when you’re blushing.” He leans in and whispers into your ear. “You taste good too.” He gives you a quick kiss on the cheek before smiling and cutting another slice of cake for himself.

As he did this, you suddenly got shy and quiet as you continue to eat.

He continues eating as well for a few minutes before he looks over at you. “Why so quiet?” He seems really happy with himself and the way this night is going.

"Ehm, you make me a little nervous, that's all."

He chuckles. “Sorry. It's nice being a little nervous every once and a while. The excitement can be fun too. Does it really make you that nervous?” He seems to be taking it as a little bit of a compliment.

"You attract me..." You glance to his eyes quickly and quietly say.

He looks surprised for a second and he smiles. “Wow, well thank you. I think I can say the same about you too though, you’re very attractive.” He seems to like the fact that you find him attractive and he’s taking it as a compliment. After taking a few more bites, he looks over at you and he can’t help but find you just as attractive as before. “You’re even more beautiful looking at you now.” He smiles and leans in to kiss you again.

He kisses you as he still had a piece of cake in his mouth which ended up in yours. He releases from the kiss and you then swallow the piece of cake he transferred to you.

He pulls away from the kiss and smiles. “You’re even better if there’s cake in your mouth. I could kiss you all night like this if I could,” He leans in to kiss you one more time, still impressed by all the flavor you give off. “I can’t get enough of you though,” He seems very sincere about this.

You shyly look away with your flustered face. He seems to love how shy you get, it’s really attractive to him. He leans into the kiss even more, and his hands move towards your hips while he does so. He takes his time with the kiss and you can feel that he really wants you. He seems to really like this side of you that comes out when you’re shy. He leans away with a smile on his face, he really enjoys taking his time with this kiss. “You’re super sexy when you’re like this.”

He pulls you up to the counter where you sit and he holds you between his arms at your waist. This surprised you, and you responded with an uhmm...

He smiles and kisses your cheek before saying “You’re very sexy when you’re like this, and I really want you in these moments. Is getting lifted up the part that makes you nervous?” He leans into you, his arms holding you close as he gives you his full undivided attention.

"A little... Your whole presence gets me nervous. You're too good for me..."

He seems a bit taken aback at this. He looks at you with eyes full of surprise. “I think the opposite. I don’t think I deserve you. You’re so beautiful, and it’s unbelievable how lucky I am to have gotten you in my life. I could not ask for someone more perfect to love.” He smiles and kisses you again in hopes of conveying his feelings. He genuinely thinks that he is not worth you, you are out of his league.

Shocked by his response- "Me? YOU'RE wayy out of my league... You were an amazing athlete, you can cook, your place is spotless, you're caring, loving, good looking... What is it you don't have? You have everything figured out and settled. I'm nothing compared to you."

It takes him a second to respond to what you’re saying, but eventually he leans in again to kiss you so as not to interrupt you. “That’s not true at all though. Being an athlete doesn’t make me better than you. If you saw the practice I put in to get to where I am now, what most people don’t see, you’d see how imperfect I am, just like you’re saying. But with you by my side, I’ve finally felt complete. I’m missing one piece, and that’s you.”

You held his shirt as you tucked your head leaned into his chest, having the sense of hiding. Every emotion hits you as you recall your past and the hardships you went through.

"You're dedicated, well mannered... Everything a girl wants... I'm not-"

He takes your hands in his, his eyes wide as he looks directly into yours. “No, you absolutely are. You are just as dedicated as me and you’re kind and selfless. You’re everything I could ask for and I truly mean that. I don’t see why you think so lowly of yourself, you’re amazing. I can’t ask for anything more than you.”

You let a tear drop as you tried so hard holding them.

He wipes those tears away and wraps you up in a hug, comforting you. “Hey, hey everything’s ok. I don’t ever want you to doubt how amazing you really are. Don’t cry, I know that you’re more than enough for me. You make me the happiest I’ve ever been, just being your boyfriend is the most satisfying thing I can ask for. Please don’t doubt yourself, I won’t stand for it.” He wraps you even closer, trying to cheer you up.

Letting out a breath to calm yourself down, "Sorry... It's been a while since I heard anyone appreciate me..."

He seems genuinely surprised at this again. He was not expecting you to say that. He takes a quick breath and leans in close to you. “You don’t hear that enough? I know that a lot of people talk down to you or don’t think much of you, but that is the one thing I can’t handle. You are too amazing to not have those close to you recognize that.” He seems genuinely upset about the fact that you don’t have people that appreciate you. You’re just too precious for anyone to think that.

He hugs you back, tightly now as you cry. “Hey hey no need to cry. I don’t know what you’re dealing with exactly, but there is no need to cry because all of that is behind now. Look, I promise that I’m here for you and I’ll always do what I can to make sure it’s all behind us. Ok? Are you feeling better now?” He seems to mean it as he talks, he really wants to comfort you and make sure you’re ok.

You nod and slowly pull away, "I'm okay, just needed this... Gosh I ruined the moment."

“Nah you didn’t ruin anything. I love being there for you whenever you need me. All I want is to be able to put a smile on your face and make you feel happy. You didn’t ruin anything at all.” He seems to mean every word as he looks at you.

#haikyuu smut #fluff #hq smut #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu #hq imagines #hq x reader #hq fluff #miya osamu x y/n #miya osamu x reader #osamu miya #miya twins #inarizaki #miya osamu smut #miya osamu fluff #haikyuu angst #hq angst

[dracoxsworld]

ARRANGED - Draco M. x Reader PART ONE | “She’ll Do”

You brush your soft hair. Apply a beautiful red shade of lipstick on your even softer lips. You look at yourself in your vanity, the vanity your father built with you when you turned sixteen. You smile at the memory.

Sixteen. Life was so much more simpler, you didn't have the worried you have today at 18. It's crazy how much changes in two years. You take a deep breath in. Today was the day you had been dreading. You and your family are a pure-blood family, and your family intends to keep it that way. Everyone knows your family, everyone. Meaning you have an impossibly high expectation to meet; marry someone you simply don't love. Because you're already in love with someone. Sadly, they don't meet your family's standards. He's half-blooded. You've fought with your parents, multiple times.

"But dad, I love Nicholas!" You beg. Tears burning in your eyes. "Y/N you know how this works. There will be no more arguing. Nicholas is a mud blood."

Mud blood. That's a word that's often thrown around in conversations in your household. Most witches and wizards today will turn in your direction in disbelief/disgust when it's used. But your family doesn't care.

You finish with the rest of your makeup. Today you were going to meet your future husband. The one that's been arranged and assigned to you. Your eyes gaze to an old photograph of you and Nicholas, at the Yule Ball. Tears form in your eyes again. You pick up the photograph gently with your fingers, handling it like fragile glass.

"I promise, Y/N. I will wait for you." Nicholas said, smiling faintly. You couldn't even look him in the eye when your parents refused to let him marry you, and the news broke out about your arranged marriage. "Nicholas, I am so sorry." You sob out. "Hey," he says softly, his hand rubbing your shoulder, the other gently grabbing your chin pulling your face in the direction of him. "It will be okay, Y/N. I love you, we will make it through this." He consoles you.

Nicholas promised you that you’d both somehow figure out a way to be together. You wanted to show him that you were hopeful, but deep down you were aware of what your family is capable of.

Not just your family, but the family you’re being married into. The Malfoy’s. You were marrying their son, Draco.

You and Draco had attended Hogwarts together, the same house, same classes, played Quidditch together on the Slytherin team, but no matter how much coincidental time you spent together; your beliefs could never be the same.

“Y/N, imagine how disappointed your father would be with you if he knew you were still dating that foul mud blood, Nicholas.” Draco would tease you as he saw you and Nicholas holding hands walking down the hall. “Well, you make your father disappointed without even trying, don’t you, Malfoy?” Nicholas would spit back. “Nicholas, he’s not worth it.” You’d whisper.

“Y/N! Are you ready?” You heard your mother call. Almost time. “Almost!” You call back. “Well hurry up, you can’t take all day!”

You sigh. You finish your hair by putting it up in an elegant bun with a hair clip uncreated with diamonds, and added hair spray for support. Your dress was long, and elegant. Dark green with lace around her neck line. Your collar bones poked out with your long necklace in the middle, that matches your hair clip. You were ready, for the worst day of your life.

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

You come down the steps of in your opinion, oversized house. Your mom greets you at the bottom. She gasps and he hand covers her mouth. “Oh Y/N.. You look beautiful. Draco will simply melt when he sees you.”

“Gross.” Your mutter in annoyance. “Melvins Beard, Y/N get over yourself! This is for the good of not only the family, but you!” Your mother stressed. “For me? I have already found the love of my life! But he didn’t fit your standards! So I am being forced to marry someone I have no interest in even being friends with!” You blurt out. Your mother just stares at you. If smoke could burst out of her ears, it would.

“Y/N. This is how our family works. This is your life. You were born into the family, and this is the life and rules you live by as a member of this family. Your father and I were arranged.”

“And how did that turn out? You’re both home together all the time but don’t say a single word to each other! You have nothing in common.”

“We created you. We continued to build the empire together. We love each other.” Your mother insisted.

“You’re in denial.” You said finally.

You and your mother left your manor to meet your father, who had already arrived at the Malfoys. "Y/N, before we go in there, please develop an open mind." Your mother said while gently grabbing your hand. "Me have an open mind?" You responded. "I told you the love of my life, and he wasn't good enough for YOU." you say with a harsh tone. Without giving her the chance to respond, you left the car. You walk up to the Malfoy manner. It is so gloomy, almost like a dark cloud is hanging above it. The whole exterior is a pitch black color, the gate to the manor looks terrifying, like the house where you'd accidentally kick your ball into the yard, and wouldn't dare to get it back.

You take a deep breath. Apart of you was scared, another was angry. Either emotion was to not to be shown. A guard goes up to the gate.

"Name?" The man asks, his face covered with his hood. All you can see is his goatee that comes to a point.

"Y/F/N." You huff out, crossing your arms from the cold.

"Congratulations on the marriage, future Mrs. Malfoy." The guard says to you, his yellowing teeth form into a smile. You roll your eyes. The guard opens the gate for you, allowing you to enter. You walk up to the manor, down a long runway. Each side were tall hedges, to hide whatever they hid around their home. You could feel anxiety bubbling in your stomach. You know Voldemort would hide out here from time to time. Yes, the one who shall not be named, has probably walked down the same runway you are right now.

You arrive to the Malfoy’s front door, and knock. Narcissa answers and smiles. “Y/N. The pleasure is mine; welcome to our home.” She said gracefully. Admittedly, Narcissa was beautiful. Her white and black hair, strategically done up together. He bright red lips pop against her pale white skin. “Thank you madam.” You said, bowing at her. You enter in the manor.

“I’ve been told you’re not a fan of the arrangement.” Narcissa says simply, closing the door behind you, then turning towards you.

You sigh. You’re tired of explaining yourself to people who won’t listen. “It’s nothing against Draco personally, but Narcissa- I’ve already met my love.”

“Y/N, how are your parents? They were arranged I’m sure you know.” Narcissa asked, faintly smiling at you.

“They don’t talk. They don’t love each other, married for blood status.” You explained.

“Yes, you see, me and Lucius are the opposite. We love each other. We married for blood status. We were arranged,” Narcissa started. “Correct me if I am wrong, but even when people marry the person they ‘love’ they still divorce, and Lucius and I are an example of an arranged marriage that has turned out lovely.”

You stare at Narcissa. Nothing she said really made you feel better; nor make sense. “Mrs. Malfoy. You and Lucius have the same beliefs, same meaning of life, everything. Draco and I have nothing in common-“

“Did someone say my name?” A voice from the half to the right of you calls. You and Narcissa turn towards the direction of the voice. Draco Malfoy himself comes out of the hall. He stops to look at you, does not react, and continues to walk towards you.

“I guess she’ll do, mother.” He said matter of factly. Narcissa narrowed her eyes at her blonde haired son. “Of course she’ll do, Draco. She’s beautiful.” Draco shrugged.

You scoffed. “I did not spend hours getting ready for a man who I have no interest in marrying just for you to say ‘she’ll do.’” You spit at him.

“She’s sassy.” Draco said, ignoring you. “On we go then,” he added, motioning for you both to follow him to the ball room. Your jaw dropped as you watched him walk off. “Ignore him, he’s not a morning person.” Narcissa said nervously. “Let’s go, dear.” She said after a moment, putting her arm around yours.

You and Narcissa arrive in the ballroom. Lucius and your father are talking near the Malfoy’s thrones. Your father looks at you; and smiles. Your expression doesn’t change from your blank one.

Draco turned around, facing you. He held his hand out, as an offer. You take a deep breath and take it.

He brings you close. “Meet me in the dining area in 10 minutes.” He whispers. You look at him with an eyebrow raised. He gives you a smug look. “Don’t worry darling, I’m not interested in you like that quite yet.” He said, as if he was reading your mind.

“Y/N. Come see Lucius, and where is your mother?” Your father asks. You shrug, and walk up to the men. “I’m not sure, I left her in the car, I’m sure she’ll be here in a moment.” You say, then turn to Lucius. You bow. “Mr.Malfoy.” you greet him.

“Y/N. It’s a pleasure, my dear.” He says in his monotone voice. “Draco is a lucky man, I must say.” Lucius says, eyeing you up and down. You suddenly feel yourself stepping closer to your father. “Yes, she looks just like her mother.” Your dad says nervously. His hand protectively lands on your shoulder.

“You’ll be staying with the Malfoy’s after the wedding, Y/N. Learning how they live; then hopefully, you and Draco will be able to live on your own.” Your father explained to you. You nodded. “You’ll have a choice of our many manors, Y/N. Although, I’m sure Draco already has one in mind that he’s picked.” Lucius added.

“This is crazy. I don’t even want to be in the same room as anybody from the Malfoy family. And now I’ll have to live with them? Nobody told me.” You thought. You then suddenly remember your meeting with Draco. “If you two gentlemen will excuse me, I need to use the ladies room.” You say, smiling at them both. They both nod, and you go off to find the kitchen.

It took a while, but you found it. Draco, dressed in an all black suit with a slytherin pin, his platinum blonde hair, leaning against the counter.

“You’re late.”

#draco malfoy smut #dating draco malfoy #draco fic #draco malfoy #draco angst #draco arranged #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x reader #harry potter #draco x reader smut #draco x y/n #draco #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy masterlist #draco lucius malfoy

[yannights]

Hi, I love your Wriothesley work!I was wondering what would happen if reader tried to hurt Wriothesley during an outburst? Would he be mad or brush it of?

Thank you for the request!!! I love it so much that I think a serves as a great prequel for my "Depth " series, so I wrote a little story around it, and I hope it answers your question

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Wriothesley is not a brute, he is not completely delusional either. He is fully aware of how his actions affect you and he knows that you hate him for it. So he allows you keep the dignity you desire, he lets you sleep on the floor, he leaves you to bath alone. However nothing stops him from loving you. Your presence is all he needs from you. He is what can be can considered as a 'chill dude' if you get mad at him, he will mostly like try to brush it off if notihing is at stake. For instance if you demand to go out, he will most likely refuse since he doesn't trust the other inmate's around to not pull a stunt with you.

The more time passes, the more he craves more from you. Your approval, your love. Everything he wants is within your grasp, so he will indulge it from time to time. He will demand hugs, or a kiss, and despite your rejection, he enjoys and cherishes these moments. So, as the days pass, the tantrums will start to get irritating, despite his composure, he will start to feel angry at you for not advancing your relationship as he pleases, and if things escalate to a braking point, he will take action.

------

As Wriothesley sat at his desk, the weight of his responsibilities pressed down upon him, each signature on the papers before him a reminder of the endless demands of his position as the duke. Despite the tranquility of the day, the constant stream of complaints and regulations left him feeling drained and weary.

You, on the other hand, sat on the couch nearby, a comforting presence amidst the chaos of his duties. With a cup of vanilla tea in hand, which Wriothesley had prepared it especially for you, a small gesture of 'kindness' amidst the hustle and bustle of the day. As you sipped the fragrant tea, its soothing warmth washed over you, providing a momentary respite from the stresses of your position. As you took another sip of the vanilla tea, a sudden vision flashed before your eyes. You found yourself sitting in a café, savoring the same tea as the sun set in the distance. The memory of that simpler time lingered, a bittersweet reminder of the life you once knew before returning to Wriothesley's office.

This reality boiled you with pure rage, you aggressively put the cup down onto the table. As Wriothesley observed your sudden outburst, a faint smirk played across his lips, though he made no overt comment. The silence only fueled the fire of your rage, simmering beneath the surface as you struggled to contain it. Wriothesley on the other hand wanted to see how far your limits would go, so he decided he would partake in a little game.

"Well, well," he began, his voice dripping with mock concern, "it seems our little tea break has taken a rather dramatic turn, hasn't it?" His taunting tone only served to stoke the flames of your anger, the heat of it pulsating through every fiber of your being.

Without a word, you snatched another cup from the tray and hurled it in his direction with all the force you could muster. But Wriothesley was quick to react, dodging the projectile by leaning to his left. A visible unpleased looked appeared on his face. Exhausted and annoyed by your actions, Wriothesley slowly stood up from his desk, and looked down at you with a stone cold expression, intensifying his icy gaze from his frozen coloured eyes. With furrowed eyebrows, Wriothesley could no longer hide the pain arising from your attitude, and had finally decided he would have proper discussion about your childish behaviour.

"My, my," he chuckled though the anger in his eyes unmistakable, "someone's feeling rather spirited today, aren't they? "

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Author:

So yeah, for me, he would probably try and talk to you first. Unlike a lot of fanfics, I don't think he resort to violence with darling, maybe intimidation. Like I said he's a chill guy, he would either brush it off or just results to a non-lethal way of showing that what you are doing isn't good. But everyone has a limit, right. So if you do manage to make him angry which is rare he would probably try and talk it out and then find another solution if it's not working.

Hope you enjoyed~~~~

#genshin #genshin imagines #genshin impact #yandere genshin #wriothesley #yandere imagines #yandere #yandere wriothesley x reader #yandere x reader #genshin x reader #yandere genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #wriothesley x reader #yandere x y/n

[seat-safety-switch]

"I hear there's a whole crew of eager young faces out there just ready to ride the rapids!" hollers our rafting guide, a man who I would later discover from the TV news was actually named Ralph. This man continued to give us a short-form version of his life story, before instructing us on the proper way to wear a life vest (or "personal flotation device," if you're German.) The tourists around me oohed and aahed and snapped pictures, enough to be already halfway through what, in a simpler time, would have been a roll of Kodak film.

Why was I engaging in this pursuit, one which was not just dangerous but without the involvement of any motorized transportation whatsoever? Simple. I had gotten a free ticket from a coworker who "couldn't make it," and I had heard that there were some old hoopties crashed in the forests around the white-water rapids.

See, way back in the era when old cars were new cars, there was no good way to recycle them. Tow truck technology was in its infancy. Junkyards were just called "yards." And China hadn't been invented yet. Or it had, but they were probably also busy building their own new cars and didn't want to take some idiot's old Ford Business Coupe off his hands. So folks just left that shit on the side of roads, in forests, or pushed them off a cliff and watched what happened before driving off in their new car. Tragic, I know, but it means that lots of perfectly good running gear is all over this part of the country.

Ralph led us out on the water. He was pretty good, except for the part where he kept yelling at me to perform manual labour for which I was receiving no compensation. After a couple hours into the trip, I had seen no cars whatsoever and was beginning to lose hope entirely. I was damned to be stuck on this orange pool toy as we shot down the water in order to be rewarded with yet more water. Thrilling though it may be to some people, I was perfectly familiar with going dangerously fast and getting uncomfortably wet from any daily commute in my harem of rusty cars.

That's when I saw it. Anyone else would have easily missed a glimpse of the fender of a 1929 Chevy International roadster. I pulled my backpack off, discarding my oar to do so, and retrieved my homemade grappling hook from within. With a quick burst of compressed air and a not-so-quick burst of nitromethane-fuelled Sanden air-conditioning compressor exhaust, I was flown from the piteous grasp of Mother Kinda-Wet to the warm embrace of Mother Earth. And boy, did she ever have that fender. Not much else, of course, but if you squinted, you could kinda see part of the headlight was now being adopted by the accumulated moss.

After guessing the vague location of it, I dug in and left with my quarry: one extremely rusty, pig-iron "Oakland" vee-eight engine. It was really light, because almost none of it was left, which is good because I had a long way to walk home. A chipmunk kept me company along the way, probably because he used to live in #3 before I picked up his whole sub-development.

As for the other occupants of the river rafting tour, I'm told that at least half of them, perhaps deluded by hours of direct sunlight and lack of access to proper nutrition, believed my sudden escape was actually proof of my having been abducted by angels. I rolled that into a few other paying gigs upon my return to civilization, but it didn't really do much for the fleet. Tax-exempt crooked megachurches have very strict rules about only buying new cars.

[sarahghetti]

going to the carnival hcs; m.k.

pairing: marc spector x reader, steven grant x reader, jake lockley x reader, the gang's all here

summary: the carnival's in town! some headcanons for how you spend your time there with the boys.

warnings: mildly suggestive near the end, but essentially just pure fluff all the way through. reader is called princesa once, no descriptions otherwise.

word count: 2.0k

moon knight masterlist | all masterlists

the carnival rolls into town—of course you’re all going!

and it’s kind of perfect because they all have their favourite parts.

food

marc is your food guy—he won’t be the one to suggest the funky fair foods like frog legs or peanut putter pickle corn dogs, but he will go halfsies with you on anything you want to get so you can try a lot of different things.

you’re giving this look to the deep fried oreos stand that has marc pursing his lips, obviously hesitant even though he offers no resistance when you direct the two of you towards it.

“if you want cookies, I saw a place near the entrance,” he suggests in a placating sort of way, as though he could dissuade you from trying any of the monstrosities at your disposal.

“but…” you gesture at the sign, look at it! and he’s never been more aware of how much you’ve got him wrapped around your little finger because he’s buying an order for you without a second thought.

“it’s… very sweet,” he remarks after his first bite. “not sure if it’s much of an improvement on the original thing.”

“then why do you keep eating it?” you make grabby hands towards the tray in his hand to try one, and he dangles it out of your reach. “wha—hey!”

“just hang on a sec.” he polishes off his cookie, tongue darting out to catch some errant sugar on his lips before pulling you deep into a kiss.

he’s grinning wide at his own cheesiness before he even draws back completely, your face is burning and, yeah—it’s pretty sweet.

meanwhile steven kind of taps out for this. veganism doesn’t exactly pair well with the hodgepodge of carnival foods being offered, but he will take a good sorbet when it gets particularly hot out.

if he fronts after marc or jake eat something non-vegan, steven will find the nearest lemonade stand to wash the taste out of his mouth. he gets a different one every time, and almost drinks the entire bubblegum flavoured lemonade even though he dislikes it.

jake secretly thinks it’s good. marc fronts again near the end of the cup and immediately tosses it in the trash.

jake has simpler tastes but will try to deviate a little in spirit of the carnival. as long as it’s generally something he likes, like fried chicken or a burger, he won’t mind if it comes in a cone or has a shit-ton of cheese piled on top. is the one to pay eight dollars for a cob of corn.

games

marc and steven will only play the fair game scams if you want to, but jake has no qualms about them at all. you mention that there’s a prize plushie you think is cute and he’s already pulling you towards the booth, eyes glinting in a way that you know he’s up to trouble.

jake then proceeds to crush every single game you come across.

skeeball? he’s getting 100 points with every ball he throws. hoops? draft this man into the nba, he’s sinking baskets like your life depends on it.

jake’s bracing a pellet gun against his shoulder, lining up the scope with the targets at the end of the booth when it finally clicks.

he might not be wearing the suit, but that doesn’t mean that khonshu isn’t with him. you lean in over his shoulder. “wait, are you—?”

bam, bam, bam. three shots, three bullseyes. the people around you are whooping and hollering, but jake just turns to you with a smug look on his face.

“didn’t even need him for this one, princesa, but—” his eyes dart to the top of the booth and you can imagine the god sitting up there, watching you. “what is true justice if not scamming a scammer, hm?”

the attendant comes around to give jake his prize, which he presents to you with flourish and a wink.

“now, is there anything else you want? the fist of vengeance—” he drops his voice down to what you know as an imitation of khonshu “—still has a few games left in him.”

marc fronts again to find his wallet much lighter and his arms full of plushies that jake won for you and just sighs.

steven must’ve read a book about the design behind carnival games at some point because boy is he knowledgeable about it.

it’s a bit of diversion from his usual egyptology, but he seems to know all the tricks of the major games like the back of his hand and leans in close to your ear to tell you exactly what’s happening as you watch other people play.

“you see that?” he points towards the ring toss booth, where a handful of people are fruitlessly bouncing rings off the rims of bottles.

you already know what’s coming but still, you ask: “do you wanna play?”

“oh, no, love, now the rings—” he brings the tips of his forefinger and thumb together in demonstration “—they’re barely big enough to fit over the bottles, you’d have to hit it dead on to have a chance. even then, the material isn’t any help, the rings’ll bounce right off like—that!”

he snaps his fingers, and you giggle a little at his theatrics. the sound always makes him blush a little, and he turns back to the game to distract himself before he gets too flustered.

someone puts down twenty dollars for a bucket of rings and he clicks his tongue in disapproval. “poor buggers.”

maybe he says it a little too loudly, catching the attention of some of the players and his face flushes red as he stammers an apology. you shove him playfully, face similarly burning. “steven!”

“sorry!”

the only exception for marc is the horizonal bar game, you know, the one where someone has to hang from a bar for some length of time? it’s practically impossible because it rotates under your hands, yeah, yeah, steven—he knows.

but marc’s a guy with far above average fitness who climbs up walls on the reg. doesn’t even need khonshu’s power to beat it, he just hangs up there, smirking at you as the timer counts down. it’s the easiest prize he’s ever won in his life.

rides

marc’s whole life is a rollercoaster, so he’s ok.

but in all seriousness, the midway rides aren’t really his thing. they’re transported in from who-knows-where, then set up in a parking lot by who-knows-who, and you’re supposed to just let them flip you upside down over and over again while paying ten bucks for the honour? no. he does not trust them.

steven and jake, however, see all the bright lights and loud music and are a little more favourable.

steven probably feels nauseous at the idea of being put upside down, but travelling fast in a circle, or spinning around in teacups? he’s so down. will join you in spinning the teacups to the max or sport a devilish grin as he singlehandedly spins the teacup as you scream.

(will give you a lil kiss on the forehead as an apology if he accidentally takes it too far)

jake sees the crazier rides as a challenge. won’t push you to do them if you really aren’t comfortable, but he gets this spark in his eyes and promises to keep you safe if you ride with him.

what does that mean? it means that he has full confidence that if there’s a failure in any of the safety mechanisms, he can suit up and save you before anything bad happens.

marc is absolutely flabbergasted that jake “protector of the body” lockley even considers going on any of these deathtraps. loudly protests from within as jake tells you about how fast his reaction time is—it doesn’t matter, jake, just don’t take them on the ride in the first place!

the Ferris Wheel SceneTM goes a bit differently depending on who’s fronting at the time.

steven absolutely insists on going on the ferris wheel and will wait any length of line so that you can ride it.

“look at that!” he’s pressed against your side, shoulder to hip, and uses your joined hands to point out landmarks in the distance as you climb in height. the city lights glitter across the horizon, and steven laughs at the spectacle of it all.

he’s probably imagined this very moment happening ever since you told him that the carnival was coming to town—sitting on top of a ferris wheel with you at his side, being able to kiss you at the top.

“did you have fun?” you bump into his shoulder, smiling at how happy he looks.

“fun? love, this is—” he shakes his head. “today has been like a dream. you’re like a dream.”

he says the last part like a confession, grinning, and you feel his happiness when he finally gets to press his lips to yours.

jake suggests you go on the ferris wheel in the same way as when he suggested the two of you cheat at the carnival games, so you’re immediately suspicious.

“stop looking at me like that.” he tries and fails to keep a smirk off his face, giving you an innocent look as he rests a hand on your knee. “isn’t it beautiful outside?”

it is. you take your eyes off him for one moment to admire the view and his hand creeps higher, fingertips pressing into your thigh.

“jake!” your eyes widen, and the bastard has the audacity to laugh. he leans in close, lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

“nobody can see us up here—it’s just you and me.” his lips move down to graze your jaw, and your breath catches in your throat. your heart flutters.

“I like the sound of that.” jake pulls back slightly to see the small smile on your face. “’you and me.’”

it’s like you’ve taken the wind out of his horny sails. he can’t help but to smile back, and when he kisses you again, on the lips this time, you know that he agrees with you.

the ferris wheel is the only ride you can convince marc to go on; no matter what he says, he’s a big softie at heart.

he keeps an arm wrapped around you the entire time, holding you close. the scent of him envelopes you like a warm blanket.

marc doesn’t say a lot, preferring to just enjoy your company as you slowly make your way to the top. you don’t mind—you just rest your head on his shoulder and wait for him to open up on his own.

when you stop at the top, it’s like you’re in a movie. the neon lights spread out beneath you, your quiet breaths in the cabin, the soft kiss he presses to the top of your head.

“I love you,” he murmurs, and it means so much more than you’ll ever know. you smile up at him and he looks back at you with the softest expression you’ve ever seen—like he’s at finally at peace, and you’re the reason why.

you can’t help but kiss him, then—let him taste the words as you say “I love you, too.”

#moon knight x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #moon knight fanfic #my writing #i have no shame this is purely self indulgent

[spooklies]

# Resident Evil - Yandere Chris Redfield (PROFILE)

Type of Yandere: Chris is someone who cares a whole lot about those he loves while pretending that that side of him doesn’t exist. He’ll show he cares for you in every way but verbally at first, but in moments where you two are intimate he’s not against confessing just how much he loves everything about you. And Chris also happens to be overly stubborn once he’s set in his ways, and that in turn will make it difficult to try and reason with the man when he’s decided over something. Control, a position he’s been given since he could remember, and one he’ll hold over you whenever possible. Wearing something he doesn’t like? He’ll all but demand you take it off and change out of it. And if you refuse? Then he isn’t against using other means to get his way. He’s never physical, not unless you want him to be. He’s a man of discipline and understands the importance of boundaries. No, he’ll tap into a side of him that was trained to be a negotiator. Or in simpler terms, he’ll manipulate his darling when they do or say something he disapproves of. Sometimes he’ll even do this without realizing it. Chris has an overwhelmingly dominant air to him that calls for attention and he’s well aware of it. 

Love Language: Chris can’t help but want to do everything for his darling, not wanting them to lift a single finger if it could be helped. He’ll treat you like royalty because in his eyes you deserve nothing but the best. He’s very big on touch and will often than not seek out your presence and find an excuse to put his hands on you. “Your shoulders look tense, allow me?” And without waiting for your permission will start massaging your shoulders with the skills of a certified masseuse. He’ll then playfully scold you for exerting yourself, explaining to you why it’s important to rest. “If you don’t keep taking care of yourself then I have no choice but to do it for you.”

Their Biggest Fear: Chris has seen a lot of shit, like shit people never come back from. But when he’s with his darling then it’s as if none of the traumatic events he’s experienced happened in the first place. He’ll often think to himself, “What’ll I ever do without you?” Because in his eyes a life without you isn’t one worth living. And that thought process alone is terrifying to Chris. He’s experienced what it’s like to lose people dear to him, but imagining his darling being the person he loses? Not a chance.

Kidnapping: If his darling ever tried to leave him then he’d definitely panic and jump to the worst conclusions about why you’d ever want to leave him. Those conclusions would then escalate into Chris convincing himself that someone is manipulating you and causing you to have these ‘intrusive’ thoughts. So what better way to keep his darling safe than to keep them at home – a sanctuary he’s created to be in your liking. He’s sure that with time his darling will come to understand why he needs to keep them home and the types of danger that lurks outside waiting to take them away from him.

How Easy is it to Escape?: Near impossible. Chris is an incredibly talented man with all the training a soldier could possibly need to bring an entire government to its knees. There will be locks on every door, safes containing possible escape tools, and even people Chris could rely on to have his back no matter the circumstances. Just hope that things don’t ever escalate that badly.

Punishments (SLIGHT NSFW BUT NOTHING GRAPHIC): “You just can’t help yourself, can you?” After one too many instances of his darling going against his direct orders – house rules, as he prefers to call them – he’ll see no other choice but to teach you the importance of listening to him through more intimate means. Your hands can sometimes end up cuffed to the bedpost, lovebites littering your skin as if you’d just been splashed with paint, and tears running down your face as you squirm and whine for his forgiveness through half-lidded eyes. “Oh I’ve already forgiven you, it’s about proving a point.” And he doesn’t stop until he’s done just that.

Difference to Other Yanderes: Despite how intimidating Chris can get, on the inside he’s a giant sap that often gets compared to a teddy bear more than the fierce grizzly bear the stuffed animal is based off of. He has a lot of powerful connections which also means he’ll be able to provide more than most partners. Ever been to the Grand Canyon? Sure, why not head there first thing Monday? And then right after that how about a trip to the Himalayas for the sake of going there? He’s so used to using these connections for the sake of humanity so it’s a nice change of pace to use them to prevent non-world ending threats from coming into fruition.

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere resident evil #yandere resident evil x reader #yandere chris redfield #yandere chris redfield x reader

[allyriadayne]

yeah i'm gonna need a full breakdown of the deleted rhaenyra and jace scene

LET'S GO THEN

there are SO many things i want to say about it. it's literally been my white whale since it was announced as a cut scene. i was hopping one of the scenes op talked about with jace was that i'm sooo happy it was. my main reasons were that 1) it's a jace/rhaenyra scene and those are always juicy and 2) jacegon reasons. i'll be using text from the original post here btw.

under the cut for more jace, rhaenyra, jace AND rhaenyra and some jace and aegon <3

"Daemon fights like an unrelenting tempest with little regard for his well-being [...] Daemon hungers for war, and he'll have it one way or another"

I love that the scene begins with daemon fighting other knights and in a sort of frenzy. he's obviously expressing his grief over viserys and visenya both, and how angry he is about the situation. i think it's such a great contrast with how rhaenyra and jace are presented in comparison. jace finds rhaenyra in "deep contemplation" as she watches over daemon. it's such a great element in their dynamic because as much as rhaenyra doesn't want war, she's as angry and as grief-stricken as daemon, but cannot express herself in the same way for fear of losing her image in front of the other lords. daemon has always been her outspoken twin, he's her sword and shield and like a dragon he's expressing what she cannot. it really is so good how they represent one half of a whole. delicious.

then jace comes to her and says

"Daemon wants to fight for us."

SO interesting that earlier in the episode we have jace and daemon in explicit opposition. daemon wants to act, jace is heeding rhaenyra's orders of not doing anything except by her command. daemon obviously doesn't respect him because he's a man who respects actions and jace is still a boy without experience neither political or in a war. i'm in the camp that while jace also doesn't respect daemon nor wants or likes him as a stepfather/father figure, he accepts him as part of the family and implicitly feels safe in his presence. he is his siblings' father, the man who raised (loosely! daemon is still daemon <3) joffrey when harwin and laenor died. he's known him for six years and seen him every day.

this scene is also after daemon threatens the KG in front of jace with caraxes so i think a minimum of respect for daemon's war knowledge made jace trust the he would do anything for rhaenyra and her children. /he wants to fight for us/.

"I wonder. Will you?"

"will you?" SO delicious because while jace will heed her commands to stop daemon from plotting, he does NOT agree with her approach! very very interesting. makes sense when he says "send us" when all rhaenyra wants is to keep her children safe. obviously direct parallel to ep 2:

"I will always fight for my family... but this is not as simple as one of the other"

rhaenyra is understandably reticent to enter war full on. her first experience with it has her losing a baby. and added to this is that just /the day before/ she's spent and more or less amenable afternoon with both family. it's not easy when it's not what viserys would want and what could possibly be his last wish.

it's also about alicent of course. it's not easy to give the order to kill or imprison the woman you considered your best friend and who probably is one of the few people with whom rhaenyra had a deep relationship in her life.

"It could not be simpler. If you accept Aegon's terms, you will forfeit my life. And Luke's and Joff's."

another crash between them! as much as they are a lot alike, they butts head more often than not, esp when jace doesn't agree how rhaenyra is handling an issue like harwin's funeral and now the war. but in all this, he still supports and respects her because he very pointedly questions her in private, both in driftmark and in here. when he was younger, he could've confronted her in public out in the yard, but to me jace learned very early or assumed to himself that he could be (and is!) her mother's most steadfast ally as her heir and young prince and that meant playing the politics game, and in this case to question her in private rather than in public where he could undermine her.

it also comes from the very public humiliation the kids, and jace as the eldest and most cognizant of the situation, have faced by their peers. he knows the power of rumors and whispering, what it does first hand and would not and does not want rhaenyra to face them too, or at least not from something he could've avoided. in this scene he is acting like one of her loyal lords, advising her to take one way or the other. acting like the prince he is.

it is also very interesting that he mention's "aegon's terms" when it's very obvious the terms came from alicent, maybe he doesn't know the full extend of the conversation on the bridge. in any case, it's clear aegon's on his mind. in early 2023 all we knew of the scene was that jace said "we shouldn't trust the usurper". jace wants to know what is to be done about him because he knows how aegon is, how long aegon holds grudges and his negative attitude (indifferent more like) to renew their old bonds (ouch!). esp after last night's dinner where aegon couldn't wait to bother him and join aemond in the antagonism to jace's immense dislike.

he thinks that if aegon had the chance he would kill them because they represent a risk to him claim. i personally don't think aegon would, but it's a real risk that jace is aware and that rhaenyra doesn't seen to grasp.

"Rhaenyra looks at him quizzically." "If you do not claim the throne, we will be taken hostage, or sent to the wall, or put to the sword. I do not know which fate will await us, but I do know they will call us "bastards" first."

the first line kills me because out of context it makes rhaenyra look naive but i think it does make sense for the rhaenyra we see in the bridge. what i said earlier, she's still reeling from the alicent from the diner /the night before/. the alicent that proclaimed her a good queen and begged her to stay with her. it's difficult! but i think it shows very well how complicated her feelings are in this.

this is also the point were jace and rhaenyra start having two different conversations: rhaenyra is still absent, "deep in contemplation", while jace is pushing and pushing. he wants answers, he wants to act! he doesn't care about alicent the queen who always sneered at him and called for luke's eye, he wants to ask about the boy from his childhood (girl, the parallels) who betrayed him so many times. and he's right! i think he's trying to soften the blow, this is the second time he's said he and his velaryon brothers will forfeit their life if they lose, if rhaenyra fails to act. this talk is also driven by self preservation and it's why he's siding with daemon this time. it kills me that rhaenyra has comforted luke all ep 10 but because jace is presenting himself as an equal in this conversation, not as her son, he doesn't get any kind of comfort. he's clearly thinking of death. and he's sixteen. and his mother doesn't know how to comfort him.

in this case, it's jace wanting rhaenyra to see him beyond of what he presents. beyond the perfect prince who's pushed through earth-shattering revelations about his identity. he wants her to see him and answer for once.

"but I do know they will call us "bastards" first". this jace knows with certainty. they might kill him or they might sent him to the wall, but they will call him a bastard as they do it. this is one of jace's touchiest points and weaknesses. every time he's called that he's flipped, due to under processed anger issues (hii harwin) and the repression he's going through to Just Not Think About It. i think it took a lot from jace to say this to rhaenyra's face. the first time it's when he confronts rhaenyra after harwin leaves and you see it's something he has thought about for some time

and later when they are in driftmark where the passions are high

note that he doesn't yell the word. he whispers it to her. he knows the power of it and how angry rhaenyra would become, it's a key word there. and one here too. in the cut scene he's trying to get... let's say a rise out of rhaenyra. to make her understand what will mean for them to get captured. to me it's so visceral because i don't think jace had ever consciously said or thought himself in such after driftmark and after aegon's betrayal. and i don't think that is how he framed it for luke when he told him about their parentage either. even in the audition for child luke, jace's lines frame the issue differently: "I think he thinks we don't belong here [...] we don't look like Targaryens. You must have noticed".

"Alicent gave her word that you would be treated kindly."

they are NOT having the same conversation!

"The word of an usurper means little and less."

either aegon or alicent, jace doesn't trust their word. the king and queen are one power in paper, but i bet jace is thinking about this too

his words means little and less to jace, he who was a victim and at the same time someone who enabled most of aegon's bullying behaviors. he knows him best. but jace also knows that aegon wouldn't bother with lies either. he was trying to unite the family during dinner, but time has shown him he shouldn't have bothered to carve himself to be someone aegon liked anymore. from the same audition video jace says: "so let us be good sons and please those who love us so they may forget what we lack". aegon will never forget! and even if jace or aegon want to break from this, they must play their part because they are too far along.

"In the yard below, Daemon can be heard SHOUTING for a fallen knight to get up and to come at him again. He prowls the fighting ground like a tiger protecting his den. He calls them out, taunting them -- a cruel avenger."

once again daemon as the externalization of their anger! "like a tiger protecting his den"!

"Jace and Rhaenyra reach stalemate; the conversation ends in silence."

my favorite part! this conversation could've never reached anywhere with these too. the issue is too thorny and they are too alike to want to see the other completely. jace is too angry and rhaenyra is too detached.

all in all, i wish they had kept the scene. it furthers rhaenyra and jace's relationship and gives a little bit more of characterization to jace and his relationship with aegon. loved seeing jace oppose rhaenyra and at the same time support her and take the lead when it's needed.

thanks for asking!

gifs mine, screencaps mine. script from the link above.

#ask #Anonymous #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon x rhaenyra #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x rhaenyra #aegon x jacaerys #WOOFFFF this took hours #i love you jace :) i love you rhaenyra :) i love you jacegon :) #aegon ii targaryen

[novlr]

Hey! I'm a non native English speaker and i find it very hard to use wide variety of vocabulary in my writing. Any tips??

Just as a painter needs a rich palette of colours to make their art, writers need a diverse vocabulary to craft deep and engaging story worlds.

Your vocabulary as a writer is much like a paint box, with each word adding depth, contrast, and colour to your creation. So what techniques can you use to improve your vocabulary and give yourself more linguistic colours to choose from?

Read a lot

Reading is the best way to improve your vocabulary. It’s immersive, enjoyable, and will introduce you to more varied words. Make it a habit to read often, and try to read widely. Don’t limit yourself to one genre, age range, or style. Whether fiction, non-fiction, articles, or instruction manuals, reading as widely as you can opens your mind to words and styles you might never encounter naturally in your day-to-day life.

Write a lot

Write as often as you can. The more you write, the more often you’ll find yourself reaching for varying words and phrases to accurately convey your thoughts. Every written piece is an opportunity to experiment with new words. As with anything, practice is crucial—regular writing will naturally enhance your vocabulary and make your word usage more instinctive and fluid.

Use a thesaurus

A thesaurus introduces you to a variety of synonyms for the words you’re using and can help you express your thoughts with a bit more flair. However, using a thesaurus does come with a caveat: avoid using complex words just for the sake of appearing more sophisticated. Always choose words that best fit the context and effectively convey what you’re trying to say.

Join a writing group

Beyond being a place to talk about words, writing groups let you test your understanding of words in real time. Writing groups provide valuable insight into whether your word choices effectively convey your intended meaning. Seeing how other writers use their own vocabularies to share their own meanings is a great way to see how word choice can make your writing richer and more nuanced

Play word games

Playing word games is not only fun but is also an effective way to expand your vocabulary. For instance, games like Scrabble challenge you to form varying words from a set of letters, crossword puzzles can improve your understanding and recall of words, and games like Boggle can stimulate quick thinking around word formation.

Keep a word journal

Every time you encounter a new and intriguing word, whether through reading, conversation, or even during a TV show, jot it down in your word journal. Follow it up by researching its meaning, synonyms, and usage in sentences. Revisit these entries frequently, and try to incorporate these words into your writing somehow, even if it’s only during practice sessions. Over time, you’ll notice these new words naturally creeping into your vocabulary.

Sometimes simple is best

While having a broad vocabulary is an asset for any writer, it’s also important to remember that effective communication is what it’s all about, and sometimes, simpler words serve this purpose best. Not every situation calls for intricate or sophisticated language; in fact, often, using simpler, more direct language can make your message clearer and more accessible to a wider audience. More important than a wide vocabulary is an understanding of your readers and the message you want to convey in your text.

#writers #creative writing #writing #writing community #creative writers #writers of tumblr #writing inspiration #writeblr #writerblr #writing tips #ask a writer #writblr #writers corner #writing advice #resources for writers #writing resources #advice for authors #vocab list #writers and poets #writers on tumblr #helping writers #writing help #learn to write