#my goal for the next one is to do all the pages back and front

[mintalovell]

tiny bit of a sketchbook tour since i just fully filled my current one up! time to start a new one 😈

[flowerandblood]

The Second One (1/2)

[ modern • Aemond x Alys!sister • female ]

[ warnings: angst, kissing, physical violence, swearing, toxic relationship, toxic behaviour, manipulation ]

[ description: On the occasion of their grandfather's birthday, her older sister, Alys, comes to their house and introduces her partner to their family, who from the very beginning arouses her concern with his behavior. After a series of unpleasant words and arguments, he visits her in her room in the night, paying her a strange, ambiguous visit. Dark, manipulative, bitchy Aemond. Anon request. ]

This is Part 1 of The Loved One

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

Her family decided to throw a party for her grandfather at their house to celebrate his 90th birthday, at which her older sister appeared for the first time with her partner. She was surprised that her man was so young and thought with shock that the age difference between them was at least 10 years.

She and her never understood each other very well, as Alys pursued her goals over dead bodies. After many years, she realised that she could not trust her, that she had to be careful with her words around her. She loved her and tried to accept her as she was, but she couldn't be her friend.

Nor did it seem to her that Alys could ever see her as such.

She introduced the man she had come with perfunctorily, a scar on his left cheek – it seemed to her, looking at him from a distance, that one of his eyes was artificial, shining strangely in the light of the chandelier.

He was dressed in black tight jumper and fitted trousers, standing with his hands folded in front of him like a bodyguard, not paying much attention to what his sister was saying, biting his lower lip.

She thought that he didn't want to be here at all.

She shuddered when their gazes met for a long moment. Instead of looking away, however, she felt a sense of discomfort as she saw the way his eyes ran shamelessly over her entire body, the tip of his tongue hitting the side of his cheek.

She left the room deciding she didn't want to look at it, walking out through the back door into the garden.

Alys always overshadowed her – she felt small and bland in her presence. Her older sister could make a good impression when she wanted to, always extremely feminine, confident and mysterious, a true femme fatale.

She was very successful in the fashion industry, modeling for many years, her face was on the front pages of the world's magazines.

Unsurprisingly, she did not seek the friendship of her younger sister, who was a nobody next to her, a little girl playing at studying literary history. She loved reading, in the world of books she could be whoever she wanted, she could be the only one, the main character in the story.

Despite what she was feeling, she tried not to show her or anyone else her pain, focusing on her friends from her studies and the fact that she really liked what she was doing, recognising that getting into university thanks to her results without being forced to pay tuition fees was also some kind of success, something her parents always emphasised.

She sat on the grass taking advantage of the fact that it was a pleasant summer evening, due to living far outside the city boundaries she could admire the stars that stretched above her across the cloudless dark sky.

She heard the sound of a door being pushed open and slid shut and thought it was her father smoking compulsively. She smiled as she heard someone's footsteps heading in her direction being sure it was him, hearing the sound of a lighter being fired up and the hiss of a cigarette.

She glanced over her shoulder and froze seeing the man Alys had come with looking at her intently. She pulled back slightly as he sat down next to her, shocked to feel her heart pounding hard, knowing it was strange to say the least.

She felt uncomfortable.

He held out his hand with his cigarette to her and she shook her head without looking at him, wondering if she should return home. He grinned, letting the smoke out loudly through his nose.

"Are you running away from her too?" He asked with some kind of amusement, his voice low, deep, slightly hoarse. She felt a shudder at his words and looked at him uneasily with a expression of surprise on her face, wondering what he was implying.

She was running away from whom?

From Alys?

She swallowed loudly, recognising that his words were rude.

They might not have liked each other, but she was her sister.

"Why be with someone you're running away from?" She asked frustrated, wondering if he had come to arouse her sister's jealousy, to tease her at her expense.

She had no intention of getting dragged into any of their games.

She felt a squeeze in her throat when he looked at her with some kind of mockery – before responding to her, he pressed his cigarette to his lips and took a deep drag, letting the smoke out along with his words.

"She can fuck well." He hummed, as if it was a normal, decent response.

She shook her head in disbelief and stood up, moving ahead, leaving him alone. She walked into her house and passed Alys, who wanted to ask her a question.

"Did you perhaps see −"

"− in the garden."

She couldn't look at him for the entire dinner and, as if he was doing it on purpose, he took the seat opposite her before Alys could decide for him where they would sit. She told him to move closer to her mother, but he settled comfortably in his chair, playing with his fork.

"No. I'm fine here." He muttered, throwing her a long, meaningful look. She pressed her lips together, swallowing loudly, feeling sick to her stomach.

She thought they were both worthy of each other.

She had no idea what their relationship was, but Alys liked to live on the edge and perhaps that was what she experienced with him.

Extreme emotions.

Her older sister finally sat down next to him, noticing her at last, asking her questions out of politeness that she didn't feel like answering, seeing him looking at her with a smirk that made her sick.

What kind of man was this?

"How are you doing in your studies? What are you reading now? Any poetry?" She asked in her soft, low, feminine voice, taking a sip of wine, fixing her long black hair.

She exhaled quietly, swallowing hard, looking down at her plate, on which lay an uneaten piece of meat.

"I'm reading the prose of Witold Gombrowicz right now. He's a Polish writer." She explained, convinced that her sister would certainly not know who it was, she, however, surprised her as she blinked, looking at her partner in wonder.

"Gombrowicz… do you by any chance have books by this author in your flat, Aemond?" She asked him curiously, his gaze, however, not even paying her a moment's attention, fixed on her, making her feel like sinking to the ground.

"Yes." He replied briefly, with some kind of satisfaction from which she grew hot, feeling uncomfortable with the idea that she had any interest in common with the man who sat before her. Alys stirred in her chair, intrigued.

"That's interesting. Well, tell me, little sister, what this Gombrowicz is writing about." She said lightly, putting a bit of salad on her plate.

She felt some kind of humiliation at her words, like a monkey in a circus who was now going to juggle her knowledge for her enjoyment. She sighed quietly, giving up, having no idea how to explain it to her.

"It's complicated." She said truthfully, and her sister snorted.

"Don't you know what you're reading about? What are they teaching you in these studies?" She asked with lively amusement. She felt a tightening in her throat and tears pushing into her eyelids, which she held back with difficulty.

She exhaled and looked at the man sitting in front of her, staring at her expectantly, intrigued as to what she would do, how she would answer, the fingers of his hand rubbing against each other in a gesture of anticipation.

"Gombrowicz uses difficult metaphors, swaps out certain words, using other, infantile ones in their place. Most of it is written as if he himself is the protagonist of events, it is like his stream of consciousness, the plot is simultaneously present and absent.

What all his books have in common is that he is a broken man, rejected by Poland and the Poles because he fled to Argentina on the Transatlantic right after the outbreak of the Second World War instead of staying and fighting.

Everything he writes about is his relationship with his country, which he loves and hates, which he longs for and abhors, his despair about his sexuality and his psyche. He wrote all his life in Polish, but he did not return to Poland, the communists did not want to publish his work.

He was unable to express his feelings in another language and although he was considered a traitor, in my opinion his true feeling for his country, the enormity of his suffering in seeing how much poison there was in his nation, which he pointed his fingers at when others praised it to the skies, is expressed in his work.

He is, in my opinion, an outstanding author." She said on almost one exhale, grabbing her glass of water. She took a deep sip from it, setting it down with a loud clink of glass, not looking at them, feeling her heart pounding hard.

Her sister blinked, raising her eyebrows, shaking her head.

"Oh, Mother, so many long sentences, and I still don't know exactly what his books are about. Anyway, I'm glad that you're doing well with your studies." She said lightly, and she shuddered to see a wide, dangerous smile spread across the lips of the man before her.

He was enjoying what was happening.

He drew satisfaction from it.

Her sister went back to eating, turning to their aunt across the table, not seeing that she was struggling to hold back tears of humiliation.

Nor did she see the way her partner looked at her sister, unaware that he was giving her far too much attention.

She thought they were both fucked up.

She knew that another half hour at the most and she could run upstairs to her room saying she would go to bed and leave this whole gathering.

She saw Aemond grab a bottle of wine and pour himself half a glass, her sister threw him a puzzled, upset look.

"You're driving, aren't you?" She burbled, and he hummed under his breath, taking a deep sip. He set his glass down without looking at her.

"Not anymore. I'm tired."

She felt a squeeze in her pit at the thought that he was trying to make them stay here instead of going back to the city.

She thought the last thing she wanted was to listen to them moaning on the other side of the wall and looked away, resigned and tired.

According to her plan, after several minutes she said a polite goodbye to everyone and said she would go to bed now, not honouring him or her sister with a single glance.

She changed into her pyjamas consisting of a T-shirt and shorts and locked her door, wanting to make sure no one tried to enter her room.

She swallowed loudly when, an hour later, she heard their voices in the corridor, lifting her gaze from the book she had just been reading in the light of her bedside lamp while sitting on her bed.

"I told you already, I don't want to stay here overnight. Let's order an Uber." Her sister insisted, she could hear her muffled, frustrated voice.

"And I told you I am tired. I'd like to finally fucking rest. You wanted me to come, I came, and now I want to go to bed. Is that so fucking much?" She heard his low, angry voice and felt discomfort at the thought of hearing every word knowing that this was their private conversation.

"Can you keep your voice down? Do you always have to act like a little child? And why are you looking like a pervert at my little sister, huh? Do you think I can't see? Do you want to fuck her?" She hissed out in a whisper, and she felt her heart pounding hard, ashamed, embarrassed and horrified by her words, by the fact that she had noticed it and pretended that nothing had happened.

She heard his low chuckle.

"Maybe I want to. Maybe she wouldn't act like a bitch to me like you do." He growled and she heard a loud splat followed by complete silence.

She slapped him.

She stared at her door, breathing unevenly, swallowing her saliva with difficulty, wondering if she should come out and intervene or if it was better to stay quiet.

"Get the fuck out of my house." She hissed and he laughed, as if her words amused him.

"Fuck no. I'll stay here overnight and drive home in the morning by my car. If you want, order an Uber. Sorry −"

She heard someone come upstairs and from the way he spoke she deduced that it was her mother.

"− will it be a problem if I stay here overnight? I feel bad and I wouldn't want to go back to the city in this condition." He said lowly.

There was silence again – she thought that her mother didn't know what to do, having surely heard at least some of their argument.

"− I − yes − of course −" She muttered after a while. She heard the sound of a door opening on the other side of the corridor, their voices becoming increasingly indistinct.

Then she heard the loud clatter of Alys' heels, her and her mother's voices as they ran down the stairs.

"Fucking bastard." Said her sister, their mother trying to reassure her.

"− after all, I can't just throw him out, since you invited him −"

She heard the loud slamming of the front door. She got up on trembling legs and walked slowly to the window, seeing her sister lighting a cigarette with trembling hands, wiping her cheeks.

She cried.

She felt a squeeze in her heart at the sight, and even though she had hurt her so often with her words, she felt sorry for her. After a moment, she saw an Uber pull up in front of their house, and she got into it and just drove off.

She swallowed loudly at the thought that she had gone, but he had stayed.

What was he planning?

She turned off her lamp, hiding under the duvet, swallowing loudly, listening for any sounds. She felt restless – she couldn't fall asleep and she shivered feeling her heart pounding hard.

She felt that something was about to happen.

She shuddered, snapped out of a deep sleep when she heard a quiet knock on her door. She glanced quickly at her phone's display and saw that it was two o'clock in the morning.

She looked at her door, figuring that if she didn't get up he would go away, but he knocked again. She covered her face with her hands, feeling tears under her eyelids with fear.

"Please, go away. Please." She said pleadingly, wanting him to take pity on her, not having the strength for it, for their pushing and shoving, for him to fuck her now when in a week's time they'd be back together with her sister, looking for thrills, hating and loving each other like two elements.

She had no intention of being anyone's plaything.

"I want to talk about Gombrowicz." He said lowly and she groaned loudly, licking her lips, shaking her head.

"It's two in the morning." She muttered beggingly, not understanding completely what he had in mind.

"I'm not going until we talk about him." He said after a moment in a matter-of-fact, cool tone, and she sighed heavily, stood up and walked to the door, turning the key.

She opened it for him and there he was, standing in front of her, looking down at her with an indifferent expression on his face. He stepped inside as if nothing had happened, walking up to the window, opening it wide, pulling cigarettes and a lighter from the back pocket of his trousers.

She thought surprised that she had never met such an insolent man in her life.

She simply closed the door behind him, sitting down on her bed, leaning her back against the wall, covering her bare legs with the duvet.

He didn't look at her but out of the window, straight into the night, his face lit by the warm flame of the fire, his cigarette hissed. He took a drag of it, settling comfortably on her wide windowsill, silent for a long moment.

"Have you read Trans-Atlantyk?" He asked at last indifferently, still not looking at her while letting the smoke out with his mouth, his face turned in profile to her. She swallowed loudly, all tense, wrapping her knees with her hands.

"Yes." She replied quietly.

Silence fell between them again, broken only by the hiss of his cigarette each time he took a drag.

"What do you think about it?" He asked at last, just as matter-of-factly and dispassionately. She pressed her lips together, sleepy and tired.

"That it's his best book." She said truthfully, throwing him a depressed, exhausted look.

She didn't have the strength for this.

She just wanted to go to sleep.

"Why?" He continued, and she sighed heavily, placing her forehead on her knees.

"Because it is his response to what has been going on around him. It is his answer to all the accusations made against him. Proof that his country was not at all indifferent to him – on the contrary, although he wanted to, he could not eradicate it from his heart. He saw what was poisoning his country from within. What was destroying it and he had the courage to speak out about it.

He spoke of it with irony and contempt, but when you read into his words, there is only deep feeling and regret there, regret that his country cannot be what he would like, what he needs, what he loves. His people do not reciprocate this feeling, do not see the need to change, that everything is declining.

His feelings are complicated, but therefore true, because he shows that there are no easy answers. Out of the chaos of his thoughts there emerges some truth, some core, and although elusive, although dressed up in humour and irony that made me laugh, after reading this book I wanted to cry."

She said exactly what she felt, regardless of whether he was listening or not. She heard him hum at her words, silent for a long moment, his cigarette almost completely burnt out.

"After I first read this book I couldn't sleep. I felt anxious. As if I had suddenly entered someone's mind, heard their private thoughts and then no longer knew whether I or the author was thinking about something. I had never felt anything like that before." He said calmly, running his tongue over his lower lip, dropping his cigarette into her glass of water that stood on her desk.

She looked at him uncertainly noticing that his face was no longer so tense and aggressive – he was lying comfortably spread out, leaning his back against a wall, pulling another cigarette from his pack.

She considered his words in silence, recognising with surprise that she understood what he was talking about, that she had in fact felt the same way when she read this author's books.

"Can I sleep here with you?" He asked suddenly, and she threw him a shocked, horrified look. She watched him nonchalantly light another cigarette.

What?

"− no − I − God −" She mumbled out, burying her face in her hands, wanting to tell him that he was just terrifying her, that what he was asking was wrong in so many different ways and was putting her in a very awkward position.

She felt a certain discomfort looking at his face, feeling that it was some kind of game, that he was testing her.

"− I can sleep on the floor − I won't touch you −" He said finally looking at her, letting out a puff of smoke with a quiet hiss of his lips.

She couldn't tell what she saw in that look, dark, cold, proud.

He, however, was still sitting in the same place and still looking at her.

"I don't believe you. You want to have fun at my expense, but I don't feel like it. We've talked, now leave. Please." She said, looking bravely into his face, trying to sound as soft as possible.

She had no intention of offending him.

She just wanted him to let her alone.

"I don't love your sister." He said lightly, as if he were talking about the weather. She snorted, shaking her head.

"I don't care. She cried today because of you after she left our house. You're insolent and unpleasant, intruding on me in my own home and making me feel uncomfortable." She choked out, frustrated and angry, furrowing her brow, feeling that she was losing patience.

He, however, chuckled lowly at her words, amused, shaking the ash from his cigarette out of the window.

"She was crying? That's interesting. She didn't give a shit that you almost cried because of her at the table." He murmured, glancing at her curiously, clearly wanting to check her reaction. She pressed her lips together at his words.

"She told me about you. What an ugly duckling you are. That you don't know how to dress well, don't know how to accentuate your figure and your assets. That you hide yourself in big sweatshirts and sit with your nose in books instead of really living and that there's nothing to talk to you about because you can't converse about anything interesting." He mused, taking another drag, cocking his head with curiosity.

"It's none of your business. Get out." She said dryly.

He stood up, approaching her slowly, crouching in front of her bed – he placed his elbows on her bedding, his cigarette in his mouth, which he lightly removed with his hand as he caught his balance.

She felt pain in her heart at his words and tightness in her throat, her fingers clenched on the material of her duvet, her eyebrows arching in anguish. She felt tears under her eyelids again, but she didn't want to give this bastard any satisfaction.

"Get out." She repeated coolly in a trembling voice, looking at him coldly.

"Did you tell her what she wanted to hear too, before you got bored?" She asked with derision, the corner of her mouth twitching in a mocking smile. She saw his gaze darken – he licked his lower lip involuntarily as if he recognised that he was accepting her challenge.

"But when I saw you today I understood why she said that. Because you're pretty. Because you're kind. Polite and cultured. Because you can converse about high literature, and she just doesn't understand what you're talking about. You don't have to spend hours applying make-up, wearing deep necklines and tight dresses to be naturally beautiful. To attract and intrigue. She's fucking jealous of you, little one." He hummed and she felt a shudder at the way he called her, thinking how inappropriate it was.

She pressed her body against the wall, wanting to be as far away from him and his words as possible, feeling hot, thinking that he was manipulating her.

"I didn't have to say much. She prefers to fuck, you know? To feel desired." He murmured lowly, taking another drag, looking at her expectantly, some dangerous glint in his eye.

"Why are you telling me this?" She asked finally, feeling that she didn't have the strength for it, that she just wanted him to leave her alone. He grinned in a way that made her feel a shiver.

"Just so you know the problem isn't with you." He said lightly, as if it was obvious. She shook her head unable to follow his train of thought.

"Why are you with her if you despise her?" She asked, feeling that she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, her voice slightly raised and trembling.

"Because she has big tits and a big ass. Because she sucks cock well." He said calmly and she shook her head, feeling embarrassed by his words, feeling as one by one tears began to run down her cheeks.

She covered her face with her hands, feeling that it was too much for her, that they were both worthy of each other.

Why was he meddling her in their affairs?

"− hey − hey, little one −" He whispered – she felt the mattress next to her bend under his weight and she immediately jumped back, terrified, pushing him away, shaking her head.

"− no − please, no, leave −" She mumbled out, but he just put his arms around her and pressed her against his chest. She could hear his heart beating fast – he smelled of wine, cigarettes and some intense, masculine perfume.

"− please, let me go −" She wailed through her tears, but he hushed her, his free hand stroking her hair, the other holding his cigarette.

She felt him lean his back against the wall and settle into a half-lying position, drawing her with him, his large, warm hand roaming over her head and back, in some strange, irrational way making her feel comfortable.

"− cry −" He whispered quietly with some kind of understanding, as if he knew what she was going through, and although she didn't want to, she allowed herself to burst into sobs, along with her tears flowing out of her all the years she felt next to her sister like nobody.

She didn't want to come off as the jealous one, the one who couldn't enjoy other people's successes, but she understood that Alys never praised her sincerely – everything she said was the bare minimum so that no one could accuse her of being judgmental towards her.

She felt bad at the thought of sobbing in her man's embrace, cuddled up to his chest, but she couldn't help it. She didn't have the strength anymore: she just wanted to sleep, to simply rest.

"− it's okay, little one − I know −" He hummed stroking her hair with slow, tender movements, playing with her curls once in a while, smoking his cigarette, the pleasant, cool night air breezing over her warm, red cheeks.

They were both quiet, lying like that in silence, looking towards the window. She sniffed with her nose and snuggled into him, surrendering.

She thought that if he tried to rape her she would start screaming loudly to wake her family, but some subconscious feeling told her that he wouldn't do it.

That for some reason he too sought comfort in her.

"− I'm done with her, you know? − after what I saw today − after the way she spoke to you I realised that she has no respect not only for me, but even for her immediate family − I was deluding myself that she was only saying that to me because I'm a piece of shit, but I was wrong −" He murmured quietly, weariness and discouragement in his voice. She swallowed loudly, trembling in his embrace.

"You don't speak respectfully to her either." She whispered resentfully, wondering if he really thought he was blameless.

He chuckled quietly at her words – she shuddered when she felt him kiss her hair as if they had been close, as if they had known each other for years. He rested his chin on the top of her head, playing with her hair.

"− that's true − but I don't pretend to be a saint − I know what I want and I make it clear − she hides her desires behind pretty, empty words −" He grunted, stroking her head with a calm, steady motion of his hand.

For some reason what he was doing was calming her down _ she was no longer so frightened, though she still felt strange and uncomfortable.

"If you make it clear what you want, why don't you say why you came here?" She asked with a grudge, feeling pain at the thought of him toying with her and getting exactly what he wanted. He hummed, letting the smoke out through his nose.

"I already told you. I want to talk to you about Gomborowicz and sleep in the same bed with you." He murmured low, kissing her head again, nuzzling the tip of his nose into her hair.

She felt bad at the thought that for some reason it was pleasurable, that she felt a sense of satisfaction that she was now the one in bed with him and not her sister.

She shuddered when his hand slid up to her face and lifted her chin, forcing her to rise her head. She drew in a loud breath when she felt his full lips immediately pressed to hers, soft, wet and hot, his tobacco-tasting tongue invading deep into her throat making her feel throbbing between her thighs.

She pressed her hand against his sleek black jumper, ashamed and terrified that she didn't have the strength to resist him, that she was taking pleasure in the way his fingers stroked her cheek gently as their tongues met and licked with a loud, lewd clicks, slick and sticky from their saliva, his cigarette slowly burning out in his other hand.

She wasn't sure she'd ever been so terrified and aroused at the same time, her heart pounding like mad. She felt her moisture between her thighs, so she clenched her legs tightly to relieve herself any way she could.

She knew he felt it – his hand slid from her face down her back to her buttocks and slipped from behind between her thighs, his fingers pressed against the material of her shorts, rubbing her there in sure, slow, circular motions.

"No." She mumbled and pulled away from him, terrified, feeling that this had gone too far, that she couldn't do this, that she wouldn't let him take advantage so that he could then laugh in Alys face with the satisfaction that her little sister had welcomed him between her thighs with joy.

They stared at each other with eyes wide open, breathing embarrassingly loudly.

"Come here."

"Please, get out."

"Come."

She felt her heart pounding hard, knowing that they were now fighting each other for dominance, for who would have the last word, who would give in.

"If you don't leave, I'm going to get up and wake my parents saying that you came to my room in the middle of the night and you won't leave me alone." She said dryly. He pressed his lips together feeling that her words were final, that she wasn't joking.

"You don't want me to leave." He whispered lowly pressing his lips together, breathing unevenly, his cigarette extinguished.

She swallowed loudly involuntarily glancing down and felt a shudder as she saw the bulge in his trousers.

He was hard.

She shook her head feeling her tears gather in the corners of her eyes again.

"I can't, I'm sorry, it was a mistake. I don't want to do it, not like this, it's wrong. Fuck!" She cursed, knowing it had gone too far anyway, burying her face in her hands, heartbroken that she could have done such a thing to her own sister.

She heard him rose lazily, dropping his second cigarette into her glass of water. He looked at her over his shoulder in a way that made her feel a tightness in her throat.

"I'm sorry, little one. I didn't mean to hurt you. Really." He said lowly with some kind of pain and just walked out, leaving her alone at last.

She collapsed on her bed, covering herself with her duvet up to her head, wanting to hide, to disappear, to sink into the ground.

She couldn't believe how close it was.

How close it was for them to fuck.

She cried her eyes out terrified that she felt tension between her thighs, that she was aroused.

That some part of her wanted him to come back and finish what he had started.

She was awakened in the morning by the loud slam of the front door of her house. She got up quickly, walking over to her open window, looking out of it into the driveway.

She saw him open his car door and give her one last look, as if he hoped he would see her there. She felt a strange tightening in her heart and pain, burning tears under her eyelids.

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him – after a moment she heard the muffled sound of music and the whirr of an engine.

She watched with a blank stare as he drove away and disappeared around the corner, pressing her forehead against the frame of the window, feeling a river of tears begin to run down her cheeks.

She wiped her face with her hands, heartbroken that this man had brought her to such a state in one evening, and turned away, wanting to return to her bed.

I wish I had met you before her.

She froze, spotting something white on the floor beneath her door. After a moment, she noticed that it was a folded piece of paper and she walked over to it quickly, picking it up from the floor and opened it. There was only one sentence written inside.

Aemond Taglist:

_____

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy

[gh0stsp1d3r]

ℱ𝒶𝓇𝓂ℯ𝓇𝓈 𝒹𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉ℯ𝓇

Masterlist

warnings: none! Fluff. This is unedited

You sat on the porch, legs crossed as you sat in the chair. You sipped on lemonade, and a book was held in front of you.

Although, you weren’t paying any attention to the words on the pages in front of you. You were looking at the handsome boy in your front yard, plucking weeds and cutting the long grass with a scythe.

Now your dad was gone, thankfully, out in the village to go do some “business.”

The boy had a hat over his head, the top few buttons of his shirt undone. Your father had hired him to do some jobs around the yard and barn, and you had been using it to your advantage.

He glanced up at you, like he had been the whole time. He gave you a small smile and wave, your cheeks heating up, hoping that he hadn’t caught you starting at him.

You waved back, before hiding your face completely behind your book, smiling widely.

After a while, he walked over to the porch. You built up the courage, putting the book down.

“Hey.” You said, smiling at the boy, looking at him.

“Ma’am.” He nodded, tipping his hat and giving you a smile back, sitting down next to you.

Your face twisted up. “Ma’am?” You asked.

“It’s… formal. Right?” He shrugged.

“I guess. I’m y/n. Please call me that.”

“JJ.” He told you, holding his hand out for you to shake. You shook it with no hesitation.

You grimaced when you felt the sweat on your hands, smiling and gently wiping the sweat on your shorts.

“Sorry. Been out all day.” He said, chuckling awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“No, you’re fine. You want something to drink? Water? Lemonade…? My dad’s got a couple cases of beer.” You tilted your head to the side, still smiling at the boy.

He smiled at you. “Looks like we are gon’ get along.”

—

You both now hung out in the back, next to the stables, sipping on beers, chatting under the stars.

“It’s nicer ‘round here.” He suddenly spoke, looking around.

“Round here?” You questioned, quirking an eyebrow and turning to him.

“With all the farms and ranches and shit. Sorry for my language-“

“You don’t live down here?” You asked him.

He shook his head, smile faltering. “Nah.”

“Where do you stay then?” You asked him.

“This little cabin wit’ my dad. Probably ‘bout the size of your shed.” He chuckled, downing the rest of the beer. He suddenly felt self-conscious.

“How do you know so much about the horses and cattle then?” You asked him, genuinely curious.

“I uh… I take these jobs a lot. Whenever I can. I’m tryna own one, but…”

“That’s nice.” You muttered, looking back up at the stars.

“What is?” He snickered. “The fact I’m poor?”

“No… that you have a goal. I think it’s good to have that.” You nodded, giving the boy a small smile.

He looked at you, corners of his mouth twisting up. You stared up the sky still, enamored with the constellations.

“You think so?”

“I do. And I think you can do it. You’re a sweet boy, y’know that, Jj? And I think that it’s good that you’re working towards something.” You told him, turning your head to finally look at him.

His smile widened. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

On the walk home, he had realized he had a crush on the farmers daughter.

[wosoamazing]

A New Chapter

Y/N Williamson Epilogue?? (My last fic before I refresh my page/content...)

IMPORTANT: This fic involves a heterosexual relationship between R and a Fictional character... If this is something you don't want to read I suggest you move on. WARNINGS: bad injury (hip), mentions of hospitals and surgery, moving away, rehab, heterosexual relationships, some swearing, periods, endometriosis, vomit/mentions of, being scared to return home, mild sickness, kids?, hints/links to miscarriage (not everyone will notice), suggestive?? - it's long so there are a lot, I have tried to list them in order, however if you do really want to read it but you can't bc of some of the warnings message me and I can see if I can cut that part of the story out for you. A/N: Not properly edited yet, I will edit it later - so sorry if any mistakes. Also sorry if the second half of it feels rushed, it was getting so long but I may have accidentally rushed it trying to make it not insanely long... (Word Count: 7462 - be prepared, hopefully it's not boring)

Your dream of playing in an Olympics Final came crashing down 15 minutes into the Matildas’ opening match of the tournament. A corner had been given, Steph kicked it in and the next second you were on the ground in agony, it seemed to happen in fast forward for you. However for Leah, who was watching at home, the moment unfolded so agonisingly slowly, she saw Frohms place a hand on your shoulder restricting you from jumping, as Oberdorf jumped into the air behind you, if it wasn't for Frohms’ hand on your shoulder the goal could’ve been yours, she was angry and hoped the ref had picked up on it, however she wasn’t angry for long, as she saw the trajectory Oberdorf was coming down on, her jump slightly too high meaning she lost control. Time slowed to an almost stop as Leah froze sat in front of the TV, watching as Oberdorfs midsection completely landed on top of your left shoulder, she almost felt her heart stop as she saw your left leg brace, watching as it popped out from the force of Oberdorfs head hitting your thigh, causing you to completely crumple onto the ground. Thankfully the players around reacted quick enough to grab onto Oberdorf and flip her, otherwise your injury wouldn’t have been the worst, and something unimaginable could’ve happened. She saw your body jolt as you were turned onto your back, the look on your face along with the scream you let out indicating your hip most likely popped back into place. The full weight of it all occurred seconds later when a phone was brought onto the pitch and steph did something on it, Leah’s phone started to ring.

“Leah, she,” Steph breathed out not knowing what to say

“I know. I saw. Can I talk to her?” Leah asked before hearing some shuffling from the other end, watching Steph crouch down next to you on the TV.

“Le-ah,” your voice came across the phone, it was full of pain and fear, Leah was honestly surprised you hadn’t passed out from the pain yet, but maybe you were running on adrenaline or shook, all she was certain about was that she needed to be there for you, in one way or another.

“Hi bug, you’re doing so well, being so brave. They are going to take good care of you, I promise. I love you so so much, and I’ll be there very soon, you’ve got this bug,” she told you before Steph took the phone back to her ear as the medics needed to move you, “we’re coming, our flight is in like an hour, we are actually about to leave now,” she informed her club teammate as she watched her fiance leave the bedroom wheeling a suitcase behind her.

______

You were immediately taken into surgery, where they did x-rays and scans. You woke up a few hours later surrounded by machines, unable to feel your left leg, but your left shoulder and torso ached badly, but quickly you noticed Steph, Sam, Leah, Lia and Alexia all sitting around the white washed sterile room. The people who you looked up to in your life and who inspired you, all in a hospital room, to be there for you, for some it meant taking time out of their teams olympic tournament. Maybe even risking unfair punishment and her mental health for one. For two others it meant getting on a plane last minute, dropping all other plans, including the IVF appointment they had waited a year for, not knowing when the next one would be, willingly letting go of their hope to have kids in the near future for you. In that moment you realised how much you meant to them, never before had the meaning of you to them been so tangible, they meant the universe and more to you, but maybe you meant ever more than that to them.

Leah noticed your eyes open and moved beside your bed, “Hey bug, how are you feeling?” she said ever so softly, and you just blinked groggily at her as she leant in to kiss your forehead mumbling “I love you very much,” before her hands moved to cup your face and her thumbs wiped away the silent tears that had started to fall from your eyes. The others all got up and left not only to find a doctor but give you two a moment of privacy.

“Hi, Y/N, nice to see you awake, I’m Dr NAME and this is Dr NAME, we were the two surgeons who operated on you,” one of the doctors spoke as they walked in, smiling at you, you kind of nodded at them and watched as their gaze turned to Leah before going through your chart, “and you’re Leah,” she nodded at them. “Okay so,” he started talking but you were too tired to listen and zoned out, hearing the words, dislocated, hairline fracture, Iliofemoral and Pubofemoral. You would eventually come to find those are the things that happened to your, during the fall your tore your  Iliofemoral and Pubofemoral ligaments, which then meant when Oberdorf’s head hit your thigh it was a lot easier for your hip to dislocate which it did, you had a hairline fracture in your femoral neck but it was unknown which mechanics of the injury caused that, sometimes they would insert a pin but as yours was only small and you were young, they didn’t, it also meant they likelihood of you returning to football was higher, however you still would most likely never return.

You were stuck in Paris until the end of the tournament, the risk of you flying back home versus the ‘risk’ of you staying there were incomparable and so you and your crutches, along with your bandaged hip, sporting the equivalent of a hinged knee brace but for a hip over your leggings, were dragged along to the final match, the first time you had been in the public's eye properly since your injury. You were dreading this match for multiple reasons. It meant you would be in the media’s sight, and you would also have to interact with the people you had been ignoring. But even more it meant you had to watch your teammates and ‘family’ get to do the one thing you had ever dreamt of, the thing that was almost never going to happen now. You stood alongside Sam during the national anthem, wearing an official match jersey, your own name on your back, as a tear rolled down your cheek, which after the anthem Sam wiped away before hugging you tightly. She understood the pain to some extent, however she knew well and truly before the olympics started the team could make it to the final and she would be standing on the sidelines, for you it was different, you should’ve been on that pitch today, if it wasn’t for your injury you would’ve been starting, as the main forward, but that didn;t matter now, you would probably never start for the matildas or any football club/team again, she knew it, the team knew it, the world knew it, you even knew it, you just didn’t want to have to face that reality.

The whistle blew and every single member of the Australian’s on the sidelines got up and sprinted onto the pitch, except you, every single A.O.C football personal was on the pitch celebrating, but you weren’t. You couldn't, you couldn’t get up, but that's not the reason you were not on the pitch, you didn’t want to be, you didn’t deserve to be.

The next second the whole bench shook, Kyra had catapulted herself into the row of seats in front of you, you looked up, her face shiny from sweat, holding the world's biggest grin, “come join us,” you just shook your head, “I can help, I’ll be sensible and careful. Please?” she begged, causing a tear to roll down your cheek, causing her face to quickly drop as she moved to hug you, making you cry more, causing more girls to start to filter over to you, all leaving with dampened moods, all having failed attempts at cheering you up and failing to convince you to join them. All celebrating as they walked across the stage receiving their medals, whilst they lifted the trophy, but the pain in their eyes was evident, you watched Kyra bite her nail nervously as she looked into your direction, you were still sat in you seat, having refused to collect your medal, you played 15 minutes you didn’t deserve it. You burdened the team, Steph spent way too long laying awake in her bed, the moment replaying in her head everytime she closed her eyes. Kyra cried herself to sleep almost every night, she missed you, you might’ve been with them physically but that was it, she knew she would have to go back to Arsenal without you and most likely never play with you again and that hurt her. Macca couldn’t shake the feeling of horror that ran through her body as she heard your scream so loud and clear from the other end of the pitch, she hadn’t even had her hearing aids in and yet it sounded like you were inside her ear. If anything the team had won in spite of you, you had in no way helped them get there, you were the cause for their pain, you didn’t deserve a medal at all.

“Bebita,” Alexia said softly as she bobbed down in front of you, “No,” you harshly snapped at her, “Et mereixes una medalla, les vas aconseguir aquí i vas formar part de l'equip sigui el que passi. (You deserve a medal, you got them here and you were part of the team no matter what),” you just shook your head at her, “Bé, doncs, almenys deixa'm agafar el teu i guardar-lo segur per a tu, per quan el vulguis després. (Well then at least let me take yours and keep it safe for you, for when you want it later.)” you shrugged your shoulders and so she placed your medal around her neck, for you. Before pulling you into a tight hug and not letting go for a very long time. The no you said to Alexia had been the last word you spoke to anyone before flying back under the intense supervision of the medics to England, where Lia and Leah meet you at the airport, taking you home.

______

“What’s wrong?” your sister asked, having put up with your attitude for way too long knowing you needed to break and rather than continuing to walk on eggshells waiting for you to break she decided to do it the hard way, allowing you to use her as a punching bag until you broke.

“What’s wrong, you’re fucking joking right, are you somesort of imbesile,” you sneered at her, “Oh I don’t know, maybe the fact I’ll never fucking play again, my career is over at 18, the rug has literally been swept out from under my feet, and none of it was even my fault, noone even got a fucking red, for ending my career, the ref decided that a career ending injury didn’t equate to a red. I had to watch as my friends my family lived out my dream, my fucking dream, I’m olympian, but am I really, 15 fucking minutes out of a minimum 540 minutes, I’m 2% of an olympian, I suppose that 2% counts though right? It’s not like I helped the team, I made it harder, I don’t deserve a medal but everyone else seems to think otherwise.”

“But you do bug, you were there, you got your team there, you were going to be the best young player of the year,” Leah tried to reason with you.

“Going being the key word there, I was going to win a Balloon d’or, I was going to be in the fifa best 11, I was going to win a golden boot, I was going to be and do so many things, but going is past tense, it’s never going to happen, I’m never going to get any awards ever again.” You shouted at her.

“Where are you going?” Leah asked as she watched you stand up, the room having fallen to silence moments ago.

“Away from you, I-, I-” you shook your head trying to clear your mind, Leah stepped closer to you, knowing your walls were about to crumble.

“What am I meant to do now, Le?” you asked, completely and utterly broken, “What happens now?”

Leah swallowed back her emotions “I don’t know bug, I’m sorry,” you collapsed into her and she picked you up being mindful of your hip, before lying down on the couch, your body on top of hers. You buried your head into her neck as you sobbed, your whole body shook, and all Leah could do was hold you, and try and comfort you and reassure you in a moment where there were no answers, how are you meant to comfort someone and give them reassurance when the doctors don’t even know. How are you meant to tell someone it's going to be okay when the only way to know what will happen is for them to go through an excruciating rehab process only to then very likely be told they could never play again.

____________________________________________________________

You were cleared to fly long distances 3 months after your surgery, 2 months since you returned, so that’s what you did. You flew to Australia, bought an apartment and started a new life essentially, one that not everyone knew your past in intricate detail, however being a Matilda most people knew who you were but it was different.

Charlie got Lachlan to keep an eye on you and so you did things with his friends and sometimes even his team. You found yourself getting closer to one of his friends in particular, he always made sure you weren't left behind because they were walking too fast, he was ‘coincidentally’ at the same rehab gym you went to when you first put weight on your leg still relying on your crutches heavily, he celebrated for you but quite, not to make you uncomfortable, he offered to drive you to your appointment the one where you were allowed to use only one crutch, he celebrated for you then too, a bit more openly but not nearly as enthusiastic as he would’ve liked. You invited him to the appointment where you would start walking without any assistance, he celebrated quite loudly for you that day, insisting he needed to take you out for dinner, you accepted it, hoping it would lead to something more, and it did. You quickly found yourself spending more time at his house than yours, more of your belongings there than you had at your own home. He was honestly perfect, and for whatever reason you had this feeling that a shoe would drop any second. 

— FLASHBACK — 

One night he woke up to you crying in your sleep, sitting up slightly he noticed there was blood on the sheets underneath you. Shaking you softly, he woke you up, before quietly saying “Baby, I think you’ve come on.”

“Shit,” you sighed out before curling into a tighter ball, “Why don’t you go have a shower and I’ll change the sheets,” He offered as he kissed your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, rolling over to your back, “why?”, “because I’ve bleed all over the sheets, sorry,” “Baby, it's just a little blood, it’s okay, don’t worry,” you nodded before getting up and hobbling to the bathroom.

“Hey, babe you okay?” he asked as he approached the bathroom door, having finished changing the sheets, you didn’t reply to him, but he heard the muffled sounds of you crying, “I’m coming in okay,” he told you before softly opening the door, seeing you on the floor, your legs curled underneath you, as you sobbed, he bobbed down next to you, placing a hand on your back, “Do I need to take you to the hospital? I don’t think this is normal,” you shook your head as you reached to grab his hand as another wave of pain washed over you, taking a deep breath you fought off the nausea before blurting out “endometriosis,” hoping he could make conclusions from that.

“Do you need your tablets or something?” he asked and you looked at him confused. How did he know?

“My sister's girlfriend has it, I don’t know much about it but I know some things. Are your tablets in the drawer in the kitchen with the tape and stuff, are they the things in the arsenal pouch?” He asked and you nodded, being in too much pain to talk. He quickly left and returned, with your tablets, some water and heat packs.

“Not blue box,” you told him and he nodded before popping out some of the other tablets as per the labels and handing them to you.

“Do you want me to hold you?” he asked as a tear rolled down your cheek, “But-” you tried to protest weakly.

“I honestly don't care. I just want to help, I want you to feel better,” you nodded shyly at him and he picked you up placing you in his lap as he handed you a heat pack, you curled up and hid your head in his chest, falling asleep eventually.

— END FLASHBACK — 

You met up with some of the Matildas’ for coffee during one of their camps, and he and Lachlan came, him on the basis he was Lachlan’s friend.

“How long?” Steph asked as she walked alongside you, both slightly behind the others.

“What?” “You know what I mean, how long?” “I don’t know, it started as friends and then the lines blurred and then somewhere along the way he asked me to be his girlfriend,” she hummed in response, “Have you told Leah?” “What do you think,” you asked her before Harper ran up to you.

Later that night you were lying in bed next to him, head resting on his shoulder as his finger drew soft circles on your hip, over your leggings, when your phone buzzed.

Steph: You need to tell Leah. I know you don’t want to, but just think about it this way, at least you won't be telling her in person. But no, I seriously think telling her sooner rather than later would be better.

You sighed after reading her message dropping your phone on the mattress next to you, you dreaded telling your sister, especially when you already barely spoke.

“What’s wrong,” he asked as you rolled on top of him, letting out a heavy breath.

“Steph figured us out and is insisting I tell Leah,”  “Oh, why don’t you want to tell Leah?” “Do you want to tell your brother?” “Shit no,” “Exactly,” there is a pause,  “but I do need to tell Leah, especially if I am going to go back when you go on holidays,”

“You can stay here, you know that right?”

“No, I have to go back. Barça wants to announce my departure officially anyway. I don’t have a choice,” you sighed out, “what if I messaged and then just threw my phone out”

“You know you can’t do that,” he chuckled softly, causing you to groan as you rolled off him.

“I don’t want to have to face them all, I ran away, they probably want nothing to do with me anymore anyway,”

“I don’t know if that’s true, Steph and Kyra were so happy and excited to see you today, so was the rest of the team but especially them.” he said and you nodded before he spoke again, “Well I don’t know about Charli, she was too busy catching up with Lachy to even notice you were there I think,” you laughed at his comment, you turned the TV onto the Arsenal match which was about to start as the pair of you feel into silence.

“Would you ever want kids?” he asked you out of the blue.

“Um, yeah, most likely, especially now it won’t be interrupting my career,” you tried to joke, “why?” “Oh, just curious, you were just really good with Harper and her little brother today, and I don’t know why but that thought came up. Also, doesn't Steph have a kid?” 

“Yeah, he stayed in London with Dean for this camp,” he just nodded as your attention both went back to the game.

____________________________________________________________

“What do you want for lunch?” Leah asked as you sat down in one of the kitchen stools as Leah and Lia walked into the kitchen. Leah had picked you up from the airport but as Harry was actually on holiday with his friends you went your separate ways, however you had a lunch planned for tomorrow with him, you, Leah and Lia.

“Not eggs,” Lia injected before you could answer, you were confused about her answer but just nodded anyway.

“Um, I don’t really care, I’m not that hungry anyway,”

They decided on Ham Sandwiches for lunch and as you ate you caught up with them, before ending up on the couch watching TV with them, they were still talking however you had fallen more silent, leaning into Leah’s side for a hug, “You okay? You’ve just gone a bit quiet and look a bit pale,” Leah asked looking down at you.

“Mmm, I’m just a bit tired,” you admitted.

“Why don’t you go up to sleep, we have no plans until tomorrow.” you nodded before moving to go upstairs.

______

“Bug you okay?” Leah asked as she sat down on the edge of the bed, brushing her hand over your face causing you to stir slightly.

“Mmmm, sorry do you want me to go?” you mumbled half asleep.

“No, it’s okay, you can stay in here, just wanted to check you were okay,” you nodded slightly before letting out a rather chesty cough, “you sure about being okay?” you just groaned at her before rolling over, feeling her slip in behind you and pull you in for a hug, it felt just like old times.

“What are you doing in here?” Leah asked as she entered the bathroom, obviously just waking up from her midday nap.

“I feel like I’m going to be sick,” you informed her.

“Oh, scoot forward,” she instructed you and you moved away from the wall. She sat behind you before pulling you onto her lap, you collapsed back into her, resting your head on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you said breaking the silence as you turned your head on her shoulder so you could look at her, “I should’ve told you, you did some much for me, you were there for me my whole life and then I just up left, no warning, nothing, and then I basically ghosted you,”

“It’s okay,” she told you

“But it wasn’t, I even told you about Harry over text, the first thing I told you in months after not even telling you I could walk without crutches was that I had a-” “Boyfriend,” “Well yeah,”

“I understand, and I understood, it was hard, don’t get that wrong, but it isn’t the only time one of us has just upped and left, I think you’d remember how once I got my professional contract and I had to move, I didn’t tell you, I couldn’t bare to see your sad little face when I told you, so I just left, at least you had a reason, I didn’t have one at all, and you technically had two reasons, the injury and payback,”

“I forgot about that, but thank you for reminding me, I will use it if Mum or Dad get angry at me,” 

“Please don’t, but I do understand. You did it for you, you needed to find yourself, figure out who you were without football, which meant you needed to be separated from everything that reminded you of what was once, of what you loved and still love, and that included us, and it;s okay. I was never angry, I just really missed you, you’re still my baby sister, and no matter what happens you will still be the most important person in my life.”

“Oh,” you felt your gut sink at her confession, suddenly the feeling of being sick became very real, “I’m sorry,” you replied quietly as you moved your head back flat against her shoulder, staring at the ceiling. You felt your mouth fill with saliva and closed your eyes taking some deep breaths.

“Should we cancel lunch tomorrow?” Leah asked as you continued to take deep breaths knowing why you were.

“No,” you said as you shook your head, the nausea having finally passed, “I’ll be fine, I just need to sleep more,”

“Okay, also Lia has an appointment with the medics tomorrow just so they can do some checks and stuff, it's before lunch but you’ll probably have to come and just hang out at the club because otherwise we might be late to lunch,” you nodded your head before you felt yourself dozing off.

____

“Hey, how are you?” Aaron asked as he walked into the gym followed by Declan, you had decided to do some of your rehab exercises while you waited for Lia and Leah.

“Yeah, pretty good. You?” You replied kindly

“Alright, know much about your prospects yet?” he asked, referring to your hip, you froze, not knowing what to say.

“Um, not yet, still another month until I find out,” you lied, you had already been told, but you weren’t ready to tell anyone else yet.

As you continued with your exercises, you couldn’t help but notice your heart rate get faster and your chest get tighter as time passed. When you felt yourself slightly shaking you slipped out of the gym, sliding down the wall in the hallway, your actions didn’t go unnoticed by declan who quickly followed you out but walked past you down to the medics office. He returned following behind Leah, who bobbed down next to you before looking up at him.

“Please don’t tell anyone about what we were speaking about in there,” she asked him

“Of course I wouldn’t Leah, it’s your own personal information, I’m sorry for interrupting, it’s just that,” he gestured towards you, “and if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“No thank you,” she said before shifting her focus to you.

“Hey, what's going on? You okay? Do you feel sick?” she asked in a soft, concerned voice, you couldn’t manage to speak so you just shook your head, “Take some deep breaths, you’re okay, it’s okay, nothing happened, you’re safe.”

“I can’t play,” you managed to get out after some deep breaths, the words almost immediately lifting a weight of your chest, “I’m never going to play again, I can’t,” you told her before breaking down into tears.

“Oh Bug, I’m so sorry,” she said as she pulled you in for a tight hug.

“How much longer are we here for?” you asked as you pulled away, having calmed down slightly.

“Probably ten more minutes. Have you thought about what you’re going to do?”

“A little, once I was out long term the offers started to come out anyway but I haven’t really considered them. I’m thinking of coaching though, I just can’t decide,” Leah hummed in response to you, and you sat in silence, just embracing her presence until Lia came out.

____________________________________________________________

After you spoke with Leah and Lia about not playing it was decided you needed to ask someone who wasn’t affected by your choice in any way. So you decided on going to Barcelona at the same time as Harry, for different reasons though. Hoping Alexia could help and give you some guidance.

So that’s how you found yourself sat in your seat on the plane as it sat on the tarmac waiting to disembark, your right knee bounced up and down uncontrollably as you nervously looked up and down the aisle. When you felt a hand placed on your knee, you jumped slightly before relaxing into the touch slightly, “It’s going to be okay, stop worrying, from what you’ve told me they will only care that you are okay and safe, they might be slightly annoyed but they’ll understand.” You nodded whilst stilling looking around, “and remember you can call me at anytime and I can come to you at anytime you want me to, the boys won't mind, they might just make a condition that they have to meet the team if that occurs,” you both let out a light laugh at that.

As you walked out of customs his hand slipped into yours, and you dropped your head onto his shoulder, causing him to kiss your temple. Just ahead you saw Lucy, who had raised her eyebrows, ignoring her you turned to him and hugged him. “I’m going to miss you so much,” you mumbled into his neck, “Same, but remember you can call whenever you need and I’ll call every night,” you nodded before you pulled your head out of his neck and your lips connected, your legs lifting to wrap around his waist as he wrapped his arms around yours.

“All right you two, stop sucking face, we need to go,” Lucy said interrupting you.

You huffed at her and she gave you the same look she would give you when you huffed at her for not getting you second ice cream when you were younger at England camps.

“Didn’t take you as someone who would be into PDAs Mini Leah,” Lucy teased you knowing the nickname would set you off.

“Well Lucy, when you’re in love, those things don’t matter,” you replied to her dramatically as you followed her out of the airport.

____

Its safe to say walking into the place you called home two years ago was emotional, and as you stood there waiting for Lucy to get everything she needed out of the car, Alexia and Mapi walked by, however Mapi halted, she was stopped in her tracks, as she was behind alexia who hadn't noticed you, and kept walking.

“Ale, Alexia,” Mapi stood there calling for her, “Alexia” she shouted,

“Què (what)”, Mapi couldn’t do anything other than gesture to you with her head, Alexia came running back down the hall and froze when she saw you.

“What’s wrong with them?” Lucy asked as she finally walked through the doors.

They stuttered, not being able to get words out, Lucy just ignored them and pulled you along behind her, to the pitch, where everyone was celebrating. Making your way over to where Ingrid, Frido and Ona stood, all giving you a hug, before a small girl came running up to you, “opp, Klem,” she said whilst she made grabby hands at you, she was Ingrid and Mapi’s daughter.

“I’m sorry, I can’t pick you up because I have an ouchie hip,” you said as you looked at her softly before looking back up at your old teammates, who all gave you sorry looks.

“Please don’t do that, that’s not why I came,” you sighed out before walking over to where Olga was standing by herself.

“Hi,” she said as she smiled and hugged you, you caught Alexia looking at you with a concerned look from the corner of her eye, Lucy and Kiera were talking to her and Mapi, most likely about how you didn’t want to be treated differently etc.

“Hi, is she mad?” you asked Olga, stepping away from the hug slightly.

“What?” “That I didn’t come to the wedding?” “A little upset Si, but not mad, more concerned, but we understood.” you nodded at her “it did take a week to calm her down after she found out you left England, she wasn’t mad though, more scared of whether you were safe or not,” you nodded weakly as you bit your bottom lip.

“Bebita,” Alexia said as she came up to you hugging you, before standing between you and Olga, almost the whole team following behind, creating a circle as they all started talking, it felt just like old times, like no time had passed, but it had almost been two years, you were struggling to follow the conversation like you used to, having not used your spanish in so long, everything was bringing back old times, old memories, memories you wished you could keep living, but this chapter of your life was over now, you moved to stand in front of Alexia and hug her, she wraps her arms around you whilst continuing her conversations, your shoulders started to shake softly as you started to cry and everyone looked at her concerned however she shook her head, indicating for them to continue and ignore it. After a while you seemed to have managed to calm down and you pulled away from Allexia slightly, she cupped your face in her hands, “Whatever happens, it's going to be okay.” you gave her a weak nod before moving to stand next to her.

“We are going for dinner at Ingrid and Mapi’s tonight, most of the team will be there and I think Harder and Erikson are coming too, you can come if you want.” Alexia said as you entered the ever so familiar house.

“Um, okay,” you said as you placed your phone on the table and went to grab a drink from the fridge before hearing your phone ring, Alexia caught a glimpse of the screen as she handed it to you. She knew exactly who it was from the look on your phone, not who the person was but who they were to you.

“Don’t tell anyone please, not many know yet,” she nodded, “do I get to meet this boy?”

“Alexia,” Olga called out sternly from the living room, clearly she still was in charge, something that hadn’t changed.

“Maybe, I think his friends and him are going to the game this weekend,” you said before you answered the phone and retreated to the spare room noticing how it was still your room and not a spare room at all.

____

You were sitting on the floor with Hailee, having been dragged away from your conversation with Mapi, Ingrid, Alexia and Olga by the small girl into her playroom. Not that you really minded though.

“They’ve told you you can’t play again haven’t they,” you were startled slightly by the unfamiliar voice, looking up to see Madga leaning on the door frame.

“How did you know?”

“I don’t know, I just could tell, maybe because I only knew you as football, where as they knew you as football and you, so they can’t see it. Does anyone know?”

“Yeah, Lia and Leah, and someone else, and now also you supposedly,” you flatly replied.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” you looked at her blankly, “I’ll take that as nothing, what if you came over to Frido’s while the team is at training and Pernille and I help you decide, we have no connection, it could help,”

“Bayern don’t need a new coach?” she shook her head, and you just nodded slightly, “okay so it’s settled then,” she said before turning around, “Frido, do you have a big whiteboard at home? If no, we need to buy one before tomorrow morning,” you heard her yell out as she walked away.

____________________________________________________________

Having made your decision with the help of Magda and Pernille you returned to England with Harry. To tell Arsenal, after it was official, just not yet announced, you went for lunch with Leah, Lia and Harry to tell them all, Lia and Leah took it well however Harry jumped out of his seat saying he needed to be somewhere, and since he wouldn’t return your calls, so you had no clue if you would see him or not, maybe he was leaving you.

“Turn around,” Steph said as she saw Harry running to the facility doors where you were waiting for Lia and Leah to get out of the car, having a chat with Steph.

“Will you move in with me?” He blurted out, slightly puffed as he reached you.

“What?” You questioned not understanding what he meant.

“I didn’t answer your call, or your message or your subsequent calls because I was doing something, for you, for me, for us. Remember how I played Rugby Union in high school,” you nodded, “well, I wasn’t ignoring you because I was mad you took the job, I wasn’t ignoring you at all, I was trialling for a rugby club, so we could be together, I love you too much and you mean too much for me to go back halfway across the world from you. They offered me a contract, it isn’t the greatest, but it will do, anything that means I can stay with you is perfect,” tears started to fall from your eyes, “I’m sorry,” he said slightly panicking, questioning if he said something wrong.

“No, no,” you said as you shook your head, wrapping your arms around his neck and picking your legs up “Thank you,” you mumbled into his ear before placing your head on his shoulder, not believing it.

“I’m assuming it worked?” Leah asked as she walked towards the three of you, he nodded in her direction as you let go, “ready to do this?” your sister asked as she looked at you and you nodded, starting to feel nervous agin.

____

“I’m coming back to Arsenal,” you told everyone as you stood in front of them, Harry standing on the sides, Jonas inisting he come in considering he was there already, they all cheered slightly before you interrupted them, “but not in the way you probably all want, I’m going to be part of the staff, the coaching team, I-,” your voice cracked, as you took a shaky breath “I won’t-, I-I can’t ever play again. I will never be able to play again, it’s uncertain whether I will be able to run without pain, let alone play,” you sniffed, you felt panic rise within you, “I’m sorry,” you said quietly before walking out the door tears streaming down your face, trying to ignore the looks of sorry, disappointment or confusion. Leah’s immediate reaction was to stand up and go to you, but Lia tugged her arm forcing her back down in her chair, gesturing to the figure that was rushing out the door after you. 

-

“I’m sorry, I-'' you blubbered out as someone came towards you, “Hey, none of that, baby none of this is your fault, and you literally have nothing to apologise about,” he said as he stood in front of you, you immediately fell into him at the sound of his voice and felt his strong arms hold you tight as you buried your head in his neck, he started swaying you and gave you a small kiss on the side of your head every now and then, trying to calm you down, knowing that was probably one of the hardest things you had to say, he knew you always wanted to finish your career at Arsenal, and now that was never going to happen, at least in the way you wanted, you would never be a Matilda again, you would never walk out onto a football pitch in the same way again, your goals were changing and you were struggling with that. He knew that, no matter how much you tried to hide your feelings.

The door creaked as it opened and Harry looked over to it, seeing Steph walk out, who handed him a water bottle as she gave him a soft smile before walking back into the room. He continued to sway you both slightly, keeping one hand around you as he took a quick sip from the bottle.

“Baby, do you want some water?” you nodded, taking the bottle of him and drinking out of it.

-

Leah was still inside crying into Lia’s shoulder, most people had left the room now giving everyone a bit of space. “Do you want to go home? Is this about what just happened or this morning?”

“All of it. It’s stupid, I just feel like I’m losing her now too, and it’s dumb, she was never mine in the first place but-” Leah confessed, before getting cut off by Lia.

“It’s not stupid Le, we have a lot of things happening in our life, a lot of news, and not a lot of time to process it all, it’s hard, and I know you feel like you have to be strong for her, for me, for us but you don’t, it’s okay,” Lia tried to reassure her.

“I shouldn’t be upset, I mean you're the one going through it all, and here I am complaining about my life.” Leah hiccuped.

“Hey, I might be the only one going through it physically but mentally we are both going through it, and you have more on your mind then I do, I understand, you don’t have to apologise for being upset, no matter if I’m experiencing worse, we are a team forever and always no matter what happens, no matter whether we have an addition to our team or not.” Leah nodded before pulling away from her and standing up noticing you had come back inside.

She pulled you towards you and wrapped you in a much needed hug, you didn’t want to let go, and neither did she.

____________________________________________________________

2028 Olympic Games

As the final whistle blew your players immediately ran over to you and your staff, celebrating as a team. 

Commentator One: And they’ve done it, the Matildas have won the Olympics for the second time in a row. 

Commentator two: Y/N Williamson has led the Matildas to victory after a drought, a much needed piece of silverware for the team that was starting to lose the country's hope.

It was a risky decision for Football Australia to choose you as new head coach, even you knew it, especially as you would only be joining the team in person at camp three weeks before the Olympics started, due to circumstances, but you started work much earlier than that, much to everyone's disbelief. You were however quickly ushered away from your team for a post match interview, causing you to catch sight of your sister who has collapsed onto the floor in tears. Taking a mental note to go over and comfort her later.

“Do you want to go see your Auntie?” You said to the two small people who clutched onto your hands as you walked onto the pitch.

“We-ah,” “we see Weah,” they piped up at the mention of her and you let go of their hands, “go on then,” you watched as they ran over to her, smiles bright, not knowing the meaning of the moment that just happened, them being so happy just to see their Aunt. 

“Alessia, hand the baby over,” you said to her as she held the newest addition to the Williamson family.

“Do you want to go say hi to your Mummy?” you asked the 3 month old as you placed her against your chest.

Leah’s face softened even more as she watched you approach her with her daughter, “you know, I’m never going to be able to thank you enough or repay you for this,” she said as you passed Lilly over to her, “but maybe you taking the gold away from me, means I don’t have to.”

“I told you, it’s nothing, honestly, you don’t have to repay me, buuut…..” you dragged on, she raised an eyebrow, “can you take the boys tonight, I have some celebrating to do,” you told her as she rolled her eyes.

“You literally carried our baby for us, I do owe you, and yes of course I’ll take the boys tonight, I need some quality time with them before they leave me for Australia,” she replied.

“It’s only two weeks, it's just a short camp, and it’s time we went on one of Daddy’s camps and meet all their uncles, but they honestly think they are meeting Kangaroos, they don’t quite understand that Wallabies is just the name of the team” she laughed at your comment before pulling you in for a hug. It sounds cliche but you knew in that moment your life had turned out perfect, it is nowhere near what you imagined but you honestly couldn’t have asked for anything better.

[todomochi-uwu]

favourite crime. (1/2) J.Y & B.C

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x reader / Bang Chan x reader

Genre: Angst, smut

Know that I loved you so bad I let you treat me like that I was your willing accomplice, honey

Did it I proofread it? Kinda.

Did I just spent the last four hours working on it? Yes.

Am I just gonna post it and hope for the best? Also yes.

If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee ☕

You fell exhausted into the bed, your chest heaving, legs numb and lips swollen. He falls right next to you, in the same state. Both staring at the ceiling, trying to regain composure. You think of your next words very carefully, how do you approach him without sounding needy? How do you ask him without actually asking? Yunho’s thinking about how he has to get up early in the morning for work, and that he must leave in the next five minutes. The thought of staying over not even crossing his mind, even though work is closer to your place than his.

And while you keep trying to think of a way to get what you want, he gets up, goes to the bathroom, and comes back, just to start putting his clothes back on.

“It’s late, Yun. You should stay over.” You’ve used that one before, and it didn’t work. But you couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“All my stuff is back at my place, and I need it for tomorrow.” He ties his shoes and looks around for his wallet and jewellery. He doesn’t spare you a glance.

“Can’t you just grab it quick in the morning?”

“That doesn’t make sense, Y/n.” He pats his pockets making sure he’s got everything. “Hey, have you seen my hoodie? I can’t find it anywhere.”

“Uh no, I don’t know where it ended up.” It’s not like it’s hidden right under your pillow. That would be crazy. “I’ll look for it, you can come get it tomorrow, or I can bring it to you while you are at work, it’s no…” He cut you off immediately.

“There’s no need for that, don’t worry about it. I’ll take it next time I come by.  See you Thursday, gorgeous.” And with that, he leaves.

And so, the story goes. Every single time. Yunho comes over, horny, desperate and right to the point. Never steering away from his goal. Sex with him is mind-blowing, you won’t even lie, he knows what he’s doing and he’s managed to learn every single thing that makes your toes curl. He knows every inch of your body like a map, inside and outside. The things his mouth does should be illegal, the way his fingers curl just the right way while his lips suck on your clit, maintaining a rhythm that has you seeing stars in seconds. His cock is huge and gorgeous, making it hit all the right spots, while he whispers the most sinful things in your ear.

Looking at you taking my cock, aren’t you such a good slut?

Every single time you beg him to let you suck him off. Doesn’t matter if your jaw ends up aching the next morning, or if your tongue goes numb. The image alone of Yunho losing himself in the pleasure you bring makes you cum untouched. The way small whimpers escape his mouth as he starts growing closer, his hips thrusting into your wet cavern desperate for release, his head thrown back, eyes narrow and open wide mouth, his fist tightly wrapped in your head. It was all too good.

Fuck, baby. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Please don’t stop. Oh. Yes, just like that, sweetheart.

Yunho knows everything there is to know about making you cum. But nothing about not making you cry. The way he doesn’t say anything once everything ends, not even asking if you are okay, his eyes never reach you, making you feel invisible. Leaving you feeling like a toy, his fuck toy, that he can just use and toss aside every time he feels like it. And while you died a little every single time, you couldn’t let go of him. Know that you loved him so bad, you let him treat you like that.

­____________________________________________

Work, stress and a broken heart are never a good mix. You sat in front of the screen, staring at the blank page for a good number of minutes. Your body is there but your head is in a completely different place.

“I don’t there’s any more nails left to bite,” Hongjoong said as he sat next to you, putting a cup and a muffin in front of your face. “Eat this instead of trying to munch off your fingers.”

You looked at them, small bits of skin, nails, chipped nail polish and blood covered the tips, and the pain was slowly making itself present. You cursed under your breath before taking a sip of the beverage, gagging the second it touched your tongue.

“Ugh, I hate tea. I hate chamomile.” You took another sip, “I hate Mondays.”

“You are always in a bad mood, but what’s gotten into you today?” He said taking a sip of his drink, looking through some of his notes.

“I got no sleep. I’m on my period. I’m on a fucking block and this is due by Wednesday.” I’m heartbroken.

He hummed, “Is that all?”

“Isn’t it enough?”

“Y/n, babe, since I’ve known you, you’ve never gotten a full night's sleep, so that’s not it. I understand about your period and you always, always manage to pull through a block, at least good enough for a deadline. You and I both know what this is about.”

“I already told you…”

“Bullshit. Why do you keep lying to yourself? Why do you keep lying to me?” He crossed his arms, his tone becoming accusatory. “What I don’t get is why you keep defending him. No matter how much he crosses the line you keep crossing your heart for him[MC1] .”

“He’s not doing anything, I’m the one who fucked up by falling for him.”

“He doesn’t even give you the bare respect you deserve, Y/n. He treats you like a sex doll; he doesn’t acknowledge you in public; he acts like he doesn’t know you. He knows about your feelings and he could give less of a fuck about them”

“It’s casual sex, Joongie.”

“I’ve had casual sex, and it has never even crossed my mind to treat someone the way he treats you.” He sighs frustrated, “And what bothers me the most is the fact you are willing to stand all it to get a bit of him. He doesn’t want you; he only wants your body.”

Tears threaten to spill out. It’s nothing you haven’t heard before. From him, from Mingi, hell even from yourself. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to push him away. To let go. “Don’t you think I know that? I’m aware of it. But what do you want me to say? I’m a fucking idiot for loving him, but I can’t help it.” You covered your mouth, trying to keep the sobs inside.

“Love, please, I’m begging you I can’t bear to see you like this anymore. I hate what he’s done to you, he took away your shine, your spark. Please, promise you will end this. I can’t stand to see you like this anymore, if not for you, for me, please.”

­____________________________________________

You had made a promise. You would try to move on, finally kicking Yunho out of your life. Yeah, you had first slipped a bit but you were now on the right track.

The first Thursday you had been so dispersed you completely forgot to cancel your (dick) appointment with him. So, when he showed up on your doorstep and immediately threw you onto the couch and ate you out, there was nothing much you could do, so you let yourself enjoy it, one last time you said to yourself.

Oh my god Yun, I'm gonna cum, please!

Don't you dare, I'm not done with you.

Watching him leave was just as bad as the last time. It made you cry all night long, your heart empty and your stomach in a swirl. That was the night you decided you never wanted to feel like that again.

The second time, you'll admit, it was because you were horny and in withdrawal. It was a few weeks after, you had been cancelling your appointments claiming you were too busy, and while it wasn't necessarily a lie, you were also avoiding him. But you just needed a bit of him to help you get by, a small dosage and you would be able to quit.

You had found yourself head pushed against the sheets, waist up and knees wide open while he pistols his hips against your, now, reddish ass. You were drooling, eyes at the back of your head, and mouth screaming his name over and over again.

You missed me, you whore? Oh, I bet you did. I'm the only one who can give you what you need, this pussy is mine and don't you dare forget about it.

You watched him leave and didn't say anything. Staring at your phone, of course, pretending to be busy on it, but it had at least made you appear uninterested.

The third and last time it had been him texting you that he was right in front of your building. On a Wednesday. What the hell was he doing there on a Wednesday?

"I'm sorry, I thought I'd drop by, we haven't seen each other in a couple of weeks and I thought I would at least try." He said.

You looked at him as if he had grown a second head. No clue on who was the man standing in front of you. Yunho had never "dropped by", your meetings planned, and established beforehand, like a doctor's appointment. He was equally as confused as you, not knowing what got into him; blaming it on the stress and the lack of sex.

You had ended up riding him on the sofa, both of you cumming unusually fast, but near as satisfying.

Oh, it felt so good Yun. We hadn't seen each other in a couple of weeks, remember?

And just like that, it was done. You had gotten up, ready to take a shower and go to sleep. Asking him to lock the door on his way out. Yunho couldn't help but feel sick, you hadn't even spared him a glance.

­­­­­­­­­____________________________________________

In the middle of your mess of a life, a new project had been assigned to you at work. It was bigger than anything you had done before, and so demanding that the workload had to be shared between three people. Hongjoong, you and…

“Guys, this is Bang Chan. He will be working with you for the next few weeks, he’s going to be supporting you during this project, so make sure to relay on him.”

Your eyes crossed and he gave you a small smile. He was cute, you won’t try and deny it. But you didn’t have time for that, you have to focus on working on yourself and on the project. Right?

While at first the load of work had been a blessing in disguise, keeping you away from Yunho and off of thinking of him, it had quickly turned into a nightmare in the last few weeks. Change after change after change. At some point it even had you doubting yourself, but Chan was always there to reassure you.

Early mornings turned into late nights. Hongjoong, Chan and you took turns to sleep on the uncomfortable, black leather couch at the back of the studio.

It was 4 a.m. on a Thursday. Hongjoong had lost the battle about an hour ago, softly snoring in the background, with drool running down his cheek. Chan had taken a photo for "future purposes" as he stated.

At this point, you couldn't even focus on the things happening on the screen, but you also couldn't sleep, too anxious to find any peace.

"I don't think we are going to get anything else done today," Chan said throwing his arms back and stretching his muscles. And yeah, you couldn't help but stare.

"I know. But god knows I won't be getting any sleep until we finish this"

"I'm the same."

A comfortable silence covered the room, only the soft sounds of Chan clicking the mouse and the quiet snores of Joong could be heard. And just as you started to disassociate.

"What's your favourite midnight snack?"

"Mm? Oh, I don't know."

"Mine's instant ramen. And I would kill for a bowl right now." He said getting up, "My treat, you in?" He offered his hand to help you get up.

Without any thought, you took it.

And so, the rest of the night went. Between energy drinks, trash food and friendly (and bit flirty) banter.

"I cannot fathom the idea of someone not liking coffee."

"It tastes like shit." No hesitance.

"No, it doesn't! It's literally what keeps me going without it I would just be a zombie all day."

"Tea does the same thing, it doesn't taste like dirt, and it's better for you."

"The thought of having a cup of green tea first thing in the morning makes me want to gag."

"Don't knock till you try it." He finished the last of his noodles, speaking with his mouth full, "And it doesn't even have to be green tea, there are lots of types of teas, like..."

Your phone started ringing, interrupting his rant. He took it and looked at the screen, "Bad idea, don't you dare answer is calling you?"

He called you. Which is something he never does. Too personal. Yet here he was, at the other side of the line. Waiting for you to answer, but you couldn't let yourself do it, you couldn't let yourself fall for him all over again. Stunned on what to do, you let it go to voicemail. Watching it ring one, two, three times before your screen turned black. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. Now an awkward silence.

"So... I'm guessing a ghost of the past has just tried to summon itself back into your life?" He said trying to break the tension[MC2] .

"Yeah, it's umm... It's complicated."

"I've got time and I've been told am an excellent listener." His eyes carry a kind of compassion you had never experienced, no pity, no sense of charity.

"Well..."

­­­____________________________________________

"Oh wow, he isn't just a bad idea, Y/n. No, he's way past that."

"I know." A sad giggle. "He's not always an asshole, he's just not interested in me in any other way that's not sexual. That's why I'm trying to move on."

"That's good, that's good." A thought crossed his mind, "he can't be that good in bed."

You choked on your spit, not expecting the conversation to go in that direction.

"I'm just saying, maybe you just idealize him because you hadn't had decent sex before him."

"Even if the burdens me to admit it, he's really good."

"I don't believe you."

"Believe me, that's what makes me hate him even more."

"I'm sure there are guys out there go can fuck you equally or even better, and not break your heart."

"Oh, yeah. Where?" You laughed, lifting your head to look at him. But the view in front of you made your heart stop.

He was looking right into your eyes. His back relaxed against the back of the chair, his legs opened wide and his arms resting on top of his thighs. He tilted his head and gave you a small smirk.

The guy was right in front of you.

You were just too dumb to notice.

"Oh."

­____________________________________________

Contrary to you, Yunho couldn't go back to his duties. Staring confused at the screen of his phone, why didn't you answer? Were you okay? Could you just be busy? Too busy for him? Busy doing what? Busy doing who?

His pulse sped up at that thought, could there be someone else? No. Could it? No. But why does it matter? Is not like he wants you like that.

Right?

­____________________________________________

Thursday rolled around and the project was finally done, delivered and paid for. And you couldn't help but be in ecstasy.

"I thought that shit would never end!" You said finally leaving the building you had been trapped in for all those weeks.

Chan only giggled while looking at you.

"I can't wait to get home and spend the next days completely buried in my bed," Hongjoong said.

"No! Let's go out and celebrate, we deserve it!" You tried convincing him.

"Aren't you tired? My back is killing me, Y/n." He gave you a side hug, "I'm sorry, not today, but I promise we'll go out soon."

"But Joongie." You whined.

"I'm sorry, but you go out and have fun with Chan, okay?" He placed a small kiss on top of your head, "Chan, please take care of her okay? I trust you."

"Don't worry, I've got her."

And got you he did. Got you so drunk you could barely walk back to your apartment. So, he had to carry you on his back.

"Goddamit, when did you take all those shots? I only saw you order two rounds, Y/n."

"The guy at the bar thought I was cute, so gave me a couple extra." You drunkenly giggled, holding your clumsy against his back. "Why aren't you drunk, Channie? We went out to have fun and you are acting all bossy."

"Someone had to be responsible, baby and I knew it wasn't going to be you. Besides, I don't love the taste of alcohol."

"You don't like coffee, you don't like alcohol, what do you like Chan?"

"I can think of one thing." He mumbled under his breath.

Making your way inside the building wasn't easy because of the amount the stairs and the lack of an elevator, but he managed. He had helped you with your keys, and changed you into your pajamas, with his eyes closed which made it a thousand times harder. Just as he was about to leave, you pulled him in.

"Stay over, it's late Channie." You hugged his arm, pushing your breasts against his skin. He was so into you that it got him slightly flustered.

"It's barely 11 p.m., Y/n."

"Please, just stay Chan." You looked right into his eyes, you could feel the alcohol dissipating, sobering up. You needed him, right there, right now. Your hand pulled him in.

"I don't know if it's a good idea, love." He whispered as your faces got closer.

"Please, Channie." You whispered against his lips.

The kiss was soft and timid, him still hesitant but slowly letting himself into it. Your hands made their way from his arms to his shoulders and found their home right into the back of his neck. It made him shiver, and he became a little braver, grabbing your waist. You let your tongue into his mouth, becoming addicted to his taste and the way his lips feel. You separated for just a second, the annoying need of air getting in the way, and as you were to continue. A bang on the door pulled you out of the moment.

"What the..."

Bang. Bang. Bang.

"It's so late, who..."

Bang. Bang. Bang.

"Y/n? Please open the door. Please, we need to talk. Please, I know you are there."

Yunho. A very drunk Yunho.

[winterrrnight]

meet me in the hallway prompt 8???? With Zach???

oh vee darling I am so sorry how late I am to this! I hope you really really enjoy this :( and again, super sorry on me being so damn late, and thank you so so much for being so patient!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻☹️☹️

just the start

PAIRING: zach maclaren x gn!reader

SUMMARY: you tell your boyfriend of mere one and a half weeks that he is cute.

WARNINGS: fluff, usage of nicknames (very less though), mentions of cheating (not by zach or the reader)

EDITH SPEAKS: and we are done with the celly requests!! I absolutely failed this time in keeping up with them and I am so sorry about that :( I will definitely make sure this doesn’t repeat <3 I hope you all enjoy reading 💞 please reblog and share your thoughts 🌛

PROMPT REQUESTED: "you're so cute." "what did you say?" "I said you look like a boot."

300 followers celebration (now closed) || navigation

You’re sitting in the library of your university, completely relaxed as you read a book you just picked. You had a long study session and that definitely caused a little bit of a headache; constant staring at your laptop screen along with having to use your brain to complete a tough assignment, you were finally done, now giving your mind some much needed relaxation.

Your almost empty iced coffee sits in front of you, the diluted remains left in it as you still slurp onto the now flavorless liquid. It’s peaceful, almost no one in the library except you, the window next to you open as the sun enters inside and the breeze gently blows.

You’re having a great time; wonderful time actually, until it all comes to an end when you hear your boyfriend call you out, way too loudly in the library.

“Zach!” You shush as he approaches you, a big smile on his face. “Keep it down, the librarian isn’t the nicest,”

Zach only rolls his eyes and sits down in the chair next to you, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you in closer. You guys are at the mere start of your relationship, only one and a half weeks, but you have got to say, you really like it.

“So now I’m not allowed to miss my girl hm?” He teases, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You ignore the rising heat in your cheeks and keep your focus on your book, even though your body is now even more relaxed as you slump against him.

As it is just the mere start, the smallest kisses, touches, and compliments make you go absolutely crazy on the inside. But you know he is the one of the best you have ever experienced it with.

“How was practice?” You ask softly, eyes not training up from the inked pages.

“It was good… scored over five goals today,” he grins. You giggle softly as you look up at him, gently pinching his cheek.

“That’s great Zach,” you smile, before training down back to your book. He rests his head on top of yours, the only sound being your light breathing and the occasional flipping of the pages.

“Oh my god, do you want to know what happened today?” He says almost suddenly. “I’ve got some real gossip,” his eyes are wide, and as you look up, you can see the excitement in them.

“Yeah why not,” you smile. You look back at your book, and continue to listen to him whilst you also read.

“Okay so you remember Brandon right?”

“The captain of your team?”

“Yeah that’s the one. And do you remember his girlfriend?”

“Clarisse?”

“Yup yup yup, so…” he takes a deep breath, “Clarisse literally cheated on him at the party two days ago. Like full on made out with this dude from her Latin class or somethin’ like that, and she keeps on denying it, she is all like, “well I was really drunk and didn’t know what I was doing!”, and Brandon’s like, “can you shut up please? You very well know what you did,” and then Clarisse is like, “no I will not shut up!” She has such a bitchy attitude and for what? And today, at the practice, she kept on following him like a lost puppy, always apologizing, being all “i’m sorry Brandon baby, please forgive me,” and I was just so embarrassed like, that’s not even my girl but I feel for him so bad…”

As he talks, you can’t help but look at him with a soft smile on your face as you watch him talk so efficiently about the fresh gossip. He has his arguments set, and he’s defending Brandon like anything, but that’s not where your focus is at.

You look at his light blue eyes, which seem an ethereal shade of blue as the sunlight falls on them, you see his eyebrows slightly furrowed, you see the small creases on his forehead, you see the way he is using his hands to gesture to make his point, you see his soft lips which you have such a desire to have on yours keep on talking, and you can’t help but sigh at the beautiful boy in front of you.

“... so then he literally screamed at her to leave him alone, and she ran away crying.” He finishes, and turns to look at you. He’s taken aback by the expression on your face, a soft smile accompanying your soft eyes, as you can’t help but admire him.

“What are you looking at?” He mutters as his eyes lock with yours. He nervously moves his hand over his face. “Do I, do I have something on my face?”

You laugh softly as you shake your head. “No, you don’t have anything on your face… you’re so cute,”

His eyes slightly widen at your words, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. In your very short time of dating, this is the first time you’ve called him cute.

“What did you say?” He whispers.

Your own cheeks warm up more, and you realize you called him ‘cute’. It is just a small compliment, but having just been together a mere one and a half weeks, it is definitely one heck of a compliment.

“I…” you mutter, as you look back at your book, “I said you look like a boot.”

He bursts out laughing, softly shaking his head at you as he can’t keep his giggles in. “I know what you said baby,” he smiles. “Thank you for that. I think you are adorable,” he leans in to press another kiss on your cheek. Your cheeks flare up even more at his movements as you dare not look up from your book, trying to show him that this does not even affect you one bit, when in reality, you are going crazy, and he knows it.

Just one and a half weeks, and he knows you better than anyone else.

What could be better than that?

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @saccharinesammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff @wallsdreams @lunalitva @sadfury @newsies-pape-girl @jamesbuckybarneswify @xxxlaura @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @callsignwidow @assmaaaaa @starkowswife @drewstarkeyswifehoe @jjchaer @f4ll-for-you @wearemadeofstardust0 @drewsmusee @rafegirly @addriaenne @leighbronk @rafesdrew @bejeweledreverie @raf3sgff @aerangi @drewstarkey1bae @moneymaybank

[hms-no-fun]

What's your opinion on the new HS^2 update? I'm really excited it's back but I'm a little worried. Like, the fandom has had a real problem with pretending all the horrible shit that caused it to end in the first place never happened. Is this just gonna sweep that under the rug even more? Is James Roach heading the project because he's less "problematic"? I love James roach and I'm sure he'll do great but what about all the transphobia? I just hope they finally fulfill the Toblerone Prophesy and make June Egbert cannon.

short version is, i'm cautiously optimistic! but this is a loaded question you've given me on a lot of fronts, so i'm gonna try to take it piece by piece.

to start with, the sudden revival of Homestuck^2 (now minus the squared) took me by surprise because to my knowledge, it was entirely dead in the water. my involvement with anything Official ended at Pesterquest, and pretty much the entire post-canon crew i was friends with in 2019-20 has moved on to greener pastures. i share a similar sentiment with @pochapal in that i would have put money on hs2 staying dead forever. i have, quite frankly, dreaded the inevitable day when official Homestuck media would resume production, because the fandom at large seems quite eager to sweep the ceaseless harassment and transphobia that ended hs2 under the rug and pretend that it just, like you said... never happened. when that california cafe used older Pesterquest-like character designs that omitted short chubby Terezi and black-coded Roxy, however well-intentioned and ultimately harmless that was, it felt like a sign of things to come. that, as you fear, the sharper & more personal queerness that we tried to bring to this series would be erased, in favor of something meant to simultaneously appease both tenderqueers and redditors, two sects of the fandom most responsible for the aforementioned harassment.

luckily, that really doesn't seem to be the case!

to your worry that James Roach was made director because he's "less problematic," i'll just say that's entirely the wrong way to look at it. it's not like WP (such that it even still exists) were cruising to get HS2 back up and running. by all accounts, James is the only reason it's happening again in the first place. i can't stress enough just how small an operation this Homestuck business actually is (or, at least, was when i was involved). this is not a Huge Corporation making cynical cash grab decisions. this is someone who cares about the material pushing to get something made where otherwise there would be nothing. check the new About page, where the principles of the so-called Homestuck Independent Creative Union are laid out in plain terms. this is something the original hs2 team fought for, so for this new version to start from there as square one is huge and a good sign of the possible longevity of the project.

next, let's talk about the question of this new team erasing the legacy of the old one. Kate Mitchell is on the record that she was reached out to about this new hs2, approved it, and declined to be involved. i don't know if the other writers were reached out to, but i have no reason to believe they weren't. this is a tremendously important gesture of good faith and goes a long way towards easing some of these worries.

but let's look at the composition of the team itself. do you remember The Perfectly Generic Podcast? originally hosted by future hs2 writer Kate, pgen became a flashpoint for community discourse, often opening doors between official homestuck and homestuck fandom. what made that show special was that, rather than relying on the imo tired genre of the liveread, pgen focused on a different topic each episode and explored it with one or two qualified guests. Kate's goal with the show was to encourage a more adult and quasi-academic discussion of homestuck, of its successes and its failures. if you weren't there, the weight i'm putting on pgen might seem overblown (not least because you can't find it anywhere anymore except on the internet archive). but it's not! when they decisively criticized the wild contents of the Skaianet debacle in episode 19, Andrew listened and worked to bring a more diverse group of creators into the fold. in the months after the Epilogues were released, Andrew issued a statement through pgen on episode 52 about how the Epilogues are meant to create bridges and offramps for the post-canon fandom. it's an essential piece for understanding the epilogues and their relationship to fanworks! that it wasn't included as the author's introduction to the Epilogues in the book version remains to my mind an astonishing oversight, but whatever. point is, pgen mattered to the folks in charge.

so let's look again at the writing staff of this new crew. James Roach first guested on pgen in episode 7, and would go on to be a regular. Haven, who did the Vriska and Roxy sprites in Pesterquest (and probably more stuff i don't remember), guested in episodes 81 and 87. Miles guested on episode 87 as well (unless it's a different Miles, i'm not familiar with their work and ugh this damnable linkrot). Floral, creator of one of my favorite hs fanworks & huge godfeels influence Liminal Space, first guested on pgen in episode 47, and would go on to be a regular (including once during my tenure as host to talk about Jade). on the technical staff side, Kohi built the hs2 website and has remained a backend mainstay both on the WP side and on Vast Error.

all of which is to say, if you were looking for a crew to cynically erase the past and appease the haters, these probably aren't the folks that'd be at the top of your list. of course, if you *really* wanted to cynically erase the past and appease the haters, you wouldn't bother reviving hs2 in the first place!

and that's the crux of the matter here. what cash is there to grab? what clout could possibly be chased? i struggle to think of a decision less obviously profitable and popular than continuing hs2 with a new crew right where it left off. i have to believe this is happening because the people involved want to make it.

so, yeah, i'm cautiously optimistic. i like this crew, i like the contents of the first upd8, and i'm glad as hell it's not a reboot! i'm grateful that by reviving hs2, the hs:bc crew have instantly yanked the epilogues & the post-canon project back into relevance in the broader community. and i always liked hs2 a lot! i was excited to see where they were going! i'm really looking forward to seeing more YIFFY!!!!!

but the thing is, this won't be the hs2 i wanted. i know that, and i'm not expecting it. my greatest hope for hs:bc, for this crew, is that they get the chance to take up the reins and drive this thing in whatever direction they feel most passionate about. if that winds up looking like the hs2 that was originally planned, great-- but more than anything, i want everyone on this team to feel just as empowered to leave a profound and personal mark on this series as the original team did, as i did working on Pesterquest. i hope the outline changes! i hope they take some really wild swings! i want to be surprised!! i want to be challenged!!!

above all, i want them to have the chance to pick a course, sail it, and see it through to the end regardless of what the public thinks. they deserve the chance that the original crew didn't get.

i have plenty of bitterness and cynicism in my heart over the events and circumstances of 2019-20, but as far as i'm concerned it has no place here today. i would never, ever wish the trauma and stress of that era on anyone. let the fandom at large react in whatever way it will, but i want things to be different this time. this is a second chance-- not just for hs2/hs:bc, but for all of us. even people who hate homestuck post-canon! this is an opportunity for everyone to choose to be better this time, and to push back when others might squander that opportunity. this team is not a group of celebrities, not an abstract fiction on the other side of the world, they are human beings who took a job. they've earned the opportunity to do that job, and they deserve to be treated with the respect and dignity that was so often absent a few years ago.

as to your last point, about june egbert and the toblerone. i've been saying for years that andrew's confirmation of june was less "the granting of a wish" than it was "a spoiler shared without input from the creative team." that there is any doubt about june's providence in hs2 can only be attributed to willful, aggressive ignorance on the part of people who refuse to engage with the written word in any way other than plodding literalism. the original team didn't unveil june ~immediately~ because they didn't think of june as a wish, they thought of her as a character in an ongoing story who needed time to develop naturally. i have never not felt entirely crazy about how thick everyone has been about this!

but will the new team make june canon? obviously i have no way of knowing for sure, but i'm gonna go out on a limb and say that probably the answer is "yes, when they're good and goddamned ready." just, please, for the love of god, don't go after every upd8 like "where's june? where's june? why hasn't june yet????" this was one of the worst results of the toblerone spoiler and it put INSANE pressure on the hs2 team. so just... just let this story be what it is. let this new team make the homestuck continuation they want to make.

and in the meantime, if you're really hungry for june... there's always godfeels :)

[andhumanslovedstories]

Hey so your post about pain management as a bedside nurse is so important to my own nursing practice that I've considered printing it out so I can have it to hand all the time. So thanks for that. Also, how do you deal with assignments that are busy enough that pain management is harder than it should be? I'm coming up on two years as a nurse and I feel like I take it personally when I am too busy to adequately manage my patients pain. I'm also coming from a newly unionized hospital where the ratios are still horrendous (I do 1:10 on med surg) and I'm hoping once we can enforce our staffing grids it'll be better but idk I'm burning out and I love my job so much and I really respect your nursing philosophy? I guess. Sorry for the word vomit it's been a crazy shift.

I've been trying to think of how to answer this since I got it. It's just such a horrendous ratio. With ten patients a shift, that's like six minutes an hour for each in a fantasy world where there's no charting and everything is exactly where you need it to be. I feel like I don't have great insight into this because the most med surg patients I've had assigned is five. Ten patients to one nurse is just a raw deal for everyone. Like christ no wonder you feel like you're burning out! I'll give you what thoughts I have and hopefully other people can chime in if they have suggestions. But that's such a hard patient load.

When I've been super swamped, I've found that's when being really explicit about your thinking with the patient helps. Like if I have to dash into a room and then dash back out, I'll make sure the board is updated with the next medication time and that the patient knows when the medication is going to kick in. I'll also provide call light parameters. I have a lot of success telling people, "the med should be doing something by 5:30. If I haven't checked in with you by then, and the pain is unchanged or barely changed, hit your call light and we'll try the next step. Also hit your call light if you feel any sudden change, like now you're nauseated or you have a headache or the type of pain changes or something just feels very wrong. Is there anything you need before I step out of the room?"

I like to be explicit about when to call me because I think there's two directions call light usage can go wrong: someone calls all the time, or someone never calls. With someone who calls all the time, I find that telling them when I'll be back and that I want them to call me if I'm not takes away some of that anxiety that can causes some people to call frequently. Often those patients are afraid that if they aren't on the call light, they're gonna get ignored.

For the other type of patient, the one that doesn't call, I want to make explicit that it's GOOD AND NORMAL TO CALL YOUR NURSE WHEN YOU HAVE SYMPTOMS. We've all had that patient at the end of shift who goes, "btw the gnawing pain in my leg is now a 10/10" and you're like "what gnawing pain sir?? you've literally never mentioned it before now?? I don't have any meds for that lemme page super quick????" These patients can get into pain crises easily because they don't ask for help until something is unbearable. In addition to pain crisis bad, it takes a lot more time to deal with something unbearable than it does to deal with something uncomfortable.

On that note, are you spending your very limited time efficiently? To me, that actually means spend more time talking with patients, at least up front. Manage expectations, make sure people know what to expect. Having conversations with patients that are like, "You just had surgery, it's not gonna happen that we get you completely painless. We want to get you to a manageable pain level that allows you to do whatever it is you most want to do this shift." (For me on nights, that's usually sleeping at least a little, but sometimes the realistic goal you make together is that you will feel at some point better than you feel right now.) "You have this medication scheduled, and you have this one available every X hours when your pain is severe. Is there anything you know that helps you deal with pain?"

Also establish if patients want to be woken up for certain prn medications or if they're sleeping, to let them sleep. With some patients, I will advise them to get woken up for pain medication because I know that they're going to need consistent control to avoid a crisis. (Crises take so much time!)

When I'm crunched for time, I'm fond of bringing in an ice pack and being like "if it works, great, if it doesn't, just take it off, either way here it is." Sometimes I'll do the same with a warm blanket. If I know my patient needs to take pills, I'll bring a cup of water with me into the room. If there's a basic prn like melatonin or tylenol that I think they might want, I'll pull them in advance. If the patient doesn't want them, I return them next time I'm in the med room. (Obviously, don't do this with controlled substances. It's super easy to forget to return them, and not returning opioids is one of those whoopsies people get fired over.)

Decision making takes time. Walking to go get stuff takes time. I want to save the time it takes to assess if the patient needs those things and then walk off to fetch them by just having the things already. If your tightest resource is time, be liberal with resources you can spare. If you're stuck with a patient, do you have anyone you can delegate a prn med pass to? Do you know how to do the absolute minimum charting you need to? Do you have flushes and alcohol wipes and whatever other most common things you need? And since you can't hoard time, if you've got some to spare, ask yourself if there is anything you can do now that will save you time later. If you have five free minutes now and an incontinent patient, getting them up to the bathroom now can save you from taking the time for incontinence care and a bed change later on when they've also sundowned and decide they hate everything but most of all you.

So much of this answer I realize is investing as much time upfront as you can, which I realize is so hard when you are so busy. It sucks immensely that prepping takes much less time than not being prepared does when you don't always have time to prep. Plus when you invest that time to pain plan with patients and do small preventative interventions, I think it also provides some psychological comfort that helps with pain. You're letting them know you're invested and you care and you have a plan, even if you don't have all the time you'd like. That can mean better pain control, which can mean needing to spend less time in that room overall, meaning you can save six whole minutes at some point and maybe even, if we're feeling crazy, get a chance to indulge in that greatest of indulgences: just a real leisurely on-shift piss.

[aleksanderscult]

Today I will rant about Malina

Because this ship tried to be passed on as an ideal relationship to have.

*spoiler: it wasn't*

Malina is a ship that was shoved down our throats throughout the trilogy. Whether you shipped it or not you were bound to read about it in literally every other page.

And what are the negative aspects of this ship?

Literally EVERYTHING.

Let's start with Mal. The number 1 asshole in this trilogy.

And yes he is the number 1 and not Aleksander since Aleksander was a character with a goal. He had a grand plan that exceeded selfishness and pure evil and he used any means necessary to fulfill it. But Mal? Remind me, what was his plan?

Well, at the start of the trilogy to fuck around girls and then, when Alina began to feel something for someone else, to undermine her, latch on her and chastise her. There you have his role.

The minute Alina started having a life of her own outside his influence, the little jerk felt overlooked and his pride got hurt.

It's evident that Alina felt quite unseen from Mal in the beginning. He flirted and fucked girls right in front of her face (since she very clearly knew) and he even stopped hanging around with her as much as he did in the past.

Quite a start.

And then when Alina found her strength, happiness and place in the Little Palace he got offended. Why isn't she tortured as the rumors had said? What are these clothes that she's wearing? Why is she happy? And, most importantly, WHY IS SHE HAPPY WITH ANOTHER MAN??

Alina at that moment felt like she was walking on eggshells around him. She didn't know what to say without provoking him further. And when she found her voice, the little prick got all puffed up and left without even apologizing for ruining her nice evening.

Then we have Mal not talking to her as if it wasn't his own decision to abandon the army and follow her and again made her feel bad for even mentioning the Darkling.

It appears that Mal had no problem when his best friend bullied Alina but went actual feral when a (powerful) guy showed interest in her. Insecure, aren't we Mal?

In the following books we have Mal being okay that Alina doesn't use her powers and therefore being weak.

We have Mal being more concerned if Alina fucked the Darkling than being tortured by him. Apparently he wanted her virginity for him, I don't know.

We have Mal acting like crazy because Alina decided to return to Ravka to lead the remaining Grisha. But what about him?? What about his needs?? And what if he decides not to follow her? What will she do then?

(people call the Darkling manipulative but let me show you another person that you overlook as manipulative, my friends)

He gets angry when she hesitates to kiss him and again makes her feel bad about it. And how does he respond with that?

Revenge!!✨✨

Kisses Zoya, a woman he fucked before, and then threw the blame to Alina ("at least she doesn't flinch when I kiss her" "why do you care? You don't care about me anyway") Gaslighting at its finest form, my friends! 👌 Knew that she would be hurt, knew that she had feelings for him and still did it.

Oh and let's forget how he wanted the good, old Alina back! The sickly one that always depended on him for company and strength. He basically asked her to tear out a piece of her soul! 🥰🥰

And then, of course, jeopardized both her image and her safety by getting drunk and getting into fights (*whispering* we, the readers, are supposed to find this very romantic, okay? A man that drinks, sulks and makes the heroine feel bad. Just so you know).

Then the author made a 360° and presented Mal in R&R as changed and a very good person. Willing to die heroically for his love. How did she do that?

💕💕With zero development!!💕💕

One minute he's up there in the chapel being a jerk and the next minute he's underground and changed. I think it must have been the change of air, what do you think?

I have a huge problem with Leigh Bardugo about this. She presents Darklina as toxic. And it is. She presents Nikolina as little to zero toxic. And it is. But when she presents Malina, it's a really good, cute ship!! Not toxic at all with lots of possibilities! Leigh has constantly defended it saying "Oh but Mal was a teenager".

Ma'am? I was a teenager once and I never made my best friends feel like shit.

And as have everyone said before, Mal hits veeery close at home. He's every jerk that you have met in your life and you will meet again.

With Darklina you have nothing to fear. Because no one will put the collar of a magical stag around your throat, no one will have a nichevo'ya bite your shoulder, no one will ask you to abandon your friends so you can save some Grisha from the persecution. But plenty of men will slut-shame you for what you're wearing, plenty will feel insecure for being stronger and more famous than them, plenty will make you feel like shit for finding happiness and plenty will sabotage you by taking revenge kissing someone else.

Malina is a ship that is REAL.

While Darklina is your typical, fantastical ship.

Her hard efforts to pass it on to the readers as something healthy and inspiring is disgusting and makes me hate it even more.

Now from Alina's perspective things are even more tragic, since Alina never grows as a character because of him.

She always thinks "What about Mal? Will Mal follow me? What if he doesn't? It's my fault. It's all my fault. Where is Mal?".

This is it. This is the trilogy in a summary.

A heroine that seems more concerned about Mal than the country and people that expect from her to save them.

"Alina doesn't want a crown. That's why she left"

Girl, I don't want to go to work every day either.

Kids don't want to wake up to go to school.

People don't want to pay taxes every year.

But we do them because we MUST.

Just like Alina should stay, lead and rule because that's what she should do as the protagonist. Not pass on her own duties to others and say "gotta go lolz". Malina could be used as a plotline for Alina to gain strength from by casting aside Mal's influence and finding her own power inside herself. Instead Leigh did the opposite: stripped her powers (her own self) to fit in Mal's world.

And this excuse that the author had given ("some women don't want to wear crowns") is pathetic and idiotic.

Frodo didn't want to carry the Ring but chose to do the right thing. Harry didn't want to fight a war with a psychopath but did because it was the right thing. The Pevensie siblings didn't want to fight the White Witch and rule a country but did both because it was the right thing. Every hero in a proper story does the right thing. He or she becomes selfless and sacrifices his own happiness and well being to stand up against the evil and corruption.

In the trilogy instead we have Alina who had a responsibility and duty but unfortunately for Ravka and the Grisha she was not a responsible person but a girl that wanted to depend on a man. She didn't want to use her influence to protect her people but hide.

Apparently the "evil villain" understood the assignment better than the author ever did.

Alina never grew as a person or as a character. It was only Mal and Mal. If only he had stayed dead in R&R then the world would shine brighter. But no! The author brought him back and gave us an explanation with how that happened that I still don't understand because it doesn't make a goddamn sense.

I guess the easy explanation is: "I brought Mal back because Alina had to end up with him somehow. Deal with it."

And we just have to accept this (just as Alina did) whether we like it or not.

Well I don't.

Because I've met people like Mal and they're assholes. They want to be the strongest one in the relationship, they want their girl to look up to them and depend on them and when they make mistakes it's none of their fault.

Because I've met people like Alina that try hard to please their man while in the meantime they "crumble down" emotionally and feel insecure. They never shine with their own light but seek only the one that their toxic partner can give to them. Without it they're lost.

Because I've met couples like Malina. And it's never a happy relationship or has a happy ending.

And when you try to pass on this relationship in fiction as something healthy, then you really need to reconsider.

[joels-darlin]

Nightmares

Pairings: post-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY!! (minors DNI), mentions of anxiety/mental health, mentions panic attack, smut, fingering, grinding, unprotected P in V (keep it wrapped!!), creampie, pet names, dirty talk, riding a cowboy, teasing.

Summary: After waking up from a nightmare Joel helps you find comfort in a way you never thought was possible, all thanks to stealing his favourite flannel.

Word count: 2047

Authors Note: My first time writing smut and of course I had to do my man Joel Miller. I also think this might be my longest one shot to date so yay to smashing goals. Hope you all enjoy! I definitely enjoyed writing it. Feedback is appreciated ♥

As always a huge thankyou to @ladybess-a03 for the help and support on this one, forever in your debt. Also, I finally did it woo!!! ♥

Also posted on AO3.

Every night was the same; broken sleep, pounding heart, waking up in a pool of your own sweat. The vivid memories of those you loved dying in front of you at the hands of raiders and infected. Bleeding profusely or torn apart limb by limb. Horrific images forever ingrained into the cells of your brain.

Gasping for air, you woke with a fright, bolting straight up into a sitting position, lungs burning, breathing deeply to force some oxygen into them. Beads of sweat trailed down your face leading to the uncomfortable burning sensation behind your eyes. A brief scan of the room told you that it was still dark outside, dead of the night, the only light source coming from the old street lamps of Jackson which painted a yellow hue across the walls of the bedroom.

“It’s okay, you're safe, here in Jackson, with Joel and Ellie” you thought to yourself, the words circling around your head over and over again, trying desperately to console your anxious and terrified form. You gripped the now sweat soaked sheets in any hope of grounding yourself, feeling the smooth of the material against calloused skin.

After a few minutes of composing yourself, breathing returning to normal, you turned to the right, your eyes landing on Joel. He was lying on his side, facing towards the wall, clutching a pillow. The sheets draped loosely around his naked torso; quite the sight, you had to admit. The sounds of soft snores that left his lips signalling that he was having a peaceful night's sleep for once.

There was no way of getting back to sleep after that, the dream was far too vivid to even consider closing your eyes again. Feeling defeated you stripped the sheets back, careful not to disturb your sleeping partner. Making the conscious decision to grab one of his flannels that hung over the bedpost, throwing it over your frame, which was only covered in a vest top, the scent of him wrapped around you like a comfort blanket burying your nose deep into the fabric.

It was dark when you stepped out of the bedroom, your eyes squinting with adjustment. Reaching out you followed the curve of the walls with your fingertips, finally grasping the edge of the banister, carefully retreating down the stairs one step at a time and into the living room. The couch being your final destination. ────────

“Darlin’ what are you doing down here?”

You flinched in panic at his voice, close to dropping the book you were buried in as a distraction. Closing the cover, making sure to mark the page, before placing it on the coffee table. Turning your body facing the doorway where he stood, you locked eyes with Joel briefly.

“Couldn’t sleep. I-I, erm…well…I had a nightmare. But I could ask you the same thing?” you said, hoping that your questioning would have him glaze over your admittance to another nightmare.

“Hold up, a nightmare? You should have woke me” he said. You shrugged.

“You looked peaceful, and I didn’t want to disturb you”.

“Oh sweetheart…”. He approached, taking the seat on the couch next to you. Feeling the warmth radiating off his body, you hopped into his lap, strong muscular arms wrapping around your form. You lay your head in the crook of his neck.

“Next time, please wake me. Don't care if I’m dead to the world or not, I panicked when I woke up to an empty bed” he spoke softly into your hair. “Now…you wanna tell me about it sweetheart?” he asked.

“Not tonight too vivid, but I don’t know if I will sleep at all if I recount it” you mumbled. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Maybe another time, hmm?” he asked, and you nodded in response. “I’m never getting this back, am I?” he chuckled, pulling at the hem of his, (no, your) shirt.

“Nope” you responded, emphasis on popping the ‘P’, leaning in for a chaste kiss. Joel captured your lips as you pulled away, kissing you deeply for a few moments.

“I like seeing you in my clothes though, it’s…hot” he whispered, brushing his nose against your chin, moving down to place soft kisses at the exposed skin of your neck, nibbling on it lightly. There was only one way this was going, you could feel the pool of desire starting to well in your lower stomach, evident that your thin sleep shorts were now flooded in hot, wet arousal.

“Joel…” you whined, trying to send him a clear message that you wanted, no, needed him. Besides, it’s not like you were likely to be able to sleep now…

“M’yeah, baby…I know…I know,” he mumbled between kisses. Detaching your lips for a brief second, you took control. Pushing off of his lap moving to straddle him, legs either side of his hips, skin making contact with the soft leather of the couch. Moving your arms around his neck, fingers threading into the hair at the nape of his neck, eliciting a soft moan from Joel.

“God damn, baby girl, you will be the death of me,” he spoke breathlessly. Foreheads touching, his deep brown orbs shone in the dark room with lust and desire, boring into yours. He leaned in virtually smashing his lips against your kissing you passionately.

Completely focused on his lips it took you by surprise when moved his hands up the back of your top, the feeling of the warm, calloused skin against yours causing the ripple effect of goosebumps across your body. He continued, hands now traversing around the front of your top cupping both your breasts, squeezing gently, causing you to moan into his mouth. Taking both your nipples rolling them through his thumb and forefinger, lips detaching and your back arching involuntarily at his touch. Jesus, this man.

Two could play that game. Grinding down on Joel’s lap, his hard bulge protruded through the thin pyjama pants that adorned his lower body.

“Fuck darlin’…” he moaned in response as you continued to grind against his aching length. The friction was so good that you were hurtling towards your own peak.

“You have two choices, cowboy, take me to bed or take me here” you whispered into his ear in a sultry tone, dragging your teeth over his earlobe gently. Joel thrust up in response, rolling his hips into yours multiple times.

“Won’t make it…upstairs…here…now” he stuttered. “Lift up for me” placing his large hands at your waist he guided your hips up so you were hovering over him. In one swift motion he lifted his own slightly, sliding his pyjamas off so they pooled at his ankles. Glancing down you drunk in his thick, hard cock which was glistening at the head with pre-cum. A wave of desire pooling in your stomach at the sheer sight of it.

“Now you are too overdressed for my liking darlin’. Let's get rid of these clothes…the shirt…that stays on though” he growled forcing your gaze up towards him. Taking a fistful of your shorts in each hand he pulled the fabric tearing at the seams as he ripped it from your frame, doing the same with the vest top until you were completely bare; just the flannel hanging from your shoulders.

“Joel…my-” your words were interrupted as he forced his lips against yours again, tongues tangling going to war in the battle for dominance. “Don’t care…will…get…more” he grumbled between rough kisses.

“Please…” you whined, body aching for his touch. It was only when he reached between your frantic bodies that you gasped, head thrown back in pleasure at the contact. His fingers swiping through your folds collecting the arousal that pooled at your entrance.

“So wet for me darlin’ god damn” he growled, dragging his fingers up to circle your clit. He was teasing at this point and it was painful wanting nothing more that his hard length inside you. You continued to moan loudly as his long, slender fingers toyed with the sensitive bud, every nerve in your body standing on end.

“Gotta make sure you are ready for me though” dropping his head into your neck biting and sucking on the skin there driving you wild, his tongue glancing over each mark as if to soothe. Removing his fingers from your clit, whimpering at the loss, traversing down. Lazily tracing two fingers at your entrance before sinking them inside you in one movement, making you moan loudly.

Joel knew what made you tick. The two of you spending countless hours between the sheets exploring the depths of each other bodies. So it was no surprise when he curled his fingers slightly, instantly grazing that soft and sensitive spot inside, knowing exactly it’s location every time. Starting to pump his fingers in and out at a slow pace, the sheer sensation from his thick fingers nearly sending you tumbling over the edge. Only the sounds of your moans and him working away at your hot, wet core filling the room.

“Need you…please” his thick fingers withdrawing from your entrance at your plea’s.

“Lift up darlin’” obeying the command and lifting your hips once more.

There was something enticing about watching him, taking his hard length into his fist and giving it a few pumps before aligning at your entrance. Teasing once again swiping the head through your wet folds and nudging the sensitive bundle of nerves, moans tumbling your lips. Taking matters into your own hands and not wanting to waste anymore time you sunk down on him, full to the hilt, both moaning in unison.

“So tight darlin’ made for me” Joel growled hands moving now to your hips, gently grabbing at the skin there.

Steadying yourself you start moving up and down bouncing on Joel’s thick, hard cock - starting out with a slow rhythm. Feeling the tip of his length hitting just the right spot of your cervix with every movement. Core burning with white hot desire, in this position you were definitely not going to last very long.

Joel dips his head, lips skating over the skin between the valley of your breasts, leaving a trail of wet kisses. You moan, loud enough that the neighbours definitely heard, as he takes a nipple into his hot, wet mouth. Tongue circling around the sensitive bud, it peaking in response.

The muscles in your thighs are burning. But the sheer desire of Joel splitting you open with his cock supersedes that and you continue picking up the pace slightly - hurtling fast towards your climax. Chanting his name like a prayer.

“m’not gonna last darlin’ so—fucking—good” Joel groans hands moving down from you hips to your ass, kneading the supple skin gently. Leaning forward to connect your lips together in a passionate but breathless kiss as you continued to ride him.

He could tell you were getting close, movements getting sloppier by the minute, walls fluttering around his length and he wasn’t far behind either. Taking one of his hands from your behind, traversing round to your front, fingers glancing lightly over your sensitive clit for a few strokes. Lips detaching from his in a instant as you screamed in pleasure.

“I’m gonna—” not getting the chance to finish the sentence before your climax hit quick and hard. Back arching, head thrown back, Joel’s name tumbling from your lips. Swearing you could see stars littering the insides of your eyelids.

In the same moment Joel’s strong arm wraps around your back as he thrusts his hips up to meet yours, length twitching inside your tight cunt as he painted your walls with hot, sticky cum. A throaty moan leaving his lips.

Your labored breaths were the only sounds in the room, both taking a moment to come down for your highs. Body aching, core in particular still fluttering with pleasure, still full to the hilt with him. Moving to lean into the crook of his neck

“That’s one way to get rid of the nightmares I guess” you smiled, whispering against the sweaty skin beneath your lips, pressing a soft kiss there. He chuckled, broad frame shaking beneath you “Anytime baby, anytime”.

[pearbunny]

the bucket list ✘ [one]

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summary: Fly to Korea. Check. Buy a bouquet of flowers for a stranger. Check. Have said stranger come along with you to accomplish your bucket list? Well that wasn’t on the list, but falling in love was. 

pairing: han jisung x afab!reader

genre: 18+ [MDNI] strangers to lovers, non idol au, crack, mostly fluff, later chapters to include: angst, comfort, smut.

general warnings:  tourist!mc, adult themes including but not limited to: suggestive content, nudity, cursing, alcohol consumption, mentions of death in later chapters, overarching theme of mental health, eventual smut.

word count: ~3.6k 

chapter content: mentions of food, excessive lip biting as a nervous habit, cafe employee!seungmin, stranger danger tbh don’t be like o/c, Lee Know mentioned, but not present. 

author’s note: I've never written for stray kids and most of what i write is typically on the sadder side so fluff isn't my strongest point but i've had this in my head for awhile. feedback, reblogs, likes, v much appreciated. :) updates will be sporadic, but i'm aiming for once every two weeks.

You shield your eyes from the beating sun above, pupils unadjusted from being on a plane for the past 12 plus hours with the window shut. You let go of the suitcase you had been dragging along behind you to fish your phone out of your back pocket. Humming to yourself, you check the map, trying to find your way to Seoul. “Ah!” You say into the air, which grants you a couple of curious and annoyed stares. You duck your head in an attempt to be unseen, embarrassed by the attention. You make your way to the train station and purchase a ticket. It doesn’t take long for the train to arrive, and soon you’re sitting with your backpack in your lap and your suitcase between your legs.

According to the tourist guide you had pulled up on your phone, the train ride would take around 40 minutes. In the meantime, you rummage through your backpack to look for an old loosely bound book. You find it after digging past your makeup bag and some snacks you had saved from the flight. With a hum, you search through the pages, and after some flipping, you land on the correct one. Your index finger traces down a list, and randomly you stop it. “Buy a bouquet for a stranger.” 

You chew on your lip, a habit you picked up whenever you found yourself feeling uneasy. You may not bethe most outgoing person, but you aren't completely against socializing. 

It’s just … going up to a stranger in a town– let alone country– you’ve never been in was 1000% terrifying. 

Before you know it, the intercom announces your stop and you're scrambling to gather your belongings. You make your way out of the station and suddenly, you hold your breath in awe at the scene in front of you. There were so many people, walking in every direction. You hear little tidbits of their conversations: where they were planning to go for lunch, the new restaurant that opened up in Itaewon, what someone’s boyfriend had given them for their 100 days. The sounds of a city fill your ears. 

If you're being honest, it was a little overwhelming. For a moment, you have doubts of why you had gotten on that plane. You shut your eyes and count down from 7. There, your breathing is even, your head’s a little clearer, and you realize that you had a goal to accomplish. You couldn't back out now, you refuse to be stuck in your old ways.

‘Flowers first,’ you think to yourself. 

After a couple of blocks of lugging your suitcase behind you, you find a quaint little flower stand. A young woman and what seem to be her grandfather were the owners of the stall. You stand there, staring at all the options. The young woman approaches you, her hands placed inside the pockets of her green apron, “Hi, do you need help picking something out?” 

“Hi, yes!” you quickly blurt out. “I just wanted a bouquet that would make someone’s day.” You give the woman a meek smile. You recognize the characters on her apron to read Minji.

“Is this for anyone special? Your mom, maybe?” She starts to pull at a couple of arrangements, one bouquet made of mostly carnations. 

You shake your head, “No…” You hesitate as you wondered to yourself, ‘Do I tell her it’s for someone I don’t even know?’ You chuckle at the thought absentmindedly.

Minji takes that to mean something else, “A boy perhaps then?” There's something a little suggestive in her tone, complemented by the raise of her brow in your direction. 

“Oh, no no!” You shake your head for emphasis, furiously denying it. “Absolutely nothing like that.” You find yourself laughing at the predicament. “I’m actually going to give the flowers to a stranger.”

“Oh–” Minji looks pleasantly surprised, “That’s very kind of you. I have just the thing then.” 

You stay in place while Minji goes to the other side of the flower stall to wrap up the bouquet she hand picked. Soon, she comes back and you make an expression of gratitude. “Minji, you really didn’t have to do that! I could have just gotten one of the premade ones.” You pout, looking through the flowers as you take the bouquet from her. It was very simple, three medium sunflowers, some Queen Anne’s lace, and a few branches of baby blue eucalyptus.

“No, don’t worry about it. What was your name again?”

“Y/N”, You give her the appropriate amount of money. 

“Well, Y/N, I hope you brighten someone’s day!” Minji smiles at you and bids you farewell as you turn and leave. 

“Now who do I give this to?” You hold the bouquet in one hand while you pull your luggage, the sound of its wheels on the concrete trailing behind you. 

You stop at an intersection, scanning the crowd for someone that seems approachable. Will it be the middle aged woman holding the hand of a small boy while they cross the street? Maybe it would be the man in a suit that was on the phone, oh he was looking in your direction. He glared at you. 

Okay, so not that guy. 

You were about to give up until you spot a young man, about your age give or take a few, walking in your direction. He was still crossing the street, but he had a certain pep to his step, like he was listening to a really good song in his headphones– which given the fact that he did have headphones on, he probably was. He seems approachable, even down to his outfit: white tee loosely tucked into black jeans a black belt to match his shoes, and gold metal thinly rimmed glasses. 

“Um, excuse me!” You step towards him, holding the bouquet of flowers to your chest at first. 

“Yes?” The man stops in front of you and stretches one side of his headphones away from his ear to hear you better. 

“These are for you.” You extend the sunflowers towards him. 

He looks around, a bit confused, then takes his headphones off fully, letting them hang around his neck. He takes a step towards the side, which you follow, so you’re out of the way of the traffic of people. “F-For me?!” He seems surprised. You can't blame him, you’re a total stranger. He gestures to himself, placing his palm on his chest. “I think you have the wrong guy!” 

You shake your head, the corners of your lips turn up in a slight smile, mostly out of embarrassment. “No, definitely for you”. 

The stranger takes the bouquet in his hand, examining it. “Who put you up to this? Was it Lee Know Hyung?” He looked back at you, raising a brow. 

 “I don’t even know who that is, I promise they’re for you!” 

You notice his shoulders relaxing and he pinches at one of the blue eucalyptus leaves, feeling its texture. “But… why?” 

You also relax and release the breath inside your lungs you didn’t know you were holding. He seems to at least be open to accepting the gift now. “It’s just something I wanted to cross off my bucket list: give a bouquet of flowers to a stranger.” You smile up at him and you hope that the man in front of you can sense how sincere you are and didn’t think you were an absolute lunatic. 

“Well, thanks.” He slowly starts to smile and suddenly his eyes notice your bag and your suitcase. “Oh, are you visiting?” 

You nod your head yes, “I am! I’m actually here because visiting Korea is also on my bucket list!” 

His eyes grow wide, surprised by your seemingly adventurous personality. “You must have come a long way then, your accent is definitely not from around here.” He motions over to a bench a short walk away and the both of you make your way there. 

“I will take that as a compliment.” Momentarily, you check your phone for the time. He must have noticed you doing so, because he motions to get up. 

“Oh no, did I keep you?” 

“Not at all, I’m just realizing what time it is back home.”  

“Oh, you must be jet lagged, do you need help getting to your hotel?” 

“I don’t have to check in until later,” you lie. You don't even have a hotel yet.

Oops.

"Well, in that case...." He seems nervous as he stands up, very subtly back and forth on the tips of his toes to the back of his heels. If that isn't enough, he rubs the back of his neck before he clears his throat and looks down at your sitting form. You look up at him as if you hadn’t been watching him the entire time. “Is grabbing coffee with a stranger on your bucket list too, then?” 

You can't help but smile, a smile that pulled at your lips wide enough that it made the corner of your eyes crinkle. “It’s not, but I’m sure I could add it in.” 

“Great, then I’ll make sure it’s an extra good café with instagrammable latte art!”  He extends out his hand to help you up. 

Once you stand up, you reach for your suitcase, but he beats you to it. Instead, he places the bouquet of flowers into your hands.  “You carry that, and I’ll take these.” He slings your backpack over his shoulder. 

“No, please let me. It’s really no problem for me!” You hold the bouquet of flowers to him, as if it's a trade off. 

“It might be no problem for you, but what about me? You’re gonna slow us down carrying these things and the café spot gets busy in the afternoon!” He starts to walk away, looking back at you with a smirk after a couple of large strides. 

Well, at least the stranger you picked had a sense of humor and wasn’t some asshole who would have rejected the flowers. Snapping out of your thoughts, you realize he really isn't going to wait for you and hurry after him. 

The stranger— you still don't know his name, by the way; you've had no opportunity to ask—wasn’t kidding when he said that the café got busy. You were both lucky to grab a table on the outside of the establishment all thanks to your hovering and his remarkably subtle ability to place your suitcase in the way of other hopeful individuals looking for a seat.  

Your eyes wander around the place, looking for a waiter or waitress to come and take your order. You desperately don't want to be the one to start conversation. You feel a little awkward sitting down with a guy you just met.

“I’m Han Jisung, by the way.” His voice cuts through the clinking of mugs, the soft hum of the people waiting for a table, and the occasional sound of the cars driving past. 

You bring your eyes back to him, a little caught off guard. He smiles in a way that shows the gums and it's kind of cute, while his eyes crinkle into half crescents. You can't help but smile right back at him. “I’m Y/N.”

Jisung leans forward, into the table with his arms crossed. “So, what brings you to Korea, Y/N?” 

You reach for the old beaten notebook in your bag and place it on the table. “I have this bucket list,” you open the pages and start flipping through it. There were a bunch of pages with cursive scrawls in paragraphs, some doodles, and eventually you stop on the page with the bucket list on it. “Just a bunch of things I wanna do before I die…” You give him a lopsided smile. 

Jisung’s eyes look through the list, then he point at one half way down the page. “Well, you can now cross going to Korea off. “ His index finger drags across the page at another item, “And the bouquet one.” 

“You’re right, thanks.” You take a pen from the front pouch of your backpack and cross those off. 

“How long is your visit?” 

You peer up at him, chewing on your bottom lip. He has an innocently curious expression on his face and you can't help but thank whoever's in charge of fate. Jisung is nice and welcoming, which is just what you need in a country you had never been to before. “About two weeks.” 

“Do you plan on doing more of those here?” 

You nod with a smile. “I do! As many as I can anyway.”  Talking to him isn't as awkward as you think it would be. He's definitely to thank for carrying the conversation so naturally.

“Hi can I take yo—“ a young man, probably around Jisung’s age comes to your table with a small notepad in hand. He has medium brown hair pushed back, a wide smile, and kind eyes. He's wearing a pair of khaki slacks and a nicely pressed dress shirt underneath his navy blue apron. “Oh, Hannie! Hey!” 

Jisung stands and pulls the newcomer into a short hug. “Seungmin!” Jisung motions to you at the table. “This is Y/N. A new friend of mine.” 

You smile at Seungmin and stand, bowing your head slightly. “Hi, nice to meet you.” 

Seungmin motions for you both to sit back down after introductions. “Ah, order whatever you guys want, it’s on the house! I hope you guys didn’t wait too long for a table.” 

Jisung shook his head, sitting back down only after you did. “It didn’t take too long, but this place is crowded! You guys must be doing really well lately.” 

Seungmin nodded with a sort of  crooked grin, “Yeah, well ever since those KPOP idols were seen here, this place has been swamped.” He raised his brows up and down mischievously, looking at the both of you together. “We’re looking for help!” 

Jisung scoffed and playfully rolled his eyes. “No thanks. Y/N is just visiting.” He leaned closer to you, as if the next part was only meant to be heard by you, though he was definitely talking loud enough for Seungmin to hear. “Besides, the last time I helped out he yelled at me for eating a pastry.” 

Seungmin playfully hit Jisung’s arm with his notepad. “It wasn’t a pastry, it was your seventh one of the day.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, what will you be ordering?”

You looked around, unsure of what was good there. You wanted to get an idea from what others had ordered around you. Everyone seemed to have an iced drink… and they were all really dark coffees “A vanilla iced latte?” Your sweet tooth would never let you have coffee without some kind of creamer in it. 

Seungmin nodded and scribbled it down. Then, without looking at Jisung, he said, “Americano, iced. And a slice of cheesecake.” 

Jisung feigned a look of offense. “Am I that predictable?” 

Seungmin laughed. “Honestly, no. But your orders are.” Seungmin placed his notepad in his apron pocket and went back into the cafe to fetch your orders. 

“Ah, that was Seungmin. He and I go way back. Now he helps run this place!” 

“That must be difficult, but this place looks great.” 

“Yea, he’s always been a caffeine addict. One day, he decided that if he was going to be making coffee everyday, he might as well make money off of it.” Jisung chuckled to himself, then glanced your way from across the table. “Are you staying close by? I could walk you to your hotel after If you’d like” 

You laughed nervously, avoiding eye contact, “Well.. actually…” your voice trailed off, catching a glimpse at his expression before spitting it out, “I don’t have one… yet.” 

“You don’t have one?!” He had raised his voice slightly, startling a couple of people at nearby tables. 

“Yet! I said yet!” You nervously played with the pen in your hands. 

“You came to Korea without a place to stay!?” 

“I literally bought my tickets two hours before the flight took off!” 

Seungmin came back with your orders, just in time to catch the last bit of your conversation. His eyes widened in shock. 

“TWO HOURS?” Both Jisung and Seungmin echoed you simultaneously. 

You grabbed your iced vanilla latte and started chewing on the straw. “I mean… it probably sounds a lot worse than it is...” 

Seungmin bent down at his knees to rest his arms on the table, head tilted. In that position, he really reminded you of a puppy. “Are you rich?” 

“Umm, definitely not." You placed your free drink on the table and chuckled at the thought.

Jisung raised a brow in your direction, “So you’re broke.”  

You grabbed your phone and checked your bank app. There was a silence that passed, the boys watching you carefully. You exhaled slowly and put your phone on the table, screen down. “Not like broke broke.”

Seungmin stood back up and forcefully put his hands on Jisung’s shoulders from behind him, giving them a squeeze for emphasis, “Well it’s a good thing that Hannie has a spare room, yea?” 

The two of you exchanged looks until he finally said something, “I mean… Yeah… I guess I do.” 

Jisung shot Seungmin a glare as he went back into the cafe then looked back you. You were still staring at him blankly, not saying a word. You were going through the logistics of it all in your head. It would be a free place to stay, but he was a complete stranger. This whole thing was a spontaneous trip, it was supposed to be a way for to come out of your comfortable way of living. You had been complacent, and quite honestly, staying in one place wasn’t going to help your mental health. But neither was staying with a stranger. 

“It’s not like I’m an ax murderer or anything.” 

Your silence was met with Jisung shrugging and grabbing his pastry off the plate in front of him. He broke it up into smaller pieces before stuffing it into his cheeks. He looked a little silly, reminding you of a squirrel with puffed up cheeks. “Or you can find a hotel room with all the money you still have saved up.” 

You were quickly reminded of the lack of money in your bank account. “Okay yea,” you mumbled under your breath, “lead the way.” 

Jisung gave you a short tour of his place. It was on the seventh floor, two bedrooms, one bathroom. A small kitchen with an equally as small island, enough for two people to eat at. He had a black couch facing a TV that was hooked up to a play station, probably the newest one. 

You came out of the bathroom after showering in an over sized gray shirt and navy blue shorts underneath. You were towel drying your hair when you noticed he was at the sink. You sat at the island, his back to you.  “Thanks for letting me stay with you.” 

He seemed busy with something, but he looked over his shoulder at you. “Yea, no problem. Don’t worry about it.” 

Seeing as he was a bit busy, you went into the spare room you were staying in and grabbed your notebook. You decided to bring it back to the island; if you were going to stay with Jisung for at least a couple of days, you were going to get to know him. He definitely seemed and had proven himself nice enough.

“Is that the list again?” Jisung asked you when you sat back down, still focused on whatever it was he was doing. 

“Yeah, it is.” 

“Cool!” He threw something away in the trash under the sink. Whatever it was he was working on, he placed it in the counter next to the sink. 

“What kind of stuff do you think you could cross off?” He turned around and leaned on the island across from you. His head tilted, curious as he looked at you with warm round brown eyes. 

You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. “Let’s see.” You opened up to the page, looking over the list and reading off a few at random.

“Paint a portrait. Sing at a karaoke bar. Fall asleep under the stars. Watch the sun rise—“

“Those are easy! You traveled all the way to korea for that? Where are the fun spontaneous ones?” 

You sighed and ran your hands down your face. “I have those too, but they’re embarrassing!” 

“Try me.” 

You held your head in your hands, looking down at the book to avoid looking at him. “Crash a wedding.” 

“Ooo that sounds fun. What else you got?” 

“I booked a flight to Korea in two hours isn't that spontaneous enough?!” 

He shook his head, still smiling. 

You looked back down. “Goskinnydipping...” You mumbled very quietly and quickly, then cleared your throat trying to glaze over that bit, hoping he didn’t hear. When he didn't react, you continued. “Get a tattoo.” Slowly, you looked at him through your damp hair that fell over your eyes. 

“Okay. Let’s do it.” He smiled at you, mischievous one. 

“Get a tattoo?” You panicked and you could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks. Had he heard you? 

“Let’s accomplish as many things on your list as we can while you’re here.” 

You looked at him with a brow raised. You didn’t even know what to say. “Like… together?” 

Jisung nodded simply. “Yes. Together. Why not?” 

“More like why? Why would you do that with someone you just met?” 

He mimicked your raised brow, but the smirk remained. “You bought me flowers, remember? We’re basically dating now.” 

Huh? He was joking, right? 

“Just kidding. But come on, think about it! It’ll be fun! Plus… do you know how to get around Seoul?” 

Again, he had a point. 

You bit your lower lip and scanned the room trying to avoid eye contact. It was then you noticed that the thing he was working on was the bouquet of flowers that you bought, stems cut and placed in a tall glass. 

You smiled and finally nodded, “Okay.” 

“Okay?” He looked at you with wide eyes, smirk growing into a smile, excited that you had agreed. 

“Yea. Let’s do this.” 

author's notes: if for whatever you want to be added to a taglist, let me know :)

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@burningchaosdeer

[no-higher-thought]

said you wanted to talk about 2bhank on your last post... well i'm all ears.

oo Wait fr ??

Oh my goodness gracious youve no idea what you just released anon FUCK you for making me write all this down /lh

Very unorganised thoughts cause i had like 12 pages worth of ramblings in my notes and had to cut it down. It was borderline just nonsense, man. Im losing it. Sorry if words don't make sense.

First off, they can and have hurt eachother. Hard not to, in a world as fucked up as theirs. Hank is someone who only knows violence, and doc is far too used to manipulating people and circumstances to gain the upper hand. In combat, in business deals, sieges, all that jazz.

But honestly, considering everything ? Their relationship is definitely among the healthiest, most stable in all of Nevada. Mostly cause the bar is all the way in The Nowhere but. y'know.

Both see it as VERY transactional, which, i mean. It is, first and foremost, a business deal so like. Fair i suppose. Hank is very good at their job of killing, and doc is very good at pointing them at nice targets. A sort of  "ah shit they didn't slam the door this time guess i gotta be extra careful pulling all the shrapnel out of their abdominal cavity."

There was never any moment one could consider "feelings realization" or whatever. They're simply incredibly close as a result of just how LONG they've worked together. Neither is particularly keen on asking somethn like "what are we to eachother?" Because it just. Doesn't. Matter to them.

That and like. I am very aroace. Hank is canon aroace. Saw doc fanart with ace ring once and have been rotating it in my brain since. Big fan of non-traditional relationships, man.

It's mostly convenience, methinks. Hank may not need doc to bring them back to life, but it sure does make the process a lot shorter and less painful. Doc doesn't need hank, he has plenty of money and access to many of Nevada's most feared mercenaries. He could find someone else to do his dirty work, if need be.

And yet.

Every moment they spend together is a moment of putting their life in the other's hands. Hank trusts him not to staple their legs on backwards, and doc trusts them to not dome him the moment he turns around. Don't get me wrong, it's not trust in the other, no. It's trusting that the other isn't dumb enough to get rid of a valuable asset.

But frankly, to someone used to nothing but pain and violence, a simple lack of it might as well be a loving embrace.

Theirs is a relationship built off of many years of contracts, of shared goals, of depending on eachother, expecting the other to catch them when they fall. When they crawl back battered and bloodied. When they pass out from overworking in front of their computer for the upteenth time this week.

They'd share a bed simply because both have horrific waking nightmares and huddling together on a shitty moldy mattress helps. A net positive, mutualism. They might seek some affection from the other, but its always self-serving.

Still. Neither of them are sentimental. If the machine took them on different paths, or hell, if they had to kill the other (for one reason or another), i don't think either of them would mourn.

Simply fill their time with the next mission at hand.

Doc could kill hank. They've been under his knife often enough. It wouldn't stick, sure, but he's very much capable of sending them back to the Other place, at least once.

Hank could absolutely kill doc. There's very little stopping them. All it would take is a single hand around his neck and one good squeeze.

But they don't.

They don't, and neither does he. Because at the end of the day, both of them benefit more when the other is alive.

Mutualism.

... Anyways uh hank is a cuddler. With how fucked up their nerves must be, i bet most of their sense of touch is straight up just pain. Which would be be a bigger deal, except. Doc has access to heavy-duty painkillers. How can you not, in some odd way, love the guy that makes the pain go away, even for a bit ?

[alhaithamhabibi]

𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐊𝐀𝐈'𝐃!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐄

ᴍᴇᴇɴᴀ ɴᴏᴛᴇs : didn't expect the nanny!reader to blow up so without further ado, i present you the prequel! idc if lante is ooc in it but it's an alternative timeline and there's always a butterfly effect even if one doesn't want to change a story with their presence. also once again, another long post.

part one is here

❥ honestly, you were nearly done with the novel, with a couple or so pages left. you wanted to reach the ending as soon as possible but perhaps reading the entire novel in one night wasn't a smart idea. and eventually, you just gave into your body's exhaustion and slept.

❥ but when you woke up again, you could hear a woman humming and someone playing with your hair. normally you would wake up and freak out. but the presence was so calming and soothing, you ended up snuggling up to them.

❥ though a scream woke you up completely as you shot up from the bed yet you were held against the woman, clutching you tightly as she whispered words of reassurance. and as you frantically look around, you noticed this wasn't your home and that your body was smaller than it used to be.

❥ clearly, you weren't in your world, and despite your surroundings not showing much, it also showed that. especially with the screams and weapons being used outside the door. not to mention, you're so small. where in the world are you??

❥ so you did as your body naturally reacted to its next scream. hold the woman, assuming she's your mother, tightly and pretend it's a dream. cause it is. right? eventually, you fell back to sleep. but the next time you woke up, you were wrong. ( big surprise )

❥ though you were still confused, you were able to figure out some things quickly enough. the woman that held you was indeed your mother in this world. she's a nanny to one of the many endless children here and your father is probably dead or something. oh well.

❥ as for yourself, you knew you were seven years old and currently a mess on the inside. after that night you won't up into this world, your mother had you stay in your shared room. she would bring meals but it was evident she was scared of what would happen to you if you left.

"mother, i feel rather tired staying here all day. can't i go to work with you?" the question left your lips before you can take it back. you didn't want to seem like a whiny child who only knew how to complain. especially when she overworked herself to provide for both of you.

your mother was too sweet and good for this world so obviously you wanted to protect her. especially in this strange hellish household. but how could you when you don't know the world well enough?

"my little light," your mother brought you closer to her embrace which you eagerly accepted. you looked up at her as she gazed down at you so affectionately and so softly. "just for a few more days. till he leaves alright?"

you didn't know who your mother was referencing but you took it, knowing she would evade the subject. certain subjects seem to be taboo even with the slightest whispers. but you nuzzled into her embrace anyway, "whatever you want, mother, i'll listen to you."

❥ still, it's fine, right? you could try to figure out more about the world you were in despite being unable to leave and find a way out of there. hopefully. wrong once again. because the day your mother deemed it was safe, she took you to her workplace.

❥ well, a room but that counts! only for you to meet certain crimson eyes that belong to a boy who seems to be a few years older than you. and then your mother addressed his full name. lante fucking agriche. why is the female lead's father of the novel you read right in front of you?

❥ is it considered too early to write wills at this age? it is? how unfortunate. new goal! find a way out of this mansion. yet it was thwarted by your mother who told you both that lante's mother chose her to become his nanny at her deathbed and she promised to.

❥ so yeah, the plan isn't it. for now. all you could do is help your mother and make sure that both of you survive. lante can take care of himself, you were sure of it. but the novel never really mentioned lante's backstory since it was more focused on his daughter.

"young master, this is my daughter y/n. she will be joining me to learn as well," your mother dutifully bowed down in respect to the curly-haired boy with scarlet eyes while you just straight up stared at him, dumbfounded.

fuck.

"your daughter doesn't seem to be the bright one, nanny " he coldly remarked as he eyed - no, glared at you. you fumbled a bit before also bowing down to him as your mother gave your age as an excuse.

with a scoff, he only turned back to his book and went back to reading.

"i only wish for you to get along, that's all," your mother attempted to reason with you both. but you were sure that there was nothing that could bond you both together. especially when he was one of the villains in the novel.

"at the very least, both of you stay together so my heart will rest at ease." with just one glance at lante who briefly looked at you before your mother, you both knew it was better to listen to her. maybe you could use him to escape.

❥ but the settings were no different. the black agriche ruled the underworld, his father had many mistresses and wives as he drowned himself in indulgence and treated his kids like crap. even having one of them killed just because they minorly inconvenienced him as you witness. it was utterly horrifying.

❥ and you could see the signs of abuse emerging whenever lante came back from his father's office. the way his half-siblings tried to kill him one way or the other. the lack of health he had just to stay on top. the bruises, cuts, and broken bones that your mother had to attend to, quietly and secretly, into the night.

❥ you felt sorry for him. he was a bastard of a father but no children should ever be placed in this situation. and you could see the small slips of genuine care he held for your mother and occasionally you. well, you weren't exactly affectionate as your mother but you still followed her lead.

❥ lante always did like to show off his intelligence when it came to you and his mother. a brat in some ways, occasionally telling you what he knows. but as much as you hate to admit it, you learned a lot more about the world and the settings from him rather than your own experience.

"such childish handwriting. how will the others ever understand this? a hopeless one, truly," lante criticized as you wrote on the paper the foreign language your small body as acquired.

"perhaps it's because i'm still a child?" you scoffed at him yet you went back to your words and tried to them neatly as possible. don't let him get to you, you reasoned yourself to not strangle him, it's for mother's sanity that i can deal with him.

"and yet when i was your age, my writing brought others down to their knees," he smirked as you glared at him openly now. with your focus on him now, he was able to snatch your papers with one hand and push you at arm's length with the other.

"since you will be a future servant, writing is essential as you become your master's tool. use this," lante muttered as gave the papers back after writing something on it. "the next time i catch you, i expect your writing to be adequate."

you widened your eyes as the writing became easier and you started to understand the words. so carried away, you ended up completing the papers and looked up to see the spot lante took empty. he must have left, you thought as you begin to rush to your mother to show your hard work.

❥ to be honest, you didn't think he held you in high regard as he would for his father and your mother. it was that night you heard a knock in your room and you cautiously opened it, finding lante limping and bleeding. your mother was out, helping the maids with the night shift. so it was just you.

❥ you ushered him quickly into your bed as you clumsily applied the medicine to his wounds. of course, you knew who was the caused of the wounds in which you began to curse out lante's father, absolutely sleep-deprived at this point.

❥ it took lante by surprise but it's not like he disagreed or anything. he just quietly listened to your rambling, not finding you a nuisance for once. after you finished the treatment, you hesitantly offered to escort him back to his room which he haughtily refused.

❥ but you were still stubborn enough to ignore his words and go with him regardless. he called you an idiot but at this point, anyone who didn't listen to him was an idiot and not worth his time to dirty his hands with. it must be your mother's blessing he still let your off the hook.

❥ by the time you got to his room, you entered the room and fixed up his bed for him as he changed in the bathroom. by the time he got out, you were sitting down on the chair beside his bed with a book in your hands.

"you're only twelve, y/n. do you plan on reading me to sleep?" lante grumbled as he tried to get himself comfortable on the bed. the wounds still burn and the crazed eyes of his father haven't left his mind.

"don't be ridiculous," you scoffed as you moved the book from your hands to adjust the blanket as your mother did for you. "i'm reading so it can help me stay up. and so you don't bleed to death if your wounds open up." just as you finished, his hand shot out to catch your small wrist.

"why? why do your curse as my father? why do you act as if you care for me? why bother?" and for a moment, you didn't look lante as the female lead's father but at him as a person. as another kid trying to survive in this cursed household. really...what was the author thinking when creating this sort of setting?

"because," you sighed, "mother cares for you. i see how much you risk for mother and you have my gratitude for that. because if something happens to me or i die, i know mother will be taken care of." it was rather amusing to see that rare shocked expression on his face but you paid no mind to it as you continued, gently prying his hand off your wrist.

"and your father is a bastard who deserves to be stabbed. don't look at me like that, lante, we both know he is one. but it's ridiculous the way he makes the children of the house fight like enemies for his sick pleasure. i never want that on anyone. especially you."

you squeezed his hand softly, yet there was not a smile on your face but a firm look of resolution. it wasn't like your mother's soft look when she gazed at him, he thought, but somehow it still feels like it. like mother, like daughter.

❥ after that, your relationship with him gets better. he's still an insufferable bastard who likes to boast his knowledge and his strength. but if you were curious about something or needed help ( not that you would ever ask ), he'll answer your questions and help you.

❥ in some ways, you were also able to help out lante whether you helps with his wounds or gave a distraction to keep his father's negative attention away from him or provide him information about his other half siblings. and he never said it verbally but you knew he was glad to have someone on his side as well.

❥ it made your mother delightful that the two of you were able to get along despite the occasional bickers. she always told you both you resembled more of actual siblings to which the both of you expressed your disdain for each other much to her amusement.

❥ if anything, it was her who brought you both closer together, and wanted to protect her. simply for lante who never experience familial love, and wanted to monopolize her for himself, and for you who wanted this saintly loving figure to get the hell out of here so she can be happy.

❥ but despite the constant torment and death lingering in the household, you were naive to believe that it wouldn't touch your mother or yourself. until the night your mother's bloody figure was held in your arms the night of your fifteenth birthday.

"mother," you croaked, a lump in your throat preventing you to speak any further. the once lively eyes filled with love and warmth dulled as she struggled to keep living.

you didn't know how it all began as you were quietly celebrating your birthday with your mother and lante. next thing you knew, there were screams about assassins and such. lante went off first, followed by your mother and then you. and all you could see was people running, blood, and dead bodies.

you were separated from your mother in all this chaos only to be reunited with her as lante good you both to stay put in his room as he led them away and fended them off.

and it was a good idea at first only for you to realize the assassins would kill you regardless of status. and you knew it the moment that you saw the assassin head for your way, it was over for you. till your mother stepped in the way and cleanly sliced off his head with a sword she took from the floor.

you marveled at your mother's work but as she staggered forward, you realize only then that she was injured as well. severely. so you could only hold her and uttered the words she wanted to hear the most. all you could do is keep the wound from bleeding. you may have your medical knowledge but you knew there was no way she could live longer with such a deep stab. you were...helpless.

the door slammed open revealing lante, bloody and sweaty, as rushed by your side, to hold your mother's hand. "nanny..." he quietly whispered. it broke your heart, even more, when lante displayed his vulnerability before her. begging her to stay and not leave him alone. you wished you could say the same but your throat remained clogged and the tears you desperately tried to hide ran down your cheeks and onto your mother's.

"lante...y/n...my precious children..." and she breathed one last time with a smile.

❥ the next day, the workers who were still alive took the bodies and had them eaten by the monsters the house had raised. but somehow lante was able to send your mother's body to be cleaned and buried properly with a headstone. and you were beyond grateful for that.

❥ that day, both of you remained passive and stoic under others' watchful eyes only to break down behind closed doors. well, moreso of you than lante. he could only hold you and let his silence comfort you through your trembling body. there was no denying he changed after watching mother pass. but so had you.

❥ no one knew who the enemy was but the duke was evident in not caring whose lives the assassins took other than wanting to teach the assassin caught alive a lesson. and hours later, he was drinking and sleeping with other women again. it was a brutal slap to your face that you had to remember this was the world.

❥ though now you officially served under lante, you were his trusted right hand and confidante despite being a maid. you told him of what you knew from the servants who gossip and in turn, he taught you how to handle business in the household.

❥ the more you learned, the more the ache of wanting to leave the house as years passed by. this placed was filled with memories of both good and bad. and it was painful enough. not only that, lante's change became more evident to that in the novel. he was even more possessive of you but you thought it was because of your mother's death.

❥ eventually, you gained the courage to ask him to resign quietly from the black agriche and live quietly once again. much to your surprise, lante rejected it and left you with that. he kept himself busy with missions and such. but you were still a stubborn one. slowly, you got yourself ready to leave the place. with or without his permission.

❥ the night before your departure, you were violently woken from your bed with screams and wails. blood stained the walls and the floors as servants attempted to run away. with every hallway you turned, you noticed an agriche child on the ground, dead.

❥ you couldn't find lante in his room so you headed to the duke's office instead, not caring if you get killed on the spot. as you opened the door slowly, you held back your screams as you watched lante knock his father down to the ground with a powerful blow.

not trusting your voice, you quietly attempted to leave the room without lante noticing. but it failed as his father groaned in your direction in which lante's head snapped up. he didn't even look bothered at all which shouldn't surprise you. but you were taken aback by that crazy expression on his face.

"it's alright, y/n., come on over," lante extended his hand to you. against the rational side of your mind, you hesitantly walked over to them and took lante's hand. to which he placed the bloodied sword in yours. it was surprisingly heavy and if lante wasn't still holding your hand, you were sure it would be dropped.

"...lante?" you asked, as you turned your head to face him before looking down at the half-unconscious man below you both.

"it was because of him we lost someone we cherished. it was because of this bastard she's not here with us right now. we deserve this. it's only right we take everything away from him and end this. so you and i will do this together."

before you could ask further, lante raised his and your hand that held the sword.

your senses more heightened than ever. the stench of blood and iron clouding this mansion, the rage of the man beneath you for being the main problem for the household, sleepless nights that left you exhausted, the screams that occurred daily as one was dragged to their death, your mother's dead body in your arms, the bloody chaos surrounding this house, the tension between the residents, and realizing this place was no longer home if mother wasn't here.

and you both strike the sword straight into the older man's chest.

it took a while for you to register what you just did and you stepped back from the corpse, only to collapse on your knees. you were gonna get killed for this when the others find out. everything you worked for is gone. and you couldn't...

"y/n," lante kneeled on one knee as he placed bloody hands on either side of your face. there was some sort of maniac glint in his eyes as he proudly smiled at you. it was terrifying. "you can't leave me. not now. not ever. you are to stay by my side."

as you weakly protested, his next words sealed the deal as he held you close. "this is what mother wished for"

[bookqueen1755]

Or Else -

- Synopsis: When Liv Olson, a cynical, ambitious photographer, is given the chance of a life time to come to Tokyo and start her career, she finds that she may have bitten off more then she can chew, especially when she discovers Tokyo's superhero in the form of a large metal man is actually famous baseball player, Ken Sato. Things get even crazier when her best friend is kidnapped by a secret organization known as Nebula and it seems the only one she can turn to is Ultraman. But his arrogance and ginormous ego means Liv is less then enthusiastic to trust the guy, and how's the best way to secure someone's trust? Simple: blackmail. Forced to work together, Liv and Ken must join forces to stop Nebula, realizing they may share a common goal. But can they push aside their differences and rivaling egos to save the people they love most and work as a team...and possibly more?

- Content warnings: None in particular. Just a bit of violence and the occasional cussing, nothing that wasn't in Ultraman: Rising. - Quick Side note: This story takes place after the events of Ultraman: Rising and acts like a sequel.

Liv couldn’t stop her eyes from flitting to the blank page of her notepad and the view outside her plane window. They still had a few hours left until they arrived in Tokyo, but Liv knew deep down it wouldn’t matter. They could keep flying for days and her brain would still be unable to conjure up a single imaginative thought.

She bit her lip, restlessly tapping her pencil against the top of her notebook with her middle and index finger. “Are you punishing yourself or the book?” Liv narrowed her eyes at Dean who was smirking in the seat next to her with his laptop opened up in front of him.

“Unless you can conjure up a creative idea of what the hell I could give Mrs. Arakawa to show at her exhibition in a month’s time I don’t want to hear a single snide remark come out of your mouth.” She ripped out the blank page she had been staring at and balled it up into a ball, aiming it at his head.

“Hey, take it easy, I’m only teasing!” He insisted though Liv could tell he was trying to suppress a laugh.

Liv groaned and hit her head on the back of her head rest. “We’ve been on a plane for nine hours and I still have no idea what to do for this piece that Mrs. Arakawa assigned me to make. I’ve already gone over all my old photos hoping to get inspired, but I’ve come up completely dry. Why is this so hard?”

“Because your entire future and career as a photographer hinges on you making a grand piece that is going to be put up in one of the most famous art museums in the whole world?”

Liv shot daggers at him. “Wow, thank you so much Dean, that was very helpful.” She turned away from him and went back to glaring at her notepad.

“Okay, okay I get it, I’m not helping, I’m sorry.” Liv didn’t bother to look up at him again and pretended she hadn’t heard him. A moment later he snatched her notebook out of her hands, holding it out of arms reach.

“Hey give that back!”

“Why, so you can go back to staring at it for the next three hours?”

“Dean I swear to God, I will stab you with this pencil if you don’t give me my notebook back right-”

“Liv.”

She finally looked at him only to see his warm brown eyes crinkled in concern, his mouth pulled into a frown, all earlier traces of teasing gone. The look melted some of her earlier irritation away and Liv fell back against her chair with a huff, crossing her arms over chest.

Sensing it safe to talk again, Dean said softly, “your being way too hard on yourself. You’ve been stressing over this photo for the last week, and you look exhausted. Let’s just focus on getting to Tokyo, we’ll do some sightseeing, check out some places, get your creative juices flowing and by the time the exhibition rolls around, you’ll have conjured up the best photo the whole of Tokyo has ever seen, and Mrs. Arakawa will be so impressed she’ll have no choice but to give you that recommendation to be sponsored by the LA Art Museum so that you can become the world’s greatest photographer ever.”

Liv raised an eyebrow at him, skeptical. He smiled back, his face full of conviction and determination, leaving no room for doubt. Liv found his optimism contagious, and a small smile tugged at her lips as she sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Thanks D, you’re the best.”

Dean and Liv had met at the University of Southern California six years ago when they’d shared a dorm. He’d been the closest thing she had ever had to a brother and had treated her like family. More than her own family in recent years anyway. He’d at least been there for her. Through exams, late night study sessions, graduation, apartment hunting, failed gallery openings, debt, he’d always been there. They’d been inseparable ever since.

“I know, it’s about time you acknowledge my brilliance.”

She pulled back, shoving his shoulder. “Never mind, I take back everything I said, you’ve ruined it.” He cackled and she took the opportunity to swipe her notepad back, shoving it into the backpack at her feet. She caught sight of her phone floating around inside and fighting all common sense, she picked it up and decided to check to see if she had any new messages. They’d been in such a rush this morning, packing the last of their belongings before booking it to the airport that she hadn’t had time to check, and even though she knew it was pointless, she scrolled through her notifications. Nothing. Typical. She shoved her phone back into her bag and kicked it back underneath her chair, slumping down into her seat. She didn’t know what she had expected. It’s not like her dad had cared when she opened her first art gallery, or when she’d brought her first apartment, or when she’d gotten her degree and graduated. God, she was pathetic. She had just gotten a huge career opportunity, was on her way to becoming a real photographer and finally making something of herself, and she was sitting here sulking and thinking about her dad who clearly hadn’t spared her a single thought in the last seven years.

Dean must have noticed her sour mood because when he looked up from his laptop, his eyes searched her grimace, his expression softening recognizing the look on her face all to well. “Your dad?”

“No response. Not surprising.”

“Have you talked to him recently?”

“No. I didn’t even get the apology call with the usual list of excuses. Not a peep.”

He rested a comforting hand on her shoulder, squeezing. “Sorry Liv.”

She just shrugged, her disappointment melting into exhaustion at the amount of energy she put towards having faith in her father. “Whatever. Who needs him right?”

Dean gave her a confident nod, his eyes burning with resolve. “Yeah, you’ll show him. When you become a famous photographer, I bet he’ll come crawling right back.”

Liv snorted, smirking at him. “Now that would be a picture worth a millions dollars.”

[captainsophiestark]

Scavenger Hunt

Platonic!Padmé Amidala x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my 1.5k Follower Campaign! Requested by @ghostofskywalker - hope you like it Tori! Thanks for sending it in, and for the help action on the dice roll!

Fandom: Star Wars

Summary: Padmé has been seriously overworking herself, so her best friend has to go to new lengths to make sure she finally takes a break.

Word Count: 3,274

Category: Fluff, Humor

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"So... are you thinking this speech prep will take all day, or...?"

I stared at the ceiling, trying not to look too invested in the answer. After a few moments without any answer, however, I sat up straight and faced my friend.

Padmé Amidala, senator of the Republic and my long-time best friend, hadn't even managed to tear her eyes away from the paper in front of her for an answer. She had some massive committee presentation coming up, apparently with the goal of persuading her fellow committee members to do something or other vital to the Republic, and Padmé's speech would make or break their decision. She'd been driving herself crazy preparing for the past week, and I was starting to get a little worried about her.

"Padmé? Come in, Senator Amidala, are you there?" I said, my tone teasing as I leaned forward in my chair. Still, I only got the slightest stirring at the words "Senator Amidala" before her eyes returned to rapidly scanning the page in front of her, mouthing the words as she went along.

I sighed and flopped back in my chair. This was nothing new for Padmé, in a lot of ways. My best friend had always cared, above and beyond, about the galaxy and the people she served. She'd always put them first, even as a teenage queen, which had always been amazing to me. But normally, when I visited her in the middle of the chaos to help her take a break, however brief, she went along with it.

This time was the first time she hadn't. I'd tried everything, from bringing her favorite lunch to her desk to physically trying to drag her out of her chair and to the couch in her rooms to get some rest. I thought I'd finally managed to break through last night, when I got her to come watch the premier of the newest episode of our favorite holo together, since it would only be an hour break before she could return to work. But we'd barely made it through the opening sequence before she'd completely passed out, fast asleep.

Which was why I hadn't left her side since, and had been trying to get her to step away from her desk all day. She was clearly well past the point of exhaustion, and both for her own health and the sake of the presentation she was trying to practice, she needed to rest.

So, in the middle of the night last night, while I sat up trying to come up with a way to give my friend even a little bit of a break, I'd come up with a genius plan. And when a knock came at the door to Padmé's appartment on Coruscant, I had to work to keep a smile off my face. Phase one of my plan was officially a go.

Padmé's head came up for the first time in hours to look at the door, then to me with a furrowed brow.

"Were you expecting anyone?"

I shook my head, trying to look innocent.

"No, not me. It must be for you."

If Padmé had been any less exhausted, she probably would've seen right through me. She'd known me long enough that I usually couldn't get away with lying to her, even when I did it much better than that. But she didn't have the energy to catch me this time, even as I barely hid a smile as she stood from her desk and headed to the door.

Exactly as planned, when she opened the door, no one was there. Instead, a nicely wrapped gift box sat on the doorstep, its deliverer nowhere in sight.

I'd have to tell Anakin thanks the next time I saw him.

As casually as I could, I stood and wandered over from my seat to stand next to Padmé, who still hadn't moved to grab the package. She just kept staring at it, like her brain was trying to process. I smiled.

"Looks like somebody has a surprise-"

"Stay back!"

Padmé shoved me behind her, taking a few steps back herself when I tried to step any closer to the package on the doorstep. I frowned, absolutely bewildered, but Padmé didn't look my way as she slowly crept closer to the door again, scanning the hallway and the package with narrowed eyes.

"Pads, what the hell are you doing?" I demanded, starightening and moving back over to her. She held out a hand to stop me from moving past her again, and even though I thought she was being ridiculous, I didn't move. I didn't need her shoving me halfway across the room again in whatever hallucination her sleep deprivation was currently causing.

"We don't know who sent this, or who brought it," she said, her voice remakrably level for the amount of urgency I'd seen from her a moment ago. "There are more than a few powerful who don't want my speech this Friday to succeed. I wouldn't put it past some of them to try to stop me from ever speaking in the first place."

I froze, mouth dropping open as I watched Padmé cautiously investigate and approach the package. The very nicely wrapped package, using her favorite colors, and with a bow on top, that I had intended to be the first step in a fun, restful day for the both of us. And instead, she'd seen it and immediately launched into red-alert threat mode.

I frowned, debating my options. Honestly, I knew Padmé would be mad at me for even considering not telling her I'd sent the present, immediately. But I knew she'd figure out in a minute or two that the present wasn't a threat, and either way, this was the first thing that'd managed to drag her away from her work in days.

Padmé had brought the package over to her desk while I'd been agonizing, apparently deciding it wasn't an immediate danger, but still presented a lot of mystery, possibly of the dangerous kind. And in that moment, I decided not to let myself think about anything beyond getting Padmé to take a break. By whatever means necessary.

"So... what's in it?" I asked, playing dumb as I joined Padmé at her desk. She pulled open a nicely wrapped scoll, which I'd hand-written in a fancy script last night.

"I'm not sure..." She carefully unwrapped the scoll, her eyes quickly scanning the text. She frowned, reading it over again, and then held it out to me. "It's in some kind of code."

I gave a very noncommittal hum, glancing at the paper before she took it back. Padmé took a deep breath, then pulled out another piece of paper to start scribbling on.

"This looks so familiar to me... I understand most of it, but I can't remember learning it. I can't even remember what it's called, but... for some reason I know it."

I had to fight back a scoff at Padmé's musing while she worked on decoding. I should hope she recognized the language, since the two of us had spent months coming up with it as children, before she even served as queen. It'd been a long time since either of us had used it, though, and in her sleep-deprived state I couldn't completely blame her for not remembering.

"It looks like... this is a location," Padmé finally said, leaning away from her scribbled translations. "This address looks familiar too, although I'm having trouble remembering exactly why."

"Probably because you're exhausted," I said, moving to stand next to Padmé. She shot me a look, which I ignored. "So... should we go check this out?"

"I don't know... we don't know who dropped this off at my door, but with my presentation coming up and everything else going on in the galaxy right now, it's likely whoever sent it doesn't exactly mean well."

"Well, doesn't that just mean we should definitely investigate? If it's something to do with your speech, we should get to the bottom of it before presentation-day. Between the two of us, I'm sure we can handle it, whatever it is."

Padmé sighed, staying quiet for a few moments while she considered. She didn't say anything for so long, I started to worry that I'd gone too far, and that she'd caught on to my ruse. But when she finally spoke again, it was with an air of resignation, and with absolutely no hint of suspicion directed at me.

"Alright. Let's do it. But we need to move quickly. I can't afford to take more time away from my preparations than absolutely necessary.

I grinned. "Of course. I'm sure we'll have this solved in no time."

We didn't have it solved in no time. In fact, going from one place to another, following the path of clues I'd left the day before, took us most of the afternoon. Exactly as I'd planned. Even better, even though Padmé was clearly somewhat on alert for anything to do with the person who'd sent the notes, she'd also noticably relaxed since first stepping out of her office.

The first clue brought us to her favorite food truck on Coruscant, and despite being handed another note by the vendor which sent Padmé even deeper into detective mode, we'd also gotten our favorite foods and sat at a nice picnic bench while we worked on the next clue. After that, we'd been led to a walk along one of the most scenic stretches of the Coruscanti Gardens, and the tension evident in every line of Padmé's body had finally faded all the way away. Every step we took across the city, even on the trail of the mysterious note-leaver, relaxed her and allowed her to take her mind off the thing she'd been worrying over non-stop for days. And with every stop, I felt more and more strongly that I'd made the right decision keeping the truth about this scavenger hunt from Padmé.

The sun had just startd to set outside when we got to the last clue. It was an address, followed by a series of numbers, and Padmé was practically vibrating as we walked up the path to a nice, unassuming apartment in one of the quieter neighborhoods on Coruscant. Her hand went to her blaster as we walked up the path, and I tried and failed to keep a smile off my face. She was expecting an epic final showdown, which was pretty much the exact opposite of what she was about to get.

"Alright, those numbers at the end of the last note must be the door code," Padmé reasoned, speaking quietly as we came to a stop on the doorstep. "Be ready. This is the first address I haven't recognized, and I have a feeling this is the last stop on whatever this scavenger hunt has been. We need to be prepared for anything."

I nodded emphatically, so Padmé turned away from me to put one hand on the door handle. I just grinned.

Whispering, she counted down from three, then flung the door open. She burst inside, sweeping her blaster throughout the space as I strolled in behind her, casual as could be. When Padmé didn't find any threats lurking in the house, she slowly dropped her weapon and let the rest of the surroundings wash over her.

I'd pulled out all the stops putting the grand finale of the scavenger hunt together. Over a decade of frienship, and I'd put it all to use for this.

The table was filled with every single favorite food and drink Padmé had ever had, and a whole stack of her favorite holos waited to be cued up in the living room. But best of all, all across the couch was a massive, intricate blanket fort, the likes of which we hadn't built since her first few weeks as queen. It stood, waiting and ready and comfy as kriff, for Padmé to just climb in and spend the next twelve hours at least resting and enjoying her time.

Padmé's mouth dropped open as she took it all in, then slowly turned around to face me. I grinned right back at her.

"Did you... oh my god. The language on the notes... that was our language, that's why I recognized it! You've been responsible for all of this all day?"

I nodded, the grin still on my face.

"That's right. It was me the whole time." Padmé just blinked at me, opening and closing her mouth, at a loss for words for pretty much the first time I'd ever seen. "Look, I'm sorry. I know I probably should've told you at the beginning of the day that the present was from me, especially when you thought it was going to blow us up or something. But... you needed a break, Pads. Bad. And none of my usual intervention methods were working."

Padmé scoffed, then shook her head like she was trying to clear it. I braced myself for a true, eloquent, devastating dressing down from my best friend, but when she met my eyes again, none of the anger I'd been worried about was there.

"Look... I understand where you're coming from. I know I've been pretty burried in my work lately, and despite all the lies it took, I had a lot of fun running around the city with you today. But this presentation is important. Maybe one of the most important things I've done in my career. So I can't afford to take any more of a break than I already have."

She shifted like she was about to head for the door, so I stepped in front of her. Normally, I didn't try to stand in Padmé's way like this—largely because it literally never worked. But this time, with the dark bags still under her eyes despite her more relaxed posture, I couldn't let it go that easily.

"Padmé. I get that this is important. I really do! But you're going to do a worse job on this presentation if you're exhausted. That's just a fact. Your brain needs rest and sleep to be able to function, and even if you memorize your presentation so well that you could give it in your sleep, you can't memorize answers to questions your fellow committee members might ask you. And no matter how well you know your material, if you're less awake and aware, you're also going to be less able to think on your feet and give persuasive, coherant answers."

Padmé frowned, her gaze dropping from mine as she aparently thought through my words. I took a half-step closer to her, then continued.

"I've seen you do some truly amazing stuff in your time, Pads, stuff nobody but you would've been able to pull off. But this is not going to be one of them. So please, just stay here until tomorrow morning and rest. Let your body catch up on sleep, eat some of your favorite food, watch your favorite holos. Then start fresh tomorrow."

Padmé met my eyes again, brow furrowed and looking pained. I could see her fighting with herself over the decision, so I decided add something on that would hopefully put the "rest" option over the edge.

"If you let yourself take the night off, I promise, I'll do everything I can to help you prepare tomorrow. I'll come up with practice questions that the rest of the committee might ask you, and I'll personally kill anyone who tries to come in and interrupt your prep time. Alright? But you have to give me one night of taking care of yourself first."

Padmé sighed and rolled her eyes slightly to the side, and I knew I had her.

"Alright. Fine. If you're really willing to help me prepare tomorrow, and you went to all this trouble... then I suppose it would be a shame to let it all go to waste."

"Yes! Pads, thank you. I promise, you will not regret this."

She gave me a soft smile, then headed over to the table of snacks with an appraising eye. I smiled as I followed her.

"Wow. You really went all out, didn't you?"

I beamed. "Of course I did. Nothing but the best for my best friend."

Padmé shot me a smile, and relief washed through me. The smile was so natural, normal, laid-back, and peaceful, like when we'd take trips just the two of us to our favorite lake on Naboo. I hadn't seen that look since this whole presentation business started.

"Why don't you go get comfy in the blanket fort?" I suggested as Padmé continued to hover by the snack table. The exhaustion seemed to be catching up to her now, to the point that the simple snack decision was a little overwhelming. "I'll put together a plate for you and bring it over."

Padmé shot me a grateful look.

"That would be incredible."

I grinned at her, then turned to start piling snacks onto a plate. Before I could get very far, though, Padmé came over and wrapped her arms around me tight. I huffed a laugh, then dropped the plate to return an equally tight hug.

"Thank you for this," she muttered. "I don't love exactly how you made it happen, but still. Thank you."

"Hey," I said, grinning at her again as we pulled apart.  "What are best friends for?"

"What would I do without you?"

"Oh, you definitely would've been in a coma from overworking yourself at least five years ago."

Padmé snorted and turned at last to head for the couch.

"...I hate to say it, but you're probably right."

I smiled at her retreating form as she flopped down on the couch, then returned my attention to the task of assembling her snack plate. Truthfully, Padmé had carried me through tough situations just as much as I'd done the same for her. We were each other's constants in the ever-changing galaxy, and I couldn't have asked for a better person to have my back.

I finished piling the plate high with all Padmé's favorite things as she threw on one of her favorite holos, which we'd rewatched at least a hundred times. I headed over to the couch with the plate, but when I came around the corner, I found Padme absolutely passed out in a blankert cocoon, the remote for the holo screen still in her hand.

I stifled a laugh, then gently set the snack plate down next to her head. Slowly, carefully, I reached over and pulled the remote out of Padmé's hand and turned down the volume on the holo. At this point, I didn't think a blaster battle in the kitchen would wake her up, but I also didn't want to take any chances.

I sighed as I headed back into the kitchen, grabbing a data pad and some snacks of my own before returning to settle in on the other side of the couch. While Padmé got some much needed rest, I had another part of my plan to follow through on: reading over her presentation and preparing practice questions based on it.

By far not the activity I wanted to be doing for the rest of the evening, but worth it if it helped my best friend. I knew we'd be on the other side of it next week anyway, and then we could take a much -needed besties vacation where both of us could rest up and have some fun.

And in the meantime, I could just focus on the good parts of this whole adventure. Padmé was finally getting some rest, just like I'd hoped, and she was apparently tired enough to not even be mad about how much lying it had taken to get her here. A win for both of us, if I'd ever heard one.

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

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

[wambsgansshoelaces]

Something Sweet; Chapter 7

Kendall Roy x Reader

a/n: I’m sorry I suddenly became so inconsistent lovies :( I promise I have so much in the works <3 as always, please let me know what’s on your mind in the replies + reblogs and enjoy x

Word Count: 3.421k

The next morning, you’ve convinced Kendall to go home and rest. At least, you’d thought you did, until he showed up at your front door.

“I told you to go home, Ken. Take a nap.”

“This is better,” he murmurs back, dragging you to bed and curling into you after pulling the covers over him. “I didn’t sleep at all, and Marcia wouldn’t let anyone go sit with Dad…”

You sigh, sitting up, and he readjusts, settling into your stomach. Your fingers comb through his hair in an attempt at being soothing. “Have you eaten at all? Since last night, this morning?” His breathing evens out. “Ken?”

You peer down. His eyes were shut, lips parted, the beginning of a snore falling from his lips.

જ⁀➴

As horrible as you’d felt doing it, you had to leave Kendall asleep in your bed with a kiss on the forehead. You’d made your way downstairs and unlocked the bakery’s front door and waited for Connor and Willa to arrive. In a lazy haze, you’d thrown the sweater of Kendall’s you’d clung to the night before. When the bell finally tinkled, you pasted a smile onto your face and waved the couple over. Surprisingly enough, you can see why they both work together well. Connor is loud, outspoken, and Willa balances him out with her quiet thoughtfulness. She flips through a catalog of desserts that you offer to cater, soft smile on her face while Connor rambles about how the flower vendors won’t respond to him about overseas work.

“Maybe just hire a Croatian vendor,” you suggest. “I’ve heard it’s cheaper anyway.” Willa hums approvingly at the thought, while Connor frowns.

“It needs to be perfect, though.”

“Who’s to say Croatia won’t be perfect?” Willa asks, continuing to look through the catalog. “I really don’t mind, Con. They’re only flowers, and as long as I have a bouquet I like…”

“We’ll talk about it later,” he says stiffly.

Desperate for a change of subject, you ask, “Anything catch your eye?”

Willa smiles up at you. “It all looks amazing.”

“Any favorite sweets? I’m sure I have them. And if I don’t, I’d be more than happy to write out a recipe.”

Willa flips back to a bookmarked page. “I love red velvet cake…”

At that, you get up and bring back a tray of sample cakes from your kitchen. “Try as much as you’d like! Do you happen to have inspiration photos for your cake? Just so I can start practicing.”

Excitedly, she pulls out her phone, and the two of you pore over her Pinterest boards. Connor doesn't involve himself in the conversation, seemingly dazed. She tries bits of all the cakes you’d baked for her, forcing her fiance to take bites with her.

“I don’t know how you do it, Miss, but you’ve made me like carrot cake.”

“You can call me Y/N, really. And I’m glad you enjoy it! That’s the goal. It’s your wedding- choose a cake that makes you happy.”

“I still think my favorite is red velvet,” Willa says, turning to eye Connor, who just nods. “And that one design I showed you… the three tiers? Can you do that?”

You jot down a description of the cake she’s talking about. “Of course I can. I’ll make a bunch of prototypes and have you come in and see them over the next few months. You can also just make a list of other desserts you want, and we’ll be good to go.”

“Oh, and don’t even worry about flying yourself out. We’ll cover all of that.

“You don’t need to-”

“No, no, we will,” Willa insists, nudging Connor.

“I’ll pay for your flight and hotel,” he says, snapping out of his trance. “It’s the least I can do. And I’m including Kendall in that.” He pauses. “Is he alright?”

“Sleeping,” you say carefully. “Why, what’s the matter?”

“I mean, I know you know. About Dad.”

“I was sorry to hear about it. Let me know if you ever need anything, okay?”

“We got into a massive fight, about me proposing. I don’t… I don’t know if he wants to see me.”

You chew at your lip. “He’s… not conscious, that I know of. I think it’s best you go see him, the doctor, your siblings.” You catch Willa’s eyes.

“I’ll make sure he goes,” she says. “Thank you. I’ll email over the menu?”

“Of course.” You clasp her hand in a loose shake, then Connor’s, in a much firmer one “Feel free to stop by whenever. You’re always welcome.”

They leave, and you make your way back upstairs, locking the bakery back up. You peer into your room, Kendall still sprawled out in your bed. You think he’s asleep until he calls out to you.

“Where’ve you been?” His eyes are still closed, head buried in his pillow. You go to sit by him.

“Connor’s consult.” Without opening his eyes, his arm reaches out to you, searching. You scoot closer, and he finds your waist, pulling you closer and settling his head into your stomach, just like this morning. “Come on, you should eat something.”

“Mm, I’m okay here.” The tension in his shoulders and back eases when your hand goes to sit in between his shoulder blades. You scratch gently, and he sighs. “Actually, do you have breakfast?”

“I made eggs, but I think they’re cold. I can reheat them, though. Or, I think there’s tarts in the fridge?”

“Tarts for breakfast?” he asks, pushing himself up and giving you a kiss.

“Why not? Life is short.” Sitting next to you now, he tugs on the fabric of your sweater.

“Thief,” he says, grinning.

“What? I was cold.”

“I like it. Looks good on you.” He kisses your neck before getting out of bed, tugging his shirt off and tossing it to you. “Keep that one, too. I’m going to take a shower. I think I was drooling.” You watch, not even suppressing your smile, as he makes his way into the bathroom. Regardless of how much he downplayed himself, the slight ripple of the muscles in his back made you giddy. “Quit staring.”

જ⁀➴

The next few days, Logan doesn’t get any better. To his dismay, Kendall has to get back to work. Roman and him had sat in a booth in your bakery as you worked, trying to figure out how things would run without Logan. The two seemed to be butting heads over who’d be CEO, but you didn’t want to hear it.

You’re working today, too. You figure that you should spend as much time in the bakery as possible before Croatia, just so you didn’t create any issues for yourself. Kendall texts you throughout the day, complaining about Roman or some douche kissing his ass. You zip the ‘K’ around on your necklace absentmindedly as you work.

You’re set to go to his apartment after you’re both off. You feel giddy, You realize, now, that this isn’t your usual giddy- butterflies aren’t terrorizing your insides, you don’t feel like you can’t breathe, you just feel happy, excited.

Once you finally do get off, Kendall’s already sent you a text.

Some associate brought a box of cinnamon rolls to try and kiss Dad’s ass. Looking at them reminded me of you.

You’re smiling stupidly to yourself as you read it, and another text comes in.

They were ass, though. Was thanking god I know you.

aw, you had shitty cinnamon rolls and thought of me? how sweet

Get your ass over here. Please.

i’m coming, asshole

I missed you, too.

You make the drive over, and by the time you’ve gone up to his door, he’s opened it and beckoning you inside. Kendall kisses your brow when you walk in, murmuring hello.

“Are you alright?” you ask softly, his arm coming around you naturally and pulling you close. He drags you to the couch, hoisting you into his lap and relaxing once he sits, your cheek pressed to his shoulder.

“Just need you right now.”

You give his chest an affectionate rub. “What’s going on?”

“Fucking chair battle. Nobody knows what to do or who to put where. Connor’s fighting tooth and nail for CEO, but that’s the only thing Roman and I fuckin’ agree on.” He sighs. “I don’t even know why he’s involving himself. He hasn’t come to see Dad since… you know.”

Your hand continues it’s journey back and forth across Kendall’s chest. “Do you know why he hasn’t gone? Willa said she’d get him to visit, but I guess not.”

“Dad doesn’t approve of Willa. At all. It’s… insane.” He stops your hand in its path, lacing your fingers together.

“He said something about that today. It sounds like he talked to your dad before he actually proposed.”

Kendall hums thoughtfully. “Shiv said she heard it from the yard when she stepped out before dinner for some work call.” He brings your clasped hands to his lips, brushing them against the tops of your knuckles. “It’s going to cause problems. It is causing problems.”

“Take a break, then.”

“Can’t. The press is on our asses. You know how fast that’d sell? Logan Roy, multi-billionaire, incapacitated, leaving Waystar Royco a mess! God, stocks would fucking collapse, the shareholders would step in, and everything goes wrong and we lose the company.”

“So, what’re you going to do?”

“Waystar needs to stay in my control, with Roman and Shiv. I don’t know how to keep Connor out of it.”

“This is going to make me sound like a bad person…,” you begin.

“Don’t stop there. You have my attention.”

“Well…” You look up at him. “Why don’t you just tell the media that you, Roman, Shiv are taking the reigns, Connor sitting out because of the wedding…”

His fingers twist a lock of your hair around themselves. “Evil genius,” he murmurs. “Don’t know why I didn’t think of it.” He litters kisses along your forehead. “Let me ring a journalist I know.”

He gets up, and after a short while, he’s back, grinning ear to ear. “Fucking ate it out of my hand. But enough of that. I have more than enough time to mull everything over in my head.”

You let out an airy laugh when his lips trail down your jaw and find the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. “Do you make french toast?” he asks into your collarbone.

“’Course I do. What kind of chef would I be if I didn’t?” You gently stroke the back of his hand with your thumb. “Want me to make you a slice?”

“What? No, you’re not moving an inch. Can you teach me?”

You grin up at him. “I thought you weren’t interested in the kitchen.”

“I mean, I’m not, but you bake for a living. I want to learn. It’s something you love, so I love it too.” Kendall can’t help the tiny smile that graces his handsome face.

“Tell you what. I’ll lay out the ingredients and walk you through it, okay?”

“Okay. Off you go.” He nudges you off the couch, grinning now. Happily, you oblige.

Since you’ve been together, you’ve brought him any extras from shipments of ingredients for the bakery. Now, his pantry and fridge were consistently stocked- he also made sure to call you any time he went grocery shopping. He had no clue what he was doing.

“Do you have any maple syrup?” you ask, peering in the pantry.

“What would I need maple syrup for?”

“French toast.” You can practically hear him roll his eyes. “Fine. You’ll just use cinnamon. Come here, Ken.”

You sit up on the counter, watching him as he comes over to you and gives you a peck on the lips.

“French toast is easy. Eggs, vanilla extract, and whole milk in a bowl. Salt and cinnamon, then dip the bread into the bowl. Fry the bread and caramelize brown sugar on top. Easy peasy.”

He scoffs. “I’ll light myself on fire.”

You turn him around and gently push him towards his work space. “Get to it. Chop, chop.”

He choppily follows your directions, asking questions as he goes. When the bread fries, it makes a few scary sounds, but in the end, nothing’s burnt. He hesitantly brings you the plate when he’s finished.

“They look good!”

“Don’t sound so surprised.” He makes a face at you, setting the dish by your side. “Try a bit?”

You break a piece of toast off and pop it into your mouth. It’s flavorful, buttery, sweet. It’s certainly not the best thing you’ve ever had, but it’s good.

“I’m proud of you, Kendall.”

He smiles up at you, bracing himself against the counter, his arms on either side of you. “Really?”

“Really.” You kiss his head. “You did great.”

He takes a bite from the same piece. “I still like yours better,” he mutters after he swallows.

“Well, that’s going to be the case for every dessert you come across that isn’t mine.”

Kendall gives your cheek a peck. “Egotistical asshat.”

You laugh. “Sounds like you, not me.”

You squeal when he hoists you off the counter, exits the kitchen with you in his arms, and tosses you back onto the couch. You lose your breath laughing, burying your face in one of the cushions. He settles in next to you, swatting your legs away from him. “Fuckin’ deserved.”

You spend a few hours just talking. You feel so at home with Kendall, like you don’t even need to try and everything will just work out anyway. He’s much looser with you than he was when you’d first met. He had no problem touching you, kissing you, making eye contact. And thankfully, you hadn’t seen him high since when he’d taken you to Logan to see if he’d hire you.

“Do you know what you’re going to wear to the wedding yet?” he asks nonchalantly.

“No clue. You still want to do the matching thing?”

“Of course I do. It’d be cute.”

“I’ve never heard you describe anything as cute before. Are you feeling okay? Hit your head?” you ask, teasing.

He ignores you. “I’m going to go see Dad. Do you want to come?”

“I don’t want to intrude-”

“Oh, shut the fuck up. You’re so kind and soft you couldn’t intrude even if you were criminally trespassing.” You laugh as he pulls you to your feet. “You can stay in the lobby, if you’d like. Nobody would mind if you came up with me, though. It’s probably only going to be me and Marcia, anyway.”

“I’ll drive,” you murmur, fishing your keys from your bag.

Kendall doesn’t complain.

He stares out the window as you go, the city lights passing by in a hazy blur. He grips your hand the entire ride there. “Feeling nervous?” you ask quietly

“A bit,” he whispers back. “I’m… I’m worried he won’t wake up.”

“Don’t worry, Ken.” You give his hand a squeeze. “He will.”

You don’t really know if what you’re saying is true.

When you arrive, the receptionist waves you both off, seemingly already familiar with Kendall. Your heart aches for him. You know his relationship with his father is complicated, which makes this entire process even more difficult.

You let him go in by himself to sit by his father.

You sit outside, practically on your own, but you don’t mind. You know he needs the time to sort through his thoughts. Marcia sits by you, eyes soft, but inspecting.

“You bring out the good parts of Kendall,” she says bluntly, after a long period of silence. “There’s been no breakdowns or issues since you.”

You’re not exactly sure what that’s supposed to mean, but you’re fairly sure it’s positive. “I’m glad.”

She gives you a soft smile before making her way to her husband’s side. Now you’re truly by yourself. In your head, you’re organizing Connor’s wedding menu. Despite the such short notice, it was coming together nicely. You’re even going to print everything out on pretty stationary to put out at the dinner tables.

Eventually, Kendall comes out to sit by you. His eyes seem a bit more sunken, his mood duller. Wordlessly, you take his hand.

Neither of you say anything. He brings your hand to his free one, and now your palm is sandwiched between both of his. His grip is tight, and you see his knuckles whitening. You use your other hand to gently rub your thumb over his knuckles.

While all your silences were comfortable, this one was strained, as if something was hanging tersely in between the two of you. You feel it’s a product of his sour mood. You’re not sure what he saw when he went to his father, but you’re assuming it’s not good.

The silence stretches on- you don’t want to speak before he doesn’t want to. It ends when a nurse gets his attention, Marcia trailing behind her. She tells Kendall she just would like to brief them both on some things concerning his father’s potential diagnosis.

He turns to you. “Could you stay with him? Please? Just in case something happens.”

“That would be very appreciated if you could,” Marcia adds.

You agree, assuring him you’ll cause a scene if any single viral falls below normal. You go into Logan’s room and sit in a chair by the window. Close enough to interfere if needed, and far enough away for it to not be weird.

You awkwardly sit there for a while, not really sure where to look. You keep an eye on his vitals, his heart rate steady and blood pressure seemingly normal.

You scroll absentmindedly on your phone, only half focused, ‘just in case’, like Kendall said.

Logan shifts a bit. You don’t know much about comas, so you don’t really know what to think. You decide it’s too trivial to bother someone with right now. You’ll just tell Kendall when he gets back.

You’re scrolling through a few different mood board Willa has sent you when it happened.

“What the fuck?” Logan’s voice is rough, raspy. It has a grainy quality to it, like it’s clogged.

“Oh! Mr. Roy- let me get someone,” you say quickly.

“No, no. Sit down. Fuck.” He surprisingly manages to sit up, struggling, but sitting up. “Jesus Christ. Don’t get anyone yet. I don’t want to fucking hear it.”

You keep your mouth shut and your ass in your chair.

“You and Kendall serious enough that you come to visit his old man?”

“He’s just with the nurse right now,” you manage. “He’s coming back.”

He waves his hand, as if dismissing you. “Whatever. Is Connor still doing it? Marrying that… that girl?”

“If you mean Willa, then yes.”

“Fuck off.” He wipes a hand over his face. “Haven’t even been awake ten minutes and shit’s hit the fan.”

Thankfully, you’re saved by Marcia and Kendall rushing back into the room. You take this as your chance to make an exit and you retake your seat outside of the hospital room.

Kendall takes you back to his apartment ages later, a large weight seemingly lifted off of his shoulders. His mood has been lifted, but you notice his glum mood was replaced by a discreet tension across his muscles.

“I told you everything would be okay,” you tell him. You’re both laying in bed, his arm wound tightly around you.

“Thank you. For everything,” he murmurs back.

The next morning, you both have a few hours to spend before getting to work. After a shower, you have to help him with the clasp of his necklace.

“Can’t fucking get it,” is all he tells you when he hands you the chain. Smiling to yourself, you fasten in around his neck, liking the way the initials sit on the fabric of his shirt. You smooth your palms over his shoulders once you’re done.

While you’re slipping on your shoes to go home, Kendall’s phone rings. He drifts away from you to speak to whoever it is on the other end. You don’t mind, waiting for him by the door. When he comes back, he’s harried. He traces the line of your jaw with his palm, cupping it once he hits its end, and gives you a long, needy kiss.

“I can’t take you back, I’m sorry,” he says, voice tense. “I’ll come by later, okay?”

You press another lighter kiss to his lips. “It’s alright. I’ll save you a cookie.”

He kisses you one last time on the head before hurrying away.