#despite having extremely high expectations for herself

[shakespeareanwannabe]

As You Wish, Chapter 10

Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.

Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister (but biological relation is never discussed), reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, angst, panic attack, drinking, sadness, reference to divorce, kids doing sneaky things, swearing, character falling in the pool

A/N: No flashback for this one because I wanted to jump right into the chapter you've all been waiting for!

Hotel Zaza, Now

Charlie kept her eyes peeled as she scanned the lobby for her mother, her father, and her potential future stepmother. She couldn’t believe that Uncle Bob had lost her mother. It was literally his only job in this whole operation.

Beside her, Natasha grumbled under her breath, echoing her thoughts. “…great WSO, terrible wingman,” she had just finished grumbling, leaning against a large white column as her one good eye surveyed the people coming and going. “Heads up, there’s your mom,” Nat jerked her head as Buttercup rushed from the elevator, clad in her yoga pants and tank top from earlier.

Charlie groaned as she saw her father and a blond young woman emerge from the crowd, the woman looking around as though looking for someone before heading to the front desk. “Oh crap, they’re gonna end up right next to each other!”

“Would it be so bad if they did? Takes the pressure off you and Abby to be the ones to reintroduce them,” Nat shrugged.

“I don’t know! Javy and Roo always made it seem like the world would end if my parents ended up in the same room together,” Charlie moaned, watching anxiously as her mother and the blond that she guessed was Savannah came closer and closer to each other, Jake trailing behind with his eyes on his phone.

Beside her, Nat rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, Javy always had a knack for the dramatic.”

“I thought you liked my dramatics, Phoenix?” a deep voice sounded from behind them, and they both turned.

Javy stood smiling at them; his thick arms crossed against his chest.

“Uncle Javy!” Charlie launched herself at him and found herself caught in his strong tattooed arms.

“Hey there, girlie!” Javy hugged her close for a moment before placing her back on her feet. “No warm welcome from you, Phoenix?” He held his arms open playfully, an earnestness twinkling in his eyes that Charlie wasn’t sure she’d ever seen before, but Natasha just scoffed.

“How about you do something useful and go stop your best friend from blowing this whole operation before it starts?”

Javy blinked at her, hurt flashing momentarily in his eyes before he crossed his arms. “Is that anyway to talk to your friend?”

Natasha rolled her eyes, turning her head slightly so that half her face was against the pillar. “We haven’t been friends in a long time, Machado.”

Javy’s shoulders bowed forward. “I know, but I never wanted it to be that way.”

“Then what did you want?” Natasha snapped.

Charlie huffed and turned away from them. The concierge desk had four people working at it, and, luckily, her mother was in line for the first person, and her dad was in line at the third. The odds of them seeing each other weren’t high, but Charlie didn’t want to take any chances.

With a gulp, she ran over to where her dad was in line, Savannah hanging all over him.

“Dad?” she hid her trembling hands. She had missed him so incredibly much, despite being so angry with him for hiding her mother and sister from her. He was still her dad and she hadn’t seen him in over a month, so while she really wanted to give him a hug and never let him go, she instead hid her hands behind her back and waited for him to respond.

Jake disentangled himself from Savannah, turning to her with a bright smile on his face. “Hey sweetheart, did you and Rooster find the pool?”

“Yeah, but…they don’t have any change rooms!” she blurted out the first excuse that came to her mind. “Could you show me where our room is so I can get changed?”

Savannah pouted before Jake could even open his mouth. “Sugar, we’ve got to meet the wedding planner.”

Jake fixed her with a look that had her pouting bottom lip sucking back in. “And we’ll have plenty of time to do that. But I’m not allowing my daughter to wander around the hotel alone. C’mon, Charlie. I’ll take you up to the room.”

Charlie felt a smile creep onto her lips. “Thanks dad.”

Savannah sighed, a dramatic, long-suffering thing, before she nodded. “Fine. Let’s go back to the room. But then we have to meet Phillipe.”

Charlie glanced at her father’s face quick enough to catch the tail end of him rolling his eyes. “Yes, dear.”

Charlie stifled a giggle as they weaved through the crowded lobby and hustled into the glass elevator. Savannah pouted and leaned her back against the glass as Jake punched their floor number before taking the two steps towards her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

“It’ll take five minutes, tops,” he murmured, pressing a placating kiss to her hair as the car started to move, rising them up above the lobby.

Jake glanced down, always having loved heights, even if he was only going a few stories high, and his heart stopped.

There, standing below them, waiting for the next elevator car, was…

But it couldn’t be. She wouldn’t be in Texas. There was no way. She had practically sworn off the States after the papers had been approved, even going so far as to take her brother and her closest friend with her when she had basically fled.

Jake blinked, but the phantom from his past didn’t disappear. Instead, she raised a timid hand and waved at him, a small smile tugging on her lips.

Jake felt his knees begin to buckle, and it had nothing to do with the elevator car coming to a halt or his girlfriend—no, fiancée—kissing his neck.

She was here. His Buttercup…she was here. In the same hotel as him. In the same hotel as him and Charlie. Did that mean Abby was with her?

Jake’s heart began to race. She was here. She was here.

The second her dad and Savannah wandered off to meet Phillipe, Charlie scurried back to the elevator, rode it two floors down, and practically sprinted to her mom’s room, where she knocked rapidly.

Her own familiar face opened the door and she smiled brightly. “Abby!”

Abby returned her hug with fierce strength. “Charlie!”

They stood standing, smiling at each other for a moment before a deep voice interrupted them. “You two are gonna blow our cover if you keep standing out there for the world to see you.”

Charlie grinned and sprinted at her uncle. “Uncle Roo!”

He scooped her up with his usual begrudging smile. “Hey kid. Good to see ya. Now get your butts inside before someone spots you.”

Both girls rushed into the room, both smiling at Bob where he lounged on the bed.

“Crisis averted?” he teased.

Abby glared playfully. “There wouldn’t have been a crisis if you hadn’t lost our mother.”

“I had to take a phone call,” he defended, a small smile playing on his lips. “Where is your mom?”

“I’m right here.”

Abby turned and spotted her mother, standing in the doorway that connected the two rooms.

“Mum!” she launched herself across the room and was caught by those soft, strong arms that wrapped around her fiercely.

“Oh my girl…” Buttercup whispered into her hair. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Abby whispered into her mother’s neck, feeling the tears stinging her eyes. As much as she had loved being with her dad and uncles, she had missed her mother just as much. Her warmth, her strength, her slight floral smell, the way she laughed. All of it. “I’m sorry I went to Texas without telling you.”

Buttercup sniffled and straightened. “I understand why you did, baby. However, what I don’t understand…” she placed her hands on her hips. “Is why your father just looked at me like he had no idea I was on the same planet as he is, let alone the same continent.:

Abby stepped back, falling into line with Charlie, and they both gulped. “What do you mean?”

“Your father spotted me when he was riding the elevator up, and, from the look on his face, he had no idea I was going to be here.” She looked between them sternly. “You did tell him that I was going to be here, yes?” As the two sisters stared at each other guiltily, she groaned. “You didn’t tell him?”

“Well, mum…” Abby started. “You see, we…that is to say, Charlie and I…”

Rooster and Bob started to edge around the room towards the front door, but Buttercup held a finger up at them.

“Freeze, you two!” she barked. “You allowed my daughters to—to—bamboozle us this way?”

Bob tensed while Rooster purposefully dropped his shoulders. “Bamboozle you how?” he asked, a forced calmness in his voice.

Buttercup huffed. “What is this? Is this about you still not believing that a divorce was the best course of action for us, Bradley? Or about how you always thought we should have tried harder with the custody arrangement, Bob?”

Charlie stepped up. “It’s not their fault, mom. We…we wanted you and dad to be happy.”

Buttercup couldn’t help the incredulous laugh that escaped her. “And how is cornering your father on the tour of his wedding venue going to make him happy?”

Charlie felt herself flush and she opened her mouth, but it was Abby who spoke first. “We don’t want to have to live with this custody arrangement anymore, mum. We were hoping that, if you and dad saw each other again, you’d be able to figure out another way, so we can share the two of you instead of having to live separate lives.”

Buttercup folded in on herself, arms crossing in front of her, not defensively, but protectively. “I…I know the custody arrangement wasn’t fair to the two of you. I…you’ll never know how sorry I am for that. But forcing your father and I into this…” she shook her head. “Why didn’t you just talk to me? Talk to us? Especially once you met at camp.”

“Mum…” Abby bit her lip. “I wanted to. I really did. But you always seemed so hurt whenever I brought up dad, and…and I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“I wanted to talk to you too, but…” Charlie gulped. “But I was so scared that you wouldn’t love me if I pushed you to talk to dad. And I was terrified that you were going to say no.”

Buttercup drew in a deep breath and her shaky exhale drew the attention of Rooster and Bob, still edging towards the door. They paused in their quest for freedom, and Bob looked tempted to approach his sister, but Rooster’s hand on his shoulder stilled him.

“I…I’m so sorry, girls,” Buttercup whispered. “I wish I could do it all different. I wish that things had turned out differently for all of us. I wish that your father and I—”

The door that stood mere feet from Rooster and Bob burst open, letting in a bickering Natasha and Javy. Buttercup jumped as their voices raised.

“—I never said that!”

“Oh, but you implied it! How else was I supposed to take that?”

“You can take it and shove it up your—”

“Enough!” Buttercup shouted, bringing the room to a standstill, quiet as a pin-drop. Her hands covered her face, and it was only the keenest of eyes that could pick up the slight trembling of her limbs. “The four of you—” she shot a pointed look at the four retired aviators in the room. “Owe me a massive explanation for why you thought it was okay to manipulate J-Jake and I. I trusted you. Natasha, you and Bob know how I felt about this meeting and you still decided to blindside me. And I’m sure Jake will feel similarly once he finds out that his two closest friends are pulling the rug out from under him while he’s planning the happiest day of his life. And girls? There are so many reasons why what you did is not okay. First, switching places at camp and now forcing your father and I into close proximity. I’m trying to be understanding but…” she sighed heavily, her hands sagging back to her sides. “I need a drink,” she murmured, backing towards the door. “You four can watch my daughters,” she added with a glare at the four adults quietly sulking around the edge of the room.

Looking down at the guilt-ridden faces of her daughters, Buttercup sighed and stooped to hug them both into her arms. “I love you both,” she whispered, sniffling slightly. “I’m not mad, I’m just…I need some fresh air. Stay here. Please.”

With another small sniffle, she turned and fled the room, leaving six guilty parties staring after her.

Jake found himself boring holes into the ugly paisley wallpaper of the hotel hallway, listening to Phillipe yammer on about some special flooring package. Or was it a floral package? Either way, Savannah seemed thrilled and was too busy chatting with her new bridal BFF to notice that her future husband hadn’t said a word since the elevator.

Buttercup was here. In Texas. He hadn’t seen her since…

His stomach roiled at the thought of their last meeting, the tears they had both shed as they left their wedding rings on the table and said goodbye to one of their daughters. Her tear-stained face and the gauntness of her cheeks, the bags under her eyes. His memory was in sharp contrast to the woman he had seen in the lobby, all full cheeks and glossy hair, all smiles as she had waved at him.

He shuffled his feet as a funny feeling exploded in his stomach at the thought of her. It was Abby. It had to be because of Abby. Jake hadn’t held his daughter in over ten years, and if she had come to Texas with her mother…

Jake’s hand dove into his pocket before he could second guess himself. He wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to see his daughter. And if his chest tightened at the idea of seeing his ex-wife? That was just the nerves talking, of course.

“Hey, sweetheart?” Jake called, his eyes widening theatrically. “I just got a call from Sarah. Our vet on staff? Apparently something came up on one of the horses tests and she wants to talk to me about our options. She says it’s urgent, otherwise I wouldn’t be asking. But why don’t you and Phillipe make some decisions and you can tell me all about them later?”

Savannah pouted and Jake was honestly a little surprised that she didn’t stomp her foot for emphasis. “But Jakey!”

“I know, sweetheart,” he crooned, his feet already shuffling him away towards the door. “But I trust you. You can make whatever choices your heart desires. I just want you to be happy with this wedding.”

Apparently, he had said the magic words because Savannah turned back to Phillipe without another word to Jake and said, “In that case, what about the premium lighting package? Can we add more chandeliers?”

Jake ignored her as he took off towards the elevator, wondering where he should even start looking. The hotel was huge, but he would knock on every door he could if it meant finding his Buttercup. Jake shook his head at himself. No. He wouldn’t allow himself to go down that path. He was searching for Abby. His daughter. Not his ex-wife. However…his daughter was likely to be wherever his ex-wife was, so he supposed he would have to search them both out. But where the hell to start?

Jake exited the elevator onto the main floor and scanned the lobby. His Buttercup wasn’t much of a gym fiend, more into home yoga and cardio than anything, so the gym was out. She was an author, he knew, but it didn’t seem likely that she would be in a conference room.

Jake paused and leaned against a white marble pillar. He had to think. Think like Buttercup. She liked the water, he remembered. They had had way too many fun memories on the beaches of Coronado for him to pick just one favourite, but the way she had smiled at him while surrounded by the sun and sand and surf was enough to warm his soul even ten years later.

The mere thought of it had him turning and racing down the hall towards the indoor pool. He quickly palmed his keycard against the magnetic lock and stepped into the room, almost taking a step back when the overwhelming smell of chlorine caught his nose, but he persisted, doing a quick lap of the pool and surrounding deck chairs to try to spot Buttercup or Abby.

“Sir, can I help you?” a lifeguard regarded him suspiciously, and Jake took a second to realize how it must have looked, a fully dressed man scanning every woman and child in the pool room.

“Sorry,” he felt himself redden. “I just thought…my wife said she was heading to the pool with our daughter, but I don’t see her.” He didn’t see Charlie either, but he had enough questions on his mind to wonder where she might have gotten to.

“She might’ve meant the rooftop pool,” the lifeguard offered helpfully. “There’s a cabana bar and a waterslide that the kids really seem to love.”

“Thanks, man,” Jake replied, already turning on his heel to head back to the elevator. Of course, she would head to the rooftop pool instead of the indoor pool. She hated the smell of chlorine and she always said the water felt better when you could feel the breeze in your hair. She was up there. Jake could feel it in his bones.

Buttercup placed the glass back on the bar with a little more force than necessary before meeting the bartender’s gaze and saying, “Another one, please.”

He frowned a little disapprovingly but poured her another rum and Diet Coke, her second since sitting down at the cabana bar next to the pool five minutes ago.

I love my daughters. I love my family. I love my friends. I love my daughters. I love my family. I love my friends. I love my daughters…she chanted to herself as she sipped the second drink slowly. What they had done, tricking her here on some half-cocked dream of getting her and her ex-husband back, was so far over the line that she was fairly certain they didn’t even know where the line was anymore, but she loved them. Her daughters especially had their hearts in the right place, and she couldn’t fault them for wanting a normal dynamic between their parents. It’s what she herself had always wanted for her family. But things didn’t always turn out the way you dreamed. That was made especially clear to her when she spotted the bottle blond wrapped around her ex-husband, at least ten years her junior and basically painted into her blue jeans. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was her daughters. She would face Jake. She had to. She wouldn’t live a life without Charlie, not anymore. She wouldn’t fight him for full custody, but she would do everything in her power to make 50/50 possible for her girls. She could do that much for them…after she had another drink.

She threw back her second drink and asked the bartender for another one. He rolled his eyes but poured the drink and handed it to her before moving off to clear up some of the glasses that had been left on the poolside tables. Her eyes followed him as she nursed her third drink, tracking his movements as he collected glass after glass before her eyes caught on a figure rapidly approaching from the roof’s door.

“Buttercup?”

Her stomach roiled, and she decided that three drinks in less than ten minutes was a bad idea. “Oh god,” she whispered, turning away from him and stumbling to her feet. She couldn’t do this. She wouldn’t do this while drunk. She needed to be stone cold sober to be able to face him, otherwise she’d make a fool of herself. And she had promised herself that she would never make a fool of herself in front of Jake Seresin ever again.

Buttercup quickly straightened and walked away from him. If someone accused her of running away from him, she would have no defence but that didn’t matter to her. She wouldn’t face him until she was confident in herself, and she couldn’t be less confident after three drinks.

Buttercup passed the bartender as she heard Jake’s footsteps pounding behind her. “Buttercup, wait!”

“Don’t call me that,” she whispered, feeling her heart pound at his nearness.

“Buttercup, I—”

A loud crash sounded behind her, and Buttercup spun on her heel to see what was happening, but she didn’t see anything before her flip flop caught on the tile of the pool and she stumbled unsteadily, falling backwards right into the pool.

The chill of the water immediately sobered her as she flailed in the deep end, trying to figure out which way was up before a strong arm wrapped around her waist and tugged her to the surface.

She gasped as the fresh air kissed her face, that arm not leaving her as it towed her towards the edge of the pool.

“Th-thank you,” she panted, frantically pushing her wet hair from her eyes.

“Don’t mention it…” an achingly familiar voice replied, deep and playful with a beautiful Texan twang.

Buttercup clutched the edge of the pool as she blinked, her vision clearing enough to see Jake Seresin a mere foot away from her, his dark blond hair plastered to his forehead and his white button-down shirt almost see-through.

“J-Jake…”

He grinned, that cocky grin that she had always hated because it meant his shields were up. “You weren’t trying to run away from me, were you?”

“No!” she shivered and started pulling herself along the pool’s edge towards the stairs. “Don’t be so full of yourself. Not everything is about you.”

Jake chuckled as he did the butterfly stroke beside her, easily keeping pace as she clumsily looked for an escape. “But it’s so much fun to think that everything is about me,” he grinned a Cheshire cat smile at her that would’ve had her defences melting a decade ago.

Buttercup reached the pool’s ladder and didn’t have it in her to swat away Jake’s hands on her waist to help steady her as she climbed out of the pool, a staff member greeting her with a fluffy white towel as she stood in her dripping clothes. Jake smoothly exited the pool next to her and wrapped the towel around his shoulders.

“So, are you saying you’re not in Texas to see me?” Jake asked, his green eyes glinting in her direction.

Buttercup swallowed. “As a matter of fact…” She had to tell him. She had to just come out and say it. It wasn’t fair to the girls to make them do it, and it wasn’t fair to him to keep him waiting. “I am here for you. And I thought you were here for me.”

Jake’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“Mum!”

“Dad!”

Both jolted away from each other, not realizing how much they had moved into each other’s space as they talked.

Abby and Charlie stood before them, mouths gaping.

“What on Earth did you do?”

“Why did you go swimming in your clothes?”

Buttercup pulled the towel tighter around her shoulders as Jake turned and gaped at the two almost-12-year-olds standing in front of him.

“Did I hit my head when I jumped into the pool after you?” Jake murmured, not taking his eyes off the two girls.

Buttercup shook her head. “No…they’re both here. It’s…kind of a long story.”

One of the twins gulped. “Please don’t be mad.”

“It’s not Mum’s fault.”

“We met at camp—”

“—and we figured out that we’re twins, and—”

“—and we decided to switch places—”

“—because we wanted to meet you and—”

Jake crouched in front of them as they rambled and slowly, carefully, placed a hand on each of their shoulders before pulling them into a tight hug.

“I don’t care,” he whispered tightly, cradling them both against his strong body as years of pent-up longing and grief threatened to spill out over his cheeks. “I don’t care how it happened. I’ve waited years to hold you both in my arms again. So that’s what I’m going to do.”

He pulled them even tighter against his chest and his heart fractured as he felt them—both of them—wrap their arms around him. And if a few tears fell, then who could blame him?

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[foreingersgod]

So so you wanted a small town reader request so I thought of this one. She she’s from a southern small town and plays basketball for the SEC team of her state, she really made a name for herself there, but wants to broaden her horizons so she enters the transfer portal and somehow ends up in Iowa where meet Kate who is OBSESSED with her southern accent. Then it’s just Kate trying to show her interest bc reader is totally oblivious until one of their teammates says something

Southern Charm . KM

pairing: kate martin x reader

synopsis: after transferring to iowa’s basketball team to broaden your horizons, you end up meeting someone who changes your life

A/N: i got a request to do another country fic like this one with kate, so expect one with ‘country kate’ here soon!

also, i’m not very proud of this one so i’m sorry if it’s genuinely shitty lol :’)

NOT PROOF READ

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

ever since you were little, maybe 7 or 8, you were fascinated with basketball. growing up in texas you were exposed to a large following of sports and hard core fans. your family was always repping the pro and college teams of your state with pride, attending several games throughout your childhood. basketball in particular held a special place in your heart. you remember watching the university of texas’ basketball games with your dad, absolutely enthralled by the game. it didn’t take long for your parents to get you involved in the sport. you played in small teams as a kid then on your schools girls basketball teams in middle and high school. and with a lot of hard work and determination, you got into the university of texas to play on their women’s team.

while playing for the university, you made quite the impression on basketball fans. you were quick, had unbelievable stats, and extremely adaptable. you were a pretty valuable player in most eyes. but after two years at the school, you started to feel restricted. there wasn’t a whole lot for you to improve on your skills so you made a drastic decision to enter the transfer portal.

it was an emotional decision. realizing you would be leaving teammates behind as well as your home state was hard, but you longed for something greater. not long after entering the portal, you had transferred to the university of Iowa. you were ecstatic despite having to move away. it was time to broaden your horizons and hopefully expand upon your skill set.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

you had arrived in iowa around a week ago and you were still adjusting. figuring out where all of the buildings were, where the dining halls were located, was a lot for you to handle. hell you could barely remember how to get to your dorm at this point.

you haven’t even met your new teammates, practices not starting up for a couple of days. the anticipation had you extremely nervous.

what if they didn’t like you?

what if they thought you sucked?

the days leading up to your first practice were consumed with these uncontrollable thoughts. but as you laced up your shoes and grabbed your duffel bag, heading out the door, you felt those nagging thoughts dissipate.

when you arrived for practice, opening the large metal doors to the gym, it almost felt like you were right back at home. you wandered over to where the team was warming up, hearing the squeak of the polished floors. quickly, looking up from her clipboard, bluder spotted you a few feet ahead. she met you on the sidelines to officially greet you for your first day.

“ah, YN!” she announced, grabbing the attention of the other girls “nice to see you again, glad you could join us. let’s get you introduced and settled in”

her smile was welcoming as she motioned for the girls to huddle up. everyone gathered around, you being the center of attention as you looked around awkwardly.

“team, i’m sure you’re all aware of our newest member, YN” lisa said “let’s be kind and supportive and help her get settled in on her first day alight?”

everyone nodded “great. YN, would you like to introduce yourself?”

you took a deep breathe as you studied their faces timidly, fidgeting with your fingers and trying to think of something to say.

“um, yea” you managed, hoping you sounded confident “i’m YN, i just transferred from the university of texas..and i’m-uh-really excited to get to know you guys”

the team offered their hello’s, walking up to you one by one to shake your hand politely and introduce themselves. they were all incredibly sweet right away, telling you you’d fit right in and complimenting your skills. you went down the line, excited to get acquitted with the team.

then, at the end of the line, stood kate martin. you had seen her play and you thought she was amazing so you were excited to finally meet her. she approached you with the most genuine smile, eyes lit with zeal.

“hey,” she spoke up, offering her hand to you “i’m kate, it’s nice to meet you YN”

you smiled back at her “it’s nice to meet you too! you’re a fantastic player, i’d be lyin’ if i said i hadn’t been excited to meet you!”

“i’m flattered, really, thank you” you could feel her hand linger on yours as she pulled away from the handshake “so texas, huh? i caught onto the accent!”

you both laughed “yea, i’m from a small town not too far from campus, so i got that signature dialect”

“i think it’s really cute,” she looked down, avoiding your gaze “think it suits you”

“thanks, kate” you blushed, smiling at her once more before bluder summoned everyone to resume warmups.

what a sweetheart.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

it had been quite sometime since you had finally settled into your new team. there was a lot of awkwardness and uncertainty, but you had started to feel like this is where you were meant to be. and like you had hoped, there was so much more room for you to improve rather than back in texas. you were playing amazing games, beating your own records and personal highs on a regular basis. going to iowa was truly the best thing for your career.

you had also grown really close to the girls since arriving. kate, especially, was like your best friend. she had always been so kind and sweet to you. at some point in your friendship, you started to develop a decent crush on the girl, but you had always assumed that she didn’t feel that way about you. so you stayed quiet as to not distrust your connection.

but recently, things have been a little off with kate. she often avoided you during practices and didn’t stay to say goodbye when you left. both things she did on a normal basis and now she just stopped doing it all together. she didn’t even bother to text you or ask about your day, nor did she laugh when you said things funny (she’s always giggled to herself when your accent was thick). you were beginning to wonder if you did something wrong.

it had been weeks of her dismissive behavior and you were starting to miss your best friend. your heart ached at the thought of her not liking you anymore. so you devised a plan to meet her during her extra early practice one morning and confront her, hoping to figure out why she wasn’t giving you the time of day.

it was about 7:00 in the morning, much too early for your liking. you’d never understood why kate, amongst others, wanted to be at practice an hour earlier. but you had managed to get out of bed at 6, suiting up and sneakily heading to the gym. you hoped you could catch her off guard, maybe surprise her so she’d have no choice but to deal with your confrontation head on. you were approaching the doors of the locker room, about to open the door, when you heard kate’s voice echo from inside. freezing in your spot, you shamefully eavesdropped to see what she was talking about.

“no! i’m not going to do that!” she exclaimed.

“why not?” you heard another voice, from the sounds of it, it must’ve been gabbie. “you’re like obsessed with her, just go for it!”

“i’m not obsessed, ok? there’s just something about YN that drives me crazy and i like her so so much, but i’m sure as hell not going say that right to her face!”

you went numb hearing your name fall from kate’s mouth. you tried to move closer to the door, wanting to hear what she was saying a little bit better, but you tripped over your own foot causing you to lunge forward. the doors to the locker on went flying open, your stiff figure busting through the entrance as you immediately gave yourself away.

you stood, completely unable to move as you looking up into the vastness of the locker room. sure enough, there were gabbie and kate, sitting in front of you. their eyes were wide seeing you burst through those doors, realizing they had just been caught talking about you. and it was no secret that you had heard almost everything they were saying.

“i’m so sorry!” you rambled an apology “i was just about to come and talk to kate, but then i heard my name, and i really didn’t mean to intrude like this i’m so embarrassed”

kate sat, also embarrassed as gabbie spoke up.

“i’m going to give you guys some privacy” she said “i think there’s a lot that kate needs to say”

and with that, she walked out of the locker room, leaving you and kate in awkward silence. you walked over to where she sat on the bench to take the seat next to her. she looked at you, hardly able to make eye contact.

“i’m sorry”

“for what?” you asked

“i shouldn’t have been talking about you behind your back. i had no idea you were gonna be here, not that that makes it ok-”

“kate, it’s ok” you placed a hand on her shoulder “i was here early cause i needed to talk to you, but i shouldn’t have stuck around to eaves drop”

“what did you need to talk to me about?”

you sighed, suddenly wishing you didn’t have to bring it up in the first place “it’s just that i’ve felt like you’ve been avoiding me and purposely not talking to me so i wanted to ask why…but i think i already kind of know why…”

“yea” she replied, voice cracking “you weren’t supposed to find out like that”

“if it’s any consolation…i feel the same way” you removed your hand from her shoulder, taking her hand in yours. gentle fingers ran over hers soothingly.

“you-you do?”

“mhm” you grinned “i’ve been too afraid to say anything cause i didn’t know if you felt the same and i didn’t want to ruin our friendship”

she didn’t say anything, just sat looking into your eyes. there were no tears, no anger in her eyes, just a certain longing that only you could recognize.

“i think im in love with you”

“you don’t have to say-”

“no i mean it” she continued “everything about you, from the moment i met you, i’ve been in love with. you’re perfect and funny and gentle, you have the cutest accent i’ve ever heard, and i don’t think i can handle being just friends”

“kate i think i’m in love with you too” happy tears welled in your eyes as you inched closer to her, feeling her breathe on your skin.

“can i kiss you?” she asked, but she didn’t even need to, you would’ve done it anyways.

“please”

and finally, your lips met in the most gentle yet passionate kiss. teeth clashing at the urgency of it, both of you so eager from waiting so long for this moment. you wished you could’ve stayed like that forever. nonetheless, she pulled away breathlessly, forehead resting against yours as you smiled at each other.

“it’s that southern charm” she joked, large hand resting against your cheek “you’re irresistible”

you laughed, pulling her into another kiss, trying to savor this moment for as long as you could.

[wilcze-kudly]

A barely coherent ramble on the Beifongs being a family of people with an incredibly high ability to feel things

Toph

I think a lot of people really misinterpret Toph. They see her for her role as powerhouse. However, one of her key abilities is actually her ability to sense her surroundings with earthbending.

But that's not all. Toph is able to sense people's heartrates and tell when they are lying or not.

In fact, Toph is a surprisingly empathetic person. Despite her abrasive and harsh personality, she's surprisingly good at reading people and seems to have very high emotional intelligence. She's extremely good at identifying people's strengths and their weak points. Multiple times, she's able to successfully get under people's skin very efficiently.

Girl is using her empathy to bully people good for her.

Sure, she often uses a tough love approach, however I would argue that it's a self defence mechanism. Toph doesn't like being vulnerable, probably due to the fact that she was treated as weak and helpless when she was growing up. People with higher empathy or sensitivity tend to be percieved as weaker or more delicate, which is something Toph desperately wants to avoid. Toph also carried her parents' emotions and expectations of her for a very long time and it could stand to reason that she doesn't wnat to do that with anyone else.

I think I may make a longer post on Toph and her trauma surrounding her parents and how that affects her relationships and behaviours lol.

Lin

So... Lin is very similar to her mother in many ways. She also puts up a prickly wall of "tough love" to deal with her high sensitivity. However, she seems to absorb and internalise things that hurt her much more than Toph does.

Lin's emotional maturity is heavily stunted, most likely due to her difficulty with bonding with people. She never really allowed herself to grow past a certain point. She didn't grow into her empathy, therefore she feels things, but doesn't exactly know how to handle them. Repressing these feelings is a band aid solution, and we do see how dangerous them overflowing is.

However, on rare occasions we do see Lin allow herself to empathise with others. We see this particularly with Opal and Mako. However, with most people, Lin's guard is always up.

Lin is the textbook example of someone very sensitive who pushes people away out of the fear of getting hurt.

Suyin

I can see some people arguing that Suyin has pretty low empathy. Looking at her treatment of Lin, Kuvira and Baatar Jr. I think it's true that in her younger years, Suyin struggled with her feelings. I'd argue it is due to very high empathy actually. In the flashbacks, Su seems to mirror Lin's emotions back at her, perhaps unable to distinguish them from her own.

However, unlike Lin, Su grows as a person in her time away from Republic City. When we see her as an adult, she is very in tune with her emotions and also able to deal with other people's outbursts without internalising their feelings.

She has a very gentle way of speaking to people and is able to quickly pinpoint what they need to hear, as she does with a young Kuvira and with Bolin. She can make other's feel comfortable and safe. Perhaps due to her own turbulent upbringing.

However, Suyin is also heacily driven by her emotions. Her impulsivity can cloud her judgement, such as when she flew into a fit of rage at the idea of a guard betraying her city, or when she risked not only her own life, but that of her sons, and tried to impulsively save Zaofu feom Kuvira. She also still holds a shocking degree of sympathy for Kuvira, despite her initial anger at her ans her children's visible discomfort with Kuvira's presence.

Suyin feels things very strongly, and, despite getting better at managing her feelings, they still often overtake her.

Baatar Jr

It's interesting when a character who is characterised as a more "intellectual" type is driven primarily by their emotions. Despite being a man of science, Baatar Jr has a habit of disregarding logic completely.

He prioritises his relationship with Kuvira, he has a weird lil rivalry with Varrick, he's incredibly bitter when it comes to his relationship with his family. Baatar Jr is such an underrated character.

Huan

I think most artists are inherently sensitive people. And we very much like to express the things we feel.

Huan seems to use his art to process certain experiences, for example Harmonic Convergence. He's quite sensitive when it comes to his creations. He also values other people's art too and perfers "raw emotional power" over quality.

Opal

I think a lot of people pick up on Opal's empathy on the first watch, especially when you see her interact with Lin. Opal is also very quick to notice that Su still has a soft spot for Kuvira. She also sets boundaries with Bolin very quickly and efficiently and I would credit this to Suyin's parenting.

But Opal is very much like her mother in the sense of having her judgement clouded by her emotions. Especially when it comes to the Kuvira situation. Her strong emotions often act to her detriment, as she almost gets baited into attacking Kuvira and her unchecked anger at Bolin arguably made him retract further into Kuvira's army. This is hardly a new thing for Opal, as we see her lashing out even as a child.

Wei and Wing

Splitting what little screentime the twins have between them yields scarce, but interesting characterisation. Wing seems to be more outwardly emotional, throwing a tantrum when he loses a game and cheering when excited about sparring Korra. While Wei, much like Lin and Toph before him, seems to put up a bit of a prickly wall, for example when he's antagonising Bolin.

The twins are very closely tied to their mother and it wouldn't be a stretch of the imagination to say that they internalise her emotions. Like when Wei yells at Kuvira during the negotiations.

The twins are also very open about their upset at Opal leaving. It's honestly sweet to se that Suyin raised her children to be able to express their emotions rather healthily.

Uh. Anyway. This post was mainly meant to toss a pattern I've noticed out into the open. I might make some more posts elaborating on particular aspects of it (i also wanna make one on kuvira and how she's quite the opposite of the Beifongs). So uh. If you have any suggestions of topics i should start with,just shoot lol.

[yours-the-author]

I felt like experimenting with my style a little today and gave Reginald clothes! Specifically, I gave him the outfit I had him wear in this one shot that I wrote; it doesn't come across very well, but it was fun to do, so I'll give it that. Who doesn't want to see Reginald in a dress (or in this case, an outfit that's both a dress and a suit)? Unfortunately, I think my style isn't cut out for anything more complicated than this (and believe me, it was complicated), so I probably won't do many more like this. Just thought I'd share it!

[babydollmarauders]

BALLAD OF A HOMESCHOOLED GIRL — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

summary: in which y/n goes on a date with Jack and thinks she made a complete fool of herself

notes: obviously inspired by Ballad of a Homeschooled Girl by Olivia Rodrigo, not proofread and written on extreme sleepiness. (3.6k words)

third dates.

my mother always told me to have them in group settings.

she said the first date is to get to know each other; the second is to learn how he’d treat you in private; the third date is to learn how he’d treat you in front of his friends.

most guys seem to get intimidated when i ask about joining a hang out with his friends for the third date, but Jack was different. i had told Jack on our first about my rules.

first date in a public setting, but alone.

second date in private, his apartment or mine.

third date with a group of friends.

i hadn’t expected him to take it so well, nodding along as though even without context, it made sense. he didn’t ask for clarification, which was good because i had learned after my last relationship not to give any; lest they’ll act like a gentlemen in front of their friends until we start dating.

i honestly didn’t expect Jack to contact me again, fully awaiting the discovery that he’d ghosted me, possibly even blocked me to keep me from talking to him again. but then he texted me tonight.

“i know it’s last minute, but third date tonight? me and some guys from the team are going for drinks, would you wanna come?”

and now here i am, walking into a pretty secluded bar to meet Jack and about half a dozen other professional hockey players. to say i’m nervous would be a massive understatement.

i spent at least half an hour trying on various outfits, but nothing felt right. every article of clothing i tried on had something wrong with it; whether it be that it didn’t fit quite right, or it didn’t match the occasion, or i just deemed it didn’t look good on me, something was always wrong. so i finally settled on a nice sundress, despite the chilled air of the evening.

“y/n!” my head turns in search of the voice that called my name, locking eyes with Jack, where he sits at a high top table with five other guys. “i was starting to think you’d stood me up!”

my eyebrows furrow as i walk over to him, stopping at the end of the table. my stomach ties in knots at all of the eyes on me. i hate attention.

“why would i do that?” a few of the guys chuckle at my question, but i’m not sure i understand what’s so funny.

“i was joking.” Jack clarifies.

oh.

embarrassment washes over me and i can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks, but Jack just smiles sweetly, rising to his feet and pulling out the chair beside him.

“oh, thank you.” i take a seat and he returns to his, his hand settling on my knee as one of the guys begin to speak.

“so, you’re y/n?” my eyes go wide, and i glance over at Jack but he’s looking over at the other guy. “i’m Luke.”

“nice to meet you, Luke.” i give the curly headed boy a tight smile, “so, you play with Jack?”

the boy grins, nodding his head, “i guess you could say that.”

everyone snickers, and i fear i’ve made a mistake of some sort. my blood runs cold; i hate feeling like i’m on the outside of some giant inside joke.

maybe this was a mistake.

Jack squeezes my knee, and i look over at him with subtly pleading eyes, silently begging for him to save me.

“Luke is my younger brother, but he does play on the team with me.” there it is. that’s where i messed up.

“oh, i’m sorry.” i’m not sure what i’m apologizing for, but it seems like the right thing to do. i glance back at Luke, “i knew Jack had mentioned your name before but, he’s mentioned so many names that at this point they all jumble together in my head.”

Luke just shakes his head, waving it off. “nah, don’t worry, it’s okay.”

after that, i decide it’s better to go quiet; only really speaking when spoken to. i can’t embarrass myself if i’m not saying anything.

“hey.” Jack’s voice is soft, and at first, i don’t even realize he’s talking to me, until i tear my eyes from who i now know as Dawson, who’s telling a story with wildly gesturing hands. “do you wanna go get a drink?”

he nods his head over towards the bar, and i nod, desperately in need of something to ease my nerves, “yes, please.”

Jack and i rise from our seats, his hand going to my lower back to stabilize me as i stumble. my cheeks go red, but i decide it’s better not to acknowledge my clumsiness.

“and i— where are you guys going?” Dawson cuts himself off, drawing attention to Jack and i’s retreating pair. “did i bore you, y/n?”

i stop in my tracks, freezing up as guilt takes over me.

“i- what? n-no! Jack-” i stumble over my words in a panic, attempting to reassure him, but apparently i didn’t help my case.

“see, Merc! poor y/n even finds your story stupid.” John laughs and i shake my head wildly.

“no! i found it interesting!” Nico snickers at my words, his hand coming up to cover his mouth.

“interesting. that’s one way of putting it.”

oh god, i made it worse.

“guys, leave her alone.” Jack speaks up, rolling his eyes at his friends before he turns back to me. “c’mon, ignore them, they’re just raggin’ on you.”

my brows thread together in confusion, but i nod nonetheless, allowing him to use his hand that still rests on my back to guide me over to the bar.

“i’m sorry about them.” he sighs as we reach the counter, waiting for a bartender. “they have a stupid sense of humor.”

“no! no, it’s fine!” i assure him.

it’s not them, it’s me.

i’ve never been great at picking up on social cues, perhaps due to my odd lifestyle as a child.

when the bartender reaches us, Jack orders another beer before looking over at me, “oh, can i just get an aperol spritz, please?”

Jack hands over his card and when he gets it back he turns to me.

“i gotta run to the bathroom, are you okay waiting for the drinks? i’ll be back in a second.” i nod and he takes off towards the restroom, leaving me alone.

“so, you like him?” apparently not alone for long.

i turn my head in surprise, only to find Luke standing beside me. he asks the bartender who arrives back with Jack and i’s drinks for another beer and the man nods.

“hmm? Jack?” Luke nods and i smile looking down into my glass. “yeah, i really like him.”

“see, i said so!” my face scrunched in confusion as i look back at him.

“you said so?” i question.

“yeah! Johnny was trying to say you must not like him because you aren’t being very flirty, but i told him- i said you obviously like him if you’re on a third date.”

flirting.

i’ve never been great at that. and i haven’t needed to be, Jack is the one who approached me first, he’s the one who asked me out and he hasn’t given any indication that i have any reason to have to flirt to keep his attention.

“oh.”

Luke pays for his beer before retreating back to the table with a low “see you in a few.”

i’m quick to tear my phone out of my pocket, glancing over towards the restrooms for a moment to make sure my date isn’t coming back before making a quick google search.

this seems impossible.

“hey.” Jack reappears beside me and i hastily lock my phone, looking up at him as i go to slide it back into my pocket. but the combination of my fidgety hands, quick movements, and not paying attention to my surroundings doesn’t end well.

before i can even blink, my hand is knocking into my glass, the drink sliding off the bar top and onto the floor, shattering upon impact.

“oh my god!” i squeal, jumping back from the broken shards. i glance down at the mess before looking back up at Jack. “i am so sorry!”

i turn to the waitress who comes rushing towards us with a broom and towels, apologizing profusely and offering to clean it up myself.

“it’s no problem, happens all the time.” she tells me with a smile, but i still bury my face in my hands.

i’m making a fool of myself.

“can we get another aperol spritz?” i peek through my eyes at the sound of Jack’s voice, watching as he hands the bartender his card again.

“i am so sorry, Jack.” my voice is low and whimpered, my shoulders rising as though to protect myself. “i just wasted your money and made a huge mess.”

Jack smiles softly, shaking his head as he chuckles, “don’t worry about it. it’s seriously okay, y/n. accidents happen, don’t beat yourself up about it.”

i nod, but i truly feel horrible now.

this was a mistake. i should’ve just stayed home; watched a cheesy romance or read a true crime novel and gone to bed early.

the bartender hands me the new drink, and i thank him before Jack leads me back to the table.

“everything okay?” Timo questions as we return and Jack just nods as we settle back in our seats.

“yeah, just a little accident. it’s all good.” the guys chuckle but all turn back to their previous conversation, somehow now on the topic of the wildest things they did in school.

i stay silent, hoping and praying to any higher power that they don’t involve me in this conversation, but my luck runs out pretty quickly. although i’m not sure i’ve had any tonight in the first place.

“what about you, y/n?” Nico is the one to rope me in, “what’s the wildest thing you did in school?”

“i- uh-” i internally cringe, mentally preparing myself for their jokes, “i was homeschooled. so, i didn’t really get to do anything crazy like you guys.”

“ohh, you’re a homeschool kid.” Luke nods as if it makes sense.

“did you know that statistically speaking, homeschoolers are more likely to graduate than public schoolers?” John pipes up, and i shake my head.

“really?” Jack questions, his nose scrunched cutely in disbelief.

“no, i- uh, i didn’t know that.” John nods at my words.

“yeah, look it up!” he points to my phone, which never actually made it to my pocket after the broken glass fiasco and now resides face down on the table.

i pick it up and Jack and Dawson, who both reside on either respective side of me, lean in to see my phone screen, eager to find out whether their teammate is correct.

but when i unlock my phone, my eyes grow wide and i’m eagerly attempting to swipe out of the current window, but it’s as if the world is against me because this is the exact moment that my phone screen decides to freeze.

“does that say ‘how to flirt?’” Dawson chuckles and i bite my lip, giving up and slamming my phone face down onto my lap as the table bursts into laughter.

i’m blushing like a mad woman, squeezing my eyes shut as i bury my face into my hands for the second time that night.

“aww y/n, you really let John get to you, huh?” Luke teases, and i feel like i could cry of embarrassment.

everything i do is tragic.

suddenly my seat is moving, scooting further to my right, before an arm is spindling around my waist. i let my hands lower just slightly to peer up at Jack, who wears a happy grin, his cheeks tinged pink.

he glances down at me, smiling even wider when he sees that i’m already looking at him.

it’s like a cat’s got my tongue, too stunned by the overwhelming mortification of the situation to even get a word out to explain or defend myself.

but Jack doesn’t seem to mind, pulling me into his body until my head is against his collarbone as he changes the subject; bringing up a story about he and his older brother trying to free an infant Luke from his crib when they were younger.

i’m quiet as the group speaks, most of them speaking over each other, which in turn makes others get louder to try and be heard. my head aches and i need a break.

“i’m gonna go to the bathroom.” i whisper, freeing myself from Jack’s hold as he nods in understanding.

“okay. are you okay?” i give him a small smile, reassuring him that i’m fine before i leave.

my hands rest upon the bathroom sink, my eyes glaring into my reflection in the wonky bar mirror.

“get it together.” i try and tell myself, but it comes out in more of a whine.

why am i like this?

i run my hands through my hair, making sure it’s volumized, and heave out a sigh before i make my way back out of the restroom to join the table again.

on my way back, i can’t help but smile at the sight of Jack laughing with his friends.

he seems so carefree.

but i should’ve been watching where i was going, because halfway to the table, i’m tripping over someone’s heeled foot, landing on my knee on the hard ground.

“oh shit!” Jack’s voice echoes over the loudness of the music and bar-goers, and i can hear multiple chairs screech across the floor. “y/n, are you okay?”

oh god, i wanna curl up and die.

“yeah, i’m fine.” my voice is wavering and weak, so over making an idiot of myself tonight.

Jack appears in front of me, holding his hands out to help me up. his skin is soft as i slide my hands into his, allowing him to pull me up to my feet.

his friends stand behind him, a couple biting back laughs, but the others wide eyed in concern.

i let Jack guide me back to the table, and when i sit down, he’s kneeling in front of me, inspecting my knee for any immediate bruising or marks.

i sigh and he looks up at me, worry settled into his expression.

“that was a hell of a tumble.” Timo snickers, but he sobers up quickly as his eyes meet Jack’s, “you’re okay though, right?”

“physically? yes. mentally? questionable.” the table laughs, but i didn’t mean to joke, which only makes me press my lips together.

Jack finally deems my knee okay, settling back into his seat and letting his arm rest over the back of my chair.

“what were we talking about?” Jack asks, effectively diverting the attention away from my fall and back to the conversation from while i was gone.

“cheating.” John states, taking a sip from his beer.

i let out a little laugh, thinking he was just joking, but i sober up as i realize nobody else is.

“oh, you were serious.” i bite my lip as he nods.

“right!” Luke exclaims, “so people are saying he cheated on her?”

“yeah,” Dawson nods, and i’m a bit lost, “which i don’t understand, because all he did was hold hands with the other girl. we don’t know anything other than that. holding hands could have so many different meanings.”

i take a big gulp of my drink, listening intently as the guys debate cheating and what counts as cheating.

“i think, if one of you guys cheated on your girlfriend, i might ‘accidentally’ knock your teeth out on the ice.” Nico tells them, making the guys and i laugh. “i’m serious, you’d be bag skating until you physically drop from exhaustion.”

and like word vomit, before i can stop myself, i’m speaking, “my friend recently cheated on her boyfriend, and i can’t tell if i should tell him or let him find out on his own.”

their heads turn to me and i shrink in my seat as i realize what just escaped my lips.

“oh my god, i’m not supposed to be telling that to anyone.” my hand covers my mouth, and a few of the guys laugh at my actions.

“you should definitely tell him.” John shrugs, “he deserves to know.”

“i thought so too, but if i do tell him, does that make me a horrible friend?” the guys all start shouting different things along the same lines.

some telling me it doesn’t make me a bad friend, while others telling me that i shouldn’t be friends with her anymore anyways.

“has she done anything else?” Luke asks, and i scrunch my nose.

“cheating wise, no: just one drunken kiss with some guy.” i start. “but she told him she was sick to get out of meeting his parents.”

i clap my hand over my mouth again, shocked that these secrets are just tumbling out of me.

“fuck, i shouldn’t be telling you guys these things.”

the guys cackle and Dawson changes the subject, apparently just remembering a story of something that happened to him back home over the summer.

i remain quiet for the next fifteen or so minutes, just listening as the guys go back and forth, telling stories of their summers, until i feel Jack’s hand on my shoulder.

“hey, i’m heading home, do you want me to drop you off at your house?”

i eagerly accept his offer, happily willing to leave now and avoid paying for an uber during surge pricing. the both of us bid goodbye to his teammates and his brother, who says he’ll hitch a ride back to the apartment with Dawson, before we head out to his car.

i smile as he opens the car door for me, allowing me to climb in before he shuts the door again and jogs around the front of the car, slipping into the drivers side.

i don’t need to give him my address, our second date having been at my apartment, so i just clasp my hands tightly together in my lap, both of his on his steering wheel.

“i had fun tonight.” he tells me as we pull up to my apartment building.

“yeah, your friends are nice.”

not a complete lie. they are nice, i’m just not sure i got along with them, or more so, that they liked me.

“can i walk you up?” i accept his request and he exits the car, running around it to open my door before i get the chance to.

i mentally prepare myself on the silent elevator up to my apartment, readying myself to have him tell me that he doesn’t think we fit.

i was awkward tonight, breaking a glass, stumbling over my words, tripping, googling things that should be common knowledge, and telling secrets i had no business telling.

i couldn’t think of any worse ways to ruin a potential relationship.

when we reach my apartment, Jack stops me in front of my door, and before he gets the chance to belittle my dignity any further than i, myself, already have, i’m speaking up.

“i completely understand if you don’t wanna continue this.” i sigh, finding sudden interest in my shoes. “i made a complete fool of myself tonight.”

“why would you think i don’t wanna see you again?” he sounds hurt, his finger hooking under my chin and pulling my head up to look at him.

i chuckle lowly, “you can’t take me anywhere. every time i go out, it’s social suicide.”

“so you’re a bit clumsy and you need time to click with my friends and their humor, so what?” he shrugs, “i think you’re cute. and i’m incredibly honored that you wanted to flirt with me.”

i groan, my face flushing, and i tip my head back to look up at the ceiling.

“oh god, that was so embarrassing.” i whine.

“it was sweet.” Jack chuckles, pulling me into his chest. his arms wrap around me and i melt into his embrace, his chin resting on top of my head.

“i really like you, y/n. and tonight may not have gone the way you would’ve liked, and i can respect that, you’re allowed to feel that way, but i really liked it. i got a chance to figure out more about you and what you’re like, and it only solidified that i’d really like to keep getting to know you, see where this could lead.”

my head snaps up to look him in the eyes, “you would?”

he giggles at my actions, nodding his head. “yeah, i would.”

his head dips down and i suck in a breath as his lips near mine.

“can i kiss you?” he questions, and i nod.

“yes, please.”

his lips slot against mine, moving in sync and pulling me even closer to him if it’s possible. his hands slide up to cup the back of my neck, his tongue tracing my bottom lip and i part my lips to allow him entrance.

what starts slow and passionate, turns into something hot and heavy. i huff as he pulls away, my lips chasing after his and making him smile.

“do you wanna come inside?” i ask him, my voice low and sultry, and his eyes darken almost instantly.

he smirks, answering only by taking my keys from my hands and unlocking my door, leading me into my own apartment.

“ya know, i don’t think you needed that google search. you’re pretty good at luring me in all on your own.”

[heartsofminds]

Blooming (III)

“Scoot over then.”

(Y/N)’s eyes almost explode out of her skull. “You want me to what?”

“Jesus, chick. It was just a suggestion,” he chides, “Getting your panties all in a twist because I won’t sleep but then won’t let me sleep? Kinda counterintuitive, don’t you think?” or Rooster gets caught up from a hospital bracelet and she finally gets that kiss she wanted. 

Warning: Contains curse words and mentions of an age gap. 

A/N: Welcome back to part three of the Blooming series! I’m so incredibly excited to share this with you all. Thank you much for your continued support and patience. Stay tuned for more of the Blooming-verse as part four will be out soon! But for now, enjoy 10.8k words about the story of Rooster Bradshaw facing his relationship fears. 

Blooming, Blooming II

i. 

(Y/N) considers herself to be a private person. 

She’s an extremely private person, actually. But that’s only until someone wants to get information out of her and gives her that look. You know, the pointed one with the raised eyebrows and the slight smirk, the corners of their mouths serving as picks to the lock of all her inner thoughts. 

She swore she could give Ella Enchanted a run for her money by how quickly she would fess up if simply asked for the truth. 

(Y/N) partly blames herself but mostly blames her parents. Growing up in a military household with a greatly admired and high-ranked father meant that honesty and excellence were never not expected from her. And after the dissolution of her parents’ marriage, growing up with her helicopter mother who didn’t believe in keeping secrets put a nail in the coffin for her sub rosa thoughts and actions. 

Her high school friends joked around with her saying that they could never sneak out or drink or do anything outside of the agenda she had told her mother before leaving the house because the minute that someone with authority asked her for the truth, (Y/N)’s mouth was running a mile a minute with the hurried apologies following suit after. She simply couldn’t help it, and her upbringing paired with her innate desire to always do good and always do what was expected of her cemented her truth telling tendencies even farther. 

And so when she comes home in a stormy mood after being out past three AM and slams Penny’s guest bedroom door shut (waking Amelia up in the process who had school in the morning), her god sister knew something was up and was determined to get to the bottom of it. 

Amelia is mischievous and so fucking precocious. She had been raised around adults all her life so how could she not be? 

She didn’t know what the kids table at Thanksgiving looked like or what watching cartoons on a Saturday morning felt like. Hell, (Y/N) doesn’t think Amelia has ever played with a goddamn Barbie doll ever in her life, let alone relished in the thrill of going to a Build-a-Bear Workshop. 

She, much like her twenty-one year old god sister, liked the more “classic” things in life. They liked Raisin Bran and sudoku puzzles. They liked older 80s movies in comparison to their more modern remakes. They liked playing Scrabble and checkers. 

And while (Y/N)’s “refined” taste (which, the more she thought about it, really happened to emulate all that of an eighty year old man who resided in a nursing home) came from her own father and didn’t make an evident appearance until she was an older teenager, Amelia had always been this way. 

Because of that, Amelia was a bit of an odd ball to her peers but (Y/N) loved it. Her parents had split when she was eight and because of her father’s age and her mother’s anxiety towards parenting, they never dared having another kid after (Y/N). So when her Aunt Penny announced that she was having a baby,(Y/N) was more than ecstatic. 

She still remembers damn near exploding from joy when she found out Amelia was going to be a girl. 

Amelia was the closest thing (Y/N) has to a sibling and despite the seven year age gap, they’re so extremely close. It’s unusual; to have someone so much younger than you somehow be on the same page all the time but with (Y/N) and Amelia, there are no questions or genuine thinking required to read each other’s minds. 

They just knew how to. 

And despite how much (Y/N) adores Amelia or how much Amelia looks up to (Y/N), they irritate each other like no other. Getting under each other’s skin is each of their favorite pastimes and in true sister fashion, they go from ruthless screaming matches to braiding each other’s hair while sharing funny stories about their day. 

When the fighting gets really bad, (Y/N) usually drives to the closest Dunkin Donuts and buys Amelia her usual; wordlessly leaving it outside of her bedroom door. Amelia usually slips a note under (Y/N)’s door with a “One free ‘Yell at me’ coupon,” which makes (Y/N) laugh and embrace her in a huge hug stating, “I only yell with love,” which makes both of them bust out laughing at how ridiculous they both are. 

Even though Amelia is rather mature for a fourteen year old and her and (Y/N) basically share the same brain cells (even though they both joke about letting the other have ownership over them the day of a huge exam), she’s still a kid. And boy, does Amelia do all the shit that kid sisters tend to do. 

She doesn’t mean to be, but Amelia is fucking nosy. She’s always hated being out of the loop. In her humble opinion (which, okay she does admit that she’s only fourteen and that her credentials in the age category aren’t looking too hot), being the last to know is the deadliest punch in the gut. Being blindsided is the absolute worst, and if she can do anything to prevent it, she will. 

So as she lies in bed at three fifteen in the morning because (Y/N) came home pissed and slammed her door shut, Amelia knew something was up. (Y/N) had big emotions, but not big actions. Someone or something must have had to really piss her off for her to act that way and because she’s so goddamn private, Amelia knows that she won’t spill unless she absolutely has to and she won’t unless she’s made to sweat. 

And that’s what Amelia plans to do. 

The younger girl is spitting her toothpaste in the sink of the bathroom that stands between her bedroom and the guest bedroom when she notices that (Y/N)’s sour mood carries over to that morning. 

The door is closed and there’s no sign of life other than the faint sound of ocean waves in the background that (Y/N) has to put on in order to calm her mind to be able to sleep. It’s a quarter till eight, and (Y/N) being in bed still is extremely odd.

Amelia knows that (Y/N) is usually up and awake by now; having done her morning run or sunrise yoga or whatever the hell she usually does before Amelia gets ready to leave for school. She’s usually sitting on the porch with her mom by now, those ceramic mugs that have some cringey ass quip printed on them and sipping raspberry tea while they gab about life and college and boys. 

But she isn’t, and Amelia almost convinces herself it’s a good idea to knock and see if her god sister is awake before she chickens out. Her thoughts are interrupted by (Y/N) swinging the door open harshly. 

Her hair is thrown up messily and the dark circles under her eyes say that the ocean wave white noise she had on did little to assist her into slumber. The collar of the gray USD Law sweatshirt she has on sat crooked on her shoulder and her sleeping shorts are twisted. Another noticeable sign that it was a more than rough night is shown through the one sock on (Y/N)’s foot and the other being bare. 

She rubs at her face with her sweatshirt sleeve and shoots daggers at Amelia with her eyes; as if she was saying “I dare you to fucking speak to me right now” to her god sister. (Y/N) brushes by without as much of a wave or a “Good morning.”

So yeah, she’s fucking pissed and cranky. 

And Amelia is clever but sometimes her curiosity goes against her own best interest. Was it smart to follow (Y/N) to the kitchen when she had just woken up on the wrong side of the bed? Absolutely not, but Amelia always claimed that smart was something that she is occasionally, and not something that she is all the time. 

Also, she just had to get to the bottom of this. 

The honey-blonde teenager holds her breath as she waltzes into the kitchen, finding (Y/N) aggressively shaking the bag of Special K cereal into a ceramic bowl. Amelia goes to the fridge and gets out the almond milk. She shakes it and puts it next to (Y/N) who mumbles out a weak, “Thanks.” before filling her bowl and stabbing at her cereal with her spoon. 

Amelia leans on the counter, eyes lasered in on the back of the older girl’s head. She was gonna get her to talk and the only way to do so is to corner her. But right now her god sister’s rage emulates that of a rabid raccoon and she’s animal control with no equipment. 

She knows she’ll get her head bit off, but the void she has in her life that’s absent of her own drama desperately needs to be filled and she’ll be damned before she’s left out of anything going on with the people living in her own house. 

“Are you gonna fucking speak, Meals? Or are you just gonna stare laser beams in the back of my fucking skull like a dumbass?” (Y/N) grumbles and she knows that what she said is mean and uncalled for, but she’s just really not in the mood for her kid sister’s shenanigans today. 

Bradley Bradshaw really pissed her off last night and the feelings she feels are burning her up from the inside out. (Y/N)’s hurt, embarrassed, even because who the fuck does that? Who flirts and flirts and flirts and then unloads all their childhood stories before almost kissing her goodnight and then dipping out because she’s “too young”? 

“Too young” her ass. She’s a woman, for Christ’s sake. A smart, likable, kind (okay, well maybe not right now with how she just answered Amelia, but usually she is) young woman who is going to law school and is a college graduate. 

She’s not too young. Amelia is too young; especially to be butting her nose into (Y/N)’s business the way she is. 

(Y/N) knows that Amelia is just dying to ask her what’s wrong; hopeful to get a taste of whatever drama is brewing in the older girl’s life. She can see it now - the slightly upturned eyebrows and the small open mouthed gasp that Amelia does when she’e intently listening. She also folds her hands together in front of her and hangs on to every word that’s being said because Amelia ponders long and hard over what she hears and psychoanalyzes everything about it. 

(Y/N) would say that she hates that about Amelia but can never find herself to because she knows that she’s the same exact way. Her god sister’s nosy tendencies are simply learned behavior. 

So as she stabs at her cereal and almost grinds her teeth as she chews because of how angry she is, she tries to find it within herself to withhold taking out her anger on Amelia. She almost throws her a bone and lets her in on what had happened, but realized that she’d have to omit so many details that Amelia would never be satisfied and would keep picking and picking and picking until she finally broke and (Y/N)’s just not ready for that. She’s not letting her fourteen year old god sister know how embarrassed she is. She’s not letting her know how little sleep she got over the entire situation or how irritated and disrespected she feels.

“Wow. Aren’t you a goddamn ray of sunshine this morning,” Amelia snarls back, already having enough of (Y/N)’s piss poor attitude. (Y/N) may be pissed, but she’s not the one who got woken up at three in the morning because of some hissy fitted rage party. . 

(Y/N) drops the cereal off of her spoon back into the abyss of milk. She sets her utensil down before turning her head to the side, adjusting her vision so she can see Amelia a little bit better. 

“Language. You know how your mom and I feel about you cussing,” is all she can manage to say and seriously, when did Amelia get so sassy? 

Amelia rolls her eyes. She may be younger than (Y/N), but she’s certainly not a child. She’s always been told she’s mature for her age, so why is her god sister acting like the seven year age gap is a big deal now? And besides, she already has a mom and a dad. 

She doesn’t need (Y/N) trying to fill in for what’s missing.

“So it’s okay for you to say an entire dictionary of cuss words but the second I say some “is it or not” cuss word you’re lecturing me?” 

(Y/N) rolls her eyes. She’s totally, absolutely, positively not in the mood today. “If you’re trying to be nosy and play Nancy Drew or whatever you’re doing, please don’t try it,” she snaps, “M’not putting up with your bullshit today, Meals. Go find something else to do.”  

Amelia raises her eyebrows. “Seriously?” she quips, “You wanna be like that with me when I’m not the one who pissed you off?” 

(Y/N) groans because great; not only is she pissed, but now her appetite is ruined. “You’re pissing me off right now because you won’t butt out. Leave me the fuck alone.” She slides the stool away from the bar top counter and puts her bowl in the sink. 

She’ll just come back and clean it later. She just seriously needs to get away from Amelia right now because she’ll explode if she’s around her pestering god sister for any longer. 

“And you’re pissing me off because someone obviously peed in your Cheerios and you’re making it everyone else’s problem.” 

(Y/N) rolls her eyes again and starts to stalk back up the stairs. She knows that she’s being childish and she can’t believe that she’s about to argue with a fucking middle schooler, but she’s standing her ground. The last thing she needs is Amelia teasing her relentlessly about Bradley Bradshaw and how he basically curved the fuck out of her the night prior. 

Amelia follows her. (Y/N)’s not getting away from her without any answers just yet; especially taking into account that she really just wants to know what’s wrong with (Y/N) and how she can help. She may be nosy, but she also has a conscience.

“Can’t you just leave me alone?” (Y/N) damn near growls. God, why did Amelia have to be so damn stubborn? “I’m obviously mad and you’re not making my day any better!” 

“Can’t you just not get all pissy and aggravated and slam doors at fucking-” (Y/N) shoots her a death glare before Amelia corrects herself. 

The cussing, right.

“Freaking. I meant freaking. You can’t just be all mad and slam doors at freaking three AM when I have school and you know I was asleep,” Amelia continues, “That’s just crappy, (Y/N), and I would never do that to you.” 

(Y/N) stands at the top of the stairs and angrily huffs. Amelia has a point and a pretty fair one at that but she’d rather die than back down now. That’s (Y/N)’s problem in a nutshell; she’s too goddamn hardheaded but also strives on being a people pleaser and if you asked her (or anyone on the street, really) that would be considered a combination for disaster. 

“And I would never put my nose in business that’s clearly yours. Fuck off, Meals.” 

(Y/N) stomps back to her bedroom and slams the door even harder than she had the night previously. She’s so enraged and she feels so stupid. She’s never been this embarrassed over a boy since she was a freshman in high school and she knows she’s being childish and she knows that what she said to Amelia isn’t fair or kind in the slightest, but she can’t help but fall back into that “being mad at the world” teenage narrative she had thought she left behind. 

Hell, she’s only not been a teenager for two years but the amount of growth that she’s done since then has just drastically taken a decline. She feels like she’s sixteen again and fighting with her mother about a stupid boy who convinced her to sneak out or break her curfew or lie about where she was going or whatever melodramatic teenage drama bullshit that seems like a big deal at the time but ceases to pose a real threat the minute you move out of your parents’ home. 

Amelia groans in frustration before turning on her heel. She’s not sure if her irritation is because of her lack of sleep or because (Y/N) is being, for lack of better term, a total bitch right now. The teenager slings her backpack over her shoulder, and stomps obnoxiously to her front door. 

(Y/N) lays on her stomach and puts back on the ocean wave sounds she had turned on late last night and her stomach drops when she realizes that that was the background noise to the memory that had Bradley Bradshaw cupping her face and telling her that she’s too young. 

ii. 

Jake Seresin had really done it this time. 

It wasn’t a secret that him and Bradley weren’t the greatest of friends. 

Well, actually, scratch that. 

Rooster and Hangman weren’t friends at all and that fact was made so obviously apparent to anyone who found themselves in the same room with the two pilots for longer than fifteen seconds. 

The constant banter and low blows, the “joking” that wasn’t really a joke, the more than aggressively sarcastic handshakes and back pats; it was a limbo contest of who could go the lowest without one of them jumping up and trying to beat the brakes off the other. 

It’s stupid, they know, but what else is expected when you’ve been told you were great all your life? Competition obviously rises and “survival of the fittest” starts to kick in and the sooner you can push someone out, the sooner you can be pushed into the vacancy that person had left. 

Jake is charismatic and can get anyone to do his bidding if he so much as put his hand on their shoulder and stared deep into their eyes. He has a talent for getting anyone to follow him, but he’s selfish and extremely reckless. Jumping off the bridge is certainly his idea until his loyal followers do so, and then he bails after realizing how stupid the idea was in the first place. He’s a leader who never asks for a crowd, and that’s evident once he leaves them hanging. 

Hence, the call sign, Hangman, but that doesn’t take a genius to decipher.

And call Bradley old school but that’s definitely not how military men should be and it drives him absolutely insane. 

Bradley is more calm and is the literal epitome of a dad, but a good one. He listens intently and gives everyone his full attention. He’s stubborn but adaptable. He takes his time and plays it safe always, even when he knows that he should take a risk every now and then. He’s always looking out for other people and is constantly sacrificing his happiness and successes for the well-being of others. 

Bradley is a skilled pilot; the patience and meticulous practice made him so whereas Jake was good because he was a natural (by some freakish fluke of nature). The difference between the two is their confidence and Bradley can’t wrap his head around how Jake gets a thrill from putting himself and his team in constant danger, and Jake can’t understand why Bradley acts as if he’ll spontaneously combust every time his F-18 goes up in the air. 

Bradley has a tendency to parent everyone else and he never means to, and it always just sort of happens, but being told what to do (which makes joining the Navy an odd career path for him) is one of Jake’s biggest pet peeves. It’s just annoying, Hangman thinks, how Rooster corrals everyone and is constantly playing dad. 

Jake already has a father; he doesn’t need a guy who’s only four years older than him trying to parent him. 

Their rivalry started as just friction. They have vastly different personalities and it’s not like any of that isn’t okay. It wasn’t like either of them had to be best friends after graduation. But then Jake realized that “Holy fuck,” Rooster was good and then Rooster realized that “Holy shit,” Jake was good.

And the innate, primal need to succeed, to prove who was better and who would come out on top, just started one day and it never stopped. It was a conscious effort at first, but then it spiraled into a muscle memory-like performance. 

They competed over everything. They competed over who could get their flight gear on the fastest. They competed on who could lift heavier and for longer durations of time. They even fucking competed to see who could complete a crossword puzzle fastest.  

Jake and Bradley know that they’re ridiculous and that the dick measuring contests that they always seemed to be having were quite childish for grown men. They shouldn’t be fighting like rowdy first graders at recess after eating a lunch packed full of sugar, but they can’t help it and they would rather die than lose and let the other having bragging rights.

But then somewhere along the road the competition changed into an uncontrollable beast; a means to be watching each other constantly to see what could make the other tick and thus a new game was created: Who could make who lose their composure first? 

To be totally fair, Bradley started the war by moving Jake’s things one day after a training session. He hadn’t meant to move the items in a way that would’ve set the pilot off, but he did and then Jake came barreling in and freaking the fuck out because his water bottle and shirt were placed in a different stall than he had originally put them. The thought to fess up and apologize definitely crossed Bradley’s mind, but he withheld. 

He liked seeing Jake frantic and upset. He liked knowing that he could toy with him and that he could make the blond sweat if he truly wanted. Bradley was raised better than that, he had known, and he’s sure his mother and father were looking down on him with some disappointment about being so mean, but fuck it. 

Jake Seresin was like a canker sore when you’re eating salt and vinegar chips; annoying and downright painful to be around. 

Over the years and time spent freakishly observing each other, they had learned quite a bit. Bradley hated the sound of teeth scraping against utensils and Jake made sure to find a seat near Bradley but never next to him, and would bite the hell out of his fork whenever he ate his dinner. Jake loathed the sound of styrofoam rubbing together, so whenever Bradley would get handed a styrofoam to go box, he always made sure to be around Jake before opening and closing the box repeatedly. Jake knew he was doing it on purpose but couldn’t help but wonder how the hell someone could find the willpower to open and shut a fucking takeaway box over and over and over again. 

And yes it was annoying and yes it garnered many eye rolls from their friends, but it was entertaining and always kept the pair busy. If anything, it was like a big brother, little brother relationship; irritating the hell out of each other but never going too far. 

Except this wasn’t a big brother, little brother relationship and that they were both, in fact, fighting to be the big brother because big brothers always have more respect.

And they usually never went too far until one day, Jake just did. 

He was raised by a more than conservative Baptist pastor in Texas, and Jake knew that his parents would have a cow if they ever pieced together that he was having premarital sex; let alone, premarital sex that was with someone else’s girlfriend. He was raised better and he knew it, but he was also raised in a family full of sisters and if there’s one thing he learned from having five older ones, everything was an eye-for-an-eye. 

So when Bradley off-handedly joked about fucking Jake’s ex-girlfriend one day, he couldn’t help but let the comment grind his gears until his gears started turning on the perfect way to get back at the brunette pilot. 

While what Bradley said was a joke and was exactly just that, Jake was plotting, and he wasn’t joking in the slightest. So the true hatred and resentment started when a leggy red-head (That amazed Jake with how flexible she was because goddamn, girls can bend like that?) was scratching at his back and calling him “daddy” in a supply closet, and he can truly say that that exact moment was when he knew that there were no limits to the competition he and Bradley Bradshaw had. 

“An eye for an eye” it was, and “an eye for an eye” it would always be. 

So when he notices the tension between Captain Mitchell and Rooster, Hangman can’t help but find him studying the two. He notices the golfball like bulge that emerges from Rooster’s jaw whenever he has to speak to Maverick. He notices how Maverick’s eyes nervously dart across Rooster’s face; as if he’s searching for answers in the younger man’s features without having to ask him questions. 

Jake is always looking and always scheming; even going as far to ask Phoenix if she thinks Bradley is acting weird to which she rolls her eyes and says, “If this is you trying to get under his skin, please leave me out of it. Had enough of you two dumbasses in flight school. I don’t need this shit now.” And then she slammed her locker shut before slinging her duffle bag over her shoulder and leaving the base for the day. 

But little to her knowledge did she know that her answer gave Jake all the information he needed. Phoenix had a protective streak to her, but she never stuck up for someone unless she felt they couldn’t do it themselves. So with the aggravated body language coming from Rooster and Maverick’s interactions in the past two days they had been training and Natasha’s head biting whenever he asked her a simple question, Jake Seresin had an sparkle in his eye and his smirk saying that he was up to no good. 

He snoops around the headquarters for more evidence to further solidify his suspicion and what he finds truly falls upon him like a lucky accident. 

It manifests itself as a labeled picture on the wall with Maverick Mitchell and Goose Bradshaw, arms slung across the back of each other’s necks along with Admiral Kazansky and various other pilots whom he’d encountered from his time floating from base to base; the Top Gun class of 1986. 

And holy fucking shit, did Seresin have some ammunition for Bradshaw. 

He likes to play dumb; like all he happens to be is a pretty face with a hot body but no one is that dense to not give Hangman credit for being intelligent. So he waits to unleash his findings until he knows Rooster is at one of his most vulnerable moments. 

He waits and waits and waits and then he strikes, which sends the entire fleet of pilots into a fit of gasps and has Bradley beet red and ready to wring his neck. 

Jake Seresin wasn’t afraid of many things, but the absolute anger and rage encapsulated in Bradley Bradshaw’s face was a look he had never seen before; even when he had been caught fucking that red head all those moons ago. This was different and he swears Bradley’s eyes are completely black with fury and his body emitting so much heat that Jake feels like he’s on fire himself the minute the other pilot has him by his collar. 

The knife was already plunged and it was too late to back out now; no matter how truly terrified he was of Bradley in that moment. He knows he should quit, but a job half done isn’t a job well done. 

And in true asshole-ish Hangman fashion, he has to be calm and collected and to twist the knife even more he adds a, “You know he’s not cut out for this mission,” which makes Bradley completely seethe and molt into one with his anger. 

Jake softly grins to himself as soon as the altercation is broken up and Maverick announces that they’re done for the day. He knows that he won and Bradley lost. 

Bradley can feel it too and he’s so inexplicably pissed, but nothing makes him feel more angered than the deceased father he never had the pleasure of getting to know and the stand-in, who let him down and let an entire fifteen years pass with Bradley thinking he didn’t believe in him. 

iii. 

(Y/N) likes to tell herself that she doesn’t hold grudges; that she’s understanding and empathetic and “noble.” 

Her entire life was wrapped up in achieving the nirvana of selflessness and she doesn’t know if it’s because she was raised by such charitable and giving people or if she was born with some freakish gene that always made herself put her well-being last no matter what. 

She was the kindergartener who would cry in solidarity whenever a kid scraped their knee on the playground. She was the third-grader who donated all her birthday presents to kids whose families were in need. She was the middle schooler who still invited everyone in the class to her birthday parties (even if they were weird or cruel or just downright annoying, but she could never find herself rejecting anyone). She was the high schooler who offered everyone rides home after soccer practice despite her mother yelling at her for “wasting” her gas. 

She was the girl who was always said to be kind and helpful with a sweet heart and bright eyes. 

But here she is on a Tuesday night at 11 PM about to crush a shot glass in her bare hand because of some stupid comment some pilot said about her age. If she could punch Bradley Bradshaw square in the face and break his stupid aviator sunglasses (and maybe his nose too, but then she figures that that’s too much harm to wish on someone), she would with no hesitation.

The main problem she’s finding with directing her anger is that Bradley wasn’t rude about it. What he said about her being too young wasn’t some idiotic flirtatious remark that came off creepy. It wasn’t an insult. It wasn’t even a true comment, and from the way he said it, it almost seemed like it was a thought he had had that was never supposed to grace her ears; as if he was thinking hard and his thoughts were too loud for his liking. 

There are better things to be upset about and she knows this, but she still can’t help but feel the hot anger in her chest. It’s the same kind of anger that flourishes when you’re just on the cusp of getting what you want and it’s pulled away from you; taunting you as the picture of it grows blurrier and blurrier and you’re left screaming because you’re so damn frustrated; because you were so fucking close. 

And yeah, (Y/N) does admit she’s being dramatic, but she can’t remember ever wanting someone’s attention so badly before. The last boy who she found enticing cheated on her after two and a half years together, and that was during the summer of her Junior year of college. Nevertheless, the disrespect still hurts her feelings if she thinks about it too hard and the lack of sex she’s had since then was almost insulting. 

So sue her if she was hoping Bradley could provide her with a few orgasms and some cuddles. He also wasn’t a bad storyteller and despite her anger, she wasn’t blind. He was hot as hell, too. 

But she just can’t get over the way he held her cheek that night. The way that his hazel eyes found her’s; searching for a reason to say what he said. She can still feel the gentle squeeze of his palm on her face. Her ex-boyfriend had tried to make that their “thing” when they had first started dating and it always made her uncomfortable. 

He was too rough, too unthoughtful, and ultimately too unfaithful. She thinks her feeling borderline disgusted by her ex cupping her cheek was a foreshadowing of him cheating on her. It was ironic how he was holding her face with that same hand and then smushing the face of another girl into a pillow soon after. 

But Bradley was different. 

His actions were slow and thoughtful. He was gentle, almost like a child holding his mother’s good China and not wanting to drop it. Bradley was cautious and sweet and that was something that (Y/N) had never truly experienced with a man; no matter how interested or in love with her she thought he was. 

She was dying for him to kiss her and dead she is because he didn’t. 

“You’re too young.” 

It echoes in her head and she finds her face growing hotter and her knuckles getting more white the harder she squeezed the shot glass she had in her hand. Her age and Bradley’s disdain for it rings in her ears as if it's a fact and it is one, which is the shittiest part about it all. 

“You’re too young,” patronizes her mind as if she wasn’t successful and brilliant and mature. 

“You’re too young,” taunts her and embarrasses her, as if she’s ten years old again and being banished to the kids’ table at Thanksgiving. 

“You’re too young,” screams at her as if her lack of experience and lack of opening herself up to the world is the reasoning behind why things never seemed to ever work out for her. 

And the pressure of the thoughts her mind is bogging her brain down with starts to shut off her oxygen. She can’t see the empty bar. She can’t feel the shot glass in her hand. She can’t even feel her heart beating. 

Her knuckles are white from trying to hold on for some explanation, some reason, why she can’t seem to shake this statement and there’s no other thoughts floating around in her brain that allow her to dislodge it. 

“Fuck you, Bradley Bradshaw,” she thinks. 

And she squeezes her hands together so tight that she’s snapped out of her hateful thoughts when she feels a shooting pain in her left hand and oh fuck. 

The scarlet flowing from her palm sends her into a panic and her face turns white. 

Holy shit, there’s no way this is happening. 

There’s no way this is happening at 11:15 PM on a Tuesday night while she’s closing at the Hard Deck with no one else around. 

“Penny is gonna fucking skin me alive,” she thinks, the blood dripping down her baby blue tube top-covered torso the closer she pushes her wound to her chest. The fabric is stained purple from how quickly her blood is absorbing into it. 

Napkins, she needs napkins. 

And she frantically scans the bar for a table that has a dispenser on it, knowing that Penny doesn’t keep any at the bar top. Her eyes look around almost comically before landing on the man of the goddamn hour: Bradley fuckface Bradshaw who has his eyes wide and his mouth gaped open. 

“Holy shit! What did you do?” 

iv.

Bradley knows he should stop coming to the Hard Deck when they close, but he needs to see Penny. 

He figures showing up unannounced at her house isn’t the best way to go; especially considering he hadn’t been there in close to fifteen years. It doesn’t matter if he sends her a Mother’s Day card each year or knows that she would never turn him away. Something about it doesn’t sit right with his soul. 

He tends to not do a lot of things if it doesn’t settle right in his stomach. 

He’s usually calm. He’s usually collected. He usually has it all together but ever since he received orders to come back to Miramar, he’s been losing it. The bags underneath his eyes are prominent and he’s been averaging a total of four hours and twenty-two minutes of sleep each night (per the Sleep Cycle app on his phone which he knows isn’t very accurate but he can certainly feel the exhaustion so he’ll let it slide). 

Bradley was really set off today with Jake and Maverick and the lack of sleep he’s been experiencing. He needed guidance. Truthfully, he needed his mother and he would have rather died than admit that when she was still alive and he was a prideful eighteen-year-old, but here he is now at thirty-five with an ache in his chest and a hole he’s not quite figured out how to fill. 

Penny Benjamin, his old babysitter, is the closest thing he had to a mother now and he just has to find her. 

So Bradley barrels into the Hard Deck and slams the door open on his quest to find Penny and figure out why the fuck he’s feeling this way. 

The jukebox has been turned off and all the stools are stacked on the tables. The Hard Deck is a sorry excuse for a hangout spot at this hour and the smell of draft beer and scotch that usually soaked the atmosphere was gone; dried up like water spilled on the sidewalk on a hot day. 

Bradley wrinkles his nose, using his curved pointer finger to roughly rub the end of it; a nervous tick he developed when he was a kid. 

He doesn’t know why he feels so nervous to see Penny. She was comforting and sweet; the best kind of woman and someone who Bradley could say he trusted with his entire life. He used to say the same about his Uncle Maverick, but like they say, things change. 

And things change indeed when he bursts through the doors and sees Penny nowhere in sight. 

Well, fuck. (Y/N) is Penny’s replacement, he guesses. 

The avalanche of actions tumbles down on him the minute he sees her; baby blue tube top sitting perfectly pretty on her body and her shoulders slightly shiny from either sweat or leftover tanning oil she may have put on earlier in the day. The sight makes Bradley’s mouth water with want and dry with embarrassment, simultaneously. His eyes drink in the sight of her face and his palms can feel the ghost of her cheek he held the night before. 

(Y/N) has a frown on her face and is dissociating. The shot glass in her hand and the purple rag she has in the other serve as simple distractions for her hands. Bradley takes in how she doesn’t look up at him and how white her knuckles are - almost like she’s holding onto dear life to keep her from spazzing out. 

And then it clicks that she’s probably angry with him and Bradley, despite his better judgment, decides that he needs to do some damage control. 

He’s such a fuck up, he thinks, and he can’t afford to fuck someone else up in the process too.

“(Y/N)?” he asks softly, cautiously approaching the bar top; eyes swimming in her appearance to see if she was okay. 

She doesn’t meet his gaze. She just stares ahead, her fingers gripping the glass in her hand so hard that her arms are shaking. 

“Hey! Are you okay?” Bradley asks again, footsteps approaching her cautiously. 

A small pop, a sound that could be made by someone stepping on some small fragments of glass with their boots on, can be heard and Bradley is just astonished. The crimson falling from her hand gives proof of what she had just done; her eyes widening comically and her face looking solemn like a child who had just been caught stealing cookies from the jar. 

Her face is drained of color and Bradley figures it still hasn’t clicked that he’s in front of her. She clutches her hand to her chest and the fabric of her shirt is covered in blood. Bradley’s never done well with blood and other things like that; almost threw up all over himself whenever he would skin his knees when he was little. 

But his instincts kick in and he lives up to his call sign: Rooster. He’s about to corral her and protect her the best he can. He has to. 

“Holy shit! What did you do?” he yells, rushing towards her. 

She looks at him wide-eyed and no words can rush out of her gaping mouth. She looks fearful and shocked. While he suspects her injury isn’t extremely drastic (okay well getting a shot glass crushed in your hand has to hurt like a bitch, he admits), she’s bleeding a lot and she’ll definitely need stitches. 

“I-I don’t know. Fuck, my hand,” she pauses before turning to him again, “Fuck! Penny’s gonna kill me! I got blood all over the bar. Oh my God, she’s gonna skin me!” 

Rooster shrugs off his Hawaiian shirt and pulls the white tank top underneath off by its straps. He needed to get her something to help her apply pressure and absorb the blood. He knows that the thin, poor excuses for napkins Penny has at the bar won’t do much to help, and asking her to take her tube top off to wrap around her hand would be a little too much. 

She definitely can’t have on a bra with that top. He had been around enough girls in his life to know that for a fact and besides, it wasn’t like he was here to make her uncomfortable purposely. 

“No she won’t,” he comforts. He has his shirt in one hand and folds it vertically to maximize the surface area. 

“Here,” he directs, taking her arm gently and inspecting her wound, and God, did that glass cut fucking deep. 

Two deep cuts carved their way into her left hand and the pools of crimson flowing from them tell Bradley all that he needs to know. 

She indefinitely needs stitches. 

Bradley wraps the tank top around her palm and instructs her to hold it tight. She presses her lips in a faint line and tries to calm herself. 

One deep breath in, one deep breath out. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, the-

“Where’s your purse? I’m taking you to the ER.” 

She narrows her eyes at him. Now he wants to play hero, she thinks. If it weren’t for him, she wouldn’t be in this situation at all. 

“I can drive myself,” she snaps. 

He chuckles and shakes his head and she instantly feels patronized. It was the kind of laugh her babysitters used to do whenever she asked if ten was a grown-up age. Newsflash, it wasn’t and she came to know that pretty quickly, but not before she felt the fury and embarrassment of being chortled at; especially when she had done nothing amusing. 

“Really? You want blood all over your car? And what’re you gonna do about using your turn signals,” he tries to reason, “You don’t have the fingers to do that, chick.” 

And God, does she want to punch him in his stupid, handsome face. 

“Fuck you,” she mumbles underneath her breath. No matter how upset she was, she couldn’t not agree that he had some valid points. Being a bitch got Amelia pissed at her earlier. The last thing she needs is to be left hanging with glass in her hand with no ride home because of her own childish emotions. 

Thank God he didn’t hear her. 

“Where’s your purse? I’m locking up and taking you to the hospital.” She opens her mouth to argue with him again, to insist that she can call an Uber or Penny, but Bradley shuts her down. 

“Non-negotiable.” 

She puts her head down like a scolded puppy and points to the back by the kitchen with her uninjured hand. 

Rooster offers her a warm smile. “Good girl,” he says, patting her shoulder as he walks past her to grab the bag from the back. 

He tosses the keys to his Bronco on the bar top. “If you want, you can start the car. Just promise not to drive off with it?” He offers her a weak smile. 

(Y/N) puffs and exhales her annoyance. “Can’t promise I’ll be there still once you lock up.” 

Bradley knows that she won’t take off. She can be snippy and has proven it to him time and time again with her quick remarks and her attitude toward him right now, but to her core, she’s a good person. She would never intentionally do something like that to anyone; no matter how pissed off they had made her. 

As he hears the front door to the Hard Deck open and close with (Y/N)’s exit, he looks up at the clock. It reads 11:30 PM and fuck, waking up tomorrow is gonna be a pain in the ass, he knows. But he would rather have a late night with her than his own thoughts. 

And yeah, Bradley Bradshaw thinks he can start to get used to the smart ass girl sitting in the passenger seat of his car right now. 

v. 

“Are you planning on buttoning up your shirt anytime soon? I’m sick of the nurses coming by and gawking at you,” (Y/N) gripes, “Giving you all the attention when I’m the one with my hand damn near hanging off.” 

Bradley scoffs. “You’re being dramatic. And besides, this is kind of your own fault. No one told you to turn into the Incredible Hulk and crush a shot glass with your bare hand.” 

The emergency room is bustling with people; moms in labor, car accidents left and right, and people coming in screaming in pain. There’s no way her low “high” maintenance stitches would be taken care of any sooner than later. That was predetermined the minute they decided to drive instead of calling an ambulance. 

It’s nearing 2 AM and (Y/N) is still clutching Rooster’s white (well, dark red now) tank top in her left hand and with a sulky frown on her face. Her ass hurts from the vinyl plastic that serves as an awful mattress that makes up an ER bed. She knows that Bradley is more than uncomfortable from the way he shifts constantly in the mossy blue chair next to her bedside. 

She ignores his statement. What she had done was rather childish and she can’t come to grips with it herself, so what does she look like telling the person who caused her rage-induced tantrum? 

“You’re sunburnt,” she states. That’ll have to do for now. Bradley already knows a lot about her. He doesn’t need to know everything. 

“In a sexy Baywatch kinda way?” he jokingly asks and (Y/N) gives him a soft laugh. 

“No. Your chest is pink,” she continues, “More of a Patrick Star kind of way.” 

“You like it though.” 

“We’re here to fix my hand. Not your self-confidence.” 

Bradley laughs before starting to button his shirt up. “You’re a hoot, chick.” 

(Y/N) raises her eyebrows. In the past two and some hours she’s spent with Bradley Bradshaw (and the various other times she’s been with him, but she’s not sure that those can actually count for something) she’s learned a lot about his mannerisms. 

He’s always tapping his foot or rubbing his hands up and down his thighs when he’s sitting down. He uses old people's jargon. He leans on his right arm more than his left and he’s always checking his watch. When he gets tired he mumbles and then swipes his hand over his face before sitting up straighter. 

A big yawn comes from his pink lips and (Y/N) knows that she should speak up. He has to be up at five AM tomorrow morning for training at six. He should at least be able to go home and get some sleep. 

“Bradley?” she softly asks. 

“Hmm?” he answers, slouching down in his seat a little bit more but instantly shooting up to sit straight. 

(Y/N) chuckles softly and Bradley can’t deny that the sound makes his heart melt the smallest bit. 

“You can go home if you need to. I’ll get stitched up and figure out a ride.” 

Rooster sits up straighter; confusion plaguing his features. “Why would I leave you here?” 

Her eyes widen. Holy shit, he wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon. 

“You have to be up early tomorrow. Just go home. I’m a big girl,” she flexes the small and albeit mushy muscles of her right arm, “I can handle it.” 

“Are you kidding? A shot glass took you out. No way I’m leaving you at the hospital by yourself.” 

And like how it was at the Hard Deck, the look he shoots her tells her that what he said is “non-negotiable.” He was staying, driving her home, and that was final. 

“You need sleep, Bradley. You can’t just pull an all-nighter and then go and operate a plane. That’s just dangerous,” she lectures and Bradley lets out a yawn during her sentence. 

She almost says some snide remark about him being rude and how she’s not that boring but Bradley beats her to fill the silence with his voice. 

“Scoot over then.” 

(Y/N)’s eyes almost explode out of her skull. “You want me to what?” 

“Jesus, chick. It was just a suggestion,” he chides, “Getting your panties all in a twist because I won’t sleep but then won’t let me sleep? Kinda counterintuitive, don’t you think?” 

She’s at a loss for words but he can’t have the final say. No one else could ever have the final say with her. 

“Be my guest,” she says as she scoots over on the ER cot and makes enough space for him to lay down. 

Rooster smirks to himself. He didn’t think that would work, let alone work on her. She doesn’t know it and he sure as hell will never tell her, but his heart was racing during that entire interaction. The rejection would have been rather embarrassing; especially considering they didn’t know how soon she could get stitched up and that he promised to drop her off at home.

He slides onto the bed next to her but he’s too broad. His shoulder is nudging her off the bed and he knows that she’s uncomfortable but is such a giver that she won’t say so and would let him fall asleep like that if he really wanted to. 

But Bradley’s not an asshole (at least he isn’t one consciously) so he speaks up after he clears his throat. 

“Yeah, this isn’t gonna work. Not at all,” he says and turns his head to the side to look at her. Her eyes tell him that “Well no dip, shit.” but he knows that she wouldn’t dare say it out loud. Not right now when she feels indebted to him for driving her to the hospital and staying with her while she waits. 

He nudges her shoulder before sliding back out of the bed. Bradley reaches for her right hand. “Here, budge up.” 

He pulls her up as if she weighs nothing and she stands in awe as he lays down first on the bed but spreads his legs. And oh, now she knows what he’s doing. 

“Come lay down with me. You deserve to sleep some, too,” he says and she cautiously meanders her way to lay between his legs; her back pressed to his chest and her head falling into the crevice between his neck and shoulder. 

“Won’t your arm fall asleep or something? I just don’t wanna be a bother.” 

Bradley lets out a puff of air before wrapping both his arms around her front. His hands are joined together beneath her sternum. 

“(Y/N)?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Shut up and go to bed.” 

She rolls her eyes but she can’t fight him on it. And as they lay there she can hear the soft snores of the older man laying behind her and allows herself to drift off to a comatose state as well. 

vi. 

The doctor comes in about an hour after they doze off. 

She’s a short woman with dark hair and tan skin; some crow's feet by her eyes and the skin on her hands slightly thinned. She looked kind and motherly and as she pulls the curtain back softly, she finds the two dead to the world in their slumber. 

Doctor Tharp has to stop herself from audibly cooing. 

The position (Y/N) and Bradley are in makes her think of her and her husband years ago. Lovebirds, she thinks, and while she would rather sit there and stare at them in awe, she knows that she has to get this poor girl stitched up and sent on her way home as soon as she can. 

She nearly had a cow when she had heard that they had been waiting to see a doctor for stitches since 11:30 the night before. How the hell they had slipped through the cracks? She doesn’t know, but she makes a mental note to be extra kind to them while she performs her services. 

Doctor Tharp gently shakes (Y/N) awake; the younger girl stirring with a gasp and some anxiousness before a hand is placed on her shoulder. 

“Good morning, (Y/N). Have a good rest?” the doctor asks and (Y/N) hopes that this is who is going to stitch her up and send her on her merry way. 

“It was okay. Would’ve been better if bozo here wasn’t snoring in my ear the entire time,” she answers and that makes Doctor Tharp laugh softly. 

“Let’s get you stitched up,” she says, and (Y/N) unwraps Bradley’s arms from around her midsection and scoots closer down the bed to be near the tray that holds the instruments needed for her stitches. 

Doctor Tharp numbs the area with lidocaine and asks her to move her fingers and her thumb on her left hand and as she starts suturing the wound and picking out the shards of glass left in her skin, she finds things to talk about with the younger girl. 

(Y/N) tells her the basics that she’s seemed to be telling everyone older than the age of twenty-one these days; that she just graduated from undergrad and that she was going to law school in the fall, that she’s not from here and visiting her godmother, that she loves California and doesn’t know why she left it. 

And Doctor Tharp knows she shouldn’t and it goes against her own beliefs but she just has to know who the young man sitting behind (Y/N) is and wants to comment on how sweetly he was holding her just a few moments prior. 

“You and that boy are such a sweet couple,” she says and (Y/N)’s eyes bulge out of her skull. 

“Oh me and Bradley? No. No, no,” she starts and she knows that she’s rambling. She does it quite a bit when she gets nervous and doesn’t know what to say. 

Her damn Ella Enchanted gene is kicking in. 

“We’re just friends. Sorta just met a week and some change ago,” she answers and while what she said wasn’t a lie in the slightest (they were friends and they did just meet not that long ago) she can’t help but feel the ache in her heart that adds that she wants more than a friendship from him. 

But she can’t risk sounding ridiculous or getting ahead of herself before the race even starts, so she leaves her statement at that; just a statement and not a wish. 

“Well, you’re quite cute friends, then.” Doctor Tharp says. She can tell that what she had said had made (Y/N) uncomfortable. 

Too far. 

It takes (Y/N) all of ten minutes to get stitched up before Doctor Tharp pats her arm with a smile and tells her that she’ll have the papers for proper care at the front desk. 

“You take care. Of yourself and your heart,” the older woman says and (Y/N) knows that she should find some wisdom in her words, but they almost sound like a sort of doomed prophecy. 

Whatever, she thinks. She’s just excited to get home and to sleep in the comfort of her own bed. 

“Bradley,” (Y/N) whispers, shaking his bicep to get him to stir. He’s like a lump on a log, soft snores coming from his mouth and his head thrown back. His arms have crossed themselves over each other and made a home on his chest to replace the space (Y/N) had taken up before she moved. 

“Bradley!” (Y/N) shakes him again. 

He still sits asleep; completely dead to the world. 

(Y/N) twists his nipple through his shirt and bingo. He wakes up with a scream and shoots daggers at her with his glassy eyes. 

“M’all stitched up. We can go now,” she says and they exit the stall and make their way to the front desk where the charge nurse goes over how to properly clean her stitches and that she’d need to be back at the hospital in a week to get them removed. 

She gives the charge nurse a weak smile and her and Bradley walk back outside to his parked Bronco; the ocean breeze making the night sky chilly and (Y/N) shivers. He notices as he opens the passenger door to let her in. 

He rounds his way to the front and locks the doors before sliding into his seat. 

“Cold?” he questions and she gives him a slight nod. 

He purses his lips before turning the key in the ignition and starting the car. His hand instantly finds the heat dial and turns it up and they pull out of the parking lot. 

“Penny’s house. Right?” he breaks the silence again and (Y/N) nods, leaning her head on his window. 

The fifteen-minute ride from the hospital to Penny’s driveway is quick; the stillness of the night comfortable and washing them in warmth. 

His Bronco is parked in the driveway before (Y/N) turns to him again. 

“Before I go, I have to ask one more favor,” she says and Bradley raises his eyebrows in amusement. 

“Not gonna ask me to donate a kidney to you or something like that. Right?” he jokes and she playfully rolls her eyes at him. 

“No, you dinky dink. I just need you to rip my hospital bracelet off. They put it on my right hand and I can’t use my left to cut it off.” 

Bradley reaches over and takes her hand without hesitation and pulls at the plastic band wrapped around her wrist. 

“Thank you,” she sheepishly praises, “Thank you for everything. I could never owe you enough.” 

Rooster grins, all the anguish of the day forgotten with the dopey-eyed grin he gives her. 

He doesn’t say anything. He just holds her palm in his hand; the action muscle memory and leans forward; their forehead resting against each others. 

Her breath hitches in her throat because she swears to God if he doesn’t kiss her tonight she might rip out her stitches with her teeth and jump off of Penny’s goddamn roof. 

“Please,” (Y/N) whimpers and she didn’t mean for her request to be said out loud. 

Thankfully, Bradley ignores her words. She doesn’t know how she would live down the embarrassment of that one if he did manage to bring it up just then. 

He presses their lips together. His lips are plush and soft; the right amount of dry and moist. They move in sync with hers, molding together like the perfect puzzle. His kiss is deep but gentle, all-consuming but allowing her space if she wanted it. He kisses her once. Twice. Three times. And then he pulls away, his hand still on her cheek as he licks his slips subtly. 

She’s certain Bradley Bradshaw needs to add “perfect kisser” to his resume if he hasn’t already. 

“Didn’t take you as a beggar, chick,” he says, and fuck, there it is. That smart alecky remark she was waiting for. 

“If that’s the case, I’ll go inside and not give you my number,” she teases and Bradley feigns a gasp. 

“You wouldn’t. Don’t leave me out to dry now. Your blood was all over my shirt at some point. Too late to turn back now.” 

She gives him a toothy smile; one that’s reserved for her happiest and flirtiest moments. 

(Y/N)’s grabbing a napkin from the middle counsel of his car and a pen from his cupholder. She scribbles her phone number down on the napkin with a cute, “Text me! :)” written after it. 

She gets out of the Bronco and shuts the door, damn near running inside and waving at Bradley through the window of the living room where she can see his car in view. 

Bradley just shakes his head and smiles with glee. 

vii. 

One thing Natasha Trace was proud of was how well she could read people. 

Any boyfriends her sisters ever brought home didn’t have to get the stamp of approval from her father. Oh no, they had to get the stamp of approval from her. 

And she had always been right. She knew the ones who lied about their jobs or the ones who were chronic cheaters (because they had done it so much they were pros at hiding it, just not from Natasha) or the ones who were just downright fucking nuts. 

So if she can read people she had barely spent ten minutes with and could draw up a pretty good judgment of character, she knew that her analysis of people she knew well was never wrong. 

When Bradley Bradshaw, her right-hand man and one of her best friends, pulls up to her government-supplied housing in his Bronco at 5:25 the morning after his huge blowup at Hangman, she knew something was off. 

He didn’t have that shitty cassette mixed tape playing like he usually does and he’s basically inhaling a peach-flavored Red Bull. The thing about Bradley and energy drinks was that Bradley never drank them unless he was about dead from exhaustion. 

And from their text exchange last night, he was home at 8 PM and had all the intentions of going to bed soon. 

And well shit, that was apparent to be a lie. 

He’s uncharacteristically quiet. Rooster wasn’t a morning person but once he was awake, he was awake and was always ready to chat which drove Phoenix absolutely crazy, but the silence they’re sitting in on their way to base is deafening. She knows something is up, yet she can’t quite put her finger on it. 

“Good sleep?” she asks, testing the waters to see if Bradley would lie to her.

He curves his pointer finger and rubs it against the tip of his nose. This bastard was about to lie to her. 

She can feel it. 

“Great, actually,” he says with no delay so she knows that he’s not telling the truth. 

Phoenix knows that Rooster doesn’t do well with confrontation. He’s a born people-pleaser and anything that wasn’t able to be handled maturely made him want to get up and flee. She’d save calling him out for later.

Besides, they had bigger shit to worry about for the time being; one of those being the fact that they’re being sent on a suicide mission in three weeks. 

Natasha turns her body to the side of the car and looks out the window until something catches her eye. She turns to look at Bradley and sees that his eyes are cemented on the road. She bends down to pick it up swiftly; her movements so fast and contained that from Bradley’s peripheral vision, it just looked like she moved a little bit to get comfortable. 

It’s a fucking hospital bracelet and as she turns it around to read what’s on it, she sees a name she doesn’t recognize and her eyes nearly bulge out of her skull when she sees the birth year. 

The year starts with a 20 and she feels sick to her stomach. 

There’s no way Rooster had a little girl in here. There’s no way that that’s the reason he’s acting so weird. There can’t be. 

And then she starts counting the current year from the year on the bracelet, and then it clicks that, “Oh shit, this chick isn’t underaged.” 

She’s just young, and math has never been Natasha’s strong suit. 

She audibly exhales which makes Bradley turn his head to look at her and she stuffs the bracelet underneath her thigh before snaking it down to her pocket. 

“You okay?” he asks and Natasha eagerly nods. 

“Yeah, just a little jittery,” she answers and Bradley nods in agreeance. 

He brings his Red Bull back up to his lips before taking a swig and placing it back down in the cup holder. 

“Me too.” 

[in-my-feels-probably]

Sirius x pureblood!reader inspired by ivy by Taylor swift where reader’s parents r extremely against sirius because of his reputation

Ivy

Request: Sirius x pureblood!reader inspired by ivy by Taylor swift where reader’s parents r extremely against sirius because of his reputation

and: sirius black x pureblood!slytherin!reader where they have known each other since they were younger but drifted for obvious reasons. the drift causes resentment in each side which leads to snarky comments and lots of sexual tension in their later hogwarts years lol. eventually they get into an argument or something and the reader insists she is the same person she was when they were younger where as sirius is like no ur an uptight b. anyway this leads to sirius almost challenging her to prove herself to him and so even tho she is freaked out when he shows up outside the slytherin common room one night and says they are sneaking out to see a muggle concert she has no choice but to oblige. it ends up being an amazing night for both of them and they realized the love they had for each other as children truly never died.

Hi! I’m so sorry it took me so long to get to these requests, and I hope it’s alright I combined them. They worked really well together. Ivy is one of my favorites by Taylor, and it was so fun writing this based on that song.

Also, the reader isn’t actually a pureblood, just raised by a pureblood family. It just worked out easier for me to write this that way, hope that’s alright, too. Anyways, thank you again for being patient! I hope you enjoy!

(Warnings: swearing, smoking, mentions of Sirius’s home life, insults, guilt, let me know if i missed anything)

—

How's one to know?

I'd meet you where the spirit meets the bones

In a faith-forgotten land

You should have known what you had with Sirius was never going to last. 

Growing up as the daughter of two prominent pureblood wizards in high society, there was certain expectations of you to follow in their footsteps. Except, you weren’t exactly pureblood yourself. You were just a baby when you were orphaned by the beginning of the war, and your parents just so happen to not be able to have children themselves. And—although you were the child of two halfbloods—they thought if they took you in young enough, it wouldn’t really matter. They’d raise you as your own, and you’d be no different than the rest of the pureblood children.

But there were whispers.

They were never confirmed by anyone, but your family could still hear them. Whispers of your true birth—which meant that all your life, you had to be on your best behavior. And that was quite hard to be on when Sirius Black was your best friend. At least, he was your best friend.

You weren’t sure what he was to you now. 

You were very close in your first few years at Hogwarts. Even when you were sorted into Slytherin, he overlooked it. Although he had his opinions, he didn’t look at you any differently—just like you didn’t look at him any differently when he was sorted into Gryffindor. You were always by his side, even when your parents hated it, so what did he have to judge you for? If you could overlook all his flaws and caveats, he would welcome yours.

It was no secret that your parents hated Sirius. While they had a certain respect for Walburga and Orion—who seemed to like you—they just couldn’t stomach Sirius. Regulus, they liked. He was a good boy, and he never got into trouble or brought shame upon his family. 

Sirius was another story. 

But you never cared. You didn’t buy into the blood purity prejudice parade that your parents and their friends tried to sell you. 

But, unlike Sirius, you weren’t so loud about your distaste for it. Despite wanting to stand up to your parents about it, you couldn’t. There was already a lot depending on you, and you were too afraid to disrupt the small sense of normalcy you had in your life. Letting it go was too much change, and you didn’t much like change.

There was a time in Sirius’s life where he found your reserved manner charming. It was one of your cute little traits that made you who you were. 

There was one evening when you received mail from your parents at dinner, and he came over and snatched it out of your hands before you could stop him. He was joking of course, but as he read over it, his face fell.

“This is the third letter in a month your Mother has sent telling you to stay away from me,” he mused, a sad smile on his face. “They really hate me.”

This wasn’t the first time you’d had a conversation like this, and there wasn’t much you could do to ease his pain. All you could do was take his hands in yours, squeezing them tight. 

“I’m sorry, Sirius. They’re set in their ways, there’s nothing I can do to change that. But you know I don’t hate you. I never will. And I’ll never let them stop me from seeing you. You’re my best friend, and I’ll never let them change that. One of these days, I’ll muster up the courage to tell them that to their faces.”

He just shook his head, slinging an arm around your shoulder as he changed the subject. “It’s alright, darling. We’ve got plenty of time to piss off your Mother and mine until we actually need to do something about it.”

But as the war came closer, and it was time to start making bold choices, he grew tired of always waiting for you to speak up. There wasn’t much you could do about it, either. You loved him more than pretty much anyone else in your life, but even that love couldn’t squander the fear you felt when being with him meant breaking too many rules.

Slowly but surely, you started losing your best friend.

Your relationship came to a standstill the first evening back to term after Sirius had spent his second entire summer locked up in his house. He couldn’t see anyone, most definitely not you. Neither of your parents would have allowed it—punishment for Sirius, and a regulation for you.

“You could have owled,” he teased when you found each other after dinner, but you could see the hint of sincerity in his eyes.

“You know my Mother never would have allowed it, and your Mother never would have let you read it even if she did, Sirius.”

He sighed in frustration. “For once, I just wish you’d stand up to her.”

“Is that so?” You asked, pulling him into a corner away from prying eyes. “You know as well as I do why I can’t do that. I told you, one day I’ll figure it out. But you can’t ask me to do it now. I’m not brave like you—”

“You are brave like me. It’s a wonder you weren’t sorted into Gryffindor,” he laughed, but you could see the sadness in his eyes. 

You moved to wrap your arms around his waist, settling your cheek against his chest. You could feel him heave a breath, but he wrapped his arms around your shoulders anyway. You stood in silence together for a moment longer, gently swaying back and forth before you spoke. 

“I’m sick of arguing with you over this,” you murmured into his chest. “I really fucking am.”

Sirius gripped you tighter. He felt like letting you go meant he was doing far more than just physically letting you go. It was more than that—it was letting you leave him. And he wasn’t sure he could stomach that just yet. But he knew…you both did. He’d released his grip a long time ago. Anything now was futile, like grasping for straws. 

Still, he held you tight against him. He would allow himself this. He didn’t have to let you go just yet.

“Me too, love. Me too.”

In from the snow

Your touch brought forth an incandescent glow

Tarnished but so grand

How unfortunate that the time you were most cross with each other was the time you found each other the most attractive.

It was ridiculous, really—how pretty he was.

He grew into himself over the years, confidence quite literally radiating off him. He had some attractive friends too—who were generally friendly with you—but none of them in your opinion held a candle to Sirius. There was just something about him. And while Sirius showed interest in other girls, he just couldn’t seem to shake you. 

By Fifth Year, you were in a quarreling stage of your relationship. 

You’d had many nights like the one you had after dinner, and they hadn’t all been so cordial. There wasn’t two people in the whole of Hogwarts more stubborn than the two of you. And you found many reasons to butt heads like rams. 

It was just who you were to each other now.

No longer best friends, but people who knew too much about each other. People who knew all the right ways to piss the other one off. You know all of each other's likes and dislikes—anything that made the other tick. 

In his absence, you grew more sure of yourself. Less afraid to speak out about things that bothered you, and less afraid to stand up to those who had something to say about you. Recently, Sirius had been trying his luck with you. He couldn’t help himself. Pissing you off and seeing your reaction was like a drug to him, and he was hooked.

“Look at you…practically fuming,” he smirked when he messed with your cauldron in Potions. “It’s kinda hot.”

“So mature, aren’t you?” You snapped, shooing him away from the table. 

He snickered as he walked back to his own work station, and he left you alone for the rest of class. You spent the remaining time trying to fix what he had ruined. By the time the period was over, you were seeing red. Sirius casually strolled out the door behind his friends, and you marched after him in a fury. You grabbed him by the back of his cloak, spinning him around.

“What the fuck is your problem, Black? What did I ever do to you?”

“What did you ever do to me?” He asked sharply, before taking a breath and forcing himself to relax. “When did you get so uptight, love?”

He tried to turn to walk away, but you grabbed his forearm, yanking him back toward you. You held him tight, your fingers making indentations on his skin. He looked down slowly, carefully watching where your body was meeting his. You took a breath, easing your grip once you realized just how close to him you had gotten. His friends carefully watched a few feet away, silent as they waited for Sirius to speak. 

You cleared your throat, running your thumb along his reddened skin before dropping his arm. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to grab you that hard.”

He could barely hear you from how quiet you were speaking. He just shook his head, looking at you with curious eyes. He knew he had overstepped, but was too proud to say anything. So he just shrugged you off, rubbing at his arm.

“You’ve got claws…shame you didn’t use them when I needed them.”

He turned around and left before you could get out another word.

But I don't, I just sit here and wait

Grieving for the living

You weren’t speaking by the time you found out Sirius had run away from home. 

It broke your heart when you found out. You may have been one of the only people in the world who understood what he was going through, down to the exact same rhetoric your parents would use to try and convince you to be good children—and the punishments they’d dole out when you didn’t listen. You felt nothing but guilt, knowing he needed someone to save him…and you weren’t there. 

Instead, he had to save himself. 

But more than anything, you grieved for him. Not for his life, but for the one you could have had with him. When you were kids, you thought you’d be best friends forever. Side by side, always there when the other needed them. 

But now? 

Now he was having to make a new life for himself. He had new best friends by his side, who took better care of him than you ever could have. And you grieved that missed opportunity.

You missed him.

You figured it wouldn’t take much—to take him back into your life. All he had to do was ask, if he even still wanted that. You’d had your share of fighting, and would much rather go back to being strangers. That was much easier than passing him in the halls every day and wishing he was someone else to you.

Clover blooms in the fields

Spring breaks loose, the time is near

What would he do if he found us out?

Crescent moon, coast is clear

Spring breaks loose, but so does fear

He's gonna burn this house to the ground

You had one night separating all those days of fighting.

You weren’t even sure how it happened. You’d had a particularly bad day, and you weren’t in the mood for your regularly scheduled spat with Sirius. You’d skipped all of your classes you had with him, and he of course had taken notice.

He found you down by the Black Lake, where you’d go to get some peace and quiet. You could hear the leaves crunching under his boots, turning around to see him coming down the hill. You sighed, putting your head in your hands. 

“Not in the mood today, Sirius,” you said over your shoulder. “Go home…please.”

He shook his head, coming to sit down next to you. “No—no, I don’t think I will.”

You didn’t have it in you to fight with him. Clearly, he had noticed your absence. That was something, wasn’t it? It was quiet for a moment as you watched the water from the lake lap onto the shore, before you felt a warm hand on your knee. You looked over to see Sirius gazing down at you, a mild look of concern on his face. 

“Not gonna fight me for sitting down? Not gonna shove my hand off your knee?”

You shrugged, shaking your head. “You can do whatever you want with your hands. I don’t care.”

Sirius smiled to himself, knocking his shoulder with yours. He didn’t move his hand, instead tracing his thumb absentmindedly back and forth along the curve of your knee as he spoke.

“You weren’t in class. It’s not like you to break the rules—”

“I break plenty of rules,” you snapped, feeling your skin heat underneath his palm. “But how would you know? You barely talk to me anymore.”

He let out a laugh, a giddy feeling spreading in his chest. “I know you well enough, Y/N. And I know you don’t break the rules. Too uptight, maybe.”

“Or too scared,” you retorted, slapping his hand. “But you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

He let out a laugh, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “Merlin, you really are a bitch.”

“Takes one to know one,” you said without hesitation.

Sirius seemed surprise for a moment, not expecting your retort. But after a moment—in his usual fashion—he grinned at your snark, turning to face the shoreline. You turned as well, watching the light glisten on the water as the sun began to set behind the trees. With Sirius so close to you, you couldn’t help but ponder the life you had once had with him. It wasn’t that long ago that you’d find yourself shoulder to shoulder with him, trying to choke down the butterflies in your throat as his skin brushed yours.

“Do you remember when we were kids?” You finally managed to say, letting out a breath. “When we were little, and you owled me after your Mother had punished you? It was the first summer she wouldn’t let you leave Grimmauld Place.”

Sirius stiffened next to you, clenching his jaw. But after a moment, he gave you a slight nod of acknowledgement.

“I had barely learned how to use the Floo on my own, but I knew it was my only way to get to you. I managed to sneak out before my parents found out, and I came to you as quickly as I could. I found you out in the gardens behind the house. Do you remember what you said to me?”

It took him a long while to speak. He didn’t dare look at you, keeping his eyes on the lake as you waited for him to speak.

“The ivy grows thick here,” he finally said, the slightest waver in his voice. “Mother can’t find us.”

You nodded, brushing your knee against his. “That’s right. I sat with you in that garden all night. And, Merlin, I was scared out of my mind. I knew I was in for a world of trouble when I got back home to my parents, but I didn’t care. That didn’t matter to me. All that mattered was you. I came for you…I always came for you.”

You suddenly felt a burning anger brewing in your chest, and you pushed Sirius away. You quickly stood up, leaving him bewildered in the grass next to you. He followed you up, managing to catch your wrist before you could march back up the hill.

“Calm down!” He shouted, his grip unrelenting. “What’s happening? What’s wrong?”

You scoffed, a dark chuckle pulled from your chest. “You wanna know why I wasn’t in class? Because I didn’t want to see you.” 

Sirius stuttered, unable to form a response. He watched as angry tears clouded your eyes, but you quickly wiped them with the heels of your palms before they could fall. You took a grounding breath, watching him stare helplessly back at you.

“There it is…that’s the look. I didn’t want to see those eyes staring back at me, looking at me like I’m the one who changed. Like I’m the one who suddenly decided to abandon you and choose the wrong side. I never did that, Sirius. Why do you treat me like I did? I’ve always tried so hard to be a good friend to you, even when it would get me nowhere good. You’re the one who changed, not me. And you can’t handle the fact that I’m not like you—that I can’t bring myself to be as bold as you.”

He shook his head as he stepped closer, his voice assertive and stern. “I never said that—”

“You didn’t have to!” You spat, ripping your arm out of his hold. “That look in your eye is enough.”

You turned away, running your hand down your face. Grief and anguish bubbled in your throat, burning your esophagus as you choked down a sob. You wouldn’t cry in front of him. He didn’t deserve your tears. It was quiet for a moment, the only sound coming from the lapping of the Black Lake and the ragged breaths coming from you both. You turned back to him, ignoring the ache in your chest when you saw his pained expression. He was standing so still—like if either of you moved, you’d both crumble, and there’d be no one left to pick up the pieces to put you back together. 

“I’m still me, Sirius,” you managed to say, your voice sincere. “Why can’t you see that?”

Sirius looked at you for a long while. You shifted under his gaze, debating bolting up the hill before he could catch you. But then, he stepped closer. He gently reached up, running his thumb along your cheek. You sharply inhaled, waiting for him to speak. His voice was soft—forgiving.

“I’ll believe it when I see it…all you have to do is show me.”

He pressed a chaste kiss to the top of your head, quickly walking back up the hill before you could even get your feet to move.

Oh, I can't

Stop you putting roots in my dreamland

My house of stone, your ivy grows

You didn’t see Sirius the entire weekend. 

Granted, you mostly stuck to your dorm, but you didn’t even see him at meals. He was either sneaking food, or waiting for you to leave until he sat down for his dinner. You almost could have thanked him for it. 

It was an indescribable feeling—thinking about Sirius.

Your night at the lake had certainly given you a lot to think about, and it often overwhelmed you. You tried your best to distract yourself, never letting your thoughts of him creep in for too long. Sirius—in usual Sirius fashion—eventually forced you to confront him, at least once he finally forced himself to confront you first.

You were by the window in one of your secret hideouts when an owl came to the window with a note in its grip. You raised a brow in confusion, plucking it from the bird and watching as he flew back into the night sky. How did anyone know where you were, or how to find you? You immediately recognized the handwriting as you unraveled the small piece of parchment, almost in disbelief as you read the words. 

It read,

Y/N,

I’m starting to believe you…but it’s time you showed me. Prove me wrong, darling. I very much want to be wrong. Meet me in the corridor in front of your Common Room in ten minutes, and don’t let anyone else see you. You say you always come to me—so come. Please.

Yours,

Sirius

You chuckled to yourself in disbelief. He was so formal, even doing something as simple as sending a note. That was just part of his upbringing, you supposed. He never did anything without a little style. You shook your head, crumpling the note and shoving it into your pocket as you stood up. The Slytherin Common Room was at least a ten minute walk from your hideout, and you figured Sirius had already started walking to meet you there. 

You wasted an entire minute with your feet planted on the floor before you finally forced yourself to move—and then you were really moving. What am I doing? What am I doing, what am I doing, what am I doing, you thought to yourself. You couldn’t shake the question, thinking it the rest of the way to the corridor when you turned the corner, running straight into Sirius’s chest.

“Shit,” you mumbled, steadying yourself by holding onto the wall.

Sirius grinned, reaching a hand out to steady you. “What took you so long? I was beginning to think you’d stood me up.”

“I don’t see why we had to meet out here,” you said, motioning around to the dungeons. “You knew where I was—and I won’t ask you how you knew that, although it’s a bit concerning. But you knew where I was, so why not just come to me? Or ask me to come to you?”

He shrugged, looking around. “Maybe I wanted to see what your life is like down here. Maybe I wanted to see what mine could have been.”

You nearly laughed. Sirius had come from all the way up in the mighty Gryffindor Tower to the depths of the castle to see you, all the way down in the dungeons where the Slytherin Common Room resided. The very air was colder, the Black Lake seeming to loom over the windows. 

You watched as he looked around, leaning against the wall yourself. “Is that important to you—me being down here? Why I’m down here, and why you’re not?”

Sirius tore his gaze from the castle walls to look at you, his face contemplative. He spoke after a short while, his voice soft. 

“No,” he finally decided, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I thought it was, but now it seems…minuscule.”

You smiled to yourself. “Big word, Sirius. Did your fancy education teach you that one? You know—the same one I had?”

He chuckled, watching you with curious eyes. Finally, he pulled his hand out of his pocket, along with two pieces of paper. He held them out for you to take. 

“My cousin Andromeda got these for me,” he grinned as you read over them. “She can’t use them anymore, and she figured I would want to. David Bowie is coming to London tonight. He’s a muggle musician—”

You snickered, nodding. “I know who he is, Sirius. You forget which one of us isn’t actually a pureblood. I know my parents don’t let me do much, but I do know some things. Like how Bowie is actually a wizard, but chooses not to practice.”

Sirius’s eyes widened. “What? How do you know that?”

“Remus told me,” you shrugged, laughing when his eyes opened even wider. “I have Charms with him. He’s smart, he knows things. I figured I’d have the best chance making it through the class with him close by. I do actually talk to people in your House other than you, you know. Is that so surprising?”

“He’s never mentioned you,” he murmured, looking a little bewildered.

“So? Are you jealous?” You joked, but by the way the corner of his mouth quirked, you were beginning to think he actually was. “Enough small talk, then. Why are you here, Sirius? What do you want?”

Sirius seemed to snap back into himself, his grin returning as you passed him back the tickets. He slid them in his pocket, turning his attention back to you. 

“You’re coming with me.”

It was your turn to look bewildered. You stuttered, shaking your head frantically as his grin widened. He was enjoying watching you squirm, that much was clear.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on, darling—live a little,” he mused, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “You have nothing to worry about, I’ve got it all taken care of. You just have to come with me.”

“And why would I do that?” You asked, shrugging his arm off your shoulders.

Sirius’s grin widened. “Because—you have to. You can’t say no.”

You shook your head, scoffing. “Why not?”

Sirius sighed, stepping closer and placing both his hands on your shoulders. He held you steady, looking you in the eye as he spoke. 

“I want to be wrong about you, I really do. I won’t lie and say I haven’t missed you, because I have. I really have. We used to get in so much trouble together. And, lucky for you, I’ve pretty much perfected the art of evading trouble. Really, I’ve got quite the knack for it.”

“I’m waiting for the point, Sirius,” you said, looking towards the Common Room door. “I’m tired, and you’re making me stand out here in the cold.”

“It’s not my fault it’s dark and dingy down here,” he mused, jumping back and laughing when you tried and failed to swat at his arm. 

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a modified map of the Hogwarts grounds. He turned away from you as he murmured something you couldn’t quite catch, turning back around to show you the now open map. Your eyes widened as you watched pieces of the map move on the page, unable to stifle your shock when you found both your names printed just in front of the Slytherin Common Room door.

“What—what is this?”

“I’m putting a lot of trust in you here, so don’t tell Remus or James that I showed you this,” he said, taking the map from your hands. “But this is our map. It’s enchanted, clearly. We’ve been working on it for years. It shows us every secret passageway we’ve found to get in and out of Hogwarts, and it tells us where everyone is so we never get caught if someone is coming. It’s how I found you tonight.”

“Invasion of privacy, don’t you think?” You asked, but you were too enamored by the map to really care.

You heard him chuckle, looking up to see him grinning at you. “Don’t flatter yourself, darling. This is the first time I’ve looked for you on it. You’re not that interesting.”

You glared up at him, placing your hands on your hips. “You’ve got twenty seconds and I’m going inside. And I’ll let you know in the morning whether or not I’m going to hex you for this.”

Sirius smiled, looking at you with a glint in his eye you hadn’t seen in a long while—at least directed at you. There was a feeling so distant but familiar brewing in his chest, and he pushed you one last time to listen to him. He had to try.

“There’s that fire in you. It’s time to use it. You say you haven’t changed? You say you’re still the same girl I’ve always known? Prove it. You say you always come for me? Then come. I’ve got the map, and I can get us out of the castle to the concert and back without anyone even noticing we were gone. All you have to do is come with me. Trust me, just this once. And I’ll get on my hands and knees and beg for your forgiveness if you show me the girl I knew isn’t truly gone. Come with me, and I promise I’ll make it up to you—for however long it takes. I’ll change.”

He reached for your hands, taking them in his. You let out a sharp breath, but you didn’t pull away as he looked at you with soft eyes.

“Or…you can go through that door and up to your room, and I’ll leave you alone. No more teasing, no more snarky remarks, no more late night talks—nothing. This’ll be it. I won’t come find you…I’ll let you go.”

You could feel your chest tighten as he spoke. It sounded so final, and it was making your head spin. The thought of Sirius truly leaving you alone and never talking to you again made you want to crawl into a pit and never come out. 

You couldn’t quite tell why.

You’d done nothing the last few months but argue and bicker, always bitter over the choices the other was making. It was clear to anyone on the outside watching you both that you hadn’t been the same for a long time. In a way, Sirius was right—you had changed. For the better? That was up for you to decide. But he had changed, too. And you were starting to think you had been wrong about him. Maybe he had changed for the better, and he was trying to show you.

“But know that I don’t want that,” he murmured as he squeezed your hands, pulling you from your thoughts. “Not at all. I want you back. I want you to come with me. Just say you will. Please.”

It was now or never. He watched with a look of hope on his face as you opened and closed your mouth a few times, struggling to find the right words to say.

Finally, you let out a breath, squeezing his hands. “Okay…okay, I’m in. Let’s go.”

Sirius couldn’t have grinned wider. It actually looked like it hurt, how hard he was smiling. The little laugh he let out was infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile, too. 

He squeezed your hand in his, and whisked you off down the corridor before you had the chance to protest.

So yeah, it's a fire

It's a goddamn blaze in the dark

And you started it

You started it

So yeah, it's a war

It's the goddamn fight of my life

And you started it

You started it

After a very confusing path of twists and turns, a couple Floo’s, and a very sketchy bus you had to sneak your way onto, you found yourself standing shoulder to shoulder with Sirius in a large crowd of people, waiting for the concert to start. It was loud and chaotic, a cloud of smoke hanging in the air. Sirius—of course—was adding to it, a cigarette in his hand. 

You looked around, a feeling of unease settling in your stomach. There was so many people. So many strangers, and it was all a bit overwhelming. 

Not only that, you couldn’t shake the feeling that at any second, someone was going to find you and bust you. Someone was going to tell your parents that you had snuck out of school—with Sirius of all people—and you were going to face the punishment of a lifetime. Someone was going to spread the word that you were out with the most popular blood traitor in the country, and you were going to put both him and you at risk, all because you couldn’t let him let you go. 

Sirius must have noticed your look of concern, because he nudged you in the side, bending down to you ear so you could hear him. “What is it, love? Nervous?”

“No,” you shook your head, though you knew you weren’t convincing anyone with that look on your face. “It’s just—really crowded in here. And loud.”

Sirius nodded, giving you a warm smile. You were being so brave. It made his chest flutter, and he didn’t quite know what to do with that feeling. He pulled you toward him and placed you in front of him, letting his arms wrap around your shoulders. Your back was to his chest, a comforting warmth coming off him.

“This alright?” He asked, running his thumb along your arm.

You nodded, smiling to yourself. You didn’t have much time to sit in the feeling, because the house lights went down, and the crowd erupted into cheers and applause. You could feel Sirius shaking with excitement behind you, letting out whoops and shouts as the stage lit up. You looked over your shoulder up at him, smiling at the look of pure joy on his face. 

The whole concert went by in a blur. 

You sang along to the songs you knew, swaying along to the music as you watched. It was an entrancing performance, but it didn’t hold a candle to the concert Sirius was putting on behind you. 

He knew every single word, buzzing with excitement. He couldn’t keep still, jostling you around as he kept you close and away from the ruckus of the crowd. It was adorable, you had to admit. He bent down every once in a while, checking in on you and making sure you were alright. During the slow songs, he swayed with you back and forth, laughing when you stumbled over his feet. 

As you slowly filed out of the building amongst the crowd after the show ended, Sirius kept a tight grip on your hand to make sure you didn’t get seperated. You couldn’t deny the buzz that went through you every time he squeezed your hand, having to take a breath every once in a while to calm yourself. When you finally made it back on the street, Sirius was quick to bring you along the winding path that brought you back to the castle. 

You barely had time for small talk, having to rush to get back to the dungeons. You had hardly spoken at all until you found yourself back in front of your Common Room door, a silence throughout the castle—except for the portraits on the wall, who Sirius threatened to hex if they didn’t keep quiet.

You turned to Sirius, a small smile on your face. “Happy now?”

He chuckled, nodding. “You have no idea.”

“I think you had more fun than anyone else in that crowd,” you mused, taking a seat on the step that led up to the door. “But maybe that’s because you were all I could really hear. Singing isn’t one of your talents, Black.”

Sirius placed a dramatic hand on his chest, feigning offense. “Hey! I’ll have you know it is one of my many talents. You were lucky enough to witness it.”

You chuckled, a comfortable silence falling over you both. This was good. This felt familiar. Bickering in the way lifelong friends do, not friends who are teetering over the edge of never speaking again. You were afraid of what going with him tonight was going to do to you both, but this was good—it was worth it.

In a very unusual turn of events, Sirius was—for once—having trouble finding the right words to say.

There was so much he wanted to say—so much he needed to say—and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to. There was peace between the two of you. A calm that was rare, and he was too afraid to disturb it. 

You were smiling at him. 

A genuine smile, and he would have rather been caught a thousand times than see it fall. So he didn’t speak. He just offered you a hand, helping you up from the step.

“You should get some sleep,” he said quietly, stepping back once you were settled. “If we stay out here any longer we might actually get caught by a Prefect, and I know you’ll punish me far more than they would.”

You chuckled, nodding. You didn’t want him to go. You found yourself wanting to come up with random topics, just so he could stay and keep talking to you. But instead, you walked up to the top of the steps, stopping just in front of the door. You looked over your shoulder, smiling once more down at him.

“Goodnight, Sirius.”

He smiled back, turning to leave. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

And now I'm covered

In you

In you

One thing you had forgotten about Sirius was how much he likes to sleep in. 

You found yourself looking for him at breakfast in the morning, before you remembered how late you had gotten back to the castle. Sirius was absolutely not a morning person, and he certainly would have been in bed all morning into the early afternoon.

You had to swallow your nerves, taking calming breaths as you ate your food. He’d come to you when he was ready. He certainly had the means to with the map. 

All you had to do was wait.

And sure enough, he found you once again down by the Black Lake. You could hear him coming, snickering at the obnoxious tune he was whistling as he came to sit next to you. You looked over at him, raising a brow as he gave you a grin.

“It’s two in the afternoon, Sirius.”

“I’ve been busy,” he shrugged, letting his knee rest against yours. “I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s never good—” You joked, but he was quick to interrupt you before you could turn the conversation.

“I’ve been thinking about you.”

You could feel your heartbeat quicken, swallowing hard. You forced yourself to remain calm, swallowing your nerves. Of course you had been thinking about him, too. But you waited for him to speak, letting him go first.

“I’ve decided that you were right,” he admitted, locking eyes with you. “I am different. But so are you—and I think that’s a good thing. I’m sorry I didn’t see that sooner.”

“And what prompted this decision—last night?” You asked, your voice soft.

He shook his head. “Last night was just the trigger, I guess. I think I had been noticing signs for a long time, and I just didn’t know what to do about it. Lucky for me, you’re too stubborn to let me be wrong.”

You couldn’t help but smile. With a breath of courage, you took his hand, fiddling with one of his rings.

“I’ve decided something, too.” 

He grinned, watching as you twisted the ring around his finger. “Oh, you have?” 

“Yes, yes I have.” 

“And what is that?” He asked, leaning closer ever so slightly. 

“I’ve decided that the next time my Mother sends me another semi-threatening letter full of veiled threats that she tries to cover up with hints of love, I’ll at least consider telling her to piss off. And—assuming you're ever mentioned in that letter—I’ve decided I’ll tell her to piss off about that, too.”

Sirius stilled, grabbing onto the hand you were using to twist his ring. “Are you serious?”

He deserved a little teasing, after all the things he had said to you over the years. He was just as stubborn as you were, but you weren’t going to let him get away with it all without a little taunting—even if the sight of his smile directed at you made you want to forget about everything and forgive him completely. You chuckled, nodding.

“What’s she gonna do? Disown me? She’s spent her whole life keeping my birth a secret, I highly doubt she’d risk all that effort just to get me to stop talking to you. Which—and I’m just assuming, here—you’ve decided you want to do, right? Keep talking to me?”

And then Sirius did something you hadn’t seen him do more than once or twice in all the years you had known him. 

He blushed.

Flushed cheeks and all, turning his face away so that you couldn’t see him. He chuckled to himself, turning back to you after a heavy sigh. He hooked an arm around your shoulders, resting his chin on top of your head.

“Yes, you dickhead. Of course I do,” he said, his voice muffled into your hair.

You smiled to yourself. Despite your best efforts, you couldn’t help but turn around in his hold and wrap your arms around his waist. You really couldn’t help it.

Sirius was all consuming.

Once you got stuck on him, it was practically impossible to shake him off. He was like the ivy that grew along the patch of walls in the far corner of his backyard. You could hide in him forever. He could keep you completely safe and away—at least that’s what it used to feel like.

And, Merlin, you wanted it to feel like that again.

“Good,” you smiled into his chest, pulling away to look up at him. “So, when can I expect you on your hands and knees begging for my forgiveness?”

“Piss off.”

—

A/N - Hi! I’m so sorry this took so long, once I started writing I just kept going and it got a little out of hand. This is kinda long, so hopefully that makes up for the obscene amount of time it took me to post this. I hope this is what you were looking for! I really enjoyed writing this, so thank you for sending the request in :)

[multifandumbmeg]

Alright SCREW IT here's my Kiara defense post:

Is it annoying to watch get paired off with everyone in the main cast? Sure. Let me explain why that's not a character flaw or terrible, unplanned writing so yall can put some respect on her name.

1. They're ALL in love with her, and literally throwing themselves at her all the time. This is so important and well-documented that John B literally tells us IN HIS INTRODUCTION TO THE GROUP in episode one. It is literally so relevant to their entire group dynamic that he brings it up in the first episode summary of who they all are. Guys actually do this I have seen this happen. One of my high school best friends was constantly manic pixie dream girled (despite being profoundly depressed) and several entire friend groups of boys fell in love with her. She dated one guy, who was a piece of shit and dumped her saying it was because of his parents but told his friends it was because she had too much baggage. The fallout was so bad, one guy from one of the friend groups tattled to her and a different guy, who was best friends with the douche, literally got into a fight with him and THE DOUCHE HAD TO CHANGE FRIEND GROUPS BECAUSE HIS BOYS KICKED HIM OUT. I'm serious about these teenage boys all having the same taste and thinking it's a competition.

2. John B kissed HER. She immediately shut him down. Immediately. Everything before that can easily be explained as Kiara being concerned about him after losing his father. Teenage boys are dumb anyhow, but it's particularly easy to see why John B and JJ, who have both been routinely neglected and grew up without mothers (read, any positive female attention/influence) would interpret this as Kiara having feelings for them. They fall in love with anyone who sincerely gives them the time of day, basically. And that's a little too relatable moving on.

3. "Mixed signals" by kissing boys on the cheek. While I would not recommend this, I think there was a very clear pattern to her behavior and I have a theory I'm 99% sure is canon, based on copious textual evidence.

Kiara was in love with JJ all along. I'll come back to this. She only kissed the boys she friendzoned on the cheek. With John B, I genuinely think she never had any sort of romantic feelings for him and just saw him as a best bro. But she was worried about him, and maybe realized he listened to her more when she did it. Nonetheless, the minute he gets with Sarah it's almost like she feels relieved and never does anything remotely mixed signals to him again. Now Pope? That is a rich text. What the hell is going on with her and Pope?

4. When Pope first confesses, Kiara is once again caught off-guard. She once again rightfully turns him down IMMEDIATELY and gives extremely accurate and self-aware reasons. Her rejection of him is surprisingly mature, that the life he plans on and wants is ultimately and assuredly not compatible with what she wants for herself. So why did she kinda date him? Honestly, I think it was an attempt to move on from what she believed were doomed feelings for JJ. After all the things that happen in season 1, after Pope going off the deep end a little bit by smoking weed, getting drunk, and engaging in acts of violence, as well as ditching his scholarship interview, Kiara suddenly experiences a spark of attraction towards Pope.

Because he's acting like JJ. Reckless. Using substances to cope. Chaotic. Spontaneous. She knows these things are bad for Pope, and she's at times put off by how un-Pope-like they are as his friend, but she has a type. So following a moment of attraction and the sudden supposed loss of John B (and Sarah), she decides to give it a go. Maybe Pope's different after everything that happened. And he is, but not quite the way she was expecting. To link this back to the cheek-kissing thing, honestly, I think Kiara lowkey has the ick 😂. She consistently shoves any of the boys who try to touch her at all away except for JJ, the entire series mind you, except for these little cheek kisses like that's all she can manage to do. She kisses Pope like twice and ends up sleeping with him, at which point she realizes she just can't do it. She's not consistently attracted to her, and she can't get past her feelings for JJ, so she calls it off. Again, that's a fair healthy, and kind thing to do. When you realize it's not going to work, especially if you have feelings for someone else, it is distinctly NOT dragging people around to cut it off. If Kie has a real problem, honestly? I think it's that ultimately she wants a man she can fix. And Pope's fine. So that's him out.

My proof that the writers absolutely intended Kiara to have feelings for JJ from day one:

"Did you tell JJ?" specifically. Just JJ. She doesn't want HIM to think she's taken.

Shoving away John B and Pope every time they try to hug her or put an arm around her etc. Letting JJ hug her, take her hand, sling his arm around her etc. She also goes out of her way to touch him by taking his arm, holding him when he's crying, hugging him several times and then almost kissing him. So in a way, I'd very much like you to consider, Kiara was not in fact sending everyone mixed signals, her problem was that she was so consistent. Consistently attracted to and in love with someone she thought had no real interest in her. JJ flirts with her jokingly, and from episode 1 and the convo in the bell tower between John B and Sarah, we know that he's a horny little dude. And that's not surprising either, because people who've been abused tend to go one way or the other- either very physical touch-seeking in an attempt to balance about the bad, or very touch-avoidant. JJ is clearly, demonstably in column A. Not just with Kiara, but he also initiates hugs with John B and Pope, touches their faces, and even kisses Pope on the cheek once. He's clearly a very touchy person with everyone, so I can see how Kiara would be unsure about his feelings when he very much does not communicate his wants or needs with words.

Finally, the proof that Kiara had feelings for JJ, and that Jiara was the direction the show was headed, was in their conversation in thr storage container. When JJ tells her what he wants from life and plans to do with the money, it's a direct parallel to her initial reject of Pope. He wants to travel the world and be spontaneous and non-sedentary and have no use for money. Everything she said to Pope and is always trying to explain to her parents. That was 0% accidental, that was the writers making it clear: these two are a match, they're compatible on a much deeper level.

4. So if they always planned on JJ and Kiara, why didn't those two just get together to start? The answer, my friends, is jealousyy. This is a common tactic in writing to get a couple together: force the reluctant one to acknowledge their feelings by putting the other in a relationship with someone else. Im short: every moment between Kiara and John B or Pope was to show us JJ did not like that and therefore that his feelings for Kiara were serious, unlike how she interpreted them and him being a flirty himbo with other girls. It also helped Kiara realize she wasn't getting over him any time soon, and that she couldn't avoid her feelings either. So it forced them both to give up and acknowledge to themselves that they had feelings for the other.

5. "Teenage girls don't act like her" JOKES. This is the dumbest argument I've seen, I'm sorry. I'm happy you have met such well-adjusted teenage girls but buddy... I have known some teenage girls and people who used to identify as girls at that age who would make you roll over in your grave. Some people don't know what they want, some people desperately crave attention, some people just can't seem to avoid drama or make good choices and sometimes that's even a resulted of untreated disabilities or mental illness. Sometimes it's all of the above. My point is absolutely there are teenage girls who act like Kiara and faaar worse.

6. Lastly, why not John B or Pope? Why was Kiara totally valid for not liking them romantically? Well feelings are feelings so she's valid anyways but can we talk about them both touching her/making moves at inappropriate times without consent?? It's understandable she likes JJ and feels the safest around him when he's the only who doesn't act like he wants or expects anything from her. He never kisses her without consent, let alone while running from the cops randomly. He never tries to put his arm around her or make a move in the middle of them having an emotionally intimate conversation where she is clearly seeking emotional comfort. I'm not saying John B or Pope are bad people, but with Kiara both showed a lot of immaturity and failed to read the room numerous times. They acted whenever they personally felt attraction, regardless of where she was at at the time. There's such a thing as reading body signals, and the only times JJ comes close to making an actual move on Kiara is when she comes to him, gets close to his face and leans in. In the end, he only kisses her after she looks him dead in the eyes and tells him I LOVE YOU. That's on respect. Also, John B and Pope both get their shit together and learn this with their next girlfriends! So good on them!

But Kiara confessed to JJ at a random time too! I hear you shouting. NAY. Incorrect!! JJ is actively avoiding her and having a mature conversation about how they feel about each other, and also the fact that he stole from her family, and that is on HIM. That is a result of his issues and his fear and poor coping mechanisms. Kiara forced him to address it at an inopportune time because she already attempt to address it privately TWICE and he wouldn't let her. So all she did there was clear the air and make her own feelings known, which he needed to hear. That is the last conversation they have before he attempts to apologize and confess back. That is what convinces him that Kiara's feelings for him are both genuine and serious, and that no amount of pushing her away will succeed. She loves him unconditionally, which he did not know was possible until then.

So in short!! Kiara actually behaves like a real human being. She's not crazy, extremely selfish, nor an example of writers just testing out the waters and seeing what the fans want or who has the most chemistry. She is very consistent. The only thing I can really begrudge about her behavior towards her friends (her parents are a different story) is that she's insensitive to both John B and Pope after rejecting them, which I believe is because she doesn't realize they had actual feelings for her so much as thinking she's hot.

[the-hawthorns-ocs]

Soothsayer Spindle'stare

MY ABSOLUTE FAVE OC EVER! MY SKRUNKLY!!!!

Character Bio:

Kinship: The Hawthorns

Queer (loves wife <3); what's a gender? (agender); it/she

Age: 3 cycles, 11 moons; ~31 Hyrs

Voice Headcanon: Entrapta - She-Ra - And The Princesses of Power (but like if she smoked a pack-o-sigs a day???)

Title meaning: -stare = uhh stares, like a lot, its weird, does it blink???; Soothsayer specific -> this cat can see into your soul and across the vail of death and see what your future holds

Role: Soothsayer

Mother: River'riddle

Father: Monarch Bat'flight

Siblings: Monarch Light'fall

Mate: Worm'soil

Other notable kin: Heir Night (nephew)

Extra Notes: her name was originally Garlicnose but after a series of polls I have decided on Spindle'stare as it's new name! Hooray!

Character Summary:

this ones long bec she's my blorbo, sorry not sorry :P

Soothsayers are born absolute weirdos, that's actually how a Kinship can tell that a cat is probably a Soothsayer. They are all not entirely there, because they walk the line between the living and the dead, this gives them the gift of foresight into the future and the ability to commune with the dead, but it also makes them distant, odd, they act like their minds are often in a whole other plane from regular cats.

In Spindle'stare's case, its just really kooky, an absolute creature. Though she is also very traumatized, which is kinda a given for Soothsayers... but it's even worse for her. As a kit her connection to the Stars was almost entirely cut off, and was instead taken over by the Dark Maw... The Maw wanted control over the Hawthorns, and becoming their future Soothsayer's spiritual source was one of the best ways to do this.

Deep deep down I think that Spindle knows there is something off about her spiritual connection, but she doesn't really process this at all. She pretty much believes that she has a normal connection and is totally talking to the Stars and not the Dark Maw. Sometimes she gets a random breakthrough connection to the Stars and is bombarded by so many messages and warnings from the ancestors she is pretty much unable to process it and just becomes even more confused and overwhelmed, acting even more strange than normal.

As a result of the Dark Maw's hold on Spindle, the Soothsayer has not been able to aid the kinship in ways it should be able to. During Spindle's training and apprenticeship the Kinship went through a horrible illness that killed many many cats, everyone questioned why Spindle was unable to receive prophecies foretelling these deaths, or guiding them to a cure... Spindle was simply helpless and useless in a time what the kinship needed a spiritual guide the most... This event has left the Kinship not all too trusting of Spindle's guidance, and has left Spindle lost and confused as to why the Stars do not with to help her.

Though Spindle seems like an old kooky lady she is actually only around 4 cycles old aka. in her early 30s in human years. Spindle was littermates with Monarch Light'fall, they were extremally close, and Light was often the only one who could keep her stable, in the present, and more herself. Spindle was devastated at Light'fall's death and she fell deeper into the spiritual plane as a result, only Spinde'stare's mate Worm'soil is able to bring Spindle into clarity these days, and it is far more difficult to do so.

Spindle spends much of it's time with her mate Worm'soil, they are one of the few cats who are not creeped out by her, they understand her and love it deeply despite it's strangeness. They were childhood friends, and grew even closer during the era of illness in their youth... both of them bonded over the extreme pressure on them at the time, Spindle with the expectation of life saving prophecies and omens, and Worm with the health of the Kinship as a Healer apprentice.

The two of them are now two fucked up middle aged women(ish) who are just trying to survive their high stress roles in their very problematic kinship... They can often be found hanging out on their lonesome together, with Spindle buried in Worm's fluff <3

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

i never noticed the hints towards pale Solfef! in light of that, i think it's interesting that Eridan pursued Feferi in the pale quadrant while desperately wanting her to end up in his flushed one, meanwhile Feferi pursues Sollux in the flushed quadrant, despite them seemingly destined to be pale lol guess seadwellers are used to swimming up current lmao

that said, what are your thoughts on Erifef? do you think Eridan actually wants her flushed? or is that another subconscious tactic of his to keep her(someone he deeply cares about) by his side?

personally, i'm of the opinion that though they do care about eachother, they could never work out flushed. i think Eridan -though very enthusiastic about her and thinks they share the same troubles that comes with being so high on the hemospectrum, as well as isolated via physical location and the requirements to meet seadweller expectations- doesn't actually want redrom with her, but he knows pale isn't 'good enough' plus prefers to go to Karkat for all the traditional pale stuff. dude doesn't realize they can just be friends and she won't abandon him(cue Feferi abandoning him the monent she leaves quadrants with him, further exacerbating that fear lol)

meanwhile, on Feferi's end, it's too much to go into here but i think she has struggles with being present with others. so though i think she also deeply cares about Eridan and was absolutely miffed he was going to Karkat for things that she(being his moirail at the time) should have been talked to about, i think she has a lot of character development to go through before she can really pursue quadrants as something she needs and wants and not something she thinks she should do. i think flipping pale with Sollux could have been that catalyst but alas :' ] it seems Hussie changed his mind

So, personally, I do actually think Eridan's flushed feelings for Feferi are real... kind of. The fact that he has 0 self-awareness really makes talking about his feelings difficult because everything needs to be qualified with "this would change if he were capable of taking a step back."

The "kind of" here is because I don't think it's necessarily Feferi, the PERSON, that Eridan's in love with, but rather, the Feferi that exists in his head. To Eridan, Feferi is a bubbly, adorable, cheerful girl who's nice to everybody and doesn't have a mean bone in her body. He literally says that he thinks she might be too nice to have a pitch relationship with somebody, which is definitely not true, as Feferi can be plenty mean, and there's plenty to find flawed about her.

The first reason for this mistaken belief is that that's definitely the way that Feferi believes herself to be, so it's how she presents herself, and Eridan believes people when they tell him stuff. The second is because, in Eridan's shitty, friendless life, Feferi has been his one constant - the person who's always been there for him, the only person who's consistently nice to him (until he meets Karkat, and even then, Karkat is master of the mixed signals, and Eridan implies that death threats and insults are regular banter between them), and oftentimes the one person who cheers him up when he's at his lowest.

I think a lot of people in the fandom are too hard on Feferi - she's genuinely well-meaning, and most of her bad points come from ignorance and privilege, not manipulativeness or spite. She doesn't consciously realize it when she's treating Eridan poorly, and she makes real efforts to be a good moirail to him, even though he doesn't usually reciprocate those efforts. I think she suffers from the Umbridge Effect, where Eridan's problems - being on such the extreme end of trauma and anxiety - almost feel alien and unreal, while everyone knows a Feferi, so Feferi draws in some undue vitriol.

She has a few outbursts at him when he's egregiously rude for no reason, but given she's been dealing with his severe mental illness for so long, and takes his threats and casteism at least semi-seriously, I don't blame her for being exhausted and snapping from time to time. She's genuinely just not equipped to help him with his problems - lest we forget, she's also 13. Otherwise, everything else she does to harm him is something she just genuinely doesn't consciously realize is a problem, because she's got a hard time seeing past her privilege.

For example, using Eridan for feeding Gl'bgolyb without gratitude - the thing is, societally, it's his job, and HAS always been a violet's job. Not only that, but given his... everything, if she asked him if he's okay with doing it, he'd definitely insist that he is, and in fact, that it's HIS duty and HIS privilege. He also started INCREDIBLY young, so it's genuinely just been like this for their entire lives. It's a bit shitheaded for Feferi to not realize how much she benefitted from this arrangement, but, again, it's a crime of ignorance, not malice.

In a similar vein, I think she stayed in her moirallegiance for as long as she did partially because she got an ego boost out of it. She commiscerates with Kanaya over how burdensome he is, and she gets to say things like "we are not better than anybody," which she absolutely doesn't actually feel, given how she won't shut up about being a royal when talking to Jade. She's elated to break up with him, her narration celebrating with a big "you're FREE!!!" and it's not a coincidence that said break-up happens after Eridan's no longer useful to her - she outright states that he can't threaten their species anymore now that they're in the game and everyone else is dead.

BUT, I think she ALSO means it when she says that she stayed in that moirallegiance because she was genuinely worried for him. Both this statement and the above paragraph can be simultaneously true. There's nothing about Eridan that's actually that offensive to Feferi, and I really do think she means it when she says she wants to stay friends. His constant emotional crises have just left her burnt out in terms of sympathy, and she never really knew how to handle him in the first place, but in their first conversation together, she's still genuinely making an effort to get him to open up about his feelings and to cheer him up about his failed kismesistude.

After the breakup and his failed confession, the thing is, he does accept that rejection! ... Kind of. (Again with the kind ofs.)

He outright tells her he accepts that she doesn't like him like that... BUUUT, is trying to get her to go ashen with him and Sollux, instead. THIS is the "trying to keep her with him" angle you're talking about, IMO; I think his flushed feelings are genuine, even if they're aimed at this idealized version of Feferi moreso than the real deal. Without Feferi in the picture, I think Eridan and Sollux would have a completely lukewarm mutual dislike. The sheer lukewarmness is probably why Erisolsprite is so stable - they're completely mid for each other.

The realness of his flushed feelings for Feferi is, incidentally, part of why I think him and Roxy would work so well together - if this idealized version of Feferi (bubbly, adorabloodthirsty, pink, cute, cheerful, and kind) is his Type... well.

I also think he and Feferi would work pretty well as just normal friends; they might have fallen into that dynamic on their own if they'd met later on in life. In a hypothetical golden ending, I think they do fall into it once EriKar happens, since moirallegiances are stated to have a stabilizing effect on a troll's other relationships.

[nyaagolor]

Team Star Headcanons

This got dummy long so it's under the cut but I am rotating them all in my brain

Giacomo

Despite having the most stereotypical "delinquent" appearance of all the members, Giacomo is actually the closest thing to a model student that Team Star has. He's extremely organized, motivated, and actually pretty staunchly against breaking the rules unless he has to, so he's a straight A student and has never missed a class

However, he still has a little bit of apprehension about appearing to be like the uptight student council president he used to be, so he purposefully does things to make people think he's more of a slacker than he actually is. He turns in assignments after the deadline and shows up to class late so the teachers don't start getting expectations of him, but they quickly realize he's doing it on purpose when all assignments are turned in exactly 24 hours late and he shows up exactly 5 minutes after the bell with obvious consistency

He was student council president during much of the bullying of Team Star, and still beats himself up about not noticing it sooner or putting a stop to it until the consequences were right in front of him

He was and is the most uptight member of Team Star despite his seemingly relaxed demeanor. He's prone to over-planning, panicking when plans don't work out, and overall is pretty bad at improvising. He's far more high-strung than he lets on. Team Star has done a lot to mellow him out and give him the freedom to express himself, screw up without consequence, and just chill for a few. He's much happier now without the pressure

He loves bass-boosted, ear-splitting music and flashing DJ lights, but is also aware that many people have issues with those (including his buddy Atticus). Bc of that he always has a grunt check with any new members or would-be foes to make sure they don't have overstimulation or photosensitivity issues. Someone getting hurt during a rave would, in his words, "kill the vibe"

He's trying SO HARD to be lofi girl

Mela

She's naturally very cute: she has strawberry blond hair, wide blue eyes, freckles, a dainty stature, a high-pitched voice, and isn't very good at most school subjects. It makes her instantly endearing to basically everyone who meets her, but it also means many people find her annoying / frustrating off the bat and/or don't take her seriously, which really bothered her and lead to her very carefully curated Bad Girl appearance

Mela is very easily frustrated and has a hair trigger temper, which her bullies often used to antagonize her. They purposefully riled her up and caused her to lash out, so Mela gained a reputation as a troublemaker from the teachers. This caused her to fall further behind in school and exacerbated the previous issues

To get people to leave her alone, Mela created a very curated, if inauthentic, "bad girl" persona where she made herself look and act immediately aggressive and rude to everyone. If she didn't let anyone know anything about her, they couldn't find things to set her off anymore, and she'd avoid all the bullying. It did actually work, and people left her alone, but she ended up becoming so feared that she had no friends and no one wanted to be around her. She ended up hanging out with all the academy pokemon instead and developing a close bond with each of them.

Even after she comes back to the Academy she struggles the most out of all the students to fit back into things-- she comes across as a "problem child" which gives the teachers expectations that eventually become a self-fulfilling prophecy. It's only after a long, heated discussion with Clavell that they can start to work past her snippy exterior and get to the heart of the matter. When the teachers give her more patience and extra help, however, they grow to realize she actually does care about learning and is quite sweet

She loves making art. She is also not very good at making art. At the start, she's pretty defensive about it, but is shocked to find the students in art club are extremely welcoming and compliment her work, which makes her beyond happy and extremely motivated to keep trying. Those art club members end up becoming her first non-team-star friends in a long time, and she always brings them out to the courtyard so that her pokemon friends can pose and model for them to draw

She gets really really red when she's embarrassed. Her old, derogatory nickname was "the red-hot girl" because of her temper, but Team Star only ever uses it to joke about how she flushes now

Atticus

Low-hanging fruit here but this man has autism. He cannot read the mood of a room to save his life, and has been known to make extended, sometimes uncomfortable eye contact with whoever he happens to be talking to. He once infodumped to Giacomo about Phoenician Purple for three hours

His speech patterns are partially because of his extreme interest in history and partially because he finds older prose to be more precise in meaning than modern day slang. He is very clear about saying exactly what he means and being extremely specific, so he finds modern day slang with all its double meanings to be hard to follow and hard to articulate his thoughts with. Older prose has these same issues, but no one tell him that

He struggles to pay attention to things unless his hands are busy. Teachers often wondered if he was paying attention in class while sketching designs or sewing things, but it actually helps him focus better

His three greatest skills are his fashion design, his flexibility, and his skill as a nail artist. He can make you the most dazzling star of the school prom and then do a standing backflip when he's done

Atticus cares very little about social conventions or expectations. It worries people like Penny, who fears it makes him a target for bullying because he is so outwardly strange, but it's honestly fine by him. Despite receiving some pretty horrible treatment at the hands of his bullies in the past, he's bothered very little by it, and cares even less about what people think of him now. He has good friends all around him, so if people think he's weird that's on them; he's gonna keep doing what he wants whether or not it gives him a reputation

Atticus is easily the most mentally stable of anyone in the group. Nothing bothers this man whatsoever; he is thriving and in his lane. Despite this, however, he is never asked for advice because he only gives it in Shakespearean riddles

Ortega

He is an exceptional mechanic, and with the help of Atticus has actually made far more impressive vehicles than even the Starmobiles. His pride and joy is a pastel pink bedazzled motorcycle with a sidecar for his Dacsbund. He can't actually drive it because he's 12 and doesn't have a license, but still

All his mechanic tools are covered in rhinestones and his jumpsuit is pastel pink. He is also a straight, cis man, he just personally beat gender roles unconscious with his gold-encrusted staff. He would have kicked it too, but that would ruin his dress shoes and he's too classy for that

He's sassy and snarky, but it's not a defense mechanism like Mela or a consequence of social isolation like Penny, he's just kind of a brat. Team Star has done a lot to humble him and get him to understand the ~value of friendship~ but he was and still kind of is a spoiled little demon

In terms of raw intelligence, Ortega might be the smartest person in Team Star. He's skipped a few grades, excels at basically everything he sets his mind to, and couples it with pretty high emotional intelligence too. If anyone needs help with homework and is willing to swallow their pride enough to ask, he'll easily be able to help

Ortega has excellent dexterity, which makes him a fantastic piano player and quite good at working with very fine machinery. He also got really into baton twirling at one point because he thought it looked cool, so he can do lots of really neat tricks with his staff and pens and whatnot. He loves to bask in the attention that the grunts give him whenever he shows off (which is often. He LOVES showing off)

He has no patience for anything whatsoever. Eri has to hold him back like a rabid chihuahua every time they go somewhere because he is very used to being waited on constantly. Rich boy rehabilitation

Eri

Every one and their mother hcs this but [points at Carmen] Lesbians. Carmen and Eri are genuinely THE power couple; they’re both smart and gorgeous and well-liked by everyone. Carmen is still shocked Eri didn’t snap her like a toothpick bc it would have been deserved but Eri is just that nice. Stop bullies by kissing them so good they realize they like girls

Everyone else in team star stays up until ungodly hours for assorted reasons but Eri is up at like 5 so she can work out for two hours before class. She’s a little disappointed no one wants to join in her workouts but that’s ok! They need their rest. The benefit of Eri’s workouts is that she can carry a team star member on each arm like one of those muscle dudes on the beach, and she does, bc it’s cool

She’s a luchadora! She plays a heel named La Princesa in Paldean wrestling tournaments but it’s an open secret that she’s super sweet out of the ring and always treats her opponents to ice cream afterwards. Genuine treat to be suplexed by her. Despite being able to, she would NEVER hurt someone for real

Atticus had to tailor her outfits bc they didn’t fit. She’s like 6’, curvy, and built like a tractor trailer, so she cannot wear unisex shirts without ripping the damn sleeves off. She’s very kyaa about it. Very >o< about it

Cries during kid’s movies. And ASPCA commercials. And most things actually. The power of friendship does and has moved her to tears. She is mesmerized by the beauty of the world

She gives the best hugs

Penny

Another popular hc but (gestures vaguely at Penny's everything) transfemme. She has the dysphoria hoodie, the six cats, the cybercrime, the depression nest, whatever is going on with her hair, etc. She got sent to "study abroad" and went on HRT I will stand by this until the end of time. She washes down her progesterone with monster energy. Gamer girl. I bet she even plays Bloodborne

Has severe social anxiety / trauma that stemmed from the bullying and just got significantly worse over time. She orders all her groceries online and has them delivered, so she never has to leave her room and does most of her stuff remotely. If / when she does go outside, it's always at weird hours so she doesn't run into anyone. The mere prospect of going into the cafeteria around lunchtime is mortifying to her. wayyyyy too many people. Her anxiety is significantly worse in the academy, and she's able to function better outside of it

She has support systems for days. Aside from her new friends Nemona / Arven / the protag, she has Team Star, Clavell, an actual therapist, a xanax prescription, and six emotional support veevees. Team Star especially does a lot to help reintroduce her to classes and get over the worst of her anxiety so she can go back to school-- and it works! She becomes much more open, less stressed, and happier postgame as she and her friends help each other out

Penny's dad is super supportive but also super embarrassing about it. He is the ultimate trans rights guy but also wears neon rainbow shirts that say "ALLY" in big letters. Penny kept the worst of the bullying a secret from him because there is zero doubt in my mind he would just roll up to the bullies' houses and beat the crap out of them. He WILL throw hands with a 13 year old if they upset his little girl and he is not afraid to admit that. I'm hyping up this man so bad

Penny is an only child (or younger sibling if u hc Peony to be her dad) but has so, SO many cousins who are constantly doting on her. She is quick to try and retreat to her room during reunions and whatnot because she's easily overwhelmed by the attention, but it all gets better postgame. She ends up dragging Arven to her house for the holidays because he doesn't have a proper family and the cousins are completely enamored with him. He's polite, he's happy to help with the cooking, he has a cute dog... Penny's family is absolutely delighted she has such a good friend and Arven is more than happy to soak up all that familial attention. It's a good exchange

She is an insanely picky eater. Arven is taking this as a challenge, and is always trying to make new sandwiches that she likes. Seeing as Nemona and the protagonist would probably eat salami off the floor if given the opportunity, getting a good review from Penny in particular always boosts his ego. He's also made it his mission to sneak in new ingredients in the hopes of expanding her absolutely atrocious palette. It's not going well, but damn if he isn't trying

[valleyof-goldenlilies]

Se Zaldrizoti’ Prumia - Chapter 4: The Orange Lily Bends Its Head In Grief (Daemon Targaryen x Tyrell!Reader)

Chapter 4: The Orange Lily Bends Its Head In Grief 

The time comes for mourning, old memories and harsh truths. 

Se Zaldrīzoti' Prūmia Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | 

HOTD Masterlist | Main Masterlist | 

Warnings: Extreme slow burn, angst, mentions of Aemma’s traumatic birth scene, Y/N kinda being a headass, Daemon being an ass, Viserys hate club 

Word Count: 2.8k words

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire and Blood characters, save for Y/N Tyrell, although I did expand on their characterisation, which might deviate from canon. All credit for the characters goes to George RR Martin and the showrunners of HOTD. The GIF above is also not mine, original credit to the creator is stated above. Go check them out!

A/N: I’m sorry this chapter was later than expected 😭 i got a bit sick after the concert I attended yesterday (1975 was great but goddamn the crowd was inactive asf) I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! 

wonderful dividers courtesy of @firefly-graphics​  !  

The day was beautiful. The sun hung bright and brilliant in the blue sky, and the smell of salt and sand permeated through the air, along with a slight whiff of smoke from the magnificent dragon situated at the top of the hill, its beady eyes cast upon the crowd of mourners clad in black. 

You stared numbly at the raised dais where Aemma’s embalmed body laid. Little Baelon was next to her, and you couldn’t help but wonder how Aemma would have reacted, had she known the life that had been taken from her in the hopes of letting her babe live, was now naught but sand scattered in the wind: utterly useless. 

Rhaenyra stood next to you: the both of you keeping a fair distance from Viserys. Tears were welled up in her purple eyes, but she did her best not to let them fall, attempting to maintain her calm countenance. She reminded you much of yourself when you had lost your mother, mourning, and unsure on how to express your grief. 

Daemon spoke to Rhaenyra hushedly, the both of them conversing in High Valyrian. You did not deign to translate the faint snippets of their conversation that you overheard in your head, despite your decent grasp of the tongue. You barely noticed as Rhaenyra inched forward gingerly. 

“Dracarys!” You kept your eyes fixed upon Aemma and Baelon’s funeral pyre as it was set alight.. The hot whoosh of flames fanned across your face, and everyone took a step back unconsciously to avoid the heat, but you didn’t feel anything, not as you watched the body of your dearest friend and her ill-fated son burn away to naught but ashes. 

Daemon did not know what to make of today. Grief was a stranger to him: even though he had seen the deaths of his mother, father and grandfather, the depth of the feeling eluded him. Mayhaps there was something wrong with him: given how much death there had been in the later stages of his grandsire’s reign, it was a wonder he was unfeeling at funerals. Still, he found no sense in dwelling over the dead. The dead were the dead, and sorrow would not bring them back. 

He was about to depart from the cliffs, and mount a horse back to the Red Keep, when his gaze befell upon a most strange scene. His brother, and…Y/N? 

Rhaenyra had already ridden off on Syrax back to the Dragonpit, and most of the royal retinue had already retreated back to the Red Keep, unable to stand the sweltering heat, but his brother was here, talking to Y/N, who by now, was becoming ostensibly more and more like she would rather hurl herself off the cliffs than suffer in his brother’s presence for any longer. Viserys’ expression was earnest, mournful, and any man would have softened at the pitiful state the King was in, but Y/N seemed to have none of that. He wondered just what was going on, considering how Y/N was always close with his brother. ‘At least, she was always much more jovial with my brother than with me,’ Daemon thought darkly. 

“Brother,” Viserys turned to face Daemon as you breathed out a sigh of relief, glad to no longer be the centre of Viserys’ attention anymore. Try as you may, you could not shake the lingering sensation of disgust in your gut whenever you laid eyes upon Viserys. Your mind constantly kept flashing back to that horrific scene on Aemma’s deathbed, of the incisions and the realisation of what Viserys had ordered dawning on you when he couldn’t quite meet your gaze. What affection you had for your childhood friend was slowly dispersing into rage and grief, as you struggled to reconcile the jovial and amiable man you once knew with the reality of a man who was callous enough to sacrifice his wife to gain a son. 

Startled when you felt a hand placed firmly on your shoulder, steering you away from Viserys’ bewildered form, you glanced up at Daemon, but he said nothing as the both of you walked away from the King. After a while, when you had both reached the ends of the cliffs, he finally let go of your shoulder. The both of you were silent, staring out at the blue sea, as you both awaited for the other to break the silence. 

“Why did you pull me away from the conversation?” you murmured. “I could tell how uncomfortable you looked,” Although his gaze was directed towards the bay, Daemon’s voice was soft. “You were practically begging to get out of the conversation.” “And here I thought my many years at court had made me better at veiling my emotions.” “With how long we’ve known each other, byka zaldrizes, it would be an insult to me if I couldn’t see past your facades,” Daemon remarked dryly. He began strolling along the length of the cliffs, and you quietly followed suit. 

“...thank you. I…he may be my king, but I am of the opinion that if I had to suffer in his presence any longer, I might punch him.” you admitted, gratitude and exhaustion tainting my voice. Daemon let out a soft snort, “I thought you would have learnt that assaulting a royal never does you any favours.” “You’ve known me for so long, Daemon, in the face of anger, I never did seem to possess the ability to think rationally. What’s more, I think Viserys is deserving of it.” You could feel your heart starting to pound furiously again, the scene of Aemma laying in bed, covered in blood…brutally slit open, her eyes opened wide in death and her expression of agony flashed repeatedly into your mind, making your stomach roll unpleasantly. Tears prickled at the corner of your eyes, and. you bit your lip in an attempt to stave them off, tilting your head away to obscure Daemon from the view. He said nothing, only offering you a handkerchief. You took it, dabbing at your tears lightly, trying to calm yourself by inhaling the salty scent of the sea air. 

Daemon watched her with inquisitive eyes. He had heard rumours of how close Y/N was with his sister-in-law, but with the weight of her grief becoming increasingly apparent, he finally understood the extent of their bond. His heart filled with a strange tugging sensation, but he dismissed it as just the oddity of seeing Y/N cry. In his boyhood memories, he always regarded her as this strong-willed, fierce and irritable little girl. To see her cry was…it made him feel strange. The Y/N of his boyhood seemed so contrasting from the Y/N in front of him now. He had seen Y/N’s physical changes since girlhood, and now he was witnessing the emotional changes. Uncomfortable, he fidgeted with his fingers, about to offer his condolences, but he remembered how much she hated it when he professed his grief at her mother’s passing, and stopped himself. The sight of Y/N dabbing at her tears however, became more and more excruciating for him to bear with every passing minute. He longed to do something, anything, to lighten the tension between them, but what could he say? It wasn’t like comforting his niece, with the Queen that she was serving dead, Y/N might as well have been a sailor lost at sea, with no compass. So instead, he had to bite his tongue as he waited for Y/N to snap out of it. 

You clasped the handkerchief tightly between your fingers, suddenly feeling the traces of embroidery on it. You glanced at the handkerchief, and saw a familiar pattern of lily flowers across the fabric, in your stitching. “I didn’t know you still kept it,” you turned to Daemon, surprised. “I thought you would have shredded it years ago.” “Well, it would be rude of me to intentionally ruin a gift, especially one made of a gesture of goodwill, my lady.” 

Your fingers traced the orange lilies, biting back a smile at the memory behind this handkerchief. Once, in your childhood, you had been most wroth to discover Daemon had stolen your favourite doll and ‘accidentally’ ripped it. In retaliation, you had snuck into his room one night and emptied the contents of his chamberpot on him. Aghast, your mother had ordered you to make a truce with him by sending him a gift. Reluctantly, you sewed him a handkerchief, but to add insult to injury, you didn’t embroider a noble or rare flower on it, such as roses or carnations, but rather, you had chosen lilies. Although it was considered a flower of elegance, the colour of the lilies conveyed otherwise. To put it plainly and unpleasantly, they were one gigantic “fuck you” to Daemon. You couldn’t help but snigger as you recalled his reaction to the handkerchief: his face had twisted most unpleasantly, and he’d looked downright murderous, but since Prince Baelon and your mother were in the room, he could only swallow whatever insults he wanted to churn out and grunt out his thanks, much to your triumph. 

The lilies had turned a little yellow with age, regardless, the handkerchief looked well kept. You returned the handkerchief back to him, his fingers brushing against yours in a lingering touch as he took it back. “For what it’s worth…I am truly sorry for your loss, Y/N,” Daemon offered gallantly, “I know how close you are…were…with my sister-in-law, and she was a great woman. She was always kind to me, at least.”. Normally, you would have teased him for his uncharacteristic politeness, but Aemma’s death had drained all the fight left in you. “I thank you, my Prince,” your voice was hollow. 

Your next few moments were spent in silence, as awkwardness ensued. Daemon was nigh close to throwing himself off the cliffs. He was thoroughly unaccustomed to dealing with grief. He wonders if he had made the right decision when he chose to spirit you away from Viserys. At least the royal party had departed now, but it made it all the more difficult for him to leave Y/N alone on the cliffs. 

“Do you know…what he did?” your voice was tremulous, barely a whisper, but it anchored Daemon back to reality once more. His forehead creased, he said quietly, “I’ve heard. It was…dreadful to say the least.” “Truth be told, I do not know if I could ever…bring myself to forgive his act of cruelty.” “He is your king,” Daemon said, an uncharacteristic gentleness in his voice. “And your friend of many years.” "As was Aemma, Daemon,” you said, your voice tinged with sadness. 

Wishing to broach on this topic no more, you turned your conversation to something else. “Now that he killed both his wife and heir, what do you suppose would happen to the succession now?” Daemon notes with intrigue that your tone has taken a sharper tone toward Viserys, and he couldn’t fight the small sliver of smugness he feels at your distaste. Perhaps it was childish…but he always disliked it when you spoke about Viserys with such reverence, like he could do no wrong in your eyes. 

“He still has an heir,” Daemon reminds her, “Me.” 

You scoffed slightly, “I think you’re forgetting Rhaenyra. She is the King’s only trueborn daughter.” Daemon was annoyed, “A brother’s claim triumphs over a daughter’s.” “You’ve never paid any attention to the laws of Andal succession then.” “We are Targaryens, byka zaldrizes, what regard have we for those fucking laws?” Daemon snorted, “Moreover, Rhaenyra is but a child, besieged with grief. The right choice of heir for the stability of the realm should be me.” 

“You’re just using Aemma’s death as a way to further your own ambitions,” your tone was accusatory, and Daemon wanted nothing more than to shove this infernal woman off the cliffs. Why did everyone always think the worst of him? “I can assure you, that contesting the heir to the throne is the least of your worries right now.” 

You narrowed your eyes, “And what is that supposed to mean?” Daemon let a smirk play out on his face, “Now that my sweet sister-in-law is dead, what do you suppose will happen to you?” You blinked, confused by his sudden mention of your future. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to, Daemon.” 

“You are well aware that since your tenure as lady-in-waiting to the Queen is at an end, you will most likely be sent home to the Reach, do you not?” Your voice grew annoyed, “My focus now is on mourning Aemma, she was my friend, Daemon. As for what the future holds, I do not care about that.” Daemon let out a snort of laughter, “Are you sure about that, Y/N? It might not be the wisest course of action, you know.” 

You stopped in your tracks and gave him a frosty glare, “And since when did you care about my wellbeing, Daemon?” Daemon chuckled mirthlessly, “I do not. However, since my late sister-in-law harboured a form of affection for you, however of an annoying little brat you may be, I believe it in my responsibility to give you a warning.” “I have no need for your warnings,” you said brusquely. 

Daemon leaned forward, his violet eyes gleaming with savage delight, “Perhaps you should think again then.” He drew back, circling around you as his eyes watched you like a hawk. “With the Queen dead, it would be inevitable before you are summoned back to Highgarden. Tell me, what are you to do when you are ordered to wed by your father, hmm?” 

You bit your lip, disconcerted. But it was all the answer Daemon needed to carry on. “You no longer have any reason nor power to retain your status at court,” he mused, looking down at your stiffened form. “And when it comes, your father will summon you back to Highgarden. And you shall be wedded off like a prized pig to some lord, who could be balding, old, or ill-tempered. Or all three. Who knows?” He hears your sharp intake of breath, and he could see it clearly now. Your fear for this sort of fate. 

“Whether you like it or not, you must worry for your political standing. Even if you hate to make merry with my brother, you will have to stomach it.” You finally snap, your eyes ablaze, “I will not. Why should I give a damn about my political standing anyway? Should I refuse to go home, my father will not force me. The King will not force me.” 

Daemon laughed, the sound bouncing off the cliffs. It was a rough, jagged laugh, more out of dark bemusement than of any joy. “Byka zaldrizes, it seems you’re even more of a fool than I imagined. You might have matured in terms of your visage, but I see your immaturity still shines through.” 

Hurt by his words, you could only keep silent. Your mind was racing. You didn’t want to admit it…but you could see some truth in his words. Viserys could heartlessly give the order for his wife to be cut open, he would not defend you from something as simple as marriage. He was after all, a father, and a king to boot. He would sympathise with your father’s claims of duty to your house. 

Daemon’s voice was chiding as he spoke. “There is no doubt my brother will take a new wife after this. After that, there will be a new queen in court, a shift in power. And you?” he reached out to tuck a loose strand of your hair behind your ears. “Will be naught but a speck in the past. The new queen might be someone you are not acquainted with, and she will surround herself with an entourage she is familiar with. One which you will not be a part of. Who will protect you from your father’s will then? Certainly not my brother, if I know him.” 

You saw the sense in his words, but a certain sort of rebellion still blazed in you. “I would never allow myself to be used by my father this way,” you said, lifting your chin defiantly. “I am a grown woman now, and I can make my choices.” 

Daemon looked down at you, something akin to pity on his face. “If that’s what you think,” Daemon’s voice was soft, “Then you are a naive fool, my lady.” Abashed by his words, you could only look down, feeling lost. It was too much for you to deal with: mourning Aemma and Baelon, your newfound disgust and fear for Viserys, and now, terror for your future. You couldn’t deal with this. Not right now, maybe not ever. You weren’t used to this sudden weight of realisation, of burden on your shoulders, and Daemon could tell. He always could. 

The two of you stewed in despondent silence, before Daemon sighed, “Come, my lady. I should escort you back to the Red Keep.” You have a great deal to think about, his violet eyes seemed to whisper to you, making you feel even more unsettled. You nodded hesitantly, and he offered you his arm, before the both of you walked back to the remaining wheelhouse in a silence that was much colder and contemplative than before. 

Taglist for Se Zaldrizoti’ Prumia: @drwho-ess @graniairish @urmomsgirlfriend1 @thelittleswanao3 @animelover18 @llovinjoonie @gracielikegrapes​ @salembridger

Daemon General Taglist: @aiyaiy​

those who are bolded are the ones that couldn’t be tagged! let me know in the comments or through this form 

and that makes chapter 4! chapter 5 should be released in around 2-3 days time! do let me know what you think in the comments! if you liked this chapter, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated 💗 thank you for reading! 

[gatheredfates]

ALAICE DEVERAUX

Nicknames: Not applicable. Age: Twenty-one. Nameday: Twenty-Seventh Sun of the First Astral Moon (apparently I gave her my birthday, so that might change!) Race: Duskwight Elezen. Gender: Cis female. Orientation: Straight? Profession: Lady of the House of Deveraux and Dubois, last remaining survivor after the Dragonsong War; apprentice baker and occasional confidant to Firelight Trading Company.

PHYSICAL ASPECTS

Hair: A light blue, leaning more into teal. She tends to style it in loose curls around her shoulders. Eyes: She is heterochromatic! One eye is teal, the other is a steel grey. Skin: Pale with a silvery undertone; it tends to reflect whatever light hits it, rather than possessing it's own distinct colour. Tattoos/Scars: None of any note.

FAMILY

Parents: Lord and Lady Deveraux, dead by Alaice's sixteenth year. It is said that Lord Deveraux attempted to defend his wife from the dragons before he was engulfed in flames. No remains of her mother have been found. Siblings: Not applicable. Grandparents: Not applicable, more unfortunate souls lost to the war. In-Laws and Others: Alaice has a child from her first marriage, a daughter called Alyna. Her husband, Draeir Dubois, died under mysterious circumstances in the months preceding the Ishgardian/Dragon peace treaty, bringing no end of speculation from gentry and smallfolk alike. Some suspect his desire to expand his house beyond Foundation's spires drew ire from the High Houses and he was made an example of. Others suspect a more... intimate cause. Without a murder weapon or obvious intent, none can deduce a proper suspect.

She is particularly close to @riftdancing's Siyoh Mari who, whilst not understanding a lick of Ishgardian gossip, will happily entertain the confusion over a cup of tea as Alaice dramatizes. This leagues better than Elandervier who told her she'd 'rather chew on a voidsent's ass' and leaves at the very mention of anything to do with the city. She has an extremely complicated relationship with the other Elezen due to their mutual upbringings, trauma and reconciliation.

When Firelight is conducting business in Ishgard, she can be seen at its patriarch's side helping him navigate the intricacies of the city. Pets: Unless you count the many birds that have taken residence in her gardens, not applicable.

SKILLS

Abilities: Alaice is ice-aspected to a dangerous degree, and it's an element she has always tried to keep under wraps for fear of heresy and expulsion from the Holy See. As a result, the magic is unpredictable and emerges as a by-product of extreme situations/emotions. Only a select few people know she possesses such an ability. Hobbies: Like all ladies of her standing, Alaice was given a proper education including tutelage in deportment; music, song and dance; needlework and painting — among other gentle pursuits. She has a particular affinity for bird watching and, in the advent of her husband's death, has sunk herself readily into her little business as a baker.

TRAITS

Most positive trait: Alaice possesses a remarkable capacity for trust despite her confinement and husband's abuse. Worst negative trait: Her naïvety. As a woman constricted by the societal expectations of Ishgardian women, Alaice knows scarce little about the world around her — or even Ishgard proper. It is something she is working constantly to undo.

LIKES

Colours: Blue, white, silver, gold and shades of brown. However, given Ishgard's proclivity to the cold, any colour that can break through the sheen of snow is a welcomed addition in her eyes. Smells: Anything floral and/or citrus. These are not necessarily smells she will wear, but remind her of a time before the Calamity when the climate of Ishgard was better suited. She's also partial to vanilla, almond and loves the smell of rain. Textures: Knitted wool and smooth glass (or ice, though she tries not to think too much about it), the gentle prick of pine and the grooves in wood and stone. Drinks: Champagne, white wine and mead. She's also discovering some enjoyment of red wine, stay tuned if she gets more extreme!

OTHER DETAILS

Smokes: Rarely. She smoked recreationally after her parents died, a sort of 'dare' from the other ladies in her company, and took it up in secret as a way to release anxiety in the early days of her marriage — away from the prying eyes of her husband. Alaice quit after becoming pregnant with Alyna and hasn't taken it back up due to associating it with those negative experiences. Drinks: Semi-regularly. Much like smoking, she quit entirely when she got pregnant and tends to only partake as a social nicety. She can acknowledge where she was falling into unhealthy patterns when she was married and tries not to go back to those places. Drugs: Not applicable. Mount Issuance: Not applicable. Alaice was fed on the indoctrination by her husband that is not a lady's place to traverse, but that men should come to her. If she is needed for Firelight Business she will be escorted by their couriers, but she has no vehicle of her own. Been Arrested: No. Being a suspect was traumatic enough. Why would she kill her lord husband?

Tagged by: @eriyu — at least for this one! I'm going to try and do one character per tag. Tagging: @thefreelanceangel, @hythlodaes, @piyopikamika, @sealrock, @thevikingwoman & @yloiseconeillants! If you'd like a chance of being tagged, you can like my permanent interaction call here!

[dddegen]

Hawks fic with a reader who doesn’t believe in herself much?

𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴! 𝗹𝗲𝘁 𝗺𝗲 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗶 𝗱𝗶𝗱 :)

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀𝗻'𝘁 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗰𝘁𝗹𝘆 𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆. 𝗵𝗲'𝘀 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝘀𝗼𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿, 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿.

Keigo Takami "Hawks" x reader fluff/comfort

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 : 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘒𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘰 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘛𝘰𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘒𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘰 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

ɪᴛ's ᴏᴋᴀʏ

You're beyond exhausted, hobbling into your shared apartment with makeup streaming down your face. One of the heels you had worn was broken, your hair was a mess from ripping the scrunchie out of it, and you couldn't stop the tears from flowing down your face. You had been rejected for a very high paying and comfy position, one that you had worked so hard on for so many years. You studied hard in high school in order to take college classes in your senior year to start early. You got yourself into the best college that taught you everything you needed to know. This was even your second time being rejected.

The first time, it was due to lack of on field experience, which was very understandable. So you went out and got that damn experience. Five whole years of it. But now? You weren't even given a reason. Nothing. It was like all of the time you'd spent working hard, sacrificing your social life, your mental health, your financial stability, everything, it was all a waste. Why were you rejected? You were the most qualified on a technical and experience standpoint. You had a wide range of ideas that you had expressed in your interview that the employer was actively engaging in. You were even quick to introduce solutions to many issues the company faced. So what happened?

Tossing your heels onto the floor just in front of the shoe rack, you walked to your couch and slumped down on it. Sinking into the cushion and back into the head rest, you could feel your throat burning with the urge to cry, yet you were just too tired to. You didn't understand what went wrong.

Keigo was set to be home from patrolling soon, promising earlier that he would bring dessert for the two of you to celebrate getting the job. How were you going to explain it without crying? You were gonna have to figure it out though, as he was currently calling you for an update. Slowly, you picked up your phone, looking down at the screen with bloodshot and burning eyes. A cute image of both of you as his contact photo. You felt like you had failed yourself, your family, 𝘩𝘪𝘮. With a thumb pressing onto the green button, you swiped and lazily propped the device up to your ear.

❝ Hey , chikadee .ᐟ 'm heading to the store now 。How did everything go  ִ𖤠 ❞

The excitement was clear in his tone. He was expecting a positive answer, yet your long pause had his excitement wavering.

❝ 𓈓 Chikadee — ִ𖤠 ❞

❝ I didn't get it 。❞

The silence was loud, and the air was feeling dense with tension. Despite your flat and matter of fact answer, there was a small crack of emotion that broke through your tone. It left you silent, embarrassed, and ashamed.

❝ I'll be home as fast as I can , okay  ִ𖤠 ❞

You couldn't respond, too busy holding back tears as you hung up. It took you only five minutes to gather yourself just to change clothes, yet it felt like an hour. Time just seemed to slow down, forcing you to marinate in your failure. Wearing some shorts and one of Keigo's shirts, you cleaned the makeup off your face and put your hair up in a messy bun. It took Keigo forty-five agonizing minutes to get home, each minute making you more and more paranoid, convincing yourself that he's going to break up with you. A rather over the top and extreme conclusion to jump to, yet very possible and very real in your eyes. It left you petrified when he slowly jiggled the door handle and pushed the door open. You were back on the couch, sitting up, wrapped up in the softest blanket you had. You were prepared for the worst, but not for this...

In his arms, a combination of your favorite foods from your favorite restaurants, drinks, your favorite candies, two games that you'd wanted for a while, some recently released movies, and edible flowers made from fruit. His full arms shook as he leaned forward and carefully placed everything on the coffee table before you. Your eyes, puffy and red, were wide with shock, brows furrowed in confusion. You were so convinced he wanted to leave you from such a catastrophic failure that this gesture was foreign. Once his arms were free, they were moving forward and wrapping around you, starting with a gentle hold before giving a squeeze and rubbing your back. His tone is soft as he speaks to you.

❝ I know you really wanted things to work out , I wanted them to work out too 。You worked so hard , you put more effort into this than I had ever seen 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 put into 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 。Sometimes , things just dont work out , no matter what you do 𓈓 ❞

He pauses, his hands gliding into yours to hold them. The pads of his thumbs gently run over the back of your hands. Your heart was shattering, the moment you were rejected playing in your head over and over. His voice is breaking through your thoughts, giving you the strength to lift your gaze up to his golden orbs.

❝ I don't know why you didn't get the job , but I know that whatever reason they gave you is absolute garbage 。You are one of the most kind , selfless , strong-willed , hard-working , stubborn , creative , and determined people I know 。If anybody deserved the spotlight , it's you , but you're very clearly out of their league 。❞

He followed with a small wink, forcing a small laugh from you. Your chest was beginning to feel lighter, the burning in your eyes feeling dull now as the pain and stress were slowly fading.

❝ There are other places hiring , looking for people as talented as you to do this same job 。You just have to look a little bit harder , but I know you can do it 。Eventually , you're gonna find a place that sees you , that understands you , and recognizes your strengths and your potential 。❞

He separates briefly to scoot the coffee table closer to you, the smell of your favorite foods wafting through the air. It was making you drool a bit, simultaneously filling your eyes back up with tears. Nobody knew you better than he did. He had nothing but faith in you whilst you were in a mist of uncertainty, the negativity nearly making you lose sight of the gem before you, trying his hardest to help.

❝ 'Kami , I'm 𓈓 'm so sorry 。I feel like I failed you , failed 𝘶𝘴 and — ❞

❝ Hey , hey , no 。❞

He's wrapping his arms back around you in a slightly tighter hug, kissing your forehead.

❝ You will 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 fail in my eyes 。𝗘𝘃𝗲𝗿 。This was just a little hiccup , but I've got faith in you 。You always pick yourself back up , you always keep going 。Please 𓈓 ❞

He paused, his voice cracking as he could feel his own composure breaking at just how broken you were over this. It was like your pain was so strong that even he could feel it, cutting deep into his heart. Yet he continues to maintain the composure he has, being the shoulder you needed to lean on.

❝ Please promise me you'll keep going 。❞

You couldn't hold yourself back. Your head rest forward on his shoulder as you whispered, promising him that you won't stop. But you both understood that it was necessary to at least take a break and let out some stress before you continued on your journey to employment again.

Keigo did not once leave your side, keeping you wrapped up in your blanket, cuddling with you, handing you your food, your drinks, setting up the games and movies for you, pampering you. He was practically attached to your hip for the rest of the day and all throughout the night. Truthfully, Keigo had many thoughts about flexing his status for the sake of scoring you the job, make them come begging on their knees for you to join their company, but he obviously couldn't to that. It wasn't the right thing to do, no matter how much he wanted to, to make you happy.

You two spent the whole night eating, playing games, watching movies, joking around. It was lifting your spirits gradually, filling you with a new hope that you will be discovered by a company that's worth your time. You'll get through this, all with him right by your side. As the night came to an end, the both of you not getting tired until the sun was beginning to rise, you two joined each other in bed, holding each other close. He provided you with warmth, with strength, with joy. He was everything to you. Just as you were everything to him, his heart, his rationale. There was not a single challenge you two couldn't handle facing together, with all of your stress fading once you held each other, and each and every night ending with a sincere and heartfelt,

❝ I love you 。❞

❝ I love you 。❞

𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗺𝗲𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀! 𝗶𝘁'𝘀 𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝘀𝗼 𝗜 𝗺𝗮𝘆 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝗮𝗱𝗲 𝗮 𝗳𝗲𝘄 𝗲𝗿𝗿𝗼𝗿𝘀, 𝗱𝗲𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝗱𝗶𝗱 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗼𝗳 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝗹𝗼𝗹. 𝗶 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝘁! 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹 𝗳𝗿𝗲𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝗺𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀!