#me too i hope he hurt her at least once or twice i hope at least one of the bullshit lies she's been spitting out is true

[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

[iamasimperyk]

Jealous -Rafe Cameron

Summary: You are Rafe's younger girlfriend and he introduces you to his family.

Warnings: Age gap, fluff, angst, judgy people, English is not my first language, not proofread

Pairing: Older!Rafe x Younger!Reader

A.N; I honestly don't know what this is. I had an idea but somehow, I couldn't find the right words to make it really work.

Your parents introduced him to you at Midsummers. Rafe Cameron, son of Ward Cameron and new owner of every one of his father's companies. 

The first time his eyes found yours, he knew he had to have you, and you were naive enough to fall for his charm. He was almost ten years older than you, and for the first time in your life, you felt safe. You knew Rafe cared for you, always wanting what was best for you. 

"Don't you think it's too much?" You asked Rafe, wearing a fancy dress he just bought and all kinds of expensive jewellery he gifted you whenever he had the chance. 

Rafe looked at you, all dolled up for him. He loved it, and he loved to show you off, "You look amazing, darling. Everybody will be jealous that I get to call you mine."

Rafe's family decided to throw a party when they learned that Rafe finally found a girlfriend. You were excited to meet everyone since Rafe has met every person in your family.

"I just hope they like me," You smiled up at him, your eyes shining brightly.

He cupped your face with his hands, kissing your forehead, "I am going to marry you one day, no matter what they say."

You didn't say anything, but Rafe knew what you thought. Quickly, you reached up and kissed him before you ran back into the bathroom.

----

When the two of you arrived, everybody stared at you. Rafe wrapped his arm around you and started to introduce you to his family members. 

After an hour of talking, you excused yourself, trying to find the toilet, when you heard a group of women talking about you.

"I mean, is she even legal yet?" One of them laughed.

"I bet she is just with him because he is rich. She will never have to lift a finger since he already owns a fortune." Another one answered, shaking her head.

The whole group let out a laugh, "She will probably be pregnant soon, so he is tied to her and won't leave her again."

You didn't want to hear another of their theories and walked back to Rafe as fast as possible.

When Rafe saw you, his face immediately softened, and he wrapped his arm around your waist once again. One of the things he always did was touch you in some way. He needed to feel you to make sure you are still here.

"Are you okay, love?" Rafe asked as soon as he saw your facial expression.

You nodded, "Of course, I am fine, don't worry."

Rafe turned his attention back to his sister, whom he had previously talked to, "Would you excuse us."

Before she could answer, he pulled you into an empty room, waiting for you to start talking.

You couldn't keep your face straight anymore, and your eyes filled with tears. 

Rafe felt angry, frustrated and helpless as he saw you crying. Someone dared hurt his precious girl. 

"Darling, please tell me what happened," Rafe said, hugging you tightly while stroking your hair.

After a few more minutes, you calmed down and told Rafe about the conversation you listened to.

"Fuck them. They are jealous because they are not as beautiful as you and were at least married twice." He rolled his eyes, still fuming on the inside.

Rafe took you home immediately after your conversation and showed you just how much he loved you. 

Maybe you were younger than him, but you were one of the most mature people he ever met.

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron #rafe #obx #rafe outer banks #outer banks x reader #outer banks x you #outer banks x y/n #outer banks #fluff

[eluxcastar]

Hello Riri! :]

I'm in my platonic harbingers with a child reader era, and you're one of the few people I follow who writes platonic stuff on an occasion. So here's my request!

Here's the small storyline I have. Reader is the child of a god (you're free to decide what they are the god of, if you want) who is extremely well known around Tevyat, and puts on a very intimidating and serious presence. Yet one unfortunate day, the readers parent dies, so now they have to take on their legacy at a too young of age. Making them grow up out of their childhood much faster and pressuring them into becoming exactly like their parent. Cold, intimidating, and serious.

And out of all the mortals the reader has met, the harbingers are who they find comfort in. They could be lecturing some other mortal one minute, and the next minute, they see one of the harbingers. They're grabbing them by the hands, bouncing on their tip toes with a bright smile.

(Hope you're having a good day! And please don't overwork yourself<3)

Fatui harbingers with a child god

── ୨୧：fatui harbingers & reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: child reader taking over as archon and basically immediately proving why child rulers are a bad idea but it's ok because it's cute and endearing

୨୧﹑genre :: fluff

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, god reader, signora might be ooc tbh I struggled to think for her, not proofread

୨୧﹑words :: 3k

this has been in my inbox for some time, even though I've really wanted to do it for ages. I'm sorry honey it took me a while to get to it. the description of their parent at least to me was giving mr zhongli when he was morax and I immediately thought of the ramifications of him faking his death in the rite of descension which makes me wanna write something else BUT THAT'S FOR LATER

I meant to post this four and a half hours ago but suddenly it was like twice the length I thought it would be and uh yeah that was not the plan but enjoy the food served hot and fresh

There has hardly been a moment of grief since you were orphaned, and the people are turning to you for their next overseer. You, small, fragile, and ill-prepared, are the one they wish to see take up the pillar left in your father's wake. You weren't ready, and maybe you never would've been, embraced by the caring side of your well and truly mellowed-out father and cherished by the people as the child of the nation.

Your transition from people's treasure to people's guide was jarring, and you're still not used to it. You move with what pleases and hide what brings deep frowns and disappointed eyes. The people no longer want a child but a god. They want their pride, once a god who had walked by their side for millennia, now the passing generation of a god as the mantle shifts to his blood.

It's hard not to notice what they make you, now the spitting image of your father, though you can only parrot his earned wisdom and show a brave face to keep the nation from despair.

You have but a single ally—the Tsaritsa—someone whose messengers approached you to ask for your father's gnosis and who gladly agreed to offer you an invitation to Snezhnaya at your request to speak to her personally, quite honestly not knowing how to say that you frankly didn't know what to do with the gnosis. Though you could keep it, you're unsure how to harness its power, wield it, or even control it. Your father was strong, you're not.

She is an intimidating presence but gentle. She knew of your father for as long as she had been an archon—though they weren't on good terms toward the end—perhaps you could understand her more than he would. He was the original archon in his seat, but you are an inheritor like her. In her lands, you are the careful balance of both a god and a child, spoken to with the grace of a higher power but the softness that is befitting to a young child.

It is as you are.

Tartaglia is the first to seek a test of your strength, though you wish not to hurt him and convince him to wait. So long as the answer is someday, he allows you to let him down easily and settles at indulging your requests to join the snowball fight you noticed him having. You want to join in, fidgeting and with your gaze flickering between the smiling children and your feet. You push away your every want to join them and play as well, but remind yourself of the people who would scorn you. It's unfitting for a god to behave like an immature child, you remind yourself, but every hope of remaining steadfast to that is gone as Tartaglia notices you watching.

His offer is merely that—an offer. He speaks with a snowball forming in his hands as he approaches, his thick coat engulfing his form and the red scarf bundled around his neck to keep him warm. You have to look up to meet his eyes, playful and perhaps a little mischievous. Tartaglia holds the snowball out to you as if it were his peace offering.

"You look like you want to join the fun. Care to throw a snowball or two with us?"

"May I?"

And with that, you take his offering.

Pantalone's musings and the intentions of his gifts are not beyond you. He means to win you over and perhaps spoil you a little. It is coddling, and you notice it. He wants what he wants, and he will get it out of you, but it is also not beyond him to recognise that you are...naïve, endearingly. Pantalone can lavish you in fine silks all he wants, but you have received many offerings, so they don't particularly sway you as he had hoped, and he moves on. Your true weakness lies in children's toys, the many things you have been denied since you have been forced to steel yourself. The smile that twitches at the corners of your lips as he presents you with the first is enough to confirm it.

Toys are made for children; though you try to deny it, you are still a child at heart. Gifting a child a toy they will try to pretend they don't cherish but will protect with their life is perhaps the quickest way to earn their favour. He watches as you fiddle with the arms of the plush cat when you think nobody is looking, asking it questions and then responding to yourself in an all-too-dedicated voice you put on for this cat. 

"Oh, Mr Cat, would you like some borscht too? It's very good."

"Yes, please, I would love to try some!"

Pantalone admittedly can't deny that you come with your own charms.

Signora spoils you what many of your aids have tried to before you, the chance to fix your hair, marvel at a pretty lady and wish you were half as sophisticated as her. She is your role model, second only to the Tsaritsa. She is beautiful and elegant and willing to teach you her ways as long as you continue to show up as cute as you are. Fix your posture a bit, head up, and walk everywhere with purpose, even if there isn't one. She has mastered the art, and you want it. Pantalone has his own appeal, a sophisticated man who learned through blood, sweat and tears, but there is something so distinct about Signora that makes you run to her at your first problem of presentation.

Like your mother, she will take you by the hand, lead you to a mirror, straighten your back, tilt your head up by the chin, and tell you to look at yourself now. Each time, you stare dumbly in awe of her reflection standing behind you, observing you like something precious, and it fills you with the confidence you need to heed her advice. It doesn't occur to you that Signora looks at you that way only because she thinks you're cute in your efforts, but too much like a child who got into their mother's perfume to be taken seriously.

"How others see you is important. Do you think they want to see their god with their back slouched and head hung? Hold your gaze above the people."

"It's-- well, different. I think I just look tense."

Sandrone has also come to realise that your weakness lies in toys, though she will not admit to aiding and abetting Pantalone's endeavours to find you a plushie. Instead, she shows you Katheryne. You have seen Katheryne before; you are sure of that, and that is only confirmed as Sandrone informs you that she exists in every branch of the Adventurers' Guild, including the one in your homeland. Katheryne is your access to knowledge, and the Northland Bank is your connection to Snezhnaya. Sandrone offers you comfort, the path that will lead you back to where help is and where you can go when you become overwhelmed by responsibility.

She likes your company, a reluctant admission that does not come cheap as she bargains your silence with the knowledge that she's aware of your liking for your cat toy. The embarrassment that overwhelms you is palpable until she offers you her workshop to play when your quarters are so overcrowded by your aids. You couldn't come to Snezhnaya alone for your safety, and it leaves you stranded without a moment of peace at times.

"Really?...and I can just, stay here? For as long as I want?"

"Isn't that what was offered to you?"

"Well...yes, thank you."

Scaramouche, whom you meet adjacent to Sandrone, is ill-tempered in the presence of others but a tad nicer when it comes to you. He does not drop his rough-around-the-edges personality to melt his heart out of his chest for you, but you manage to strike the perfect cord in his to gain liberties others cannot, having him share sweets with you. You learned at one point he really doesn't like them, leading you to wonder why they suddenly appeared ready and available for you to stuff your pockets full and snack on them when nobody's looking. You earn his favour through endearment and talk to him like he's normal because he is.

He is the child of a god, though in a different capacity to you. He was not loved quite so dearly by his mother and cannot share with you the pain of losing someone who treasured you. He was merely abandoned. There is the vague part of you that shuns the idea his softness is pity, sympathy even, as you're stuck stumbling through the world alone. It is all too familiar to him, and if candy will make you smile at him so cheerfully and hug him so tightly, then candy is a simple trade-off.

"Are you sure you don't want any? These are yours."

"Sickly sweet things make me feel like my teeth are fusing together. You can have them."

Pulcinella reminds you of home, the trinkets gathered on a whim that he keeps, the years showing through the rooms dedicated to him as you notice things your father told you of in stories. These are stories that Pulcinella will start off on without prompting, indulging your curiosity before you even lowered your guard enough to show it and casually enough that you slowly ask more. Every item holds a story: what it is, how he obtained it, why he kept it, who it was for. You see many such things around what used to be your house, but you don't know all of the stories, treasuring the ones you remember.

Pulcinella doesn't recall every story either, as some of your pointing and questioning is met with remarks of how long it has been. It is the only thing you feel you share with him, a living space filled to the brim with memories. Many of your trinkets don't belong to you, but his do, and it's nice to hear someone tell you stories again as he lets you pick from the collection of sweets in your pockets to eat when it suits your fancy.

"What about this? It reminds me of a lumenstone, the ones from the chasm."

"It is, and it came from Liyue when I asked that one of my subordinates bring it back for me. You must have a fine eye for these things."

"Not really, only lumenstone and noctilucous jade glow like this."

Arlecchino's offering to you is company, and plenty of it. Children who are so far removed from the stretch of news beyond the issues of the Steambird they manage to get their hands on that they wouldn't know your face from a haggler on the street. Father brought a guest to play with, and that's what matters as they induct you into their games, teach you the rules, and regard you exactly as they regard every other child their age. You are given the choice to simply become nobody, and you love it. Though you were once only a child, you were still the child of a god, and everyone knew it. Now, you elicit excitement only because someone new enters their lives, someone to learn about and befriend, merely a guest their father brought them.

Despite her sharp exterior, she is sweeter to you than you expected. You thought Arlecchino might be scarier, meaner, harsher, but she softens when she speaks to you. It is not with the cutthroat demeanour she holds speaking to the Harbingers and lacks a degree of the stern attitude she fronts to the children. You are not the average child, and it's necessary to treat you with some degree of respect, but you notice she's gentler with you than others, and it almost makes you feel special.

Columbina has sung you to sleep many times during your stay; her voice is sweet and more than enough to calm you. You let her hold your cat plush and dance with you in the hallways with the excuse you need knowledge of these things should you aspire toward being an archon, even if spinning around until you fall on the floor from dizziness and burst out laughing is a tad non-traditional. Columbina can see things others can't notice more than the human eye is capable of, and you'd rather not know what that's like. Something in the way she speaks tells you that it's hardly adjacent to anything human, closer to you, but still quite far off. It's interesting to hear the strange things humans have no business knowing.

Your hand is grasped in Columbina's, her fingers holding you tenderly. Her eyes are partly obscured beneath the lattice of a mask she wears. You're not sure if you could really call it a mask. She steps back, tugging you with her, and spins you in time with the steps she takes, each accompanied by a shift that forces you to keep up with where she moves, her other hand on your shoulder. It is the closest you will get to proper dancing, though merely a fool's waltz. You can't dance; being spun down a hallway while you struggle to match her movements feels much like you imagine a waltz would.

"It's not really proper dancing if we have no pattern to it."

"There is no such thing as proper dancing. If you'd prefer it, I could sing."

Dottore is someone you did not expect to be so open to the idea of you, and your assumptions were proven correct by his apprehension to engage with you. He is curt with you at best and avoidant at worst. You are a child filled with the yearning to touch everything that doesn't belong to you, desperate to hear too much about the things that don't concern you. You are young, needy, and with no concept of what is beyond you. Dottore's unique abundance of knowledge is appealing to you, however. He knows things your father did, many of which he didn't tell you, but Dottore will, so long as it gets you to sit still and stop interrupting him. You may be convinced you have pocketed your unnecessary emotions away, but he has seen you, and that is an insulting lie.

Your wants are written on your face plain as day, so long as people pay enough attention to you to care what you feel. He does not especially care, not for the child of a god, but it helps to know what you want to stick your nose in most. It helps to know how you benefit from him, and on luckier days, you might even catch him in a better mood when he is willing to indulge your interest in his knowledge. Your capacity to understand, let alone remember, hardly worries him.

"So you have clones of yourself? And they just...work for you?"

"Not exact clones—segments. They have wills of their own and use them as they see fit."

Capitano is strong, a man of few words, and he does not abhor your presence quite so strongly, nor does he indulge your more childish desires. What you get from Capitano is respect, the highest honour you can get from his book in your eyes, and it comes from your perseverance. You're running around working so hard when you're so young, and you deserve a break sometimes. You deserve a quiet place to curl up in the corner with that cat he's caught you hiding under where no one can bother you, and maybe with a few sweets you always seem to have these days. That corner still does not exist, though he will find you one if you want it. 

You show no signs of slowing down, are energetic and eager and are far too committed to the act of being something you're not to listen to him when he tells you to rest. Gods must all be fickle. The most he can do for you is make sure you're safe and happy as you will be in your position, maybe wipe your hands of powdered sugar when you find pastries at the market you want and recklessly eat them without thinking of how you'll clean up short of wiping the remnants on your clothes, but you'll never do that as you are.

Pierro once made you nervous. He is a stern, serious man who never smiles. Pierro is steadfast in loyalty and never wavers, which is precisely what you have begun to aspire to be now that that is what has been asked of you. You could never hope to replicate the kind of dedication he has, and perhaps that is part of what sways you. Though you have become so comfortable behaving childishly around some people, you fear you may never be around him, whether because you fear his disapproval or yearn for his approval. Despite that, he is arguably who you trail around behind most, quiet, observing, trying to figure out how to copy and apply what he has to yourself.

It settles the quick realisation he reminds you most of what the people saw in your father. Someone like him is someone people envision fostering a nation to prosperity, and you fight your own subconscious to keep all of your slipping habits, making sure he never sees you sneaking candy, hiding your cat plush from him, refusing Tartaglia's every offer to play games around him. You're not sure why you think that will make him like you more, having long ago gained his favour, unable to notice the faint smiles and the conscious effort to make you believe he doesn't notice you out the window barreling snowballs at Tartaglia.

You are still a child at heart; he is just about the last person you can hope to hide that from.

#♡ — anon visit. #✦ — headcanons. #✦ — fluff. #tartaglia #tartaglia x reader #childe #childe x reader #pantalone #pantalone x reader #signora #signora x reader #sandrone #sandrone x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #pulcinella #pulcinella x reader #arlecchino #arlecchino x reader #columbina #columbina x reader #dottore #dottore x reader #capitano #capitano x reader #pierro #pierro x reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader

[bunnycobie]

best friend's brother - choi san

pairing: choi san x f!reader summary: when your night with your crush doesn't go to plan, you find comfort in the person you'd least expect genre: smut, some fluff, some angst word count: 3k content/tw: nonidol characters, college au, san has a sister named mina (not meant to be mina from twice), other random idol names are used, fingering, unprotected sex, drunk sex (don’t do this in real life) a/n: this may be a cringefest bc it was my first fic

18+ minors dni (masterlist)

you tap on jimin’s instagram story for an update on where he might be. he’s in a car with his friends, most likely on his way here. replaying the post over and over, you don’t realize how long you’ve been staring at his smile until you’re hit on the leg with a pillow, snapping you back into reality.

“are you even listening to me?” mina snaps. you grin and sit up against the pillows on her bed.

today is mina’s birthday, and she decided to throw a party at her house tonight. but even though she invited tons of people, she only cares about one guest. so much so, that she’s cycled through five different outfits just to look as good as possible.

“you look hot.” you say jokingly, grabbing and hugging the pillow she just threw at you. “jin is going to notice you, quit overthinking it.”

mina groans. “why aren’t they here yet?”

“they’re on their way right now, they’ll probably be here soon. can we please go now?” you whine. the party started almost an hour ago, but you’ve been waiting for your friend to finish getting ready.

“i just need a few more minutes. go ahead, i’ll find you later.” she says, looking in the mirror as she puts on a pair of earrings.

as you leave the room, your ears are instantly flooded with music despite the party only being downstairs. you head towards the bathroom and step inside to check your hair and makeup in the mirror.

you and mina invited jimin and jin to the party, and it’s the only thing you two have thought about all week. mina and jin are practically a thing at this point, but you can’t say the same for you and jimin. you’re always too nervous to hold a conversation with him. it’s nothing a little liquid courage can’t fix, though. you hope.

there’s a knock on the bathroom door. you open it expecting it to be mina. instead, you’re greeted by a large frame with silky black hair.

of course, it’s mina’s brother san.

despite being a player on campus, he’s really sweet and protective over you. presumably because you’re his sister’s friend. still, he’s always been respectful and never tried to make a move on you.

but you’ve definitely caught him staring once or twice, and youd be lying if you said you didn’t do the same.

“oh, hi y/n.” he examines your outfit, making you feel self-conscious. “i started to think i’d never see you guys come out of that room.”

“sorry,” you smile awkwardly, walking around him into the hallway. “she’s nervous about jin.”

“jin’s coming?”

“yeah, and jimin”. you reply.

san’s posture straightens. “so you actually like him?”

“i never said that.” you protest.

“i hear you guys all the time. you aren’t really discreet about it.” he smiles.

you can’t help but notice his dimples every time he does that. your relationship with him has only ever been platonic, but you’re almost always dumbfounded by his appearance.

“i mean, maybe. i can’t really tell if he feels the same way though.” you say, fidgeting with your hands.

san leans against the wall. “i wouldn’t waste my time on him,”.

“what? what do you mean?”

“i don’t like him. it doesn’t matter though; you can do better than him.”

who the hell does he think he is?

“you don’t even know him. why should i care what you think?” you say, furrowing your brows.

in reality, san knows jimin more than you’d thin. they’ve never been friends, but he’s spent enough time around him to know that he’s not worth dating.

san is well aware of his position in your life, but he still cares and doesn’t want to see you hurt. your words stung a little, but he wouldn’t let you know that.

san grins and lets out a soft chuckle that pisses you off a little.

mina’s bedroom door opens and she steps out in yet another outfit choice.

“it took you an hour to come up with that?” san says teasingly, gesturing to mina’s outfit.

mina’s eyes widen. “is it actually that bad?” she gaps.

“he’s joking.” you smile, despite the anger you felt a few seconds ago. “you look cute, can we go now?” you asked, grabbing mina’s hand and pulling her towards the stairs.

not only would she have actually changed her outfit again, but you would’ve done anything to get out of that situation. you’re an adult and can date whoever you want. why is san treating you like you’re his sister... or his girlfriend?

as you walk away with mina, you glance over your shoulder to see san still looking at you, except this time he’s more serious.

the party was open invitation, but you’re still surprised by the number of people that actually showed. you and mina grab two beers from the kitchen.

you feel a tug on your arm. “they’re over there!”. she points to jin and jimin sitting on a sofa with drinks and talking.

your stomach knots at the sight of jimin and you start to feel flustered. he looks so good you start to second guess your outfit just as much as mina did hers. you chug your drink, hoping the alcohol will set in soon.

mina laughs at your nervousness. “are you ready?”

“i think so –”

“hey guys!” mina yells over the music, interrupting you.

your heart drops even further than it already did.

jmin and jin look over as you and mina make your way to them. mina sits next to Jin, leaving you with no choice but to sit next to jimin on the opposite end. you were hoping Mina would be with you to ease the awkwardness, but that plan is instantly thrown out the window.

jimin turns his body towards you, and you start to wish you’d planned things to talk about.

“hey, you look nice.” he smiles.

“thank you.” you respond shyly. somehow you feel even more self-conscious despite the compliment.

“i haven’t seen you in class lately.” you mention, hoping your awkwardness doesn’t show.

“oh. i’ve been kind of focused on my music lately. i’m actually considering switching majors.” he says.

he continues speaking but as you glance around your attention is caught by san across the room.

he’s looking directly at you, while a girl is holding his arm and laughing. he’s pretending to listen, but he’s watching you and jimin. you can’t seem to break the eye contact, as if your eyes are glued to him.

you realize you’re mid conversation and shift your focus back on jimin, who’s still talking about himself.

“i think that’s great.” you smile at him, unknowing of what he spent the last 30 seconds talking about.

“y/n, can I borrow you for a sec?” mina leans forward into your gaze.

you nod. “sorry, one second.” you excuse yourself from the conversation and follow mina as she pulls you aside.

“jin and i are going to my room; are you gonna be fine on your own?” she asks lowly.

“what? you’re sleeping with jin already?” you exclaim.

mina shushes you and looks around the room as if anyone could’ve heard you over the music.

“i don’t know, probably.” she says, grinning like an idiot.

“i’ll be fine. be safe.” you smile.

she nods and waves over jin, and he follows her upstairs

you make your way over to where you previously were but realize jimin is gone. you scan the room for him but can’t find him. you start to regret letting mina go and feel awkward all over again. you look around for a familiar face and see san, still talking to the same girl and clearly uninterested. you find chaewon and yunjin and join them for a while.

almost two hours pass while you’re busy getting drunk and dancing.

mina comes back with jin, but you’ve been so caught up that you forgot about them and jimin.

“hey.” you almost cringe realizing what they might have just finished doing.

mina grins and rolls her eyes. “where’s jimin?”

you shrug. “he left after you guys did”

“that’s weird,” jin says.

“i’ll go look for him.”

you scan downstairs one more time, but he’s still nowhere to be seen. you realize the party extended to the patio and open the door to check outside.

you find him, but you’re practically frozen in place when you do. he’s sitting next to a pretty blonde girl, kissing and feeling her up. you start to feel sick. you know that the two of you weren’t exclusive, but you still had hope there would be something between you. you’ve been obsessed with him for months and the one night you decided to make a move, the universe betrays you. the embarrassment starts to set in when you realize practically everyone knew about your crush as well.

you can’t watch any longer, and head back inside. you don’t feel like looking for mina. you don’t want to ruin her birthday by forcing her to comfort you. you’re too ashamed to admit what happened, anyways. you’re too drunk to walk or drive home, so you go to mina’s bedroom to wait for the rest of the night.

you open the door to her bedroom but the unmade bed reminds you of what just happened in it. and as disgusting as you feel, you’d rather not fall asleep on a bed full of sweat and god knows what else.

standing in the hallway, you start to feel the frustration set in and tears begin to well in your eyes.

you hear heavy footsteps on the stairs and immediately wipe your tears.

you don’t know whether to be grateful or upset over the fact that it’s san. as soon as you see his face, you’re reminded of the situation from earlier. and the last thing you want is to hear an “i-told-you-so”.

“what’s wrong?” he says, noticing your expression.

“nothing.” you reply, trying to contain yourself.

“why were you crying then?” he approaches you, practically trapping you in between him and the wall.

“i’m just tired.” you lie, looking down hoping to avoid eye contact.

“don’t lie to me,” san says, lifting your chin.

“did he do something to you?” he’s more intimate this time, and you realize you won’t get anywhere by hiding the truth.

“you were right.” you admit, removing his hand from your face. you start to feel the shame overwhelm you again

san sighs and looks around the hallway to make sure you were alone.

“are you happy?” you continued.

“of course i’m not happy,” san says, offended by the accusation. “you’ve had too much to drink. let’s just get you to bed, okay?”

you know he didn’t do anything wrong. none of this was his fault. to be fair, he did warn you. you weren’t mad at san, but you were overwhelmed and didn’t know what else to do. so, you took it out on him.

“you’ve been watching me like a creep all night waiting for something to go wrong. now you want to pretend you feel bad and take care of me?” you snap.

san sucks his teeth and grabs your wrist. pulling you to his bedroom, he shuts the door behind him and leans against it.

“can you calm down?” he asks in annoyance, folding his arms.

you start pacing out of frustration, trying to keep yourself from breaking down.

“he’s not worth crying over, y/n. I told you that you could do better than him.” he says, pulling you back to him. he snakes one hand around your waist and starts wiping your tears with the other.

something about his presence makes you feel safe. he makes you feel like you could cry if you needed to, but how could you when you’re around him? the realization that your body is pressed against his starts to set in.

you always knew san was good-looking, but something about the way he’s letting you be vulnerable with him makes him so much more attractive. he looked unreal, yet somehow, he was standing right in front of you.

you must have been staring for a while because his expression darkens. his thumb that was just wiping your tears starts to brush softly over your lips. you feel like you’re going to pass out from the way he’s staring at your face, studying you.

san’s lips press against yours and his arms wrap around your waist. you reach over his wide shoulders and around his neck as he pulls your body closer to his. each kiss begins deepen, with small moans escaping your throat. and as passionate as they are, his lips are still so soft and careful with yours.

san’s lips move from yours to your neck, and he’s holding you as if you’d slip away once he lets go.

you can feel warmth pooling in between your legs, making your legs go numb. he sweeps you up and moves his focus back to your lips as he carries you to his bed. laying you on your back, he hovers over you between your legs, slipping his tongue into your mouth.

you let out a moan as reassurance for him to continue, so he slides his hand under your top. he squeezes and massages your breast, causing you to let out whines involuntarily.

“does that feel good?” he groans against your neck. you can feel him smiling against you, giving you chills in the best way possible.

you manage to let out a soft whiny “yes.”.

“i’m gonna make you feel so much better.” he promises. he plants a soft kiss against your collarbone before shifting his hand between your legs.

he circles his thumb against the outside of your panties, feeling the damp spots he caused. each feeling of him hitting your clit makes your breath hitch.

“fuck.” he groans. “my baby is so good and wet for me.” he moans, teasing you with his fingers.

you prop yourself up on your elbows, your forehead against his.

“could you please?” you plead softly.

“could I what? use your words, baby.” he teases, pushing more pressure onto your clit.

“fingers, please.” you babble, your head falling back from the sensitivity.

“you want me to fuck you with my fingers?” san smirks.

“mm-hmm.” you whine.

san pulls your panties to the side and pushes his thick finger in slowly, earning a whimper from you.

he can feel his cock growing feeling the warmth of you, wishing it was inside of you instead. the sound of his fingers slipping inside of you are audible from the wetness.

san can feel himself swelling up and leaking from the anticipation, but he wants to take his time with you. he loves the sight of you moaning and whining under his control with your head held back.

he pulls your head in by the back of your neck and snakes his tongue in your mouth while curling his fingers to reach your gspot. his tongue is warm and wet, and you feel yourself getting dizzy and falling apart.

“i’m gonna cum.” you manage to breathe out.

“wait a little longer for me,” san says, pulling his fingers out of your heat and kissing you before standing up.

he pulls his shirt off revealing his bare chest and smooth, toned skin. he’s practically sweating from the anticipation, making his abs and biceps look even more glossy. he looks like a greek god.

unzipping his pants and removing the rest of his clothes, his swollen cock reveals itself, already wet and leaking from the tip.

he pushes you back down and lets you wrap your legs around his waist.

rubbing his tip against your sensitive clit, he inserts himself, making you gasp. the feeling you felt from his finger was almost nothing compared to the size of him inside of you.

he groans at the feeling of you wrapped around and squeezing him and wastes no time before speeding up his pace. your moans can’t help but get louder, and he has to cover your mouth with his just in case someone may hear you whine.

he moves fast yet softly as if he doesn’t want to hurt you. still, the feeling of him inside of you is enough to make your eyes water. you feel your sensitivity from being edged earlier come back, and you’re close to your high all over again.

“i wish i could do this with you forever” he moans.

his pace starts to get sloppy, letting you know he’s close to finishing. you feel a wave of ecstasy take over your body as san releases inside of you, leaving you dripping. the two of you moan over the feeling of finishing on each other.

san collapses next to you as you both catch your breath. he gets up and slips on clothes to leave the room. you lay in confusion for a minute until he comes back with a warm towel.

he cleans you up and gives you one of his clean t-shirts to wear to sleep. you try to hide your smile from the thought of him being so sweet to you. when you put the shirt on, he falls in love at the sight of it being so big on you. he’s not super tall, but his muscles are enough to warrant his shirts being huge. san wraps his arms around you and gives you another kiss, but this time it feels more loving than the rest.

“do you feel better now?” he asks, embracing you.

you’d forgotten about what led to this in the first place. but you didn’t care enough to remember because you were in love with someone else now.

#choi san #choi san x reader #san ateez #ateez smut #jimin angst #bts jimin #ateez fluff #ateez angst #mingi smut #seonghwa smut #hongjoong smut #yunho smut #jongho smut #yeosang smut #wooyoung smut #ateez fanfic #choi san fanfic

[spidernuggets]

could you pretty please, if you have any request spaces left open, do a little something where y/n is like a ball of sunshine type character and nothing ever seems to break her or get her hopes down, but one day jason is suuupper pissed off about smth and he verbally takes it out on her and it makes her cry, and he feels bad immediately but won't admit to that just yet because he's in his asshole era (maybe this would fit titans jay better), and he just doubles down like why the hell are you crying that he's seen her handle waayy worse than this and still manage to stay upbeat, and she's like forcing herself to stop crying and pull herself together and she tells him it's cuz it's him and hes like oh of course you'd cry over me cuz I'm just so awful and she's like actually no cuz it hurts to be on the receiving end of his anger because she's a little bit in love with him. Angst is my absolute fav so that's why I'm asking for sadness 💔😢

Jason Todd x Sunshine!Fem!Reader

Note: Yayyy angst! 🥳🥳

"Oh, oh, of course it's me! Blame Jason Todd once again for being such a prick and an asshole!"

"Hey, Jay! Wanna train together?" You came skipping into the training room, seeing Jason already throwing a couple of strikes to a punching bag.

"Not today." He replies, refusing to look at you and continuing to hit the bag, quickly wiping the sweat dripping from his forhead.

"C'mon, just one quick sparring match, hm? Please! You said you'd show me how to do that cool headlock thingy," you kept your upbeat attitude, missing the memo that Jason was not having it today.

"Jesus, I said no! Would you fuck off, I'm busy," he raises his voice at you.

He was in a mood because just a few hours ago, Dick threatened to bench him if Jason couldn't keep in line. If Jason won't stop disobeying orders, Dick wouldn't think twice about taking the mask and cape away from him.

But when Jason raised his voice, your smile quivered. "Oh.. I'm sorry. Maybe later, yeah? I know sparring makes you feel better!-"

You were cut off by Jason, fully yelling at you this time. "For fuck's sake, can you not take a hint or are you really that fucking dense? I don't wanna fucking spar right now, and I don't wanna spar with you! So how 'bout you get this through your thick skull, and fuck off!" He didn't mean to say any of that. He mentally punched himself for ever opening his mouth.

He knows you just wanted to make him feel better, but his stupid brain made him take his anger out on you. He always admired your happy and positive attitude. He doesn't know how you keep it up. Every time you walked into the room, it was like an angel came in with a glowing aura accompanying you. And his heart always swelled at the fantasy that you shared that aura with him every time you spoke a word to him, every compliment you gave him, every smile you sent his way. He wanted to apologise, but his thick pride got in the way.

"I..." You could barely get a word out. Jason has never talked to you like that before. Hell, he never even raised his voice to you before. You hiccuped, your throat getting clogged up, and you felt like you needed to hurl whike your chest ached.

It was too late before you noticed the salty tears travelling down your reddened cheeks. And it was too late before Jason noticed his mouth talking faster than his brain could think.

"Fuck, now you're crying?" He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "There's literally nothing to cry over, and I shouldn't even need to tell you twice to leave me alone!" What the fuck, why won't he stop talking?

You tried to wipe away your tears and tug your lips upward to show at least half a smile, but a choked out whine escaped instead.

"Honestly, stop crying, would you?" He really couldn't stop himself. Words just kept vomiting out his mouth like that time he drank one brew too many last time he kicked some villain's ass. He liked that memory. Granted, he was throwing up buckets, but you were behind him as he was hunched over the toilet seat. You thought he'd forgotten the next morning, but he clearly remembered how you were right behind him, rubbing his back in comfort, telling him you'd stay with him as long as he wanted. He also remembered the way you supported him up while walking him back to his room. He remembered you tucking him into bed, placing a trash can beside it, making sure he's sleeping on his side. He remembered you quietly reminding him about the water bottle you left on his nightstand. He also remembered that bold and cheeky peck you left in the soft curls of his head while telling him to get some good rest.

"You literally got stabbed and had a near death experience, and you were smiling the whole time you were recovering! Now you're crying? And for what?!"

"You- You're being mean," you sniffled.

He scoffs again and lets out a sarcastic laugh. "Oh, oh, of course it's me! Blame Jason Todd once again for being such a prick and an asshole!"

You tried holding in your sobs, but that led to you almost choking on your held breath, your chest feeling full, and your head feeling sore. Jason wanted nothing more for you to slap him, hit him, shut him up. He wanted to tell you he didn't mean it, that he was sorry. He wanted to run up to you, hug you in a tight embrace, and tell you not to cry because he actually is a prick and an asshole.

"Literally, why the hell are you still even here! Get lost, I'm not gonna say it again!" He yells for the final time before going back to the punching bag. And after the few seconds he got back to it, he glanced at where you were standing and saw you were already gone.

He curled over, leaning his hands over his knees, panting furiously. He wasn't sure if the tiredness came from the punches or the yelling. Maybe both. But picturing the broken look on your face pissed him off even more. Not because you were sad. Because he was the one who made you sad. This made him hate himself even more.

He tore the boxing gloves off his hands, projecting them off somewhere in the room, and yelled out in anger. He didn't even notice he started crying himself.

It's been another couple of hours. Your cheeks were long dried, but that didn't stop your shallow breaths from shaking continuously.

You then heard light knocks coming from your door. You took 3 deep and calm breaths before going towards it to see who it was.

Jason was pretty much the last person you'd expect to be standing on the other side. Furthermore, him holding a small bouquet of flowers in his trembling hands was the last thing you'd expect him to present to you. But you were scared to make the wrong move that might tick him off again.

"Jason, can we talk later I-" You said slowly in a whisper, looking at the ground while shaking your head, trying to close the door on him.

"Y/n, please," he holds the door, leaving a little gap open between you and him. "I'm sorry. I- I shouldn't have yelled, and I-"

"No, Jason, stop. It's my fault. I shouldn't have pushed you, and I'm sor-"

"Don't you dare apologise." This time, when Jason raised his voice, it was different. It was softer. "It's not your fault. I was just angry, and I took it out on you. The only thing I was right about was that I am a prick and an asshole. And- and I took your gorgeous smile away from you, and-" He started to word vomit again, but this time, it made your lips tug upwards. "And I don't want you to fuck off or get lost. I never want you to get lost because your so amazing and."

He continued his rambles and didn't notice that you opened the door wider. He tore his gaze away from the ground, and his heart raced when he felt your hands cupped around his own that were holding the flowers.

"The flowers are really pretty, Jay," you smiled at him.

Your happiness was so magnetising that he mirrored your smile. But it faltered. "I'm sorry," he repeats. "You shouldn't have cried over me because of how much of an asshole I am.."

You sighed, taking the flowers from his grasp and holding them close to your chest, your finger gently gliding over some of the petals. "Let's be real, Jason, you're always an asshole. But... I was crying because you've never been so angry at me before. I was crying because I hated knowing that I was the one who pissed who off."

"Shit, oh, sweet thing, no," he quietly replied, holding both your shoulders, making you look at him. Your face warmed at the nickname. "You- You didn't piss me off. I was already pissed off before that. It was just bad timing, and me being a hot head- you can never make me angry."

Neither of you realised how the two of you were in such close proximity.

"Well... you can make it up to me?" You say, your spark of sunshine and optimism coming back.

"Yeah- yes, how, I'l do anything," Jason quickly replied.

You step back, walking to your desk, pulling an empty vase to put the flowers in. "There's a cute cafe that opened downtown," you started, admiring the arrangement of flowers. "Go with me?" You shyly ask, back still facing him.

Jason smiled wider, thinking that alone time with you would count as a date. "Of course, sugar. Anything else?"

You giggled and turned around and crossed your arms. "Yes. You're paying, obviously," you walked up to him.

"Obviously," he copied.

"And I want this to be a date." This was a new, bold side to you. You've never been this straightforward before.

Jason glances up to the ceiling for a few seconds, pretending to think. "Yeah," he places his his hands on your waist, your own resting on his chest. "I think that could be arranged."

#mickeysideas #jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood #jason todd is my life #red hood x reader #titans jason todd #dc titans #i love jason todd #jason todd titans #jason todd headcanon #jason todd angst #jason todd x y/n #jason todd fluff #jason todd x you #jason todd x f!reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd fanfic #jason todd ff #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #red hood angst #red hood x female reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #red hood fluff #red hood fic #red hood fanfiction #red hood one shot #jason todd one shot

[whorergal]

SHE'S MINE (PART TWO)

summary: after you've been attacked, the group becomes cautious and confused, now being targeted as well. but you still can't get over the fact that ghostface had helped you and why you think you know who it may be. and maybe you wouldn't mind keeping a secret.

warnings: scream vi spoilers, language (cussing), blood, gore. it follows the plot loosely.

pairings: ethan landry x fem!reader

authors note: hiiii i really hope u enjoy :-) also i have no idea if mindy shared the apartment with tara, sam and quinn but if she didn’t, we're just going to pretend she does and i also altered ethan's motive a bit too for this (lowkey was inspired by don't blame me by taylor swift so if you like listening to music when reading, i recommend that song for this part)

❗️: you can find part one here and part three here if you need it :3

———————————————————————————

The hospital visit wasn't as long as you anticipated. Two of the stabs you endured hadn't cut deep so they were able to stitch it upon your first visit and they closed up that same night—it still hurt like a bitch. Your previous stab wound was the worst one overall as the stitching process was a lot more painful because your skin was sensitive as it had been punctured once before.

When you were released, Sam took you under her care. She didn't feel safe having you and Anika alone in your apartment since the attack so she offered her, Tara, Mindy and Quinn's home to you two. It didn't really matter for Anika as she was always there in the first place but it bothered you.

You didn't mean to feel unappreciative but you hated being controlled by useless fear. Whether or not Ghostface attacked you in your home, he would find them someway or another; it didn't matter where you were. But, you agreed in order to clear her conscious.

They didn't ask much questions when you were in the hospital. After the second Ghostface left the apartment, you remembered blacking out and waking up in the hospital bed with Anika by your side. The doctor wouldn't let anyone come in since you were preparing for surgery but decided to let Anika stay since she was your roommate.

Her story was that your security system she had built when you two first moved in had went off when the second Ghostface broke in. Her and Mindy didn't tell everyone before leaving because they didn't want to risk not making it in time. The frat house was only a block down so they just ran their way to your building, ultimately finding your unconscious body on the kitchen floor.

Anika told you that they had met Ethan at the entrance of the building when the ambulance was called and said you called him, which was true but you wondered what took him so long. You were highly suspicious of him but you didn't want to be because he was your best-friend, you couldn't imagine him having anything to do with this.

Ever since that night, he was around, a lot. He even skipped his Econ classes to keep you company because Sam didn't want you to be alone and everyone else was busy.

You didn't ask him about what happened. You were afraid of what the outcome would be. But you knew you had to do something in order to understand. At least interrogating the truth out of him (because he couldn't lie to you) would give you peace of mind—well, depending on the answer.

"You don't have to be here, you know." You broke the silence, watching him write notes from the lecture he was missing.

"But I want to be," he told you honestly.

"E, you're missing Econ. You have an exam this week."

"I'll be fine, don't worry." He looked up from his notebook, putting the lecture video on pause to give you his full attention. "I don't want anything to happen to you again."

"Ghostface rarely attacks in the daytime," you joked.

"Still, Y/N/N." He was being serious. "Your stitches haven't even fully healed yet."

"This isn't the first time." You sighed. "Plus, Ghostface never attacks the same person twice."

"Says who?"

"Says Mindy."

Ethan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, I don't want to take any chances."

It went back to comfortable silence. You went back to reading your book for your English class while he continued to write his notes. After a couple more minutes, you decided to ask the question that had been eating you alive.

"What took you so long?" you asked randomly.

He furrowed his brows, turning to look at you. "What do you mean?"

"When I was attacked," you clarified. "I called you and you said you and Chad were on the way. Anika and Mindy beat you to it and Chad wasn't even with you when you arrived."

Ethan looked away, his face becoming pale. "Well, I went to go find Chad when you were on the call but I couldn't find him so I decided to leave. I didn't realize how much time I wasted until I saw police lights outside your building."

That was the first and final conversation you two had about it. You gathered what you knew from it but, again, you didn't want to believe he was Ghostface. Unless he wasn't and used the costume to throw the other one off. But where could he buy a replica of it that quickly and still be able to make it in time to save you? It didn't make sense.

You kept this realization to yourself. You felt guilty for it, especially because if he was apart of the plan in harming your friends, this smudge of proof could be enough to hold him accountable before it was taken too far. Of course, you didn't listen to yourself and decided to keep his secret that he wasn't even sure you knew because of how much you liked him.

On the third day of your recovery, your stitching was finally beginning to heal. It hurt to bend down and sometimes walk because it worked the muscles underneath the wound but you couldn't stand doing nothing anymore.

You made the excuse that you were planning to meet Ethan at his dorm for the night because you promised to help him with Econ. Sam wasn't exactly keen on the idea, wondering why he couldn't come to meet you here but you told her you were beginning to feel claustrophobic and wanted to get out. She didn't say much in defense and reluctantly agreed.

They all offered to walk you there just in case something were to happen but you brushed them off. If your assumption about Ethan was correct, he wouldn't let anything happen to you.

The subway was packed because it was nearing Halloween and it took you awhile to finally make it inside one. And the thirty minute ride to campus added onto the time. It was around twelve at night when you arrived at his dorm.

First, you decided to knock. Nobody answered. Then you remembered he had an Econ lecture to attend for the night and took out the extra key he had given you awhile ago and unlocked it yourself.

Honestly, you were glad he wasn't there because it would make your digging a lot more easier.

You searched through everything he owned. Through his drawers (which you highly regretted), under his bed, inside some of his unpacked bags—everywhere but you couldn't find anything that incriminated him.

It had been what felt like hours, but was really only thirty minutes, when you gave up. Your phone was going off but you didn't pay any mind to it because the group had consistently texted you ever since your attack; you just assumed it was them checking up on you and then getting paranoid because you weren't answering. Even if you knew you should've checked, you didn't bother as you were going to head back to the apartment anyway.

You quietly snuck out of the room, making sure the coast was clear until you turned your head to the left and saw Ghostface, waiting there for you. When you tried to scream, they grabbed your face with their hand, restricting your voice from releasing.

They were strong, being able to grab your entire body with their one arm and toss you carelessly back into the room.

You hit the floor, wincing at the impact because of your stitches. Ghostface shut the door behind them, looking down at you. They stalked toward you very slowly as you made sure to keep your distance from them.

Using the dresser that stood behind you, you lifted yourself up with your available arm as the other clutched your stitching instinctively to keep you balanced. It was a silent stare-down until they reached for their mask, untucking it from the behind. Then, they pulled it off.

You stared in shock. "…Ethan?"

"Y/N." He didn't have much expression on his face. He looked out of breath as you could see sweat shimmering on his face from the lighting.

"Oh, my god," You breathed out. Although you suspected him this whole time, finally being able to know it was the truth hurt you more than being stabbed. "You're Ghostface."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Ethan ignored your statement as he furrowed his brows.

"I knew it. I knew you were the one who saved me," you confessed. "That's why I'm here."

"You shouldn't be here," he told you, shaking his head.

"You're trying to kill me and our friends and you're telling me what I shouldn't be doing?!"

"Y/N, there's more to this than you know."

"That much is obvious," you snapped. He tried to step toward you but you backed up. "Stay away from me."

"Please, just listen to me," Ethan began to plead.

"You let them attack me!"

"No, I didn't!" he declared, lowering his voice when he saw it made you flinch. "They promised to leave you out of it. That was the only thing I told them to do."

"They?" you repeated in confusion.

He thought over his response for a second. "Look, what I'm doing—what I've done—is for a good reason. You have to understand."

You furrowed your brows. "What have you done, E?" You couldn't help but use his nickname; you couldn't help but try to hear him out.

"Y/N." He walked toward you slowly and this time, you didn't back away from him. "You're the only thing I care about. If it means I have to kill a thousand people to keep you safe, then I'd do it."

"I don't understand." Your voice was almost a mumble.

"I agreed to do this before I met you but when I did, it all changed. I-I tried to convince them to stop. I wanted to try and be good—for you but she found out and threatened to kill you if I didn't continue with the plan so I did with the exception that they would leave you out of it," he explained softly. "I did this…for you."

You looked at him like he was insane (he kind of was). "You'd kill our friends?"

"If it meant that you'd be safe."

His words didn't completely register but when they did, you couldn't help but feel guilty. You had a crush on him for so long and here he was, basically confessing his love for you in such a fucked up way. You hated yourself for finding him even more attractive after hearing him say those words.

"Ethan…" you whispered his name.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked. "Can I please kiss you?"

You didn't give him an answer as you closed the space between the two of you.

It seemed wrong—no, it was wrong. Kissing him while he still wore the Ghostface robe, one that he wore while taking someone's life.

You knew he wasn't wearing this costume for fun. They only ever wore it for a purpose. Even though your mind was totally blanked because of how dumb his lips made you, when you pulled apart, you began to think about where he had come from and who he had just killed and why you weren't more concerned about the matter.

He chased after your lips, kissing you again with more force this time, even pulling you closer by the waist. You only pulled away because you were receiving a call.

You pulled your phone out from your pocket, the reality setting in when you saw Sam's contact. He looked down with you, not doing much in keeping you from answering. It took you a couple more seconds of contemplating until you decided to click the green button, putting the phone to your ear.

You took a deep breath before answering. "Hello?"

"Y/N, what the hell?!" Sam hollered into the speaker, her voice mixed with relief and annoyance. "Why weren't you answering? Are you okay?!"

"Yeah, I'm fine," you replied rather nonchalantly. "I had my phone off. What's wrong, Sam?"

There was a short beat. "Ghostface attacked us."

You furrowed your brows, glancing at Ethan. "What?"

"Yeah, he killed Quinn and…"

"And?" you repeated instantly. "Who else, Sam?"

"Anika…" Sam's voice was barely above a whisper. "Y/N, I'm so sorry. I-I tried to help her."

You shut your eyes, feeling tears starting to build. There was silence on the line and you were sure it was because Sam didn't want to say anything knowing you would be taking her death as personal as Mindy did.

Suddenly, your stab wounds began to throb which made you let out a grunt. You knew better than to cry over Anika only because it would achieve nothing. Yes, it was messed up that you were now standing in the room with her murderer, watching him undress himself of his black robe that he wore while killing her but you realized nothing you could've said or done—whether you got to him before she died—could've changed her outcome.

You watched him pull out a hunting knife from his back pocket, the silver glistening with dried blood. That blood probably belonged to Anika and Quinn. It made your throat go dry.

"Sam," you blurted quietly.

"What, Y/N?"

You were going to say it; tell her the truth. It was the right thing to do. Ethan, even if you liked him a lot, had just murdered your best friend and one of Sam's. They deserved the justice of their murderer being caught.

But when he walked back over to you, his eyes scanning your expression, you had already picked your choice.

"Y/N, what? Are you okay?" Sam's voice echoed in your mind.

"Yeah, yeah, it's just…" You tried to find the words. "Is everyone else okay? Did you get hurt?"

"We're fine. Mindy got cut but she's fine," Sam answered softly. "Can you come down here? I'd feel a lot better if you were here with us. Plus, I'm sure you can comfort Mindy than the rest of us. She doesn't want to be anywhere near Tara or Chad."

You let out a shaky breath. "Yeah. Ethan and I are on our way."

"Ethan?" she questioned.

"Yeah. Remember I told you I was going to meet him at his dorm? I was with him the whole night," you lied.

"Oh, okay." Sam sighed into the speaker. "That's good to hear, actually. Mindy thinks Ethan was the one behind all of this but if you were with him then it checks him out."

"Don't worry, Sam," you said. "We'll be there shortly."

"Okay, see you soon. Be safe."

You nodded, even though she couldn't see you and then hung up.

"You kept my secret?" Ethan asked.

You shook your head. "I shouldn't have. You killed Anika and Quinn."

He bit his lip, nodding calmly. "I know, I know. It wasn't exactly my first choice. But I had to for saving you the other night."

"Yeah, I know," you mumbled. "But did you mean it?"

"Mean what?" He furrowed his brows.

"What you said about wanting to be good?" You repeated his words. "Because that's the only reason I saved your ass. I should hate you. You killed Anika."

"Y/N/N," he said softly, walking over to grab your hands. "I only did this to protect you. They made me think my original motive was right but it's actually fucked up. I realized that the moment I met you. So, yes, I do mean it. And I'm sorry about Anika. I didn't really want to do it either."

You mulled over his words, looking down at your connected hands until you finally spoke. "Okay. Then, I'll help you," you informed him. "But, in order for me to do that, I need to know everything."

Let's just say it was an interesting conversation.

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #ethan landry x you #ethan landry imagine #jack champion #scream imagine #scream vi imagine #ethan landry x y/n

[stargirlrchive]

ocean eyes: chapter four ✩ jake sully

masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ocean eyes masterlist

chapter four in collaboration with @tarrynightss <3

summary: widow!jake sully x female!reader, 10 year age-gap. jake is lowkey sunshine <3 reader is grumpy! arranged marriage/marriage of convenience, smut, p in v, oral - fem receiving + wc - 5,646

comments: part four lovers, holy shit this is my favorite chapter, oh my god! i just want to give the biggest thanks to liz @tarrynightss <3 my pookie woookie ! she literally made this chapter what it is! <3 and if you do not follow her already, do it RIGHT NOW! she is so talented and amazing and RAHHH i love her !!!! she wrote the smut and let me just say, delicious, amazing, spectacular! we were so in sync with this and i am so proud of this chapter <3 i hope you all love her just as much as we do! okay bye, love you!!!!

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Your weeks consisted of avoiding Ronal and Tonowari, training Jake for hours, and then slipping away to your favorite cove for the rest of the night. You had even begun to join Jake’s family on a few dinners, wanting to avoid your sister as best you could. But it had only been a few times, still feeling awkward around his children, and your distaste for the situation had not simmered.

You had even begun to gather your own fruits and scout your own fish, just to avoid being in your home. It had been weeks but Ronal’s words were still seared into your skin, selfish, selfish, selfish.

If only she knew how hard it had been for you once she left. Your mother always said she did not have favorites, although everyone knew that was not true. It had always been Ronal. In your mother’s eyes your sister held the moon, she was born to lead the people. And she was right, your sister was fierce, strong willed and bound by duty.

As a child you were the same, though you had a knack for trouble, something that did not sit well with her.

It had been a few years since Ronal had left, mated with Tonowari and you slipped away from her priorities. She was barely able to find time for you, which hurt more so than your mother not having time for you. You were not used to it.

So you decided being invisible would work best for you, putting in everything you had into becoming a warrior for the clan.

Younger than most, but twice as dedicated. You took every free moment you had to train, sharpen your skill. But still, the attention from your sister never came. She only ever really acknowledged your efforts until the day of your celebration. You were the smallest of the class, and in Ronal’s eyes it was silly. How even at the age of thirteen you were so sure of yourself.

But Ronal disappeared again, at least that was how you saw it. For those two years between completing your Iknimaya and your Mother’s death you have very little memories with your sister.

What you do remember is the feeling of accomplishing something new, and looking around only to find you were completely alone.

That feeling was embedded into every crevice of your body, similar to the one you felt at the age of eighteen. Foolish and naive, thinking you were in love. Expecting that by sharing intimate moments with one of the Na’vi warriors would keep him bound to you.

That was why you refused to share your life with anyone else. You had been alone for so long, why start now?

You were ripped away from your thoughts as a grunt of frustration left Jake’s mouth. Your ears twitched at the sound, snapping your head to look at him. “Stupid fish.”

Your lips twitched at his frustration, trying not to laugh. “Position yourself, want to see if you are doing it correctly.”

“Why can I not just use a bow? I am well versed with that weapon.”

Your eyes rolled at him, “The current is too rough, it will snap your arrow in half. Now learn to use the spear.”

Jake grunted, his muscles achy and stiff as he lifted his arms again. Your hand slapped on the underside of his arm, the sting furthering his irritation. “Don’t do that.”

“You are weak!”

His heated gaze flickered to your face, the intensity of it halting a bit as he noticed the glossy look in your eyes, “You enjoy pushing my buttons.”

Your eyes rolled, “Believe it or not, I do not enjoy anything when it comes to you.”

He scoffed, dropping his arm down and it caused you to hiss at him, “Up! We are not done.”

“Do you know how to shoot an arrow?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Answer my question.”

Your face scrunched up in annoyance, “Get a catch and then I will answer you.”

Out of pure annoyance, Jake did what you asked. Drawing his hand back and focusing his gaze in the water, when he saw a fish, a large one too, his spear sunk in, missing the catch.

You laughed at him, shaking your head as you pulled the weapon from his hands, “Skxawng.”

“Clearly I am not going to catch anything today, so answer my question. Do you know how to shoot an arrow?”

Your lips pursed as you walked away from him, you purposely threw your hair behind your shoulder and splashing Jake’s face in the process. “I have no need to use a bow, so no. I do not know how to use one.”

Jake felt his tail thump in the water, excitement bubbling in his chest, “Let me teach you then.”

You scoffed, shaking your head as you continued to walk towards the beach, “There is nothing I have to learn from you.”

Another jab, one of the few that actually bothered Jake. Those had become more frequent, and the fine line between the excitement he had and the irritation they caused were beginning to blur together. His fingers wrapped around your forearm, the unexpected movement caused your body to jolt roughly against his. You gasped quietly, “Let go of me!”

“Are you scared you’ll fail?”

Your motions stilled, no longer pulling away from him but trying to fight the need to whack him with your tail, “No-I just do not wish to spend any more time with you than absolutely necessary.”

Jake’s fingers let go of you, he knew just how to push your buttons too. “Fine. Truth be told, I know you’d fail. Better not waste our time.”

Your heart was hammering in your chest, his words bothering you beyond belief, “Fine then. Teach me.”

Jake had moved from you, circling in front of you, a look of utter satisfaction on his features and you wanted to stomp down on his foot, “Don’t think I will. Like you said, why waste more time than necessary with each other.”

He was walking away from you, the stupid look still on his face. The Toruk Makto, doubting in your skill stung more than you’d care to admit, your finger wrapped around his wrist, halting his movement, “No-I want to learn.”

You actually wanted to prove him wrong, but who cared. You caved, and that was all Jake cared about. “Follow me then.”

He turned away, trying to hide the satisfaction that began to consume his chest but his tail betrayed him, swaying lazily in the water as he walked out. You grunted quietly, following behind him as he made his way towards his marui. You were growing impatient with how leisurely his actions were, “I do not have all day.”

Jake paused briefly, ears twitching in irritation as he noticed the bite in your voice. His fingers balled into a tight fist before he took a deep breath, quickening his steps despite not wanting you to know that you did get under his skin in a way he couldn't explain. But along with that annoyingly irritating way your voice always seemed to disgruntle him, he enjoyed it all the same. Because he knew he got under your skin as well, you were just unwilling to admit it. Unwilling to bite at the hook he sent you, but it would happen, he was sure of it.

He picked up his bow and arrow, your foot tapping as your arms crossed over your chest was making Jake anxious. He was trying to still the pounding of his chest, feeling unnerved by the way you seemed to find fault in everything he did.

Nerves bubbling so much so his fingers fumbled and the arrows fell from his fingers, “Eywa, you want to teach me how to shoot a bow and arrow and you’re fumbling like a child.”

Another jab that irritated deep in his soul, that thin line completely blending together and now he was just annoyed with you. Annoyed with every sly comment that fell from your mouth. He huffed in anger, roughly yanking the arrows back into his arms. And you noticed the change in his demeanor, mouth flattening into a straight line as his angry gaze fixated on you.

Nerves bubbled in your chest, along with an excitement that you had not felt in a long time, it settled in your lower stomach. Your tail swished behind you gently, raising your brows in challenge, practically asking him to bite back. He just shook his head, sighing quietly as he moved past you, walking towards the forest. You were following behind him closely, your steps quickening and you just felt his frustration with you.

You were hoping he’d finally snap, run to Ronal and Tonowari and beg to pick someone else for him. The thought caused a bitter taste in your mouth, but you would never admit that. You would never willingly open your heart to someone else, especially someone who had already loved someone. Loved them enough to spend years with, have children with, you were not able to do it.

When did things in your life become so difficult? So complicated to the point where all you wish for was to be left alone? You weren’t sure, but it was lonely. And although uncommon within your people, you did find Na’vi to quelch the bitterness that had consumed your heart.

You were so deep in thought you had not noticed Jake stopped walking, stumbling roughly into him. Your face squished against his back, your nose throbbing from the pain. You hissed out, instantly pushing yourself off of him as your face warmed up in both embarrassment and pain. Jake snickered quietly, “You need to pay attention.”

“You are so infuriating!”

Jake laughed, ears pinning back in amusement as he looked over his shoulder to look at you. Smiling harder as he saw your face pinched up in anger. He fully turned to you, thrusting the bow and arrows into your hand, your eyes narrowed in on him in annoyance.

He did not spare you a second glance, walking deeper into the forest until he was a few trees away from you. He removed the knife from its sheath, carving deeply into the tree a large ‘X’. He pointed to it before telling you, “This will be your target.”

“Really? I could not tell.”

Jake’s features glossed over once more with anger, his ears pinned back roughly against his head as he made quick steps to get back to you. “Let’s see it then.”

“I do not know the first thing about shooting an arrow, how do you expect me to know how to hold it properly?”

Jake roughly pulled on you, a quiet yelp fell from your mouth as your back crashed against his chest. His whole body caging yours in as he placed your arms in the position you needed to be, “Well, you act as if you know all. Excuse me for the confusion.”

You were unable to say anything more, the words caught in your throat as the heat from his body consumed yours. His fingers were anything but gentle, covering yours as he pulled the string back. He let it go quickly, your hands still in his and it hit the target dead center.

A small laugh of excitement left your mouth, Jake finally stepped away from you. You were too distracted to notice the way he was watching you. “Now position yourself.”

And you did, trying to copy his motions but it was clear you were off, even in the way you were standing there was an ache between your shoulders that had not been there. Jake’s hand lightly swatted your arm, just as you had earlier, moving to push down on your stomach and your stance was thrown off. Your feet wobbled as your body jolted. “Your strength needs to come from here.”

He pushed on your upper abdomen again, “You should not move if I push.”

Your eyes rolled back, “I just did not expect it.”

Jake threw you a snarky smile, “If you say so.”

You huffed out a breath, pulling your fingers back again. Jake found less things to adjust this time and he could see you were a quick learner. “Straighten your back.”

You listened, shoulders squaring out and the ache eased from between them. “Let go.”

Your arrow went flying but missed the target by a long shot. Jake whistled, “You were a bit off.”

“You dont say.”

Jake admired how you instantly grabbed another arrow, your fingers placing themselves correctly as you pulled the arrow back, “Again.”

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Hours had trickled by and it was starting to get dark, your fingers were raw from the string of the bow, muscles aching from the constant tug. Even after going at this for so long, you had nothing to show for it. Your arrows continuously missed, and it was only getting worse the weaker your limbs became. “It is not that difficult.”

Jake’s voice only spiked your frustrations, snapping the small chord that was already wearing thin from your exhaustion. You turned to him and pushed the bow straight into his chest, “Maybe you are just a poor teacher.”

His tail flicked in irritation and he turned around to pick up the arrows that had landed in the grass below your target.

“Maybe you are just a poor student, hm? My seven-year-old listens better than you.”

An angered hiss made your lips curl up into a snarl. “That’s because only a child would listen to you! You are infuriating!”

Ronal nagging at you and pointing out your flaws was more than enough, Jake did not have to join in as well.

A dry chuckle left his mouth as he pulled the last two arrows out of the bark of the tree, shooting a skeptical glance over at you. “From the way you’re acting, I would say you fall under that category.”

Your broad tail almost thumped against the ground in frustration, but you stopped it just in time, knowing it would only strengthen his point. You inched closer to him so you could spit your venom more clearly.

“If we were mated I would want to pluck your eyes out for the rest of my life,” you snarled at him, adding an annoyed ‘pak’ when the stupid man merely grinned.

Jake strode over to you with bow and arrows in his hands, looking more smug than offended at your words. His eyes traveled shamelessly over your form, delighting in the way your cheeks tinged a darker blue and your eyes narrowed at him. There was so much fire in you, luring him in to feel if your skin would burn under his touch.

“You would be so lucky,” he practically purred.

Your jaw almost dropped at his shameless flirting, far more forward than the men of your clan. As he smirked down at you he truly did look like a demon, you thought, and your ears folded back slightly as you felt an old fire ignite within you.

You refused to give in to it. “Why? So I can have a mate who cannot hunt fish? Who can’t ride a Tsurak?” You circled around him as your gaze blatantly judged every part of him. Your tail swatted against his legs, almost making him lose his balance. “There is nothing you have to offer me, JakeSully. I could find a man half your age with more skills.”

You seemed to have mastered how to provoke him, that old frustration bubbling back up in his chest and coming out in a light hiss. Your pupils narrowed at his challenge, stopping in front of him. For a moment everything was quiet, your gazes staying connected and tails swaying in anticipation.

Slowly, you moved your hand forward, not even blinking as you slapped the arrows and bow out of his hands. They fell down onto the grass below in soft thumps, Jake’s eyes flicking down to them before coming back up to stare straight at you. He breathed in heavily through his nose, his brow creasing into a scowl.

You seemed pleased with yourself, the corners of your mouth quirking up as you cocked your head. No words had to be used, your message loud and clear. What are you going to do about it?

An odd yet intoxicating tension rose and rose as your gazes remained locked, sharp eyes watching one another. Perhaps he should just walk away, turn around and have his children pack their bags once again. He shouldn’t want to mate with such a frustrating, stubborn woman like you, but Eywa knows he did.

Suddenly, Jake’s hand was at the back of your neck, pulling you closer till he pressed his lips against yours. His grip on you was loose, the kiss testing the waters to see if you would push him away. An agonizing heartbeat passed before you gasped softly, one hand coming up to rest against his chest. As soon as he felt you accept him he kissed you more passionately, hungry to deepen the little taste of you that he’d gotten.

So many thoughts crossed your mind that you could barely pick one to focus on. It had been years since you had been with a man, having sworn to not give yourself so intimately to someone again, yet you could not find it in yourself to push Jake away. He was a skxawng, with his smug smiles and overconfidence, and a touch that set you ablaze. You shivered as his lips parted yours, his tongue slipping past them.

As he deepened the kiss his hands moved to your waist, stroking over your naked skin. As your tongues stroked together you knew where this would lead, and a weight pressed down in your heart as you also knew where it would end. When he had found his pleasure, Jake would go, leaving you alone in the forest to clean off your shame.

You knew this would happen, yet the firm press of his calloused hands promised something else. Security.

It made you sad, angry even. Not your parents nor sister had been able to promise you that, and yet here was the former Olo'eyktan spinning a tale with his touches. With a snarl, you bit at his bottom lip and Jake backed away slightly in shock. As he touched his lip, he could feel a familiar wet warmth there, his fingers stained red when he retracted them. He wasn’t bleeding that bad, but it was enough to shock him, the man’s ears folding back in alert.

He had no time to consider if you were angry with his advances, your mouth clashing to his once again. You practically threw yourself at him, greedy hands rubbing over his muscled chest as you nipped at his injured lip once again. He groaned into your mouth. Everything just had to go the hard way with you.

Every stroke of your fingers against his body sent pleasant chills down yours. Every look that you had gotten of him had already made it clear that he was an attractive man, one that many would be pleased to have by their side, but feeling him was a whole different story. You almost moaned into the kiss as your fingers delved lower, tracing where his muscles dipped into a delicious V as you neared his loincloth. You cupped him boldly, instantly feeling the strong press of his hard cock against the fabric.

You smirked as you pulled back from his lips, batting your lashes at him. “My…”

Jake assumed that you were going to praise his size, his chest already swelling with pride.

“I had expected more self-restraint from Toruk Makto.” Your amused tone made it clear that you were mocking him. Your fingers wrapped tighter around his bulge and he bit back a groan. “Perhaps you have lost your touch.”

That statement seemed to ignite a fire in his eyes, hand shooting up to grab hold of your wrist. His brow scrunched up, face so serious and determined that it had your lips parting at the sight. You had never seen him like this before, and you imagined this is what he must’ve looked like when he stood before the clans all those years ago.

“You won’t be saying that after I’m done with you.”

Before your lips could form a word, Jake swept you off your feet, landing you in the grass with a soft ‘oof’. Your wide eyes stared up at him as his large hand took hold of your thighs, spreading you open for him and propping up your legs.

A hiss formed at the back of your throat, head lifting to spit another insult at him before he shamelessly licked over your clothed cunt. Your hiss turned into a pathetic little mewl as his tongue formed wet stripes over your loincloth, pressing the material eagerly into your folds. He groaned as he tasted your wetness even through the material, every swipe of his tongue only revealing more of your sweet taste.

“Talk a big game for someone who’s this wet by just having a man stick his tongue into your mouth,” he groaned against you, his chuckle muffled as he was unwilling to pull away from your heat just yet.

You kicked lightly at his back with your heels, groaning in protest of what Jake was saying (though you only understood about half of it). It was foolish to deny it, the evidence staining your loincloth more and more by the second.

A disappointed whine left your mouth when he pulled back, his hands fumbling to untie your loincloth. You watched in impatience as he seemed to not understand how to get it off, cursing under his breath.

You rolled your eyes and pushed away his hands to do it yourself. “Bah! Can’t do anything.”

Jake flung the wet piece of clothing out of sight as soon as you had it off, face delving back in between your legs. It seems that though he wasn’t going to respond to your words with ones of his own, he wasn’t letting it slide either. His tongue only lapped over your wet cunt once to part your folds, his attentions instantly turning to your clit afterward. Your fingers dug into the grass below you as he sucked at your clit, pleasure rippling through your body like a wave. You had forgotten just how pleasing another’s touch could be.

Jake was clearly experienced, alternating in sucking at the sensitive bud and then flicking the tip of his tongue over it in hard strokes. His eyes peered up at you as you moaned, his cock now painfully straining against his loincloth. You looked like a goddess. Head thrown back in ecstasy, hair splayed out over the forest floor and your body flushed and writhing at every pleasurable movement of his tongue. Your sister might be Tsahík, but Jake felt far closer to Eywa when he was near you.

Your hands flew to the back of his head as you felt yourself getting close to cumming, fingers gripping tightly at his hair. When he groaned it sent more pleasant tingles through your core and you couldn’t help but press his face even tighter against you. He didn’t mind in the slightest, tongue only working against your clit with renewed vigor.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you felt your body tensing up, finally tipping over that sweet edge. Your mouth stayed open in a silent scream, little sounds of pleasure leaving you as Jake continued his movements as you orgasmed. You hadn’t come this hard for Eywa knows how long and the moment almost makes you sigh in relief, feeling every muscle in your body tensing and then relaxing, a peaceful ecstasy washing over you.

Jake finally pulled back, lidded gaze watching you intensely. A small, relieved smile pulled at your lips as you panted, eyes tightly shut. You looked so relaxed, your face usually tense and scrunched up whenever he saw you.

“Damn, that must’ve truly been good, huh?I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy.”

He just couldn’t help himself, feeling more than pleased with his own performance. You huffed and your hands swatted at his head. For a moment he thought he had won the upper hand, but after a second to recover you sprung up. You pounced on him like a Viperwolf and it quickly became his turn to have his back pressed into the grass.

Your eyes were glossed over with desire as you tore at his loincloth, some strings definitely ripping in the process as you roughly took it off of him. Jake sat up with wide eyes, breath hitching in his throat as you straddled him. This close he could see every little speck of color in your eyes, every tiny luminescent dot or stripe on your face. You were beautiful, but he had little more than a second to admire you as you took hold of his hard cock and positioned yourself over it.

You didn’t want to look down, sure that if you did you would lose your confidence. He felt big in your hand, and you tried your best not to nervously swallow when the thick head nudged against your entrance. No, he would not see your nerves, would not get to know how long it had truly been for you and mock you for it. Little did you know that the man beneath you was perhaps even more nervous, Jake not having sought out another after his late mate’s death.

A stifled grunt sounded from you as you sank down onto his cock, already feeling more than full enough after the first few inches. Your hands braced on his shoulders, nails digging into his skin to an almost painful extent. Good, he thought, Jake bracing himself against cumming as soon as your tight heat engulfed him.

You were not a quitter, biting at the inside of your cheeks as you continued slowly impaling yourself on his length till your ass was snuggly rested against his balls. A violent shiver rocked your body as you sat still like that, filled so well by him that you could feel your clit start to throb all over again.

After taking a shuddering breath, you braced yourself and started riding him, his cock easily sliding in and out of your wet cunt. Every stroke of his length against your insides had moans falling from both of you, Jake’s hands finding your hips to softly guide your movements. The pleasure was almost overwhelming, the need to scream his name growing stronger by the second. He felt so good inside you, like you were made for one another.

You bite at your bottom lip, no, you can’t think that way.

Your ears perk up as Jake groans loudly, face scrunched up in pleasure.

“Not so mighty now, are you, Toruk Makto?” you cooed at him, snickering in between your pants.

His lips peeled back to reveal his teeth as a light snarl graced his face. “Don’t get too cocky now, kid, you still have much to learn.”

You cocked your head. “Really?” You watched his eyes roll back as you rolled your hips in a way that made him reach deep inside you, biting back your own moan. “Seems like I’m the one who’s teaching you a thing or two here.”

Jake panted harshly, grip on your hips increasing till it was almost bruising. “Oh, we’ll see.”

You squealed as he flipped the position and pinned you down underneath him. He pulled your legs up to rest them over his shoulders, a hint of a grin pulling at his lips before he thrust his cock back into you. You screamed, your walls clenching around him as he started to fuck into you hard and fast. His pace was relentless, the muscles in his arms and chest rippling underneath his skin at the strain.

He laughed as he watched your face warp in pleasure, your hands trying wildly to find something to grab onto. “What? Can’t keep up?”

You couldn’t seem to manage to properly respond to him, eyes desperate as you cried out his name. He couldn’t resist leaning forward, bending you till your legs were almost pressed to your chest, his lips finding yours once again.

He kissed you passionately, groaning into your mouth as he continued his rapid strokes. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this good, his cock twitching inside of your slick cunt at every movement. Jake wouldn’t last long anymore.

Any soul unlucky enough to stray too far into the forest would quickly be able to hear the wet slaps of him fucking into your body, the sounds falling from your mouths everything but silent as well.

He moved away from your lips to bury his head into the crook of your shoulder, teeth nipping at the skin there. He felt so tempted to mark you, to place a bite on your shoulder that would make sure everyone knew you were his. But he couldn’t, not yet.

Jake purred your name so sweetly into your neck that it almost made your eyes roll back. It was becoming too much, your cunt throbbing around him as his fast pace rushed you towards your second orgasm, familiar tears stinging at your eyes.

His wet tongue came out to lap over your neck and it sent a shiver over your body. You squeezed your eyes tightly shut. Just a bit more.

With a well-aimed roll of his hips, he had you cumming yet again, your toes curling as your hot walls clamped down around his length. You could feel him shudder against you, your hands finding his back and clawing at it wildly. For every jolt of pleasure that shook your body, you scratched past his skin and Jake groaned loudly in response.

He grit his teeth, thrusts stuttering as he tried to hold himself back from instantly following behind you. He just wanted a few more minutes of feeling your tight cunt wrapped around him.

Though the sky was still blue, you swore you saw stars, head thrown back into the grass. All you could do was hold on tight and mumble out your desires as Jake continued to fuck you, his breath hot and heavy against your neck.

You could feel his body tensing and heard his breath hitch right before he came, the man’s face scrunching up in pure ecstasy. He held himself deep inside you, letting you feel exactly how he was filling you up, his cum seeping inside of you.

Jake let out a pleased sigh and pressed a kiss to your temple. Your scent was intoxicating right now, full of desire and laced with his own. This is what he wanted you to smell like for the rest of his days, and he inhaled it eagerly.

He couldn’t pull himself away from you, his pelvis still flush against yours as his fingers sought out your clit. A high-pitched sound of surprise left you as his rough fingertips stroked over the swollen bud. You writhed underneath him, legs shaking as he tried to bring you to orgasm yet again.  

“J-Jake!” you choked out, hands pushing uselessly at his arms.

He was reveling in the way your cunt squeezed and twitched around his length at every stroke of his fingers, the thought of his cum getting taken even deeper inside you this way making him hard all over again. His fingers didn’t stop no matter how much you whined and your body shook, this time ripping a loud scream from you when you came. It felt like being swept away in a tidal wave, yet instead of fighting it you let it take you completely.

You were still letting out little moans at the aftershocks when Jake pulled his cock out of you. He groaned at the sight of some of his seed slipping out of your used cunt, unconsciously licking his lips.

As soon as he shifted his position on top of you, your mind cleared up a bit and your mood dropped. This was the part where he rolled off of you, maybe shot you a thanks, and then left you tainted and alone in the forest. Your throat bobbed at the thought, hands retreating from him to lay them against your own stomach, almost protecting yourself against what was to come.

Jake reached out to touch your face and his fingers gently traced over the intricate patterns of your tattoos. His eyes shone with adoration, a genuine smile pulling at his lips.

“Beautiful.”

Out of all the things the two of you had just shared, this was the hardest part for you to accept. This man who you had belittled and mocked looked at you as if you held the moon in your hands.

His lips met yours again, so tender in his kiss that it almost hurt. This wasn’t out of desire, this was a true display of affection, of appreciation, and you felt yourself start to choke up. Though Jake noticed the shift in your mood, he didn’t comment on it, merely rolling off of you so he could pull you against his chest.

He was warm, firm, his arms tightly wrapped around your form as henuzzled his nose into your hair. You pushed away the tears that continued to threaten to fall. He was not leaving, he was here, and though he did not say it, you knew that would be Jake Sully’s biggest promise to you if you were to mate. He would be there, no matter what.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

🏷️; @mashiromochi @midhito @neteyamforlife @adaiasafira @ambria​ @sillyfreakfanparty​ @fanboyluvr​ @jakescumdump​ @itscheybaby​ @iwanttohitmyself​ @janeety​ @haitanismainhoe @daribakugo @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @lemonmoonmochi​ @dazedshoon @amanda-678 @randxmthxughts @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @wekiamo @iwanttogohomeandtakeanap @theroyalbrownbarbie @1ntefly @nyylovestowrite @rianapntn @crazy4books1 @jakesullylongjuicyshlong @kikookii @ducks118 @bucky12345 @elegantkidfansoul @bold-writing @1-800-fandomsdestroyedme @graysonmalik2550 @milequaritchsslut @23victoria @kamcrazy123 @annamarieisbae @k----a27s​ @tojigirl @lynbubble @outspokenmatters​ 

#jake sully #jake sully x reader #avatar jake sully #avatar jake sully x reader #avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar x reader #avatar twow #avatar 1 #avatar 2 #avatar 2022 #avatar 2009 #avatar smut #jake sully fluff #jake sully x reader smut #jake sully x you #jake sully angst #jake sully imagine #tonowari x ronal #ronal #avatar ronal #tonowari #avatar tonowari

[sunflower-lilac42]

✧ 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 | connor bedard ♔

summary: after falling short of a hat trick once again, connor feels the need to blame everything on himself and question why he's here in the first place.

warnings: connor not thinking he's good enough, sad connor, feelings of not being good enough, crying, writing errors bc i didn't proofread that well

published: 3/25/24

notes: this is my monthly fic so i hope you enjoy it, jkjkjkjk I'll try to be as active as i can on here this next week especially with me being in a car for eight hours tomorrow. (woohoo) anyway story notes -> this takes place after the arizona game, i was going to make this longer with them after the ducks game but i got too lazy to write it, so let me know if you want a part two to this fic. there are four things hopefully coming this week that aren't fics and maybe two or so fics also on my agenda so yeah | add yourself to the taglist ➺ taglist!

nhl masterlist | main masterlist

He knew he shouldn’t be upset. He played so well, got a three-point game tonight, but at the same time, this was his fourth time having a two-goal game and every time he came up short. It was hard to be the face of the franchise or to at least feel like it. He was supposed to be the savior of the Blackhawks, their golden boy, and lift them back up. How much pressure could you put on an 18-year-old?

He watched as Colin hit the puck into the empty net, the slightest bit of jealousy going through his eyes. He was telling himself not to think about it, the thought of him getting a hat trick shouldn’t have been a thought, he should be playing to win not to get his hat trick. But, the thought haunted him in the back of his mind, three failed attempts and he had to show everyone what he was capable of. 

Though, as the final minute ticked down and he had been on the ice he knew his chances were nonexistent. He knew he wouldn’t be getting an opportunity to get that goal. He was proud of Colin and always proud of his teammates, but how happy could he be for others if he wasn’t happy with himself?

She was watching from her dorm room, her hands gripped tightly onto the arms of her chair as she kept her eyes glued to the TV screen. She knew they had a chance of winning this game, they beat them 5-2 just a few days ago so why couldn’t they now? Despite the Coyotes having two goals a couple of minutes into the second period, she kept her hopes up. When Connor scored not only once but twice before the end of the period she was elated.

She kept her prayers in her mind as she watched the last 20 minutes of the game, hoping that he would get his first career hat trick alongside Colin. He needed this so much, especially after the few games he had had. He needed to be reminded of how good he was and how the outcome of the game shouldn’t be reliant on him. 

However, as soon as the clock ran out and it was game over, she felt horrible. She could see it in his face as he skated out as second star of the game. He deserved to and Colin deserved the first. But she knew he was taking it harder on himself. 

She was kept updated on post-game through post-game live and the tweets she was getting. Her heart broke once she saw the one Mario tweeted, “If I was any good I would have put it in.”

She swore to himself, immediately going to make him some food and laying out some clothes for him to wear when he arrived. He was using humor to cover up how he felt, it was a defense mechanism that he used so often with not only the public but with her. She couldn’t count the number of times they were in the middle of a fight or he had come home after a game or the days that he would come back after practice after he got hurt he would throw a sarcastic comment or start laughing. 

She sent him a quick text, telling him she would be waiting for him when he returned. She made sure things looked perfect in the sense that it didn’t look planned and everything was meticulously placed. The clothes she picked out were thrown in the bathroom and so was his towel, she made her dorm look a little more messy than she would like it but still clean.

When she heard the door unlock, she didn’t make a move from her room. She lived in one of the apartments with a couple of her friends. She didn’t complain when the older students took her in, just going with the flow. She heard footsteps come up the stairs and a quiet but prominent knock on her door and then the door clicked open. She looked up and smiled, placing her laptop to the side of her and getting up from the bed.

She walked over to him and opened her arms, allowing him to walk into them as he dropped his beg and let his head fall to her shoulder. She placed her left hand on the back of his head and her right hand wrapped around his torso. Her fingers scratched the base of his hair, slightly combing through his hair that he had grown out and the fingers on her right hand rubbed circles against his back. It was silent besides the soft sighs of Connor both from the long night and from the motions she was doing. 

He turned his head so his nose was now stuck in the crook of her neck before leaving small kisses there. She smiled a little as he did it, knowing that he was slowly going back to his usual ways. He pulled away soon after and rested his forehead on hers before she spoke, “You wanna go take a shower?”

He only nodded and made his way to the bathroom. She went back downstairs to finish up dinner, reheating a few things and then bringing them back up. She set the plates on her desk and crawled into her bed and tried to find something to watch that they would both like. She decided on A New Hope, it was the first thing that popped up when she went onto Disney, 

Connor came in around a couple minutes later and laid eyes on her as soon as he entered. This was one of his favorite things about coming to Chicago, was the fact that she came with him. The fact that her celebrating after winning still happened, the fact that she was comforting him after a loss still happened, the fact that she still gave him silly little gifts every once in a while still happened. It was the best feeling in the world.

He threw his clothes to the side, not particularly caring where they landed. He pulled himself up onto her bed and curled into her side, wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning his head into her shoulder. She smiled down at him, lifting her free arm to run her fingers through his hair. The motion made him close his eyes and sigh, becoming more and more tired.

“You gotta eat, baby.”

He only shook his head in response. He didn’t feel like eating nor did he think he deserved to have one of her meals after the performance he had tonight. Her smile turned into a frown and turned her attention to the TV as her hand slowly came to a halt, still tangled in his hair. When her actions stopped, Connor pulled away and looked up at her, “Are you okay?” 

Her eyes were dazed, “What? Yeah, why?”

“Because you became quiet all of a sudden.”

“I- you know how proud of you I am right?”

His eyebrows furrowed, “Where is this coming from, y/n/n?”

“I know you Connor, you always want to be the best. You always want to do everything you can. You always want to take the burden of not doing enough, take the burden of the loss.”

Connor looked ashamed, he wasn’t expecting this to happen tonight. He felt like he was being scolded by his mom at that moment. He looked up at her with his eyes but kept his head down. There was another beat of silence before y/n spoke again, “You’re eighteen. This franchise, this team, should not be putting this much pressure on you because everyone thinks you’re the next Wayne Gretzky. You should be allowed to be a kid, baby.”

He always knew how much he was grateful for y/n, she had been there with him through everything. But it was these moments that he was most grateful for, these moments that reminded him more than any others. The moments in which she made him feel like himself again, the ones where she reminded him that he was allowed to be a kid, that he doesn’t have to have all this pressure on him. 

Without saying anything, he buried his head back into her chest as he practically clinged onto her like she would disappear at any moment. This time he allowed his tears to fall and they dampened her, his shirt. Her fingers resumed their motion, running through his hair. She didn’t know what to say anymore and truthfully Connor didn’t want her to say anything. He just wanted to be held by her and listen to whatever she had put on in the background.

After a few minutes she pulled away to cusp his face in her hands, “Foods getting cold sweetheart. You gotta eat.”

As much as he didn’t want to, he reluctantly nodded and allowed her to get up to reheat the food that had gone cold. When she came back Connor looked more like himself, he was sitting up right on the bed, his clothes were straightened out, his hair was flattened, and his face and eyes were rid of any evidence of tiredness and previous crying that he had done. 

She gave him a soft smile before placing the plate in his lap and plopping herself down on the bed, “What do you want to watch?”

“I don’t care.”

She glared at him playfully, “Dude, I can never pick a movie you know this.”

“Do not call me dude.”

She could tell that her efforts of making Connor feel better were working, the smile that she loved ever so dearly was on his face and his eyes were lit up in the way that they did when he talked about hockey. She stretched her arm out and poked his stomach, “And why is that?”

“Because I am your boyfriend and you always call me baby or sweetheart.”

“Someone’s picky.” She turned away to face the tv and continued to look for something to watch.” 

Connor discarded his plate onto her desk and pulled her into his lap, his arms wrapping around her waist. She let out a loud laugh and looked at him, “I love you.”

Connor smiled and kissed her forehead and then her lips. “I love you too. Thank you for being here.”

𝑪𝑯𝑰𝑪𝑨𝑮𝑶 𝑩𝑳𝑨𝑪𝑲𝑯𝑨𝑾𝑲𝑺 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

if your name is crossed out it means i couldn't tag you

@dancerbailey3 | @if-my-heart-bleeds | @sarawinson78 | @pucks-goals-penalties | @privatemythss | @5secondsofonedirection222 | @piavettel33 | @bohemianrapshawty | @mikayladavis | @hockeyboysarehot | @Whoopwhoop123 | @dasiysthings | @rleigh-47 | @ivy-34 | @itsnotgray | @daisysnhl | @love4lando | @dyslecticdutchman | @hischier-papaya | @toasttt11 | @fratboyharrysgf0201 | @hearts-4-luke | @http-aatp | @biggiesmallspots

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#sunny lune writes #connor bedard #cb98 #connor bedard x reader #nhl #hockey #nhl imagine #nhl hockey #chicago blackhawks #nhl blackhawks

[ao3cassandraic]

As far as they can

At the end of the Job minisode, Crowley inaugurates Their Side by proclaiming Aziraphale "an angel who goes along with Heaven... as far as he can," parallel to his own stated relationship with Hell.

Only it... doesn't actually work that way. Their exactlies are different exactlies.

Crowley defies and lies to Hell as often as he thinks he can get away with it. He never disabuses Downstairs of their misconceptions about his contributions to human atrocities. He cheerfully lies in his reports Downstairs, something Aziraphale briefly turns on his Baritone of Sarcastic Disapproval about in s1. Crowley even turns evil homeopathic in the latter part of the 20th century, likely in hopes that it will look good to head office while accomplishing essentially nothing. (This, of course, is another way he Crowleys himself, both with the London phone system and the M25.) After Eden, Crowley's default given an assignment from Hell is to see how he can subvert it.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, defies Her and Heaven as little as he possibly can. Sometimes, as with his sword giveaway, his compassion gets the better of his anxiety. Sometimes, as with Job's children in the destruction of the villa, he can try to stay within the letter of the law by leaving the defiance to Crowley.

His default, however, is "'m 'nangel. I can't dis- diso -- not do what 'm told." This comes out most often as respect for the Great/Divine Plan, which to him is sacrosanct. He sounds quite sincere in s1 when he says "Even if I wanted to help I couldn’t. I can’t interfere with the Divine Plan."

Aziraphale quite frequently Good Angels along by parroting Heaven's party line, whether it's "it'll all be rather lovely" or "I am good, you (I'm afraid) are evil" or droning on about evil containing the seeds of its own destruction, or condemning Elspeth's graverobbing as "wicked" (a stance he offers absolutely no reasoned support for, no logic, no "but She said," not a word -- that's very Heaven; most of Heaven's angels have the approximate brainpower of paramecia). Maestro Michael Sheen even has a particular voice cadence -- I think of it as Sententious Voice -- he uses when Aziraphale is thoughtlessly party-lining.

When the angel's conscience wars with his sense of Heaven's orthodoxy but (and this is an important but) he can't feasibly resist whatever's wrong, he offers strengthless party-line justifications he clearly doesn't agree with (as with the "rain bow" in Mesopotamia) or resorts to a Nuremberg defense: "I'm not consulted on policy decisions, Crowley!" Once or twice, he's even vocally aware of Heavenly hypocrisy: "Unless… [guns]'re in the right hands, where they give weight to a moral argument… I think." This isn't Sententious Voice. It's I-can't-disobey-and-I-hate-that voice.

But at base, the angel prefers obedience (not least because it's vastly safer), and he'd rather have someone else do his moral reasoning for him. Honestly? Pretty relatable. I know lots of people like this -- hell's bells, I've been this person, though I grew out of it somewhat -- and I daresay you do too. Moral reasoning is hard and often lonely (since it can be read as self-righteousness or even hypocrisy) and acting as it dictates can hurt. Nobody would need ethics codes if The Right Thing was also invariably The Convenient Thing.

Many GO fans find these Aziraphalean traits frustrating! Especially his repeated returns to parroting Heaven orthodoxy! Sometimes I do too! (Not least because I'm rather protective of my own integrity, and it's cost me quite a few times. I'm well-known in professional circles for picking up a rhetorical spear and tilting at the nearest iniquitous windmill. I often lose, but I sure do keep tilting. Every once in a blue moon I actually win one.)

The key, I think, to giving our angel a little grace on this (beyond honoring the gentle compassion that is pretty basic to his character) is noticing how often he can be induced to abandon an unconsidered Heavenish default stance. As irritating as his default is, and as consistently as he returns to it, it's not really that hard to talk him out of it. Crowley, of course, is tremendously good at knocking Aziraphale away from his default -- he's had to be. But Aziraphale even manages to talk himself away from his default once, in the form of the Ineffable Plan hairsplitting at the airbase!

I think the character-relevant point of the Resurrectionist minisode is making this breaking-the-Heavenish-default dynamic as clear as the contents of the pickled-herring barrel aren't. "That's lunatic!" Crowley exclaims, when Aziraphale Sententious Voicedly parrots Heaven's garbage about poverty providing extra opportunities for goodness. Aziraphale isn't quite ready to let go yet, replying "It's ineffable."

But Dalrymple (who, I think, parallels Heaven, perhaps even the Metatron -- there could be something decent there, but it's buried too deep under scorn and clueless privilege for any graverobber-of-souls to dig it out) manages to break Aziraphale's orthodoxy by explaining the child's tumor.

Once released from his orthodoxy, Aziraphale can't be trusted to handle moral reasoning well; his moral-reasoning ability is not-uncommonly (though not always) portrayed as vitiated. When he gives Elspeth the go-ahead to dig up more bodies, his excuses are just as vacuous as they were when he was convinced of her wickedness. He knows that he's crossed Heaven's line, too, and just as at Eden it's worrying him. That's why he has to talk to Crowley to nerve himself up to help Wee Morag... only he spends too much time talking, and it's too late.

But Crowley can then talk him into bankrolling Elspeth toward a better life. Aziraphale doesn't even put up any fight, both because he's compassionate and because Crowley is temporarily taking the place of Heaven (he's even Heaven-sized and staring down at them!) as the angel's moral compass.

S1 has an even worse example of Aziraphale's moral wavering, actually. Crowley yells "Shoot him, Aziraphale!" and Aziraphale sure does try to murder Adam. Again, he's adopting his morals from the nearest (and loudest) convenient source. Madame Tracy, thankfully, has enough of a moral backbone to save our angel from himself and Crowley.

(With my ersatz-ethicist hat on: this is a fight between utilitarianism and deontology. Crowley is the utilitarian, which is actually a bit of a departure for him, but he's admittedly desperate. Madame Tracy is the deontologist: One Doesn't Kill Children. Aziraphale is caught in the middle.)

I wouldn't be surprised if part of the reason we start s3 with Aziraphale and Crowley separated is so that Aziraphale finally has to do his own moral reasoning, without Crowley's nudges. I don't think it'll be easy for him. It will absolutely be lonely. And it may well hurt.

But I will watch for it, because it's how he will become his own angel, independent of Heaven and even of Crowley. And he must do that.

#good omens #good omens meta #aziraphale #the resurrectionists #good omens s3 #s3 speculation #ethics #deontology #utilitarianism

[ghcstao3]

what about werewolf!ghost x vampire!soap 👀

hope you don’t mind me using the occasion to revive the rileys for an awkward family dinner

-

Being brought home to meet Ghost’s family is probably one of the more interesting moments of Soap’s (unbearably long) life.

And not only because he’s never properly dated someone as long as he has Ghost before—it’s also because said family isn’t human, and is more than aware of the fact that he drinks blood to keep himself alive.

So. Interesting is where he stands.

Soap is lured in with a false sense of security from two things—the first being Ghost’s insistence that his mother, brother, and sister-in-law are all nicer than him. The second being the warm smile Mrs. Riley offers him at the front door, entirely friendly and sincere, not like the brandishing of sharp canines that Ghost has flashed Soap with once or twice.

She’s pleasant to talk with, already siding with him when it comes to her son’s tendencies, and she even goes so far as to pour him a glass of pig’s blood she’d purchased just for the occasion. And being that it’s so nice, Soap doesn’t have the heart to tell her that he can only tolerate the stuff at best, especially now that he only ever takes from a specific source these days.

It’s through this lovely conversation with Ghost’s mum and the general sense of domesticity that has Soap believing that he shouldn’t encounter any problems when Beth and Tommy arrive.

But how wrong he was.

Beth at least tries to be polite, though Soap doesn’t miss the distasteful scrunch of her nose once she obviously catches scent of what Ghost so lovingly calls the wrongness of vampirism. Tommy, on the other hand, doesn’t so much as bother trying to hide his disdain.

(Thank God Soap finds out later that it’s mostly just the whole protective older brother act, but still. It hurts Soap’s feelings, just a bit.)

Dinner is absolutely stifling when all but Soap are eating what Ghost’s mum has made, all chatter dying off much too quickly in what little bouts Ghost, of all people, tries to initiate. Soap traces his finger around the rim of his barely-touched glass all while he tries to ignore Tommy’s pointed looks like Soap had done something to personally offend him.

Maybe he had.

“You’re sure about this, Simon?” Tommy eventually, finally asks after nothing but pressing silence. Though the question is asked to Soap’s left, he still feels golden eyes near identical to Ghost’s bearing down on him.

Ghost drops his fork onto his plate, his frustration palpable, emanating in waves. “Do you have to be such a prick, Tom?”

“Boys,” Mrs. Riley scolds from her end of the table. “We have a guest.”

“Yeah, and that guest’s a vampire, Mum,” Tommy spits, throwing out his hand in gesture to Soap. “He eats people.”

“Tom,” Beth hisses.

“Common misconception,” Soap mumbles. He feels all attention shift to him, as if they all remembered he was present—right, super-hearing. He clears his throat, raising his voice, “Only the… bad ones do that.”

“Besides,” Ghost is adding, and Soap is a little fearful of where he plans to take this, “he only feeds off me.”

A tense silence blankets the table. Soap wants to sink into the floor.

“…What?”

“It was my idea,” Ghost attempts to amend, but it’s already much too late. This is already a disaster, beyond disaster, and maybe Soap should’ve stuck to his guns about not meeting a family of werewolves as a vampire.

“Doesn’t matter, Simon!” Tommy exclaims his disbelief.

Ghost rolls his eyes. Soap had not at all imagined this to be where the night would lead. It’s what he desperately wished wouldn’t happen. Because he loves Ghost, and Ghost loves his family—so Soap had felt he needed to be in their good graces.

There goes that idea.

“I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t trust him, Tommy,” Ghost says slowly, challenging. “Is how I feel about him not good enough?”

This finally seems to stun Tommy into some form of submission. Soap doesn't miss Beth reaching out to flick Tommy's ear.

"S'pose it is," Tommy grumbles.

"Good." Ghost sits back in his chair, and resumes eating with a smug self-satisfaction poised in his broad shoulders.

There's a kick under the table delivered to Tommy, though Soap can't tell by who. He only knows its recipient by the muttered sorry, John, that follows.

Soap supposes he can be content with that for now. He gives Tommy a close-lipped smile, fearing that any show of fangs might provoke him.

All things considered, things could be worse. Even his military training wouldn't give him a considerable upper-hand against a natural-born werewolf.

He'll have to talk to Ghost about it later. Maybe when the werewolf is shifted, and Soap can dig cold fingers through thick fur. Then again another time, when Ghost can respond with more than huffs and whines and low growls.

They'll figure it out—they've already done it once before with just each other.

But they definitely have to smooth things over sooner rather than later, or else it's going to be real awkward when Soap finally gets the courage to pull out the ring that's been weighing his pocket down for little over a month, now.

It's fine. Everything will be fine. Soap can manage interesting.

#ask #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghost x soap #ghostsoap #ghoap #writing #alternate universe

[spotsandsocks]

Holding Me Up 688 words

7x1 missing scene for you… this hit me this morning because Eddie’s face as he stands against that wall has broken me. He needs a hug. If anyone has the gif and wants to add it for me please do I have no skill in that area! Spoilers for 7x1 obviously .Tagging some friends who might be interested under cut hope you don’t mind 😊

The wall pressed against his back isn’t warm, it isn’t cold. It just is. It’s just there.It’s holding him up. It’s keeping him hidden. It’s protecting him, just like it’s protecting Chris.

It’s keeping them safe from each other's pain. It’s letting his kind, beautiful, gentle son share his hurt, something he hadn’t seen coming, at least not yet, with the best man he knows. The only person he can trust with this. The only person he wants to trust with this.

It’s letting him close his eyes and allow his own hurt to flow through him freely. It’s holding him up while the ache of it all tries to take him to the floor.

The pain of losing her not once but twice still hurts but not like it did then, he almost wishes it did, his own pain is easier to bear than his; than Christopher’s words, his confusion and doubt. His fear and anger that he wasn’t enough to make her stay. That he’s lost his mother a third time now as her voice slips from his mind. As the gentleness of her fingers, the warmth of her arms and the scent of her disappears from his world. Christopher’s pain is unbearable but he faces it and allows every ounce of the agony to be felt.

The wall pressed against his back isn’t warm, it isn’t cold but is strong and he’s so very grateful for it.

Buck talks gently, so much understanding and compassion in his voice. So much love. Eddie asked Buck to do this and he came without question, jumped straight in. Buck has stayed with him, stood beside him and had his back for years.

Buck holds him up as much as this wall does.

Eddie stands still, aching and hurting as the two people he loves most talk softly to each other. He knows what he needs to do so he walks away to do it.

*

Buck finds him of course, with a quiet knock on the bedroom door and a even quieter ‘hey’

He looks up from the envelope in his hand. Buck’s lips are curled into a sad smile, his eyes are sad too.

“You heard.”

It’s not a question but he nods silently, tears in his eyes.

“I’ve had this for years now.” He looks back at the rectangle of paper in his hand. It’s easier than looking at Buck. “It’s from Shannon, she wrote it for him when she left.”

As he walks past Buck in the doorway, he pauses and allows himself to take comfort from the touch of a hand on his arm. Strong and warm and his. Theirs. He always has been.

Buck squeezes once then lets go so he can go and do what needs to be done.

*

Nothing hurts like your child’s pain.

Eddie leaves his son to his homework and walks away. There’s nothing else to do. He’s been hurt before by the things that have hurt Christopher but not like this. Nothing’s hurt as much as the words he’d shared with Buck, the way he discarded the letter or the way the photo of his mother was placed down on his desk.

He finds himself standing in the bright light of his living room, heart breaking for his baby boy’s broken heart.

“Eds?”

Buck.” Here. In front of him, waiting.

“He didn’t read it. Didn’t even open it.”

“He will, just give him time.”

He nods once, Buck’s right, Chris will read it and he’ll understand what happened a little better, he won’t understand everything, not yet but he’ll get there.

It’s still unbearable to see your child in such pain but he bears it because he has to and because he’s being held up again, not by a wall this time but by arms and a strong warm body, pulling him close and holding him tight.

Buck hugs him and whispers in his ear. “He’s a good kid and you're a great dad. It’ll be ok. It’ll all be ok.”

Eddie wraps his arms around the man who’s always been there for him and believes him.

@loveyourownsmiilee @monsterrae1 @shortsighted-owl @the-likesofus @hoodie-buck @loserdiaz @buddierights @rogerzsteven @bekkachaos @thekristen999 @ronordmann @caroandcats @hippolotamus @spaceprincessem @disasterbuckdiaz @heartshapedvows @underwater-ninja-13 @wildlife4life @wikiangela @stagefoureddiediaz @thewolvesof1998 @exhuastedpigeon @weewootruck @giddyupbuck @honestlydarkprincess @pirrusstuff @elvensorceress @jesuisici33 @eddiebabygirldiaz @daffi-990 @diazsdimples @steadfastsaturnsrings @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @rainbow-nerdss @lover-of-mine @tizniz @fortheloveofbuddie @actualalligator @watchyourbuck @loveyouanyway @buddieslovecore

#911abc #eddie diaz #evan buckley #christopher diaz #Buddie #buddie fic #buddie ficlet #7x1 misşing scene #7x1 coda #911 spoilers #911 fic

[spiderlily-w1tch-blog]

𝙽𝚘 𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝…

𝕂. 𝔼𝕚𝕛𝕚𝕣𝕠𝕦 𝕩 𝕋𝕠𝕞𝕓𝕠𝕪!ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

— — —

… I’ll always love you

There are 4 things you know for certain,

Eijirou loves you, no matter what.

Eijirou also loves seeing you in pretty dresses.

You hate wearing dresses with your whole being— you’d rather throw yourself in front of a semi than wear those awful contraptions.

You love Eijirou more than life itself, and you’ll sacrifice your own comfort to keep him.

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: I do not own BNHA or its characters, all credit goes to its creators and actors

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: Angst, Angst to fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurities, Emotionally Manipulative/Abusive Mother, Toxic Mom, Mentally Harmful Façade, Reader wears a dress when she doesn’t want to, Fear of Break-up(not gonna happen, babes, Ei loves you too much for that), Use of Y/n, One(1) mention of spicy times, I think that’s it?? Let me know if there’s any I missed

𝔐𝔦𝔫𝔦 𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢: I cannot for the life of me remember who wrote it but this was inspired by headcanons of how BNHA Characters would react seeing their s/o in a dress. If y’all know the author, let me know and I’ll properly credit them!!

Enjoy, Lovelies! ♡

【Ｍａｓｔｅｒｌｉｓｔ】

— — —

Y/n had been a tomboy since she was in 7th grade and just never “grew out of it”. She realized this is how she felt comfortable. Her mother always wanted her to be “more of a girl” so she would give Y/n passive aggressive “gifts” in the form of dresses and makeup and heels and a gazillion hair products. (She did end up using some of the hair products but not many)

Then, she started dating Eijirou. He loves her as she is! He doesn’t mind that she’s a tomboy and would rather jump in front of a semi than wear a dress and heels. But then, she suddenly felt a spark of femininity, as her mother would call it, and she grabbed one of the dresses her mother gave her. She couldn’t get rid of them because every time her mother came over, she would check Y/n’s closet to see if they were still there and she knew it would be way more of a slap in the face for her mother if she were to get rid of them than simply not wearing them. She was beyond frustrated with the woman but that’s still her mom and she couldn’t bring herself to knowingly— and internationally— hurt her like that.

She silently thanked her mother for at least getting a dress in the same shade of red as Eijirou’s hair and eyes, though she’d never admit it. She surprised her boyfriend with it on date night. While he waited by the door, she walked out wearing the red dress and black chunky-heeled kitten pumps(that is the highest heel she is ever willing to wear thank you very much!).

He was stunned to say the least before his face lit up and he spouted compliments at her left and right. The entire date night, he would make sure she knew how beautiful she is.

After that, she tried to wear a dress every now and again, but she wasn’t very comfortable in them. So she just tried to suck it up and stick it out for him.

She knew that he liked seeing her in dresses, he’d made that abundantly clear, so she shifted from once in a blue moon, to once a month, max twice. Though, when they’d go on dates, he’d hope(expect) for her to wear a dress. She wanted to feel comfortable on date nights, though, so she would mostly only wear a dress for special occasions. He’d be disappointed but he tried to hide it.

She noticed.

So she decided, one day, that she’d put on a dress when they got home and have a mini post-date-date. When she saw his face light up again, she suddenly started doubting her usual style and if she can really make him happy as she is or if he’d prefer a girly-girl like her mother wants.

“I, uh.. I know that seeing me in dresses makes you happy… So I’ll try and wear them more.” She fidgeted with a ribbon on the overly lacy dress as she spoke nervously, though she did her best to hide it.

“Really..?” A smile crept up on his lips before he remembered how much more comfortable she is in slightly baggy shirts and pants with spacious leg room, “You don’t have to. If you don’t want to.”

“Well.. It makes you happy so… I’ll wear dresses more.” She gave him her most realistic smile that seemed to fool him well enough.

“Thank you…” He gave her a soft, grateful smile.

So then, it started. She would wear dresses more and more until the only time Eijirou didn’t see her in one was when they went to sleep.

Until she got a nightgown.

He had some passing thoughts that maybe, Y/n wasn’t as happy with the change as she seemed, but he would often forget those thoughts when he would get distracted by how gorgeous she looked in whatever dress she wore for date night. She now wore more simple dresses around the house, not like the frilly, shiny, over the top dresses her mother had forced onto her.

Speaking of, now whenever her mother came over and saw her in a dress and saw the dresses no longer hidden away in a nearly forgotten corner in the closet, she was ecstatic. She praised Eijirou with backhanded jabs at her daughter mixed in, saying that he “fixed” her. That one made him really uncomfortable but he was happy enough with the rest of the praise from his girlfriend’s mother and having her approval.

Her father was less ecstatic about the change and was worried for his daughter at first as he knew how much she detested dresses and would often wear a suit to events in lieu of a frilly skirt— max a skirt suit, which was the only compromise her mother could ever get out of her. But when she reassured him that she chose to wear the dresses herself, he was placated enough that he didn’t place any suspicion or blame on Eijirou.

She had made a routine.

One that worked for her.

She would put on a simple dress in the morning and give Eijirou a kiss goodbye when he left for work. Send her big strong hero off with a smile and he would appreciate the sight of her in a dress as he went off to keep the city safe.

Then, after he had gotten far enough away she would practically race to their bedroom and wrestle out of the cursed contraption. Then, she’d slip into a nice pair of black comfy cargo pants or baggy sweatpants or basketball shorts and a baggy t-shirt, probably with some random movie poster or graphic design, one that she couldn’t bring herself to care much about, on the front.

She’d then do anything she needed to do for the day and revel in her comfy clothes that made her feel safe and sane.

But, 10 minutes before Eijirou returned home, she reluctantly parted with her sweet, dear pants and t-shirt and slid on the blasted dress again for him.

This became her normal. It was the routine she’d formed and she’d appreciate the time she’d get with her precious clothes each day. And she sucked it up for her boyfriend to keep him happy. She’d sacrifice her comfort to keep the man she loves.

Y/n could see how much he adored seeing her in dresses and skirts so she wore them so that he’d still love her. So that he wouldn’t leave her. So that he’d stay happy. The only time aside from when he was at work that she’d get any reprieve was when she would wear one of Eijirou’s shirts— only his shirt, maybe only her panties to accompany it— and he’d get riled up at the sight.

That routine was disrupted one day, though.

Eijirou had a short day at work and came home early. Much earlier than Y/n was expecting him. He had wanted to surprise her.

She was still in her comfy clothes, her pants and shirt and baggy hoodie as she lounged in the family room watching her shows after she’d finished all that needed to be done around the house and had a nice lunch with her sister who lived outside the country with her husband so they only had so many visits.

She was shocked by the sound of keys jingling in the lock and panicked as she looked down at her clothes. She vaulted herself off the couch just as he was opening the door. The distance between the couch, which was in direct line of sight of the front door, and the hall that lead to their bedroom was too far for her to escape unseen. It didn’t help that her foot caught on the back and so she had a rough landing before she could start sprinting.

“Y/n?” She froze, knowing she had been seen and she couldn’t just escape to their room as a vaguely recognizable blur. Her eyes began to water as she turned her body to Eijirou, though she kept her eyes down cast.

“I’m sorry, Eijirou..! I know you like me in dresses, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I-.. I’ll wear dresses. I will, I promise.” She rambled, trying to keep her tears at bay as she continued to ramble out apologies and promises that she’ll wear dresses for him.

Eijirou stood frozen and bewildered in the doorway, heart aching at his precious little girlfriend in tears at being seen by him not wearing a dress. His heart clenched at her making promises to only wear dresses and almost begging him to forgive her and the unspoken, underlying fear that he might leave her for it.

“Y/n, baby, pebble. I’m not upset, I promise.” He spoke gently as he closed the door and approached her, almost feeling like he was approaching a wounded animal. “Pebble, why would you think I’d be mad at you for not wearing a dress?”

“I-I know how happy it makes you when I wear them… And I… I want you to be happy…” She’d now shifted her gaze fully down at her feet as she shuffled them nervously, nearly glaring at the pants she wore.

“Baby, if you don’t want to wear a dress, you don’t have to. If you didn’t want to, you could’ve told me. I’m not gonna force you to wear it… Have you been…. wearing your comfy clothes just when you’re home alone?” She bit her lip in an attempt to stop her tears from spilling as she ashamedly nodded her head.

“I’m sorry…” She whimpered again, the broken sound of her voice broke Eijirou’s heart as he moved forward and wrapped Y/n in a hug.

“Oh, baby shark… You don’t have to be sorry. And you don’t have to wear a dress if you don’t want to. I love you just the way you are. If it makes you uncomfortable, then don’t wear those dresses, okay? I’m not gonna stop loving you if you wear pants and a hoodie.” He spoke softly to her as he cradled her to his chest.

“But-“

“Mm-mm, baby shark. No buts. I want you to be comfy. Why do you think you have to change for me?”

“Cuz.. I can’t.. make you happy if I’m wearing big ugly boy clothes… I don’t want you to leave.. So.. I’ll be more of a girl if you want me to.” He could hear it in her voice that she’s reciting the nasty things her mother had told her. All the jabs and insults and passive aggressive comments and “gifts” had really been drilled into her. It didn’t matter now how much Eijirou had reassured her before how much he loved her and didn’t mind in the slightest what kind of clothes she wore. Her mother had gotten so deep into her head that the moment he expressed any interest in her wearing skirts and dresses and the other shit her mother had gotten her, she became convinced that that’s where her value lie. That he wouldn’t want her anymore if she wasn’t a girly girl.

“Oh, pebble, no… You can make me happy no matter what you wear. And your clothes aren’t ugly, honey. They’re what make you happy. That’s not ugly. Honey, you could wear a potato sack and you’d still make me happy because it’s you who makes me happy not your clothes. I’m not going anywhere, you hear me? I’m not leaving anytime soon. I promise, baby. Hey, look at me,” he lifted her head gently so he could look into her glossy, wet eyes, “you don’t have to be anybody or anything but yourself, okay? It doesn’t matter if you wear a ball gown or a tux or a potato sack. As long as you’re you.” He smiled down at her gently and made her chuckle wetly at his insistence at the potato sack.

“Are you sure..?”

“A hundred- no, A million percent sure.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead and smoothed her hair down where it had gotten messy from her tumble.

“Ok.. I love you, Eiji.” She sniffled and leaned into him, relishing in his warmth surrounding her like a protective blanket.

“I love you too, pebble.” He smiled and kissed the top of her head.

“Do you actually wanna see me in a potato sack, though?”

They laughed for a solid 5 minutes before they calmed down and Eijirou could wipe the tears off her face.

“What do you say we get rid of those dresses now?”

“… Can we burn the ridiculously frilly ones?”

“… I’ll call Bakubro.”

#kirishima eijiro x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #kirishima x reader #tomboy!reader #hurt/comfort #angst to fluff #insecurity #kirishima eijirou is a big teddybear #bnha x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academia x reader #bnha imagines #mha imagines #spiderlily spells

[divinehedons]

in darkness and in secrecy

pairing: raider!joel miller x f!reader

word count: ~2.1k

summary: following your escape from the corrupt system of the qz, you run into the worst person possible in the guise of a lone raider.

warnings: this is a dark fic, minors DO NOT interact! non-consensual oral (f receiving) and vaginal fingering, knife play, bondage, reader gets a little cut up from the knife.

note: thank you for 300! please let me know what you think, comments and reblogs are much appreciated!

“Good, you’re awake.” It’s the voice you hear when you feel yourself emerge from the murky depths of sweet, silent sleep. Just then, you knew that your sought-after escape was over, and you were back in the terrifying consciousness of your post-apocalyptic reality. You blink once, twice, attempt to stretch your arms, only to be stopped mid-air by the bindings wrapped around your torso, your arms, tethering you to the chair as you gasp.

You remember the late evening, panicking as you ran through the context of your pack before you slipped out of the QZ. Water, dried fruit, sleeping bag, flashlights, batteries. You look over your tiny room once more, examining for anything that would betray your escape when, inevitably, someone comes looking.

Everything was too chaotic, too dangerous. Even the people that were meant to maintain some sense of order made you more terrified than those who creep along the Earth, the lovechild of life and death producing an unspeakable hell. So you ran, creeping along sewers and diving out of sight at the first sign of trouble. Dawn finds you among decimated cities, feeling the wind pass through for the first time in years. In this silence, you could almost imagine the bustle of pre-apocalyptic life, so unaware, so annoying, and now in nothingness, so treasured.

You remember, too, the sound of the same voice that woke you now. “Well, well, well… who do we have here?”

You tried to run. Truly, you did. If you were meeting your maker now, you’d have the gall to say you fought to the very bitter end. Whatever bitter end was waiting for you. You repeat the same sentiment when your vision clears and you’re finally met with the bearded face of the smirking man holding your head up by the hair. He visibly smirks at the glint of fear in your eyes.

“I don’t know anything, sir, I just want to get away-”

“Sir? You’re just a sweet, well-mannered little thing, aren’t ya, doll?” He leans closer, and you feel him inhale your scent from the very crook of your neck, leaving you frozen and limp in his hold.

–

Normalcy now seemed such a strange word to Joel. Days of waking up to the noise of his fan on hot Texan days, Sarah and her shenanigans, laughter, so much laughter that made his jaw hurt. Those were the days of walking memory, ghosts shaken from the grave. Perhaps that was why he was so taken by you when he saw you that morning. You looked… lived in, domestic. At least, as domestic as was possible in your new modern age.

Funny, he thinks, they used to talk of the future with the hope of flying cars, time travel, endless space– and here you both were, survivors of an apocalyptic event where survival may as well mean a death sentence. Funny, too, that he takes one look at you and he's immediately reminded of those distant drunken nights with the alluring warmth of someone, nights with legs over his shoulders, squeals in his ear.

He initially thought it was the determination in your bones. It is only when he looks at you again now, in the low light of their rendezvous point with your arms bound and your lip trembling, that he realizes just what it was about you. It was your eyes. Superficially meek with the spark of danger beneath the layers. Angelic fuck eyes that would lure God to the very gates of damnation. Maybe he was imagining it. Maybe the sight of a woman after so much depravity was enough of a threshold.

Why should one deny the sins of the flesh at the end of the world?

He tries not to repeat that sentiment as he moves closer to you, letting his tongue traverse your neck, your jaw, the back of your ear. He breathes you in again and he recognizes the soft, familiar scent of femininity that emanates from your very skin. He tries to chase it, almost taste it, chuckling as you tense beneath his hold.

There is the scent of milk– like baby’s skin, rare and treasured. It speaks of warmth, of your body being alive and struggling to live. 

To survive, no matter how many skies have fallen.

He grasps for a pretense, a reason, something to assure himself that he was doing this for something— some benefit that was beyond his own. It comes to him when he remembers the ration cards tucked in your backpack.

"You're from one of those Quarantine Zones, weren't ya?"

—

"Come on, little birdie, tell me your secrets…"

He peers over you like a predator toying with his prey. You feel your knees quake as you struggle against your bindings. You shake your head profusely, begging for him to see reason, for his humanity to prevail. But when you look, you know no answer will satisfy him. 

"No? Not even to tell me where they keep the goods?" You yelp, biting your lip gently. "Or… at least tell me how you escaped?" His hands grapple with the nearest blade, levelling it to your eyesight to show it to you; sharp and stained with someone else’s blood. It was a blade that has already claimed one life; streaked in dried rivulets, metallic smell unmistakeable.

The words escape you before you can stop it. Despite all things, despite the lies you have told yourself, despite the resolutions of blowing your brains out when morning comes. Even despite all that, something inside you still begs to stay alive.

“Are you going to kill me too?”

He laughs again, tilting his head to the side as he regards you in sweet, sweet silence. Like he enjoys the trepidation and sharp fear in your voice. “I was thinking about it, but now you’re making me think about somethin’ else, doll.” He lowers the blade, so carefully against your trembling skin. Slowly, he traces the razor sharp blade against your clavicle, your heart jumping into your throat as you tried to hold your breath. He drifts it slower, making you shiver, making you quake. “Pretty, pretty girl… you’re makin’ this so hard on yourself.” He slips his blade under the front of your jeans, shearing your pants wide open as you squeal from the burning sensation nicking your lower stomach. “That hurt, huh? Let me make it better, sugar…”

He tears your shorn pants off of your legs, taking more rope to tie each leg to the legs of the chairs. He kneels before you, prone like pagan worshippers in the face of their deity. He moves closer, and you clench your entire body with a shaky breath. Then he opens his mouth, tongue tracing along the cut and cleaning the bleed until all that is left is the stark red line of where he touched you. “Naughty, naughty girl…” He sinks lower keen eyes peering between your legs, his breath confirming your worst fear.

Perhaps it was the adrenaline. Perhaps it was the expectation of the violence rearing its monstrous head in our direction. Whatever it was… you have somehow gotten wet.

“Well, well, well… now you really can’t lie to me, sugar.”

For a moment, a brief, rare moment, silence falls throughout your body. It is solitude, it is rare. You wonder if it is acceptance. Your cries, even if your mouth uttered them, were sounds you could not hear. The older man’s chuckling and needling finally fade away, even for just a moment. You take a deep breath. You shut your eyes in an effort to forget those predatory eyes and beastly smirk. They say it goes quiet in the eye of the hurricane. You sometimes wonder if this was it– the moment of no return, where you, and just you, stood at the threshold of something you dared not to comprehend. Just then, the moment was over.

You are taken back to your wild cries, your begging, asking him to stop as his warm tongue traces the slit of your cunt through the worn-out cotton panties you had slipped on the night before. It is wet, sticky, naughty in nature. He devours your cunt through the cloth with a knowing chuckle when you oscillate between wanting to move away and seeking pleasure you never had a chance to understand.

“What is it, peach? Has no one ever tasted you like this?” He hums, moans obscenely, leaning up just enough to tear down your panties with a chuckle at the terror on your face. You shake your head, only to scream as he fucks his dry fingers directly into your unprepared cunt, coating himself in your fluids before taking you by your chin, making you suck your very own fluids while he laughs. “See? Look how much you’re soaking, absolutely creamin’ f’me.”

Did you really want this? Did you really ask for this?

“Good fuckin’ girl, didn’t even dare bite my fingers.” He pulls his hands away, drifting them down to your chest to grope you, one hand pinching and pulling until you screamed. “You ready to talk for me, princess?”

Little birdie starts singing.

"Someone cut through the fence before— I'm not the first one to leave!" You try and say more, only to cry out when those same rough fingers fucked up into your aching cunt. Despite your cries, all you can hear is the rolling of his tongue over his laughter, his face coming so close that his tongue was close enough to lick your cheek. “Please, I gave you everything you asked for!”

You feel him pause against your cheek, looking at you with a small smirk.

“Oh no. Not everything, sweet girl. I still want to see you cum.”

It’s funny how you spent so much time wondering when was the point of no return. You always thought you had a hand in deciding. Of course you were wrong. Perhaps the point of no return is called as such because you became mere purveyor, mere observer to what happens to your own body. Depersonalization made sense when you watch the older man lean down, tearing off what was left of your underwear, revelling in the distant sounds of your sobbing and begging, falling to his own knees to devour you so completely, so desperately that it brings you right back, dragging you to the forefront of your very own consciousness without the option to fade away and disappear. He takes, and he takes you with him in the sudden gush of pleasure from his lips wrapped around your clit and his fingers fucking your walls wide open without waiting for you to adjust to him.

It happens too fast. He fucks you and still he remains insatiable. He cares not if his beard hurts you. Cares not if you scream and cry for every infected to hear around. He damns himself, his own life, his own safety, just to taste the orgasm of a woman, whether she wanted it or not. He literally sucks your pleasure from you, letting you bleed ichor as you moan and cry and scream and beg, taken through waves upon waves of unbelievable, incomprehensible pleasure. You swore your vision turned to white right then and there, battered and broken upon your skin as you whine.

You felt almost guilty, rejecting such pleasure as if it was so readily available for the rest of the world. As if everyone felt such pleasure so easily. As if there was little to no suffering in the world.

He watches you orgasm, struggling against your bindings, falling limp against the chair as he grins up at you, beard soaked and cheeks red from how breathless he had gotten. You try not to look at him as your eyes well with tears of shame. “Should just keep you here, doll. You enjoyed that too much, no?” You try to disagree, squirming as he pulls you by your hair and presses your mouth over his clothed hardness, a stark reminder that he wasn’t at all finished with you.

Strange, you think, that when you think of when everything changed, you would always think of this. Just this. In darkness and in secrecy, Joel returns to you from the strange workings he does. 

Strange, you think. Because you left one prison just to be taken right into another.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #raider!joel #raider!joel miller #raider!joel smut

[happiest-hotch]

Secrets

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader (hurt and comfort)

Word Count: 3.7k

Content Warning: gunshot injury, mention of blood

There had been a debate about who would go and talk to him. Reid counted the pros and cons once they voted him off because they all worried he would launch into the statistics about whether or not she was going to live- statistics that weren't good-

JJ was too upset to be giving counsel and Morgan was on the phone with Garcia, trying to provide her with some comfort- something that was going unsuccessfully.

So that left Prentiss and Rossi, both of which didn't exactly want the job. It's seemingly impossible to offer advice to someone who never needed any, especially when this was easily one of the worst days of his life.

Emily volunteered so that Rossi could go back to the precinct with everyone else and wrap up the rest of the case, another job that was usually left for Aaron.

They could all feel the pain radiating off him as he sat in the uncomfortable hospital chair without moving an inch. Even if he would deny he cared about her more than anyone else, Emily was determined to do something.

"You should change." She told him, handing over a shirt and some dress pants of his that JJ had brought from his go bag once they realized he would not be leaving the hospital.

Aaron didn't move an inch. He stayed sat there with his body hunched over and his elbows resting on his knees, barely acknowledging her. His blue dress shirt was covered in blood, but he'd loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button.

It isn't meant to happen once to someone- being covered in the blood of someone you love- but it's happened to him twice now. Only this time, there was some tiny hope that the woman he loved would get to live and he was between trying to hold on to that hope and preparing himself for what was statistically the most likely outcome.

Aaron didn't even turn his head to look at her, but she could see the shiny tears against his cheek. "Do you know the last time I told her I loved her?" He asked, a question so far out of left field that she couldn't hide the way her mouth dropped open in shock.

"I didn't even know..." She started, unsure how to finish the thought.

"No one did." He cut her off, wondering whether or not the decision was right. If they had come clean with everyone then at least he would have been able to hold her hand in the SUV on the way to the unsub's house.

Emily looked back at where the team had been standing. "Rossi's claiming he did." She countered.

It made Aaron scoff lightly. If they weren't in the hospital and if there wasn't a large chance she was going to die, it might have been sweet for Rossi to insist he knew they loved each other just from the way they looked at each other.

"So...how long?" She asked.

Aaron knew she was trying to distract him, trying to get his mind off a situation he couldn't do anything about, so he played ball. "A year and a half, we live together."

Once again, Emily couldn't stop the shock etched on her features. She had no idea how none of them notice for so long. "Are you going to tell me that story then?"

Summertime in DC not only meant that it was warm in the mornings, but it also meant the sun was up earlier enough that Y/n and Aaron didn't have to wake up in the dark. Instead, once the obnoxious sounding alarm went off, they could open the curtains and the golden light could stream into the bedroom.

"Good morning." He mumbled, his cheek against his pillow so he could look at her while he lay face down on the bed.

"Hey." She replied, cupping his cheek and leaning forward so she can kiss him. It was past odd to see him like this, but occasionally she still thought about when he barely smiled and how lucky she was to see him with a smile and no shirt almost every day.

Aaron couldn't help the smile on his lips when she pulled away. He wrapped his arm around her waist, trying to close the distance that had been created between them in the night.

She stayed laying on her side, placing kisses all over his cheeks while tangling their legs together. "You kinda need to shave." She mumbled, fingers resting on the slight stubble along his chin.

"Heard no complains last night." He reminded her with a cheeky smirk.

"Be quiet." She scolded playfully. Aaron shook his head against the pillow, hair flopping around. In one motion, he turned over onto his back and pulled her on top of him. "We're going to have to get up in a moment, you know?" She asked, wrapping her arms around his waist regardlessly.

He shook his head again, nuzzling into her neck. "No, don't wanna."

"The team needs their leader, Hotchner." She told him, half-jokingly as she pulled back to give him the full effect of a peptalk. "You need to give the people what they want."

That made him laugh, his chest moving her up and down. "I'm all about giving a couple of special people what they want." He remarked, resting their foreheads together while he drew circles against her bare skin.

"So, you're making breakfast then?" She asked, smirking at him.

"I walked right into that, didn't I?" He returned, although he had no problem at all with it.

Y/n nodded, a joyful smile on her face at the little victory. "I would make you, but I actually want to." She decided.

"Then you're always going to be Jack's favorite." He pouted, big brown eyes locked on hers.

"Aw, that's so sad." She said sarcastically, a smile on her lips.

He used the hands that he had at her side to tickle her waist, making her squirm around on top of him while giggling. "Not stopping till you apologize." He declared.

"S-sorry! Sorry, sorry." She squealed out, thrashing around until he stopped. "Jeez, someone woke up on the wrong side of bed." She huffed.

"Y/n L/n, I will go again." He cautioned, hands back on her waist again threateningly.

She shook her head. "Not if you want breakfast, you won't."

"Fine, fine." He conceded, holding his hands up.

With one hand, she grabbed both his wrists. "You're in trouble now." She warned, using her other hand to try and tickle him in revenge.

"Sweetheart, I'm not ticklish." He reminded her.

"I'll get you back." She promised, still holding his wrists together. "When you least expect it."

He used how much stronger he was than her to flip them around, so his knee was between her thighs and he was leaning over her. "I can't wait." He whispered in her ear in agreement.

Y/n leaned up to run her hand through his hair. "Don't get too sexy with me, Aaron. Otherwise, there will be no BAU today."

"Don't tempt me." He quipped, getting up off the bed. It was beautiful to see him so relaxed in the mornings, a grin on his face.

Y/n held her hands out so he would pull her up. He did so effortlessly and wrapped his arms tightly around her to hug her. For a minute, they stood like that, Aaron with his head on top of hers, and Y/n with her head buried into his chest.

"I'll shower, and you do breakfast?" He asked, reiterating their plan.

"Mhm." She agreed, leaning up to kiss him before they split and he sauntered off to the ensuite while she went through their bedroom door.

Jack's room was down the hallway in the townhouse they brought and moved into months ago. It would have been nice to have the team helping them; Garcia helping with the decor, Morgan lifting the heavy furniture, Reid to figure out how to get their couch in the small doorway, JJ to provide a friend for Jack, Rossi to bring the celebratory scotch, and Prentiss to bring the snacks. But it didn't work out like that, and they were still happy.

Jack wasn't in his bedroom, but the Captain America covers were perfectly made, so she continued her search down the hall. "Good morning, little man." She greeted him, leaning against the bathroom doorframe as she watched him spit out his mouth full of toothpaste in the sink.

"Not little." He complained, hanging up his toothbrush before getting down off the bathroom stool. "I've grown 4 inches since kindergarten, dad said."

"Well, if you wanna grow some more, then you're going to need some breakfast, big man." Y/n reminded him, following after the 6-year-old as he bounced down the hallway, and to the kitchen.

Jack was already talking about his day and about all the things he was going to do on that particular Tuesday in first grade, and Y/n was listening intently like usual. She always found him interesting, even if he was talking about kid stuff.

"Get on up, partner." She instructed, nodding to the bar stool and walking to the other side of the kitchen island. She opened the fridge, pouring him the glass of apple juice he had every morning while she spoke. "What are you feeling like on this beautiful morning?"

"Pancakes." He cheered, amending his speech when Y/n shot him a look with raised eyebrows. "Pretty please."

She nodded at his request, turning back around to get some more things out of the fridge before she started making the pancakes on the stretch of bench in front of Jack.

"Do you ever feel scared?" Jack asked an out-of-left-field question she was used to getting from him.

Except this question sounded like it could be adjacent to his mom. "Sometimes, but daddy and I are always super safe." She assured him.

He still looked like the cogs of his mind were turning. "Did you know my mom?" There it was, and she wished Aaron was there to help her navigate her answer.

"I didn't." She answered honestly. "But she must have been pretty amazing to make you."

"I still talk to her sometimes," Jack revealed casually.

She was thankful he felt like he could talk about it openly because she never wanted him to feel censored. "That's good, bud. I'm sure she's looking out for you."

"I think she's looking out for Daddy and you, too." He told her.

"It makes me really happy that you think that, Jack. Thank you." She said honestly, feeling a bit teary-eyed at such an early hour of the morning.

As quick as the conversation was there, it was gone, and Jack was talking about his friend's birthday party on the weekend.

She turned to the stove once she finished the mixture. Then Jack giggled just a second before two tight arms were wrapping around her waist.

The shock made her squeal and spin around to hit his shoulder. "Aaron Hotchner." She growled as Jack burst into a fit of giggles. Aaron clearly found it funny too and she could feel his chest move as he chuckled.

"Sorry, sorry." He apologized insincerely with a smile on his face. She couldn't even stay faux mad with him while he held her, strong forearms holding her tightly as he rested his head on top of hers.

The cologne she loved so much was stronger than the smell of pancakes due to how close he was standing. Compared to his dress shirt, tie, and dress pants, she was dressed in only a shirt of his and some of her pajama shorts.

"You better be sorry if you want any of these pancakes." She threatened without any malice as she flipped the last few pancakes.

Aaron let go of her after he kissed her cheek, taking the stack of pancakes and holding them out so Jack could put some on his own plate.

"Thank you, Y/n," Jack said, smiling at her as he tipped strawberries onto his plate.

"Bud, I think that's enough sugar," Aaron told him when he kept tipping the jar out. He pouted a little before continuing to eat his pancakes. The adults stayed on the other side of the bench while they ate, where they could watch each other and Jack.

Their usual morning routine progressed, and Y/n went to take a shower while Jack got dressed and Aaron cleaned up and made him lunch.

"Hey, bud, did you want grapes or an apple?" Aaron asked when Jack walked back into the kitchen, dressed with his backpack.

"Grapes." He answered, sitting down to put his shoes on. "Do you know what I was talking to Y/n about before?" Aaron didn't, and he shook his head while assuming it was something about his school. "Mom." He revealed.

Aaron kept a neutral face while he made Jack's lunch. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah," Jack assured him, providing more relief than he probably realized. "I think mom would have liked Y/n. She looks after me like mom always did."

"That's very sweet of you, Jack." He replied, a little bit stunned by the little boy and unsure of what to say. "I hope your mom would think that too." He commented, closing the lunch box. and handing it to the little boy. "Come give me a hug."

Jack obliged, wrapping himself around his dad's legs before Aaron picked him up. "What are we doing this weekend?" He asked, his brain already somewhere else when Aaron put him back down.

"You can pick whatever you want. We'll be back by then." Aaron promised, watching as Jack packed his bag.

"The jumpy place." Jack immediately decided.

"Perfect, we'll go that then." He agreed. "I'll go see if Y/n's ready, okay?"

Aaron had half expected her to be finished getting ready by now, considering she wouldn't have washed her hair since she did it the night before and that her go-bag was already packed.

When he got into the bedroom, Y/n was still in the bathroom. "Hey, love, are you alright?"

She looked at the pattern of the tiled deeper than she ever had before as she sat on the countertop. "Yeah, I'm good." She lied, hoping he wouldn't detect it in her voice. "I might drive myself, though. There's something I need to do, and I don't wanna make you or Jack late." It was only sounding more and more like a lie. "I'll bring you coffee."

It was good enough for Aaron, who was slightly frowning as he noticed her go-bag on the bed. "Okay, I'll see you in there then." He decided it was better not to argue when he checked his watch for the time. "I love you." He called out.

Y/n smiled, although she didn't exactly feel like it. "I love you, too. Tell Jack I love him."

Aaron missed almost all of the little details as he retold the story to Emily, still private about their lives even if everyone now knew. "I didn't think... that would be the last time." He said sadly.

"It won't." Emily tried to assure him. Even if she wasn't sure of it herself, she was going to do everything in her power to convince him of it.

"Jack can't-" That thought made him out a hand over his mouth to avoid crying too loudly. "He was young when we lost Haley, young enough he doesn't remember too much of it, but he's 6, almost 7 now, and he's going to understand what it means when she doesn't come home." He rambled a little, revealing how nervous he was.

Emily shook her head firmly. "He's not going. She'll be fine."

"This." Aaron gestured down to the blood drenching the shirt he had been wearing that morning in the kitchen. "Isn't fine. They don't think she'll be fine."

It was his worst nightmare all over again, but this time there wasn't a phone call as a way of a goodbye, this time he had to hold her body before she slipped out of consciousness while her blood poured all over him.

"So the statistics aren't great, but she's Y/n, and she's not going without a fight." Emily reminded him, and he knew that much was true. "She'll be fine, Aaron, and you two can get back to your normal lives." She assured him, using his first name in a seldom occurrence. "Preferably with us involved."

The 10 hours was an excruciating wait, but Aaron knew that with each minute that went on, she was alive so he watched the clock tick with Emily sitting next to him. That whole time he didn't do anything but look at the clock on the wall and think about everything they had together and everything he wanted in the future for them.

The bloody shirt was a constant reminder of her, and every time he looked down he wondered if the last time he touched her would be on the cold concert floor of the basement when he called for a medic and attempted to act professionally.

Finally, the doctor called her name, and he prepared himself for the worst. It flashed in front of his eyes as he walked towards the doctor; crying loudly in front of everyone, pitiful looks on the jet, having to call her family, having to tell Jack when they didn't come back home together, the funeral. Would he even go back to the BAU when it had taken so many people from him?

And then he got told she was okay. Hurt, but alive and going to be able to walk out of the hospital. The doctor explained it all to him and Emily as he walked them to Y/n's room. "The bullet missed any major arteries in her chest, and by some miracle, it didn't shatter her clavicle. Even though she's on lots of pain killers, she's going to be sore when she wakes up."

Wakes up. Because Y/n was going to wake up and they were going to get to live the rest of their lives together. That was the only thing in the world that mattered to him, so much more than the team knowing.

"Agent Hotchner." The doctor stopped him before he went into the door after Emily had stepped away to call the team with the good news. "Did you know?" She asked, turning the clipboard she was holding around to show him something on Y/n's chart.

He had to read it a few times before he realized what it said, and his eyes quickly filled with tears. "No." He replied in a whisper, shaking his head.

The doctor nodded with a little smile. "She should be waking up soon." She informed him, walking away when he finally twisted the knob on the door.

Aaron couldn't believe it when he looked at her in that hospital bed, but he had never been more grateful for trauma surgeons or whatever forces of the universe had made it possible for her to still be here when she was so close to death in his arms.

He sat in the chair next to her bed, finally able to breathe fully into his lungs when he touched her hand, and it was warm. Not as warm as it should be, but much warmer than it had been in the warehouse.

She squeezed his hand first before her eyelids fluttered open. "Hi." He squeaked out, tears already falling down his cheeks. "You're in the hospital." He told her, knowing what it's like to wake up somewhere unfamiliar when you have no idea what's going on.

Her eyes were still getting adjusted to the blaring white walls of the hospital. "What happened?" She asked groggily, pointing to the water in the hopes he'd know to pour her some so she didn't have to waste the words.

He did, and he sprung up to pour her a cup. "You got shot, so badly that they didn't know if you would live."

Y/n drank the water gratefully and tried to adjust on the bed, which was incredibly painful. "The unsub?"

"Dead, and the little girl's okay." He reported back to her and he should have known it would be her main concern. "But don't think about work. How are you feeling?"

"Pretty bad." She answered truthfully, trying to find the remote so she could sit up. "I need a hug." She told him, opening her arms as much as it hurt.

Aaron quickly hugged her as delicately as possible before cupping her cheeks and kissing her gently. "I love you." He told her the one thing he wished he hadn't waited so long to say.

"I love you, too." She replied. "But there is something I need to tell you."

Aaron tried to act like he didn't know, but he jumped in with his own confession. "Me too. They know."

That was something she could live with without any problems. After all, it was a long time coming. "I sure hope they do." She joked. "You better not have treated me like a colleague, Aaron."

Seeing the color return to her face relieved him and finally convinced him everything would be okay. "They know everything." He told her. "Well, most of it."

"Yeah... that." Y/n delicately spoke, biting her bottom lip.

"How long did you know?" He softly questioned. It wasn't her intention to cause her any extra stress.

"Tuesday morning." She mumbled. That made sense to him, why she wanted to drive herself when they always dropped Jack at school and drove to the BAU together. "Don't tell me off for not telling you because I wanted it to be special, and I sure as hell didn't think I'd get shot." She quickly pleaded with him. That was the problem with having your boyfriend as your boss.

Aaron shook his head, squeezing her hand. "I'm not going to tell you off, my love." He assured her. None of it was as important as having her alive. "Not when you're alive and okay."

"And pregnant."

#aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner au #aaron hotchner x female reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds family #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds angst

[citruslullabies]

DAMN ur writing is amazing man, keep it up, ur doing great !!<3

also hope u dont mind me asking but do u think u can do a dogday x reader where he's in love with her, but she has to refuse him everytime since Poppy playtime co. wont let relationships happen between coworkers. ps. this happends before any of the disasters happends (dogday is still a human worker,,,ig Rich, since that is a really big theory rn) also its angst, HEAVY angst. they dont deserve happyness (its half of my oc lore,,i need to make her feel pain) ((ALSO as a payback for this, if u'd like, i can do a fanart for u ! ^_^))

No YOU'RE amazing!<333

Trigger warnings: none

Requested by: clownsgirlghost

Romantic/platonic?: romantic-ish?

Category: angst

Ship (romantic or platonic): Dogday x reader

Word count: 496

Professionalism

The building was buzzing with children's laughter and the chattering of critters and employees alike, the colorful place being a place of happiness with an underlying tone of secrets far too dark for the public.

“Rich, for the last time, no.” you said with a sigh, not even looking at him as you continued with your work. The canine mascot frowned snd groaned, holding a bundle of flowers in hand that he heard from co-workers were your favorite. He leaned in a bit but kept his distance respectfully. “Please? I promise, we can go out to dinner and I'll pay, everything. You can even choose the restaurant!”

You sighed as you paused your work momentarily, just long enough to look back at the Dogday mascot. You shook your head with a frown growing ever deeper as this interaction continued. “You know the rules.” You stated, which was a sad and harsh reality of it all. They had to stay strictly professional. It's not that you didn't like Rich, it's just that you'd like to keep your job.

The man was upset, but respected your wishes and went back to work. He asked at least twice a week and the answer was always the same, he just wished that you'd give him a chance. He's willing to go to the end of the earth and back just to go out to dinner with you but he respects your wishes of not doing so. As the days went on, there seemed to be an overgrowing tension in Playco.

You started to avoid Rich, not wanting to hurt his feelings any further as you kept yours chained down like some feral dog with rabies. You kept to your work and made it clear what your boundaries were, one day he went back up to you with no flowers or anything in hand. Just himself.

“Hey.. I was thinking-” before he could even finish, you responded with annoyance at his persistence despite you making a clear boundary with him. You pinched the bridge of your nose as you took a deep breath.

“Rich. You're a cool dude, but get it through your thick skull that I am not going out with you. I'd rather keep my job then get a write up or worse, fired because I decided to go out on a date with you.” You said, keeping your composure as well as you could. You shut your eyes as your stomach felt tight and heavy with bubbling feelings of too many things at once. “Just leave me alone and do your work, so that I can do mine.” You stated bluntly before turning away from him and continuing your work.

Poor Rich walked away, hurt. All he wanted was to ask you if you'd like to go out to lunch with him as friends. He just wanted to stay as friends if he couldn't be with you romantically.

Shame that he won't get that chance again after tomorrow.

Thank you for requesting! And art would be AMAZING!

#smiling critters #dogday x y/n #dogday #dogday x reader #dogday poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #poppy playtime

[myg-butterfly]

Nothing New (TEASER)

Idol!Bts x Choreographer!Reader

Hurt/Comfort, ANGST, Eventual Fluff, Jealousy, and Insecurities

Release Date: TBA

A/N: Hi guys! This one has been in the works for a WHILE, I keep getting stuck in certain parts, but I'll be done soon! For now, here is the little preview I posted about like a week ago. I hope you enjoy! Kissies and huggies!

.

Finally, a long-awaited date with all of you. The boys were filled with energy, talking and joking on the ride there, and you felt your heart growing lighter: you still had them.

They even helped you get off the car with all the gentleness in the world, helped you get in your seat and made sure you were completely comfortable.

The lightness quickly weighed down into something much heavier when you saw Joanna walk in and make her way to the table.

And the weight felt like it had been dropped to you feet when the guys scooted to make space for her, Namjoon even standing up to hug her and letting her sit first so she'd be in between him and Jungkook.

How long has it been since they hugged you with such happiness?

"Oh my god, Y/N, hi! The boys didn't tell me you would be here."

Something about the way she said "the boys" made your hands itch, almost as much as your throat itched to say 'likewise'.

"Welp. I'm here. Haha."

Dinner wasn't fun, to say the least.

Joanna was blatantly saying shit to embarrass you the entire time, and it even worse, your boyfriends seemed to be soaking up her every word, laughing whenever she pointed out something embarrassing about you when she knew you in high school.

"Yeah! And when we choreographed together, she would always forget her parts." She lets out a giggle and Hoseok laughs too: what's so funny?

"It was only once or twice." You groan, mostly to yourself, but Joanna hears it.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Everyone laughs at her words again and suddenly, you start to think that staying home was the better option.

"I've always said she has the memory of a goldfish. Sometimes it felt like I was doing all the work because i constantly had to step in and help when Y/N froze up."

She turns to you to ask her next question:

"How are you doing now that I haven't been here to clean up after you? Are you making Jimin do it?" She laughs and nudges Jimin, who's sitting next to her, on the shoulder, and he happily shoves back with a bright smile on her face.

"I'm fine, it's rare that I forget stuff lately." 

She gasps in a dramatic manner - you wish she would just disappear already.

"You? Not wasting time in rehearsal? Because you forgot? That's unheard of!"

You hate the way pretty much all of the guys laugh at her words: they know how much work you've put into being a good choreographer. Why were they laughing at you? 

Suddenly, you feel the person next to you pressing up closer against you: Seokjin.

You look at him and he has a soft smile on his face, but not towards Joanna; his entire focus is on you. 

"You have a really good memory darling. We can tell you've worked on it." The knot in your stomach softens its grip after hearing Seokjin's words, and for the first time since you got here, your smile is genuine.

"Anyways, how'd you injure yourself?"

"Oh, we were doing some cardio and I tripped. Fell at an awkward angle and it twisted my leg. Haha."

Joanna laughs a little too hard at this.

"I've always also said that for a supposed dancer you sure are clumsy as hell."

Some of the guys giggle at her comment, and you look down at your lap: why were they laughing at you? 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Seokjin sit up a little straighter, and you suspect he's gonna say something.

"Supposed dancer?" He raised a brow and to most people, it would've seemed like he was just egging onto the joke, but you and the rest of the table could tell that there was a serious undertone to his question.

It was no secret in your relationship with the guys that Seokjin had a specific soft spot for you – in a relationship as big as yours, its bound that all of you will have your weak spots for one another: Jungkook and Namjoon, Jimin and Taehyung, Hoseok and Yoongi, you and Seokjin. 

So you were more than relieved when he met your gaze; he knew you were uncomfortable. 

And as everyone knows, he's not one to stay quiet. 

"I just mean it's surprising that for someone so clumsy she went into the professional world where coordination is crucial."

Jungkook uses this point to tease Namjoon, and thankfully the attention is taken off of you. You catch Seokjin's stare again and this time it's accompanied with an apologetic smile and him reaching out his hand to hold yours. 

As your hands meet on top of the table, you seem to be the only one who notices the look Joanna sends you at the display of affection.

............................

#bts #bts fic #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts au #bts imagines #bts angst #bts ff #bts comfort #bts hurt/comfort #bts poly #bts ot7 x reader #bts reactions #bts x y/n #bts x you