#I got her deeply invested and she was on the edge of her seat the entire last playoff home game

[hollywoodx4]

See you at the Tsongas, babes ✨ I’ll be the v small femme screaming her head off from the 6th row

[secretfanficwrite]

An Eye For An Eye

Eddie Munson x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k Warnings: some violence, some sexual themes Request: can I request an Eddie and girlfriend reader where she hears Jason talking shit and defends Eddie? Maybe Jason pushes her or something and she gets bruised. Then she doesn't tell Eddie and he finds the bruise when they're making out?

Author' s Notes: I felt like there needed to be a little more to finish it off hope the ending fits what you were looking for <3

The lunchroom seemed louder than normal today. Each clique individually finding their own exciting news to talk about louder then the next closest group nearby. The big basketball game later tonight, Mrs. Click's big test at 4th period, the spring casting list coming out after school. Of course this chaos did not exclude your eccentric and zealous boyfriend, Eddie Munson.

Thanking the lunch lady briskly and giving her a small smile you turned on your heel, making your way towards the sea of students. Approaching your usual table, Eddie already seemed to be on one of his rants, deeply invested in his next great idea for the upcoming Hellfire meeting.

You couldn't help but giggle to yourself at his enthusiasm and the way the other boys, slightly younger than himself, stared at him observing him as a god-like figure.

His eyes sparkled when he noticed you approaching, lighting up like it was the first time he had seen you in weeks. Of course, this wasn't the case. In reality it had been more like two periods.

"Princess" He greeted you, dramatically motioning towards the empty spot left next to him by the head of the lunch table.

You smiled softly to him, sitting down on the edge of the bench.

"As I was saying, y/n you'll love this, we wal-" The long haired boy continued again loudly as you stared up at him along with the rest of the group.

"Enough with the satanic shit you fuckin freak" The voice was harsh, ordering the large room to drop a few decimals.

Eddie's stopped his eyes widening in the direction of the jock before he began laughing.

"Somethin funny?" Jason continued, stepping closer to the table.

Your jaw clenched, top teeth grinding against your bottom teeth in frustration. Before Eddie could reply you quickly spun around in your seat, eyes locking onto the blonde.

"Dude mind your own fuckin business. If you spent less time up other people asses you might actually stay focused enough lead your shitty basketball team to nationals for once." You barked out angrily without much thought to your insult.

The boys jaw tightened and he stepped forward once more aiming specifically for your direction.

"Mr. Carver"

Heads subtly turned to the owner of the commanding voice that had just entered into the lunch room, whom only observed Jason's intimidating stance as he got ready to start a fight. She raised her hand motion him towards her with a finger.

You raised an eyebrow in his direction, waiting for more.

His head turned back towards you once again, pulling his lip up into a sneer before he started off after the teacher to the exit of the lunchroom.

The sound of the room slowly picked up to the original volume, everyone joining back into their respective conversations.

This included Eddie who now sat next to you proudly, arm slung across the back of your shoulder affectionately, playing with the edge of your sleeve lightly. A small sign of love and appreciation.

*******

The change in atmosphere around you had dropped drastically. You bit the inside of your cheek anxiously, trying your best to ignore the murmurs directed towards you as you sorted through your locker.

You pulled out your biology textbook, juggling the stuff in your arms, trying to swap it out for your statistics textbook. So focused you hadn't registered how quickly the hallway got quieter.

Your struggle was soon interrupted as you were shoved, hard. A sharp pain shot through your arm as your shoulder was slammed into the corner of your locker. The three textbooks you held slid from your arms, the papers tucked inside flying every direction across the floor.

Your head whipped around, tears brimming your eyes at the pain in your shoulder. The group of boys dressed in green and white varsity jackets said nothing, just laughed loudly nudging Jason who threw you daggers sharp enough to kill.

You stood there for a moment in frustration as the boys continued their way down the hallway. Begrudgingly, you bent down, slowly picking up each paper and shoving them under the cover of the closest text book.

You slammed your locker closed, swallowing hard and turning in the direction of your class. "What are you looking at?!" you barked loudly at the small groups of students littering the hallway, all staring in your direction. They quickly turned away, continuing their conversations.

Rolling your eyes one last time you let out the deep breath you were holding before rushing to class with your head held down to hide the redness in your eyes. Knowing Eddie had skipped for the rest of the day, making your feel all the more miserable.

********

You sat bored on the couch in Eddie's living room, watching Jason Voorhees chase around campers for the second time this week.

Eddie saunters out of his bedroom, flopping down next to you before leaning over and snuggling his face into the crook of your neck.

"We watched this already this week" he mumbled against your skin making you squirm in reaction to the soft movements.

"I just threw it on because you haven't returned it yet" you couldn't help but giggle as you spoke. His hand slowly traveling up your side in an effort to be sexy, but your skin was already reacting to the tickling sensation. "Eddie stop" your squeaked out, squirming so much that you were slowly being pushed down into a laying position.

He had made his way on top of you at this point, giving into the tickling, shoving both calloused hands up under your shirt. His head remained rested in the crook of you neck planting soft kisses as his hands slowed down, running up and resting over the cloth of your bra.

Your laughs slowly died down and you were left with deep breaths, trying to regain your composure. Your own hands lifted up, slowly brushing his bangs back as he continued to kiss your skin, trailing them up under you chin and ending on the corner of your lips.

You stared up at him through your lashes, you hand still running through his curls softly before you smiled. Slowly you pushed the back of his head forward, finally meeting his lips with your own.

You both worked in sync, his hands running across the bare skin under you shirt, leaving a hot trail everywhere they explored. They continued traveling down dancing of the hem of your shorts before retreating back up to the edge of your shirt.

You both pulled away breathlessly smiling at his eagerness and cocky smirk before he pulled your shirt over your head in one quick motion.

Impatiently, you reached back up ready to continue before he paused. "Do you wanna stop?" you asked worriedly, looking all over the boys face for an answer.

"y/n what's that" his gaze was focused down at your shoulder, brows furrowed. You craned you neck down looking at the ghastly dark spot with yellow edges that appeared on your right shoulder.

"Eddie it's just a bruise" you answered softly, trying to get off the subject.

"That is not 'just a bruise' y/n" He pressed on, looking up at you. His dark eyes pierced yours as if pressuring you to tell the truth.

"I just..hit the corner of my locker. its fine" Your eyes left his as your heart beat picked up slightly. The guilt of not telling the truth was becoming apparent in your voice.

"Tell me the truth or I'll tickle you until you pee yourself" He threatened teasingly, holding his hands on your waist.

"you wouldn't"

"I absolutely would" his fingers ghosted over your skin threateningly.

You started into his eyes for a moment, biting the inside of your cheek before taking in a breath. "After lunch on Tuesday, Jason passed me in the hallway. It's really not that bad." Your gaze lowered again, avoiding his eyes.

"Jason did this? That son of a bitch better watch his back. If your defending me, I'm defending you" He plotted, half serious, half-teasingly.

You smiled softly, remeeting his eyes through your lashes. "Thank you my night in shining armor. Now if I told you I was in crippling pain would you help distract me?" Your voice dropped into a sultry flirt, determined to get the conversation topic back on it's original track.

His lips mischievously turned up into a smirk before he jumped up, throwing you over his shoulder and making a beeline towards his bedroom.

******

Tapping your foot against the side of the van, you waited anxiously for Eddie to turn up. He told you over lunch he would be late today because he had a quick drug deal at the old picnic table in the woods after the bell.

However, a full hour was slowly approaching. Your arms were crossed over your chest, your fingers playing with the hem of your sleeves trying to keep your mind from getting too worried. He was probably fine, maybe the person he was selling to was late or got lost looking for the spot.

You began to get up from leaning on the van, ready to go start searching for your doe eyed lover before your paused. A figure rounded the corner quickly, hurrying in your direction.

He smiled at you, small cuts littering his face and a large bruise across his right knuckles.

You couldn't help the gasp that left your lips, staring at him with wide eyes. "Eddie Wha-" you began but he was already starting the van ushering you into the passengers seat.

"Just avenging your honor" he announced teasingly, pulling out of the parking spot quickly before beginning to book it back towards the trailer park.

Another surprised gasp left your lips as you turned around in your seat, watching out the back window as Jason and his group of boys rounded the same corner Eddie came from. Jason sported a fat lip and angrily yelled in the direction of the van as the group of boys attempted to chase after you both, but to no avail.

You turned back towards him, smiling at the wide smile on his own face.

"god I love you" you laughed breathlessly before leaning over and placing a kiss on the boy's cheek.

******

Taglist-(Message me if you are interested in being added!) @multi-fandoms-stuff @mcueveryday

[omglooknoone]

A few days ago, I got a tattoo of the last line in The Legend of Korra. After several years of considering how I wanted to honor the place this show has in my heart, I decided that it was going to happen this year. It’s in the font from the end credits of TLOK, and I’m quite pleased with it, especially the placement and sizing. 

This is also a good time to reflect on how much Korrasami and The Legend of Korra mean to me now that I’ve got this thing on my body forever. Korra is one of my favorite characters of all time. From the moment she appeared on screen in episode one as a hotheaded, physically imposing female protagonist, I felt like I was seeing someone like me in media for the first time. We not only get to see her be an absolute powerhouse, even for an avatar, but we also see what makes her human. Korra’s journey throughout the show’s four seasons embodies the human experience, and the lessons she learns, her struggles and triumphs, are parts of life that connect us all on some fundamental level. 

I love TLOK for being everything ATLA is not. The Legend of Korra is messier, rougher around the edges, and shows us that the way forward isn’t always clear. However, we see Korra grow tremendously from her mistakes, and when she finally finds herself, she’s ready to face the world as a fully fledged avatar. While this is the ending for the show, it is also a new beginning. 

Now for Korrasami. I remember finding out about Korrasami online when the third season was airing. I was instantly taken by the idea of Korra and Asami together. Despite their rocky start, they were fast friends and had great mutual admiration and respect for each other. I saw that they made a natural team, balancing each other out whether they were building a makeshift sandsailer or training as sparring partners, and I became invested in how close they grew during the third season. Later, the intense moments they share throughout the season culminate in a tender one as Asami tends to Korra before Jinora’s ceremony, and we get our first insight into just how deeply they care for each other.

During the time between seasons 3 and 4, I held my breath. I wasn't in a hurry for the final season to air and end this moment where we could all just dream that Korrasami was going to be endgame. While it felt like their relationship had been building towards something, like many fans, I didn't dare believe I would also be able to relate to my favorite character about who I loved. Besides, season 3 finale Korra had her own things to deal with first. It was later revealed that she only wrote letters to Asami during her time away, and their reunion (finally!) was a whirlwind of emotions (for both them and me). Caring about a relationship between characters was brand new to me, but boy, did I care about these two now. Season 4 made it clear that there was something more going on between them, and by the time we made it to the finale, I couldn’t help but have high hopes. Even though I knew a relationship like theirs had seldom made it into mainstream media, and even fewer had resulted in happy endings, it just felt like the conditions for a Korrasami ending were perfect. As I watched the entire final scene, my heart just about beat out of my chest. As I watched Korra and Asami walk towards the future hand in hand, I hoped the scene would never end.

I remember staying seated on the uncomfortable folding chair in my room in disbelief for a few minutes. My misty eyes were the only sign that the overwhelming sense of joy and relief hadn’t set in yet.

Seeing Korrasami become canon on 12/19/14 felt like I had won the lottery. Fans around the world felt it too. The internet exploded with teary reaction videos and celebratory fanart. We laughed and cried and felt connected to each other in a way that I will never forget. 

@bryankonietzko and @michaeldantedimartino, thank you for making Korrasami a reality. It represents a chance at happiness that we all deserve and waited so long to see. It’s something that means so much to so many people, and I am proud to have a reminder of what this show means to me on me forever. 

[gardens-light]

Friends With Benefits

Trying to balance museum employee by day, vigilante by night, and squeezing in a social life in between hasn't been easy for Steven. Love life? That's pretty non-existent for the poor guy. Dates seem to go well, (when he hasn't forgotten, or got dates wrong) but once things gets steamy... Not so much...

Being a little hung up of being ghosted by his recent date. Steven decides to catch up with his long term friend. To see where he's going wrong and perhaps could help. Well... he got more than he bargained for...

Content- Just some cutesy fluff.

"Tell me everything!"

You placed your drink down upon the surface of the small cafe table. The loud grinding of the coffee beans, gave Steven the few moments hesitation before he spoke.

"Well... me and Amy met up for our third date, last week on Wednesday. We went to the Italian place that you suggested. The convocation was going great, there was a connection between us-"

"Was there a connection? Or was she being polite, while you bore the shit out of her with your rambles?"

"Hey!-"

"Dude! You thought that... um, what's her name?... Chrissy! Chrissy from three months ago. You thought you two had a 'connection.'"

Steven frowned, feeling offended. "Me and Amy did have a connection! We had similar interests and talked passionately about them."

You nodded in approval and gestured for him to continue, as you took a sip from your drink.

"She loved the flowers. I treated her to ice-cream. A-And..."

You were on the edge of your seat. Gazing at him with deeply invested gaze. "And!"

"And she suggested of watching a movie back at my place. So... during the short walk to mine, her hand kinda... didn't stop rubbing my ass-"

"Details man! Give me details! Did she squeeze you? Was it a playful spank?- Most importantly, did you want it?"

You couldn't help but smile, as Steven's face turned red as a beetroot.

"U-Um... yes! I liked her squeezing my ass. It was... firm but not a hard squeeze. When we got to the door to the lobby of my building... sh-she kissed me-which felt so good! But..."

"But what?"

"I panicked when she touched my crotch. So I gave her a quick peck... and said 'goodnight' closing the door behind me." Steven placed his face into his hands.

While you sat back in your chair, feeling defeated and disappointed for his date. "What? Steven!-"

"I-I know! I was such a fool! But she was so beautiful! And smart! And fun! I-I just... couldn't help but freeze and panic."

More like you wouldn't let me help. Marc hissed in Steven's head.

Steven frowned and muttered to himself, "what 'help' could you provide?"

Idiot! I was married! What did you think we did during that whole time? Play Monopoly?...

You took another sip from your drink, before placing it back on the table. "Oh gees man. No wonder why she ghosted you. Wait! Is that the recurring problem during your dates?."

Steven's silence and awkward smile explained everything. You leaned over the table, trying to get a little closer to him. Speaking loud enough just for both of you to hear. "Can you... y'know?"

Steven's cheeks turned even more red, "what? O-Of course I can!"

"Then what's the problem?"

A heavy sigh left him, as he leaned back in his chair. No longer smiling awkwardly, just playing with his fingers. "I... get nervous..."

More like you won't let me take over!.

"I feel like that if... I do have intimacy with someone..."

They'll enjoy it?

"That I could be too rough. And hurt them."

A sweet smile spread across your lips. "Aww, Steven. You're a complete softy. You couldn't hurt anyone, even if you wanted to."

Steven's worried gaze looked up at you. If only you knew otherwise... his sad thought wondered.

Seeing him stare off into space a little. You cleared your throat, snapping Steven back into focus, before he could get lost in his own thoughts.

"How about I help you out?"

Steven pulled a puzzled expression. "H-Help?... How?"

"Simple. We go on a pretend date and you fuck me." You boldly spoke.

His jaw met the floor. Blinking in multiple times in confusion. He even shook his head a little, to make sure he didn't daydreamed. "Wh-What? But you're my friend!"

You simply shrugged your shoulders, "yes and?..." A little sigh left you. "Steven... I can see you get a little more and more insecure, every time a chick ghosts you. You're a sweet guy, and my best friend. I don't want to keep seeing you getting hurt."

"Y/N! Really! W-We don't have to!-"

"Steven. Seriously, I don't mind it. I'm simply just being a good friend and helping you solve your problem. Unless... you don't want too."

He could feel his cheeks feel a little warm. "Well..." He rubbed the back of his neck, "I-It's just... you're my best friend, Y/N. What if it gets a little weird between us afterwards?... or... we ugh... become no longer friends?..."

A soft chuckle left your throat, as a sweet smile spread across your lips. "There's nothing to worry about. Your performance in bed can't be that bad. How about we meet up back here tonight?"

"T-Tonight?"

"Yeah. Y'know the pretend date, I just mentioned? We'll act like we've never met- kinda like we met on Tinder or something. Does six o'clock sound good for you?"

"Y-Yes! I'll be my normal self. Normal 'date Steven'. Not the 'best-friend-I've-almost-known-my-whole-life' Steven..."

Six O'clock. Jamie's Italian.

"Act like we never met. Act like we never met." Steven repeated constantly as he rocked on his heels. Holding a bouquet of your favourite flowers, while fumbling with his tie in another.

You gotta let me out tonight.

Steven turned to his right, facing his reflection in the window. Marc stood with his arms crossed in the glass.

"No. This isn't a normal date-"

Aren't you supposed to pretend it is? Besides what's the worst that could happen?-

"That I could lose my best friend forever because of your screw up. Like you've screwed up everything else in my life.-"

Or we could have such a great time. That the soulmate we've been looking for, as been in front of us the whole time.

"That would never happen- oh sweet Jesus."

The sight of you came into his view. Steven's jaw hung open a little as he gazed at your appearance in awe. A cute red cocktail dress, outlined every curve of your silhouette. The sweetheart neckline showed off your cleavage nicely. You felt Steven's eyes wonder up and down your frame, as you sweetly smiled.

"Steven, right? Thanks for waiting. Sorry I'm late." You spoke in a warm tone.

It took him a good solid minute to find his voice again, and hand you the bouquet. "Th-These are for you!" was all that could stumble out of his mouth.

"Thank you. You remembered." You tried to hide your smile behind the bouquet, as you personally found Steven's awkwardness amusing.

He continued to rock on his heels. Only stopping and becoming as stiff as a board, when you reached out for his hand and held it in a gentle hold.

"What's wrong? A little shy?-"

"You're so fucking hot."

A confused expression wiped away your teasing smile, taken completely by surprise of Steven's sudden boldness. He immediately slapped a hand over his mouth, feeling embarrassed and ashamed by Marc's sudden outburst of words.

Don't screw this up! I beg of you! Steven pleaded Marc. As he adjusted his tie and cleared his throat.

"Oh dear! Oh my! I-I don't know what came over me. I completely apologize! I-I mean... you look so beautiful..."

"Thank you?..."

It took you a moment to shake off the awkward and sudden complement from Steven. Before you allowed him to lead you into the restaurant. The waiter lead you to the table, the waiter pulled out your chair before the thought hit Steven. Tucking yourself in and with Steven following, the pair at you gazed over the menu in silence. Only talking when announcing your order and giving each other small smiles.

More moments of small talk and brief awkwardness passed, before things got better and an actual convocation was flowing between the pair of you. Topics varying from interests, work and career goals. To personal and lifestyle goals.

"I honestly didn't think I would find myself at the gift shop at a museum." Steven admitted. "I've always wanted to be a tour guide. Or work on the artifacts and display them."

"Really? I thought you just took the position cause you wanted a job." You spoke in interest. "I honestly thought your interest in Egyptian history was more of a hobby."

"Well... who else learns to read hieroglyphics?"

You raised an eyebrow, "you can read hieroglyphics?"

"Ye-Yes, is that-"

"Fascinating? Yes! I never knew that! Why didn't you ever tell me about this hidden talent?"

Steven felt himself a blush a little, "I-I thought it would bore you. Cause y'know... you sometimes say 'not to mention nerdy stuff.'"

"Yea. 'Nerdy stuff' like rambling on about forgotten Gods and how the mummies were made. But being able to read hieroglyphics? That's awesome! You, sir! Are way to qualified to work at that gift shop."

A sweet smile came to his face, "r-really? I've tried to tell that to my boss Sarah. But she keeps dismissing me. My application aren't even taken seriously whenever a new position comes up. And it frustrates me, when they hire someone new, who clearly Googled stuff on their phone before the interview.-"

"And bullshit on their resume? Babe, I've got someone exactly like that at my job. So I can completely understand where you're coming from."

Babe?... S-She called me 'babe.'

Your meals shortly arrived at your table. But you kept asking about other interests or hobbies that Steven may had, that you didn't know about.

Steven felt good- great in fact. The way everything flowed so effortlessly between the pair of you. Similar interests and goals surfacing through convocation, that you both honestly didn't know about one another. His warm and geeky smile fluttered your heart, every time you looked at him.

This... is actually more fun than I admit. An honest thought swam through your head. Maybe... we should do this again sometime...

After finishing your meal, and splitting the bill. You and Steven left the restaurant, sharing moments of laughter as you sub-constantly begun to walk back to his place. It wasn't unusual for you guys to head back to his place after meeting up, but reality dawned on Steven as he approached the lobby door.

"We're...here. At my place..."

You hugged him from behind. "Yeah. Guess we got carried away talking. Let's go inside, maybe you could warm me up."

You felt his body stiffen, as Steven's mind lingered on your last three words. Placing a hand upon his cheek you made him face you. "Steven... we don't have you to, if you don't want to."

"Trust me Y/N. I-I want to... Tonight has been so great. And I've been nothing but comfortable with you this whole time. It's just... I'm worried that I might ruin things."

You gazed into his puppy-dog eyes, "how could you ruin things?."

"I-I don't know... Just... worried. That's all..."

Pulling him closer to you. Steven held his breath as he felt your breasts push up against his chest, your free hand playing with his tie as you leaned in close. His lips quivered as both of your eyes closed, and fell into a sweet, soft kiss. You could feel his nerves through his body language. Each kiss returned was paused by a slight hesitation. His hands fixed on your hips, afraid to move anywhere else. While you played with his curly locks and tie.

As you pulled away, your hands sliding down his torso and gently holding onto his belt. A sweet smile upon your lips, as Steven smiled sheepishly while blushing.

"W-Would you like to come inside?" He nervously asked.

You answered with a simple nod. Following Steven into the lobby and walking towards the lift. As you stepped inside and he pressed the button for his floor. Steven went all stiff again, as he felt you hug his arm, your breasts gently nudging his forearm with gentle bounces, as the lift jolted from floor to floor.

"Y-You have to meet my fish, Gus" his nervous tone blurted.

The awkwardness made you laugh under your breath, "really?"

"Yeah. He's a Goldish, but has one fin. I know 'Nemo' might of been better, but he's not a Clownfish. Gotta name pets appropriately."

Again you simply nodded, and continued to smile sweetly.

By the time you both reached his flat, Steven was nothing but a bundle of nerves. His eyes wandered all over your perfectly framed form, as you walked around in your little red cocktail dress. His heartbeat drumming in his rib cage, every time you bent over his desk to get a closer look at something. His cheeks redden every time you caught him staring, but flashed him a teasing smile. As you hiked up your dress a little more, or pulling the bodice down to expose more cleavage.

For the love of Ra, she's fucking gorgeous!

Steven looked at Marc in the nearby reflection of the kettle. Y/N is right there! Flirting and being playful. And what are you doing? Standing in the middle of the kitchen like a fucking idoit!.

"She's always been gorgeous. Her lovely personality, and how she laughs. All I need is her smile to make my day-"

Then what's holding you back?

"Th-There's so much emotion and thoughts going around in my head. I-I honestly don't know what to do."

You slowly turned your attention onto Steven, as he didn't realize he spoke out loud.

Listen. We have always loved and cared about her. You were too nervous to say or do anything still now. If Y/N wasn't comfortable with this idea, she wouldn't of offered. Plus she's flirting and being teasing- literally!.

"B-But how is sex supposed to improve or change things?"

"Steven?... Are you alright?"

You're overthinking! That's it! I'm taking control!

"What? No! No, you're not!"

You pulled a puzzled expression. "Steven. It's alright. Nothing will happen unless you want it to."

"Everything will be ruined-"

Shut the fuck up! You look completely ridiculous! Let me out!

A small gasp left your mouth as Steven collapsed onto his knees, his head slightly tilted back as eyes rolled into the back of his head. You quickly approached his side and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"Steven! Steven, are you alright?"

His body posture straightened as he knelt against the hard wooden floor. His eyes fluttered open and slightly shaking his head. His gaze met your worried expression.

"I'm sorry" Marc spoke, trying his best to mimic Steven's voice. "I guess the alcohol went straight to my head.-"

"We don't have to do anything. I'll go home, there's nothing wrong in that-"

"Trust me. Letting you leave would be a deep regret. You're so lovely and ravishing right now, I honestly can't control myself. A... part of me, is so concerned that everything between us would be ruined. That it... 'overrides' the part of me that wants to just simply fuck you and make you mine. And I don't just mean tonight."

Again the sudden boldness' caught you off guard. You gazed at Marc, blinking in multiple times in confusion. He swivelled around on his knees to face you, making it easier for him to cup your face.

"May I kiss you?" Marc asked.

This time it was your turn to blush a little. As you nuzzled against his nose a little. "You said you wanted to make me yours right?" your sweet voice teased.

Marc gently pulled you a little closer. "If we start... I might not be able to control myself."

You sweetly bit his lower lip, "are you going to make me yours, or not Steven?"...

[jaehyunspeachparty]

daddy jaehyun

iv.liii. (m)

Valentine's day. So it was Jaehyun's birthday. But somehow that day was a little different. You still hadn't taken a pregnancy test. You two weren't ready, but you should be starting to find it out. Somehow you were scared of the answer. You were afraid of how you would react. Most of the time Jaehyun's birthday starts with cozy morning sex, but your nausea returned and you had to run to the bathroom immediately. Like every morning now, you vomit and afterwards you feel better. "Y/N ..." Jaehyun came into the bathroom and crouched down next to you. "Happy Birthday," you say and hold your forehead. You felt dizzy and your strength sank. Jaehyun just sighed and brushed your hair aside. "Let's do the test," he says, looking at you. "No, today is your birthday," you say and lean your head against the toilet seat. Jaehyun starts stroking your hair gently. "My wish is that you feel finally better and of course I'm a little afraid of the result, but then we will finally know what we can do for you." He sighed and you knew that at some point you had to know. "Should we really take the test on your birthday? The children have been looking forward to the day for so long. They made presents for you and I don't want you to worry either." You sigh because it was clearly not the ideal time. "What if we do it in the evening? After midnight, is my birthday over." He looked at you with wide eyes and you nodded. He was right, at some point you had to do it, just to know what to do to make you feel better. "Okay, that sounds like a plan." A slight smile slips over your lips and Jaehyun just took your hand to be with you.

"Happy Birthday Daddyyyyy!" Miga ran to her father when she was sitting at the breakfast table. She still had her pajamas on and her hair stood in all directions. Sunoh followed her like a dog and they both had a handmade card in their little hands. "Good morning", Jaehyun greeted his two oldest children and smiled. "Happy Birthday Daddy", Sunoh said very quietly and with his little arms he held out his birthday card to his father. "Is that for me?", Jaehyun asked and was glad that Sunoh came up to him. In the last few weeks his son has distanced himself greatly from him. He hardly wanted anything to do with Jaehyun anymore, just wanted to stay with you. And it almost moved him to tears that Sunoh showed him some love after all. "Yes!" Sunoh slid the card on his lap and grinned. You were relieved to see that because it worried you too when a child rejects a parent. "Many Thanks!" Jaehyun stroked his head and then kissed his cheek. "Now me." Miga got impatient and wanted to give her father a birthday card too. "That's really nice of you, my princess." Jaehyun also kissed her on the cheek and then looked at the cards. "Many Thanks." Jaehyun was really overwhelmed by all the love. Geon, who, like his twin brother, had always pulled up more, crawled to his father first and pulled himself up by the chair. He was curious and wanted to know what was happening. Of course, his mind didn't manage to realize that Jaehyun's birthday was just yet. But he already understood that there was a lot of joy here. And Geon was a happy boy and he wanted to be wherever there was joy. Jaehyun lifted him up and hugged him to his chest. "Do you wish me a Happy Birthday too?" He asked him and Geon started to giggle. Jaehyun kissed his little head and you look over and see all the happiness. The thought of whether you might be pregnant was still going through your head. Your heart started beating suddenly faster and you feel torn. Your family was so perfectly up-to-date and even if you love children, would another child destroy that peace? 

During the day you spent the day quietly at home. It was pretty cold and icy the last few days. But there was no snow and so you spend the day in your pajamas, watching Frozen and drinking hot cocoa. You are all sitting on the couch, the children on top of you two and from a certain moment Jaehyun looked over at you during the film. He looked so calm and relaxed. Sunoh was on his lap and Miga leaned against him. You could see that he was happy. You had to smile and you put your forehead on his. "That's nice," he said and you feel the tip of his nose on yours. "I think so too," you whisper and gently place your lip on his. You linger in a kiss until it got exciting in the film and Miga excitedly pulled on her father's shirt. The twins lay on top of you and slowly you got tired. You then slowly fall asleep with your babies because your body suddenly felt a surge of exhaustion again. When you woke up suddenly you were alone. It was already dark outside and you wonder how long you were asleep. You wanted to check on the children right away, because it was suddenly so quiet, but Jaehyun came down the stairs. "Hey, they kids are already asleep. Are you rested?" He asks you and grinned. "Yes. I don't know why I was suddenly so tired." You put your hand on your forehead and shake your head. Somehow you didn't like it all. Especially after you breastfeed, you never felt well. It felt like the twins were drinking all of your strength from your body. "Are you feeling better now?", Jaehyun then asked and pushed your hair back from your face. You nod and kiss him gently. "Is there still cake?" Jaehyun then looked at you and took your hand. "I was able to secure a piece from the children." The kids were crazy about the cake. It was a chocolate cake and they didn't want to eat anything else. "Perfect, then let's go." He took your hand and you go into the kitchen together. You prepare a plate for him and put the last piece of his birthday cake on it. You hand him the plate and then get your present for Jaehyun from a drawer. "For me?" He asked surprised when you gave him the gift. You nod and he grinned. "You don't have to give me anything, you know that." You two have decided not to invest so much energy in your gifts and try more to spend time together. "I know, but it has emotional value." You smile and Jaehyun got curious. Jaehyun unwrapped the present and he then had a photo album in his hands. "That you don't miss anything. All the noteworthy moments that I experienced with the children." You smile softly and Jaehyun looked at you in disbelief. It was one of the nicest gifts you could give him. He had been feeling bad for weeks and just wanted to see the children. So he could see a few more experiences. "Do you like it?" You ask him, because you wonder why he said nothing. "Thanks ..." he breathed and suddenly put the album aside. His hands ran up to the back of your head and he hugged you. His lips felt so good when they touched you and you could feel how much love he was carrying right now. Your kiss was so passionate, so intense. You were finally the two of you again and next to Jaehyun's birthday it was also Valentine's Day. His hands were still behind your head, but his thumbs were on your cheek. He gently pushed you towards the dining table until your bum reached the edge of the table. Jaehyun pressed you against it until he realized that you couldn't go any further and lifted you onto the table. He loved to fuck you on the table because it was the perfect height for him. He also loved the sight when your upper body was on the flat and he saw your breasts jiggling at his pace. When he pull your dress over your thighs, touched the inside of it, he started to get hard. You pull his shirt up and stroke the contours of his abs. God, how could he hold that shape? He still looked as good as the first time you met. You put off clothes for clothes. In between you interrupt the action to kiss each other. And when you put your hand on his belt buckle, it started to get really hot. You open them and open his pants. At that moment you notice that everything was getting very tight for him. And in Jaehyun's eyes you could see that it was a great relief for him when he was now naked. Your arms were around his neck and you long for his lips. You push yourself closer to him and since your bodies were so close, you can already feel his hard tip pressing against your thigh. Then he loosened your hands and pushed you down on the table. He put his palms on your knees and pushes your legs apart. You were as horny and wet as you haven't been in a long time. Everything in you contracted and it got even more intense as Jaehyun put his length on your wet clit and rode up and down. You start to moan and Jaehyun couldn't hold back his grunt either. At some point everything was so wet that it was easy for him to penetrate you. And when he was inside you, he paused for a moment, threw his head back and grabbed your legs. But as soon as his eyes were on you again he started to fuck you. And you didn't know what was different, but it felt so incredibly good. The sex was suddenly so intense, as if you were somehow feeling more. And then he hit a certain point. "Oh God! YES! Right here!" You're almost screaming because it was so intense. Jaehyun grabbed your hips and got faster. It didn't take long before your body began to vibrate and twitch. You moan and Jaehyun ran his hand over your breasts and massaged them. He was already in a state that he could hardly control. And with the next movements he grunted louder and cum inside you. Jaehyun was out of breath and he propped his arms on the table. Drops of sweat rolled over his whole body and at some point you sit up too. "Wow, I think I haven't climaxed you so fast in a long time," said Jaehyun proudly and you have to laugh. "What you did was definitely very good." You grin and kiss him gently. "I love you," he said suddenly, quite seriously, stroking your hair. "I love you too," you say and lean against his bare chest.

"That was perfect," said Jaehyun, breathing deeply in and out. You had finished your second round on the kitchen floor and you are now lying naked next to each other. "Yes ..." you turn on your side and smile. Your fingertips touch each other and you can feel the warmth of the underfloor heating, it was all just so beautiful and perfect when suddenly the nausea came up again. Jaehyun already knew that face on you and immediately sat up again. "Is it starting again?" He asked softly and you nod. You got up as fast as you could, ran to the sink, and threw up. Jaehyun brought you a blanket from the living room and puts it over your naked body. You start to tremble and Jaehyun held you tight. "You have to take the test now. I can't look at it for a second." He held you tight and hugged you. Of course he was worried, but you weren't ready yet. "It's not midnight yet." You start crying and you knew you couldn't avoid the test. You were so afraid of the outcome, you were afraid of what you would think if it were positive. You couldn't have a child anymore, it was already difficult for you. How should it be with another newborn? "Y/N, I had an amazing birthday. We had such a great day and I was able to enjoy the time with the kids and you. Whatever the outcome is, it has nothing to do with my birthday." His gaze was serious and you knew that there was no longer an excuse. "Okay ..." you say and nod. It all seemed so confusing to you. Jaehyun kissed you gently and then quickly ran into the bedroom to get the pregnancy test. It felt like forever that Jaehyun was gone. You're sitting in the blanket and you didn't know what to think. You were scared of the future and you wish for the first time in your life that you weren't pregnant. You feel incredibly bad for thinking that way. All you wished for was a family and now you didn't want another child to come. "I have it." Jaehyun came down the stairs and was very calm. He had the packaging firmly in his hand and somehow he looked nervous. Then he helped you up and you go together into the large bathroom that was right next to Mia's room. It was the same bathroom in which you gave birth to the twins. Jaehyun sits down on the toilet because you were still shaky on your feet. He unpacked the pregnancy test and removed the cap. Then he passed it to you and you take the test quickly. You pee on the strip and put the cap on. "Now we have to wait," you say and Jaehyun took the test from you and put it aside so that you wouldn't see it right away. "Come over." He sat down with you on the floor and put his arm around you. "I'm so scared and I feel so bad about it." You start to cry. How could you think like that? You always wanted children, you shouldn't think that way. "No matter what, we'll find a solution." Jaehyun was nervous too and he pushed you closer to him. You can feel his heart beating fast. It just wasn't a good time. In a few years, if Sunoh, maybe the twins were already going to school, then maybe another child would have been a topic again. But now? Sunoh was still so little, the twins were still babies. "The time is up," said Jaehyun then and stood up. You have to swallow and nod. Jaehyun took the test and gave it to you. And there was the result.

daddy jaehyun masterlist

[hslllot]

Part I. Draft Day

fic masterlist | rated: m, mature | word count: 4.6k content/warning: hockey harry, nosey family members, a very brief mention of anxiety, overzealous hockey stans. 

DRAFT REPORT: The 411 on Harry Styles by John Michaelson for Sportsnet

There’s this kid named Harry Styles. He plays hockey. Ever heard of him? 

At this point there’s not much else to be said about the british Fighting Hawks’ centre, a lock to be the No.1 pick in the 2015 NHL Draft. 

Dubbed a generational talent, Styles’ abilities are at a level typically only seen in video games. We all know the Edmonton Oilers will select him with the first overall pick on June 26. In years to come, hockey fans from around the globe (but especially Oilers fans) will be on the edge of their seats, watching to see if the phenom can develop into a future Hockey Hall of Fame talent the way Wayne Gretzky and Mario Lemieux did. 

Here’s what you need to know about Harry Styles: 

Age on June 26: 19 Birthplace: Redditch, Worcestershire, England Current team: University of North Dakota Fighting Hawks  Position: Centre Shoots: Left Height: 6-foot Weight: 190 lbs NHL Central Scouting Rank (North American): 1st

Harry Styles is a franchise-changing player in every sense of the word. He looked like a pro player even before he flew across the pond at a young age to play in the Canadian Hockey League. This has been a long time coming but the future is finally here.

He is talented beyond his years and always has been… Styles has played against older competition his entire career. Growing up in the small village of Holmes Chapel in Cheshire, England, the options for minor hockey teams were limited. Styles struggled to find a team in his age group that matched his talent level and was forced to play with older kids - and even then his talent was unmatched. Like the two other players from the UK currently playing in the NHL, Styles eventually had to leave home and play junior hockey in Canada, where he still had to play up a year against Canadian kids that grew up in a country that eats, sleeps, and breathes the game. 

He should have been drafted 1st overall last year… Styles shocked the hockey world in 2013 when, instead of declaring for the 2014 NHL Draft, he announced he would be attending the University of North Dakota and lead the Fighting Hawks to an NCAA Championship. Styles, ever the media-trained athlete, dodged questions about why he chose to go to university for a year before joining the NHL, simply stating “University was always a part of the plan, no matter what happened with hockey.” The hockey community let out a collective sigh of relief when his agent, Jeffrey Azoff (whose father was, coincidentally, Wayne Gretzky’s agent), announced shortly after his championship win that after one year at UND, Styles would be declaring for the 2015 Draft. 

His trophy case is full... Harry Styles has won pretty much every individual hockey award he could possibly win in his career so far. During his CHL career with the Vancouver Giants he won Rookie of the Year, multiple MVP awards, the award for most goals, assists, and overall points, and scholastic player of the year. During his short-lived NCAA career with UND, he won Rookie of the Year, the Hobey Baker Award as the top men’s hockey player, and was named to the Academic All-American team. Unfortunately, Great Britain’s ice hockey team will not be qualifying for the Olympics or the World Championships any time soon, so unless Styles applies for Canadian citizenship, international trophies and medals will be difficult to come by. Regardless, I have a feeling that there will be many Stanley Cups in his future. 

He really hates underperforming… The kid puts a lot of pressure on himself. As we have seen with many successful athletes, an insatiable inner drive to compete can lead to greatness. Styles has that drive to be great and can be his own worst critic. “When I was growing up, my mum was worried about me because I was a bit of a perfectionist.” Styles told The Hockey News back in December. “When I had a bad game, I would get so upset about it. It’s just how I am and how I think every athlete should be. Good is never enough. It’s important to always keep learning and growing to better yourself.”

He is excited to play for the Oilers… Not that he would have anything bad to say about any of the 30 NHL teams, but the Oilers do hold a special place in Styles’ heart. “It’s a great hockey town with fans that are super passionate about the game.” He told The Hockey News. “They’ve been on a bit of a slide the last couple years but the team has a great history. Not many people watch the NHL where I’m from, but my dad was always interested in it and that’s how I got into the game. He was an Oilers fan during their dynasty years with Gretzky and Messier… So if they do end up drafting me first overall, I’ll feel honored to be a part of the team, and it’ll be a nice tribute to my dad.” 

Be sure to catch our live 2015 NHL Draft coverage on June 26 starting at 5pm EST/2pm PT only on Sportsnet.

“With the first overall pick in the 2015 NHL Entry Draft the Edmonton Oilers are proud to select, from Holmes Chapel in England, Harry Styles.”

The room erupted in loud cheers and applause as the Edmonton Oilers drafted the National Hockey League’s newest and most sought after commodity. 

Y/N’s closest friends and extended family roamed around her parents’ living room, congratulating one another with hugs and handshakes like one of their own family members was just drafted. That wasn’t the case though, they were all just deeply invested in the hockey team and the boy from England that was meant to turn things around after so many years of losing. They were so invested, in fact, that the family organized a gathering similar to something you might see on a holiday, like Thanksgiving or Christmas.

While it was not a normal holiday, for Y/N’s family it was just as significant. It was Draft Day. And every hockey fan in North America wanted Harry Styles to play for their team.

“That’s quite the suit, isn’t it?” Her uncle Will pointed to the television where the young man is dressed in an ornate red floral suit and black dress shirt. The suit was flashier than what most hockey players would wear, but it’s clear that Harry Styles is not like most hockey players. The camera panned to him as he stood up from his seat and hugged the two brunette women sitting next to him. He stuck out like a sore thumb among a sea of other young hockey players all dressed in variations of black and grey as they patiently waited to be drafted from the stands of the BB&T Centre in Florida. It was clear to Y/N that, much like his hockey skills, Harry Styles’ fashion sense was superior compared to his peers.

There was an air of excitement in the room as the draft party, all clad in blue and orange jerseys, watched the generational talent walk down the stairs of the arena and make his way to the stage. They collectively held their breath, the room becoming silent, when he arrived at the stage where both the owner and general manager of the team were waiting to greet him. Harry shook their hands before they handed him his own blue and orange jersey. As he slipped the jersey over his head and posed for a photograph with the executives, the silence in the room broke and excited conversations and speculations for the upcoming season continued. Y/N couldn’t help but feel a stir in her belly and a sense of anticipation for what the upcoming hockey season would bring. 

Her thoughts lingered on the man on the screen, wondering what it might be like to meet him, when her brother pulled her out of her reverie. “Can you believe you’ll be working with the Harry Styles?” 

No - she couldn’t quite believe it. 

In fact, everything happening in her life right now seemed a bit too good to be true.

Set to start her third year of university in September and having to complete mandatory practicum hours in order to graduate the following year, she somehow managed to secure a placement with her favourite hockey team. The Oilers were only taking three students from the university program and everyone in the program wanted one of those spots. 

The application process was incredibly stressful for Y/N. One telephone interview, one in-person interview, and a practical session where she had to demonstrate her athletic therapy skills to the team’s head trainer. She did well with the phone interview, given that they weren’t able to see her. She was able to look down at the talking points she wrote in her notebook and pause to take a couple deep breaths without making it obvious that she was reeling on the inside. Her anxiety got the best of her during the in-person interview though, freezing up when they asked simple questions like “why do you want to work for the team?” and “what experience do you have working with sport teams?”

She left the interview feeling embarrassed, but instead of taking the time to wallow and feel sorry for herself, she went home and spent hours upon hours taping her brothers’ ankles in preparation for the practical session the following day. There was no way she was going to let the opportunity fall through the cracks. Her dream of working for the Oilers was the whole reason she decided to go to school for athletic therapy in the first place. She was never any good at playing hockey but she knew in her heart that, someday, she would work for the team she loved so much. At the end of it all, she reckons her taping skills saved her, so she took her brother out to his favourite restaurant to thank him for letting her use his ankles for practice.

Fast forward a few months and she’s now stood in her parents living room thinking about how in three months she could be taping Harry Styles’ ankles.  

At the time of her application, no one knew the Oilers would be picking first in the draft. The aura around the team was a bit negative at the time (because of all the losing) and there were rumours circulating the city that some of the star players were rude to the support staff and liked to party a little too hard at The Ranch (which contributed to said losing). 

When she first decided to apply for the position her father warned her, “there’s a saying that you should never meet your heroes. What if they’re all a bunch of assholes and you end up hating the team you’ve loved your whole life?” 

Y/N ignored her father’s warning but silently hoped that others would feel that way, narrowing down the applicant pool. However, the rumours circulating the team had no effect on the amount of students applying for the job. The fans were loyal in Edmonton (a city not known by many around the world unless you follow hockey or are compelled to visit North America’s largest shopping mall) and although the team was losing, every kid studying athletic therapy wanted a shot with their favourite team. Y/N knew of at least fifteen students that she beat out for the position. 

Now, it’s late June and there is a general hype surrounding the team, as if Harry was about to come in and shine a light on the Decade of Darkness (a term Oilers fans use to characterize the recent years in which their favourite team hadn’t made the playoffs). That’s a lot of pressure to put on one person, but Y/N supposed that he’s been dealing with this kind of pressure since he was sixteen, maybe even younger. 

Everyone at her family’s draft party was, yet again, watching the television intently while Harry gave his first interview as an official member of the Edmonton Oilers hockey team. While Y/N normally loved watching these types of interviews, she was a bit zoned out- mesmerized by the look of him. The suit, the wavy chestnut hair, the dimple in his left cheek, the accent. The accent. She had never really been that attracted to hockey players, which many people found hard to believe given that she’s such a fan of the sport. All of the guys from her high school who played minor hockey were rotten and thought they were better than everyone else. She did have favourite players in the NHL, players that she loved and admired, but they were her favourites because she loves how they play the game, not because she wants to fuck them. 

There was something different about Harry Styles though. Not necessarily that she wanted to fuck him (especially since she recently signed an employment contract that would forbid it), but she was certainly feeling intrigued by him. He doesn’t look like the boys she went to high school with. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s British, or that he opted for a suit that set him apart from the rest of them, or maybe it was the duality of the way he held himself with unshakeable confidence in his floral suit, his gaze set intensely on the person interviewing him, posture strong and dominant, while simultaneously speaking so softly, his words laced with kindness and gratitude.

“When do you start working with the team, Y/N?” Her uncle Will asked from across the room, prompting everyone to look in her direction waiting for her response. 

The news that Y/N would be working for the Oilers this season shook the family. As soon as her dad shared the news with his brother, she started receiving messages expressing congratulations from her many aunts, uncles, and cousins, shortly followed by messages asking if she would be getting free tickets to games. 

“Um, mid-September, for training camp.” 

“You get to meet Harry Styles?” her 9 year old cousin, Billy, asked. 

“I do. I will be one of the team’s trainers.” The young boy held a look of wonder on his face, as if realizing for the first time that that his oldest cousin was actually kind of cool. 

“Do you think he’s single?” Her aunt Maria asked with a smirk on her face, turning to the television to look at Harry Styles. Aunt Maria doesn’t care much for hockey but she never failed to mention which players she believed to be handsome. She was also the nosey type of aunt that liked to inquire about Y/N’s dating life. “Maybe you two will hit it off.”

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes at her aunt, waving off her comment. But before she could retort, her father chimed in. “Ha! Yea, right! That’s not going to happen. She’s not allowed to date anyone on the team, it’s the rules. Plus, Y/N knows better than to get involved with any of these guys.” 

Her father was right. It is the rules. Y/N thought back to when she went into the Oilers headquarters back in April to sign her employment contract. She asked a lot of questions, making sure she understood everything about the document she was signing. 

“Personal relationships? Even friendships are forbidden?” she asked the head trainer, TJ, for clarification. 

“It depends. You can be friendly, sure, but I would avoid spending time with the players outside of training and game times. Could be seen as unprofessional.”  

Y/N understood why such rules were in place, and she had no issue with it at the time. A woman securing a position on a professional sports team was rare, let alone a woman securing a position with a professional men’s team. She knew when she chose this career path that it would always be an uphill battle and that she’d have to work harder and be more strategic than the men in her field. She wanted- no, needed to excel and prove that she could be a talented athletic therapist and a valuable member of the team, so she had no intention whatsoever of messing that up with any type of personal relationships. She also understood the power dynamic between the professional athletes and the support staff, the different ways in which power can be abused, and how personal relationships could complicate things. It all made sense to her. Plus, she was happy enough with just becoming friends with the other trainers and she probably wouldn’t have a lot of free time, anyways, balancing her practicum and her school work.

Today, however, she couldn’t help the very slight pull on her heartstrings at the thought of not getting to know Harry Styles on a more personal level. 

As if he’d even be interested in the first place.

In a hotel restaurant in Sunrise, Florida, a few hours after the draft, Harry Styles sat with his mother Anne, sister Gemma, and agent Jeff, celebrating his newly drafted status over a bottle of champagne. He knew he should be feeling elated, like it was the best day of his life, but all he felt was exhausted. The conversation at the table happened around him while he sat in his own head, unable to think about anything but what it might feel like to be tucked into his bed in his childhood bedroom in Holmes Chapel. 

The weeks leading up to the draft were an absolute circus filled with interviews and talking to the media nearly every day (he hates talking to the media), shooting promo for all of his endorsements (he’s thankful for the money they give him but he knows he is an excruciatingly terrible actor), and flying around North America to visit all of the potential cities where he might be drafted (it was a pointless tour because everyone knew where he was going to end up). 

He had only tonight to celebrate with his family before it was all set to start again. Him and Jeff will fly off to Edmonton tomorrow morning for a week to speak to the media there, meet the teammate he’ll be living with, and do a surprise skating session with some kids at a summer camp. Meanwhile, his mum and sister will fly back to England.

“Any idea where you’ll live then?” Anne asked her son, pulling him out of his thoughts and back into the conversation. 

“Hm?” He hadn’t a clue what his mum just asked him but he’d hate to admit that rather than listening to anything the three of them had been talking about for the last hour he’d been thinking about how he’d rather be sleeping “Sorry, I think the champagne’s got to me a bit.” 

“The team’s got him living with one of his older teammates and his family.” Jeff stepped in, knowing Harry wasn’t fully paying attention. “They do this with the young guys to get them used to living on their own. Teach ‘em how to cook, do laundry, and keep ‘em in line. He won’t be partying every night and bringing girls back to his place if he lives with the guy’s wife and kids.” 

“Oh please,” Gemma chimed in. “Not like any of that would be an issue for Harry. He’s been away from home for years. And he’s hardly got time for partying and dating.” 

Harry shot Jeff a look warning him to keep his mouth shut. When Harry found out about the living arrangements the team had planned for him, he was less than pleased. After all, he’d just spent the last year living in a dorm room at the University of North Dakota where he had complete freedom. Gemma was right, he didn’t have much time for partying and dating. But he liked having his own space, and he really liked being able to invite someone over after a game, either to celebrate a win or relieve some stress after a loss. 

“You never know, some of these young guys get their first big pay cheque and a taste of the big leagues and it can go off the rails pretty fast.”

“I like to think I raised my baby to know better than to get caught up in a pay cheque.” Anne placed a comforting hand on her son’s shoulder and he quickly reciprocated, reaching up to place his hand over hers.  

Not liking where this conversation was going, Harry finally cut in. “You did. And Jeffrey, you know I’m not that kinda guy. Either way, none of this matters if I don’t make it past training camp. For all we know I could be going back to the juniors for the season.”

“Doesn’t matter who you are or what kinda guy you are, H, it’s just what the team does. It’s tradition. And c’mon, I know you like to keep your expectations in check, but the team’s made it pretty clear that you’re gonna be in the starting lineup come October.” 

Jeff was right. The team had all but promised that he would make it past training camp. The question wasn’t if he’d make it past training camp, but in what shape he’d be in and how long it would take for the team to start winning games.  

“The coach said I’m small and need to bulk up, especially since I’ll be playing against older, more experienced men.” Harry could feel the weight of his mum’s gaze as she gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I’m not quite where I need to be yet, but I’ll get there.”

Harry and his family were stood in the hotel lobby with Jeff, convening on plans for the morning when he felt a small tug on the hem of his red floral suit jacket. He spun himself around, ready to confront the individual bold enough to touch him without his consent, to find a young girl, no older than five years old staring up at him. 

Harry looked at her, a bit taken aback and undoubtedly with a bit of confusion written on his face, and then spotted, a few feet behind her, two individuals who were most likely her parents. Suddenly, he realized that he may have actually had a few too many glasses of champagne and immediately tried to compose himself, standing straighter and trying to will away the exhaustion in his eyes and the haziness in his mind. 

“Oh - um, hello there.” He cleared his throat before using the soft voice he reserves for adorable, small children like the one stood before him. 

“Are you Harry Styles?” She asked with wide eyes and a small, timid voice.

“I am, sweetheart. What can I do for you?” 

A bright smile etched itself onto her face. But instead of answering him, she looked back at the adults standing behind her, motioning for them to help as she was too shy to proceed on her own. The man, who Harry presumed was her father, moved to stand beside her. 

“This is Millie. She wanted to say hi to you because she’s a big fan of yours.” 

Harry lowered himself in front of the young girl so that he was crouched down and eye-level with her. “Hi Millie, it’s a real pleasure to meet you.” He reached out to shake the young girl’s small hand. “Have you got anything that I could sign? Or I suppose we could take a photo if you’d like?” 

The young girl removed her hand from Harry’s, nodding her head eagerly. She began to unzip her jacket, revealing a bright orange Edmonton Oilers jersey underneath. 

“Oh? Look at that! You’re an Oilers fan. In Florida?” Harry lifted himself from his crouched position and directed his question toward at the girl’s father.

“Yes, well, we actually travelled here from Edmonton, to watch the draft in person.” Harry raised his eyebrows in shock. He knew that the flight from Edmonton to Florida is long, and likely expensive. The tickets to attend the draft live probably weren’t cheap either. “It’s not every day your favourite team picks first overall! Let alone gets to pick a player like you. We were so excited so we decided to make a family trip out of it. Turn around, Millie, show him the back!” Millie’s father handed Harry a sharpie as Millie turned her back to Harry. 

It was at that moment that Harry started to understand the weight of the moment. The name ‘STYLES’ was embroidered on the back of Millie’s Oilers jersey, above the number ‘15’ indicating his draft year. He was speechless. This was, after all, the first time he was seeing his name in the classic Oilers’ orange and blue colours adorned on a fan’s back. 

The feeling was different from earlier at the draft when they presented him with his own jersey. This one belonged to someone else. Someone bought his jersey before he’d even ever played a single minute for the team. They flew across the continent, from Edmonton to Florida, just to watch him get drafted. It was a lot for his hazy, champagne-diluted mind to take in.

Realizing he’d just been standing there staring at the jersey, he cleared his throat once again in hopes that he could hide the unknown thoughts and emotions he was trying to reconcile. “Wow, um, I didn’t realize you could get these already.”

Millie’s father laughed, “Man, they’ve been selling these in Edmonton since they announced we’d be picking first in the draft.” Again, the feeling was overwhelming for Harry. 

We’d be picking first in the draft.

To this family, and probably others in Edmonton, the Oilers were “we”. They win together, they lose together. If the Oilers pick first in the draft, they all pick first. It was their team. And now he, Harry, was a part of that “we”.

Harry reached down to sign the jersey on Millie’s back, quickly scribbling his autograph on the left side. As he straightened himself, he felt Anne move to stand beside him, apparently having sensed her son’s unease and unconscious need for his mother to join him in this moment.

“Hi, I’m Harry’s mum, Anne. Would you like me to take a picture of the four of you?” Millie’s father eagerly handed his phone to Anne and waved his wife over to be in the photo. Several photos of Harry and the family were taken, followed by a few of just Harry and Millie. 

“Would you mind if I took one of Harry and Millie on my phone as well?” Anne asked as she snapped the last photo. “This is the first time Harry’s met a fan wearing his name on an Oilers jersey. We’d like to remember it.” 

The family was more than happy to oblige so Anne took a few more photos on her phone, including one where Millie’s back was to the camera and the ‘STYLES’ name in full view. 

It was so like his mum to understand how special the moment was and to come in and save him. He couldn’t quite articulate what he was feeling in that moment, as understanding emotions and sentimentality were not his greatest strengths, and he most definitely never would have asked to take a photo to keep for himself had she not done it. 

The obvious feelings were joy and gratitude. Every day he was thankful to play the game he loved, to be successful, and to have fans that loved and supported him. It didn’t always make sense that complete strangers paid him so much attention just for playing a game, but he accepted it and always tried to show those strangers kindness in return. However, there was another feeling lingering, one that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Looking at his mum, he knew that she knew what it was. She always knew. And certainly she would make him talk about it later.

As they separated from the family and walked toward the hotel elevators, where Gemma and Jeff were waiting, Anne grabbed onto her son’s arm, holding him close as they walked side by side. 

“Do you see that they love you already, my darling?” She asked. Harry raised an eyebrow at his mum, unsure of what she was going on about. “I know you. I know that you care what people think and that you are scared to disappoint them. You just need to step out on the ice and be yourself. Just be Harry. They already love you and this is only just the beginning.”

WOW! OK. I know it’s a bit of a slow start, but I wanted this chapter to be more of an introduction to harry and the mc and to the fan culture that harry is about to experience!! I’ve already started on the next part so that should be up before Christmas! If you’ve made it this far, all I can say is that I love you and appreciate you. If you liked it, please let me know. I debated not posting this so many times (and I might even regret it later) so feedback will certainly ease my troubled mind!! I ALWAYS LOVE YOU, BUT ESPECIALLY TODAY!! xx Shan. 

Harry’s Draft Day Look

talk to me about generational | fic masterlist

[aceofspadegrass]

Hey hey!

Can you like make a fic about the cast (plus Mira's actress Riisa)

On a field trip to the hot springs ♨️??

Like just them chilling and chatting telling jokes nd stuff...maybe a bit of chaos sprinkle in there while they are in their cars with their car buddies

And the chaos still continues in the hot springs-

Characters: Kento Yamazaki, Dori Sakurada, Nijiro Murakami, Nobuaki Kaneko, Keita Machida, Tsuchiya Tao, Riisa Naka

Genre: Fluff. Just a little trip to the sauna. :D

1.1k words

Aaaand I finally got around to it! Huzzah! It's not the best, but I sure did try. Sorry I didn't put Riisa in more. :D

The bus rolls up to the street, the doors opening up. Sakurada and Yamazaki both board, greeting the bus driver before taking their seats, the others all waving and greeting the two.

“ Hi Yamazaki!” His friend Tsuchiya greeted as he took a seat next to her. Yamazaki greets her back, smiling. The bus shuts its door as it chugs forwards once more, Tsuchiya watching the outside begin to pass by. “ I’m excited for today, aren’t you?”

“ It’s just a spa day, right?”

Tsuchiya nods. “ Yeah, but they’re going to feed us-“

Yamazaki gives a soft laugh, Tsuchiya giggling a little. “ You’re more excited about the food rather than the hot spring waters.”

Tsuchiya nods again, happily patting her lap. “ It’ll be a good afternoon spent after a nice bath~” She leans against the back of the chair, absolutely vibing. Yamazaki just continues to smile and moves his attention to watching the others chat amongst each other. Sakurada was sitting next to Murakami at the moment, just across the lane from Yamazaki, Murakami excitedly talking about the shirt he was wearing, Sakurada also rather invested in the shirt. Yamazaki had to lean forward a little bit to see the smattering of cats all over the shirt over random splotches of paint. It was incredibly pretty, so he could see why the two were happy to take about it.

Yamazaki turns his attention to the seat right behind Sakurada and Murakami to Nobuaki. The man just had a seat to himself, earbuds likely in his ears as he bopped his head to music with his eyes shut. Yamazaki couldn’t tell what kind of music it could be, possibly his own music, maybe just some other music choices.

Maybe Barbie Girl. It was his life after all, and sometimes life requires a little silly song just because.

Yamazaki waves to Nobuaki anyways, even though it was likely the older gentleman didn’t even notice him waving back. It didn’t matter, he didn’t want to pull him out of his musical bop.

“ There’s just one more stop before we head to the hot springs.” Tsuchiya says, pulling her friend’s attention back to her. “ I hear we’re picking up Naka!”

“ Oh, really? She’s free today?” Tsuchiya nods excitedly. “ Yeah. They thought that we deserved more girls at the place, so….. We got Naka!”

“ Sounds great! How much longer though until we get to her?”

Tsuchiya goes silent, thinking. At that moment, a voice pipes up from behind them. “ It’ll be another 20 minutes to her, then an hour or so until we get to the spa.”

Yamazaki raises his head to look behind him with a grin, Machida waving with a grin. “ Hey!”

“ Hi Machida!”

“ How have you been?” Machida questioned, Yamazaki giving a nod and a thumbs up. “ That’d great! You look healthy.”

“ Thank you, you too!”

Machida’s smile somehow widens even further, Yamazaki sitting down and vibing as he listened to the others chat around him. Occasionally there was a a laugh somewhere in the bus, likely from a funny joke or quote. Tsuchiya didn’t let Yamazaki down with conversation either, the two getting into a light chat about funny dog videos the other has seen.

Well, the conversation spread to Sakurada, who got into it with Murakami, which led to the entire bus getting into a massive conversation about cute dogs. Yamazaki couldn’t help but laugh at how animated everyone got about dogs, some conversation slipping about the pet dogs a few of them owned.

The conversation lasted so long and deeply that they didn’t notice the bus stop, and the bus door his open until a new voice chimes in, everyone’s eyes shooting to the where the door was.

“ Man, am I missing all the fun? And about dogs no less?”

“ Oh, hello Naka!” Nobuaki chirps, waving from his seat. Naka smiles and waves back, walking down the aisle as Nobuaki scooted over so she could have a seat. The other were quick to greet her as well, and just as easily they went back into their conversation about dogs as if she had been there all along. There was laughter as the topic shifted into animals in general, then somehow into what everyone had been up to, each other having a turn to share. Nobody really had anything not to share, even if it was something minimal, the rest willing to somehow stretch it out to a few minutes of conversation.

The time passed by rather quickly, and at some point they ended up playing hand games as the bus chugged onwards to the hot springs as the sun slowly went downwards. At the moment it was a giant game where they went around the bus circle to try to remove everyone else’s fingers through aggressive rock scissors paper.

In the end, Tsuchiya wins, the girl cheering in her seat, Yamazaki clapping for her even though he had to face a bitter loss.

“ Good game! And would you look at that!” Riisa points out the window as the bus pulls into the lot. “ We’re here!”

The bus opens, and everyone files out, heading to the building with excited energy in the air. The staff greets them, and they all head out to their changing rooms so they could have a nice night in the spa areas.

It was truly nice, of course, Yamazaki sinking into the heated waters the moment he was able to, letting out a sigh of relief. The others apparently felt the same, all letting out their stresses.

Nobody talks for a few minutes, basking in the warmth of the water. Yamazaki shuts his eyes and takes a breath of the fog that enveloped the place, quiet chatter occurring between the older men. Nobuaki lets out a chuckle as he started going on about how he accidentally threw a drumstick under a chair and couldn’t find it for ages, although Yamazaki barely takes notice of the actual words as his body slips him into a pure bliss state of zero thought.

The next thing he knows, there is warm water poured over his neck and chest, and he shoots up a little in surprise, Murakami chuckling as Yamazaki opens his eyes and looks at the man, who was standing still waist deep in the spring.

“ Come on, it’s dinner time!” Murakami says, setting the cup down and carefully striding over to the edge, hoisting himself out and grabbing a towel to wrap his waist in as he made his way out. Yamazaki was quick to follow after, and soon they were back in the dressing rooms, outfits prepared for them already. They all get dressed and head to the large room where they would be given their food, all prepaid for them.

Yamazaki takes a seat by Sakurada and Murakami, everyone else still somewhere in post spa happiness. Not even a minute later their food gets brought out to them, everyone thanking for the meal before digging in.

[agapaic]

[19 days] sin city

this drabble is a gift to one of my dearest and biggest supporters, @geoviki​, who requested a bonus ‘second kiss’ continuation scene between he tian and guan shan in the ‘sweet tooth’ universe (a crazy rich asians-inspired fic), and i sincerely hope you enjoy it, viki! all my love, xxx

Guan Shan hasn’t set foot in God’s house since he was a kid. His mother goes every weekend when she doesn’t have a double shift, but he can’t bring himself to go with her. Too busy, too cynical. He knows he can’t struggle with his faith when he’s lost it; he doesn’t know if he ever found it. He knows without a doubt that he sins.

As it is, he isn’t burnt in the service, isn’t poisoned by the communion. He thinks that if anyone were to be dealt retribution then he wouldn’t be first in line. Singapore’s elite have bigger, dustier skeletons in their closets than Guan Shan, half-disintegrated with age.

He tells himself this through the readings and prayers and hymns he’s forgotten the words to, glances routinely through the stained-glass windows for a glimpse of an outside reality he can’t see. He can hear it: the rush of mid-morning traffic beyond the grassy verges of the church, neatly protected from the central business district by iron fencing and a half-acre of flower beds and rain trees.

Beneath the lip of the pew, where copies of the testaments, old and new, have been neatly placed and the firm, embroidered hassocks hang off metal hooks, He Tian squeezes Guan Shan’s hand.

‘Nearly done,’ he murmurs, while Father Joshua delivers his sermon on godliness in children and parental obedience.

Guan Shan's gaze slides to his. It’s one of the only things He Tian’s said the whole service.

‘You believe all this?’ he asks, whispering.

‘They do,’ He Tian replies, his lips barely moving.

Fans move lazily above them from the high steepled ceiling, their chains rattling over the din of the priest’s solemn tone. They don’t offer much: the inside of the church is still sticky with heat, and members of the congregation attempt to cool themselves with the service pamphlets or paperback copies of the Bible with broken spines and annotations in the margins.

From the seat in front of them, Guan Shan watches a bead of sweat slide down a woman’s neck, dampness collecting at the high laced collar of her Chanel dress. She has her own bamboo fan, painted with pretty avian sketches.

Guan Shan pulls his gaze away. ‘Which godly child are you?’ he asks He Tian quietly. ‘Absolom or Samuel?’

He Tian tries to hide a grin. ‘Destroyer of kingdoms or a monk?’ he questions, angling his head as if looking behind him. His breath is cool at Guan Shan’s ear. Guan Shan lets him lean close, breathing in sandalwood and khus oil. ‘Are those my only choices?’

Guan Shan sets his eyes forward. ‘Nothin’ else seems to be acceptable.’

‘Yes—they’re a stern lot.’

‘They should put their money where their mouth is.’

He Tian snorts quietly. He releases Guan Shan’s hand, and Guan Shan says nothing when his hand moves instead to rest innocently atop Guan Shan’s thigh.

‘He Tian…’ he starts to warn.

He Tian keeps his expression plain. ‘I told you if you came I’d make it worth your while.’

‘That’s not—’ Guan Shan bats his hand away. The gesture elicits a harsh smacking sound, and a few heads turn. Guan Shan presses his lips into a hard line. When eventually their attention shifts away again, Guan Shan hisses, ‘I’m not doin’ that.’

‘I thought you didn’t care much for His wrath,’ He Tian says, pointing discreetly upwards.

‘That’s got nothin’ to do with…’ Guan Shan breaks off. He Tian’s eyes are glittering. He’s joking with him. Guan Shan clenches his jaw. Murmuring, he says: ‘You shouldn’t mess with people like that.’

‘But you make it so much fun,’ He Tian whispers.

Guan Shan glares at him. He endures the rest of the sermon in stoic silence. Absolom, he thinks. He Tian, the destroyer of kingdoms—and young men’s hearts.

///

They linger outside after the sermon. The air is thick and charged with the aftermath of a morning thunderstorm, the ground wet with rain and the smell of petrichor. Guan Shan breathes in deeply, stepping back while He Tian greets strangers and allows middle-aged women to offer both cheeks for him to kiss, their husbands noticeably absent. They run their eyes over Guan Shan and the suit he’s going to make He Tian return by the end of the day, and He Tian politely evades their desire for introductions.

He knows everyone, Guan Shan realises, but it doesn’t surprise him. He’s seen the He family work a crowd at a party or a charity function. The lingering congregation of a Sunday mass is only another opportunity to schmooze and gossip.

‘Just another five minutes,’ He Tian murmurs at Guan Shan’s ear. ‘My father will have my hide if I don’t show my face for a decent length of time.’

‘How long’s that? By his standards?’

‘He’d have me go to brunch with someone’s mother and their daughter if he had his way.’

Guan Shan fingernails bite into his palms. The thought of He Tian being palmed off to some socialite’s offspring makes him bitter with jealousy. He’s seen He Tian only a few times since the charity function at the She estate, communicated with him mostly in veiled text messages and late night calls.

It’s been weeks since they’d shared the feeling of each other’s lips in a quiet room at the She mansion, weeks since they’d shared kueh with their legs dangling over the edge of a jetty across from Sentosa island. Most nights, Guan Shan still tastes both on his lips.

He’s got little stake to claim over the young heir of the He fortune, but he can’t help himself. He goes where He Tian asks him to, wears the suits He Tian buys him. Fuck, he’s started smoking his brand of cigarettes, too. And if He Tian wants to take him to church one Sunday morning so he has better company than a band of middle-aged women wanting him for themselves more than their daughters… Who is Guan Shan to say no after the first three times?

‘What are you thinking?’

Guan Shan blinks. Another church-goer has come and gone, and they’re alone. He Tian is watching him closely.

‘I want a cigarette,’ Guan Shan says. Technically, it’s not a lie.

He Tian snorts. ‘In the courtyard of our Lady of the Veil? Blasphemy, Mo Guan Shan.’

Guan Shan shrugs. He remembers their exchange at the threshold of the church, where two children no more than ten stood with a coin bowl held out, covered in pool-table green cloth and more cash than Guan Shan earns from a month’s tips.

‘I’m not a Catholic,’ he’d told He Tian, feeling strangely compelled to tell him with an even stranger degree of anxiety about the fact, as if it were a make-or-break moment for something they had that could neither be made nor broken.

He Tian had snorted then, too. ‘Don’t worry,’ he’d said, stepping through the doors, palming the children a few bills to line their pockets. ‘Neither am I.’

Now, Guan Shan watches as He Tian reaches into the lining of his suit jacket and pulls out a carton of cigarettes from the pocket. It’s too warm to stand outside in their Sunday best for long, and He Tian tugs Guan Shan over beneath the shade of an Indian-almond tree, its boughs offering some cool relief to a small section of the church courtyard.

Guan Shan watches He Tian light a cigarette between his lips, the flame close to his fingers. It catches; there’s a cherry red glow. Smoke blooms between them, and then He Tian plucks the cigarette from his lips and holds it out as if it’s a newly picked flower.

‘Here,’ he says. A moment passes, where Guan Shan doesn’t take it. ‘I thought you wanted it.’

‘I do, I just—’ Guan Shan can feel his cheeks starting to redden. He swallows. His throat has gone dry. He can hear the voices of men and women standing before the church. He knows some of them are watching, wondering, eager to know who his family is and where he’s come from and how he has captured He Tian’s attention with such painful, singular attentiveness.

‘You’re not—’ He Tian breaks off with a laugh. ‘You’re not worried that I’ve touched it, are you?’

Guan Shan looks away, and He Tian’s eyes widen.

‘Oh,’ he says. His smile grows wider. ‘Mo Guan Shan,’ he croons. ‘I didn’t know you were such a puritan. How proud He’d be.’

‘Shut up,’ Guan Shan mutters.

He Tian��s stance shifts, intrigued. ‘If I’d known it took an indirect kiss to make you blush, Man Upstairs be damned, I’d have put my mouth elsewhere a long time ago.’

‘Shut up.’

He Tian’s laughter is deep as he takes a drag of his cigarette. Some of the women are frowning at him. The hot breeze carries the smoke in their direction, and they waft it away with their fans and paper service pamphlets, rouged mouths pursing tightly. He smiles at them, all affable apologies, and they can’t begrudge him long.

‘They want you to fuck them,’ Guan Shan mutters.

He Tian’s eyes flick to his, and his smile grows indulgent. ‘I know,’ he says.

‘You’re not gonna do anythin’ about it?’

‘Like what?’

Guan Shan grits his teeth. ‘Like—tell them to fuck off?’

He Tian snorts. ‘They’re old friends of the family. And you forget they haven’t made me an offer, sweetheart.’

‘And if they did?’

He Tian considers him carefully. His playfulness begins to fade. ‘You’re jealous,’ he says. ‘Of them?’

‘They’d divorce their investment husbands if they knew they had a chance with you.’

He Tian taps cigarette ash to the ground. He looks away, squinting at the skyline, considering something, before taking a step forward.

‘Firstly,’ says He Tian, his voice low, ‘if they had a chance with me they’d know it. Secondly, there’d be no divorce or marriage to a man twenty years their junior because their reputations wouldn’t survive the scandal. And thirdly: what the fuck would I want with them when I have the prospect of a whole indirect kiss with you?’

Guan Shan glares at him. ‘Gimme that,’ he says, snatching the cigarette from He Tian’s fingers before putting it to his lips. He nearly chokes on the inhale, eyes watering, and smoke seeps from the corners of his mouth before he can control it the way he wants it to. There’s nothing attractive about it, but he catches He Tian watching him with an indulgent smile.

‘It’s been five minutes,’ He Tian says, taking a glance at his watch. ‘We can go now. I promised to buy you brunch. You’re still happy with Orchard Road?’

‘I’m not finished,’ Guan Shan says.

He Tian’s brows lift. ‘You can’t smoke and walk?’

‘I didn’t mean that.’

He Tian tilts his head. ‘Oh?’

‘I meant—it’s not really fair, is it? It’s always—always you kissin’ me, and shit.’

‘Always?’

‘Yeah, with the—distractin’ the guards at She Li’s house and with—’ He makes a vague gesture. ‘—the cigarette and—’

‘Guan Shan—’

‘—it’s only fair that I get to prove my own fuckin’ point too—’

‘Mo Guan Shan—’

‘So will you just shut up and let me kiss you?’

He Tian stares at him.

Then he swallows.

‘If you really want to,’ he starts, ‘I suppose I’m in no position to—mmphh!’

It isn’t tender or soft, and Guan Shan is vaguely aware of the cigarette burning to ash between his fingers. He lets it fall, hopes he’s ground it out beneath his foot properly and remembers to pick it up after or risk a fine, but first: this. His fingers tightly locked in the dark strands of He Tian’s hair; He Tian’s lips bruising against his own, the sharp gasps of the women loitering by the church doors.

It’s exactly as he remembers from last time. A crushing pressure, the sense of being caught unawares. No finesse. Guan Shan knows it could be slower, that they could take their time, a pilgrimage of vulnerability and one body learning another, but something possessive in him has taken over—this is a crusade.

He Tian’s answering kiss twists into a grin against Guan Shan’s mouth. Guan Shan swallows He Tian’s amusement down, finds the feel of He Tian’s smile against his lips unfairly alluring. He does his best to try and rid He Tian of it, crowding close until He Tian’s back hits the trunk of the almond tree and He Tian is groaning beneath the pressure of his lips. He tastes the acrid smoke of their shared cigarette and He Tian’s breath mints, feels the humid beat of the mid-morning sun—and He Tian’s hand pressing gently at his chest.

He pulls away, staggering and breathing hard. With satisfaction, he notes that He Tian is, too.

‘I think we’re even now,’ says He Tian, a slight rasp to his voice. His eyes are bright and he runs his thumbnail over his lower lip, which has gone swollen and red. ‘You’ve suitably convinced your audience.’

Guan Shan looks away. ‘Dunno what you’re talkin’ about.’

‘Oh?’ He Tian asks, amused. ‘That wasn’t you staking your claim?’

Guan Shan hesitates. Part of him can’t bear to look behind him. ‘Are you gonna be excommunicated?’

He Tian chuckles. ‘I’m sure I can find my way back in. Father Joshua is particularly fond of He Cheng’s hideously curvaceous Bugatti.’

‘Guess that’s somethin’,’ Guan Shan mutters.

In answer, He Tian sweeps a hand through the loose strands of Guan Shan’s red hair that have slipped down across his forehead. The touch is fond and familiar and makes Guan Shan swallow hard.

‘You know,’ says He Tian. ‘You can do that any time you want. Not just to prove a point.’

‘You haven’t,’ says Guan Shan, an accusation.

‘I didn’t want to scare you off. I realise last time I was a bit—’

‘Forceful?’

‘Abrupt,’ He Tian corrects delicately. ‘But still—I don’t want you to think you’re any less mine.’

Guan Shan looks at him. ‘Thought you couldn’t have anythin’ you wanted.’

‘Ah…’ He Tian drops his hand, leans back on the heels of his Louis Vitto’s. Almost boyishly, he says, ‘I thought it was a done deal. You and me.’

Guan Shan neither confirms or denies. Instead he asks, ‘Who’d you trade with to get that impression?’

He Tian nods his head upwards. ‘Did it work? I sold my soul for it. ’

‘And they still let you in?’

He Tian’s look is sinful. ‘They let the worst of us through.’

Guan Shan rolls his eyes. He wets his lips. ‘Well,’ he says. ‘I think you’re on a decent road to redemption.’

‘Is that your way of saying it was a worthwhile bargain?’ Tell me it worked.

‘Is that your way of askin’ if I’m yours?’ Guan Shan asks. All these riddles and metaphors—sometimes he has to bring them back to the ground, make sure they’re on the same page.

‘I—Yes.’

Guan Shan nods, then jerks his chin in a challenge. ‘Make me believe it and I might be.’

He Tian’s eyes flicker towards the church just for a moment, but then he smirks, reaffirming their closeness with one step. ‘Mo Guan Shan,’ he murmurs, angling his head down, ‘I thought you’d never ask.’

[nellie-elizabeth]

The Handmaid's Tale: Progress (4x09)

Wellllll.... shit.

Cons:

I've got to say, I'm just not thrilled with watching Janine have to play the part and get sucked back into the whole Gilead lifestyle thing. Poor Esther got caught up in it as well. This doesn't bode well for my continued enjoyment of the show, but I really must say that my attention starts to wander every time we're back in Gilead. I want all that juicy Canadian drama, please and thanks.

The scene where Luke says that June should go and meet Nick was... really weird? It was framed almost sinister, like Luke was blackmailing June into doing something she didn't want to do. And June was clearly very shaken by the thought of seeing Nick again, I get that, but it did feel weird that she wouldn't have brought it up herself.

Pros:

I was so mad when the episode ended and I learned that Fred Waterford was going to go free, in exchange for information on Gilead. So mad that my blood boiled. In other words, it was very effectively done. I like that we see Fred's growing frustrations as he realizes his fellow Commanders in Gilead have forsaken him. Then we just get the news dropped very casually, and Moira and Luke react with anger while June is seemingly pissed but mostly calm. Then she snaps, screaming about how Fred is a rapist. It was the perfect buildup and execution, and the idea of Fred walking around, free... it's chilling to contemplate. What's going to happen?

Also, despite the weirdness of the framing, I did greatly enjoy the whole concept of June going to Nick, of Luke bringing it up and saying that of course it's not what he wants, but it's what's best for Hannah. And Nick getting to see Nichole... gah. Honestly of course I'm a little mad at June for kissing Nick and just generally being uncommunicative with Luke about where she's at vis a vis their marriage... but at the same time, I feel like I'm not in a position to judge any of it. Luke and June just... don't really vibe well together, in my opinion. But also... Luke is doing his goddamn best and honestly he's a good person who doesn't deserve to be cheated on? But also... Nick doesn't deserve for any of this to be happening to him, either! I don't know, man!

The whole scene with Nick and June was just... lightness and joy and a happy family and June was smiling and cracking jokes... god, it hurt to see her like that, but in the very best possible way. I loved when Nick said he should have run away with her. And the fact that he was working on getting intel on Hannah hoping that some day he'd be able to get it to her? Gah. It's romance, y'all. I'm more deeply invested than maybe the show even wants me to be. I really don't know how this is all going to shake out!

While I felt way less enthused about the Gilead storyline in this one, I will say that June and Lawrence's phone call was a real shot in the arm. Commander Lawrence is complex and compelling to me in a way I think the writers want Serena to be complex and compelling to me. Both creators of a system that later damaged them greatly or whatever. But the writing makes a more convincing case for Commander Lawrence's humanity underneath all of it, and hearing him talk to June, giving her the information he could about Janine, advising her to be happy... man, they went through so much together, it's insane to think about. For the rest of their lives, even if they never speak again, they have this intrinsic connection.

That's true about so many of these characters. The depth of the trauma they've shared is inconceivable. We've only got the finale left and the season is over, and as I think of all that's happened, I feel exhilarated in some ways, and stymied in others. I want to know what happens, I want progress, I want Janine to be okay, I want June to recover, I want Fred to die, tbh. This show has done such a good job of keeping me on the edge of my seat, even when I don't always enjoy every development.

8/10

[shreddedparchment]

Pseudo Princess Pt.12

A Special Delivery

10/26/2019

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader         Word Count: 5,520

Warnings: talk of sex, angst, jealousy, violent images, language

A/N: I will come back and add tags after I eat. I’m hungry. And tags take forever. This one will answer a few of the questions I’ve been getting. The next one will answer more. I hope you like it. Let me know what you all think! I read EACH and EVERY comment. There have been a lot lately and I haven’t been able to respond to all of them but be aware that I see them. I read them. I love them. They mean so much. Thank you! If you happen to reblog, thanks for helping me spread my work.

Tags are CLOSED for this story!

Steve watches you lay there, face lacking its usual color, eyes shut to the world, mouth slightly open. His nerves frayed and his mind swirling with all of the possible things that might go wrong.

As Natasha fusses to get your dress open, she turns to him and your rescuer where he hovers also watching you with concern.

“Some privacy, your Majesties, if you please?” She gives Steve a stern look and he nods, eyes moving past her frown to your unconscious face.

“The doctor is on his way, Nat. Can you-?” Steve begins.

“As soon as he’s seen her, I will come find you.” She promises, a little exasperated. “Go, Steve. I’ll take care of her.”

“And her legs, and her…when you undress her, check her all over Nat, make sure she’s doesn’t have a single scratch.” Steve’s voice rises in pitch a little, frantic energy seeping through the calm he’s been trying to maintain.

“Steve,” Nat’s eyes soften as she pauses untying your dress. “I’ve got her. Alright? I’ll be thorough. Go.”

With a nod Steve turns, eyeing the King of Asgard up before he clears his throat to get his attention.

“Your Majesty?” Steve coaxes, voice back to normal, his calm façade a little better in place.

The King of Asgard sighs heavily, turning away from you without meeting Steve’s eyes and heads out into the dark empty hallway.

Steve follows. When he reaches the hallway, he pauses for a moment, just long enough to meet the thunder god’s eyes.

“Can we speak in my office?” Steve asks.

Thor gestures down the hall with one massive hand. “Lead the way, your Majesty.”

As the God smirks, Steve narrows his eyes a bit, trying to understand the sharp edge to his tone.

His office is not far. Just at the other end of the hall, connected to his separate quarters. He hasn’t been sleeping in it since you left him and has elected to sleep by your empty bed, sitting in that chair you like to sit in when you sew.

Of course, only Natasha and Peter have caught him in there. Bucky knows because he knows everything that Steve does, even while he’s been out helping Sam look for you.

The office is not tidy. His papers are scattered across his desk, but he has no idea what is on them or which ones are important. He’s had no time to pay them any mind.

Sure, he tried to get some work done, but every time he did your sobbing face popped back up in his mind and he found himself unable to get any work done.

He waits for Thor to follow him in, then shuts the door behind him. He moves to the fire and grabs a long iron rod to stoke the fire and bring back the warmth, his hands visibly shaking despite the composure he seems to have.

“I think I should thank you.” Steve begins. “Where did you find her? How long has she been with you?”

Thor scoffs.

Steve blinks, considering the reaction to his words then puts the poker back before turning to look at Thor. Brow furrowed, he stares at him, watching as the God’s hands tighten around the back of the chair in front of his desk.

He’s looking down at the seat but not really seeing it. He’s preoccupied, remembering something that’s clearly upset him while shaking his head, a bitter laugh on his lips.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I know that you don’t wish to speak of it, little bird, but I must ask. Did Steve force you?” You’re walking ahead of him, swinging your arms—so carefree, he almost hates to bring this up.

You stop, reaching down to feel the edge of his red cape which he’s ashamed to admit he’s grown fond of seeing you wrapped up in.

Your head tilts down to the ground and you kick a stone that flitters off towards another larger rock where it hits without moving it.

“No.” You sigh. “He didn’t force me but…I don’t know it all felt very—not like what happened the other night.”

He’s not ashamed for touching you…well, maybe a bit. You are his friend’s wife after all, but the idea of you not knowing the bliss that can come from sharing your body with someone. Especially someone you love?

Maybe he’s just a romantic—he misses Jane—but to him, there is nothing more sacred than the shared pleasure, that ethereal connection with someone you care deeply about.

“I’m sorry if I-” He begins, worried that he might have done something you had not wanted.

You hadn’t asked it of him though he could sense your curiosity, the wonder.

And you’re so perfect. So beautiful. How could he resist? His Jane so very far away unsure of her desire to commit. You already so invested in your marriage while Steve pushes you away.

If it had been him, he’d have loved you fiercely after quickly realizing just how wonderful you were. It only took him hours to see it. How can Steve not see it?

“You didn’t.” You assure him, turning to look at him but you don’t smile. You’re ashamed. Sad that you enjoyed yourself though you shouldn’t be. “But I shouldn’t have let you.”

You think for a moment, then smile at him and his heart skips a beat.

“It was only really hard the first two times. The first because it hurt. I’d never been with a man before and his Majesty wanted to get it over with, I think.” Your smile falters. “I’m not his M-”

You don’t seem to be able to say her name.

“I’m not her, so it must have been nauseating for him to be with me in that way. I thought maybe he did like me a little. He was so receptive.

“I was in a lot of pain that first time. That whole week. A part of the second but his Majesty was gentler. Kinder. At least in bed. He never stayed. I slept alone.”

The loneliness in your voice is shattering. It breaks his insides apart, guts him and spills his squiggly red innards.

“I’m grateful.” You tell him to his astonishment.

Your wind whips in the breeze, his red cape drawn more tightly around your body as you snuggle into it, relishing in the warmth it gives. It’s colder in these forests but soon the warmth of Broklin will return.

“When it stopped hurting, I stopped crying. His Majesty was always more bothered when I cried.

“I know that Steve may not be showing you his good qualities at the moment. He’s much more than the man you know. I know you don’t want to hear about her anymore but…Margaret and Steve shared a love like I have never seen.

“They knew each other in and out. My love for Jane can only compare so far. They were born in the same year. They shared the same friends. Same passions. They grew together, shaped each other, they were the closest that I have seen any pair to being one soul split between two bodies. Steve thought he would have her until the day he died.

“He never expected her to go first.” Thor licks his lips, watching as his words crush your heart.

He hates to do it to you, but for the sake of your marriage, you must hear it.

“I know that he loves her very much, Thor.” You nearly sob, looking away from him but he crosses the distance between you and takes your shoulders in hand.

“No, little bird. You don’t. There are many varieties of love and the love that Steve and Margaret shared is the rarest of all. She became a part of him and he of her. If she was troubled, he knew it without needing to ask. If he was injured, she felt it in her bones.” Thor explains. “I saw it for myself.”

You don’t want to hear but picturing them together now feels different. It doesn’t hurt as much. Not in the way it’s been hurting. Not like jealousy.

“Imagine someone ripping out a piece of what makes you the person you are, and you will know what Steve has been suffering. He is not himself little bird. That’s all I mean by this. He will come to his senses and he will bitterly regret the mistakes he’s made with you.

“He will be eager to make amends and right his wrongs. Steven Rogers is not a bad man.” Thor promises. “Only a broken one. I cannot say whether he will ever be whole again, perhaps you will be able to help him-”

“I don’t want to replace her.” You frown. “I’ve never wanted to do that. All I wanted was a chance to know him. I love him…I’ve seen him be himself before. I’ve seen him open up. But never with me. I want it to be with me, Thor.”

Thor squeezes your shoulders. “He will. I guarantee it.”

“He doesn’t even care that I’m gone.” You look down at his chest and he draws you in for a reassuring embrace.

“Trust me, little bird, anyone who has known you would miss you.”

“It’s not his fault, Thor.” You say, not hearing him. “I’m just…not enough. I’m not who I said I am. I’m no one. He deserves more.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Did I say something amusing?” Steve wonders confused by the King of Asgard’s rudeness.

He’s never done anything but be civil with him and his Kingdom. They’ve forged peace treaties and partnership in trade. Had he forgotten to renew one?

“You think you should thank me? For bringing her back?” Thor looks up at him, seeing through him, back from whatever memory he’d been lost in.

Steve doesn’t like it. He shifts uncomfortably then moves towards his desk.

“Yes. Thank you for keeping her safe.” Steve tells him.

“I did not do it for you.” Thor assures him. “Let me ask you something, Steven—”

For a moment, Steve’s heart feels lighter. Thor hasn’t called him that since they were boys together planning how they would each rule their kingdoms. Dreaming big and ready for the challenge. Steve had been more reluctant, but he’d grown to love the idea with Thor to understand the responsibilities that came with such a job.

“—do you suppose your new wife is happy?” Thor moves to sit down in the seat he’s been standing behind, leaning back with his legs spread open.

It’s an undignified pose but normal for him. Steve takes no offense. In fact, he sits down himself and leans back, relaxing for the first time in weeks.

“I…” Steve thinks fast. Your pretty face, tears streaking across the swell of your cheeks, lip trembling, sobs ripping through your throat all fill his mind again. “No. I don’t suppose she is.”

“She was a virgin when you took her.”

“Yes. I think so.” Steve nods.

“That wasn’t a question. I am telling you because she told me.” Thor lets that sink in.

Steve stares at his old friend, considering the hard set of his eyes, the tick of his jaw. Thor’s angry. This sets Steve on edge. It makes him defensive.

“She told me many things.” Thor continues. “And I gave her comfort. I think I should own up to that now. You see, your wife had no idea that laying with a man might be pleasurable. She assumed that it was always to be painful or unrewarding.

“In all the time I have known you, old friend, I have never suspected you to be as ungenerous as she made you seem.”

“I…” Steve begins, but Thor doesn’t let him finish.

“I will say my piece and then you may respond.” Thor orders and this makes Steve bristle.

Him? Being ordered in his own castle? In his own office?

“Thor-”

“I had her.” He states, a small shrug thrown Steve’s way. “Not completely. Just enough to show her what love might feel like.”

“You what?” Anger like he’s never known sets his blood to boil and Steve must remind himself that Thor is his friend. That laying a hand on him in this moment would bring about war. Seeing past the red haze is difficult.

“I couldn’t believe my ears when she laughed in my face and told me that sex hadn’t and shouldn’t feel good. She said she’d wait until you’re finished and then do as the doctors ordered to ensure she became pregnant. She told me that the pain finally stopped. That finally it didn’t hurt, and she was very happy, because it meant that you could bed her, and she would no longer cry.

“Did her crying upset you?” Steve watches him drag his plump lower lip through his teeth, glaring at the long-haired blonde, wishing he could rid himself of the urge to sink his dagger into his chest. “I’m surprised it took her so long to leave you.”

“Where do you get off-?”

“I said I would say my piece.” Thor says calmly, but his eyes flash bright blue and outside thunder crackles overhead as lightning flashes through the window.

Steve isn’t afraid of the thunder God, his glare seethes.

“She tried to speak up for you. She’s in love with you. I don’t know why. I haven’t seen it for myself, haven’t been here, but I can see the loneliness in her eyes. And for a night at least, I was able to relieve her of it.”

“How dare you touch-!” Steve cuts off his wild guttural threat, the black pit in his stomach seems to be expanding upwards into his chest. It drags him down to the deepest depths of hell and he hates that he made you suffer.

You tear him to shreds with your tears and all the pain he’s given you. He can never make it up to you. He can’t make it right. Now he hears that you’ve been…touched by someone else? A God? By Thor?!

Painful images of you caressing Thor’s cheeks and hair, running your hands over his muscles as he thrusts into you fill Steve’s mind.

Fury! He feels the most potent fury at the sight in his head.

“Does that make you angry? That I’ve tasted your Queen?” Thor asks, keeping his voice even and quiet. “She’s very sweet, Steve. Like peaches dipped in honey. She trembled with ecstasy and cried because she didn’t know it could feel so good.”

Steve is on his feet, fists clenched at his sides as he glares daggers at this traitor. This so-called friend.

The image in his mind changes, Thor's head between your legs as you throw your own back, hands fisting his hair as he grips your thighs.

No!

“I should have you taken to the dungeon and beheaded.” Steve growls, spitting angry, with eyes like the devil when his souls are due.

Thor doesn’t seem to take the threat seriously. He leans forward, elbows on his knees as he gets a good look into Steve’s eyes. He looks a little happy too. Like he’s enjoying Steve’s reaction.

“Why do you treat her so?” He asks, curious. “Is it because of Maggie?”

“Don’t.” Steve growls harder, voice cutting out as a surprised sob slips through. The anger fades from his face, replaced by shocked heartache at the mention of Maggie. “Don’t.”

“It has been nearly three years since you lost her. I know what you lost. I know that no one can replace what the two of you shared but it’s no longer just you. Someone else is living and breathing in this castle and she’s placed all of her hopes on you.” Thor gripes, real concern for his friend turning his voice soft.

“I know.” Steve whispers, fighting the sorrow in his chest as he sits back down.

“Do you?” Thor checks, eyebrows shooting up into his forehead.

Steve looks up at him and seems to have gotten some of his composure back.

“You have been so wrapped up in your grief that you’ve ignored the woman you’ve married. It is not her fault that you loved someone else first. It’s not her fault that you lost Maggie. But you’re punishing her as if it were.”

“I know it’s not…” Steve argues.

“Then why do you only see your own grievances? Why can you only see your own sorrow? Your wife is reaching out to you, to know you, and you will not let her.” Thor seems to get angrier as he speaks. Exasperation making him breathless as he moves to the edge of his seat.

He gestures at the doorway they’d just walked through, to you down the hall in your bedroom.

Steve knows that he means that you’re trying to touch his heart. He’s going to try and let you. He won’t run away from it anymore.

“She was uprooted from her life and brought here. She was given into your care and you’ve done nothing but show her that her life is not only valued at less than the memory of someone long gone, but that you don’t care whether she is happy in her new home. Your subjects can see that.

“Do you not hear the gossip that snakes its way through your kingdom? The Crazy Queen. Poor King Rogers. He had to marry King Stark’s mad daughter. He clearly doesn’t love her. Look at how he shuns her. Why can’t she just stay in her room where none of us must see her?

“Nobody wants her.” Thor finishes, slapping the harsh words without remorse. “Not even the King.”

“I do want her.” Steve argues, angry again, voice gruff. “I do. I just…”

“Do you hate her?”

“No.” Steve glares. “Of course, I don’t hate her. Would I have married her if I hated her?”

Yes. He would have. He hates to admit it. But he doesn’t hate you. You fill his thoughts now.

“Then what will you do if you lose this one too?” Thor asks, punching Steve in the gut with his words.

Steve slams his fist on the desk, hating the ache that strangles his heart. “No!”

Thor simply watches.

“I won’t lose her, Thor. I-I can’t.” Steve gets up and begins to pace, reaching up to wipe his face in frustration. “Where is that damn doctor? Why hasn’t Nat come?”

“You almost did lose her.” Thor nods, ignoring Steve’s sudden panic at his reminder that you’re lying in your bed unconscious. “And I don’t mean her injuries. You pushed her away so harshly that she ran away from you. Imagine what she must have felt to leave you, forgoing all care for her reputation and safety. If I hadn’t found her wandering in the woods, she might very well be dead right now. She wasn’t in the greatest condition when I found her. Sick. Hungry. Parched.”

Steve sits again and buries his face in his hands, gasping hard as the strife of worry finally catches up with him. He’s been holding it in since you went away, refusing to really feel it. To let others see it.

Pierce and Rumlow had come the closest.

“A little bit longer and you would have lost her just as you lost Margaret.” Thor says gently.

“I can’t.” Steve groans, hands sliding up into his hair to pull harshly. “I can’t lose her.”

“Then fix this.” Thor tells him, urging his old friend to do what’s right. “Fix this before she stops loving you. And if you think you can love her, even if it is only a little bit, don’t leave her in any doubt of it. I will not be the last man to show interest.”

Steve’s face contorts into a grimace, upset and angry but it almost seems like it’s directed at himself. He meets Thor’s eyes with that same agonized look on his face.

“Did you really…did you and she…?”

Thor is silent. It’s answer enough but Steve stares, wanting more details. Even though his eyes are pools of anguish because he knows that Thor didn’t lie about having tasted you, he wants to know how and for how long.

“Tell me.” Steve begs, almost afraid of what he might say.

How will he compare to a God? He’s already done such a horrible job at being your husband. He’s left your bed how many nights with you sobbing into your pillow? How many more where you just laid there without complaint?

“I don’t want to be indiscreet.” Thor hesitates.

“I think we’re well past that, Thor. Just…tell me.” Steve sighs. “Did you sleep with her?”

“No.” Thor assures him. “I thought about it.”

Steve glares at him but takes a shaky breath and nods. “Did you-”

“I touched her with my hands until she neared release. I attempted cunnilingus but, she stopped me when she came close. I don’t think it’s me she wanted touching her in such ways.” Thor says.

Steve has that urge to stab his friend again. He pushes through it, reminding himself that if he hadn’t been terrible to you then you would have never run out on him and you would have never met Thor and been placed in such an awkward position.

“Steve…” Thor begins, pulling Steve’s storm blue gaze back up to his.

When Thor is sure that he has his friend’s undivided attention, he speaks.

“I can see that you care about her. It isn’t just that she’s your wife that makes you want to stab me with your dagger.”

“How do you know that I-?” Steve asks, astonished that Thor knows Steve’s violent thoughts.

“Because it is what I would want to do if I learned that someone other than myself had touched the Lady Jane. I felt bad for her pain and I’d be lying if I said that your sweet wife is not tempting. She has a fighter’s spirit but the gentility of a true Queen. She has compassion which is difficult to find in the ruling class. If I did not love Jane as much as I do, and if she were not already your wife, I would take her as my own.” Thor confesses and it scares Steve.

Is Thor right? Will there be other suitors? Other men that will think it’s possible to steal you from him?

“Perhaps I still might?” Thor threatens.

Steve renews his glare, hating him if only because he’s done something that he hasn’t done himself.

He’s tasted you. Seen you happy beneath him. Given you pleasure when Steve has only given you pain.

“As I said before,” Thor insists. “If you love her, even just a small amount, you must tell her and tell her soon. Her patience is wearing thin with you Steve. She cannot wait for you forever. She might be your Queen until the day she dies but she doesn’t have to love you.”

Steve considers the possibility. You by his side until you’re both old and gray and you, with a string of lovers over a lifetime in a loveless marriage. He doesn’t like the idea of someone else touching you. He hates it even more to think that you might not love him. That you won’t want him around you.

“Fix it.” Thor orders, and Steve feels obliged to obey.

“There’s something else.” Thor states, leaning back in his chair again, but he nods at the red leather-bound book that Steve had caught you reading the title of. “Two things actually.”

“What is it?” Steve asks, reaching to place his hand on the book only after glancing towards the doorway full of worry. Has the doctor come yet?

“First, the reason that Y/N is in her current state is because we were attacked. More specifically, she was.” Thor hold out his hand as Steve makes to get up, body tense with fear. “Don’t worry, she wasn’t injured by anyone but a few rocks as she fell.”

“What happened?” Steve demands.

“We were on our way back here. She’d decided to come back home to you, and we were very nearly here when someone came out of the trees and swung their sword at her.” Suddenly, Thor smiles. “She’s very spry, your sweet wife. She ducked as easily as if she were breathing and avoided the blow. Had it not rained the night before I think she might have been able to get back to me, but the rocks were wet, and she slipped.”

“Slipped?” Steve asks with a light gasp, as if he can’t believe it. “She just slipped?”

“She hit her side and her head. It’s why she’s asleep.” Thor explains.

It all feels too familiar and it’s burning Steve up from the inside, charring his nerves into familiar broken numbness.

Just an accident. Maggie’s fall was also just an accident.

“She’ll pull out of this, Steve. Your queen is strong. She wouldn’t let something this simple keep her down. Not when she’s got you here waiting for her.” Thor assures him.

“Who was it?” Steve asks, so very tired all of a sudden as he runs his hands through his hair, pushing it back and away from his face.

“I can’t be sure, but it looked like Hydra.” Thor nods.

“They’re back.” Steve realizes.

“And with a vengeance. For some reason, they want your new queen dead.” Thor shakes his head, and Steve can see that Thor really does care for you. Too much in his opinion.

Steve’s mind is already racing, connecting dots. “I think I know who’s behind it, but I’ll never be able to prove it.”

Thor nods. “We’ll have to be vigilant then, until we can.”

They lapse into silence, both thinking about Hydra until Steve remembers that there was something else Thor wanted to say.

“What was the second thing?” He asks.

“What?” Thor seems confused for a moment.

Steve raises both eyebrows, waiting.

“Oh!” Thor shakes his head, “Right. The other thing.”

Steve waits, heart pounding.

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re groggy.

It feels like you’ve been sleeping for hours and hours. Days. Weeks even.

You struggle to push past the fog and when you manage to open your eyes, you feel the resistance of your own body as you attempt to speak.

Quickly, as your mind wakes up, it reminds you of the last things you saw.

A flash of silver, black mass, the slip of your foot, pain against your side and against your head.

Dread fills you. A slow frenzy begins to build in your chest as your heart picks up pace. Hands trembling you reach to press your hands against the side that you hit yourself on.

Movement to your right draws your eye and you see Nat, dressed in an emerald green dress with dark gray damask embroidery from head to toe, stoking your fire to make your room warm.

You have no time to appreciate the comforts you’re surrounded in—the soft white fabric of your luxurious nightdress, the plush mattress you lay on, the puffy pillows and the much welcome smell of peony, jasmine, and lilac with the residual smell of juniper blossoms that fills your head with the memory of beautiful long and golden hair.

Reaching out, you wheeze as you attempt to speak. You can’t breathe in. Why?

Nat turns, her eyes flare as she spots you awake and she’s by your side in seconds.

“Oh, Y/N! I could kill you.” She picks up your hand and kisses the back of it then presses it to her cheek before she looks at you again. “Oh, no…don’t panic, you’re safe. Shhh.”

Panic? Is that why you can’t breathe.

“Breathe, your Majesty. Breathe.” Nat urges.

She breathes in and then out.

“Like this.” She does it again and this time you follow.

Your eyes spill tears, torrid fat drops that fill your pillow by your ear making it cold and wet.

“There you go. Are you in pain?” She worries, her hands dropping yours so that she can run them up and down your arms and legs.

“Nat!” You nearly shout, reaching for her sleeve to pull her back up. “Please…”

Your left hand is pressed against your stomach carefully, protectively. Nat’s eyes follow it and then she stares at you with shock for all of a second before she’s moving to get on her feet.

“We need the doctor!” She shouts towards the door.

“No.” You almost growl, pulling on her arm and back down onto the edge of the bed.

At the other end of the room, your doors open and Peter and Bucky both come in to stand by the door looking concerned and terrified.

Nat moves in closer as you pull her down.

“Not the doctor.” You swallow hard, pushing past the emotional lump in your throat. You’re still crying those fat heavy tears, but you’re not sobbing. “In my old village…”

Speaking slowly so that you get it out all in one go, Nat watches your lips and then meets your eyes, flitting between the two as you speak to her with what must be vital importance.

“…there is an old woman. In Charmlee Forest, twenty minutes to the East of my village you will find her hut. When she was younger, she used to be a midwife. I need her, Nat. Bring her here. Please. No one else. Just her.”

Nat is on her feet, racing towards the doorway. As she passes Bucky and Peter, Bucky grabs her elbow and stops her.

“Where are you going? What did she say?” Bucky asks.

“I need to send a rider to Malibia, Charmlee Forest. There’s an old woman that she needs. A doctor.” Nat lies, knowing you well enough now to know you don’t want this out there yet.

“I’ll go.” Bucky tells her and without another word he’s gone.

Nat looks to Peter and moves to shut the door to keep the heat in the room, but Peter moves inside before she can close it.

Knowing that help is coming, you relax a little but continue to cry. Your eyes find Peter’s and your sorrow is renewed when you see the red rim around his eyes. They sparkle with unshed tears and you bite your bottom lip.

“Peter, I’m so sorry.” You gasp, reaching out for him.

He takes our hand and gives it a squeeze before kneeling down beside your bed to simply hold your hand.

“I would have taken you anywhere you wanted to go.” He explains, quickly wiping the tears from his eyes.

“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t think.” You admit, then look at Nat who’s hovering by the bottom right post at the end of your bed. “I was just so…I stopped thinking and my feet led me away from here. I was days gone when I realized the worry that I would put you through. I cannot ask for your forgiveness, but please accept my apology.”

“Life for you hasn’t been easy here, your Majesty.” Peter says, drawing your eyes away from Nat. “We understand that.”

He looks at Nat, then sighs before meeting your eyes again. “We aren’t angry that you ran. Anyone would have left much sooner. I only wish I had known so that I could go with you. To protect you.”

“I know.” You sigh. “I missed you both so much. For a long time you were my only incentive to return and I started the journey several times until I found…”

Quickly your eyes scan the room. “Where’s Thor?”

“He’s with Steve in his office. They’ve been in there for hours.” Nat tells you.

Steve. The prospect of seeing him again is both exciting and painful. Flames of anger lick at your bones and you can’t pretend that you don’t feel it.

“I don’t want to see him.” You suddenly say.

“Thor?” Peter asks, giving your hand a squeeze.

“His Majesty,” You say flatly. “I don’t want to see him.”

Nat moves closer to you, sitting to your right by your knees. “Y/N…”

“I don’t want to see him, Nat. I can’t. Not after what he said.” You’ll never forgive him for wishing he wasn’t married to you. For saying that he shouldn’t have.

You’re his wife. Whether he likes it or not…but maybe you’ll all of this go. All the feelings you never asked for. The love you never wanted.

“Y/N…with the way you fell, Steve will want to see you.” Nat begins again, trying to sound calm as she places her hand on your thigh. “It’s very similar to the way Margaret-”

“I’m done listening about Margaret, Nat. Please don’t say her name to me again.” You’re harsh with her, but you don’t feel bad. “I can’t hear it anymore.”

She sighs. “It’ll be hard to keep him out of here.”

“Lock my door.” You whisper. “Until I see the old woman, I will not see him, Nat.”

Peter squeezes your hand. “I’ll make sure he stays away.”

As you meet his eyes, you see his determination. Thank the Gods for Peter Benjamin Parker.

[the-wondrous-imaginator]

The New Legends of Monkey: Season 2 Thoughts

So, I am a bit disappointed that our fandom is so darn tiny at the moment, but I think ima dwell on all the great stuff this season gave us instead : )

GREAT and not so great STUFF AS FOLLOWS: 

- WOW this season looked so good. I mean, it just seemed a lot more polished in terms of the aesthetic and the fights and all that. Seriously impressed with the upgrades

-Um, the plant? The Sandy development we got? Simply fantastic. We got more exploration of her character, some exciting fight scenes where she kicked butt and plenty of bonding with each member of the crew. Honestly was so scared that she would be overlooked, but she wasn’t. What an interesting, dynamic character. I really can’t wait for her powers and the deep sadness inside her to be explored.

-Tripitaka really is a Disney princess, huh? She completely drives the narrative forward and hold the one and only brain cell in the entire group. Even though I don’t find her quite as easy to love as Sandy, I do still admire her for being so strong and independent. This girl had to make a handful of REAL tough decisions this season and I applaud her. Constantly assaulted by doubts from everyone around her, constantly underestimated. Made of steel, this one. 

-MONKEY. SO MUCH TO SAY ABOUT THIS ONE. Legitimately the most complicated character in this whole darn show. He’s self centred and egotistical, but cares so deeply for everyone. He fights non-stop with Tripitaka, but she’s canonically tHE WORLD TO HIM. He just seems so young in some ways, and so old in others. Half the time you know exactly what he’s about to do, and half the time you don’t. In all honesty, I don’t know whether it’s good writing or bad writing, but I was most definately invested. And now he’s essentially been reborn?! Like, will he remember anything? UGH, I just cannot keep up with him. I’m constantly on the edge of my seat whenever he’s on screen. I love it. 

-Pigsy.... probably the most frustrating part of the show. Not him, of course, but all the fat jokes. Like, guys, I’m getting some serious Hunk (Voltron) flashbacks here. PLEASE don’t let his personality be fat jokes, dry humour and cooking. There was almost no real development for him this season, and I am underwhelmed. Like, come on, guys. Monkey gets to be half jokes and half serious, so why not Pigsy? Why let us get attached to him and invested in his trauma if you were just going to turn him into a laugh? Maybe I’m exaggerating here, but it seriously did bug me. Fingers crossed that things change. 

-ROMANCE DISCUSSION TIME. Tripkey. Let’s talk about this. 

I was kind of upset that they lead us on to quite the extent in season one, and then dropped the romance almost entirely in season two and replaced it with bickering, but I have to remind myself that it isn’t that big of a deal. I mean, shipping isn’t the only reason I watch. So, I’m a bit salty, but not McDonalds fries salty. You know? At least we got a couple moments. And we’re probably gonna get another season, if all goes well. There’s still time. Maybe Tripitaka needed to lose Monkey to understand his value? I mean, there was A LOT of arguing between them until the whole dark!Monkey thing happened. I think she needs to understand that, despite his faults, he is one of her best friends. She isn’t just his babysitter. So, even if they don’t end up together romantically, I’d be mostly satisfied if they just both came to grips with their love- platonic or otherwise. 

-OK, so, the villains. Plenty of pros and cons to go with this one. At times they seemed really dumb, at times they were reasonably intimidating, and, at times, downright confusing. I mean, that moth lady definitely seemed like she was telling a lie with that flashback with the fake Monkey and Tripitaka! But it wasn’t brought up again! And that red hand dude was so boring. The blue guard lady  was at least kind of interesting. Funnily enough, the forest-keeper-of-the-scroll lady was probably the most interesting villain. She had real motive. She wasn’t completely evil. I thought she was neat. Her, and (of course) dark!Monkey. Wow. Like, they probably should have introduced him earlier, but he was SO well done. I mean, the fight scenes with him were amazing. The design was great. His dynamic with Monkey made a lot of sense. I mean, he’s essentially the demon version of him. Both have a need for attention and a love for fun, but one values human life and the other does not. Very clear distinction, very interesting to watch. Despite not hating his clone, Monkey realized that, to protect what was most important to him, he needed to destroy it. It really makes you wonder what Monkey’s true motization is- the quest, or just protecting his friends? It’s just amazing to watch him transform when he gets serious about something. 

-Puppet master dude. Knew pretty early on that he was pulling the strings, but still loved the reveal. I thought that he was a much more interesting villain than just “strong armour demon”. Not much to say about him, but he was good. 

-Extra little things: The love potion scene was pure fanservice, and kind of hilarious and kind of cringy. Still processing that bit. 

The boy was cool. I liked him. Didn’t love him, but liked him. I thought it was good for Tripitaka to have a decently sane person around for a change. Always in the mood for appreciating the absolute gems that are decent child actors. 

MONICA IS EVIL NOW- LIKE, WHAT?! DEMON LADY BACK. ME SCREAM. Hopefully bad boi Devarri makes a comeback to team up with her. I lowkey need to know what the heck happened. 

Fake!Tripitaka... was he that boy seen in the flashback burning the body with Monica but disguised? If not, how did he return to life? If so, how did that monk boy have the magic to disguise himself? 

I think that’s all the notes I have right now. I know we’re all starving for content, so I thought I’d toss this out into the interwebs. Fingers crossed that our fandom grows a bit more!

[jcpostsobsessions]

As my current obsession The King: Eternal Monarch comes to a close, I want to do a review of the drama with some things I’ve been thinking about. This is all random and coming out as I reflect.

—

OST that makes me think of the drama: Gravity by Kim Jong Wan. One of my favorite songs from the drama and when it comes on it suddenly brings me back to some pretty epic moments.

Favorite OST: Orbit by Hwasa. This song was and is on repeat throughout the drama for me. Although it wasn’t played alot towards the middle and last half of the drama, it’s still superior.

OST I Didn’t Really Listen To: I Fall In Love, A Quiet Night and My Day Is Full Of You. Nothing against these songs, they’re all nice and I am listening to one or two of them since the dreams ended, but it didn’t grab my attention as the other songs.

Favorite Lee Eul scenes: Gon feeding Tae Eul and her joking about sneaking out touched the domestic side of me and I am living for it. Honorable moment is the neck kiss. I’ve never seen a neck kiss or a kiss this intimate in a drama before. I know he did something similar in another drama, but for me this is the first. I just love how perfectly placed it was. Tae Eul literally gave him her neck to do this. And I researched that neck kissed are pretty intimate and initiates a pretty intimate follow up. Now if Gon was trying to say something, I’m sure we understood and so did Tae Eul.

Favorite Kiss: The final kiss. The reason I like it a lot is because of how natural it is. Gon leaning down, smiles, Tae Eul leaning in and Gon swoops in. His lips pucker up to meet Tae Eul’s and the height difference is super cute even though she’s sitting on the table. They follow up with more kisses and the happiness on their face is what nails it for me. Honorable mention is the bedroom kiss.

Funniest Moment: When Gon prepared leaves in case they get stuck in “that time period”. Tae Eul’s face 😂

Favorite Side Ship: Eun Sup and Yeong. They are both so hilarious and off the bat had so much chemistry. They were definitely a side ship that I was invested and interested in. Their final scene together was their parting and it got me emotional because Yeong broke down his wall and gave Eun Sup a hug which says a lot about his stoic demeanor.

Favorite Ending Scene: Oh man. I remember watching this episode and it did not have the main couple together because they were parted for obvious reasons. I remember Tae Eul having a hell of a night and then everything happened so fast. Gon rode in on his horse, blood shed, tears fell, hearts broken, glasses shattered, epic soundtrack, announcement of future Queen and of course epic hug. And then it was out, next episode. I remember grabbing my phone and shouting noooo. I was on the edge of my seat and the final reunion of the two finally happened and the ending credits rolled in. This was an epic ending scene.

Favorite Lee Gon Outfit: It’s the simple black look and overcoat, but the material and the way he fit the form, I just really like it. Also he did some pretty bada$$ things in this outfit. So I find myself always thinking about this look. Some honorable mention is the iconic diamond fit, simple white and black vest (when he takes the overcoat off; it looks extra handsome) and then the light colored fit during his dates with Tae Eul.

Favorite Jung Tae Eul Outfit: Tae Eul’s fashion sense is simple and comfy. She is often wearing baggy and loose jeans, one color tone sweater and a long jacket. My favorite would be this look because she adds a bit of sophisticated with her dress white and black turtleneck.

Most WTF moment: When Lee Lim killed his doppelgänger self after going back to try and warn him. I was so surprised how fast he beheaded himself.

Underrated Character: Shin Jae. He is the other only character where I was in invested in his story. Kim Kyung Nam did a great job acting the pain and angst of his conflict with his mom. It really brought his character out.

Characters I did not care for: Lee Lim and Prime Minsiter Seo Ryeong. They both did were the anatagonist, but honestly did not impress me. I was never quite sure what Lee Lim was actually plotting and he just kept bringing people over and killing people. Sure he had the upper hand in some cases, but honestly his greed and lack of planning is what killed him. Idk what he was doing for the last 70 years or so. As for Prime Minister Seo Ryeong, nothing impressive about her. Although the only time she was tolerable was in the new timeline in the final episode where she was in jail and Luna came to visit her because it looks like they’re sisters now. They interaction was sweet and familial bickering.

Character I didn’t expect: Luna. I was looking forward to her character and how she’ll play into the storyline especially with how the cast members spoke about her during interviews. And honestly at one point I felt like she was one of the only one who shook Lee Lim’s core which was super entertaining to watch while it lasted. I liked how peeved he was by her and she just went about her way, unbothered. I also realized how the writer was creating Luna’s character to be good and bad. She poisoned Gon, stabbed Tae Eul, but didn’t kill her father, didn’t stab Tae Eul enough to kill her even though it looked like she did. Tae Eul trusted her enough to let her go and be with her own dad. Luna’s story is still a mystery.

Biggest Twist: when Gon realized that Shin Jae was actually from his world and said he was Shin Jae’s King. 🤯

Favorite Lee Eul Hug: This one. No need to explain. 💯

Relationship that surprised me: Luna and Seo Ryeong in the new reality. I really enjoyed their “sister” dynamic in episode 16 where Luna had a name change and became a cop and Seo Ryeong was unfortunately in jail, but their interaction even tho they both pretended not to be close, they were. It was funny and the best performance from Jung Eun Chae. Quite honestly I feel bad about where her character eventually ended. Her greed got the worse out of her.

Favorite Side Character: Yeong. I really like his character with his side glances/ glares at Tae Eul and his love and dedication to Gon. I’m glad he kept his promise to himself to protecting Gon. Also Woo Do Hwan did a great job playing two characters.

Plot I am still confused about: the little boy with the yo-yo. I wasn’t quite sure how he fitted into the entire drama. He definitely peaked my interest and he was obviously traveling back and forth, but I feel like his story never connected to the main plot. Honorable mention was Park Jiyoung, the pregnant woman. Like what was the point of crossing her over?

Character Death: Prince Lee Jong In, I had a feeling he’d died but also didn’t expect it. Honorable mention is Seo Ryeong’s mom. She was collateral damage. When Seo Ryeong called to ask her mom what she had for dinner a code for her doppelgänger, and she answered jajangmyeon, the chills.

BONUS!

Favorite Product Placement: CHICKEN! Man I can’t tell you how bad I wanted korean fried chicken because of the drama. LMH ate this at every chance he got and he made me crave it. They did a great job selling it to me. 😅 Honorable mention is the coffee drink that everyone dranked and man when they shot that scene where Yeong had to throw the drink to Shin Jae and still had to show the product name, lmao the commitment. 🤣

Worse Product Placement aka the one that was painfully noticeable: Okay; almost all were in our faces, but the painful was the one where Tae Eul was using the Kahi lipstick/cheek/moisturizer all in one stick. 🤣 when she explained the product to Jang Mi during a stake out I nearly passed out from secondhand embarrassment. And honorable mention is the CELLRETURN LED mask although when Eun Sup used it to be iron man that was cute.

—

Overall rating: 8.5/10. There were some choppy moments here and there and some loose ends and characters that I didn’t quite understand or had to really think about it. But it was never enough to say this was a bad drama. In fact it’s been a while I was this invested in a drama where I had to come up with theories and such. Not a lot of drama makes me do that. As a fan of BTS, theories comes as second nature 😅.

There were some moments that happened off screen and later on we’ll realized something had happen prior which at the beginning was hard to decipher, but once I realized the drama was doing that, I enjoyed it because sometimes it’ll be a pleasant surprise. I love how the drama hardly opened up each episode with how it last ended, they always gave us a backstory/content prior.

I think Gon and Tae Eul’s character had growth and progression, especially Tae Eul who had to unpack a lot of herself. The more the drama went on the more we got to see different sides of her which peeled some layers she built up as a detective and some described her as cold. I think with all that she went through definitely shaped her quite a bit. And Gon I felt started off the show strong. He had strong morals, grasped things quite fast, but was also caring, strong headed, dependable and responded rather than reacted. Of course he has his moments of being childish and playful, but it never strayed him from being off or uncharacter like. I think Tae Eul describes it perfectly in one of the episode that he knows when to joke despite a traumatic childhood. She is simply saying he’s grown into a decent man who doesn’t let a past define him, he lives it fully and that comes off in all his actions throughout the entire drama.

As for the other characters, I am glad we got to see Shin Jae’s character development as well. I’ve said it before, but he was one where I felt the writer went deeper into his story. Yeong would be the second, although he remains a mystery even until the end. I never quite understood where he stood except that fact that he deeply cares and loves his King, and in what context, only he would know. The writer has written strong second leads before and sometimes even third leads, but I would say wasn’t her best, but again it’s not so bad where you would say the drama was a complete failure or unbearable to watch.

And finally I can’t wrap up without saying something about the cinematography. Because man there were some beautiful shots, some CG works and some transitions or angles that really came into play to make the drama what it was. I don’t have it, but one of my favorite is when Gon is poisoned and falls down and it transitions to his younger self, that was breathtaking. An example of the angles and transitions is below and it was dramatic and the camera got to play with all its angles. All this for a dramatic handshake and of course my favorite soundtrack adds to the flare.

[starlightsearches]

Kylo x reader. Kylo sewing reader for the first time and instantly realizing hes hooked, love at first sight. Tries to ignore it and realizes he can’t. Thanks!!

Escape

Hello lovely anons! Thank you for these wonderful requests, I have decided to combine them because they are so similar, and I hope you love it! This is actually an idea that I’ve played around with for a long time, and I’m so glad I finally got the opportunity to write it!

Requests are closed ✨

Kylo Ren X Fem! Reader

AN: Oh my hell this is a long one (like over 4k words). I’m not going to check—because I am incredibly lazy—but I think this is the longest request I’ve written. Warnings for major pining, angst, Hux being kind of an ass, and mentions of violence/possible minor character death! 

If you asked those who profit most from the seedier desires of the galaxy, they would tell you that the Coruscant Ballet is the place to make a pretty coin. More credits have changed hands in the grand ballroom of the Coruscant Theatre than in any of the casinos on Canto Bight, and as such, the ballet is host to most of the galaxy’s elite. If you’re looking for someone to solve a problem—to make someone disappear, to find you something rare or strictly off-the-market, to eliminate your competition—you’ll find them at the ballet.

Ren knows this, but he still doesn’t understand why that means he has to be here. All he knows is that there’s a ticket with his name on it, a special invitation from someone the general had been doing business with, and that he was expected to attend. The general prattled on in the transport, rambling about security risks and shows of strength and rallying support. Ren wasn’t listening, not really. He has his own concerns, and they don’t always align with the general’s. Especially when it means that he’ll have to sit through three hours of some ridiculous performance when he could be doing something else. Literally anything else.

The foyer is packed with people—well-dressed and conceited, of course—and the volume in the room noticeably decreases when he and the general enter through the large and ornate doors, the silence immediately filled by violent whispers. They make a show of speaking quietly, but Ren knows exactly what they’re saying about him, what questions they snicker to each other when they get a sight of him. It could be much worse, all things considered; this is Ren's first public appearance of the kind, and—if he has any say in the matter—it will be the last. Part of him itches to give these people something real to talk about, some horrifying demonstration that they could recount later at their other ridiculous social gatherings. Maybe he'd suffocate someone, or launch a whole group of them through the windows.

He doesn't do any of it, of course. He just follows the general into the theatre. The show is about to start.

At least the seats are comfortable, Ren thinks, almost too plush, and they dim the lights as the show begins, throwing the audience into relative darkness. Maybe he could sleep without drawing attention to himself. He is feeling tired—always tired lately—and he rests heavily in his chair, letting his eyelids drift closed, ready to take advantage of this time as best he’s able. His vision blurs between half-closed eyes, and the music begins, soft and sweet and easily ignored. 

Everything changes when you take to the stage. Seeing you emerge from behind the heavy curtains, it's like a lightning strike. His breath catches in his throat, he’s feeling wide awake—more than wide awake—buzzed, electric, starving. He’s never seen anything like you before. He doesn't know how to act.

The hours pass like minutes when you dance, and he’s on the edge of his seat for all of them, his eyes drawn to you and he’s helpless to resist, not that he would ever want to look anywhere else. Your movements speak to power and grace and the command you hold over your body impressive in the extreme, even to someone like him. Ren is both completely ignorant of the story and deeply invested in it; he feels everything you experience, the joy, the betrayal, the mourning. You seem to live it, lost in the tale you create as you move to the music, and when he watches you take your final bow, he’s hooked. He has to see you do that again.

The curtain closes, the light returns without warning and it breaks Ren out of his stupor. Still, he’s full of restless energy, nervous—like there’s some unseen threat, some important quest that he’s left uncompleted. The audience begins to file out much too slowly—and with the leisurely pace the wealthy always seem to take, like time is infinite and free to waste. Ren doesn't have the patience to wait, not when he feels like this.

“Stars, I hate the theatre,” General Hux mumbles under his breath as they stand by their seats, waiting for a break in the crowd, and it irks Ren, pushing him closer to the edge.

“Maybe you lack the culture needed to appreciate it,” he replies snidely, mostly to get a rise out of the general. Mostly. Regardless of his true intentions, the general is offended, and Ren allows himself a small smile over this little victory.

The audience trickles out of the theatre and after an eternity of waiting, Ren finally makes it into the spectacle that is the grand ballroom, but his eyes don’t rest on anything until he’s found you again.

He catches sight of you on the far end of the room with the other dancers, all out of your costumes from the performance and instead wearing dresses in varying pastel shades, looking more like confections or ornaments than trained professionals. The other girls, especially the younger ones, whisper and giggle nervously as they survey the crowd, but you do not participate, smiling good-naturedly but remaining still and silent. When he catches sight of you, the negative feelings inside collapse. He’s free again. He’s not sure how you’ve managed to hold that kind of power over him, but he doesn’t care about that now.

“That woman, with the dancers-” Hux interrupts Ren’s thoughts, gesturing in the direction Ren is already looking, not that he could tell, “is Lady Stadixe. I need to speak with her.” Ren reluctantly takes his eyes off of you to scope out the woman in question. She stands at your side, looking serious—and seriously irritated—shooting angry glances down the line of girls every so often to silence their giggling. Ren doesn’t have to search the minds of the other guests to know that Lady Stadixe plays a much greater role here at the Coruscant Ballet than some kind of handler for the performers. If the general needs to speak to her then she must know about the dealings that take place between her patrons—probably arranges them herself: a choreographer in more ways than one.

General Hux cuts through the crowd, around the edge of the dance floor and through the rest of the guests. Ren can feel his heartbeat build in his chest, the pulses becoming more rapid and more violent as he nears you. The crowd thins, and there’s an eruption of giggles from some of the younger dancers when they see him before Lady Stadixe quiets them with a sharp bark. A strange feeling arrives and he allows himself to sit with it only for a moment—he wishes he weren't such a spectacle, wishes he could approach you like any other man, wishes to be without the reputation, the title. It's only for a moment, but Ren thinks he would kill to be someone else right now if it meant he could take you by the hand.

“Lady Stadixe, allow me to introduce myself,” General Hux begins, greeting the lady with a slight bow, “I am General Hux of the First Order, and this is Commander Ren.” Ren nods in response, out of habit, but his eyes stay on you and he’s terrified to find that you’re returning his gaze through the mask, even if you may not know it. You're prettier up close, he thinks, and your eyes are alight with good humor, but he can't pay attention to any of that because—when you look at him—he's sure that no mask could stop you from seeing everything.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Lady Stadixe responds, her tone curt even if her words are polite, “allow me to introduce you to my dancers.” She gestures down the line and you all curtsy in unison, bowing deep and low to the ground, but you keep your eyes on him, a trace of a smile on your lips. Ren has no idea what you’re thinking, his own nerves interrupting each time he tries to reach out to you through the force, but he continues his attempts anyways, desperate and desperately curious. Your smile is maddening, a secret in its own right, and he finds himself unable to decipher it. A first.

“This is our principal dancer, and the lead for tonight’s production,” Stadixe says as you rise, and you offer your hand to the general first before extending it to Ren. He wants to take it, he wants it very badly, but he’s found that his limbs aren’t obeying his commands, not when you’re looking at him like that.

“It’s a pleasure,” you say, before dropping your hand with a little stutter at his refusal, smoothing it over your skirt to make the movement more natural. You smirk, just slightly, before glancing at the other dancers, looking back at him when you say, “ I’ve never met a force user before.” Giggling breaks out again, and Ren isn’t sure if it’s at his expense or not, but it doesn’t matter, not really. Not if you’re going to keep talking about him.

He should respond, say something, but he can’t think, and he’s petrified at the idea that he might say something stupid. Ren can’t risk it, not in a moment like this, not when he so desperately wants for you to like him. Unfortunately, that gives General Hux a chance to fill the silence.

“I’ve found that they aren’t terribly impressive,” Hux replies, and the bitterness is unmistakable, but it only serves to amuse you more, your smile growing wider, and you trap your tongue between your teeth in an attempt to curb any errant laughter. Ren finds it very difficult to resist the urge to throw the general into a wall. He finds it more difficult to resist the urge to run his thumb over your bottom lip.

“I heard they can read minds,” you fix your eyes onto the general with a steady look, leaning in a little closer as you challenge his words, and the girls behind you mumble to each other more seriously. Even Lady Stadixe seems intrigued now, tuned in to the conversation enough that she doesn’t bother to quiet the others. He feels like a creature in a zoo, some grotesque thing for the others to ogle at, but not to you. He may be mistaken, but he thinks you might actually be defending him.

“Yes, he can,” Hux admits with some reluctance, and the space fills with bright, flaring anxiety as those closest search their most recent thoughts, terrified of what Ren might have learned during this short conversation. None of them need to worry—not that he can explain that right now—the only thoughts he’s interested in are yours.

“Sounds impressive to me.” Some of the other girls nod in agreement, and you sear the general with another challenging stare. Hux shrinks slightly, unable to completely control the sneer that threatens to take over his face, and turns to address Lady Stadixe again, a silent acceptance of his defeat.

“Is he always this quiet?” One of the younger girls interrupts before the general can speak, unwilling to let the novelty of Ren’s presence die, and he fills with dread.

“No,” Hux responds, and he actually sounds surprised as he turns his gaze to Ren, his eyes cold and calculating. He knows, Ren can feel it, and he’s eager for revenge for the snide comment Ren made earlier, as well as a million other things Ren had not come to regret until this moment. Hux turns back deliberately, leaning in a little ways before he speaks, but he makes sure to be loud enough for every one of the dancers to hear, “normally he never shuts up. I can’t imagine what’s changed.”

The general’s stare is pointed as he appraises you with his eyes, his gaze roaming from your head to your feet and back, and he quirks one brow to emphasize his point. Everyone takes notice, some of the girls squealing with laughter when they realize what he means, and you look at him wide eyed before you turn your gaze to the ground, a blush spreading across your cheeks. Ren wishes he had thrown the general into a wall when he had the chance. He still thinks he might, but there’s nothing he can do to salvage this moment now.

Hux seems satisfied with the chaos he’s caused, and he stands up straighter, adjusting his gloves before turning back to address Lady Stadixe, “If I may, there’s a matter I’d like to discuss with you in private,” and Stadixe nods, gesturing for Hux to follow her into a far corner away from listening ears. Ren turns to go as well, glad for a chance to escape this living hell in the form of  giggling girls, but Hux pauses, turning to face him again.

“Why don’t you stay here with the dancers, Ren, while I speak to Lady Stadixe,” he says, his eyes alight with a vicious delight, “I’m sure you’ll find some way to entertain yourself.”

Ren stops, hoping to quash any embarrassment he might feel with pure rage. He’s already planning which parts of the Finalizer he would tear into first when he returned, thinking about what would anger the general the most. By the time he’s done, Hux would regret everything about tonight.

“Did you enjoy the show, Commander Ren?” He hears you speak behind him, and it pulls him away from his thoughts, back to the embarrassment he felt so strongly earlier. He turns, and manages a nod, keenly aware of the delight in the eyes of every single dancer down the line, all listening avidly to your conversation . . . if you could call it that.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to speak,” you say quietly, stepping a little closer in an attempt to make your chat a private one, and you lower your voice so that only he can hear, “I don’t mind filling the silence. Besides, Lady Stadixe gets very cross if she feels that we’re not keeping our guests entertained; I’m sure you understand?” He nods again, relaxing into your presence, and the other girls slowly lose interest, choosing instead to search the ballroom for other sources of entertainment. Without the watching eyes of the other girls, and the damn general around—Ren feels like he might actually be able to say something to you, might be able to tell you exactly how much he enjoyed your performance, how talented he thinks you are. How beautiful he thinks you are.

"I hate to interrupt-" The voice comes from Ren's right, and he looks to its source, finding a snide-looking man beside him, who reaches for your hand, pressing a soft kiss to your fingers, "I was hoping that you might favor me with a dance."

"Of course." It only takes you a moment before you agree graciously, and Ren is crushed, foolishly hoping that you would refuse in favor of staying with him even though he’s given you no reason to do that. You flash him an apologetic smile as you're whisked away to the dance floor, and the disappointment is prolonged. There was so much he wanted to say to you, and now he'll never get the chance.

The man leads you to the dance floor at the center of the room, a possessive hand placed at your waist. There's jealousy spreading through the room—not only his, but others as well—permeating the space like an oil slick, other young men who had not been brave enough to interrupt your moment with Ren redirecting their anger to your new companion.

"His name is Erichar Kempmont." Ren had not noticed the return of Lady Stadixe, but she stands at his side now, without the general, speaking with the quiet nature of someone used to dealing in secrets, "he is the wealthiest of the girl's suitors."

Ren doesn't respond, his mouth growing dry. Suitors. Multiple. Of course. He should have known. Should have expected it from the beginning, but his vision had been clouded by his desire, by your smile.

"She is very talented, of course," Lady Stadixe continues, her eyes trained on you with impenetrable focus, "but talent alone will not sustain her forever. She'll need security, someone to take care of her when her career has finished. That is something I have promised to provide for her, and I do not break those promises." She glares at Ren, staring him down despite her small stature, waiting for him to issue some kind of challenge. He doesn't.

"Stay away from her," she finishes with some uncertainty; he's unnerved her with his lack of a response. Ren should leave her like this, let her believe what she wants, but the order she's given him leaves him simmering with anger.

"Are you threatening me?" he asks quietly, and the words growl out through his vocoder, leaving her shaking.

"So you do speak," she replies, trying to hide her fear with feigned indifference, "it would be foolish of me to threaten someone like you, of course. But you could consider it a warning."

Lady Stadixe departs just in time for Ren to watch another man ask you for a dance, and his jaw tightens. What business did that woman have telling you what to do? In trying to control him? The anger refuses to dissipate, forming tight and firm deep in his chest.  

"There you are," it's the general who interrupts him this time, looking rather flustered, his eyes searching the room skittishly, "There's one more person I need to speak to, and then we can leave this awful place."

"Why are you telling me this?" Ren asks, his leftover irritation from his conversation with Lady Stadixe mingling with brand new irritation at the general. "I thought I was meant to entertain myself?"

Hux flushes with annoyance at Ren's stubbornness, his pale skin becoming marred by red splotches. He feels no remorse for it; the general has earned much more of Ren's difficult behavior after tonight—he'll have to get used to it.

"This person I'll be meeting with," Hux explains through gritted teeth, "is notoriously . . .  difficult. I'm concerned that they might try to run. Make yourself useful and guard the exit. I'm sure she won't miss you in your absence." Hux gestures vaguely to the dance floor and scowls before he departs, disappearing into the crowd again.

Ren moves toward the doors with steady-minded determination. There's nothing left for him here anyways; your time for the rest of the night has been claimed, it seems, by the suitors Lady Stadixe had been so kind to point out. He'll wait for the general in the foyer until he's done with his ridiculous meetings and he'll forget about the ballet completely. He won't think about the way the light reflected in your eyes as you danced. Won't picture the way you moved like all music was created for you to give it meaning. Wouldn't imagine what it would be like to hold you in his arms.

Gods, he’s being juvenile. Was a pretty smile and a few kind words all it took for him to lose his mind? He's only known that you existed for a few hours, only held your attention for a few minutes and it has him acting completely deranged.

Moonlight pours through the windows of the foyer, which has been left dark now that the guests have all been moved into the ballroom. The room is larger and colder than he remembers it, and somehow made emptier by his presence. He waits, observing the room without much interest, only vaguely aware of the passage of time, marked by the change in the music as it spills in from the gaps in the ballroom doors, muted by distance. It’s only after three, maybe four songs, that he notices that something else has changed: the faintest hint of light is escaping beneath the theatre doors on the other side of the foyer.

Ren knows that he should stay where he is and watch for the general, but he's overcome with uncharacteristic curiosity when he senses you behind those closed doors. Part of him would like to walk away, to ignore you as the lady had encouraged. Another part of him knows that he might not like what he would see if he chose to enter the theatre; maybe you were not alone, if one of your many suitors had brought you there for a second away from prying eyes. He ignores both of the competing voices, opening the door as quietly as possible, peering into the room beyond.

You are alone, he finds, and on the stage, moving without music, dancing without seeing, your eyes shut tight to the empty seats. Even without the audience, the accompaniment, the costume, or the lights, you perform with the same rigor you had before, and Ren is mesmerized all over again. Somehow, even after your stellar performance earlier in the evening, you seem to push yourself harder: jumping higher, spinning faster, your movements more precise and powerful than Ren can begin to comprehend.

You finish your routine, center stage, your head down and your breathing hard and fast from the exertion. Ren is careful not to make a sound, terrified of interrupting your moment, but when you look up, your eyes find him immediately—as if you knew he was there all along. A few different emotions flash across your face, but embarrassment is the one that sticks, and you drop your eyes to the floor again, folding in on yourself.

"How long have you been here?" You speak quietly, but your voice carries all the way to the back of the theatre. This is it, Ren finally has his chance to speak to you, alone.

"Not long," his words are too stilted, his voice too menacing for his liking, but you aren't disturbed by it, and so he continues, "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"No need to worry about that," you say, hopping lightly from the stage, walking slowly up the aisle towards him, "I should probably return to the party now. I just needed a quick break. Too many watchful eyes in the ballroom; I'm sure you understand." Ren does understand the feeling, although he’s not sure why its one you would share.

"I thought you might be used to watching eyes, as a performer." You're inching ever closer, one row of seats at a time, and each step tightens the vice grip at his heart, restricting his ability to breathe in the most pleasant kind of fashion.

"It's different-" you say with a nod towards the doors and the ballroom beyond, "in there. I always know what's expected of me on stage, what they're looking for, what I can do. It's . . . not the same everywhere else. Sometimes I need an escape."

Stars, it's like you're inside his head, pulling the words out and placing them in your own mouth. He knows exactly how you feel.

"Do you ever get an escape?" You've finally reached him, your lips curving humorously around your whispered words. The small amount of space between your bodies feels solidified, heavy even, the pressure of your presence almost as enticing as the pressure of your touch. He knows he should not feel this way, but his body and mind are on two different planes right now. 

"No, I don't," he says, and you smile sadly, always smiling, as your tongue runs smoothly over your parted lips.

"Can you breathe without it?” Your hands creep up into his line of sight, and you gesture to the mask. All he can manage is a subtle nod of his head, trying to remain composed when every part of him is threatening to combust at the feeling of your fingers searching around the edge of the helmet, flexing slightly when you find the releases. He closes his eyes as you tug the item over his head, unwilling to admit that he’s afraid of what you might feel when you see his face.

“That’s much better,” you say, and he lets his eyes open, allows himself to study you for the first time without the mask. “Would you consider this an escape?” You set the mask down on the seat next to you, and it stares up at him expectant, waiting.

“I would,” he doesn’t like the way his voice sounds now, without the vocoder to mask the lingering emotion behind the two words. It feels like a confession, like a weakness, and he hates that part of himself almost as much as he wants you.

“I know lots of ways to escape,” you say, apparently ignorant to his inner turmoil, “would you like to know my favorite?” You won’t meet his eyes, staring at your fingers instead, which you brush over the material of his sleeve, and the feeling leaves a trail of unraveling nerves in its wake. You can’t be suggesting what he thinks you’re suggesting. This is some kind of fever dream. There’s no way that you would want him the same way that he wants you.

“Yes,” his reply is deep and breathless, but it brings that smile back to your face, and you look up at him again, your other hand curling gently around his neck, your touch feather-light and fragile. The theatre fades away into nothingness—Ren can only think about the space between your mouth and his that shrinks infinitesimally, your movement spanning hours, days, aeons. He doesn’t care. You’re so close.

The blaster shot throws time back to a normal speed and you startle, jumping in his arms before you stagger back away from him, searching for the source of the noise that’s immediately followed by screams. You look at him only for a moment before you both run to the doors, Ren grabbing his helmet first and replacing it over his head, no time to mourn the loss of your touch.

Guests pour out of the ballroom doors, tripping over each other in their finery, ignoring the ripped hems and lost shoes as they force their way to safety. You’re almost swept up by the crowd, but Ren holds you back, one arm wrapped securely around your waist and your fingers push tiny bruises into his skin underneath his uniform as you search desperately through the crowd, trying to spy a hint of your friends, anyone you might recognize who could explain what you had missed.

“Ren!” The general calls out, breaking free of the crowd and forcing his way to the far wall. If he has anything to say about Ren’s absence from the foyer, or your presence here with him, he doesn’t share it, running a gloved hand through his hair, forcing it back after it had been jostled out of place by the stampeding crowd, “we need to leave. Now.”

 “Please, what happened?” you wrestle yourself out of Ren’s grasp, grabbing the general by the arm with desperation, “we heard the shot, is everyone alright?”

“I’m not sure. I didn’t see it.” It’s obvious that Hux is lying, to you and Ren both, but there’s no chance for either of you to confront him, because he’s headed towards the doors again, pulling Ren along with him. Ren turns back—maybe to see if you’re alright, maybe to bring you with him, out of harm's way—he’s not exactly sure, but the press of the crowd is too strong and too fast; he’s hardly able to think before he’s lost sight of you. He didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye.

[drwcn]

I really do think mianmian and lwj deserve to be like, close friends. from their meeting in the show it doesn’t seem like they ever saw each other after jinlintai and i have no idea when they would’ve gotten the chance, but just afterwards, you know?

yes, I think they definitely deserve to be friends! One of things I always found troubling about these novel based xianxia dramas is the lack of sustainable friendship beyond the main romance line. I guess in order to create angst and emotional investment for the audiences, a lot of times, friendship get sidelined or destroyed when characters die or betray each other. As well, most non-romance relationships that we see lasting to the end of the story are family relations and sometimes servitude (aka a lackey that hangs on until the end). Real friendships where both parties are roughly on equal footing and station rarely last in these epic adventure dramas. You couldn’t even say Wen Ning is Wei Wuxian’s friend of equal station, not when Wen Ning doesn’t call Wei Wuxian by his name, just “young master”. Perhaps this is to isolate the main character, who knows.  Even so, friendship between men is portrayed more frequently than friendship between women, or men and women. 

So with your prompt, it inspired me to write a little something Luo Qingyang centric, ft our Hanguang-jun and juniors.

~~~ 

Lanling Jin’s entourage stood by the gates of Cloud Recesses, patiently waiting for their admission. What seemed like a life time ago, Luo Qingyang had been on these same steps with Jin Zixuan. She’d been a girl then, barely bloomed, barely grown. Life had been simple, and she had thought she knew what the future would hold. 

So much had come to pass, yet these grand arches, white granite stone pulsing with spiritual aura, never seemed to age. 

She glanced down at her Jin Clan robes, the pale yellow and white, embroidered with peonies and a strip of blue accentuating the lapel edge. She never thought she’d wear these colours again. Her mother had been a Jin, first cousin of Jin Guangshan. Once upon time, she’d been proud to be one of them, to be part of a powerful and wealthy clan. Then the war came and went, like the debriding of a wound upon their world that revealed the flesh underneath had caseated to the bone. She’d been so disillusioned, so aggrieved by her elders and disappointed by her peers. 

Even Zixuan.

He had been a good man, her cousin. But he wasn’t strong of heart nor clever of mind. She was sorry to know he had died, but she wasn’t surprised. If he could not see the game his father had been playing, then there had never been any hope for him.

Luo Qingyang glanced towards the youth in front of her just slightly to the right. From the view of his back, she could almost picture his father, standing there with Suihua in his clutch, a proud son of the house of Jin. Time seemed to fluctuate, the eighteen years between then and now barely a drop in the ocean. If she breathed deeply enough and closed her eyes, she could almost be Mianmian again, could almost see Zixuan again. 

This was the first time Jin Ling had come to Cloud Recesses without his jiujiu. The boy was rightfully nervous, but this push towards independence was necessary. Sooner or later, baby bird had to learn how to fly. Like his father, Jin Rulan had a kind nature, even if he was awful at expressing his feelings. He was young, but the burden on his shoulders were heavy. For the mess that was the Jin Clan post Jin Guangyao's demise to fall into Jin Ling's lap was the best and worst case scenario. If he hadn’t risen to occasion, the subsidiary sects - vultures circling a carcass- would’ve torn Lanling apart. 

Perhaps that was why Luo Qingyang had agreed to return to her mother clan.

Wei Wuxian had arrived at her doorsteps one day some months after the incident at Guanyin Temple. Even on the outskirts of Yiling where she had lived, she had received news of what had happened. Wei Wuxian explained he’d been travelling, but between his subtle hints and unsubtle nudges, she had understood his intentions. 

Jin Ling had no one to help him man the helm. Jiang Cheng could only do so much without the other sects accusing him of overreaching into businesses beyond Yunmeng’s jurisdiction. Jin Ling was Jinlintai’s heir, not Lotus Pier’s, a fact that most people had slowly forgotten over the last decade. Childless, Jiang Cheng’s seat would one day go to his prime disciple, but not to his nephew.   

“Lan Zhan had written a decree for you, in case you encounter trouble going back. It’s a lot to ask for, I know. You’ve got such a lovely home here. But...you are needed, Mianmian, if you could forgive them.”

Forgive them? Luo Qingyang sighed. What’s there to forgive? She had left of her own volition, married well, and had a wonderful family. Her husband grumbled a bit about moving to the big city, but in the end he followed her back to her clan, just like he did to her night hunts. Her husband had been a merchant once, and she had no doubt he would thrive in Lanling. So far, she had not been proven wrong.  

“I am Jin Rulan’s biao’gu*. He is as much your nephew as he is mine. Tell His Excellency that I will return to Jinlintai shortly. He can be assured Sect Leader Jin will not be alone.”  

Lan Sizhui, Gusu Lan’s Head Disciple greeted them at the gates with a deep bow. Like his de-facto cousin, Sizhui had grown taller and more mature. 

“Welcome, Jin-zongzhu, Luo-zhangshi*, and honored guests. Cloud Recesses thank you for your patience. Please, come with me.” 

He gave Jin Ling a private smile, and the latter perked up immediately. “Lan-gongzi, you’re too kind. It’s been some time since we last spoke. I trust His Excellency is of good health and spirit?”

“Hanguang-jun is very well, thank you Jin-zongzhu.” In a lower tone, Sizhui commented. “I would’ve visited Lotus Pier with Wei-qianbei last harvest, but I was sent to Qinghe for sect business.” 

Boys playing at being men. 

Luo Qingyang hid a smile, slowing down her steps to give the youngsters some privacy from the party that followed them. 

Such innocence. How lovely it was. The boys she’d known were forced to grow up amidst fire and chaos, and did so in such brutal, unimaginable ways. So many had died, and those who had lived would never get to experience their ‘what-could’ve-been’s.

~

After, when the official businesses were settled and the disciples were dismissed, Luo Qingyang and Lan Wangji sat together in a quiet pavilion. Sizhui and A-Ling were some distances away down the lang, standing a reasonable distance apart and conversing politely. Though, it was more than obvious that they were itching to shed their gentlemanly exterior and scurry off to whatever shenanigans boys their age got up to when their guardians weren't looking.

Lou Qingyang observed the man sitting across from her and found some irony in the fact that they were strangely similar. Though talented in cultivation, Lan Wangji was not the type she would’ve imagined being Chief Cultivator, and certainly she herself could’ve never imagined that one day she would be chief of staff of Lanling Jin. 

Life dealt them both a funny set of cards and all they could do was keep playing. 

“I know Wei Ying had delivered my message, but I want to thank you properly in person, Luo-zhangshi, for agreeing to come back. Those early days after Jin Guangyao’s death was...precariously to say the least. The situation at Jinlintai is much better now thanks to your efforts.” 

“Hanguang-jun, we’ve known each other for a long time. Your husband has a scar on his chest from saving me from a Wen branding iron, and my daughter has received lucky money from the both of you. I think you can call me Miamian, if you’re comfortable with that.” She smiled, taking a sip of her tea. The scent of jasmine was calming after such a long, arduous morning.

Lan Wangji nodded, turning to his own cup. “We used to be classmates, now we are colleagues. Perhaps you are right. Formality in private is unnecessary.” 

“As for coming back, it is my duty. Jin Ling is bright and kind. With the right guidance, Lanling Jin Sect will recover. I knew him, Jin Guangyao. He was... nice to me, most of the time anyways. Whether that niceness had any truth behind it, I don’t know, but even then he’d been so unreadable. I only wish I’d seen through it all sooner. So you see, there is no need for thanks, Wangji-xiong. We Jins have done enough wrong against your family. Pray, how is Zewu-jun?” 

 “Brother is still in seclusion, but he is no danger to himself. He is better now. Time heals all wounds. Though...” 

Though knowing Lan Xichen, knowing what Lans were like when faced with tragic love, Lan Wangji wasn’t sure what his brother’s future would hold. 

Luo Qingyang nodded, understanding. Suddenly, their tranquility was interrupted by a disciple rounding the corner, footsteps heavy and voice decidedly too loud. 

“Sizhui, did you meet up with Young Mis -” 

Lan Jingyi’s holler aborted immediately when he saw who was sitting in the pavilion. “Erm... Hanguang-jun, Luo-zhangshi...” Smiling sheepishly, he bowed. 

“Sizhui.” Lan Wangji gave his son a pointed look, which the youth instantly understood. 

“Ah, Jin-zongzhu. Perhaps you would like for Jingyi and myself to you show around? Cloud Recesses’ scenery is really one of a kind this time of year.”  

“Yes, yes!" Jin Ling leaped to his feet from where he was sitting on the bench. He paused, casting a cautious glance towards his aunt, before clearing his throat and continuing in his most ‘adult’ voice. “Yes, I would like that. Lan-gongzi, Jingyi-xiong, if you wouldn't mind leading the way.” 

Luo Qingyang and Lan Wangji focused their attention back to their tea cups, both turning a blind eye to the way Sizhui and Rulan all but ran to join up with Lan Jingyi. 

They were out of sight in a heartbeat. 

“Do you know who they remind me of?” Luo Qingyang tilted her head as a sense of deja-vu washed over her. 

“Mn?” 

“Wei-gongzi, Nie-zongzhu, and Jiang-zongzhu, during our guest disciple days.” 

Our long summer. 

“Mn.”

“Remember when they got drunk on Emperor’s Smile? They really were audacious even then.” Luo Qingyang reminisced with a fond chuckle. 

“Yes. Uncle was furious.” The corner of Lan Wangji’s lips tilted upwards. 

Was that amusement she detected?! 

Mianman blinked, suddenly realizing, “Oh but you were amongst them too, if I recall correctly.” She gave him a sly smile. “The girls said you were discovered in a drunken coma in Wei-gongzi’s room the next morning. Is that true?” 

“Yes.” 

Oh the scandal! “How did they rope you into it?”

“I was willing,” confessed the venerated Hanguang-jun without so much as a blush. The shameless scoundrel! 

Luo Qingyang laughed, the sound ringing like a clear bell that cut through Cloud Recesses’ tranquility. 

“I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore; he’s your husband now. For the record, we all saw it coming.”

Lan Wangji raised a quizzical brow. “Oh? I did not think it was obvious.” 

“Well, not to the male disciples perhaps, but the female disciples, we all knew.” Luo Qingyang took a deep breath and sighed. “Sometimes I miss those days. Simpler times.” 

“Mn.” 

“My daughter has started cultivation lessons with the other children at Jinlintai. Someday she may visit here as guest disciple, as I once was. I hope her future will be a better one.” 

She met his gaze steadily, and the understanding in between had no need for further words. 

Lan Wangji smiled. 

“That is my wish as well.” 

  ~

biao’gu 表姑 = a type of aunt, a distant female cousin of one’s parent that’s in the same generation as them.

zhang’shi 长史= an antiquated government position that’s akin to Secretary General. 

[bookjunkie25]

The Wilds: Chapter 1

      I tuck my legs underneath me in the airplane seat, running my fingers over the title of my book. It’s a new book bought purely for this occasion. In Focus Tarot: Your Personal Guide. So far it’s been informative and works well with my tarot deck. 

      Across the aisle is a brunette bookworm immersed in the book in her lap. It seems we have similar interests and we might get along. Hopefully we have the chance to interact sooner rather than later. In the seats ahead of me are what appears to be twins based on their physical likeliness, across from them are a dark haired purple shirted girl with earbuds in. In the rows towards the front there are a girl with a purple streak in her hair, a slim and sporty girl who gives off major lesbian vibes, a rich girly-girl, a delinquent in layers, and a bubbly Texan blonde who I find annoyingly optimistic. 

        And the one person I despise more than anything: Nicole McKee. Her and her holier-than-thou attitude, rich girl privilege, and despite being a teenager, a complete ‘Karen’ personality. Ugh, she pisses me off. I have zero idea why she would waste her time with this. 

         She is perched on the edge of a seat trying her best to flirt with the flight attendant. She beams at something he says, placing her hand on his elbow. His eyebrows furrow, his mouth twisting into a disinterested smile. He says something I can’t understand or hear. He moves back into the attendant quarters. 

        Good. She’s sixteen, she is not mature enough to be in a relationship with him or even a guy our age. She’s petty, jealous, insecure, and entitled. Any relationship with her would end up toxic. 

        “So in the interest of bringing us all together, I’d like to propose a little icebreaker!” The blonde stands up, her ponytail perfectly composed like the rest of her. 

        “Oh like Never Have I Ever,” the purple shirted girl pops up in response. 

       The blonde hesitates, “Uh, that game’s a little much.”

       “I know,” the other girl continues like nothing happened. “So here’s how it works. One person says something they’ve never done been and if you have done it, you have to drink alcohol.” She covers her enthusiastic smile bashfully.

         “Uh that game’s a little intense like for people who don’t know each other real well,” the Texan diffuses. She walks down the aisle, hands gesturing. 

         “So how about we just pair off, pow wow with your partner for a second then afterwards you can introduce it to the rest of us,” she suggests. 

            Yeah no. With my luck, I’d get stuck with She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. Quickly I open my book and pretend to be invested. The blonde starts pairing off people one by one. When she gets to the other girl with a book, the girl flat out ignores her in a huff. The blonde backs off, directing her attention towards me.

           “Hey there, I think you can be roped into a three person group like Nicole. C’mon,” she grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet. I don’t fight her. She leads me to the girl with the purple streak. “You can join us!”

           “Okay,” I say quietly. I awkwardly stand in the aisle. 

          “Hi, I’m Martha.” She holds out her hand to shake.

           “I’m Bea.” I take her hand in mine and loosely shake. 

           “Alright I’m Shelby,” the blonde chirps smiling. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” She and Martha shake hands. “Okay so let me tell you a bit about me. Okay I do real; I do family, I do Jesus, I do pageants. I’m doing this conference to offset the pageants, some colleges might see them as retrograde when it comes to female empowerment. Has anyone ever told you have the most drop-dead gorgeous eyes?” Shelby turns to me. “And you, I just adore your crystal necklaces.”

         Martha bashfully smiles looking away. 

        “Thank you,” I smile. “Um, I like to read and write and I’m kinda getting into Taylor Swift again.” I gesture awkwardly tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “I have a twin, and I have two younger siblings. Oh, and I’m from Maine.” I nod. I twist one of my many rings in an attempt to draw back into myself.

        “Uh, I came here with my best friend Toni, I love animals, and I used to dance. I’m an only child and I’m a vegetarian.” 

         The flight attendant Nicole was flirting with, hands out slices of chocolate cake to us. His name pin reads Marcus. “Thank you,” I say with a polite smile. “If I could get past you,” he says.

         “Oh no, yeah, sure.” I scurry into an empty space. The cake slides towards the end. I hurry to balance it before it falls to the floor. 

        “Um, could you move forward a bit?” The purple shirted girl asks. 

       “Yeah, yeah yeah yeah, sure.” I rush forward to get back to an open space once the flight attendant passes by. 

       Shelby and Martha are deeply immersed in conversation, paying me no mind. Might as well go sit back down in my spot to eat. An ache rumbles in my stomach, audible to everyone else. Shit I forgot to eat this morning. Or last night. I maw down on the cake. Chocolate gets on my finger tips and I suck it off. 

      Might as well get some sleep. Digging into my bag I pull out some melatonin gummies and swallow at least five if not more. 

            Sleep comes fast and easy. 

           Icy cold fluid hits my face and soaks into my bones. I tremble slowly coming awake. Salt septs into my half open mouth. I cough choking a bit. Rushing to sit up, my head aches and throbs. Wiping my face off, I strain to see around me. Blurry objects are obscured by a light fog, waves hit my chest. I move with the flow ever so slightly. 

        Where am I? How did I get here? What happened? Wait - where are my glasses? I pat down my surroundings in an attempt to find them. Rock, rock, sand, seaweed, water, my leg, my other leg. Where are they? My pinky brushes something glass like. Is that it? 

        I scramble to find it again before it gets dragged out by the water. On the first grab I catch it. Water droplets cling to the lens and runs down the frames. I shake it out in an attempt to get the water off with no hands. Testing out my glasses seem futile. Even though I can see more clearly than I would’ve without them, everything is still blurry. 

      It’s completely dark, clouds are covering the moon. A breeze rises over the ocean and runs over my soaked body. I tremble. How did I get here? Okay, okay, just think. Just think. I was in the plane on my way to a girls-only retreat with ten others - the others. Where are the others? What happened to them? Are they around here somewhere? 

       I search wildly for some sign of another life form. Blackness coats the beach, the night sky pitch black. My legs wobble and shake under my weight. I take a step forward and instantly my ankle gives out. I yelp as I land directly on top of a rock. Pain travels up my ribs through my stomach. My side is definitely going to be bruised. 

      I push myself onto my heels and try to stand once again. A burn septs up my muscles as I struggle to keep myself up. One foot in front of the other. You can do this. I try to step forward with my left leg. I trip and get a face full of water. The salt burns my chapped lips and the back of my throat. I get up and try again. Once again, I fall and hurt myself.

       “Ow,” I whine dragging out the vowel. My entire body aches and pulses with pain. I have to get out of the water. Just have to get to land. Somewhere dry. 

      Panting I get to my feet. Just one foot in front of another, just concentrate on small things. One foot in front of another. I got this. I can do this. 

I dunno if I’m going to keep this or continue this, I’m not sure how I feel about it.

[haro-whumps]

Group Whumpees 2: Grey

A continuation of the story inspired by @whumping-every-day and @justtorturewhump

CW: modern slavery, referenced abuse, multiple whumpees, aftermath of torture

Tag List: @bleeding-demon-teeth @redwingedwhump @whimperwoods @inpainandsuffering @theycomeinthrees

First

Galo sat at the head of the over-long table, its fancifully carved wood bare except for his spot. He should… invest in a centerpiece. A candle set. Something. Pasta with chicken and braised carrots to the side were artfully arranged on the over-fancy dinnerware his aunt boasted about but hardly used, and Galo had a very large glass of wine set out for him.

He guessed it made sense none of them would eat with him. Or had already eaten. Something, he wasn’t sure, it just, it made sense that he was alone at the table. It was a… very large table, in a very large space, chandelier hanging with a vacant sort of light.

The food was good though, and Galo was pretty sure that wasn’t just his hunger talking. The carrots were a perfect texture, the chicken juicy, the sauce wonderful. And pasta, well, it was hard to go wrong with pasta. 

“Is everything to your liking, Master?” Greyson asked quietly, bowing shallowly as he topped off the wine. Galo briefly considered stopping him, but, eh. Why bother. He could really use a drink or four after the day he’d had.

“Yeah, thanks! Everything tastes great. Did you all make it or?”

“Sasha is your chef, Master.”

“I’ll have to thank her next time I see her,” Galo said with a smile. Greyson hesitated, lips parted, but then he nodded, eyes submissively downcast.

“Hey, Grey,” Galo started, voice gentle. “Or Greyson? Probably rude of me to nickname you without asking.”

“You may call me whatever you desire, Master,” Greyson said, and Galo huffed. Er, whoops, bad idea. Greyson winced.

“Greyson,” Galo tried, watching the man’s adam apple bob in his throat, “You up to take a seat with me? Or would that, like, freak you out?”

Greyson’s eyes barely widened, and he looked between Galo and the chair Galo had nudged towards him. 

“Master?”

Hm. A direct order might help him feel more confident, but it could also box him in, and Galo didn’t want to force him. “Up to you, dude, either way it’s no skin off my nose.”

Greyson slowly sat, and Galo smiled. “Figured we might catch up. Get to know each other. We didn’t speak much when I was a kid.”

Greyson stared at him, expression unreadable but his shoulders drawn in, for a long moment. “Ffforgive me, Master,” he said breathily, “but I do not know what I should say.”

“Ah, my bad, that probably wasn’t a great conversation starter,” Galo said with a rub to his undercut. “How’ve you been? I think the last time I saw you I was… 15? 16? God, it’s been a while.”

“...I have been alright, Master. And--yourself?” he asked hesitantly, still very quiet, face still very blank.

“Good! A lot better than when I was still living with my dad, I’ll tell you that. Moved into my own place, got on T, started working out regularly, and now it looks like I can quit my boring day job,” Galo said with a smile. “Hell, I could probably go back to school, too, once everything is settled. That’d be really nice.”

Greyson smiled, that barely-visible quirk of his lips. “You were always the cleverest of her nephews and nieces, Master Galo, if I may be as bold as to state.”

Galo snorted with a bright grin. “Yeah, well, don’t tell my siblings, but it wasn’t exactly a large feat.”

Greyson actually chuckled along with Galo’s laugh, at that, and Galo was feeling pretty good that he had made himself a friend, but then Greyson convulsed, hand over his mouth, arm tight around his stomach.

“Shit!” Galo cursed, getting up immediately and going to his side. Greyson was trying to stand, something eerie about the way he moved, and wouldn’t meet Galo’s eyes.

“I’m sorry, Master, I’m so sorry, Master,” Greyson whispered, barely audible.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Galo murmured, broad palm settling atop Greyson’s back, other hand hovering in front of Greyson, ready to catch him if he convulsed again. This was moving too fast, Galo needed to slow it down. “Shhh, shh, what’s wrong, Greyson?”

“I…” Greyson swallowed audibly, his adam’s apple bobbing. “I apologize, Master, but I think I was overzealous in sitting alongside you.”

Oh. Okay. Panic response, of some sort. Greyson was… also traumatized. That was weird to think. But then again, Galo considered, he couldn’t imagine anyone living with Auntie Bethany for over thirty years making it out scott-free. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You did what I asked you to, this is technically my fault for pushing you too hard.”

Greyson shook his head. “I apologize, Master. I reacted poorly.”

Hrm. Deja vu. Hadn’t Nyla said that, when he’d accidentally clipped her on the temple?

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Galo assured, rubbing his hand up and down Greyson’s back. Something felt weird about it, but Galo was more interested in helping Greyson calm down than whatever weird ping his brain received. What to do, what to do?

“Hey, Greyson,” Galo said, giving the hand in front of his face a very small wave. “I really like those carrots; could you go get some more for me?”

Success! He guessed right. The presence of an achievable goal seemed to cut into Greyson’s impromptu panic, and he nodded sharply before gliding out of the dining room with a purpose. It would probably help for him to be removed from the situation that had freaked him out, too. 

Ah, yikes. Galo sat back down with two hands in his hair, sighing deeply. Looks like they were all gonna be a delicate touch, after all? He’d had high hopes for Greyson, since the guy had known Galo since he was in braids and overalls, but, well. Guess that’s what living with a real harpy could do to a man. Man, why would Auntie Bethany have even chosen people like Nyla, if this was what she’d managed to do to Greyson? People this skittish couldn’t possibly sate her need for endless complaining and beration, could they?

A weird, half-formed thought hovered on the edge of Galo’s awareness, but he couldn’t quite grasp it. He was tired. It had been a long day at work, a long day with the hospital staff and arranging which funeral home she’d be sent to and the lawyers and a long evening here in this massive castle. It was past bedtime. That, and he really had drunk a lot of wine.

“Thanks, man,” Galo said when Greyson came back, looking his usual calm, elegant self.

--

Four sets of eyes turned to him when he entered the kitchen.

“Grey?” Nyla asked, her eyes haunted. He couldn’t imagine he looked very good, right that moment.

“Master would like seconds of the carrots, Sasha,” Greyson said first, getting the priority information out while he still felt like he could speak. He was sweaty on the temples, and Nyla was staring at him with pinched misery, Lilah clinging to her skirt with a vacant stare into the middle distance.

Greyson took a breath, slow but still shallow, and wiped at his temples. “Master’s games are different than Mistress’s were.” He was familiar with the way the others flinched, the way Evan’s face screwed up with anger before settling into miserable resignation, the way Sasha blinked hard to keep her tears at bay with her hands not pausing in their task. “But he is lenient with failure.”

Greyson vaguely remembered that from when Galo was a youth, too. It had been nearly twenty years, but he remembered Galo being a cheerful, thoughtful child, kindest that Greyson had ever met. He would be better than Mistress had been, Greyson felt relatively confident. But the man differed a great deal from his teenage years, so who was to say what else had changed?

“Did he mention how long he’ll be lenient with failure?” Evan asked.

“He didn’t,” Greyson stated, taking the plate from Sasha, “But if I had to guess, we’re being given an adjustment period.”

Greyson left the kitchen with the plate balanced perfectly on his fingers, spine straight, posture the same as it had been for almost all his life. Master’s plate was empty when he returned, and he wasn’t sure if he should apologize for making him wait or keep quiet. Master ate faster than the Mistress had. This was important; they’d have to adjust to him, cater to his needs personally.

When Master thanked him, Greyson relaxed, a little. He wasn’t sure how Master Galo’s manners played into the game that was currently afoot, but it was nice, to be treated in this way. Greyson stood, hands clasped behind his back, as Master ate, at his beck and call. Greyson bowed low when he announced that he was turning in for the night.

“Goodnight, Master,” Greyson said, voice composed again, and returned to the kitchen with two handfuls of dishes.

Again, four pairs of eyes landed on him when he came through the door, but he offered them a shaky smile, this time.

“Master has gone to bed for the night,” he announced quietly, and the tension in the room palpably dropped. 

“Sasha, take Lilah to bed, please,” Nyla ordered softly. “Greyson, Evan,” she looked between them, and the tension caught its second wind.

One of them would have to go. Usually, Mistress would specify which one she wanted (and it was usually Evan or Lilah), but apparently Master’s game involved them having to make the decision. Greyson hoped nothing terrible would happen if they guessed wrong.

He’d been lenient, so far. He’d been lenient with Nyla, more than they’d hoped, and lenient with Greyson; friendly even.

“I’ll go,” Greyson volunteered. “Master has shown a certain amount of favoritism, so far. And I’ve done this for a long time. I’ll go.”

Evan looked relieved, Nyla, torn. Greyson put his hand on her shoulder and she thinned her lips in a stubborn line.

“You’re the one who leads us,” he reminded quietly, “We need you at your best, tomorrow, while we navigate… this. I’ll go.”

Nyla placed her hand over Greyson’s, nodding reluctantly. “Evan and I will clean up the kitchen. We’ll see you in the morning.”

And so Greyson left the kitchen once again, and quietly, gracefully moved up the stairs, down the hall, and into Master’s new bedroom. The running water of the shower sounded from the cracked doorway of the bathroom, so Greyson settled himself onto his knees in the middle of the room, removed and folded his shirt neatly, and waited.

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