#this ended up a lot longer than i had originally intended

[oxydiane]

Harry is eight and spending the time he isn’t locked up in his cupboard, or doing house chores, or running away from Dudley and his gang, at the nearby park. He sits on the swing and idly watches the most beautiful boy he’s ever seen.

His name is Malcom, his hair is light brown and his eyes are the prettiest blue Harry’s ever seen.

But— but boys aren’t supposed to be pretty. Boys aren’t supposed to think other boys are pretty, so he makes himself smaller in his worn out jumper and never approaches him again.

Harry is eleven when his life turns upside down and a gangly freckled kid sits next to him on the Hogwarts Express. He looks into his blue eyes and marvels at the bright red of his hair. He wants to reach out and clean the bit of dirt off his nose, but that would be getting too close to another boy, and he couldn’t afford that, could he?

Not when he could imagine tracing all the freckles scattered across his cheeks.

Harry is fourteen when Cedric Diggory falls from the sky and offers him help getting up after using his first Portkey. His hand is big and as calloused as he’d expect a Quidditch player’s to be. He doesn’t like dwelling on the thought of how nice he’d found it.

He asks Cho Chang to the Yule Ball and she rejects him because Cedric Diggory had been quicker. He ends up spending the night on a chair intently looking at the way Cedric’s hand curls around Cho’s waist. He was jealous of him, right?

He tells Sirius about the Yule Ball and he raises an eyebrow at the way Harry describes Cedric’s robes and styled hair but can barely remember the colour of Cho’s dress.

Harry is fifteen when Cho Chang finally agrees to go on a date with him. It happens after they kiss and Harry is eager, he should be, right? The kiss had felt wet and not particularly pleasant and his chest felt a lot warmer as he watched the way Ron laughed when he described it than it had felt when his lips had collided with Cho’s.

The date doesn’t go well, maybe Harry just doesn’t get women.

Sirius says it’s ridiculous, but he doesn’t miss the odd look he and Remus give each other.

Harry is sixteen when he dreams of red hair and freckled skin and in order to escape it he decides to stay up at night and stare at Draco Malfoy’s dot on the Marauder’s Map.

It doesn’t do him good.

He decides the bright red infesting his dreams must be Ginny’s, because he doesn’t know any other red-haired girl. Even though she wears it long and when he dreams it’s short and spiky. And the freckles on her cheeks are not as numerous as the ones he marvels at after falling asleep.

He decides it has to be Ginny, and the thought of it can occupy his mind long enough to make him forget the weird pang and slight sick in his stomach each time he catches Ron snogging Lavender.

When Ginny runs up to him after winning the Quidditch up, he kisses her, because that’s what he’d been dreaming about, right? Hands tangled in red hair and freckled cheeks centimetres from his face, but it feels all wrong.

Ron nods at him and it all feels wrong.

Sirius is not here anymore for Harry to consult, so instead he takes Ginny outside their common room and, on the Hogwarts grounds, opens his heart to her.

She understands.

Harry is seventeen when he has to die and he still hasn’t made sense of the feelings in his chest or why, no matter how much he tried, girls felt so wrong.

It’s not at the forefront of his mind, it’s not even close because the only thing he can think about is the warm bodies laying lifeless in the Great Hall.

But, as he approaches his death, he does spare a thought for the uneasiness he had felt when Hermione kissed Ron, and the discomfort every kiss he’d given before had provided him. He hadn’t lived in full, not even close.

A flash of green light approaches and he finds it silly, how his last thought is of red hair and freckles.

Harry is eighteen when he attends his first Weasley family dinner after the war. The grief is heavy and Fred’s chair is empty but Percy is back home and it does bring at least a shard of comfort to Mrs Weasley. He isn’t alone, Oliver Wood hangs from his arm.

He is eighteen and Percy Weasley introduces Oliver Wood as his boyfriend.

Harry blinks at them and something in his head just clicks.

Harry is twenty when he finally musters the courage to walk into a Gay Bar. He had to Confund the door keeper because he didn’t own an ID, the Dursleys had never bothered giving it to him, given he even had one.

It’s a Muggle place and he feels like the odd one out, terribly dressed down and completely clueless.

He ends up ordering a beer and sitting by the bar.

It’s not until his third visit that a stranger approaches him. He has red hair but his pupils are a soft hazel and his skin isn’t freckled at all. Harry thinks that if he shuts his eyes close, maybe, he could pretend.

His name is Lucas, his lips taste vaguely like strawberries and the kiss doesn’t make Harry want to turn his insides inside out. He smiles and the rush of adrenaline in his veins as Lucas nibs on his bottom lip feels both terrifying and terribly right.

Harry is twenty-three when the cat gets out of the bag.

It’s not because he wanted it, really, but sharing a flat with his best mates could be inconvenient, at times.

He flushed and urges his date to get dressed as he tries to avoid Ron and Hermione’s shocked looks. Their hands are clasped together and Harry has learnt to live with the uncomfortable twist of his stomach by now.

They come off it quickly, though. Ron laughs and pats Harry on the back, says everything is much more clear now.

Harry is twenty-five when he makes his best-man speech at Ron and Hermione’s wedding.

He chokes on his words both because he was never that good at public speaking and because each time he looked at the way Ron’s arm curled around Hermione’s shoulder his throat went a bit drier.

He drinks his glass of champagne in one go and relishes in the burn before fetching Gabriel, his date for the night.

Gabriel stood out like a sour note next to his exes: his hair were a dusty blonde. Harry had thought there would be way too many redheads at the wedding anyways.

Harry is thirty-one when Ron jokes he will never settle down if he keeps on changing men at the same rate he changes his pants, but Harry doesn’t care.

Ron looks thoroughly annoyed and Hermione coughs, worried and almost resigned eyes looking up at her husband.

Harry is thirty-three when Ron shows up at his place with a suitcase and bashfully tells him Hermione wants to file for a divorce.

He just nods and lets Ron in.

Harry is thirty-five when Ron brings back a bottle of expensive Firewhisky and decides they should celebrate the Cannons’ new victory streak on their own.

He hadn’t heard of the Cannons winning anything, recently, but he shrugs it off because it’s not really his thing anyways, Ron would know.

He is thirty-five and Ron, red-haired, freckled and now face flushed sits way too close for comport and traces his lips with a pinky.

He stands up abruptly and loudly declares it’s time for bed. Ron looks quite annoyed, but it will pass.

It must have been his imagination.

Harry is thirty-seven when his best mate breaks down crying in front of him and confesses his feelings through agonising sobs.

He keeps apologising and a tug at his hand breaks Harry out of his stupor. He was sure it must have been a dream, but Ron was real and crying and trembling.

He leans down wordlessly and, finally— sparks.

He is thirty-seven and this is the first time he’s ever felt so alive.

Harry is forty-two when Hagrid walks him down the aisle.

It’s clumsy and messy because they’re both trying not to cry, Harry being much better at it than the half-giant.

He catches a glimpse of Hermione, beaming at him from the front with a knowing smile.

He is forty-two and he is in front of Ron, in white robes. The voices around them nothing but white noise and then Ron leans down and all he can see is— red. Red hair and freckles.

#this ended up a lot longer than i had originally intended #sooo #but the idea struck me #now it’s 3 am help #anyways #soo writes #harry potter #harry james potter #ron weasley #ronarry #rarry #cedric diggory #hedric #cho chang #hermione granger #romione #sirius black #good godfather sirius black #albeit briefly #drabble #the gay experience #the dursleys #i could have written this better but #it is what it is #no beta #remus lupin #molly weasley #percy weasley #oliver wood #perciver

[inbarfink]

Okay, so… The ending flashback in “I Remember You” is often assumed by fans to be specifically the moment where Simon and Marcy first met. Like, Simon stumbled on this Weird Gray Kid crying in the middle of the apocalypse, cheered her up with a dolly and only after that Simon started taking care of Marcy full-time. 

However, while this seems to be a pretty logical interpretation of the scene - a look at the original storyboard actually reveals that was not the original intention.

You can argue whether or not it was properly conveyed in the finished episode, but the intent was supposed to be that these two already knew each other and were already a tiny lil’ post-apocalypse family (‘he has left her alone for some reason’ implies that they would usually be together at this point).

I mean, since this idea wasn’t really all that clear in the actual episode, a lot of people who did know about the storyboard notes (myself included) still assumed it wasn’t really canon. You know, it didn’t seem like such a big deal. What’s the big difference between Simon giving Marceline Hambo on the first day they met or not? What difference does it make?

And even when this idea was discussed, it was generally within the framework of, like, speculating about a possible connection between Simon and Elise (Marceline's Mom). And/or that Marceline specifically knew Simon before the War. Since neither of these ideas ever really came back in the Show itself, most people just kinda forgot about these Storyboard notes - if they ever knew about them in the first place.

It’s only very recently that it suddenly dawned on me; what was the original intent behind that scene, what is the meaning it was trying to convey, why was it so important to specify that Simon and Marcy already knew each other in that flashback. 

If this is Simon and Marcy’s first meeting then the narrative is, like we mentioned above, that lil Marceline was crying in the rubble because she misses her mom or she just really processed that the world has been destroyed, or because she was tired, or hungry. Then Simon sees the poor little girl weeping and immediately sets on to cheer her up and help her in whatever way he can. That is still a very solid narrative that focuses on Simon’s kindness and strong parental instincts. I can see why so many people are attached to it as their interpretation for that scene. It certainly makes sense for Simon’s character overall and Marceline’s relationship to him.

But the intended meaning is actually uniquely important as a part of “I Remember You”. Because the narrative implied by the fact that they knew each other at that point is that Simon has left Marcy alone ‘for some reason’ (scouting ahead? Forging for food in a dangerous area?) and Marcy probably started crying because of that. Maybe he was taking longer to come back than he promised her to, maybe she just started getting anxious because she’s a little kid all alone (who already has abandonment issues pre-packaged from her mom). 

But whatever the specifics are, with this one extra detail of ‘they know each other’ it seems extremely likely that Marceline was crying because she thought Simon had left her forever. 

But Simon did come back, ran straight to her, comforted her and reassured her that no, he didn’t leave her behind, he’s right here. And then he gives her Hambo as both an apology for leaving her behind and a reassurance.

A reassurance that he’s still here, and he’s not going to leave her.

#adventure time #atimers #ice king #the ice king #marceline #simon petrikov #marceline abadeer #marceline the vampire queen #marceline adventure time #simon and marcy #i remember you #simon adventure time #adventure time simon #adventure time marceline #adventure time analysis #at simon #at marceline #simon at

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

My Top 10 Fics Of 2023

So, because it is the 'wrapped' time of year where everyone looks back on their year through playlists and other types of stats - I thought that I would look back on my year through something completely nonobjective and based on exactly 0 data - my favourite fics I have written this year that are based completely on my personal enjoyment of them.

Last year, I did something similar to this where I counted down the top ten fics based completely on data - how many notes each fic had gotten on tumblr. But most of the posts were shorter fics that I hadn't spent a lot of time working on that I wasn't very proud of. (Like the fact that my current most popular fanfic on my sideblog for fanfiction is the shortest in word count.) So I have decided to go over the fics that are the most popular in my heart - countdown style.

This year I have written 39 different fics and I have written over 395,000 words, and these are my favourite fics that I have written.

Honorable Mentions:

Black Suit - Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader (2,900 words). One of the most well-rounded fics I have written in such a short word count. And just - look at her.

My Bleeding Heart - Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader (3,400 words). I have never used Death Eaters as the basis for angst in a fic and I had so much fun with it. Plus the kidfic fluff at the end was really fun too.

IFHY (I Fucking Hate You) - Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader (8,100 words). So @holy-minseok made a post about how there isn't enough fics with reader characters that aren't nice and sweet and I haven't stopped thinking about it since. Because I have so many fics with rude, toxic readers and this is absolutely one of them. This reader is a Grade A Bitch and that's a huge reason why I had so much fun writing it.

Better Than Sleeping - Jason Todd x Fem!Reader (5,300 words). This is some of the best quality smut I have written this year, hands down.

The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (8,200 words). I love writing fics based on specific episodes of a show, and this definitely helped to fulfil my whump quota for the year.

Sweet Revenge - Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader (16,200 words). This is a fic that definitely converted me from a hardcore Abby girl into an Ellie girl. I am very proud of it. (And eventually I became an EllAbs girl, as god intended.)

Free Use Day - Poly!OG!Titans x Fem!Reader (14,300 words). This is probably my most epic and honorable of the honorable mentions. This is the first time in years that I have written such a long pwp, and it's written about some of my ult favs. So I fucking love it. (It came so, so close to making the top ten.)

(Now, onto the top ten.)

The Top Ten:

10. Dreaming Of You - Gar Logan x Fem!Mute!Reader (31,300 words)

You and Gar have been best friends for a long time. Nothing could disrupt the harmony of such a perfect friendship. Nothing except maybe… your usually predictable powers going haywire and somehow showing you all of his heated daydreams about you. But he couldn’t possibly have romantic feelings for you. He couldn’t possibly want anything more than your close platonic friendship and the occasional steamy fantasy. Right? Gar Logan x Fem!Mute!Powered!Reader. Best Friends to Lovers. Smut and (Slight) Angst. Set during Season 2.

At first I wasn't even sure if I should put this one on the list, because it's technically a re-post, but I was like fuck it, I make the rules here. And the reason it's at 10 is because technically I wrote most of this in 2021 originally (though it feels like longer ago than that omg), but this year I heavily updated the fic, including writing some new scenes for it that flesh it out very nicely. To me, this is everything a good re-post should be. It cleans up what was already there and amazing about the fic and it enhances it so much.

I loved the concept of this fic from its core, and now I get to be so, so proud of the way I have enhanced it years later. To me, this will always be my core Gar fic (as much as I will always write more for him) - and it is something I am truly, genuinely proud of. If you love Gar and you love smutty fantasies involving him, I highly recommend checking this fic out.

9. No Brainer - Derek Cho x Fem!Reader x Melanie Cross (Mayhem (2017)) (7,100 words)

When the ID-7 Virus, aka the Red Eye Virus hits Towers and Smythe Consulting, it throws the entire office building into chaos. With a mandatory quarantine from the CDC in action, that chaos builds in on itself, and somehow, you, Derek, and Melanie get everything that you want. aka You have something Derek and Melanie need. Derek and Melanie have something you want. You all agree to make an exchange, and everyone ends up more than happy. Derek Cho (Steven Yeun) x Fem!Reader x Melanie Cross (Samara Weaving). Co-Works to Lovers. Smut. Based on the film Mayhem from 2017.

This is one of my personal favourite fics of mine that I believe very few people following me have ever read. I absolutely love writing fics based on random one-off horror movies - I have way more in my drafts, and one of my goals for 2024 is to complete and post more of them. But one night I was laying in bed and I randomly watched this film because I knew Steven Yeun was in it. I had seen a lot of clips of him covered in blood and yelling, and I found him really hot in those clips, so I knew that I would enjoy the film. And I absolutely fucking did. Not just based on his hotness, but just - the entire film was so, so enjoyable.

Also, the ID-7 Virus, a fictional sickness that lowers your inhibitions (something that is shown in the film to work like sex pollen) is the perfect basis for a fic. So I literally started writing this on my phone before I had even finished watching the film. And I posted it a few days later. I think it's just pure fun. One of my favourite things to write about is a healthy combination of horror and sex, and this is definitely toeing the line perfectly in my opinion. If you haven't seen the film, I highly recommend it - watch it, and then come back and read this fic.

8. My Heart Is The Worst Kind Of Weapon - Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader (9,600 words)

Ellie confronts your abuser, and after years of torment, you finally feel free. Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader. Strangers to Lovers. Hurt and Comfort.

This is a fic that is very close to my heart. Not only is named after a tragically underrated Fall Out Boy B-Side, one of my favourite songs ever, but it is a fic about conquering the abuse of a family member - and when I wrote this, it was coming from a place of the utmost sincerity.

I am someone who has experienced abuse from a family member, and it felt so entirely empowering to write this - to write about someone coming to your rescue so honestly. Someone rescuing you out of pure want, not because it's an obligation or a burden. But because they are compelled by their own morals and they feel that your abuse is a cruel injustice against the world. This and the companion fic I wrote for Abby with a similar storyline are two of the most important fics that I have written this year.

7. Ghosting - Mike Schmidt x Fem!Reader (3,700 words)

Mike has been in love with you for as long as he can remember. For about as long as the two of you have been best friends. He always thought he would have more time to work up to confessing those big, dangerous feelings for you - until something more dangerous swooped in and stole any time he had left with you. Mike Schmidt x Fem!Reader. Star-Crossed Lovers. Pure Angst. Set during the events of the movie (and features spoilers for the plot).

I feel like this list would be incomplete if I didn't pick at least one of the FNAF fics that I wrote (and two of them ended up on here). With how much it was delayed, it was actually wild to see the FNAF Movie actually come to life before our very eyes, and it was amazing to actually write some fics about it. This is the first time (in a very long time) that I have written pure angst with no sense of fluff at the ending, and it was actually so much fun - it's fun to give into the darker side of a fic, and to write about the most torturous human emotions with absolutely no relief.

Also, I think dying in someone's arms (especially holding your lover or your would-be lover) is such a compelling trope and I loved writing about it. This was so much fun for me to write, and it was something so interesting to explore aside from the usual smut that I write.

6. From Your Lips - Jennifer Jareau x GN!Reader (3,000 words)

After JJ is attacked by dogs on the Hankle farm, everyone is busy worrying about Reid’s missing status, but you take the time to check on JJ and try your best to calm her flustered mind. Jennifer Jareau x Gender Neutral Reader. Friends with Benefits. Smut and Angst. Set during Season 2, Episode 15.

This year, I had another large foray into the Criminal Minds fandom, and I wrote a JJ fic for the first time. And just in general, I am so proud of this fic. I think even for a short fic, it has such a great essence - again, I love setting fics during specific episodes, and I found it so fun to play around with the religious imagery and the religious themes already in this episode, as well as the imagery of rabid dogs.

To me, this is what truly makes fanfiction great - taking details of the canon, chewing them up like bubblegum and then adding something else in to make them your own. I had so much fun writing this fic, 10/10.

5. Love From The Other Side (aka The Golf Club Fic) - Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader (5,600 words)

Abby kills the man that has been haunting your nightmares for years. You find it only fitting to give her a proper reward. Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader. Established Relationship. Smut. Set during The Last of Us Part II. (aka - the fic where Abby fucks the reader's pussy with the golf club that she used to kill Joel.)

So, as you will notice with this fic and the next one, 2023 was the year I truly said fuck it. There used to be a time when I was afraid to admit my weirder kinks and fantasies (like, I used to be afraid to even say that I read A/B/O), but then I realized that this is the freak-nasty website. And way too many people are shy. So I must be the one to provide the freak-nasty fics.

This is a fic I had in mind since the very first time I watched TLOU2 gameplay. And originally, it was going to be a simple, purely pornopraphic fic about Abby fucking the reader with the golf club - but as I was writing it, it turned into something that I find oddly beautiful. And (again, just like with the next fic) I find that writing about kinks in long-term relationships, especially the kind of relationships that have come to be co-dependent - it's like writing this toxic, cathartic poetry.

It's writing about two people who need each other but can be so horrible for each other - and it is one of my favourite things to write about because it's so damn interesting. This was a slay, and generally awesome because it was getting out an idea that's been in my head for years.

4. Damn The Man, Save The Empire - Vanessa Shelly x GN!Reader (6,100 words)

Vanessa has always taken care of you. Since the two of you were kids, she has put her neck on the line for you, and you rarely knew how to return that epic kindness. One night, while both of you are raw and on-edge, the dark cloud of your strange past looming over both of you nearly swallows both of you whole - and once again, Vanessa is right there, taking care of you. (Dark)Dom!Vanessa Shelly x Sub!Gender Neutral Reader. Toxic Co-Dependent Relationship. Smut and Angst. Takes place before the main timeline of the film (features spoilers for the movie).

Again, like I said with the previous fic - this was one of my favourite fics to write because it is so delightfully unhinged. I really enjoy exploring toxic relationships through fiction because - for one, writing healthy, functioning relationships is not always interesting. And there is something so beautifully dark and poetic about writing two people who have grown into each other like twisted tree branches and need each other, but are so bad for each other.

And this year I have been exploring gender neutral smut a lot more. I used to always write fem reader smut as my default, but I have been having a lot of fun with the creativity of writing smut without describing the reader's body in detail. I love coming up with metaphors and describing around the body parts. I find it to be a fun creative challenge. Anyway - this was a lot of fun to write, and I highly recommend it if you enjoy reading darker fics.

3. Lessons For A Genius (Lesson One) - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (17,200 words)

What could a certified genius possibly have to learn from someone like you? Turns out - a hell of a lot.  And the real ‘teaching’ started when your graphic explanations of slang toward Spencer for the sheer shock value of it turned into something a lot more… hands on.  Sub!Spencer Reid x (BAU)Dom!Fem!Reader. Co-Workers to Friends with Benefits. Smut. Set during early Season 2.

I feel like it would be a miss to make this list without mentioning a fic that I obsessed over for two weeks straight - a fic that drove me insane in the best way. Of course, there is also the sequel, but I personally prefer the first lesson. This fic has been brewing in my mind for a very long time, because it is painfully obvious to me that Spencer (in the early seasons) is an awkward virgin, and I have always wanted to ruin him.

This fic is a lot of my fantasies brought to life, and I feel like it's a really masterful painting of those fantasies - for once, without overly focusing on the murder mystery aspect of Criminal Minds fanfiction (which I have a tendency to get distracted by). I am really, really proud of this fic, and I know you guys enjoyed it. It is definitely a highlight of my writing this year.

2. Emergency Contact - Jason Todd x GN!Reader (10,500 words)

After Jason miraculously comes home from his brush with Deathstroke, you’re both feeling it in very different ways. You have an unexpected physical wound from the battle, and he has many (very expected) emotional wounds. You help each other heal. Even if it’s very stubborn on both your parts. Jason Todd x GN!Powered!Reader. Enemies/FWB to Lovers. Angst and Hurt/Comfort. (Slight Smut). Set during Season 2, Episode 5.

This is a fic I have talked about a lot recently, because I have been working on the sequel. (I was hoping to get the sequel finished and posted before the end of December, but it's gonna be a longer fic, so it's looking like it's gonna be one of the first fics of January instead.) Anyway - to me, this is by far one of my best fics and one of my most important fics of 2023. This was battling for the top spot.

But even if it's second place, I am so incredibly proud of this fic. I think it's beautifully written, I am incredibly proud of the literary references I worked in with The Great Gatsby - especially because I feel like Jason would be the type to read Gatsby and compare himself to someone tragic and doomed like Gatsby (he would soo compare himself to Gatsby, especially because he was also a poor kid who was randomly sponsored by a rich man who saw potential in him). Overall, I just had a very distinct vision when writing the fic, and that vision came to life. And I really, really hope that my vision comes to life in the sequel too.

1. King For A Day - Poly!Golden Trio x Fem!Reader (22,400 words) 

You have always had a special relationship with Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and the one and only Harry Potter. When you set out to help them find and destroy Lord Voldemort’s Horcruxes, it seems that your intimate knowledge of them is the one thing keeping them together - until the unique dynamic shifts, thanks to one of those pesky pieces of dark magic. Angry voices carry, and it turns out - moans of pleasure do too. Poly!Golden Trio x Fem!Reader (Fem!Reader x Harry Potter x Ron Weasley x Hermione Granger). FWB to Poly Lovers. Smut (with a slight bit of Angst). Set during Deathly Hallows.

And finally, we get to my favourite fic of the year!!

So, I'm gonna be honest, a huge reason that this fic gets the top slot is because of my nostalgia for Harry Potter. This year was the first time in a long time that I have written Harry Potter fanfiction, and it felt like a reawakening of my soul. I was genuinely happy, and I was spending time enjoying concepts and characters that I have not thought about for a long time.

This fic in particular, I feel like I have been working on it for years in my mind. This fic is a culmination of all my thoughts about these characters, all my time in the Harry Potter fandom, and generally, I am so, so proud of it. I am proud that my love for Harry Potter has come to fruition in this form - a poly smut fic, something that is just so me.

Overall - I had such a great year chasing fic ideas that make me happy, despite the popularity of the characters or the fandoms, and I encourage you guys to spend 2024 doing the same. Cheers!

#sundrop speaks #fanfiction #gar logan x reader #emily prentiss x reader #draco malfoy x reader #abby anderson x reader #jason todd x reader #ellie williams x reader #spencer reid x reader #mike schmidt x reader #jennifer jareau x reader #vanessa shelly x reader

[sunny-day-jack-official]

So! The demo is finally out! Or, a bit of it is. What’s next?

Let’s run over a few questions, so hopefully everyone is in the loop!

Q: Why is it only a little bit after so long?

A: Development has been all over the place and a big reason is just how difficult it can be to mediate between artists, programmers, writers, etc.. Mental and physical health, personal emergencies, etc.. are also a big part of this— and it wasn’t anticipated that this would eat up so much time.

The original game was planned to have Sauce (presently speaking!) handling a large majority of tasks all at once. So— when health stalled, production stalled.

Of course, healing took a bit of time to. And even now, that’s why so much of the demo is left unfinished. Overall— it wasn’t possible to complete the demo in the same amount of time the original demo was completed because realistically speaking— that was extremely unhealthy and rushed.

Because of that tight deadline, 48 hours to a week, many significant errors or retconned elements made their way into the game. A huge toll was taken that resulted in extreme burnout after. Quality (as can be seen in the CGs) suffered. An emphasis on quality is currently being prioritized, but I can safely say that I am no longer able to work at my original 2021-2022 pace.

—

Q: Why are you (Sauce) working alone?

A: At this point in time— we had spent a while working on the GUI and design/function of the game. It is, after all, set to have some pretty hefty features.

Translation and dub settings

Censorship and Softcore modes

A VERY LARGE story map with several endings

An additional “one-shot” story mode wherein every ending you unlock, you then unlock additional content

That takes a lot more planning than we’d anticipated.

How do we make this efficiently run on most systems?

Are we able to make sure that the size of this game is compatible with older devices?

Are the assets optimized? ( A lot of time has gone into re-drawing and working out sprite systems )

What settings are accessibility necessary for impaired players? How do we implement those options?

How do we design a stylish and efficient system?

That was something we had figured originally would be pretty easy to work out! But multiple people here are wearing multiple hats.

The rest of the team is actively working on those portions. But at the moment— we’ve decided to shelve literal art development and scripting (which was where we were hovering for a while) until we got the programming bits truly sorted out.

That leaves little old me! While they worked on this, I’ve been spending time making sure we could serve you a sample of what’s to come. My job is doling out a taste of the narrative, style, etc.. That way, once they’re finished, we can consider any feedback in the implementation of these portions of the game in the final, official build.

Hopefully that makes sense! TL;DR - Everyone’s busy making the important program my bits and designing the menus. So I’ve stepped away to work on this so you all have something to see in the meantime!

—

Q: Why are you REBUILDING THE DEMO?

A: The old demo— you’d think it would be easy to patch up. But it’s literally the very first build, sized up and fixed and stitched over. Unfortunately it was an unoptimized mess, even for what it was.

Hopefully a cleaner, more organized build will allow for better gameplay. But the key factor is just a desire for better quality!

—

Q: How often will you be uploading new additions?

A: Until all the bugs are fixed and the whole demo is rebuilt. This should be every week or so until then. Once it’s all done, the demo will see a re-release publicly!

In the meantime, please keep in mind bugs may be aplenty— and I personally apologize for this. Demos released are intended to show proof of work— but they may not be the best, most fun experience for narrative-seeking players. It’s advised immersion-prioritizing players wait until the build is fully finished and christened on our steam page!

—

Q: Will there be Mac support?

A: I will absolutely try!

—

Hopefully that helps give a bit more insight. Unfortunately it’s difficult to articulate everything that’s going on, but we’ll do our best! We’d like to have someone more verbally gifted helping us to write these posts, but until we decide how to go about that, you’re stuck with me.

We’ll do the best we can to answer any questions as clearly as possible. And again— we thank you all for your patience.

Making SDJ was clearly a messier experience than we had considered. It’s been a rollercoaster— and as Sauce speaking, I can actually attribute most of the delays to my own personal health and absence.

That— I am sorry for.

The rest of the team is working very hard to put something together that’s quality. I can promise with my whole heart that they’re doing their best. We’re all just people passionate about this project, and no matter the weather I don’t think it’s ever not on our minds.

I look forwards to putting out a large Kickstarter update soon, detailing our work and more! And I’m excited to open the airways for more and more communication.

But for now— we’ll see you next bug-fixing update.

- Sauce

#somethings wrong with sunny day jack #swwsdj #sunny day jack #sdj #snaccpop studios #snaccpop #game development #vndev #visual novel #indie games #minors dni

[odusseus-xvi]

For people who didn't follow that much the french ccs, here are their thoughts of the smp, Pomme, and what they plan to do with it next :

Baghera Jones : Most of you probably followed her so you know already she is the most enthusiastic about Pomme. (she actually said multiple times "I have problem for getting attached to quickly don't I" and the other four said every time "yes, yes you have"). She is also having a lot of fun and said she'd come back often.

Aypierre : He is the most interested in Pomme of the other four and actually said he would take care of her as much as she needed, that he probably only trusts Baghera with Pomme, and that he would actually be ready to log everyday to take care of her if he had to. He also tweeted about having the time of his life on this server and thanked Quackity for inviting him.

Antoine Daniel (DaMezzanine in game) : He is VERY confused, as he is probably the least skilled and knowledgeable about minecraft cc of ALL the server currently, but he also said he was having fun, and though the chaos took him a bit aback, that it was probably just because it was an event, and so a lot of people was there at the same time in the same place. He finished by saying he willl definitely come back because he already has ideas for great dirt palaces. It's not so much that he doesn't care about Pomme, but more that he is not sure what's happening.

Kameto : So unfortunately I haven't been able to follow him much, but from what I've seen, he is having fun, and though he doesn't seem to care about Pomme that much, he is motivated enough to help the others take care of her.

Etoiles (he had a LONG stream so it's a bit longer) : So to those who haven't seen him, he probably made a BIG impression on the admins ; when he was alone with Cellbit, Forever and Bad at the computer and that they where arguing about what to do, he found a way to break it, and when they made it impossible to put blocks around it afterwards, he almost did it again, but refused to because "it probably wasn't rp". They have also repeatedly thrown lighting at him, and his only reaction was laughing his ass off (I love this man). At some point, he was so far from the main land because he was doing dungeons after dungeons, getting op stuff (on his first fr**king day, he's incredible) and they sent the BINARY MONSTER AFTER HIM, his only reaction being "oh, hey it's you." *hits it twice, dips unscathed*. He interestingly said multiple times that he didn't trust Pomme, and that she would probably die soon anyway, although at the end of the stream he checked a few times if she was doing alright (what's incredibly funny is that the other four french are more afraid of HIM killing Pomme that any of the monsters.). Mid stream he said it was fun and he would probably come back for events and from time to time nothing more, but the more he played and the more he saw the extents of the fucked up mobs he could hunt for sport, the more enthusiasthic he got, and he ended up staying live for 8 hours exploring, doing dungeons and hunting. He said he will come back more often than he originally intended.

#qsmp #qsmp french #qsmp france #qsmp antoine daniel #qsmp baghera jones #qsmp kameto #qsmp etoiles #qsmp aypierre

[the-wrong-providence]

To Date a Criminal

Bucky Barnes X Celebrity!F!Reader

Word Count: 1,800ish

Warnings: Angst | Talk of ending relationships | Asshole Interviewers | Language | Brief mentions of sexism | Fluff? 

Summary: Bucky’s history is a problem to some of Y/N’s fans

Author’s note: This is more angsty than I originally intended, but life is a shitty mess so there’s no point sugar coating it lmao. Unedited. Didn’t know what to call it, so this is what I landed with.

"A-list celebrity Y/N Y/L/N is speculated to be romantically involved with ex-assassin James Barnes, the Winter Soldier. A lot of people believe that Barnes should be convicted of the numerous murders that he committed over the course of the Cold War, but Y/L/N seems to have no issue flaunting her criminal boyfriend on every platform she has a voice. The 108-year-old man was once a close friend to Capt-" Sam turned the TV off. Bucky stared at the blank screen for a little longer, before swallowing heavily and looking down. Sam wanted to say something but struggled to find the words.

Bucky sighed. "This is fucked," he said after a moment. He appeared to be fairly calm about it, before he slammed his fist down on the table, leaving a small dent in the wood. "What the fuck?" He shouted out, as Sam crossed his arms.

"Buck, you know better than to listen to that shit," he said. Bucky turned to him, shaking his head.

"It's not about me listening to them." He started. "Y/N is being attacked. Even if she doesn't agree, her entire reputation is at stake, for dating me. They're calling me a murderer for fucks sake." Bucky ran his hand through his hair. Sam sighed. Of course, he didn't care what people thought about him. He'd been receiving death threats and insults daily since returning from Wakanda, he was used to it. "She has every reason to leave me. She'd be an idiot not to." He mumbled, turning away from Sam.

Sam sighed. He couldn’t argue with that. But something he’d come to realise is that both Bucky and Y/N were complete dumbasses when together. “Just, talk to her, man,” He replied, leaving Bucky to stew by himself.

*

He sipped his drink slowly, hearing the door slam close and a loud sigh. “You wouldn’t believe the shit I’ve had to deal with today,” She said, throwing her coat onto the back of a dining chair. She bent over the sofa and pressed a kiss against his cheek. “The guy who was interviewing us made some sexist comments before we even began, so we just knew it was going to be a long session,” She kicked off her shoes and sat on the sofa beside him. “It was really tempting to just walk out on multiple occasions, but apparently I needed a better reason,” 

Bucky grinned quickly, before placing his glass on the coffee table. "Baby, we need to talk," He began. Y/N looked at him and her eyes narrowed in confusion. She couldn’t read his expression at all. Her face fell when she realised that his smile had disappeared. 

"What about?" She asked cautiously. Her heart sped up.

Bucky took a deep breath. "You need to break up with me," he said. 

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows at him. Everything was going well. She really liked Bucky and she thought he felt the same for her. "I don't understand. I don't want to." She said.

"And I don't want to either. But people are calling me a murderer." Bucky looked at her finally, and she could see the sadness in his eyes. She let out a deep exhale, relieved that she’d not done anything to upset him.

It took her a moment to think her way around his comment. "But you're not a murderer, and I don’t care what people say," She replied, crossing her arms across her chest.

Bucky smiled softly. Y/N was brazen, just one of the many things he liked about her. “Sweetheart,” He started, “I’m not worth ending your career over,”

She bit the inside of her cheek and turned away. Whilst she held the belief that he very much was worth it, she didn’t want to admit that now. Not if things were going to end. “Do you want this to end?” She asked. He was fairly insistent.

Bucky seemed taken aback. “No, god no, you have no idea how much I don’t want this to happen. But you have to do the smart thing here. You can’t stay with me,”

“I don’t care. I’m not ending this.” She said indignantly.

Bucky rubbed his forehead. Fuck, he loved her stubbornness sometimes, but it was not helping right now. “Your reputation-”

“I’m not worried about my stupid reputation! I couldn’t give less of a shit about it!” She shouted back and Bucky stared at her. She exhaled heavily and furrowed her eyebrows. “The only thing I’m worried about is you, Buck,”

Bucky clenched his jaw and turned away. “Well, that’s really not convenient. Because I worry about you and the way people treat you and the way everyone sees you. And you not giving a shit about that sort of thing really makes my job a lot harder,” He replied, and Y/N smiled. 

She pulled his face back in her direction, and her hand fell to rest on his chest. Pressing a kiss to his lips. “I’d leave everything behind to stop you from worrying,” She admitted and Bucky rolled his eyes.

“You’re crazy if you think I’d let you,” He raised his eyebrows, but grinned, all the same, leaning in to kiss her again.

She pouted at him. “I’m starting to think that you want me to be famous more than I care for it,” She joked.

“Not famous. Successful. I want you to do well, and I like seeing you get the recognition you deserve. I need people to love you as much as I… love you,” He paused at the last words, and looked down, hoping she didn’t notice.

But of course, she did. She’d been waiting to hear those words for weeks now. She stared at him, noticing the slight pink tinge that was creeping up his neck. “Buck,” She began. “I love you too,”

He looked up at her, searching for any hint of a lie. It had been a while since someone had said those words to him and meant it. As if she could tell, she took hold of his wrist and directed his hand to feel her heartbeat. “I love you,” She said again, smiling at him. 

“And if you still think we should break up, then you’re the crazy one. Especially after that super romantic admission of your love for me,” she stated, grinning at him as his cheeks tinged pink. He looked down, but his small smile was very much evident.

He sighed. “You’re right. As much as I hate to admit it,” He said back, as Y/N giggled. She kissed him again, and Bucky’s hand moved to hold her face, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “I love you,” He murmured in the space between them, their foreheads resting against each other.

*

One of the downsides of being a celebrity was having to maintain a social presence. As a result, Y/N had to attend several red carpets that she had no real investment in. This particular time, Y/N was being interviewed by someone from some media outlet that she was unfamiliar with. The questions had strayed from anything remotely related to the public perception of her boyfriend.

“Bucky is not a murderer,” Y/N scowled at the person interviewing her. Her dating life was noones business at the best of times, but it was entirely inappropriate to discuss this right now.

The interviewer smirked at the rise they were getting. “He was one of the worlds most wanted criminals. He’s credited with at least two dozen high-target assassinations. He’s responsible for the Avengers breaking up back in 2016…”

Y/N stared daggers at the interviewer, and their face fell as they noticed. They stopped talking and swallowed heavily. “Bucky is not a murderer. He was given a pardon which has forgiven him-”

“Implying that there was something to forgive.” The interviewer interrupted “Why do you think it’s ok to date a war criminal?” They added.

Y/N lips parted in surprise. “You know what? I don’t have to deal with this. If people have a problem with who I love then that’s their issue. I do not have to listen to you insult my partner.” She snapped back, before storming off to the bathroom.

On her way there, a hand took hold of her wrist and pulled her away. Looking up, she saw Bucky beaming at her. “You look gorgeous, sweetheart,” He held his arms around her waist. His face fell when he saw her look in her eyes. “What’s happened? Are you ok?” his first instinct was to check her over for any injuries.

Instantly she let her tears fall and leant against him. “Why do people have to be assholes?” She bawled out. Bucky hugged her back, resting his chin on the top of her head. He held her tight, letting her cry into his chest.

“What did they say?” He growled, angry that anyone would have the gall to insult his girl. He looked around to determine whos fault it was. If anyone seemed even remotely guilty for the upset that they’d caused, but everyone seemed fairly content with themselves.

She sniffed quietly. “They were being so rude about you! I had to leave the interview,” She replied, and Bucky seemed taken aback. They’d insulted him and she was distraught.

He held her at arms length and looked at her, lowering his head so that she was staring directly into his eyes. “There are always gonna be assholes in the world, but you walking away from them in that situation helps people realise. You are so incredibly brave for walking outside your door every day when you know what people have said about me. And for that I love you. I worship the ground you walk on. I’m honored to have a place in your heart.” He said sincerely, desperate to calm her down.

“But you have to promise me that you will not give these people a place. Please don’t let them hurt you. Don’t take these shots that are meant for me,” He added, caressing her cheek with his knuckles.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows for a moment, but seemed to smile. “Buck, I would take actual bullets for you,” She said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Bucky chuckled. “Very unwise. Bullets hurt like hell. And you’d be taking a lot of them,” He bantered back. “But I appreciate the sentiment. I love you sweetheart,” He smiled.

Y/N exhaled heavily, smiling back. “I love you too,” she pressed a kiss to his lips. “Do you wanna come with me?”

He looked at her, confused as to what she meant. “Back onto the carpet? What about the interviews?”

She grinned. “Maybe you can do some staring if they piss me off.” She giggled.

Immediately he seemed excited. “Oh sweetheart, don’t tempt me!”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #reader insert #marvel fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #angst #marvel #oneshot

[chimcess]

Waterlog || pjm (3)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Olympic Swimmer!Jimin, Ex Olympic Swimmer! Reader, Swim Coach!Reader Genre: Strangers to Friends to Lovers!AU, Coach!AU, Swimming!AU, HEAVY Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, fluff, eventual smut, I'm so soft for these two it's crazy. Word Count: 12.2k+ Synopsis: After a car accident ends her athletic career, Y/N has slowly started rebuilding her life again as a high school swim coach. That’s until she gets a request from an old friend and finds herself back in the spotlight as the new coach of Olympic swimmer, Park Jimin. Warnings: toxic relationship (not reader and jimin), arguments, cheating (not reader and jimin), talks about previous child abuse, anxiety attack, strong language, crying, emotional abuse (not reader and jimin), talks of bad parental relationships, abandonment issues, some PTSD, prescription medication use, mentions of depression and mental health, lots of angst in this one, finally making some progress though, age insecurity, mutual pining, lots of side character development in this one, they really are so sweet together, jimin just being the nicest boy in the world, so much PDA, physical touch is his love language 👀👀👀, writing this is so comforting even when its angsty lol, i think that's it, let me know if I missed something A/N: Hello hello. Probably my favorite chapter to date. Bad news is that I think this series might be a little longer than originally intended. My inability to just get to the point has things moving a little slow, but I'm trying my best. We'll have to see, though! Hope you enjoy reading :)

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Time went by quickly. Wednesday and Friday morning, Jimin and I met up to train for a few hours and then got breakfast together. When he asked if I wanted to work out with him in the evenings, I agreed. In the beginning, I had given him pointers, but after the second week came to a close, we had started exercising in silence. We spotted one another, made small talk, and went to dinner on the nights he did not go home to be with his parents. We got along and I was happy my overwhelming attraction to him had slowly calmed down.

I was still aware of his presence, the way he smelled, and how often he smiled and laughed, but I had grown used to seeing him walking around in barely anything at all. Hoseok called me a cougar whenever we had time to chat while Andy kept telling me to talk with Jimin about how I felt, but I had gotten very good at deflecting. Things were better and I was taking my wins whenever I could get them. Even if those wins meant I went home sexually frustrated and aching for someone to make it better.

Jimin was packing up for the night and I was getting ready to head out. He had plans with a large group of his friends, so I would have to figure out dinner by myself this time. He invited me but I politely declined. I could vaguely recall how rude his friends from that restaurant had been, and that one girl's mean glare. I had no interest in repeating that.

Giselle waved at me on her way out which I returned with a smile. She was a very sweet, college girl and getting to know her was fun. Her brother moved out here six years ago and was the only reason she left Memphis. In-State tuition and a rent-free bedroom was all it took to convince her to spend some quality time with her big brother and his dog, Lucky.

She and Sam were the closest, but I would often see her eating lunch with Megan when he was with a client. Everyone was making bets on when they would eventually hook up, but I was convinced that had already happened and they were keeping it a secret from the nosy staff.

"See you tomorrow," Yoongi called out from across the room, seemingly appearing out of thin air.

He was out of eyesight before I could reply.

"Bye Yoon," Giselle sing-songed anyway, shoving her ear buds in and leaving before the door could close behind Yoongi. "Night guys!"

As the young woman said, Yoongi and Megan were the two most important people to befriend. Not just for massages either. The both of them were hilarious and kept the back fridge stocked with our favorite snacks. On the mornings I did not have time to eat breakfast, Megan stopped and got me a muffin and coffee from her favorite cafe. If I needed someone to help me out in the pool, Yoongi was always happy to offer himself for the job. It was challenging for me to focus on my swimming when Jimin was around, and I would often come in early to get a quick work out in before he got here.

“You okay getting home?” Jimin asked.

We had come together tonight, and he had offered to drive us in his truck. I had grown very fond of the green machine, which Jimin affectionately called Fiona, and I jumped at the chance to get in his passenger seat. We were usually riding around in my car since it was better on gas.

“Yeah, I’m riding with Sam.”

Sam and I had grown close as well. He was super funny and always down to hang out with me if I showed up by myself. On the odd Sunday I felt like getting out of the house, I found myself at the gym with Sam. I was currently attempting to teach him how to swim and always filled in for Yoongi on the weekends.

Jimin nodded, “Good. See you this weekend?”

I smiled, “Can’t miss your big party.”

Jimin’s 24th birthday was on the 13th and his family liked to go big. Eloise was clearing out an entire section in their restaurant for all of us, and I had found myself teamed up with Taehyung to help with the planning. Na-Yeon put everything in his hands since she was not feeling up to the task this year. I only agreed to help when I realized just how overboard the snowboarder would go if no one was there to reel him back in. So far, I had placed the responsibility of decorating, music, and organizing the gift table on my shoulders. James had pulled me aside and thanked me when he found out. Apparently, he was also worried about Taehyung’s enthusiasm. 

“It should be fun,” He nodded. “I’m going to head out.”

“See you tomorrow,” We had finally started coming 5 days a week. "We're working on your turns. Butterflies, too. Be prepared.”

He groaned, “You’re torturing me, coach.”

I laughed, “Is the baby upset?”

“Very,” He winked. My mouth went dry. Sometimes I felt silly for getting nervous around him, especially when I knew he flirted with everyone. I was not special. “See you Saturday.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled as I stared at his retreating back. “See you.”

Jimin’s birthday passed quietly. We had a great time and ate well. Taehyung got drunk enough to suggest karaoke once we cleared out the place for the night, and he and Na-yeon had all of us cracking up. I finally met Jungkook’s girlfriend, a pretty girl who did not talk very much, and I could feel the tension between the two of them. Jimin said that was just how they were and to ignore it.

After Jungkook successfully shoved Jimin's face into his cake, we opened presents. The boys got him tons of workout clothes and gear, Eloise bought him a new blender, and his parents both chipped in to get the new video game he had been talking about picking up.

I gifted him a bottle of his favorite cologne after Na-Yeon mentioned he was out. Jo Malone was the most distracting thing in my life right now, its scent clinging to the passenger side of my car most days and driving me insane if Jimin stood too close. Still, it was something I did not think I could part with now. Jimin was happy with the present and hugged me after opening it. I was positive I had this stupid grin on my face for the rest of the night.

By Halloween we were in the gym every day, save Sunday and the occasional Saturday when Jimin needed some time to rest. We both kept our word, our conversation at the restaurant we went to with Jungkook and Taehyung sticking better than I thought it would. Overtime he got more confident when asking for a break and I was a professional at picking up on his body language. We were a good team, and I was confident he would be in great shape for the Olympics.

It was mid-November now and Taehyung had finally gotten around to getting us together for the sushi date in Detroit. I had just gotten out of the shower when Jimin messaged he was going to come along. His mom had a rough Sunday and could not go to their usual dance class, so he had stayed with her instead. He looked worn out when he walked inside the pool room Monday morning so instead of training, I just sent him home. We were meeting back up on Wednesday to get back to work, but it seemed Jungkook’s nagging finally convinced him to come out with the rest of us.

My relationships with his friends had also started to improve. Taehyung had added me to their group chat a few weeks back and I had tried to keep up with them as often as I could remember to. It was not difficult. They text so often I had to silence notifications for the chat, but I had to admit they were really funny. Jungkook especially.

I was happy to spend time with everyone and getting out of the house sounded nice. Violet and Calvin were great, and I did enjoy eating dinner with them sometimes, but I would be lying if I said they would be my first choice to spend time with.

I had grown close enough with Taehyung during the partying planning that his bubbly, over the top personality had become more endearing than overwhelming. We had gone to lunch a few times together, his boldness only increasing with each meet up, and he could hold me hostage for hours if I let him. Milo was typically my saving grace, and Taehyung would leave with a wet kiss to my cheek and promises of the same time next week.

Tae: Y/N should pick you up

Jimin: Why???

Kookie: Your truck is ass

I chuckled and sent off a text of my own before going to my dresser to find something warm to wear. 

Me: I don’t mind driving

Me: Don’t hate on the truck. I like it.

My phone chimed a few times but I ignored it for now. I knew I wanted to wear a pair of dark, navy jeans. It was freezing outside so a long sleeve was a must, but I could get away with just two layers. My hands found a mustard-yellow turtleneck and I smiled. I could wear my brown boots with it. Happy with my outfit, I checked on the chat.

Jimin: U sure?

Tae: The truck is GREEN

Tae: Already a crime

Kookie: It can’t go over 60

Darcy: omg stop blowing my phone up 

Darcy: just ride with her dude

Jimin: Y/N?

I rolled my eyes. I hated when he did that. Jimin had the habit of double and triple checking in with someone. It was sweet but it also drove me insane. There was nothing more I disliked than repeating myself, especially if I already agreed to something. 

Me: I’ll pick you up in 30, k?

Jimin: Thanks

Darcy: Was that so hard?

I frowned. So, Darcy was in a bad mood then. Shouldn't take it out on Jimin, I thought. Even if she was having a bad day, something that seemed to be a reoccurring theme with her, it doesn't mean she can just talk to people like that. Fighting the urge to give into my annoyance and call her out, I tossed my phone on my bed and made myself finish getting ready.

Walking into the living room, I went on a hunt for the jacket I wanted to wear. It was the same color as my leather boots with sherpa trim. It would tie everything together and, I hoped, would keep Taehyung from complaining too much about the “offensive” color of my shirt. He had a hard time accepting anything in the yellow or green family. Finding it on the sofa, I nodded and left it be. I would grab it on my way out. 

It took me more time to get my hair figured out than anything, but once I gave up and did the same thing that I did every day, it worked itself. After that, I put on a little bit of makeup since I figured it would not take me very long. This was a casual outing with friends and the dim lights of the sushi place would give me some grace if things were not perfect. A nice base, simple eye look, and a layer of mascara already had me looking more awake than I had in months. After applying a layer of lip gloss and a misting of setting spray, I was out of the door, jacket keeping me warm, and purse tucked under my arm. 

I drove in silence, like I always did, and pulled onto the curb of Jimin’s house. Sending a text to the chat, I waited for him to come out. I was a few minutes later than I said I would be, but Jimin found a way to be late for everything, so I did not feel that bad about it. Taehyung and Milo were already on leaving Ann Arbor, and Jungkook and Darcy riding with them. They would only beat us there by fifteen minutes or so, but I hoped he would hurry up and come outside. Taehyung worked hard for those reservations.

My phone vibrated and I stared at the little device in my cup holder. It was weird how my anxiety fluctuated on a daily basis. Back home, I could talk on the phone and hold a conversation behind the wheel, but ever since I came to Michigan it felt like I had taken three massive steps back. Taking a few deep breaths, I told myself that I was safe. I was parked, completely stationary, and no one was around. No traffic meant no accidents. Sucking in a harsh breath, I picked it up.

Jimin: Be out in a sec

Jimin: Just making sure mom is okay

He had not left his mother’s house in days. I was worried about Na-Yeon, but I had to believe that Jimin would tell me if something was seriously wrong with her. I had truly started to feel connected with the woman. We joked over dinner and I found myself helping her out more and more each time I came by. It would devastate me if she passed away without me knowing how bad it had gotten. 

Me: Take your time

He came out only two minutes later. Wearing a heavy, black puffy jacket and tight pants, Jimin leisurely walked over and got into the car. His cologne hit me as soon as the door opened, and I bit my lip, trying to hide the deep inhale I took. Jo fucking Malone.

He smiled at me but otherwise kept quiet as I drove. He knew I had a difficult time behind the wheel and tried his best to keep conversation light. While I normally appreciated the sentiment, I did not want to make him sit in silence for 45 minutes. Opening and closing my mouth a few times, I struggled to come up with a good conversation topic.

We often bounced from idea to idea, mostly sticking to swimming and music, and I always found our little talks to be very insightful. Movies and tv shows had been fun to bond over, a small generational gap introducing us to shit we had never heard of before. There were so many things I could bring up, things that Jimin would jump at the idea to talk about. Still, I could not find my voice.

“So,” I started, awkwardly, trying to push past the blockade of anxiety. “Is this place as good as Tae says or is he going off on one of his rants again?”

Jimin chuckled softly. “It’s pretty good, but it’s still just sushi. Taehyung finds a way to make everything sound extravagant.”

We shared a quiet laugh. 

“It was nice of him to invite me,” My hands gripped the wheel tighter. We were starting to approach more populated areas. “He didn’t have to do that.”

Jimin snorted childishly, the sound relaxing me ever so slightly. If there was one thing I hated was driving at night. I was lucky the snow had stopped falling yesterday afternoon and the roads were clear, but a part of me wished I had asked Jimin to drive.

Traffic in Saline was lighter than any town back in Colorado, and driving around was a breeze in comparison. At home, you were lucky if there was only one accident a day, but more times than not I had been stuck on the interstate for hours because of multiple car crashes. Michigan felt less hectic; safer. Not safe enough to let my guard down, but safe enough to listen to Jimin when he spoke.

“Taehyung is just that kind of guy.”

I nodded; eyes glued to the road. I wanted to say something and keep our conversation flowing, but the more cars around us the more I tuned him out. My eyes flickered between my rearview mirror, side mirrors, and windshield rapidly as I drove. Once we were out of Saline and on I-94, I loosened my grip on the wheel. We would not hit much traffic until we were closer to Detroit.

Jimin stayed quiet and looked out the window. I wanted to thank him for being so understanding, but I knew he would not want me to. I kept my thoughts to myself and focused on the road. Jimin began to hum an unfamiliar tune.

My hands were shaking when we pulled up to the restaurant. Traffic had gotten pretty bad coming into the city, but we had picked a good day to come out. Jimin hummed and sang underneath his breath for most of the car ride, and we had a few small sporadic conversations when I felt the knots in my stomach loosen for a few brief moments.

"It's been forever since I've come here," Jimin said to himself, going to unbuckle his seat belt. "It looks pretty filled up."

Bash was a sushi place across from Wayne State University's football field and was one Taehyung’s favorite restaurants. He bragged about how delicious their food was for weeks before finally wearing me down with the promise of picking up the tab. He made reservations for their omakase, or “chef’s choice,” and promised I would get his obsession.

When I talked to Megan about it, she had said it was an expensive meal, so I was going to try and force myself to enjoy it regardless of my own personal feelings. Jimin seemed to like it here, and we usually enjoyed a lot of the same foods, so it made me feel a bit better about things.

I had to park down the street and spotted Taehyung’s Mazda a few cars away. Instead of getting out, I took a few moments to gather my composure. Jimin sat beside me patiently. He had grown used to my traffic anxiety. We had driven together so many times now, and he had gotten a taste of the worst of it a handful of times.

He had only asked about it the first time we rode to the gym together, completely frazzled and unsure of himself as I hyperventilated in the driver's seat. My hands trembled violently as my palms sweat profusely, and I let myself shed a few tears once we were parked. He reached out, placing a hand on my back, and quietly asked me what was bothering me.

“Red light,” I managed to wheeze out. They were doing some construction on the main road and things started piling up. I had gotten stuck in the intersection for just a few seconds, but it was long enough to send me into a blind panic. “Anxiety. Sorry. Need a minute.”

He helped me calm down, calming down to help me through my panic attack. We played a game of I-Spy, Jimin picking out the most obvious shit and saying the most random things to point out in order to make me laugh. When I felt a little better, he got out of the car to help me get out. After that he kept quiet about my obvious driving discomforts, but stuck close just in case I needed the support, and always offered to drive.

“Ready?” He asked when I grabbed my phone out of the cup holder.

“Yeah.”

We walked inside and the hostess made light conversation while she walked us to the back. Taehyung's laugh could be heard from the other side of the room, and his bright blue hair and vibrant eyeshadow stuck out like a sore thumb in this place. Milo was dressed in all black, his arm draped around his fiancé's shoulder, and a smile on his face. Jungkook was beside him scrolling through his phone, but Darcy was nowhere in sight. Glancing at Jimin, he seemed exasperated.

“Trouble in paradise,” He murmured, leaning down so I could hear him. I had to imagine their relationship was very exhausting and took its toll on their friend group. I knew how much it sucked being caught between Tilly and Hobi back in the day. “Here we fucking go.”

Taehyung jumped out of the booth when he caught sight of us, his fluffy, white cropped top riding up, revealing even more of his tanned skin. The snowboarder wrapped his arms around my waist and snuggled my hairline, showering me in compliments. Gold hoop earrings tapped my forehead, and his belly button ring was cold against my ribcage. He was happy to see me “dolled up” for once and forgave how ugly my shirt was since I looked “so cute.”

Milo gave me a slight wave, eyes never leaving Taehyung's bouncing body as he embraced Jimin, and Jungkook put his phone down to greet us. Darcy had gone to the bathroom and from the look on Milo’s face, Jimin’s was right about trouble in paradise. Whatever was going on, we were all about to fall witness. It made my stomach churn just thinking about it.

Our waitress brought a new pot of tea, asking us if we needed anything, before leaving with the promise of the first course coming out soon. Darcy almost slammed into the poor woman on her way back to our booth, her annoyed huff making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. When she sat down beside her boyfriend her entire body was rigged and face pulled together tightly. She did not spare us a glance as she sulked.

Darcy was a very beautiful girl and it made sense why Jungkook liked her so much. Tanned skin, green eyes, and black hair, the girl had one of those bodies most women would pay thousands of dollars for. Like Taehyung had said, she was a pleasant enough person, and we did not along well enough to hold a conversation, but there was no hiding the fact that Darcy was not a nice girl. In fact, I would venture to say she was very, very mean.

I saw it firsthand at Jimin’s birthday party. I had a moment where I felt myself panicking. Overwhelmed with all of the noise and people, I excused myself and called Andy to get my head back on straight. The women's restroom was tucked away in a small hallway and allowed me the space to shed a few tears. I was just starting to calm down, Andy's words of encouragement getting back to some sort of baseline, while I rubbed cold water on my neck. That was when I heard Jungkook on the other side of the door.

He was angry and when I told Andy I needed to go, I had every intention of going out there to talk to him, but another voice beat me to it. Darcy had been in a bad mood since she walked through the front door, her shitty attitude bringing down the party every time she opened her mouth. At first, I just brushed it off as an off night, something I could feel empathy towards, but then she opened her mouth and stopped those thoughts in their tracks.

The two of them were serial cheaters, and Jimin had alluded to that being their main issue when I asked about her attitude problem earlier that night. Eloise was the person who gave me the whole story and was not afraid to voice her dislike for the older girl. This was different from Milo, a guy who she clashed with due to their night and day personalities. Darcy had actively picked on and made fun of her growing up, and bullied her older sister while they were in school together.

Darcy, according to Eloise, started the back-and-forth cheating when they were in college. Instead of going their separate ways, something I doubt anyone would have blamed Jungkook for doing, he chose to get even. After fucking one of her sorority sisters, Jungkook made his way through the entire house within the span of three months. In retaliation, Darcy slept with a couple of guys from the NHL, something she still did to this day.

On the night of the party, she was still fuming over catching him with another woman a few days prior. Trapped in the bathroom and too afraid to let them know I could hear them; I suffered through five minutes of a couple’s quarrel I had no business being in the middle of. It was an eye opener for sure and made me avoid getting too close to either of them.

Darcy was very mean and spiteful, her words meant to cut him deeply with little care about how it would make him feel in the long run. She even brought up screwing one of his rivals to get back at him, something she had done on numerous occasions, and went as far as to compare the two men in bed. It helped to explain why Jungkook hated Jackson Wang so much.

Jungkook, despite how much I enjoyed him as an individual, was just as awful. He spent most of the argument defending his bad behavior by bringing up her own and took no accountability for his actions. He could have sex with all of Michigan and it would be justified because she cheated on him first. It was all very juvenile, and I tried my best to avoid them for the rest of the night.

“Bet they can’t go ten minutes without fighting,” Jimin mumbled in my ear.

I fought back a smile, leaning into his side. Physical touch was the swimmer’s love language and I had slowly grown accustomed to small touches here and there. So, it did not catch me off guard when his arm came around my shoulders, resting just above my head, hand gently brushing against my neck. The voice in my head often wished he would do it more often.

“She won’t start something before the food gets here,” I reasoned, stealing a look at the couple. Jungkook seemed fine, but from the look on Darcy’s face that might change soon. “I’ll say twenty.”

“What are we bargaining for?”

I laughed awkwardly, “Whatever you want.”

Taking a second to think, Jimin eyed the couple across the table. Taehyung and Milo were obviously extremely aware of the couple's awkward tension and tactfully ignored them, instead giggling about some inside joke. They were a very sweet pair. My weariness about Milo had dissipated over the last few weeks, but I could understand why he and Eloise could not get along.

Lou herself had admitted to being a bit of a stuck-up teenager back in the day, and Milo was the typical small-town stoner. They constantly butt heads when they were in high school, and just drifted apart with age. Taehyung and Jimin's friendship were the only reason they were in the same circle anymore, and the two just never spoke to avoid pressing buttons.

“I want to do something together,” Jimin finally said, I smiled, trying to ignore the snarky comments Darcy was making. The arguing was starting, and I felt my neck growing hot. Did they have to do this in public? “Get dinner or something.”

“We do that all the time,” I countered, half-heartedly paying attention to him.

“Denny’s doesn’t count," He mumbled.

The waitress finally came back with a large tray of sushi in her hand. That seemed to break up the argument momentarily, but Darcy did not seem pleased to be interrupted. Stuffing a large piece of ahi sashimi in my mouth, I sparked up a conversation with Taehyung to keep myself from having another meltdown. Beside him, Milo sent me a grateful look.

The rest of the table was silent, waiting for the fight to resume. Taehyung kept smiling painfully, but I could see the panic bubbling in his eyes, and for once I saw a small crack in his otherwise well-crafted facade. 

“I didn’t mean just getting food,” Jimin finally continued when we hit a lull, and it took me a few seconds to remember what he was talking about. “I meant… going out.”

I looked at him, eyebrow raised. His cheeks were puffed with scallops and I wished we were alone. This was not a conversation I wanted to have in front of the others, especially if he was insinuating what I thought he was. I did not want to jump to conclusions, but I was sure he was asking me out on a date. Even if it made me feel jittery thinking about it, I had a difficult time finding the voice to say yes. Saying no felt just as impossible, though, and I wished he would have picked a better time to bring this up. Whatever the hell this was.

“What are you asking me?” I whispered, taking another piece of fish off my plate, sneaking a look at Taehyung and Milo.

They were too wrapped up in one another to being listening in on us. I did not even bother checking in with the other two. I knew for a fact they did not care about anybody else but themselves.

“You know,” He replied.

Dating was not off the table, and I was more than happy to indulge myself, but I was worried about crossing this invisible line I had drawn. What would people say if they found out? A coach and her trainee, and even worse, the older woman and her much younger man. I could see the headlines now and it made my palms sticky. That would not be a good look for either one of us, and I did not want our personal relationship to affect Jimin’s career.

Putting my chopsticks down, I leaned away from him. “Can we talk about this later?”

He nodded, meeting my eyes, and I was relieved to see he was not upset. I had seen him angry a few times now, and he wore it on his sleeve with pride. Jimin was not afraid of his emotions, something I found extremely attractive, and it was nice that all I could see right now was understanding. Whatever happened he would hear me out, and I had to hope he would be understanding. I just had to be sure I did not fuck anything up.

Across the table the bickering had started again. Our waitress brought out the rest of our meal, sans desert, and seemed happy we were enjoying the food. She eyed Darcy wearily and left our table in a hurry. I felt horrible for the wait staff who had come to our table. They were all getting the nastiest looks from the dark haired beauty.

“Do we really have to do this now?” Jungkook sighed, running a hand through his hair roughly. His face was red and expression tight. “In front of my friends, dude? Are you serious?”

I cleared my throat, grabbed my tea and took a long sip before sinking into the booth and praying no one could see me. Jimin’s arm dropped, and he squeezed my shoulder in comfort. I let myself melt under his touch. It always felt nice when his hands were on me, his warmth burning hot like a furnace even in below freezing temperatures. Taehyung’s eyes were bulging out of his head now, his bottom lip trembling as he tried his best to keep the conversation between the four of us light. He had stopped trying to include the other two.

“You two seem close,” He gritted, fakeness coming from him that I had never encountered before. “Glad you were able to sort that out.”

I looked over at Jimin and saw his cheeks had gone pink. So, Taehyung knew something I didn’t. It would make sense for the childhood best friend to get the scoop before the chick he’s known for two months, I had definitely vented to my friends on more than one occasion, and my curiosity was peaked.

“I'm working on it,” Jimin replied, taking a big gulp of water. “Thanks, Tae," He breathed, rolling his eyes.

I stifled a laugh. He was so cute when he was embarrassed. I made a mental note to ask Tae to explain what he meant when we had a chance to get lunch. I had a feeling the snowboarder would be more than happy to divulge that little piece of information. 

“Talking about me to your friends?” I teased, trying my best to ignore the ever-growing argument across from me. The butterflies in my stomach were a helpful distraction. “Good things, I hope.”

He cracked a smile, face and neck flushed. “The best things.”

Such a flirt.

I bit my lip and looked away. Eating was a nice way to interrupt the electricity that was enveloping us, and I gorged myself on octopus and tuna. Whatever the hell these dishes were, I had to admit the sushi here was the best I had ever had. I would never doubt a recommendation from Taehyung again.

The conversation started flowing easily after that. Jungkook and Darcy were at a stalemate and were relatively quiet on their side of the booth. With the atmosphere lightening, Milo felt good enough to start telling us his latest work stories. He was a firefighter along with all three of his brothers. His father was promoted to chief about five years ago but was coming up to his retirement. The only one of his siblings to avoid the fireman fate was his baby sister, but had still managed to find a job at the station.

"You guys must be close," I laughed in disbelief.

“It’s the family business,” He joked. "Rosie is our new EMT."

Taehyung spoke excitedly about his upcoming competitions and was really hopeful he would win enough to qualify for the Olympics this year. Milo and Jimin both reassured him multiple times while I tried my best to keep up with everything he was talking about. I had very little knowledge of snowboarding, so I was having to constantly interrupt and ask for clarification. No one seemed to mind, and eventually Jungkook joined in to talk about his upcoming hockey games.

The Red Wings were having a good year, and he was proud of his team for working as hard as they did. As a goalie, he did not do a lot of skating, but his job was one of the hardest on the team. From what I knew after watching a few games on tv with Jimin's family, Jungkook was one of the best goalies in the NHL who was highly sought after. He had been offered millions to transfer to the New York Rangers, but out of loyalty he turned them down.

“I’ll take you to a few matches if you want,” Jimin offered. “Kook can get us tickets whenever.”

I smiled, “That sounds like fun.”

“Milo and I go all of the time so we can sit together,” Taehyung interjected, his shoulders relaxed for the first time since we got here.

Darcy was quiet and stayed on her phone. Jungkook was pretending she was not here, and it helped keep the arguing from starting again. I was not sure how long the truce would last, but I hoped they could hold it together long enough for us to finish eating.

“So Y/N,” Milo mused, taking a piece of fish from Taehyung’s plate. “Have you ever thought about competing again?”

I laughed nervously, “For a time, maybe. My injuries make it hard for me to swim the way I used to so I decided to keep it as a hobby.”

It was not a complete lie, but I knew I might be able to get back into competitions if I put in the time and effort. I hated the thought of being back in the spotlight, cameras shoved in my face, only to lose and give them more to talk about. I was still recovering from the trauma they inflicted on me after the accident. My leg injuries just gave me the perfect excuse to keep my distance.

He nodded, eyebrows knitted, “I didn’t know you had medical leave. What happened?”

Jimin tensed up beside me. 

“I was in a car accident,” I replied. Talking about what happened did not bother me as much as it used to, and Milo seemed genuinely interested in the answer. “I had to get a full knee replacement on my left side, and a full hip replacement. I should have lost my leg, but the doctor on staff recognized me and brought up my profession.”

Milo whistled, giving me a sympathetic look. “Leg? You could have died.”

“Well,” I breathed, finishing off my last piece of fish. “I pulled through though, so it wasn’t all bad.” I fiddled with my shirt, pretending to smooth it down as I played it cool. "Anyway, I have nerve damage in my leg that makes me get really horrible cramps and twitching if I overwork my muscles. It sucks but coaching is really fun, so I can't complain."

Blatantly lying wasn't something I did often, but I truly hated reliving the months of physical therapy. Unable to walk or talk, I was stuck in that hospital bed for weeks and then got sent home to watch my closest friends wait on me hand-and-foot. When I wasn’t in physical therapy, I was with my SLP. When I wasn’t with her then I was in bed, crying into my pillow, and wishing I had never woken up. It was an extremely dark time in my life, one filled with chronic pain and overwhelming depression, and talking about it made me emotional. 

“Anyway,” Taehyung sent his fiancé a pointed look. “Kookie’s next home game is in two weeks.”

Happy to be out of the spotlight, I began to talk with Jimin about changing our schedule around so we could attend the game. Taehyung was excited to get me some Red Wing merchandise, and Jungkook quickly began to boast about his prowess on the ice. Darcy scoffed beside him and I felt the group tense up.

“You’re so cocky, Ian,” She taunted, eyes glued to her phone. “I heard Avalanche was doing really well this season.”

I knew from the group chat that the Red Wings and the Colorado Avalanche had a long-standing rivalry. It had started all the way back in the mid-90’s and reached its peak in 2002. While the intensity had dissipated over the years, it had recently spiked up again due to Jungkook and Jackson Wang’s ongoing feud. The only reason Darcy would bring that up would be to piss her boyfriend off. 

“Hm,” Jungkook smirked, chuckling darkly. “Who told you that?”

I held my breath, already guessing where this was going. The tension from earlier was thicker than ever as we fell silent. Darcy put her phone on the table, flipped her hair over her shoulder, and looked Jungkook in the face as she replied.

“Jackson.”

It was dead silent for a few seconds. Then, without waiting for a response, Darcy kept digging the knife in and twisting. She called him ugly, said he sucked in bed, brought up all of the ways Jackson was better than he was, and went as far as to bring up his father's affair. Jungkook could not get a word in as her silky voice dropped lower and lower, words cutting deeper and deeper, and eyes growing brighter as she watched his expression fall. I learned something tonight. Darcy enjoyed hurting Jungkook.

"Why are you doing this, dude?" Jungkook's voice was thick with emotion. "You're acting like a fucking child. It's embarrassing."

“Holy shit,” Milo groaned as their voices got louder. “Are they being forreal right now?”

“Babe,” Taehyung scolded, the forced smile still plastered on his face. “Language.”

“You weren’t embarrassed when you fucked that girl” Darcy screamed and I felt my stomach twist uncomfortably. “Why should I feel bad about airing out my dirty laundry? Everyone here knows how much of a whore I am anyway, isn’t that right, Ian?”

“Keep your voice down,” Jungkook hissed, eyes glassy. “You’re causing a scene.”

Taehyung and Milo looked as mortified as I felt, both of them staring at Darcy in horror. The entire restaurant had gone silent. Eyes were glued to our table as they argued. She shouted about him getting his dick sucked in their bed, and Jungkook was just angry she was acting like this in public. It was Jimin’s birthday all over again only this time they knew people were watching and did not care. Taehyung’s smile was finally gone and replaced by trembling lips and fidgeting hands.

“Take that shit outside,” Jimin cut in, voice cold and hard. Darcy glared daggers in our direction. “You’re going to get us kicked out.”

Darcy opened her mouth to argue but was interrupted by the waitress coming back and demanding our party leave. Taehyung began to apologize profusely while Darcy stormed out of the restaurant, bumping into numerous people roughly without looking back. Jungkook was hot on her heels, breathing heavily, and eyes glossed over with unshed tears. She shouted that Jackson was outside and for Jungkook to go fuck himself. Jungkook didn’t reply but I knew he was not expecting the other man to be here. I sure the fuck wasn't.

An arm wrapped around my shoulders, “Hey, calm down. Breathe.”

I had not realized I had been holding my breath. Turning my head, I was taken aback by how close Jimin was. Our noses brushed together, his breath hot against my cheek, and I jerked away, heart racing. The butterflies were swarming now, and a shiver went down my spine. His arm dropped and I immediately missed its warmth. Flustered, I scooted out of the booth and kept my head hung low. I was so embarrassed, and I could hear Taehyung’s voice starting to wobble as he handed over some cash to the waitress for the trouble. No one was going home happy tonight. 

“I’m so fucking pissed off,” Jimin grunted, keeping in step with me. Milo was attempting to get a now hysterical Taehyung calmed as they followed behind us. “I don’t know why Tae invites the two of them anywhere.”

I shook my head, “It’s not his fault. She needs to get some self-control, though. That was so rude and uncalled for, and for what?"

“They both owe him a fucking apology,” He sighed harshly.

The guests of honor were already in a very heated screaming match when we finally made it outside. Whatever had been brewing inside had clearly reached its peak, and neither one of them was willing to back down. Jimin’s arm was back around my shoulders as he tried his best to shelter me from the strong winds that were kicking up. Looking at Darcy and Jungkook all I could see were my parents and it caused me great discomfort. Maybe I should try to call my dad again and make sure he was alright? He rarely answered but at least it would cut some of the edge off of my anxiety.

“Why are you acting like this?” Jungkook shouted, pulling at his hair. “What the fuck is wrong with you, dude?”

“You!” Darcy shrieked. “You! You! YOU! You’re the problem. This is all your fault!”

Jungkook called her a crazy bitch and Darcy slapped him across the face before stomping off. A sleek red convertible was waiting for her on the curb, a well-groomed man behind the steering wheel. He smiled and waved at Jungkook before speeding off, Darcy already attaching her lips to his neck and not sparing any of us a second glance.

“What the fuck!” Taehyung shouted, sobbing and clinging to Milo. 

I was surprised he was able to hold himself back for that long. He seemed hellbent on strangling Jungkook as soon as he was able. I stepped to the side watching a man I had never seen upset shove Jungkook backwards. Any resemblance of a smile was gone now, replaced with a snot-nosed, red eyed man with bared teeth. Jungkook stumbled, barely keeping his footing before shoving the other man back. Milo was quick to defend his fiancé, pushing Jungkook so hard he stumbled, fell on his ass, and cried out in pain. 

Jimin’s arm gripped me tighter as he stared at the scene unfold in silence. His clenched jaw, however, told me how angry he was. I briefly wondered what he would be doing if he was not so focused on keeping me warm.

“That was so fucked up,” Taehyung cried, wiping his face roughly. “I told you both to keep that shit at home or don’t come!”

“She started it! It’s not my fault-”

“Dude,” Milo shook his head, wrapping his arms around Taehyung. “It doesn’t fucking matter. That’s your girl.”

As the three of them argued, I tried to decipher the look on Jimin’s face. He was angry, that was very apparent, and I felt my own anger finally start to rise. He had been dealing with so much shit and on his first night out in ages this happens? It was unfair and ridiculous, my frustration over the entire situation making me want to go over and push Jungkook around, too. However, I knew that was not the way to handle this. Truth was, he was not the only person to blame for how badly the night had ended. Darcy was the main instigator.

“Are you okay?” I asked Jimin, stepping away from his tight embrace. His arm was still around my shoulders with no sign of moving. “I’m sorry everything got so shitty.”

He nodded, face softening when he looked at me. “Just worried about Taehyung. He was really excited about tonight.”

The yelling was finally starting to calm down and I was happy that they were talking things out. I did not think I could handle the screaming for any longer. I had been a bundle of nerves since I left my house, and my fingers trembled at my sides. I could hear my mother’s voice echoing in my head, though I was positive it was distorted after so many years. Sometimes when her and dad fought, she would find me hiding in my closet and pull me out, hands leaving my skin tender from the harsh grip she had on my arms, before telling me to clean up the broken dishes from off the floor.

“Come here you little shit!”

She hated me; hated being a mother. I could remember how much I wished she would hold me like the other kids' moms held them but was too afraid to ask. One time I drew a picture of her at school and she never even looked at it. Instead, she smoked her cigarettes at the dinner table and watched Law and Order. If I really thought about it, she threw the drawing away. It was too dirty. Just like I was too dirty.

Mom had germaphobia and considered me one of the dirtiest things she had ever seen. I was not allowed in their bedroom because of it. Dad went along with it like he did everything else. When he wasn’t drinking, he was sleeping or in the garage. I hoped he was doing okay. Danielle seemed to be just as controlling as mom had been.

“Where’d you go?”

I startled, whipping around to find Jimin staring at me. His expression was gentle and calm, and I was suddenly aware of the harsh chill nipping at my wet cheeks. I had not noticed I was starting to cry. Strange. It had been a long time since those memories had been brought up.

“Are you okay?” He asked, rubbing my arm. “You looked lost.”

I nodded, quickly reaching up to pat the tears away. It was a good thing my mascara was smudge proof or else I might look even more pathetic. I am 31 now and it felt stupid to cry over things so far in the past. Things I had not had to deal with in well over 20 years. Dr.Wolfe would disagree with me, but she wasn't here.

“Yeah,” I nodded, voice thick. “Just zoned out for a second. Eyes must have dried out.”

It was a bad lie, but a lie he accepted. Squeezing my arm one last time, he finally moved away to give me a bit of breathing room. That was another thing that I always appreciated about the guy. He never overstayed his welcome, even if he wanted to. Taking a second to compose myself, I mindlessly fixed my hair and adjusted my clothes. Nervous habit.

“I think everyone’s heading home for the night,” Jimin said, nodding his head toward the other three men. “They seem cool. You ready to leave?”

I shrugged, “If you are.”

He nodded and walked over to the ground. I gave myself another moment to gather my thoughts. The worst of it was over and I doubted those memories would make themselves known again. With the screaming over it would not take long for my head to get itself straightened out. I might ask Jimin to drive us back, though. I was exhausted, and frankly, I did not think we would be safe if I was behind the wheel. Nothing worse than an anxious driver.

Jungkook was ashamed of their behavior tonight, and when I joined the others, he was quick to throw a million apologies in my direction. I accepted them all easily but knew it would take me a few days to fully forgive him. Tonight was a lot. Hopefully I could speak with Taehyung privately and ask him not to invite the couple out with us. If I never had to see Darcy again it would make my stay that much easier.

“I think we’re going to go home,” Milo said once Jungkook walked away. He was planning on calling an Uber so Tae could have a bit of space. “My little flower is burned out for the night.”

I smiled sadly, “Are you sure? We can always try something else.”

Taehyung’s head snapped in my direction and I wanted to scoop him up in my arms. His face was puffy from crying and eyes still misty. He was quick to nod his head and reached out to take hold of my hands.

“You still want to hang out with me?” He whimpered.

I had only said it to cheer him up not thinking that he would actually go for the idea. I had never seen him so distraught before and Milo seemed convinced that he was over having fun. Stealing a look at the blonde, he gave me a grateful smile but otherwise kept a watchful eye on Taehyung.

“Of course I do,” I finally replied, squeezing his large hands. “Tonight wasn’t your fault.”

His lower lip started to wobble again and next thing I knew I was in a very tight, warm hug. Taehyung cried into the crook of my neck. He was worried I would not like him anymore because of the fight. I awkwardly hugged him back, hoping my calm reassurances would soothe him. We really needed to get from outside the front of this restaurant before they called the cops. 

“It’s alright,” I said, trying to gently remove his arms from my waist. “We’re still friends, I promise.”

After another minute of crying, Taehyung was back in Milo’s arms. His face was red, and his nose was running, but the sobs had stopped. Jimin placed a hand on my lower back and started to bounce a few ideas off of Milo. It was late, but from the sound of things, our get together was not over. I could not say for certain if this was a good thing or not, I did need to have that talk with Jimin. If we were out too late there was no way for me to promise I would not pass out in the car.

“Uh,” Jimin thought for a second. “If we’re still hungry there’s Pie Sci and Woodbridge is right down the street. There's also that park a few blocks away."

I shrugged, “Whatever’s the best?” Looking at Taehyung, I made sure that he was feeling well enough to hang out. “I won’t be upset if you want to go home. It was a rough night for all of us.”

He sniffled and nodded. “I’m just really tired.”

Jimin and I said our goodbyes and I promised the blue haired boy I would call him in the morning to set up another meet up. He called it a group date, something neither Jimin nor I disagreed with, but it did make me feel queasy. Depending on how our conversation goes, we may never spend time together outside of training. I felt like I was going to vomit.

“Let me drive?” Jimin murmured as we parted ways with the couple. 

I nodded, digging in my purse to find them. “Mind reader, I swear. Get out of my head, kid.”

He snickered, “Who says you weren’t in mine, granny”

The queasiness dissipated and I felt like I could breathe a little bit easier now. Being alone with Jimin had never felt this nerve wracking before, not even the first time we met, and it was hard to explain all of the thoughts and feelings going through my head. We were finally having the talk, but I had never imagined it going this way. Handing him the keys, I elbowed him in the ribs.

“Whoops,” I mocked. “You know me and my bad eyesight, kiddo.”

“Watch it,” He hissed, rubbing the spot. “Don’t want you breaking anything. You know you have frail bones.”

I laughed, “Don’t make me give you a knuckle sandwich, punk.”

Sliding into the passenger seat felt less daunting after the light hearted exchange. Still, my blood was pumping as Jimin clicked his seatbelt in place. I had no idea when the conversation would shift into murkier waters, but I needed to start thinking about what to say to him. 

Denying my feelings would only make things worse, and I did not think the younger man would believe me. In fact, he would be offended that I thought he was dumb enough to get bamboozled in the first place. Lying did not seem like the right call anyway. My feelings were not something to feel ashamed about, but they were very frightening. 

“When is later?”

I gasped, startled out of my thoughts. We had been driving for over ten minutes already. Time seemed to slip by when I was lost in my own head. Jimin apologized for scaring me but repeated the question once I reassured him that I was fine.

“Now,” I mumbled. “I guess later is now.”

Turning on the blinker, Jimin switched lanes smoothly. He was probably the best driver that I knew and always made sure to keep my little quirks in mind during our rides. He had even gotten used to leaving the radio off when I was around, something that I appreciated more than words could ever say. Recognizing that I was stalling, I cleared my throat and tried my best to get my jumbled thoughts across.

“As much as I would like to go on that date,” I started, voice weak, “I’m just a bit concerned with how that might affect our ability to work together.”

There we go, I thought to myself mentally patting myself on the back. That was not as hard as I thought it would be. Leaving out a few details would not hurt anybody, and it was the main cause of concern for me. My age was definitely up there, but I doubted Jimin would understand my perspective. To him I was just older, but to the rest of the world I was this cougar on the prowl for young men to help me relive my glory days. Even my own friends thought it was funny to make fun of the age gap.

“Is it only because of that?” Jimin pressed, his voice telling me that he was still reacting positively to whatever was coming out of my mouth. I was refusing to look at him, fearful that he would see through me. “Or is there something else bothering you?”

“W-w-well-” I stammered, “There is the media frenzy to think about. Sejin is already dealing with the press and your ‘out of character’ seclusion this season. Then there’s the age gap. I just-” I struggled to find the right words. Having let my insecurity slip out, I lost my flow and scrambled to get back on track. “Look, I haven’t done this whole dating thing in a really long time, and I don’t want that to get in the way of being a good coach. Ozzie put me in charge of you, and my reputation is on the line.”

I could hear my heart beating in my ears. Mouth dry and palms sweaty, I forced myself to look out of the window as I spoke. Anxiety had been something I dealt with for as long as I could remember, and it only got worse the older I got. My hands and fingers trembled in my lap as I tried to steady my breathing. 

In all of the dreams I had about Jimin, and there had been quite a few at this point, this moment had never felt so real and raw. We were always in these picture perfect pieces of heaven, sunshine beaming down on us, and the words I desperately wanted to say fell from my lips with ease. It was simple and sweet, and yet profound and beautiful. I could wax poetics and put myself thoughts together so eloquently he had no choice but to say yes to me. 

Reality was different. Here I was stumbling over my sentences and stuttering my way through words. Instead of taking his hand with mine, I was fidgeting with shaking fingers and desperately hoping he could not see just how uncomfortable I was. I knew he did. He always noticed. My heart was racing so fast I was afraid it would burst. Had he turned the heart up? It was boiling.

“I just want to know how you feel about me.”

“Hm?” I squeaked, unable to form any real words. My mouth was too dry. 

“I’ve thought about all of the same shit,” Jimin continued, voice as smooth and calming as ever. “I don’t care about any of that. All I want to know is how you feel about me.”

“You know,” I replied, wheezing. Talking felt impossible. “You know.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

Taking in a deep breath, I squeezed my eyes shut and began the mental countdown. My therapist taught me the technique years ago and I always found it to be helpful. I did this a few times until I felt calm enough to open my eyes. 

“Are you alright?” Jimin asked.

“Yeah,” I nodded, finally feeling my heart rate slowing. “A little anxious.”

“Don’t be,” He placed a hand on my knee. “It’s just me.”

And he was right. It was just Jimin and I in my car, but that was also the reason I felt so suffocated. There was nowhere to run or hide in here, and if things went south I was stuck with him for half an hour. Trying not to let those pessimistic thoughts send me back into a panic, I began to mentally point out things in my car.

Air freshener. It's green. It smells like pine and lemons. I want a new scent. Jimin likes to buy this coconut and mango one that smells like candy. I will buy one like his. I love the smell.

I let out a heavy breath. Everything was fine. He was not upset. He just wanted to know how I felt about him. Nothing more nothing less. My heart was settling, and my fingers were no longer shaking.

“I like you,” I choked out, placing my hand over his. “But you already knew that.”

He gently laughed, flipping his hand up to intertwine our fingers. 

“Yeah, you’re a terrible actress.”

I groaned, leaning my head against the window. As much as I tried kidding myself, there was absolutely no way he did not see the way I looked at him. I always knew when his flirting took on a more serious edge, like when he called me beautiful after seeing the scar on my leg for the first time, so it should not have been surprising that he picked up on a thing or two. Still, it did not make it any less embarrassing.

“How long have you known?” I asked, peeking at him through my lashes.

“I mean, I had a feeling when you first got to town, but I wasn’t completely sure until that first training day.”

He laughed at my embarrassed groan, holding my hand tighter. I knew I wasn't subtle enough. Poker face champion, my ass.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” He cooed. “You’ve been my dream girl since I was, like, 15.”

“That's not helping the age gap thing,” I tittered as I played with his fingers. Then, because I could not help myself. “Dream girl, huh?”

Picking up on the teasing tone in my voice, Jimin chortled. 

“Okay, big head. Calm down.”

“Big head?” I guffawed, pulling my hand out of his grasp. “Who are you calling big head, shortstop?”

“You, big head,” Taking back my hand, Jimin pinned it down and kept a tight grip. “No take backs.”

I always loved it when Jimin was in a good mood. He was so playful and full of energy, and all signs of those dark days were in the deepest parts of his mind. It was impossible to keep myself from playing along which only served to egg him on.

“You never said yes or no.”

“Yes or no to what?” I questioned. 

Jimin started rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb.

“To that date.”

Saying yes felt wrong, but saying no felt impossible. No matter what I said someone would be upset, and I had to decide who that would be: Jimin or America? I turned my own hand around this time and put my fingers through his. They fit together awkwardly, his hands just a bit too large, but I still found it perfect all the same.

“Do you have any ideas?”

His shiteating grin was contagious and a burst of butterflies began to flutter in my stomach. Hands clasped, Jimin started to list off all of the places we could go, but I was not fully listening. I had a date with this guy. I was going on a date with my trainee. 

“What do you think?”

I blinked rapidly, hoping he could not tell that I had zoned out. 

“You pick,” I breathed. “Surprise me.”

The rest of the drive back home was spent making small talk and discussing food preferences. Jimin was a dinner and a movie kind of guy, while I would rather do some sort of activity. What type of conversation could we have in a theater? Jimin seemed excited to plan out a fun night and I was just happy he was this into me. The feeling was most definitely mutual.

“Do you mind if I go to my house tonight? Mom needs some space and I know my dad is tired of having me breathing down their necks.”

I had yet to go over to his house. The days that we drove together were when he spent the evening with his parents. When Na-yeon and I talked about it, she was more upfront about her health situation than the men of the house. James spent most of his time taking care of his wife and their son enjoyed giving him a break every now and then. James would go on a fishing trip with his friends while Jimin stayed back to keep an eye on his mother. 

“Is it closer to town?” I asked, nibbling on my lower lip. 

I had yet to drive through downtown Ann Arbor. The Park house, and by proxy the Anderson’s, was a thirty minute drive from the bustling city. Nestled in the smaller town of Saline going towards Manchester, I had rarely had to leave the small town. This trip to Detroit was the farthest I had gone since arriving in Michigan, but I had a feeling the traffic in downtown Ann Arbor would be a bit much for me to drive through alone.

“Yeah,” I felt even more nervous by his nonchalant tone. “I used to live downtown, but I got tired of the noise. I bought my house in Eberwhite last summer, so there’s a little less foot traffic.”

“How’s the drive back to Saline?” Even I could hear the hesitation in my voice.

“Less than twenty,” Rubbing the back of my hand, his voice took on a sweeter tone. “We don’t have to. My truck’s at my parent’s place anyway.”

“Maybe some other time?” I forced myself to laugh, hoping to make the awkward tension leave. “Preferably when it’s not dark outside.”

I relaxed into my seat once I started seeing familiar landmarks. Saline was a very small town with a little over 2,000 residents, but downtown still had a way of attracting a relatively large crowd. Stoney Creek Brewery was packed and Jimin pointed out Sam’s car as we pass by. 

“Looks like he came out with Otis and Skye,” He murmured.

Otis was another personal trainer at the gym, and Skye was responsible for marketing. They had been going out for a while now and made plan to move to Ann Arbor once Otis graduated from school. He was getting his masters in movement science at the University of Michigan. They had planned on moving out there when he graduated last year, but neither of them could find a job that could pay their bills. Otis was hoping the master’s would give him a competitive edge while Skye saved up enough money to start her own advertising firm.

“Think Gigi is with them?” I wondered.

“Probably not. She’s busy studying for an exam. I saw that she requested time off tomorrow and the day after, so I don’t think she has the time to go out for drinks.”

Giselle was getting her bachelor’s in dental hygiene at UM, and everytime I spoke to her she was swamped with work. I had no idea she needed to request time off, though. Must be an intense program.

“Did you ever go to college?” I asked Jimin. 

He nodded, “I got my bachelor’s in psychology.”

Well, I had not been expecting that. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, but I never went back to get my master’s,” We turned onto the long road that led to his parent’s house. “I might after the Olympics.”

It was interesting to hear about his goals post-swimming. I never had those. My entire life was going to be swimming, and then, once I could no longer compete, I was opening my own swim school. After a couple of years of coaching under my belt, the plan was to start training professional athletes until I could join the Olympic coaching team. The accident was a very traumatic and eye-opening experience for me, so most of those plans ended up getting changed and modified over the years.

“What about you?” Jimin asked, pulling up to the curb.

“I went through an accelerated program at UCCS. Just graduated with my Masters in Athletic Training back in April.”

Neither one of us seemed to be ready to break the bubble we created. Even if we were just talking about school, it felt too intimate to leave. Holding hands in my car was new and I was worried if I opened the car door all of this would turn out to be a dream. The date, the confession; all of it. 

“I should get going,” Jimin sighed, still not moving his hand from mine. “It’s late and I have to drive home.”

I was the first one to move away. He was right. It was almost midnight and I had a really difficult time tonight. All of that yelling really took a toll on me. Jimin did not move until he heard the click of my seatbelt unfastening. 

“See you tomorrow?” He asked when I rounded the car. Getting out of the car, he held the door open as I slid inside. “I know we were out later than we thought we’d be.”

I nodded, “We can have a late morning. 8:30 instead of 6.”

“Sounds good. See you then.”

He closed my car door and jogged to his truck. It was parked in the driveway today. I pressed the button to roll my window down. 

“Drive safe!” I called out.

Looking over his shoulder, Jimin grinned and threw a hand up. I watched him climb into Fiona and tried to keep myself from worrying too much. It was so dark outside and he could be exhausted behind the wheel. Who knows what could happen to him.

He caught me staring and waved at me again. I returned it with a small smile. The truck stopped for a second and his phone was his hand. My cell phone vibrated in the cupholder.

Jimin: I’ll be okay

Jimin: Text you when I get home, k?

Looking back at the truck, I found him already looking at me. I nodded my response. He smiled at me again, waved, before finally backing out of the driveway. I did not move until I could no longer see his truck in my rearview. My phone buzzed one more time.

Jimin: At the stop sign on Woodland and Ann Arbor-Saline

Jimin: Go home. I’m here. I’m fine.

I hesitated texting him back when I knew he was driving, but decided that I would just have to trust he would not open it until it was safe.

Me: Get out of my head, kid

Finally putting my car in drive, I threw my phone back in its spot and made the ten minute drive down the road to the Anderson house. All of the lights were off when I pulled up and I was as quiet as a mouse walking to the backyard. 

I was beyond tired but still needed to get my nighttime routine done. Stripping out of my clothes, I turned on the shower and took off my makeup. Tonight wasn’t a wash night, so I was not in the shower for long. I heard my phone vibrating as I put on lotion and I quickly threw on a night shirt and went to my bedroom.

Jimin: Who says you aren’t in mine, meemaw

Jimin: I’m home now so you can get some sleep

Jimin: Night, geezer

I snorted. That was a new one. Crawling into bed, I got comfortable under my blankets and thought about a good comeback.

Me: Thank you

Me: Geezer? That’s such an geriatric thing to say, you whippersnapper

Jimin: LOL night 🫰🏼

Me: Night 🌜

I quick sent Taehyung a text to make sure he and Milo go home safely before putting my phone on the charger. Jungkook sent a text to our group chat an hour ago to let us know he was in his apartment back in Detroit. He was in Ann Arbor so often since Darcy lived out here, but he had bought a multi-million dollar home in Corktown when was first signed to the Red Wings in 2019. Milo was the one to reply to my text, signing his name at the bottom, since Taehyung passed out in the car on their way back home.

I took my medications and started up a game of solitaire while I waited for them to kick in. My psychologist had sent me to Michigan with a three month supply. I was planning my first trip back next week so I could see the boys in time for their first big competition of the season. While I was in town, I would pick up another three month supply. We were making the arrangements work as best as we could, and I was lucky I had a large group of people willing to support me during this transition.

Finally I felt the sleeping pills kicking in and I went to my white noise app. I hated falling asleep in silence and Emery had suggested the app while we were in a session. I paid for a yearly subscription and never regretted the fifty bucks. It had been a huge help in lulling me to bed.

Lights out and blankets wrapped snugly around my body, I closed my eyes and thought about everything that had happened. Jimin liked me back, asked me on a date, and told all of his friends about his infatuation with me before I even realized something else was going on. I was his dream girl. That put a lazy smile on my face. Then, I could no longer think about anything and was plunged into a dreamless sleep.

Taglist: @ownthesunshine @screamertannie @lovelytaes-blog @pernesianparapio @tae-with-some-suga @sumzysworld @chimmisbae @adventures-in-bookland

© chimcess, 2024. Do not copy or repost without permission.

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #park jimin #bts jimin #jimin fanfiction #jimin fanfic #park jimin fanfiction #park jimin fanfic #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #jimin fluff #jimin angst #jimin smut #bts au #strangers to lovers #jimin x y/n #jimin x you #jimin x reader #bts x y/n #bts x you #bts x reader #bts scenarios #kim seokjin #kim namjoon #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #jung hoseok #min yoongi

[eternalmarvel]

MK1 - BI HAN X READER ~ REUNION ~

an: ok hi guys lowkey i havent written fanfiction in years so this is my brief return. so feral for bi-han bro got me writing again

anyways please enjoy this story that i cooked up at work instead of doing what i get paid to do 🔥i got really sloppy at the end because this fic ended up being MUCHH longer than what i intended and i lowkey lose the plot bc it was supposed to be much more different

also if you guys have requests send them in i might do them i might not so dont expect too much

ps+ i'm not chinese so if i mischaracterized something pls let me know!! i'm the wrong type of asian to be writing this lmfao

--

you returned to the lin kuei outpost hoisted on the shoulders of the neighboring rocky mountains. it was a heavy winter yet, but a meager layer of snow had curtained everything all the same. your breath was heavy as you sighed and looked at the exterior of the stronghold, smoke spilling from your mouth. it had been years since you had been back here, practicing with the lin kuei as only a young woman. you were never an initiate, but your father was a powerful man who had been good friends with the former grandmaster of the lin kuei and wanted to assist them by having you help them out. after a couple of months of training and bonding with all the other lin kuei initiates (as well as the grandmaster's sons), you had left to pursue your responsibilities. you had been burdened with far too many tasks to just remain in one place -- it pained you but you knew you had to leave to do what was required of you. not one for goodbyes (and the fact that if you had to confront the brothers about your departure, you probably would've ended up staying...), you disappeared into the midst of the dark night.

after all with great power comes......

the gates to the stronghold opened and you entered inside. it was difficult being back. how would you approach the brothers? would they still be upset at you for leaving? surely not, considering they let you back in. but what if this is a trap, a ploy to set up a mediation to get you to explain where you were all these years? thousands of thoughts swirled inside your mind but it didn't matter now. you were inside the courtyard now, watching as initiates sparred and practiced with one another. you could begin to feel the influx of raw magical energy as you walked by, prompting you to take a deep breath in and walk with your head held higher. you opened the gates to the interior to see tomas and kuai liang speaking with some of the younger initiates. kuai had his hands crossed behind his back, his eyes stern as ever as he commanded some of the younger warriors to try out a new training exercise. tomas had a small smile on his face, his arms crossed in front of his chest. they didn't notice your arrival and so you quietly walked up to them, with hands behind your back and a shy smile across your face.

tomas was the first to notice you, and his face immediately burst into a smile. "(name)!" he yelled out, excited like a puppy being adopted by an owner for the first time ever. you were originally going to keep this visit somber, but you couldn't help to keep the smile off your face. suddenly a huge urge to hug him overcomes you, and you spread your arms around the nape of his neck, pulling him in. he pats your back, exclaiming:

"i didn't realize you were going to be here so soon!"

you pull away from him, giving him a big smile. "sorry it took me so long. had a lot of stuff to get to."  that smile on your face does not betray your intentions. it's the truth--you really did have a lot to get to. procrastinating and putting off the visit for as long as you did, however, was honestly not your intention.

you see kuai glance at you gently, a fond look washing over him as you peak from over tomas' shoulders.

"c'mon, i know you want in on this too," you say playfully as you beckon kuai over. he smiles kindly as he takes you into his arms.

"it's good to see you again, (name). seems that time's been treating you right," he says with his hands on his hips, admiring your character as he gazes at you from up to down. you can't help but blush, and wave away his comment.

"you guys have grown up a lot too! what have they been feeding you guys?!" you playfully ask. the two of them playfully chuckle, as tomas responds with,  "been drinking my 7 glasses of milk everyday!" you give him a confused look as kuai gives him a side-eye. "pretty sure it's meant to be water, tomas. but i'm glad you're so lactose-affluent," you say playfully with a grin.

kuai takes you softly by the arm and introduces you to the other members. "everyone, this is (name). she used to train with us and it's lucky for us she wasn't officially trained as an initiate or she'd be better than all of us." his compliments cause you to blush and roll your eyes, as you give a humble bow.

"where is bi-han?" you ask, reluctantly. kuai's gaze becomes sterner and yet more cautious.  "he's with some students right now. though i uhh....am not sure how receptive he will be to your....visit." you smile. "don't worry for me, kuai. i can handle the boy i used to beat in our spars." "except he's not a boy now. he's grandmaster of the lin kuei." your eyes fall to the ground. of course he was. their father died just a few years ago and now bi-han had inherited one of arcticka's greatest creations. you look back up and tomas and kuai solemnly.

"sorry i could not attend your father's funeral. i only heard about it just recently and even if i knew about it earlier, i didn't know how you guys would feel about me popping up at his service unannounced."

"you're family, (name). you were then, you still are now. nothing's changed but the time passing," he says tenderly as he rests his hand on your shoulder. you give him a smile in return and nod your head.

"thanks for the sentiment, kuai. but....let's see if your big bro shares the same sentiment."  kuai and tomas share an unsettling look as they take a deep breath in. "you're welcome to try and get through to him. don't blame me if he throws an ice pick at your head."

you roll your eyes playfully. "i'm sure i'll be fine, just tell me where he is."

tomas points to the other side of the stronghold, pointing to the large training room decorated with gold and red lanterns. come to think of it, most of the stronghold was painted with evidence of the Chinese New Year's festivities. you hadn't realized that the new year had encircled so quickly. as you made your way to bi-han, you felt your heart flutter. there was no telling how he would react. what if he actually DID throw an ice pick at your head? the nerves bubbled up in your gut as the cold air outside did nothing further to ease your unrest. as you walked to the large room where bi-han was at, your eyes briskly caught a glance at the remnants of more festivities at the stronghold. you smiled softly to yourself.

at least bi-han cared enough about his initiates to host what looked like some vendors/merchants and games at the stronghold for all of them. this gesture was sweet, almost like a father providing for the children he's adopted. just like his own father, though you didn't dare to say this out loud. this thought process however, had managed to calm you down until you got to the very wide doors to the training room. you took a deep breath in before you quietly opened the doors, peering in to a room with many masked initiates sitting on the floor inside gazing up at bi-han as he fervently explained something.

you moved to the back of the room, carefully moving past the other member to get a good look at bi-han, leaning your shoulder against the wall. a few minutes passed as he wrapped up his lesson, finally catching your eye. for a ninja he wasn't much aware of your presence. but he also hadn't felt your presence in years, and you were aware of that. when his eyes met yours, he didn't look surprised like a person gazing upon a long-dead wraith but rather he looked stunned as to how you even got here. there was anger hidden behind his eyes, but at the same time....

"(name)?" it had been years but you still felt the same way when he called out your name. his voice had gotten deeper and he had changed into a grown man. your eyes explored his stature -- he was taller, his muscles were defined, and a different aura now defined him. he was no longer the softer boy you knew him to be, now he was grandmaster of earth's last defence; of course he was going to be a changed man now.

you smiled cheekily, not knowing how to react. truthfully, you didn't know how you got this far.

"hi, bi-han. i hope i didn't distract you when you were busy teaching," you speak coyly, not wanting the other initiates to overhear your WHOLE conversation. he looks down at you, almost like he's debating what to say next. you take a deep gulp and you scrape away at the skin underneath your nails, causing them to bleed. after what seems like a milennia of consideration, he furrows his brows and briskly walks past you.

you nod your head with a soft smile. you understand why he feels this way but to be honest, you're not sure whether you would've preferred this treatment or having an ice pick gone straight to your dome. the other initiates look on carefully, trying not to invoke their grandmaster's anger. before they can do anything else, they follow their grandmaster out the room.

"don't take it to heart. if you were anyone else, he probably would've frozen you solid. i'm surprised he actually went the mature route."

you turn around to see whose voice those sentences belonged to. your eyes fell upon a man wearing a yellow uniform, similar to kuai's uniform but the colours inversed. his hair is tied up almost in a ponytail and restrained by a yellow bandana across his forehead. he's a good-looking man, but an unfamiliar face.

"i'm sorry, i don't recognize you," you say as you furrow your eyebrows piecing together who this man could be.

"cyrax. i haven't seen you before here either. though kuai said that there may be a guest visiting today." he gives you a small smile and stretches out his hand so you can shake it. you give him a warm yet stern handshake. you take his hand and give him a small shake.

"i was hoping for a warmer reception from him honestly. though it was my fault for thinking he might've reacted the same way i might've towards him."

"eh, he's been cranky for the last few days. still, that makes him not snapping on you all the more interesting. are you familiar to him? personally?"

"oh, ha, no," you wave him away embarrassingly, "i used to train here with the brothers. i'm acquainted with them pretty well. just haven't seen them in years, so...."

"ahh. well, good luck with trying to get sub-zero to warm up to you. you're attempting to do the impossible." he replies with a cheeky grin, before bowing to you and leaving the room. you take a deep breath in, unsure of how you were going to get the grandmaster to liven up a little and talk to you. as the day continued, you found yourself wandering the old halls of the stronghold you used to train in. it was night-time now, and you admired the dark glow on all the new year festival decorations. they shone bright as the gold off of them reflected the moon's light. a little upset at not being able to have the reunion you wanted, you walked out to the terrace surrounding the courtyard, looking down at the dimly lit enclosure. no one was out practicing right now, causing you tp scoff to yourself. when you practiced here you went well into the late night and yet none of these new initiates hold the same respect and regard for hardwork as you did. your mind flashes back to your sparring practices with bi-han. when you both were younger, he could hardly touch you you were so fast. your hits were hard and fast, mirroring bi-han's form but you were just that much quicker. he hated admitting it, but you were just a better fighter -- though your elemental magic couldn't hold a light to his cryomancy.

before your mind wandered off to the unknown, you heard footsteps behind you making their way down the corridor. you turned to see bi-han in a dark blue/black hanfu with a few books in his arms. your breath caught in your throat as you gazed upon him. if he saw you, he was doing a great job at pretending he never did. this didn't matter to you, as you quickly hid behind one of the pillars in the terrace. he had his head down, bad idea. as he came closer to you, you waited for the perfect moment to strike before finally revealing yourself. bi-han didn't react at all and if he did, it was out of pure annoyance.

"no. you're not leaving until we speak."

"are we finished?" he says stoically, before attempting to go around you. "that was enough of us speaking."

flabbergasted, you back up quickly and block his path again.

"bi-han." you say, defeated and exhausted. you didn't come all this way to get dejected and leave without getting proper closure. if you had to move on from him, you wanted to at least clear things up with him before getting on with your life.

"did you not leave the last time? i am simply doing to you what you have done to m-us." he replies matter-of-factly.

"i'm here now aren't i? c'mon now, i know you've been dying to talk to me. i wanted to talk to you all this time!" you say coyly, throwing a playful punch at his meaty arm.

he looks a little upset, or at least his eyes and frown betray him if he was going for a stoic look.

"why now? why after all these years. you might as well return to wherever you came from," he replies lowly and yet it shows that he's hurt. your heart warms a little at the fact that you could've had this much of an impact on him. you nod your head slowly and look into the enclosure beneath you.

"i'm sorry bi-han. you know i had to leave soon. it wasn't going to be forever, even if i wanted for it to be so. and i knew......" you look down, a long distance into the ground, "if i told any of you guys i was leaving i probably wouldn't have ended up leaving." the look on bi-han's face relaxes a bit, but you can still see him holding the stress on his face. there's not much more that you can say. he was right in being upset -- if anyone else abandoned you the way that you did to him or his brothers you'd be livid. the two of you spent months with one another and yet neither of you had confessed your feelings. the tension was palpable and everyone else noticed it too, it was just confusing as to why neither of you acted on your desires. for you, it was the fear of rejection. perhaps it was the same for him as well?

you lean on the terrace on your side, gazing at bi-han. just being near him after all these years was enough of a blessing but something in you wanted more, though you would never publicly admit to this. you stop yourself at first, but then reach for his arm, carefully, almost to not startle him like he's a wild animal at bay for now but at risk of leaving at the first sign of danger. he doesn't retreat, moving his gaze from your face to your arm. you gently get a hold of his forearm, grazing your thumbs against them. he's cold, but retracts the cold from his skin so that it's back to normal temperature. you hold your gaze at his arm, almost too shy to look at his face.

"i think you've missed me all this time."

bi-han scoffs. "not in the slightest."

"then why are you so close to me?"

it's like the act is intuition. he notices how close the two of you are now and apparently his closeness has gone unnoticed because only a mere half foot now separates the two of you. he lets out a small chuckle out of annoyance and shakes his head.

"you still remain as aggravating as ever."

you put your hand on your hip.

"i apologize for upsetting the mighty grandmaster of the lin kuei." you say, coming a little closer and almost closing the already-tiny gap between the two of you.

"that can be rectified." he says, almost flirtatiously. you're a bit taken aback by his frisky comment. you thought he might've actually been offended by your comment but it seems that his playful nature has become unfamiliar to you after all these years. you place your hand gently on his cheek, caressing his cheekbones and acne scars.

"i've missed you, you know," you finally express your true feelings.

bi-han's eyes soften a little.

"i should've been here-with you....i know that i didn't exactly give you much closure bu-," before you can continue on with your tedious apology he fills the space between the two of you and kisses you with a voracious hunger you've never seen before. his nose pushes against yours and you lean into the kiss, slightly moaning. he tries to slide his tongue against you and it's almost as though the two of you are young kids again, sparring. you defend your mouth, refusing to let his tongue inside but he grabs ahold of your other arm, surprising you. taking advantage of your shock, he slips his tongue inside triggering another gentle moan from you. the two of you wrestle with your tongues, exploring the smallest crevices of one another's mouths. years of tension and pressure are finally alleviated with this kiss. you lean in for more, like a child fiending for sugar, but he pulls away to gaze in your eyes.

you take a deep breath -- that workout took a lot of your wind away from you. however, your lips still draw near his, lowkey aching for more.

"i've wanted to do that for so long..." he says, pushing his forehead against yours. "are you planning on leaving again?"

you smile brightly. so the cold-hearted grandmaster did hold a soft spot for you.

"that depends. do you want me to stay?"

he removes his hands from your wrist and brings them up to your face, reciprocating your earlier caresses.

"as long as you don't leave again."

#mk1 #mk1 2023 #mk1 x reader #mortal kombat 1 #bi han #sub zero #mk sub zero #bi han x reader #bi han x y/n #sub zero x reader #mk1 bi han #mk1 bihan

[rascalentertainments]

"Wish Granted" AU: Asha

All right, you voted for Asha and her family first, so here we go! (Above concept Art by Bill Schwab. I was really drawn to this one, so I'm gonna use thus as her design.

So for this Wish AU, Asha was raised partially in Rosas as a kid, but then after father passed, and some of the citizens learned of Magnifico's true intentions, her family and other citizens quietly moved to the Hamlet known as "The Enchanted Forest". (Basically reached age 12 in Rosas, and then 13-18 in the Hamlet.)

As a kid, she was full of curiosity about the world around her, especially wildlife. She learned about how the stars guided people from her father Tomás, which inspired to want to see more of the world outside the Kingdom. When her father grew ill for seemingly unknown reasons, Asha's mother Sakina pleaded with the King to heal him. The man promised her this, but time went on and eventually Tomás passed. Maginifico had never intended to help.

Because of this, Asha grew to be more pessimistic as she got older. She no longer believed in the impossible or anything good to happen relying on magic, or anyone else to solve her problems for that matter. Even so, part of her desire for excitement still lingered, and nobody knew this better than her grandfather Sabino, whom she grew closer with over the years and became a second father to her.

With her wonder all but gone, she would end up getting help to save her family from the most unexpected source. For she wished on a Star, and the Star answered.

Now since Asha got along with other kids when she was little, part of that still stays with her, as she does read to the other kids there from time to time. (Think of this as a reference to Belle, who also loved to read) Even though she lost part of her childhood, didn't mean they had to lose theirs. So she enjoyed reading stories to them.

As for my choice of a Voice Actress, surprisingly my mother suggested Diamond White. Right now she's mainly known for being Lunella in "Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur" She's already a talented singer and play a range of emotions while still acting in character for her.

For Sakina, I'm still planning her story out, but I can say that she does have a wish herself. It is in fact is similar to Asha's, but I'll reveal more in the story.

Sabino.....he was so underutilized in the movie, its criminal. Victor Garber deserved better. While he's not 100 years old, he is in his late 80's. Normally, he's a spry old man and actually still carries a lot of youth in his personality. However, with his wish never being granted, its started to affect his health. He does his best to stay active and gives advice to Asha during that "Wishing Tree" Scene. When his health starts to deteriorate faster and renders him nearly bedridden, this starts Asha drive to return to Rosas and save everyone's wishes

And lastly: Valentino!

No, Valentino doesn't speak in this version. 😅 That'll be saved for the end, and he'll be voiced by an actual kid. (Disney, we didn't need a Donkey knock off, you do realize he was a parody right?) He might be only be three weeks old, but he's very attached to Asha from the start. He was a gift to her by Sabino as an early 18th birthday present in case his declining kept him from celebrating it with her.

The little goat is the runt of the litter, but has the heart the size of the forest itself. Always sticking by Asha's side and cheering her up when she really needs it.

Valentino is also very trusting of new people, but when Star comes down he does freak the heck out and doesn't him for a while. I mean he's not even human!

Oh and just as an extra character addition, I'm also having Flazino in this AU, since many people pointed out he was originally part of the film and had a bigger role. He's closest to a human friend Asha has in the Hamlet, as he gives them supplies and updates about the kingdom as Magnifico's apprentice.

That wraps up my first character list! Next up will be Star and then the King and Queen. Hope you enjoyed reading this preview to the story, or have any suggestions in the comments! 🌟

#rascal entertainments #wish 2023 #wish granted #wish reimagined #wish concept art #wish granted au #disney wish #wish star #wish asha #wish disney #wish au #Asha #deleted scene #concept art #the wishing tree #disney #Sakina #Saba sabino #Youtube #kingdom of wishes #the fallen star au #reach for the stars au #the girl and the star

[gin-juice-tonic]

can i ask how youre able to make so many comics or if you have any tips for aspiring internet funny comic makers? your gag comics are always so creative and funny and well-executed, and your longer form stuff is just a delight to read, i would love to know if u have any advice/insight into yr process

I'm not good at advice so you will have to bear with me here. Also I'm putting it under a readmore cause images make it into a long post. The like first 3/4th of this I talk about specific comics I did, but if you scroll to the end I tried to give some general advice.

My stuff is unfortunately very inspiration-based as opposed to planning-based. So my process might not be helpful if you're looking for something structured... The first thing I should say is I write down basically anything that pops into my head ever. I have a bunch of nonsensical tumblr drafts,

I have stuff in my phones notes app,

I have pages and pages of papers and post-it notes littering my apartment (if you want to know the extent, my sister asked me how I could live with my apartment being so "messy". The only messy thing in it is my papers scattered about). I find the paper stuff the best, because I can draw instead of just writing down concepts.

This is the page I did for the comic about Stan "comforting" Dipper over his unrequited crush on Wendy. (The tumblr version being here)

You will notice aside from the order on the page being strange and some scratched out dialogue, there's not really evidence of a 'plan' here. That's because I was just drawing this as I was thinking it. You will also notice there are two random unrelated Ford drawings in the middle of the page. That's because I was drawing ANYTHING that I was thinking of.

And when I say write down anything, I do mean it. Write down something you did that week, something you remember from when you were 8, something you said out loud and laughed at, things you thought about in the shower, a fact you learned, what your friend had for dinner. See if you can apply it to something. I've mentioned before that this comic only exists because I ran out of toilet paper and went to buy a large bulk pack of it...

When I already have a base idea and just want to expand on it, I usually draw first ask questions later, and things seem to just snowball into being a story. As an example, for the comic I did about Dipper's swimsuit, the base idea was just "Dipper and Stan both wear fully covering swimwear - because they're trans and its what they're comfortable with." But when I went to look up what Dipper wore to the pool, i noticed mabel had a Star one piece suit

Dipper has a star hat in the first episode that he loses, right? SO why don't we give him a matching star one piece that he abandons.

Of course then that single drawing CREATES the story, because we have to explain how he eventually ends up in what he's wearing in the episode. And then I just draw and draw and draw until either the comic ends or I can't continue for whatever reason. The outline for the full thing usually forms while I'm drawing. If I'm worried about forgetting, I'll write down what comes next.

Some of this stuff I didn't stick to, or greatly expanded upon. It's good to be flexible with what you're doing. If something you originally intended only to be a throwaway bit inspires you, roll with it and keep going. (If it ends up being nothing, you can always discard it or turn it into something else later anyway)

I did the swimsuit one basically fully on my computer, but if you want to see another paper based one, a lot of the comic with the kid stans and crampelter I'm doing currently is down on paper.

If you can make out my writing, you can see it says "Crampelter has found out about Stan and Ford's boxing identities" at the top there, which was the general main idea of this part of the comic. This one was a lot more planned than the dipper swimsuit one. There's multiple pages of this sort of stuff, and I knew the idea I wanted was "If Ford and Stan are trans, why would they still be called those names as kids?" (So I guess the takeaway from this one is if you're wanting a structured comic, write down the main idea on the top of a page and brainstorm dialogue and drawings on it?)

There's a lot of sort of floating heads with dialogue, all that matters is I get the emotions or general idea drawn. They're important for me to draw out because being able to "see" the scene (even if I'm seeing it heavily unfinished) is what usually inspires the next bit of the comic.

And I know I talked like a lot already but some general other advice:

Draw, ask questions about what you've drawn, draw more to answer the questions, see if those new drawings ask any new questions, continue this process till you come to a satisfying resolution.

It's fine to not draw something immediately after you've thought of it. I have a lot of things I've just squirreled away for later. And in the same vein its okay to drag something old up that you've never used and try to work with it.

I almost always put on music while I'm trying to think of things. Something I feel fits the mood of what I'm doing tonally. And then I usually just put the same song on repeat, though some people im sure would feel like that is psychological torture. But its helpful to me.

This might sound silly if you're someone who leaves the house a societally normal amount, but I try to go out into the world and do things so I get new ideas and experiences I can build on. Sometimes those things are literally just "go to the park", but sometimes it's venturing out somewhere several hours away or doing an activity i'd never care to do normally... I try to take note of anything that stood out to me and write down thoughts or feelings I had during.

When it comes to trying to be "funny", you should try to make yourself laugh first. Not only because you want your comics to bring yourself joy, but also because its just hard to make stuff you don't care about (And harder to be consistent about it). Though if you think of something and you don't really think its funny, you don't have to throw it away! You might be surprised what other people end up liking. So don't kill yourself to write jokes you yourself don't really get, but if your brain spits out something on its own you dont care much for, it still may be gold to someone else.

It's okay to make comics about simple and relatable things. People love relating. And depending on what you're writing about, that relatability may be really needed!

Everyone has something of value to say. Even if you yourself don't feel like the things you're saying matter, or that they're too silly or un-serious to matter. They matter.

#ask stuff #sorry its so long and probably largely unhelpful

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

Safe Word

pairing: hard dom chan x slightly bratty/sub fem reader

genre: angst? -smut- some fluff at the end. this really is a rollercoaster

word count: ~3k (way longer than i originally intended. whoops)

warnings: established relationship dom/sub dynamics, mean chan, jealous/possessive chan, mentions of fear, hard spanking, orgasm denial, name calling, use of safe word, pet names, mentions of sexual assault, crying

an: this is a repost from my recently deceased blog hyunjins-orange-slice. may she rest in peace. - idk what happened here. this really got away from me. this is fictional. entirely fictional. so so fictional. chan isn’t like this. he’s my sweetie pie.

masterlist

see.. i personally don’t think chan has anger issues. i hate it when people say that. BUT he does get angry from time to time (as do we all), and i think the hard dom punishments will come out of that anger. normally, his punishments consist of some slightly rough spanking, and lots of love (like this). but if you push him too far.. if you push him to that point (like that one live stream), then shit will get real. the only thing stopping him at that point is a safe word. he doesn’t care if you’re crying, begging him to stop. if you want him to stop, you’ll have to use that safe word. for example….

•

“oh, baby, you look so pretty.” he said, his eyes roaming up and down your body. “and you’re mine? are you sure?”

you giggle at him, grabbing him and pulling him close. he’s smiling at you, dimples out, as you kiss his lips softly. “yes, channie. i’m sure.”

“wow. i’m so lucky. aaaaalllll mine, yeah?” he’s holding you at arms length, so he can look you up and down again. he grabs you by the hand, holding it above your head, motioning for you to twirl for him. you spin in a little circle. he looks ravenous, his tongue coming out briefly to lick his lips, before it pokes into his cheek, trying to hide his smirk.

tonight is a black tie event, and to match with him, you’re wearing a black velvet dress. it hugs your curves nicely and really accentuates the swell of your ass. his hands find their way there, squeezing gently through the fabric.

“the only bad thing about this dress.. is that other men will be looking.” he says, pulling you against his chest.

“let them look,” you said. “maybe i’ll do a little dance for them.” you teased, swaying your hips back and forth.

his smile fell, his eyes darkening just barely enough for you to notice it. “not funny.” he said, deadpan.

ooh, that was kind of sexy, and definitely touched a nerve. you’ll just file that information away in your bratty brain for later.

“cmon, handsome.” you said, pulling him by the hand towards the door. “we’ll be late.”

“handsome?” he blushed.

you pushed him out into the hallway, locking the door behind you, giggling at him. how can he go from angry and domineering to sweet and shy in a matter of seconds?

-

the event was crowded, chan had to leave you with the staff as he walked the red carpet with his members. you stood on the side, watching him, full heart eyes bulging out of your head. he looked so good in his suit, perfectly tailored for him, his wide shoulders and slender waist making you feel giddy. you only got to watch him for a moment however, before the staff were leading you inside to your table. chan and the other members would join you shortly.

your table was near the front of the room, close to the stage. you were sat there, patiently waiting, trying not to pull your phone out of your bag and aimlessly scroll. a small group of people to your left started cheering and when you looked, chan and the boys had entered the room. they waved up toward the crowd that was calling to them, and briefly stopped to talk to another idol group. though they stopped, chan found you immediately. his eyes landed on you, always needing to know where you were and that you were safe. once he located you, you could see his shoulders relax a little and he focused back on the conversation he was having.

“excuse me, is this seat taken?” you look to your right to find a tall man gesturing to the seat next to you. the first thought to cross your mind was: uh yeah, it’s assigned seating, of course it’s taken. but then you had an idea. you remembered the way chan looked back at the apartment at the mention of other men looking at you. you kind of liked that look. and you could feel his eyes on you now, you knew he was watching. so the brat inside you took over, and you looked up at the tall man and said sweetly, “no, not until the show starts.” you smiled.

he pulled out the chair and sat down. now, you knew this was wrong. it was wrong to lead this poor man on when you knew he didn’t have a chance with you, and it was wrong to play with chans emotions like this. but you just couldn’t help yourself. this moment presented itself on a silver platter and you decided to take it.

you had no idea what the man next to you was saying, you were sure he complimented you at some point, and he wouldn’t stop staring at your chest. gross, maybe you didn’t feel bad about doing this to him. but you giggled along, pretending to be enjoying yourself. you could see chan out of the corner of your eye. he wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was staring at you. a murderous look on his face, his eyes burning holes into the man next to you. but he didn’t make a move to come closer, that was until the man reached out and put his hand on your bare thigh, just above your knee. chan took a step in your direction, but then stopped himself. you looked down at the man’s hand, and tried to push him off you you, but his fingers tightened. “come on, sweetheart. just let me touch a little.” he said. he refused to let go of your leg, even when you told him to.

you didn’t like that, and neither did chan. anxiety bubbled in your stomach. you didn’t know this man and now he was touching you without your permission and refusing to let go. you were done with your stupid little game and were glad that chan was angrily making his way over to you. glad he was on his way to save you. you should have never done this in the first place. this was a stupid idea.

“mate, you’re in my seat.” chan said. his voice rough. the man looked up at chan and he chuckled. chans expression hardened further, anger radiating off him in waves.

“we were just having a conversation.” the man said, still sitting and still holding your leg.

“you and i are about to have a conversation if you don’t get your fucking hand off of my girl.”

“your girl?” the man smiled. “but she’s the one who told me i could sit. maybe she’s over you.. mate.”

chans hands balled into fists at his sides. you could see him trying to take deep breaths. he didn’t want to loose his temper at an event like this when he was here representing his group and the company.

“princess,” he turned to you. “is this man bothering you?” he asked through his teeth. you looked up at him, his expression scared you, you had never seen him like this. eyes wide, you nodded. “he-he won’t let go of my leg.” you stammered.

chan turned back to the man. “i think she wants you to let go. i suggest you listen to her.”

the other members were surrounding you now, changbin and lee know flanking chan.

the look on the man’s face changed. he slowly removed his hand from your leg. you brought your own hand to your skin, rubbing back and forth, trying to get rid of the feeling of him. the lights slowly flashed on and off, signaling the show was starting. the man stood, bowed very slightly, and then scurried away to his table. chan watched him go before angrily pulling the chair out and sitting next to you.

“channie..” you reached for him.

“don’t.” he cut you off. pulling away from you, he faced the stage and the show began.

•

chan didn’t talk to you for the rest of the event. he was silent, seething. the other members chatted around the table about various things, but no one dared talk to chan. no one really talked to you either, other than felix who asked if you were okay after what happened. the event was reaching its end and everyone was leaving. chan stood and grabbed your hand tightly. he practically dragged you behind him to the car. the whole ride home was just as silent. you thought about what you had done. you may have really fucked up. you didn’t mean for it to go like that, but you have never seen chan like this. he was more mad than you have ever seen him and the silence was only increasing your fear.

he dragged you up to the apartment, unlocking the door. once you were both inside, and the door was shut, chan took off his suit jacket.

“go get on the bed.” he said, calmly. too calmly. you hesitated, almost frozen with fear. he had undone his cufflinks and placed them one by one gently on the counter, rolling the sleeves of his dress shirt up his forearms. “princess, go get on the bed. i won’t tell you again.”

you made your legs move, carrying you to the bed. you sat on the edge nervously. what were you supposed to do now? you fiddled with the edge of your dress, a million thoughts racing through your mind. what was about to happen? you were scared. you knew that chan would never hurt you. you reminded yourself of that. but the look on his face.. the calmness in his tone.. you worried you had really ruined your relationship. what if he hated you?

he entered the room, his sleeves rolled up to reveal his arms, veins bulging. his tie was gone, the top 2 buttons of his shirt undone. he approached you, slowly. you couldn’t look at him, instead focusing on your fingernails, picking at the chipping polish. he used his fingers to tilt your face up to him.

“you get one chance.” he said, holding up his index finger. “one chance to tell me what happened. make it quick.”

“i- i didn’t mean for it to happen like that.” you say quickly, the words nervously spilling out of your mouth.

“don’t lie to me.” he said, his voice a little louder now.

“i just- i wanted to make you a little jealous. that’s all, i promise.”

“you wanted to make me jealous? so you told him he could sit with you, and then you proceeded to flirt with him. is that right?” he was pacing back and forth now, rubbing his hands together. your eyes tracked him.

when you remained silent, he turned to you, fire behind his eyes. “answer me.” he barked.

“yes.” you blurted out.

“stand up.” he motioned with his hand. you stood. he grabbed your arm, roughly turning you around and bending you over the bed. he pulled your dress up to your hips, and pulled your panties down to your ankles.

“listen to me.” he said. you could hear him undoing his belt, the buckle clattering noisily, the sound of the leather through belt loops. “don’t you ever do something like that again. do you understand me?” you nodded your face into the covers, legs shaking with fear. he brought the belt down, the loud smack of leather against skin reverberating around the room. you jerked, fists clutching the blanket. “words.” he ordered. “do you understand me?”

“yes! yes. i understand.” you said, voice shaking.

he brings the belt down again, on your other cheek, your skin red and stinging.

“i’m sorry!” you cried.

he spanked you again. “i bet you are.”

he spanked you one more time before you could hear the belt clatter to the floor. he rubbed his fingertips across your bruised skin, before trailing his fingers down to your leaking core.

“you’re fucking drenched. this was supposed to be a punishment, slut.” he stuffed 2 of his fingers inside you, pumping them in and out roughly. you moaned and squirmed under him, your high approaching, your pussy clenching around his fingers. he pulled them out quickly. he grabbed you by your hips, flipping you over onto your back. “if you think i’m going to let you cum, you’re fucking wrong.” he grabbed you by your hair, his fist at your scalp, and pulled you off the bed. he forced you onto your knees and began unbuttoning his pants. tears were streaming down your face, your ass was sore, your orgasm ruined, and he was still mad at you. would he ever not be mad?

“are you crying, little baby?” he taunted. you looked up at him, barely able to see him through your tears. “poor little slut.” he said. “if you want to act like one, then i’m going to treat you like one.” his cock was out, his pants kicked off to the side. he was pumping himself slowly. “open.” he said, touching his tip to your lips. you opened your mouth and he thrust himself down your throat without warning. you choked for a second before he pulled out, leaving you coughing. “again.” he ordered. you did your best to open your mouth for him. he grabbed fistfuls of your hair and began using your mouth, shoving himself as far down your throat as he could, your nose touching his stomach. it was hard to breathe with your nose clogged from crying and your mouth full of his cock.

you could feel your arousal leaking down your thighs, secretly loving the way he was using you. but hating his angry words. you wanted to be praised. you missed your sweet channie. he shoved his cock back in your mouth, and you reached your hands up, sliding them under his shirt to feel his hard abdomen. he slapped your hands away, and pulled himself out of your mouth.

“only good girls get to touch. sluts get used. hands behind your back.”

you looked up at him pleadingly, bringing your hands behind your back. “please channie.” you sniffled. “i’m sorry.”

“i don’t fucking care.” he spat, grabbing your head again and shoving himself back down your throat. you gagged and sputtered around him, your tears falling faster now, your heart breaking at his words. you needed to stop.

you mumbled your safe word around his cock. but he couldn’t hear you. you tried again but he kept pumping in and out. you tapped his thigh 3 times with the palm of your hand, more like slapping then tapping, and he pulled out.

“re-red” you coughed, sputtering spit onto the floor. he immediately stopped, and he dropped to his knees in front of you. you buried your face in your hands, sobbing.

“hey, hey.” he said, soothingly. he reached for your hands, pulling them from your face. you looked up at him, your eyes bloodshot, your cheeks wet and stained, a look of total devastation on your features. it broke his heart. “baby.. talk to me.” he said.

“baby-y?” you hiccuped.

he cradled your face in his hands, thumbs wiping away your tears. “yes. baby.” he said. “you’re my baby.”

a feeling of relief swelled in your chest.

“you promise?” you asked.

he used the hem of his shirt to wipe at your nose. “of course, princess. you’re my baby. you’ll always be my baby.” he stared into your eyes, his own looking a little glsssy. “i pinky promise. and you know i’ve never broken a pinky promise.”

a new sob broke from your chest, but a completely different one altogether. this was a sob of relief, a sob of happiness. you collapsed into his chest, his strong arms wrapping around you. “ oh honey..” he said, his voice sounding watery. he rubbed your back soothingly.

“i th-thought you ha-hated me.” you stuttered between sobs.

“i could never hate you, angel.” he cooed. “i was mad. i was really mad.” he pulled back so he could look at you. “i got a little carried away.” he admitted. “i’m sorry, baby. but i promise i don’t hate you. i love you.” he kissed your lips gently. “i love you so much. that’s why i couldn’t stand to see that asshole touching you.”

“i’m sorry too.” you said quietly. “i shouldn’t have flirted with him. i promise i wont ever do it again. please don’t be mad.”

“im not mad anymore.” he said. “you used your safe word. you’ve never had to do that before. and for that, i’m sorry. are you okay?” he looked so defeated, so broken at the thought that he let it get this far.

“i’m okay now.” you assured him. “i’m okay now that i know you’re not mad at me anymore.” you gave him a small smile.

“i’m not mad. but baby,” his tone turned slightly more serious, but still soft. “you can’t do that. you’re mine and it’s not okay for you to flirt with other men, even if you’re only doing it to get a rise out of me.”

“i know.” you nodded. “i know that now.”

“not only that, but that guy basically assaulted you. you can’t put yourself in dangerous situations like that. what if i wasn’t there?”

“i know.” you looked down at your hands, intertwined with his.

“or, what if i lost my temper and beat that guy within an inch of his life for touching you? then i’d loose my job, changbin would be crying, you’d have to come visit me in jail.” you could hear the smile in his voice. “i wouldn’t look good in jail clothes.” he joked.

you giggled at that. he smiled down at you, a look that was so full of love and adoration. you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. “i love you, channie. and i’m sorry.”

he smiled against your lips. “i love you baby, and im sorry too.” he kissed you multiple times in quick succession, covering your entire face in kisses. his quick pecking throwing you into a fit of giggles, having complexly forgotten about him being mean, only knowing this sweet cuddly version of him. and he vowed this was the only version you would see from now on.

🚨reminder: this blog is 18+ only. i’ve been getting a lot of new followers (which i greatly appreciate) but if there’s no age identifier on your blog, i’m blocking you no questions asked. (for my own sanity and peace of mind.) ik some people don’t actually go to my page to read the warnings, so im going to start attaching a warning at the bottom of all my posts. thanks for understanding. 💕

#stray kids #bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids bang chan #stray kids smut #bang chan smut #hyunjins orange slice too

[feyhunter78]

Pink Pastels Pt 29

Description: Conchata O'Hara is not a fan of you and makes this clear to Miguel, but it ends up going a little too far when she drags Gabi into it. Pt 30

“Mijo, I don’t like this.” Connie says as soon as Miguel shuts the door.

They’re in a side sitting room, the music, and chatter muffled by the thick door. His mother is wringing her hands as she stands in the middle of the room looking up at him.

He turns to face her, massaging his temples. “You don’t like what?”

“Someone new trying to come in and take Ava’s spot, it’s too fast.” She says, a concerned expression on her face.

“It’s been four years.” He deadpans, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tries to calm himself down.

He’s never been good at this, even in his original universe, in fact he was worse back there because his mother was worse. Conchata O'Hara spent most of her life after her divorce from his stepfather guilt-tripping, he and Gabriel into running to her side at any given moment. She’d fake health scares, emergencies, claim someone had tried to break in and harm her, anything to trick them into visiting her at Wellvale Home.

But here? Here Gabriel dies much earlier, here his stepfather dies under mysterious circumstances when Miguel was thirteen, here his mother stays kind for a bit longer, this universe’s Miguel is in high school when she begins to change.

Then when Miguel arrived in this universe, he pulled her out of Wellvale and put her into therapy, then a nice apartment where she could bug everyone else before she bugged him. The guilt-tripping lessened, and he found he could actually tolerate visiting her.

“But Ava is still her mother.” Connie says that same disappointed look on her face he saw in the video footage from the day Ava left this timeline’s Miguel.

He counts to ten, then back down to zero in his head. Gabriel was always much better at this than him. He had more patience, in both universes.

“She is biologically her mother, but she isn’t her mom , she made that very clear to me.” Miguel says firmly.

Connie shakes her head. “She’s seduced you, hasn’t she?”

“Y/N?” He asks, both two seconds from laughing while also slightly aroused at the idea.

Would you seduce him? Maybe he’d bring that up to you, a little roleplay? You could be the beautiful assistant that seduces her overworked boss, turns him to putty in her hands…

“Miguel.” Connie snaps.

“No, no, she has not seduced me, she’s an elementary school teacher, Mamá.” Miguel explains.

“So?”

“So? So, she’s Gabi’s teacher, and she loves her job, she would never do anything to jeopardize it.”

“Most mistresses are teachers.” She says, crossing her arms over her chest.

He knows that’s blatantly wrong.

“You would know a lot about that, wouldn’t you?” The words come out of his mouth before he can stop them, and the look on his mother’s face is like a sucker punch to the gut. “I—Mamá—I didn’t mean…I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

“Tu hijo ingrate.” She says, shaking her head in disappointment. “I did everything for you, tried so hard to raise you well, but obviously I failed.” Trsl: You ungrateful child.

“Mamá…” He reaches for her, but she takes a step back.

“I am so sorry that I was such a terrible mother that you would give up so easily, really Miguel, you would abandon the mother of your child when she came all the way here to see you and Gabi, to apologize.”

“How did you know Ava was in Nueva York?” He asks, dread filling his chest.

“She’s my daughter-in-law, and she wanted to see her baby, I told her where you and Gabi moved to.” She says it so simply, as if she hadn’t driven a stake through his heart.

Not for the first time, he feels a wave of sympathy and rage for this universe’s Miguel. “You told her where we are? After I specifically asked you not to?”

“She wanted to apologize.” She emphasizes.

“No, no she did not, Mamá. She showed up and demanded to see Gabi, she tried to seduce me, and she called my fiancée a whore in her own home, in front of Gabi. She was never intending to apologize.”

“Well, obviously your perception of her is skewed because of your new plaything.” She huffs.

“She is my fiancée, I love her, I’m in love with her, and Ava will never be allowed into my home or near my daughter again.” He says with a tone of finality as he stares down his mother.

She rolls her eyes.

“Mamá, I’m sorry, but if you can’t accept that, then you won’t be allowed to see Gabi either.” This’ll break Gabi’s heart, but a boundary has to be put into place.

This would be much easier if he could just tell his mother Ava was dead, but he can’t and he won’t.

“You would keep me from my own granddaughter? This woman really has changed you.” She tsks, tapping her fingers impatiently on her arm.

She has no idea.

“It’s for the better, can’t you just be happy for me?” He asks, both frustrated and saddened that his mother can’t look past her own desires long enough to focus on him.

She sighs and takes his hand in hers. “Miguel…of course I can. If you’re happy, then I’m happy.”

He smiles slowly. “Thank you, it means a lot to me that we have your support.”

She pats his cheek. “I’m your mother, you’ll always have my support.”

He smiles and takes a step back, turning towards the door and pulling it open. You’re bound to be worried; he’s told you a little about how much his mother loved Ava, how she blamed him for the divorce, and how she treated him and Gabriel, but he didn’t go into too heavy detail. You had been so upset on his behalf, an almost righteous fury blazing through you.

“Sin embargo, no soy la madre de esa puta.” She mumbles. Trsl: I’m not that whore’s mother, though.

Her voice is so soft, and if his hearing wasn’t enhanced, he doubts he would’ve heard what she said.

“You clearly need time to process this news, Y/N, Gabi and I will leave you alone, and you can give me a call in a few days once you’ve calmed down.”

He leaves her behind as he heads back to the table, his eyes focused on you. How you try to cover your smile with your hand when you laugh, and the way you blend so seamlessly with Monica, Brett, and Nancy, his other family.

“Papá!” Gabi calls out to him from her seat beside you.

“Are you bored of the sheep already?” He teases, as he slides into the seat beside you, an empty one on his other side.

“Oh, Miguel, maybe don’t—” You try to warn him, but it’s too late.

Gabi nods excitedly. “I want one.”

“A sheep?”

“I’ll name it Wooly, and it can sleep in my bed with me, and we can go on adventures, and maybe we can buy a farm, and then I can have lots of sheep.” She begins to ramble on and on about sheep, and he sees Monica hiding her face in Brett’s shoulder.

“Did you do this?” He asks, glaring at her from across the small square table.

Monica raises her head, her lips pressed tightly together to keep a laugh from escaping. “No?”

“Brett?” He turns his gaze on the light brown-haired man.

“You know, Miguel, they say animals are really great for children’s social development.” Brett says, giving him an apologetic smile.

“And then a goat tried to eat my dress!” The tail end of Gabi’s ramble catches his attention.

He turns back to see Gabi holding out the hem of her dress for you to see. It’s got ragged bite marks in it, and pieces of fabric missing.

“Oh no, that’s no good.” You say, smoothing out Gabi’s skirt. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to get you a new one for the next gala.”

“I’ll take you shopping, nieta.” Connie says, taking the seat next to Nancy, the conveniently empty one next to him.

Miguel shoots her a look, but she ignores him.

“Really?” Gabi asks, beaming at her grandmother.

“I’d like to come with, if you don’t mind?” You ask, giving Connie a smile.

Miguel braces himself for his mother’s response.

“How sweet, but this is a family thing, we need to find her color for her quince.” His mother’s voice is saccharine sweet, and it turns his stomach.

“But she’s six?” You question, looking to him for guidance.

“It’s never too early to find your color.” His mother says.

“Of course, but children’s favorite colors often change as they grow older, shouldn’t we let Gabi make her color decision when she gets closer to fifteen?” Miguel sees you look towards Gabi, but she’s preoccupied with trying to beat Brett in some odd competition to see who can eat their pasta faster.

“Y/N is right, Mamá, Gabi is too young to decide what color she wants, why don’t we revisit this idea when she’s a bit older?” Miguel steps in, placing a hand on your knee to comfort you.

“You’re a man, Miguel, you don’t understand how important this is.” Connie dismisses him.

“I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but he’s her father, I’m sure he does.” You say, your smile growing tight.

He adores you, you who is trying so hard to befriend his mother for the sake of his daughter.

Connie smiles at you. “Poor dear, don’t worry, no one expects you to understand.”

You blink at her, stunned. “Oh—um, I mean, I grew up visiting Texas, I’ve attended quinceañeras before, I know how important they are to the family.”

“Yes, but, attending is not the same as hosting.” Connie laughs, the sound thin and mocking.

“Connie…” Nancy says quietly, her eyes scanning the table until they land on Brett and Gabi.

“Of course not, but Gabi is important to me, so anything that’s important to her is important to me.” You try to reason, clenching and unclenching your fingers around the stem of your still full drink.

Brett reads her glance and scoops her up, carrying her back towards the petting zoo, claiming he forgot to show her something super cool and important.

“And that’s wonderful to hear, but you don’t need to worry, really no one expects you to understand how important this is, you’re not her blood, her family, after all.” Connie smiles as she says this, and Nancy hides her face in her napkin.

Rages surges through him, but you beat him to it.

“I’m sorry?” Your grip on your drink would be enough to crack it if you had his enhanced strength.

“Connie, please.” Nancy says miserably. “Don’t do this.”

“Yeah, Connie, don’t say things you can’t take back.” You seethe.

Miguel’s feels trapped, stuck between two immovable forces, you, coming in hot with a rage he’s never seen before and his mother, radiating ice-cold contempt.

“You can call me Mrs. O’Hara, only family and friends call me Connie.”

“Mamá, y/n is Gabi’s mother, she—”

“I can handle everything a mother does.” You finish his sentence, fingers tap, tap, tapping angrily on the tablecloth.

Connie shakes her head. “It’s best to leave all the important things to me, or Ava, when Miguel finally gives up this little charade. You’re not her mother, and you never will be.”

Like a woman possessed, you shoot up, drink in hand, and throw it at her, champagne splattering across her and the tablecloth before you slam the glass against the table. It shatters, glass scattering across the pristine white tablecloth. “Don’t you ever fucking say that to me again.”

Miguel moves a millisecond before you do, wrapping his arms around you when you lunge. “Y/N!”

“Don’t you ever fucking say that to me. You miserable excuse for a mother, how dare you? You think that cheating bitch is better than me? When has she done anything but lie on her back and fuck with your son and granddaughter’s head?” You scream, fighting against Miguel’s grip as he pulls you away from the table.

“Y/N, please, calm down.” He begs, his enhanced senses helping him navigate around the other tables.

Monica rushes forward and takes what remains of the broken glass from you, before scrambling back to the table.

“Gabriella is my daughter, and I will give her the best damn quinceañera this city’s ever seen, and you will have to fucking watch from outside.” You continue, until Miguel slaps a hand over your mouth and drags you outside.

Tag list: @miggyoharaswife, @badbishsblog, @imisshim2much, @wanderlustingcastaway, @lynn-9703, @sleepyamaya, @erensbbg, @sweetea85, @ilovemiguelohara, @natthernandez, @stxrrielle, @ihateuguys, @jenniferdixon05207, @blep-23, @luvisaaxoxo, @minimari415, @emerald-09, @violet-19999, @kenchosaikuo, @groovycass, @youcantseem3, @lovefks, @nightshxdex, @dusstory, @aesniri, @munsonssecretblog, @kirke-is-my-name, @starbearieee, @chatoicboy, @act1839, @needsleep3000, @totally-not-georgia, @witchy-lizard, @cxmeiloorun7, @justrandomlolidk, @chimpkinnuggies, @alicefallsintotherabbithole, @loser-alert, @wwwellacom, @ryantryan6969, @lollipopin, @blakeaha, @youcantseem3, @a-cult-leader, @verexi, @purpleskiesandroses, @they2luv1naia, @sophiaj650, @idolautism, @rheannajrs, @merakiq, @rexs-wife, @sukaretto-n, @twilight-loveer, @f1shb0nez, @callsign-blue, @marcelineormars, @sxnasbitch, @111gltzpzy, @lucilavenxoxo, @ray-rook, @elizamelody, @soapbar99, @trashieboii, @erissco, @gardenof-venus, @vlads-dracula3

#meg's writing #miguel’s pastels #we love crazy y/n #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n

[bradshawsbaby]

Show and Tell

Pairing/Relationships: Rooster x Wife!Reader/The Bradshaw Family

Author’s Note: This little story was inspired by a video @soaharleys​ sent me a while back of a military father surprising his little girl with a homecoming. I can’t find the original ask, unfortunately, but that’s the theme of this story! It ended up being way longer than I originally anticipated, but I hope you all enjoy it!

Warnings: Some angst related to deployment and lots of Bradshaw family fluff.

Deployments were never easy.

Whether it was a mission that would only take him away for a few weeks, or a longer deployment that would take him from you for months, your heart was never quite whole when Bradley was gone. Even after all the years you’d been together, and all the deployments you’d faced, it never seemed to get any easier. All you’d gotten better at was putting on a brave face. Instead of the tears you used to shed on base, there were car rides home where you sobbed your eyes out. And then once the kids came along, you were able to save your tears for late at night, when you could bury your face in your pillow and cry without disturbing Goose, Lydia, or James.

If you thought deployments were hard for yourself, they were ten times harder for your children. And that made them a hundred times more painful for you.

You would never forget the first time Goose was old enough to understand why Bradley was leaving and where he was going—at least, as much as Bradley was allowed to tell you. He’d only been a toddler, but he’d tried to put on a brave face, even as he clung to his father’s neck and refused to let him go. It was hard to tell who was closer to tears—your son or your husband. You’d already long given up the battle and were allowing the tears to roll freely down your cheeks.

Now seven, Goose handled deployments as well as any child could be expected to. He’d had plenty of years of practice. Though his chin sometimes still wobbled and his hugs were always extra tight, he always promised Bradley that he would be the man of the house in his father’s absence and look after you and his younger siblings. You knew he just wanted to make Bradley proud, but he didn’t have to worry about that. You and your husband were proud of your eldest child every day.

At just two years old, James was still in a place of toddler oblivion where he didn’t yet fully understand what deployment meant. He knew Daddy wouldn’t be home for a little while, and that they’d only get to see him sometimes on Mommy’s phone or iPad, but he wasn’t yet in a place where deployment meant any kind of worry or fear. You intended to keep it that way for as long as possible.

Lydia was a different story.

From the time she was very young, deployments were the worst days of the year for your daughter. A daddy’s girl through and through, she was beside herself on the days Bradley had to leave.

“Daddy no go! Daddy no go!” she’d sobbed at three years old, clinging to him desperately and refusing to let go, despite Goose’s words of encouragement. Even when you attempted to pull her out of your husband’s arms, she continued to wrap her tiny arms and legs around him, stronger than any toddler had the right to be.

“Stay, Daddy!” Lydia had wept, her cheeks flushed and stained with the tears she’d been shedding all that afternoon.

Bradley had broken down at that, tears spilling down his own cheeks as he’d kissed your daughter’s face and promised her he’d be home soon. He’d held you and Goose extra tight as well. That deployment had been a hard one.

Even now, at five years old, Lydia still had an extremely hard time with saying goodbye to her beloved Daddy. She still cried her little heart out, which always broke yours and Bradley’s, and, on occasion, begged him not to leave. While he was gone, she asked every day when he would be home, and when he returned, she was always the first one to launch herself into his waiting arms.

You and Bradley had gotten into the habit of giving the kids things of his that they could hold onto whenever missing him got really hard. They each had their own framed photograph with him that they kept beside their beds at night. When James was still sleeping in the crib, you used to show him his picture before settling him down for the night.

“Dada! Dada!” he would always exclaim brightly, which made you both smile and want to weep at the same time.

On frequent occasions, you overheard Goose and Lydia whispering, “Good night, Daddy” to their pictures before going to sleep at night. Goose usually slept with one of Bradley’s old Navy T-shirts, and Lydia was never without the aviator teddy bear that Bradley had gotten for her on his first deployment after she was born.

Your children weren’t the only ones who clung to pieces of Bradley while he was away. You had your own picture of the two of you that you kept on your bedside table, and you slept in your husband’s clothes every night. They smelled like him, and that was the only thing that helped you sleep at night. During the day, your children didn’t even bat an eye at the sight of you in Daddy’s Hawaiian shirts. They knew that Bradley’s wardrobe was more yours than your own closet whenever he was gone.

In addition to their friends from among the Dagger Squad’s children, the kids also had some classmates at school whose parents and older siblings were in the Navy and the Marines, so they understood the struggles of missing someone on deployment. The teachers were always very gracious and understanding as well, which you and Bradley were so thankful for.

Since she’d entered kindergarten, Lydia’s number one topic of conversation when she was in school was Bradley. She told all her fellow kindergarteners on a daily basis about her “amazing Daddy,” who “flew jets and saved people and was the biggest hero ever, even bigger than Superman.” Some classmates seemed skeptical about that, but Lydia assured them that it was true.

So it came as no surprise to you when Lydia’s turn for show-and-tell rolled around and she informed you that she wanted to bring something of her father’s to introduce to her class.

Bradley had been gone for over two weeks on what was supposed to be a month-long mission, and Lydia missed him desperately. It didn’t shock you in the slightest that she wanted to show off something belonging to him when she stood up for her class’ show-and-tell in a week’s time.

“Can I bring Daddy’s helmet?” Lydia asked as you were tucking her into bed that night.

You had to smother a smile at her innocent request, brushing her hair back from her face. “If Daddy was home, that might be a possibility, but he’s away right now and he has his helmet with him,” you explained gently.

Lydia pouted slightly at that, and you really had to swallow a laugh.

“You could bring pictures of Daddy in his helmet,” you suggested, trying to come up with the next best thing.

“It’s not the same,” Lydia sighed, looking downcast. Her eyes trailed over to the framed photo sitting on her bedside table and you could instantly spot the tears starting to gather. You knew this had nothing to do with the helmet and everything to do with missing Bradley.

“Sweetie, I know it’s hard,” you murmured soothingly, rubbing her arm with a gentle hand. “I miss Daddy, too. So much.”

“When is he coming home?” Lydia whimpered, sitting up and throwing herself into your arms, her face buried in your chest.

“Soon, honey. Soon,” you assured her, running your fingers through her hair. “Just a couple more weeks, and he’ll be home to us.”

“I miss him,” Lydia sniffled, pulling back just enough so that she could reach for her teddy bear.

“Hey,” you said, an idea suddenly striking you as you looked down at the little aviator bear. “Why don’t you bring Goose for show-and-tell?” you proposed, tweaking the bear’s nose affectionately.

Lydia had had the bear since she was a baby, but he hadn’t been given the name Goose until she was about three years old. Bradley had been showing the kids pictures of his parents in one of the photo albums you’d put together for him, and Lydia had suddenly hurried off to get her teddy bear from her bedroom. Returning a moment later, she’d crawled into Bradley’s lap and pressed the bear against his cheek, making little kissing sounds.

“Oh, is Teddy happy to see me?” Bradley asked with an indulgent grin, tucking some of Lydia’s hair behind her ear.

“Not Teddy,” Lydia told him, shaking her head. “Goose!”

“Like me?” your son questioned, looking curiously at his little sister.

“No,” Lydia smiled, shaking her head again. “Like Grandpa!” she exclaimed proudly, pointing to a picture of Goose in his flight suit, one of the last photographs to be taken of him before the accident that had cost him his life.

Bradley had been too stunned for words at that, just holding your daughter close and pressing a kiss to her forehead. The teddy bear had been Goose from that day forward.

Lydia’s eyes lit up at your suggestion and a huge smile spread across her face, lighting up her whole countenance. “Goose!” she nodded, squeezing her teddy bear closer to her chest. “Then I can tell everyone about Daddy and Grandpa!” she added excitedly.

“I know Daddy would love that,” you replied with a smile, stroking her cheek lightly. “And now you have a whole week to plan what you want to tell everybody when it’s your turn for show-and-tell.”

“Will you help me, Mommy?” Lydia asked, looking up at you with those big eyes that reminded you so much of all the pictures you’d seen of Carole.

“Of course, sweetheart,” you nodded, gently lowering your daughter back down against her pillow and pulling her blanket up under her chin. “But now it’s time to get some sleep.”

About an hour later, once all the kids were fast asleep and you were curled up in bed with a cup of tea, your phone buzzed.

Are you still awake?

It was a text message from Bradley. You nearly spilled hot tea all over yourself in your haste to respond.

Yes! Can you talk?

In response to your question, your phone suddenly started glowing with a FaceTime request. Sliding your finger along the accept button as quick as lightning, you couldn’t help the grin that practically split your face in two as your husband’s face filled your screen.

“There’s my girl,” Bradley grinned, his eyes looking a little weary, but happy nonetheless. “God, I miss that smile.”

“We’re even then because I miss you,” you teased in response, trying to keep your voice down as you leaned back against your pillows.

“Are the kids asleep?” he asked, noticing the way you had lowered your voice and realizing it was even later back home than he had initially thought.

“Mhm,” you nodded, brushing your hair back with one hand while you held up your phone with the other. “They miss you so much. Lydia especially.”

“I miss them, too,” he said, and you knew he meant it with all his heart. “But the good news is, they don’t have to miss me for quite as long,” he added, his eyes twinkling even through the phone.

You perked up immediately at that, your pulse fluttering in excitement. “What do you mean?” you asked him, not wanting to get your hopes up too much.

“We’re coming home a week early, baby,” Bradley explained, chuckling when he saw the thrilled look on your face. “I like that reaction. I hope that means I’m due for a big old kiss when we get back to base,” he winked playfully.

“You’re in for a lot more than that,” you laughed, throwing him your own wink in return.

“Oh, damn, don’t tease me too much, baby. We still have a whole week to go,” he grinned. “I’ll be back on Friday morning.”

“Oh, honey, that’s the best news. The kids are going to be so—oh, Friday! Oh, that’s so perfect!” you gasped suddenly, eyes widening when you remembered what Friday was.

“What is?” Bradley asked, eyebrows raised curiously. 

The connection was starting to get a little fuzzy, so you knew you’d have to explain quickly. “It’s Lydia’s turn for show-and-tell on Friday,” you told him, quickly filling him in on your daughter’s decision about what item she wanted to bring to show off to her classmates.

Bradley was quiet for a moment, looking thoughtful. For a moment, you worried the connection had been lost and he was frozen, but then he suddenly started talking. “The kids don’t know yet that I’m coming back on Friday,” he began slowly, mulling something over in his mind. “They still think I’m coming home in two weeks. What if we let Lydia keep thinking that?”

Your eyes lit up when you caught on to what your husband was suggesting, the two of you wearing matching smiles despite the thousands of miles that currently separated you. “Do you think you’ll be back in time? To surprise her at school, I mean?”

Bradley nodded vehemently. “I’ll man the carrier myself if I have to,” he smiled. “I’ll be back in time. Can you work something out with Mrs. Santos?” he asked, referring to Lydia’s kindergarten teacher, an incredibly kind woman.

“Of course,” you nodded, beaming. “Oh, baby, I’m so excited. Lydia is going to be so happy. So are the boys. We all miss you so much.”

“I miss you all, too,” Bradley said, glancing over his shoulder for a moment. “Alright, baby, I have to go. I’ll talk to you again as soon as I can,” he promised you, blowing you a kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, baby,” you replied, blowing him a kiss as well. “Talk soon.”

You went to bed that night feeling as giddy as one of your daughter’s kindergarten classmates.

During the week that followed, you had to be tremendously careful to make plans without letting the kids know what you were up to, particularly Lydia. Bradley FaceTimed with them a couple times, and you were impressed by what a straight face he was able to keep when they peppered him with a million questions about when he was coming home. He’d always wink at you before ending the call and you’d marvel at how, after so many years and three children, that man still managed to give you the butterflies.

You were able to speak privately with Mrs. Santos and Miss Jennifer, the classroom aide, about what you and Bradley were hoping to be able to do during Lydia’s show-and-tell on Friday. They were both incredibly excited—Miss Jennifer even eagerly agreed to videotape everything on her cell phone—and promised to help with whatever you needed. You cleared everything with the school as well, just to cover all your bases. Having many military children enrolled in the school, they were more than happy to accommodate in any way possible.

As the day drew nearer and nearer, there was one other person that you had decided to draw into your confidence—Goose. You and Bradley had once surprised your oldest son with an early homecoming when he was four, so he knew how exciting it was. Lydia had barely been two at the time, so she didn’t really remember it, but Goose did. You knew he’d be happy to help surprise his little sister in the same way.

He was. It made you smile to see your son’s chest puff out with pride when you told him that he was old enough and responsible enough to get to be a part of planning Daddy’s big surprise for Lydia.

“I can keep the secret, Mom,” he promised you, pretending to zip his lips closed. “Don’t worry!”

And he did. He did a stupendous job. He honestly seemed to be holding it in even better than you. By the time Friday morning rolled around, Lydia had absolutely no idea the surprise that was in store for her that day.

“Mommy, why isn’t Goose going to school today?” Lydia asked from her spot in the backseat of the car, snuggled in between her two brothers. She glanced over at her older brother, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “He doesn’t look sick.”

You laughed, glancing quickly in the rearview mirror. “He isn’t sick,” you explained, turning into the drop-off line in front of the school. “He just needs to see the eye doctor for a quick check-up and today was the only appointment I could get,” you fibbed. You felt bad lying to your own child, but you knew it was for a good reason.

“Do I have to go to the eye doctor?” Lydia asked, looking a little worried.

“No, honey. Just your brother,” you smiled, winking conspiratorially at Goose, who did his best to hide a smile of his own.

Putting the car in park, you got out to make sure that Lydia had everything she needed for the day. “Alright, honey, here’s Goose,” you told her, handing her the teddy bear after you had slipped her backpack over her shoulders. “I spoke to Mrs. Santos and Miss Jennifer, and Miss Jennifer is going to videotape your show-and-tell so we can show Daddy. Does that sound good?”

“Yes!” Lydia exclaimed, bouncing up and down excitedly. “Bye, Mommy!” she said, giving you a kiss on the cheek before waving to her brothers. “Bye, Goose! Bye, James!”

“Bye, Lyddie! Good luck!” Goose called out, waving out the window.

As soon as you made sure Lydia was safely inside the school building, you jumped back in the car and hurriedly drove to base, your pulse hammering in excitement.

“James, Daddy’s coming home today,” Goose told his little brother happily, taking the two-year-old’s hand in his.

“Daddy!” James cried excitedly, clapping his hands together in his car seat and laughing.

The carrier was already docked when you and the boys arrived at the hangar where everyone was eagerly anticipating welcoming their loved ones home. It was just a matter of waiting now.

“Dad!” Goose shouted suddenly, pointing when he spotted Bradley among the crowd of Navy men and women deboarding the carrier. He took off running, embracing his father with abandon as children all around him did the same with their own family members.

James wiggled furiously on your hip, trying to reach out to his father as well as you hurried in Goose’s wake. You hadn’t even opened your mouth to say, “Welcome home” before Bradley had his arms around both you and James, kissing you soundly.

“Ew,” Goose grinned, turning his face away. He was now at an age where seeing your parents kissing was a tad bit gross.

Bradley swatted him playfully on the head, then turned to take James into his arms, kissing your youngest child’s cheek and tickling his stomach, which made him laugh brightly.

“Welcome home, Captain,” you smiled, lifting your face so that he could kiss you again. Your son could find it gross all he wanted. You would never tire of your husband’s affection.

“God, I missed you,” Bradley whispered against your lips, pulling you close and inhaling the scent of your sweet perfume. “You also smell a lot better than that carrier,” he added with a wink, wrapping an arm around Goose’s shoulders. “Alright, boys, what do you say? Are we ready to go surprise your sister?”

“Yes!” James exclaimed loudly, throwing both fists into the air, which made the rest of you laugh.

“Well let’s roll then,” Bradley smiled, following you back to where you parked the car. “Don’t want to be late for show-and-tell.”

As planned, you called the school when you were about twenty minutes away, so that they could notify Mrs. Santos. She and Miss Jennifer quickly got the class into circle time on the rug so that they could begin show-and-tell, with Lydia being the first student up.

“Okay, Lydia, we’re going to videotape this for your dad,” Miss Jennifer said, taking a seat in a spot where she would have a good angle of Bradley arriving through the door conveniently located behind Lydia’s back. She and Mrs. Santos exchanged knowing smiles as Lydia held up her teddy bear.

“Everybody, this is Goose,” Lydia told her classmates proudly, holding him out so that everyone could see.

“Let’s all say hello to Goose,” Mrs. Santos encouraged the kindergarteners. Soon enough, twenty little voices were echoing hers in saying, “Hi, Goose!”

“I’ve had Goose since I was a baby,” Lydia explained, pressing him closer to her chest. “My daddy bought him for me when he had to go away. He’s a pilot, just like my daddy. See his outfit?” she asked, pointing to his miniature flight suit.

“Why is he called Goose?” called out one of the boys from the back of the circle.

“His name is Goose, just like my grandpa. My daddy’s daddy,” Lydia told them all, her pride reflected in her bright smile. “He was a pilot, too. My daddy says—”

At that moment, unbeknownst to Lydia, the door quietly opened behind her as Bradley crept into the room, with you, Goose, and James watching from the doorway. Some of Lydia’s classmates’ eyes widened, but she didn’t notice as she excitedly went on explaining the history of her teddy bear.

“Oh no, am I late for show-and-tell?” Bradley asked once he was standing right behind your daughter.

Lydia let out a gasp and her eyes flew open in shock at the sound of her father’s voice. She would recognize his voice anywhere. Whirling around, her jaw dropped open at the sight of him standing before her, still in his flight suit.

“Daddy!” she cried out, throwing her arms around him as he took her into his embrace.

“Hi, baby,” Bradley whispered, kissing the side of her head as he held her tightly to his chest. “I missed you so much,” he told her, lifting her up into his arms.

Lydia clung to him like a drowning man clinging to a raft, wrapping her legs around him as she began to sob into his neck. “Daddy, you’re home!”

“Shh, don’t cry, honey,” Bradley murmured soothingly, rubbing her back. “I’m home. I came home early, just so I could surprise you,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“She’s so surprised,” Goose whispered excitedly from where the two of you were still standing in the doorway, James resting on your hip.

“Mhm,” you nodded, wiping at the tears spilling down your own cheeks. “Thanks to you, honey. You kept the secret so well,” you told him, kissing the top of his head.

“Me, too?” James demanded in his little toddler voice, wrapping his fist around a chunk of your hair.

“You, too,” you laughed, squeezing James’ stomach affectionately.

“Mommy, Goose, and James helped me surprise you,” Bradley told Lydia, pointing to where the rest of you were standing.

As soon as your daughter locked eyes on you, you all came to join in the little reunion, sharing a family hug.

“Lydia, why don’t you introduce us all to your daddy?” Mrs. Santos suggested, beaming at your daughter and the rest of your family.

Bradley slowly lowered Lydia back to the ground, but she still clung to him, as if he would disappear if she let go of him. Your husband smiled at you over his shoulder, winking playfully.

“Everybody, this is my daddy. He’s a Navy pilot and he’s my hero,” Lydia introduced him proudly, beaming up at him as she held onto his hand with both of hers.

Suddenly, all of Lydia’s classmates were bursting with questions.

“What’s it like to fly?”

“Is it scary?”

“Did you ever touch a cloud?”

“Are you a superhero?”

“Are you really better than Superman?”

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Are you going to stay with us all day, Mr. Bradshaw?”

“Actually, that’s Captain Bradshaw,” Goose started to correct the kindergartener defensively, but you tactfully slid a hand over your son’s mouth.

Your husband ended up being the guest of honor in Lydia’s kindergarten class that day. He was more than happy to sit in the center of the circle, with Lydia perched happily on his lap, while he answered every possible question the five-year-olds threw at him, from his favorite ice cream flavor to whether he preferred dogs or cats to what his favorite part of being a pilot was.

Miss Jennifer was gracious enough to videotape it all, while you managed to snap a few pictures on your phone, including a picture of Bradley with the whole class, Lydia standing proudly by his side.

Bradley was a regular celebrity by the time the day was over, all of Lydia’s classmates begging him to come back again soon so that they could ask him more questions. Bradley promised Mrs. Santos that he would look into scheduling a time for Lydia’s class to take a field trip to the base, which was an exciting prospect for everyone.

That night was one of the happiest your family had had in a long time. Lydia couldn’t stop gushing about how surprised she was. She wanted to watch the video Miss Jennifer had sent over and over again.

Your heart filled to the brim as you watched your husband play with your three children on the floor of the living room, his hand resting supportively on James’ back as Goose and Lydia raced around the room with their toys. It was moments like these that you missed the most when Bradley was away. There was nothing in the world that could beat the sound of your husband’s laughter, mingled with the sound of your children’s bright giggles, reverberating throughout the house. And nothing felt quite as good as getting to put your children to bed together, kissing them and tucking them in and being able to breathe easier knowing that all five of you were safe under one roof. Together.

And that night, once the kids were fast asleep and Bradley took you into his arms, there were no fears or worries that could distract you for even a second from the deep and intimate love that the two of you shared.

Deployments were never easy. 

They were downright hard. 

But they made the homecomings all the sweeter.

#the bradshaw family #mr. & mrs. bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #mrs. bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster x wife!reader #x female reader #top gun #top gun: maverick #miles teller

[neonthewrite]

The Office Fae

The next prompt was Tangled, and I ended up with a brand new character for this one. He's fun so far. I'm enjoying his very gremlin energy. I hope you all like him too!

~~~

Life in an office building generally worked well for Simon, despite technically being a house fae. The rules could be fuzzy on that front, with so many humans coming and going every day. Sure, there wasn’t a singular family loving the place and cherishing their lives there, but a lot of humans from many families liked the building and their jobs there well enough to make the energy inviting. Something about flexible hours, good wages, and a solid benefits package made for a harmonious office with plenty of memories–some friendly, some dramatic, even some spicy memories.

Plus there was a vending machine. Simon came for the vibes originally, but he absolutely stayed for the vending machine. At a modest five and three quarter inches tall, he had easy access to a good variety of things in portions that lasted him days.

Another house fae rule he bent–it wasn’t precisely a bowl of cream left out for him specifically, but nobody could expect that these days. Keeping the vending machine stocked was close enough, and if the light bulbs and printer cartridges in the building all lasted longer than they should, well, Simon earned his keep. He probably saved them hundreds on the annual operations budget.

Work always slowed down around the end of winter, aside from some buzzing over in the accounting office. All the holiday parties were done and the potluck food all taken home from the break room fridges. Simon planned for it and handled it well, though things could get cold with the shorter hours and heat on less to make up for the emptier office.

To that end, Simon wintered in the ceiling of the server room. The servers, bulkier and taller than a human, stood clustered in a side room and were never turned off. Blinking lights of green and red and blue twinkled on each machine, colors filtering into the ceiling along with the ample warmth those hulking obelisks gave off.

With so much downtime, he found himself perched near an opening in the ceiling, a spot where the tile had broken off long ago, and watched the server lights flicker on the tangled mess of multicolored cables that ran between them. It was a game of his to trace each cable from end to end with his eyes, idly kicking his bare, grey-skinned feet (his skin had shifted to a tasteful, cool grey a few years ago after an office refresh had updated all the paint). Long, slender fingers absently braided silky hair the color of faded ballpoint ink while he scanned the cables with eyes reminiscent of the shocking, dreaded blue of a computer on its way out.

Most house fae took on colors in equal parts camouflage and defense. Simon would be tough to spot if he happened to be out in the open near a human, but if someone did see him, humans never liked seeing that blue. So his eyes would probably protect him.

Not that he ever intended to test that. As much as he liked his many many humans and their water cooler chatter, Simon was realistic. They wouldn’t like him much even if he shared their scale. All his features were a bit elongated, just enough to seem strange and other. He only wore flowing pants made of scrap fabric and he ate bugs sometimes. Humans would call him scary or freaky or any number of words they had for things they didn’t like, and if his eyes couldn’t scare them off he’d be in danger of a rolled up magazine or a dusty phone book.

He’d stayed hidden for a long time, and he anticipated many games of look-at-cables in his future, all without humans being a bother.

Of course, until they were a slight bother anyway. Simon paused his movements and tensed when the door opened abruptly. Light flooded in and he lost track of the cable he was tracing when he looked over, grateful for his higher vantage point and the human tendency to ignore background details.

Two figures stood there, one familiar and one not. One was Tom, a human whose limbs gangled a bit but whose middle had padded out after so many years in a desk job. His bald spot glowed with light from the hallway, and his rumpled t-shirt sported a band name Simon thought he recognized. From what Simon knew, Tom was every bit an IT master and a vital cog in keeping the office running smoothly. He didn’t have to dress any higher than casual.

The other human was a new face. A woman, probably younger than Tom by a couple decades. Her dark skin contrasted with his pale complexion. Her hair, coily and thick, grew longer atop her head though it was tapered close at the sides. She wore a smart blouse and slacks, which Simon immediately recognized as the sort of thing one wore to a job interview, or one’s first day at work.

Tom waved a hand at the servers whirring away in the room. “Servers in here. Probably not gonna need to be in here a ton, but y’know. If something needs a reset…”

The woman nodded and smiled faintly as she scanned the room. “What are the chances I can fix up some of those cables?”

She said it as a joke. Simon didn’t find it funny at all. Tom did. He laughed. “Now that I get someone to pass tasks like that along to, I imagine I can convince the bossman to let me schedule a maintenance day. Now, let’s get you some of your equipment…”

The door closed and the humans walked away, and Simon cared not at all for their conversation or the rest of the onboarding for this new IT interloper. She wanted to organize the cables, which simply would not do. Simon stalked back to his makeshift camp to get his pack.

This new hire was simply not a good fit, and he’d do what he could to stop her horrible plan.

#gtjuly #gtjuly2023 #mywriting #simon the office fae #gt #g/t #giant tiny

[valleyof-goldenlilies]

Se Zaldrizoti’ Prumia - Chapter 6: The Secrets of The Red Keep (Daemon Targaryen x Tyrell!Reader)

Chapter 6: The Secrets of The Red Keep 

In the Red Keep, it’s not just the rats that creep, but secrets too. And in the game of thrones, secrets kill as much as rats carrying plague do.

Se Zaldrīzoti' Prūmia Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | 

HOTD Masterlist | Main Masterlist | 

Warnings: Lots of stuff happening, Viserys being an L as always, Y/N being kind of an ass, slow burnnnnnnnnnn

Word Count: 7.7k words (so. much. is. happening.) 

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire and Blood characters, save for Y/N Tyrell, although I did expand on their characterisation, which might deviate from canon. All credit for the characters goes to George RR Martin and the showrunners of HOTD. The GIF above is also not mine, original credit to the creator is stated above. Go check them out! 

A/N: Here it is, you guys! I’m so sorry it came later than expected 😭 and that it is much longer than expected too. But I snuck in a Daemon cameo at the end so 😁 I hope you guys enjoy! 

lovely dividers courtesy of @firefly-graphics​ !

It was drawing nigh six months since Prince Daemon’s disinheritance and subsequent departure to Dragonstone. All across the realm, winter had reached its end, and flecks of green have begun dotting the bare trees once more. The smallfolk’s chatter and laughter grew gradually in abundance, as with spring always comes the promise of new beginnings. 

The nobles too, harboured the hope for new beginnings. Gowns and coats of fur were swapped out for attire of lighter fabrics, and the misery caused by the chill of winter were replaced with eager ambition to propel themselves into the centre of power. And no one seemed to exemplify that more than the Lady Y/N Tyrell. 

Gone was the devoted, yet somewhat prickly and brash lady-in-waiting of the late Queen. In its place, was someone much changed. Where in the past she had served Queen Aemma, these days, she was akin to a second shadow to the Princess Rhaenyra, heir to the Iron Throne, even moreso than her usual companion, the Lady Alicent. The kinder whispers expressed gladness that the Lady Y/N had taken pity on the Princess, who had lost her mother at such a young age, and had stepped up as a maternal figure in an act of benevolence. The more vicious gossips, however, sniggered that mayhaps Lady Y/N had been possessed by the spirit of a particularly determined leech. “The rose sinks its thorns into another dragon after one passes,” they mocked. 

All these whispers you heard, but you simply did not possess the means to care. ‘Words are wind,’ you scoffed to yourself. Although…Tis’ true you were leveraging on your close connections with the Princess…but it was for self preservation. With Aemma and Daemon gone, you had gotten close to Rhaenyra, becoming something akin of a mother figure to her, which made your influence at court grow exponentially. Having the favour of the heir to the throne was a powerful thing, and you intended to use it to serve your own means. However, you couldn’t shake off your feeling of guilt for using Rhaenyra this way. You oft wondered if Aemma would approve of you doing so if she was still alive. But if she were…then there would have been no need for you to do this. You swallowed down the painful lump in your throat. It doesn’t matter now, you told yourself sternly. The dead are the dead, as Daemon said, and as long as you were alive, you would do whatever it takes to make sure you stayed at the Red Keep. 

You arrived at the castle sept, where Rhaenyra was standing to the side while Alicent was kneeling in the midst of prayer. You curtsied to Rhaenyra, whose face lit up as soon as she saw you, though it did little to lighten the visible gloom on her face. 

“Your Grace,” you greeted softly. “I told you so many times that you should call me by my name, Y/N,” Rhaenyra chided softly. You smiled apologetically, “Apologies, it is a force of habit.” Rhaenyra smiled wistfully, “You always called me by my name when Mother was…” her voice trailed off and her head drooped. You tilted your head in Alicent’s direction, “You’re not praying?” Rhaenyra hesitated, “I must confess that I’ve never really prayed before..” 

You smiled, guiding her to where Alicent was kneeling. “Well, no time to begin like the present, then.” You took notice of the figure she was praying to: The Mother. How fitting. 

Kneeling down next to Alicent, you felt Rhaenyra tentatively do so next to you. Alicent offered the both of you candles, and you showed Rhaenyra how to light them. The three of you knelt there in silence for a while, minds occupied with your own vastly different thoughts. “I find…” Alicent spoke gingerly, “That this is a way to be with my mother. Here in the quiet of the sept.” She hesitates, looking back at the statue of the Mother. “Does it sound foolish?” 

“I don’t think it sounds foolish,” Rhaenyra piped up next to you. 

Alicent smiled at that, before turning to you, observing how your eyes were watching the figure of the Mother pensively. “Do you pray often, Y/N?” You smiled wistfully, “Piety was never one of my stronger suits, I’m afraid. But I remember…when I lost my lady mother, I prayed day and night that I wouldn’t be sent back to Highgarden.” 

“You disliked your home?” Rhaenyra asked softly. You pondered over her question, before shaking your head slightly. “To me, Highgarden never really felt like home. Perhaps it was because I had been born and raised in the Red Keep for most of my days, but I consider King’s Landing to be my only home.” You didn’t tell her that it was the looming threat of your duties as the sole daughter of House Tyrell that kept you from recognising Highgarden as your home. Rhaenyra nodded sagely. 

“I’m…I’m afraid I’m not quite sure what to pray to the Mother for,” Rhaenyra hesitantly says, “Should I pray for anything specific?” You smiled wistfully, “You only need to follow your heart. The Gods will listen to you if your sincerity can be felt.” Alicent nodded in agreement, and the three of you lapsed into silence once more, praying on your own. You closed your eyes, and Aemma flashed into your memories. She was always smiling at you then, and your heart ached deeply whenever you remembered her. 

“...the day of the tourney,” Alicent and Rhaenyra turned to you inquisitively, as you took a deep breath, letting the scent of the smoke sooth you, “I told you I was never religious, but that day…I prayed to the Mother fervently. For your mother, for Aemma to have a smooth labour.” You smiled bitterly, “But it seemed, the gods had a different plan for your mother.” 

Rhaenyra sniffled softly. “It feels refreshing to hear you talk about my mother,” she admits after a pause. “No one, not even Father, seems to want to talk about her. They always change the subject. It’s like her memory is something unpleasant. Something to be avoided..” 

You took her hand, feeling as though you might cry yourself. “The subject is painful,” she continues, “But I don’t want to forget. I don’t want anyone to forget. I cannot bear for my mother to only be spoken about in riddles and hushed tones. I want to remember her…I just don’t understand why Father doesn’t seem to want to.” 

Alicent glanced at the both of you, biting her lip softly. “When my mother died…my father and brother wanted to forget about her too. And admittedly, I did too.” You put your other hand on Alicent’s, and she smiled ruefully at you. “I hid my grief, trying to continue with my life with the same bravery my father and brother had…but I found myself unable to. So the sept is my refuge. It’s where I can express my grief without feeling like it’s something to be ashamed of.” 

“Grieving is nothing to be ashamed of,” you told her gently, “Grief is what keeps the memory of a person alive, even if they’ve long passed. To remember what kind of person they were to you, and to honour how they made you who you were now. Grief does a service to our loved ones who have passed.” 

Rhaenyra smiled bitterly, “I think Father needs to hear that.” You smiled at that, patting her hand softly, “Everyone grieves in their way, Rhaenyra. You might not see it, but I’m sure your father mourns your mother too, though it may be in a way different to yours.” 

Rhaenyra pondered on that, turning her gaze back to the candles. “...mayhaps you’re right.” You squeezed her hand, and she squeezed it back. You turned to look at Alicent, and she grasped your hand tightly in hers, her expression warm. Though getting close to both of them was naught but a political machination initially…you found yourself growing to care more and more for these two girls everyday. So different we all are, you thought to yourself, yet so similar we are too. You turned back to the Mother, as you said one last prayer to her, “I hope…that the three of us can always be like this. That no matter what, when the world seems bleak…we can all be truthful with one another, and depend on each other.” 

It has been six months, but you find that you are still unable to school your features into absolute indifference as you watch Viserys digging into his meal with a notable lack of enthusiasm. 

Pursing your lips, you focused your attention back onto cutting into the veal on your plate. Ever since Aemma’s death, you had been hesitant in seeking out Viserys’ company voluntarily, despite Daemon having advised you to take the opportunity to get close to Viserys for protection. Out of all of Daemon’s advice you had reluctantly heeded, this one unsettled you the most. But as it turned out, you had not needed to make the first move. Viserys had (quite unfortunately) taken to summoning you to his apartments more oft than not in the past six months for meals, or even just for idle conversation. And the usual topic of conversation? The late wife that Viserys had cut open. You would find it funny if the topic itself did not constantly make you want to hurl something at Viserys. Viserys seemed determined to cling onto the vestiges of Aemma’s memory through you, Aemma’s cherished companion. Although after today’s conversation at the sept, you found it strange that Viserys seemed reluctant to broach the topic of Aemma with Rhaenyra, but with you, it was different. Why exactly was it so, you did not know, but…as long as it kept you at the Red Keep, then you would stomach as many conversations as Viserys wanted to have about Aemma. 

Which was why you nearly dropped your fork when Viserys asked you if you knew about Daemon’s current occupation of Dragonstone. Clearing your throat, you deliberated on the reason for the sudden change of topic, but quickly answered, “It would be a miracle if someone had not heard about that.” Viserys chuckles, a rare deviation from his usual melancholic mood during your dinners. “As always, you are unfettered in your nature of speaking. I only wished more people would be like you.” 

You were unsure on how to respond to that. Viserys sighed, “It would not be such a bother if it had been only Daemon on the island, but he had to take nearly half the City Watch with him as well. Does he truly desire to wage war against me, his own brother? With that meagre army of his?” You recalled Daemon’s words that fateful night, and bit your lip. So this was what he meant. You knew that with Daemon’s abscondence along the City Watch, King’s Landing had became more susceptible to looting, raping and other violent crimes. The Small Council was oft engaged in heavy debate as of late on how to tackle this problem, and that must have been Daemon’s plan all along. To sow chaos in King’s Landing. You sighed, cutting into your veal. Daemon…he may not look it, but there is always a certain calculative edge to his seemingly impulsive actions. The promise to make a point. 

“I’ve half a mind to go to Dragonstone and confront him myself,” you snapped back to reality when you heard Viserys bang down his cutlery frustratedly. “If the Small Council had not dissuaded me otherwise, I would’ve done so.” You grimace, “Viserys, that would be unwise. You and I both know more than anyone of Daemon’s nature. He means to continue throwing this…tantrum so that he may garner your attention. You shouldn’t pay heed to his antics. Mayhaps he will come to his senses sooner or late.” 

“Mayhaps is a strange word for never,” Viserys muttered, picking up his fork and knife again. You stifled a laugh by lifting another spoonful of soup to your lips. “Regardless, it would not be fitting for you to go to Dragonstone. What would the realm say, seeing their king having to go and plead with his brother to curb his foolishness? The dissenters will see it as weakness, as they did with Aenys and Maegor. You should listen to your advisors’ counsel, Viserys.” Viserys sighed, leaning back against his seat. “I suppose you’re right. However; this leaves me at a bind on what to do with him. Lord Corlys has been singing this wretched tune for nigh six months, and he will continue to do so if I do not act soon to put Daemon in his place.”

The two of you lapsed into silence. You picked at the remaining veal on your plate anxiously. “And other than the mounting pressure to deal with Daemon, the Small Council, in particular Lord Corlys, has also been pushing me on the subject of remarriage.” You froze. “...remarriage?” Your heart was pounding furiously, having not expected this sudden turn of events. You knew it would be expected of Viserys to do so, to secure the line of succession, but he always seemed so catatonic in grief over Aemma that you thought he would never take a second wife. Moreover, should his new wife sire him sons, Rhaenyra’s claim would surely be disputed by the lords of the realm. Viserys nodded wearily, “Lord Corlys has even nominated a candidate, his own daughter, Lady Laena.” 

You wrinkled your nose, “Isn’t she naught but a girl of 12?” Viserys sighed, “Indeed. Much too young…though it seems not for Lord Corlys’ ambition.” You felt your appetite slip away at that. “And what do you think of this match?” Viserys smiles ruefully, “I was actually looking to hear your opinions. You always speak with unbridled truth, and it would do me good to hear from an unbiased perspective.” 

You purse your lips, surprised. He was asking for your opinion an awful lot these days. “If you’re seeking counsel on the qualities of Lady Laena, I must confess I do not have a clearly formed opinion. But speaking from a political perspective…it would be an advantageous match for both houses. It would join both of your houses of Valyrian blood in one once more.” Viserys lets out a soft snort, “Advantageous? Lord Corlys and my cousin only proposed this match to put their own blood on the throne. They care not for the unity of our houses. Lord Corlys only wishes to see a king of Velaryon blood on the Iron Throne, and to correct the slight that Rhaenys faced at the Great Council.” 

“Be that as it may,” you interjected, “You cannot deny it is a brilliant match. Is it not better to join the blood of the dragon in one single line again? This will prevent any more dragonriders from emerging from House Velaryon, and consolidate the power of House Targaryen in a single bloodline once more.” You were startled when Viserys suddenly let out a bark of laughter, “You know, you sound exactly like Daemon. With how the both of you are constantly stressing about the importance of retaining the power of House Targaryen.” You froze, feeling offended, but then the indignation fades away. It wasn’t entirely a bad thing, after all, Daemon was the person who had opened your eyes to the naivety that blinded you from seeing reason in your grief. Instead of feeling insulted, you felt like you should feel…proud? You shuddered, the thought of being proud thanks to sharing qualities with Daemon fucking Targaryen of all people being too much to bear. 

Viserys lets out a slow exhale, looking regretful. “All this talk of remarriage sickens me,” Viserys mutters. “Because despite all this quibbling, nothing will ever come close to Aemma. I do not wish to replace her. I imagine she will be deeply upset at the thought of it.” 

You frowned, holding back the urge to shout at Viserys why he had chosen to cut Aemma open if that were the case. But alas, the truth oft can never be expressed freely. You took several deep breaths, formulating a response in your head, as you spoke gently, “Remarriage may seem daunting, Viserys, but it is inevitable. It is your duty to the realm, and I’m sure Aemma will understand that.” Viserys sighs before laughing softly, “I suppose you’re right, Y/N. Duty is inescapable, especially when you’re a king. Very well, I shall arrange to see Lady Laena to discuss a possible betrothal as soon as possible.” 

You did not know what to feel about that, happy? Aggrieved? Angry? “That reminds me,” Viserys spoke up, getting out of his seat and walking to you. You watched him curiously as he fumbled in his pockets to draw something out. “I…think that you should have this.” Your eyes widened when you saw that he was holding the ruby falcon necklace that Rhaenyra had gotten Aemma. “The Silent Sisters retrieved this from Aemma. I’ve held onto it for the past six months but,” Viserys smiled bitterly, “I felt like it would only be right for you to have this. Aemma was as dear to you as much as she was to me, and with my remarriage…I do not think it is right for me to hold on to it anymore.” You took the necklace gingerly and cradled it in your hands, feeling torn. Viserys put a hand on your shoulder gently, “Let this serve as not just a token of remembrance for Aemma…but also as one of gratitude. From me towards you for your counsel, steadfast loyalty, and friendship. I want you to know that despite how bereft I am over Aemma’s passing, I am thankful that you have continued to stay by my side.” Conflict consumed you as you looked up at your old friend. You thought you hated him for doing what he did to Aemma, but it seems your old friendship prevents you from detesting him completely. It was so difficult to completely hate someone who you've known your entire life, and has only looked out for you, despite his position of power. 

You rested your hand atop his and smiled tentatively, “Thank you, Viserys. This gesture means a lot to me…and I want you to know that I am grateful for you too. I will always be by your side, no matter what” Viserys flashed you a genuine smile for what seemed like the first time in months, “Thank you, Y/N. Truly.” 

Two weeks later, you were striding towards Viserys’ solar, a book in your hands, a smile on your face. Viserys and you had been discussing about the structure of a temple of a Valyrian deity for the past few days, and you were delighted when you found a book that contained descriptions of how temples of that particular deity were constructed in the empire of Yi Ti and the Old Empire of Ghis, immediately setting off to Viserys’ chambers to share it with him. You also remembered that today was the day that Viserys was due to walk with the Lady Laena to discuss the marriage pact between their houses. You had no doubt he would be feeling discouraged after that, and you hoped the book would lift his spirits.  

You nodded at Ser Steffon Darklyn, who was standing guard outside the King’s solar, and bustled into the room like you did many times before. What you did not notice however, was the man’s panicked look as he remembered the King was busy with another visitor when you entered. 

You swept into Viserys’ solar, a grin on your face, “Viserys, I found something of interest-'' But you nearly dropped the tome as you came to a dead halt, staring at the dismayed figures of both King Viserys and Lady Alicent - who were far too close together for your liking - in shock. A dead silence blanketed the room, before Viserys began appealing to you, “Y/N, this is not what it looks like-” 

Suddenly, Ser Steffon’s voice came from the door, “Your Grace, the Hand is requesting for an audience.” Viserys sighed, looking between the door and your accusatory expression. “Let him in, Ser Steffon.” 

The Hand entered the room, bowing to the King. He didn’t seem surprised to see Alicent here, you realised with growing indignation. Otto Hightower, that cunt, looked a little taken aback at your presence, however it was quickly smoothed over by his grim expression. 

“Your Grace, I’ve called the Small Council to an emergency session. An incident has-” 

“Can the matter wait?” Viserys demanded, walking over to you, but you backed away, unable to look him in the eye as you tightened your grip on the ancient tome. “I’m afraid not, Your Grace. There has been a problem,” Otto paused, eyeing you and Alicent, clearly unsure whether he should say it in front of the both of you. “At Dragonstone.” 

Daemon, your heart thudded in your chest. What did he do now? 

“Gods be good,” Viserys muttered. “I understand. I will be there shortly. I have a pressing matter at hand.” With that, Viserys turned to you, his expression becoming sombre as he murmured, “I think I owe you an explanation.” 

“You don’t,” you whisper, a betrayed look on your face. “You owe one to Lady Laena. To Rhaenyra. To Aemma.” 

Viserys sighed, suddenly looking like he aged five years in an instant. You were aware of the Hand’s heavy gaze upon you and Viserys, as well as Alicent’s anxious one. “I swear to the Seven that it is not what it looks like, Y/N.” 

“Then pray tell, whatever good reason can there be for this…gathering?” you whispered harshly. “This does not seem like a one-off incident, am I right?” 

“It is true this was not…a first occurrence,” Viserys looked nervously at Alicent, who was picking at her fingernails again. He placed a hand on your shoulder, causing you to flinch. A sadness dawned in his eyes at your reaction, “I…I will explain it all to you later. But I need you to swear to me that you will not tell Rhaenyra. I’m afraid she will misunderstand-” 

“Your Grace,” Otto speaks up, causing the both of you to turn your gazes to him. You felt queasy when you saw the intrigued look in his eyes. “I’m afraid your conversation will have to wait. This matter is truly urgent.” Viserys sighed, looking at you pleadingly, “Please, Y/N. I promise, I will tell you everything later. Just…help me keep this secret, just once, alright?” You couldn’t do anything but press your lips into a thin line. Seeing there was no use begging you anymore, Viserys only lowered his head shamefully, patting your shoulder before leaving the room. Otto gave you and Alicent one last look, one that you returned with a glare, before he inclined his head and turned to follow the King. 

As the door closed, you and Alicent stood there, an uncomfortable silence blanketing the room. You were the first to break it, “How long has this been going on?” 

Alicent cast her eyes downward, “Nigh six months, my lady.” Her voice was quiet, timid. You crossed over the room to her, arms crossed in disapproval. “Your father ordered you to do so, didn’t he?” “...yes,” Alicent whispered tearfully. Your heart twists. As angry as you were, it was not directed to Alicent, but to Viserys, and the Hand. For once, you finally understood Daemon’s intense dislike of the Hand, and how appropriate it had been when he called him a leech. ‘Yet again, Daemon is proven correct,’ the bittersweet thought caused your lips to quirk upward. ‘Who knew he was such a patron of wisdom.’ You were silent as you let your thoughts deliberate the information you just learnt, before you spoke up once more. 

“Speak truthfully with me,,” your voice was firm, demanding, “Does the King intend to take you as a bride, instead of Lady Laena?” Alicent was silent for a moment, before she spoke in a trembling whisper, “It would appear so.”  

You massaged your temples. Gods be good. “And is that what you desire?” Alicent hesitates, looking torn. “It would be a great honour,” she murmurs, although her voice was lacking in conviction. “It would mean I would be Queen. There is no greater way to bring honour to House Hightower.” You waved your hand in the air dismissively, “Aside from honour, I’m asking you if this is what you want. And do not tell me that it is, just because your father or your House wills it. What I want to hear is if you, Alicent Hightower, want this marriage.” You lowered your voice, demand turning into solemnity, “The path of marriage…it is no easy one, Alicent. And you are still young, there is much of life you have not yet experienced.” You took a deep breath, voice shaking slightly, “You saw…what happened to the late Queen. The pressure to produce an heir…and eventually, she gave her life for it. Is this the sort of life you want to resign yourself to?” 

Alicent bit her lip, a tear trickling down her face. “I do not have a choice, do I?” You were aghast, “Of course, you have a choice. Everybody can dictate their life the way they choose. You need not resign yourself to the will of others. That is no way to live, Alicent.” 

Alicent gives you a bitter smile, still not meeting your eyes. “It is fortunate that you have the liberty to think so, my lady. But it is a concept I am unfamiliar with, and one that I can never grow to fully experience.” You wanted to protest, but you kept silence as you watched Alicent blink back tears, “I’ve learnt from a young age…the inevitability of duty. Run as you may, in the end, this freedom you speak of…it can never be ours. Everyone has a role to play in life, and the women are expected to play it exceptionally well. Noblewomen especially. We were born in this life to serve our fathers, our lords, our husbands, our houses. The thought of freedom is wonderful yes, but you soon realise, it slips through your fingers slowly, until all that is left is duty. Since duty is inescapable, no matter how reluctant I may be, I have learnt that accepting it earlier will cause me less hurt, instead of thinking foolish thoughts.” She finally meets your gaze, eyes filled with solemn determination. “Thank you for your concern, my lady. But this is a choice I have made. You would not change my mind, and I suspect I will not change yours. However, I hope you will respect my opinions on the matter.” 

You face was impassive, but your eyes were filled with sorrow. How wise she was for a girl so young. And how crushing the weight of knowledge can be. You continued to say nothing, instead gently prying apart Alicent’s clenched fingers, examining the wounds on her fingernails. “Come, let me help you put some ointment on them. I got some from the Maesters after the tourney.” 

Your mind was in a haze as you departed the King’s solar. Alicent’s words struck a deep chord in you. You always assumed that everyone would want the choice to pursue the life their heart desires, regardless of their sex, but you never stopped to consider the people who didn’t have the chance to. You had flouted the idea of duty for years, despising it, but seeing Alicent, who willingly embraced the burden of it…it made you feel ashamed. 

Consumed with your thoughts, you didn’t notice a hurried figure approaching until you both collided, nearly knocking each other to the ground. The other person grabbed you to steady you before you fell. Your eyes widened with shock at the guilty figure in front of you. “Rhaenyra?” The princess shushed you, pulling you to a dark corner. “What are you doing?” you whisper furiously, upon noticing her dressed in her dragonriding gear. “Are you sneaking out? At this hour?” 

Rhaenyra was bouncing on her heels impatiently, looking like she might take flight herself at any moment. “To Dragonstone. Daemon has stolen my brother’s egg, he intends to gift it to his mistress’ bastard child.” You were startled, and outraged at that. He would go to such great lengths just to get his brother’s attention? Sometimes you wonder if being a cunt was just in Daemon’s nature. “Please help me keep it a secret, Y/N,” Rhaenyra implored. If it weren’t for you gripping onto Rhaenyra’s forearms, you suspect she would have fled a long time ago. “Father shot me down when I suggested I fly there to retrieve the egg, and sent the Hand instead, but I have to go get it. It was my brother’s egg, I picked it out personally, Daemon has no right-” she struggled to find the words amidst her anger. 

“I understand, go. I won’t tell a soul.” Rhaenyra looked at you with wide eyes. “Are you…serious?” You nodded, letting go of her. “I think you will be able to get through to Daemon. I believe in you. Now go, before your uncle decides to take the Hand’s head off with a sword and cause a war between House Hightower and House Targaryen.” Rhaenyra laughs, before unexpectedly pulling you into a hug. “Y/N…thank you. It feels nice to know that you have faith in me” You were startled, but you hugged her back, and patted her hair soothingly, a gesture you’ve seen Aemma do with Rhaenyra. “You’re more capable than you think, Rhaenyra. Now go,” you pulled away, eyes fixed with hers. “And make Aemma proud, Rhaenyra.” Rhaenyra nodded, a fierce look coming into her eyes. She shot you a brief smile before looking around furtively to make sure that no prying eyes were here to witness her escape, before sprinting away to the stables. You watched her go, biting your lip. Your conversation with Viserys and Alicent crossed your mind, and you felt a little regretful that you didn’t manage to tell Rhaenyra. But Viserys had begged you, and you couldn’t find it in your heart to say anything. You turned away, walking to the godswood, intent for some air. You had a feeling in your gut that sooner or late, all these secrets would culminate in an unpleasant ending.

Your words were proven true enough a few days later. You were reading a book in your chambers, when Rhaenyra burst into your room, nearly giving you a heart attack. You were ready to reprimand her, but one look at her furious, betrayed face, and you already knew. “He-” Rhaenyra bit out, “My father just announced he’s taking a new bride. Alicent.” 

You leaned back in your seat, your heart sinking. So Viserys had gone with it after all. You felt disappointment dawning on you, as well as guilt as you watched Rhaenyra pace around the room frustratedly. “I just don’t understand, how? He was going to marry Lady Laena, he swore it to me yesterday, when did he even get acquainted with Alicent?” Rhaenyra swung back to face you again, but she froze when she caught sight of your guilty expression. “Seven hells,” she breathed out, “You knew?” You closed your book, standing up, “I did, but I didn’t expect-” Rhaenyra let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Save it, Y/N. I do not wish to hear it now. I thought I could trust you.” “Rhaenyra-” you beseeched, but she had already turned her heel and left, slamming the chamber door shut behind her. You sunk back down in your seat, your heart pounding. By the gods, what a mess. 

Your chamber was once more the recipient of another visitor, though it might not have been the one you hoped for. “Rhaenyra?” you called out hopefully, only to be surprised when the timid form of Alicent appeared instead. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and you noticed fresh wounds on her nails once again. “Alicent…” you walked towards her, taking her hands in yours. Alicent began to cry then, and you drew her into your embrace, closing your eyes as you felt Alicent’s tears staining the front of your gown. 

A while later, you had seated Alicent on your bed, observing her as she cradled in her hand the cup of tea a servant had fetched for her. “I thought I knew how heavy this burden was,” she spoke, her voice barely a whisper as she looked despondently into her cup. “But I wasn’t expecting it to feel so painful.” You chewed your lip, as you focused on applying the ointment to the fresh wounds on her left hand. “I thought I was prepared, but I did not realise this would mean I would lose Rhaenyra.” 

Your heart was pounding as well, though not for the same reasons as Alicent. Rhaenyra’s backlash towards this announcement didn’t just signal an end to her ties with Alicent, but also with you. You remembered vividly how betrayed she had looked when she came to realise that you had known, and you had not told her. There was no coming back from that. Apart from your guilt however, you also felt a steady sense of despair building up in you. You had spent the past six months relying on the favour of Rhaenyra to prevent your expulsion from court and back home, how was that to go about now? 

“Oftentimes, life changes in ways we cannot anticipate,” you began quietly, trying to think of your next steps. “But it is best not to dwell on it, to move on and adapt.” Alicent looked distraught at that, but she kept silent, save for the tear trailing down her cheek. You finished applying the ointment to Alicent’s left hand, moving onto her right hand. Suddenly, an idea struck you. “Alicent, I know this is a bit sudden,” you said gingerly, “But if I may…I would like to request to serve you as your lady-in-waiting.” Alicent looked surprised, though there was no anger in her expression, much to your relief. You were worried that you might have overstepped, but Alicent only put down her cup of tea and squeezed your hand, “I would be honoured to have you as my lady-in-waiting, Y/N.” 

You had to refrain from sighing with relief, pleased that your gamble had worked out. You were banking on your close ties with Alicent now, and a queen’s power was surely more reliable than a princess’. At least, good enough to keep you at the Red Keep. Once again, you felt guilty for using Alicent this way, but it was not out of malicious intent either: you truly did care for Alicent like a daughter, much like you had with Rhaenyra. Besides…you realised that Alicent’s current predicament was much like that of your worst nightmares. The realisation left a bitter taste on your tongue. Alicent was everything you vowed you would never end up being, and watching all this unfold in front of you while you were powerless to stop it - it felt gut-wrenching. 

“Y/N,” Alicent’s soft voice snapped you out of your reality. You looked at her questioningly, seeing hesitation in her eyes. “If I may ask…why did the King never choose to marry you?” You felt an initial urge to cringe, but then you realised it was a valid question, and a good one at that. “The King clearly cares for you, and values you greatly. And not to mention, you are the sole heir to Highgarden,” Alicent looked unsure, “It would be a prudent decision to marry you, a brilliant match, even. Far eclipsing the advantages of a union with the daughter of the Hand of the King. Why has the King never considered that?” 

You fell silent, deep in thought. The points she made were excellent, and even though you felt discomfited by it, you were curious to know as well. In the end, you could only reply, “I do not know, Alicent.” 

“Your Grace,” you greeted stiffly, curtsying to Viserys, much to his distress. He reached out to you, trying to help you up, but you only stepped away. The hurt on his face almost made you feel guilty for your coldness, but you couldn’t stand to look at him right now. If it hadn’t been for him summoning you to his solar, you would’ve continued giving him the cold shoulder. 

Viserys sighed, giving up as he turned towards his model of the Old Valyria. His next question made you raise your eyebrows incredulously. “How is Rhaenyra coping with the news?” Unease grew in you, “Shouldn’t you be asking about Alicent instead, Your Grace?” Viserys grimaced at your use of formalities. “Alicent seems perfectly content, does she not? It is Rhaenyra whom I should be concerned about now.” 

You frowned, “It is quite the opposite, actually. Rhaenyra is angry, but I’m sure she will calm down sooner or late.” Viserys seems assuaged by that, retreating to take a seat at the armchairs before the fireplace. “I am thankful to hear that.” You took a seat next to him, levelling a hard glare at him. “And what of Alicent?” Viserys looked surprised, “What of her?” “She seems distraught over this match.” Viserys furrowed his brows, “This union brings her more benefit than it does me, what does she have to be distraught about? She will be Queen.” You finally exploded, “And so?” you demanded, rising up from your seat. “It is clear that she is unhappy with this match. She came to me crying today, Viserys. She’s frightened by the prospect of this marriage. And it is clear that she is  being used as a political pawn in her father’s games. How can you say she will not be distraught by this?” You half expected Viserys to get up and order you to leave, but he only sighed and washed a hand over his face. “Y/N,” he began slowly, gesturing for you to sit down. You refused, staring at him with defiant eyes. He sighed, sometimes you reminded him so much of Daemon that it was a wonder you were not a Targaryen yourself. That stubborn persistence and fiery temper…

“Alicent may be unhappy now, but I did not force her into this match.” He sighed again at your disbelieving expression, “Think of it this way, if she had vehemently opposed this match, she wouldn't have willingly visited my chambers every night without fail for the past six months. It was a scheme engineered by Otto, that I can see, but even so, Alicent wanted this. If she had been unwilling, she wouldn’t have taken the initiative to get closer to me, to indulge me in my interests.” 

You were still frowning, but you slowly lowered yourself back into your seat. You didn’t want to believe in Viserys’ words, but he had no reason to lie. “Ambition is a fickle thing, Y/N,” Viserys turned his gaze to the fire. “Some men choose to deny it, to preserve the illusion of their humility. But the truth is, every man is akin to a starving man when he sees a banquet when it comes to power. Do not underestimate the temptation of power, Y/N. Many men claim they do not desire it, but no one can resist it. Alicent is no different. She may feel uncomfortable with this match at first, but there is a small sliver of her that covets this position, and the power she can wield with it.” 

You chose to say nothing, but you tightened your grip on your armrests as Viserys spoke. Viserys sighed, turning his gaze back to you. “I have to be frank with you…my ideal match when I first heard the topic of remarriage being brought up, was you, Y/N.” You finally met his gaze again, mouth agape. “What?” 

Viserys nodded wearily, “It would’ve seemed natural. After all, we grew up together, and you are one of the people I hold dearest to my heart. I would have been happy to take you as my wife.” Your stomach began to churn. “But, I knew…with your temperament, you would never be happy in this marriage with me.” Viserys smiled ruefully at you, “I knew Aemma would have never wanted me to trap you in an unhappy marriage, and I don’t either.” 

“But you’re alright with trapping Alicent in an unhappy marriage instead?” you snapped. Viserys looked resigned, recognising that he would not be able to get through to you. “Alicent’s…distress over this match would fade sooner or late. Furthermore, I genuinely do care for Alicent’s wellbeing, and I will see to it she lacks for nothing as my queen.” “Material possessions do not equate to happiness, Viserys,” you said angrily. Viserys finally slams down his hand on his armrest, shocking you into silence. It was in rare moments like this where you are reminded that Viserys was still of the blood of the dragon, and that he was still your king. You grimaced, realising you might have spoken too carelessly. 

“What would you have me do then, Y/N?” Viserys blustered angrily, “Do you think getting remarried brings me joy? Every time I think about it, the thought sends me into a spiral of despair. That I would have to take a new wife, sire new heirs, with someone whom I might not love. Alicent may not be Aemma, but I care for her a great deal, and I will not have you deny it.” Viserys sinks back into his seat, his rage slowly turning back into that resigned, mournful look you’ve seen him wear so much lately. His voice cracked a little as he spoke, “I’m just…so tired, Y/N. You are my closest confidant, and even you can’t seem to understand how I feel, what I’m going through. After Aemma, I find myself losing the will to go through my days more and more with each passing day. It feels like my life has been drained out of me. I never liked partaking in the intrigues of court either, and without Aemma, it has only grown harder to bear. Alicent lessened the burden of grief on my shoulders. When I was with her, it felt like I could just…be. No kingly duties, no responsibilities, no Small Council on my back, nitpicking my every move, scheming to consolidate power. She made me feel like I was just Viserys, a feeling I only experienced with you, Aemma, and Daemon.” 

“...you really do care for her then?” you asked quietly. Viserys nods, looking earnest. “I do. Trust me, Y/N, I would not do anything to cause her unhappiness. And I believe as time passes, I will grow to feel love for her.” You played with your fingers uncomfortably, not knowing what to make of this conversation. Your insight into Viserys’ thoughts only sowed more conflict into your already torn feelings towards him, and you didn’t know what the right thing was to do anymore. The two of you stared into the roaring fire, as the solar was enveloped in a thick blanket of tense, pensive silence. 

On Driftmark, there was silence as well. But this silence felt more taut, more dangerous, like a provoked beast who was readying to strike. 

At least that’s what Daemon Targaryen thought as he took a swig of Arbor Gold from his goblet, taking in his surroundings. The Velaryons had a strange taste for decor, which he assumed was an acquired taste. 

Lord Corlys sat from across him, a surly expression on his face as he spoke. Daemon couldn’t find it in him to pay attention to the man’s incessant complaints. His mind kept wandering back, much to his frustration, to his conversation with Mysaria a few days ago. Her words, her caution, her fear…so unlike a certain someone he knew.

His mind couldn’t help but chase thoughts of her wellbeing. Had she heeded his advice? Had he gotten through to her, even with her stubborn insistence? Surely she must know that he only wished for the best for her. She was like family to him after all.

Lord Corlys clears his throat, and Daemon slid his focus back to him, a bored look on his face. “You are aware the King has taken Alicent Hightower to wed?” Lord Corlys asks, a shifty look that Daemon couldn’t quite place filling his eyes. Daemon shot him an irate look. It was hard not to know, particularly since this matter was what led him to be sitting in this exact chair, listening to Lord Corlys blather about angrily. 

“I heard that the Hightower girl has announced Lady Y/N as her chief lady-in-waiting.” This snapped Daemon back to attention. He took another sip of his wine to hide his smirk, ‘So she is cleverer than I gave her credit for.’  

“I don’t see how that relates to why you asked me here, Lord Corlys,” Daemon’s voice was annoyed. Lord Corlys’ expression turned sly, “In all honesty, I had expected that the King might have taken Lady Y/N to be his bride instead. He gave off the impression he might.” Daemon’s eyebrows shot to his forehead, and he nearly choked on his wine. “I can assure you, Lady Y/N would never let that happen,” Daemon told Lord Corlys, voice dripping with amusement. “But he is the King. It is quite impossible to refuse an order from the King. And besides,” Lord Corlys’ lips quirked upwards, “I have heard that Lady Y/N is rather fond of your brother herself. She has been dining with him each night since Queen Aemma’s passing.” 

Daemon tried to keep his expression impassive, but his grip on his goblet tightened. The thought of his brother taking Y/N to wed…it sent an odd, visceral feeling through him. Something that was akin to possessiveness and…jealousy? Mayhaps he was drunk. There was simply no way. No way at all. 

Lord Corlys smirked, the Prince’s dark expression told him that he had been successful in inciting some anger in the Prince against the King. Which was exactly all he needed. And soon enough, it was official: Daemon Targaryen had just agreed to wage war on the Stepstones.

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those who are bolded are those who couldn’t be tagged! let me know if you wish to be added to the taglist in the comments or through this form! 

A/N: so if you made this far, bless you. This was a very long chapter, so hats off to you for finishing it 💗 the next chapter will be much shorter, I promise, although it might take longer because i’m going on a short trip. hopefully i can get it done by next wednesday! 

as always, if you loved this chapter, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! thank you for your support 💗 

#se zaldrizoti prumia #sezaldrizotiprumia_masterlist #aureliawrites #daemon targaryen #prince daemon #prince daemon targaryen #daemon x y/n #daemon x reader #daemon targeryan #daemon x you #daemon x fem!reader #prince daemon x reader #the rogue prince #hotd daemon #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon targaryen x female reader #daemon targaryen x tyrell!reader #daemon x tyrell!reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon fic #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #hotd fic #hotd x oc

[sashi-ya]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟑 DAY 22: WRITER'S CHOICE Adult! Ishida Uryuu 𝘹 F! 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

tw: AU where Uryu becomes the ruler of the Quincy years after TYBW ends. A different type of king, this time. giving him some massages. a lot of fluff but still angst. soft praising. kinda of a "mommy kink". fingering. nipple play. vag sex. a/n: sorry for the big delay, I lost the original file so I had to re write it. Posting it today cause it is Uryu's bd. Happy birthday my sweet love! wc: 2.3k 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Your Majesty, I brought you a pain killer” you murmur, leaving a silver tray with a glass of water and the little pill that is intended to end with his migraine.

“Thank you, (Name)” he murmurs, with his forearm covering his eyes and his seat thrown back. Uryu’s feet over his desk, on of his arms hanging loosely to the side… Becoming the King of the Quincy seems more difficult than what you could even think.

“My pleasure, my King” you whisper, bowing even if he can’t see you. You turn around, the sound of your military boots echoing all around the cold room. As cold as white as your Wandenreich uniform.

A sudden invisible force stops you from walking away. As if something -or someone- was holding you by your wrists, it makes you stay completely frozen.

“(Name), can you please make me one more favour?” he asks; Uryu might be the king, but he is still as sweet as when he had first arrived. Years have passed, and the man that now inherited the throne has matured, but never once lost the humanity imbued in his blood.

You immediately turn around, nothing, absolutely nothing matters the most than to please your king. Not because it is your duty, but because your body, your soul, your heart… dies, and kills, to do it.

“Yes, my king!” you chime, standing properly right in front of his desk.

Uryu puts down his right foot, and then the left one. His forearm is no longer covering his eyes, and for the first time you see his face without his glasses on. He cracks his neck and stretches his back as much as he can with a grimacing façade.

“I know that what I am about to ask you might sound weird, but… could you help me out with my tensed muscles? See… my neck is killing me” he shily asks, as if he had to ask…

You immediately nod and declare you can help, soon enough you get behind him and his chair and your hands land on his shoulders.

The scent of a subtle perfume reaches your nose, it is too tempting… too delicious. You shake your head; you need to fulfil your duties.

Your fingertips graze his warm skin, just a little touch and you feel your legs quivering. Uryu has always been the only man in your eyes, from the time he was presented when he was still a young boy, to now… the King.

“Your Majesty, I’ll try to ease the contracture on your neck muscles” you inform, slowly and waiting for his approval to go further.

“Yes, please. Use this cream, it might help” he says, grabbing a little container from his desk and handing it to you.

You inspect the contents of it; it’s gonna be useful for sure.

“Sure, my king. A little bit of lubrication will make my hands slide a lot better” you innocently inform, causing Uryu to widen his eyes and choke with his saliva.

You realize, very late, that what you said can be misinterpreted; and so, with burning ears, you prefer to stay silent as you watch Uryu’s cheeks become red as candied apples.

As your hands begin to work, sliding like you predicted easily because of the cream, Uryu squirms more and more. He reminds you of a cat, and oh how you wish he could purr like one too…. Instead, you get something even better; the soft, low, but definitely hearable moan of pleasure when you hit the right spot.

“Mhhj… (Name), that’s the spot. Keep going” he whines, loud enough to be heard by everyone now.

You swallow, you can feel the knot on his nape. It is definitely hard to ease, but you wont give up until your king’s muscles get completely relaxed.

“Y-yes, my King. You have a very hard knot in here. I will try to massage it to make it softer” you stutter, biting your lower lip… abusing of your words might cost you more than your position.

Uryu nods, and his hand reaches his arm. Surprisingly, he slides down one side of white shirt, exposing the milky skin of his shoulder and back.

“You may go further down; I believe it’s the trapezius muscle” he murmurs. Uryu must have taken the king’s position, but he is still a doctor.

You nod soundly and slide down your fingers. He is right, the knot goes down the right side of his spine. And then, right there, in between his shoulder blades, you press harder… causing Uryu to flinch and grunt.

“Ngh… ah… (Name)!”  he growls, grabbing your hand to stop you. He does with such force you even squeak.

“Sorry, my king!! I didn’t mean!! I’M SO SORRY” you desperately try to plead for forgiveness. You know he is not gonna kill you, but he is going to probably stop you from keep touching his body… something you had dreamt for so many nights.

But, he doesn’t speak, and you discover he is smiling like never before. Uryu hasn’t let go of your hand yet, but his grip softens just a little.

“Don’t you dare excuse yourself, (Name). Your hands are magical, you literally gave me instant relief with that touch…” he purrs, pleased.

You sigh, alleviated. If you could describe how you felt when he snapped, you may probably say it was like having a heart attack… hurting Uryu would be something you could never forgive to yourself.

“I’m glad it helped my ki-“ you shut up, as he suddenly, and delicately, pulls from your arm towards his chest. You widen your eyes, allowing him to go as further as he wishes. And he does until your fingertips reach for his sternum.

You let the warmth of his flesh imbue in your hand, enjoying the way he then tilts his head to the side and presses his cheek against your forearm. Like a child, in severe need of affection, he seems to be pleased with the physical contact provided by you.

 “Just… for a minute or two, stay” he whispers, rather painfully and miserably.

“My King… stay for as long as you may. I will not go away until you order me to do so” you immediately answer back; truth is, that you don’t want to go away either way.

He simply stays in silence; you can feel the side of his lips grazing your skin and the warmth of his breath too. You wish to hug him. You wish with all your heart to lend your embrace to comfort him. You didn’t know he was that sad, but now you could feel it in your blood.

“Please, call me Uryu… I am not a king, I don’t want to be a king” he falters, pulling you even closer to him. So close that your belly hits the backrest of his chair.  

You close your eyes; how painful… And, perhaps in an outburst of indecency, you surround his seat to face him.

You look at Uryu with eyes of utmost love; a comforting look that speaks on its own, showing him how much he can trust in you… how much he can, at least for now, depend on you.

“Come…” he murmurs, after looking into your eyes for a couple of seconds. Right then, is when he lets your arm go… just for you to give him your whole body.

You carefully climb on him, straddling your hips over his lap. In silence, and smiling, you let him hug you. You do the same, hugging his head to let him rest on your chest.

“It’s ok… I am here for you, my k-, sorry, Uryu” “Thanks… thanks…”

Almost like a mother, protecting her child, both lay for some time that way. Your chin resting on the crown of his head, his nose buried in your neck.

You hear a very low sob, enough for you to impulsively move his bangs to the side and kiss his forehead. “If you need to cry, cry… but we can solve anything, that what is causing you pain, I will destroy it” you swear, because for love there is nothing you wouldn’t do.

“To destroy what is causing me pain, you might need to destroy everything that surrounds us now” he sighs.

“I would do it right now if you asked me to…” you murmur, kissing his forehead once again.

“Don’t destroy anything… just stay by my side like you did from the very first time I put a step on this place…” Uryu acknowledges your existence, noticing very well you’ve been there for him since forever. “You know, you are just like my mother”

Your eyes become watery; Miss Katagiri had been the very mother of your king. And also, a woman who had served your King’s father, and whose blood has saved the three realms from crumbling.

“I am not in the position to be compared with your mother, Uryu…” you respectfully tell him.

But Uryu doesn’t respond, and instead, grabs your chin violently. He plasters a kiss so impertinent, so dominant, on your lips. “ You are right, you are not like my mother, because I am here so that there are no more people like her. I don’t want you to suffer. You won’t suffer no more” he sighs with his mouth pressed against yours.

You gasp, taking little to no air before he could attack your lips again. A demanding and needy kiss, soon turns to thousands. Tongues dancing, saliva shining on the commissure of your lips.

Uryu bends you over the desk, with your back pressed against it. Some papers fly away, falling like snow into the ground. His hand, playful and dominant, and yet delicate, rip the buttons of your blouse. The star that has changed its meaning, engraved on those metallic studs, now lies also scattered on the floor.

“I’ve been watching you for so long…” he whispers, tracing a path with the tip of his index, from your collarbones to the in-between of your breasts. “And there was no time that I hadn’t lusted for you” he confesses.

Your lids become lazy; your lips, swollen from kissing, barely separating letting Uryu see just a hint of your teeth. Your heart pounding so fast that you can’t even keep the pace of its beating…

“My King…” “For now, just please…Uryu; call me Uryu…”

He bends forward to kiss you again while you are still on his laps with legs hanging on each side. Your white skirt, part of the uniform he let you choose, covers your sexes just enough not to see his erection… but definitely to feel it against your panties, searching for freedom, underneath the thick fabrics of his pants.

There is a fine line that divides misery from lust, and both have just crossed it at once.

Uryu keeps kissing down your neck, reaching your breasts, sucking desperately. Enough to believe he would love for milk to sprout from them. Maybe, maybe one day.

Your hip bucks up, searching for a so needed collision with his manhood. Him, desperate too, slides his hand down your chest, to your belly and soon underneath your skirt. Located your wetness, he shamelessly, let his fingers imbue in the sweet nectar of your heat.

You throw your head back, mouth open in an O shape, trembling as he inserts one and then two fingers in you. And along with his thumb against your clit, he goes in and out with curled index and ring finger hitting your g spot… deliciously accurately.

“I have always listened you call me “my king” so solemnly, but I have always died to hear you moaning it… out of pleasure, out of your lust” he spits, with a smirk you haven’t seen on his face for so long.

Your stomach feels like dropping; the words, the tone with those were pronounced… there it is, the true king you know he can be. There it is, the only man, the one, the first, and the last… to you, for you.

You bite your lip, and while you are about to moan the so expected sounds, he stops you by covering your mouth with his hand.

“No… not yet, let me be inside you first”

You nod, desperate, going crazy, feeling like the time is slowing down… why is it taking so long for him to be finally deep, deep in you?

Uryu kisses your lips once more, and then taking his fingers out of you he helps you to properly lay back on his desk. When he is sure you are safe and comfortable, he proceeds to stand up from his chair.

The Quincy takes his sweet time to undress; first, his shirt. Exposed his chest, then, he let his white pants fall to the ground. Underwear off, then, feeling for the very first time as proud as he can be of his own skin, discovering two eyes that look at his anatomy with pure devotion. With pure lust and desire.

Uryu smiles, this time softly and lovingly. There is no disrespect in his eyes, only need and love. He delicately lifts one of your legs up, he is planning on going deep from the very start.

With his sex, hard, dripping, throbbing and so ready on his hand, he comes closer to your entrance. He lets the weight of his body to fall on his left arm as he tops you. Uryu’s beautiful onyx hair falls down, framing his fine features, his handsome looks.

“Ready?” he asks, biting your lower lip after. “Yes…” you answer, in total awe.

Uryu lips tremble, his pupils dilate and fix in yours.

“Let me make you mine…”  he whines, as he lets his hardness penetrate you to the deepest point he can reach. Enjoying the way your back arches, with his hand on the small of it and his teeth grazing your chin.

“Nhg… yes, my King… I love you so, so, so much my King!” “That’s good, that’s very good…love… ngh…”

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