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chocosvt · 4 years

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love café

⚬ pairing: jeonghan x fem!reader ⚬ word count: 17.6K ⚬ warnings: some vulgar language, i guess! ⚬ genres: big time nsfw, dirty talk, lap dances, quickies, bath shenanigans, exhibitionism, overstim - you get what i mean. big ole romance, angst, fluff, jeonghan is very rich and very hot, joshua has a not so subtle crush on you.

✧✎ synopsis: while you’ve spent the last few months pretending the love café doesn’t exist, you realize you need its services now more than ever. this brings you face to face with jeonghan, the son of a luxury fashion designer who’s got money to burn. your exchanges are strictly business. until they’re not.

✧✎ a/n: YES, ANOTHER REWRITE. the original love café was just so unsalvageable that i almost fully wiped its plot, minus the actual concept of the café. so, this should read as fairly new! I HOPE U ENJOY IT !!

It’s not that you were desperate. Because you weren’t.

You were actually more than desperate at this point, and no longer could you sit on that uneven couch with the broken leg, staring at the chipped paint, listening to your neighbours’ screams, believing you should continue like this. More than anything, you were shortchanging yourself. There was no point in holding onto that little string of hope in which those employers might phone you back. It would be impossible to contact your family when you had affirmatively cut ties with them ages ago. And, it was becoming increasingly foolish to ignore your one saving grace, just a street over from your rundown complex.

But, could you really commit to it? Would anyone even be able to look at you and think you were someone desirable enough to reward?

Those thoughts often hung over you like a dark cloud, and poured down so heavily that you were metaphorically drenched, in your own pessimism. However, on that day, you were beyond patience with the cards you’d been dealt. Such a despairing apartment, with all its bugs and drafts and horrible neighbours, could not be your brightest and most fortunate future. There had to be something you could do.

Even if it meant going to the Love Café.

In other words, an easy gig to financial heaven, in exchange for sexual pleasures of course. You walked into your bedroom and sat down in front of the wooden vanity, clicking on a dim, flickering bulb to help illuminate your face as well as its lifeless expression which stared back at you. It didn’t take more than ten minutes to pat your skin with some emptying makeup and thinning pans of eyeshadow. Then, you fixed up your hair and chose a simple, mute-coloured dress from your closet, immediately swallowed by the large winter coat you cozied into.

You hurried quickly down the corridor, ignoring the muffled shouts from your argumentative neighbours bleeding through the nickel-thin walls, past the barking dog which jumped against the door, scratching its nails whenever you waited for the elevator, and you didn’t even spare one glance at the very strange man who always hovered in the central lobby and watched you ignore his coos every single day. By the time you arrived outside the Love Café, you were breathing like a marathon runner. Despite the cold weather, you felt a sweat run like a breeze down your temple as you wiped your face before heading inside.

The space felt warm. Everything was red, pink, or white. And when you inhaled, the air smelled like a note of rose petals and candy. It was surprisingly easy to sign up for a ‘Love Card’ at the front desk.

“This card has twelve punches per service with your partner. If, by the end of the twelfth punch, you’re not looking to pursue something serious with this individual, you can pay for another Love Card. If you do manage to find, ‘the one’, then congratulations, and well wishes. Since you’re a first-time client, you get twenty-five percent off your first card.”

Whoever the lady was, she seemed less than enthusiastic as she pushed a cherry-red paper across the counter with a finely manicured nail. You thought she must have given this spiel so many times, the script probably haunted her in her sleep. Nonetheless, you thanked her, and heeded her direction when she advised you to choose any of the free tables, marked with a pale rose. For some reason, you picked the very last table amongst the row and slid yourself onto the uncomfortable, white chair, the metal back moulded into the shape of a heart.

Whoever reserved the table wasn’t exactly punctual. About half an hour after being seated, ordering yourself a tea, and examining the different clients who filtered in and out the café, you were beginning to assume the worst. That they cancelled. Flaked. Decided to pull from the service and direct their affluence elsewhere. As you titled the last few droplets of tea around the base of the cup, feeling utterly depressed and bored, you heard the little bells clink above the door, followed by a gasp from the employee at the front desk. Considering her microscopic range of emotion, you figured whoever entered must be some flawless rarity.

“Jeonghan!” She fixed her slouched position. “I wasn’t aware you made a reservation today. I haven’t seen your name in the system.”

“No worries. I set an anonymous appointment the night before. After all the chaos I caused last time, I figured it’s best to stay under the radar. I know I’m late. I was finishing up a term paper.”

“That’s quite all right. Here, I’ll just quickly renew your information. One moment… Okay, Yoon Jeonghan, you’re all set.”

At that, your eyes practically bulged right into the teacup. You’d heard his name in some conversations with a few university friends, before you had dropped your program. His father was an inventive in the fashion industry for nearly a decade, and his brand was considered high-end luxury, with people forking up the big bucks just to wear a piece from the collection. His mother recently begun a perfume company. In fact, you had a bottle from her Sunrise series sitting on your vanity, though you used each spritz very sparingly considering its outrageous price point. According to the most recent gossip, Jeonghan had ended his relationship with a model who’d been strutting his father’s cloths.

You couldn’t believe he was here.

No – even worse, you couldn’t believe he was making his way toward your table. It had to be some sort of mistake. How could it be that you chose to sit here? Was the universe attempting another cruel joke?

His visual seemed even more daunting outside his photographs in the magazines. Beyond a glossy page, he was softer. Thick hair, shiny and dark brown, which swooped beneath his ears and parted smoothly at the forehead. His lips were the same shade as the windowsill roses, as well as the high arches in his cheeks. But then, he was sharper too, with a trim, angular jaw and such a defined yet judgemental brow. You had expected anyone else but him. And now, this esteemed, much too beautiful man had come to the very last table, wearing an expression of waning curiosity. Or, as you interpreted it, clear-glass disappointment.

Before Jeonghan seated himself, he untucked his phone from his coat pocket and clicked a side button to check the time. He then sniffled, looked straight at the wall, and sighed. Despite your now devoted wish to disappear, you attempted to begin a conversation that wouldn’t backfire.

“Yoon Jeonghan. I’ve heard the name. It’s nice to meet you.”

He settled one arm on the table, tapping his fingernails.

“Yeah. I’m guessing you’re not a regular here—” he then peered over at your bright red Love Card placed by the teacup to say your name.

Bouncing your leg underneath the table, you nodded. “No, not really. I’ve been debating for a while if this was a choice I should make, but I can’t seem to have ends meet doing anything else. So, I came here.”

Already, Jeonghan looked painfully bored. He stopped tapping his fingers and leaned his chin against the hand instead. You knew it was the insecurity barking. Unnecessarily, you apologized to him.

“I’m sorry, I know I’m probably not the woman you’re expecting and I get that. I wouldn’t be all that offended if you wanted to save the Love Card for someone else or—”

Out of the blue, Jeonghan laughed, though he attempted to mute the sound by digging the bend of his index finger between his teeth. Your sentence trailed off with an awkward, dying breath. He suddenly leaned back in his metal seat, shaking his head apologetically and pulling back some of the soft hairs from his eyes. You felt utterly confused.

“Sorry, sorry,” he smiled, “didn’t mean to discourage you there, sweetheart. I’ve just never had someone apologize for—well, their looks.”

“I-I don’t know,” you lunged for damage control, “I just thought you seemed disappointed and I… Well, I haven’t done this before, so I don’t really know all that well how it works. I… I should stop talking…”

It felt as though someone had swatted both your cheeks in an iron-slap, because the skin was stinging hot like never before. You knew he was staring at you, probably thinking to himself that you were a train wreck waiting to happen. Afterward, an employee visited the table to collect your emptied teacup, and asked Jeonghan if he’d like anything to drink. Refusing to look elsewhere but the clenched fists in your lap, you waited for the employee to leave once Jeonghan rejected the offer. He’d pulled out a piece of paper and a pen from his pocket. Uncapping the pen with his teeth, you watched him sloppily scribble something down.

“My number.” He said, sliding it across the table. “Listen, I’ve gotta go home and proofread that term paper before I submit it. Just send me a text, okay? I won’t be free for a few days, anyways.”

“Oh, okay.” You sniffled.

Quite frankly, you couldn’t comprehend that he was still interested in pursuing something venereal, even when you had embarrassed yourself like a circus act. He rose quickly from the table and wrapped the waistband of his coat tight around his small waist.

Staring down at the paper, you blurted out, “are you sure?”

Jeonghan titled his head. “Am I sure of what?”

“Never mind.” You answered. “I’ll text you later.”

“Okay.” He nodded, on the verge of walking away when he abruptly stopped himself. “Are you always this nervous?”

Caught off guard by his question, your elbow whacked the edge of the table and you meekly stuttered, “I-I don’t know…”

You were more than positive he was going to ghost all your texts.

To a degree, you were correct.

Over the course of the following week, you sent Jeonghan at least three texts, each on separate days, only to be rewarded with a demotivating lack of responses. You knew he was a busy individual who probably didn’t have much time to waste on promiscuous affairs, let alone a committed relationship. So, you tried very earnestly to not feel upset or unimportant at his methods – even despite the series of required payments glaring you down from those white envelopes scattered atop the kitchen table.

And then, during the black, late hours of a snowy Friday, you received a reply. A surprisingly urgent one which detailed that you make it to the downtown Opal Studio before eleven o’clock, as there would be a backdoor entrance left unlocked for your access. He mentioned a storage closet underneath a staircase, worded very sternly as: … Wait inside, and do not make yourself known. I’ll see you there shortly, and ensure you leave without being spotted. Uncertain of what the situation would entail, you phoned a cab and payed the driver using some remaining funds from a paper note purse. The studio’s front was a smooth, velvet black, with a wide window which illuminated several mannequins wearing Mr. Yoon’s newest issue. Each outfit cost a pretty penny.

Like you anticipated, Jeonghan was late to meet you in the storage closet; however, you were at no point going to scold his blatant disregard for scheduling when he’d pressed you tight against the door looking the way he did. Buttons popped down the chest of his unwrinkled dress shirt, sleeves cuffed to his elbows, and his neat, styled hair beginning to dishevel around those intense eyes. He braced his hand beside your head, studying your lips as though they were glittering.

“Can I kiss you?” Jeonghan asked. The question seemed to rumble from deep in his throat and you felt your knees weaken.

You nodded immediately, allowing his hand to frame the side of your cheek as his warm, soft mouth nudged against yours. It was gentle for a fleeting touch, and then there was pressure, teeth, a slick tongue running across your bottom lip and leaving you in such a sensual daze that you just stood there with a parted mouth. Jeonghan definitely knew what he wanted from you in that moment. And he wanted it quick. You were flipped around, chest pushed against the door, skirt hiked up impatiently as the fabric ruffled around your hips. His hand slid between your thighs to rub you through the thin pair of underwear, pressing firmly enough that you could feel the cold, thick rings on his fingers.

Eagerly, you began a slow gyration of grinding against Jeonghan’s touch while simultaneously biting down hard on your bottom lip, knowing embarrassingly well that you were already sticky and soaking and ready for him to use you like a designated fucktoy. He was rather flush to your backside as he dug the heel of his palm against your clit, so much yet not enough between the cotton. Something about his scent was beyond arousing, and it gripped to him like a web. An expensive cologne no doubt, mature, raw, and ocean-fresh. You heard the sound of his belt being whipped open, followed by a zipper.

“Alright,” Jeonghan hummed, passing a hand up his length, “let’s make this quick. Gotta be back upstairs in five to finish the measurements and tapering and all that boring shit. Now, just be a good, quiet little girl for me, sweetheart, and this’ll be a cake walk.”

Your mouth stretched into a low, whiny groan as Jeonghan held your underwear aside and began to sink inside of you, his hips stalled against your skin. His light breath then fluttered at your ear, “bet you’d make such a perfect toy to keep my cock nice and warm. Feels so perfect, being this deep inside you, sweetheart.” He shuddered against you, thrusting once, twice, slowly and teasingly dragging himself out before ramming right back in to pinch you against the door.

“Fuck,” he cursed between his teeth, “life would be so much easier if I could just keep you right here on my cock, wouldn’t it, baby?”.

Undoubtedly, that smooth-talking tongue of his was going to be an impending problem. You don’t know where he got off exactly on such scandalous thoughts, but you were too consumed in your own lust to care. The way he fucked you against that door with one hand scraping at your hip and the other wrapped up your throat, fingers pressing hot into your drooling mouth to keep you quiet, it was more bliss than a one-way ticket to Eden. Jeonghan timed his orgasm appropriately, slipping himself from your warmth at the last second and finishing himself off using the hand which had been maintaining your silence. His breaths were slow but husky in the aftermath, his fingers painted in cum.

“You wouldn’t want to use that pretty mouth of yours to clean this, would you?” He laughed.

Before you could respond, Jeonghan had grabbed some paper towels left to sit on a shelf and cleaned the mess himself. Then, as though nothing had happened, he asked if you were carrying that damn Love Card before you could even flatten down the wrinkles in your skirt. You grabbed the small note purse you set down next to the paper towels and revealed the obnoxiously coloured card. Jeonghan smiled.

“That’s the one.” He took a dry erase marker from the shelf and wrote his initials in the first circle.

“Here,” Jeonghan proceeded to offer back the card, “one session down. I need to scram. The hall should be clear at this hour, but have a cab ready just in case you need to bolt fast. Oh—before I go, you got the money to pay the driver? It’s no problem if you’re short. I can cover.”

“N-No, I should have enough.” You answered.

“Cool. I’ll transact you tonight.” Jeonghan nodded, tucking in his shirt rather poorly before slipping past you to exit the storage closet.

One week later, you were at the entrance to the library, pulling open the door with a big, cold huff. It was much warmer inside. You were beginning to feel the tips of your stiff fingers again.

Despite your service at the Love Café, you wanted one last time to test your luck on a receptionist position at the downtown hair salon, simply because you would think better of yourself if you weren’t relying chiefly on Jeonghan to pay your bills. His last transaction had been more than you anticipated. Finally, you were able to erase that huge electricity bill, and you still had enough of the money left over to supply some warm meals for the next few days. If you could just submit your newest resume to the salon, then you might be able to permanently cover the groceries.

Except, you needed access to a computer.

Ever since you tipped over a glass of water onto your old laptop, it had stopped working properly, and the library was the only place close by which let you use the computer room without fees. However, as you peered in through the backroom window to find an open space, you realized just how crammed full it was. Judging by everyone’s intense typing and unblinking eyes, you weren’t going to steal a seat anytime soon, which pulled out a frustrated sigh as you fiddled with the USB in your pocket. You thought about heading home, until you saw Jeonghan.

He was seated at the distant left corner, leaned back comfortably in the chair while he examined something on his laptop. A gym bag was slid underneath the table, and he was dressed as though he had some sort of sports practice; quite the contrary to his usual crisp, ironed shirts and heavy winter coats courtesy of brands you couldn’t pronounce. He seemed concentrated, chewing on his thumb nail while he tapped the touch pad. In fact, he didn’t notice that you had approached him until you said his name quietly from across the table and his eyes flickered.

“Uh, hey.” Jeonghan replied, sounding bothered while he pushed his thumb harshly against his bottom lip. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“And I didn’t expect to see you.”

He shrugged, maintaining his uninterested glance on the laptop screen. “Well, I’m looking over some notes. Last minute stuff.”

You nodded. “What’s with the duffle bag?”

“My friend Joshua – he’s been making me coach this Peewee soccer team with him at the Greenfield Dome.” Jeonghan puffed out his chest, letting an arm fall loosely to his side. “Those kids are insane. They have too much energy. I shouldn’t have let that bastard sweet talk me.”

At that, you giggled, though immediately hushed yourself when the librarian came by with a metal cart, filled with books to shelve. You stepped around the table to move out of her way. Jeonghan pulled out the chair beside him using his foot and nodded that you take a seat.

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out the USB.

“I need to upload my new resume. I mean, I probably won’t hear anything back from this place, ‘cause that’s how it usually goes. But, whatever. Thing is, I busted my laptop, and now the computer room is filled up. I’ll just come back later and hope it’s cleared out.” Staring down at your shoes, you avoided Jeonghan’s gaze. “I know I’m doing this Love Café stuff, but it would still be nice to have my own income, you know?”

“I get that.” He replied, scratching at his collarbone. “I’ve already got my laptop here and everything. You can use it, if you want.”

“Really?” You smiled wide. “Thanks.”

Jeonghan closed a few tabs that he’d been rotating between before sliding his laptop over to you. Wriggling the memory stick into the small slot at the side, you logged into your email account through the main search engine. As long as you could send your resume to the salon before they closed their application deadline, then you would hope for the absolute best, even if it was an unstimulating, lacklustre gig answering phones and scheduling hair appointments all day. Just as you went to drag the file into your email, Jeonghan’s laptop froze.

“Uh, Jeonghan,” you whispered, “nothing’s moving. Do I just wait? Does this normally happen? Did I screw something up?”

He shook his head and laughed. “Relax, relax. It’s been doing that a lot recently. I figured out if you hold down these keys—” Jeonghan suddenly scooted his chair in very close, his thigh pressing against yours as he reached a hand underneath your arm, the other lightly nudging your fingers off the keyboard, “then it goes back to normal. See?”

“O-Oh, yeah. It’s working.” You stuttered, not all staring at the specific keys he clicked because the side of his face was much too pretty.

Granting you access to the keyboard again, Jeonghan leaned away, though he didn’t move his thigh from yours even an inch. It was almost concerning how flustered you felt. Jeonghan had literally pinned you against a closet door and fucked his own hand right in front of you, and yet, your heart was fluttering tenfold. In a much different way. And it lit this spark of fear and adrenaline at the core of your chest like gasoline hitting a wicked flame. You detached the USB stick, logged yourself out from the email account, and moved quickly off the seat.

In a hurried breath, you said, “thanks so much!” and proceeded to leave the library as though someone were trailing you with a pitchfork.

While it was embarrassing, you knew it was necessary. There was no way you were going to crush on that boy. It was strictly business.

Tired. Aching.

Uncomfortable moisture covering the slopes and divots of your body. You didn’t think there was anything left inside you for him to so commandingly take, like his name were inked to your each and every limb. And yet, Jeonghan wasn’t ready to let you rest. The mattress dipped behind you, the heat of his chest sticking to your back, the weight of his erection pressed right at your tailbone. While his lips kissed softly up your neck, Jeonghan slid his hand in between your thighs to continue pleasuring you, ignoring the responsive whimpers attached to your sensitivity. He’d already brought you to two orgasms, though you were sensing the overbearing rush of a third.

An index and middle finger slid down to your entrance, the contact beyond slippery, a sort of wet velvet, and you hardly recognized the sensation unlike the first time he’d touched you. Jeonghan hooked the digits deep, using the heel of his palm to rub a thorough friction against your clit. Working faster and faster, his laboured breaths fanned hot across your neck while he sharply concentrated on making you starry-eyed. It was pain. It was bliss. It was exactly what you wanted most and everything you couldn’t endure at the same time. You came heavily, screamed as the pulsation at your core felt almost violent.

Unable to fully ride out the pleasure, you attempted to curl away from Jeonghan, hiding your face in the pillows and further tilting your hips. However, the boy followed your movement. He stayed snug to your back, practically leaned over top you with the latter arm braced next to your head while his hand pounded and pounded. The amount of liquid gushing onto his fingers and spilling down his wrist felt almost comical, and you were certain that you had never orgasmed so intensely in your life. To make matters worse, it seemed as though he’d taken that little memory box in your head filled with all your language and tossed it right out the damn window. You couldn’t form one word other than sobs.

Jeonghan breathed a light, shaky chuckle beside your ear. “Trying to run from me, sweetheart? When I can make you feel so good? Look at how much you can take, honey. Such a good girl when you cum so fucking hard ‘round my fingers I can barely move them.”

The sound of his digits sliding out from your entrance was the most impure, salacious noise you didn’t know could exist. Rolling slowly onto your back, you saw the immediate coating on Jeonghan’s hand and the drops beading down his wrist. He caught one with his tongue, licking all the way back up like he was cleaning the juice from a melted popsicle, and you almost couldn’t watch him. In fact, you were exhausted. There wasn’t anything left for you to offer, and the thought of moving from his bed when your core felt this utterly sore and your muscles this tight set a perfectly timed cue for your eyes to fall shut. It was heavenly.

Nonetheless, Jeonghan had a very specific rule. There was no staying past your session, and he was often strikingly clear about it. But this was the first time you’d been pushed to such a degree. He must be able to recognize that it was only a short nap you needed, and perhaps a quick minute under the shower to rid your skin of the sticky sweat.

Out of the blue, something was tossed onto your face. It was your t-shirt earlier stripped and thrown to the floor by Jeonghan. Cracking an eye open and peeling away the fabric to hang loosely from your grip, you sighed. He had already slipped back into his exercise pants.

“Seriously? I’m exhausted.”

He threw a loose flannel over the long, beaming red scrapes that you had clawed down his back, shaking his head with a huff.

“I’m not saying you need to get out right now. I’ve got a dinner with the parents at eight.” Jeonghan proceeded to drop the rest of your undergarments onto bed. “So, you gotta be gone by a quarter to, alright?”

Swallowing dryly, you nodded.

“Alright.”

The next morning, you were seated on the edge of your bed, staring with bleary eyes at the smooth, red Love Card that was initialed to its fifth circle, leaving only eight more sessions with Jeonghan. Though you approached the café with nothing more than an intention to earn money (even if the sex would be inexplicably dull), you were beginning to presume that there was more to this business than you thought. Because the sex wasn’t dull. It was concerningly amazing. And the very man who you had sworn to maintain a no-strings-attached type relationship with was throwing you for a loop. But he was boundary driven.

Be ready to go by this time. No sparkly clothes. Leave nothing in the washroom. Don’t show up here. Don’t show up there. Don’t text me unless this. Don’t call me unless that. Jeonghan knew very explicitly that you were a simple trick to relieving his stress and fulfilling his sexual desires, yet, anything further than that was laughably impossible. And, besides, it’s not like you needed to be in love or have this dazzling, perfect boyfriend. There was too much on your plate already.

You had gone to bed in a thick wool sweater, layered with the heaviest comforter you had due to the broken heating. Ignoring the cold, your next-door neighbours had found themselves in another drunken argument, forcing you to hear the unnerving crack of beer bottles and an outrageous number of insults, ranging from the very straightforward, ‘ridiculous bitch” to the audacious, “go fuck yourself, narcissistic prick.”

Thankfully, the dramatics ended just before three am.

You set the Love Card back on your nightstand. After you splashed mild water onto your face from the sink, you started multitasking, attempting to brush your teeth and remove your pyjama bottoms at the same time. Then, there was a knock at your door. You spared a glance through the peephole while the toothbrush hung from the corner of your mouth and the frigid air hit your bare legs. Upon recognizing the face reflected through the fisheye lens, you nearly choked on the mint-flavoured spit collected at the back of your throat, which forced you to unpleasantly compose yourself at the kitchen sink.

He knocked again, and you pulled the door open almost immediately, probably appearing as though you just hiked through the wilderness. Jeonghan’s eyes widened as he smiled at you.

“Damn. Sleep well?” He remarked, looking you up and down.

You were in the midst of a yawn as you answered. “Um, yes. I-I mean no. Wait, I don’t know what I’m saying. What was the question?”

Jeonghan nodded. “I’ll take that as a no.” He then reached into the pocket on his flannel coat. “Anyways, I have your phone. You left it on my bedside table the other night. Figured it’s kind of useful, I guess.”

“Oh my god. I did that?” You winced, realizing you must have been so tired and discombobulated from Jeonghan blowing your brains out that you forgot. “It won’t happen again. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

Leaning your temple against the door, you sighed. “How was that dinner thing with your parents? Was it any fun?”

The boy shook his head, pulling out his car keys and tossing them from hand to hand. “No. It was all business bullshit. What they want me to do with my future after I graduate uni. How to be responsible with my money since they think I’m gonna blow it in a few years. Trying to structure my life around stuff I don’t really give a damn about.”

“O-Oh…” You frowned, “well, was there at least good food?”

Jeonghan stopped playing with his keys and titled his head at you. “Yeah,” he said, his eyes gentle, “they had great red velvet cake.”

Unfortunately, your neighbours must have woken up and decided it was a little too peaceful at such an hour, because you heard a loud, clanging thump echo from the room beside yours, like someone had dropped a metal pot or pan on the ground. Of course, the yelling started.

It didn’t last nearly as long compared to the night before, just a few scolding comments which were ultimately muffled. You wondered what Jeonghan was thinking as he blinked at the neighbour’s door and realized how despairing the narrow, dimly-lit hallway looked. After visiting his high-end apartment numerous times based in the luxury core of the city, with its beautiful architecture and sparkle, you were frankly a bit humiliated he was witnessing this drab part of your life – the reason you were seeking his service in the first place. You apologized through your teeth for the commotion, though Jeonghan merely shrugged.

“It’s better than nothing, right?”

“Yeah, that’s true. But those two next door can be a handful sometimes. I don’t get it. If they hate each other, then just break up. Get divorced. It’s like they want to be miserable on purpose.”

“Bet you wish you could get the hell outta here, huh?”

“All the time.” You replied wistfully. “I’m thinking of going to the mall today, actually. I need a new bath towel. Whatever gets me away.”

“You want a ride there?” Jeonghan asked, shaking his keys.

At that, you smiled a little too wide. “Maybe.”

Carefully, you picked up a thin, glass bottle of pink perfume from the display counter, tilting the liquid back and forth as the lights gleamed off the gold nozzle. Everything inside the store was diamond bright and almost blinding, while the air smelled strongly of expensive floral. The employees were tailored in smooth, sophisticated suits, which made you more petrified than usual to touch anything, hence your very delicate inspection of the perfume as you waited for Jeonghan to finish his conversation with the front clerk. Since his father’s collection was sold at the boutique, Jeonghan seemed to have a cordial relationship with the staff, and they had recognized him almost immediately.

As most of their merchandise was quite expensive, you always ignored the boutique until Jeonghan suggested you stop by. It didn’t help that there was actually some cute clothing begging to be bought, though you knew one swift glance at the price tag would change your mind. You brought the perfume bottle close to your nose and inhaled lightly.

“What does it smell like?” Jeonghan asked.

You sniffed again. “It’s sweet, though it’s not strong.”

“Let me smell.” He said, and so you raised the bottle up to his nose. Jeonghan wrapped his hand around yours as he took a breath, shaking his head in disapproval. “That’s all wrong. I don’t like it.”

“It is kind of high schoolish.” You told him, setting the test bottle back onto the counter as though you were laying down a jewel. “I just need a new scent, you know? I actually love that one bottle your mom did, the summer tropic one. It’s so peachy but mild. I’m running out.”

“For real?” Jeonghan laughed, his eyes skipping over the different shaped containers. “You use one of my mom’s perfumes?”

“Um, yeah. Have you even smelled the tropic one? It’s amazing.”

“I don’t hang around her laboratory too often.” He replied. “It gives me a big fucking headache. Smells like this place times a hundred.”

You shrugged. “I guess that’s understandable.”

Suddenly, Jeonghan had latched his hand around your elbow, pulling you around to the opposite side of the counter. He grabbed a tall, slim bottle that was made from foggy glass and a chrome silver pump.

“C’mon, give me your wrist for a second.” He said. “Try this scent. I don’t know why, but it reminds me of you.”

Pulling up your sleeve, you stuck out your wrist and allowed him to spray a thin layer against the skin. Then, you sniffed the area. At first, your forehead crinkled as you attempted to decipher its concoction of notes. There was something a little fresh and cool, but then there was this oddly mature hint of a distinguished floral scent. You couldn’t pinpoint the flower, but it was certainly addictive and very intriguing.

“It’s called Orchid Night. Smells great, right?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, rolling your sleeve back down “just don’t tell me what it costs. It has to be at least fifty bucks.”

“Try sixty-nine,” Jeonghan corrected, “plus tax, don’t forget.”

Immediately, you grabbed the bottle from his hand and returned the perfume to its small podium on the countertop.

“Well, let’s put it back before we break it.”

Jeonghan smirked. “I could buy it for you.”

For a split second, you were tempted to succumb, though you snapped from the thought at the last second and shook your head.

“No way. I wouldn’t let you, anyways.”

He buried his hands in his pockets, rolling those gold-copper eyes of his. Jeonghan made sure to purposefully bump into you as he walked down the bright aisle toward the clothes. “Honestly, you’re so boring, man. That scent, on you? It would be sexy.” The boy then turned around to smother you with a burning gaze. “But, fine. Have it your way.”

You hurried after him, scoffing lightheartedly to camouflage the fact your heart was beating like a broken pendulum. Jeonghan had stopped at a rack of neatly pressed clothing to sort through the hangers.

“My way is the better way,” you smiled, “always.”

Jeonghan moved the long-sleeved button-up he’d been eyeing back onto the rack, merely blowing out a puff of air.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Besides, I still need to get my bath towel.”

“We can find it on the bottom floor. At the new essentials store that just opened up. The Shower Duck, I think.”

“The Shower what?”

He couldn’t help but cackle while repeating himself. “The Shower Duck. You thought I said something else, didn’t you?”

When you were too tongue-twisted to reply, Jeonghan decided to place his fingers softly on your chin, holding your head still as he leaned in very closely to whisper, “you’re such a dirty girl, you know that?” You almost hated how casually he pulled away and continued to examine the clothing, as though he hadn’t just murmured a lascivious comment into your ear while the employees were standing a mere few meters across the store. More than anything, you desired the courage to deservingly tease him in return, to break that relaxed little shtick of his. Except, you weren’t confident nor subtle enough to attempt anything in public.

But when your eyes landed on that brand-new lingerie set wrapped primly on the nearest mannequin, you had a wonderful idea.

“No, are you being serious? Why? Why?”

His blunt fingernails sunk into the leather arms of the desk chair, scraping upward, as equally frustrated with your cruel antics as he was aroused and impatient. Maybe it was somewhat meanspirited to strut the thin, beautiful lace and ribbons curled around your body in a baby pink, and indeed, there was a moment where you pondered leniency, though, you severed the thought, because Jeonghan would surely tear each garter and bow from your outfit like it hadn’t cost anything at all. Pursing your bottom lip, you smiled, sinister and cold.

“I am being serious,” you stated firmly, nearing closer to his desk chair, “your hands won’t touch a single part of me, Jeonghan.”

He glared up at you with a dark, flickering fire in his eyes, as if he were already weighing the consequence to breaking such rules. You began to sit comfortably on the boy’s lap, curling your arms around his neck while maintaining the intensity of the stare.

“And, if you do, I’ll grab my things and leave. It’ll just be you and your hand, for the rest of the night.” Purposefully, you brushed delicate lips, featherlight, along his warm, red-tinged ear, to which you could practically feel him harden underneath you upon the whisper, “and there’ll be nothing you can do other than remembering how good it felt when I was in your lap, grinding down on you, baby boy, just like this.”

Slowly and with focus, you rolled your hips in a deep, smooth gyration, ensuring Jeonghan felt the heavy pressure against all the right places. His hands keened for your waist, so you immediately reminded him of your unnegotiable rules, forcing them to settle on the arms of the chair. He drew in a sharp breath. And then, he started to laugh, like a beaten protagonist receiving their first, acrid taste of defeat. Jeonghan titled his head back to smile very lazily at you.

“Evil.” He said. “You’re fucking evil.”

“Mmhm,” you agreed, continuing the unhurried, steadfast pace of your hips rolling back and forth, observing with poorly hidden glee as the boy lost his smile, “but you’ll still cum, won’t you, Jeonghan?”

Before he could sneak in a clever rebuttal, you adjusted yourself even lower onto his lap, digging your nails down the back of his neck as you circled a thorough motion against his erection. Admittedly, it was difficult to maintain the domineering act. Even through the black material of the slacks, his cock was managing to create a friction with your lace underwear, a friction so rough yet fruitless that you were already tempted to take him, full and aching inside you. In order to distract yourself, you licked the tender side to Jeonghan’s neck, looping your tongue in a messy, warm pattern overtop a sensitive vein.

“Ff-fuck,” Jeonghan stuttered, scraping harshly along the chair, “you devilish little girl, c-can’t believe you’re g’nna make me cum like this—b-but it feels so damn good the way you’re moving, baby.”

You suckled until you’d drawn a shiny, wine-coloured hue to the surface of Jeonghan’s skin, to mark a dark bruise as a keepsake. He kept breathing through a parted mouth, each exhale shakier and more erratic than the last, his knuckles hard like stone while they gratingly tensed and betrayed his frustration at not being able to touch you. With slow, teasing hands, you began to drag them down his chest, nails clawing at the expensive fabric of his dress shirt. Jeonghan squirmed. He clenched his jaw and cursed rough under his breath. You focused on where his cock was poking you to apply the most dizzying pressure thus far, rolling your hips until something inside Jeonghan snapped and you felt him cum.

“Jesus—fuck!” He shouted, the loudest you had ever heard the boy, and there was a notable tear in his usually soft voice. “Keep going, keep going,” Jeonghan panted, squeezing his eyes shut, “keep fucking moving just like that, sweetheart. A-Ahh, ff-fuck, feels s-so good—"

At the pulsating sensation right beneath your core, you submitted to Jeonghan’s wish and continued grinding down, even if you were beginning to tire at your lack of stamina. However, there came a point where you were too breathless to maintain such a pace, so you trickled to a halt and steadied your hands on his firm shoulders. He tossed his head back, neck leaned against the edge of the chair. The hazy, glass look to his brown eyes and the rose glow smeared on each cheek made it appear as though he’d just touched down from heaven. As you shifted slightly in Jeonghan’s lap, you noticed the white stream of cum that had soaked through his pants, and that somehow, he was still hard.

“I didn’t know you could beg, Jeonghan.” You remarked, grinning, meanwhile attempting to catch your breath.

He shook his head. “Don’t expect it too much.”

“Well, I can tell you’re satisfied, either way.”

He chuckled, brushing some of the loose hairs from his face. You felt his hands settle upon your waist’s bare skin, warm and squeezing. In that moment, you just didn’t possess the same acuteness to scold him.

“Almost,” Jeonghan huffed, “but, what do you suppose you’ll do to please yourself, sweetheart?” He leaned forward, until his forehead was just a sliver away from bumping yours, the boy sliding a hand down your abdomen and beneath the lace underwear. As he stroked the tips of his fingers along your slit, he smirked. “I’ve never felt someone so wet before, dripping all over my fingers and I’m barely touching you. Did it turn you on that much, sweetheart? Feeling my hard cock right underneath this needy pussy of yours?” Jeonghan teased with a smirk and a low, calm tone. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to duct tape his mouth shut or allow him to keep talking, as there was something about his honeyed voice which wound you up like clockwork.

Yet, before you could even start the syllable of a response, Jeonghan pushed you strongly from his lap, his hands glued to your waist as he guided you to stumble against the bed. Your back hit the mattress, the sheets puffing up around you. And then, Jeonghan was kissing you, lips clashing messily while he took advantage of the switched power dynamic to run his hands over your every inch. One second, they were cupping your breasts overtop the baby pink bralette. Another second, they were grabbing at your ass and kneading so desperately. You were being ravaged. It was overwhelming, it was gratifying, it was needed beyond belief.

“Hey,” Jeonghan said, separating his mouth from the side of your throat to stare at you with an oddly sentimental eye, “before I get all up in your guts and everything— you look beautiful. Even if you did choose this outfit to be a big fucking tease.” His fingers brushed down the edge of your jaw, and he smiled at you in a way that wasn’t clever or teetering on sarcasm. Your heart leapt like a little frog in your chest.

“Really?” You questioned him, not because you didn’t believe the lingerie suited your figure, but rather, you weren’t expecting this sweetness from someone who was always so quick to get rid of you.

He nodded, raising a suspecting eyebrow. “Yeah, really. What, you think I’m lying to you or something?”

“No, I don’t think that,” you answered quickly, curling your fingers into the bedsheets, “I just—I wasn’t… Uh, never mind.”

“Alright,” Jeonghan laughed, lowering his head to delicately kiss your cheek, and then your neck, “you’re a bit strange sometimes, you know that?” He mumbled against the sensitive skin, even daring to dig his knee between your thighs to make you increasingly pliable.

“I-I know,” you stuttered, unable to help your embarrassing voice crack. But you still smiled, letting Jeonghan explore and pleasure your body with an uncharacteristic tenderness for the remainder of the night.

Twelve am.

Usually, at this time, you’d be at the bottom floor of his apartment complex, seated by the lobby water fountain. You’d be examining your face with a pocket mirror, awaiting the yellow taxi cab, and trying to avoid eye contact with the wealthy businesspeople filtering from the elevators in glamourous congregation.

However, tonight was different.

Tonight, you were in Jeonghan’s bed, with a white sheet covering the lower half of your bodies, an ear pressed to his bare, warm chest while you breathed him in like the wind on a bright summer’s day. You felt his fingertips trace long figure eights down your spine and then dance back up to the subtle curve of your shoulder blades. Sometimes it tickled, other times it was a touch so soft it was hardly there, and in between you thought he might have been tracing words. The room was quiet. But good quiet— the comfortable quiet. And then you heard Jeonghan speak into the crown of your head while his hand stilled at your waist.

“Did that salon ever call you back?” He asked.

You sighed, focusing on your thumb which brushed a small freckle on his pectoral muscle. “They emailed me, and said their position was already filled, but that they’ll try to look for another opening.”

Jeonghan rubbed your hip. “That’s good, right? I mean, they didn’t just flat out reject you. They’re gonna keep you in mind.”

“It’s better than what I’m used to getting,” you answered, pressing your lips together and tilting your head up at him.

And, that’s when it struck you, like someone had just clanged a bell right beside your head. You were still in Jeonghan’s bed. You were still in Jeonghan’s apartment. You were still with Jeonghan. Feeling as though you’d broken some vastly significant cardinal rule, you operated on a strange basis of panic and autopilot, already seated at the edge of the mattress while you tucked your underwear back on.

“I’m sorry,” you spewed, reaching for your shirt next and straightening it out frantically in your lap, “the time escaped me. I-I know I have to go. And, my Love Card, I think it’s in my purse or—”

“Can you slow down?” Jeonghan laughed, casting a hand through his loose, disarrayed hair which you had admittedly tugged earlier in the night like your life depended on it. The boy’s arms circled around your midframe, hugging your back to his chest. “I don’t care about that stupid card right now,” Jeonghan hummed into your ear, “stay.”

At that, you almost choked. “Stay? You want me to stay?” You repeated dumbly, dropping the inside-out shirt back onto your lap.

The coldest shiver split down your spine as Jeonghan buried his face against your neck, taking a breath of your scent, kissing your skin.

“Yeah,” he purred, now pecking the soft spot behind your ear, “I want you to stay. Or, if you really want to go home, I won’t stop you.”

“No,” you replied almost immediately, melting into his voice, his touch, his body, “trust me, I’d rather be here.”

Jeonghan’s arms relaxed their snug grip.

“I figured that.”

Even though you had strongly protested the idea, Jeonghan succeeded at wearing you down akin to an ocean tide forming whorls into rock, and now you were seated before your vanity with an array of makeup scattered at your fingertips as you prepared for a dinner. His parents were going to be there, in addition to some business partners and close friends, which sounded like something from a hellish nightmare. In fact, Jeonghan himself didn’t seem all that eager to attend. He’d been sprawled across your bed for the past half hour, with the long drapes of his coat fanned around him, as he flipped through an old magazine. You were certain he just didn’t want to tough another dinner alone.

After focusing a spritz of perfume to your neck (the orchid one, bought by Jeonghan, because he was very insistent that you not smell like his mother) you shut off the vanity lights and sighed.

“I think I’m ready… Physically though, not mentally.”

Jeonghan yawned, tossing the magazine aside before he pushed himself to sit upright on the bed. He rubbed at his eye.

“Trust me, it’s not going to be the big, royal midnight ball that you’re picturing. My parents have these dinners all the time. You’ll be the centre of attention for a few minutes, and then it’s pretty much just business central from there. You’ll be lucky if you can even get a word in. I stopped trying months ago.”

You smiled at him, feeling slightly better about the situation, and took one last, scrutinizing glance in the mirror. The dress was simple yet elegant, a mute shade of dark blue with a beaded, crystal belt that you had forgotten about, as you discovered it laying behind a stool shoved in your closet. The fabric had an elastic tightness to it and was hemmed shorter than you remembered, just above your fingertips. You tried not to judge or overthink the figure which reflected in the vanity glass, or what Jeonghan’s parents might assume upon their first introduction to someone who was so clueless on their accolades. It was merely a dinner.

“Stop worrying so much,” Jeonghan hummed, sensing that you were at the forefront of a spiral. His hands settled to your hips and he caught your eye through the mirror. “No one is going to judge you, or poke fun at you, or say anything mean. I promise.” He then grabbed your winter coat off the bed, helping you slide into the arms, and even doing up the buttons. “You’re gorgeous.” Jeonghan said, tapping your chin.

It didn’t help that he could fluster you so easily.

Joshua wasn’t at all who you expected him to be, while simultaneously encompassing everything you would indeed expect from the position of Jeonghan’s closest friend. He was a juxtaposition personified. Slick, ash blonde hair combed into a handsome wave, eyes which twinkled like the restaurant’s diamond chandelier, and a soothing voice which could be a cup of warm milk on a frosty day, though his interactions with Jeonghan portrayed him as childlike and frivolous. He greeted you, at first with a quick hug. You heard him exhale deeply.

“Wow,” Joshua commented, retreating to shake your hand, “you smell amazing! I mean—well, I hope that doesn’t sound weird.”

You laughed, and wondered how someone could smile with such a prettiness. “Thank you! I’d be upset if you didn’t notice, actually.”

Joshua continued to shake your hand. “Oh, yeah, agree. It’s wonderful to meet you. Jeonghan’s been trying to hide you, it seems.”

“Go shove a break stick in your mouth,” Jeonghan scoffed, blowing a loose piece of hair from his eyes, “and stop shaking her hand like that. You’re gonna snap her whole arm off.”

Finally, Joshua released his grip, and your arm fell back to your side like a limp noodle. His cheeks were starting to turn pink.

“I was not. Anyways—” he nodded at you, “like I said, nice to meet you. I hope we’ll talk more tonight and I’ll pick your brain.”

“Sure thing,” you answered, waving the boy off as he returned to the dinner table before facing Jeonghan. “He seems nice.”

“And totally into you. I haven’t seen him shake someone’s hand like that since I introduced him to Elouise from France. He’s gonna turn into a lost puppy all over again. Bet he’ll try to sweet talk you later.”

“Can’t wait.” You grinned, already giggling through your teeth.

Jeonghan c0nsquently thwapped your forehead with his finger.

However, meeting Jeonghan’s parents was starkly different than the good-humoured Joshua. They both appeared cross, and firm, and before you had even shaken their hands you were forced to wipe yours against your dress. The father was a bit softer around the edges, showing you a pleased smile that reminded you instantaneously of Jeonghan, while the mother was stone-faced and seemed as though she hadn’t slouched since birth. Even when she complimented your fragrance, there was a tartness to her voice which made it sound disingenuous.

“Well, Jeonghan,” she said, clasping her hands together, “I’m glad to finally see you with a lovely lady on your arm. I didn’t think it was possible that you could settle for someone after being with Baejin.”

“Oh?” The father piped up, “you’re my son’s girlfriend?”

Before you could respond, Jeonghan had beaten you to it.

“No, she’s…” he bit his lip hard, “she’s just a friend. Mom kept nagging that I always come to these dinners alone, and she was down.”

For some reason, it felt like someone had pierced a pin straight through your heart – a very tiny hole which shouldn’t hurt all that much, yet stung like flesh to orange, glowing metal. In fact, there was a visible shift in your countenance, from a nervous smile to a sunken frown, but you were able to veil it very quickly and pretend nothing was wrong. Why should you feel so disappointed that Jeonghan had introduced you as a friend? The promiscuous nature of your relationship didn’t immediately loop you two together as soulmates, or lovers, or even the mildest beginnings of boyfriend and girlfriend. You tried to refocus yourself.

Jeonghan’s mother nodded. “Even if she isn’t your next Baejin, it’s nice to meet a new face. The dinner talk might bore you no doubt.”

“No, not at all—” you forced a smile, “I’m just excited to be here.”

It was easier to endure the night than you thought, because true to Jeonghan’s word, the conversation was a bunch of business lingo that you didn’t exactly understand, with the occasional question flitted to you by Joshua who sat across the table. You had completely emptied your glass of ice water, and were halfway through your wine when two fancy, tuxedoed servers stopped by the table to collect everyone’s dishes. A distant relative was seated to Jeonghan’s right, and they had swept him into a discussion of whether or not he was interested in pursuing his current degree or if he would abandon it to work fulltime for his father’s brand. Meanwhile, Joshua had whisper-shouted your name.

You raised an eyebrow, “what?”

“Are you getting dessert?” The blonde asked, already shoving a small, plastic menu to his face. “I can’t decide what I want.”

“I guess so,” you picked up an extra menu sitting by a purple wine bottle and started to browse the list of decadent food.

Joshua sighed, “I usually get the cheesecake… but, I’m torn. What if I want the caramel apple baked pudding with black truffles?”

“The caramel apple baked what?” You questioned, laughing from the absolute mouthful that Joshua just worded so effortlessly.

“I know, I know. It’s a jumble. But my family and I come here all the time so I’ve gotten these names down pat. What are you thinking?”

“Um, I’m not sure. I’ve never been here before, actually.”

His eyes, glistering and delighted, locked with yours. “Can I recommend you something, then?” Joshua said while smiling. “Red velvet cake. It’s right at the bottom. Not to mention the slice is huge so there’s always leftovers for the next day. It’s a favourite here.”

The relative responsible for dragging Jeonghan into another trite conversation concerning his future had excused themselves from the table. He was finally able to return his attention to you, and you slid over the dessert menu so he could pick something. You noted that Jeonghan’s hand had fallen onto your thigh, right at the hem of your dress, and you could only surmise that trouble was brewing. Joshua took a sip from his water glass, then settled it back on the table while subtly eyeing you.

“So, I’ve never seen you around before. Are you in school?”

You tapped your nails against the white table cloth, shaking your head, “no—I had to drop my program. It just wasn’t what I thought it would be and, well, I took a huge hit financially. So, no school.”

“Not everything is going to be a bullseye,” Joshua said, “I’m sure there’ll be more opportunity down the road. This other friend of mine, his name is Mingyu, he does this thing called the Love Café—” the boy then gestured to Jeonghan, “and I know he’s done it once before. Have you heard of it? Maybe it’s not up your alley, but I hear it’s good money.”

The suggestion had quite visibly stunned you. It seemed that Jeonghan was intent to keep the foundation of your relationship as covert as possible, which prompted his ‘friends’ comment before dinner, therefore you had no choice but to follow the rouse, even if the boy was currently sliding his hand further up the inside of your thigh, pushing inch by inch under your dress. Jeonghan didn’t contribute a single word.

“Um, the name sounds familiar. I’ll have to look it up.” You then glanced at him, hanging his head over the menu like a child who forgot their glasses, probably hiding some million-watt smirk.

“Are you having dessert?” Joshua asked his friend.

Jeonghan sat up straight, nodding, “I am.”

“The red velvet cake?”

“Vanilla ice cream. The one that comes on the skillet.”

“Oh, that one’s seriously good,” Joshua groaned, “ask them to put a chocolate chip cookie on the side. It gets all warm and—”

“Joshua,” the young lady beside him, probably in her late twenties, with petal-shaped, twinkling eyes similar to his and ice-like smooth skin, suddenly wrapped her hand around his arm, “can you come outside with me for a few minutes? I think I left my wallet in the car.”

He pushed out his chair. “Sure thing—guys, I’ll be back in a few. I need to help my cousin. If the waiter comes, order for me please.”

While you might have promised Joshua to follow through on his unnecessarily complicated apple pudding, such thoughts were quick to be discarded the moment he’d left the table, as Jeonghan had given you much more to think about. The boy’s hand was wedged between the apex of your thighs with two fingers pressed flat against your underwear. You felt heat, and the faintest burning of pleasure, one that yearned for you to start a gentle undulation against his hand because your unruly body was already eager for stimulation. Jeonghan picked up his wine glass.

“What are you doing?” You tried to shelter the whisper from the table’s guests, hoping the business speech was too engrossing.

As laid back as an ironing board, Jeonghan took a long gulp from his drink, swishing the wine from cheek to cheek before he swallowed. He set the wide-rimmed glass back down and wiped his mouth.

“What do you mean, ‘what am I doing?’” He said, raising an eyebrow at you as though you’d conjured a make-believe tale. However, the instant he started to slide up his index finger so it could push firmly against your clit, a smirk penetrated that complacent expression.

You grabbed his wrist, stared him dead in those honey-brown eyes. “Are you insane?” the whisper was harsh, “we’re in public.”

He tilted his head indifferently. “What’s your point, love? I get to play with your pussy whenever I want. It’s mine now. Remember?”

The dirty-mouthed comment split a fire beneath your cheeks like a flint cracking steel. Not only that, but Jeonghan studied each minor contort of your face as he slipped two digits beneath your underwear, brushing his fingertips ever so softly around your sensitive clit. You gulped, dry and gritty, hating that your thighs were starting to spread.

“Jeonghan!” A voice called his name from down the table.

Fear gripped your poor heart like latex glove. It was an older relative, asking him to pass down the remaining bottle full of wine.

“Oh, such a nice boy!” She chirped.

You nearly gawked at the remark considering the immoral placement of his hand and what he was doing. On the contrary – as much as you wanted to be embarrassed for allowing Jeonghan to touch you in public viewing– he knew his talents much too well, and the manner in which he used your own arousal to lubricate the massaging motion of his finger to your clit was an astounding bliss. Your legs fell wider apart, inviting him to explore a more rigorous touch, and that’s when Jeonghan curled his two fingers inside of you until his knuckles couldn’t fit.

Before your pinched expression could be caught by anyone at the table, you looked straight down at your lap, watching his wrist work beneath the navy-blue fabric. In fact, very faintly, you could hear the squelch from his digits pumping deep and slow into your warmth. Your bottom lip was quivering as he drew them out, now running the long length of his fingers upward to graze beneath the hood of your clit. He repeated a stroking gesture. It triggered the nerves to swell and pulse.

“I see Joshua walking back,” Jeonghan murmured, an arrogance thick in his voice, “and you don’t want him to find out about this, do you? Or, maybe I’m wrong.” He slid his entire hand beneath your underwear and cupped your centre, squeezing like he owned it. “Maybe you want him to know you’re such a whore of a girl that you’ll take my fingers anywhere. I mean, look at how much you’ve opened your legs, and I didn’t even ask you to. I love when you behave just for me, honey.”

Joshua collapsed back at the table with a huff, combing some snow flurries from his hair. “We found the wallet.” He said.

Yet, you couldn’t even bring yourself to face him. Jeonghan had spread your lips with his index and ring finger, using his middle digit to make rhythmic, deep circles around the bud. An erotic whine escaped your teeth and Joshua’s eyes widened; his face tinged with concern.

“Are you alright?” He questioned. “Did you get a Charlie horse?”

“N-No, I’m fine, really.” You composed yourself with a weak smile, and took a sip from your wine. “I got one of those rib pains.”

The blonde boy winced. “Ouch, those hurt big time.”

Honestly, you didn’t think it was possible to endure dessert without revealing to some degree that you were being, well, stretched open by Jeonghan. It was sheer torture staring at the waiter while he took your order, knowing the boy was lazily pumping his fingers inside you with a half-smirk seated so comfortably to his face. When that huge, delicious slice of cream red velvet cake was placed before you on the table, you could only fork a few pathetic bites, and when Joshua offered you to try a spoonful from his warm apple pudding, you nearly squealed the word no as Jeonghan rolled your sore clit between his fingertips. The most egregious aspect to the entire daubable was that the boy stripped your orgasm from you at the very last second, like stopping a rollercoaster just before it tips over the downhill plummet.

“How was the ice cream?” Joshua asked him innocently.

You observed with horror as Jeonghan brought that sinful hand to his mouth, lapping his tongue against his two fingertips as though he were actually savouring a sweet and flavourful vanilla.

“Delicious.” He grinned, catching your mortified stupor from the corner of his eye. “I’d taste it again in a heartbeat, Shua.”

Dropping the slice of bread into a shallow bowl, you used the spatula to submerge it underneath the milk, egg and cinnamon mixture until it was completely coated. Then, you slid the bread onto your buttered frying pan to let its surfaces crisp and brown. Since you began utilizing the service granted by the Love Café, life at your depressing excuse for an apartment was becoming more bearable, though your ultimate goal would be to ditch the paper-thin walls and insult-spewing neighbours once money was no longer a prevalent issue. You were still insistent on supporting yourself too, if you could ever score a job.

You flipped the bread onto its opposite face, pressing it down with the spatula as the pan sizzled and the butter popped. A few days had passed since your last intimacy with Jeonghan, and the proof would have been stamped to your Love Card if the boy had actually written his initials like usual. The thing was, Jeonghan – who had always been so firm and unwavering on the rules of the café – was now skirting about the regulations as though they were optional. There were days when he didn’t even initial the card, but still delivered his transactions. In fact, you were almost positive that sex had happened more than twelve times and that you could be renewing your card if wanted (you didn’t).

As silly and cliché as it sounded, you liked Jeonghan. You constantly thought about him and missed him and wondered what he was doing while you were trapped in bed listening to another argument between your spiteful neighbours. There was always a deep, electric pounding in your chest upon weaving the tips of your fingers along his skin, touching him, exploring him. Yet, when he held you close, tucked your body tight against his like there was nothing surrounding you but ice, comfort found a home in your belly like a warm, homecooked meal.

After spilling some icing sugar and strawberries across the toast, now fried a delicious shade of golden-brown, you took a seat at the counter and dug in. There had been an occasion where Jeonghan brought you breakfast after warping your legs into complete gelatine (you had no idea that kitchen table sex could be so fiery and passionate), which proved to be a pleasant morning, where you could still feel the softness of his thumb as he kindly brushed some whipped cream from your bottom lip. You sighed, sticking a strawberry into your mouth. How foolish it might be to fall this far and this devotedly for someone like him.

But you didn’t want to stop yourself.

In fact, you reached for your phone across the counter, swiped into your messages, and decided to be bold. You texted him.

[ 9:29 AM ]: Hey! I know that I’m not supposed to send you anything unrelated to our business lol, but

[9:29 AM ]: Just wondering if you’re available to grab a coffee with me or something along those lines?

Setting the phone down and turning it over so you wouldn’t be tempted to helplessly wait for a notification, you continued eating. After scraping the last few pieces of toast and syrup around the plate, there was a vibration and a quick, ding! Strangely, you were starting to sweat.

[ Jeonghan | 9:34 AM ]: Sorry. In a lecture rn.

Of course, your surge of bravery immediately dehydrated, and you decided it was best to pretend that you hadn’t asked him anything at all – for your confidence’s sake. The next two hours were spent cleaning the kitchen, taking a short walk outside the complex to feel the Northern air refresh your face, and finally, a long bath, in which you nearly fell asleep and drowned as the steam lulled your eyes shut. While wrapping your body snug in that new, hot pink bath towel, you heard a knock at the door. You assumed it was the painter who occupied the room directly below yours, as you had borrowed his vacuum the night before, though you weren’t exactly raving at the thought of answering him in a towel.

However, by squinting through the fisheye lens, you were shocked (and greatly relieved) to discover that it wasn’t the middle-aged painter dressed in his splattered, dirty overalls, but Jeonghan.

And he was holding a drink.

You unlocked the door.

“Uh, hello after all. What are you doing here?”

He smiled at you and held up the cardboard cup, “my lecture ended, and I thought I’d do you a solid. Couldn’t remember if it was two sugars-one cream, or two creams-one sugar. So I tossed a coin.”

“What exactly was the result?” You giggled.

“Heads,” Jeonghan answered, “two sugars-one cream it is.”

“You’re lucky that’s correct.”

Accepting the warm cup from his hand, you set it carefully on the kitchen counter. When you returned to the door, Jeonghan was evidently ogling you. He really suited the image of a casual university student when he wasn’t dressed to gems and jewels in his sumptuous clothing.

“I knew the hot pink towel would look good on you.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not dropping it, so forget it.”

“Whoa,” he chuckled, shaking his head, “I didn’t ask you to drop it, sweetheart. I’d rather you not actually, with this door wide open and everything.”

“Did I really just hear that from you, Mr, Dinner Table?” Folding your arms, you stared him down with an accusing expression.

He held up one finger in defense. “First of all, that was under the table, so unless someone bumped their fork or something, then we were pretty much safe. This is you dropping your whole towel right in the doorway like there isn’t a weirdo probably peeping you across the hall as we speak. And I’m not letting anyone look at you like that, ever.”

“Fine,” you sighed, hoping he couldn’t spot the flustered heart pumping your chest beneath the towel, “you’ve made your point.”

Jeonghan checked his silver wrist watch, “fuck. I gotta get going, need to be at the studio so I can be a taper dummy again.”

“Oh, okay,” you nodded, “talk to y—”

Suddenly, the boy was cupping each side of your face in his hands, and his lips pressed soft but quick to your forehead. Jeonghan then pinched your thigh under the towel, a gesture which felt oddly endearing rather than sexual, before he left the corridor.

“Later!” He’d called.

Shutting the door, you returned to your seat at the counter, holding the coffee cup up to your mouth as you took a small, nervous sip.

How could you let yourself fall this easily for him?

Jeonghan’s washroom was somehow nicer than your entire apartment, and you were fairly certain that your eyes had never seen so much white-grey marble, all squeaky-clean and aglow with lights. He’d shot you a text roughly an hour ago, right after he was released from the painful effort required to keep Joshua’s peewee soccer players in check, wondering if you were available to come over. Of course, the innocence to the term ‘come over’ was nothing more than a euphemism, a means of sugar coating what Jeonghan actually intended: to be inside you no doubt. And since the boy was so drained and unwilling to instigate any work himself, Jeonghan decided that a steaming, hot bath should do.

Well – a bath which involved you seated on his dick. The tub was dark grey tile, square-shaped, and practically the size of a small jacuzzi. It even had a bench to sit on. While it had been difficult at first to simply cockwarm the boy – when all you could feel was how deeply he spearheaded into your sensitive spot and how this shock would ripple from your abdomen at even his gentlest movement– you knew he wasn’t looking to make things quick and temporary. Therefore, you settled into his lap, wrapping your arms around Jeonghan’s neck while his circled your waist beneath the water. Both of you were starting to fall asleep.

“Jeonghan,” you whispered, lifting your head from his shoulder, only to remember that you were indeed naked and this heat lapping around you was definitely not a blanket, “can I tell you something?”

With his eyes still shut, he nodded, his fingers digging appreciatively at your hips. “Of course you can, baby.” He replied, his voice sounding deeper than usual as he orientated on the edges of sleep.

Smiling, you combed through the damp hairs at his nape, your voice reverberating like a musical instrument off the marble. “Remember the salon place? They called me two days ago, said they had an opening for me and that I could start next Monday. I… I wanted to text you about it, like, as soon as it happened. But I wasn’t sure if I should.”

“What? Really?” Jeonghan was staring at you now, his head straightened from its leisurely position against the edge of the tub and cocked with interest. The fact he seemed so intrigued, that you could read the genuine excitement building up in those brown eyes, had almost made you happier than the salon’s phone call. “Congratulations!” He leaned forward to kiss you, pecking your lips chastely the first time, and then slower come the second, his hands squeezing your thighs.

After a tiny laugh, you sighed contentedly. “Thank you. It’s going to be so nice having my own cashflow and everything. And if I can work my way up and become like, a kickass hair stylist? Can you imagine?”

“Should I grow my hair out more so you can practice cutting it? You’ve got a steady hand, don’t you?” Jeonghan asked, mostly teasing, as you could imagine his parents harping him during his next session at Opal Studio if he looked as though he’d ran through some hedge clippers.

Returning the affection, you kissed the rosy tip of his nose. “I think my hands are pretty steady. We’ll find out I guess, and we’ll know for sure if a huge chunk of your hair falls to the floor.”

Your laughter immediately mingled, and you hid your smile against the boy’s neck, a very moonstruck, loopy smile which felt like riding a blazing comet between the stars. If you were legitimately able to climb higher amongst the business, then you could picture a life in which you didn’t need to lean on Jeonghan and the Love Café for financial support. In fact, there were moments where you felt rather dirty using his money even when he was completely insistent on such matters, like buying food and paying off bills. You held tight to a certain hope, that you could become independent again, and maybe, just maybe, be able to keep this beautiful boy whom you once thought would hate you.

His fingers tapped up your spine, urging you to face him.

“Seriously,” Jeonghan said, “I’m happy for you.”

“I know,” you answered, so quietly he could hardly hear it.

And then, you decided to kiss Jeonghan, placing your damp hand upon his cheek while your mouths slotted together. The contact had lost its grace almost instantly, and the kiss turned from a sweet gesture to a sensuality so thick you could feel it swelter the air and pool between your legs. He offered his tongue for you to suckle by sliding it smoothly into your mouth, and from there, Jeonghan’s intended relaxation had vanished. His hands grazed to the front of your body, reaching up and sliding back and forth over each breast. It wasn’t until Jeonghan began massaging his thumbs in circular motions around your nipples that you moaned into his mouth, a sound which flicked a smirk to his face.

Once his lips were shiny and slick with your saliva, he moved each kiss down the side of your neck, now pinching at your nipples, even twisting gently and making sure to ease the dull throb by rubbing them afterward. It was becoming unbearable. You needed to move. However, the second you started a rhythm in Jeonghan’s lap, he shook his head.

“Be still,” he told you, lightly gripping your chin.

The desperation in your whine was horribly apparent, almost soaking each word. “No Jeonghan, I-I can’t do that anymore—” ignoring him, you continued to grind your hips and move the water around you, feeling his engorged head tick against that one spot of insane pleasure, “I need t’cum now, all over your cock.” With every bounce in his lap, you begged, “please, please, please.” This prompted Jeonghan to grab your waist much tighter than usual and slam you down, holding you still.

“No, not like that,” he grunted, and you wondered if his control was simply otherworldly or if he was just that talented at hiding how good he felt. “I’ll make you cum, sweetheart,” Jeonghan nodded, “but you can’t move. I just want you to sit there, all the way down.”

He then leaned in close to your face, nearly pressing his forehead to yours, and that’s when you felt his thumb brush with a featherlight, fleeting touch across your clit. The sudden stimulation jerked your body. Jeonghan bit his lip and grinned while continuing the sensitive touch, the pressure becoming heavier with each minute that passed. Your thighs started to tremble, and your moans were echoing around the washroom.

The honeyed dirty talk crawled up Jeonghan’s throat. “You’re such a cute little cocksleeve, sweetheart,” he purred, titling his head as he rubbed his thumb faster, “oh, look at you, baby. Shaking and crying and taking it like it’s the only thing you’re good for—” a messy kiss to calm you down, thin strings of saliva hanging in the air each time your mouths separated, “I bet you’re gonna cum for me soon, right?” The boy encouraged, keeping his forehead flush to yours so he could observe with utmost clarity the beautiful contortions of your face. “I know you are, sweetheart. Because it feels so good, right?” You nodded frantically, digging your fingers into his neck like a cat sinking in its claws. Jeonghan’s thumb pushed beneath the hood of your clit, directly massaging the soft bud, and the pleasure inside you leapt to a new high which made you dumbly lose all sense.

“Cum.” Jeonghan commanded so gently, his gaze burning against your eyes, squeezed shut. At the straightforward word, you allowed the sensation to swallow you like a current, and the hot, teary cry you mewled had been quickly snuffed as the boy pushed his lips to yours.

“Can feel you clenching so fucking tight around my cock,” he chuckled, digging his nose into your hair and speaking warmly beside your ear, “and how much you’re throbbing right under my thumb. Must feel so good, sweetheart, cumming all over me like such a good girl.”

You slumped against him, overwhelmed, emptied, and breathing so heavy that you were afraid the oxygen might dwindle completely from your lungs. The fact Jeonghan could remain so composed while buried to the hilt in your heat was something else that frightened you, though, in the moment, you preferred not to think about it, instead concentrating on the distant sensation of Jeonghan drawing galactic shapes to each your shoulder blades.

Hopefully, he’d let you stay the night.

Once you started the receptionist job at the hair salon, you had bumped into Joshua on a Friday evening. While his platinum blonde look was indeed enchanting and princely, he complained that it was difficult to maintain the roots, and that he often found himself back in the stylist’s chair for a touch up. He’d come in on a whim. Luckily – due to the late hour – there was an open seat, and Joshua puffed a great sigh of relief as he hooked his jacket onto the salon coat hanger. Curious if there was more behind the reason to his abrupt appearance, you conversed with him while he waited for the stylist to tidy up her work area.

That’s when Joshua informed you of the Opal’s Galleria Night, a fashion exhibition which would display Mr. Yoon’s newest edition for his upcoming Spring line. Joshua seemed surprised that you hadn’t known about the Galleria, or, that Jeonghan hadn’t mentioned it to you. Oddly enough, Jeonghan had been radio silent the past three days; not a phone call, or a voice memo, or even a text. Yesterday you had hoped to catch him stuck in the books at the library, but the area where he usually sat was occupied by a study group of freshman. It concerned you a little.

An ungraceful quickie in the washroom after his three-hour lecture ended on Tuesday was your last encounter. Not to mention, there was only one more opening left on your Love Card.

“He didn’t say anything,” you told Joshua, pretending to act indifferent “so… I don’t think he wants me there. It’s not a big deal.”

Yet, that’s not how you truly felt. There had to be some reason for the boy’s keeping you in the dark. Did he not want to explain the ‘friends’ trope to all the Galleria members, like at the dinner? Or, was he thinking that you wouldn’t be interested? It wasn’t easy to seem unphased.

“Jeonghan doesn’t need to invite you,” Joshua had said, “cause I’ll invite you myself. Mr. Yoon said it was more than fine if I brought someone along. So, why not you? It’ll make the night more fun.”

At first, you vehemently rejected the invite, no matter how sweetly Joshua attempted to rope you into a night of free perfume samples, delicious catering food and a chocolate fountain perfect for dipping strawberries. However, when the hair stylist pulled Joshua away to fix his darkening roots, you had much time to mull over the offer, and even the fact you felt poignant about dismissing it. As you tapped a pen against the desk, staring out the window into the grey, dulling sky, you convinced yourself there could be no harm in attending the Opal’s Galleria Night. Besides, you and Jeonghan weren’t cast in stone. He probably wouldn’t bat any eyelash anyways, knowing his eased nature.

And so, you caught Joshua just before he left.

You told him you’d changed your mind.

When Jeonghan first saw you at the Opal Galleria, it was from across the ballroom that had been temporarily converted into an exhibition space, stood next to a mannequin draped in a cherub-pink slip dress. Almost comically, he gagged on some sparkling champagne held in a thin and tall glass, though he recovered smoothly as to not interrupt the conversation his father was sharing with the dense crowd. You waved at him, not too noticeably of course, but he either didn’t catch it or had decided to ignore the gesture. Shrugging, you tried not to overthink it.

Mannequins were lined up along both sides of the ballroom, adorned in the mild tones baring semblance to Spring, with the blips of baby blues, clementine oranges, and cream violets transforming the Galleria into an acrylic painting. Jeonghan’s mother took the opportunity to offer some spritzes from her most recent line, which had both you and Joshua smelling like a tulip garden. While exploring the room with the blonde boy, you stopped to examine a mannequin dressed in a relaxed, high-waisted pant and a lace camisole that seemed breezy and flowing. This collection was definitely tamer compared to the usual extravagance you had always seen through the store windows and in magazines.

“Would you wear it?” Joshua asked, chewing on a strawberry that he might as well have plucked from thin air.

Tilting your head and squinting, you took a moment to contemplate. “If it was my size I might, if I could find a price hanging off somewhere. But I don’t want to even touch it. Mannequins are weird.”

“No prices are usually displayed at the Gallerias,” Joshua informed you, “though, I will agree. It’s probably a Toy Story thing where they all start moving at night when no one’s here. Spooky, huh?”

You sighed at him, “thanks for the nightmare material.”

Suddenly, there was a tap to your bare shoulder, and you nearly yelped like a cat with a stepped-on tail as Joshua laughed between bites from his juicy strawberry. Turning around, you were met with Jeonghan, who had this flat-lined, unenthusiastic smile hardly touching the corners of his mouth. He looked rather agitated in fact, and you felt cold inside.

“Hey!” Joshua exclaimed, punching his friend’s arm. “Finally escape your dad’s novella-length speech on the pink slip?”

The crowd once gathered around the mannequin had started to disperse, with the visitors now exploring the rest of the outfits.

Jeonghan hardly payed any mind to his friend, throwing out an impatient, “yeah, it was whatever,” before he began questioning you. He started with a rather inhospitable, “why are you here?”

“I invited her,” Joshua announced, “since I ran into her at that salon place. I thought it would be nice and everything. The Gallerias can get pretty stiff if you come alone. Plus, there’s chocolate fountains.”

He appeared nettled, like he’d woken up and spilled coffee on his favourite shirt. You couldn’t place the exact emotion, nor could you identify the reason behind Jeonghan acting as though there were one-hundred choice words waiting to zap off the tip of his tongue. For an instant, you wondered if it would be worthwhile to question him, though there was a shout of the boy’s name and you spotted his parents beckoning him over from across the exhibition. Jeonghan merely rolled his eyes, disappearing just as quickly as he’d arrived to accompany them.

You folded your arms concerningly. “Do you know if something’s wrong? I haven’t seen him like that before.”

Joshua dropped the rest of the strawberry into his mouth. “He’s probably stressing over something. I wouldn’t worry too much. He’s not really one to blow up or get all in your face. I’ll talk to him later.”

Seeing as there were others who wanted to examine the camisole mannequin, you and Joshua seated yourselves at a tiny table right beside the chocolate fountain and catering foods. Though, you were unable to quell the curiosity at what Jeonghan was needed for, prompting your eyes to wander as unnaturally as possible in his direction. He’d just pulled a young woman into a hug, and she was positively gorgeous, dressed in a silk-fabric dress, form fitting and ruby red, with an elegant slit parting up to her right thigh. Her ponytail was slicked shiny as though her hair had been styled professionally, and she flaunted a dreamy smile that reminded you of a vintage female heroine.

And then, like a slap to the face, you realized she must be the woman whom Jeonghan’s parents seemed to be obsessed over.

Baejin, his ex-girlfriend.

She mentioned something into his ear, and they became giggly, the two pulling in again for another short hug. Jeonghan’s father gestured back to the pink slip mannequin, and the four walked over to discuss it for the umpteenth time. You wondered if she was going to be modeling some of the clothing. The assumption felt correct as Baejin touched the dress’ delicate fabric and the beaded, glimmering string tied around the tiny waist. Quickly, Jeonghan fetched the girl a champagne glass, the two drinking together while the father appeared to be entering another in-depth explanation. And, perhaps dignifiedly so, you were feeling mislead and upset. You speculated if this could be the reason for him to keep the Opal Galleria a secret – Jeonghan didn’t want you to catch even a glimpse of him reuniting with Baejin.

They hardly portrayed two ex’s who were now settled on different chapters to their lives. The longer you stared, the angrier, yet, more confused you felt. As you thought before, the odd relationship between you and Jeonghan was not set in stone, and it certainly didn’t ignite with the intention of actual love taking a blossom to your doorstep. It could be that you were jumping to conclusions, misreading things, or disillusioned by your tendency to wishfully think. Nonetheless, the sight still hurt.

Joshua bumped your elbow.

“Are you hungry at all? The scent from the catering tables is getting to me. I can grab a plate for you, if you want.”

With a sigh and a fragile smile, you shook your head. “No, I’ll come with you. Besides, you don’t know what I like anyways.”

“Fair enough.” Joshua agreed.

He stuck out his hand for you to take while rising from the chair.

Grabbing a small plate, you started at the end of the catering table and began making your way down, using the plastic tongs to serve yourself some spring rolls. Joshua filed after you, instead taking a bowl and scooping up some of the fresh zucchini pasta. Admittedly, you had lost your appetite after watching Jeonghan act so cordially with Baejin, though you were determined to not let the plight sour the otherwise enjoyable night you were having with Joshua. Once you reached the chocolate fountain, you swore a sparkle jumped into his eye.

“Why are you so obsessed with the fountain?” You had tried not to laugh as you asked the question.

The blonde boy looked aghast. “Because, it’s beautiful!” He picked up a strawberry arranged neatly around the base, dipping the edge briefly beneath the chocolate. “I mean, how can they make it so delicious and velvety? When I came to my first Galleria, I spent like, half my night just standing by the fountain, eating the fruit.”

You couldn’t help but think Joshua was adorable, and you grinned at him, “well, maybe I don’t have as much of a sweet tooth.”

“Just shush up and try this.”

He held out the strawberry, inviting you for a taste. At first, you paused, wondering if there was some flirtatious intention behind the gesture or if Joshua was just being his overtly kind self. And then, you held onto his wrist and took a bite from the strawberry, the warmth of the melted chocolate satin-smooth against your tongue.

Wiping the edge of your mouth, you nodded. “It is pretty tasty, actually. Let me try dipping it. You make it look weirdly fun.”

After setting down the catering plate, you took Joshua’s strawberry while he picked up a new one. Together, you pushed your fruits beneath the streaming chocolate, twisting it at the green leaf to fully coat the sides. So it wouldn’t drip, you immediately took a huge bite with a hand placed just below your mouth, humming contentedly.

“Okay,” you mumbled, still chewing, “I can see why you like this so much. I think I could get addicted to chocolate strawberry dipping.”

“Me too,” Joshua chuckled, “oh! Look, there’s whipped cream here and I didn’t even see it!” He set down his plate beside yours and grabbed the bottle like an eager little child. Popping off the cap, Joshua shook the can and pressed his fingertip against the nozzle, spraying a white-frosted peak onto the top of another strawberry. You copied him, though you had accidently sprayed too much. Once you licked the cream off your finger, you poked the entire fruit into your mouth like a funfetti-sized cupcake. For some reason, Joshua started giggling at you.

“What?” You glared at him playfully. “What’s wrong?”

Rosy tinges flushed to the arch of Joshua’s cheeks. “Uhm… Well, l-let me just—” he stuttered, cupping his hand gently to your face, his thumb brushing at a spot right below your bottom lip. “You had some whipped cream on your… chin slash lip. Sorry about that.”

“O-Oh, it’s okay.” You were stumbling yourself, tongue darting out instinctively to ensure there wasn’t anything still there.

At random, you felt this prickle tiptoe up the back of your neck, a sensation that was hardly perceptible yet singeing enough for you to notice it. Gulping, you peered toward that faceless mannequin draped in its pink slip dress, toward Jeonghan, Baejin, and his parents who were enthralled in a conversation with her. Jeonghan was glaring so blatantly at Joshua that you’d forgotten how to speak, and you couldn’t even pronounce a single word of warning as the boy started storming his way across the ballroom.

His grip was on your elbow like a viper’s teeth.

“Geez, where’d you come from?” Joshua said, though he was able to note the tension this time, and Jeonghan’s surly behaviour.

“I need to talk to you,” Jeonghan murmured by your ear, ignoring Joshua yet again, “in the hall just outside the exhibition.”

You didn’t want to agree. Strangely enough, you felt this urge balloon inside you, an urge to cause a gigantic scene with screaming and thick tears and unnecessary curses, because as much as you wanted to dismiss your anger, there were jealous, wronged feelings inside, on fire and itching to escape from your gut. Miraculously, you held your composure, and announced to Joshua that you’d talk to him later.

Jeonghan then tore you into the empty hallway.

It was like a lightning bolt, how quickly he exploded.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jeonghan ranted, pacing back and forth as the distant echo of music bled through the wall. “Seriously, I don’t text you back for like, three days, and you’re already going on a date with my best friend—” he softened his voice in a purposefully mocking way, “letting him get all delicate with you, feeding you all lovey-dovey style and wiping that cream off your lip. Did you think I wouldn’t see it?”

“Excuse me?” Your brow instantly creased like a folded map, and you felt an intense ache hit the front of your skull. “Um, you’re one to talk! How come you didn’t tell me about the Galleria? Because you didn’t want me to see you with your arm around your ex’s waist? Because you don’t think I’m good enough to show off to your parents?”

Jeonghan gawked at you. “Baejin? For real? You think I’ve been secretly dating her behind your back or something?”

“How am I supposed to know?” You barked, tucking your arms defensively across the chest. And, while it might have been too early into the argument to pit such a statement, you had already started bubbling, and you knew there was nothing to snuff your fire. “Besides, you hardly ever get back to me apart from when you want to fuck!”

At that, the boy was momentarily stumped. What sounded like a rebuttal fizzled at the back of his throat, though it faded away. The silence worried you, because it echoed a confirmation that Jeonghan might’ve actually never seen as you as anything more than an outlet to alleviate his carnality. That, once the Love Café ordeal was finally over with, he could forget you had ever existed like erasing a mistake of smudged lead. The thought made you glassy-eyed and thus, terribly vulnerable. However, you also craved the truth to your relationship.

“Just admit it,” you beseeched him, “admit that you want me only for sex and nothing else. Is that why you didn’t bring up the Galleria? Because you think it’s easier to shove me in the dark when it’s convenient for you? Is that why you were acting so mad?”

He skimmed a hand exasperatedly through his hair. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m not dating Baejin behind your back, I have never once thought you weren’t good enough to show off to my parents, and I didn’t purposefully hide the Galleria from you.”

“Right,” you scoffed, “but you’re fine with labelling me as a friend and pretending like we don’t hook up every week.”

“It’s…” he clenched his teeth and growled in frustration, “it’s complicated, alright? Can’t you just accept that?”

“Complicated?” A shudder coursed down your spine at having to repeat the boy, and the tears sprung from your eyes with such a sharp sting that it became impossible to hold them back. You felt each drop, cold and runny, drip along your face. “That’s the word you’re going to use? You’re going to look straight at me, after the entire span of our relationship since the Love Café, and tell me we’re summed up best as complicated?” Again, the word struck you like a stiff punch. If he was going to regard your connection so trivially, then you didn’t care whether or not he knew the verity of your heart. Like it would affect him anyways.

“I would’ve said we were in love,” you shrugged, watching his expression drop in a mere instant, “but—sure, let’s call it complicated.”

And, with the tears shining like salt stars on your face, you stalked out the building into the softening winter weather.

You didn’t know it could be so difficult to ignore someone, especially when you were supposed to hate them. The effect Jeonghan had on you was almost phantom-like; a constant lingering, even if the boy himself wasn’t palpable and poised right before your eyes.

It had been three days since the outburst at the Galleria. That night, you cried, and wept, and broke out the amber bottle stored beneath your sink which was only sipped from in occasions of complete misery – very well suited to the situation at hand. You had questioned calling the Love Café’s customer service desk to issue a termination of your card, and, at one point, you were standing drunkenly by the toilet contemplating your decision to rip up the red paper and flush it. Though, nothing ever came of either idea. Instead, you faceplanted onto your bed and allowed the intoxicated dizziness to fade black. The next morning, you were faced with multiple texts from Jeonghan, missed phone calls, voice notes. But you didn’t listen or respond to anything.

Complicated. That was the word you kept hearing.

Absolutely not, you had thought that morning, you weren’t ready to speak with him, even if the temptation seemed like it could be promising. The air was still too bitter. And you couldn’t handle another argument.

On the second day after the outburst, you were seated at the receptionist desk in the salon, flicking through a magazine while you became increasingly mindless to the humming of the blow dryer and the potent fragrance of the hair products. When you glanced out the window, you nearly combusted, as both Joshua and Jeonghan were about to enter the salon together, hurrying in from the melted snow and winter’s final downpour. You hid in the breakroom until they left, forcing your co-worker to take your position at the desk. Joshua was apparently getting his hair trimmed while Jeonghan had asked about you at the reception.

“He’s gorgeous!” Your co-worker had immediately gushed to you in the breakroom. “Why are you avoiding someone like that?”

“It’s complicated.” You’d phrased it simply.

Dang it. You hated the fact you’d used that stupid word.

But, on the third day, most of your bitterness was gone.

After breakfast, you were back at the vanity mirror to prepare for work, and while you buffed some makeup to sit seamlessly on the skin with your puffy foundation brush, there was a knock at your door. This time, you didn’t bother peeping through the fisheye lens, because you knew exactly who it was – damn his persistence. Jeonghan’s brown hair had been slightly mused in the wind, and there was a glow as soft as a peach to each his cheeks. But that easygoing, relaxed smile was by far the most heart fluttering. He extended a coffee cup to you. When you reached out, Jeonghan suddenly pulled the coffee away with a tsking sound.

“You can have it only if—” he held up his finger, “you agree to let me in so I can explain myself. Yes, I’m bribing you. And yes, I’m an asshole from time to time. But five minutes at least. That’s all I need.”

For a moment, you wavered, only to mutter a resounding, “fine.”

Despite Jeonghan’s company, you still had work to get ready for, so the boy followed you into the bedroom. He took a seat on the edge of your mattress while you settled back into the vanity chair. Picking through your jar of makeup brushes, you plucked a round, oval-tipped one to apply your eyeshadow. Jeonghan was silent at first, watching you through the mirror as you hurried about the look. It wasn’t perfect, in fact it was a bit sloppy and rushed and there was already some fallout sitting like a glittered dust on your cheeks, though Jeonghan was staring at you with such fondness, you wondered if the mirror was reflecting the same image. Of course, the Love Card was sitting on your desk too.

“Well,” you spun around in the chair, pressing your lips together, “I’m waiting for you to explain, y’know. Like you said you would. Technically, you’ve lost a couple minutes, and I should really try to be at the salon early, but I’m still going to give you full time since—"

“I love you.”

“… What?”

“I love you,” Jeonghan repeated himself casually, a slow smile spilling from each corner of his mouth, “I’m in love with you, as deep as I could be, I think. Anyways, you want me to keep saying it? I love you.”

It felt like someone had taken a picture with the blinding glare of its flash, a picture you couldn’t be more unprepared for, the dots still dancing and fumbling across your vision. The moment was disorienting, but you experienced a very fulgurant warmth take shape inside you. It was comforting yet daunting, a sugar rush and a hangover, something so alive you knew you wanted it more than anything else in the world.

Yet, “you… are in love with me?” was all that you could express.

Jeonghan fiddled with the coffee cup in his hands. “You’re a funny girl, you know that? But I can say it a fifth time if you want.”

“N-No, I—I just, I wasn’t expecting—”

“Yeah, I can see that, “ he’d laughed, though it quickly fell into a sigh and suddenly Jeonghan’s temperament had shifted. “Look, I know that night wasn’t pretty. I know I ghosted you. I know I didn’t tell you about the stupid Galleria,” the boy glanced up, catching your eye, “but… I didn’t say anything because I was confused. I knew your Love Card only had one signature left, and just like that… you could be in my bed for the last time. If we’re really gonna get sentimental about it,”

Jeonghan chuckled, scratching his chin a bit shyly, “it could be my last time holding you, and kissing you… I just, I didn’t want it to be like that. But I didn’t know how to confront you about it, so I hid. And I stressed myself out, and I got so stupidly jealous and angry when I saw you with Joshua. That was my bad. I should’ve been upfront.”

Tucking your hands together anxiously in your lap, you nodded, beginning to understand the missing pieces.

“Thank you for saying that.” You murmured, tapping your feet in a nervous rhythm against the floor. “I… I was being unreasonable and jealous too,” you subsequently admitted, “I was assuming things about you and Baejin when I shouldn’t have. I don’t know what I was expecting anyways, that you act like she doesn’t exist? It was dumb, and I was adding pressure. I’m sorry too.” Wanting to lighten the tone, you smiled at him, “I guess we both have our flaws, huh?”

He returned the tender glance and held out the coffee cup.

“I guess we do.”

You grabbed it politely.

Turning around in the chair, you grabbed the bright red Love Card off the vanity, initialed until its last circle, “what should we do with this? I mean, we kind of messed up their rules, fooling around more than twelve times. And, well, I’m not gonna renew it.”

“Oh, let me see.” Jeonghan said.

As soon as you passed the card to him, he ripped it clean in half, crumpled each piece, balled them together in his hands and tossed the shreds into the trash can sat in the corner.

“Well, that was fucking easy,” he smiled, getting up from the mattress, “aren’t you late for work? Do you need a drive?”

You looked at your alarm clock.

“If you can get me there in the next ten minutes, that’d be great.”

Jeonghan headed to the front door while you hurriedly grabbed your coat from the closet and snatched your bag off the floor, resting the strap over your shoulder. With the coffee still in hand, you headed into the living area, looking around in one final swoop to make sure you had everything packed for the day. A sheet of sunlight spilt into the room from outside the window, pale, like the morning sky, yet filling every crevice of the cheap apartment with a dull shine. And for a very fleeting moment, you thought this place wasn’t so abhorrent. It had been your home, your stepping stone, a thumbprint which identified a period of hardship and growth. But, despite this bittersweet taste on your tongue, you couldn’t envision yourself staying.

“Come on,” Jeonghan pinched your hip, “at this rate I’ll get a speeding ticket trying to get you to work on time.”

Turning around, you stuck a kiss to the boy’s cheek, just catching the cool beginning of a smirk on that dazzling face of his as you interlaced your fingers and pulled him into the corridor.

No, you could not stay here.

Not when your future was with Jeonghan.

✧✎ a/n: yeah, so this was clearly A LOT longer than the original love café teehee. i remembered the plot vaguely therefore i refused to reread my first version weufhewif PLS IT MAKES ME CONVULSE SO BAD !! i just had to rewrite the plot and do it some actual justice! i hope this version is a lot better and that you rly enjoyed it! i wish yjh would give me money but i guess we can’t all live in a fantasy world!! thx for reading!!

#caratwritersclub #jeonghan scenarios #seventeen scenarios #svt fanfic #jeonghan fanfic #seventeen smut #jeonghan smut #seventeen jeonghan #svt smut #yoon jeonghan #svt x reader #jeonghan x reader

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osakaso5 · 3 years

Text

IDOLiSH7 6th Anniversary Special Story: Full of Heart...

Chapter 5: To All Of You In The Past

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 6

Yamato Nikaido: Morning, Yaotome. Sorry for making you drop by so early in the morning.

Gaku Yaotome: It's cool. I was free, anyway.

Mitsuki Izumi: Ah, Yaotome. Morning. Have you had breakfast yet? I can make you a little something if not.

Gaku Yaotome: I'm good.

Nagi Rokuya: OH! What a thick file you have. Is that an album, by any chance?

Gaku Yaotome: Yeah.

Nagi Rokuya: What about yours, Yamato?

Yamato Nikaido: Me and Yaotome were chatting the other day, and we realized our photos for the show might be too similar.

Mitsuki Izumi: You and Yaotome's? How come?

Yamato Nikaido: Both our dads work in the entertainment industry.

Gaku Yaotome: Both of us are only children.

Yamato Nikaido: Both of us wore paper helmets on Children's Day.

Gaku Yaotome: Both of us wore jinbei in the evenings.

Yamato Nikaido: Both of us wore hakamas on New Year's.

Gaku Yaotome: Both of us wore yukatas to summer festivals.

Yamato Nikaido: Both of us wore golfwear in the autumn.

Gaku Yaotome: Both of us wore winter sportswear in the winter.

Mitsuki Izumi: Wow, that's nice! I had no idea your dad was as doting as Yamato-san's, Yaotome.

Gaku Yaotome: I wouldn't call him doting. He's just been trying to get me into the industry since before I could remember.

Gaku Yaotome: Unlike Nikaido's, these pictures are nothing but promotional materials.

Yamato Nikaido: It's not like my old man doted on me, either. He just wanted to relieve his guilt by showering his illegitimate kid with presents.

Yamato Nikaido: If anyone here was spoiled, it's gotta be Nagi, right? What with him being a prince and all.

Nagi Rokuya: Would you like to see my favorite horse?

Gaku Yaotome: An actual prince on a white steed!?

Mitsuki Izumi: Looking good, Nagi! Who's that on the light brown horse behind you?

Nagi Rokuya: My brother.

Yamato Nikaido: Oh, Seto-san! He looks super young here!!! Like a textbook pretty boy!

Gaku Yaotome: Wow. So this dude's Rokuya Senior. I'd like to meet him someday. Bring him over if he's ever in Japan.

Yamato Nikaido: That's a prince you're talking about. You'll end up causing some kind of diplomatic scandal if you call him stuff like "Rokuya Senior" or "this dude".

Gaku Yaotome: Ah, right. What should I call him then? Prince Senior? His Royal Brotherliness?

Nagi Rokuya: Just "Prince Seto" will do.

Gaku Yaotome: If Prince Seto ever comes to Japan, I wanna meet him. I'll feed him the best Japanese food he's ever had.

Nagi Rokuya: Thanks! I am sure he would love that.

Gaku Yaotome: What about you, Izumi Senior? What kind of picture did you pick?

Mitsuki Izumi: This one! Ta-dah!

Yamato Nikaido: Ooh! You're doing a parody of Zero's Midnight! Looks cool!

Gaku Yaotome: It's his most iconic album cover, and you completely nailed it! Where'd you get the costume?

Mitsuki Izumi: My parents made it. Iori helped too, with the accessories and stuff.

Nagi Rokuya: Wonderful! You were a little star! The loveliest of idols!

Gaku Yaotome: It's a great photo! I'm willing to bet your Zero cosplay'll be the most exciting one on the show!

Mitsuki Izumi: Thanks! What kind of photos did you two have in mind?

Yamato Nikaido: Well...

Gaku Yaotome: Let's see that album of yours, Nikaido. I'll help you choose.

Yamato Nikaido: You wanna pick out my photo?

Gaku Yaotome: I'll give you suggestions. Feel free to do the same with mine.

Yamato Nikaido: What? That's a pretty tall order. I have to be careful not to pick anything your fans might jump me over...

Mitsuki Izumi: Let's see 'em. I'll help too.

Nagi Rokuya: In that case, I will help Yaotome-shi choose the loveliest Yamato we can find.

Gaku Yaotome: ...There sure are a lot of those in here.

Nagi Rokuya: OH... It is nothing but lovely Yamatos.

Mitsuki Izumi: Seriously? Lemme see.

Yamato Nikaido: Oh, come on! They're not that big of a deal!

Gaku Yaotome: Now there's a smile that'll melt your heart.

Nagi Rokuya: Yes indeed.

Mitsuki Izumi: Ah... He's totally got the look of a spoiled rich kid!

Yamato Nikaido: Stoooop!!!

Mitsuki Izumi: You've been telling people to count on you, when you were like this yourself!? You must work so hard to put up that leader front!

Yamato Nikaido: I-it's not like that!!!

Mitsuki Izumi: It's fine! You're a man, just admit it!!! We can hug it out later!

Yamato Nikaido: I... I don't need your hugs..!

Gaku Yaotome: You look like you'll burst out crying as soon as someone pinches your cheek.

Nagi Rokuya: Hm... It does not look as if you were ever bullied.

Yamato Nikaido: Crap. Now I wanna drop out of this project..!

Gaku Yaotome: It's nothing to be ashamed of. I like this photo. The one where you're eating melon.

Nagi Rokuya: OH! How lovely, pretty, and cute! You were so sweet, Yamato!

Mitsuki Izumi: It's super cute! Looks like little Yamato here loved his melon! Isn't that nice!?

Yamato Nikaido: "Loved my melon"..?

Gaku Yaotome: A melon farmer could use it for an advertisement. That's how nice you look here.

Nagi Rokuya: It is the very picture of happiness. We should hang it on the living room wall.

Yamato Nikaido: Stop it, seriously...

Gaku Yaotome: Jokes aside, it's a nice photo. It shows off what a warm-hearted guy you are. Let's use this one.

Yamato Nikaido: Really..?

Gaku Yaotome: Trust me. It's this one or nothing.

Yamato Nikaido: I guess I'll use it, then... Ugh... I bet my face is gonna be bright red when they show this... I'll need to wear at least three pairs of glasses to cover it up.

Mitsuki Izumi: Don't be silly. Instead of worrying about your own picture, why don't you pick something for Yaotome already?

Yamato Nikaido: I could pick one at random with my eyes closed, and he'd probably just be his usual cool self in it.

Gaku Yaotome: I can't tell if that's a compliment or an insult. Either way, no closing your eyes.

Yamato Nikaido: Damn. This one's like something out of a manga... How were you this cool-looking in grade school..?

Mitsuki Izumi: He looks super stylish..! And check out that charismatic look in his eyes!

Nagi Rokuya: Why, it almost rivals mine!

Gaku Yaotome: I've got some goofier ones in there, too. Like this one with the wooden chopsticks...

Yamato Nikaido: No way. That one's way out. I don't want the face you're making to backfire and make you even more popular somehow.

Gaku Yaotome: What do I need to do for you to like even one of my pictures..?

Yamato Nikaido: Your thoughts, Mitsu?

Mitsuki Izumi: I'll let you decide, since Yaotome did the same for you.

Yamato Nikaido: You're mean. And here you were, offering to hug me just a minute ago...

Nagi Rokuya: Perhaps we should hang this sweet Yamato on the living room wall after all?

Yamato Nikaido: No! Hmm... Let's see...

Yamato Nikaido: How about this one?

Mitsuki Izumi: Ah... I like it.

Nagi Rokuya: OH... Has he fallen over, I wonder? His knee is injured.

Mitsuki Izumi: He looks hurt, but even though he's got tears in his eyes, he's trying really hard to hold it together.

Yamato Nikaido: Classic Yaotome move.

Gaku Yaotome: Is it? I guess I'll go with this one, then.

Mitsuki Izumi: Did President Yaotome take this one?

Gaku Yaotome: Probably.

Mitsuki Izumi: What kind of parent takes a picture when their kid's hurt..?

Gaku Yaotome: My old man never was the type to run over all worried. He'd just stare at me and tell me to get up.

Yamato Nikaido: Would he at least reward you for doing as he said?

Gaku Yaotome: Of course not. He'd just go off on one of his sermons. Telling me that I was too rowdy and careless.

Gaku Yaotome: Then again... I was tough enough to get up after a little fall.

Mitsuki Izumi: So that makes it okay?

Gaku Yaotome: Doesn't mean I didn't wish he had worried, or ran over, or picked me up...

Gaku Yaotome: But if he had, I'd just have gotten mad and told him I was fine on my own.

Gaku Yaotome: So, uh, I'm thinking we were fine the way we were.

Yamato Nikaido: He sounds strict... But I think that's cooler than if he’d just have pampered you, and not told you to do things for yourself.

Gaku Yaotome: You looked pretty happy being pampered, though. I mean, just look at this melon farm posterboy...

Yamato Nikaido: Stop calling me that.

Mitsuki Izumi: I guess our childhoods affect us all in different ways.

Nagi Rokuya: Yes. We each have our own, wonderful tales.

Nagi Rokuya: Hello, my friends from the past. I will meet you soon enough.

Mitsuki Izumi: Haha, talking to our pictures, are you?

Yamato Nikaido: What are you, a time traveler?

Gaku Yaotome: No need to be soft on me, if you ever go to the past. I'll work things out for myself.

Nagi Rokuya: OK. Hello. I am Nagi Rokuya, time traveler. And I love you all.

Nagi Rokuya: I could not be more excited for when we finally meet. It will be so nice to see you. Until then, I wish you well.

Nagi Rokuya: Please be happy.

To be continued...

#idolish7 #anniversary story 2021 #translation #i7 #trigger #re:vale #zool #other translations

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aboveallarescuer · 3 years

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Btw, I wonder if you ever thought about the Jaime/Cersei and Dany/Daario relationships paralleling eachother? I never see people talking about it but some of their quotes and scenes seem intentionally similar to me. + For example, how Daario and Jaime's (yes, Jaime Lannister is a toxic romantic partner, the fandom can stay mad) reaction to their respective marriage proposals are heavily linked with posession (more so than love).

First of all, Anon, I'm assuming you're the same person who sent me two asks, this one and another about Tyrion. Re: the latter ask, I basically agree with your comments and have nothing substantial to add, so I'm going to focus on answering this one.

So, yes, I had thought about similarities between Dany/Daario and Cersei/Jaime before, but I'm glad you sent me this ask because you made me think of more parallels and antiparallels. They are certainly worth discussing because they highlight different aspects of Dany's and Cersei's characters and make it clear, once again, that they are meant to be foils.

(I'm not going to add book quotes here because I'm tired, sorry... But you can ask for evidence in another ask if you find anything I say questionable)

Daario and Jaime are both hot-headed, arrogant warriors presented as alternatives to the husbands of the two queens (Hizdahr, Robert).

Both Dany and Cersei love these men instead of their husbands.

Both Daario and Jaime react angrily when they find out that Dany and Cersei are going to marry.

Both Daario and Jaime ask the queens to leave their husbands and to be with them instead, but they both deny their requests.

Both Daario and Jaime offer to kill their queens' husbands for them. Both Dany and Cersei imagine the two men following through with their threats at some point.

Dany ends her affair with Daario after she takes Hizdahr as her consort. Cersei doesn't end her affair with Jaime after marrying Robert (and she did nothing wrong in this particular situation).

Neither Dany nor Cersei hides their affairs well (though it's worth noting that Cersei is being more reckless in doing so because she was queen consort and her power derived from Robert, while Dany was queen regnant and, therefore, had power in her own right. Indeed, Dany taking Daario as her lover is compared to Lewyn Martell, a man, taking a paramour in Dorne. That certainly isn't how the Faith views Cersei's affair with Jaime. Also, as I said above, Dany's affair lasted while she was unmarried, while Cersei's happened while she was married).

Dany thinks she'll never have a child with Hizdahr because she believes she's infertile. Cersei thought she'd never have a child with Robert back when he was alive because she always took measures to prevent that from ever happening (and she definitely did nothing wrong here).

Dany idealizes her relationship with Daario way more than Cersei idealizes hers with Jaime. For instance, Dany says to herself that she would give up her crown for Daario if he ever asked her to do so, but she doubts he ever would because she assumes he loves her solely because of her power. Cersei never considers giving up her crown for Jaime (to be fair, I don't think Dany would've done that for Daario either). In this particular case, I actually think that Rhaegar is Cersei's Daario, because it's with Rhaegar that Cersei dreamed and still dreams of marrying and having his children and living a blissful life together (though, even in that fantasy, Cersei would still want to be queen, while Dany thinks she'd be content living a normal life alongside the man she loves without any power or luxury in the house with the red door). Daario and Rhaegar (rather than Jaime) are the men who bring out Dany's and Cersei's romantic sides (which makes sense because Cersei idealized Rhaegar back when she was a young girl like Dany). Rhaegar is the one that got away for Cersei, and I imagine Dany will have similar feelings about Daario in the future.

At some point during their reigns, both Dany and Cersei send Daario and Jaime away, but for opposite reasons: Dany does so because Daario advised her to kill her subjects and she's appaled by the suggestion; Cersei does so because Jaime advised her to cooperate with her subjects and she assumes that that means he is disrespecting her authority (which he does sometimes, but not always).

It's harder for Dany to be apart from Daario than it is for Cersei to be apart from Jaime. Dany immediately regrets her decision to send him away and even goes as far as to think that, because she had an indirect role in Hazzea's death for allowing Drogon to roam freely, she is a monster just like Daario (seriously, how can anyone think that book!Dany is arrogant???). Meanwhile, Cersei only comes to regret her decision to send Jaime away after she needs his help, specifically after the Faith arrests her and she has no reliable option to choose to fight for her life in a trial by combat.

Both Dany and Cersei spend most of their storylines away from these men. (I could be wrong, but I don't think GRRM had Daario out of the picture because he was supposedly bored with him like I've seen some BNFs or 'neutrals' argue... I do think that was a choice specifically made to strengthen the parallels between Dany and Cersei).

Both Daario and Jaime feel jealous of Dany's and Cersei's relationships with other men throughout AFFC/ADWD.

Daario returns with the Stormcrows when Dany recalls him even though it would have been beneficial to betray her and turn to Yunkai's side, especially since he already knew that the Second Sons had done that. Jaime doesn't return when Cersei asks him to go back... You could even say that he switches sides, in a way, by deciding to prioritize Brienne's request instead. This is part of a larger pattern: while most of Dany's people (including Daario) remain loyal to her by the end, almost all of Cersei's allies abandon her. While it's said that Dany managed to keep everyone (former slaves and former masters) together, Cersei destroyed the Lannister-Tyrell alliance due to her poor decisions.

ADWD Daenerys X ends with Dany thinking about how Daario wouldn't mind seeing her in such a messy state like how she is by the end of the chapter. AFFC Cersei X ends with Cersei hoping against hope that Jaime will return and win her trial by combat. Both expect to be reunited with and to be saved by their lovers at the end of these chapters.

Dany doesn't trust Daario, but she doesn't close herself off from him either, which is why she has the support of the Stormcrows. Cersei says she lost her trust in Jaime, but then, by the end, she is in such a dire situation that she desperately decides to put all her hope in him and trust him way too much (to a degree that even Qyburn finds concerning since he lost his hand). This is part of a larger pattern: while Dany is wary of some people, she knows that she should still take risks and make alliances. This attitude doesn't make her omniscient and she is not immune to making mistakes or to people (like Brown Ben) betraying her, sure. That being said, Dany still remains open-minded, cooperates with influential allies and makes a peace agreement that could have worked if the deal wasn't inherently false for prioritizing the privileges of the masters over the lives of the slaves and if her primary goal wasn't to protect the disenfranchised first and foremost. Meanwhile, Cersei thinks she should distrust everyone, which leads her to alienate potential allies that could have been useful and to be surrounded by people who claim to agree with her on everything, but who are neither experienced nor reliable. Then she creates plans that rely way too much on these very untrustworthy people, which is why they backfire: from the construction of the dromonds (which she relied on Aurane Waters, who turned his back on her) to the attempt on Bronn's life (which she relied on Balman Byrch, who turned his back on her) to the scheme to have Margaery and her cousins arrested (which she relied on Osney Kettleblack, who turned his back on her) to the decision to rearm the Faith Militant (which she relied on the High Sparrow, who turned his back on her) to her decision to trust that Jaime (who also turned his back on her) will return to fight for her life ... I'm sure there are more examples, but that's enough to illustrate my point. Cersei's thinking is too extreme, while Dany has a healthy distrust of others. As a result, Cersei makes hasty decisions and burns bridges unnecessarily, while Dany is able to make more carefully weighed decisions, as well as to create and maintain important alliances.

Finally, I think Dany and Daario's relationship is more positive than Cersei and Jaime's. Not only there's no verbal abuse or disrespect of sexual consent like how it happens with Cersei/Jaime, but Daario didn't switch sides to Yunkai, gave her good counsel (such as when he tells her to hold court and reminds her that her children need her) and genuinely cares about Dany, which we see from when he tells her not to get married time and again to when we contrast him with Osney. He is possessive and brags about sleeping with her on some occasions, yes, but I think it was @evilwomen who pointed out in one of our conversations that Dany doesn't feel bothered by any of that, which goes to show how much she loves him, since she's willing to forgive actions that would be considered insults for his sake.

So, once again, thanks for this ask, Anon, it encouraged me to think about connections that I hadn't considered before.

And you know, I said this before and will say it again... This is why I think Dany is the YMBQ... Not just because she clearly fits all the requirements, but because she and Cersei were way too carefully written to parallel and contrast each other (so much so that the author mentioned that in multiple interviews). You said you "never see people talking about" the parallels between Cersei/Jaime and Dany/Daario, but look at how much I managed to find off the top of my head (and I'm not even sure this is comprehensive, tbqh)??? Now imagine that happening to all of their casts of supporting characters and to all the political events and to pretty much every single aspect of their characterizations and storylines. Their parallels and antiparallels are really overwhelming, and it's why I decided to make gifs showing why they're foils.

#daenerys targaryen #cersei lannister #daario naharis #jaime lannister #answered #asoiaf meta

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marcspectrr · 3 years

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A word or two on Kiara's mental health...

Before I attempt to summarize the 39 page slideshow living rent free in my brain, a preface! This will include spoilers for s2, as well as a few mentions of suicidal thoughts! Also. I love Kiara Carrera with all of my heart so if you're not a fan of her, you might wanna keep scrolling. If you don't vibe with her that's perfectly fine, but this post is heavy with Kiara appreciation, be warned, my respect for her runs deep. The choice is yours, of course, just understand that I'm writing this bc @yellowlaboratory among others have encouraged me to get it out there because it's all I've been thinking about since I watched s2. This is not to start anything.

(This is also not me hating on Pope because I genuinely like his character, he's just made some very questionable choices throughout the show, some I can forgive and some that still don't sit right with me.)

Deep breath, here we go.

It's no secret Kiara has been poorly handled by the writers and therefore the characters at times. We got little development in s1 compared to other main male characters, leaving us to fill in the gaps as far as her ambitions, motivations, family, overall interest in the boys, etc. While I do keep this in mind, I could rant about it for days so for this I'm going off of what we have as well as what's been implied.

Kiara didn't have the same upbringing as the boys but it's clear the Carrera's had/have their struggles. She's got her foot in both worlds, not quite 'rich' but not entirely 'poor', inevitably giving her a fragile sense of belonging and identity. 16 is a hard age even without societal pressures and growing up in a classist environment, but here is where we're assuming the boys come in. They give her a place to feel comfortable in her own skin, with shared interests and accepting her for who she is, which we know the kooks don't provide. Just being around them helps ease those deep insecurities, helps her form meaningful bonds. We weren't given an explicit scene where this was shown but over the course of the two seasons it's clear how she feels about them and what they do for her mentally.

Her relationship with the pogues, however, puts a rift between her and her parents. Mike and Anna clearly want what's best for Kie but it's also obvious they've struggled with her even before the pogues. Anna wants Kiara to have the things she never got growing up, breeding a disconnect since Kiara doesn't share in her mother's interests. This leads into my biggest problem with Kiara's arc in s2, which was how Anna and Mike were written.

Yes, Kiara didn't/doesn't treat them the best but it went both ways -- they all failed at communicating. Instead of finding a common ground and compensating for the things Kiara cares about, Anna shuts her down and ignores her, leaving her to feel like a problem rather than a person, further perpetuating even less healthy communication. Kiara even says in s2 that's why she doesn't like going home, because it always means walking into an argument and not feeling accepted.

I sorta expected a little more understanding from Anna considering her own background with pogues but instead it backfired. And Mike...he didn't contribute much at all. They could've all done better and need some work. Kiara could be more grateful and Anna and Mike are the parents, the adults, they need to make the space feel safe to talk. Kie didn't just wake up one day and decide to act out and keep her parents in the dark all the time, that stems from not feeling listened to when she does try and open up.

Expanding on this with...the whole Blue Ridge plot. Moment of silence for the show neglecting to acknowledge the academy, even though it clearly had a big impact on Kiara's life. In s1 we got a brief look into how her 'kook year' affected her and it was not good. More isolation, blurred identity, insecurity and this time suicidal thoughts, with no one to turn to for support, assuming she was not on good terms with her parents then either. I'm assuming this because for them to send her to the academy, hoping to give her better opportunities only for it to end with her wanting to cut her wrists, to then thinking the best option is to send her away again? At this point I hope they didn’t know how badly the academy affected her because sending her away a second time with that knowledge is such a hurtful and oblivious move.

Kiara already thinks her parents see her as a burden, hurting her sense of worth as is. I really wanted to like the Carrera's and I still feel like they genuinely love and care for Kie, I just need to see more communication maybe. And if they choose to include the Blue Ridge plot, which I'm leaning towards yes on that one, I hope it's handled somewhat well, preferably not a tool to create drama even though I know a lot of people want to see it be used that way. I'm very particular, I'm sorry I'm this way.

Things I've seen her being criticized for in s2 is her behavior. The thing that people have to remember is that she's 16 and teenagers are just not the best with navigating their emotions. She made questionable choices (the 'murderer' thing and 'abusing' Pope) but these are both things that fit the plot and her character. She was by no means the only one grieving so I don't know why she's being targeted for it (although I'm not surprised, the fandom treats her horribly). Some of her core characteristics are her high moral integrity as well as her headstrong belief in people and causes. She's never been one to make herself palatable for people and s2 shows a lot of this (calling out the Cameron's, going off in front of the court, etc). Even if it caused them problems and even if they are flaws, that doesn't make her an inherently intolerable character, it makes her realistic. She was not in a good place emotionally and it would've been wrong to shy away from depicting it any other way, especially in a show where the teenage experience is decently represented.

Now with the Pope thing. I think it was handled as well as it could've been considering the circumstances. It really should've never happened but to justify it, emotions are messy, relationships even messier and they were both spiraling at the end of s1. I don't agree with the way it started (why give Kie the line of literally telling him she wanted something different only to show them together next episode, I'm forever confused) but I'm not mad about how it ended. They were both in the wrong at times so only bringing up Kie's faults is just unfair.

I believe they both tried their best and even wanted to feel the right things but learned quickly that's not exactly how it works, which was how it was supposed to be shown. Not as this romanticized, idealistic healthy relationship but as one that has its bumps and was bred out of all the wrong things. All of their body language pointed towards this. Pope didn't deserve to be hurt but Kie clearly didn't intend for things to turn out how they did. She wasn't mentally comfortable enough for a relationship and I can appreciate them showing this in the ways the writers framed it. Even the conversation with Kie describing their night on the beach, I think it was perfect. It was awkward but it was honest, which is so important.

Overall, I think Kiara's gone through a lot mentally that the show could be better at exploring. It doesn't have to be big, obvious lingering shots, they can be subtle and still mean so much to people who relate to her. Seeing someone on screen grapple with real life struggles (even if the show walks a painfully fine line as far as realism), it means a lot. Especially when mental health (more prominent than ever) is so rarely portrayed to translate in any significant way in media now. It's definitely something I would love to see get more time and effort so until then, just know I'll be manifesting the screen time Kiara Carrera deserves.

#obx #outer banks #obx s2 #outer banks season 2 #kiara carrera #whoever read this whole thing kudos to you #i also hate the tumblr app for posting it twice before it was finished :)#i have MANY thoughts on kie #as well as the rest of the pogues arcs in s2 #its a curse to have this many opinions agshdjf #obx rants #i guess?

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wolvesandpetals · 3 years

Text

Loki x Sylvie Fanfic for Sylki week Day 4: Romance Tropes @sylkiweek

Tropes used: Marriage of convenience, Enemies to Lovers, Jealousy, Rated: strong T for language and content.

Asgardian AU, in which Thor and Loki are children of Odin while Sylvie is the daughter of Laufey, engaged to the prince of Asgard.

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Asgard and Jotunheim had achieved peace wish a promise- the promise of an alliance by marriage of Laufey's only born daughter Sylvie with Odin's first born son Thor.

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Princess Sylvie had been deemed too small, too weak for Jotunheim, and sent to Midgard, to be brought up by several families over the years, till she attained adulthood and was capable of fending for herself.

That had backfired gigantically. Sylvie had grown up into a strong, independent woman, with powers of enchantment that she used for hedonistic purposes, and no loyalty or attachment to Jotunheim. Her skin was pale and her hair was blonde, far from the blue and rugged appearance of a frost giant, and she wanted nothing to do with her father, or his alliance.

Naturally, Laufey took her by force and imprisoned her, threating to tear her apart limb by limb if she did not agree to the marriage. He was old, and growing weaker, and he would need someone to ensure the survival of Jotunheim, even if that someone was the offspring he detested.

A message was relayed to the alfather, requesting the betrothal.

Thor, Prince of Asgard, simply refused. He was reminded of his obligation to the kingdom, as Prince and future King, but his heart lay with a human in Midgard, and he vowed to take no other as a wife. Odin offered him a chance to live out the rest of her limited lifespan with her, before returning to Asgard and marrying Laufeydottir, but Thor did not relent, choosing instead to step out of his role as heir, relegating it to his younger brother.

Loki Odinson had always wanted to be king, yet never found himself in a position where it was in the realm of possibility. His father clearly preferred his older brother, and he would never do anything to actually harm his brother and get him out of his way, no matter how many times he made his brother the victim of his cruelest practical jokes.

Now the role was his, in a way that assured the happiness for both of the brothers, and he was ready to step up, make his father proud and earn the approval he desperately longed for.

And if it meant marrying Laufey's daughter? So be it. He did not care for love, had never found it anyway, and he could always take mistresses and concubines to satisfy his other needs. Any wife would do as Queen, Laufey's daughter included.

---

"What is the meaning of this?" Laufey roared from his throne when Odin informed him about the change of plans, that Loki was to wed Sylvie instead of Thor. "The Princess was promised to the future King."

"Loki is the future King", Odin assured. "He is my son, and my heir, and your daughter shall be his Queen."

"The hell I'll be!" Sylvie screamed from her place at the corner of the cold, barren, throne room, pulling at her enchanted shackles that prevented her from accessing her magic.

"Silence!" Laufey warned her. "You'll have to excuse my silly daughter." He told his Asgardian guests. "Midgard has softened her."

Loki followed the voice, and was greated by the sight of a woman dressed in typical twenty first century Midgardian garments- skinny jeans, ankle boots, and ruffle-sleeved top. Her hair was short and blonde and unkempt, her eyes burning with rage. He smiled at her. She sneered.

"Your daughter is your prisoner?" Odin asked, surprised.

"Until she agrees to the marriage." Laufey said simply.

Loki's heart stopped. If this woman did not go through with the marriage, then peace between Asgard and Jotunheim would be broken. More importantly, if the marriage didn't happen, then there was no reason for him to ascend the throne instead of Thor.

Loki decided he was not going to let this woman screw up his plans. He was Loki Silvertongue, and he would talk her into doing his bidding. "Father, King Laufey, may I please be allowed to have a word with my future wife in private?"

Odin stared at him. It was improper for a Prince to formally request a meeting with his future bride without proper chaperone.

Laufey didn't care. "Have at it. See if you can beat some sense into her."

Loki nodded, ignoring the blatant misogyny, before making his way to the princess.

Sylvie pulled at the shackles again, wanting to get as far away from his as possible. He looked around, to see his father and Laufey exit, leaving them alone.

"Alright, cards on the table. Tell me why you object to this marriage."

"Marriage?" She mouthed the word with extreme distaste. "Please! This is not marriage. I am being sold like cattle, in exchange for favors from Asgard."

Loki smiled. "Ah, I see. You were raised in Midgard. You share their belief that marriage should be for love. Perhaps..." he studied her carefully. "If you get to know me, maybe you can-"

"Stop!0" She snarled. "I am not going to fall in love with some stranger I meet through a fucking arranged marriage!"

"Fair enough." He shrugged. trying a different approach now. "What if I tell you, that even as my wife, you'll be free to pursue love elsewhere, so long as it doesn't bring my kingdom and my family disgrace?"

"Oh, you're giving me permission to cheat? How sweet of you!" Her smile was venomous. "I suppose you'd be cheating too?"

"I believe the earthlings call it an open relationship", he replied cooly.

"I don't want an open relationship!" She screamed. "All I want is to return to Oklahoma and just live my damn life."

Loki pretended to think for a moment. "And where do you think refusing to marry me will lead you? Not to Oklahoma, that's for sure. Maybe if the Fortunes favor you, your death will be quick. Or maybe Laufey will draw it out for centuries."

She let out a bitter laugh. "As if marrying you will be any better!"

Loki grinned. He had her where he wanted her. "It will be. I assure you. You will not be shackled, for one. You will enjoy all the luxuries of the palace and all the power that comes with being Queen. And", he paused, forever a fan of theatrics. "You will have the liberty to visit Midgard any time you wish."

She looked up at him sharply, and his grin widened. He knew he had her. "The bifrost will be at your service. I assure you, I will grant you everything in my power."

"What's in it for you?" She asked.

"I will be king." He told her honestly. "You are only useful to me for the marriage. What you do afterwards is none of my concern. Do we have an understanding?"

Sylvie eyed the cuffs around her wrists, trying to use her magic one last time and failing. Reluctantly, she nodded.

---

The marriage took place within a month. She felt physically repulsed as her hand was joined with his. And then she was his wife.

His mother, Frigga, gently brushed her hair back. "I am your mother now. You can come to me with any of your troubles." The kindness in her voice made her refrain from offering her a rude reply.

She was taken to his bed-chamber by the ladies of the court that night. It was grand, like the palaces of the kings back in period dramas on earth, the gold accentuated by sporadic green. She sat down on the bed, trying to steady her breathe, trying to decide what to do if he tried to force himself on her.

She had her magic again. She could just kill him and run away. But she could only go so far before Laufey found her again, and this time, her fate would be worse than bedding a stranger. Her best option, was sadly, Loki.

The door opened, revealing the familiar dark-haired man. He eyed her for a moment, sitting uncomfortably on his bed, dressed in the finest Asgardian gown, one fit for a princess. His fingers danced in the air, and she found in the bed beside her a change of clothes- light green pajamas.

She touched the soft fabric, before turning to face him.

"I keep my promises", he said in a serious tone, before his face broke into a mischievous grin. "Generally."

He disappeared behind a partition, and she saw his Cape being discarded on the floor. She decided it was the perfect time for her to change as well.

"Don't princes have servants to undress them?" She asked curiously.

He laughed. "I do. But I do not make use of their services for something so trivial."

He emerged from the barrier, bare-chested and dressed only in silk pajamas. Sylvie remembered, once again, that she was alone in his room. She took a step back instinctively, until her back hit the wall.

He waved his hand in the air again, and the gigantic bed now split into two small ones. "You should sleep here, lest you rouse their suspicions." He suggested.

She nodded, grateful and relieved. Maybe Loki wasn't all bad, after all. "No one good is truly good, and no one bad is truly bad", her earth-mother used to say. "Have you ever been to Earth?" She asked.

"Oh, many times." He reminisced with a smile. "I am the God of Mischief. And humans are the perfect victims for mischief."

She rolled her eyes, tucking herself under the covers. "Why have I never heard of you then?"

Loki grinned. "Surely you've heard of D.B. Cooper."

Sylvie gasped. "No. Way! That was you?"

Loki took an exaggerated bow, before settling into bed himself.

"And have their been any earthy... affairs?"

"Plenty", he said with a shrug. "But nothing that mattered. What about you? Do you have someone back at home?"

She shook her head. "Nothing that mattered."

"What is it then?" He asked with genuine interest. "What is it about Midgard that appeals to you so much?"

She stared at the ceiling, trying to will the colours to change into the simple faded paint of her bedroom. "It's my home. I have a life there. My whole life was stolen from me." The tiniest hint of rage was back in her voice again.

"I will help you return", he promised. "Perhaps one day we may conquer Midgard and rule it together." He said semi-seriously.

She shook her head again. "I don't want to rule. I want to live."

He nodded. "I know ways out of Asgard. I will show you."

"Thank you." She said, gratefully, before she felt the first touch of sleep.

---

Frigga gave her a tour of the palace, telling her stories about her children along the way, asking her questions about her own family back on earth.

She found herself warming up to the matriarch, despite her role as the silent spectator in this arrangement.

Before they parted ways, Frigga gave her an embrace. "I know how difficult this is for you. You are a strong woman, and you shall emerge out of this stronger."

---

Loki took her to Midgard the next week.

"So you're following me now? Making sure I don't run away?" She accused when she learnt he would be joining her.

He turned serious suddenly. "I talked father into letting us enjoy our post-nuptial vacation at Midgard. Honeymoon, as you lot call it. Whether you spend it with me or not is up to you."

He turned then, and started walking. She felt her heart ache unexpectedly as she watched him go.

"Wait!" She called after him.

He stopped, turning around to face her again. She jogged till she closed the distance between them. Crossing her arms in front of her, she put on her most confident tone. "You can stay with me. But we follow my rules. We go where I want to go. We do what I want to do."

"Fine by me."

---

He beat her at both laser-tag and paintball, she cursed him, and he grinned triumphantly. She drank him under the table, and it was her turn to grin.

The smile faded when she saw him up on stage, ready to sing at karaoke. "And this is for my lovely wife, Sylvie!" He pointed at her as the crowd cheered, and she felt her cheeks burn with embarassment.

She took him back to her apartment, and it almost felt like a normal date.

She set up the couch for him, while she slept in her bed once again after what felt like an eternity.

---

The knock on the door was too early, and he groaned his protest. It was Sylvie's landlord, threatening to evict her if she did not pay rent.

She had been gone for two months now, without a job for just as long, and without the means to keep her apartment.

Loki paid the rent for the full year.

"I don't need your help!" She declared once her landlord left, satisfied. "I will pay you back."

"No need", he said gently. "Consider this my way of showing my gratitude for letting me be king."

She pursed her lips, fighting back the disappointment. Of course he did not actually care for her. And that was fine. She did not care for him as well.

---

Days two, three, four and five were all spent catching up with her friends, trying to explain her sudden disappearance as a family emergency for which she had to relocate. He spent the time catching up with Thor and his girlfriend, remembering to properly thank the woman for the role she played in his ascent to the throne.

Day six was when she asked him what he wanted to do. That was how they discovered their shared love for theatre.

Day eleven was spent at a shooting range, and Loki vowed to never anger this woman, after watching her shoot guns like they were an extension of her body itself.

On day fifteen, Sylvie hugged him after they beat another couple in bowling.

He had never indulged in so much meaningless domestics, had never understood the human need for the same, but having Sylvie's arms wrapped around him for ten brief seconds helped him realize the appeal.

They returned to Asgard after twenty-five days. Sylvie gifted Frigga a pendant from earth that matched the colour of her eyes.

---

The royal family always dined together, with Odin at the head of the table, Frigga and Loki on his two sides, and Sylvie next to Frigga.

She found herself instinctively sitting next to Loki one day.

Sylvie froze, staring at Frigga to see if she had caused offense. Frigga gave her a reassuring smile.

Loki was surprised as well, but did not comment.

Five days later, she found herself stealing berries off his plate. And he let her.

---

She found him talking to a lady of his court one afternoon, their bodies close, her hand playfully brushing his arm.

She felt the ground beneath her shake.

Of course he had taken a lover.

And why shouldn't he? They weren't actually man and wife.

They were friends. Yes, that's all they were. And that was perfectly alright.

---

He retired to his chamber that night with a huge smile on his face, and it made her blood boil. "Are you sure you want to sleep here?"

He looked at her in confusion. "Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

She shrugged, her shoulders tense. "I don't know. Maybe you'd like better company."

He studied her, trying to understand what had brought about this sudden change in her demeanor. "And what company would that be?"

She shrugged again. "You're a prince. Surely you have a long line of ladies throwing themselves at your arms."

Loki laughed. He sat down on the bed, next to Sylvie, and brought a hand up to her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Are you jealous, wife?"

"Of course not." She said quickly, though her glare betrayed her true emotions.

"Good." He smiled. "Because you have nothing to be jealous about." He planted a kiss on her cheek, rendering it red with the blush that followed.

---

She caught him flirting with the woman again the next day, and this time, she decided to flirt with a man from the court, consequences of the scandal be damned.

His jaw tensed when he saw her laughing at the man's joke, and he excused himself from the company of others for the day.

She found his bed empty that night, and she wondered if her action had finally drove him into another's bed.

---

"Where were you last night?" She asked when she saw him the next day, alone with Odin.

Odin's features masked his feelings, as always

Loki looked at her with irritation. "Perhaps we can discuss this some other time."

"The hell we can", she hissed, digging her heels in. "I asked you a question."

He smiled at her sweetly yet menacingly. "I was with a woman." He lied. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

The hurt was written all over her face, and he realized too late what a great mistake he had made. "Sylvie, I-"

She didn't let him finish. She bowed her head at the Alfather, and made a hasty exit. Loki chose to stay and deal with the matters of the kingdom first, like a future king should.

---

She took the bifrost to Midgard. Those were the terms of their deal, after all. They get married, he gets the throne, she gets her freedom- that was how it was supposed to work.

It was her own damn fault she had started catching feeling for the man. Stockholm syndrome, that was all it was, she told herself.

She found him at her door within the hour. She tried to slam it closed on his face, but he held it open with his feet. "I'm sorry." He said, before either of them had a chance to say anything else. "I hated seeing you with Merlin. And I reacted poorly. I spent the night with the warriors three, drinking away my annoyance. And I lied to you about it because I was-"

She cut him off with a kiss. He was startled, and almost lost his balance, before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer.

"If I ever find you with another woman, again", she said when they parted for air, "I will cut your heart out."

"What about a man?" He asked.

"Same threat", she clarified, before capturing his lips again. She pulled him inside the apartment and locked the door.

---

Lying on the bed, naked under the covers, he looked at her seriously that night. "If you think you're happier here in Midgard, I would gladly speak to Father and release you of your bond. You shall never have to return to Asgard again." He laced their fingers together, his eyes shining with untamed emotions. "I don't want a throne. I just want you to be okay."

"I-" she paused, sitting up.

She had just been granted the freedom she craved. If she chose to leave, Asgard and Jotunheim would be at war, but Laufey would not chass her, nor if Loki was the one to release her. She would be safe, and she would be home.

Or what once was her home, anyway. In the one hour that she found herself alone in her apartment, all she kept thinking of was the view from the balcony at Asgard, the cheer of the children, the Greecian hairstyles of women, and the golden drapes in her room.

And him.

She was not with him because their fathers dictated so, but because she wanted to be. "I want to stay with you. At Asgard." She confessed.

Loki beamed at her, proceeding to kiss her forehead. "We can still visit Midgard sometimes, like we do now." He assured.

She nodded, a small smile forming on her face. "You were right. This is indeed better than being shackled at Jotunheim."

He grinned mischievously. "Well, shackles are not all bad."

#sylki week #pro sylki #slyki #sylki fanfic #fanfiction #loki x sylvie #sylvie x loki #loki disney+

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cupcakesandtv · 3 years

Note

Holding hands while driving or holding hands under a table (before quickly letting go) for Daxton. And I think I should be applauded on my self control for whittling it down to just those two, instead of giving you like 10 prompts for you to choose from. Yes, I am a saint.

Eleanor put her head on the cafeteria table with a heavy sigh. “Uh, ya alright there, Eleanor?” Devi asked, concerned. “Your dramatic sigh was a little flat.” “Yeah and your hair is flat too, are you okay?” Fab asked. Eleanor lifted her head. “No! I’m not okay!” She put her head down again before lifting it up once more. “I can’t possibly go on.” Her head went down again. “We BROKE UP!” she half sobbed, half sang with her head down so it came out muffled.

“You were dating someone?” Devi asked before Fab nudged her shoulder. “Oh right, I mean your nerdy boyfriend from theater. Fuck that guy.”

“Yeah, fuck him!” Eleanor said a little too loudly, gaining a glare from a teacher walking by. “Sorry Mrs. H!” She put her head down again.

Before Devi could offer any other words of solid shaming to the twerp from Drama Club, Paxton tugged on a lock of her hair and sat down next to her. He leaned in to kiss her cheek but Devi shook her head and he stopped. She tilted her head towards Eleanor and Paxton frowned. “FUCK BOYS!” Eleanor said, popping up once more. “Devi’s trying but Fab isn’t,” Paxton said, laughing at his own joke before Eleanor glared at him. He cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

“Way to read the room,” Devi whispered to him, elbowing him. He grabbed her elbow and slid his hand down her arm and held her hand under the table. “Eleanor and what’s his name broke up.” “He who must not be named!” Eleanor shouted, looking up to the ceiling and waving her arms around. “I thought girls just ate ice cream and watched rom coms when you go through a breakup.” Paxton leaned into Devi so Eleanor wouldn’t hear but she definitely heard.

“Great idea, Eleanor, my house tonight, I’ll bring the ice cream,” Fab tried.

“No, I’ll only weep if I have to watch any cinema that involves romance!” Paxton ran his thumb back and forth over Devi’s thumb, sending a shiver up her spine. He laughed and kissed her cheek. Bad idea.

“Love is dead! You’ll break up one day too! Everyone will! Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson probably stopped loving each other! We all know Jay Z doesn’t really value and cherish Beyoncé! And poor Olivia Rodrigo! At least she had a hit song, the love of new fans, and the TikTok trend to offset her DEEP DISAPPOINTING SADNESS!” Eleanor stood up suddenly, the scratch of the chair on the floor startling Devi. “Alas! The only thing I can do to recover is to delete every text he ever sent me!” Fabiola held her temple and looked embarrassed. Devi let go of Paxton’s hand, not wanting to set Eleanor off any more. Paxton pulled out his phone and started texting.

Devi would have scolded him but Eleanor was working up to a cry, Fab and Devi both could see it. Her mouth started to shift, her eyes blinking furiously, and all they could do was look on in horror.

Until.

“Hey, Eleanor!” Trent appeared out of nowhere. “What, Trent?” Eleanor asked, the tears gone and irritation lacing her tone.

“You wanna go to Magic Mountain tomorrow? My mom was dating a guy who worked the gate and he left a whole bunch of tickets in her car when she kicked him out.” Trent had a stupid smile on his face and Devi realized that this was who Paxton texted.

Eleanor didn’t say anything for a minute, maybe she was processing the weird situation that Trent described that got him the free tickets. Maybe she was wondering if they were legit. Devi certainly wasn’t sure they were. But just as Trent’s face started to fall, Eleanor spoke up, “Yeah, sure.”

Fab, Devi, and several other people in the cafeteria could be heard audibly gasping. Paxton leaned into Devi again, taking her hand. “This might backfire on us but whatever, at least I’m not gonna feel guilty about holding my girlfriend’s hand now.”

Hand holding prompts for quick fics

#never have i ever #daxton #devi x paxton #paxton x devi #nhie fic #fic #ask game #with a little trent and eleanor for flavor #i honestly just couldn't be bothered to look up her boyfriend's name #fivelittlebirdies

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adenei · 4 years

Note

My deepest desire is to know what happened next in the Prefects' bathroom.

Ask and you shall receive! I had two ideas originally in my mind, and neither of them came to fruition here, but I’m perfectly okay with that.

***********************

The first couple of weeks spent with Lavender had been great, but things felt like they were changing abruptly in their relationship already, and Ron was coming to the realization that he didn’t like it as much as he thought he would. All she wanted to do was be with him all the time, which wouldn’t have been so bad if he could get his homework done and do other things he was interested in. But Lavender constantly had to have body contact. Whether she was clinging to his arm, trying to hold his hand, or snog him. If he was being honest, he wasn’t sure how he felt about all of that. Maybe it was just because he wasn’t used to it, but then again he’d never seen any other couple be that all over each other all the time. Seamus even sniggered and mentioned something about how Lavender was never all over him like that when they were together.

If only that was what had sent Ron running that evening. He’d been trying to accomplish some of his homework load with Harry when Lavender had sidled up next to him. She’d been pulling the whole touchy feely bit again, and Ron wasn’t feeling it. He really needed to focus. Apparently Lavender had taken offense to him declining her wishes, and huffed about it. Parvati had joined them to try and calm Lavender, but then his so-called girlfriend had gone and started bashing Hermione.

It was one thing for Ron to be upset at Hermione. Not that he still was, but she hadn’t spoken to him since the canary incident when he’d gotten with Lavender. There was a weird emptiness where her friendship should be, and Lavender had done a decent job of filling that hole, but little reminders here and there were starting to weigh on him.

He tried to avoid the nagging thoughts that said he missed her, but every time he’d question an answer on his homework, or he’d walk into class and the seat beside him remained empty because she’d chosen somewhere else, he realized the effect of her absence. Even the smallest bit about eating meals in the Great Hall had bothered him. Lavender always insisted on Ron eating porridge, even though he’d told her numerous times he didn’t like it. Hermione never would have fixed him a bowl of porridge, let alone make him eat it. Hell, half the time she’d have a plate ready for him if she made it to breakfast before him.

Ron had had enough of Lavender’s unkind words, so he told her as much. “Don’t talk about her like that,” he’d said.

Lavender laughed derisively back at him. “You aren’t honestly defending her, are you? You’re not even speaking!”

Ron stared at her. “Of course I’m defending her! She’s not here to defend herself, is she?” He felt the heat rising up his neck as anger began to creep into his veins. How could she talk about her dorm mate like that?

He watched as Lavender’s face turned from a mocking, superior tone, to one of anger and something else. “Excuse me, but I’m your girlfriend now, and when you have a girlfriend, you’re supposed to side with them!” Lavender explained haughtily.

“That’s bollocks!” Ron had said without thinking.

“Oh, is it?” Lavender had said as she stared at him with a piercing look in her eye. “Well, maybe I should make it clearer for you. You need to choose. Me or her? You’d do well to remember who’s talking to you and who’s not.” Lavender smirked triumphantly, thinking that he’d undoubtedly choose her.

Instead, Ron stood up and said, “Yeah, I can’t do this.”

Lavender’s smugness immediately turned into shock as she sputtered, “You aren’t...breaking up with me, are you?” Her plan had clearly backfired to pit him even further against his best friend.

“Looks like it,” Ron said as he disappeared through the portrait hole, leaving his stuff out without a second glance.

****************

Ron was getting dressed after a long, hot shower when he heard the door open. It was always awkward when another person made their way into the Prefect’s bathroom, especially if they were opting for a bath. Thankfully both Percy and Bill had given Ron a heads up to wear swim trunks if he ever chose that option.

The bathroom was co-ed, so Ron always made sure he had what he needed in the stall he was in. He was glad the water had already been shut off, and Ron figured he’d towel off and get dressed as silently as possible before he slipped out unnoticed by the newest occupant. He exited out of the shower stall, but as he was making his way to the door, he heard someone crying. But no, it wasn’t just someone. Ron froze as he listened, not sure of what to do.

“...stupid to think that I could be good enough,” he heard through escaped sobs. “Why? Why did that mirror have to show me everything I wanted and will never have?”

Mirror? Ron thought to himself. Had Hermione found the same mirror he and Harry had peered into back in first year? And if so, what did she see?

“I hate you, Ronald Weasley. Just when I thought I was getting over you. I’m never going back there,” she said.

Did she see me in that mirror? Me and her? His heart fluttered in the same way it had when she’d sort of asked him to Slughorn’s party. He’d certainly never felt that any time he was snogging Lavender in their now short two week stint. The only thing that felt anything was his...well, he was a sixteen year old boy, could anyone blame him?

But now this changed everything. Did she really fancy him? Ron sat down on the bench. He couldn’t leave her. He had to say something. He had to know.

“Her-Hermione,” he heard his voice say raspily, working of its own accord.

He heard a high pitched gasp before she let a long, “Fuuuuuck,” in a whimpered way. “Go away! What are you even doing here?” She asked from the other side of the stall. It was more words than they’d exchanged since before his falling out with Ginny, and she’d sworn. Hermione never swore.

“I was having a shower, and I was here before you so….”

“Why aren’t you with Lavender?” she asked viciously.

“We broke up.”

There was silence on the other side of the stall. He waited, not daring to move, and then the door to the stall opened. “You what?”

“You heard me.”

“Why? I thought she was everything you wanted,” Hermione couldn’t help the hurt and anger in her voice.

“She’s not. Especially not after saying rubbish about my best friend when she wasn’t even there to defend herself.” Ron waited for Hermione to process what he’d said.

Finally, she looked at him. Her beauty hit him like a ton of bricks. Everything he’d been trying to talk himself out of came flooding back, and he didn’t try to stop it this time. Even through tear stained cheeks and puffy eyes, she was beautiful to him. “Why would you do that?”

“Do what?” He wanted her to say it.

“Defend me. We haven’t spoken in weeks,” she said through a scowl.

“You’re still my best friend, and I refuse to let anyone talk about you like the way she was. I don’t know how you live with her if she’s that mean.”

Hermione shrugged it off. “I just ignore it.”

They both stood awkwardly silent with each other until Ron finally asked the real question that was burning inside of him. “Hermione, did you see the Mirror of Erised?”

“The what?”

“Do you remember the mirror I told you about from first year? Where Harry saw his parents alive, and I saw me holding the Quidditch Cup, and as Head Boy? The mirror that shows your deepest desires.”

“Yes…” she said slowly.

“Is that the mirror you were talking about?”

“I-” Hermione looked up at him in an expression of shocked realization.

“Slughorn’s party,” Ron quickly changed the subject, not sure why.

“What about it?” Hermione said.

“Were you really asking me?”

“Does it actually matter now?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes.”

“As a friend, or…” Ron couldn’t bring himself to say the word ‘date’.

“More,” Hermione said, staring at her feet.

Fuck. Ron’s brain stopped working at that moment. He felt his feet move underneath him. He was walking toward her now. She looked up, slightly startled by him. “Ron, what are you-” he cut her off as his lips found hers. One hand cupped her face as the other pulled her closer by the waist.

He felt her sink into his embrace. It took a moment, but then she kissed him back. Right there in the Prefect’s bathroom, they were sharing their first kiss. Her lips were soft against his, and she tasted like...Hermione, with maybe a hint of spearmint. Not any of that disgusting sticky, fruity stuff Lavender insisted on putting on.

It wasn’t perfect, but it felt so right. What started as a tight-lipped kiss loosened into something so much more. He felt her mouth open ever so slightly against his, and he used the opening to brush his tongue over her bottom lip. Ron never wanted the moment to end, but eventually they broke apart.

“Do you still need a date to Slughorn’s party?” Ron asked her awkwardly. What else were you supposed to say after you just snogged your best friend?

“I- yes,” Hermione said.

“Well, I’m available,” Ron said, dropping what he hoped was a hint for her to ask him again.

“I’ll think about it,” Hermione said seriously. He almost missed the tiniest smile across her lips as she abruptly brushed past him and headed for the door.

Ron turned and watched her walk away, unsure of what just happened and where he stood. Then, she turned around and flashed him a smile that could only have said ‘are you coming or what?’ And Ron didn’t hesitate as he chased after her.

#romione #hp hbp #romione au #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #ron x hermione

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lovely-necromancy · 3 years

Text

A Cure for Insomnia CH 15

////TW Deceptions of canon typical violence and a home invasion near the end////

“Yea so the pizza is not only aesthetically pleasing but pretty fuckin' good too.”you finish your rant on why the two of you should drive out to Point Pleasant some time.

“Not gonna lie it seems more like you want to,” he pops his knuckles, “drag me miles away to sacrifice me to some old god.” the popping gets worse.

Shit, Toby's getting nervous. You probably look pretty sketchy right now considering the fact that you've been suggesting the two of you go out to Point Pleasant for the past thirty-ish minutes. Toby had pulled off to the shoulder lane once Connor's barking started up. Alerting the two of you to his incoming tics. It seemed to be a long episode so you offered to drive off the interstate and on to the side of the road instead. Hoping that maybe the absence of the additional outside stimulants coming from cars driving past you two would calm Toby's tics.

Unfortunately you'd gotten caught up talking about your late night escapades having been taken by the fact that Toby didn't seem to mind. He'd actually understood that restlessness you went on about. And when he asked what was the furthest town you've driven to in one night. You kind of let loose and spilled your guts about the Mothman capital.

For half an hour, on an offshoot of the interstate in the middle of nowhere, he was trapped with no where to run. Of course the poor guy was probably scared of you at this point. He was just indulging you out of fear not out of any genuine interest.

Why couldn't you just read signals properly?

“No!” from his jump you've probably said that way too loudly, “I mean sorry I get carried away – Mothman's cool – the town is a nice tourist trap and I thought you'd think it was cool – but then I just probably just seemed weird to you and now I just....ughr none of that made sense did it?”

“Weeell” he drags out as thought he's thinking on it “nope none.”

Looking at his face you can see his red stained scarred lips pull into a sort of smirk and there's a glint in his eyes. He's being sarcastic, he's making fun of you. He isn't weirded out by you just being yourself and ranting about nothing in particular or running around in circles with a train of thought only to get confused or baffled by the workings of your own brain.

The smug dick. Letting you spiral while he watched on in amusement. This reeks of Brian, has his fuck boy energy written all over it. You'll just have to spend more time with Toby to make sure the sweet man next to you doesn't turn into a menace to society. Or at least not a menace to you.

“Meanie.” you blow a raspberry in his direction, he returns the gesture albeit a lot messier than he intended. Spit seeps from the gash in his cheek and dribbles down the scarred edge of his lips.

Toby lets out a grunt and looks down at his spit in disgust. Whether that's in himself or just his spit you can't tell. Leaning over the console you pop open the glove box to hand him some emergency napkins you had in there.

“Fuckin' Mary Poppins.” you hear him mutter over you.

Choosing to ignore his teasing and take the high road in this you hand him the napkins and relax back into your seat. Watching him run the napkin up and down his arms trying to get any spit that may have backfired onto him, which was definitely most of it.

“You good?” you ask.

“Uh yea 's just spit no big deal.” it's such a simple statement but you can't help the smile that it brings to your face.

You meant if he'd be good to drive yet since you two had been out here for the better part of an hour now. It was nearly two in the afternoon. Neither of you anticipated the quick slushy run turning into an all day event. And while you wouldn't mind driving around for two more hours or so – you're quickly coming to the end of your battery.

“Meant to drive, dork.”

“Hmm...Yea should be now,” Toby says wadding up the napkins before spinning in the passenger seat towards you and gently flinging the wad of napkins in your face, “and 'm not a dork. You are.”

Returning his spit used napkin to him, tossing it just a tad harsher than he originally had, “You're right you're a brat!”

You exit the car before he can throw it at you again. Though it really doesn't matter when he just pelts you with it from over the hood when you switch seats anyway. Picking the napkin up off the ground you hold on to it and place it in one of the empty slushy containers sitting in your console.

The mature course of action. However, you do poke your tongue out at Toby as you do it. He only rolls his eyes as he huffs out a laugh at you.

Toby hovers over the gear shift waiting for either an alert or one of his tics to rear its head. When neither happens he put the car in drive and you two begin your hour and half drive back to Kepler.

Or would've, had it not been for the traffic you seemed to get stuck in not even five minutes after getting back on the interstate.

“You're fucking kidding me.” Toby says incredulously.

After ten minutes of going nowhere, all the while his leg bouncing was shaking the car, Toby abruptly get out of the car and marches to the passenger door flinging it open.

“You're driving.” is all he says.

You don't think there's any talking him out of it. You're good to drive so that isn't the issue, his abruptness about the situation is what stuns you. Wordlessly you get out of the car and take the wheel. Getting buckled in you see from the corner of your eye Toby grabbing you phone and typing away.

He seems to find what he's looking for as static flows through your stereo. The sponsored ads for the white noise “podcast” start playing before fading back into the never ending static. Your phone is placed back under the radio and Toby reclines his seat all the way.

It's tense for a moment as you wait for something else to happen. Whether it's an outburst or an explanation you aren't sure, the anticipation for anything to happen hangs thick in the car. You keep your focus on the road and traffic in front of you figuring Toby will let you know what's up in his own time.

The sound of shuffling comes from behind you as Connor scoots over to his handler to be of assistance. Only for him to be gently waved off. And he goes back to his spot laying down and honing in on you. Since you are currently driving...even though scooting the car up a few inches in the past twenty minutes shouldn't really qualify as driving. Nevertheless the pup remains vigilant in his work.

It's probably an hour or so before Toby finally speaks, breaking the semi silence he put the car in.

“Traffic jams make me anxious.” he doesn't move from his reclined position, just stares up at the ceiling of your car.

A noncommittal hum comes from the back of your throat. You'd assumed it was something to that nature but didn't want to pry. It must be bad if it was something that made him willingly pass the torch of driving, something that also made him wildly uncomfortable.

“Wanna talk – or do you just need silence.”

The answer came in the form of the silence that followed. It was another long hour and a half before the traffic finally cleared. You weren't even aware so many people could be on the interstate going through West Virginia on a Monday afternoon. Since you were at the tail end of the traffic by the time you got to where you assume it started, by the left over debris in the road and fresh skid marks heading into the median, you really couldn't put together what had gone on.

Your eyes didn't focus in on the leftovers of the accident nor did you slow down like many other vehicles. It's not like you enjoy seeing the wreckage of cars or people being lifted into ambulances but you understand most people give in to that base human curiosity. You just hoped everyone involved was safe and okay.

From your peripheral you catch Toby turning his head to face you every few minutes or so. Disregarding it as a tic you continue on driving. While this accident had cleared you don't doubt the power of stupidity to not influence another reckless driver, who might now be late from traffic, to start weaving in between lanes.

“Are we past it?” comes the quietest voice you've ever heard from Toby.

So stunned by the volume it takes you a minute to register what he'd asked.

“Uh...oh yea. We passed it like fourteen minutes ago?” assuming 'it' had been the crash site, though you hadn't been keeping track of time honestly.

No point when the two of you would be getting back to Kepler after dark anyway. You'd ask Toby if he'd want to grab food before you drop him off at the lodge but his continued silence as he fixes his seat up right clues you in that he might not be up for anything other than turning in for the night. Honestly you're at the point yourself, so you don't really mind the silence driving back.

Just like you thought the two of you got into Kepler a little after eight o'clock. Having been stopped by another accident, this one not lasting nearly as long to get situated, had really taken a toll on Toby's mood though. You could practically feel something eating at him as anxiety radiated off his form.

He didn't offer any clarification for his reactions and you didn't pry. Most times when you get a similar way you find it's easier to just let it run it's course than to try and calm yourself. So you're a little surprised when you reach the lodge and Toby practically volts out of your car, when he gently taps on your window after he's retrieved Connor from behind you.

“Get home safe.”

Those words hit your ears with a bit more weight than they normally do. Maybe because the day's been full of accidents on the road. Or maybe because of the lack of interaction the two of you have had for the past four hours. Whatever the reason it doesn't change how Toby lingers at your side even after your reply. He finally steps away, once again falling silent, and you're able to drive home after a final farewell to him.

The way Toby reacted today never leaves your mind. While theories and ideas toss around in your head you can feel the bubbling weight in your stomach build as cold sweats break out all over your body. Combating the weight in your stomach is its emptiness. Having only eaten the bowl of cereal today and nothing else has left you on empty since you'd gotten into traffic. However, being so preoccupied with Toby's change in behavior you'd forgone food in favor of getting your friend home as soon as possible.

Pausing when you come to the fork in the road making you choose between going straight home and fighting with cooking a meal or running to the mini mart and grabbing something quick and unhealthy. You normally take a bit to decide, but today it seems your gut is telling you to forgo the food and get home. You can't quite place a finger on what you're feeling – not quite fear or anxiety or even paranoia. All of which would be valid considering how weird your afternoon had been. Instead it feels like a little voice is ever so quietly telling you that you should get home immediately.

The voice pipes up again as soon as you gently shut your car door. It seems to warn you that there is danger near by.

'Fuck' is all you can think about as memories of the evidence of your stalker come into play.

It had been so busy lately that you'd honestly forgotten all about the stalker. Hell your bat was still in your room, so you were fucked if your intuition was right about this. You were at least going to be smart about this and pull up the Cowell's home phone contact on your cell before even getting near the front door. If anything happened you'd call and either leave a message or have a concerned Big Jo over instantly.

The house is silent as you open and shut the front door. Not anything new to you but with the tension in the air you're more than certain someone is here with you. Making your way through the house you peer into the kitchen and living room. The coast is clear on those fronts which leaves the hall closet, your bedroom, and the bathroom right across from your room.

Quickly ruling out the closet because of the limited space for a grown adult to hide in. The only options are your bedroom and the bathroom. The bathroom that has the door open at all times and would make a great place to hide and ambush you while you went into you room. Or a good place to lock yourself in to call Jo in case they were in your room, you'd just have to be ready to sprint out faster than they could register seeing you. Then there's your room, multiple hiding spots and the baseball bat you'd left in there. Even if they came empty handed they were the one with the weapon right now, you had to be careful.

As you make your way slowly and soundlessly down the hall way you hear a small beep come from your bedroom just as you stand in the doorway of the bathroom. You don't own anything that beeps. This thought causes you to freeze in place all but your thumb which hits the dial button.

Just in time too, because in your stupor a large figure in a black ski mask opens the door to your bedroom. You barely have time to react to the sudden appearance before they come barreling into you. A sharp pain bursts in the back of your head as it collides with the wall that you are tackled into. Phone forgotten, instinctively you bring both hands to your attacker's face.

They may be wearing a ski mask but it will do little to protect their eyes against your nails. Thankfully they have a stupid red frowny face decorating the mask, giving you the perfect target for their eyes. Not expecting your quick reflexes the attacker pulls away slightly trying to get out of your reach, and get your hands off of their mask. They must be worried you'll find out their identity, and while that would be nice you'd enjoy surviving this encounter a lot more. So you continue your assault on your would be assaulter.

A large hand comes down and swoops both of yours in a crushing grip. Harshly yanking them away from their face. Unfortunately for them they'd gotten one of your knees pressed against your chest when they tackled you. With the new distance between your bodies you're able to lift your leg up higher and kick at them.

“Get OFF of me..you piece of SHIT.” more force exerted on certain words while you kicked them solidly in the chest.

Their grip actually gets tighter on your hands as you knock the air out of their lungs. Aside from that and their pained grunts they weren't giving much of a reaction. You'd be certain you weren't kicking hard enough if it wasn't for a cough that ripped through them on a particularly powerful kick to the stomach.

There's a distant warble that you can't make out, it's high pitched and annoying. Good, that irritating sound will only succeed in pissing you off more and enabling you to unleash your rage on the fucker holding you down right now.

Before you can give another blow pain erupts through your chest as it constricts. You can't breathe and you see black dots forming in your vision as you're slammed into the tile floor of your bathroom. There's a foggy feeling in your head, and that distant warble gets more frantic and higher in pitch. But you can't focus on that you can't focus on anything that isn't the merciless thudding in your chest, the pounding of your head, and the god awful static that is starting to burn your ears like a white hot fire.

With the first heavy and heaving breath you're able to take as your assailant presses you into the ground, you feel the rush of adrenaline surge through you. Without any leverage you can do little more than squirm and thrash under the heavier figure. A brief feeling of vindication showers you as one of your arms is tugged free in your flailing. Your attacker isn't quick enough to restrain you this time and you reach your hand up to their face, this time intent on clawing it up from under the mask. That way some one would know based on the nail marks who did this, and maybe the DNA left under your skin would be enough identify them and save a future would be victim.

God you didn't want to be a victim.

Just before you can hook your fingers into their flesh they are thrown off of you. All adrenaline you had before turns into ice as you stare at their companion. The white mask with painted black features. It hadn't been a hallucination.

They hadn't been a hallucination.

They'd been in your home before. While you were there and blissfully unaware. They'd been so still, so quiet that you'd never even thought they were anything more than a messed up part of your psyche. There isn't enough time to dwell on this feeling of pure terror that spikes through you. But you still freeze in the face of the mask, only to be rewarded with an iron grip locked into your hair pulling you up by the scalp. Then you're bashed against the floor twice.

You honestly hadn't meant to play dead. In your shock it was the only thing you could do to just go limp. That once high pitched warble is now a drawn out moan almost, the static is playing at the edges of your mind as you barely make out the sound of retreating footsteps.

You want to roll onto your back but as nausea hits you at just the thought you stay on your side. Eyes fluttering against your will, this time not a tic but in an attempt to heal your body on it's limited energy reserves. You doubt you'd be able to turn over again if you needed to vomit. Hell you'd be lucky to stay conscious till someone came looking for you.

Would that be in the morning when you don't show up for work? Would it be days from now? Wait did you manage to call the Cowells?

The pounding in your head gets worse with each passing second. You officially can't keep your eyes open anymore. There's no reaction from you when you hear your front door burst open and yelling echo through the empty house. You don't stir from your sleep as someone taps you, not shaking you but just gentle taps careful to not exacerbate your injuries.

When Big Jo got to your home he slammed open your door and had his gun at the ready for your attackers. The house didn't look messed with and nothing was out of place, at least to him he'd only ever been out this far to drop little Jo off once or twice. It was quiet in your home except for a murmuring coming down the hall. So he made his way down slowly, vigilant for any sudden movement if there was anyone other than you here. He'd called your name several times since entering and hadn't received a reply.

As he got closer to the bathroom the murmuring became louder, peering in his heart stopped for a beat. The weathered man has seen a lot of shit in his time but he always hated to see a kid in your condition. Beaten with bruises littering your face and wrists all while being unresponsive as he tried to wake you. The source of the noise became clear when he saw your phone a few feet away slid into the corner away from you.

Dia was still on the line and sobbing now. If that didn't twist the knife that was already speared into his heart. Picking up your phone he spoke with his wife trying to reassure her as he felt for a pulse. You had one, one that was faster than normal. Your body was probably still reeling from what you just went through. But he wasn't a doctor and wouldn't count you out of the woods until one assessed you themself.

Jo wasn't waiting long before he heard the sirens, he went out front to meet the sheriff. After you'd been packed into an ambulance and taken to St. Francis Hospital Jo told Dia so she could meet you there. He'd stuck around while the sheriff and his deputy surveyed the area and came back to him for his statement.

“Looks like we've got most of what we needed Jo...But the kid, they got hallucinations you said?” Sheriff Owens asked.

“Why're you asking Zeke?” now wasn't the time to anger the large man as he was barely holding his normal civility.

“Now I don' mean nothin' by it – 's jus' tha' well we didn' find any evidence of a break in.”

“You think the kid coulda done that to themself? The marks on their wrists are bigger than their hands!”

“Jo, in some cases people sufferin' from delusions can do all sorts a things ta themselves... 'm just trin' ta find out if we ought ta have 'em kept in the ward for a bit.”

“They're fine. They've told me themself that they only get visual hallucinations and they can differentiate between the two.” a small lie on his part, he knows occasionally a hallucination will grab your attention for longer than it should if that were the case but he'll keep you out of the damn ward for now because this wasn't a hallucination. He had heard the struggle going on between you and someone else.

Right now his top concern was getting to the hospital and meeting up with Dia to make sure your condition was stable. If he had to lie to the sheriff to do it, so be it. Not like he wouldn't enlist his own detail to figure out what went down here. He'd let you stay with them while he contacted Lydia about updating security on her property.

Sheriff Owens didn't put up a fight on this, and said he'd swing by the hospital Wednesday to get your statement on the encounter. With that the sheriff and deputy piled into their car and left. Jo had found your keys still in the door and locked your home, a lot of good it did you but at least this way a bear wouldn't get in before they set up the new system.

Jo got to St. Francis and was greeted by his teary eyed daughter and sobbing wife. Dia really wasn't cut out for any type of violence. He's have to make sure she called her therapist this week for an extra appointment or two just to help her through this. Looking at his daughter he sees the worry in her eyes as she runs to him.

A doctor comes up to the family to inform them of your condition.

“Ah Mr. Cowell good to see you. Mx. LN is responsive right now, and in enough of their right mind to complain that we are keeping them awake.” The doctor pauses with a slight chuckle, “We have them set up with an IV drip that's giving them fluids, their pain meds, and for tonight they'll also have a caloric infusion. They mentioned that they hadn't eaten much today. So to ensure their body has the energy to heal we thought it'd be the best course of action. We're keeping them up for another hour or so before they can sleep and then we'll be keeping them for observation for at least two days.”

“Can we see YN?” little Jo interrupts.

“Unfortunately we believe they wouldn't enjoy that right now. Their injuries aren't extensive but they are quite cranky due to residual pain and hunger.” the doctor says with a smile to little Jo. “Now speaking of their injuries the worst of which is their slight concussion again we're monitoring that and they seem to be very receptive to us right now. And then there's the dislocation of their left shoulder that we've already mended and the various bruising and mental trauma they're likely to retain from the incident your wife has briefly informed us about. We'll give a card for a good therapist to you and one to Mx. LN on their departure. When can we expect the Sheriff coming?”

“Owens said Wednesday.”

“Perfect, then that should be all. If anything changes or we want to keep them longer we'll let you know right away. And Miss Cowell if you come back in the morning we're sure Mx. LN will be much more agreeable company.”

The doctor waits for a moment letting the Cowells have time to process and ask a question or two. But when nothing comes up the doctor turns away to continue their work elsewhere.

And with that the very emotionally exhausted Cowell family go home. With plans to come visit you sometime tomorrow. Big Jo does however makes a few phone calls before going to bed that night. It isn't lost on him that he's already had one employee mysteriously vanish, he doesn't like the thought that she was targeted and your next on some hit list.

#a cure for insomnia #ticci toby #ticcitoby #ticci tobyx reader #ticci toby x reader #masky x reader #tobias erin rogers #creepypasta fanfic #Brian Thomas #brian thomas x reader #timothy wright x brian thomas #Timothy Wright #timo

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kevindayisafrog · 3 years

Text

Not the Kevaaron thing because I got a random urge to write about Kevin running away from Evermore and going to Wymack. There might be angst idk

TW - hints at abuse and anxiety

Kevin waits until he knows that Riko is asleep before creeping out of bed and throwing crumpled clothes into a faded black duffel bag. He grabs an old white shirt and wraps his left hand tightly in it, biting his lower lip to stop himself from screaming out in pain. He zips up the bag and throws it over his shoulder, holding his left hand close to his chest as if it were about to be taken away. He takes one last look at his room and holds back a fearful sob. If this were to backfire then Riko would kill him for sure. The blood pounds in his ears with screaming thoughts as he quietly leaves the room and pads down the hall. It was unbearably dark, but he grew up without the light so he could navigate these winding corridors without a single thought about it. He reaches the steep black stairs and freezes as his heart begins to pound out of his chest. He couldn’t do this. They were going to find him and kill him. He was fucking property, Riko’s toy, he couldn’t go far without being dragged back. The air around him grows thick as his body begins to burn with a growing itch. He was going to die anyway, he might as well try to live first. He quietly runs up the stairs and pushes the four digit code into the security pad. The door makes a quiet click sound and he bites back a nervous laugh as he slowly pulls open the door. The early evening air hits his lungs with the welcoming glow of the sunset burning his eyes. He shifts out of the door and slams it shut behind him and watches as a flock of birds fly above him in a freeing clump. The icy December air numbs his left hand and he winces at the reminder to keep moving. He looks behind him before walking quickly towards the large gates that protect the stadium from any vandalism. “Shit”, he whispers as the gates don’t push open and he looks over to another security pad. He doesn’t know this number, Tetsuji didn’t want them knowing in case they’d run away. He shouldn’t have told them the code to the stadium one, but that’s on him. Kevin presses Riko’s birth date into the pad but it makes a low beep sound of disapproval. He tries Tetsuji’s next but is met again with a low beep. “Fuck”, he can’t turn back now, they’ll rip him apart just for trying to run. He tries to even out his fraying breaths and tries one last birth date; his mother’s. He closes his eyes and waits for another beep but lets out a relieved sob as the gate clinks. He pulls open the gate and runs. He can’t look back, can’t even breathe but runs. His legs wobble with each violent step as Kevin rips himself away from Evermore; the tall sharp stadium becoming a mere shadow behind him as the sunset glows beside him.

The taste of blood pools Kevin’s throat and his legs have become numb from the escape, but he’s free. He slows down to a stop as he approaches a sign directing him to the USC stadium and prays that the Foxes were still at the banquet. The Ravens couldn’t go this year because Riko didn’t feel like mingling with amateurs - as he called the other teams - so Tetsuji let him beat the shit out of Kevin instead. The wind blows colder as Kevin hunches over and makes his way towards the brightly lit stadium in awe. If he could change teams, if he ever had a choice, he would choose the Trojans. The stadium was beautiful, the team was strong and the team captain was..well, he wasn’t allowed to notice those feelings; but he could if he was brought up here. He stands to the edge of the parking lot and desperately searches for the ugly Fox bus that always stands out in a dull crowd. He steps further into the car park and whimpers helplessly as it is filled with plain cars and dull team buses. They’ve left. It’s too late. He stands still and tries to calm himself as he thinks of all the places that they would go to; all of the hotels. He crosses out 5 star stays and starts off in the direction of the town and rubs his left hand obsessively. Why did it have to be the Foxes? If he adored the Trojans so much, why didn’t he just stay here? ‘Because this isn’t home’ he thinks to himself and speeds up into a jog as his eyes start to tear up. He can’t be weak and he can’t give up now.

He reaches a tall neutral painted hotel just a few minutes away from the stadium and stops as a bright orange trim catches his eye. He walks past the hotel and down a dark sidewalk as the bus comes into view with its ugly orange paw guiding him closer. He’s never been happier to see the shit team’s colors before and spins on his heels to run into the hotel; his head pumping from the throbbing pain in his hand. “Excuse me”, he approaches the cream colored desk as the receptionist looks up at him. She flashes him a bright smile that contrasts her tired red eyes and he shifts on his feet. “I was wondering if there was anyone staying here under the name of Wymack? Um, David Wymack?” his throat catches at the name and he tries to quietly clear his throat as the receptionist turns to type something into her computer. “Yes, is he expecting you?” she looks at Kevin’s ragged state and lingers on the bloodstained shirt around his hand. “Yeah, I’m a..a friend”, he looks at the wall behind her as he says this because he can’t believe what he’s fucking doing. Why did he think this was a good idea? What if he gets turned down? What if Wymack just sends him back to Evermore? He couldn’t. Kevin just had to trust him with all his gut because he was his dad wasn’t he? The receptionist clears her throat and waits as Kevin snaps his attention back to her. “He’s in room 217, the elevator is unfortunately out of service at this moment. But I’m sure that you can manage four flights of stairs”, she smiles at him tiredly this time as he thanks her and turns towards the stairs. He didn’t know how sick he felt until he stopped and was sure that he might not make it up the stairs; but he’d come this far, he couldn’t give up now. He pulls his aching body up the stairs with a drag as the steps keep coming in a never ending ascend. The urge to just curl up and stay on the steps pulls at Kevin as he drags his numb legs further up. There were only three more flights to go.

As he reaches the fourth floor he slumps onto the wall and bites the bloody fabric with his teeth. His lungs are burning and his head is pounding with the exhaustion. There are twelve doors on either side of the corridor and Kevin hopes that the one he needs was not right at the end. He walks past eight mahogany doors before finally reaching room 217 with the gold lettering slightly chipping on the ‘7’. He brings his shaky right hand up to the door and knocks softly. His body freezes as he hears swearing inside the room and he has to fight the urge to turn and run. The door swings open to a tired looking Coach Wymack in his underwear and a faded orange tee. “What the fuck?” he shoots his head past Kevin and looks up and down the hall as if he were expecting a flash mob to appear out of the empty walls. Kevin opens his mouth to speak but all that comes out are wet sobs as all of the fear finally crushes him. Wymack watches him in stunned silence for a second before pulling him into the room and shutting the door quietly behind them. “Who’s that?” a female voice comes up beside Kevin as he hides his face in his good hand. “Kevin. Kevin Day”, Wymack whispers behind him as the woman pulls Kevin’s hand away to take a look at his face. “Are you going to tell me why you’re here?” Wymack crosses one leg over the other as he leans onto the doorframe with one brow raised. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know where else to go”, Kevin stutters the words out between sharp sobs. “Come and sit down”, the woman leads him to the bed and pushes him down. “What’s wrong?” her kind eyes stare at Kevin as he runs his hand through his hair. “I can’t say”, the woman nods and places a gentle hand onto his knee. “It’s okay, you’re safe here. I’m Abby, by the way”, she watches his pain filled eyes before looking down at his crumpled clothes. “Are you hurt?” she hovers a hand over his left hand as he pulls it closer to his chest. “I’m scared”, he whispers as Abby nods and gently pulls his hand onto her lap. “Can I have a look?” he nods at her and watches as she peels away the shirt to reveal the mangled mess of his left hand. “Shit, you need to go to the hospital”, she stands and turns to Wymack as he steps over to take a closer look. “No, please don’t. I cant go there”, Kevin looks between the adults and shrinks further away from them. “Kevin, your hand is fucking broken. We’re taking you to the hospital. Abby, get the keys”, Wymack nods towards his jacket and steps closer to Kevin. “No!” he dives to his feet and backs away against the wall. “Please don’t. I’m begging you, I can’t go”, he holds his right hand to his throat as the world starts to blur and spin around him. “Kevin”, Abby rushes over as Kevin drops down to his knees. “I can’t go, please don’t make me go”, he repeats as Abby pulls him into a fierce hug. “David, grab the first aid kit, it’s in my bag. Fuck, and grab some towels”, she keeps holding Kevin close as Wymack leaves to gather everything. “I can’t go, he’s going to kill me”, Kevin whispers in her ear as Wymack returns with the towels and supplies. “No one’s going to hurt you, okay?” she lets go of him and opens up the first aid kit. “How did this happen?” Wymack crouches beside Kevin and squeezes his shoulder. Kevin doesn’t look up as he whispers “Riko” with a wince. “Shit”, Wymack stands up and begins to pace the room. “You’re going to have to tell me everything, Day”, he shoots Kevin a look and Kevin feels like this was all a mistake. He knew that he wouldn’t be wanted here either. “Okay”, he whispers and tells them everything. Everything that he can without having to mention the hell that he went through everyday just to survive. And they listen. Wymack swears and paces whilst Abby carries on working with the mangled hand as best as she can. “Please don’t tell them where I am”, Kevin looks up at Wymack pleadingly. “No” he shakes his head in disgust, “I’m never letting you go back there”.

#aftg series #incorrect aftg #aftg au #aftg hc #aftg fanfic #aftg #all for the game #kevin day #nora sakavic #palmetto state foxes

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jamiedc-they-them · 4 years

Text

Being May’s Daughter and an Older Sister to Daisy would include:

SPOILERS FOR WHOLE SHOW!

Being Melinda May’s daughter means you are an expert at control.

She always urged you pursue whatever passion you wanted.

But she always saw that part of you would be a fighter.

Andrew wasn’t exactly thrilled.

But he was supportive father and cared for you both.

In fact, an argument between the two was part of what made them split.

Neither ever told you that.

May, however, suspected that you always knew.

When you met Skye, you saw an innocent girl dragged into this world that looked fun, but one that held a lot of pain inside of it.

So, you trained her when May had to fly.

Despite that it had autopilot, May seemed to know the role you were choosing to play in her life. So, she let you be.

Skye was always wanting to let people in, but always waited for the other shoe to drop.

You seemed to recognise it and didn’t force her into talking about anything.

You just acted like an older sibling and friend in subtle ways.

Checking in on her when it was late and talking to her if she was up.

One time, when she had a nightmare, she woke to you waking her up.

She returned that favour to you when you had a nightmare.

It was about losing your mother.

Now, Phil Coulson always had fatherly instincts.

He knew you and May, obviously.

He played the role of a father to you.

But, assured you that he wasn’t replacing Andrew.

“He’s your birth father, Y/N. I’m never going to beat that. Just know I’m here if you need.”

Anyway, back to Skye.

That night when she woke you, you talked for hours.

May found you the next day asleep in the bed, with you having a protective arm around her.

May let you rest in.

Skye trusted you with a lot of things about her past after that.

She even trusted you about the usb stick with information about her parents.

When they found out about her ties with the Rising Tides not being cut, the team were disappointed.

You, however, took her side.

Your mother wasn’t exactly pleased, but only showed that through a look.

You, like the others did forgive her. But, in your eyes, she didn’t really have much to apologise for.

You took her aside before her talk with Coulson, “I know you’re probably nervous, but he won’t throw you out. I won’t let him…. I just wished you would’ve told us.”

She apologised, but you just shook it off.

She then came out of the office and sat with you, telling you about her actual goal of joining the team.

You just listened to her the whole time and didn’t judge her.

In the end, you hugged her assured her you would be there for her and help her in her search.

While you didn’t know much about hacking, you tried to help her where you could

When your mother kicks her off the plane and she go looking for Coulson, you sneak off to help her

“Y/N?! What the hell are you doing here?!” She asked

“Helping, obviously.” You respond as if it’s nothing

“But what about May --?”

“I’ll handle her when we get back with Coulson.”

She doesn’t say it, but she appreciates your company

She doesn’t have to though, as you can just simply tell

So, you follow through with her plans, including the one to drive into the water to get the car sent

“Sorry.” She says

“We’re alive.”

When you both play dress up, you play the role of your mother and Skye plays the role of Coulson

You’re a lot more convincing

You find Coulson and call the rest of the team

You’re the one who speaks

When your mother picks up the phone, Skye looks at you with a worried expression

But you don’t seem too bothered

“Y/N.” She greets

“Mom.” You return, politely

“Where are you?”

You look at Skye with a, “See? Easy.” Look as she drives you to where Coulson is.

After that, you become a partner to her in the field.

When she gets shot, you are one who beats Quinn up instead of your mother. She watches the door for you.

You stay with Skye whenever you can as she heals. You are just elated to have her be alive.

While you play older sister to Skye, you also do to Fitzsimmons.

If any of the three ever need anything, they come to you.

Normally starts of with “Y/N, can I ask you something?” If it’s either of Fitzsimmons with their manners.

You, of course, say yes.

When Ward betrays the team, it shocks and hurts you.

You are with Fitzsimmons on the plane and fight Ward to try and protect them.

You end up being caught, but a SHIELD team get you out.

When the team reunite with Jemma, you pull up in a car and enter the place.

May, in a rare moment of vulnerability, runs to you and hugs you tight.

She doesn’t say anything, just hugs you.

Skye is next in her hug, “I’m so glad you’re ok.” She says voice cracking.

You just hold her and rub your hand on her back in comfort.

Jemma thanks you for protecting them.

During the time, May starts training you again and you spar with Skye.

May see’s the sisterly bond between you two now: the loyalty, the laughs, the late-night talks.

Neither you nor May say it, but you can tell that Skye is a part of the family now.

You are the third partner in their little SHIELD team.

You try and be the one who goes in while Skye hangs back out of protectiveness. But she’s stubborn.

“No, I’m not letting you go in there alone, Y/N.” Seems that protective spirit has gone to her as well.

You ruffle her hair whenever you go past.

She’d act annoyed, but kind of find if nice in a way. With you openly being affectionate and showing her that you care.

If you’re ever hurt on a mission, she’s by your side either on site, or when you return.

“Hey, Y/NN, you need to stay with me, ok? You’re not dying, not now. May’ll kill me.”

When she gets taken by Ward, it’s you she has to convince last.

“I’m not letting you go with him, Skye.”

“You have to. You guys taught me how to look after myself. I’ll be ok.”

You sigh but let her go.

Then she gets her powers.

She’s scared shitless, but you stay with her as much as you can like you did when injured.

When the team argue about her showing them, you argue her case.

“She was scared.”

“She kept it from us!” Mack would say passionately.

“To avoid this reaction!”

“It’s ok, Y/N.” She tells you when she arrives at the door. She gives you a sad smile, but in her eyes, you can tell she appreciates it.

You visit her in her cell, so she doesn’t feel alone. But she can tell that you aren’t quite sure how to handle it.

“It’s ok, you know. I’m not hurt by it.”

“By what?”

“My powers. It’s ok to say that you don’t know how to handle it.”

There’s the last tenet of your sisterhood: honesty

When she leaves, you stay in contact as much as you can. She asks you how it’s going back at base, and you ask her how she is.

Then SHIELD go after her, and real SHIELD enter the scene.

Now you’re all having to careful and tread lightly with this new SHIELD.

When Bobbi comes back, she tries to explain it.

“Y/N, just let me –”

“If you so much as lay a finger on any of my friends or look at them the wrong way, I swear, we are going to have issues, Morse.”

However, your mother see’s it and reigns you in.

“I understand that you’re angry.”

“So, you want me to, what? Bottle it up?”

“No, use it for something more. They’re after Coulson, and he’s after Ward. We need to keep her heads on straight.”

“…Ok, you’re right. I’m sorry.” May just nods, forgiving you.

When Fitz leaves, you help devise the scam for him to get away with the real toolbox.

“Are you sure about this, Y/N? What if it backfires on you?” Jemma asks you, worried about your wellbeing with this situation.

You just smile at her caring nature, “If it does, then it hits me, and not you guys. Now go on.”

When Skye comes back, your smile is as wide as it can be.

You hug her so tight, “Welcome back, Skye.” You tell her in a soft voice.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

When you see her power, you are in awe, “Look at you!” She smiles and sends a wink.

She even pushes a bullet away that was coming for you.

Having to work again with Ward is difficult, but it’s a necessary evil. Just like your mother on the SHIELD board to argue Coulson’s case.

“Are you sure you have to go back?” You ask Skye when it’s her turn to do just that

“I wish I could bring you. I do, really. But they have a thing about outsiders”

“It’s ok. Go on, kiddo. Go be with your family.”

You know that she has her parents now, but it still hurts a bit that you might lose her.

“Hey, I’m not moving on, alright? I’ll still come back, and we can even team up! I’m not leaving you, Y/N.” She assures you.

Then it all goes to shit.

Everything happens quickly, but two team ups happen: Yourself and Skye/Daisy; you and your mother.

Now it’s you, Mack, and Daisy (Skye’s birth name) as partners

Daisy and you are almost completely in sync. She doesn’t even need to yell, “Duck!” anymore before using her powers.

You know each other so well.

Mack plays big brother and adores it when you both have that synchronisation. Makes him proud to be your partner.

Not that you don’t forget about him, you always include him in your fights and activities such as games.

You pass the controller to each other when someone dies in the game.

Late night game sessions and drinking buddies don’t go well.

Then Ward comes back and kidnapped you.

Oh, you bet your ass that Daisy is working day and night to find you.

You’re her best friend. And she nearly lost Simmons (her other best friend), so she’ll be damned if she’s going to lose you too.

May tries to pull her away but fails.

“Daisy, you need to take a break.”

“Not until we find, Y/N.”

“I’m worried about her too. But she can handle herself.”

“Not with Ward, though! I should’ve killed him!”

If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. And that’s what May does.

When they find you, they burst through the doors, more pissed than they ever have been.

Ward isn’t there, but you are, and that’s what matters.

Now they’re super protective over you now. Not only them, but the whole team.

Ward does a number on you mentally.

Jemma is extra careful with your wounds and keeps assuring you that you are doing well.

Fitz makes you some sleeping pills to try and help and makes you coffee every morning.

Mack gives you more and more hugs every day.

May checks in on you more.

Daisy…. well.

Daisy stays with you as much as she can. Whether that be in the same room as you, talking to you or being silent, going on missions with you.

She has your back all the way.

Whenever you flinch, she’s quick to withdrawal and apologise.

Sure, she’s worried and misses the spark that you had. But it’ll either take time to come back or it’ll be different.

Whichever it is, she’ll adapt. You’re her sister and best friend.

Then a version of Ward comes back and takes Daisy away from you guys.

Now May is very concerned about you. She can tell this is all building up to something with you.

Despite being her daughter and Daisy joking that you are pretty much May but bubblier. You are human after all.

Whenever they get closer to Daisy, May keeps you away.

You want to help Daisy, but you also know that you wouldn’t be able to handle it.

You start doubting yourself. Starting spinning ideas of, “What if?”

The whole team notices a shift in you. You miss more, take more hits in fights, you’re acting reckless more and now that your father is gone too, you’re spiralling.

And May is genuinely afraid that she can’t stop it.

One day, she goes to find you, only to find you gone and a note left behind.

It reads: “Mom, I know that this isn’t enough. But I can’t with this life anymore. You told me you’d support me through whatever I wanted to do. And I don’t think SHIELD is this. I’m done watching people die, mom. I’m done losing friends. I’ll make contact at some point. Just, let me be for now? Love you always, Y/N. PS. Find Daisy.”

Then there’s nothing for almost a few months.

When Daisy comes back after being freed from Hive, she doesn’t see you and fears the worst, “Is she…?” She can’t get the words out.

May shakes her head, “No, she’s just gone. She left.”

Then Daisy is gone too after Lincoln. Now May has lost two out of her three daughters.

Daisy, however, manages to find out what you are doing.

And what is that, exactly? Smuggling Inhumans out.

She watches from afar with her little scope, making sure you’re ok and safe.

She’s just happy that you’re alive. But doesn’t dare go close.

As Coulson chases leads on Daisy, May does the same for you.

She has a file that becomes bigger and bigger as she slowly pieces together just where you are and what you are doing.

Then Fitz finds it, “What is this?” He asks.

“It’s everything I’ve found on Y/N since she left. She’s running a smuggling operation of Inhumans to get them out.”

Fitz just nods, promising to keep it safe.

However, May does find a burner phone on her bed the next day.

She keeps it in her back pocket.

Daisy comes back first, and May is delighted to have one of her two missing daughter’s back.

However, it’s when Mace calls herself and Daisy in that shit gets real with you.

“There’s a situation developing.” The two share a look, worry filling them up.

“There was a fight between SHIELD and the watchdogs, some Inhumans were killed. But Y/N got away. But we think we know where she’s going.”

(Episode 4x13 - BOOM) They both capture the Watchdogs and find that they have been hunting you for a while.

When Shockley is going on a rampage, he see’s you in the road.

“Well, hell. There she is, Y/N May.”

You started firing your pistol at him but doesn’t do much.

Your gun clicks, “Sorry, sweetheart. I’ll make this quick.”

Just as your life is about to end, he is stopped –

By Daisy Johnson.

She moves to your side, holding out a clip for you. You take it, loading it in.

“You don’t touch her.” She snarls at Shockley.

So, it’s just like old times. Even if it cuts it a little close.

When Fitzsimmons arrive, they activate the machine and stop him.

Now, it’s silence, as the three stares at you.

You’re here, you’re actually here. They’ve found you.

Daisy doesn’t talk, she just hugs you.

You are taken aback by the action. But, before you can do anything, Fitzsimmons join the hug too.

“Come on, Y/NN, let’s go home.” Daisy says, taking your hand and pulling your dazed form along with her as Fitzsimmons flank you.

When May see’s you, that silence returns. You both can’t really seem to believe that you are seeing the other.

Coulson approaches you and put’s a fatherly hand on your shoulder, “Welcome back, kiddo.”

You might be about to cry here, but that’s besides the point.

You approach your mother with caution, “Hey mom.” You say, trying and failing to keep your voice steady.

“You’re back?” She asks you.

“I don’t think a normal life is for me.” You say, chuckling a bit.

She hugs you, squeezing you tight.

Her baby is home.

It takes a bit of Tim getting settled back in with the gang. But they’re patient with you, even with everything going on.

Then the LMD secret comes out. Your mother wasn’t the one you hugged.

You find Jemma and Daisy in hiding, close to losing it once again.

Daisy, being more in control, calms you down and sits you next to Jemma. She goes to leave, only to you try and get up.

“No, Y/N, I need you to stay with Jemma.” She asks of you, before she leaves on her mission of holding the LMDs off.

You all get out, holding hands in the Jet.

Then you enter that world.

The world where your greatest mistake is fixed.

However, as Daisy finds, your still May’s daughter. However, something is different.

You’re a TA for Coulson at his school. You aren’t a SHIELD agent.

You have a normal life.

It’s jarring to you at first, but you sink into the role as if it’s natural.

Meanwhile, you see that you and May are a bit distant here in this life, but there’s still a parental-child dynamic.

Jemma finds you first, at the school.

Then you meet with Daisy and all hug, having found one another.

Then you’re all right back in the thick of it, this time with Ward as you knew him: Kind, loyal, genuine.

To make it worse, you’re then stuck.

The rest of it goes pretty much the way most things do for you guys: badly.

However, when Daisy is caught, she brings up the fact that she knows you and that you are in the resistance to May.

You’re phone then rings, but you don’t answer, too busy helping the civilians in the base.

Now May is worried in this world too.

She springs Daisy, all in an effort to find you.

When she see’s you, she’s surprised to see you.

You’ve been a bit estranged as of late in this life.

She sees you are helping people and being in a natural element.

She’s reminded of the little girl who she used to be so close too.

“Y/N.” You turn in surprise to see your mother.

“Hi Mom.” You say, not quite sure how to act.

“I’m guessing you sure the report on the news?”

“Yeah, you’re footage. You did good, Mom.”

Tears come to her eyes at your praise.

Daisy smiles as she see’s the interaction.

You meet her eyes as you and your mother hug, you mouth to her “Thank you.”

You all get out, but you can’t even celebrate as Space them comes around and grabs you all.

You, like Jemma, are taken as a maid/slave and deafened.

You’re just kind of numb to this world, bottling it up.

You’re used as leverage against Daisy. She wouldn’t act brash if it would get her sisters killed.

And that bet was right.

When you are escaping and go to the lift, you’re shocked when Daisy wants to stay. You want to go to her and stay with her but May stops you.

However, Coulson stops that before it can even happen, Icing Daisy.

While May understands the reasons for you wanting to be with your best friend, she’s now a bit on edge with you.

So, when you go back to present day, she makes sure to keep an eye on you more.

Daisy, meanwhile, is a bit more evasive. Always fining ways to not go on missions.

It all culminates in the fear dimension.

You’re fear has always been losing your family. So, as you leave your room, the lights flicker before coming back on.

It’s everyone, dead.

You scream as you see it.

However, while this is going on, Daisy is also being tortured by the Doctor side of Fitz.

When that ends, your screams are still being heard.

The team (minus Daisy and Fitz) rush to you and see what you’re looking at.

Jemma quickly runs to you and assures you it’s not real. It takes a moment before you go with her logic.

Then she drops it, “Daisy needs you.”

You’re still a bit angsty after your trip with fear. But you’re little sister needs you.

You enter the room and see her lying on her bed.

You sit at the foot of it, knowing that she wouldn’t want to talk.

You just sit there, hoping your presence would be enough.

May enters a bit later, sitting next to you and taking your hand in her own.

After this incident, Daisy is a lot bossier and pushier.

You don’t mind it at first, but you do clash at times.

Then Ruby dies.

Then Coulson.

Then Fitz.

Then you’re in space and looking for your brother and you both have time to fix the gap in your friendship.

“I’m sorry.” She says.

“You’re good –”

“No, I mean it, Y/NN. I shouldn’t have been like that.”

“Daisy…. you couldn’t help it. We process things differently. Yours was more external.”

“And yours? I heard about your fear.”

“…. I don’t know if I have yet.”

“Me neither.”

So, that’s what you both do when alone together. You try and help each other through the shit you’ve gone through.

You just sit together in a room, writing reports, or in silence and looking at space.

You remind each other that you aren’t alone.

That you both have family right here.

Daisy even tells you about the kiss between Coulson and May. You both share a laugh at the story.

Returning home and reuniting with your mom is a blessing. You both hugs.

She’s even smiling!

But then you find out that Phil Coulson has sort of returned. This time with no knowledge of who he is.

Kind of like a shadow of himself.

Daisy and you are both freaked by it. Your father figure has returned but has no knowledge of himself or you both.

Despite being the older sister, Daisy is the one who snapes to attention and pulls you away. Pulls you around the corner before your breathing picks up.

“What the fuck?” You ask.

“Y/N,” She keeps her voice soft, “I know that this is fucked up. I know, trust me. But we can get through this, ok? You and me against the world, right?” She holds a hand to you.

You grasp it with your own, “Us against the world.”

That mantra is a thing you keep repeating as the two of you go on the truck journey with Sarge (Coulson’s shadow) along with your mother.

You can tell May is rattled too, but she seems to hold hope that this can bring Coulson back.

You aren’t so sure. You and Daisy both share that.

But you go with it for your mother’s sanity.

Coulson was the closest you had to a father after Andrew’s death. So, you understood with the way May felt about him would make her think this way.

You are the one to talk to May when she shoots Sarge.

“Seriously, Mom?”

“I don’t – I don’t remember doing that, Y/N.”

“…. I believe you.”

Then Izel starts taking over people, your mother being one of her victims.

When it comes to sharing information that no one else would know, Daisy is the one who clears you.

“When Y/N was on the run, she made a little grave for Andrew. It held a little silver box.”

May looks at you with sadness, but you nod and confirm it.

You are with Daisy when you hear that May is down.

While Daisy s hurt and blaming herself, she immediately looks to you.

You just stare at the radio.

“Y/N…. hey. Hey, look at me.” You do, “We’ll get her back, ok? We’ll fix this.”

“She – She’s dead, Daisy. My mom’s dead!”

“Hey, no! She’s just down. I promise you; she’ll be ok.”

It’s enough to keep you going, but now you and Daisy are fuelled by one of the most powerful things on earth: Hate.

She uses her powers; you fire every bullet that you have.

When your mother returns, you see that she’s weakened. She looks like a corpse.

She falls, but you catch her.

“Mom, mom, mom. I got you, I got you.”

Dais kneels next to you but holds one of May’s hands as you stroke your mother’s hair.

“Y/N…I – I wanted it to be him.”

“I know.”

Your mother gives you a smile that communicates something she doesn’t have a strength to say: I’m so proud of you.

Then she closes her eyes.

She’s gone.

Melinda May is gone.

Your mother is gone.

You let out a sob as it fully hits you.

Then a different version of Jemma enters the room and puts May in a pod.

Well, tries, but you interfere.

“No! Don’t you touch her!”

“Y/N They need to –” Daisy tries to stop you. But it’s Jemma who does it.

“Y/N, May will be ok. The pod will keep her alive.” She assures you.

“It better.”

Now you’re back in time. For you guys, only a few minutes have passed.

Robot Coulson is here, and May will live.

Your family is back together. But you aren’t the same.

You’re still processing.

Just before you leave to go out, Daisy stops you.

“Are you ok?”

“I’m fine.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to shut me out. It’s ok if you –”

“She died, Daisy! She died. And now she’s not. Coulson did, and now he’s here. I mean – I – I don’t.”

Daisy told you to stay on the Zephier. You did.

Then May woke up, as an empath who felt others’ emotions, but not her own.

She did, however, feel your familial love for herself and Daisy full on. Along with your conflicted feelings about her being back and alive.

However, it allowed her to be more in touch with you. As she could tell when you were lying.

That led to lots of looks from here that just told you that she knew.

It was nice though, like you guys were when you were younger.

When it all came to an end, May was a teacher, and you were her assistant.

You guys did the calls with the others.

Your family.

Sometimes, it would just be you and Daisy, catching up and having chats that lasted hours. May didn’t dare interrupt you then.

#daisy johnson x reader #daisy johnson imagine #agents of shield imagine #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d imagine #agents of shield x reader

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aboveallarescuer · 3 years

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I know you've gotten anons about the YMBQ prophecy recently but I was wondering in what context could it be obvious for the reader that Daenerys is the YMBQ if Cersei is most likely to die or leave KL once Aegon arrives and not Daenerys. Even if Daenerys takes KL later on wouldn't he technically be the one to take all she holds dear (her power as regent)?

First of all, Anon, I think it’s interesting that you say that Young Griff (rather than Arianne) would take all that Cersei holds dear in this hypothetical scenario (that most people assume will come to pass). asoiaf tumblr fandom loved (loves?) to take for granted that Arianne would be YMBQ (after all, it was/is taken for granted that she would marry Young Griff and become his queen consort) years ago. At the same time, though, I’m not sure if you’re implying that Young Griff might actually be the one to fulfill the YMB(Q) prophecy in this ask. I actually saw this theory before. So I’m going to make counterarguments to this theory first and then address your question about how and when Dany might be revealed as the YMBQ (and if that’s what you were specifically looking for, just skip to the end, though you might be disappointed by the fact that I'm not really providing definitive answers because I have a lot of doubts myself).

In a way, it makes more sense for Young Griff to fulfill the prophecy rather than Arianne. Let’s remember what Cersei wants the most, which is shown in the beginning of her very first chapter:

She dreamt she sat the Iron Throne, high above them all. (AFFC Cersei I)

Unfortunately for Cersei, she can’t ever actually sit the Iron Throne, which is pointed out several times:

Cersei shifted in her seat as he went on, wondering how long she must endure his hectoring. Behind her loomed the Iron Throne, its barbs and blades throwing twisted shadows across the floor. Only the king or his Hand could sit upon the throne itself. Cersei sat by its foot, in a seat of gilded wood piled with crimson cushions. (AFFC Cersei V)

Seated on her gold-and-crimson high seat beneath the Iron Throne, Cersei could feel a growing tightness in her neck. (AFFC Cersei VII)

Cersei sat beneath the Iron Throne, clad in green silk and golden lace. (AFFC Cersei X)

As the first quote states, only the king or the Hand can sit the Iron Throne, which is what Cersei wants the most, since, to her, it symbolizes almost unlimited power ("high above them all"). Indeed, I would argue that what Cersei holds dear is the chance to reign supreme (“The rule was hers; Cersei did not mean to give it up until Tommen came of age. [...] If Margaery Tyrell thinks to cheat me of my hour in the sun, she had bloody well think again.”), not “her power as regent” (as you put it), which is limited by nature. After all, the king’s wife and mother can’t sit the Iron Throne. This means three things to me:

Queen consorts like Margaery or Arianne (if she actually marries Young Griff, which is far from certain) can’t take all that Cersei holds dear.

Queens claiming power in their own right but who have no claim to the Iron Throne are excluded too. In other words, Asha or QitN!Sansa (another fan theory that’s far from certain and that’s accepted as future canon) can’t take all that Cersei holds dear.

Only a she-king (that is, a queen regnant) with a claim to the Iron Throne can take all that Cersei holds dear - that’s Dany.

But then, we have Young Griff. He is a king with a claim to the Iron Throne, so he could, in theory, take what Cersei holds dear and fulfill the prophecy. However, I find that very unlikely for a number of reasons:

GRRM doesn’t highlight men’s physical appearances or objectify them in the same way that he does with women, as a lot of people have already criticized him for. He makes a point of mentioning women’s accomplishments along with overpraise for their physical appearances (though one might be generous and chalk that up to social commentary about how their society objectifies women instead of giving them their due praise for what they do). He encourages his fans to speculate about who is the YMB(Q) and pit his female characters against each other based on their physical appearances (e.g., people have criticized how Sansa stans often mention the number of times the word “beautiful” appears in Sansa’s chapters to back up their belief that she’s the YMB(Q), but the way GRRM himself wrote the prophecy lends itself to this sort of analysis) because he uses certain tropes uncritically. He portrays fat women negatively in comparison to thin women (see: Cersei (who’s said to be gaining weight throughout AFFC as she becomes more unstable) vs Dany, Lysa vs Cat, Barba Bracken vs Melissa Blackwood, arguably Rhaenyra vs Alicent). He takes an almost voyeuristic pleasure in describing women’s bodies and women having sex with women (see how Dany and Irri’s or Cersei and Taena’s sexual encounters don’t give any depth to Dany’s, Irri’s and Taena’s characters and, as far as I can tell, are mostly written to fetishize them). Consider, for instance, how 13- to 16-year-old Dany is the most sexualized character of the book series, while I’m not even sure if her male counterpart Jon is supposed to be considered attractive or not (on the one hand, he’s attracted women like Ygritte and Val; on the other hand, he’s meant to look a lot like Ned, who’s regarded as plain in appearance, especially in comparison to the hot-blooded Brandon). All of this is to say that I doubt that a man will fulfill a prophecy that remarks upon the person’s physical appearance (“younger and more beautiful”). Considering GRRM’s writing problems, a woman is much more likely to do so.

Young Griff is supposed to represent a lesser version of Dany (note that I’m talking about Young Griff as a fictional character, not as a person). After all, unlike Dany, Young Griff didn’t get to have lived experience of poverty, he didn’t get to have his skills tested, he didn’t get to apply the lessons he learned along the way, he didn’t get to take action and make mistakes and gain valuable experience and wisdom, he didn’t get to choose to stay in Slaver’s Bay solely to help marginalized people who aren’t connected to him by neither blood nor lands (which would emphasize how he doesn’t view his birthright merely as something owed to him, but rather as a means to “protect the ones who can’t protect themselves”). He could have had this sort of character development if GRRM wanted him to, but he has a different role in the narrative: he’s a tertiary character who we’re not meant to know all that much as a person or about how he would fare as king because he serves as a foil to Dany. With all of that in mind, what would be the point of having this minor character, who was introduced in the fifth book of a seven-book series, fulfill this prophecy rather than the one protagonist who the author said was deliberately written as Cersei’s foil multiple times (more on that below)?

Which brings me to a point that @rainhadaenerys made in our upcoming Dany/Cersei meta... Cersei views women with contempt because she thinks that they can only attain political influence with “tears” and with what’s “between [their] legs” (as she tells Sansa). This informs why, for example, she projects the unfounded idea that a widow must have lovers on Margaery or why she herself uses money and sex to keep her men loyal (which ultimately backfires on her). Unfortunately, it’s true that “[Cersei’s] strength relies on her beauty, birth and riches”. Because of her internalized misogyny, Cersei can’t conceive of a woman who might rise to power primarily because of her intelligence and shrewdness… Except that there is a woman who successfully conquered three cities and ruled the third and freed thousands of slaves relying primarily on her actual wit, political savviness and leadership skills rather than on sex, birthright or money… Dany. Dany is the competent, selfless ruler who could overcome many of the patriarchal limitations that Cersei couldn’t (hence why Cersei is a tragic figure). If Young Griff were to be the YMB(Q), he would simply be one of the many men (along with Robert, her brother, her father and the other Hands) who Cersei thinks wronged her and prevented her from staying in power. If Daenerys were to be the YMBQ, she would challenge Cersei’s toxic beliefs about women, which prevented Cersei from even imagining that a she-king might be the one foreshadowed to defeat her or that a woman (that isn’t her, of course) could actually be able to earn her accomplishments (just like she can’t imagine that Jaime might actually betray and kill her). Now, someone might argue that GRRM is not “woke” enough to do this, but I would disagree in this particular case. There are valid critiques to be made about how he wrote his female characters (I’ve made some points myself on the first item), but it’s still true that Dany’s character arc was written with awareness of how her gender affects her experiences. If that hadn’t been the case, AGOT wouldn’t have initially set up several men (Viserys, Rhaego, Drogo) to be claimant to the Iron Throne/SWMTW/the protagonist only to reveal that these roles are actually meant to be fulfilled by Dany, a woman. If that hadn’t been the case, he wouldn’t have had Maester Aemon acknowledge that “no one had ever looked for a girl” when they pondered on who might be AA/PTWP. So I don’t put it past GRRM to make Dany the YMBQ as a way of challenging Cersei’s entire worldview.

Indeed, I actually think that’s likely to be what he’ll write. GRRM has stated multiple times that Dany and Cersei are meant to be compared and contrasted because they were consciously written by him (specially in AFFC/ADWD) as narrative foils:

George regrets that Cersei and Dany will not be contrasted directly. (x)

His biggest lament in splitting A Feast for Crows from A Dance with Dragons is the parallels he was drawing between Circe and Daenerys. (x)

Cersei and Daenerys are intended as parallel characters --each exploring a different approach to how a woman would rule in a male dominated, medieval-inspired fantasy world. (x)

While discussing how he writes his female characters, he also mentioned that splitting the books as he did this time meant we didn't get the parallel between how Danaerys and Cersei both approach the task of leadership, which is a bit of a shame. (x)

And that one of the things he regrets losing from the POV split is that he was doing point and counterpoint with the Dany and Cersei scenes--showing how each was ruling in their turn. (x)

I think Young Griff as the YMB(Q) is very, very unlikely. If it’s not Dany, then I think Brienne (who at least is a viewpoint character that we know intimately) as the YMBQ (though I doubt it because she can only take Jaime away from Cersei and, as we saw in AFFC, Cersei was willing to separate herself from Jaime once she realized that he would question and disagree with her decisions and, in her mind, threaten her influence and power, i.e., what she wants the most) or even Cersei herself (the basis of this theory is that a younger Cersei caused her own downfall by making the choices she made. It’s not impossible considering that Cersei’s unreliable viewpoint prevents her from ever taking responsibility for her actions. Still, I think it’s unlikely because she’s been positioned as a passive participant in these prophecies - someone/some people kills her children, some person takes away everything she holds dear, some person murders her. Just like there’s a valonqar to kill Cersei, I think there’ll be a YMBQ to defeat her) are more plausible candidates. However, as I said in previous answers, Dany and Cersei have lots of clearly intended parallels and anti parallels (hence why GRRM mentioned them at least five times publicly) that people don’t often appreciate (but that I don’t want to mention here because I’m saving them for edits and that long meta). I find it hard to believe that GRRM would lay all this groundwork to contrast these two queens only to reveal that a minor character is the actual YMB(Q).

Now, the question about “in what context could it be obvious for the reader that Daenerys is the YMBQ” is difficult because, IMO, I don’t feel like there’s enough information to give you a reliable answer. First, let’s recap the most common theories, which, while I don’t think should be accepted as canon just yet, are popular for logical reasons. Here’s what GRRM said about the future events in the initial outline and interviews:

While the lion of Lannister and the direwolf of Stark snarl and scrap, however, a second and greater threat takes shape across the narrow sea, where the Dothraki horselords mass their barbarian hordes for a great invasion of the Seven Kingdoms, led by the fierce and beautiful Daenerys Stormborn, the last of the Targaryen dragonlords. The Dothraki invasion will be the central story of my second volume, A Dance with Dragons. (x)

GRRM: Yes, three more volumes remain. The series could almost be considered as two linked trilogies, although I tend to think of it more as one long story. The next book, A Dance With Dragons, will focus on the return of Daenerys Targaryen to Westeros, and the conflicts that creates. After that comes The Winds of Winter. I have been calling the final volume A Time For Wolves, but I am not happy with that title and will probably change it if I can come up with one that I like better. (x)

He said that in his original plan (when he wanted to write a trilogy) the Red Wedding would take place in book one, and Dany’s landing in Westeros in book two. Now he says that Dany’s arrival in Westeros will take place in book 5, A Dance with Dragons. (x)

From there he started to plan a trilogy, since there were 3 main conflicts (Starks/Lannisters; Dany; and the Others) it felt it would neatly fit into a trilogy (ah!), but like Tolkien said, the tale grew in the telling. (x)

“Well, Tyrion and Dany will intersect, in a way, but for much of the book they’re still apart,” he says. “They both have quite large roles to play here. Tyrion has decided that he actually would like to live, for one thing, which he wasn’t entirely sure of during the last book, and he’s now working toward that end—if he can survive the battle that’s breaking out all around him. And Dany has embraced her heritage as a Targaryen and embraced the Targaryen words. So they’re both coming home.” (x)

GRRM’s words seem to indicate that Dany will go to Dragonstone ("they're both coming home") and then King’s Landing in her campaign to take back the Seven Kingdoms before she goes to the Wall to fight against the Others.

And it is quite possible that she will clash with Young Griff. For one:

Hi, short question. Will we find out more about the Dance of the Dragons in future books?

The first dance or the second?

The second will be the subject of a book. The first will be mentioned from time to time, I'm sure. (x)

For two:

"It is dragons."

"Dragons?" said her mother. "Teora, don't be mad."

"I'm not. They're coming."

"How could you possibly know that?" her sister asked, with a note of scorn in her voice. "One of your little dreams?"

Teora gave a tiny nod, chin trembling. "They were dancing. In my dream. And everywhere the dragons danced the people died." (TWOW Arianne I)

For three:

Glowing like sunset, a red sword was raised in the hand of a blue-eyed king who cast no shadow. A cloth dragon swayed on poles amidst a cheering crowd. From a smoking tower, a great stone beast took wing, breathing shadow fire ... mother of dragons, slayer of lies … (ACOK Daenerys IV)

Now, here are my observations/questions/doubts:

The “cloth dragon” receiving a round of cheers from the crowd seems to indicate that a) Tommen will indeed fall from power when Young Griff (who’s already in Westeros almost ready to attack) invades King’s Landing and that b) Young Griff will inspire love from the population.

The more obvious possibility is that the second dance of dragons refers to a Dany versus Young Griff confrontation, especially since she’s prophesied to slay the lie that he represents (that he’s not Rhaegar Targaryen's son, but actually Illyrio’s son and a Blackfyre). However, since Victarion is currently in Meereen with a dragonbinder, it’s very likely that Dany will lose control of one of her dragons to a Greyjoy (either Victarion or Euron Greyjoy himself) and then will arrive in Westeros with only two of her three dragons. Or maybe Euron will use one of the dragons to attack Young Griff and that will be the second dance (though I find that unlikely since, again, Dany is prophesied to slay Young Griff’s lie). Or the second dance could actually refer to Dany versus Euron.

There are alternative speculations to consider. Right now, the consensus in the Dany fandom seems to be that there’s already too much in Dany’s plate for her (uniting all the khalasars and being hailed as the SWMTW; going back to Meereen; meeting Tyrion, Jorah, Moqorro and other characters; maybe going to Yunkai; going to Volantis; etc) to go to King’s Landing, which led to people assuming that only Cersei and JonCon will be involved in the city’s burning. It’s even theorized that Dany might actually skip King’s Landing and go to the Wall instead. These theories make a lot of sense and aren’t implausible, but it’s hard to reconcile them with GRRM’s initial intention with Dany (though it’s also been argued that he may have given part of her initial role to Young Griff). Additionally, I don’t think timeline issues are necessarily a guarantee of what GRRM will do with Dany. He made Tyrion travel much faster than reasonable back in AGOT to have him meet Catelyn in the inn at the crossroads and to be taken captive by her. So I wouldn't put it past GRRM to do something similar with Dany by having her arrive earlier in King’s Landing than she reasonably would just because he wants it to happen. And, as much as I don’t want it to happen and even though I criticized the theory before, I don’t think it’s impossible (though it’s not guaranteed either) for Dany to be accidentally involved in the burning of King’s Landing (though there is a recent counter-theory to that as well).

Re: Cersei, a lot of people tend to assume that she’s going to die when Young Griff takes King’s Landing, but I am not really sure. I do think that her parallels with Aerys II will pay off and reflect her ending. But that doesn’t prevent Cersei from surviving Young Griff’s invasion and meeting Dany later. Cersei could escape to Casterly Rock and they could meet there. Or Cersei could later attempt to retake the capital again in another impractical plan of hers, which then leads to King’s Landing burning. I don’t know.

Does Dany have to meet everyone to fulfill these prophecies? I’m not sure. Does Dany necessarily need to meet Young Griff and Stannis to slay their lies? Does she necessarily need to meet Cersei so that the readership finds out that she’s the YMBQ? Will there even be an actual moment that makes it “obvious for the reader that Daenerys is the YMBQ”? I don’t know, Anon. It may end up being up for people’s interpretation. Dany might end up burning the Iron Throne, if the theory about her accidentally burning King’s Landing actually happens. Dany might willingly melt the Iron Throne and install a new form of government that gives the smallfolk more political influence. Both of these possibilities could symbolize the end of Cersei’s desire for absolute power, even if Cersei and Dany don’t actually meet. I’m not even sure that there will be a moment that outright reveals that Dany is AA/PTWP/SWMTW (even though, IMO, the foreshadowing is way too overwhelming for it not to be her).

Speculating about Dany being the YMBQ is fun for me because it requires delving into her characterization, her parallels with Cersei and canon material in general. On the other hand, speculating about how this would actually happen is, IMO, less interesting (though I still enjoy reading what other people have to say) because it’s hard to accurately predict future plot points with the current information that we have (and I resent how fandom already accepts so many theories as unpublished canon). Dany has too many places to be and too many things to do and it’s not certain that she’ll be in King’s Landing when it burns (though I tend to think she will for the aforementioned reasons), the second dance of dragons can refer to different confrontations, it’s not certain that Dany needs to meet Cersei (or Young Griff or Stannis) to fulfill all these prophecies and it’s not certain that Dany is going to be explicitly revealed as the person who fulfills all these prophecies. We still have two books worth of plot development, so I really don’t think it’s possible to predict how the actual events will unfold. Sorry about not being able to give more definitive answers... I actually ended up making more questions. But that's kind of the point for now.

#daenerys targaryen #young griff #cersei lannister #asoiaf meta #asoiaf speculation #answered

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