#will update as I remember more tags and develop new ones

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (01) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 12k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Happy 2024, everyone! 🎉 Dropping this tonight as a welcome to the new year and the start of the wild journey that is this story. It's a different JK that I'm used to writing. It's also a different arrangement for me as the story is still being written, so just a heads up that updates won't be as regular compared to before, but they'll definitely come (pls don't come at me hehe 😁)! This is also a painfully slow build-up with lots of details and office talk so please be patient! I don’t know how this will turn out and be revived but I hope you enjoy! 💕

Also my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight as always 🥰

Jung Hoseok’s smile is like a ray of sunshine - warm on cool mornings, radiant on sunny afternoons. It’s light and infectious, but more than anything, it’s genuine. There’s comfort in the way his entire face beams and how the rest of his body follows; there’s this sense of openness that makes it easy to be around him, that makes it easy to work for him.

It was 10 years ago when you first encountered that smile - bright and encouraging as he welcomed you and the rest of the interns to his family’s company. It slowly dissolved the anxiety you were feeling over being 1 of 12 chosen students to work for one of the leading real estate and property development corporations in the country. You’d see it again two years later as an employee, and you recall how he perked up at the sight of you, having remembered those eight weeks you spent preparing the conference room for their meetings and serving the executives their coffee. 

You wouldn’t have expected that five years after that, you’d be seeing that smile everyday as his executive assistant, and it was one of the things that made the job bearable. Despite the long hours and the amount of work you had to do and events you had to accompany him to, working for Hoseok always felt worth it. Despite the insane amount of pressure he was put under and the stress he had to endure, Hoseok somehow always managed to smile. 

He was serious when he had to be, but there was joy in how he did things. He allowed himself moments of calm, of time to check in on his support team for a few laughs. He’d spare himself a few minutes a day to sway to the soft music he plays in his office, he’d preside over meetings with vigor, and he’d start and end every interaction with anyone with that smile - the same smile that assures you that all your hard work is appreciated and which encourages you to keep learning.

It’s that same smile that he has on right now, as he hands you a custom-made cake with ‘you worked hard’ written on it. He says the words as your eyes turn to him in surprise. 

“Thank you for all that you’ve done,” Hoseok says. “I know you were new to the role just like I was but you made everything so easy for me. I’m gonna have to get used to being without your brilliance, Ms. Cho. I hope you never doubt yourself ever again.”

Your astonished face turns into a pout, as it dawns on you that it’s Friday, the first unofficial day of you no longer being Hoseok’s executive assistant, given his appointment as President not long ago. Yet despite the big change he’ll be experiencing starting next week, he’s the one affirming and comforting you, something that’s rare for someone of his stature and something you’ll definitely miss. 

“You know I don’t cry, but I just might,” you respond, earning you a chuckle. “But really, I… I can’t thank you enough for taking a chance on me. I know my credentials weren’t like the others but—”

“Ms. Cho,” he interjects. “The only credentials those other applicants had were the universities they went to, but none of them matched your level of skill and dedication to the role. I can assure you that none of them would’ve managed the past three years like you did. I should be thanking you for dealing with all the craziness with me.”

“You’re a good boss, it’s that simple,” you return the compliment now. “You were patient with me and challenged me to be better without putting me down. That does a lot for a person’s confidence, you know?”

“I know that now,” he smiles again. “But really, I don’t think I could’ve asked for a more competent right-hand woman. Jungkook’s lucky he’s taking my position with the most capable assistant to help him out.”

At the mention of the man’s name, your face sours, something that Hoseok picks up, earning you another laugh. 

“Not a fan of him, I see,” he eyes you curiously.

“I don’t mean any disrespect, Mr. Jung, but your cousin is not you,” you explain. “I may have only seen him a handful of times but those are enough to let me know that he does not smile.”

“Yes, I do confirm that,” Hoseok chuckles. “Jungkook’s quite the perfectionist and very much a workaholic. But he’s brilliant and creative and you’ll learn a lot from him, too. He’s being primed to co-lead the company with me and he needs a strong support for that and I think that’s you. His father thinks that’s you, and for the CEO to think so means a lot, ___. Uncle has seen how you work and was adamant that you remain in this role, especially with his son assuming the Vice President position.”

You know that Hoseok means to reassure you, but you suppose your insecurities over having this role and even being in this company won’t ever really go away. You didn’t graduate from a prestigious university in Seoul like most employees here did, and in this society, that usually means everything. You’re thankful for the trust that you’ve been given and you agree that you worked hard for it, too, but it will always be overwhelming; even then, it sometimes still feels undeserved. 

At your silence, Hoseok speaks again. “___, as your former boss and as your friend, I’m here to back you up. Jungkook’s family but if he, for some reason, acts like a hard-headed jerk, you let me know, okay?”

He turns serious now, as he silently asks for you to promise him that you’ll speak out if you need to. Hoseok knows what you went through under Mrs. Byun, the former manager who abused her power over you until her own slip-up caused her downfall years later, and he doesn’t want you to go through that again. 

“Okay. But I didn’t mean to imply that he’s a jerk just because he doesn’t smile,” you clarify. “I guess I meant to say that… I’ll miss working for you. That’s all. We somehow always got a laugh in, no matter how stressful things were. I’ll miss being with A-yeong, too.”

“I know you also meant to say that I’m the best boss you’ve ever had,” Hoseok chuckles, though you don’t miss the sadness in his eyes, too. “But I’ll just be two floors above you. You’ll still see me everywhere. And A-yeong’s gonna miss you, too, that’s why she can’t let you go without having dinner out, that I’m apparently not invited to.”

“We’re just gonna gossip about you, don’t worry,” you tease, appreciative of the fact that his wife has been kind to you all these years, apologizing to you on his behalf during the rare times he’s cranky, and gifting you little things from their trips abroad. “But thank you again, Hoseok,” you continue, dropping the formalities when you mean to speak to him as a friend, because that’s what he is, and it’s a rarity in this industry where those in power tend to take advantage of those below them. “You’ve treated me well, and I’ll never forget that.” 

“Thank you, ___,” he smiles once more. “I’ll finish setting up my new office now. I’ll see you there in 30 minutes, okay? I know Jungkook officially starts on Monday but he wanted to get all the administrative stuff out of the way as soon as possible and since my old room is being sanitized, he’ll be staying at mine the whole morning. HR has everything he needs to sign so please get those documents from them before heading to my office.”

“Oh, so he’s coming today?” You ask, unable to hide the mix of surprise and disappointment in your voice. You’re clearly uninformed about this. “Didn’t he just arrive last night?”

“Yes, he did. I thought he’d at least spend today resting but no, he called me an hour ago to say he’ll drop by this morning so he can get straight to business on his first day,” Hoseok explains, shaking his head at the thought of his cousin wanting to get straight to work. “I know it’s short notice so you don’t need to brief him or anything yet. You’ve been buried in organizing all my files this past week after all.” 

“Okay, but I’ve got everything organized for him already anyway in case he wants to start,” you say, having prepared all the documents he’d need to ease into his role more smoothly, knowing it’s your job to help him with that. 

“Of course you have,” Hoseok chuckles, impressed as always with how on top you are of everything. “I’ll see you in half an hour.”

You sulk in your seat once he’s out of view, whining internally because much as your files are ready for your new boss, you’re the one who isn’t. You’d held off on mentally preparing yourself for meeting the Jeon Jungkook, second son of the current CEO of Jeon Corporation and the new Vice President, thinking you’d have the entire weekend for that, so you’re caught off guard at having to face him today. It’s one thing to move on from no longer having Jung Hoseok as your boss - that itself took you months to process and accept; it’s another to have to get used to assisting someone else, someone you know is completely different in attitude and approach to his work.

Jungkook used to be an executive in the Singapore office, the Southeast Asian headquarters of the company. In your three years as Hoseok’s assistant, you’d only seen Jungkook a few times, such as when he’d fly to Seoul for an official visit or a family gathering but you never interacted, as you didn’t really have a reason to, especially since you were always busy with making sure the event was running smoothly. 

But you’d definitely noticed him, partly because the female staff always talked about him when he was around, and partly because next to his parents and his cousins, who are all personable in their own ways, Jungkook sticks out like a sore thumb. You’re not exaggerating when you say that you’ve never seen him smile - not for the pictures and not when he’s talking to the other executives and employees, a contrast to his father’s infectious charm and his mother’s youthful energy.

You’ve gotten used to Hoseok’s passion balanced with his thoughtfulness and joy - you always enjoyed the videos that A-yeong would show you of their weekends doing ballroom dancing because it’s what he loved to do with her. You’re unsure how you’ll manage assisting someone who’s the complete opposite. You’ve heard of Jungkook’s abilities though; his father always spoke of them with pride. Creative and innovative, he’d say of his son, but he always lived in his head, too, and perhaps that’s why even if he can socialize with others, he prefers not to, given that you’d always seen him at the bar after said events, drinking on his own.

You didn’t think those times that you’d one day be having him as your boss. You didn’t expect the appointments to come this soon, nor did you expect to still be in the company by the time they happened. But here you are, about to meet him and hoping to the heavens that whatever preconceived notions you have of him based on what very little you know would be proven wrong. 

Wanting to calm yourself down before meeting him, you head to the management support team’s office for a cup of tea in the pantry, but you’re stopped by Do-hyun, one of the project assistants. 

She hugs you like she always does, even if you rarely ever return it, and she whines like you expect her to, given her unusually pouty face. 

“It’s only been an hour but I already miss Mr. Jung,” she laments. “Why did they appoint him as President so soon? They could’ve waited for another year or so, or at least let him take us with him!”

You find yourself being the reasonable one this time, as you pull her away from you so you could talk to her properly. 

“We always knew he was going to be President, Do-hyun. But then the Board decided to make Ji-woo head of the Singapore office after their uncle stepped down, and that meant Hoseok had to take his sister’s place,” you explain, knowing how generational corporations like this work, with family members rotating in the executive positions. “And much as he’d like to take us with him, the position already comes with its own team. He’s just two floors above us, though. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if we popped in every once in a while to say hi.”

“No, I’m bitter,” she pouts again, earning her a laugh from you.

“Well, at least the new Vice President isn’t a stranger,” Manager Lee chimes in. 

“I heard the CEO’s son doesn’t smile,” Do-hyun counters. “How do we go from assisting someone who literally gives all of us the energy to work each day, to someone who doesn’t think there’s anything worth being happy about? I also heard he’s a workaholic, so what if he demands that we can’t leave the office until he does? And that he’s kind of a fuck boy, so what if he has a scandal that we have to—” 

“Yah! Those are just hearsay, and we don’t listen to those,” you warn her, not wanting the team to start on a bad note because of some rumors about your new boss that may or may not be true. 

And if those are, it’s your job to make sure that those are handled properly and that there’s no friction between the management support team and the Vice President. The thought suddenly hits you and you feel nauseous. You’ve never had these worries with Hoseok because he always prioritized the team - he made sure that tasks were properly delegated, that you all took your well-deserved break, that you weren’t burnt out, that you all knew he got your back the way you all got his. 

But then again, it’s natural to be anxious about change, especially when what you had was already the best it could’ve been. And much as you were the one worrying about this earlier, you’re now the one who has to reassure the team, especially the younger members, that things are going to be okay. 

“You’ll meet him soon, and I’ll make sure he’s properly oriented with everything before he sits down with you all,” you say. “Let’s just be optimistic about this, okay? Manager Lee has been here a while and he can guide all of us when it comes to adapting to changes like this.”

The rest of the team nods, voicing their agreement about being open and welcoming to your new boss. 

“Okay, good. Now let me get my tea before I combust,” you chuckle, heading towards the adjacent room. 

You’re busy taking breaths in between sips of your hot drink when you see a familiar face in the room through the glass window, prompting you to head back outside.

“Mr. Ri,” you greet, causing the man before you to turn towards you. “What are you doing here? Does Mr. Jeon need anything?” 

Knowing you’re referring to the elder Jeon, Mr. Ri shakes his head. 

“I’m here as Jungkook’s chauffeur and bodyguard, actually. His father appointed me, wanting people he trusts to help his son,” he clarifies. “I’ve just driven him from his penthouse.”

“Oh,” you say, unable to control the way your face falls a little. “So, he’s here.”

“He is. He said he wanted to get things done today so he doesn’t waste his time when he starts next week. He’s at Hoseok’s office right now. I believe he’s supposed to sign some documents?”

“Oh shit,” you blurt out, immediately setting down your half-finished tea and rushing out the door to speed-walk to your desk, ignoring Mr. Ri’s demand for you to slow down. 

With what little you know of your new boss, he seems like the type to not excuse tardiness, so you take your files, head to HR to retrieve some documents, and then proceed to Hoseok’s office. You try to catch your breath as you head towards the door, which opens before you get to knock, revealing Bitna, the President’s assistant, who greets you with a sweet smile. 

“Hi, ___. I was just about to call you,” she says. “CEO Jeon is inside as well. Just walk in, they’re waiting for you.”

You cross the small hallway as the door gently closes, and you stop in your tracks the moment you hear Jungkook’s voice.

“I still prefer my old assistant,” he says, obviously displeased. “He was very organized, highly educated, and well-traveled. While this Ms. Cho didn’t even study in a top university in Seoul. And Hoseok says she doesn’t know any other foreign languages when that’s one of my requirements.”

“Son, you’re being too harsh,” CEO Jeon chides. “Ms. Cho is a top performing employee, very hardworking and dedicated. She’s worked here for eight years and she imbibes all our values; she knows the company culture and knows the ins and outs of things with how she’s been exposed to them. Ask your cousin; Hoseok speaks highly of her.”

“___ is great, Kook. She’s incredibly organized and highly analytical and observant. She doesn’t need a Seoul education to be good at what we need her to be good at,” Hoseok argues. 

“I still want my old assistant. It’s more convenient that way. Lucas already knows how I work and what I require of him,” Jungkook insists. “I’m just saying that I need things to be efficient and she and I can’t be adjusting to each other when there are multiple projects that I’d much rather give my attention to.”

“And I’m saying that Ms. Cho probably knows more than you do when it comes to these projects,” the elder Jeon counters. “Plus, your old assistant would have to adjust to life in Seoul and that’s harder. It’s just not practical, especially since you’re due to start in a few days. You have other things to worry about. ___ is there to make your life easier. Give her that chance to do her job.”

“But I—”

“Good morning, gentlemen,” you greet, not wanting to hear whatever unfounded things that Jungkook has to say, even if you have your own preconceived notions about him which, you remind yourself, are partly founded. Barely five minutes in and you already can’t stand his judgmental and entitled ass. 

You walk towards the middle of the room where they’re congregated on the couches, with the elder Mr. Jeon and Hoseok smiling at you while Jungkook merely glances at you, his jaw clenched, perhaps irritated at the fact that you’d overheard him completely misjudge and undermine your abilities without even knowing who you are.

“Good morning, Ms. Cho,” CEO Jeon says. “I know you’ve seen him a few times but I’d like you to officially meet my son and the new Vice President, Jungkook.”

Jungkook turns to you with a disinterested look but he doesn’t meet your eyes. You bow as a sign of respect, even if it’s the last thing you think he deserves.  

“My pleasure, Mr. Jeon,” you respond. “I was told that you’d like to proceed with administrative matters this morning. I have all the documents with me and I can explain each one to you before you sign them. I’ve also consolidated all the things you need to know prior to your meetings next week,” you add, handing him an iPad. “This has the resumes of each member of your management support team, including their professional and development goals. Mine are there as well, so you can read about my credentials and achievements in this company the past eight years, which I think have tremendously helped me in performing my duties satisfactorily. There’s also a folder of team profiles of each of the departments you’re overseeing. You’ll also find closure reports of completed projects from the past five years, progress reports of ongoing projects, and approved and working proposals of upcoming ones. I’ve included summaries and key figures for each of them. You may read them prior to your meetings, and if there’s anything missing that you’d like me to include, I can have them ready by the end of the day.”

“Hmm,” Jungkook hums, as he scrolls through all the folders you’ve prepared for him.

In your periphery, you can see the other two men holding in smiles as you seemingly render the younger man speechless, but while he assesses all that you’ve provided to him, you’re given time to observe the man seated before you. Other than his slightly longer hair, not much has changed from when you saw Jungkook in last year’s gala. 

As he drags his tongue across the inside of his cheek with his scrunched eyebrows in judgment, you’re reminded that this is the first time you’ve seen him up close. And even from his angle, you can tell. 

He’s unfairly handsome. 

He’s got dark expressive eyes, soft-looking pink lips, and a sharp jawline that complement his lean figure. You understand why the staff are enamored by him even from afar and - if the rumors about him are true - why women would shoot their shot with him at clubs, in hopes they’d be the lucky one he’d choose to be with for the night.

The illusion breaks, though, as he turns to you with a hardened gaze. 

“I’m sure I’ll find something that’s missing,” he states.

“If they’re relevant and necessary, I can have the files ready by today,” you respond, knowing full well that you’ve included every possible document that would be of use to him. 

“I’ll be the judge of what’s relevant and necessary, Ms. Cho,” he counters. 

“Of course, Mr. Jeon,” you say, conceding. “Whatever it is, then I’ll make sure to have them ready for you as soon as possible.”

Jungkook hums in response, turning his attention to the HR documents this time, breezing through the text and ignoring your brief explanations of the contents before signing at the bottom of the pages. You inform him of sections he’s missed, and he groans at having been corrected but you don’t mind. He’s the one who chose to do all this now and in here, in front of his father and his cousin.

Once he’s done, he hands you the signed files and holds your gaze. “Is there anything else, Ms. Cho?”

“I suppose that is all, Mr. Jeon. Unless there are other things you want to assess, or people you want to ensure are qualified to assist you with your functions,” you say. 

Jungkook huffs in displeasure. You can sense the tension build, as irritation paints his face. It’s at that moment that his father chimes in, suggesting that you introduce him to his team.

“You can maybe also orient him on the current projects and partnerships,” the older man says. 

“That can wait. I’ve had enough of engaging for today,” Jungkook responds, his voice cold, detached. 

“In that case, let me lead you to your floor, Mr. Jeon.”

You step back and wait for him to walk ahead, before you excuse yourself from the older men. You don’t miss the sorry looks on their faces, and you give them a smile as if to say that it’s fine, that Jungkook’s someone you can handle, and his obvious displeasure towards having you as his assistant doesn’t faze you. It doesn’t change the fact that you wish he wasn’t your boss though, or at least, that he wasn’t such a jerk like what he’s being right now.

Walking behind him as you both head towards the elevator, you see the way he carries himself - hands in the pockets of his sleek black trousers, his eyes focused straight ahead, nothing like Hoseok who was always gesticulating as he spoke to you every time you walked side-by-side from one place to another.    

Jungkook stands in front of the doors, seemingly waiting for you to press the buttons and you do it before he could even express his annoyance. You stand in front this time, then make sure you hold the doors open for him to exit, and you resume your spot behind him as you walk down the hallway. 

“On the left are two small meeting rooms and one conference room,” you start, thankful that there’s not much to tour him around on this floor, given that everything is exclusive to the Vice President. “On the right is a seating room, and up ahead is an archive room. Down the—”

“I’ve been here before, Ms. Cho,” Jungkook interjects as he looks at you blankly. “This is my family’s building; I’m very much aware of how the floors look like.”

Not rattled by his disruption, you nod and smile, wanting to show him that whatever intimidation or humiliation he’s trying to make you feel isn’t gonna work on you. You know if you show any sign of frustration, that will just give him a reason to have you replaced and despite your clear dislike for the man, you need this job, especially this position that allows you to pay your rent in a safe part of town and send money to your family every month. At this point, that’s the only thing that will keep you going.

Approaching the management support office, you walk faster and make sure to enter the room before he does, signaling the team with your eyes that their new boss is coming, your silently frantic gaze telling them to be on their best behavior because their usual antics won’t work on Jungkook the way they did with Hoseok. 

Once Jungkook appears, everyone bows and greets him, and you can sense them holding their breaths as they look up, taking him all in. You see him eye each person, and you can tell he’s already assessing them individually. You take it upon yourself to introduce each one, stating their name, where they studied and what course they took, describing their primary role in the team and their specific strengths. You see him follow your words, nodding and humming as you go, and you think he’s processing the information and making sure he remembers them. 

There are no pleasantries; Jungkook just goes straight to the point. 

“I’m sure you have concerns about having a new boss and the changes that come along with it. But I’m here to tell you now that you should get over whatever those are, as I’d like the adjustment period to be as short as possible,” he starts. “My cousin is brilliant at his job and so am I, but we work very differently, so whatever you got used to doing with and for him, don’t expect the same with me. I demand excellence and efficiency from each one of you because that’s what I commit myself to and that’s the only way that this team will be able to do its job. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir,” the team answers in unison. 

“We commit to those as well, Mr. Jeon,” Manager Lee says. “As the head of your support team, I will make sure that all our deliverables are of high quality and that things will run smoothly so that we may properly do our job of assisting you.”

“That’s good, and that’s what I expect,” Jungkook says, nodding at everyone before walking out the door to head to his office, with you trailing him from behind. 

“Is my room still being sanitized?” He turns to you. 

“Yes, sir.”

“Why did it need to be sanitized? And why today?”

“It’s protocol, sir. We also had a sendoff for Mr. Jung yesterday so the room smelled of food. And he instructed for this to be done today so that I don’t need to come here tomorrow, as he doesn’t like any of his staff working during the weekend,” you reply. “This should be finished this afternoon. I’ve also purchased the oil for your diffusers. The room will be ready for you by Monday.”

Jungkook merely hums and looks around, specifically at your designated area with your desk and shelves at the back, then takes a call before turning to you again to say that he’s heading out to meet his friends.

“Is there anything else you need, Mr. Jeon?” You ask, thankful that you don’t have to deal with him for the rest of the day.

“No.”

“Okay then, sir. I’ll meet you at your apartment at 6:30 AM on Monday. Is that time alright?”

“Sure,” he responds, then turns around and starts walking out. “Just keep your phone on. I work during the weekend.”

He’s gone before you can even respond, and you rush to the support office once you’ve heard the elevator ding that indicates that he’s gone. When you get there, you’re greeted with everyone’s frowns, with Do-hyun close to tears.

“I don’t like him, ___. He looks so unapproachable and too serious!” She complains. “I miss Mr. Jung. Is there an opening in his team? Should I just resign?”

“Aish!” You reprimand her. “Don’t speak like that. And don’t let those few minutes determine everything for you.”

“Well, those few minutes are enough to tell me that I don’t like him. No matter how good-looking he is,” Chin-sun says.

“He is, right!” Do-hyun chirps now, a complete 180 from seconds ago. “I’ve seen him around but I didn’t think he’d be even more handsome up close! It just sucks that he’s a grinch and that makes all the difference. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t have a girlfriend! He’s probably too snobby and—”

“Yah! You really need to stop it with those rumors,” you scold her this time. “That’s your boss. His personal life is none of our business. Where do you even hear these things?”

“Every washroom in this building, basically. Staff are always gossiping there, you know?” Do-hyun responds. 

“And since when do we listen to gossip,” you scowl at her. “Sure, he’s not our favorite person right now but we don’t have the right to make claims about aspects of his life. And where are people even getting those ideas!”

“People talk, I guess,” she shrugs. “And he’s often spotted in clubs with those Kim brothers so maybe they see things. I’m not saying they’re all accurate… just that rumors often have some truth to them, you know?”

“No, I don’t, and we shouldn’t be sticking our noses in places where they shouldn’t be,” you say.

“Fine, but it’s just a heads up,” Do-hyun says, turning serious now. “You’re his executive assistant, and you have no choice but to stick your nose in places because personal and professional lines are often blurred in your situation, and that’s just how our world’s set up.”

“She’s right,” Chin-sun chimes in. “I mean, you need to know his personal schedule, go to his apartment, do errands if you need to, maybe buy a box of condoms if he runs out… You just got lucky that Mr. Jung’s pretty chill and has a wife who’s even nicer than he is. Your only problem was that he was damn scared of everything that moved and wasn't human.”

You’d laugh at the last statement if you could, but you know they’re both right. Hoseok wasn’t perfect, and neither was his marriage, but it never reached a point where you had to be put in a compromising position because you were his assistant who, by nature of your work, had to be privy to some of his personal matters. The most involved you were was when he and A-yeong had an argument and they used you as their messenger, but even that was more of a miscommunication issue than anything serious. They apologized to you after and promised to never put you in that kind of situation again.

But with Jungkook as a single man, you’re unsure what personal business you’d end up being involved in. You just wish it wasn’t something that would test your principles and cause you to lose your job. Regardless, whatever that would be isn’t something you can even really talk about with others.

“Well, I don’t wanna think about any of that right now,” you sigh, knowing you’ve got enough to worry about, such as how you’re going to start surviving everyday assisting a man who clearly doesn’t want you around. 

But if he’s gonna be a hard-head about it, then you’re just going to have to match him. You got to where you are because you’re determined to prove yourself constantly, and you’ll just show him that he needs you, and he doesn’t really have a choice unless he wants to argue with his father. 

You try to encourage your team once more and give Do-hyun that rare hug in comfort before going back to your desk, intent on finishing all the presentations for your briefing with Jungkook next week. You begin setting up his room by mid-afternoon, using a photo of his Singapore office as a basis since you were told that he prefers a certain style for his furniture and decor. You’re no stylist but over an hour after you finish, you think you did pretty good. You were so into designing the space that you didn’t notice the time fly by; before you know it, it’s 6PM, because you can hear A-yeong right outside calling for you.

“Hi,” she chirps, hugging you in greeting. “Are you ready?”

“I’ll just pack my things,” you say, walking to your desk. 

A-yeong takes a peek at the room and praises your efforts. “This looks so different from how it used to be. And that’s good because those cousins have such different tastes. But I think Jungkook will like this. He’s into the masculine and moody vibe, so good job, ___.”

You know that despite her kindness, she wouldn’t lie, and you could only hope that she’s right. You think it looks nice, but it’s what he thinks that matters; you’ll just have to wait until Monday to find out. 

As you’re about to leave, Hoseok appears in the hallway and asks how you are. Your scowl pretty much gives you away.

“I’m sorry about Jungkook, ___. He’s stubborn and a hot-head sometimes but he isn’t always like that, and this isn’t me making excuses for him,” your former boss says. 

“Why, what did he do?” A-yeong asks worriedly. 

“Basically implied that I’m not qualified for this role, among other things,” you respond. “But it’s okay. Not like I haven’t heard that before.”

“And you know that’s not true,” Hoseok comforts you. “He’s not good with change, that’s all, and you know how these appointments were all pretty short notice and he’s just been frustrated ever since. But whatever it is he said, don’t take them to heart. He’ll get a word from me, and he’ll definitely get one from his father.”

You want to say that it’s not easy to just disregard what Jungkook said; he’s your boss after all, and all that matters is what he thinks about you. But you’re not one to air out these feelings to Hoseok now that you’ve experienced a bit of what it’s like, so you just shake your head and ask the older man to let it go.

“He’s probably just tired,” you make an excuse this time, not wanting to discuss further with Hoseok. “And he had that assistant for over five years. I can understand wanting that familiarity and convenience. I’m just gonna have to adjust; there are a lot of things going on right now and he’ll need to focus on the projects, not his compatibility with his assistant.”

“But that matters though,” Hoseok insists. “I got things done because we worked well together. He’s gonna have to meet you in the middle with this one. And I’ll make sure that he does.”

“I know you said you want to look out for me but I don’t think it’s a good idea if you intervene this time, Mr. Jung,” you say, letting him know you’re serious and you mean business. “I’ll be okay, don’t worry about me.”

You give him a comforting smile, and you hope it’s enough to quell Hoseok’s own worries and it works this time. He returns it before letting you and his wife go, and it’s the Thai dinner and incredible desserts that somehow make up for your not-so-great day. 

You think the weekend will give you the peace you need to face your dreaded week - you do your errands and chores on Saturday and go to the market and watch a movie by yourself in the cinema the next day. 

All it took was a text from Jungkook that Sunday evening, asking for copies of certain policies and disapproved proposals from the last five years, that just had to ruin it, as you spend the entire evening consolidating the files, making you already wish it was Friday.

Jungkook’s apartment building is one of the Jeon properties that you haven’t been to yet, as it’s one of the newer massive residential structures that they built three years ago. You enter the sleek-looking lobby then submit your documents at the reception in exchange for your own access, and you internally marvel at how luxurious everything looks. 

You get to the 42nd floor, and it seems that there are only two units here. You walk towards the one on the right, choosing to be on the safe side by ringing the doorbell. It’s Monday, after all, and it’s your first time here; you don’t want to just enter without him permitting you to do so. 

You’re about to press the button again after a minute of no response, when the door opens and you take a moment to process the sight before you. 

There, standing just a few feet away, is Jungkook with nothing but a pair of black gym shorts on, his taut chest glistening in sweat, and his entire right arm covered in black and colored ink. His hair is damp and ruffled, and it’s probably due to the boxing he’d just done, as evidenced by the wraps on his knuckles and the way he’s panting heavily. 

You get your senses back and look away, not wanting to look affected by his half-naked form, even if you’re the one who has to catch her breath this time because much as you dislike the man, you can’t deny that his body is something that definitely deserves to be praised. 

“You’re here,” he speaks first, surprise laced in his voice as he takes in your obviously flustered form.

“I asked if 6:30 AM was a good time to come, Mr. Jeon,” you answer, glancing at him before looking at whatever you could behind him. “Perhaps I misheard your confirmation. I can wait downstairs if you’re not yet done with your exercise. My apologies for coming in early.”

You don’t actually have anything to be sorry for; he did confirm the time, and he’s the one who decided that working out at this hour was a good idea, knowing that his assistant’s scheduled to come. You would’ve appreciated it if he says you don’t need to apologize, but he doesn’t.

“It’s fine, I just finished,” he huffs. 

He leaves the door open for you to enter then heads straight to the large room on the right, which looks to be an indoor gym. You allow yourself a few seconds to look at his retreating form, quietly gasping as his broad shoulders and slender waist blind you a little, then scolding yourself for doing so. You stay rooted by the kitchen and look around the spacious penthouse as you wait for him to return. He exits the gym wearing a loose white shirt now, combing his hair with his fingers as he drinks a bottle of water.

“So, Mr. Jeon, uh, I would prepare Mr. Jung’s outfits for the week and then help his house staff make his breakfast. I run down his schedule as he eats. Are you okay with the same arrangement?” 

“Sure. I just don’t have any staff with me so you’re on your own. I’m fine with anything though. I’m not usually hungry in the morning,” he says before walking to the other side of the apartment.

You follow him, careful not to enter spaces you’re not given permission to, which is why you stand by his bedroom door before asking to come in. 

“How will you prepare my clothes from there?” He huffs. “Of course you can enter. Just be done before I finish taking a shower.”

You nod shyly and then head to the walk-in closet that thankfully has a separate door from the bathroom. He’s already unpacked his clothes, although not everything has been organized. You spot a few suits that are ready to wear, and you fix those first, taking note of asking him if there are things he wants dry cleaned or pressed. 

You leave his bedroom in time, hearing him slide open the door as you make it out, and proceed to make his breakfast. There’s really not much you can create with what little he has, so you make do with eggs and toast and whatever spread you find in his cupboard.

Jungkook walks into the kitchen not long after, the dark gray suit looking immaculate on him as you expected. Spotting his crooked necktie, you immediately walk up to him to fix it, unaware of how he holds his breath with how close you are. Noticing his body stiffen, you step back right away, apologizing for not asking permission first. 

He looks away and says it’s fine, then sits on the spot at the dining table where you’ve set up his meal. He stares at it for a good few seconds, prompting you to explain yourself.

“That’s… that’s all I could make with what you have, Mr. Jeon,” you say. “I can arrange for online groceries for you, as well as dry clean and pressing for your clothes and—”

“I’m having someone come in to clean my place and do all of that,” he says, as he takes a bite of his food. “So, what’s my week like?”

You start to enumerate the conference and lunch meetings he’ll be having this week, including who they’ll be with and their purpose. They’re mostly with the department leads to discuss updates on processes and current projects, and you’re thankful that Hoseok involved you as much as he did, given that Jungkook’s questions are more specific than you expected. 

Sure, he’s a Jeon and obviously works in the same company, but the Southeast Asian projects are different from the ones being implemented in South Korea, and while he used to oversee overall compliance to design standards, he’ll now be in-charge of setting those very standards this time. As Vice President, he’ll be involved in crafting policies; he’s also free to manage his own construction projects, and that’s what the support team is for. Given his much more expansive role this time, there are more departments and projects to oversee, and definitely more executive decisions to make. 

You suppose it’s why his questions don’t stop, even after he’s cleaned up and you both find yourselves in the backseat of the car and on the way to the office. He looks through the iPad with all the files you gave him, and you see the notes he’s made on them as you turn to him to answer his queries. Even if you know that he’s also still assessing you - perhaps on your knowledge and attention to detail - you can’t help but admire his thoroughness. You may have also cursed him in frustration for making you work on a Sunday, but he seems to have done way more than you, given that he went through all the documents over the weekend. You suddenly don’t feel too annoyed. 

But of course, he has to ruin it again.

“I need these annotated versions of the project and departmental documents ready before my meetings with the respective teams,” Jungkook says, his voice low and stern. “And I expect progress reports to be as detailed as possible, so make sure to check them first before they get to me. The ones you gave need revisions. I believe you’re trained enough to know immediately that these are lacking.”

“Yes, sir,” you respond, noting his instructions on your notebook while internally yelling, given that you’re unsure of the need for them before the meetings. 

Surely, he could give you some time to work on them, but with a meeting with one team in the afternoon and seven more the rest of the week, and on top of the other things you need to do for him, you already know you’ll be cramming to get everything done. 

You try to manage your breathing. Somehow, your habit of pressing your nails against your palm when you're stressed has miraculously come back today. It was something you developed while working under Mrs. Byun, which you eventually got over after working for Hoseok. You feel the anxiety build up, especially as you look at the half crescent marks on your skin, and it’s times like this that you wish your best friends were based in Seoul instead of Busan, so you’d at least have people to comfort you when things are a little tough. 

It’s not to say that work wasn’t overwhelming before. It definitely was, but Hoseok always found a way to make everything bearable and he was always reasonable with what he demanded of you. Now you’re stuck with a man who already makes you feel like your hard work isn’t enough. 

You make it to the office with no other words said and a thick tension in the air. It follows you to the elevator and into Jungkook’s room, where he dismisses you so he can prepare for the first meeting of the day. You rush to your desk and get on with your tasks, making sure to work on the annotated project file that he needs by the afternoon. 

It’s an hour later when you find yourself in the conference room for the meeting with the management support team. You prepped them just 10 minutes earlier, and while you tried to hide your frustration, your unusual lack of energy told them enough that it wasn’t exactly a good start of the day. 

They come in one by one, and you take the time to prepare Jungkook’s coffee, remembering from his former assistant’s notes how he wants it. He’d put it off earlier, given that he prefers to drink his protein shake after his workout, so this is the first time you’re doing it for him.

His eyes flit from the coffee in front of him to you as you place it on the table.

“Two espresso shots and half teaspoon each of milk and sugar,” you state, wanting to confirm that you got it right.

He merely takes a sip, places it down again, and then starts the meeting. 

How bold of you to assume that he’d thank you or even acknowledge it, as if he’d shown you even the tiniest amount of gratitude for anything you've done for him since Friday. Which he hasn’t. 

You let it go and proceed to sit next to him, your eyes and ears ready for what you already predict is gonna be a long meeting. 

It ends over three hours later. As you expected, he had a lot of questions. He made sure that each member had time to explain their current tasks and how they will monitor the projects assigned to them. You didn’t miss the way he’d acknowledged them with “good” and “well done,” and thanked them after they finished. He only nodded at you after your turn, with his eyes barely meeting yours, and for all the confidence you built over the past three years, you can’t process how it’s his non-acknowledgment that’s just going to undo all that. And quite frankly, you’re unsure if that’s on him or if that’s on you. 

Half of the meeting was spent discussing the big project that he wants to take on as Vice President. There’s a property they recently acquired - a non-operational arts center that he wants to revive by adding a performance hall, small theaters, a grand library, function rooms, and a permanent exhibition presenting the buildings that his family had developed over the years to showcase their architectural designs. 

You saw the excitement in your team members’ faces. Hoseok took over with several unfinished projects so you all had to focus on those. Aside from Manager Lee, this is the first time that you’re all handling something new and different. Even you felt the excitement creep in, a welcome emotion given how your day’s been going, but that shattered once he said that he wants it done by June of next year in time for an International Media Festival happening in August. The 12-month period he’s giving is too short with everything he wants to do, and you saw that the team felt the same. 

You go to them after Jungkook leaves for a lunch meeting, and their sighs and pouty faces tell you enough. Mr. Lee does his job of encouraging the team, and you add that you’re all gonna be supporting each other through it all. Sure, you’d have to match Jungkook’s ambition and thoroughness, but you should all take it as a challenge. 

You’re clearly not convinced yourself as the words come out of your mouth, but you don’t have time to debrief with them, as you still have that meeting with the design department that you have to prepare for. You take two biscuits and a cup of tea, and you decide that this is enough to last you throughout lunch, given that you’ll be spending the entirety of it working on the files. 

You don’t realize that an hour and a half have passed until you hear footsteps and see Jungkook’s form appear in the hallway. You stand to greet him, with him asking if you’re done with the annotated documents. 

“I’ll send it in five minutes, sir,” you say, hoping he’ll at least give you that. 

“Okay,” he responds. “Come to my office after you’ve sent it.”

“Yes, sir,” you say, quickly finishing the last two pages once he closes the door. 

You rush to get everything done and click send, then you head to his office and prepare yourself for more questions. It’s quiet inside as you watch him behind the desk, with his legs crossed and his eyebrows furrowed as he reads the document. You answer one of his questions and it’s at that moment when your very empty stomach decides to make itself known.

You freeze on your spot, as the grumbling sound starts low, getting louder for a few beats before it temporarily stops. Your eyes widen in embarrassment, and you press your belly so hard with your fingers in hopes that that would do anything, even if you’re too far gone at this point. Your only hope is that it was all in your head, but Jungkook’s eyes flitting to you tells you otherwise. The only other sound in his room is the air purifier, but it’s not remotely loud enough to drown out your intense hunger. 

It goes again, and all you can do is look away; humiliating yourself was definitely not the plan for your first day as Jeon Jungkook’s assistant.

“Do you need to step away, Ms. Cho?” He asks, not meeting your eyes. 

“Oh, it’s not… uh,” a bowel emergency or something, you want to say. “I just had a busy lunch break.” 

You settle for that, a hint that you’d spent its entirety doing something in such a short notice. Hoseok would always be apologetic whenever he had you do something during your break; he always made up for it with a nice meal as thanks. You doubt you’d get anything close to that from this man.

Jungkook hums and surprisingly doesn’t ask for anything else. He dismisses you and orders you to go ahead and prepare the conference room for the next meeting, and you do just that, dropping by the pantry for a muffin that you eat in four bites, in hopes that it would be enough to shut your stomach for the next three hours. 

Right as you exit, Jungkook picks up his phone to make a call. And then another one.

“Mr. Ri, please pick up the pastries that Ms. Cho ordered at the food hall,” he instructs his chauffeur. “She’s too busy right now.”

“Will do, Mr. Jeon.”

Taking minutes of a meeting when you’re starving is not a good thing. You know this because you’ve done this so many times, like during monthly executive meetings and the quarterly board meetings that have you spread out thin. It’s also not rare to miss out on lunch because there’s a report to finish or a site to visit; during events, you go on a day with having barely eaten anything. 

But just because you’re used to it, it doesn’t mean that your body has fully adapted, because here you are, eyeing the croissants in front of you, your mouth watering at the gloss and softness of the pastry. They’re so tempting and also out of reach, given that you need to be entirely focused on the discussion that you’re documenting, and munching on something is out of the question. You don’t even know where this is from and you think maybe the design department called for snacks but it’s really not helping your concentration.

You hope the way you’re nibbling your lips doesn’t give you away, but Yoongi from across the table picks it up, as you get a notification of his message.

[From: Min Yoongi] you didn’t have lunch, did you? 

You ignore the prompt on your laptop and respond to him with a look instead. You know your pouty lips will give him his answer, and he merely shakes his head at the confirmation. 

You do your best to shut out the sight and scent of the food before you, absorbing instead the discussion so you can note this down properly with just minimal edits needed. You have a lot of documents to work on for the next few days after all, and that’s on top of the file reorganization that Jungkook asked you to do. 

It works after you hang on by a thread for two and a half hours, a little earlier than you expected to finish. All you want is to sneak out that croissant and maybe some tarts, too, but your heart breaks when you look up and find the boxes empty. 

You let out a sigh, relieved that your boss didn’t hear you because he’s already on the phone and heading out the door. But it’s that same time that a plate of food appears in front of you, and it feels like the gates of heaven have opened. You’re not surprised anymore to find out who it’s from.

“Eat,” Yoongi says from next to you. “I could see your hands shaking from across the table.”

“What about you?” You ask, your lips in a pout once more. 

“You know I don’t eat these things,” he shrugs.

He doesn’t, and you know this, too. You also know he called dibs on these earlier, seeing as his staff were quick to get them, and he’d saved these so he could give them to you. 

“Ten years later and you’re still trying to make sure I eat, huh?” You say, nudging him with your hips to tease.

“If I don’t, who would?” He responds, walking out of the conference room with you. “You have a bad habit of not doing that.”

“Well, duty calls. What can I do?” 

“Take care of yourself even if it’s hard,” he replies. 

“Says the man who rarely does it himself,” you chuckle. 

“You know, the best advice I give are the ones I don’t actually follow, so disregard the fact that I don’t even do what I say because they apparently work,” he says. “But I mean it, ___. Eat this now.”

“Thanks, Yoongi,” you smile, taking a piece of pastry and eating it in two bites. 

Your puffed out cheeks cause him to laugh, and despite still being hungry after this, you suppose it’s enough to not make you faint at this moment. 

“And eat a proper dinner, okay?” He follows up.

“I’ll be off late, so I’ll just grab something from the convenience store,” you say. “That’s as proper as I can afford tonight.”

“Aish, fine,” he shakes his head. “But let me get you coffee at least. Those tarts won’t taste as good without one.”

“That would be life-saving,” you dramatically say. “What did I do to deserve a friend like you?”

“Don’t know. I mean, I’m not that great,” he shrugs. 

You playfully roll your eyes. “I’ll save the compliments once I have the coffee.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he feigns annoyance, gesturing for you to get back to your desk then walking the other direction. 

You take your seat and clean up the document, deciding that you’ll just review the meeting minutes tomorrow so you can get on with other pressing matters. It’s 20 minutes later when Yoongi returns, a tall cup of coffee on one hand and a banana loaf on the other.

“This is all they have left,” he says. “I hope it can last you until tonight.”

“It will,” you smile. “Thank you again. No one looks out for me here as much as you do. And that means a lot, more than you know. I don’t think I would’ve survived all these years without you.”

“Wow, all because of coffee and snacks,” he laughs, teasing. 

“It’s a fair trade. You feed me during my greatest need, I boost your ego,” you tease back. 

“Yeah, whatever,” Yoongi huffs in submission, but you know he enjoys it. 

You’re thankful that after everything that’s happened, you’re still able to maintain the friendship that you created when you were a mere intern and he was just starting out his career. 

“Anyway, I’m quickly meeting Jungkook and I need the portfolio of the contemporary arts institution joint project from 2019. It was VP-led so I assume it’s still here? Unless it’s in the archive room,” he continues.

“It’s within five years so it should be here,” you say, turning to the shelf behind you to confirm. 

You spot what you need and make the attempt to pull it out but your fingers barely even touch the rack.

“Need help?” Yoongi asks.

“And what help could you give, huh?” You tease again, earning you a playful groan.

“You brat.”

You laugh and pull out the small stool you keep for times like this. 

“Just make sure I don’t fall and embarrass myself further today,” you say, climbing up the steps then pulling out the heavy folder. 

You feel Yoongi’s arm move from where it was near your waist to over your head, as he lightens the load. You both try to balance it and laugh at your distorted faces in the process, and it’s moments of relief like this one that you’re glad you’re afforded after a long day like today. 

From inside the room, Jungkook sees you through the window, your eyes crinkling as you laugh along with Yoongi, head of the design department and one of his very few friends in the company. It catches him off guard, as he realizes that since meeting you last Friday, he’s never seen you laugh, much less smile or even have an expression that isn’t agitated or serious.

He knows that that’s probably on him. He’d spoken ill of you after all, something he regretted once he saw the frustration on your face when you made it known that you were in the room with them and had definitely heard everything he said. But he’d been tired and HR confirmed that he could bring Lucas over as his assistant; CEO Jeon was the one who vetoed that decision. 

Jungkook had already mentally prepared himself for the ease of his transition, knowing that he’d be assisted by someone who knows how he works and the quality of outputs he expects, only to come here and be told by his father that the current staff will stay, and that you - someone he’d only heard of as Hoseok’s assistant - will be the one assisting him from now on. Your resume didn’t even impress him.

Jungkook doesn’t like change and when he has to undergo it, he needs as much of what was familiar and convenient to remain; that’s the only bit of control he can have and he hates not being in control of things. You just happened to unluckily be at the receiving end of his anger.

But unlike what he expected, you stood up to him in the subtle ways you could. He’s been so used to people just following him, partly because his way is always the best but also because he commands that respect, and he knows his capabilities enough to know that he deserves it as well. So when you answered back, he felt rattled and just a little bit uneasy. He was unable to backtrack after, but he didn’t really plan to.

That doesn’t mean that he didn’t plan on being a bit of a jerk today, too. He’d been exhausted working over the weekend after going through all the files you gave him that he snoozed his alarm so many times and ended up doing his workout later than he intended. When you rang the doorbell and stood by his door with your skirt and satin top, he suddenly felt lightheaded.

He mentally smacked himself once the thought that your pastel colored outfit brought out your eyes more than the monochrome ensemble from last week floated in his head. He just hated that not only are you thorough with your work, you have to be beautiful, too. He’d never admit to anyone that both of those things make him nervous, and it’s the only reason why he thinks he needs to establish his authority so that he doesn’t get rattled the next time you counter him.

That’s why he demanded more work, which he didn’t intend to take up so much of your time, like your lunch break. He’d seen how your hands shook while you were taking notes during the meeting, prompting him to end the meeting early so you can have something to eat of what he’d bought but he’d left before he could find out if there was anything left for you. 

Maybe there wasn’t enough, as he also witnessed Yoongi hand you what seemed like food with coffee that the man also got for you just minutes ago. The smile you gave him was bright and sincere. Jungkook doesn’t think he’d ever see that directed at him, considering how he’d been to you on his first day, but maybe that’s also good; that could be his defense. Maybe it’d help quell that initial attraction that he doesn’t want and cannot allow at all to grow.

It doesn’t mean it doesn’t agitate him to see you a bit too close with his friend, because with the way you seem so comfortable and with the way that Yoongi sports that rare smile, it almost feels like there’s something there.

Jungkook is the son of the CEO, and having personal relationships within the company isn’t exactly advisable, but he’d gone to university with Yoongi and their introverted personalities instantly clicked. The older man is perhaps the only non-relative company employee that Jungkook kept in touch with when he was in Singapore, not that he even really talked much to his family outside of work anyway.

But in all the years of their friendship, his friend never mentioned any relationship - nor the makings of one - with another staff member. Jungkook hates how his curiosity is slowly getting to him. Maybe a few more moments would tell him more, but something about the scene happening outside his room is making him nervous and uneasy, so he decides to step in.

“Hey, Yoon,” he says as he opens the door. “Can we discuss now? I have to meet my parents for dinner in an hour.”

Your bubble with Yoongi bursts at the sound of Jungkook’s voice, and you immediately return to your seat. Your friend nods at you then enters the room, leaving you the peace and quiet you need to plop down on the floor for a quick snack of your loaf before going back to work, glancing inside every once in a while to see how the two are going, and perhaps confirm the friendship that you didn’t expect the two would have.

“This building is a good starting point,” Yoongi agrees with Jungkook. “If this is the general feel you want for the Arts Center, I can look into other projects and designs and come up with ideas. I’ll just ask ___ for the files I need.”

“You two seem close,” Jungkook says too quickly. 

Leaning back against the chair, Yoongi processes the question that he didn’t expect he’d hear. More than that, he tries to read what’s underneath it, knowing that his friend’s tone of voice and feigned stoic expression mean something more.

“You could say that,” Yoongi replies. “She did say that no one’s looked out for her here as much as I have. And that she wouldn’t have survived all these years without me.”

“So you’re actually friends?”

“Yes.”

“Were you more?”

Yoongi chuckles, the question giving him the answer he’s looking for. Jungkook may often be too serious but he can be transparent sometimes, too.

“Does it matter?” The older man asks.

“Just don’t want to be surprised, that’s all,” Jungkook shrugs. “If there’s an employee relationship happening under my nose, I should at least know.”

“It happens here a lot,” Yoongi responds. “I mean, it gives people something to gossip about but it’s how things are - work sucks sometimes and we want someone to hold at the end of a terrible day.”

Feeling like he won’t get an answer to a question that Jungkook doesn’t know why he felt the need to ask in the first place, he just shakes his head to concede. 

But it’s what prompts Yoongi to reply. 

“We met when she was just an intern,” he says. “We used to take the same bus then found out we both came from Daegu. Then she was employed and we were both on the logistics team before I was reassigned and she got the EA role.”

Jungkook merely hums, taking in the information.

“I also asked her out before,” Yoongi continues, earning him a surprised look from the younger man. “You just can’t help what you feel sometimes, you know?  But she turned me down, said she didn’t want to lead me on because she didn’t feel anything more. She also doesn’t like being involved with a co-worker, so yeah.”

“How are you still friends?”

“Asks the guy who’s still friends with his ex,” Yoongi laughs.

“Chaerin and I are civil, there’s a difference. And we haven’t spoken in years.”

“You loved her, though,” Yoongi counters. “I never got to that point.”

“This isn’t about me,” Jungkook huffs. 

Knowing it’s a topic that his friend doesn’t like talking about, Yoongi relents. “I moved on. That was years ago,” he says. “And it seemed like she needed someone. I mean, she’s not from here and her friends aren’t here, either. She appreciated the friendship even if she said she didn’t think she deserved it. I guess that made me really get over her, you know? That’s all she wanted and needed from me; it was better than not having her around.”

“How brave,” Jungkook remarks. 

“You mean mature?” Yoongi corrects. “Yes, that’s what I am, and it’s the best I could be for her. Especially since she’s got a boss who makes her miss lunch because somehow, there’s just so much to do for your first day on the job.”

“Don’t remind me,” Jungkook groans. 

“I will. Only so you could feel bad.”

“I already do. That’s why I…”

“Bought the pastries,” Yoongi finishes. “I mean, I didn’t order them.”

“Was any even left for her?” Jungkook sighs, remembering how he was internally screaming for you to just get from the box and he’d been the jerk to not offer you some even if it was technically for you.

“Sort of. I put some aside for myself so I could give them to her.”

“You sure you don’t like her anymore?” Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, an attempt to hide his uneasiness over something he doesn’t understand. He finds you attractive, that’s it. He doesn’t know why his mind searches for more answers.

“You don’t have to like someone romantically to be nice to them, you know?” Yoongi responds. “And she needed it. Heavens know the support she’d need now that she has to deal with your rude ass.”

Jungkook sighs, but the remark is a welcome one because he did tell Yoongi not to treat him differently just because he’s the Vice President now. He also partly agrees. But he sees the effort; his friend wouldn’t call him out for how he does things, so the most he would do is offer help to you. And Jungkook could maybe take advantage of that, as Yoongi stands up to leave.

“Hey, could you, uh, grab dinner for her at the food hall? And not say it’s from me?”

“The food hall’s closed,” Yoongi says.

“The cafe down the street, then?”

“You can’t be fucking serious,” the older man groans. 

But Yoongi knows his friend, knows the distance he creates from the people around him, knows his need to have control over everything, including his feelings, and knows the walls he builds because it’s easier to keep others out rather than do the hard task of letting them into a space that’s become comfortable because he’s been the only one inside for so long.

So Yoongi does as he’s asked. He takes the money then heads to the cafe to order pork cutlets and curry. He returns and sets them on your desk to your surprise, and you ask what it’s for.

“Just thought you deserve more than just convenience store instant noodles and gimbap given the day you’ve had,” he says. 

“Hey, those are delicious,” you pout, but wanting to melt at how good the rice bowl smells. “But thank you, again. I owe you a lot, Yoongi. I mean it.”

“Just make sure to eat on time so I don’t have to buy your dinner again,” he teases. “I mean it. You have to stay healthy, okay?”

“Okay,” you smile brightly. “Get home safe tonight.”

Jungkook glances out the window and holds back a smile himself at how innocent and genuinely happy you look. There’s this joy that you seem to enjoy to yourself and he sees that, he understands that. And somehow that’s enough to lessen the guilt for now. 

He still doesn’t know if he’ll ever see that smile directed at him or if he’d ever want that because of how disarming it is. But seeing it from afar is enough; it’s trivial and short enough to let him bask in it without having to climb out of his walls. He’ll watch you from behind, he thinks. He just wishes he doesn’t push you away in the process.

Series Masterlist

Permanent Taglist: @sherlynxx​ @di0rgguk​ @thequeen-kat​ @fan-ati--c  @cravingforhotchocolate​ @adoraminie​ @helenazbmrskai @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @gukssunshine​ @kookxin​ @petuliii @yoursthv​ @libra04​ @fancycollectormoon​ @twixxxpie​ @ignoretheskies @ohmydarlin-g​​ @bids97​​ @minyoongiboongi​ @main-bangtansmauyeondan​​ @bora-bae7 @investedreader @petalsofink @jvngkooker

Series Taglist: @xhazmania @ash07128 @rinkud @junniesoleilkth @junecat18 @peachytokki @baechugff @coralmusicblaze @jalexad

[carlyraejepsans]

Setting up AO3 Enhancements on a mobile browser

Hey there! Do you:

read fic primarily on your phone?

feel tired of having to punch in a lot of filter tags every time you browse for fics?

have an android device?

then I might be able to help you make fandom a cozier place! (and hopefully nip future drama in the bud, lol)

With this post, I'm gonna guide you through the process of installing the AO3 Enhancements browser extension, normally only available on desktop, on your mobile device. It works a charm, and I've been using it for months, and it's made the Undertale tag navigable again despite my utter disinterest in AU content.

Here's an archived version of the full post in case my dumbass accidentally deletes it for some reason

Let's get started!

UPDATE: For IOS users! You can download the browser app "Orion" which allows firefox extensions! No need to do this procedure, just install it and download the extension as you normally would from Firefox Add-ons

1) Download Firefox Nightly.

For those who are hearing of it for the first time, Firefox Nightly is a separate Firefox browser made specifically for developers. The name itself is due to the fact that it's patched and updated on a daily (er, nightly) basis. This makes it more prone to crashing and issues than the standard Firefox app, but I've switched over to nightly as my main browser months ago now, and if I ever encounter a problem, I just... download the latest update and I'm good to go.

What's crucial about Nightly, however, is that it gives the user access to various additional features. One of them being desktop extensions on mobile, which is what we're here for.

Here's the Google Play link.

2) Make a Firefox Account

This will be necessary to install the extension later

Once you've done that, go to the Firefox add-ons website and log into your account in the upper right (where it says "Biscia" in the screenshot below). Click on "View My Collections"

3) Making an add-on collection

Since browser extensions are technically blocked from being directly installed by the browser, Nightly offers a workaround.

Create a collection, and give it a name without spaces to avoid errors.

4) Adding the extension

Here is the link to ao3 enhancements (if it's not showing up, try reloading the page in desktop mode). Scroll down until you see the option "Add to a collection" and select the one you just created.

You can do it with any extension! Go nuts. There's lots of good stuff out there. Just remember that it's not guaranteed every one of them will work, since they aren't intended to be used on a mobile device.

5) Activating debug mode.

In your browser, tap the little sandwich menu in the bottom right, scroll down and click Settings. It should be under "Save to Collection".

Scroll down even more until you reach the "About" section, and click on "About Firefox Nightly"

Click on the firefox logo 5 times, and it should be done.

6) Activating your add-ons

Go to "View my profile" as seen in the screenshot in step 2. At the end of the link, there should be a string of numbers. Copy it.

After this, go back to the browser settings again, scroll down until you reach the add ons section and click on "custom add on collection". Paste the numbers you copied from your profile where it says "User ID", and the name of your collection EXACTLY as it appears in the link, where it says "Collection name". Mind, it's case sensitive.

Press okay, and it should kick you out of the app. Open it again and, going in add-ons then add-ons manager, you should be able to add your extension.

ATTENTION!! If you get the error message "failed to query add-ons" you either inputted the wrong user id or the wrong collection name

To avoid this type of issue, don't name your collection something that has spaces or punctuation in it, as it might mess with the link formatting.

7) Setting up your AO3 enhancements filters

If everything's worked out fine, you should be able to visit ao3 and see a new drop-down window.

Click on it, click on option, and it should open up a new window with all the settings available! Tweak them to your heart's content. Though mind, the background tag wrangling done by the ao3 volunteers doesn't work with this extension, so the extension is going to hide only the works tagged EXACTLY what you filtered. Character for character. This makes things a bit tricky when people aren't consistent with their tagging, but if it proves to be enough of a problem, you can just filter out the author name in full and be done with it.

You can choose to hide the fic behind a "show" button, or make it not show up at all. If you choose the latter option, and you blocked a tag that has lots of fics, it might look like certain pages of searches are almost empty, since all the fics were hidden.

And that's it! I sincerely hope this helps people avoid their triggers and other topics that make them uncomfortable. No more excuses fellas. You find a tag you haven't filtered yet? You add it to the list and move on. Easy peasy.

Hope I haven't missed anything. Let me know if you need any help!

[soft5ku11]

Soft5ku11 D15c0rd Server (+ Masterpost)

Everything under the cut! AI PROMPT TYPERS, POSTERS AND ENJOYERS GET OFF MY BLOG

D|SC0RD

Disclaimer: No extreme sizes, vore, scat & piss (etc), mpreg or kink content depicting minors is allowed. 18+ ONLY.

MY WEBSITE

This is primarily a specially curated art portfolio. Check it out if you want! (The site might be slow to load all the images on the main page so give it a few seconds)

As of September 2023, you can now view uncensored versions of my art on this website! :)

TUMBLR

{you are here right now! good job!}

BLUESKY

I try to post my art periodically on BS (when i remember I'll dump a month or two of art in one go).

PILLOWFORT

I don't often post on PF because there's nobody there ._.

AO3

I only have one fic as of July 2023, but I might post more in the future.

twitter. (booooo)

Deleted all my art from here because TOS changes mean all images and art uploaded will be used to train *l*n m*sk's AI service. Site is also dead throw it in the bin already fr.

LOL THEY'RE IN TALKS WITH M1D JOURNEY THROW IT AWAY

ART SUGGESTIONS/REQUESTS

I may not do everything left in the suggestion box, but I will see it. The more detail, the better!

This post will update if/when I have new socials or links to other sites to share.

COMMONLY USED TAGS

#my art - Original art made by me

#soft5ku11 speaking - Off-topic stuff, you can filter this if you're only here for the art

#soft5ku11 asks - Any inbox asks I reply to

#soft5ku11 headcanons Headcanons posts, usually alongside the asks tag

#soft5ku11 gamedev - Posts about the development of my still-unnamed game concept

#soft5ku11 WIP - screenshots of unfinished artwork

Character tags will be abbreviated to three characters, eg my Guzma tag is "#gzm tag".

(Feel free to filter these tags if and as you see fit)

[littlejuicebox]

Little Lockpick.

Okay this is the last addition for the weekend.

My ADHD hyperfixated on Dadstarion and now I need to focus on my big girl life and job for the week.

Definitely didn’t mean to go this crazy on the writing but hey, when inspiration strikes. 🤷‍♀️

I really need to update these headers at some point. Problems for future Gina.

Summary: Toddler Gale has developed new magic skills and wants Papastarion to open a lock NOW. Right now. Tav has some interesting news after an appointment.

Tags/Warnings: kids, babies, parenthood, fluff, idk what else?

*

Astarion is in his office, trying to work, which is almost impossible with Gale sitting on his lap. The toddler is fiddling with something in his small hands as his father reads over a scroll for the second time, trying to focus on the words. It’s become increasingly difficult to do so as frustrated huffs and grunts escape the almost-three-year-old.

“Daddy! Help!” Gale exclaims, pulling Astarion’s attention from the scroll and down to the little silver-haired boy. The toddler is shaking what’s in his hand up at his father, nose crinkled in displeasure.

“Hmm…” The elf murmurs, taking the little toy — if you could call it that — from his son. It’s a small padlock. The toddler had been trying, quite incessantly, to open it for nearly half an hour. It was enough to keep Gale pre-occupied while his mother went to her appointment, but now the toddler is getting frustrated and his father knows there will soon be a melt down if the issue isn’t remedied.

“Little prince, where did you find this?” Astarion asks while handing the tiny metal lock back to Gale. The silver-haired boy climbs off his father’s lap. Uncoordinated legs take him over to the bookshelf along the office wall, and he points to the bottom shelf.

“Found here! Right here.” The toddler babbles, crinkling his white eyebrows at his father, wondering why the older man is asking him such a silly question. Gale is growing more impatient, upset that Astarion simply isn’t doing what he asked and opening the lock. But no, daddy insists on asking him these questions instead, “Why daddy? Why? Open it!”

Tiny fingers grip the loop of the lock again, trying and failing to release the mechanism with sheer force. The child’s two little arms aren’t strong enough to pry open the lock. Gale is growing more and more frustrated. Red patches flush across his cheeks as he grunts, compelling Astarion to move from his chair and crouch in front of the toddler, intending to placate him.

“We need a key to open the lock, Gale. I was hoping there would be one near where you found the lock but I don’t think—“ The elf starts, but he’s cut off by a high pitched wail escaping his son.

“OPEN! OPEN! OPEN!”

The little boy is throwing himself on the ground now, still gripping the offending toy. Fat, frustrated tears are falling from his gorgeous green eyes. He’s practically the spitting image of his father, and even in his tantrums he is a beautiful, adorable thing. But Astarion begins to panic, knowing Gale needs to calm down, he needs to calm down before—

The toddler shrieks at the top of his lungs and a powerful gust of wind comes from nowhere, knocking Astarion onto his back and sending a flurry of papers shooting off the desk.

It’s ironic, Astarion thinks, that his son is named Gale and the first spell he can unintentionally cast is a gust of wind whenever he’s throwing a tantrum. The elf is groaning in pain as his eyes clamp shut; he is trying desperately to regain his composure before he addresses the toddler. These terrible twos have been… well, terrible. Astarion’s patience is running thin.

He remembers his wife’s coaching. Deep breath in, long exhale out. The poor little prince doesn’t know any better.

The wind scares Gale into silence. He doesn’t yet understand his powers, and when he sees his father knocked prone on the floor, he starts crying again. They’re sticky, snot-filled, guilty tears, this time. He doesn’t understand how he conjures the wind, but he does know that the damage is his fault. Despite his current tantrum, Gale is an overall empathetic and sensitive boy, and the vision of the damage he’s done worries him.

“Sorry, daddy!” The toddler gasps through choked cries, sitting himself up and bunching his hands in tight, worried fists which he brings to the sides of his face, “I a bad boy!”

Astarion rolls himself up to a sitting position and scoops the child into his arms with a belabored sigh, “You’re not a bad boy, Gale.”

He soothes the child in a soft coo as he rubs small circles on the little boy’s back. Gale’s small body continues to wrack with sobs as his father places a kiss on his crown of silvery curls and whispers, “You’re just an exceptionally powerful one. But you get that from your mother, little prince.”

The elf stands, taking his son with him in the process as he walks out of the office, headed towards the bedchambers and still rubbing the little boy’s back as the toddler begins to calm down.

The papers will just have to be cleaned up later.

*

“Again, again, daddy!”

When you find your husband and child, they are both laying atop your bed, facing away from the door. Gale is giggling incessantly and clapping his hands together, asking his father to repeat something.

“There you two are. What are you doing?” You ask as you enter the room, one hand on your stomach. You’ve just come from an appointment with Jaheira.

The two men turn their heads and grin at you practically in unison. It makes you chuckle. It’s truly startling, how similar they are from their looks to their mannerisms. You catch sight of Astarion’s old lockpicking kit between the two of them, and your eyebrow cocks curiously.

“Are you really showing our toddler how to pick locks, Astarion?” You ask as you make your way to sit on the bed with the rest of your little family.

“Yes. But it’s a bit of a story, love. I’ll fill you in on the details later.” Your husband responds, handing the padlock and one of the tools to Gale, where he attempts to mimic the previous motions of his father. His tiny tongue sticks out as he focuses.

Astarion moves to kiss your cheek and then lightly brushes his fingers against your abdomen, subtly greeting the growing life inside, “How did the appointment go?”

“Good…” You murmur in a long, drawled out way. By your tone and the large grin spreading across your face, your husband can tell something is up.

His eyebrow cocks as he assesses your face, trying to decipher the thoughts behind your eyes. Whatever it is, it obviously isn’t bad news, and the knot in his stomach he’d constantly carried prior to this preliminary check-up is starting to finally subside as he analyzes you.

It took a long time to conceive this round; you two had nearly given up. When you finally missed your moonblood, both of you were waiting with bated breath for the first month. This experience was a sharp contrast to Gale’s conception, which happened easily, by accident and without much thought. Both of you had been emotional, nervous wrecks up until now.

“What is it, darling?” Your husband asks, smiling despite himself, simply matching your energy.

“Jaheira is almost certain it’s twins, Astarion.” You respond, and then you’re laughing as you watch your husband’s face turn from shocked to excited to worried to overwhelmed all in the span of a few seconds.

“Twins?” He asks, dumbly, trying to process the new information. A hand comes to rake through his curls as he exhales through the shock, “Love, we might need to hire some more help, I know you said you didn’t want to, but—“

“Yes, I was thinking the same. Especially if they’re also going to show Gale’s same penchant for spells.” You agree, and at the mention of your son’s name he perks up and grins at you, proudly showing you the lock, “Speaking of which…”

You reach into your robe pocket and retrieve a small beaded necklace before patting your lap, and beckoning to your son, “Come here to me, my little love.”

Gale obliges happily, crawling over to settle in your lap. You kiss the crown of his head and then clasp the small necklace onto the toddler. Astarion is watching you curiously, his head tilts to the side as he brings his hand to grasp the necklace and examine it. The toddler sure does love that lock, he’s barely acknowledging either of you as you speak around him.

“It’s a dampener,” You explain, “I was telling Jaheira about the recent development. She gave me this. It won’t completely take away Gale’s powers… but it should help to reduce the strength of his spells until he learns to control them himself.”

Astarion nods with a relieved sigh, “Good. If I’m being honest, darling, I was worried he might accidentally hurt you.”

You nod knowingly and then groan as your stomach begins to growl. The appointment took a bit longer than you thought; it’s past your usual lunch time. You begin to stand, pulling the toddler in your arms with you as you say, “Now how about lunch in the sunroom? I’m starving.”

Astarion hums in agreement, “Go on, my love. I’ll grab the food and join you two in just a moment.”

You nod and carry Gale out, singing softly to the little boy as you head to the sunroom, leaving Astarion to gather his own thoughts for a moment.

The elf throws himself back on the bed with a groan, running his hand through his curls once again. Twins.

Twice the joy. Twice the work.

Astarion cannot help but to laugh, and then smile, even though he knows the next few years are going to be hectic. Perhaps more hectic than he’d imagined. Before long he’s rolling off the bed and headed to the kitchen, planning to prepare a platter of sandwiches and tea for himself and his two — four — little loves.

[j-nightingalesb1tch]

EXCITING NEWS GUYS

i have started development on my first ever renpy game. i'm so excited since this is something i've wanted to do for a while now, but renpy always kinda scared me. but i've finally put it into action and i'm really looking forward to the journey ahead.

the game is still in extremely early development, but i have planned an outline of the plot, written some scripts, and have come up with so many ideas i want to share with you all.

as you can see, it is a dai fan game. if anyone knows if i can get sued for this, please let me know lmao

i don't want to give too much away but here are some features i'm planning to include:

you can choose from 17 different characters to play as (12 will be available straight off the bat, and 5 will be secret routes that are unlocked via other routes). these are all characters from inquisition.

you get to decide who your character ends up with, or even stay single if you want to be.

you can end up in a polyamorous relationship with (almost) free reign as to which characters that relationship includes.

no two routes are the same. each route will have the same plot but you can make it your own through your choices. remember; just because picking option b worked for your dorian playthrough, doesn't mean it'll work when you're playing as cullen.

there are a LOT of choices that genuinely impact the direction of the story.

each character has a bunch of different endings and they're all carefully tailored to your decisions.

as the game is still in early development, with only a faint outline holding it together, plans can change. however, as far as i know, this is how many endings each character can have:

the dorian route has 8 endings and 7 secret endings.

the iron bull route has 11 endings and 6 secret endings.

the varric route has 10 endings and 6 secret endings.

the cullen route has 10 endings and 5 secret endings.

the sera route has 6 endings and 5 secret endings.

the leliana route has 11 endings and 7 secret endings.

the cole route as 3 endings and 4 secret endings.

the josephine route has 11 endings and 5 secret endings.

the blackwall route has 10 endings and 3 secret endings.

the cassandra route has 9 endings and 6 secret endings.

the solas route has 10 endings and 3 secret endings.

the vivienne route has 3 endings and no secret endings.

i have tried to provide as much freedom as possible when it comes to pairings, but there are a few exceptions:

dorian and sera are still gay/lesbian and can only be romanced by characters of the same gender - so naturally they will have less endings as their options are restricted.

cole doesn't have a lot of romantic endings as there were only one or two characters i felt comfortable writing him with (so far only dorian has a cole romance ending, and cole has three secret romantic endings). this could change in the future but definitely not for characters such as varric and solas who cole shares a very parental relationship with., or for vivienne due to the power difference between them that would make me extremely uncomfortable to write.

vivienne also doesn't have a lot of romantic endings but that's more to do with the fact i struggle to write her in romantic scenes. again, this could change.

the rest are all free to romance whoever they want. cullen can romance a man (or two or three). cassandra can romance a woman (or two or three). basically there's no such thing as straight in this game. go nuts.

i will keep you all updated as i progress. the game will take a long while to create and i would appreciate any advice/help/suggestions etc to make it enjoyable for everyone. i would also appreciate the support from you guys as i dive into my first game making experience.

but just remember i am a single 19 year old girl who's doing this in her free time. i don't have a huge team behind me so the game is going to take a lot of time and effort to become something playable.

follow the tag ' #the dai kissing game ' if you want to keep updated on the game's progress.

thank you guys!!

[daswarschonkaputt]

an incredibly subjective kinnporsche fic rec list

a few caveats before i get into it: i have probably missed fic. this is all my opinion, and if you disagree with it, that’s fine. i’m not giving these fics ratings, or picking out my extra special favourites because that’s just a dick move and inevitably results in writers feeling like shit. (i’ve been there.) if it’s on this list, i enjoyed it enough to remember it. which is saying something because i read a lot of fic. like, so much firefox fucking crashed when i was opening tabs from my ao3 history. i bsod’d my fucking laptop for this. oh and my fic is on this list because hell yeah i recommend it. i fucking wrote it.

these aren’t in any particular order, because they’re mostly in order of my ao3 history. bear in mind that a lot of these were written whilst the show was airing, so they’re not so much canon as canon-adjacent. where i can remember what they go by over on this hellsite, i’ve tagged the author’s in question. if you know any of the handles for authors i’ve missed, feel free to tag them too.

under a cut because there are quite a few here:

A Guide to Living a Mafia-Adjacent Life by puckbaes https://archiveofourown.org/works/39870123

What? Post-canon fic about Chay adjusting to his new life as a mafia-adjacent college student, and making peace with his relationship with Kim. WIP. 20k, 8/11 chapters posted.

Why? This story primarily makes me feel peaceful, to read. Chay’s just trying to get through his life, whilst trying to pick himself up and move on. It’s such a breath of fresh air whenever it updates. Also P’Bank is the best.

for you (i'd burn the world to the ground) by cuteandtwisted https://archiveofourown.org/works/40134927

What? AU where Porsche grew up with the Theerapanyakul’s, and has been Kinn’s faithful bodyguard the entire time. He and Kinn have a tortured relationship. WIP, 24k, 4/5 chapters posted.

Why? This one is not a peaceful read. This one rips out your heart and stomps on it. But unsurprisingly, I’m an angst queen, and I very much enjoy these losers ruining their lives (and each other). Also badass Porsche. We all love badass Porsche, don’t we?

but you’re everywhere (yes you are) by fortunehasgivenup https://archiveofourown.org/works/39221205

What? Canon-divergence where Porsche remembers the kiss on the pier, and talks to Kinn about it. Despite the summary, they are softer than canon. Complete, 90k.

Why? Reading this I kept expecting the other shoe to drop, and it didn’t. Kinn and Porsche fall into each other and figure each other out. It’s just a nice, long canon-divergence fic with low drama and high heat.

within the ablaze by lightshine https://archiveofourown.org/works/39897795

What? A/B/O mpreg AU. Check out the content warnings on AO3 before you brave this one, folks. Porsche gets pregnant, and has to figure out what he’s going to do about it. WIP, 9k, 3/16 chapters posted.

Why? Okay, so only a few chapters have been posted of this one, but what’s there has me intrigued. There’s some interesting worldbuilding here, but again, check the content warnings on AO3. It’s omegaverse, and some of the trope’s more dystopian elements are folded into the world here. This is one of the fic I am subscribed to and am watching to see how it develops.

You picked a dance with the devil, You lucked out by aby01 https://archiveofourown.org/works/39718185

What? A/B/O AU where Porsche is a feral alpha, terrified of being used as someone’s weapon, and Kinn is, well, Kinn. Porsche would like desperately to steer clear of him for forever – there’s just one problem: Chay’s dating Kim. Alpha!Kinn/Alpha!Porsche. Complete, 34k.

Why? Someone tags their fic with Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics and I am there so quickly, you have no idea. I really enjoyed the worldbuilding here. I followed it right from the first chapter and faithfully read every update – I vibed hard with it.

Where Power Resides by Laughsalot3412 (@laughsalot3412 on tumblr) https://archiveofourown.org/works/38407180

What? Canon-divergent AU circa episode 2. Vegas demands a steeper price for Porsche hurting his brother, and Kinn ends up going along. Somehow this results in them falling into a BDSM relationship. Complete, 65k.

Why? C’mon guys. This is a fandom classic for a reason. Laughs really knocks it out of the park. The BDSM stuff here is mostly non-sexual, and written really tenderly. It’s really clear what Kinn and Porsche each get out of the relationship, and the way they both come to rely on each other is really beautiful. Also I have a soft spot for Laughs’ Kim, who’s my favourite brand of feral.

The power in the taking by iffervescent (@iffervescent on tumblr) https://archiveofourown.org/works/29002584

What? Porsche and Kinn fuck around (sexually) and then find out (about feelings). Kinn’s a dominant asshole, and Porsche hates that that seems to do it for him. Written before the show aired, based on the Filmania trailer, and got a shocking amount really right. Complete, 17k.

Why? Iffy’s a fucking powerhouse, guys. This one is a little darker in tone than the show liked to keep it, but so, so fucking good. Obviously it doesn’t get everything correct canon-wise, but that’s to be expected. It’s still a really good fic.

playing with fire by acrobats (@fractured-ice on tumblr) https://archiveofourown.org/works/39521733

What? Porsche character study through the lens of smoking. Complete, 2.5k.

Why? A short fic that looks at Porsche and his use of smoking as a coping mechanism. Damn good characterisation. Almost meta, really.

i'm the violence in the pouring rain by theleftboobgrabber (@histypeisnice on tumblr) https://archiveofourown.org/works/39205392

What? Porsche has a side-hustle on onlyfans. Kinn has no sense of boundaries. Twisty and incredibly hot. WIP, 20k, 2/3 chapters posted.

Why? Um. I have no excuse? I saw a snippet of this posted on tumblr and was absolutely hooked. When I say I want these losers to ruin each other, I think of fics like this one.

tiny spark, mighty flame by BeStillMySlashyHeart https://archiveofourown.org/works/38828970

What? Soulmate AU where your first touch leaves a mark on your soulmate. Gee, wouldn’t it suck if the first time Kinn and Porsche actually touched was when Kinn strangled him in episode two? Wouldn’t it suck if that was how they found out they were soulmates? (Distant laughter.) Complete, 29k.

Why? This was one of the first soulmate AU fic I read that actually approached the matter that Porsche would need a security detail, once it was discovered. Which: I would recommend it just for that on its own. BUT, it’s also a neat fic. There’s a really cool use of the author’s worldbuilding at the end of the fic, which I won’t spoil, but I still think about it. It’s short, it’s sweet, it hits the mark.

Nosy, Nosy by snickerdoodlles (@thecookiemonster77 on tumblr) https://archiveofourown.org/works/39562044

What? Tankhun and Kim character study. Incredibly in-character, and also incredibly funny. Complete, 13k.

Why? One of the first fic I ever read where the author seemed to just get Tankhun on a subatomic level. This fic is the Tankhun character reference, guys. Also Kim is just so funny to throw at the rest of the cast. Yes, Tankhun. Invade his space. Irritate him. Understand him.

Head.Cars.Bending by hotlemontea https://archiveofourown.org/works/39744693

What? Tankhun ends up halfway across Thailand after a wild night of partying. Porsche and Kinn go to pick him up, and Porsche’s driving puts the fear of God into Kinn. As it fucking should. Complete, 4k.

Why? You ever read a fic that just sets the tone and sticks to it? It’s a simple idea, very straightforward, and utterly sticks the landing. I really enjoyed it. One of the few fic I was able to recall off the top of my head by name when I wrote this list. It’s that good.

Assumptions about you by Sirvaria (@antique-forvalaka on tumblr) https://archiveofourown.org/works/38101582

What? Smut fic, Porsche likes being manhandled. Complete, 6k.

Why? Um. UM. I read it for the… character development? Yeah. We’ll go with that. Seriously though, this is the good shit.

gone fishing by snickerdoodlles https://archiveofourown.org/works/39384114

What? Post-canon social media fic. Chay takes over Wik’s Twitter. Complete, 1.5k.

Why? I didn’t realise until I put together this list that this is the same author as “Nosy, Nosy”. It all makes sense. Cute, funny, in-character, which I guess is snickerdooodlles’s trademark now.

A Stacked Deck by Patterpea (@winterberrysea on tumblr) https://archiveofourown.org/works/40217793

What? Time travel fic where Porsche is sent back in time after taking a bullet for Kinn. WIP, 39k, 4/16 chapters posted.

Why? It’s time travel fic with badass Porsche. Anyone who knows anything about me knows I was all over this the moment it was posted and will continue to be all over it until it’s complete and then probably for a few months after that. This scratches so many itches and I love it to bits already.

fake love and hennessy by yeetlegay (@yeetlegay on tumblr) https://archiveofourown.org/works/39083298

What? Pretty Woman AU. Porsche is a prostitute, and Kinn hires him for a week. They have a lot of sex. WIP, 53k, 8/17 chapters posted.

Why? This is another one of the fandom juggernauts, and for good reason. The writing’s swell, everyone’s in character, and Yeetle works hard to maintain their title as the ruling monarch of the horny Kinnporsche fandom.

The King's Tree by LuckyDragon (@luckydragon10 on tumblr) https://archiveofourown.org/works/39298218

What? Soulmate AU where prior to canon, Kinn got his soulmark removed. Porsche didn’t. Porsche is now faced with a reality where his soulmate was so opposed to his very existence that he had him burned out of his flesh. So, he’s not really best-inclined to letting Kinn in on the secret. WIP, 64k, 12/14 chapters posted.

Why? It’s so good. Like. It’s criminal how underrated this fic is, relatively. Whenever this one updates, I drop everything to go read it. You may know Nemi (the author) from the meta doc – but damn can she write. This one rips my heart out on a daily basis, holds it outside my chest, and then returns it, wrapped in cotton wool. I’m not kidding. It’s so fucking good.

Intent to Cherish by Iffervescent https://archiveofourown.org/works/40304811

What? A/B/O AU with shades of sugar daddy thrown in for fun. Porsche is an atypical omega, and hyperaware of that fact. Kinn wants him really fucking bad – but wants to spoil him more. Complete, 47k.

Why? It lures you in with the promise of scalding hot sex (Iffy’s trademark), only to sucker punch you with fascinating worldbuilding and Kittisawat feels. This fic is so fucking good, guys. This Porsche makes me absolutely lose my mind, and Kinn does too.

cover up, walk away by Ronan Vespertine (Akina1521) https://archiveofourown.org/works/39225051

What? Porsche character study, post-diamond auction. Canon-typical content warnings apply. WIP, 5k, 2/4 chapters posted.

Why? In the aftermath of episode four (and episode five, really, too) I had a lot of feelings about what had happened. In order to process these feelings, I went looking for fic, and cover up was one of the first I found. I enjoyed it a lot, and am secretly waiting for the author to finish it.

whiskey sour by cardamon https://archiveofourown.org/works/39632343

What? Post-canon, a little AU. Kinn and Vegas do business. Pete and Porsche come along. Complete, 1.8k.

Why? It was written before the season finale and it shows, but it’s still pretty fun. All very bloody brutal murder boys. I’d definitely recommend it, if you’re into that.

Tiger Tiger by LuckyDragon  https://archiveofourown.org/works/38000350

What? Slight canon divergence, Kinn investigates Porsche and watches him at the fight ring. Small ficlet. Complete, 2k.

Why? I really love Nemi’s Kinn POV. Just a neat ficlet, with a slight AU to it. Could fit into canon.

A Little Wicked by midnightsurge https://archiveofourown.org/works/40197588

What? Canon-divergent AU. Porsche doesn’t sell the watch, and Kinn doesn’t kidnap him to recruit him. That doesn’t mean he’s prepared to leave him alone. Complete, 11k.

Why? I love canon-divergence. It’s one of my favourite tropes. And fics like this are why. They’re so soft in this one – wound-tending, bathing, all the hurt-comfort tropes. And Porsche’s confused horniness for Kinn is great and wonderfully in character – he really gets kissed once and goes, Okay, I guess I like guys now. Good shit.

All for Us by rebellconquerer (@rebellconquerer on tumblr) https://archiveofourown.org/works/40326297

What? Post-canon character study. Porsche gets a new tattoo. Complete, 3.5k.

Why? rebellconquerer writes these fantastic, short snapshots of character interaction. This is no exception. Wonderful fic, wonderful premise, wonderfully executed. If you want more where this came from, check their tumblr.

wrapped around your finger (is my ring) by kittysawat https://archiveofourown.org/works/40793439

What? Fake relationship AU. Kinn hires Porsche to be his fiancé, to dodge an arranged marriage. WIP, 7k.

Why? So I guess Kinnporsche has cured me of my burning apathy for fake dating because I am all over this shit, and it’s only one chapter in. Author-san I am looking with Both My Eyes for your next update.

Machine Gun Kick by majestictortoise (@majestictortoise on tumblr) https://archiveofourown.org/works/40501785

What? Post-canon fic where Porsche investigates the incident at Yok’s bar during the finale -- and his investigation leads him to Kim. Complete, 14k

Why? I live for the Porsche and Kim dynamic, which we didn’t get to see at all in canon. It’s so much funnier if they actually get along. It’s so good. It feeds us so well. Heartfelt, entertaining, well-written. I love this fic so much.

between the sheets by DasWarSchonKaputt (dat’s me) https://archiveofourown.org/works/39409224

What? Fake dating/bodyguard AU. Porsche is hired to pretend to be Kinn’s boyfriend whilst secretly being his bodyguard. Complete, 70k.

Why? Cards on the table, I wrote this. And I think it’s fucking great. I know that sounds arrogant, but I really do rate this one. If you haven’t read it, or even if fake dating’s not really your thing – give it a shot. For me?

[emilykaldwen]

The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Five

Rating: Explicit Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen

Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm

no tag list. please follow @emkald-fic and turn on post notifications for updates or subscribe on AO3

Tumblr Masterpost

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

CHAPTER FIVE - PAIN IN MY HEART

Some time has passed for the dust to settle in the wake of the betrothal, unshed tears, and attempts at fratricide. Aegon and Abby begin adjusting to the new state of things and Alicent begins to show her hand. Mommy issues abound for all.

The maester's hands were cold and uncomfortable as they examined him, searching for sores and whatever the fuck else he rattled on about as he came entirely too close to his person. Aegon's fists clenched at his sides, his head tilted back so he had no chance of catching sight of the grizzled head below him, bobbing around his cock. It would certainly ruin any pleasure that he would ever experience again.

It was too damn early for this. The sun was still creeping over the walls of the Keep, not even past the early morning. Dreadful.

"No unsightly marks, your Grace," the man affirmed. "Ensure that any pleasure house you visit keeps clean quarters, and you should be safe from giving illness to your Lady wife."

His Lady wife. He saw the smile that graced her features, the spray of freckles along her nose and cheeks. Her bright eyes were blue as the sky he found escape in, and her cascade of sunset curls were his. Every bit of her would belong to him in a few moons. Cool hands that tempered his fevered skin would touch him without a barrier. The soft pout of her heart-shaped mouth pressed open by his thumb-

"I don’t need guidance on spreading illness to my wife when I visit her bed. I’m more concerned about avoiding having my cock fall off," he snapped defensively, yanking his trousers up as soon as the maester pulled away, not wanting the stirring from where his thoughts had been wandering to manifest in front of his current company. Ser Criston was on the other side of the low partition and Aegon did not need to meet his gaze to know that he was being examined and judged and found wanting.

Aegon could barely resist mouthing the words that followed, for they were as familiar as his mother's prayers. "Every woman is an image of the Mother and should be treated with respect," Cole reminded him with a level voice. Aegon knew it, as intimately as his mother's judgment, that the man was disappointed; disappointed in his inability to be better in the training yard, and his inability to keep his cock in check.

For as long as Aegon could remember, Ser Criston Cole had been by his mother’s side and by extension, that of him and his siblings. While Viserys (he could never think of the rotting king as his father, only Sire, for all that the word entailed) had noticed him in Aegon’s earliest memories, telling him how he would tame a dragon one day, and regaling his young self with stories of the Black Dread, it was Criston who came to his mind when one asked or spoke about father. Just as he desired to keep and then win back his mother’s affection, lost to time as it had been, he felt the same with the man who was currently judging him like the Father and Warrior themselves. Once, Cole had seemed heartened by Aegon’s natural talent with a blade and his hunger to prove himself in the training yard, especially in the face of Rhaenyra’s growing brood of dark haired brats. It hadn’t hurt as much then, the lessons. The weight had not come upon him all at once. It was a slow build. Stone by stone, they pressed down on his shoulders, with each turn of the moon until he struggled beneath the weight of the expectation.

His mother’s growing paranoia and panic with each new son born to his sister, and what Aegon suspected was pressure from outside sources, left his cheeks mottled pink and red from her hands and the bite of her nails on his shoulders. It left him sensitive to raised voices and sudden movements. It left him pretending to be more in his cups than he was, if only to keep watch of what went on around him, what people said, what someone might do to him. Then came the times when he was beyond caring of his fate and hoping some percent oblivion might be found beyond the next bottle.

Cole’s growing shift in praise to Aemond and his increasing barbs for Aegon to pay attention and how a warrior and a prince did not prowl after the ladies and the serving maids poured salt on the growing wounds his mother gouged.

“A man saves himself to perform his husbandly duties,” he’d said when catching him in the hall with his tongue down Lady Melia’s throat when he was three and ten. The older girl had been dismissed from his mother’s service within days of the event.

Ser Harrold had told him that he should not force himself on a lady, that a good and honorable man does not use his power as an advantage over young lasses. A good and honorable man treats them with respect. “A man denies the temptation to sully himself for one night for a simple promise or a hope of a dream,” he’d said when Aegon had been dragged back from the Street of Silk, soaked to the bone from the rainstorm, and bruised and beaten from the paramour of the woman who’d lured him in. He’d been five and ten. She had been the daughter of a merchant, sharp and lovely with brown ringlets that frizzed in the heat. Aegon thought she loved him, or at the very least, desired him enough that maybe he could run away from everything that hurt. Maybe, with this other woman and her dark curling hair, he could forget how beautiful Abby looked laughing beneath the dappled sunlight of the weirwood tree, for surely he would never be allowed to have her. She would be sent away, meant for someone else because he was a growing disappointment and do you not see how Aemond applies himself? Why is it so difficult for you?

Ser Harwin had sat him, Aemond, and Jace down one afternoon after coming upon them doing something ridiculous in the garden. He couldn’t remember if it was because he had pulled Abby’s hair, or the fact that Aemond and Jace had been fighting over something - a toy or some such nonsense. He’d said that when you found the perfect someone, you would make a deal with the seven devils if you had to, to be with them. And that it was always worth it.

“Women and young ladies are not here for such earthly pleasures. They are all that is pure and good in the world, and are ruined beyond measure when they fall into the depths of pleasures of the flesh. Every woman is the image of the Mother, and every young girl the Maiden herself. Protected and unsullied,” Criston said when Aegon had come bounding to him, barely ten years of age, flushed and with bubbling nerves and excitement in his belly. He’d asked if Abby kissing his cheek meant that she loved him. “Do you think Mother would let me marry her if I asked?’” For she was his Rhaenys, and Cole knew his mother better than anyone in the world.

‘Always with the Mother,’ Aegon thought, feeling as if the cascading shadow of the Seven-Pointed Star shone on him now. ‘Always with the Mother, and every girl an image of the Maiden, so thank you so much for that.’

The smile Aegon turned on the Kingsguard was deceptively innocent, dimpled cheeks and all. "Funny, pretty sure the two I fucked the other night would have my queenly mother scream in terror and bar herself in the sept."

Now Ser Criston wasn't even trying to hide the look of judgment on his oh so perfect face. Aegon snatched his tunic off the partition and shoved his arms through. "Is she going to keep me under house arrest until the tourney? The wedding? Lock me in a tower like a maiden in a song?"

"Your mother could have married you to the princess."

Aegon felt a curl of nausea in his stomach at the thought of bedding his sweet sister, regardless of the custom of his forefathers. "And make dear little Aemond a kinslayer? I would not survive long enough to make it to the sept."

"Or she could decide to marry Lady Abrogail to your brother."

“And we’re back to Aemond kinslaying, or worse, to get himself out of a marriage he never asked for. Not with our sweet sister right there and ripe for the taking.” It mattered little to Aemond that it was becoming increasingly obvious to anyone who cared to look that Helaena’s affections had withered, that, in truth, they had really never been what their little brother thought they were. Aegon scoffed. “It puts us all back in the same boat." His gaze flitted to meet the knight's through the mess of hair hanging in his eyes. "Me miserable and alone, or dead. Such love you hold for me. Not to mention, how cruel of you to flaunt my betrothed’s narrowly avoided demise to prove a point." His waspish tone didn’t feel like enough to banish the pressure of unease that settled inside Aegon’s chest at the thought of harm befalling Abby, poor point or not.

Such love and regard his family held for him, while screaming that he was to be king. Expecting one thing from him, and something he didn't want.

At least we like one another. That counts for something, doesn't it, Aegon?

But it didn’t count, did it? Liking had nothing to do with what he wanted. He didn’t want the neglect and cruelty within his parents’ marriage. He didn’t want Abby to simply like him.

Aegon lifted his wrist to adjust the cuff of his sleeve and hissed softly when the fabric dragged over the healing scratches Abby had left. He instinctively pressed his mouth against the injury to soothe it before doing the clasp. So rarely did Abby’s teeth bite at him, and there was something satisfying and pleasing at the reminder of it.

Unlike Cole, who continued to speak to him as if he were a child, as if he were some squire or recruit. Sometimes Aegon felt as if the knight treated him no better than a troublesome hound. As if the man were his true father, thinking it his right to speak to him in the same tone he already heard from his mother. This man was Kingsguard, his mother’s sworn shield, and if they were so hellbent on making him king one day, Cole would answer to him. Perhaps he should remind Cole of that more often.

"You didn't answer my question, Ser Criston." Still waspish, his tone grew firmer. He might not be king yet, but Aegon was a Prince of House Targaryen, one of his father’s heirs, and a dragonrider - no mere mortal man, not a backwater soldier from who knows where.

Cole watched him steadily, the muscle in his jaw ticking before averting his eyes "Not so much locked in a tower, but confined to the Keep, my prince.” Cole spoke as if the proper etiquette physically pained him and Aegon smirked, humming softly. “You may go to the Dragonpit, escorted, but should you try anything, your mother has ordered that we bar you from it."

Something ugly curled in his chest and he barked out a laugh as he pushed open the door and headed out. "Cruel woman." It almost impressed him. Only once had they ever barred him from Sunfyre, and it was when he thought, after several cups, that going riding was the best idea ever. He still thought it was. His mother? Not so much.

He still had the scars from her nails along his elbow. A half crescent around the joint like a bite mark.

Cole was not far behind, and he glanced sidelong at the man. "Is there a schedule now? Classes with Aemond and his favorite maester? How lovely to be shown up by him in another arena."

"Well, that's why you're going to the yard. Your… everything could use some work. And it'll be a good release for you, since you're under confinement."

They had confined Mother for three moons before she had Daeron. Seven hells, he and Abby were going to have to have children. He was supposed to sire heirs and be a father, and his father was utter shit. But making heirs wouldn't be so bad?

A clap on his shoulder jogged him back to attention. "Physical exertion helps."

Aegon sneered. "Says a man who doesn't fuck. You can't trust a man who doesn't fuck, with only his own hand for company." He made a lewd stroking gesture before miming a spray of victory.

"Says a man who was once seven and ten," Ser Criston corrected, and Aegon rolled his eyes. His point still stood. Fucker never gave into the bait that he laid for him. Aegon still felt annoyed, although he acknowledged it deserved some respect.

As they reached the training yard, his eyes still bleary with sleep and the lingering headache, the coil of tension in his chest eased. Aemond was not alone, making the impending humiliation more bearable. Helaena may cheer for every time he'd get whipped in the yard, but there was no malice in his sweet sister.

"Good morning!" Helaena sang, her voice like a bell bouncing off the worn red brick of the yard, and she waved excitedly at him and Ser Criston. "It's been so long since I've seen you with a sword."

Sweet, supportive sister.

Aegon peered into the basket she was holding, snatching a piece of gingerbread. "Wine?" he asked with a hopeful look.

"Mother says you're to dry out so that you stop sweating wine." Aemond's tone was neutral, but his sly little smirk - what Mother would call sweet innocence - was all that he needed to provide.

"Does she not care to witness her son's humiliation that she ordered by her own queenly command?" His voice was light as he pulled on his padded coat over his tunic. At least Ser Criston was letting him ease back into things. No need to cut him and have him grow leprous the way their father had. He felt a vague dread at his siblings' pitying glances. He yanked at the strap on his tunic as Aemond moved towards the ring, twirling his wooden sword in hand.

His brother had long moved to live steel and Aegon's bitterness was acrid in the back of his throat. Or maybe it was just the lingering effects of the wine. He grimaced at the weight of the practice sword in hand and reached for a second one. It had been months since he'd dragged himself to the training yard. When Aemond lost his eye, he threw himself into the blade, and Aegon felt overshadowed as his brother earned admiration and love for something he was supposed to excel at. The presence of Daeron would worsen the situation, but it might shame Aemond with him before the shining little star.

"Alright, let's warm up. Aemond, what we did yesterday. You," Ser Criston pressed the tip of his own wooden sword - a toy in the hand of a Kingsguard and the Queen's sworn protector - into Aegon's chest, “You surely remember how this goes, right? It's been some time. Mayhaps you'd like to start off with only one, my prince?"

The taste of bile continued in the back of Aegon's throat. This man might be the closest thing he had to a father, no matter how he rejected it. Ser Criston Cole was there, without his gleaming Kingsguard armor, and he spoke to him in the same holier than thou tone he would to Ser Harwin Strong.

“Breakbones.” Ser Criston's voice would drip in sharp venom. Breakbones to the man who he'd witnessed act with kindness to his little sister, who had inquired to his well being when Aegon had been hacking away at the practice dummy until splinters of his sword had embedded into his palms. Who'd pressed a cup of cold water in his hands and simply sat with him as he desperately tried to catch his breath.

Aegon felt the muscle in his jaw tense and jump, his ears burning with a feeling that he would not acknowledge. It was the wine. The hangover. Nothing more. Aegon used his left sword to knock Ser Criston's away and the man let him with a smirk.

He should apologize.

He should ask Abby how she truly felt. He should ask her why she had gotten so upset when he laughed. He should… do a lot of things. Aemond was probably right, insufferable as always, despite his lack of understanding when it came to their sister.

Riding. He would take her riding, Aegon decided, while his man set out fresh clothes and his riding leathers. He scrubbed the sweat off the back of his neck and concocted his plan. Yes, he'd pack a basket of wine - no, cider, Abrogail preferred cider, but he preferred wine. So, a sweet wine. Yes. Perfect. There certainly would be cakes in the kitchens, and they would picnic beneath the afternoon sun in the Kingswood. By the lake, he thought, tugging the loose, bleached linen shirt over his head and shoving his legs into his trousers. Black wool for warmth and leather along the inside of the thighs for strength. The lake where they'd played as children would be perfect.

The last time, they'd played capture-the-treasure, during Rhaenyra's nameday before she'd left for Dragonstone. Helaena refused to be the princess, so Abrogail took her place and had been quite the quarry. She'd called Jace and Luke for help and he had to fight them off until Aemond and Helaena showed up.

Aegon paused as he pulled his hair back from his face. Maybe he should get her something. Girls liked trinkets and pretty things. It always excited Helaena when Aemond brought her bugs and flowers. A frustrated sigh and he grabbed his jacket. "Where's my sister and her ladies?" he asked his man, who'd been tossing the used water out the window.

"With her Grace, your mother, my prince," he said with a bow.

He winced. With his mother. Aegon wondered if he should ask if Lady Abrogail was there, but Abby was always with Helaena.

The path to his mother's room was an achingly familiar one, and the knots in his stomach were frustrating and unpleasant. Why did she have to be with his mother? She'd been angry about the fight, and Aegon had been doing his best to avoid her while Aemond sported the worst of the bruises. Laughter echoed down the hall when he made the turn towards her chambers, and he flexed his hand, wiping it along his thigh. Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.

"You are close enough to my size, but I do not think this suits you for a wedding," came Mother's voice, through the half-open door. Thoughtful, critical, but not bad-critical. "Turn? I don't think this shade of red goes well with you."

"The curse of red hair," was Abby's reply, light and agreeable as always. "It's a beautiful dress, your Grace, but should this not be for Helaena?"

"I don't like it," came her sister's complaint. "It feels like it wants to hook into my arms. Oh! Hello Aegon!" she called, and he realized they caught him before he could even announce his entrance.

He wondered if Helaena knew he was coming.

Mother's room was full of afternoon light streaming through the southern facing windows. Helaena sat on the couch facing towards him, running her fingers through an assortment of brightly colored ribbons in her lap. Mother stood by the window, speaking to the woman who knelt at her feet, adjusting the hem of the dress that Abby wore. She stood on the stool in front of the mirror, and from where he stood in the doorway, he had the perfect view of her reflection.

The red of her curls glowed almost as gold as Sunfyre's scales where the sun caught them unbound down her back. Abby smiled uncertainly as she gazed at her reflection, her hands on the golden dragon decorations on her shoulders. She wore a cream dress with deep Targaryen red slashes in the back of the skirt and long tapered sleeves lined in the same blood crimson.

Aegon's mouth went dry at the sight of her, and the way her eyes widened when she looked towards him over her shoulder. As his mother turned to look at him also, he tried to school his appreciating expression to one that wouldn’t get him scolded and thrown out. Abby’s face was one of surprise, his mother's expression one of exasperation.

"I…" He couldn't speak. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth and he wiped his hand on his thigh again. The twisting sensation in his gut moved lower, familiarly, and he shifted his jacket in front of him.

"Ser Criston tells me you performed well in the training yard this morning," his mother said, and the exasperation turned… into a smile. Not a large one, but a genuine smile all the same.

"Did he?" Abby asked, looking at his mother, then she positively beamed at him, which wasn’t what he expected after the way things ended in the garden a fortnight ago. "Well done! Did you use both swords today, or just the one?"

Aegon swallowed and felt the blood rush to his cock and to his cheeks. "Just the one. The one sword." Not quite a lie, as his dual swords did not last very long. Why did he sound like that? High pitched and voice cracking as if he were a kitling like Aemond. "I don't think Ser Criston wanted to face me with both, no matter how rusty I am." He cleared his throat, rocked on his feet. "Need to lull him into a false sense of security. Underestimate. Your opponent, I mean."

Helaena giggled.

Aegon's cheeks flamed hotter.

"Well," his mother stared at him, and it really did nothing to dissuade the discomfort in his trousers. "I'm very glad to hear that. Was there something you needed?"

‘Her. I need her.’ Aegon didn’t know how to voice the prayer.

"I… I was just letting… I'm going riding. On Sunfyre. I'll be back by supper." His voice didn't crack again, and he got all the words out. Huzzah.

"Oh! Abby's outgrown my old riding clothes," Helaena said with such excessive delight that Aegon wanted to throttle her. "We should also have new ones made for her. Perhaps they could match Aegon's!" His sister's bright eyes met his, and he could sense the mischief radiating off her. "You could leave your jacket, wear your spare today."

Aegon took everything back. He hated his sister.

"That's a good idea, but Aegon doesn't need to leave anything," Mother mercifully cut in. "Enjoy your riding, Aegon."

"Have a wonderful ride, Aegon," Abby echoed, averting her eyes and turning back to the mirror.

"Are the rooms prepared for Lord Tully and his retinue?" the Queen asked Lady Fossoway, who sat across the table with parchment scattered across the blue and green tablecloth. Abrogail took her seat on the other end of the Queen's settee, the elder woman sparing her a glance and a small smile of greeting.

"Yes, your Grace. Lord Tully and the Lords Bracken and Blackwood will have rooms within the South Tower," Lady Fossoway confirmed. "Lord Vance will join them, and Ser Simon Strong will meet with their party when they reach Harrentown."

"Uncle Simon's coming?" Abrogail broke in. Lady Fossoway's green eyes flicked up to her and Abrogail felt as if she should apologize for speaking out of turn. The words caught in her throat and she broke the lady's gaze to look at the Queen, who was watching the exchange with an unreadable expression in her dark eyes. Something in it felt like a test, and so Abrogail continued. "Larys said that Uncle Simon would relay to Aegon and I about the current state of Harrenhal and where we might start."

She almost said where Aegon might start, but Abrogail understood that in running a lord's holding, both husband and wife had their duties. Queen Alicent sat on the Small Council, and she knew from stories that her own lady mother had run Harrenhal before they joined her father in the capital.

"Yes, he'll be staying with us through the tourney, so that the pair of you may be better acquainted," the Queen confirmed and Lady Fossoway's eyes averted back to the parchments. "Abrogail, I'd like you to join me in the small council as our cupbearer."

Lady Fossoway's gaze rose again, only just.

"Shouldn't…" Confusion overtook her previous uncertainty. "Shouldn't that be for Aegon, or Helaena, or even Aemond?" Or Jacaerys, she thought, but did not say.

"Aemond will also serve. The two of you will take turns, but I want you to have the experience before you leave for the Riverlands. Della, Lord Grover's maester, has requested a meeting with Grandmaester Mellos to see about the ailments he's having. Make sure he tends to him. Can't have him dying beneath our roof." Clipped tones, matter of fact, one item after another.

They passed a parchment to her, and Abrogail took it. A list of ladies and houses filled the page. Alerie Blackbar, Wylla Karstark, even Allana Tyrell and Josana Lannister. She even saw the names of the Blackwood girls as she scanned down the page. "You and Helaena will each take a Baratheon into your circles, and then between you both, you can find which of these ladies will be appropriate for your needs." The Queen continued to speak to another of her ladies who had just come in and Abrogail took a deep breath, fingers wrinkling the edges of the page.

"Aegon should do it," she said in a rush, and the gazes of the three women now gathered around her turned to look. Abby took a deep breath and licked her lips.

Marrying Aegon makes me a princess, she thought. And she wants to make him King, and I'll be his Queen.

"With respect, I am grateful for the opportunity, but Aegon should be cupbearer before we leave. It would be prudent for him to understand the workings of the council, especially since he shall be in the position of vassal in the future." Vassal to his elder sister. To speak otherwise would be treason, even among this circle.

The Queen’s large, brown eyes watched her for a long moment and Abrogail did all she could not to shrink away from it. There was something deeply unsettling about it, as if she saw something weak inside her that she wanted to sink her teeth into at worst, or at best, bat around like a lazy cat to see what Abrogail might do. The watchful gaze felt like it lasted for eternity before the Queen finally lifted a hand towards her ladies in dismissal. The women quickly moved and Lady Fossoway shut the door, leaving Abrogail with Alicent Hightower and the anxiety at speaking up threatening to suffocate her.

"You are a good girl, aren't you?" she said after a long exhale that did not quite ease the tension riddled line of her shoulders. The Queen reached out and her cool fingers tucked Abrogail's hair behind her ear. Her curls hung free down her back, a simple twist on either side of her head keeping them from getting in the way.

The Queen was beautiful, as she always was, with her auburn curls pulled back with tendrils loose around her face, untouched by gray. Beautiful, and ever melancholy. Even when she smiled, it did not wipe away the shadow that lingered along her regal features.

Abrogail would never speak it aloud, but the Queen and Aegon looked more alike every day, and it broke her heart.

She did not answer, and one did not appear to be expected of her. The knuckles of the Queen's hand traced along the curve of Abby's cheek and instinct compelled her to reach up and take the woman's hand in her own to hold. No different from what she might do with the others, even if it was stepping over a boundary that she wasn’t supposed to cross. There was pain in the woman's eyes that hurt to see, for the Queen, for Alicent Hightower, was the closest thing that Abrogail had left to a mother anymore.

An almost child she might be, but Abrogail was under no illusion that she was as important to the Queen and the Hand as if she were a true child of the crown. There was no one left for that, and so, she would do all that she could to be valuable.

"I am merely a reflection of the lessons and values you've instilled in me, your Grace," Abrogail said, fingers squeezing the Queen's hand. "I want to make you proud, and to not dishonor you, especially now that I am to be your good-daughter."

"A daughter," came the swift correction that had Abrogail looking up with surprise. "You are like one of my own children. I have watched you grow the same as them. The only difference is I don't have to worry about you the way I do them, now do I?" The Queen extracted her hand and Abrogail folded hers in her lap. "You are a wonderful influence, and I am ever grateful."

“Always smiling, it warms my heart in these trying times, a stór,” her papa would tell her when Mama was sick. Never stop.

So she didn't.

"Forgive a mother for her inclinations," the Queen continued. "I understand that the decision made has changed everything for you and it's not a simple thing. This is one of those events in our lives that we as women must endure, and we must make do." The Queen paused, looking away, and Abrogail watched the Queen's fingers twist, fingers picking at her thumbnail. “Aegon is certainly not whom you imagined. I never thought I would marry the King. I was young and thought I might marry a Tyrell, or perhaps a Tarth. Knights of flowers and charm."

Something cold settled in Abrogail's stomach. It was an unsettling and familiar sensation, one that ran through her veins when they stood as witness to Aegon's tongue lashings, the sharp crack of a hand. Sometimes there would be the thunderous threat of warning when the Lord Hand was giving it, for he would raise a hand to Aegon and Aemond both.

She'd noticed the Queen flinching during those moments, a pale look of dread on the woman's face in the presence of her father.

"My apologies, your Grace," Abrogail spoke softly, mouth turned into an uncertain, her brow furrowing. "I don't quite understand what you mean."

She wanted to hear Aegon's mother say it.

The Queen reached out to take both of her hands and held them tightly, thumbs rubbing soothing strokes along the back of Abrogail's palms. Brown eyes glistened with unshed tears, a softness to the Queen's features that reminded Abrogail of Aegon and a faint memory of her own mother.

"Aegon refuses to listen to me. He’s out of control. He is determined to flaunt every privilege granted to him, every opportunity we set before him." When the Queen took a shuddering inhale, it felt as if she was drawing the air from Abrogail's lungs to sustain herself. "He's like Rhaenyra in that way, but she was eager to serve the King on his council. Aegon, sadly, lacks the same ambition she has. Fortunately, you and I, my dearest, are very much alike. Therefore, I've asked you to serve, not him."

Abrogail's gaze followed the Queen's fingers as they held hers, unable to face the hurtful expression in her eyes. She thought of Aegon vomiting in the bushes after he dragged her from the Hand's tower. He clutched at her like demons from the hells would reach up and tear them apart. Even when he’d hurt her the way he had, unintentional as she was sure it was, Abrogail couldn’t hate him.

Slowly, she extracted her hands from the queen and leaned back to put some distance between them. Teeth caught at her lower lip as she tried to find her words.

‘I am to be his wife, and that is a sacred thing,’ she thought. It didn't matter if they were Lord and Lady, or King and Queen. They would be Aegon and Abrogail, married beneath the eyes of the Old Gods and the New, and like the example shown by the Queen, Abrogail would stand by Aegon through whatever trials awaited.

The promise was made years ago in the cold room at Driftmark, while she cut his long curls with embroidery scissors and he wept for his brother and cursed his father.

"You've watched us our whole lives. You’ve borne witness to the games we've played, the companionship and trust that we've built, and yet you feel you must apologize to me?" Her voice wavered, but her posture was strong, and she held the Queen's gaze. "I know Aegon. I've known him my whole life and while maybe we aren't as close as we once were, I know these good things are still there."

Abrogail remained steadfast and silent, hoping the Queen would understand Aegon was not a punishment. Despite everything, she knew that the kind boy she had known was still there, and she was confident that she could help him find his way back. She wouldn't have to spend her nights wondering if news of Aegon's death in Flea Bottom would reach her by morning.

"Abrogail, your heart is gentle, but your fond memories do not erase the egregious things he does now. Not his drinking, his lechery, his bad habits. But, if we work together - you, me, and your Uncle Otto? We can shape him into the king that he needs to be. That takes trust, my dear child." With each word out of the Queen's mouth, Abrogail's heart fell, and a mournful understanding took root inside her chest. "We do not leave you to handle Aegon on your own. You tell me everything, and we'll handle it. Do you understand, my sweet Abrogail?"

Did she understand everything, sweet girl that she was?

Sweet girl. Darling girl. Dearest Abrogail. Sweet Abrogail. Little Maiden Marchpane, sweet as honey, and so easily devoured.

Mo stór beag, Papa would call her, the River tongue rolling off him as easily as common. My little treasure.

The loud sound of the door opening broke the silence, boots scraping across the stone floor, and both of them jumped at the suddenness of it. Aegon entered silently, his jaw tight, lips pursed, and hair disheveled.

"Aegon," she said, her voice lilting, immediately drawing back from the Queen, feeling an easing sensation in her chest that chased away the cold. Abby smiled while the queen frowned at the intrusion.

She watched him move, glancing between them, and Abby stood up, fingers smoothing the pale blue and gold silk of her gown. She wondered if she still had to curtsey to him now that they were engaged; Aegon was apathetic about such things, while the Queen was not.

At the moment, Queen Alicent's thoughts were irrelevant to her. Despite still feeling heartsore from the morning in the gardens, Abby smiled at Aegon. It was not a bright one, but it was there all the same, and focused on him.

Aegon seemed confused, then his face softened as he searched her face for something she didn't understand. He then turned his gaze to his mother. "Abby's coming with me this afternoon," he said with no sort of greeting except the clearing of his throat. "We're going riding. We'll be back before nightfall."

The command of it all brought a flush to Abby’s cheeks, and she cast her eyes to the ground to avoid the piercing look the Queen was giving them both. It was a complicated feeling that tumbled inside of her chest; she was still hurt, though the bruise on her arm from where he’d grabbed her had faded. In truth, Abby was still sour about it all, but in the wake of the conversation and the Queen’s request, in the aftermath of her frustration and distaste for her son, and her own insistence of Aegon being given a place to serve and not her, she felt protective of him - gentled towards Aegon. And it was a feeling that was most certainly helped by the way he simply walked into his mother’s room to state "Abby’s coming with me." There was no asking for permission, nor even a greeting to his mother. She wondered if it was nerves, she wondered if he had seen something in her expression that spurred it.

Abby knew though that she didn’t have to wonder at her answer to it.

"Abrogail is assisting me with the arrangements for the tournament, Aegon. Perhaps you should find Aemond. I believe he's still training in the yard with Ser Criston," the Queen said, indulgent but firm in her tone.

Abby's mind was racing as she swallowed nervously. "Your Grace, I apologize, but Aegon and I had already planned to ride." She looked at the Queen with her eyes demure, a curtsy dropped, the lie flowing from her so easily she could not believe herself. "I’ll take the time to pry his mind for things he'd like at the feast."

As Abby moved, Aegon's gaze shifted from his mother to her, making her stomach tighten. It reminded her of the look on his face in the fountain beneath the weeping cherry tree. Her hand reached out for him and she bobbed another graceful curtsy to the Queen. "Your Grace," she murmured. It was her turn to pull him out of the suffocating room and Aegon’s huff of surprised laughter made her grin.

[Chapter Six]

[ruiniel]

Another Way - XI

Summary: what if someone in the 21st century stumbled upon this stranger during a turbulent storm, narrowly avoiding running them over, and what’s more they can’t understand a word coming out of their mouth.

Pairing: Alucard x Reader

Rating: Mature / 18+ only

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Language, References to Depression, First Meetings, character-meets-world, Near Death Experiences, References to loss, Grief/Mourning, Fantasy, POV Second Person, Language Barrier, Violence, Portal Fantasy, Isekai, Slow burn, References to canon, Rewriting show canon, Because why not, POV Alucard, POV original character, More tags to be added

Also on ao3

Part I

AN: The full part. Had to kick myself to finish this and repost, but here it is. No huge developments for now but the next update won't take as long.

XI.

You’re both silent exiting the car, walking to your building, stepping inside the elevator. Your mind’s running in circles, but there’s nothing you can think of saying to him now; and Adrian staring at his feet with an expression similar to the one you first saw during that damn storm isn’t helping much. 

Once he follows you inside the apartment, you throw the car keys onto the table, then clear your throat. It’s late. “So, anyway … I seem to keep saying this. Welcome back… again.”

He turns to you, silent, staring, his agitation having diminished somewhat during the car ride, and you’re still wondering what the heck you’re doing.

Possibly the worst time to go with a gut feeling your mind begins anew, but looking at this person, at the stiff and dignified way he holds himself despite the washed-up, bedraggled appearance… no, something is … there’s something different to him, and it’s not the unreal perfection to his features or the fact that he knows no language you can decipher.

Adrian looks briefly to the floor, then back at you, watching as you near him against your better sense, handing him the agenda. 

“Look, like I said …” you sigh. “I might’ve… acted…too rashly.” Then, remembering he doesn’t get it, you take out your phone and type it in, translate.

He discards his coat and then glances at the translation. His weary eyes stare into yours for a long while, and a knot forms in your throat, and you don’t even realize when he’s begun scribbling a swift reply.

“… why did you come seeking for me?” 

“Oh man, I’m too tired for this.” You look away, sigh again, shoulders slumping; but you can’t avoid it, not when the question persists in his eyes. 

Scratching your head, you tap onto the screen: “I don’t know.”

You’re gifted with an arch look of bemusement, then a shake of the head as he writes.

 “I do not want pity.”

Ugh. “Stubborn much? Of course you are…” you mutter, tapping furiously: “You’re not getting any. But what you are getting is some time off the streets to learn the language. Unless you insist on leaving, in which case…” you show him the door, a gesture anyone would understand, you think. “Okay?” you ask, annoyance fueled by exhaustion creeping up.

Adrian stares, then points at your phone; you decline to go on. “Okay?” you repeat, finger tapping against your previous words.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, his other hand balling into a fist at his side; finally, he gives a slight nod.

“Good, now that’s settled… huh, I see you’ve lost your bag,” you point out. His rucksack is gone. 

Adrian looks regretful, and a crease forms between his brows, followed by a slight shudder.

“You know what, it’s late, we should probably turn in.” The use of “we” in some semblance of unity after having withdrawn from social life for so long surprises you.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” you show him the translation.

“Yes,” he says, in English. “Tomorrow.”

You trudge towards your room, too drained after the evening’s running around session to even marvel at the new word he’s used that you comprehend. “… just don’t kill me in my sleep,” you mumble, then point at the couch, hoping he’ll understand because you are not turning to explain. Best you can do is slouch over to the bedroom, shut the door, and face plant onto the bed with a groan.

Quiet… it was all so… quiet, before he showed up.

…and lonely, that voice inside keens, as your eyes close on the framed photograph of your family.

~~

You awaken, as often happens, in the middle of the night, a restless heartbeat in your chest and half-formed memories fading from your mind, leaving behind painful residue. Rubbing at your face, you stare at the silvery beam of light patterning your bed with a ghostly window frame, then rise and groggily make your way out of the room through the dark.

Carefully you tread as to not rouse your guest-become-flatmate, Mrs. Hawke’s eyerolls coming to mind when you’ll eventually have to reveal someone new is staying here. 

Once you’ve reached the balcony, the cold tiles beneath your soles serve as an awakening and you stare at the skies, a rising wind lashing at your face, imbued with filth and freshness alike. Sitting down on one of two cushions placed here for the occasional stargazing hopes from before, you notice you’d mechanically grabbed and are now holding the framed photograph of your parents.

“I wish you were here… you’d know what to do. But now,” you close your eyes, throat constricting in that familiar way as you cradle the photograph in your arms, forehead pressing to your risen knees. “I feel so… lost… I don’t know how to get out of this… how to… look at the things I’ve done lately…” the words come choked, rising like moths fraying in the stillness. It’s in these moments you always liked the city best, with its roar subsided, and slowly you raise your head, staring ahead. 

No direction, no aim. Will it always be this way? You’d gone to a specialist, you’d gotten medication allowing you to function through the worst of it, but…

“But…” your finger touches beloved faces, trapped in lifeless glass. 

The fluttering of a curtain in the corner of your eye has you gazing up, at the dark figure standing there and staring ahead, at the vastness of stone and sky, before looking down at you.

In the half-hidden moonlight… he does look… like a painting, you think, sleepily. 

“Can’t rest, huh?” you ask when Adrian turns to you, meeting not your eyes, but settling his attention on the object in your lap. “Can’t say I’m surprised, considering what you’ve been through,” you say as he slowly descends by your side. 

He’s gaping at the framed photo, appearing utterly rapt, a sliver of that familiar confusion on his face. 

“Oh, this?” you say, handing it to him. “That’s me, when I was a kid, and those are my parents. I mean, used to be my…” you can’t continue. Have you ever spoken to anyone about this before? You can’t remember. It was such a blur; people, condolences, friends you barely reach out to nowadays. People again, carrying on with their lives. The crippling inner-cold, the half-daze of the immediate after, the realization that nothing will ever be the same.

Why now, of all times? You shouldn’t be doing this before a stranger, let alone him, and …

You watch as Adrian runs his fingers over the image, appearing in awe and saying something. 

“Wh— it’s too late for the whole translation gig, so we’ll just have to make do…” you say, at which point he looks at you again. He frowns, and before you know it, a strip of cloth is pressed to your tear-stained cheek.

“No,” he says—again, in English.

Meeting his eyes, you see an understanding transcending words. Are his irises… aglow? No, a trick of moonlight. You catch the cloth just as his hand falls away. “Thanks…” But, oddly enough, that single tear, or something else, has caused a shudder within, a behemoth of anger and futility and despair that has more tears falling before you can stop them. You crumble in your place again, pressing the material to your face. “I’m… sorry, this is pitiful.” You look away, savagely rubbing at the evidence on your skin, then stare at your knees. “I’m going to get a grip, I just need a… a moment.”

It’s then you notice the piece of cloth is a torn strip of clothing, and when you gaze at Adrian again, staring at you, you notice the dirt clinging to those borrowed jeans, the torn sleeve of the one shirt you’d given him. Despite your state, you shake your head. “Got to get you some more clothes, looks like.”

He raises an eyebrow, stares back at the photo, then at you. Adrian looks at his own hands; no, rather, at the rings adorning one.

His eyes widen, long lashes fluttering rapidly, and he seems to suddenly be someplace else: like in the beginning, when nothing made sense. 

You take the photo from his lax grip, placing a slow hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

As startled out of a trance, Adrian meets your eyes, his loose hair shielding half his face.

A painting, and a masterful one.

You stare at the photo again. Might as well talk. You need to; even if it’s lost on him. “It was a car crash. On one night, one stormy night not unlike the one we ‘met’, I lost them both. Funny how life can change in an eye-blink, huh?” you press the cloth to your cheek, though the gesture itself has caused this overflowing tide, and you don’t know why.

Adrian sighs, glancing briefly at you before rising slowly, staring out into the world, expressionless and still. He says something in his own language, then looks down at you.

The regret on his face is new to you, revealing a wordless pain you’ll never forget; nor can you hold his stare for long, not now. Hugging your knees tighter to your chest, you rest your forehead against them with a sigh. “Go rest,” a mumble leaves your lips. “I’m fine, these states come and go… come and… go…”

It’s not until a persistent sun ray warms your cheek that you open your eyes again, rising to sit in your own bed, alone in your room, the framed photograph set by your side.

~~

“Disappeared? What do you mean, disappeared?” Arvan asks, throwing the report aside before leaning forward with his palms flat on his desk, staring at the two harried officers before him.

“S-sir, I know what I saw—Hikaru here can corroborate. Once he was there, and then… and then a flash of red, like neon lighting, and he was… he was gone.”

Arvan grits his teeth. Of all the outrageous excuses he’s received over the years, this one tops the pyramid. “Judging by this,” he holds up the report again, “a tall man in a long coat was assaulting some local lowlife. But the same grown man vanished in a blur of color when you intervened.”

“Yes sir,” the officer concludes, looking Trent in the eye with a conviction that might have been scary, had he not been in this business for so long. Maybe I’ve been working them all too hard. Shit. 

Hari leans back against a cabinet on the side, arms crossed, listening and pondering. “Grant, tell him about the bag.”

Arvan glances between the two as the officer who’d been speaking starts, recalling something. “Right,” he says, looking to his partner, officer Hikaru, now presenting an old, well-used rucksack. “The contents were really nothing but a shirt with a curious cut, freshly cleaned. Still, it had stains on it. Took it for testing.”

“Good,” says Arvan, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Sir,” officer Grant continues, “We know what we saw.”

“Right. Right. Did you track down the lowlife? The only witness? The one who got assaulted by this so-called ghost?”

“Not yet,” officer Hikaru grimaces. 

“Look,” Arvan sighs, “Why don’t the two of you take a leave of absence? Have some time off, relax. Everyone’s up their necks in work with this potential serial killer case, but you two seem to need it. Hari, you take over. Keep the case open for now.”

“Sir!” Both officers cry at the same time, but one look from Arvan and they mellow down, nodding in acceptance.

“If anything shows up, we’ll call on you.”

“But—”

“Dismissed.”

The two glance at each other, clearly unhappy about it, but Arvan’s not taking chances. He needs everyone on the force at their best now more than ever, not wilding about some mystical vision in an alley. 

Hari looks after them as the door to the office closes, then back at the commissioner.

“Did the results come in on that button of yours?” asks Arvan, taking a sip of his precinct coffee. Awful stuff. 

“They’re on your desk.”

“Talk to me.” The commissioner picks up a printed report. 

“It is rather strange. They did detect blood on the object.”

“That’s… expected. Good.”

“... but it couldn’t be matched to anything we have in the database.”

Arvan makes an exasperated sound.

“... however,” Hari hesitates, ponderously as he’s prone to do. “I had the find taken to forensics for radiocarbon dating.”

“And you did that because…”

“A suspicion,” the detective murmurs, running a hand through his dark curls.

“Ah. Great.” Damn Hari, but he’s gotta hear this one. Hari’s conjectures lead to cracks in a case, more often than not.

“Do you know how old that coat button is, commissioner?” Hari crosses his arms.

Arvan sighs. It feels like the only thing he’s been able to do lately. “Assuming you’re about to enlighten me, Hari.”

“The gold gilded object was dated from around… the 1400s.”

Arvan raises his eyebrows so high they disappear beneath his hairline. Hari smiles. “So then. An art thief, and a murderer?”

“... it would seem so, but I can’t figure out the link yet. The people we’ve called in for questioning so far haven’t heard or seen anything unusual to help, either. The only highlight was hearing the howling of a wolf during the time span the crimes were committed.”

“Hari, please get to the point. My coffee is out, and it’s 3AM.” 

“There are no wolves recorded in the area. Or shouldn’t be.”

Arvan looks Hari in the eye. “You and I both know that level of gore does not result from a wild animal attack.”

“Indeed.” Hari rubs at his chin. “We’ll carry on.”

Arvan rises and turns to stare out the window, cursing his luck. “I want to be there when you bring the rest in for questioning.”

“Yes, sir.”

~~

Come morning, padding your way into the kitchen, you see Adrian, already up, again scribbling at the kitchen table with a slight frown on his face. He looks as though he hasn’t slept at all, really, but then he always looks that way, ever since you’ve dragged him off that road.

“Hey.”

He raises his head, a small nod and a smile in acknowledgement. 

 “I… sorry about last night, um, thanks for…”

Adrian suddenly rises, apparently too preoccupied to notice your discomfort—good. Instead, he shows you something written in that stylish cursive of his.

Your tongue curls, your sleepy eyes narrowing at the words. “The Recuyell… of the Historyes of Troye…? What’s… this?” It sounds familiar, somewhere buried in years of study, forgotten papers and sleepless nights.

He points at your laptop. “To… learn.”

Again, English from him sounds like the strangest thing, but also… comforting, in a way.  

“... all right, I’ll search it up for you, just…” you yawn, “give me a minute to make myself some coffee.” You pause, showing him the container you’re opening. “Coffee?”

Confusion. How are you used to this by now? “... Okay, I’ll make one for you too. By the way, today you’re coming with me.”

Adrian raises an eyebrow at that, looking down as you near, reach and tug at his torn apparel. 

“Clothes, Adrian. You need something that doesn’t make you look like you’ve just gotten out of a bar fight.”

He seems less… lost… maybe it’s just me. You recall the other night, the way he stared at that photograph, the flicker in his gaze of something you’re acquainted with: a sense, a piece of knowledge just out of reach. Half-memories, dispersing in a fog; gone like the black spots in the corner of one’s eye.

“... clothes,” he mouths the word, frowning and rubbing the material between his fingers, a dawning of understanding when he looks at you again.

Half a smile twitches on your face as you turn, heading over to the counter. “This’ll be interesting.”

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[lewishamil10n]

going through your tags rn and i'm new to f1 so I gotta ask

how was max's second wdc ALSO a fraud? i know about 2021 (that's when I learnt about f1 and I've been kinda in and out of it on social media until recently), but I haven't heard anything about the second one. is it about the cost cap breach that ch balmed on "catering"? and if it is bc of the cost cap wouldn't that make all of his wins a cheat too essentially? like again I'm new so forgive me if my logic is faulty but the cost cap was introduced so the richer companies essentially can't throw money at the cars to get as much data as they need to make updates yes? but by breaking the cost cap in 2021 (? or was it 22 I don't remember) they essentially (jesus take a shot everytime I say essentially) got more data to do better thus making the playing field not even. which means that when the next season happened rbr was essentially farther along on development than the rest of the teams yes? and didn't they get a penalty that was essentially less than the cost breach (i'm so sorry but that's so stupid) or do I have this all wrong?

anyway thanks for when you do answer this

hi anon! yeah that's basically it. the cost cap was introduced to level the playing field a bit between bigger richer teams like rbr, merc, ferrari, and smaller teams like haas etc. two teams were found in 2022 to have breached the cost cap, aston martin and red bull racing. they only got a fine of $7m iirc and less wind tunnel time, which is ridiculous compared to the huge advantage this breach gave them. i'll be honest, i don't know the details of aston martin's breach much, but for red bull, it's contributed to the rocketship of a car they have right now. breaching the cost cap allowed them to build that car, and then they just developed that further. so yes, in my opinion that second championship is also questionable as hell if not outright illegitimate.

[musings-and-moans]

watermelon sugar (kinktober day 1)

kink(s) of the day: overstimulation and squirting | kinktober masterlist

(want to be tagged in the kinktober masterlist?)

submission for: @ickyism’s Tropical Kiss Collab (thank you for organizing this💕, i think i am still early because timezones :D)

features: levi ackerman x fem!reader (afab!, uses she/her pronouns) (college AU) | wc: 4450 | song: watermelon sugar - harry styles

warnings: overstimulation, squirting, alcohol consumption, oral sex (m! and f! receiving, not in a 69 position), face fucking (if you squint), fingering, doggystyle, unprotected sex (pull out game strong, so dw), rough sex, pet names (baby, minx, captain), cum on ass, almost getting caught in class, implied creampie later (on the pill)

beta reading: @littleoanh (thank you so so so much 💕)

networks: @tokyometronetwork @hanayanetwork @downtown-roponggi

synopsis: you were in a bar, sitting with your best friend, talking about and reminiscing that summer fling or friends with benefits, if you will, which you hoped could have been something more.

a/n: welcome to kinktober 2022! this is very my very first try in working on this and i hope you all enjoy this <3 keep in mind that i may not post everyday because life happens, but i will complete them soon :D do fill my taglist and follow @shynahasabookshelf and turn on notifications to receive new updates on my fics. as always, likes, comments & reblogs, especially reblogs are appreciated. also, make sure to have ages on your bios. minors, ageless and blank blogs please dni, i will block you.

The bright lights of the bar caused your eyes to twinkle as you were in the most popular bar on campus with your friends, drinking away, enjoying the last couple of days of your summer vacation. The final year of grad school was waiting for you with bated breath and you were not wanting to think about that. Instead, you were sitting at the bar table with your best friend while your other friends were lost amongst the crowd on the dance floor. 

“So, bestie,” your BFF calls out to you, and then whispers loudly enough for you to hear, “did you get laid throughout this summer?” You felt a sense of fluttering in your tummy as you heard the question. “Come on, now… tell me, pleaseeeee?”

“Okay, okay, okay,” you calm her down and tell her, “yes. I did.” She widens her eyes at you. “Wait, really? For how long?” You winked at her and smirked, responding, “All throughout the summer,” causing her to open her mouth wide in shock. “OH MY GOD!” She screams as you try to shush her to avoid embarrassment. 

“Spill the tea, sis! Come on, you got more action than me, and didn’t even tell me about it!” Chuckling, you responded, “Well, it was a FWB. What do you want me to do, go around and spread the word?” Both of you giggle as she asks, “Seriously though, tell me!” You nod and then continue, “Well, remember the time you had to leave for your internship and there was this summer class I had to take ‘cause I needed to work on my research otherwise? It happened then….”

As soon as you entered the classroom, you noticed the seats were almost all occupied except for one. As you walked to the empty seat, your eyes fell on the guy that sat beside you. He had short, straight black hair that was styled in an undercut curtain, narrow and seemingly intimidating dull gray eyes with dark circles under them, and a deceptively youthful face. He was wearing a white t-shirt and black pants with white stripes, which casually showed off his well-developed physique and muscles, but he gave a deadpan look at the board while flicking a pen where the professor was writing the notes. His face seemed extremely calm. One could never guess what he was truly thinking. 

As you collected yourself, quickly sat down, and nodded at this guy that caught your gaze. Thankfully, he nodded in return, from his peripheral vision, he took notice of you. You seemed excited for something, as you took out your notes, your laptop and your stationery as you were starting to pay attention to the lecture. His gaze lingered on how you tucked the stray locks of your hair behind your ear and how you straighten your glasses. Suddenly, you turned to his direction as the professor called out his name, “Levi, Levi, Levi!” He snapped out of his reverie as he turned to Professor Erwin Smith who was asking him something. Fortunately enough, Levi was able to answer correctly, surprising you. You, on the other hand, didn’t really surprise him when you were able to answer the questions addressed to you, however, he was taken aback by how chatty you seemed, yet you knew when to keep to yourself. 

As class got over, you started packing your bag when you heard someone clearing your throat beside you. You turn to see that it was the good looking man. “Are we going to keep stealing glances like this, or are we finally going to introduce ourselves?” Chuckling, you respond, “Ah, I like that you’ve taken interest in me. Anyway,” you put your hand before him and introduce yourself. He then shakes your hand with his, giving a firm grip, responding in a way that catches your ears, “Your name is interesting. I hope I get to see you around more. I am Levi, by the way. Just Levi.” 

“Just Levi, you say?” You raise an eyebrow, and continue, “It’s a pretty common name, you know? There are probably millions that have the same name as you.” With that, he smirks, and responds, “But there’s only one me. Why don’t you come to the summer party tonight at the club downtown to see?” You throw in a half-smirk his way and respond, “Well, you put in an offer I couldn’t just refuse, could I?”

That very same night, you walked into the club in a silver shimmery dress that went up to your knees and showed all of the curves well. You’d gotten your hair styled and were excited about the first night of the summer classes as your hips swayed to the music while drinking your favorite cocktail, a strawberry daiquiri. As your eyes turned to the end of the bar table, you saw the Levi that met you in the morning but he was dressed very differently. He wore a light blue t-shirt underneath a black leather jacket and black jeans. He had the similar expression you saw at the beginning of the class but his gaze softened as it met yours, prompting him to smile. 

Levi then approached you oh so confidently with a glass of whiskey in his hand and spoke, “Fancy seeing you here.” You chuckled and responded, “Oh, so you didn’t think I’d show up, huh?” With a half-smirk, he retorted, “You seem to be a little miss goody-two-shoes for me to expect you here.”

You were not sure whether you should be surprised, offended or flattered by his choice of words, so you threw in a half-smirk, scoffed a bit while running your index finger along the rim of your glass so as to draw his gaze on to the drink, and retorted, “Well, as you can see by the drink that I’m holding, that I’m not. I like to party, I just don’t do it often.” Puckering his lips, he responds, “Why? Boyfriend troubles?” Swatting your hand in the air, you shook your head in disappointment, “And here I thought that you thought of me to be goody-two-shoes! It could be possible that I don’t want anything to get in the way of my research? Also, didn’t you mean ex-boyfriend troubles?”

Levi responded, “Ah, so you’re a research scholar I see, I am impressed!” Then he briefly lowered his head in embarrassment, “Oh, my bad. I’m sorry. When did that happen?” Pondering, you answered, “A couple of days before the spring finals. He started dating a girl through Tinder while keeping me in the loop. I slapped him when I found out.” He clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Really? Tch, men these days. Well, that’s a shame. That fucker doesn’t know that he’s let go of something precious. I’m glad that you slapped him.” Your gaze then fixates on the man in front of you, “You think so?”

He then comes closer to you, his face being inches away from yours, you could somewhat smell the whiskey off of him but you didn’t mind a bit. He curtly responded, with a sense of charm in his voice, “I don’t like to waste time by lying about what I think, (y/n).” He then placed a stray lock of your hair that fell out again behind your ear. “You’re hot, you’re smart, you’re confident in your own skin. I like that.” You then move back with your hand on your chest, taking on a snarky tone, “Why thank you. I can say that you’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Levi No-Last-Name. After all, I see your groupies waiting for you.” “Tch,” he clicked his tongue again. “I find them annoying.” You scoffed, “Sure you do. You like the attention though, don't you?” Raising an eyebrow, he said, “Ooh you’re fiesty, I like that. Perhaps, we can come up with an agreement on something that would help us.” 

You narrow your eyes at him, “Okay? What do you suggest?” A knowing smile appears on his face, as he continues, “Well, with you getting away from your ex-boyfriend and focusing on your research, and me wanting to avoid those flies, how about we have a thing. You and me, for the summer. It’ll just be a FWB thing though. I don’t have to come in your way, and vice-versa.” This time, you’re the one to raise your eyebrows, “Oh? You think that in just one meeting, I’d agree to your proposition? We’re not friends, yet.” You then get up from your seat and stand in front of him, and subtly notice the height difference between you two. Scoffing, you continue, “How about we try it out tonight in that case?”

Taken aback by your forthrightedness, he inquires, “So you agree that you sense something between us?” With your lips now dangerously close to his cheek, you smile and whisper, “I’d say that there’s more than what we can sense but we’ll never know until we try, Captain,” teasing him with the nickname that he usually goes by from what you heard. It’s as if he felt shivers down his spine when he heard you, causing him to respond curtly, “What did you say?” Not sure if he heard it or not, you respond again, in a sultry manner this time. “Captain?”

Not sure if the whiskey overtook him, he softly drags his hand towards the small of your back and presses you closer to him, without uttering a word. He then drags his fingers to your shoulder, causing you to shiver with his every touch. He then slowly caresses your arm all the way to your hand, as he turns around and tangles his fingers with yours, gently leading you outside of the club. “Okay, umm,” he breaks the silence, “your place or mine?” A smile appears on your face, as you bring yourself to whisper in his ear, “Mine, please. I want to be comfortable first.” He turns his head to you, nods, then turns back, and responds softly enough for you to hear, “Of course. It’s the first priority.”

No sooner had you two reached your place, than you were glad that you were living in a single room apartment by yourself. As he approached you, his lips landed on yours, just like how you were desiring. “Fuck, your lips…” he cried out as he started to explore your lips with his while you two cupped each other's cheeks. You softly inquire, “Your hair…can I touch it?” and was met with a silent hum as you two ranked nails through each other's hair. 

To you, his lips felt cold and touch-starved, but tasted smooth, just like the whiskey. To him, your lips tasted like strawberries on a summer evening, like the daiquiri you drank. Lost in each other, you enter your home as you lock the main door. Both of you then dash toward the bedroom, jump on the bed, kissing hard, sucking on each other's bottom lip and swirling your tongues around each other, until he stopped you, and he purred, “Before we continue, I want to let you know that I may not be gentle, I may be rough, but I assure you that I'll take care of you. Do you still want me to keep going?” 

You nod, panting, “Yes, Levi, please don’t stop.” He chuckles and responds, “I will not continue until you call me what you called me at the club.” You pant, holding him, “Please don’t stop, captain.”

Giving him permission to continue, you started taking notice of every movement of his. In what felt like literal minutes or even seconds, both of your clothes were off each other and strewn all over the place. In the midst of it all, while your lips were glued to each other, you were carefully inspecting every inch of his incredible physique with your fingers, as you released yourself from the kiss, causing you to be in awe of him.  

With your consent, he roughly unhooked your bra, and discarded it on the ground with your breasts on display. “I was right,” Levi muttered when he roughly cupped both of your mounds and fondled them, his thumbs flicking your nipples, causing your pussy to throb, and you tilted your head backward, biting your lip. He increases the pace of his flicking, causing you to whimper further, and grind slowly on him.

“(Y/N), you’re beautiful,” Levi rasps in awe, causing you to blush and look the other way, the incandescent light of the moon shining on your face. He didn’t seem to be one to mince words or lie about your looks, so this meant a lot to you somehow. 

In one sweep, he picks you by your butt, with you wrapping your legs around his waist, and him placing you on the bed, with your head on the pillow. He teases while splaying one of his hands over your tummy as he sees you, “I am so glad that you kept it clean down there. Besides, seems to me like you’ve been waiting for it for a long time.” He examines your body as your wetness was a full-on display for his ravenous eyes while licking his lips.

Without telling you anything, his fingers start to explore every part of you, the wetness, the clit, the folds, every single touch was sending you into a frenzy. He starts rubbing your clit in a clockwise motion. Closing your eyes harder, you whimper while you’re arching your head up, crying out his name and whimpering, “Captain, feels so nice…”

There was an exchange of intense eye contact, moans, and groans going on as he kept stroking your clit, increasing the pace and intensity. Your voices were reverberating in the air in the room. As you were breathing heavily and trembling, he kept calming you saying, “it’s okay, I got you.” With your wetness as lube, he roughly inserted one of his slender fingers into your pussy, the slightest movement causing you to arch your back and mewl louder.

“Oh, shit you’re tight,” Levi cried, “Damn this pussy. That asshole doesn’t know what he’s missing out on,” while pushing the finger in and out slowly, stimulating you in a way you’d never felt before. You then cry, “please go faster,” while biting back a moan, to which he replies, “with pleasure, baby,” as he increases his pace. “Don’t hold back, I want to hear you moan,” he says as you move your hips along the fingering movement, continuing to moan, and he then inserts another finger and commands, “Spread your legs for me.”

As an act of obedience, you spread your legs, showing him with great detail how it looked. He first kisses your clit, still maintaining eye contact with you, but you break it to close your eyes and be lost in the pleasure. As he kisses your clit, he sucks on your folds roughly, while fucking you with two fingers. Your hands were fisting on the sheets, and you couldn’t hold back your screams as he was doing it so well. As he kept doing it roughly, a coil was slowly building up within you, eventually causing you to see stars as he took out his fingers and fully eat you out with his hands on your thighs until you yell, “Levi, I’m cumming, I’m cumming, ngh-” your legs start to tremble as the coil snaps. 

He holds you steady with his hands, causing you to have your first orgasm of the night and him to slurp in your essence. He then kisses your sensitive pussy, gets up, sucks on his fingers to taste your slick, towers over you, with his tummy pressed against yours as he kisses you fervently, both of you get to taste how you tasted. All of this happened so soon, that you couldn’t register when he put you on his lap, again, urging you to go down on him. You were shocked to see his girthy cock slap against the abdomen. Who knew that someone who was shorter than you was more than making up for it in the package department. 

Your hands stroke him, causing him to lean his head back against the headboard, and close his eyes. He then starts to feel your lips wrap around the head of his dick, touching nothing else, just your tongue swirling around slowly, getting a taste of his pre-cum. He tilts his head in your direction and his gaze fixates on you. While maintaining eye contact, your mouth slides all the way down to the base of his dick. You then start sucking him hard, enough for him to feel like you’re pulling the cum out of him.

Levi’s eyes rolled back as he closed his eyelids, his face flushed with delight. You move your lips up and down, back and forth, pushed against his firm length. “Shit,” he whimpers, calling out your name, “Don’t milk me just yet.” With a smirk on your face, you take one of his hands, run the fingers through your hair, and ask him to guide you. Levi then thrusts harder into your mouth, not wanting to actually harm you because he didn't want to overwhelm you, but you nod, allowing him. 

Only your low-sucking sounds could be heard as you continued to bob your head and groaned once or twice more, as he fucked your face. He breathed your name, writhing into your mouth. He also notices that your hands are caressing his balls. You slide off his dick and spend some time licking and sucking his balls, making him grunt, as one of your hands rubs your clit. 

“I want you to be on all fours, baby,” he rasped, getting you out of your reverie, and you looked at him in confusion. “On all fours, I’ll not repeat it again,” he commanded as you nodded, climbing on the bed and turning around with your ass on display. A shiver ran down your spine as he lined his dick into your entrance, not uttering a single word. He suddenly slammed himself into you until he bottomed out, his cock so long and girthy that he stretched your inner walls so much. 

“Crap, baby, how are you taking me in so well?” He says as he keeps thrusting himself into you. His slender hands gripped your hips tightly, thus amplifying your whimpers. His cock rammed hard into your wet pussy so much that your arms lost their strength, as you were fucked into oblivion. As soon as you paused to rest your head on the pillows, he grabbed a fistful of your hair with one hand and pulled it back, while reaching out your breasts with the other and holding them to pull you closer, steadily increasing the strength and speed of his thrusts.

He was pleased at the sight of you whimpering as your inner walls were hugging his cock so well, like they were specially made for him. Your legs were shaking from the building up of another orgasm when he leans over you, turns your face such that it’s inches away from his face and then places a kiss on your lips. “You're pretty when you cum,” he smiles, pressing your face to the pillow, “I want you to not hold back and keep moaning,” he murmurs, starting to push his hips against yours again.

As he teases your sensitive spot, the knot in your stomach begins to loosen again, your velvety pussy stretching under his thrusts even though you can't take it all in. “I'm close, I can’t take it anymore,” you warn him. He fake pouts, “But we're just getting started,” then smirks, moving his calloused thumb over your puffy nub.

“Cum for me, pretty girl,” he says, his balls slamming into your ass and lewd sounds come out of your pussy as his shaft fucks you rhythmically. Your cunt spasms around his girth as if to push him off and when you come Levi pulls out. You squirt on him, squealing his name and shaking.

His thumb doesn't stop moving in circles over your sensitive bud, “There it is,” he murmurs, working his cock back into your hole, “you did so well,” he praises you, beginning to thrust frantically for his release now. He then says, “I’m going to cum on your ass now. I love the way it looks, and it would look better with my essence all over it,” as he felt his release approaching, following which he pulled out, and sprayed his essence all over your derriere.

Panting heavily, the both of you lie down on your bed and snuggle with each other. “Okay that was FUCKING good” you broke the silence, as he chuckles. You look at him, and ask, “Is that why you’re popular amongst the girls? ‘Cause you make them feel amazing in bed?” He scoffs, responding, “They say that, but they don’t realize that sex is a two-way street. They’re supposed to make me feel good too, but they fail to do so, until just now. ‘Cause you,” he then kisses you, “you’re a minx, you know that?” You wink at him, saying, “I seem to be learning from the best,” as you both decide to go at it again, lasting all night. 

This went on for days and weeks on end. Sex with Levi was always on a whole another level. Your ex-boyfriend could never match up to how good Levi was. Both of you never told each other, but ever since you two started sleeping with each other, you two never bothered sleeping with other people. You would even take risks in the university, with him devouring your pussy one day during class, urging you to pay attention in class, and were only allowed to cum once the professor left. You were overstimulated during class but couldn’t say anything. 

Once class was over, he felt a gushing liquid coming out of you, as both of you chased your release. When you got over your embarrassment after frantically cleaning up, you asked him, “Why were you eating me out during class? You know that you’re more than capable of making me do that anywhere.” He laughed sadistically, “Because you got me addicted to you, baby.” Shaking your head in disapproval you scoffed, “Oh, please. Remind me to give you an amazing blowjob during class next time. I will overstim you so hard that you’ll see stars.” He then grins at you and says,  “Try me.” 

Your summer tryst didn’t just get you two physically close, during this time, you were beginning to get bare with each other emotionally, blurring the lines between you two in every way. You learned that his full name was Levi Ackerman, the nephew of Kenny Ackerman the trustee, the son of Kuchel Ackerman, the popular actress who died in a car accident and is related to Mikasa Ackerman, a champion in sparring. He confessed that he was not fond of his last name, so he dropped it whenever he was introducing himself in public. 

In return, you told him about your problems, and he was more than patient to listen to you rant about your research not going well. You two would cook meals and drink tea together and before you know it, both of you seemed to be falling for each other. Until one day, Levi knocked furiously on your door, with you wondering what was going on. However, you were then met with a scowl from him, who had a phone in his hand with his Twitter page blowing up. 

“What is this?” He curtly answers in a soft voice, showing you that your classmates were freaking out about Levi’s surname. Now, to some it may not be a big deal, but it was to him, you were aware. However, you were not the one to do this. You’d never hurt him on purpose. “Levi, how did this happen? I swear this is not my doing…” He entered your house with his eyebrows being furrowed further. “Explain this to me then, why this was done from your phone?” Fear gripped you, as you checked your phone, realizing that you were hacked. You didn’t know who did this or why would someone target you, but this wasn’t right. “Levi, I really did not do this. I was—” He flashed his palm so as to stop you from talking, just saying, “Save it. This, whatever we were having, it’s over,” and he left, leaving you alone.

The last few days of the summer went by, with you focusing more so on your research than anything else. However, something felt different. There was something you felt was missing, or rather a certain someone …

Your best friend then widens her eyes in shock. “Omg you were with THE LEVI?! The sex god?!” She exclaimed, “Wasn’t his last name was a mystery until recently?”

Your facial expression then turns sorrowful. “Yeah, but that was not my fault though. Apparently my ex saw me fucking him in university and he got so jealous that he hacked into my phone and spread the information. He being a comp sci student, I should have seen it coming! We argued and we stopped talking ever since.” You were upset about all that happened, but you couldn’t stay upset. After all, it was just supposed to be a friends-with-benefits arrangement, right? 

“Did I mess it up, real bad?” You softly asked your best friend, without realizing that Levi had walked up to you and stood behind you, surprising you with a, “Why don’t you tell me what happened next?” You flinch and turn to see Levi standing in front of you, looking at you guiltily. He briefly lowers his head. “I…I owe you an apology.” You stand in front of him, still hurt, but wanting him even more as you felt your heart race. “I later learned what actually happened and set him straight but could never bring myself to apologize to you until today. Would you be able to forgive me, and can we try this again?”

You stood there, stopping yourself from kissing him, retorting, “I don’t know, it did hurt, y’know…” He then cups your cheek with one hand, brings you closer and kisses you, ignoring your shocked best friend in the background. “How about now?” You throw in a half-smirk and whisper, “Only if you do that again with you cumming in me, as I’m on the pill.” As he widened his eyes, not a single word was exchanged as he held your hand and dragged you out of the club. Surely he didn’t want to miss the chance of getting washed away in you, ever again.

© Shyna 2022 - reposting on any other platform is not allowed. likes, comments, and especially reblogs are appreciated.

[x-digitaldollhouse-x]

🦋Digital Dollhouse Makeover Challenge: A 12 Day CAS challenge all about makeovers!🦋

Hello Simblr! Since joining the community like a month ago I've been really interested in CAS Challenges, and while participating in other people's challenges, I got inspired to make my own.

This challenge mostly focuses on dressing up or reworking existing sims rather than creating new ones, so it's good for players who have a lot of sims they're already attached to. I also largely wanted to avoid the typical "nerd girl takes off her glasses" type of movie makeover and instead tried to come up with prompts that involve a different type of transformation than just "'''''ugly'''''' to '''''pretty''''''".

RULES: not many tbh. Do all 12 or pick and choose, do them out of order, just have fun! However, make sure to include Before and After photos for each makeover!

Take one of your favorite sims and make them over into the complete opposite of their usual aesthetic!

Humanize an occult sim, or occult-ify a human sim!

Imagine that a "What Not To Wear"/"Queer Eye"-type show exists in your Sim universe-- make a before-and-after of a sim that got made over on that show! (It's up to you whether the makeover is actually any good— you remember those old 2000s makeover shows that made everyone dress so boring, right?).

Download an "ugly to beauty challenge" sim from the gallery, but give them a makeover that embraces their existing features instead of completely changing them.

Take a randomly-generated townie in a wacky outfit and try to make them over in a way that maintains their general appearance and vibe! Refine their outfit, make them more cohesive, adapt them into your own style-- but keep them recognizable as the sim you started with.

Put a sim in drag!

Imagine what would happen if two of your sims gave each other makeovers.

Make over one of your LEAST favorite premade townie's original EA version without changing any genetics! Skin details, hair, clothing, defaults, etc. are fair game, but you can't change any sliders on their face or body.

Take one of your earliest Sims you have saved (a sim you made years ago, or whenever you were just getting started with TS4) and update them into your current style! If you don't have any of your old sims to update, remake and update a sim from a previous Sims game!

Show a sim who's had a physical change that mirrors some sort of development they've had as a person/character. I.E. they started dressing different after a major life event, made a change reflecting a change in personality, etc. Use an existing storyline from one of your saves or make up a hypothetical plotline/backstory!

Give a sim a fairytale transformation like Cinderella.

Dress one of your sims in a randomly generated aesthetic. (Generator 1 / Generator 2 / Generator 3 )

If you do any part of this challenge, PLEASE tag me and/or use the tag #DDCasMakeovers so I can check them out! I'd also love to just find new blogs to follow through this :)

[spine-buster]

That Which We Are, We Are | Nathan MacKinnon | Chapter 1

gif credit @/joeydaccord

A/N: I’m so happy that the prologue of this story got such a positive response in terms of notes!  As always, thank you for liking and reblogging -- I love reading your reactions, especially your tags LOL.  The more we learn about Sorcha, the more canon questions you can ask!  Hope you enjoy Chapter 1!

Nate’s mom had made the cardinal sin: she accidentally let it slip that he was already back in town, breaking his cover.  She told one friend, who told his other friends, and soon, his phone was blowing up like fireworks on the fourth of July.  It was constantly buzzing and making sounds – so much so he had to turn it on silent.  He waited one day longer before answering anybody.  Then and only then did he confirm that he was in town and make tentative plans.

Things were still on his mind about the playoffs, and about how he’d come up short on his goal.  He’d finally found the courage to tune into a few games, but when he did, he found himself turning off the TV after only five minutes.  Clearly, he still wasn’t over it.  Despite some time passing, it still stung.  To see his peers still playing, working towards the ultimate goal…he didn’t like it.  He wanted it to be him instead.  He wasn’t scared to admit that.  He wasn’t necessarily jealous of them, but he definitely resented the situation.  It made the feeling of disappointment increase tenfold.

Plus, there was a new situation at hand too, even though it shouldn’t even be a situation.  Ever since he wandered alone through the streets of downtown, he couldn’t stop thinking about the incident at the café and what an idiot he’d been.  The girl was nice enough about it, but it stayed on his mind regardless.  He was still sure he knew her from somewhere.  The curly hair especially.  Plus, her voice sounded too familiar for him to not know her from somewhere.  But he digressed, and let it go…or at least tried to.

Until he thought of something.

His friends wanted to go out for lunch.  And she was clearly a regular at that café.

What if he showed up again?  And what if he remembered?

***

Nate had some friends since childhood; he had some friends he made in high school, which slightly overlapped with his junior buddies, since he was lucky enough to play for the Mooseheads; and he had some pro hockey buddies he’d see on and off, depending on where they were living or where they were going to be at any given point in time.  Each group had a unique influence on him and how his personality developed.  Each group helped him grow in some way.

This afternoon, he was meeting with his mix of high school friends and junior buddies – Alex Kehoe, one of his best friends from high school (and the reason he passed his math classes); Lucas Garcia, another one of his best friends from high school (and the reason he passed his science classes); and Noah Davis, a teammate from the Mooseheads who now worked as a real estate agent in Halifax.  When he met them in the parking lot downtown that they’d agreed on, Nate noticed one more person walking with Lucas and Noah from behind Alex, who was rushing towards him.  He recognized the extra almost immediately as Shane Johnson, Noah’s cousin.  Nate remembered Shane – he remembered how Shane was basically his cousin’s shadow, following him everywhere and hanging on to him desperately.  He’d show up at every Mooseheads home game and try to get in the locker room, name dropping that he was Noah’s cousin (as if that meant anything, or could get him anywhere).  At school, he would brag about his connections and ‘in’ with all the popular hockey guys, raising his profile in the process.  Some kids at school even thought he was part of the team, which he absolutely adored because it was his dream anyway.  Since high school, he hadn’t really done much.  Nathan hadn’t heard anything spectacular about him whenever he asked.  Noah didn’t even particularly update Nate, even though Shane was sort of always around in the peripheral of their friendship.  Nate had to admit to himself that he was kind of annoying, but knew he’d had to put up with him for at least lunch.

“Well well well, look who it is!” Alex called out from across the parking lot, his voice booming despite the hustle and bustle of the downtown core.  “If it isn’t the man himself!”

Nate couldn’t help but smile at Alex deliberately not screaming his name out.  Alex knew better.  Alex had been with Nate one too many times as they were trying to eat but people kept approaching for autographs or selfies, leaving them unable to have a true conversation.  Alex knew Nate valued privacy when he was out with his friends and family.  “If it isn’t the duuuuude himself,” he said equally as loudly, extending his arms out so they could hug.  “Good to see you, bro.”

“You get enough alone time?” he asked as they hugged, in a voice much quieter than before.  Nate shrugged his shoulders, as if to say he didn’t know, because he really didn’t.  “Your mom accidentally let it slip to Noah.”

“I know,” Nate nodded.  “It’s alright.  This’ll be good.”

“Sorry about Shane, too,” Alex said, looking back quickly to see how close the rest of the guys were.  “We won’t really be able to catch up with him here.  He wouldn’t let up about coming once he heard the news, and you know how Noah can’t say no.  But I promise we’ll talk after.  Alone.”

Nate nodded, appreciating Alex completely.  There was a reason Alex Kehoe was his best friend, and this was it.  “Yeah, we’re gonna have to do that – thanks.”

“If it isn’t Naaathan MacKinnon,” Shane yelled, raising his arms in the air.  Alex and Nate gave each other a look.  Nate didn’t understand why Shane was greeting him like a long-lost friend, since they were barely friends.  “How ya doin’, buddy?”

Nate didn’t get a chance to answer him – and didn’t take it, either – because Lucas went in for a hug, as did Noah.  Nate didn’t bother to reach into Shane.  “Where we going for lunch?” Lucas asked, posing the question to everyone.

“What about—”

“I found this new place,” Nate interrupted Noah quickly, not letting anybody else get a word in edgewise.  He didn’t want to hear any other suggestions.  He knew where he wanted to go and wasn’t going to let his friends derail his plan.  “Follow me.”

As the group walked through the streets of downtown Halifax, the group talked amongst themselves, with the guys hanging on Nate’s every word.  There wasn’t any serious conversation – and there wouldn’t be, even at lunch, because of Shane’s presence – but because they hadn’t seen their friend in a while, the boys wanted to hear their friend.  Nate, for his part, re-traced his steps from his wandering day until he found the café.  The boys were slightly taken aback by his choice, but Nate was steadfast.  They were probably expecting a gastropub or something, not a café in the artsy part of town.

As they were seated at a table in the café, Nate looked around – to the spot where he sat last time, and the spot where he saw the girl – to find her right where he left her, at the exact same table, in the exact same chair, with the exact same curly hair cascading down her back.  Her back was towards the group, but Nate could tell it was her.  It was her.  

Holy fuck.  

He tried not to stare too much, on account of not wanting to make it too obvious.  He tried to engage in the conversation the rest of the guys were having, but his eyes kept wandering back to her.  He’d answer Shane’s dumb questions, stuff his mouth with a bite of BLT, and glance over at her to make sure she didn’t get up to leave.  He’d recount a story from the season, take a gulp of his lemon water, and look in her direction.  When she got up and went to the washroom, he had half the mind to follow her, but he didn’t.  Instead, he thought of ways to get her attention with his buddies around, making sure they didn’t embarrass him in the process.  He’d already been embarrassed in front of her once before – and it was his own fault.  At least he knew she came here often, so if he needed to wait until a third time, he could.

It seemed like that was going to be the case when everybody was finished their lunch and brought their bills.  He’d have to come back a third time to get her attention.  They got up and tucked in their chairs.  Nate put on his baseball cap.

“Oh my God, Sorcha?” Shane’s voice boomed through the café.

To Nate’s complete and utter shock, the girl turned her head to look at them.  Nate’s breath caught in his throat as he caught a good look at her face again.  She was even prettier than he remembered from the last time at the café.  She had more blush on this time, he thought, and more eyeliner.  When she noticed who had called her name, her brows furrowed, a line appearing in between them for how much she was doing so.  “Shane,” she acknowledged him, her voice not nearly as chipper or loud as Shane’s was.

Nate felt time stand still.  Sorcha.  Sorcha.  Sorcha.

Sorcha Saint-Coeur.

Oh my fucking God, the girl was Sorcha Saint-Coeur.  

Nathan was not expecting Sorcha Saint-Coeur.  Sorcha had grown up on his street.  They’d gone to the same elementary school together in Cole Harbour, and had been in the same class since kindergarten.  They’d even moved on to the same middle school together, and the same high school.  But while they grew up on the same street, and knew the same people, they’d never been friends.  Sorcha had always been the nerd to Nate’s jock; the frizzy-haired, quiet, shy, studious art student as opposed to the blonde hair, blue-eyed, ambitious and serious hockey player Nate was.  She was never at school events, never at parties hosted when parents were out of town, never at people’s lake houses on the weekends.  She never went to any Mooseheads games.  She was an outcast, sitting alone at lunch when her best friend, Victoria, didn’t have the same lunch period.  Nobody ever asked her to join their table.  Worse than anything, she was relentlessly bullied.

Most of the bullies had been Nate’s friends in high school.

They bullied her about everything.  The first – and most awful, Nate thought – was her weight.  She’d always been bigger than the other girls, and she was called every fat joke in the book.  His friends even went so far as to whisper in each other’s ears if she walked by them or sat near them in class, saying things such as ‘whale’, ‘cow’, ‘butterball’, and ‘Sorcha the orca’ loud enough that she would hear.  They bullied her about her hair, because it was dark and long and untameably frizzy when they were younger, unlike the straight blonde hair of many classmates.  Then, of course, they made fun of her for having no friends besides Victoria, for being alone most of the time, for how quiet she was and how she wore no makeup, for caring about school and art and drawing more than she cared about hockey or parties or anything else.  The boys were relentless in letting Sorcha know every single day how different she was.

Shane was one of the main ones.

Shane tormented her to no end.  He constantly made fun of her for everything, and never let up.  It was worse when the hockey guys were around, because he wanted to impress them.  Nobody would defend her – not even Nate – and she’d just stay silent and take it all.  Nate remembered how oftentimes she looked like she was on the verge of tears (because she probably was).  Nate stayed silent through all the jokes, the name-calling, the ostracizing.  He didn’t keep in touch with any of the other guys, but of course, Shane was with him now.  While Alex and Lucas had better things to do in high school, Noah and Shane did not.  He could only imagine what it felt like for Sorcha, seeing them again.

“God, you’re still around in Halifax?” Shane asked, his voice as shocked as anything.

“Am I not supposed to be?” she retorted.  

“Hi Sorcha,” Alex said politely, garnering an equally polite nod of the head from her.  “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been fantastic.”

“How’s Aidan doing?”

“He’s doing great, thanks for asking,” she said.  Aidan was her brother – five years older.  “What are you doing in this part of town, anyway?”  

“Having lunch with Nathan MacKinnon,” Shane intervened in the conversation again, moving out of the way and pointing to Nate like he was the prize pig at the rodeo.  

“H—Hey Sorcha,” he stuttered out, waving awkwardly.

There was an unspoken decision on both their parts to act as if they hadn’t just seen each other days before; that Sorcha hadn’t lied through her teeth when she said she didn’t know him.  “Hi Nate,” she said curtly.

“What are you doing down here?” Shane asked.

“I work down here,” there was venom in her voice.  “And actually, I just checked the time, and my lunch break is almost over,” she said, getting up, shutting her iPad Pro, and collecting her things quickly.  “So if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work.”

The four men stayed silent as they watched her hurry out of the café, not bothering to take a single look back at them.  Nate gulped.  It was one of the most awkward encounters he’d ever been a part of – and that was saying something.  This was significantly more awkward than the first time he met Sidney Crosby and didn’t stop doing high knees in a driveway.

“She works at the Art Gallery of Nova Scotia now,” Alex revealed to the group, breaking the tension.  “Behind the scenes.  Like a curator or something.  My older sister still keeps in touch with Aidan.”  

Shane snorted.  “Looks like she’s still the size of the iceberg that sunk the Titanic.”

It was Nate’s turn to furrow his brows at Shane, looking him directly in the eye as he did so.  “Dude, what the fuck?”

“What?!” Shane shrugged, seeing nothing wrong with his comment.

Nate shook his head.  He felt…icky.  He didn’t want to be around Shane anymore – not longer than he had to be.  “I’m outta here.”

***

Okay, so Sorcha worked as a curator at the Art Gallery of Nova Scotia.

So where did Nate find himself the next day?

The Art Gallery of Nova Scotia.

He had no clue what the fuck he was doing, or what the fuck he was going to say, but just like yesterday, he had a loose plan that he’d concocted the night before and was executing this very moment.  As he walked through the doors, he approached the main desk where patrons could purchase tickets.  He made sure to take off his hat.  He knew artsy people would find it uncouth of him, or anyone, to wear a baseball hat indoors.  

“How may I help you?” the polite man at the desk smiled.

“Hi.  I, uh, I’m looking for a Sorcha that works here.  Sorcha Saint-Coeur.  She’s a curator,” he said.

The man immediately picked up the phone and dialled a series of numbers.  He smiled at Nate as he waited for someone to pick up.  “Hi, Audrey?  I have someone here for Sorcha Saint-Coeur.  Can you please come to the front to escort him?...His name?  Nathan MacKinnon.”

So he was found.  Nate couldn’t help but smile as the man thanked Audrey and hung up the phone.  “Thank you, sir.”

“She’ll be right out.  And you’ll have to excuse me, but my grandson loves hockey, and loves you.”

“Oh, that’s no problem,” Nate said.

“How does Nathan MacKinnon get to know Sorcha Saint-Coeur, anyway?”

He bit his tongue.  “High school,” he said.  He technically wasn’t lying.  Hell, he could have said elementary school and he wouldn’t be lying.

“Mr. MacKinnon?” a female voice asked, approaching him quickly.  He could only assume this was Audrey.  “Right this way, please.”

Nate gave one last nod of his head to the man before following Audrey through an ‘Employees Only’ door.  They made small talk as she led him through a series of hallways and onto an elevator to go up a few floors.  Once they reached their destination – the eighth floor, labelled ‘Curator Spaces’ on the elevator legend – Audrey looked over.  “I’ll let Sorcha know you’re here and she’ll be with you shortly,” she informed him.  “I’m sure you know she’s busy curating one of next major exhibits for the fall and winter season.”  

Audrey motioned to a bench for Nate to sit on, and he did so.  She gave him one last smile before walking down the hallway and leaving him waiting.  He sat twiddling his thumbs for about ten minutes before he heard a door click open.  When he looked towards it, he came face to face with Sorcha.

“Hey,” he greeted her.

She looked like she’d seen a ghost.  “What are you doing here?” she asked, looking around the empty hallway to see if anyone else had seen him sitting there.  “How—how do you even know that I work here?”

“Kehoe told me,” he said.  “He mentioned how his sister still keeps in touch with Aidan, and I guess Aidan told her.”

“What are you doing here?” she asked again, as if she didn’t even care about his answer of how he knew she worked at the gallery.  

“I—well—wa—want to go for lunch?” he offered.

“What?”

Alright, so Nate’s gameplan backfired on him.  Horrendously.  She wasn’t warm and she wasn’t happy to see him and she was upset that he’d shown up at her work.  He needed to do damage control.  “Listen, I—I’m sorry about yesterday.  It was just supposed to be Alex, Lucas, and Noah with me, but Shane ended up tagging along.  But that first day—I mean, you knew who I was.  I knew who you were too, I just didn’t remember you.  You didn’t have to lie to me and say we didn’t know each other from anywhere.  I mean, we grew up on the same street.”

He saw her soften slightly, but he could tell she still had a massive wall up.  “We’re not going for lunch.  I have a very busy day.  What are you—what was even your plan?  Take me to lunch and do what?”

He didn’t know.  He really didn’t know.  He shrugged his shoulders.  “I haven’t seen you since I left for Colorado.  I don’t—I don’t know what you’ve been up to since then, and I guess I want to find out.”

Her face softened some more, though she crossed her arms in front of her.  She was clearly wasn’t a fan of the idea, or his biggest fan in the slightest.  She also didn’t know why he would want this information from her when he never bothered to get to know her since elementary school and never bothered to keep in touch with her.  “I graduated third in our class and got accepted to the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design.  After two years I transferred to Toronto, and I ended up living in Florence for a year.  I graduated with my B.A in art history, worked in a few galleries in Toronto, then moved back to Halifax to be a curator here,” she explained.  

Nate was impressed.  It wasn’t every day that he met a curator for a gallery.  He wasn’t exactly sure what they did, but it sounded important.  “That’s really impressive.  Congratulations, Sorcha.”

“Thanks,” her reply was curt, but heartfelt.  She was accomplished, and happy with how her life worked out without Nathan MacKinnon, Shane Johnson, or anyone else from elementary or high school.  “You don’t have to explain what you’ve been up to.  I hear it on the news every night.”

Nate couldn’t help but chuckle, and he swore he saw Sorcha smirk, too.  “Yeah, well…” he trailed off.  “I don’t think I was meant for anything else.”

“I don’t think so either,” she agreed.  “You were always going to be a hockey superstar.”

“I didn’t do much else.”

“No, you didn’t,” Sorcha cracked a smirk.  She couldn’t help it.  Hockey was Nate’s whole life, and had been since elementary school.  Though they weren’t friends, she knew that about him (everybody knew that about him).  His main focus in life was hockey and making the NHL – that was clear.  “Anything else you’d like to know?” she asked.

“Why you pretended you didn’t know me the other day,” he blurted out without thinking.  

Sorcha had to think of something fast because she really didn’t have any kind of excuse.  “I was just shocked to see you in this part of town,” she decided on saying.  “And besides, you asked me ‘Do I know you?’.  And you don’t.  You don’t know me.”

Nate and Sorcha stared at each other, letting those words linger in the air for a while.  She was completely right, but he didn’t want to admit that.  He’d never taken the time to, even as they grew up on the same street and went to the same schools.  “Touché,” Nate said.

“Is there anything else you’d like to know?” she asked again.

Nate shook his head.  It was clear that she wasn’t going to be forthcoming, that she had a wall up because of their past – and he didn’t blame her.  He was an asshole as a teenager, and so were his friends – at some point, all teenage boys were assholes.  He just wanted, and needed, to make it better.  “It was nice seeing you,” he said in defeat.

“Thanks.”

“Have a great day at work.  And curating, like, in general.”

“Thanks.”

***

Nate was alone at his house.  And when he was alone at his house, he got ideas.  

Google: art gallery of nova scotia Sorcha saint-coeur

Nate clicked.  And clicked.  And clicked.  Then clicked again.  Clicked on her LinkedIn page.  Clicked on her profile on the Art Gallery of Nova Scotia website:

Sorcha Saint-Coeur grew up in Cole Harbour and attended the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design before transferring to the University of Toronto.  She holds an honours Bachelor of Arts in art history, and has the distinction of having been invited to the Florence Academy of Fine Arts to study for a year.  She has experience curating for some of the most distinguished galleries in Toronto, including MOCA Toronto, the McMichael Art Gallery, and the Art Gallery of Ontario.  

Past exhibitions Saint-Coeur has curated include “Picasso: Painting the Blue Period”, “Tom Thomson: The Algonquin Paintings”, and “James Tissot: The Seasons”.  

At the side of the page was an official portrait of her, definitely taken by the gallery.  And right underneath that picture, he found exactly what he was looking for: her email.  There was one thing Nate wasn’t: a quitter.

From: Nathan MacKinnon [natedogg29@gmail.com] To: Sorcha Saint-Coeur [saintcoeur@agns.ca] Subject: (no subject)

hey.  it’s Nate.  i still think we should go to lunch tomorrow to catch up.  what do u think?

He didn’t have to wait long for a reply.  He chuckled to himself when it came through.

From: Sorcha Saint-Coeur [saintcoeur@agns.ca] To: Nathan MacKinnon [natedogg29@gmail.com] Subject: RE: (no subject)

How the hell did you get my work email

From: Nathan MacKinnon [natedogg29@gmail.com] To: Sorcha Saint-Coeur [saintcoeur@agns.ca] Subject: RE: RE: (no subject)

from the art gallery website.  Your profile is on there.  What do u say?

From: Sorcha Saint-Coeur [saintcoeur@agns.ca] To: Nathan MacKinnon [natedogg29@gmail.com] Subject: RE: RE: RE: (no subject)

Nate, I appreciate the offer, but I basically told you everything there is to know.  There’s not much else.  Have fun being back home.

From: Nathan MacKinnon [natedogg29@gmail.com] To: Sorcha Saint-Coeur [saintcoeur@agns.ca] Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: (no subject)

u told me the basics.  there’s still a lot more to tell.  what time ur lunch break?  I will make reservations for the press gang at 12.  have u been there?  on me.

From: Sorcha Saint-Coeur [saintcoeur@agns.ca] To: Nathan MacKinnon [natedogg29@gmail.com] Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: (no subject)

Are you insinuating I can’t afford lunch at The Press Gang?

From: Nathan MacKinnon [natedogg29@gmail.com] To: Sorcha Saint-Coeur [saintcoeur@agns.ca] Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: (no subject)

NO!!!  not at all!  it’s one of the best in town and its down the street from you!  we can go to the café if that makes u comfortable.  and i promise i’ll be alone.  No kehoe, no shane, no ambush.  just us.

From: Sorcha Saint-Coeur [saintcoeur@agns.ca] To: Nathan MacKinnon [natedogg29@gmail.com] Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: (no subject)

You never quit, do you?

From: Nathan MacKinnon [natedogg29@gmail.com] To: Sorcha Saint-Coeur [saintcoeur@agns.ca] Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: (no subject)

don’t think i would have made the nhl if i did.

From: Sorcha Saint-Coeur [saintcoeur@agns.ca] To: Nathan MacKinnon [natedogg29@gmail.com] Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: (no subject)

If you boast about being an NHL player even once during lunch I’m leaving.

From: Nathan MacKinnon [natedogg29@gmail.com] To: Sorcha Saint-Coeur [saintcoeur@agns.ca] Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: (no subject)

I take that as a yes?

From: Sorcha Saint-Coeur [saintcoeur@agns.ca] To: Nathan MacKinnon [natedogg29@gmail.com] Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: (no subject)

Well, if you’re buying.

[marrfixated]

Pinned post/My info:

Last updated May 4, 2024

TL;DR: Marr, he/she/they/any, neurodivergent, Total Drama (Alenoah, Priyemma, etc), fanfiction, sideblog @priyemma

Sooo busy lately but TD is always on my mind

My name is Marr! I use He/She/They and any pronouns. I’m Omni, Bigender, and Aspec. Or something. I’m cool with any gendered terms, and I pretty much use them interchangeably myself. Gal, guy, neither, whatever!

I have ADHD and anxiety (both diagnosed) along with other things, but those are the ones I’ll probably talk about on here the most. I’m mixed White and Latina (plus Native) but fairly white passing. I speak English and want to learn Spanish, but I’m definitely not fluent. American and more “country” than I realize lol

Right now im really into Total Drama. It’s one of my longest lasting hyperfixations so far! I also post about a few other things, like House M.D and Dungeon Meshi. (More likely reblogging those things though.)

Specifically in Total Drama I mostly post about Alenoah and Priyemma. Recently been talking about the newest Reboot season (and my complaints with it). I talk the most about World Tour and TDI 2023 because it’s been a while since I’ve watched all the seasons and those are the ones I remember the best. I plan to rewatch them all… someday. I haven’t even finished watching reboot s2 because it’s painful!

I love shipping! I can’t even list them all because there’s so many tbh. I am very much a multi shipper and I constantly am finding new things to ship! I try to not engage in ship hate ever, but sometimes I slip up lol. I post some less-than-positive content about Nemma on occasion or Juliayne… everything that could be considered ship hate is tagged as such and never tagged with the ship that is being slandered.

I can’t really draw, so if I ever post my beginner drawings please be nice lol 😭 I’m still developing a style and learning. I have many, many WIPs that I might share here and there. I do really want to be able to draw confidently and make art for the things I love!

I’ve started writing fanfiction again lately! It’s a struggle for a lot of reasons. Props to everyone who writes fics because it’s hard. It takes me hella long too! I usually get out at least one a month. My user is Marrfixated on AO3, feel free to leave comments or kudos!

I’ve written four Alenoah oneshots so far. Most recently posted Contra Entendre, so go read that! I have 3 other oneshots that are somewhat written and I’ll post someday, but I’ve shifted my focus to planning some longer fics. I currently have an Alenoah AU and a Priyemma post-canon fic in the works! The latter is my main focus as I plan out the entire thing.

I also have tiktok @Marrfixated. I post on tumblr more than TikTok because it’s easier, but I started off there. I don’t really use anything else yet (except ao3). I also have a Priyemma centric sideblog on here (@priyemma), where I’ll sometimes reblog content from and vice versa.

You’re on thin ice if you engage in ship discourse, constantly hate on ship I like (it makes me sad 💔), or are a dsmp fan/an enjoyer of any of Vivziepop’s works (I don’t like you).

Proshippers DNI. Zionists DNI. Vivziepop defenders DNI. Dream supporters DNI. Dsmp supporters also DNI. Do some damn research.

I might post suggestive things here sometimes, but I don’t think I ever have or will post any extremely nsfw content. I don’t plan to EVER post nsfw or suggestive related content related to td, it makes me uncomfortable as most of the characters are minors. I do curse a lot, and reclaim the f slur on occasion. Please don’t engage in ship discourse on my account for no reason! That’s no fun.

I usually take like 3 years to answer asks or dms or whatnot for various reasons… but I swear I don’t mean any offense! I just um forget sometimes 😇 Or I post it to drafts instead… or I get nervous 😶 and sometimes idk if you just sent it or want me to actually respond so I just guess? Ummm yeah. Also they go missing a lot. Probably have to figure that out. Oops!

I reblog a lot so right now I’m trying to tag all my original posts as #original post. Lazy posts are usually tagged with #shitpost. Random posts are usually tagged as #nonfandom post. My td fics are tagged as #my fanfiction.

That’s it!

[willshipanything-blog]

Rules of the Game- Epilogue

Here it is. The final FINAL chapter. And I mean it this time! 😅

Thanks to everyone who's shown this fic some love, it's been so so appreciated! ♥

Short and Sweet epilogue, but tags still apply to the whole fic- detailed tags on AO3.

Full Chapter Index here

Read on AO3 here

Chapter 26- A Sense of Direction

The basement room had long since been abandoned. You imagined it decaying from disuse; mildew seeping in from the cracks in the walls, damp forcing its way through the cold stone via the thin glass plating of the small, grimy window. The old fashioned black rotary phone affixed to the wall concealed by layers of dust, obscuring the numbered dial. Mold speckling the damp mattress, housing only mites and fleas now. And in a dim corner, the knife lying untouched since being flung away in disgust, oxidizing in the damp air, rusted and forgotten. But these things were not seen; Al had sealed shut the metal door to that awful place, closing it one last time with a final thud and click. You could only imagine that room below you, though most days it was not a place that occupied your mind. 

Up the narrow staircase, the kitchen still hosted Naughty Girl on certain nights, when you gave the signal you were eager to play. You would commit a purposeful transgression, and would be duly punished. Normally, Al would take position in his chair and you retrieved the frowning mask, affixing it for him before giving yourself over to his sinful, wicked, gratifying whims. Submitting to his punishments and receiving pleasures alongside them. But currently, it was just the kitchen, dinner finished and dishes cleaned and drying out on the rack. A grocery list, in your handwriting, stuck to the refrigerator for Al; ingredients you’d need to cook tomorrow night’s dinner. 

Through to the lounge, where so little seemed to have changed since your arrival, but on closer inspection, almost everything had. No bicycle lock latched the door closed; it was redundant now, and only likely to cause suspicion for anyone who might knock. Plus, Max had mentioned he might be swinging by at some point, excited to hear about Al's new squeeze (Max's words, not his, according to Al). Books were littered across the room: a few on the sideboard next to the phone, a couple stuffed in the magazine rack, a small, ever-growing pile stashed under the coffee table. You’d seen to it that Al’s record collection had an update too, more vinyls from this decade sporadically placed between his 50s and 60s albums. And of course, the side table, which was more densely populated in recent weeks, a cluster of photographs instead of one lonely frame. The monochrome picture of Al and Max still stood there, but joined by two others now. An even older, sepia-toned photo of a young woman holding a young child- Al and his mother. You’d encouraged him to remember the good parts of his past. And, in a small square frame- just the right size to fit a polaroid print taken at home- a saturated picture of you and Al together. You wore a wide grin on your face, rivaling that of Max’s elated, buck toothed smile in the adjacent photo. Behind you, holding you from behind and pressing his face into your hair, obviously camera-shy, was Al. It was an odd angle (you hadn’t quite got the hang of holding the camera and taking a photo at the same time), but it was the best one you took after using the whole sleeve of instant films.

Down the hallway, at the end of the corridor, lay Al’s bedroom, your bedroom too, now. Your shared domain. It had become your favorite place to spend most evenings recently; the window to the back of the house was west-facing, you discovered, affording a perfect view of the distant Rockies just before dusk. Spring was gradually seeping into summer, and the view behind the mountains was getting more beautiful each evening. Heavy, rolling clouds gave way to the developing colors of sunset; lavender to lilac to mauve, before the sun gradually receded behind the Rocky Mountains. Although, by the time twilight arrived and the sky was painted an inky blue, you and Al had long since closed the curtains and found other things to focus your attentions on, better things to admire.

————————

You were reading by the late afternoon glow of another Denver sunset. It was Jane Eyre (the beautifully bound copy Al had gifted you for your birthday), and you were trying to finish your chapter before the last of the sun’s rays meandered away. Al was with you, of course; you were nestled snugly against him on the silky sheets of your shared bed. You had the book propped on your knees and were wrapped cozily in his blue cardigan that still smelled of cologne and smoke. The comforting smell hadn’t dissipated since he’d given you the jacket; you had a sneaking suspicion that he sprayed it every now and then, so you’d always have his scent near to you, even when he was away at work during most weekdays. 

Al stayed quiet so you could read in peace. You knew he enjoyed these tranquil moments just as you did; casually brushing his fingers through your hair, squeezing you gently (perhaps to check this was actually real, that you were really there with him). Enjoying the quiet, shared serenity of the late afternoon. The only sounds to be heard were rustling paper as you leafed through the pages of your book and low, intermittent hums that Al exhaled as he held you close to him.

You wondered if Al wasn't half snoozing, his breaths slow and deep. One hand entwined loosely in a lock of your hair; the other had found its way to your waist, where it rubbed rhythmic circles in your skin. 

“Something funny, dove?”

“Hmm?” you asked, having been lost in the words on the page. You closed the book and tilted your head to half-face him, a little tricky when you were leaning on his chest. Al placed a soft kiss on your temple as you turned before speaking again.

“I thought you laughed at something.”

“Oh. Um-” you stumbled a little “No- I wasn’t laughing. Just one of my favorite parts of the book.” You hadn’t realized, but you must have let out a soft exhale at the section you had just read. You thumbed back through the book to find where you were, blushing slightly before reading it aloud at Al’s suggestion.

“I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being with an independent will, which I now exert to leave you.”

You sat for a moment in the stillness of the room, doused now in the last few minutes of sunlight. The book sat in your limp hands, those words seeming to burn a hole in the paper. Al was quiet too, as if both of you were sadly contemplating the quote. It seemed a stark contrast to your own story, diverging down a different road completely. You weren’t some brave heroine who always did the right thing, the conscionable thing. 

Unlike Jane, you were a bird, you were Al’s little dove. All his. And you had been ensnared in his net. By force at first, but now through your own choices, your own independent will. You were unsure how to feel about the passage. It was one of those unfortunate triggers, like when you’d read Griffin’s name on that card, or had seen that flash of rage in Al’s eyes, that reminded you of all the reasons you shouldn’t have stayed. But it was getting easier to forget the past, when the present (and the thought of the future) seemed so perfect. Each sunset marked the close of another day with Al, a beautiful marker that signified another day of being his. Of him being yours. Each other’s entirety. 

As if sensing your disquiet, Al grabbed you from behind, pulling you in closer to the heat of his body. His arms felt protective and you closed your eyes, sinking into the embrace. A comfort for the both of you; him, savoring you in his arms, his little bird. And you- safe and happy in the cage you had chosen to stay in. 

“Did she leave him? In the book?” Al questioned, whispering in your ear. He already knew the answer, but you obliged.

“No. She left for a while, but she knew she’d made a mistake. She knew she loved him. She went back.”

“A happy ending, then.” Al said. 

“Yes, a happy ending.” 

You thought a little more, still held tightly in his grip, and you smiled to yourself in the dimming light of the room. You had made a choice, had been given the opportunity to leave everything behind. To leave him. And you had chosen to stay. It wasn’t an easy choice, but you didn’t regret the decision you made all those weeks ago. It felt like the right choice after all. That burden, the guilt of the choices you’d made, you knew you’d carry with you forever. An inevitable consequence to your actions. But you hoped it was worth the cost. You had to believe it. 

Al rose from his position, and you shuffled to allow him to get up. He switched on the bedroom lamp before moving to draw the curtains. Dusk had come, ending another day together. But the night was only just beginning. Those heavy thoughts, those guilty feelings and questions you asked yourself- they were lost in the darkness. As if the setting sun, the closed curtains, kept them at bay, at least for a little while. 

“Did he punish her for leaving?” Al asked, his rumbling voice laced with an impish tone. He’d chosen his words carefully, and stalked back to the bed with a beautifully dangerous glint in his eyes. Just as the day had given way to night, his eyes too had darkened to that glistening onyx color. 

“No, he didn’t.” you said knowingly, placing the book on the nightstand beside the bed.

“Well, that doesn’t sound like much fun now, does it, dove?”

A playful titter escaped your lips. He climbed back onto the bed as you began to undress- his scent would be on you again soon enough. The game was resuming, and you both knew the rules by now. 

“My good girl. My precious dove. You’re not leaving, hm?”

“I’m right here, Al. I’m yours.”

[punkgardener]

WERE HOME BIG GARDEN UPDATE

The strawberrys are strawbin' off (that's the biggest one in a while)

The pumpkin is doing good but has taken to beginning his declaration of war on the tomato and herb portion of the garden, the strawberries are holding the line, And LOOK! there's a female flower on there! (I'll probably make a post distinguishing the two flower sexes at some point)

The calendula seeds I planted in the garden before I left are doing good, I can now definitively say that they're calendula and not a weed (I may make a blog post talking about calendulas uses)

Salvia and lantana are doing great!

And here's my new Yarrow, already starting to bloom, I've forgotten the name of the variety but from the tag it looked like it'll be my favorite color, red!

Alas the peas are not doing well and I'm not entirely sure why, I think it may be something to do with the heat because if I remember correctly they don't like heat

And here we see a new development which has sprung up, in what I thought was a dead garden box we have thyme! I already have another variety of thyme but hey, I say more the merrier!

My bumblebee tomato is outshining everyone currently having produced two tomatoes, my delicious tomato's which are growing in the pot have made flowers but nothing has pollinated them, I think I'm going to have to go in with an electric toothbrush if this continues

And finally the American black cherry in my yard is producing A once in 5 years super crop, also referred to as a "good crop" (I like super because this thing is crazy) they aren't ripe yet, they turn solid black when they are and I'm worried they'll be at peak ripeness by the time I go on my big trip, which would suck because my friends were planning on coming over and helping me harvest them and make food. Here's to hoping though!

I have reached the limit of pictures I'm allowed to put on this post, just know that the nasturtiums are doing great (I'll make a separate post on them in the near future)

[queenie-blackthorn]

50% into kotlc, here are some thoughts ive had since the 25% mark :D

@aylin-hijabi @that-multi-fandom-hijabi sorry for tagging yall a lot lmao

first thing that comes to mind thats plot-related n not character-related is prentice. he was exiled 12 years ago, same age as sophie. its so obviously not a coincidence. tho i wonder whats up w him n tiergan (idk how to spell lmao i feel like thats wrong)

also, i wonder just how strong sophie is. like, the way she knocked fitz into the wall ??? thats her not knowing the full extent of her powers. i have a feeling shes always gonna be one of those main characters whos extremely powerful but constantly throughout the series she finds new abilities she has. kinda like percy jackson

im also realizing how stupid ill seem if im just overanalysing everything and my guesses are too far-fetched or too deeply thought out to really mean anything lololol

moving to character-related, i adore dex. he seems kinda spiteful tho ??? esp towards fitz. thats prolly bc the vacker family is apparently rlly famous n shit n meanwhile dexs parents were a bad match. still dont rlly get what that means. i feel like theres more to him. also his crush on sophie is adorable

KEEFE. nothing, just... keefe. havent seen much but from what i HAVE seen, hes hilarious. i remember aylin mentioning that hes like leo valdez in that theyre both hot, funny, and traumatized... still waiting on the 'traumatized' part. she also said hes less major in this book n more major in the second book, so maybe ill find out then

midterms are gonna go wrong just wait i just know it

biana seems acc genuine in wanting to be friends w sophie. but there was one point when she was talking to sophie n there was smth like a glare for a moment ?? idk kinda sus to me. maybe im overthinking it cause i cant think of a possible motive

marella seems cool. in the art, shes absolutely gorgeous, but so is everyone in this goddamn book. also notable that the first time i saw her name i misread it as 'redneck' 💀💀💀

stina is a bitch. nothing else to say, except that she looks terrifyingly like me? except different eye color n i wear glasses loll. i hope to see some character development cause i personally hate the trope of "token mean girl" in books (like drew tanaka or zoya nazyalensky) cause theyre so one dimensional n boring (although zoya does become majorly more likeable throughout the grishaverse books, im hoping to see the same in stina)

irrelevant but the amount of times sophie is ending up in the infirmary reminds me of a roleplay w my friends from like three years ago oml the nostalgia (cause there would at all times be at least one character in the infirmary injured or nearly dead bc we needed that drama to keep the rp going LMAO)

overall, theres not as much to say as there was at the 25% mark. (i feel like theres more i wanna say but i cant think of anything.) prolly cause since then, the book has mainly been abt learning abt the elves' world n culture. i think by the 75% point im gonna have a lot more to say, n then ill post the final update thingie when im 100% done w the book

ill be 75% done in 89 pages, but the last day of midterm is tomorrow, so god knows how long thatll take me :') i promise to try thooo

oh also galvins a bitch but i feel like she has trauma fsr idk shes just giving