#under the motto Fuck It We Ball

[seilon]

greedling is such a fucking funny combo of characters. like. greed is a pathetic little meow meow trying really hard to look like a cool dude who knows what he’s doing. and ling is a cool dude who knows what he’s doing pretending to be a pathetic little meow meow and they’re both in the body of a fifteen year old

[huramuna]

growing on you - oneshot.

modern aemond x (ex) girlfriend reader

content: smut (specifics under the cut), afab reader, angst, unhealthy coping mechanisms, descriptions of depression and its effect on the body, probably an unhealthy relationship, aemond being an idiot, probably ooc aemond, reader not described, no use of y/n, targtowers seek therapy: the story, fluff at the end bc hehe

work is 18+, minors do not interact or you shall be smited.

word count: 7.4k (oops)

a/n: i've had this one in the drafts for a while. tweaked to be a fun 'lil angsty end of year holiday fic. as is my motto: fuck it we ball. a/n 2: i pivoted from a third person pov fic to a second person pov fic 3/4 through writing this using the find and replace tool, so if there are grammar errors, i apologize! also my first time doing second person pov, weehee.

monsters - all time low ft. blackbear • why do i - set it off ft. hatsune miku

warnings: p in v, creampie, cockwarming, slightly tipsy sex

Everything in your life was enveloped by him. your clothes smelled like him, small strands of his hair were woven into every nook and cranny of your apartment together, his fitness regime protein powder and ketogenic supplements were littered in your kitchen cabinets. 

You couldn’t get rid of him, not even if you tried. Aemond was all you'd ever known— you have known one another since the age of seven, and have been in a relationship since fourteen. You were both now twenty-six. Twelve years you’ve been together romantically (longer, even, but you were both too stubborn to admit it) and nineteen years you’ve been in each other's lives in some capacity or another. 

You’ve been involved together longer than you’ve not known each other. You hardly knew who you were without Aemond— a thought that scared you deeply. 

It’s been two weeks since he moved out, only temporarily he’d said. He needed space. He would still pay his share of the rent and you didn’t need to worry about that. 

But what about everything else? What about him warming you at night? Comforting you when you had nightmares? What about his items in the fridge, surely you’d spoil if he didn’t use them soon. What about Vhagar? Their— no, his geriatric cat that he took with him to God knows where— she must be terrified, surely. 

Was he giving Vhagar her medicine before bed? Of course he was— he was the more responsible one anyway. 

You paced back and forth until the soles of your feet ached and then some. Knowing Aemond for so long, you had intimate knowledge on everything about him, you were woven into each other's DNA like vines on a trellis, growing and expanding until you swallowed all of the other plants whole. 

That is what happened, wasn’t it? You grew too large, too comfortable and became stagnant. You weren't unaware of his rising workload at his firm, but he had always been a workaholic— throughout their teenage years, through college and grad school. It never slowed him down so you didn’t understand the change in behavior. 

Aemond was closed off. He always was a bit emotionally stunted due to his upbringing or lack thereof from his father and everything that happened surrounding his eye, but he had a soft side for you, always for you. You could retrace every part of him perfectly from memory, always could make him laugh, could comfort him when he recused himself, and the rare times he did cry, you were there. 

But the last few months there was a shift— a change in him. Where he had been hard to open before, like a rusty hinge just requiring some oil, he was now padlocked, ironclad and impenetrable. Attempts to talk were shrugged off, ignored or diverted. 

“Please, just talk to me, Aemond,” you said one night as you sat on the couch. You were watching your collective favorite show and he wasn’t even commenting on it like he usually did, he was silent and deadpanned. “I don’t understand what’s wrong if you don’t talk about it.” 

“There's nothing wrong, therefore, nothing to talk about. I’m just tired from work,” he responded gruffly. “Stop whining.” 

His tone was clipped and harsh, sending a wave of hurt trickling through your body. you were overly emotional, where he was under emotional— usually, you balanced each other out and struck a good middle ground, but in times like these, during fights, things would get explosive. 

The tears started right away, your little sniffling cries stifled by a hand over your mouth. You turned away, wrapping yourself in the blanket. 

“Seriously?” he growled, “I didn’t even say anything and you’re fucking crying again.”

“I d-don’t appreciate your tone, Aemond— you’re being mean,” you sniffed, wiping away tears that were soon just replaced by new ones. “Please, don’t be mean to me.” you were always soft hearted, and it was one of the things Aemond loved about you— or he had loved at one point. 

“I’m not being mean,” he pinched his brow, “you’re overreacting and I do not have the capacity to deal with your antics anymore.” 

Of course, your mind hit the panic button. ‘Anymore’ meaning that he didn’t want to deal with you at all, ever. The tears increased and you recused yourself further into a ball. 

“Fucking hell.” he cursed, getting up from the couch and stomping outside to the balcony, lighting up a cigarette. He was out there for about an hour— you had cried yourself to sleep. 

It was many situations like that for weeks that finally just… broke him. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said one day, slamming his keys down on the kitchen table, “I seriously cannot deal with your childish shit anymore— I’m working my ass off at the firm, actually bringing in money and I still have to come home and tend to you. you’re twenty-six, grow up and stop crying at every little thing. It’s fucking infuriating.” 

“You know I can’t control that part of me!” you screamed back, your temper rising immediately to match his. The words flowing out of your mouth didn’t feel like yours, but some sort of defensive mechanism. “You can’t do this anymore? You’re not doing anything Aemond, except pushing me away. God, you haven’t even touched me in weeks.” 

“Oh, so this is about sex?” he countered, getting closer to you, nostrils flaring. “You’re mad because I won’t fuck you? Are you that desperate?” 

That one stung, to be sure. Aemond had been your first and only— you only ever knew him, only ever had him. “No, not just sex,” you murmured, “you haven’t even… just touched me normally. No hugs, no little caresses, nothing— it's as if I’m an aversion to you.”

He backed up from you, “Maybe we’re just too close,” he admitted, “We’ve been together too long. It's not fun anymore, it’s not new— it’s the same old, same old, going through the motions for release, not because I actually like it.” 

“I don’t understand.” you said, your voice sounding disconnected from your body. The tips of your fingers felt numb, the numbness spreading through your body, your heart pounding in your chest as if it wanted to escape. 

“I need space. I need to think about this.” 

“This?”

“Us. I need to think about us and if this is something I really want,” he paused, “You’re… too much and not enough right now.” 

“Wh— Aemond, please,” you whispered, your voice broken, “What can I do? I’ll… I’ll change, I won’t cry or whine anymore— please.” 

He stared at you, his prosthetic eye unmoving while his remaining one bored into you, “I will think about it.” 

“What… does this mean?”

“We are taking a break, alright? I’ll have my essentials out and I’m going to stay with Aegon.” 

“Please— don’t go. I need you.” 

That was the end of that conversation. That was the last time you spoke, two weeks ago. You expected him to text you at some point, to check in on you, to maybe try to talk things out. 

Nothing. There's been nothing. Radio silence. 

You felt isolated— you had no family, as your parents were estranged from you. you couldn’t go to Aemond’s family, as close as you were to them all, it just simply wasn’t an option. 

You didn’t have friends. All you knew was Aemond. 

It was early in the evening and you were in a deep pit of self-loathing. You decided to text him. 

You swallowed thickly— the green meant he either turned off his phone or blocked you. You hoped that it wasn’t the latter. 

The next few weeks were a blur. You felt like you were barely living, merely going through the motions to stay alive— not that you really were. 

You woke up, went to work, came home, scrounged up food and then went to sleep. Rinse and repeat.

Weeks become months of your monotony, and no word from Aemond. He still had half of his stuff left in the apartment, you felt like you could barely breathe. At every turn there was something to remind you of him. 

You’d lived in this apartment together for four years, the evidence of your relationship etched into the very walls. It was like the space was closing in on you and you couldn’t catch your breath, barely keeping your head above water. 

You had to move out— you had to get away. 

You managed to find a place, a cheap studio above a coffee shop downtown. The landlord was an old lady who was sympathetic to your situation and agreed to let you take the space quickly. 

There was still the matter of your and Aemond’s current apartment— or, rather, it was just Aemond’s now. 

Saving yourself the embarrassment of seeing if you were still blocked, you called Aegon. He was a better messenger than none. 

“Hey, Egg,” you said, sitting on the couch. you bounced your knee up and down, biting at the skin of your lip. You and Aegon were amicable, not necessarily as close as you and Aemond, but you grew up together. Aegon ran in different social circles than you and you were somewhat polar opposites so you never really stuck— you did have your phases of friendship, though– which pissed Aemond off to no end. “Um, I don’t know if this is the right way to go about things but, do you mind relaying a message to Aemond for me?”

“Yeah, ‘spose I could. What’s up?” Aegon replied, his tone nonchalant like usual.

“I’m moving out of the apartment into my own place, so I guess he can go back. I’ll have all my stuff out by tomorrow.”

“Fuckin’ finally,” Aegon said, “He’s been driving me up the wall with his tidy, feng shui bullshit. He rearranged my whole place like five times and has taken up all the space in my cabinets with that nasty no-carb shit,” he paused for a moment, “I… didn’t mean that in a bad way to you, ‘course. I’m sorry it had to come to this. He’s a fucking idiot.”

That made you laugh, genuinely. Your first laugh in months. “Yeah– he… tends to do that. He left half of his stuff here, it feels like I’m living in the twilight zone. I just… gotta get away, you know?”

“Hey, I get that– you don’t have to explain yourself to me. He’s a dickhead and doesn’t understand how good he has it. If you want, I can bring my truck over tomorrow and help you move stuff.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Egg.”

“I want to– please.”

Your brow furrowed– Aegon usually wasn’t so persistent on anything unless it involved drinking or drugs. But, you hadn’t had real human contact in eons besides at work so… maybe it could be good.

“Okay, see you tomorrow. Thank you, really.”

–

It was rainy the next day– nasty and wet, droplets pouring down like tears. It felt somewhat familiar.

But, Aegon showed up like he promised, rolling up in his old, fading yellow pick-up truck. His hair was much shorter than you remembered and he looked actually well kept– Aemond must’ve been whipping him into shape.

He waved and ran through the rain, standing under the eave, “So– it’s raining.”

You snorted, “I think I can see that,” you teased with a tiny smile, “Not sure when it’ll let up.”

“I brought uh…” he paused for a moment to think, stretching out his arms in a square shape, “Y’know?”

“A tarp?” 

“Yup– that,” he gave a lopsided grin, inviting himself in through the open door, “you aren’t going to kick me out if I don’t take off my shoes, right?”

You glanced down at his boots– they were a bit muddy and definitely wet. Aemond wouldn’t have let him step two feet through the threshold without taking them off. But– you weren't Aemond. “No, keep them on if you want. It’s not my problem if you track dirt through the place anyway.”

He nodded, taking his phone out of his pocket for a moment and shooting a quick message to someone. “Sorry I haven’t been around, it’s just… he’s my brother. It would be kind of… I dunno, crossing some sort of unsaid boundary if I visited his… girlfriend?”

“Ex-girlfriend. I guess,” you corrected softly– but you didn’t really know yourself what it was. He wouldn’t talk to you, “It’s fine. I didn’t expect anyone to really reach out anyway, because of that… unsaid boundary thing.”

“We should’ve. you’re a part of our family with or without Aemond. Me, Helaena and Daeron have a whole group chat about it. Even mom asked where you’ve been,” he scratched the back of his head absentmindedly as he sent out another text, “Someone should’ve checked up sooner.”

“You’re acting like I’m some sort of neglected puppy, Aegon,” you turned to him, “... do I really look so terrible?”

Aegon glanced up at you, his mouth formed in a hard line. He cracked his knuckles, shrugging his shoulders. “I won’t lie to you. You look half dead.”

You blinked. Hard. Moving towards a mirror in the hall, you looked at yourself. Dark circles under sunken eyes, your skin was a pale pallor and your hair needed a trim desperately, your split ends curled and fettered. You were gaunt, as well– having lost a bit of weight over the months. “Jesus,” you muttered. Glancing over at Aegon, he was texting again. “Sending an update to the group chat, I guess? ‘Good news, she’s still alive, barely’?”

He snorted, “Yeah– something like that,” finally, he locked his phone and slipped it in his pocket. “I made sure to text Aemond, too.”

Your mouth felt dry at the mention. “Why?”

“He asked.”

“Asked?”

“He asked me to… make sure you were okay.”

Goosebumps prickled at your skin, the ever familiar feeling of nausea and despair swirling in the pit of your stomach. Nibbling at your lip more, you turned away, feeling a bit too exposed. “And what’d you say?”

“I said you were alive but you are not okay.”

Your lips pursed into a line as you tasted a bit of copper in your mouth from chewing on your lip. “I guess that’s right,” you muttered, “Why would he ask?”

“Aemond is… complicated. you know that better than anyone. I don’t know what kind of bug he has up his ass these last few months but… even through all of this, he still cares.”

“Like hell he does,” you snapped, feeling the sting of tears, “If he did, he would’ve given us a chance to talk it out, to… to try, maybe even go to therapy, I don’t fucking know– he would’ve reached out– anyone should’ve reached out,” your hand went to your hair, right at your hairline at your scalp, picking at the hairs there– another self-destructive habit you’ve picked up in your months of isolation, “I’m so fucking alone, Aegon. He knows… you all know I have absolutely no one else. I’ve been going through this on my own. I have no friends, no family– no brother to go live with when I need space, no family group chat. I don’t have shit, Aegon. All I’ve ever known in my life is him and you and Helaena and Daeron and mom. Why… why does it feel like I was cast off the island without even… a tribal council or something?” you sniffed, the tears coming in full force now. 

Aegon was silent, coming up behind you. “I’m… sorry,” he murmured, putting his hands on your shoulders, as frail and skeletal as you were, “We should’ve been better. We… will be better.” he turned you around and pulled you into his chest, enveloping you in his arms. “We thought you would’ve been… fine without him. He made it seem like that– that you were strong enough. I only figured it out yesterday when he was up my ass about texting him as soon as I saw you. He needed to know if you were feeding yourself, if you were keeping up with your medication, if you still had nightmares. A fuckin’... laundry list of questions– I told him to stick his questions up where the sun don’t shine and to see for himself,” he took a breath, “He settled on one question– if you were okay.”

“I think he got his fucking answer, then,” you whispered, “I am not okay. I haven’t been okay in months. I… I need help.”

“I know,” Aegon shifted you slightly to look at your face, “We’ll help you– I promise, you won’t be alone anymore. Look, I’ll even add you to the group chat, okay? I’ll rename it to ‘Aemond Sucks’, how does that sound?” 

You cracked a tiny smile, sniffling. “Yeah… I’d like that.”

– 

You ended up moving your belongings to your new place the same day, effectively ridding yourself of the constant shadow of Aemond’s memory.

Aegon even took you to Michael’s and HomeGoods to get stuff for your little studio, so you could really make it yours. It was a bit intimidating at first– you weren't used to being able to decorate things the way you wanted, as Aemond always opted to keep things simple and minimalistic. 

You, admittedly, went all out. Your new studio looked like a Pinterest board titled ‘cottagecore’. You were incredibly happy with it all, practically jumping up and down at it.

“It looks so good! I love these little mushroom chairs you picked out, Egg,” you hummed, patting some plush felted stools in the shape of mushrooms, which you put near the window. “I bet Helaena would love it.”

“Let’s take some pictures for the group chat, Hel will literally be all over this. you two always love that cottagecore, fairycore, fantasy… shit.” he grinned, stooping down to take some very out of perspective pictures of the mushroom chairs, making them look fifty feet tall.

You settled into your new place quickly, having Helaena, Aegon and Daeron over quite often for drinks and movies. Your health steadily improved until you were mostly back to normal physically– there would be a lot of scars internally, however that would take longer to heal, if you ever would. You had developed a trust issue complex since Aemond’s unceremonious exit from your life and hadn’t gone on any dates, you didn’t know when or if you would ever be ready. They did you the courtesy of not mentioning Aemond, until Daeron said something odd.

It was about four months after you moved in, and almost a full year since you’d last seen Aemond. You were all a few mixed drinks in, Aegon had made them and you were heavy on the alcohol, light on the ‘mix’, and you were all kicked back on the couch, with Aegon laying on the mushroom chairs stacked next to each other, lazed back like a cat. 

“Mom says she wants you over for Christmas dinner,” Daeron said, taking a sip of his drink, “She figured it’d be fine with Aemond going off with his new…” he blinked, catching himself. 

Helaena nudged Daeron in the ribs as a warning, staring at their friend warily.

“... his new? His new what?” you asked, your voice so quiet that it must’ve been like a squeak.

“... new girlfriend.” he finished.

You were silent for a while before sighing. “I figured it would happen eventually. I can only hope that it… wasn’t too soon after we broke up– or whatever… happened.”

“We all told him it was fucked up that he just left and ghosted you, lovey. Even mom got on his ass about it, and he is her favorite child who usually can do no wrong.” Helaena put her drink down, wrapping her arm around you. “You should come to Christmas dinner, everyone would be super happy to see you! And Aemond won’t be there, so even more reason to come. Please.” she whimpered, using her best puppy-dog face.

You mulled it over in your mind for a few moments. You couldn’t think of anything more painful than being alone during the holidays, so you nodded.

–

It was snowing on Christmas day, the flurries coming down and melting against your skin as you waited for Aegon to pick you up. You were wearing a red checkered tapestry dress with a flannel jacket, a white fluffed scarf wrapped around your neck and lower face. As soon as you saw the familiar color of Aegon’s truck, you practically booked it into the passenger seat. 

“Merry Christmas, you look fantastic,” Aegon mused, ever the charmer. “I’ve got the heater on full blast, I promise– but y’know my old boy’s puttering these days. We’ll need to get some speed for it to really warm up.” 

“Mmm,” you murmured, your teeth chattering, “S’cold.” 

He reached back and grabbed a well-used blanket, draping it over your legs. “Better?”

“... yeah– but,” you blinked, raising a brow. “What do you have this in the truck for?”

Aegon laughed as he began the drive to his family’s estate. “I think you know.”

“Please don’t tell me you’ve fucked someone on this blanket, Aegon.”

“Someones– not just someone. But I keep it clean, no worries!”

The drive to the Targaryen estate was about an hour and a half from town, nestled deep into an expansive forest where there weren’t any other homes in at least five miles. It was a gorgeous, Victorian style mansion and according to Daeron, was most certainly haunted. You had been here numerous times, of course, but it’d been a while. As you pulled up in the driveway, you saw Alicent standing outside the door dressed in a gorgeous red and green festive dress, hair curled to perfection. Nothing less was expected of Alicent, though.

“Oh, my darling,” Alicent cooed, holding her arms out to caress who she thought of as her fifth child. “It’s been too long, I’ve missed you.” 

Your heart warmed under Alicent’s caress, someone who had become more of a mother figure to you than your actual mother. You sniffed, pressing your forehead into Alicent’s shoulder. “Missed you too, mom.” 

“Come on, you both can cry inside in the nice toasty house, yeah? I’m freezing my balls off here, mom.” 

Alicent huffed, ushering both of you inside. “Don’t be vulgar, son– it’s Christmas.”

Helaena and Daeron were already there, as well as Otto, who gave you a stiff nod as a greeting, as was his usual means of communication.

You settled into the kitchen, Alicent pouring everyone apple cider and dishing out at least six types of holiday themed cookies. About an hour after arriving, there was a knock on the door. 

“Oh, that must be Rhaenyra and Laena. Can you answer the door, darling? I need to take the roast out of the oven. I’m sure they would be happy to see you!” 

“Mhm!” you mused through bites of cookies. You loved Rhaenyra and Laena, who were technically married with husbands, as was Alicent, but the three of them were in a secret, not so secret to anyone with eyes, polyamorous relationship. It always amused all of their kids when they tried to hide it. 

You turned the doorknob, fully expecting to see Rhaenyra and Laena. It was not. 

Aemond.

“Fuck.” you blurted out, eyes wide. It had been the better part of a year since you had last seen him. His hair was longer now, gathered into a low bun at the nape of his neck, his cheeks a bit more gaunt. He still wore his earrings and his rings– including the one you had given him almost a decade ago. 

“Shit.” he responded, seemingly caught equally off guard by seeing you again. The pupil of his non-prosthetic eye dilated until the iris was almost consumed in black, before he flexed his hand and reeled himself in. 

You couldn’t help but notice he was alone– no ‘new girlfriend’ as Daeron had put it. “Aemond,” you breathed, feeling like you were outside of your own body, your head filled with fluff and static. “Merry… Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.” he responded gruffly, “Can I come in?”

“Oh– yeah, duh,” you chastised yourself, stepping aside to let him in. “Sorry.”

“Mm.” he grunted in his usual manner. That seemed to be a habit he hadn’t dropped. 

You all but retreated to the kitchen, the expression on your face telling everything. Aegon, Daeron, and Helaena gathered around you.

“I didn’t invite him, I swear.” Aegon whispered.

“Well, neither did I!” Daeron professed.

“Don’t look at me, I didn’t invite him. He left me on read three weeks ago when I sent him a picture of a bug on my windowsill.” Helaena sniffed.

A new voice chimed in. “I invited him,” Alicent spoke, breaking up the little posse, “I told him to come over or he would be grounded for three months.” 

All four of you stared at Alicent, deadpanned. 

“Mom– he’s… almost twenty-seven. you can’t ground him,” Daeron said, confused. “And moreover, why? Wasn’t he busy?”

“Well, first off, he is my son, so I wanted to see him for Christmas. Two, I believe we have someone here who has some unresolved issues with him.” Alicent responded, staring right at you pointedly.

“... I don’t know… I… I don’t know if I can talk to him. It’s been too long… I feel like I was just getting over all of this.”

“Well, do I have any say in this?” Aemond barged into the circle, his hands in his pockets. 

You suddenly felt overwhelmed, the familiar bubbling of everything being too much rising in your stomach. You were teleported back to months ago when you were barely alive, trapped in your own mind. “I… I need… I need a minute.” you muttered, your voice sounding distorted as you made your way to the bathroom, turning on the faucet. Chest heaving, you were already crying, the waterworks starting somewhere between the hallway and the sink. 

“You’re always fucking crying, I can’t take it anymore.” Aemond’s voice from months and months ago echoed in your head, causing the tears to flow more. You bit against your lip, tasting blood right away as you willed yourself to stop crying. 

“S-stop… stop crying,” you whispered, fingers messing up your hair as you held fistfuls of it. You couldn’t catch your composure for the life of you, sliding against the bathroom wall onto the floor.

Vision blurring, you don’t know how long you were incoherent for. When you came back to yourself, Aemond was in front of you, crouched down.

“Hey,” he murmured softly, the door closed behind him, “It’s okay.”

You swallowed, still numb as he pried your fists from your head, out of your hair, smoothing it down.

“Look at me, can you do that? Nod if you can hear me.”

You nodded slowly, the feeling coming back to your extremities in a sprightly tickling sensation. You blinked tears from your eyes, the liquid smearing your vision. 

Aemond rasped a thumb over your eyes, effectively clearing the obstruction from your vision. “Just breathe,” he continued to whisper. It was ever reminiscent of when he would calm you down after a nightmare, voice low and scratchy in a way that comforted you. He was so close now, closer than he’d been in forever. He still smelled the same, the scent triggering a deep aching within your chest. A scent that took you forever to get rid of, but you never truly could. “Can… we talk?” he asked then, his voice sounding more vulnerable than ever. 

It felt like whiplash, visions of your previous fights plaguing you, where he had been so closed off, so far away, so distant that you couldn’t reach him– and now, he was here. In the present, in the flesh. In front of you, opened. Not opened completely, but you could see it, like the slit of a cracked door, the light bleeding through. It was there.

“... yeah.”

“I… I’m… I’m sorry. What I did was fucked up. It was fucked up and wrong and you didn’t deserve any of it.”

“You’re right about that,” you muttered, pulling your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. “I didn’t deserve it.” 

Aemond’s mouth twitched slightly before he sat down next to you, propping up his legs in a criss-cross. He opened his mouth to speak a few times, before closing it. His hands flexed and unflexed in quick succession– he was clearly thinking very carefully about his next words. “... I’ve… got issues. You know that better than anyone. I don’t know what was going through my head those months that we fought. I can hardly remember it now, it was like… I was in a fog, a haze– I was working myself half to death, I just wanted dad to notice, to fucking… appreciate me,” he put his hands on his head, “I was so… tied up in this illusion that if I made junior associate at the firm so young that he would congratulate me on my achievement and…” Aemond let out a sigh, “And… in the process… I pushed you away.”

You looked at him, feeling your gaze soften ever so slightly. You knew that his father was a sore spot for him and that trauma ran deep. “You didn’t just push me away, Aemond,” you sighed, reaching out a shaky hand to pry one of his from his face. “... if you would’ve just talked to me, I could’ve helped. You didn’t push… you… you shoved, you shoved and ran in the other direction.”

His one violet eye danced towards you. “I know. I’ve been kicking myself for it. When Aegon told me you weren’t doing well… I almost left work to see you.”

“... you did?”

“Yeah. Aegon basically told me not to– that… this was something you needed space for. Kind of like I did but… maybe in a more healthy way.”

“A text wouldn’t have hurt.” 

He reached into his pocket and took out his phone– his wallpaper was still the same as it was, a picture of you, him and Vhagar very unhappy in an elf costume. He scrolled to his notes app, which was filled with messages addressed to you. “... I thought it might, after what Aegon had said. I was… ashamed of how I acted, how I handled the whole thing– how I left you alone without a word. He told me how you looked… dead. I didn’t want to make it worse.”

Your eyes scanned the messages, picking out some words. The main ones that caught your gaze were ‘sorry’, ‘love’, ‘regret’. A huge breath left your lungs, feeling as if everything had been knocked out of you at once. You felt like you were being whipped back and forth in the wind, trying to grab onto anything. If you both weren’t so stubborn and just messaged one another– well, no. You did message him, one time. “I thought you blocked me.” 

“... for five minutes, maybe.”

“God, we’re so fucking stupid, Aemond.”

“You aren’t– don’t say that. I’m literally a dumbass. All of my siblings told me so, even my own mother, and you know she never curses.”

The tiniest of smiles cracked onto your face as you jostled his shoulder. “Yeah… you are a dumbass. I am allowed to say it at least once. So, um,” you shuffled slightly, “Daeron kind of let it slip that you had a new girlfriend?”

Aemond pinched his brow. “Of course he said that. He is twenty-one years old and still doesn’t know how to use his goddamn ears. I said I was seeing a new therapist, not that I had a fucking girlfriend.”

“A therapist?”

“... things got really dark for me after I moved back into our… no, my… place. After you officially moved out. It felt lifeless, all of your things were gone, the fucking warmth sucked out of the place. It felt like it’d been sterilized of anything… good. I feel into something– I don’t know, a depression? I guess, that’s what Aegon called it. He suggested I see a therapist, citing me as ‘an emotionally stunted asshole who needs more therapy than him’.” he exaggerated the last bit with air quotes, rolling his eye.

“... he isn’t wrong. I mean, I love your family, but all of you are all kinds of fucked up. Maybe I am too, practically being a part of it.”

Aemond chuckled, giving a tight lipped smile. “We are fucked up. I realized that… I really do not give a shit what my dad thinks, because nothing will ever be good enough for him. He’s so far gone now that he probably doesn’t even know we exist. I’ve come to terms with that and honestly… it feels like a weight has been lifted.”

“I’m glad you could… work through some of that, Aemond.” you say sincerely, resting your cheek on his arm absentmindedly. 

“... I want to talk about us.”

“... us. Okay.”

“I don’t expect you to want to jump right back into things. It would be unfair to think that– but… maybe we could try?”

Your chest feels a bit tight at his admission– he wanted to try. Every fiber in your being wanted to say yes and jump back into it like you’d never left. But you knew you couldn’t. There were still parts of you scarred by this whole experience, some parts that may never heal. It would take a long time and a lot of talks like this to even get some semblance of what the both of you had. “Well… before we were together, believe it or not, we were friends. Could we… try that for right now?”

His chest visibly deflated a bit, but he nodded. “Whatever you need, okay?”

–

The days following Christmas, leading up to New Year’s were… different. You and Aemond were back in contact, going out for coffee and lunch a few times.

On the day before New Year’s eve, you texted him.

Turns out, timing the movie to sync with 12 am on New Year’s day to Toby Maguire saying ‘Pizza time’ was difficult. Well, it wasn’t difficult for normal people– but you and Aemond were a bit tipsy, as Aegon had left some hard apple ciders in your fridge, to which you both indulged.

“Okay, okay,” Aemond stared at his phone, “5… 4… 2… wait, no, fuck, 3… 2… I think we fucked it up– just go, go!”

Quickly, you started the movie. “Maybe we should’ve practiced– can we start over?” you plopped on the couch, sinking into the sofa and taking a swig of the cider.

“Doesn’t work like that, sweetheart. Can’t turn back time.” he mused softly, squatting down on one of the mushroom stools. “Pretty comfy.”

“Aegon picked those out, nifty, huh?”

“Nifty.” he parroted. 

The movie continued on, but as it went on, there was an unspoken tension growing. Aemond hadn’t sat on the couch, but rather, the stools that were on the other side of the room. It felt like a chasm had formed, the strain almost palpable. 

You chewed on your lip anxiously, contemplating whether or not to say anything. But, you had both been trying a new technique called ‘communication’ – a pretty cool and helpful thing that Aemond’s therapist had taught him. You remember laughing when he posed it that same way– but it was extremely important. You cleared your throat. “Why are you sitting all the way over there?”

“... um. I wanted to try the mushroom seats, I guess.”

“You don’t want to sit next to me?” you countered, feeling especially brave. 

“Is that… alright?” 

“Um, duh. I invited you over for pizza and a movie so we could… sit together. Not for you to be half a mile away sitting on a mushroom.”

“As long as it’s alright with you.” he murmured, sitting up from the mushroom stool and making his way over to you, sliding onto the couch, still a few feet away from you.

You weren’t sure if it was the atmosphere, the pent up emotions, the small buzz of alcohol, or a destructive cocktail of all three, but you inched closer to him. Closer, closer… until your thighs were touching. You glanced up at him beneath fettered lashes. “Hi.”

“Hey.” he responded, his voice low and warm. It caused a balmy and comforting vibration to go through you, reverberating in your chest. 

You became all too aware of your movements, your closeness to him, the skin of your thigh grazing against his jeans as you got as close as you could. Your lips parted slightly as he stared back down at you. “Can… we?”

“Can we, what?” he murmured, lacing his fingers through your loose hair, gently grasping it at the nape of your neck. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“... kiss. A little bit.”

“Just a little bit?” 

“Mhm. A teeny bit.” you leaned up, Aemond meeting you halfway as your lips came together. The culmination of your year apart, all of the emotions, the sadness, the frustration and anger, the passion, love, tears– all of it came together at this moment as the two of you melded together perfectly, as if you’d never left. You couldn’t help but let out a sigh of contentment, followed by what could only be articulated as a moan. 

It caught both of you off guard, Aemond pulling away for a moment, his lips still ghosting over yours. “Fucking hell,” he breathed against your skin, sending goosebumps tingling from your tailbone up to the nape of your neck, the hairs on your body standing on end. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you,” you responded before latching onto him once more. It started off loving and slow, your lips moving against one another like two old lovers dancing together– then it began to heat up, your mouth parting to accommodate his tongue, gnashing against yours as their dance turned up a notch. Your hands roamed his body, everything you committed to memory for so many years still in its same spot. It felt good, it felt like home. “Please, Aemond– I… I need you. It’s been so long… too long…”

“Too long since I’ve had you, had this,” his hand reached down, cupping your mound still hidden beneath your panties. Somehow, you foresaw this moment before it happened and thankfully wore a light dress. “Let me in, love.”

You parted your legs, feeling the ever familiar crook of his fingers slide down the front of your panties, testing the waters. The pad of his thumb and middle finger locked on instantly to your clit, swirling the sensitive bud, sending electric shocks through your extremities. You bit your lip to stifle a moan, pressing your forehead against his. “Need you inside, now.” you all but growled as you peppered little kisses along the soft flesh of his neck.

He wouldn’t keep you waiting long, as it seemed he needed this as much as you did. He parted your panties to the side, propping you on top of him and sliding you down his length, earning a hissed gasp from both of you. It took all of his strength not to burst in you right then, as you enveloped him in your tight, wet heat. “You were made for me,” he breathed, biting down on your shoulder, leaving red marks. One of his favorite things to do was to mark you, leaving hickies in his wake as he worshiped every inch of exposed skin he could reach. “Melded so perfectly, just for me.” he grabbed the flesh of your bottom, squeezing gently at first, then landing a smack on it as he began to thrust up into you.

You nodded fervently, hiccuping little moans as you dug your face into his shoulder, biting him in turn. Your nails sunk into his skin, indenting against his spine as they always had, as they always were meant to. It felt much like a pianist resting their fingers on the ivories after a long break, the pads of your fingers sinking into the ridges of his very being. You were meant to be here, he was meant to be here. You could feel your end coming on all too soon, his cock filling every nook and cranny of you, bullying that spongy, delicate sweet spot just right. You began to clench, your tell-tale sign to him that you were close. 

“I love you,” he whispered, panting slightly, using one hand to push your face back so you could meet his gaze. His wild, pupil-blown out gaze, cheeks reddened, mouth parted, brow furrowed. “I love you, I fucking love you. I missed you– fuck.”

“I l-love you,” you responded before he parted your lips with his thumb, “Love you so much– p-please, s’close.” you whined into his mouth.

“Let go, sweetheart, c’mon,” he grinned against your lips, nipping and biting at them. “Come for me.”

That was all you needed, the twine of your climax coming undone right in your core, snapping like a taut thread. Your usual habit was to hide your face in his shoulder when you came, whimpering and panting– but he didn’t let you this time. He held your face, staring at you intently as if you were a piece of fine art on display, and he was a connoisseur. 

You clenched around him tightly, spurring him to his own end. His hard wrought fingers gripped your ass like it was a lifeline, grunting as he found his release deep within you, where it was always meant to be. 

Coming down from your high, you slumped against his chest, mouth parted. Embarrassingly enough, a little drool wetted your lips. You were fully and thoroughly fucked out, not even registering that Tobey Maguire said “Pizza time!”

“Happy New Year, love,” Aemond murmured against your hair, nestling you tightly against him. He didn’t pull out– he preferred it this way, having you warm him through until you both fell asleep. 

“... Happy New Year,” you whispered back.

–

Two and a half months later, it was Valentine's day. You and Aemond were officially dating again as of January 2nd, much to the surprise of no one. 

You both took things as slow as you could, keeping separate apartments for the time being– but you’d given him a key to your place about two weeks in, and he was there all the time, taking much needed leave from work. 

Unlocking the door to your apartment, you walked in, seeing Aemond lounging on the couch with a scruffy brown furball on him. 

“Oh, Vhagar! You brought my baby,” you mused, dropping your items (with some grace, so as not to scare the geriatric cat), walking over, “Oh, I hope she remembers me.” you frowned, kneeling down and offering your hand to her.

“Of course she’ll remember, she yelled at me for a good three months at Aegon’s when we were without you.”

Vhagar sniffed your hand for a good minute before blinking her sleepy, lazy eyes at you, then promptly rubbing her scraggly cheek fur on your hand. You were elated, scratching her cheeks, hearing the tinkling of a little bell. 

“A new collar?” 

“Mhm, take a look.”

You swirled the collar around, looking for the name tag– only to find… a ring. An opal and moonstone ring. Your heart stopped in your chest as you stared at Aemond.

“I would get down on one knee– I was intending on you coming home and Vhagar running to you and then you finding it… but she’s on me, and I can’t get up. Cat rules,” he mused, unclipping the collar from her neck and slipping the ring onto your finger. “I know we’ve only been dating for… a month and a half, so stop me if it’s too soon.” he grinned, his toothy smile.

Vhagar gave a croaking meow, promptly jumping off of Aemond’s lap. As soon as the old cat was off, you threw yourself at Aemond, blubbering. “This… this…” you sniffed, unable to form words.

“Just so there isn’t any confusion… will you marry me?” he asked, wiping your tears away with his thumb.

“Yes, yes– I will,” you sniffle, burying your face in his chest and sobbing. 

He let you sob on him, getting his shirt all snotty and wet, all while smiling. 

After crying for at least ten minutes, you manage to take a picture, sending it to the group chat, with the caption: “I think we should add him to the chat now, guys.”

Ding.

“Is this group chat named ‘Aemond sucks’?” 

[kirisaki-daichi-scenarios]

a discussion of jabberwock with team interaction hcs + deeper nash analysis

for anon who asked "Can we get some headcanons for jabberwock members or like headcanons when they're together? (its okay if it was jason or nash only)" and made me realise it's about time i get these guys' personalities down

note before we start: cause i didn't know their names until i wrote this

zack is the bald one, allen is the one with a headband, nick is the other white guy apart from nash.

team hcs

nick gets bullied for being under 6ft, but not by jason

nah good old jason teases all of them for being short fucks, emphasising that they’re all 5ft tall in comparison to him

he 100% lifts things out of the others' reach and then laughs for ages after when they try get them

unfortunately though, they’re all used to this and now just ignore him. either that or nash stares at him so intensely jason actually repents and hands it back

zack’s another one with a very good glare, but he’s used it too often on jason and it’s since stopped working.

also jason gives me ‘straightens his back as much as possible when getting measured so he’ll measure in as 7ft’ vibes

oh and he thinks he could wrestle a gator and win. i’ve got no explanation for that except for the fact you can't tell me it's ooc.

allen’s very protective over his white headband - it’s his lucky item - but he’d never let anyone know that

he’s confident in his abilities like the rest of them, but there’s nothing wrong with wearing a headband just in case

(nash knows anyway)

they watch nba matches together and do not shut up once throughout the entire match - lots of jeering, booing each other if someone criticises a player they like, lots of “i could do that”, lots of “get your fucking hand out of my popcorn do you want me to punch you in the face” etc

they used to all live together, but nash has since moved out. he was sick and tired of trying to make people do chores, as the only one who kept their room clean.

yeah the others’ house looks like a heap of trash but also very much “where’s my toothbrush?” “it’s in the third coke can by the orange peel behind the sink” *silence* “yeah thanks” *a minute later* “who the fuck has been using my toothbrush”

they’re all “bro your dribbling sucks why are you on this team loser” to one another, but also very protective (aka arrogant for one another) if anyone else Dared to criticise one of their teammates

then again, what kind of person would criticise jabberwock

half of the time he spends with jabberwock, nash is a Single Mother TM trying to get a bunch of man children to behave; the other half of the time, he's just as bad as the rest of them

i talk about this a lot but i get the feeling nash is an exceptionally hard worker, but at least he gets to let his hair down around his teammates sometimes

nash is also the only person jason thought was truly ‘strong’ at first sight

and nash is also the only person who can beat jason in a fight, and also the only person who can get nash to train, and also the only person who can.. [etc. you see my point].

(n.b jason calls himself the ‘almighty me’, nash says that ‘even god can’t beat me’. point made.)

you know how jason silver’s motto is “I have never thought”

imagine him proudly stating that, before zack adds with a straight face, “yeah cause nash does it for you.”

in short, the team would fall apart without nash.

although the team’s communication and coordination is very fine tuned, nash is the guy who keeps everything in order off the court to prevent what is essentially a team of aces ('main characters', if you will) from falling apart

they hang out together a lot, but do all have other friend groups that do not overlap

team bbqs

unofficial rule not to criticise anchovies on pizza because the one time nick did, nash snapped

however pineapple on pizza is fair game, even though zack quite likes it

more than once, jason has brought a girl home and nick has stolen her attention away with effortless trick shots, funky ball manoeuvring etc

more than once nick has had to trek to nash’s place (with a black eye) at midnight to have somewhere to sleep

do you see a correlation?

oh and everyone in the team has been walked in on by nash when they were naked with some girl

nash has absolutely no shame

he apologises to the girl with a charming albeit insincere tone, and then remains standing in front of the bed/couch until his teammate does what he expected of them

usually it involves not having come to practice

allen learnt a few (emphasis on ‘few’) words of japanese before they travelled to japan and was disappointed that he never got to use them

that said, one of those words was hentai

and now a quick analysis of some panels

a) so there's at least one player who wasn't underestimating vorpal swords. if i were to overanalyse, i'd add that nick's wearing a hoodie (possibly athletic wear) whilst nash has a 'fancy' shirt on; perhaps nick wasn't expecting them to be going to host clubs instead of chilling/training?

b) i know what you're thinking: "how can you say nash is a hard worker when he didn't want to practice for the match". i reckon he was still pretty high on the complete and utter success of their previous match, that plus being around girls, encouraged him to have a more 'jason-y' personality. (either that or fujimaki didn't want to add too much depth/realism into nash's character bc he's unequivocally the villain, right? and obviously this helps with the plot and the jabberwock bad geniuses gom good geniuses rhetoric.)

earlier, i mentioned how nash is the only one that could keep the team together, and is thus the undeniable head of the team; here's a clear example. you can see both jason and zack have no interest in continuing - if anything, there's disgust in their faces, kinda just saying "we spat on all of japan, now we can go home". whereas nash won't allow for the slightest of possibilities that there might exist a team stronger than them, and hence agrees to the match. the key thing here is that the others do as he says without too much fuss.

another thing to note is nash's reference to harakiri. now what can we make of that, alongside his proficiency in japanese, in relation to his character? the way i see it, he's either a weeb or possibly has some japanese lineage. (you could spin that even further and say his mother was japanese, taught him the language, then abandoned him, and hence his almost excessive hatred/mockery of the japanese people.) (is that why he wanted to do another match in japan..?)

just a quick point. "thanks to him" - jason isn't so superior as to think that he could win this match effortlessly without nash's support. links pretty nicely with my earlier idea about how nash is the only person jason has always considered 100% strong.

yet another point about how nash is the strongest of the team in pretty much every way you can think of. you know how scary/powerful you have to be to shut jason up (after he's getting real pissed from being prevented from scoring?)

i personally think this is a pretty important panel, though i've never seen anyone mention it before. did nash grow up training in a professional basketball training situation, as opposed to growing up playing streetball like i suspect the others did? well, to answer that question, imma bring in another panel.

here we see visible rage on nick, zack and jason's faces - they can't accept their loss, which is fair enough. but i'd argue that nash's face seems to depict sadness more than it does anger like to rest of them, look at how downturned his mouth is - and he's looking away from the 'camera', as if hiding his shame.

when you combine that with what he says here, i have no doubt that this is someone who has experienced some proper lows in basketball - as would be expected from someone who's played 'properly'. he's possibly not even a prodigy like the rest of them - compare jason's motto with his. "i have never thought" versus "do not suppose opportunity will knock twice at your door".

there's various lines of thinking you could design with this - he might have been trained by alex (hence, himuro having heard of jabberwock, though he should have known of a team as popular of jabberwock regardless), he might have grown up with professional basketballer parents etc. but here's my own little theory:

nash received serious basketball training from early on - maybe because his parents were living vicariously through him, or maybe he always loved the sport and wanted to be no1. so there he was training away, but, as he grew older, it started getting all a bit too much.

he didn't want to dedicate his entire life to basketball. after all, his hobby is water sports and his speciality is boxing; that's a lot of different things to be keeping up with, whereas the pipeline for promising athletes demands people focus solely on basketball. as a result, nash become bitter: stopped attending practice regularly, got in trouble for trash talk of increasing severity, etc.

result was he was kicked out of the program.

only when he was no longer playing basketball again, did he realise how much he missed it. and hence he got into streetball, where he was tremendously successful as someone with so much training, 'elite skills', and the overly confident attitude to boot.

then, one fateful day, he met jason and the rest is history.

[thecoochiefairy]

𝖓𝖊𝖜 𝖘𝖆𝖑𝖊𝖒

CHAPTER THREE.

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐃.

"IT'S HOT AS FUCKING BALLS."

Delirious and obviously irritated was her tone of voice. Taking the crisp twenty dollar bill between her fingers, she handed the change back to the person in front of her. She smiled without her teeth, feeling sweat along her edges that she had perfected sometime that morning.

"Pheme, aren't you the one that volunteered to be in charge of the food?" Sin laughed more to herself.

She had a wave of heat run down her physique like fingernails filing against her skin, yet she had prepared what an all black look would endure. Sybil had ordered them to be in charge of keeping the money in check with the array of food they cooked. There was traditional cookout music, people dancing, laughing and smiles radiating off each expression. Chattering mouths as they sunk their teeth into their refreshing ice cream cones, the sense of their tongue burning from the food coming right off the grill. Sin felt at ease. Maybe that feeling she'd gotten earlier wasn't something to worry about.

New Salem’s annual magic show was something the city of Thibodaux always looked forward to. Usually their coven was a quiet part of town left alone, but in preparation of exposure for being a little too quiet in their sleepy town ; sleepy in Thibodaux's eyes anyway, they decided to have this gathering once a year.

"Ugh!” Pheme exclaims frustratedly.

She stepped from under the tent to grab herself a drink when a child screamed wildly and flew past her. They knock into her in the process, her freshly opened soda faltering over and spilling its red contents onto the ground, sizzling against the gravel.

"Fuckin’ little pieces of shit!" Pheme gripes, making sure nothing spilled on the light purple dress. The tip of her fingers smoothing out the soft material as Sin teases, "I thought you loved kids."

"I love the coven's children. Not these little nightmares where their only abilities consist of eating, sleeping, shitting and stressing out their parents." She grumbles.

Sin hands customers a hot plate and receives the money as she smiles sweetly. She sits beside Pheme who is now back in her lawn chair with another successfully opened soda. The liquid tingles the tip of her tongue and it flows down her throat, a sugary flavor aiding her dry mouth. The coven's children were being raised in a way that they were very intelligent and polite as well, so when they stepped into the outside world and saw how other kids acted, it was completely absurd.

"I don't see the problem with the coven’s children being able to get out of their bubble and have human interaction." Pheme resurfaces her conversation. Their eyes wander over to a group of people that had gotten coordinated into a type of line dance.

"Sybil says if we bring the children out they'll end up exposing their abilities in excitement of seeing others than their classmates. But I also think she just doesn't want to hassle the Protectors with another task, although I personally think this would be good for the kids."

"Yeah, then again it's good that they're very compliant. I want a daughter like that."

Sin tips her head over and furrows her eyebrows, "You want kids?"

"I literally say I want kids- like all the time." Pheme rolls her eyes, "Obviously shit that comes out my mouth must be a bore."

"Of course not, sweet face. But considering ‘fuck them kids’ is my motto—although I truly love kids, those conversations I kinda zone out on. Don't be mad?”

"Anyways, I want a daughter. A son is okay too, but considering my first thought would be to toss him in the nearest garbage can when I found out the gender," which causes Sin to lightly laugh at Pheme’s seriousness as she continues, “I just think Mother Nature should consider giving me what I want."

"I think Mother Nature should just leave my uterus alone, period. She drop a baby in here, I'm sending it right back where it came from." Sin declares.

"Hell, where you were born?”

"To hell. Also? Fuck you, stop telling people I'm the spawn of a fallen angel. I'm not.”

Pheme blows her a kiss, standing as someone walks towards her with money already out to give. She hands them a plate, icy coins slide across her palm as she drops them into the bucket.

"So when do you plan on having a child?" Sin asks.

"Uh, not sure. Whenever both me and Nadia feel stable enough and ready I guess."

"Can I ask something?"

"Is it offensive?"

"That's why I asked, can I ask first?"

"If it's offensive I will tell you I'm not answering the question, so go ahead." Pheme said.

“How's that gonna work when time comes and you and Nadia decide you want a child?"

She wasn't surprised at the question, nor was she offended. It was a question that she and Nadia had discussed many times when they first got together.  Since it had only been two years they knew they had time to figure that out, but considering their situation it was—technicalities that needed to be answered.

Pheme sighs as she places her eyes on her thighs, beginning to count every blemish on the complexion of her leg.

She then said, “When me and Nadia got together we went to Sybil to be shown as partners. She forbade us from being able to have children.  I wanted to hide Nadia because of the backlash I received when I did end up telling someone I was in love with a woman, but I knew I was gonna have to face them either way. So.” she looks at Sin’s face who looks crushed, pressing her lips into a thin line.

"Pheme. I'm so sorry that Sybil did that to you, I had no idea. Honestly if I would've known you know I would have talked to her about this—"

"Nothing you could have said that I haven't already. Sybil just has a way of running things, I can't be upset about that."

"What?” Sin’s brows crease, “No. It's not even about how she runs things, it's the fact that because Nadia is your girlfriend and not some raggedy ass man. It’s horrible."

"You know how them old heads be. It’s nothing new or can make me upset, babe."

"Fine then, it pisses me off. I love my grandma but her ways are what's gonna get her in trouble. She has to come to terms that she's in a different time and I don't know why she doesn't understand that."

“She can kiss all parts of my ass. No offense to your granny.”

"Well, you know you have someone that loves you no matter what, besides your sweetie of a girlfriend, Nadia. Y'all got room for one more?" Sin leans over on the lawn chair, puckering her lips out towards her.

"Please don't bring that up, Nadia is very much a fan of opening up our relationship." Pheme sighs.

"Well count me in." Sin grins.

Pheme raises her eyebrows and asks, “You wanna marry me, don't you?"

"How is this a conclusion we've just gotten to? I’m simply just admiring a beauty, a gem in the back of the jewelry store." Sin jokingly adores her.

"Did you just say I'm in the back of a jewelry store?"

"Ain't that where all the expensive shit is? Why would they present that in the front for people to steal?"

"Because if they steal at least it'll be a dime like me, hello?"

"True. Apologies, gorgeous."

"Besides, it's 'isn't that where all the expensive shit is' , not 'ain't'. Stop being illiterate, I never taught you to speak this way." Pheme says.

Sin places both of her elbows on her chair and leans even closer to Pheme as she hums,  "Mmm, yes."

"Girl." Pheme laughs, brushing her off. Everyone is now relaxed in their lawn chairs, standing around or seated on the grass waiting for the show to begin. The open field leads up to rustic wood. The material looked old but the actual scenery was very posh and modern. No curtains were requested by Sybil,  lights hanging from across the backdrop.

"Welcome to the annual New Salem Spectacular!" A voice gets everyone's attention, Sin and Pheme looking at the stage and seeing a familiar face who goes by Cenzo, a part of the Kin Coven.

"Cenzo is such a man to look at." Pheme admits. Sin nods her head in agreement, watching as he stands tall, bright smile and caramel skin, light brown hair complimenting his complexion.

"That's what they came up with as an introduction? These people are lame, man." Sin shakes her head.

"You wanna go up there instead?"

"Please shut the fuck up and look forward." Sin says without looking at her. Pheme smirks, keeping her eyes against Cenzo on stage as he speaks.

“We thank you all for coming out on a hot day like this. Today we have some tricks up our sleeve, and it isn't just sweat." Cenzo animatedly places his hand into the long sleeve atop of his arm. Reaching in until his fingers make their way back brushing over his wrist, a spec of a color follows, the audience making a questionable noise before an array of colors glide into the atmosphere wisping their four wings. Sounds of fascination follow as the insects cast into the quiet blue of the sky.

"He's a little corny but I guess it's for the kids and stuff." Pheme tries to take up for him.

"Right, for the kids."

"Speaking of kids, do you plan to pop out any demon seeds?"

"Didn't we just have this conversation? ‘Fuck them kids?’ Besides, the only way I would have kids is if I were having sex."

"Woah. Hold the phone and stop the press. You telling me to my face you not busting shit open for Cloud? I know he's a little frustrating, but not that frustrating." Pheme scoffs.

Yet it was true. Sin wasn't having sex with Cloud because she knew it was the one thing he had been looking for and hadn't received, it drove him insane. But she also knew that meant if he wasn't getting anything from her, she wasn't stupid enough to not believe he wasn't getting it from anywhere else. 

"Trust me, Cloud wasn’t the only one having his needs satisfied in the beginning of us being together, or before that. But my promiscuous days are over. I want someone that's gonna be in love and not just infatuated with me.”

"I love when you get all poetic on me." Pheme purrs.

Sin rolls her eyes as she continues, "I'm serious, Phem. I just want Cloud to grow up a little before I ever see him as a man that I would confidently present to my father."

Continuing their conversation comes to an immediate halt as Pheme feels a presence she doesn't necessarily take a liking to. Stopping mid sentence as a pearly white dress flows over the grass and makes its way over to the tent. Sin places her hand over her eyes as she scrunches her eyebrows.

Even she could admit that Electra was a gorgeous woman to look at. Flawless olive skin with a light amount of freckles laid on her snub nose being that she was the only biracial of the coven. Her eyes were spruce blue that complimented her hair that was— yes, born from the scalp— platinum, gray. She was something to look at until she opened her mouth.

It was her arrogance that got in the way of her being a simply confident woman, able to judge anyone but herself without a second thought. But she knew not to mess with Sin or Pheme. She was the type to want any man's attention and although nobody thought it was a bad thing, it was definitely a bad thing to have so much confidence to tell someone else's partner that they were attractive enough to have sex with. In front of everyone. 

"That's a really cute outfit, Sin." Electra compliments. Pheme raises her eyebrows surprisingly at the fact that Electra wasn't adding anything else. Sin was just as shocked.

“Thank you Electra, that's sweet of you to say."

"I mean I wouldn't really wear it, but—"

Sin cuts her off immediately, "You not liking the outfit and then you admitting to not being able to pull off the outfit are two different things. It's hot as hell outside Electra, please get the fuck away from me before I stab you with a fork."

Electra giggles, "I'm just kidding, damn bitch." Which causes Sin to make a confused face, wondering why she calls her that as if they're actually friends.

"Is there something you needed, Electra?" Pheme asks, trying to get her away from them as quickly as possible before Sin blows a fuse.

"Nope, I just wanted to tell you guys we had some extra guests coming to the festival today, maybe the coven will make some good money."

"Guests? Do you have some friends that you invited?"

"Something like that." Electra grins, Pheme truly doesn't like the smile she has on her face.

Sin speaks up, "Who are your friends, Electra?”

"Well a couple of days ago I left New Salem to go get out and find something to do.  So I traveled to Baton Rouge and stopped at a couple bars so men could of course buy me free drinks. One bar I stopped at had a couple of guys there and I told them about the show and—"

"Electra." Sin cuts off, once again which causes Electra's face to suddenly go from arrogant to a face Sin couldn't exactly read, maybe it was hesitance. Maybe it was a sudden need to not tell anyone what happened at that bar.

"Stop beating around what you actually came over to tell us. Is it more than that?"

Electra's lips pressed together in a thin line. She then awkwardly giggles, "Well I um— you see, I was having a good time. We began talking about what the festival consisted of and things might've gotten a little personal—"

Sin frowns. "What do you mean?"

For the first time in Sin's perception of Electra, she had never seen her as indecisive with her words.

Silence comes between the three before Cloud suddenly appears, saying to Electra, "The other Protectors want to watch the show so they asked if you didn't mind—"

"Well damn, Cloud. You’d think you were Electra's assistant as much as you be on her ass." Pheme rolls her eyes.

Sin doesn't say anything to Pheme's observation, but she does stare at Cloud, it was enough said in just her look. Once again, Electra was annoying but she didn't hate her. She was just a woman that didn't know her boundaries when it came to a man who was taken, but he didn't know his either.

"Of course I don't mind." Electra says and smiles, "See you girls later?"

"Bye Electra." Pheme laughs dismissively. Cloud goes to say something to Sin yet she tilts her head with raised eyebrows, an expression that's not warm in the slightest.

They wait until they walk away and that's when Sin finally speaks. "They fuckin', right?"

"Nah. I don't think they are."

"Why wouldn't you think so? The math not mathin' in your head? She grabbin’ his hand, smiling and shit and Cloud just entertaining it.”

"I just think they're doing it for show, babe. Cloud enjoys the attention of any girl that throws it his way, and you know Electra is— Electra. So they're both at fault. Besides, Electra is partnered with Demetrius in Flame Coven."

"Well whatever Demetrius is doing obviously isn't working,” Sin snaps.

"Sin, stop talking out of your ass. You know that you are. First of all, you don't even like Cloud like that so I don't know why you trippin’. While we’re aware that Cloud has sex with other women from time to time, you also use flirt and fuck other guys. You only talk shit because you don't like Electra, not because she's getting at Cloud," Pheme says and she can feel Sin rolling her eyes, "As for Cloud himself, I don't think I see him changing until he decides he wants to take your relationship more seriously."

"Oh? Well what happened to all that bullshit you were talking about earlier?” Sin turns her head.

Pheme disagrees, "It was stupid to say that. I'm sorry, I looked at it from my point of view and if Nadia acted that way with me, I wouldn't want shit to do with her either."

"It's fortunate I'm not like that, right?" A deep yet feminine voice calls behind Pheme.

Both girls turn their heads as they see a bright smile radiating at them, tawny butterfly locs in a half up-half down style with two pigtails and tendrils on the sides. Her neck was covered in infinite amounts of emerald jewelry, matching the waist beads on her hips, brown skin shining against the sun like gold.

She was a beauty, standing in her bohemian skirt and a long sleeve top that Pheme couldn't take her eyes off. She couldn't get enough of her. She stands in front of them holding a couple of aluminum foil pans which were sure to be filled with more food.

"Sybil wanted me to come and give you guys more food just in case you needed it. Plus, Sin can't keep stealing my woman like this," she states as she places the pans on the table and leans over, Pheme jumping out of her chair and placing her lips on Nadia's.

Sin gushes, "How cute. Too bad Pheme's in love with me . Scared of a little competition?"

"Want me to burn your ass?" Nadia asks suggestively.  Lifting her hands and Sin sees a swell of canary against the tip of her fingers, sinking back beneath her cuticles.

Sin says, "Well you are hot, maybe I'd like to endure a little heat."

"Then you woke up." Pheme concludes.

"Unfortunately I did. But anyways, as cute as y'all are to the point where it physically makes me sick, I need to go look for Iver."

"Want us to come find you when the Kin and Storm Coven performs? I know you really enjoy seeing them." Pheme suggests.

"I'd rather slice my tongue." Sin smiles.

Hopping off of the chair she grabs a hot plate and begins making her way back towards the cottages, hearing as Nadia yells, "Tell yo' fine daddy I said hey!"

Voices and music fade away as she gets deeper into the cottages.  No one seemed to be here besides the children and Protectors who were watching them. Placing her key back into the door she opens it successfully without having to yank it, making her way past the living room as her palms feel the warmth of the plate radiating on her skin.

"Dad?" She calls.

Searching in the open door of his room she sees nothing but a made bed and perfectly polished furniture. She continues through the hallway before she hears some music coming from the closed door of the her bathroom, about to just leave the plate on the kitchen counter when she hears a noise of discomfort, a second later hearing, "Fuck, man."

Slowly, she turns back towards the door and lightly knocks although she knows the music is too loud. She places her hand on the knob and turns it as she warns, "I'm coming in so scream if you're naked!"

R&B music fills her ears as she opens the door to see her father still in his bed clothes. He’s bent over the sink and towel around his neck. From the mirror she can see that there's face wash on his pained expression with his eyes scrunched closed.

She greets questionably, "Hey, Dad?"

"Sin? What are you doing here? I thought you were—" he pauses, flinching as soap continues to sink into his eyes, "Can you please grab me a towel from the cabinet?"

"I was just coming to look for you, what are you doing?" Sin chuckles.

She grabs a soft pink towel and puts it in his hand that's waving around in search. He places his face under the water until the burning in his sockets die down, then wiping his entire face to be greeted by Sin's. She notices the amount of hair oil seated on the bathroom counter.

Bringing her attention back to his face as he says, "Just washing my hair, I overslept and now I'm rushing to get ready."

"For the festival? It lasts for a while, I'm sure you won't miss anything. But also, you're not slick."

Iver raises an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"You only ever oil your locs if you have a special occasion." She points out.

Iver chuckles and he begins cleaning the counter of water spread as he says, "You and your nosey ass observations need to go somewhere else."

Grabbing the bottle of coconut hair oil she points to the toilet with her hand on her hip. Iver staring at her for a moment as he's about to protest, "Girl, I can do this shit on my own—"

"Dad. Don't get fought right now, sit down,” She threatens.

He rolls his eyes and then proceeds to sit on the toilet defeatedly. She then begins sectioning his hair, rubbing into his dry scalp and Iver seems to become very quiet.

"So wanna tell me why you're in my bathroom, or do you just love the scenery of a bedroom more creative than yours?"

"I came in here to find your hair oil, and also um— do you happen to have a picture of your mom anywhere? I was looking for one to place in a couple of frames.Usually I just order online, but I decided to travel and went outside of New Salem. Ended up buying  some from this store with even more devices then I’d ever seen. It was large and blue, you should have seen it."

Sin tries to hold her laugh at how he's speaking, Iver can feel the struggling before he confronts, " ‘The hell is so funny?"

"Walmart? Is that what you're referring to?"

"Oh yeah. Well you know what I meant." He corrects himself and she actually laughs, the silence then igniting back between the two. Sin debates on whether she should answer his previous question or just ignore it all together.

"I brought you a hot plate,” she offers.

"It's okay, I've been saving my appetite for the ceremony later, it's gonna be all kinda shit on the table."

He can't see how her eyebrows have fallen above her eyes as she wants him to clarify, "Ceremony?"

"Mhm." He has his eyes closed as she raises the back of his locs, aligning the edges with oil.

“My commencement ceremony."

Sin then stops what she's doing and walks around to where he can see her. Fear exhilarates through her body from her head to her toes, suddenly her heart is pounding ferociously.

"Why are you just now telling me about this? Sybil is handing her leadership over to you and you thought the day it happens would be good to tell me?"

"Why is this making you upset?"

"That means when you become older I will be next in line to lead this coven and I told you I didn't want that title. I'm not ready and Sybil doesn't understand that, but you do."

"Yes, but that'll be years before that happens, Sin. Your grandma has been here for a while, but her powers are seeming to fade. Eventually, she won't be able to protect this coven and she needs someone who can do that. If I'm being completely honest…you know I would have given this to your mom if she was here. Unlike Sybil, she wouldn't have run this place with a dictatorship, she would have wanted people to know they were family and they were protected. Maybe I can do that once it's handed off to me. Not as perfect as she would have, but just as good."

Sin realizes that she’s being a little more dramatic than needed. She was grateful that a man like her father was now stepping up, maybe he would run it in a way where he had everything in control, yet his people were still happy. She could remember how he would talk about changing a lot of Sybil's rules. The dynamic of each group within the coven and how their abilities correlated with one another, and how to make each relationship stronger. He wanted better, he intended just to do that.

Sin goes into her room and leans over, opening the bottom drawer of her dresser before pulling out a smooth velvet box. She unlocks the piece in the front before pulling out a couple of Polaroids. Shutting the box and placing it back in the drawer, she makes her way over to Iver with her hands out in front of her.

"These are all the pictures you took of mom." She states.

Iver looks at Sin with a face she couldn't read, maybe shocked? Maybe nostalgia? She wasn't able to tell. He takes the photos from her hands and stares at them, that same smile that Sin carries between her lips attached to these photos.

He can feel something in his throat tightening, yet he pushes it back down as he can hear his daughter's voice in his ears, "Mom would have been an amazing leader. So will you. You will make this a stronger coven and a family like no other, with or without her. I'm really happy for you."

He smiles and it's rare for him to do so. Holding the pictures tightly in his hand he says, "When I am of age, you'll be ready to take your place here. You'll lead better than me or Sybil, I know it.”

"Seeing the future, warlock?" She teases.

"Just a simple old man's manifestation."

"Hm, good thinking. Speaking of your age, how old are you anyways?"

"Old enough to be your father."

Her facial expression is practically expressionless. "Hilarious."

He kisses her forehead and sits back down until it was time for him to get dressed. Once he was finally ready, they made their way over to Sybil's cottage. It's very simple. Large living room, her bedroom right beside it.

Sybil comes out in her traditional cover up she always wore. Her locs are refreshed as Sin assumes she had one of the girls of the coven do them for her. She was just as beautiful, gray hair seeping into her original color and smile lines as well as wrinkles. Sin knew Iver was right, she was coming of age.

"That's what you've decided to wear today?" Sybil says instead of greeting her granddaughter.

Sin eyes her outfit by looking below herself, before coming back up, "Yeah?"

"Are you wearing a bra?"

Sin's eyes nearly could have rolled to the back of her head. She then walks up to Sybil and kisses her cheek greeting, "Hi, grandma."

"Hi, honey."

She looks over at Iver and says, "You look nice, although somebody should have waxed your ears. How you gonna walk around with them pointy ass ears and they be dirty?"

Sybil then turns and goes for her bathroom as they both assume she's looking for q-tips. Iver follows after her, all while saying he doesn't need her to do it for him. Sin suddenly hears her father groaning, looking over to see Sybil cleaning out his ears. It was moments like these that made her happy to see them acting as a family. But of course, that never lasted for long.

She sat on the living room sofa as she could hear the sound of Iver and Sybil speaking softly in her room. The door opened before they called her into the room and she hesitantly entered. The both of them stare at her before she looks back and forth between them and she speaks first, “If this is about my outfit y'all can honestly kiss my a—“

"No, Sin." Iver cuts off. She’s relieved, but the fact that they're both standing there silently makes her worried.

"You know that your fathers commencement ceremony is tonight. We’ve made everyone aware this is officially the night he is stepping up as leader of New Salem. I don't want you to feel that you aren't ready to have those same opportunities when he becomes of age."

She wants to say that even at that age she still won’t be ready, yet she stays quiet.

"Tonight we will be focusing on his abilities and what he's capable of, and then you will be performing yours as well."

"Woah. Wait. What?"

Sin looks over to Iver. Sybil keeps her out of suspense as she continues, "I've given you slack for not being aware of your abilities as well as not wanting to show them. You are the daughter of a powerful woman as well as man, and granddaughter. There is no reason that you continue to walk around acting as if you're just some little girl with unknown wonders of magic."

Sin can feel her throat becoming dry. "Grandma—"

"I'm not finished."

Okay, she could admit it. For as long as Sin knew one thing that she wasn't confident in, it was her abilities or what Sybil called her, "Gifts." Although she dearly loved him, her fear of ending up like Iver was something that kept her from showing off what she could do, to a point where she didn't even know every power she had. Or even what she could offer to protect New Salem.

She knew of some, but not of all. Regarding the ones she was aware of, Sybil used them to her advantage which was entirely exhausting. So she chose not to use them at all. She could be like Iver. She could be like Sybil. But she could also be like Bambi. She didn't know, nor did she actually want to find out. Hopefully she wouldn't have to be in a situation where she did.

"At the commencement ceremony we will test all of your abilities, and we'll see where that puts you. Once Iver moves up you will become a Protector and work with the others, see how you can bring together other groups. I have also decided to make Cloud the leader of the Protectors, I will make the announcement tonight."

"Grandma, I don't exactly think—"

"Thinking means you're indecisive, and to be clear so you can understand, I know what the hell I just said."

Silence. Nobody says anything because they know when Sybil says something that's final. Sin was getting damn tired of always having to accept that. She should have been able to have a say so because she was family, but with Sybil she knew that wasn't an excuse either. Iver could feel the tension in the room, seeing Sin’s expression change as Sybil continues to talk to her, she suddenly seems out of focus.

He places his hand on Sybil’s shoulder politely interrupting her as he says, "I understand that Sin has been hiding when it comes to her abilities, but I don't think today should be the day we put them to the test. I think that—"

"Dad."

Sin intervenes. She turns her ear towards the front door and becomes silent. Iver sees her brown irises swiftly go blank, now vacant and cream colored. She can hear her heart beating profusely, her ears aligning to an undertone of distinct chimes, voices raising in panic.

"Do you hear that?"

The silence is louder than anyone in the room. Iver frowns at the look on his child’s face—her eyes— he’d never seen this happen before.

"Someone's coming."

Sybil stares before her eyes quickly turn to the door, only hearing the house make a settling noise. As Iver is trying to figure out what’s going on they suddenly hear a scream. It goes silent again. Sin's heart is pounding, she’s surprised she can hear anything else. She doesn’t understand what’s happening to her, but she can only focus on the harsh stomping that flies past the peace of the cottage.  People are now running.

The door to Sybil's cottage flies open that it slams against the wall and there's Cloud, the look on his face anything but scared. He's terrified.

Iver finally cuts the silence as he says, "What the hell is going on, Cloud?"

"Witch hunters."

Sin is still lost in her trance, her eyes still not returning back to their regular state. Cloud's face drops as he sees a tear come down her eye, her hand on her chest as she cries softly, she could hear everything. Feel everything. See everything.

Both men jump as a round of gunshots flash past their ears like lightning. It sounds familiar to Sybil’s ears. They don't understand why no one is moving until Iver looks at his mother and she whispers, "It's happening again."

Iver has no time to react before Cloud incites, "We have to go!"

He comes back to reality and takes off after him, shutting the door behind themselves. Ammo continues to fire off second after second so much that they've lost count. The screams of complete terror and chaos exudes from afar. Yet to Sin's ears it's right in front of her. She sees bodies falling to the ground and blood spewing from their wounds. She feels as though she's about to pass out because she doesn't know how long this will last, echoes of cottage doors slamming and people begging for their life. Pleading for mercy, but it never being given to them. Sybil can see the blood of her sisters spurting out on the grass, women running as fast as they could just to save themselves. It was too late.

The gunshots finally stop. Silence once again takes over the atmosphere.  The same moment that Sin's sight finally meets her, the only thing she's able to see is Sybil standing across from her. She still hadn’t moved.

Sin takes a minute as her heart still hadn’t stopped beating outside of her chest, looking around in confusion to Sybil’s curiosity as her grandmother suddenly began making her way out the door. Sin takes a deep breath before she walks out far enough to see outside. She can't see anything. The cottages are still put together, a pop of innocent colors and nothing else. She was standing in the middle of her home by herself. Her home.

Walking closer enough to see the field felt like a nightmare as Sin’s trembling body traveled into the grass.  People who previously stood around now laid out on the ground. There were different shades of red all over the place. Splattered against the grass, against the stage, against their clothes. Wounds. Children holding their parents hands before they were both attacked. She could see the silver of the bullet wrapped under the skin of a woman's chest. The side of a man's leg, the soul of someone who was once enjoying the scenery.

Sin slowly scanned her sight over before she saw a man on the ground. Chunks of where his brain used to be inside of his head. She closed her eyes. The sounds of men, women and children softly crying as whoever was still alive stared, unable to know what to do. There was someone crying specifically louder than anyone else. She turns as she sees a familiar sweet face, a smile that was once there now gone.

"Oh my god. Pheme."

She goes over to her where Pheme is seated on the ground, her face nearly red as she continues to sob, "No. No. No."

Rocking back and forth the woman in her arms that was Nadia. Sin's eyes followed to the previously forest green shirt that was now soaking a dark color. She was unable to process where she had been shot. Pheme held her close to her chest and continued rocking, Sin leaning down and holding her hand that was so tight on Nadia's body she knew she had left a mark. Sweat covers Pheme’s face as tears glisten over the rest, choking in her own cries because she can't do anything else but so.

"I can't feel her. I can't feel her soul with mine. Why can't I feel her?"

Sin kept thinking to herself, how did this happen?

Holding her hand for a couple more seconds she says quietly to Pheme, "Don’t move."

She gets up to go find Sybil as she sees her standing over two Protectors aiding someone. Other’s help people off of the ground and begin to cover wounds with anything they can find. She can't see who's laying on the ground until she gets closer and sees the familiar locs, taking no second to wait when she bleats, "Dad!"

A pair of arms catch her in their hold as she feels the presence of Cloud. His strength is able to hold her back as she fights in his arms, hearing his voice  telling her to calm down. She refuses as she fights, “Get the fuck off me, Cloud!”

The sorrow that's filled in the eyes of who's left of each coven watches her. She wants to calm down but she can’t.  As angry as she is, the strength of Cloud isn’t having it. As she twists and turns, her eyes catch sight of familiar gray hair. When her logic finally comes to par, she realizes something.

"You fucking bitch!" She fumes, staring directly at Electra. She jumps at the sound of a raging Sin. Cloud holds her tighter, knowing if she gets out of his hold she's gonna kill this girl.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Electra says, her voice cracking.

"You fucking did this!“

Sin can't hold anything she says back. Her voice begins to falter, now unable to see with all the tears in her eyes. Cloud fights with her until they both collapse to the ground. She feels the ground beneath her and blood in her palms, the feeling of exhaustion hitting her at that exact moment.

It was a frightening scene as Protectors spread everywhere. It hurt Sin more because these were innocent people that knew nothing of what would hit them today. Here they were now. Half of them, gone. When Sin looked at Sybil, there were no tears in her eyes and there was nothing on her face she could read. How could she be so sane when something like this happened?

"Take him inside, stay with him until I come back." Sybil says to the Protectors that were aiding Iver. It brings a small sense of relief to Sin.

Sybil then makes eye contact with her, “Heal her.”

Sin frowns. Confusion and tears glaring across her eyes. Sybil brings her eyes over to Pheme and Nadia. Silence envelopes and confusion still fills in Sin’s chest, but she’s aware Sybil’s not repeating herself. She looks around at everyone else who's just as confused as her. Slowly standing from Cloud's arms and making her way over to Pheme who hasn't moved from the position she's in, Sin leans down as she asks, "Can I see her?"

Expecting Pheme to not move, she surprisingly does. Allowing Nadia to be placed in Sin's arms she continues to hold one of her hands, her breathing erratic as she continues to cry. Sin takes Nadia’s other hand and places it in both of her palms, closing her eyes. Pheme, Cloud and the others watch. She has her head kneeled towards the ground with her eyes closed, sniffling as tears spray her cheeks. They can feel the grass beneath them rumbling and the air whistling.

Silence cuts sharply as Nadia's body jumps and she screams. Blood spews from her mouth as she jerks against the ground and Sin grips her body, holding her as she comforts dizzily, "You're okay. You're here. It's just me and Pheme. You're here.”

Her erratic noises and breathing slows down, her eyes going from Sin to Pheme's before Nadia cries and hugs her to her chest, both women only focused on one another and thankful to be alive. Sin feels her head pounding and a rush of nausea in her stomach as her eyes are now low of weariness. She tries to stand but she nearly falls back down. Cloud catches her as she fully extends herself up trying to push him off. She mutters, "I'm f—fine.”

"Sybil, Sin cannot heal everyone from the coven as well as these people of Thibodaux if that's what you think she's about to do. She may be as powerful as you, but she can't do that on her own. You could kill her!" Cloud exclaims.

"So now you care about anything going on with her?" Sybil asks.

Cloud says nothing and she retorts, "How cute."

She turns her attention back towards everyone so she can make sure they hear, "The Protectors will take every person who is not a part of this coven alive and will wipe their memory. Whomever is left you will dispose of their body,” she pauses as she looks around.

“….As for the rest of this coven," she takes one more look at the bodies against the ground, "They were weak. Obviously they couldn't save themselves."

The silence along the people standing as everyone's stares at this woman, they come to the realization of her true colors. Never did they expect such aloofness from her. She locked eyes with Sin whom she couldn't tell was hurt, pissed, or both. It's not like she cared anyways. Protectors followed behind her and just like that, she was gone. Everything was gone.

[vivithefolle]

I just wanna ask, and don’t get mad at me cause I’m genuinely curious, how do you stan Ron? Like, I like him, but he is definitely misogynistic (slut shaming Ginny, treating hermione like she owes him something and being mad that she kissed someone years before, always objectifying Fleur, and acting like girls who aren’t pretty aren’t worth much). Like, by DH I feel like he definitely has mostly grown out of it, but still 6/7 books he’s kinda unbearable IMO

how do you stan Ron? 

Like this:

OH MY GOD HAVE YOU SEEN. HAVE YOU SEEN HIM DID YOU SEE MY BABY OH MY GOD. WHEN HARRY’S ARM HAD GONE KABLOOIE BECAUSE OF LOCKHART AND HE. RON. HE WAS. HELPING HIM GET DRESSED???? OH MY GOD BABY???? HHHHNNNNGGGG. AND. AND. AND ALSO WHEN HE. OMG. WHEN HE WAS PUTTING FOOD ON HIS FRIENDS’ PLATES LIKE. MOM FRIEND ALERT MOM FRIEND ALERT MOM FRIEND ALERT. AND THE WAY HE’S ALWAYS BLUSHING AND BEING EMBARRASSED AT THE SLIGHTEST PRAISE BUT ALSO HE’S SO DESPERATELY SEEKING IT BUT HE KNOWS HE CAN’T TAKE IT AND EEK EEK EEK THAT’S SO CUTE SOMEONE HOLD ME IT’S ADORABLE RONALD WEASLEY YOU ARE SO GOING TO BE THE DEATH OF ME IT’S ILLEGAL TO BE THIS CUTE!!!!

Ok and then.

he is definitely misogynistic 

No. And here’s why.

slut shaming Ginny 

Yes, that was wrong. And guess what, that’s also something he probably - scratch that, definitely - picked up from his mother. And also his brothers, recall how Fred and George too don’t like to see Ginny go around with boys. There’s also something to recall: Ron was there when Ginny was taken into the Chamber of Secrets and learned later that it was because she had trusted an older guy. You seriously wouldn’t be paranoid about who your sister dates after that? It was wrong. Yeah. And he more than learned his lesson when Ginny clapped back by virgin-shaming him and basically told him that he was childish because he hadn’t have a relationship yet. So would that make Ginny sexist too? Or is it just for Ron?

treating hermione like she owes him something 

..................... uuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhh... when? When the fuck did anything like that happen?

He made a prat of himself at the Yule Ball, that much is obvious. But he didn’t tell her anything like “you should be with me” or didn’t insinuate anything of the sort. He was a jealous bitch but kept attacking Krum, not Hermione.

If you mean in sixth year when he treated her with “icy, sneering indifference” for the course of two weeks, yeah that was bad but that’s not “treating her like she owes him something”, the fuck?

being mad that she kissed someone years before 

Yeah. I know. And that was bad, ooooh you got me to admit Ron did bad stuff, that’s what you want to see, right? And I reckon he was also mad that she hid it from him, and that he had to learn it from his sister of all people. We see Ron handles what he considers betrayals terribly. I have some meta discussing the possibility that he has a form of Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria.

always objectifying Fleur 

Um... no, he doesn’t. He makes a stupid comment about her once in GOF then stops. Let’s also fucking remember that Fleur is a Veela, she literally makes guys stare at her as part of her powers!! I’m not blaming her because she’s literally born that way, but you can’t blame someone who is under magical compulsion either.

acting like girls who aren’t pretty aren’t worth much 

So tell me why he was friends with Hermione then?

Because Hermione wasn’t Emma Watson the super hawt sexy model goddess. Hermione was Mrs Generic. Until this once at the Yule Ball when she got the pretty princess perfect Mary Sue makeover but then stopped because she had to remain ~relatable uwu~.

Again. Ron made stupid sexist comments. But it’s actively shown that he doesn’t follow up on them. If he did indeed live by the motto “girls who aren’t pretty aren’t worth much”, explain to me why he wasn’t simping and drooling all over Padma Patil who is explicitly stated to be one of the prettiest girls at school when she was his date? Why exactly did he ignore her and was a miserable twat the whole evening instead of basking in the joy of having snagging a girl that was “worth it”? Well surprise, it’s because HE ACTUALLY ISN’T LIKE THAT AND WHAT HE SAYS IS MAYBE SHIT HIS “COOL OLDER BROTHERS” SAY AND HE THINKS THAT BY EXTENSION IT WOULD MAKE HIM COOL TO REPEAT IT. MIMETISM, THAT'S BASIC FUCKING HUMAN PSYCHOLOGY FOR FUCKING TODDLERS MY FUCKING GOD.

Like, by DH I feel like he definitely has mostly grown out of it, 

............

...................................

...............................................................

so. so why. so why wouldn’t you. use that. as a reason. to stan him.

like.

fuck all the “hurr durr ron weasley the boy who made it out of the friendzone!!!!” bullshit, let’s start going with “Ron Weasley, the Boy who became a Man, and not one of those 'uugghh im such an alpha male’ ones but one that’s got the balls to say ‘hey love, I’ve got an idea, what if you kept doing that job you love and feel passionate about while I support you and do the majority of the childcare while also working a smaller job on the side so we’re never short on money’“

Why you people gotta be “yeah I like Ron BUTT” when you know full-well this fucking awful fandom will rake him over hot coals over the slightest mistake he does - worse, will actively go out of their way to interpret his positive moments in the most negative way possible??? Fuck off with that bullshit. Ron dared to say bad stuff omygah big deal, he was forgiven for it all and you’re just all cowards looking to feel “pure” by telling yourself “oh yeah but he was problematic once uwu”. FUCK. THAT. NOISE.

but still 6/7 books he’s kinda unbearable IMO 

And IMO he’s not, funny how that works

So.

I guess it’s impossible to stan Ron because he was problematic uwu.

Ok.

Then I hereby decree that it’s impossible to stan Hermione Granger because:

“I’ll bet you wish you hadn’t given up Divination now, don’t you, Hermione?” asked Parvati, smirking. [...] “Not  really,”  said  Hermione  indifferently,  who  was  reading  the  Daily Prophet. “I’ve never really liked horses.” She turned a page of the newspaper, scanning its columns. “He’s not a horse, he’s a centaur!” said Lavender, sounding shocked. “A gorgeous centaur . . .” sighed Parvati. “Either  way,  he’s  still  got  four  legs,”  said  Hermione  coolly.  “Any-way, I thought you two were all upset that Trelawney had gone?” - Order of the Phoenix, ch 27

wow casual use of a racial slur yay!!! A+

And it’s also forbidden to stan Harry Potter either since:

It was raining hard now, and she was nowhere to be seen. He simply did not understand what had happened; half an hour ago they had been getting along fine. “Women!”  he  muttered  angrily,  sloshing  down  the  rain-washed  street with his hands in his pockets. “What did she want to talk about Cedric  for  anyway?  Why  does  she  always want to drag up a subject that makes her act like a human hosepipe?” - Order of the Phoenix, ch 25

and

“Harry! There you are, thank goodness! Hi, Luna!”  “What’s  happened  to  you?”  asked  Harry,  for  Hermione  looked  distinctly  disheveled,  rather  as  though she had just fought her way out of a thicket of Devil’s Snare.  “Oh,  I’ve  just  escaped  —  I  mean,  I’ve  just  left  Cormac,”  she  said.  “Under  the  mistletoe,”  she  added in explanation, as Harry continued to look questioningly at her.  “Serves you right for coming with him,” he told her severely.  “I thought he’d annoy Ron most,” said Hermione dispassionately. “I debated for a while about Zacharias Smith, but I thought, on the whole —”  “You considered Smith?” said Harry, revoked. - Half-Blood Prince

Victim-blaming! Nice Harry, nice. Always classy.

Ok, Ginny stanning is already cancelled because she virgin-shamed Ron, right, so who’s left, who’s left... ah yeah:

“There you go,” said Fred proudly. “Best range of love potions you’ll find anywhere.” - Half-Blood Prince

Selling date rape drugs proudly ouh là là. Bye Fred.

"Do they work?” she asked.  “Certainly they work, for up to twenty-four hours at a time depending on the weight of the boy in question...”  “...and the attractiveness of the girl,” said George, reappearing suddenly at their side. “But we’re not  selling  them  to  our  sister,”  he  added,  becoming  suddenly  stern,  “not  when  she’s  already  got  about five boys on the go from what we’ve...”  “Whatever you’ve heard from Ron is a big fat lie,” said Ginny calmly, leaning forward to take a small pink pot off the shelf.

Assuming that only girls use love potions, and only on boys. Men never rape in JKR’s world, only women do, you heard it from George Weasley here folks, I’m just passing on the message. Ah and I hope you’re also starting the Fred And George Hate Club given how he’s also slut-shaming Ginny.

“What’s this?”  “Guaranteed  ten-second  pimple  vanisher,”  said  Fred.  “Excellent  on  everything  from  boils  to  blackheads,  but  don’t  change  the  subject.  Are  you  or  are  you  not  currently  going  out  with  a  boy  called Dean Thomas?” “Yes, I am,” said Ginny. “And last time I looked, he was definitely one boy, not five. What are those?”  She  was  pointing  at  a  number  of  round  balls  of  fluff  in  shades  of  pink  and  purple,  all  rolling  around the bottom of a cage and emitting high-pitched squeaks.  “Pygmy  Puffs,”  said  George.  “Miniature  puffskeins,  we  can’t  breed  them  fast  enough.  So  what  about Michael Corner?”  “I  dumped  him,  he  was  a  bad  loser,”  said  Ginny,  putting  a  finger  through  the  bars  of  the  cage  and watching the Pygmy Puffs crowd around it. “They’re really cute!”  “They’re  fairly  cuddly,  yes,”  conceded  Fred.  “But  you’re  moving  through  boyfriends  a  bit  fast,  aren’t you?”  Ginny turned to look at him, her hands on her hips. There was such a Mrs. Weasley-ish glare on her face that Harry was surprised Fred didn’t recoil.  “It’s none of your business. And I’ll thank you” she added angrily to Ron, who had just appeared at George’s elbow, laden with merchandise, “not to tell tales about me to these two!”

Ah, good on you for defending yourself, Ginny, but remember, Ginny stanning is prohibited because she’s been problematic in the past and is gonna be problematic in the future and that’s baaaaaaad. Careful kids, don’t get ideas. It’s problematic to like people who’ve done problematic things.

So I guess nobody can like anything or anyone now. Sorry guys. Liking things is evil, what if the thing you liked had, OR USED TO HAVE, *gasp* flaws, can’t take that risk, ohmygah.

[quadballz]

𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓; arc I

I. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥

next: ࿔*:･ﾟi. | table of contents

A RAGGED OLD notebook was clenched tightly in her arms as she and Yasuho hid behind a wall of dirt, both almost out of breath. "I...didn't even get to...show you what...I found," heaved (y/n) through heavy breaths, peering over the wall to make sure they had really lost Joshu. There was no sight of him so far, but that meant nothing. Joshu was an obsessed idiot that only affirmed her family motto— "Never trust a 'Jojo' as they are nothing but bad luck"— and in hindsight, she really should have listened.

But all that she was focused on now was making sure the guy didn't come anywhere close to Yasuho.

(y/n) looked at her friend, finding her to be much paler than she had before; "Nevermind," mumbled (y/n), pushing aside what she had been itching to tell the other girl, "are you okay? You don't look too good." Yasuho hummed lowly while holding her palm to her forehead, "...dizzy...can't stand up properly..." (y/n)'s brow furrowed and she leaned over to place a hand on Yasuho's forehead while simultaneously moving Yasuho's hand. Yasuho hummed again at the coolness of her touch, leaning into it and making (y/n)'s face flush. Her eyes looked anywhere but at the girl in front of her, only to find a man in the dirt a few meters away.

"Who the hell is that?!" she screeched, falling back onto the dirt as Yasuho jumped towards her, both girls embracing each other on instinct. "Wha-what do you want?!" shouted Yasuho, slightly out of breath as they stared for any indication of movement from him and only receiving muffled words. They looked at each other with a raised brow, Yasuho slowly inching toward the man in the dirt. (y/n) panicked internally and crept behind her, looking over the girl's shoulder with caution.

"Hey, are you alive?" she questioned as they stayed against the wall, "what the hell are you doing down there?" The shirtless man (she hadn't noticed until they had gotten closer) lifted his chin just enough for them to see his face, making (y/n)'s face burn— damn, was he good-looking. Yasuho backed away slightly and brought her out of her thoughts as he lifted a hand towards them. It wasn't until Yasuho noticed blood on his shoulder that her demeanor changed instantly from fear to worry.

"Can you hear me?! Are you seriously injured?! Are you dying?! Why are you buried in the ground?! Would you like me to call for help?!" she cried only for him not to reply as (y/n) pulled her phone out to take pictures. Yasuho's head spun to the side, looking at her in dismay as she took pictures of the man. "What?" asked (y/n) innocently as if what she was doing was normal, "I needed a pretty guy like him as reference for my manga." Yasuho rolled her eyes playfully with a soft smile.

"Kishibe (y/n), you are the craziest woman I have ever met." (y/n) gave her a grin before going back to taking more pictures as Yasuho dialed the police, "why thank you, miss!" As Yasuho made the call, (y/n) stopped her picture-taking, looking over the man's dazed face carefully, taking in every detail of his face and neck- a star. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of it, reaching for the notebook she had left up by in the dirt immediately. "Someone should be here soon to help— (y/n)?" Yasuho stopped to look at her panicked friend who flipped through the pages of the notebook she had wanted to show her earlier.

"A-A star! A star birthmark! I know great-great-grandma mentioned it in here!" Yasuho turned to look at the blood and birthmark closer, finding the wound to be a bite-mark. "Bite marks? Hard to tell...perhaps he was bitten by some wild animal? But what would leave those kinds of marks behind? Definitely made by some kind of teeth... What exactly did this?" Yasuho mumbled to herself while pulling her phone out to take a picture as her best friend flipped hurriedly through the notebook's pages. (y/n) flipped one final page and took a shaky breath, but his ragged voice interrupted before she could say another word.

"Hirose...Yasuho...Is that correct? Your...name?"

The two girls stared in shock as he looked around in confusion and then looked at (y/n), "and you...you're Kishibe...(y/n)?" They could only continue staring dumbfoundedly until his head fell into the mud with gurgling sounds. Yasuho screamed and (y/n) quickly threw the book over her shoulder, vividly remembering the words it had said inside— "Always help a Joestar as they are the bravest  and noblest people you will ever meet." She didn't hesitate to grab his hand, attempt to pull him out and let Yasuho help by pulling at her waist. With a few heaves and pulls, they were finally able to pull him out.

"Great-great-grandma never mentioned Joestars were this heavy," grumbled (y/n) as Yasuho slipped out from underneath her, looking at her phone whose screen showed the birthmark as a transparent bubble. "(y-y/n)! Look, it's transparent!" (y/n) peered at the image on the screen, almost choking on her spit as she held the man in her arms; he had a stand. Then again, the notebook said her Joestar had the ability too. (y/n) turned back to the guy, scanning his...naked form. To both their surprise, they found...four.

"Wait a second- four balls?" she stammered in disbelief, tilting her head to look at the guy's face as Yasuho freaked out behind her, "...mind if I get a picture for reference?" She got no response from the man and decided that the image in her head would be more than enough for any art purposes whatsoever. Instead, she let herself look over his face; from his eyelashes back down to the star mark on his neck.

"Yasuhooo~ (y/nnnnn)~ What're ya two doing? Having fun without me?"

Both girls sighed as he looked at the three with wide eyes, not liking the way the man was laying in-between them. He huffed with an odd look on his face, reaching down to grab an alarmingly large rock. "What the fuck is going on here~ Indeed, what the fuck is going oooooon~ Go on explain yourselves if you can! I'm waiting~" he sang eerily as he stomped over slowly. "Joshu, I swear to god, don't start shit or we're going to have a problem," grumbled (y/n) as he staggered over to them.

He didn't seem to even acknowledge her warning and continued walking towards them, "p-pretty cocky thinking you can touch my Yasuho and (y/n)...piece of shit." Yasuho went wide-eyed and grabbed the other girl's arm in a panic. "He thinks we fooled around with him, (y/n)!" she screeched as (y/n) stared at the man in front of her with distaste. "One, just say sex. Two, he's pretty hot so why not let Joshu think what he wants," (y/n) stated, sneakily pulling out her stand in precaution.

Yasuho went red and moved in front of her and the naked man, making (y/n) freeze as Joshu grimaced and pushed her aside harshly. "Step aside, Yasuho!" (y/n) went cold as she watched Yasuho roll across the ground, dirt rising around her. "Yasuho—" She too was then thrown to the side before she could react, hitting the ground in the same way. Her head shot up to witness as Joshu held the rock higher above the man's head, ready to smash it down onto his head.

"Dammit, Joshu! Homogenic—"

She stopped as the man grabbed Joshu's arm and placed a fist under his neck, preventing Joshu from proceeding with his actions. Yet even still, Joshu had managed to get the upper hand just slightly enough to hit him in the back of the head, making Yasuho scream. "Here comes the finisher, asshole!" (y/n) panicked as her stand stood beside her, "fuck! what's the opposite of rock? No, earth! Uh...Air?" Before she could make her stand do anything, a bubble popped from his neck, floating over calmly towards Joshu's eyes.

"You're as good as dead, you worthless shit stain! Kill or be killed!" A sudden pop made Joshu stop in his tracks, eyes completely black. Or maybe it was that they were just gone completely. "Huh? My...eyes," stammered Joshu, turning his head back and forth wildly, "what the fuck...?! My eyes! Huh?!" (y/n) watched with her hand slapped over her mouth, letting her eyes trail over to the naked man who she believed may have been a Joestar.

She ignored the cries (and the vomiting) of Joshu, still staring at the very pretty man who had left Joshu and himself out cold on the dirt. She and Yasuho shakily stood up, looking at the aftermath of the bizarre fight. "This is yours, right?" asked the pink-haired girl, handing her the ragged notebook, "what was it that you were going to say earlier?" (y/n) crouched down beside the man, letting her fingers brush over the mark with a smile upon her lips.

"NOTHING... BUT I THINK I FOUND A JOESTAR."

[tenderjock]

before those hands pulled me from the earth;

The nightmares never get easier.

Sam jackknifes to sitting, forehead pressed against his knees, breath coming fast and shaky. The sheets, blankets stripped back in the Louisiana heat, tangle around his limbs until he kicks his way free. The old bed squeals frantically. Bucky makes a surprised noise and sits up, too.

“Hey,” he says, reaching out with his right hand to hover above Sam’s shoulder. “Hey, you okay?”

Sam laughs, a high, unhinged sound. Bucky pulls a face; Sam’s not looking at him, but he knows that he pulls a face. He’s gotten to know the man pretty well, recently.

“Stupid question,” Bucky says. Sam nods, still pressing his face into his knees. “Do you need me to do anything?”

“Stay there,” Sam says. “And don’t – don’t move. Don’t say anything. Just – stay there.”

Bucky exhales a short little sigh, but he doesn’t move and he doesn’t speak. Sam gets his breathing under control, slowly, bit by bit. It takes a few minutes for him to realize that Bucky is matching his breaths, in-one-two-three, hold-one-two-three, out-one-two-three.

It’s weird. It’s a little nice, kind of, but mostly it’s weird. That’s Bucky’s life motto, though, probably, so Sam is mostly grateful that that’s all the cybernetic superpowered brainwashed former assassin is doing.

“It was Riley,” Sam says, in the quiet of his sister’s guest room. It’s dark, dark enough that he figures Bucky can’t see the tears in his eyes. He doesn’t think he’s ever mentioned Riley to him before. “Dumbass Riley. Thought he was invincible. Thought he could out-fly every single bullet, but eventually that bullet caught up with him.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, but his breath hitches for a second.

“All I could do was watch,” Sam says. “Just watch, and keep flying. We never even recovered his body. I had to talk to his partner – she thanked me. For coming out myself to see her, her and their little baby girl.” The tears are really coming now. Sam squeezes his eyes shut as hard as he can. “Fuck.”

Bucky shifts, just the tiniest bit. “Am I allowed to talk now?” he asks.

Sam snorts out a bit of laugh, genuine this time. “No, man,” he says. “Stay shut up, please.”

“Asshole,” Bucky says, but there’s some warmth behind the words, until he goes somber again.

Sam wipes his tears away, rests his check on his bent knee and looks at Bucky. He can’t see his expression in the dim room, just the outline of his profile.

“When I – fell from the train,” Bucky says, voice stuttering. “I didn’t know what would happen to me. I was in the snow, and the dirt, my arm torn clean off for – I don’t know how long, maybe days.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?” Sam asks. Despite his best efforts, it’s less wry and more sad.

“I’m getting there,” Bucky says. “But I trusted Steve. Not to find me, I knew no one would find me. I believed in him. In his ability to carry on. And he did. And you did.”

Like Sam had said: nice, and a little weird. He sniffs, uncoils from the cramped ball he’s made of his limbs. “C’mon,” he says, laying back down, facing Bucky. “Let’s get some sleep.”

Bucky lays down next to him, pulls the sheets back up over them. They stay like that for a long second, in the silence and the dark. “Goodnight, Sam,” Bucky says, eventually. His voice is rough.

“Goodnight, James,” Sam says, and closes his eyes.

[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

Chapter 6! And I’m at 70 followers already, which is hella hype, thank y’all for taking your time to read my rambling about all this stuff. Don’t feel shy to ask questions or whatever if you like; even if I can be a bit disjointed, it’s something fun to talk about, and as I get further in I can even get a better sense of how to answer them to the best of my knowledge.

Also, can I say I love this little intro profile to Izuku?

All the little tidbits about him are just so fitting! Though my one weird take on it is why it says his quirk is ‘TBD’... unless Hori was already planning for the developments to come from the Joint Training Arc and beyond. Or maybe just leaving himself room for those kinds of developments if he wasn’t quite set yet? 

Still, I think this was still the time period where Hori was thinking it was going to end after like, Kamino or something. With something like Two Heroes. 

Discord: It could have been a placeholder until Hori came up with a fake quirk name for Izuku to hide his quirk behind, aka Superpower. 

Anyways, without further delays, time to get into the chapter itself!

[No. 6 - What I Can Do For Now]

We dive right in with Ochako protesting how unfair this is. Aizawa notes that Japan is full of unfair things - natural disasters, highway pileups, rampaging villains. Heroes are the ones to correct that unfairness. UA is going to put them through the wringer for the next three years - as per the Plus Ultra motto.

(also, nice silhouettes of Midnight, Thirteen, and… I think Lunch Rush? The discord also suggested it might either be a proto-design for Vlad King, or just a background character who ended up scrapped/forgotten about.)

Aizawa calls them out to bring their best, saying that now it’s for real. Tenya thinks about it being a trial by fire, Katsuki thinks of his move as nothing, Ochako is shaking in determination, the rest of the class is focused, and Izuku is… still stressing. Also, these proto-designs:

I cannot even. Those horns. That HAIR. The lack of beak. It’s just so weird compared to their finalized designs. 

The first event gets off to a speedy start, Tenya zooming right through the 50-meter dash thanks to his Engine quirk. Aizawa thinks that that event was too suited to Tenya, and thinks about how he’ll handle the other events. Tsuyu wasn’t too slow, though, and the narrative doesn’t even try to introduce her quirk with how obvious it is - she’s a frog!

Ochako and Ojiro are shown next, and-

Ojiro, why the leaping? Someone suggested it might be a reference, but it could just be another early weird character thing being tried, I guess? I don’t even know, it’s just strange.

Next is Aoyama and Mina, with the latter with the curliest horns I cannot even. Aoyama also makes a move to show off his quirk, calling the others unimaginative as he rockets backwards along the track- and then falling flat before the goal and having to get back up on his feet to do so again, with Mina managing to pass ahead of him thanks to the acid under her feet. 

Aoyama is still sparkling as he explains how if he’d fired an instant earlier, his stomach would have exploded, which, fun! The rest of the class is like ‘what the fuck dude’, which is a mood. Aizawa thinks about how the kids are pushing their quirks to their limits and seeing how they’ve improved, he can guess what they can and can’t do, and how that will be linked to their creative use of their quirks. 

Meanwhile, Katsuki and Izuku are doing the sprint side by side, Katsuki taking on an absolutely feral expression as he uses his quirk to blast ahead, in the process starling and slowing down Izuku slightly.

Seriously, Katsuki’s faces are just. I can’t describe how much of a gremlin this child is. And this!

His thoughts immediately going back to Izuku right after determining how that use of his quirk worked for him. His being thoughtful about that force distribution suggests he didn’t use his quirk much practically before UA… which makes sense, producing explosions and then using it for movement purposes are two different things.

Also the bot giving Izuku a little ‘good job’ just touched my heart. Though it really sucks that Katsuki probably cost Izuku a few seconds with that move of his; luckily, Izuku still came in under his middle school record despite his setback, which is impressive! Aizawa isn’t impressed, though, and Izuku isn’t either, thinking about how even using his power once will wreck him, and how regulating it is easier said than done.

We descend into a short flashback, again to the beach, with Toshinori stating that the trick to regulation is sensation! With Izuku agreeing immediately, because he’s a fanboy. Toshinori notes that Izuku experienced 100% power, and Izuku notes that it really messed him up. Toshinori says that it should be easy, and asks how it felt. Because I can’t do this justice:

Izuku you little dumbass, I love you, but your ability to describe things leaves much to be desired.

In full seriousness, though, like, the kid might just be afraid of his own power, just from this moment right after the flashback:

But yeah, to catch up to this point, Toshinori tells Izuku to keep that image in his head for the last three weeks until school starts, and that control can’t be obtained overnight, but he believes Izuku can and will manage it! We get back to Izuku attempting the grip strength, thinking about not exploding the egg, and then he has that fun trauma flashback to the state of his body after the zero pointer, and is dismayed at his ‘lacking’ score of 56 kg - especially compared to Shouji’s score of 540 kg. 

WHAT IS THAT SERO DESIGN. What is that Mineta design????? Also why is THIS the first impression we get of Mineta. Him calling Shouji, or his quirk, or his strength, sexy,,, I think that’s just a case of weird translation, but still. 

Izuku is shown to come short in the next two events, getting more and more stressed as he fails to use his quirk at all. By the fifth event, Izuku is stressed about being out of options while watching Ochako literally get an infinity on the ball throw, because everyone else has at least one amazing record and the last events are ones he can’t use his quirk for in any meaningful way. 

He steps up to the circle, with Tenya noting that he’s not doing well, which in turn has Katsuki call out how he’s quirkless, so of course. Tenya is confused, asking whether Katsuki had heard about the entrance exam, which confuses Katsuki. Aizawa is already expecting Izuku’s next move, which is to charge up his whole arm and try to throw it as far as he can, while thinking about his mom and All Might and their support of him. 

We see Aizawa’s eyes snap open, flashing - and Izuku’s quirk fails, the ball barely hitting 46 meters. For a moment, Izuku is outright horrified:

God, poor kid. Izuku looks at his hands, swearing he was trying to use it, but Aizawa tells him that he erased Izuku’s quirk. In slightly more entertaining news:

Like a freaking schoolgirl. I can’t even, he cares about his kid so much. 

Aizawa explains how the entrance exam is ridiculous, and completely irrational if it lets ‘someone like you get in’. Which, fucking OUCH, I can’t imagine how much that had to hurt Izuku. Izuku, however, is more distracted with his realization that Aizawa is the pro hero Eraserhead, and how his quirk works… which is fucking impressive considering how much Aizawa would try to keep that information on the down low in order to maximize his effectiveness in taking out villains.

(Also, what a shot. Izuku’s imagination really is something.)

Wait, All Might, how did you get so close to the class so quickly, and how did no one notice you? Man be maxing stealth and speed somehow. Also, I love how the translation accidentally called Aizawa an ‘angler-type hero’, which I think was… not what was intended.

But yeah, most of the class hasn’t heard about the man, while All Might notes how Aizawa hates public appearances because it interferes with his work, and how he and Aizawa hardly see eye to eye.

Aizawa tells Izuku that he’s seen how the kid can’t control his quirk, and that he’d just be incapacitated again, before asking if he was hoping someone would step in to help afterwards. Izuku says it’;s not like that, while Aizawa’s scarf slips around him and drags him closer. Aizawa says that his plan would inconvenience others, then brings up All Might’s legendary rescue while also calling him hot blooded. 

Just, ouch, Izuku has to be feeling the pressure. I know he’s used to people doubting him, but this still can’t be fun so soon after he’s finally gotten himself some confidence in his right to be at UA. 

Aizawa finally closes his eyes and lets his power go, telling Izuku to give it another go, and to get this over with. Izuku is in a mental slump, muttering to himself about his options, while the class looks on. 

Aoyama what the fuck. Also Katsuki, you are about to be disappointed and blown away. Aizawa is curious as to how Izuku is going to fail out of his class while applying eye drops. Izuku’s muttering goes on as he thinks about how he can’t regulate OFA yet, and how everything is now hedging on this single throw, and how even All Might noted that it would take time to learn control. 

Izuku moves like he’s going to do a full power throw, and Aizawa is already declaring that Izuku has no chance. However, Izuku still isn’t pulling up OFA even as he moves through the motions of the throw, while thinking about how Aizawa is right; Aizawa realizes mid-sentence that something is different about this from Izuku’s last attempt. Even as the ball is just about to leave his hand, his quirk isn’t there, as he notes that he has to work harder than anyone else if he wants to get in. 

Toshinori is mentally cheering Izuku on, as Izuku mutters that he’ll give it his all in the smallest way - and pulls up OFA in just one finger at the last moment, sending the ball flying and his finger to the wringer. Katsuki is shocked, Aizawa is shocked as well, and Izuku’s finger is dripping blood. Aizawa realizes that Izuku didn’t use his full power, just concentrated it, while Izuku has Aizawa’ words echo in his head as he replies that he can still move. The last panel of the page has Aizawa looking like he’s close to laughing at how ridiculous the situation is.

And so ends chapter 6! Man, what a ride, and it’s not a shock that Izuku is still trying to be so cautious with his quirk at this point… in contrast with much, much later in the manga.

[ex-vengeancedemon]

Averting Disasters and Other Ways to Avoid Your Problems

Chapter 6

Characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Mentions of things that occurred in Angel: The Series season 5.

Main Pairing: Buffy x Spike

Characters: Buffy, Spike, Giles, Willow, Xander, Andrew, Faith, Dawn

Summary: Set in 2008, five years after Spike’s resurrection at Wolfram & Hart. Buffy is living in Cleveland guarding the hellmouth. Spike has left Angel and company and is hiding out in Chicago. The Scoobies are scattered. When something starts going wrong with the slayers around the world, it’s time to get the gang back together.

Masterlist & Chapter 1

Chapter 6

Buffy blinked. What else was she supposed to do?

In front of her was Faith, still bristling at Spike like he was some kind of hell-spawn. And to her left was Spike, who looked just as he had the last time she’d seen him, not dusty at all. Maybe Faith was misremembering things, like she was.

Then a thought struck her. A nauseating, bone-chilling thought. What if this was The First after all? What if this wasn't Spike? What if this was all some sort of sick game? All that talk about having won the battle lies?

Buffy took a few steps away from Spike, who now looked thoroughly distressed, and moved to stand next to Faith. Buffy stood on the balls of her feet in a holding position, ready to spring at a moment's notice. In whichever direction that springing might need to occur.

"Now hold on," the thing that looked like Spike said, holding up its hands in surrender. "There's an explanation for all that."

He sounded so much like Spike, and Buffy hesitated.

Wait. He couldn't be The First. Her racing brain was finally gaining some clarity. She had touched him. He was solid. The First couldn't feel. So... what was going on?

"Nah, I don't think so," Faith growled, her stake at the ready. "And I'm thinking ‘stake first, ask questions later’ sounds like a pretty solid motto right about now."

The three stood in a tense standoff. Spike still hadn't moved, his hands held up in an non-threatening manner. But Buffy knew it wouldn't stay motionless for long. And she was freezing. God, she was really freezing.

"Look I-" he started, before cutting off abruptly. He shook his head, glancing down at the ground. When he looked back up he snapped his hands down and scowled. He ignored Faith completely, despite the fact that she had a weapon aimed directly at his heart, instead focusing on Buffy. "No. Know what? You're right. I don't have an explanation. All I've got are some bleedin' excuses, 'cause I'm not a better man, Buffy. You were wrong."

Faith was unimpressed by the declaration and lunged again. But Buffy broke through her stupor in time to stop the other woman once more as Spike flinched away from the attempted death blow. Right now wasn’t the time to stake first and ask questions later. Right now was the time to ask questions first, come up with a plan, and then stake later... if necessary. Because right now, all Buffy had to work with was Faith’s story, Spike’s story, and her own.

"Don't," Buffy told her counterpart numbly. "Just... don't."

Faith balked, about to retaliate, but one look from Buffy and she backed down. "Yeah. Alright, B. Whatever you say."

In a daze, Buffy moved back to the living room window, careful not to put too much pressure on her injured calf, and pulled the curtain aside a couple inches. It was dark out now. That middle of the night darkness; the kind you could drown in if you weren’t careful. And she could feel her head slipping under. If she couldn't fight The First, who was she supposed to be fighting? Nothing was familiar here. Nothing made sense. And she couldn’t fight herself.

Spike and Faith followed her tentatively into the living room. It was almost funny. Spike had died and Faith was in just as much trouble as she was, and yet all the two of them seemed to be able to do was shuffle their feet and worry about her. She didn’t need their worry. She needed answers.

"Could you give us a minute, Faith," Buffy asked without looking at them.

Faith hesitated, then said, "Yeah. Sure. I'll just... be in the kitchen."

She retreated to the other room, leaving Spike and Buffy alone again.

Buffy no longer had any doubt this was Spike. He knew the particulars of their conversations. How she had told him he could be a better man. And he was solid, not some ghost or manifestation of The First. Finally, she turned to face him. He looked... scared. It was a look she had seen on him more often lately - no, not lately - but only when it concerned her welfare. To his own, he was indifferent.

"Do you remember asking me if I was there with you?" she asked flatly. "That night."

"'Course," he replied, looking down at the ground.

"You asked me what that meant," Buffy continued, her voice quiet. "What did it mean?"

His head snapped up, his brows knit together in confusion. "What?"

"What did it mean?" she repeated.

"Not sure I follow."

She walked up to stand in front of him, searching his face for answers his tongue seemed to trip over. "You're lying."

"You heard trigger-happy over there," he replied, jerking his head toward the kitchen. His voice sounded nonchalant and almost derisive. But he wouldn't look her in the eyes. "Went out with a bang. Fittin' innit?"

Before she could stop herself, she slapped him hard across the face. His head snapped to the side and he rubbed at his jaw, but he didn't reprimand her or fight back. He didn't even ask why.

She thought she would have time. There was supposed to be more time. After. Time to work out what it meant. And now he was telling her she wouldn't have a say in the matter because he wouldn't be there to find out. That last night, the one she didn't remember, that would be his last night. No more chances, no more apologies, no more redos, no more anything. And he was being glib about it.

But no. It wouldn't be his last night, because he was here, standing in front of her. Why was everything so damn confusing?

"How are you here? How- how did it happen?" she demanded, the words coming out in a jumbled rush. "What is going on?"

She dropped onto the couch, holding her head in her hands. Just hoping to block it all out. This had to be some kind of nightmare.

He sat down beside her, moving to take her hand, and she immediately jumped up. "Stay away from me! Just- stop!" She paced off toward the window again. "What happened? Explain. Right now. Or I'm letting Faith do this her way."

"Likin' that plan!" Faith called from the kitchen.

Buffy grimaced. She wasn't thrilled to have an audience. But she needed to know.

Spike appeared to collect his thoughts, his face cycling through a range of emotions, few of which Buffy could place.

Finally, he spoke. "Happened like I said. You and the pack of newbie slayers fought off a hoard of beasties down beneath the high school." He paused. Why wouldn't he look at her? "Just left a few things out is all." He shrugged, eliciting another wave of anger from her. "That amulet? The sparkly rock lover boy gave you? Turned me into a regular atom bomb. Front row seat to the razin’ of Sunnyhell."

She fought back the nausea that threatened to overcome her. Oh god. Oh god. She killed him. She had become his judge, jury, and executioner. She didn't know. She couldn't have known. But was that the truth? Couldn't she have suspected? You never get something for nothing.

Angel had said the amulet was dangerous, that they didn’t know the risks. Using it would’ve been like testing the world’s first airplane by jumping it from Mt. Everest.

Maybe you knew, a little voice in her head whispered wickedly. Maybe you just didn’t care.

"But... how?" she asked weakly.

He huffed as he stood up, immediately beginning an agitated pacing back and forth. "What do you want to know? Huh? Wanna hear all the grisly details?” He scowled at her bitterly. “I put the trinket on. It lit up all bright-like. Blasted through the bad guys, fucked up whatever supports were holdin' that damnable place together. The ceiling started crashin' down. Then, poof, dust. Don’t remember much after that."

***

Spike regretted the words almost as soon as they had left his mouth. Or maybe he didn't regret the words exactly, just how he had chosen to say them. He had no right to be angry with her for asking, another notch on the bedpost of things he had no right to. Fuck, why'd she have to look at him like that?

This wasn't how he'd wanted seeing her again to go.

Alright, so he hadn't known exactly how he had wanted seeing her again to go, but he knew it wasn't this. A selfish part of him had hoped she might look at least a little happy to see him alive - undead anyway - again. Instead, Buffy looked downright mortified. And he watched in real time as that horror turned to pain turned to anger.

"What is wrong with you?" she snapped.

What the bloody hell was wrong with him? Here she was, clearly fightin' off some devil or another of her own, meanwhile here he was, sneering about the decimation of her home and his own death. Words felt like acid on his tongue. They got so jumbled together and warped beyond recognition, scarring and burning on their way out. He meant to say one thing and, by the time the air reached his lips, a completely different sentence had materialized.

"I'm sorry," he said finally.

It was like putting duct tape on a dam and hoping the thing wouldn't blow.

Only she didn't blow.

"Get out," she hissed, her voice hard.

"Buffy-"

"Leave, Spike," she reiterated, maintaining the same coolness. "Faith and I will be fine. Willow, Xander, and Giles are on the case. They'll figure it out. We don't need your help. I don't need your help."

If she noticed him flinch, she didn't let on.

"Go home. Back to LA or whatever hole you crawled out of," she continued. "Just... leave. It's what you're good at."

If he had breath, she would've stolen it. It felt like she had just kicked him in the gut and spat on him for good measure. He felt his own hurt turn to anger.

"You can't seriously be blamin' me for dustin'!" he retorted. "We don't exactly get to pick 'n choose our time, love!'

She didn't respond to that. Instead, she crossed her arms, refusing to look at him.

Spike wasn't sure how long they stood there at an impasse. Neither of them seemed willing to break the silence. But at least she wasn't telling him to leave again.

He didn't even notice when Faith re-entered the living room. She moved with a cat-like grace and he was lost in his own world of reeling thoughts, trying desperately to remind himself of the real reason he was supposed to be here in the first place.

When Buffy looked up again, her gaze passed right through him without really seeing him, like the ghost he was. He didn't think this could possibly be going any worse.

He was wrong, of course.

He realized that the second the sword seared its way through his back. He felt the biting metal grind against his spine, watched as the blade extruded from his abdomen in front of him. He wanted to crumple to the ground, but the sword in his gut forced him to remain on his feet. He understood then - too late as usual - that Buffy hadn't been looking through him. She had been looking behind him. At Faith.

He felt a pressure against his back above where his heart rested. There was no doubt in his mind that it was a stake. So this would be the end. For real this time. No miraculous resurrection. It was poetic really. Buffy would get to watch him die again. It'd even be about the same time for her as he'd died the last time. Fitting. Karmic. The fates righting the wrongs and all that.

But hell, why'd it always have to hurt?

This time when Buffy looked at him, there was no pride. There was only fear and panic. There would be no consolation "I love you's" or grand gestures. There would just be... His face paled. Oh god, he wished there would just be nothing. He wasn't ready. He needed to-

"Faith, what are you doing?" Buffy asked, holding up a hand to the slayer Spike couldn't see.

He couldn't see her, but he could feel the stake dig harder into his back, feel her breath behind him, hear her blood race. His vision was starting to blur around the edges and he groaned in pain as his knees threatened to give out, causing the sword to bite harder into his flesh. He felt the blood enter one of his punctured lungs, creating a sickly sound as he gasped like a fish on a hook.

"Put the stake down," Buffy ordered, her voice struggling to stay calm. "It's only Spike. You don't need to hurt him."

"No," Faith growled. "It's not a person, it's a demon. What the hell is your problem? We're slayers. We kill vampires. We don't socialize with them!"

Buffy's eyes narrowed. "You know Spike. He has a soul."

"So?" Faith snapped. "He's not human, B. He's a vampire. A killer."

When Buffy didn't immediately agree, Faith dug her boot into Spike's back and kicked him off the sword onto the ground. He heard the metal grate against his spine on the way out and he bit back a scream, his teeth slamming together. It felt like his insides had started on fire, leaking gasoline and petrol. He struggled to his hands and knees only to have the hard heel of the boot slam him back down, sending blinding flashes of white light flitting through his vision. His eyes made out a small pool of blood sitting next to his mouth and he felt momentary guilt at having ruined the carpet.

"What kind of slayer are you?" Faith snapped at Buffy. "This is our duty, our responsibility! You would let him, what, just walk away?!"

"He's not a threat to anyone," Buffy replied.

Spike struggled to maintain consciousness through their conversation. He could no longer see them with his face pressed to the floor and his vision hazy, all he could do was listen as they argued over his fate.

In the land of gods and monsters… What was the difference really? The gods decided the monsters’ fates, of course.

"Faith this isn't you!" Buffy insisted.

Faith scoffed. "I'm exactly what I'm supposed to be. I'm doing exactly what I was meant to do. What are you, B? Cause, right now? You sure as hell aren't a slayer."

"I'm your friend. And I'm asking you not to do this." Buffy's voice had taken on a pleading tone.

How many times had she had to ask someone to spare his miserable ass? Once was already too many, but never seemed to be enough.

"If you're a friend of mine, you'll stake him. If not, then you're no friend of mine. What's it gonna be?"

[songofwizardry]

critical role thoughts time again! damn this arc just keeps on giving us episodes like this huh. spoilers for c2e129 under the cut.

first off AAAAAAAAAHHHHH

shout out to liam for accurately summarising how I felt at the end of the episode: I went in thinking "thank fuck, they got away, they just gotta lie low and get some sleep it'll all be FINE" oops nope never mind

before I get into the actual story and my overload of screaming and emotions about it, more to remind myself than anything else: this stuff is all what *makes* good stories. not-the-most-clever character decisions. fraught moments. having to choose between two really shitty options. tension in extremely unsafe places (and lbr, both the happy fun ball and the fucking plane of fire are objectively v unsafe places! the tension and the fact that neither of those places were safe makes sense!). conflict and guilt and character death. all good story material. soooo yeah these have been very intense episodes, but fuck, these make for some good stories!

first off: the happy fun ball! I always forget how much I loved the episodes we spent in there, it's such an interesting (& terrifying & promising) place

I absolutely LOVED the fact that Yasha could break the door down but it resulted in untethering the rooms from each other. what a brilliant way to keep them moving but also having there be consequences.

the entire imagery of the void and the hallway falling away was so good

... the mighty nein's motto really could be "curiosity before caution", couldn't it. these fuckers, I love them for it

can't believe I was so stressed about the golem I was not prepared for what came next!

team fireplane time!

I was paying lots of attention to Liam's descriptions of Caleb and how he's behaving this episode and look ok he's very good at playing the aftermath of all that traumatic shit with Trent and Vergesson &... my heart ok.

side note: this is more re last episode, but it means a lot to me that Caleb was able to... like, stand his ground and tell Trent to fuck off repeatedly when Trent kept insisting he "just wants to talk", and that the M9 refused to let him go back to Trent, like, that is one abusive and manipulative and extremely honey-tongued man and I did see stuff in twitch chat being like "oh if Caleb had just spoken to Trent this wouldn't have happened" which... nope, it means so much to me that they have settled on "nope fuck this asshole"

Veth's high rolls are so wild I love them, rogues y'all

Matt honestly fucking KILLED it this episode, this really felt like the episode for the families to shine, and Marion, Yeza and Luc all have such strong characters and Matt plays them SO well! I loved every second of it. also I will never not be impressed at Matt managing social situations with multiple npcs.

Luc and Caduceus talking about farts is the adorablest thing, new favourite dynamic

oh boy that combat huh. wow. wtf.

love that Luc tried to shoot the elemental this kid

we're just not gonna talk about everyone's faces when Matt rolled damage for the explosion thing that hit the families, bc I cannot Handle that. it's fine it's all fine

okay but fate just DOES NOT work normally around this game, how tf do you explain those two successive nat 20s from Veth, that was incredible and just. narratively perfect. I loved it I was full on crying at this point.

Cad's hdywtdt was very good

speaking of Cad! this is the first time in a while we've had a revivify! Cad's whole prayer was lovely, and I do like the detail of bugs and moss covering Luc. but mostly I loved the detail of Yeza going up to him and thanking him

the quiet, calm, determination of Yeza Brenatto saying make them pay will stick in my head for a long long time

the sigh of relief I let out when the dome finally went up. my god.

hey hey caleb asked Jester to help him with the collar and it fucking worked, finally, after all these attempts on like the longest of long days when they're all fucking tapped. I was not expecting that! a win!! and he explicitly told her it was for Trent!

look it just. watching Caleb's reaction to Trent coming close to his new family makes me feel things, okay, and the poetic justice of Trent whose manipulative words are as much of a weapon as his magic getting a silencing collar is. pretty fucking delicious.

a lot of the fanfic on the last week has had bits of interaction between Marion and Caleb and I am delighted to see that in canon too!!!

Marion: "if there's one thing I've come to know, it's that the good people are easy to be mislead to think they're at fault for the things the bad people use to victimise them... if they convince us that they're responsible for everything that comes upon us, then they're absolved." man, matt is NOT fucking around

I think these conversations (both Yeza and Marion's) are so important bc after an encounter that harrowing the like... reminder of what you're doing it for, both for the characters AND for the players as like an "it's ok" from the DM is reassuring and needed yknow?

anyway I love Marion so much, her character is just. so excellent, and I love how both her sex work and her agoraphobia are respectfully handled and it's never implied that she's less of a mother for them; and getting a reminder of hey this is a wise and caring and insightful woman who's seen a lot of stuff and hearing her words was just really nice! would like a calm episode where we just get to spend time with her soon pls

loved Liam explicitly saying that Caleb bites his tongue and tries to listen, look how far my boy has come

and Yeza!!! Yeza!!! I cannot have many coherent thoughts about that conversation but I loved how he went full on, this is the firmest I remember him being, saying, "you cannot shoulder the blame for this on your own"

ugh look I love Veth and Yeza's relationship, I love that there is this conflict in their story that doesn't have anything to do with how much or whether they love each other, and I absolutely loved the reminder that Yeza – for all that he is a gentle stay-at-home dad – did get himself mixed up in the assembly business and that Veth dove into the Dynasty to come looking for him. and yeah the image of them cuddling in the dome and talking about the uncertainty of the future and about guilt and blame and the potential end of the world, and still ending with "I love you" is gonna stick in my heart for a while

to zadash!!!

hey at least Jester remembered to send a message. it is entirely ridiculous and kinda adorable that the Gentleman is cleaning up the place for Marion.

okay I think that's all I got, I feel like this is even more rambly than usual. looking forward to some calm?? quiet?? no using up all our spell slots? next episode! also the parent trap

I'm going to sleep now. man this show.

[getitinbusan]

Full Service

 -Namjoon Smut

PAIRING: Namjoon x reader

GENRE: Smut

WARNINGS: Oral M/F, Kind of sort of but not really public sex, Swearing, Intercourse (x reader in my fics is always on birth control with a trusted partner) Long term cheating.

RATING: 18+

WORD COUNT: 2200

SUMMARY: Other than having nothing, Namjoon would be the perfect boyfriend. You need to choose your family and their money or the poetic love of your life. 

Driving through the darkness, you watched for the box of lights that kept the station illuminated to appear. In the distance you could just make them out, they were like a homing beacon in the night, and like a moth you just couldn’t stay away.  It had been a bad day and only Joon could fix it. 

Your tires slowed as you pulled in, the headlights shining into the window alerting him to your arrival. 

Walking out he crossed his arms on your open window and rested his head on top of them.

“Full Service tonight Y/N?” he gave you a dimpled smile.

Turning the ignition off, you climbed out of your large black Range Rover and walked around the vehicle to stand next to him. 

“I don’t know why a tiny girl needs such a big car,” he chuckled while wrapping his arms around you.

“Only the best for my family Joon, if it’s not a status symbol it’s not for us.” You’d repeated your father’s motto so many times it rolled out of your mouth too easily. 

He dropped his arms and began to walk away from you, opting instead to take up a defensive position by the pump.

“So what happened today? What pissed you off so much that you came here looking to slum it with me?”

He was unusually upset at your words, his face turned into a frown and his eyes looked sad. 

“Hey, Joon… what’s going on? I thought we were both cool with this?”

You questioned him but you weren’t sure you wanted an answer. 

“I’m just trying to correlate how my dick is good enough for you but I’m not.”

And there it was. For the past 8 months you’d been showing up here whenever you needed him.  What was he to you? A friend with benefits, an ego boost, an escape? 

“Joon please, you know my situation. I can’t just leave my fiance and disappoint my family. I thought you were okay with helping me let off steam.”

You walked over to him and laid your hand on his shoulder, “You’re the only real thing I have in my life.” 

Sighing, he looped his finger into the waist of your jeans and pulled you close to him, “It’s starting to hurt Y/N.” 

You leaned your head onto his chest and inhaled, the smell of gasoline hung onto his clothes creating a scent memory that made you crave him.

"What should I do Joon? You know how I feel about you but my family would disown me. I’d lose everything."

You looked up at him hoping he could just understand. 

He knew he had nothing to promise you other than his love and his poetry, so he offered the one tangible thing he could.

"I’d take care of you in all the ways he can’t." 

You began to say his name when he cut your words off with his lips. Gripping your hips he pulled you closer.

“I know he can’t fuck you like I can, you wouldn’t be here if he could.”

He gripped your hair and ran his tongue up your neck sending shivers down your spine. Grabbing his hand you pulled him into the building, the bell ringing above the door frantically as you made your way into the store.

Pushing him back against the counter, you fumbled with his belt desperately trying to get it undone.

“Right here?” he asked “Aren’t you afraid someone will see?” 

Rubbing his hardened cock you stopped to look him in the eye and teased, “You’re not getting shy on me now are you Joon?” 

He stopped you, cupping your face. “Y/N, I’m not the one with something to lose. I’ll take you right here in front of the window if it’s what you want.” 

You dropped to your knees and kissed his bulge through his jeans stopping to bite delicately at the tip. A soft “fuck” escaped his mouth, “please baby girl.”

You loved when he begged, nothing got you wetter faster than knowing how much he wanted you. 

Lifting his shirt you moaned at the sight of his pubic trail, your nose against his abdomen licking your way down its path. Popping the button of his denims you looked up at him while slowly working the zipper down. His blue boxers sat low on his hips and you pushed them down just enough to expose his rock hard cock. 

Reaching in you cupped your hand around his balls and rubbed them while he twitched impatiently waiting for your mouth. He looked beautiful with his eyes closed, his smile upturned, and his muscular chest moving with his heavy deep breaths. 

His cock always smelled like soap, and it turned you on thinking about how he must give himself a few gratuitous pumps in the shower, maybe thinking about you. 

Your head was spinning, you needed him, wanted to give him something more. Wrapping your arms around him grabbing his ass, you thrust him towards you. Circling his beautiful firm pink tip with your tongue you teased the bead of precum leaking from his slit. 

“God you taste good,” you let out before plunging him deep into your throat.

The animalistic grunt he let out encouraged you to continue. Wrapping your fingers tightly around his base you held him firm while you pushed and pulled your mouth over his length working him into a moaning mess. 

Suddenly he stopped you, pulling you up into him he swung you around to the back of the counter and pushed you down out of sight.

“Shhh,” he whispered.

You could hear a series of voices approaching. The bell chimed and you were no longer alone.

“Hey Joon, what time are you off tonight? Should we wait around?” 

It was a male voice speaking but hearing others in the background you guessed it was his wild band of housemates.

“No, it’s okay, I think I might be late closing tonight,” he answered, trying to get them to leave. 

You decided to keep going, see how he’d handle a little head under the counter. Your hand pumped his now softening erection while your mouth gave his exposed balls little kitten licks. The frustration on his face as he tried not to surrender to the pleasure you were giving him was humorous.

A deep voice broke through the others, “Is that the famous Y/N’s Range Rover out there?” 

You froze, had he told them about you? 

He stammered trying to come up with an answer. “Yeah, it needs some work so she left it here.”

There was laughter amongst the boys and too many things being said, you strained to hear while keeping pace. 

“You love her”

“You are so whipped Namjoon”

“Are we ever going to meet her? I for one don’t believe she’s real” 

“I told you guys he wasn’t going to break up with her like he said”

“Yeah, I thought you said you were calling it off.” 

You halted your movements in reaction to this information, his dick definitely needed to not be in your mouth anymore.

He glanced down at you on your knees hiding behind the gas station counter. Even with the unflattering fluorescents highlighting the tears glazing over your eyes, you were still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. 

He felt like an asshole, his head hurt at the thought that this may be the last time he’d see you. He needed to explain.

“Listen guys, the boss has been reviewing our shift tapes and I don’t want to get in trouble for having you hanging around, I’ll just meet up with you later back home.” 

You didn’t see it, but his eyes looked down towards the counter hoping they’d get the hint.

“Oh! Shit, sorry Joon, ahh.. yeah we’ll get going.” The bell chimed and you were alone again.  

He reached his hand out to help you up and pulled you into his arms.

“I’m so fucking sorry Y/N.” 

You couldn’t be mad, how could you blame him? You had a fiance, you were using him for sex, you knew he deserved so much more.

“I guess we had to end it eventually,” you said as a tear fell down your cheek. “Is it because you don’t love me?” 

He shook his head at you, “Without you, there’s no me, you’re the best of me.” 

You threaded your fingers with his and grasped his hand tightly, “I love you Joon.”

Kissing you softly he whispered, “I love you too.“ 

In a desperate last attempt, you tangled your fingers into his hair and pulled him closer to you. Your lips became one as your tongues searched for their counterpart. Lifting you up he placed you down on the customer service counter and moved to stand in between your legs.  

As close as he was, it wasn’t enough.

"Joon I need you inside me.”

It sounded desperate but you didn’t care, the thought of never being with him again was devastating.

He gently caressed your cheek and wiped away a tear that lingered there with his thumb.

“It doesn’t have to be over, but you have to choose, I can’t share you anymore.” 

His hand slid under your skirt and his fingers moved delicately over your panties.

“Don’t talk right now, just let me prove how much I love you.” 

Shifting the fabric to the side, he ran his fingers through your wetness until he was coated enough to slide one into you.

With one finger inside and his thumb drawing circles on your clit he used his other hand to unbutton your blouse.  Pulling down the cup of your bra he exposed your erect nipple and leaned in to circle it with his tongue. He was well aware that combining the two moves affected you in the best way.

He knew your body, your needs, he could make you cum in seconds if he wanted to, but he didn’t want to, not tonight. 

Getting on his knees he grabbed your panties and pulled them down, tossing them aside. Pushing your thighs apart you could feel his warm breath getting closer to where you wanted him the most.

His tongue moved slowly over your clit, circling and sucking as he slid his fingers back in. Taking his time, he languidly enjoyed every drop of excitement he coaxed out of you. 

With your legs shaking, he eased himself away.

“I need you to slow down baby, I want you to cum with me, okay?”

You could only nod in agreement, your head was floating in the clouds incapable of coherent thoughts or words. 

His mouth met yours softly, and you moaned into the kiss. He pulled away and smiled knowing that tasting yourself on his lips turned you on more than it should. 

His stiff cock was still out and he couldn’t take waiting anymore. Moving in to meet your entrance, the counter height lined you up perfectly. He slowly pushed into you and simultaneous sighs escaped you both. 

This was right, he belonged here, how could this be the end? You became a tangle of arms, legs and mouths, not wanting to miss any part of each other.

Reaching the end, climax imminent, he held onto you tightly while he gave his final thrusts and came inside you. 

Neither of you moved. Afraid to break away, the tears rolled down your cheeks. His hand was in your hair and he whispered, “I want to be a part of your page, I want to Interfere in your story, as your lover.” 

He fell out of you and pulled away turning his back. He was zipping himself up and the permanence of it all hit like a ton of bricks.

“Joon, please…” you pleaded.

“I just can’t anymore,” he choked out through his tears. 

“No, listen to me… please…Joon, take me home.”

You placed your hand on his shoulder and he turned back to look at you. 

His eyes were red and his lips were quivering.

“My home?”

You nodded.

“It’s not what you’re used to Y/N, it’s dirty and I live with 6 guys… ”

You rested your forehead against his. “Joon, as long as I’m with you it doesn’t matter. With you, anywhere will be home.”

[camillemontespan]

writing camille montespan and the problem with the TRR MC

Basically, an opinion piece about the TRR MC and a short essay on Camille Montespan. Feel free to add your own opinions and maybe write your own about your MC/OC!

@moonlightgem7 @jovialyouthmusic @ibldw-main @katedrakeohd @pug-bitch @saivilo @argylemnwrites @rainbowsinthestorm @marshmallowsandfire @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @gardeningourmet @princessleac1  @axwalker​  @mskaneko​  @emichelle​   ***************

Can we all agree that the TRR MC is slightly flawed? And perhaps a little annoying? And a hot mess with no idea of how to fit into the nobility?  Who basically improvises everything she does while stringing the King of Cordonia along (if he isn’t your LI) and solves every problem with a trip to the boutique or attending a ball?

TRR MC is not the best MC in the Choices universe and that is a hill I am willing to die on.

That’s where fanfic comes in. During my year and a half in this fandom, I’ve discovered mutuals who write stories about the TRR MC that puts the actual Choices writers to shame. MCs are fleshed out with proper back stories. The ridiculous canon story that a waitress from New York finds herself in a suitor competition in a European country - a country she’s never heard of because clearly she’s not informed on geography- is still incorporated into fics but it’s given more of a realistic twist. We are aware of how stupid the actual storyline is and so we try our best to make the best of it. Sometimes, we write AUs to fix the shit that the TRR writers have made a reality. AUs are the best.

As my writing has developed, I’ve found that I’ve created my own universe for Camille, my TRR MC. In my very first fic, This Heavy Crown, I focused more on the suitor competition and stuck to canon moments because I didn’t know you could write AUs. It was very angsty. But I found it so fun to write Camille and the fanfic writing obsession began.

Fun fact about Camille: she is actually descended from nobility. Madame de Montespan was a real life noble of Louis XIV’s court - she was his mistress. I thought it would  be fun to name Camille after Madame de Montespan because how ironic would it be to have the American commoner turn out to be more regal than fucking Madeline?!

Anyway back to my writing.

Now, I tend to write AUs that have more realistic plots. My favourite series that I’ve written has been The History of Us and I will tell you why.

MY FAVOURITE CAMILLE SERIES

The History of Us (the first chapter is missing, sadly) is where Camille becomes more than just the Duchess of Valtoria. As I wrote her, she became more of a person - which sounds ridiculous but I think my fellow writers will understand due to their own writing of their MCs! 

The History of Us is still set in Cordonia and Camille and Drake are Duchess and Duke. But that is where canon stops. My own head canons grew and became, to me, actual canon for Camille and Drake. 

In the fic, Camille takes their daughter, Lily, and leaves the family home, clearly upset with Drake. Before she goes, she gives Drake a box and tells him to go through its contents before making any contact with her. The mystery in the opening chapter is WHY is Camille leaving? All of my readers were asking ‘what did Drake do?!’ and you eventually find out as the series develops.

In a nutshell, Drake struggles to adapt to his new role as Duke (something I found the Choices writers never attempted aside from his awkward ‘things are great!’ joke). He is a fish out of water and longs for life to be normal. While Camille has flourished in her role, Drake hasn’t and the pressure gets to him. With constant media attention, Drake feels claustrophobic and so turns to alcohol to numb himself. As a result, he isolates himself from his family and Camille is left trying to hold the ship together. 

It was a challenging fic to write but I had so much fun writing more of Camille. She isn’t perfect and that is what I wanted to show. She fucks up. For the first chapters, she is very much of the idea that they present their best faces to the world and keep up their duty to Valtoria. Her Duchess hat is firmly on her head. A few of my readers were screaming in the comments that she needed to get her family out of Cordonia. I agreed with them but I knew that to make Camille realise her mistakes, she had to be stubborn and actually.. Wrong. But, as things with Drake get worse, Camille forces herself to confront what is truly important and she starts to fight for her marriage and her husband’s health.

CAMILLE IN A NUTSHELL

‘Wife and mother first, Duchess second.’ That is Camille’s motto and is something that is echoed in all of my fics. She is a fierce woman who fights Drake’s corner and the loves of her life are her family. The more confident she becomes as Duchess, the more willing she is to stick up for herself and her family. When they make decisions based on their children -eg. Sending them to a ‘normal’ school so they can mix with commoners - the nobility are outraged. But does Camille care? No. She is a lion mama who wants the best for her kids. She doesn’t want Lily and Luna to turn into stuck up rich girls. She wants them to stay grounded. 

Unlike in canon when Drake and MC go to Texas and are stuck there against their will (or was it us, the players, who were stuck there against our will?), I write that Drake and Camille visit Texas every summer. It’s a slice of normality for them and they love it there. It’s where Camille can just be Camille. When Camille isn’t a Duchess, she can be more relaxed. She goofs around and plays with her daughters. She wears more casual clothes and drinks whiskey. She is the Camille that Drake fell in love with, not that he doesn’t love her when she’s a Duchess! It’s just that the Duchess Camille is a more refined version and how polished and elegant she can be scares him sometimes, while also making him feel in awe of her. This is a woman who entered Cordonian nobility without any experience and actually listened to advice and worked hard to adapt (something TRR MC does not). Basically, Camille has two sides to her, the Duchess and the commoner, and she strikes a neat balance between the two.

I base the foundation of her character on her face claim, Meghan Markle. I find it funny when mutuals have told me in the past that when they see Meghan on TV or in magazines, they’re like ‘oh it’s Camille!’ 

Why have Meghan as an FC? Well, I feel she resembles my TRR MC closely, plus Meghan was literally an American commoner who found herself marrying into royalty. 

What I love about Meghan is how keen she is to make a difference. She threw herself into royal duties when she married Prince Harry and, like Diana before her, she made a huge impression on the people she met. I’m sad that she and Harry left their roles as Meghan had so much potential. 

So, Camille basically does the stuff that I think Meghan would do if she was still a working royal. 

Camille is a feminist who works to promote women’s equality in the workplace. She wants Cordonia to modernise (something lacking under Constantine’s rule) and now that Liam is King, that dream will become a reality. She imagines a future for her daughters where they can have any job they want and be whoever they want to be; the sky is the limit. Everything she does is for her daughters.

Despite wanting Cordonia to modernise, Camille is also respectful of their history. In my head canon, Drake and Camille discover that Valtoria used to hold Open Houses. An open house is when the people of Valtoria can visit the Duke and Duchess and talk to them about issues within the duchy. Open houses hadn’t been a thing for 200 years but when Camille and Drake discovered this old piece of history, they reintroduced the concept. Basically, Camille wants to use her platform for good - something which the TRR MC is lacking. All TRR MC does is go to balls and act like an idiot! Where is the responsibility? Where is the interest in learning more about the duchy? Why is she never at her duchy?! 

If you want to read more of Camille, I point you to the interview I wrote of her. I love writing interviews as they are like a character study and it’s so fun to delve into the personality. Writing this interview was a joy. The words flowed and I was so pleased with how it turned out. It’s the definitive piece about Camille and who she is.

[jennsmischievousmind]

Fucks not Found

Ghosts

Summary: You hack, that's what you do. Dying to do so freely, wasn't what you had expected. Meeting the weirdest fucking squad; losing the best part of you; falling for a thief : was not planned.

Pairing : Four/Billy (Ben Hardy) - You

A/N: The story goes through the all movie, so I suggest you watch it before reading.

I don't own any characters other than Eight.

English is not my native language, I'm trying to get better at it, please be indulgent.

Tried my best to match Ryan Reynold's level of sass aha

Ch1 Ghosts | Ch2 Florence | Ch3 A Matter of Seconds | Ch4 I need a Backdoor | Ch5 Die Hard | Ch6 White Flag | Ch7 Haunt the Living | Ch8 One, but not done [end]

This is how you die.

"So you're the one who hacked the wrong guy" You swiftly turn around gasping at the sudden voice in your apartment

"Depends, you’re his hitman?" You were ready to run even if it means jumping by the window.

"Nooo, I'm an angel.” You snort at his sarcasm, unknown to you at this moment that he was full of it.

"Wanna disappear?" he asked taking a seat at the kitchen table eyeing your bags at the door.

"In a body bag? Slowly you make your way to the knives, just in case.

"You are a funny one, aren't you? I know the man you stole from, you won't get far until he got you. But, he emphasized, if you’re willing to do what's right.."

"I've already done my part for the flag." Assuming he was American by the way he talked.

"I'm not talking about shitty drug dealers. But evil war-lovers, genocide perpetrators, that kind of shitty so-called human. Those ones that are above the laws with governments' balls in their hands, ready to squish them.”

"That's gross" your brother appeared from the adjacent room. You let your mind consider the stranger’s offer as soon as you look at your confused brother, knowing he was in danger because of you.

“You two look at lot alike.” The guy leaned in, screwing his eyes at you both.

“We’re twin dumbass” your brother answered glancing at you wondering.

“What’s the deal?” you asked considering the offer

The guy smirked, “Well, to be short you die, and then you take down evil motherfuckers without governments’ backlash on you.” He tapped his fingers against the Formica table.

It took 5 minutes.

"One condition, my brother comes to!"

"What's he good at?" he crossed his arms.

"I can drive…Hold on what? Die? Who the fuck are you!?”

"Already too many questions” he rolled his eyes

"He's a hell of a driver, it got him under surveillance when he got chased by 6 police cars after an illegal race back in the States."

"So they caught up Muttley” the guy clucked his tongue

“Hey!”  

"No, you interfered almost ashamed, I told him to stop the car...I got motion sickness."

The guy erupted in laughter, you two watching him unamused.

_

“I’m more like Peter Perfect.”  Your brother mumbled as the guy left.

You look by the window discreetly, catching a glimpse of the guy mingling in the crowd. “You’re Muttley bro.”

A week later you got a text. The guy who called himself One had planned your fake death. A random trek in Italy’s mountains, an assumed fatal fall, no bodies recovered.

It was never supposed to be your life. But we all know nothing happens as it should.

Papà went to fight a war and disappeared, you were forced to move in America when you were 6.

Mammà never cope the loss of her motherland and husband. She died of a belated broken heart syndrome when you were 16. 

Both you and your brother were placed in a host family. It wasn’t a crappy family like it’s always the case in some tv show, they were nice and wealthy. The father was a tech engineer, somehow you took interest in his work and start learning to code, soon reading about hackers: white hats; black hats; “We are Legion”, you were hooked and skilled in a matter of time.

When you turned major though, things turned difficult, the host family had to let you go and Internal Affairs of your state caught you looking in their network. Which led to you working as a C.I for them, it was that or prison. Not thrilled by the idea but obliged to cooperate was your new motto.

Your brother had some job here and there but nothing steady, so money from the IA was welcome.

After a year and a half, I.A ditched you, it was rather good news in a way, they’ve erased your past mistakes but said they’d keep a distant eye on you.

So you moved on from your shithole that was the 1 bedroom apartment you and your brother shared and went to your parents’ hometown in Italy. Your brother was reluctant at first as he couldn’t even say hello in Italian, you taught him as your mamma had done it with you but he wasn’t that interested.

Working with people was not your forte, you were too bossy, so you got fired ... plenty of times: from a coffee shop, a rental bike shop and a tourist city tour bus thingy. So you started doing what you were good at, hacking for money, it went well for a few years, never being too greedy - until you hacked the wrong person and got in trouble.

That's how you became a Ghost and ended up in the middle of the California Desert.

_

One had built a squad. No names, only numbers to identify each other. Not calling your brother by his name was a challenge, same for him.

There were 7 of you.

One, the “boss”, a mysterious sassy billionaire who decided to fund his own strike team.

Two, a French blonde woman, pretty cold, a spy apparently

Three, a crazy hitman who couldn’t shut up

Four, a young parkour master and reformed thief

Five, a Doctor, but you heard she was actually working at a Dentist

Six, your brother, the annoying driver.

And then Eight, you, the Black Hat somehow becoming a hacktivist.

Why not Seven? Long story short, it was one more condition you’d submitted to One.

_

_SICILY

"Your focus determines your reality.”

“Oh for fuck's sake One, quit your Jedi bullshit!” you loosed your temper typing on your keyboard angrily. An entire week, an ENTIRE WEEK quoting Star Wars!

Four and Five laughed in the comm. One braced himself on the other end of the line. Three cut the heavy silence.

“Eight, Chiquita please stop yelling”

“I’m not a Chiquita stop saying that!”

“Ok ok chi…Eight, damn you’re stressful” 

“God, why do I have to team you up!!” One facepalm

“Now what?” Five asked

Radio silence

“Oh so now no one’s talking! What are you, 4?” One angrily called out to you 2.

“Yeah, uh high, literally.” Four answered One, you snorted.

“No ..  damn not you!”

“You called me Mate!” Four said offended

“No, shush – Eight are you done with the system?” he was about to lose it.

“I’ve been done with it the second Three called me Chiquita!” you crossed your arms in front of your laptop.

“Hey ..” “We’re not talking about that again!” One cut Three

“Can we get going now?” Two interfered, you heard her bike roaring.

“Finally, some sensed words.” One said wrapping it up.

Four entered the place you’d hacked the system of. Six and Two were not far in case of trouble.

“Four, the hard drive is in the main office. Second floor.” One enunciated, you followed Fours progression with the security cameras.

It was enlivening, stressful, but oh so exciting. When you worked with I.A you were never there when they’d go down in action, it was nothing but boring data researched and dealer’s MacBook.

“Freeze Four, guards coming east.” Switching cams you gave him a safe path.

“Ok, you’re clear. Now to your left, third door then turn right.”

Four got his hands on the hard drive containing all you needed to know about the next target.

“Well done.” One congratulated the team

“Thanks, thanks, It helps to have a sexy voice guiding you” Four chuckled, you blushed, sexy voice? is that even possible?

“Great, kid. Don’t get cocky.”

You rolled your eyes at the endless use of Star Wars' quotes.

“Hum that’s my sister, remember?” Six growled tightening the wheel

“Luke grab Solo, meet up in 15minutes at the hotel. Everyone move!” One instructed you smiled at the thought of being Leïa. Gosh, you were as much of a nerd as One.

Climbing down the jeep Three had rented, you laughed seeing your brother holding Four in an arm lock for a few seconds anyway, Four reversed the lock, pining your brother’s arms behind himself.

You passed by them “Easy with my twin please.” Four wasn’t releasing his hold so you stopped, turning back you lift an eyebrow at Four insisting he let him go.

“Oh!” he lifted his hands in defence taking a step back.

Grabbing your brother by the sleeves as he was about to jump on Four “Come on piccino” you made your way in the hotel laughing.

_ 

Your first big mission started a few weeks after, everyone gathered in The Haunted House as One called it, an old bunker, cheesy name for an HQ.

“You don’t get it, I need a CAR!”

“That’s a car, Six.” Three argued back.

“No that’s a heap, that thing won’t get us through the paved road of Italy, believe me.”

Four and Five were amused by the situation, Three had rent a truck and an old Volvo for this mission.

“Alright, shut up, we’ll get another car!” One declared, Six flicked to Three.

One resumed the mission’s details. Giving everyone their own missions. A simple mission, retrieve a lawyer’s smartphone.

In the midst of it, your hand flew to your brother’s head next to you. The smacked resonating between the walls of the unfinished bunker.

“Why ..why’d you hit him?” One asked confused, your brother was rubbing the back of his head frowning at you.

“Cain’s instinct.” You replied wriggling your fingers for him to continue. Four snorted, Six nudged him in the ribs.

In a few months, you had learned a lot from this weird squad. Learning to shoot was an obligation, Three was insane but a good teacher.

You’d asked Four to teach you some parkour in case of a chase. Six and Four became close friends in a matter of time. Five was nice, but you were never one to be good at making friends. Two was not a big talker and frankly, she scared you a little.

So you spend your free time hacking and reading, on the hammock installed between a dismantle plane and a dead tree. Not far from there you could hear Four skating in the empty pool and three at the makeshift shooting range.

Suddenly,

“EIGHT!”

Groaning you closed your book “WHAT!?

Your voice boomed against the caravan and lost itself in the desert, but you still hoped Four had heard. It was his thing, screaming your name instead of coming to you directly. At his silence, you wriggle out the hammock and strode to the pool.

“What’d you want skater boy?”

He was lying in the pool his board by his side. “Four?” you made your way to the ladder, “hey” you gently nudge him with your foot but he didn’t move.

“Four? you called out worried, “shit” knees hitting the vinyl liner checking if he was breathing, he wasn’t.

“Hey wake up, seriously dude don’t make me do CPR on you, I suck at it!” suddenly laughter erupted in your ears. Six appearing on the edge, Four chucked on the floor.

“Pranking you..he tried to breathe in, is always the best sis!” Six laughed even harder at your confused face. Still kneeling at Four’s side, he was looking at you laughing, until he wasn’t, catching a glimpse of worry melting with anger in your eyes.

Punching his left shoulder, you hurried out the pool. He stayed on the floor watching you go.

“Don’t make me do CPR I suck at it!” your brother was still laughing his brain's out.

_

“What was that?”

Four leaned on the dead tree near your head, his shadow offering some shade.

“A real bad joke?”

“No I mean, why’d you hit me?”

Sighing you clasped your book closed for the second time today “you really got me worried, happy?”

“No, you propped up on your elbow at his answer craning your head to him, I didn’t mean to scare you.” His warm hand slide in your hair at the base of your neck, he leaned in, letting you enough time to push him away if you wanted.

"Sorry" he whispered, his lips pressing in your temple gently, warmly for a few seconds. Catching yourself leaning in you almost fell off the swinging' hammock as he released his hold, he grinned and left not saying anything more.

"What the hell Four!!" you yelled at him, an ounce of laughter in your voice, a blush creeping into your cheeks, his own laughter filling the desert's silence.

FLORENCE

A/N: don't forget to double tap if you liked it. 🙏

[nonopi]

fever dream Jack x Miranda, Mass Effect 2

Jack aims to sleep her sickness away, but what she gets instead is a cryptic fever dream.

for @lesbianically, my @masseffectholidaycheer giftee!

---

Jack wanted to be anywhere but here. Trapped between the commander Shepard standing in the doorway and the bed she was currently lying paralyzed on, under a barrage of Cerberus-issued blankets.

"She doesn't nurse just anyone back to health." Jane had a big smile on her face again, like she’d just found out some grand secret. "And I would know."

"Just shut up," Jack hoped she sounded as ferocious as she imagined, despite the pile of blankets muffling her voice and how stuffed her nose was. "Go away."

She heard Shepard laugh again before retreating back into the common area. Finally, quiet at last. Normally she could take a little teasing from the commander, but she couldn't even breathe out of her nose right now. Standing was out of the question. And why did she feel so, so cold? She wasn't used to covering her entire body with cloth, but now she couldn't get enough of it.

Jack closed her eyes tightly, willing the sickness away. It's mind over matter, baby. A motto that had done her well for the most part. But this was something she couldn’t control, as much as she hated to admit it. It infuriated her, frustrated her, and it made it even worse that Miranda was the one actively taking the time to make sure that everything was being done to get her back in top condition. Miranda was in control. Miranda was in control of Jack’s livelihood. 

Literally, anyone else would be better. Even Mordin fucking Solus. In fact, why not send Dr. Chakwas in? The actual doctor onboard the ship.

She only had one option at this point. Sleep. Rest. Heal. If time was the only thing that could fix her, she might as well not be conscious to suffer through any of it. If only her brain would shut up for five seconds to drift off into sleep. Sleep didn’t come naturally to her under normal circumstances anyway, this probably wasn’t going to be the exception.

Jack’s eyes split back open, immediately snapping onto the pills Miranda had left on the side table next to a bottle of water. She remembered it in a groggy haze, she was awake but feigning sleep as soon as she heard the telltale sounds of Miranda’s boots hitting the floor. But she was not fooled by that charade.

“Take these pills when you’re ready to sleep,” she set the pills down without hesitation, her voice just as trained and unwavering as ever. “Dr. Chakwas said they’ll clear up some of your symptoms but it’ll knock you out. Don’t throw them away.” 

She would’ve rolled her eyes if she could.

But what Jack remembered the most was when the silence stretched out but neither woman moved a muscle. She didn’t know if Miranda was waiting for a reaction or a verbal response but she wasn’t going to give her one. But that wasn’t it at all, it was a cold but smooth hand laid to rest on Jack’s forehead. The sensation soothed her headache, made her feel vividly present in a way she hadn’t even before she fell ill. Something about being detached, aggressive enough to keep people away, never vulnerable enough to let people even get a glimpse of herself, her true self. To let someone touch her in such a way, a way that couldn’t be misconstrued as hostile or with ulterior motives, just the intention to feel and to help.

And when she felt her eyes spring open, gaze landing on Miranda’s too-pretty face and her carefully schooled expression and the other woman only had this to say, “Take the pills, Jack. We’re the same, we hate the loss of ability. But if you’re going to be vulnerable anywhere, it might as well be here.”

Then she turned and left without another word and Jane came in shortly after, Jack’s head still reeling from whatever had just happened. 

And now? The stupid cheerleader was right. How long was it worth it to stay miserable and staring at the blank wall that touched her bed just to maintain some control over a body that had betrayed her with some higher purpose of fighting a virus? Even if she trusted nobody else on board, she did trust Jane. And Jane trusted everyone else, even Miranda. Was that enough for her?

Jack took the pills and the water and swallowed. 

It was only a matter of time now.

---

Dreams that faded into nightmares she was accustomed to. No one lives through horrors like she had without bringing it with them everywhere, subconsciously. She meant it when she said she didn’t sleep well. Ever.

But drug-induced sleep? It wasn’t her first time. Plunged into eternal darkness, no concept of time or surroundings or a body. It was nothing and she was no one. And waking was jarring and incomprehensible. The concept of not existing seeped into consciousness and followed her ruthlessly, sometimes bringing her to tears.

This was not that way. Not yet. 

It was not blackness but warmth. It was not the cosmic void, but the cosmic heat and light of places she knew. This is where her dreams and nightmares were, sequences fading in and out, creating cohesion where there logically was none.

She let it happen, watched as her body took her places. First an errand for Jane for something in the cafeteria that did not belong there. Then they were off the ship and on Omega, red lights dominating her vision. They were all walking somewhere, the entire crew. She couldn’t gather if it was in panic or in excitement. She followed and followed until she was on the Citadel. At least she had the decency to know she hated it here in reality. But something was wrong and she was pushing herself over the railing and into the decorative pools that separated the walkways. She had to find something. Or someone? She sloshed through the shallow waters knowing it would take her to the lower levels of the Citadel, somehow ending up in the seedy bars that the Alliance military officers sometimes frequented. But it wasn’t quite right, something was off about the bar because where it once had faceless walls, it sprouted wings of corridors of cells. 

“Where is she?” It was Jane. She couldn’t see her but she must be near. Her voice was hoarse and when Jack tried to respond, her throat hurt too. Had she been yelling the same?

But she felt the anger, seething rage, pouring out of Jane’s voice and into her own. “Where is she?” An echo, she was already summoning her biotics to force an answer out of an unknown entity. Faceless. Dark. A cigarette in his hand was the only light upon him.

“You can’t have her.” Her own voice again, her heart pounding in her chest, fear winding her body tight, fear not for herself but for another. How long had it been?

She could feel the tears, a torrent down her cheek. “Speak, you sick fuck!” But she couldn’t move forward, towards or away from the man. Her biotics fizzled away until she was just Jack, her hands balled into fists, her emotions too much for her.

Jane pulls at her arm and they’re running away. Something pursues them. They’re running through the corridors of cells, the water from the presidium pools hinders their every movement. Searching, searching, they’re looking for someone. She’s so grateful to Jane for being there to help her.

And suddenly there’s nothing again. Jack kneeling in a pool of black water, a body in her arms. The white suit of a strong woman. The jet black hair twisted and stuck to her pale face. But she’s okay. They’re both okay.

“They can’t have us.”

It wasn’t her voice this time. It was Miranda’s.

---

This was worse than a nightmare. She could quell fear. It was something she was so violently trained to do. But waking from a dream, a nightmare, where she wins. And the woman in her arms is someone she couldn’t get out of her mind because everything she did, everything she stood for made her feel so passionately angry and confused and frustrated. 

She knew they were the same, god damn it. 

Miranda didn’t have to say it to her face. They both craved control because they didn’t have it for the majority of their lives. They were both victims of the same thoughtless and cruel people who did not care about the body count, they only cared about progression.

Jack knew all that. And she didn’t care. She didn’t want to fucking care.

But a dream like that held her hostage. Whoever she was in that dream, seeped into this reality now. That Jack with Jane by her side, that Jack who so desperately searched for a missing Miranda, who held her close, and fought against The Illusive Man to keep her away from him, to keep her independent, indebted to no one but herself. Who was that woman? Because it was not her and the thought made her both exhausted and fraught with worry that she never could feel that way again. She would only be that Jack in dreams. Because reality was too cruel to love anyone. Or let anyone love her.

She took a deep breath and touched her forehead, feeling the unhindered air fill her lungs and clear her groggy head. Maybe it was okay to let that Jack stay in the back of her mind. A beacon, a symbol that she could move toward in the darkness. Because she didn’t want to fight forever. She wanted somewhere she could stay and protect and live. 

It wasn’t something she allowed herself to think about often. But Jane opened the door again and maybe it was okay to let it stay open this time. And maybe she could let other people through too. People who helped her. 

People like Miranda?

She groaned and rolled over in her bed, sticking her arms and legs out to meet the cool recycled air. “Over my dead fucking body.” Even though she said it out loud, into her pillow, she wasn’t sure she believed it anymore. 

Or maybe it was just the sickness talking.

[btsunniemoonie]

Enchanted under the Snow (M)

⤳ author: Admin Sunnie

⤳ pairing: Teacher!Min Yoongi x Virgin!Reader

⤳ rating: 18+

⤳ warnings: dirty talk, a little dry humping, virgin kink if you squint (mention of blood because Y/N’s a virgin), cock warming, Yoongi has a giant cock

⤳ genre: smut, fluff, 90s AU

⤳ songs i’ve listened to while writing: richard hawley - darlin’, urge overkill/neil diamond - girl, you’ll be a woman soon

You never really had something for events like this. It was only a way to gather some students together, the popular students having fun like always and the ones who weren't as lucky as them had to sit around the tables, awkwardly sipping on the non-alcoholic beverage, looking around with curious eyes.

You were neither of them.

You had your little group of friends which consisted of three boys, all in the same age as you and in your class, Taehyung, Jungkook, and Jimin. They all stood around you and in a tiny corner of the big gym, sipping on their punch and talking about how the popular people danced together, here and there dropping a joke and making all of you laugh.

Their company was the reason why you even were there – that was what you tried to talk yourself into, but you knew better.

You knew exactly why you were here and that exact reason stood a few meters away from you, clad in a dark blue suit, fitting to the motto of this year's winter ball, Enchanted under the Snow.

His dark hair fell messy into his face, his pretty nose was up high as he tipped down the deep red beverage that was in his cup, his lips slightly red due to the liquid, but not that you minded that at all. His face was sharp, just as his eyes, which skimmed around the whole gym, trying to make out if anyone was breaking the rules or if something happened that shouldn't happen. He had a strong presence, he always had and he always oozed an authoritarian vibe which often made you tremble in your seat when he talked about the story of Dorian Grey.

It made him look all the more delicious, the way he talked about something that fascinated him. It ignited a spark in his students, but most importantly, he sparked something in you, something that you never felt before. It was an addicting feeling and such a forbidden one too – you found yourself fantasizing about his plush lips often, especially on lonely nights, imagining how wonderful his lips must feel on around your throbbing cli-

“Hey, ___, you're drooling.”, Jimin suddenly snapped you out of your unholy thoughts and you grumbled a little, trying to tear your gaze away from the beauty and sipping on your cup, making Jimin laugh gleefully.

“You're still into the literature professor?”, Jungkook asked you surprised, his eyebrows shooting up as he sent the aforementioned one an obvious look, causing you to grab his arm and yank him back so he was looking at you again.

“Could you maybe shut up?! I don't want everyone to find out, geez, what's going on with the two of you?! I am not crushing on him!”, you tried to defend yourself, your cheeks flaming up and your words coming out way too fast, your face betraying yourself completely.

The three guys in front of you only shared a look and then grinned mischievously.

“She's still totally into him”, Taehyung declared, the other two boys nodding in agreement. “And she isn't even subtle about it. C'mon, ___, you can do better than that. I watch you every time we have him and I know your I would fuck you look way too well.”, Jungkook suddenly said, making you look up at him, puffing your cheeks out.

“And why do you think you know how that look looks? We're both virgins, how could you even know that, huh?”, you tried to sound ignorant, but your tiny grin betrayed you – you already knew that Jungkook knew you better than that, you two almost grew up together as you were neighbours.

“It's the same look you give Johnny Depp when we watch 21 Jump Street and it's the same look I throw to Kim Namjoon.”, he stated quite bluntly, making you and the other two boys gasp at Jungkooks statement. You knew of Jungkooks crush on Namjoon, but did he really have to call you out on Johnny Depp? That was just mean.

“Are you crazy?! What if anyone hears you?!”, Jimin tried to scold the younger one, but he was way too distracted by the football star of the college, who was currently dancing with the head cheerleader.

“Let a bitch dream”, Jungkook sighed, his lips slightly pouted before he looked to the side, the sight of his crush dancing with someone else making his chest ache.

“But anyways, who wouldn't look at Johnny Depp like that? He's a fucking feast and you know that”, you quickly pulled the conversation back into another direction, not wanting your best friend to mourn over the college's jock.

Taehyung agreed, tipping his chin a little bit, “I have to agree. I can't say anything about Johnny. He's just hot.” Jimin shrugged but then nodded too, “Definitely. I don't think anyone could turn him down.”

“See Jungkook! It isn't only me who gives him that look!”, you grinned triumphantly, you eyes sparkling a little bit as you thought you had him now.

“Still doesn't change the fact that you look like that at Mr. Min too.”, he quickly destroyed your tiny win, making you all tiny once again and looking to the side.

“He's right. Just admit it. We all know you want him to pop your cherry.”, Jimin now said, his lips around the rim of his cup, looking to the side and trying to not look into your eyes – not to challenge the beast in you you inhabited sometimes.

At Jimin's audacious statement you gasped angrily, your cheeks already red by now but at that moment you didn't know if it was because of anger or embarrassment or both.

“Y'know, I don't need to listen about the three of you accusing me of something that isn't true. I'll go get myself something new to drink, maybe you'll decide on another topic than the non-existent interest I have in my professor!”, you huffed angrily, throwing your head back and sending the three a bitchy and mean glare before you walked to the self-made bar, taking the ladle of the big bowl and putting yourself in some of the punch.

“Stupid fucks”, you muttered to yourself, watching the three from safe distance grinning at you stupidly. Why were they grinning like that either way? They should feel ashamed! Teasing a girl like that wasn't a sign of chivalry, it was a sign of ignorance and being an asshole or, them just being your best friends.

Because despite them teasing you to no end, you did the same to them too and you loved them for that, all three of you knew how to handle each other and they knew you didn't mean it truly – although you maybe meant it 5%.

When you peeked to the three again, they still didn't look away from you with their stupid grins all plastered across their faces. What was going on? Did you have something on your dress? Was there a stain? You looked down at yourself, not seeing anything on the light blue fabric, frowning to yourself. What the hell did they want from you?

You huffed once again and turned around, wanting to take the ladle again and just when you took it your eyes fell onto it – seeing the lithe fingers already curled around the ladle, your fingerpads touching the soft hand of the one and only man that occupied your thoughts since he started to teach at this college.

“Oh, Miss ___, you wanted to drink something too?”, his dark voice caressed your eardrums, the music in the background suddenly not feeling so obnoxiously loud anymore, everything sounded dull compared to his voice.

“Eh-eh yeah b-but y-you were there first-so d-drink please, Mr. Min!”, you stammered and cussed at yourself mentally. Were you totally dense? Were you a little middle college girl who wasn't able to talk to someone she found pretty?

But Mr. Min wasn't someone you only thought was pretty. Sure, he was pretty, beyond that, he was absolutely ethereal with his coal eyes and pitch-black hair, his marble-like skin, and his virile features, but there was more to him. He was so intelligent, so well-spoken and just overall perfect that you couldn't help yourself, you really were head over heels falling for him, although he was your professor and several years older than you.

He chuckled darkly at your little stutter, shaking his head softly and pouring some punch into his cup and then into yours, making you nod thankfully while sporting a slight blush. He stepped next to you, sipping on his cup and looking around, pushing one of his hands into his front pocket, your eyes scanning him from bottom to top.

“I really thought anyone would try to get some alcohol in here.”, Mr. Min suddenly started, his eyes straying to the sports jocks, “Are they that good at hiding it or am I getting older?”, he asked you now, chuckling a little bit at your flustered and shy behaviour, especially as you gently shook your head at him.

“No, you aren't. The kids who drink alcohol are probably outside at the nearby park, laughing about us students who are here and dance.”, you commented and Mr. Min hummed slightly, “Ah, is that so? So you aren't one to drink?”

His question caught you off guard and you looked up at him with big eyes, shaking your head a little. “Never was the one to. I once tried it put I really didn't like the taste. I stick to my juice boxes.”, you admitted, now way more relaxed in front of him, as something in his voice always was able to settle you down. You just got caught off-guard when he suddenly touched you. You still felt the slight buzzing feeling on your fingertips and you had to admit that you liked it more than you should.

Mr. Min laughed at that, this laugh was different than the chuckle before however. This one was genuine and a little gleeful too, obviously very amused by your words, his eyes crinkling the slightest bit, “That's good, you shouldn't start to drink as early as I did. My liver never thanked me for that.” The way he laughed made your chest all warm and your cheeks too, the butterflies starting to fly in your stomach and your head starting to get a little dazed, dazed by his damned charming self.

Now you were the one who giggled a little bit, your hand coming up to cover your mouth a little bit in a scandalous manner, “Don't tell me you were the one to party, Mr. Min!”

You sounded more flirting than you wanted to and you were surprised yourself, but the way his eyes sparkled for the fraction of a second as he heard your words, obviously getting the flirtatious tone and not being opposed to it, your heart hammered uncomfortably fast against your chest.

“You wouldn't believe it, but yes, I was. My roommate Seokjin and I were known for making the best drinks on campus and as everyone knew, we always got invited to parties.”, he gave you a tiny look into his college life and you listened to him attentively, not even caring that the three boys still looked at the two of you more than obviously.

“So you always had fun, huh?”

There was an obvious suggestive tone in your voice and you didn't know why you were so daring, did anyone put something into the punch or where was this new confidence coming from? Or was the need to have your cherry popped by the one and only Mr. Min so big that you threw all your morals away? Was he worth that?

When you looked into his eyes you already knew that he was, because he held your gaze relentlessly, the tension between the two of you palpable and without missing a beat he huskily replied, leaning a little down to you, “A lot of fun in every way you can imagine.”

He was so close you were able to make out the tiny moles on his flawless skin, his voice making you visibly shiver and your lips parting the slightest bit, “O-oh”, you stammered quite intelligently again, looking away all flustered and red-cheeked, your heart beating fast against your chest. All the newfound confidence was gone and that just because he leaned down to you and looked into your eyes? How weak were you? You truly hoped the guys didn't see you and when you looked up, you noticed that they indeed were gone, just as most of the guests of tonight's college dance.

It was already after 11 pm and you and the guys promised to meet outside to go to your homes again and although you truly didn't want to go and leave Mr. Min like that, you knew that you had to, unless you wanted all three of them to bitch about it until the end of college.

“I-Uhm, have to leave.”, you broke off the tension and the moment you shared with him, “The guys will be waiting for me I am sure, we wanted to go home together.”, you apologized to Mr. Min and he nodded at you, his eyes staying on your form as you walked out of the gym and on the college's parking lot, your eyes scanning the whole place.

As you didn't see any of your friends, panic bubbled up in you. Did they just leave without you? You couldn't make out the Hyundai Stellar of Jimin's and just then it dawned on you. Did they leave you there because they thought you wouldn't come home with them? Were you and Mr. Min that flirting that obviously?

You tried to fight the blush down your neck, gnawing on your bottom lip and asking yourself what to do now. The ride home was usually a ten-minute ride, but when you'd walk it could easily evolve into a thirty-minute walk, especially when you wouldn't take the short ways and you wouldn't walk through the parks. But was it was this late, you didn't want to go home alone, an uncomfortable feeling creeping up on your shoulders and the cold feeling too. You truly had to leave your coat in Jimins car, right?

Just when you were about to cry you heard a familiar voice calling out for you and you turned around, Mr. Min standing in front of you, clad in his big coat, his Mercedes keys in his right hand.

“Did they leave without you?”, he asked you, a soft tone to his voice and you nodded pitifully, his face softening as he took in your shaking and tiny form.

“I can give you a ride home.”, he offered you and walked up to you, taking off his coat and putting it around your shoulder, engulfing you in his delicious scent, your thoughts getting hazy and dazed again. “I would love that.”, you smiled a little at him, the tip of your nose a little red due the cold, the leaves around you still falling to the ground although there wasn't even a breeze. You followed him to his dark Mercedes and he held up the door for you. Ever the gentleman, you thought as you entered the car, smelling something that was undoubtedly him, making you oddly excited and realize that this was going to happen.

You just got into Mr. Mins car and he was about to drive you home. For ten minutes you'd be totally alone with him and in such a small space too. The thought alone made you absolutely excited and you couldn't really hide it. Too often you dreamed about how it'd be if you'd ever have the luck of being completely alone with him and now that you truly were, you found yourself drowned in unholy thoughts. How nice it would be to be squished against him in such a small room, how nice it would be to feel his skin against yours, how nice it would be to hear his dark voice muttering the dirtiest words there were. It didn't take long and you started to rub your thighs together in an attempt to ease the tingle that started between your legs.

“We have to wait until the motor gets warm”, Mr. Min suddenly said, the low noises of the radio slowly merging into the background. You looked up at him with big eyes, almost feeling like he caught you doing something that you weren't allowed to. But you only saw his fingers curled around the steering wheel, his knuckles slightly white due to the force of it. Why was he grasping the wheel this hard?

Yoongi asked himself if you truly thought he didn't notice the way you eyed him down and how you rubbed your thighs together or if you did it on purpose, wanting to drive him mad because you knew exactly that he wasn't allowed to act on the obvious attraction he had for you. He often had to reprimand himself when he looked at you too intensely when you were working or when he rutted himself to sleep to the thought of you.

He knew it wasn't right and he knew that it wasn't legal too – it was frowned upon, even if you were in the legal age to have sex with him. Those thoughts weren't good and Yoongi knew but still, he couldn't help himself when you looked so delectable right next to him.

You two were flirting earlier and you both knew. It was obvious, very much at that and he thought the tension back in the gym hall was quite big but now, now that he was in the car with you and in such a small space, he almost choked at the tension and you did too.

“Mr. Min”, you murmured quietly, your voice nothing more than a whisper but loud enough for Yoongi to hear, so he looked to you, his eyebrow raising the slightest bit, “Hmm?”

“Did you put on the air conditioner? It's getting so warm here..”, you mumbled, sliding off Yoongis coat and sighing as soon as the air hit your bare skin, slightly fanning some air to yourself, very glad that you chose an off-shoulder dress for this occasion.

“You were freezing earlier, I had to-”, he started and wanted to turn it off, but you stopped him, your fingertips touching his once again, a slight buzz going through both of your hands, “Don't put it off. It's okay. I like it warm.”, you smiled a little bit and let your fingerpads wander over his hand, making Yoongi shiver for a moment, your eyes meeting for what felt like an eternity. It was at this moment that both of you knew that something was going to happen tonight and both of you wanted it too.

“___... What are you doing, hm?”, he asked you when you started to touch the collar of his button-down, his eyes focused on you, especially as you started to touch his throat all curiously and carefully, “I am touching you, Mr. Min.”, you said innocently, tilting your head a little bit, “Am I not allowed, Mr.Min?~”

He keened a little into your touch, letting you touch his throat to your heart's content until he felt your fingers fiddling with his deep blue tie. Within seconds he grabbed your wrist, looking deeply into your eyes while leaning closer to you. He knew what you wanted and he knew that he wanted it too, the temptation of the forbidden fruit so close to him, driving him almost insane, but he also knew just how wrong it was.

There was a tiny thread that held him to his morals, that screamed at him to just bring you home and stay away from you, but there was a bigger part of him that wanted it. That wanted you, in the rawest form he could have you. You weren't just a body he wanted to own, you were a soul he wanted to mingle with, to get one with. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, only to open them again and look into yours, his eyes searching for any tiny evidence of doubt in yours.

But there was none.

“Do you want this?”, he asked you, his hand reaching out for you and engulfing your cheek, softly rubbing the soft flesh with his thumb, watching your face which was illuminated by the street lamp in front of his car, your big and sparkling eyes looking into his relentlessly.

“I never wanted anything more than this, Mr. Min.”, you breathed out, leaning your face into his touch just the way you always wanted to.

Suddenly, he came closer to you, leaning over the gear lever, careful not to touch anything as he brushed his lips against yours, a tiny gasp leaving your lips. Was this how your first kiss was going to be? With your literature professor?

You smiled at the thought, your eyes fluttering shut as you closed the distance between the two of you, stealing a kiss from him and making it official.

You never thought that lips could taste and feel this good. This plush, this soft and this undoubtedly delicious, but maybe that was just because those lips belonged to Mr. Min. It was like a firework igniting between the two of you, your lips moving against each other, one of your hands finally being able to untie his tie, throwing it haphazardly onto the backseats.

Your fingers fiddled with the first buttons of his button-down, opening them and touching a man's chest for the first time, your other hand carding through his hair, making it even messier than before. His own hand came up to your hair, grabbing you by the base and pulling you closer to him, his other hand placed on your thigh and grabbing it firmly.

It felt marvellous, the way his hands felt on you and how you felt him up. His skin was absolutely perfect, it was soft and you were able to make out with a few touches that he kept his body in shape, his chest being a little harder. A tiny gasp fell from Mr. Mins lips as soon as you brushed his nipple, pulling away from your lips and looking into your eyes.

His cheeks were flushed, his eyes hazy and his lips were kissed red. You bit down on your bottom lip, letting your eyes wander over his messed up hair and his opened button-down, rubbing your thighs against each other once again, the sight alone making your pussy throb with want.

You looked equally as out of it and Yoongi couldn't hold himself back, not when his pants got uncomfortably tight.

He undid his seatbelt, suddenly standing up and climbing into the back of the car, sitting down and finally putting off the jacket of his suit. He opened all the buttons of his button-down and spread his legs widely, giving you a perfect look on his hard-on. You salivated at the sight, how the hell was it even allowed to be this sensual?

“Come to your professor and let him take care of you”, he rasped into the air, making you jump into action and sitting on his lap, your the hem of your dress revealing more and more of your thighs.

You situated yourself perfectly on his boner, your clit throbbing against his pants, making you moan into his hold. Without hesitation he curled his arms around you, guiding you against his cock and causing the both of you to moan although you both still were completely dressed, your lips locked in a heated kiss, him intruding your hot cavern and starting to twirl his tongue around yours.

“Please”, you whined into the kiss, totally overwhelmed by the onslaught of feelings, the tingle between your legs only growing and growing, the grinding only making you hornier than more.

“Please Mr. Min. I want you.”, you whispered sensually, curling your arms around his neck, accentuating your statement as you ground especially hard against him, making him moan against your lips.

“I need to prepare you”, he hushed you, “Sit up.”

You did as ordered, sitting up a little bit and steadying yourself at the backrest of the seats just right next to his head while tilting your head to the side questioningly.

“Preparing me? Why do you need to prepa...-”, you wanted to ask him but got cut off as you felt his index and middle finger running up and down your already soaked panties, circling your clit and your entrance too.

“Mr. Min!”, you moaned into his touch, loving the way his fingers felt on your pussy and wishing nothing more than to rip your panties off so you could feel his fingers unfiltered, “Please! Put them away, my panties please!”

“It's my utmost pleasure”, he groaned and peeled your panties off your soaked cunt, grabbing the fabric that just hugged your pussy and ripping it away. Before you could even comprehend it or complain about it, he already had his fingers on your bare pussy now, causing you to let out a long and loud moan.

“Fuck, yes! Yes, Mr. Min, it feels so good please don't stop”, you begged, moving your hips against his fingers, him watching you absolutely endeared while he licked his lips.

“Do you like that, little dove?”, he asked you and you nodded frantically, embarrassingly close to your climax already.

“Yes yes, I love it! Please don't stop with it, I'm gonna-I'm gonna-”, you started to chant, your hips starting to move more erratically, coming undone underneath his fingers. You fell onto him completely, your face nestled against his neck.

You grabbed the fabric of the backrests violently and you threw your head back while Yoongi rode out your orgasm with his fingers, suddenly slipping two of them into you with elegant ease.

The feeling of your first orgasm slowly ebbed away and just then you felt it.

A slight stretch, a stretch that was so delicious that you immediately yearned for more.

“Mhhh Mr. Min”, you cried against his neck, softly kissing and licking at his skin, starting to hear the faint noises of the radio mixed with the squelching noises that undeniably came from your pussy, “Your fingers are in me.”

He nodded at you, starting to finger your squelching cunt, “Does it feel good?”

“It feels foreign”, you stuttered out, trying to accustom to the feeling how having something in you for the first time.

“You're a virgin, huh?”, he asked you, the tone of his voice not mocking, if anything, he sounded oddly turned on, “Never had fingers in that tiny pussy of yours, huh?” You moaned at his lewd words, nodding and fucking yourself on his fingers as the initial weird feeling transformed into a feeling of hot pleasure.

“Never had fingers in me, Mr. Min. Never had a cock in me, Mr. Min. Yours is going to be the first”, you mewled and he moaned at your words, scissoring you open, your juices staining his back seats but he couldn't care less. Not when you were this exposed in front of him.

“You're a naughty one, huh? Don't think I wouldn't notice how you gush on my fingers when I talk so dirty to you”, he teased you, a dark chuckle leaving his lips at your whine, his fingers suddenly reaching a point that made your jaw go slack and your sight to blackout for a tiny second.

The sound that left your lips was something that was foreign to your own ears and you grasped Yoongis shoulder to remind yourself that you were here, here with him.

“Fuck!”, you cried out, “What's-what's that?! Mr. Min, please touch it again, it's so good, so so so good!”, you babbled and Yoongis dick twitched in his pants, complying to your wish and rubbing at your g-spot while he opened his zipper with one hand, getting his cock out of the confines of his underwear, finally freeing it.

“It's your g-spot, little dove. And call me Yoongi.”, he demanded from you, but you only moaned around his fingers, not being able to make out anything else than a fire that ignited between your legs.

As Yoongi felt you clench around his fingers especially hard, he stopped, slipping his fingers out of you completely and smearing your juices all over his cock. You looked down and between his legs, watching him doing such a lewd thing, your eyes growing incredibly big.

“Your cock is so big.”, you gasped, looking up into his eyes again, “How is your cock going to fit?”

Yoongi couldn't help the dark chuckle that left his lips at your cute but yet so dirty words, “I prepared you for a reason, little one. Now lay down.”

With trembling legs you complied to his wish, laying down on the seats and spreading your legs willingly for him, even holding your dress up to reveal your dripping cunt to his hungry eyes.

“You look so innocent”, he murmured, tracing his fingers that were still slightly damp from your arousal over your cheek, suddenly grabbing the fabric that shielded your chest and yanking it down to reveal you bare in front of him. He licked his lips at the sight.

“No bra?”

“Very uncomfortable in such a dress”, you shyly said, your hands coming up to hide yourself but he stopped you with one look only.

“Don't hide when you just revealed your dripping pussy a few seconds ago.”, he commanded and you nodded at him, your hands reaching for him and making grabby hands at him.

He looked at you, enjoying the view of you so exposed and sprawled out for his hungry eyes only. It was a delightful sight and he truly never wanted to forget it, he wanted to see you like that over and over again. He wanted to make you moan and cry out, again and again, he wanted nothing more than to be with you fully.

“Please, make me yours Yoongi.”, you whispered and broke him out of his thoughts, slowly leaning over you and grabbing his cock to rub his head against your bare pussy.

You let out a moan, your cheeks all red and warm due to the onslaught of feelings you felt, throwing your head back and watching the fog collect on the windows of his car.

You were glad about that, this way no one was able to see what was going on inside of the car.

“Are you ready?”, he asked you and you looked back at him, nodding, “More than ready.”

He chuckled at that, slowly sheathing himself inside of you. You squeezed your eyes shut at the stinging pain, your chest rising and falling rapidly as quick huffs and puffs left your lips.

Just when you thought it got a little better, the inched more into you and you let out a cry, arching your back into his hold, silently whimpering. At that, he slowly let his fingertips trail over the inner of your thighs, making your muscles relax more and more.

“Relax, little dove. I am here. Mr. Min is here and he'll take care of you.”, he whispered, slowly leaning more to you and talking against your lips. He waited for you to accustom more to his girth, himself having to control himself and not to fuck into your tight virgin pussy like he wanted to.

“Can I?”, he asked you hurriedly and you hummed in affirmation, taking a deep breath and taking in the last inches of him.

You never thought the feeling of being full felt this fucking good. It was like all you wished for, you felt complete, stretched to a painfully pleasurable point.

Yoongi gulped above you, his hands right next to your head to steady himself, waiting for you to give him a sign so he was able to continue.

After a while, the pain fully transformed into pleasure and you looked up at him, your hands on his chest, softly touching his nubs, “Please, move.”

And so he did.

He pulled out completely only to slap his hips right back into you, the squelching sounds now even louder than before, as both of your arousals and your blood made it more easy for him to move inside of you.

You moaned loudly and he did too, thrusting into you at a nice and steady pace, not too fast and not too slow, the whole car starting to move. He didn't want to go rampage on you on your first night, no, that was saved for other nights.

“Fuck, would you look at that”, he hissed, looking between the two of you and watching your pussy swallow his thick cock, “Your greedy virgin pussy is taking my thick cock so well, how can this be hm? How can such a tight virgin pussy swallow my dick so well?”

He felt you clench around his cock and his movements stuttered for a moment, “Such a whore for dirty talk, aren't you?”

You nodded frantically, curling your hands underneath his button-down and around his torso.

“Yes Yoongi, so much! My pussy is taking your cock so well because I was made for you, made for your cock, made for you to fuck!”, you cried out especially loud as he reached your g-spot again and you knew, you knew you wouldn't last long anymore.

He got goosebumps at your words, slamming his hips into you with more fervour now, always rubbing the tip of his cock against your most sensitive spot, “Mhhhm that's right. Your little pussy is made to take my big cock, right? Your pussy just wants my big cock, hm?”

You couldn't stop moaning, the feeling of him hitting your most delicious spots over and over again, the drool already dripping down the corners of your mouth. You suddenly felt how the knot in your tummy started to get tighter and tighter, tingles rising all over your body, the pleasure fogging your mind and consuming your eyesight too.

Yoongi felt how you suddenly clenched around him and held his cock firmly nestled in you and he bit down on his lip, “Are you coming?”, he gritted through his teeth, feeling himself getting closer and closer to the edge the more your walls sucked his cock in.

“Yes! Yes I am about to cum, please, please cum with me, Mr. Min!”, you broke out in incoherent moans, Yoongi keeping his pace up, the tip of his cock bluntly assaulting your g-spot and that was the last thing that you needed to cum undone once again, crying out his name.

For one moment Yoongi thought you'd cut his blood circulation as you tightened yourself around him that hard, he thought he was going to lose his mind, drilling into your dripping cunt and releasing himself in you in hot spurts, all the tension between the two of you finally exploding into the first and most mind-blowing orgasm you ever had.

The both of you tried to calm your breathing down, silent gasps and deep intakes of air being heard.

He fell on you and you sighed contently, liking the way of feeling his weight on you. A small formed on your lips, which quickly faded as soon as he intended to pull out, thinking that you might feel uncomfortable stuffed to the brim like that.

“No!”, you quickly stopped him, your hands finding his hair once again, carding your fingers through it, “Please, stay in me.”

He looked up at you in wonder, his head slightly tilted to the side, “Isn't it uncomfortable?”

You shook your head at him, your cheeks slightly getting red because of the embarrassment and he smiled warmly at you.

“Like being stuffed, huh?”, he asked you with an amused glint in his eyes, making you giggle shyly.

“I like being stuffed by you.”, you gave back and curled your arms around him, pulling him closer so you felt all of him on you.

Both of you stayed like that, calming yourselves down and just being with each other, enjoying the presence of each other.

“Mr. Min?”

“I said you can call me Yoongi”, he chuckled a little bit and nestled his face in the crook of your neck, softly kissing you and making you blush, obviously not getting the worried tone of your voice.

“Was this more for you than a mere fuck?”, you broke out, chewing on your bottom lip nervously as he heaved himself up to look into your eyes, seeing how much you struggled with keeping eye contact.

His heart felt heavy just when he looked at your stressed-out form, it painfully wrenched inside of his chest and he bit the inner of his cheek.

He already knew the answer, he already knew it the second he walked into the class.

You were more than a student.

More than a mere fuck.

“It was”, he honestly said, wiping a strand of hair from your face, a gentle smile on his lips, “It was way more than that.”

He softly leaned down and caught your lips in a kiss, feeling how a tear rolled down your cheek, his own getting slightly wet because of it. You weren't able to hold yourself together, too happy with the outcome of this night, not even wanting to think about how you didn't even want to go in the first place.

“Don't you cry”, he thumbed your tear away, a soft and gentle spark in his eyes, “I am here for you now. I am here and I am not planning on leaving.”

You smiled at him, pecking his lips, love and adoration bubbling up in your chest.

“Will you always be there for me?”, you asked him, obviously meaning that he'll still be there when you would graduate.

“I'll always be.”, he said without hesitation, meaning every word and locking lips with you once more and you believed him. You believed him with every fiber of your being and at that moment you knew. You just knew you both would stay together.

“I like you, Yoongi.”, you quietly murmured and you thought your heart would stop beating in your chest when you were met with silence.

But that didn't last long. Yoongi slowly kissed up your neck, looking deeply into your eyes and smiling lovingly.

“Even though not everyone will be able to understand what we have and share, we will be together. We will be in our own little world and no one will be able to intervene in it. It will be our own world. Our own little safe haven. I have the same feelings you have for you, ___.”

Your heart swelled in your chest at his words, feeling euphoric at the fact that he shared what you felt for him and you pulled him into another kiss, relishing in the feeling of his lips and letting yourself fall into it.

Until a thought suddenly crossed your mind and your eyes grew wide, pulling your lips away from his and looking into his eyes like a deer caught in the headlights of a truck.

“What is going on?”

“... I am not on the pill.”

[itsnsfwalways]

Canyon Moon

FIC MASTERLIST

WARNINGS FOR CHP. 2: swearing, mild drug & alcohol use, brief mentions of death

CHAPTER TWO: wish i could get to know you

The two of you pull up to your buddy Mike’s place, a small, hole-in-the-wall studio.

Harry parks the car and gets out to open your door, although he waits for you outside to tie your boots.

“How’d you meet this guy?”

“Oh, Mike? We can’t really remember the first time, I’ll tell you the story with him when we’re inside.”

You hop out of the car and grab his hand, swinging it back and forth as you walk up to the front, hearing soft music playing already.

The two of you reach the door and Y/N swings it open, yelling out,

“I hope you’re ready because mama wants a tattoo.”

Harry shakes his head and tries to hide his grin as he turns around to shut the door all the way.

“You’re fucking stupid,” A male voice laughs out, looking up from his sketchbook. His feet are propped up on the counter, and of course, he is littered with tattoos.

“Mike, this is Mr. Ferrari, Ferrari, Mike,” you introduce, waving your hands between the two.

“I saw that fuckin car, I was like ‘who the fuck is coming to me in that?’” Mike exclaimed, snapping his fingers.

“Hey, mate, I’m Harry,” Harry says, leaning forward to shake Mike’s hand while giving you a look that makes your head drop to the floor and your heart skip a beat.

“Nice to meet you, dude. I’m Mike, Like your tats,” Mike says, getting up from the chair behind the counter.

He leads the two of you over to his station, getting all his supplies laid out as you hop into the leather chair.

“So what are you getting, Y/N?” Harry asks, sitting in a chair near you.

“This extremely intricate design that’s going to take lots of mental power, and, of course, only gives me a few hours notice,” Mike teases, kicking the bottom of your chair.

“It’s just this geometrical thing I saw on a Tarot card a little while ago, it really stuck out to me.” You explain, pulling the card from your purse.

“Oh, cool.” Harry nods, picking up the card, only after looking at you for permission, of course. He holds it lightly by the edges, being sure to be gentle with it.

“‘S not gonna bite you, baby,” you giggle, knocking your knee against his, biting back a smile at the way his head shoots up.

He grins at you, knocking his knee back while setting down the card carefully on the table.

“I know, but I know these cards are special to some people, want to be gentle with em,” he says softly, twirling his pointer finger ring.

“Some decks are, but these are very relaxed. You don’t have to treat em like glass.”

He nods and blushes slightly, looking away for a second to hide his smile.

“You done flirting so I can start?” Mike asks, removing the transfer paper from your inner right forearm.

“You’ve had sex on my living room floor, I’m allowed to do whatever the fuck I want after that,” you say, shuddering slightly at the memory.

“Fair point.” Mike nods, beginning the design.

“So, um, Y/N said that you guys can’t remember how you met? I’d love to hear the story.” Harry jumps in, eyebrows raised at your last statement.

“Oh, fuck,” Mike laughs, dipping the needle in more ink. “I think it needs to come with a warning that I spent pretty much the entire year of 2015 drunk. She says we met at a Tame Impala gig but I have no such memory of this happening.”

“It did happen! You gave me your number because I kept bugging you about your tattoos but it was to this random mom in Philadelphia, who did not appreciate me calling her at 3 am.”

“Anyways,” Mike cuts in, rolling his eyes, “We officially met at a New Year’s Eve party later that year that my wife, Maggie, hosted. Y/N and her ex came and proceeded to break up right before the ball dropped, and she made out with my sister instead just to piss him off.”

You let out a laugh and cover your quickly turning red face with your hand, peeking through your fingers to gauge Harry’s reaction.

“Wow.” He acknowledges, eyebrows raised and fingers pinching his bottom lip, glancing back at you. His lips quiver slightly as he tries to hold back his laughter.

“Alright, haha, very funny. The ending to this, BEAUTIFUL, story, I must say, is he gave me this tattoo the next week and the rest is history.” You gesture to the sunflower bundle inked on your thigh, before puckering up your lips at Mike, who, without even looking up, shoves your face with his other hand.

“Honestly, Harry, I’d run while you can. There’s never a dull moment with this one, that’s for fucking sure.” Mike advises, rolling his eyes when you smile widely.

“I’m starting to learn that,” Harry laughs, eyes trained on you.

The three of you go into a comfortable silence, the only sound being the tattoo gun whirring and your occasional whimper at a sensitive spot.

A thin line of sweat has slowly covered your body, and Mike notices, scoffing.

“We’re gonna take a quick break. I’m gonna go get a cig when you get calm, back in 20,” He says, stopping the machine and leaving the room quickly.

“So, uh, you guys have quite a fun dynamic,” Harry comments.

You take a deep breath and look to him, your mouth closing at how he’s positioned. It’s been about an hour at this point, and he’s shifted in his seat to a more comfortable position. Leaned back against the chair, legs spread open, arms resting behind his back, it wasn’t helping your situation.

“Yeah, he’s like my older brother. His sister is great too,” You mindlessly say.

“I’ll bet,” Harry smirks, nodding slowly.

“Hey, quit it. You get to have fun with pretty girls and so do I.”

Harry clears his throat at your boldness and adjusts his positioning, changing to lean forward on his knees.

You get up to grab two water bottles from the mini-fridge under the counter, offering one to Harry when you sit back down.

Drinking about half the bottle, you let out a sigh, trying to get your shaking legs under control.

“What’s your shirt say?” You ask, still having not figured out the small black text.

“Oh, it says ‘Treat People With Kindness’. It’s kind of my motto, or slogan, I guess. Most of my merch says either this or the abbreviation for it.” He tells you, hands going down to pull the shirt away from his chest.

“That’s really nice, Harry.” He glances up at you with a small smile on his face, nodding slightly.

“Bit egotistical wearing your own merch, but hey, who am I to judge?”

He rolls his eyes and bumps the bottom of your chair with his foot.

“Why’d he stop? You don’t seem to be freaking out to me. Maybe a little sweaty,” he teases, not realizing what he’s asking.

Groaning, you lean your head backwards towards the ceiling, hating yourself for what you’re about to say.

“Got a bit of a pain kink so I’m... overwhelmed, let’s say, and Mike hates that about me.”

Harry lets out a breath of air at this and you turn your head to look at him.

Your slight leg tremors are now starting to click, the blown out pupils, and swollen red lips from how much you were biting them.

“If it makes you feel better, I had to get a tattoo on live television and to this day, I still see zoomed in photos of my eyes from it online. At least they make the process fun.”

Your jaw drops and you lift your head up.

“Alright, Harry, shit,” you mutter, wiping the sweat off your brow. “Always got to one up me.”

He looks shocked at this and mockingly puts a hand to his chest.

“Says you! From the minute I met you, you’ve continued to surprise me with everything you say.”

“Okay, Mr. ‘I sang with Stevie Nicks and cruise around Malibu in a beautiful car’.” You say, blushing slightly from his words.

“You sang with Stevie Nicks?” Mike asks, walking through the door.

“Yes! He’s a musician, let’s play his album. What’s it called?” You jump up, slapping your hands on your thighs.

“Harry Styles, it’s a self-titled album. You can listen to it later if you want, I mean, we don’t have to-“

You shut off his rambling quickly.

“I wanna hear your voice! Also self-titled, we love a man with a big ego,” You tease, getting up to get the iPad that controls the music.

Typing in his name, you raise your eyes at the number of streams he has, clicking on the album and playing the first song, ‘Meet Me In The Hallway’.

“You’re quite pretty, Harry. That’s some gorgeous cover art.” You comment, pretending to examine it further.

“Oh god,” he laughs, tucking his chin down to hide his face a little bit.

“Okay, Y/N, shut up, sit your ass down, so I can finish this and you can listen to the song properly.” Mike points, making you put the iPad down and come over.

The song hypnotizes you for a second, trying to zone out and listen to it.

“Shit, Harry, you are fucking good.” You mutter, hand going to your mouth at his talent.

“Thank you,” he whispers, looking almost nervous at your reaction.

Your jaw stays open pretty much the entire song, each note making your eyes go wider or glance at Harry, trying to figure out how he is this perfect.

“Is it too soon to propose?” You ask, his voice slowly fading in the background as it changes to the next song.

He laughs and scrunches his nose slightly before telling you, “Just a tad.”

The next song starts playing, and you’d be lying if tears didn’t fall.

Trying to play it off, you look away and wipe your eyes. Mike glances up at you and stops for a minute, rubbing your arm slightly and giving you a squeeze. You tap back on the table and he nods, feeling better that you gave him an okay.

“Fuck, sorry, this is a lot. Crying on the second song, phew. Hope you’re doing good upstairs, Harry,” You laugh, sniffling a little.

“Don’t apologize, please. Music brings up a lot of emotions, I feel so honored that you’re reacting to it so strongly.” He says, rubbing your knee slightly,

“Should I cry a little more then?” You tease, smiling at him with damp eyes.

“Boost my ego a bit, maybe,” he smiles back.

All of a sudden, the song climaxes, and your jaw drops once more.

“Holy shit, Harry! Do you have anything wrong with you? My god.” You shake your head, in disbelief over him.

“I mean, I am always traveling, so there’s that. But other than that, I’m pretty much awesome,” he pretends to boast, fake popping his collar.

The song shifts to Carolina, which Harry tells you after you ask as soon as it starts playing.

“She’s such a good girl, she feels so good. Am I hearing that right? Just wanna check,” you recite the lyrics slowly back to him, moving your free arm around.

Harry looks away, pretending to check out the pictures on the wall behind him.

“Are you gonna be like this for every song?” Mike asks, and you nod happily, bumping your head to the beat.

Almost the entire album plays while Mike is tattooing you, all with varying reactions of either, ‘Harry!’, ‘Is this real?’, ‘I’m gonna start crying’, or ‘this is the sexiest shit I’ve ever heard’. Without fail, you ask him the song name when the first few notes start playing and he tells you it, sitting quietly and smiling at you getting so happy over his music.

Mike finishes wrapping you up and goes to the back to find some healing products for you as the final notes of Woman play, and you swivel in your chair to face Harry, knocking your knees against his.

“What’s the next one called?” You ask, so in awe of the man sitting in front of you.

“From the Dining Table. ‘S the last one. Quite an emotional one.” He says back, smiling sadly at you while playing with his rings.

You nod in understanding as it starts, coming to sit next to him and leaning your head on his shoulder, so drained from the last few hours. He wraps his arm around you, tucking his head over yours.

The song goes by without a noise from either of you, sans a few sniffles that made Harry squeeze you a little tighter.

After it ends and the two of you sit there in silence for a while, you say quietly,

“I like how at the end the music swelled when you wanted them to call you, and then it cut out. That was pretty powerful.”

He nods, the movement moving your head slightly.

“I like that part too.”

You pull away from him and look at his face close up for a second, trying to read him.

“Thank you for sharing this with me. I mean, obviously not with me, but that you let me freak out over you. You’re really special, Mr. Ferrari,” you whisper, brushing his hair out of his face.

“So are you, Y/N,” he mumbles, eyes flickering to your lips for a second.

“You paying cash or card?” Mike’s voice cuts through the air and the two of you jump apart, feeling like teenagers.

“Um, card,” You say, standing up with your purse and heading to the counter to pay.

Mike rings you up and you grab a hundred from your wallet to tip him with.

“Ah, I remembered why I like you,” Mike smirks, grabbing the bill from you.

“Stupid,” you mutter, giving him a hug goodbye.

“Oh, before you leave, I’m throwing a party this Saturday, Harry, you’re welcome to come as well,” Mike adds, gesturing him over.

He moves from his spot against the wall to stand next to you, a hand resting on your lower back for a second before dropping to his side.

“Thank you, I’ll have to check and see but I’d love to come. It was great meeting you mate, might have to set an appointment up in the future,” He smiles, shaking Mike’s hand once more.

“Hell yes, brother, I’d love to. Great album, by the way. Can see why Y/N brought you by.” Mike crosses his arms over his chest and looks at you while he says this.

“Alright, shut it down,” You snap your fingers at him, glaring slightly. “I’ll text you later, loser.”

“Get out!” He yells, making you laugh as you drag Harry away.

“Need help with your bag?” Harry asks as you exit the shop, the cold air biting your bare legs.

“I’m good, thank you though.” You swing the bag so it hits his butt just to see the way he jumps and runs away from you for a second.

“Hey! No hitting the driver!” He scolds, wagging a finger pointedly.

“We haven’t even gotten in the car yet!” You argue, coming to a stop in front of his car.

“Doesn’t matter.” He shakes his head and grins at you when he unlocks the door, immediately reaching for yours to open it for you.

“Thank you.” Your voice came out as a meek whisper and you cleared your throat after he shut the door, trying to shake out your butterflies.

He plops himself down next to you and pats his hands on the steering wheel for a second.

“Do you want me to drop you off at your van or your apartment?” He asks, turning to face you.

“Trying to kick me out?” You questioned, laughing at his expression.

“Van’s fine. I’m probably just going to write, I’ve got some stuff to do for a friend.”

“Is there a name for the beach? I’m not sure I remember how to get there,” Harry admits, opening up Google Maps on his phone.

“Not really but I can just find it on the map real quick, I’ve been in this position way too many times.”

He hands his phone over and you find the cove in less than twenty seconds, handing it back over.

“So where are you from? I’m realizing you tricked me into spilling my guts without telling me too much about yourself.” Harry questions, hand going up to scratch his chin.

“I grew up kind of all around California, my family was always traveling so I was homeschooled for all my life. Only child, because we were pretty broke and I was a ‘happy accident’,” You quote, laughing at your mom’s phrasing.

“Aren’t we all really?” Harry grins, shrugging slightly.

“I think so. Anyways, my parents died when I was 15 and that really made me get my shit together. I moved in with my best friend, Laura. Graduated high school early and just worked my ass off for a couple years. Bought Miss Sunflower and renovated her, traveled through America for about a year and a half before moving here with Laura. She and I got an apartment together and just have kind of figured life out since then. She works at a record label and I’ve been working as a part-time songwriter since I was 16, mostly just helping out whenever an extra person is needed or they need some extra little sad sprinkles in a song.” You explain, taking a breath after you finish your little rant.

“I’m so sorry for your loss. I know your parents would be very proud of you staying true to your roots.” Harry sadly smiles, rolling up to a red light at the perfect time. He leans over to give you a quick hug and you graciously accept, whispering a little ‘thank you’ in his ear.

“It’s been a rough grieving process but I’d like to think they are. Please don’t pity me though, it sucks, yes, but life could be so much worse. I’m lucky to have the people in my life that I do,” you explained, picking your nails nervously.

“I completely understand. I lost my stepdad last year and being there for my mum was the only thing that kind of kept me going,” Harry sympathizes, twisting one of his rings around his hands.

“I’m sorry as well,” you murmur, taking his hand and holding it.

“Yeah,” Harry exhales harshly. “Life’s a bitch.”

You giggle lightly, nodding. “That she is.”

The two of you sit in silence for the remainder of the drive back, listening to the ocean waves and the sounds of your breathing.

Harry parks his car next to your van and puts it in park, leaving the headlights on.

“Thank you for coming with me and sharing all of this, you really know how to make a girl feel special,” you blush, tucking a loose curl behind your ear.

“Thank you, Y/N. I feel like my whole view on the world has shifted so much in the last few hours,” Harry gushes, and you have to turn away to smile for a second.

“Come on,” you mumble, hiding your mouth with your hand.

“I’m serious! I know we just met but I really like you, I’d love to continue this. And I need to listen to you play still, not fair I only got to hear from far away for a few seconds.”

“I’d definitely like to see you again, but it’s a harsh maybe on the playing,” You nod, biting your lip to stop the smile from plastering itself on your face.

“I can give you my number if that works, but, like I said, I’m always here.” You offered, gesturing to your car.

“Number works great. And I’ll let you have your spot, I don’t want to take it away from you,” Harry pulls out his phone to give you his contacts.

“No, please come join me, with friends too! I need to share this little bundle of joy,” You hope to pursuade him into visiting this spot, but his expression is unreadable.

“How about this, I’ll text you before I come?” He suggests, taking his phone back from your hands.

“Perfect. Thank you again, Harry,” you emphasize, leaning over to give him another hug.

“Of course, love. Thank you for a wonderful night.”

You wave goodbye after getting out of his car and head into your van, taking note he doesn’t leave til you’ve gotten yourself inside and shut the door.

You plop yourself down on the bed and sigh, looking up at the ceiling.

“Holy shit,” you sigh, getting up to get into the driver’s seat.

You FaceTime Mike on your way back to the apartment, unable to wait to talk to Laura when you get home.

He answers a few seconds later, beer in hand.

“‘Sup loser,” he greets you with a head nod, “You get home okay?”

“Yes, oh my god. What the fuck was tonight? What do you think of Harry?”

He sighs and moves to lean his phone against something.

“If I’m being honest, the man is unreal. I don’t know how the fuck you found him but, wow. I can’t think of anyone who is down to not only drive someone they just met to get a tattoo, but to then sit through the entire thing while having them fangirl over their album.”

“I was not fangirling!” You try and defend, but one look from Mike shuts you up.

“Okay, maybe I was, but I’m just so in awe. I gave him my number because I thought he might feel weird giving me his. He had almost a billion streams on his first fucking album. That’s insane.” You explain, biting your thumb.

“Quit biting. And yeah, I’m not going to lie I looked him up after you left. Mans is a proper superstar, used to date Kendall Jenner allegedly.”

“Bleh,” you shake. “I don’t want to know about his life from the internet, that’s so weird. Also, when Alex and I were together he was dating some new model every other week, all those magazines are bullshit.”

“True. But Alex also was dating a model,” Mike retorts, trying to pick your buttons.

“Haha, very funny,” you deadpann, rolling your eyes.

“I’m just saying, as your brother, be careful. He really does seem like an amazing guy.”

“Yeah. He really is. Say hi to Maggie for me when you get home! I’m rolling up to my place right now so I gotta go.”

“I will. I know you already know how to take care of your tattoo so I’m not gonna waste my time. Later, loser.”

“Bye, dumbass.” You hang up, pulling into the driveway.

Practically dancing up the steps and through the front door, you’re met with the cozy atmosphere the two of you have created for yourself. You can tell your favorite vanilla candle is burning somewhere in the house and you slip off your shoes, practically running into Laura’s room and leaping onto her bed.

“Hello, my love,” she smiles, hugging you tightly. Her perfume envelopes you and you squeeze her back, lying your head in her lap.

“I thought you were staying at the beach today?” She wonders, playing with your hair.

You sit up at this, resting on your elbows.

“I met a boy,” you smile, putting your hands to your cheeks.

“Shut up!” Her voice raises a few octaves and she scrambles upright, hitting your thigh with her hand.

“Ow!”

“Who is he? Where? Oh my god!” Laura rattles off, bouncing up and down on the bed.

“His name’s Harry, we met at the spot. He came with me to get the Tarot card tattoo at Mike’s.” You gesture to the bandage around your forearm.

“Shit, man. What’s he look like?”

“Fucking hot. He’s British, for one. Tall, curly brown hair, green eyes, lots of tattoos. Also, he’s got the voice of a goddamn angel.”

“You’re not talking about Harry Styles, are you?” Laura asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, you know him?” You wonder, surprised she knows his name.

Her jaw drops and she fully shoves ou off the bed, emitting a ‘hey!’ from you.

“Of course I know Harry fucking Styles. Are you serious?”

You blow your hair out of your face and lean up on your elbows, one leg still on the edge of the bed.

“No, I’m not joking, what the hell?” You laugh, pulling yourself back onto the comforter.

“How the- who- what?!” She stutters, looking at you expectantly for a story.

“He came up to me on the beach asking for a lighter, we smoked a j and just kind of started talking. I asked if he wanted to go to Mike’s with me and he drove me over, and I’m me, so I tried to pick apart his brain a little. We listened to his album, which, by the way, have you heard it? That shit’s incredible.”

“Of course I’ve heard it! The entire world has heard it! Keep going!”

“Jesus,” you laugh, shocked by her reaction. “He drove me back and we got a little deep, I gave him my number before I left. I think we kind of had a moment though, he looked like he wanted to kiss me for a second.”

You pull your knees to your chest and rest your chin on them, thinking back to that moment.

“Holy shit, Y/N,” Laura sighs, falling back dramatically on her pillow.

“I know. I feel kind of weird though, he seems very closed in. I mean, I get it, I saw that he has quite a bit of fame, but I don’t want to have to pry him open, y’know?”

“I mean, yeah, but he’s really fucking famous. His fans are some of the most die-hard people out there. And there’s a hell of a lot of people who would do unspeakable things to be in your position. Myself included,” she mumbles at the end, and you swat her with a pillow.

“Gah,” you moan, lying down next to her. “I don’t know how to navigate my way around that kind of fame. What if he sees that, or still thinks that I’m lying about not knowing who he is? That’d be a bit egotistical, though, so maybe I’d be dodging a bullet.”

“Nope! You are not missing out on an opportunity to fuck Harry Styles.”

You laugh, scrunching your nose.

“I don’t want to think of him like that. Just Harry, the dude who I’ve been relentlessly teasing all night.” You turn onto your stomach suddenly.

“Shit. What if I was being too much?”

You groan again, pushing your face in her pillow.

“Than he’s dumb for not realizing how funny you are.”

Your phone pings suddenly, and you grab it from your back pocket, not recognizing the number on your home screen.

“Shit, he just texted me.” You shout, standing up onto the ground while you read the message aloud.

Hey, Y/N, it’s Harry. Hope you’re enjoying the rest of your night, I just wanted to give you my number and thank you again. Tonight was probably the most fun I’ve had in a while, if I’m being honest, and I was wondering if you wanted to do lunch tomorrow?

“Oh, fuck ME, he just asked me out to lunch.” Your hand goes up to your mouth as you look wide-eyed at Laura, who’s expression matches yours.

“Bitch, say yes!”

“Okay!” you yell back, pacing back and forth.

hey harry ! i’m glad you had fun tonight, i was worried i might’ve scared you off haha. i’d love to do lunch, what time were you thinking ?

“Does that sound okay?” You hand your phone off to Laura, getting her stamp of approval before sending it.

“Ah! Okay, shit fuck, it’s sent.” You throw your phone onto her bed and lean against her door, waiting for his reply.

Your phone lights up not even two minutes later, a text from Harry reading,

Haha, definitely didn’t scare me off. If anything, the opposite. How does noon sound? I can pick you up if you’d like?

“A gentleman,” Laura sighs, fanning herself as you read it together.

“Shut up,” you mumble, blushing slightly as you type back,

well, good, i’m glad :). noon works great, here’s my address. sleep well, harry.

I’ll be counting down the minutes. Goodnight, love.

You scream as you read his last text, shoving your face in your hands.

“Oh my god, okay, Y/N, take a chill pill,” you tell yourself, taking a deep breath in. “Ugh, why am I getting so worked up over a guy?”

“Because he’s funny, cute, talented, and rich, bitch.”

You give Laura a look and she laughs,

“Okay, money, fame, and any prior knowledge I have aside, he seems like a great dude. And if he’s not, well, my dreams will be absolutely crushed.” She shrugs, going back to scrolling through Instagram.

“Oh, wow, thanks.” You roll your eyes, standing up. “I’m gonna make some tea, you want any?”

“I’m good, thanks though.”

You nod and shut her door behind you, going into the kitchen to turn the kettle on.

Hopping up on the counter while you wait, you decide to do a little bit of Instagram stalking, just to see what he posts.

You click on his most recent one, smiling at his caption.

“Kissy,” you mutter, shaking your head lightly.

Scrolling through a few more of his photos, you bite your lip at his outfits, incredibly jealous of his stylist. His feed is better than yours, if you’re being honest, and you smile at the thought of him making sure all the black bars line up.

Hearing the whistle of the kettle, you hop off the counter and pour yourself a cup of chamomile. Closing out the app, you take your mug into your room, turning on your lights that make your room look like you’re floating in the galaxy.

Placing it on your nightstand, you get yourself ready for bed, spending a little extra time washing your face and doing your skin care routine.

You slide into bed and open up your latest book find of the week, this one being Misery by Steven King.

You find your eyes drooping after a while and set your things on your nightstand, snuggling deeper into your blankets.

With a smile on your face, you drift off to sleep, excited for tomorrow.