#and people came and helped me find different options immediately

[sadaveniren]

This is your reminder that “fandom friends” are just as valid and lovely as “real life friends” and anyone who says otherwise can shove it

[caramelkoo]

be still my heart — jjk [two]

the one in which Jungkook lets his imagination run wild and you confront Jimin about your past.

genre : childhood best friends to enemies to lovers, physical therapist!reader x hockey player!jungkook, slow burn, smut, fluff, angst

word count : 5.1k

chapter warnings : strong language, kissing, jungkook is again nervous around Destiny. That's it i guess lmk if i missed anything.

a/n : ohmygod the first part got so much love i just couldn't wait to post this. This one is a bit intense. I love my babiest baby jungkook so much. Please enjoy my lovely people and remember you're so loved :> feel free to send asks. kisses.

Jungkook

During Jungkook’s college days, there was a guy named Oscar who’d sit beside him in class with his round glasses resting on his face. He would bunk classes almost every day which led the ever so curious Jungkook to follow him one day in order to find out what’s so special that he’s even willing to bunk classes for? Listen, the nerdy Jungkook thought bunking classes is bad manners. Don’t come at him.

Eventually, he found himself watching Oscar playing the guitar inside the vacant auditorium and he can swear he’s heard nothing more melodic than that. He figured the guy escaped so he could do what he loves. It was his passion.

If someone were to ask him, what’s his passion? Jungkook would say, Hockey. It pumps him up, it brings him back to life. He was born to do this.

He has seen his older brother playing hockey for as long as he can remember but trying the sport for himself? That never came to him, until his brother thought handing out a hockey stick to a 15 year old would be funny.

Newsflash, it wasn’t funny and as much as he doesn’t want to, Jungkook has no option than to give him the credit for him being here. It’s only right. The moment he held that hockey stick it was like the clouds parted and angels started singing.

This life right here is something he has built with hours and hours of practice, diet, diligence and working himself out until he’s a sweaty mess.

It’s not like every other 28 year old’s life, it’s different as well as demanding but every other 28 year old is also not being thrown into the penalty box like him right?

On a good day he would even call himself a conflict-avoidant guy until it comes to his teammates. Then, he’s an animal, ready to tear down every motherfucker who dares to touch them. Dramatic? he doesn't think so.

Yes, they piss him off but they’re a team, it’s a unified responsibility that they have. You stop at nothing to protect your own. The spark of defensiveness is bound to come to the surface given he's the defenseman of the team.

This is why he’s in here, trapped behind this glass shield as he watches the guys do their worst performance till date. The forward of the opposite team tried to get a fight started making Jungkook see red. His instincts led him to act immediately. He had to do something to put an end to it and breaking the guy’s nose seemed like a nice option.

The lions are not an easy team to play with, they’re hard hitters and show no mercy. That’s what coach has been telling them ever since they landed here. Seems like nobody listened. Fuckers.

Sweat drips from his hair as he watches the game, ears filling up with screams behind him.

“Jeon Jungkook I’ll have your babies”

“Jungkook you’re so hot it makes me insane”

“Oh god this man will be my death”

“He can slap me and I’ll thank him”

God help him. The thing is, the shitshow before him is not the only reason behind him being a mess today. Destiny has been… weird lately. At the risk of sounding like a goner, she’s not acknowledging him at all, like at all.

She used to grab the seat in front of him on the plane whenever the team flew for the games but this time she didn’t so much as look at the poor guy let alone sitting before him. Is she hurt because of last time? Did he fuck up again? This proclivity of fumbling every time he’s around her needs to be checked.

“Dude, we couldn’t have held a candle to them.” says Taehyung.

Ah yes, the guys lost the game if it wasn’t predictable enough and now the coach will have their heads on a platter ready to serve. Well, he doesn't want to do that any more than Jungkook himself does.

Jungkook gets rid of his shin pads, placing them on the bench. “Try saying that in front of coach”

“He’ll understand”

Yoongi glares at him, “The fuck he will. He’s been in our faces telling us how wild it might be over there. Who listened? Because you sure not did, Tae”

Taehyung chuckles in disbelief, propping his hands on his waist. “Dude, you’re targeting me as if I was the one breaking noses and all.”

He gives Jungkook a side eye. Oh he’s so gonna get Tae later.

“You might as well have. And as for you,” he glances at Jungkook, "I'll just hope you come back in one piece."

“Alright, cut it out” Namjoon says as he slips into his practice jersey. That’s so like him. Heading straight for practice after a big game, whether or not they win.

He’s one of the most dedicated people Jungkook has ever seen and you can’t generally get a praise out of him like this.

He blocks out their bickering and focuses on getting out of his hockey pants. A sharp pain shoots up in his knee making him cringe. That’s strange. He doesn’t remember his knee getting involved in the ruckus. Anyway, he makes a mental note of letting Destiny know about it and not repeat the same douchebaggery.

“Hey bud, you doing okay?” Namjoon asks as he’s rubbing the painful spot.

He looks up, “Yeah it’s… it’s just a slight pain. Might be a cramp for all I know”

He pats Jungkook’s shoulder in support, a kind smile plastered on his face. “I hope so and hey, don’t be picking fights like that anymore. You understand?”

Jungkook is quick to defend himself. “But that asshole–”

“I know,” he nods, “Just be careful. That’s all I’m saying. Let it be your last.”

He gives up, nodding his head. “Yeah. I’ll resist”

Namjoon is right. Jungkook did not pick a fight and he knows it. He also knows that Jungkook is always ready to come at his players’ defense, however that might be.

After all, it all boils down to a nasty fight on the rink which is nothing to be surprised about. There have been plenty of fights down here, some resulting in broken limbs and some going as far as a person on a stretcher.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Nightclubs are hands down Jungkook’s least favorite spot ever. He hates the smell, he hates the crowd and he hates how loud everything gets. If it weren’t for Yoongi, he would be at home chilling or overthinking. No one can tell.

Although, he’s not sure if he can even call that four walled room his ‘home’. It’s not home, it’s just a place he was given to stay at when he joined the federation and while he’s more than grateful for it, an empty, emotionless space where he only exists in can’t be qualified as a home.

However, he can’t stop wanting a place which is only his. A place he can share with someone he loves, wakeup next to her, cook with her, make memories with her. A home overflowing with laughter and giggles only.

Clearly, that murky ass house can never live up to that expectation not when it consists of a bathroom smaller than his fist, a bedroom which can’t fit more than 3 people at once and a kitchen he, for some reason, can’t get himself to cook in. He believes someday he’ll have that albeit the wait.

“Do you think I’m joking?” Taehyung’s voice is louder than ever before because of the surroundings. Sitting beside Namjoon as his hands fist a glass of old fashioned, he acts like he just spilled the most expensive beans.

He dramatically places one hand on his chest and turns to Jungkook, “Dude, tell him. Tell him how I got my dick pierced last week”

A chuckle leaves him, “Better yet, you can lose those pants and give him a live show”

The guys break out in fits of laughter.

“Don’t act like you haven’t seen my dick already, you twat. I did it for my girlfriend alright? Was this close to tattooing her name too but didn’t,” he holds up his thumb and forefinger to show how much,

“I don’t want my guy to swell and look like I accidentally got it stuck between a door or something.”

From his peripheral vision, Jungkook spots Destiny walking up to them looking like an absolute goddess. She’s wearing a shoulder strapped bodycon dress tonight with her hair curled in such a way that it makes her face look more feminine. He has seen so much of her in those scrubs that she’s doing things to him now. Hold your damn horses, Jungkook.

The poor guy can’t so much as look at her for too long or he’ll get hard. That’s something he can’t allow himself to do right here when all his friends are gathered. They’re never gonna let him live that down.

Maybe, when he’s alone he can fuck his hand with the thoughts of her taking him into that sweet mouth she’s got a bold red lipstick look going on. His cheeks turn crimson and he fights back a smile.

“Hey, guys” she greets them as she tucks a hair strand behind her ear. A gold hoop adorning her. God, she’s trying to kill him. She's like Jungkook’s own version of heaven.

The guys all smile up at her like she just asked them to give her a foot massage. Meanwhile, her eyes never land on Jungkook.

“Jimin, can I steal you for a second?” she hesitates.

“Sure” Jimin places down his drink and stands up. He walks up to her and rests his hand at the small of her back making Jungkook’s smile drop. Nice, he's getting jealous over a kind gesture now. Next thing you know, he'll be ending anyone who dares to breathe in her direction.

Namjoon shakes his head as he follows them both with his gaze. “Am I the only one who thinks they’re fucking?”

Yoongi dissolves into laughter while Taehyung spits out his drink. Almost. Jungkook? He finds nothing funny about it but refrains himself from saying something stupid in the heat of the moment.

“There’s some tension, yes. Can’t say anything about the fucking part though” says Yoongi.

“What do you think?”

“What?”

“Do you think they’re shagging?” asks Taehyung in a hushed voice.

“I think you assholes need therapy” With that he rests his own glass of drink on the table and walks away. Their voices calling out to him become more and more faint as he goes on.

He needs to find out what is it that gave rise to this sudden change in Destiny and if he’s the reason for it. His stomach churns as soon as the thought of her having something going with Jimin crosses his mind.

The guys were joking back there and given their proclivity of joking around, he takes their statements with a grain of salt. Howbeit, he can’t help but wonder the same.

The worst thing of all is he doesn’t have any right to feel this way. She’s not his and she might never be for all he knows. So maybe this is for the best, maybe if she keeps on discounting him like this, it would be slightly easier to forget her. Right?

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Destiny

“What do you think you’re doing? This is a men's bathroom?” A guy who must be in his early twenties nearly pokes his finger in Jimin’s eyes. His gaze darts over to you as he gives you a disgusted look.

Jimin levels him with an intimidating glare, “Why don’t you mind your own damn business and we’ll be good. Yeah?”

He flashes you another appalling look, his nose flaring before he walks out. For a second you might even endorse with the guy but in your own defense, the club is buzzing with commotion and there was not a single space Jimin and you found where you both could have a proper conversation without anyone bumping into you. You spent quite the money on this dress and it'd be bummer to ruin it. It’s insane how crowded it is. So, here you are.

Jimin turns to you, his fingers still laced through yours for the sake of your safety. “I’m sorry for that”

You snatch your hand back. “No it’s totally fine. I mean it’s not usual for a guy to bring a woman in here” an awkward chuckles leaves you.

“It is”

Your smile drops, “Huh?”

“They do bring women in here. Well, let’s just say they do everything except have a talk”

Of course they do. God, this is more awkward than you imagined it would to be. You could die of embarrassment right now but if you don’t clear things up with him, it would be more humiliating to simply exist around him. You roll your shoulders back, plucking up enough courage.

“Let’s discuss the elephant in the room, shall we?”

He steps closer to you, just enough to catch you off guard but not enough to knock the breath out of your chest. There is someone else who's been doing that job lately.

“What elephant Destiny? The one about us having the best time together or how you left me the next morning? Alone and pathetic” he demands.

Well, knock me down with a feather.

Your mouth parts in shock, “I left you? You sneaked out, Jimin and you know it”

You wonder if he’s gonna come clean about that. If he’s gonna stop blaming you and take accountability for once. You guys did have the best time together and as short lived as it was, you regret nothing about that night until this point.

Now that he stands in front of you, accusing you of being so cowardly that you dared to leave him, it makes you question your own integrity.

He takes another step forward, automatically making you take one back as he searches your face. “So where were you when I woke up? Where were you when I reached my hand out and didn’t find you lying next to me, huh?” his voice barely a whisper.

Enough. You wouldn’t have bothered to stop the scream that’s begging to leave you had someone pointed a gun at your head. A gal can only take so much before she snaps.

“I WAS OUT THERE SEARCHING FOR MORNING AFTER PILLS”

The vacant bathroom echoes with your own words. The words you were holding back from saying out loud.

“I went in search of those, Jimin. Apparently, that’s what you’re supposed to do when you fuck each other and not take necessary precautions”

He stills, backing off as if you had slapped him. A heavy silence hangs in the air around you.

Jimin’s eyes flash with barely contained astonishment as he looks around trying to find words. When he doesn’t say anything, you take it as an opportunity to continue.

“You weren’t lying about us having a great time together. I accept that, we did have fun and I don’t regret it which honestly, I’m not so sure of now.”

A quick look of hurt passes through his face before he recovers.

“I was planning on staying back too oh… how badly I wanted to stay back but you have to understand that I was also at the prime of my career as a professional physical therapist. I couldn’t afford having a child, Jimin. Back then even the thought scared me. So, I left for a while, mentally promising you to come back. You were sleeping so soundly and you looked so beautiful and I didn’t want to disturb you—”

Your words come to an abrupt halt as he takes a long step towards you, backing you up against the white wall behind.

It’s not the same, your chest is not rising and falling rapidly like it did back then. Gosh, you couldn’t even speak in front of him. This time you’re immune to his eyes, his closeness and his warmth. Is this what they call healing?

“You should have” his brown eyes flash with hunger, “You should have disturbed me, Destiny. I would have woken up, ate you out, maybe fucked you again while wearing a condom, cuddled you and then accompanied you to the medical store.”

Oh fuck no, this is not happening. You’re not getting yourself back into this situation where he charms you with his mere words and leaves you cold. You deserve better than that.

You push him back with your palms on his chest, “Maybe, but I think I wouldn't have it any other way,”

You look straight into his eyes and nowhere else to make him feel how serious you are, leaving no room for uncertainty.

“Bella, my assistant, keeps saying that everything happens for a reason. It’s written up there," you point your forefinger up, "I feel the same about what went down with us. There was a reason why you left, there was a reason behind me not bothering to wake you up."

A bitter chuckle slips through your mouth, “Although, I can’t seem to grasp why the hell are you here?”

The way your heart is beating inside your chest, you might end up on a ventilator. It’s because you haven’t had much control of anything in your life, this feels particularly massive. This is one way for you to take back control, because it’s your choice and yours alone.

You try not to let the tears spill, “I asked you to spare me a few minutes just so I could talk to you about it but this isn’t how I imagined this conversation to go, Jimin. Regardless of that, I need you to do me a favor”

He holds your gaze. “What favor?”

You clear your burning throat, “I’m requesting you to please not initiate any conversation about our past with any of the guys. That could pretty much cost me my job and yours.”

He offers you a stern nod, “You have my word”

With that you turn and walk around just like you always do and always should when it’s time. Only this time, you don’t feel victorious. Instead, the feeling of utter shock rushes through your body because standing outside is the only person you had been avoiding to say the least.

You flinch. “Jungkook?”

He’s leaning back against the cold wall with his hands inside his front pockets, head hanging low. You can’t make his face out because of the darkness.

He frantically lifts up his head when he hears you calling, looking as surprised as you, “Hey, I— wait, why are you coming out of the men’s room?”

You shift on your feet, folding your hands in front of you. “What? OH !! Well, I had some business with Jimin and this felt like a nice place to.. you know”

You can’t talk for the life of you. How do you explain yourself to him without word vomiting? But then you think better of it and just shake your head.

“You know what? Never mind that. What about you? Why are you standing here like someone just broke your heart?”

No fucking way did you just say that. What is this? A bollywood movie? You immediately feel like you hit a nerve when his face falls, causing you to curse yourself.

He’s silent for a moment before he stands up straight. “You could say that”

“Wait, really?”

Yet again you’re struggling to breathe, a spark of curiosity threatening to rise up. Why do you care about his heart? He’s been all but rude to you every day since you’ve begun working by his side so why would you care if someone put his bloody heart in a blender? You have been assigned to take care of his body, what happens unrelated to that is none of your business.

Except, you do. There is a teeny tiny part of you that cares. Though, you can’t say if it’s the doctor inside of you or something else. Something which could ruin you and save you all at once.

“Who is it?” you ask in a small voice.

His eyes rank behind you and he pulls you close to him by grabbing your arm. You see a man passing by, faltering on his own under the influence of probably the sheer amount of alcohol inside him.

When you look up, you have to swallow a gasp. Jungkook’s face is so close to you, you can almost count his moles. The one under his lips is begging to be kissed and you hold yourself back from grabbing him by his jacket as you kiss the hell out of him.

Wait what?!

He looks down at you, his eyes burning with something you can’t pinpoint. It’s like a mixture of anger and adoration. Soft lips brush your temples as your heart beats out of your chest.

“It’s not safe here. Why don’t you go join Bella? If I break another nose it’ll cost me good”

You lean back, still in his arms. It would be nice if you get out of his hold. You should shove him away too exactly like you did with Jimin but for some reason, you can’t. His hold is safe, cozy. It reminds you of your grandmas cookie recipe. Warm and lovely.

“Another nose? Did you get into a fight?”

He breaks away, turning his back to you but you clutch his forearm as you hold him back before he can bolt.

“You know the PR is gonna make your life a living hell. What did you do?”

His jaw sets instinctively as he looks at you for a moment before speaking.

“Destiny, if you don’t want me kissing that sweet mouth of yours and imprint my name on it for once and for all, get the fuck out of here.” he rasps.

That's it. Flashbacks of that night and that fucking dream consume you. It doesn't help at all that he looks so dashing tonight in all black. Black leather jacket, black pants and his black boots. You're having visions you shouldn't have. They're nice. Farfetched but nice, nonetheless.

You release his hand like it will set you have you combust if you keep holding onto it for even a moment longer. You turn around, with the intent of getting out of his proximity when his voice stops you.

“Destiny”

You don’t turn around because something is telling you if you do, you will never be the same.

“My life turned into a living hell the moment you stopped looking at me”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Jungkook

Jungkook is dying. 

Figuratively, of course.

He should have taken Destiny seriously when she said that the PR is going to make his life miserable once he gets to know about the mess he had made. His phone is buzzing on the kitchen counter. He knows who it is but he doesn’t pick up.

Instead, he just waits until it stops ringing. Jungkook can see it all playing out in his head. He will be called to the PR’s office as soon as he enters the academy and the PR is gonna ask him why he did what he did, Jungkook will then tell him that he's a a man of virtue, he will ask him to repent and tell him to fuck off. Very classic. Been there, done that. 

He drops his head low, palms splayed in front of him. Calling last night chaotic would be an understatement. He said things he shouldn’t have and heard things he hoped he wouldn’t. It was not deliberate, of course. He would like to call it a spur of the moment.

Alright, he was fucking jealous. There he said it. He was jealous of Park Jimin because that man was touching who Jungkook had been longing for, he was talking to the women Jungkook had been begging to look at him once and allow him to breathe. 

When he reaches the academy, he quickly asks about Destiny’s whereabouts and goes on to find her. He thinks his knee needs to be discussed because he can’t risk not playing the next game.

He's not sure if he's prepared for the uneasiness that's about to welcome itself but– god if you’re listening, help him, he prepares himself as much as he possibly can. 

Raising his hand to make a fist, he knocks on her office door. This would be his first time inside, if she would even let him in.

“Come in” her voice reaches Jungkook. 

He takes a long deep breath and pushes the door wide open. Stepping inside he looks at her sitting in her chair with glasses resting on top of her button nose. She looks so adorable. He doesn’t think he has ever seen her with glasses on but he approves. 

“Jungkook? Is everything okay?” 

Is it? Why is she acting like everything about last night was a dream? Did I imagine it all? Jungkook wonders.

He slips his hands inside his front pockets and nods, “My knee is acting a bit weird. I wanted to get it checked. See if there’s anything serious.” 

She takes her glasses off and rises to her feet. Pointing to one of the chairs, she says, “Sit down and let me have a look”

He does what she asked as he leans back to make himself comfortable. An eerie silence surrounds them, making every inch of Jungkook's body stiff as he grips the armrests of the chair a bit tighter. He doesn’t let it appear that way of course. He’d rather die. 

When she’s satisfied, she gets down on her knees and looks up at him. The visual is lethal but not something which he hasn’t already imagined.

He's not entirely proud to say that he has had the privilege of seeing her on her knees in his dreams, in the darkness of his bathroom, in his fantasies. He's seen it all but the real sight nearly makes him blow his load.

What do you think happens to a man who witnesses a queen getting down on her knees for him? Ask Jungkook. Mentally thanking himself for not wearing the sweatpants, he prepares to answer any of her questions.

“Do you wanna tell me what caused this?” 

“There um, there was a fight back at the game. I felt a slight pain in the changing room but didn’t think much of it. Thought I’d let you know about it.” 

She smiles, “Well I’m proud of you for that minus the fighting part. I’m sure you’ll be discussing that in the PR’s office” 

As she’s examining any possible pulls or cracks, he thinks about apologizing to her about last night. To be very honest, he's tired of this awkward silence every time he's around her. Not talking is one thing, walking on eggshells around each other is another. He wants her to behave the same way she does with the rest of the boys. 

“Destiny, I needed to talk to you about something” 

She looks up again, her eyes filled with curiosity. 

“Sure. Was something else hurt during the fight?” 

“What? No. I wanted to talk about last night” 

She stiffens as her mouth forms an ‘O’ shape. Fuck, why is his heart beating so fast? Wait, is he sweating? 

Then she shrugs, talking in a casual tone. “I don’t think it’s worth talking about” 

“Why?” Jungkook can’t help but ask.

“Well,” she smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes, “You and I both were drunk and people do stupid stuff when they’re drunk so.”

“There was not a single drop of alcohol in my system. However, whatever I said was in the spur of the moment.” he says wording his previous thoughts, “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that. I’m sorry” 

She’s quiet for a moment before she lowers her head and mumbles something. 

“WellIhadasexdreamaboutyousoweareeveniguess”

He lowers down his own head, trying to listen clearly, ‘What was that?”

“I said I had a sex dream about you so we’re even” as soon as the words slip out of her, she claps a hand over her mouth. Her eyes wide as saucers. Meanwhile, he just sits there wondering if he heard her right or his brain is as fucked as his knee. 

His mouth goes dry as he keeps looking at her. He feels like someone just dumped a bucket full of ice water on his head. She had a sex dream about him? When? How was it? 

“It was uh okay” 

Kill him, kill him now because he said that out loud. See, this is what he means when he says he messes up every time he's in front of her. That’s exactly what the last thought that crosses his head before he pulls her by the back of her neck and smashes his lips on hers. Fuck it, he can’t take it anymore.

When she kisses him with the same amount of passion and hunger, he resists himself from hoisting her up on the table and eating her sweet cunt. She matches every movement of his lips. Hers suck his before his take her pink and pillowy ones. 

Within seconds, he has her caged in his arms. A low moan slips past her lips as she clutches onto Jungkook's shoulders for support, his fingers digging into the sides of her waist. Is this what feels like to kiss Kim Destiny? Is he actually touching and tasting her?

She tastes like cherries and bubblegum and he swears he's tasted nothing sweeter. He wants to have this taste every day on his tongue, and wants to remember it till the day he takes his last breath. Maybe, even longer than that. 

He pulls back and cups her cheek, running his thumb along her lower lip as she catches her breath. She’s got her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling against his. Jungkook can feel her hard nipples through her scrubs.

Someone shakes him by the shoulders and he snaps out, blinking rapidly. He looks around and finds himself sitting on the very chair Destiny asked him to but when a feminine voice calls out his name, it's not hers.

“Well, watching my best friend on her knees in front of my step brother was not the visual I thought I needed”

Turns out, it takes a lot to make that someone up there 'happy' because standing in front of him is his only step sister. It's hilarious how unpredictable life happens to be. After all, not only did he imagine kissing Destiny after she told him about her little sex dream but will now have to figure out how to face his sister without wanting to hurl himself out the window.

Can he catch a break?

Taglist - @keylime4eva @xumyboo @jash719 @dmstoyangyang @pitchblack0309 @withluvjm @chaelvrx @httpjeonlicious @lovingkoalaface @rpwprpwprpwprw (ilusm and thank you for reading <3)

[nanamiscocksleeve]

When The Snow Melts

Warnings: MDNI, soft sex, virginity loss, angst, and some spoilers for those who aren't familiar with Zayne's lore. A/n: Curiosity got the best of me. I wasn't playing LaDS when the Master of Fate card came out so I went to YouTube and immediately regretted it. Like can this man not catch a break? He sacrifices himself again? I couldn't leave it, so this me, correcting the wrong. A fix-it fic if you will. Because I need Zayne to win, at least once. Also, since Zayne appears according to how MC perceives him, I do believe he will have aged exactly as she has.

The night is bright, and the small cobbled lane you walk on is lit with lamps. The streets are bustling with life. The feeling of excitement, togetherness, and aromatic food graces the air as you wander closer to the town square. Another festival, similar, yet not similar, to the countless ones you’ve seen with your keen eyes. 

You’d wanted to be in company, maybe see the world when you were young, and the curse that was also a blessing was granted. Your body, now wispy and weathered from the years spent wandering cannot move as quickly as you used to, the ever-reminding aches in your joints, the beginning of arthritis weighing down in your bones. Yet you still had a zest for life. Because what else could you do but seek, and take in everything that life had to offer? How could you not? Because it was the grace of the god that allowed it and the terrible price that was paid for you to experience it.

It had been decades since you had last seen the god. You had traversed as far as you could, carrying your umbrella with the everlasting snow coating it like wool on a freshly birthed lamb. The things you had witnessed! Ships with sails as tall as oak trees, strangely flavored meats and delectable sweets, festivals where people had danced, music from instruments brought in from faraway strange lands. You had eaten, traveled, danced, and sung, picking up small jobs to afford simple pleasures. You were a quick learner. Once you were a seamstress helping a small garment shop, another time a jewel polisher. You had even worked as an errand maid for an elderly couple who were profuse with their thanks and offered you a roof over your head for a short while. But staying in one place wasn’t an option. You had to keep looking after all. How else would you find him again?

As your feet carried you into the square, a burst of light and color filled your vision. It’s so lively, as the people flock to the different food carts, admiring the small handicraft booths, and singing folk songs well known to all those who grew up in this region. Children joyfully chased each other, dressed warmly in bright clothes. A hint of winter was already in the air. Based on what you had observed, this festival was celebrating the end of the harvest season, probably one of the last for this year until the harsh snowfall of winter faded. The breeze, not quite chilly enough to make you shiver, felt comforting on your face. 

You supposed you could work as a midwife again. Midwifery was good work, reliable since winter did not stop the delivery of children into the world. It could also guarantee a place to stay if you played your cards right, though you hated staying in one place. The nomadic lifestyle you had adopted suited you. And the winters made you nostalgic. 

It made you long for those days before you had picked up this umbrella and set off to see the world. Of amber eyes flecked with green, like the jars of whiskey at the inns when the early morning sunlight brushes against them, bringing forth colors hidden in the dark glass. Or of soft hands, covered in scars, and whispers in your ear of sleep, of priestesses calling gods down to earth to make love to them. Sometimes the memories consume you to the point of anger.  How dare he leave you? With no explanation as to what his blessing was. 

You vaguely recall those days, back when your fingers weren’t gnarled and wrinkled, your face unblemished by the years in the sun. All spells have limitations, he had said. But he also said he had taken care to make the spell extra strong since you were particularly clumsy. The snow had to melt sometime…didn’t it?

A drum begins to pound in the distance, and the crowd gathers around the stage that had been set up at the far end of the square. You halt at one of the carts to buy some fried chicken skewers. The vendor looks curiously at your umbrella, something you have grown accustomed to over the years. After all, snow that doesn’t melt was bound to bring questions. You had woven a different story for each city you had passed through, sometimes recycling them when you didn’t have the creativity to spin a new one. Initially hesitant to reveal how the umbrella with the everlasting snow had come into your possession, you had tried to pass it off as a novelty accessory, crafting tales of snowy mountains and how it was all the rage in those areas.

As the years passed by, your tongue had loosened. Or perhaps the indignation of him disappearing had made you reckless. Although you still hadn’t said the full story, you’d managed to finally say it was a blessing from a god, shocking the non-believers by letting them touch the snow, their gasps of awe as the cold, wet, powder clung to their fingers falling satisfyingly on your ears. Tonight, however, you were in no mood to entertain strangers. You smile politely as you hand over your coins to the vendor, take the food, and walk away towards the stage. 

The sounds of a flute and an erhu accompany the drum. Elaborately dressed dancers are swirling in coordinated grace on the stage, enacting a scene from an old tale; the common man sending off the goddess of harvest, thanking her for her blessings that year, and praying to the god of winter, that he be merciful to them and allow them to live to see another spring.

You were skeptical if these rituals really worked. The first autumn after you had been gifted the umbrella when the air started to show signs of change, you had danced, danced amongst the trees that were close to shedding their vividly colored leaves of red, mustard, and yellow. You had prayed your heart out, prayed so hard, danced so long that the soles of your shoes had almost worn out. You had danced till you had collapsed with exhaustion, falling asleep on the leafy floor. You had been so sure that it would work, that he would show himself, and when you awoke, it was with a heartrending pang that you realized you were alone. It hadn’t worked. Wherever he was, the god of the snow wasn’t visible to your eyes. It was the first time you had allowed yourself to cry in all those months. Had he really believed this was the better choice? That to leave you behind without telling you what was going to happen to him would make you happier? That was the worst part; not knowing if he was alive, existing somewhere you couldn’t journey to, or if he had given all his power into making the snow that had fueled your existence, and lost himself with it. 

The music becomes faster and the dancers move until the stage is a blur of color. The audience claps as their movements become sharp, with an artistic precision that only years of practice could hone. The last note quavers from the flute and rises into the night air. Cheers and whistles erupt all around you. It was a beautiful performance no doubt, but despite finding it captivating, it also left you feeling hollow. Finishing the last of your fried chicken, you begin to wander amongst the townspeople, enquiring about work that could be had for the winter.

By the time the square had cleared up, and the last of the festival-goers had returned home, you had secured a job; a bakery was in desperate need of an extra set of hands. The pay wasn’t much but the woman had offered food and board and you had accepted graciously. As you sit on the stone steps of your latest lodgings, you gaze at the moon. 

You want to not blame him, to not feel this heavy weight that you’ve carried inside your chest. You know you should be grateful for his sacrifice which enabled you to see so much of the world, and at the least, you weren’t alone. The incident with the people in your village was a distant memory, replaced with so many more pleasant rememberings. Plucking apples from an orchard with trees growing as far as the eyes could see. The feeling of a newborn baby, screaming with the rage of life and the mother wiping tears of joy while offering you her thanks. The herbalist with his toothless smile as he showed you which plants were medicinal and which were poison as you plucked various flowers and leaves and dug the earth for rhizomes of turmeric and ginger. 

You were a well-traveled woman, knowledgeable in all aspects, a rare luxury during this time, you knew. Yet for each memory that stayed clearly in your mind, there was a sense of loss. Everything tied back to him, and you couldn’t bring yourself to forget him, even in your old age, and even with the passage of time. 

The spicy bun the baker had offered you was good. You savored its flavor on your tongue, naming the constellations visible in the sky as you did so, the short astronomy lesson from a young scholar in some past time proving useful. It must be close to midnight based on how still the night is, the whispering rustle of dead leaves as they skitter across the ground audible in the background. With a sigh, you carefully get to your feet, your joints creaking as you rise. As you reach for your umbrella, you pause, fingertips hovering over the handle.

Surely you were imagining it? It must be a trick of the moonlight. The last of the lamps were dying, the faint light casting shadows across the walls of the dwellings. Yet your aged eyes couldn’t shake off the feeling. You stare intently at the umbrella, more so, at the snow perched on its upper slope. A fine sheen of condensation coated the umbrella, surrounding the powdery snow. Had you somehow gotten the umbrella wet? You kneel, observing with fascination as some of the condensation gathers, becoming fat droplets of precipitation, and rolling off the sides.

You’re awestruck. In all your years, the snow had never melted. It had never lessened nor increased but always stayed the same. But now you can see how the powder was turning watery, steadily dripping down into the cold ground. You trace a fingertip on the trails of moisture along the sides of the umbrella, and that’s when you hear it; the unmistakable twang of a guqin. 

You had never encountered a guqin again, not since the night he had played one while you danced for him. The unmistakable notes now begin to form a melody. You look out into the empty street and see nothing. But the song was filling your body like the warmth of a fireplace. Your limbs involuntarily stretch out as your eyes close, remembering the movements you had learned so long ago and sworn to never repeat after the failed attempt to call down the god. Your legs feel unsteady, your hands clumsy, a far cry from the controlled accuracy of the stage dancers. Your joints begin to sear as you move, unable to stop the actions. Oh how sweetly the instrument sang to you!

There’s a sharp pain in your heart, not from the ache of moving your tired extremities, but from the grief bottled up, adding on year after year. There’s resentment, but underneath it all, there’s a strong yearning you’re unable to put into words. How do you describe it? The loss of the only person who seemed to understand you, who helped you control your power?

You knew he did something when he placed his spell because, since that day, you hadn’t been able to harness your powers ever again. He had ensured you could live your life as a normal human being. Before knowing him you would have done anything to not have the power. But the cost that came with it was too much to bear. You weren’t alone, yet you were alone. So of all the days, why was the guqin playing now?

Tears roll down your cheeks as you dance, letting loose your sorrow to the crisp night breeze. You feel like each nerve in your body is frayed, all consumed with the bits of memories you had of him. It takes you a moment to realize you’re not dancing anymore. The guqin has stopped playing. You’re standing in a pose, your head lowered, facing the steps you had been sitting on, and the umbrella leaning against them. Shock passes through you. 

The umbrella was completely devoid of snow. The only evidence it was there was the puddle of water that had gathered beneath it, muddying the grass. 

“Why are you so surprised?”

Your heart skips a beat, then begins to hammer in your chest like a frantic bird trapped in a cage. The deep baritone voice tinged with a hint of sarcasm calls out to you gently. You can’t seem to be able to move. 

“It can’t be.” You murmur, gripping your elbows, trying to calm yourself. “It can’t be. I’m dreaming.”

“What are dreams if not another reality?”

It takes all the effort in your body to not collapse to the ground as a sobbing mess. You turn slowly, as though giving the voice a chance to admit it was a figment of your imagination but it doesn’t happen. Your breath catches in your throat as you see him, at last.

His dark hair has tinges of gray in it, and crow’s feet are visible near the corners of his eyes, but the gentle upwards curve of his lips, the broad shoulders, and his pointed chin are all recognizably familiar. 

“Zayne?” You let his name fall from your lips, sounding like a strange word, lost to your vocabulary from the years of disuse. 

He nods, then stretches out a hand to you. At first, you’re at a loss about what you should do, then, with as much speed as your wizened knees allow, you run to him. He’s solid and grounding, his arms wrapping around you tightly. A brief lick of rage crosses through you, but when you open your mouth to let loose your diatribe, all that comes out is a sob. Your tears flow freely, staining his robes, and you feel his gloved hands gently combing through your hair.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, his chin resting on top of your head.

“Why not tell me?” Your words are choked, your body shivering as you cry. 

Zayne leads you to the steps and helps you sit before occupying the space next to you. He leans you against him, your head resting comfortably on his shoulder as he takes one of your hands between both of his. He sighs deeply and his voice, though calm, is filled with regret as he speaks. 

“How could I tell you? What would I have said? How do you tell someone special to you that their life was in danger?”

You blink back tears. “Danger?”

“There was a powerful entity after you. I did what I needed to do to protect you.”

“Why was it after me?”

Zayne pauses, as though considering how to word his response. “It was convinced you would bring about a cataclysm, and the only way to prevent it was to take your life.”

“But… I don’t understand. How did your spell prevent this? Now that it’s worn off, won’t it come after me again?”

“No.” Zayne wraps his arms around you, his body bringing warmth into yours. “Even cataclysms go away if given enough time. But the harder part was figuring out how to suppress your abilities until that time passed.” He sighs deeply, gathering you close. “The spell on the umbrella was the only solution I could think of, without restricting your freedom. Regrettably, sealing your power meant taking away your ability to perceive me. I never intended to make it permanent.”

“Why not tell me?” You repeat the question. Zayne raises an eyebrow.

“If I had told you the spell would wear off, would you have left the mountain?” He brushes your cheek with his thumb as he takes in your face, his eyes softening as he looks at you. “I know you. You would have spent all these years in isolation, waiting for me. I didn’t want you to miss the opportunity to live. A normal life seemed like the best option I could give you until enough time had passed.”

You’re silent as you let his words sink into you. After a gap, you whisper, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” His thumb caresses each of your fingertips in turn. “But know that I watched over you every day. I saw the world through your eyes and felt your sense of wonderment in my heart. The day you danced so hard for me that you almost fainted from exhaustion-” Zayne draws in a breath and his voice quivers as he continues. “I was in tears. I wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort you. I was there, separated by a veil, but I felt your pain.”

“That was the year the frost came early.” You recall the memory. 

“Indeed. I couldn’t control my grief. I didn’t know how else to let you know I was there, except to cover the world with snow.”

You glance over at the umbrella. “Will you disappear again?”

“Not unless you want me to.” One of his large hands rests on your knee. “I understand I’ve angered you by acting without telling you everything. Is it enough that you don’t want me around?”

You shake your head no. Your momentary anger with him had faded, like the night giving way to the sunrise. “There’s nothing that could keep me from wanting you. I made many acquaintances throughout my life, but the one person’s companionship I yearned for was yours.”

“My beloved snowflake.” Zayne embraces you tenderly. “It was fate that led you to me on the mountain that day. And It was fate that finally broke the spell. We’re all bound by it, even me.”

“Are you?”

“Yes. Otherwise, do you think I would have kept you sealed for so long? Even gods must play by fate’s rules.”

Silence falls between you both,  the breeze ruffling your clothes. You become acutely aware that he’s gazing at you, and when you turn to look at him, there’s such tenderness in his eyes that it makes you blush, even at this age. 

“You’re beautiful,” he utters, tucking strands of stray hair behind your ears. The amber in his eyes glows as you stare back, captivated by how handsome he is. Your memory didn’t do him justice. You cup his cheek. 

“Is this our happily ever after?”

“It can be if we choose it to be.”

“I do. Wholeheartedly.”

Sparks fly between you and almost as if the both of you are following a rhythm, your lips find each other in the darkness. It’s odd because, in the passing years, you hadn’t imagined what his lips would feel like against yours. You had fantasized about lying next to him, listening to his heartbeat, about taking long, leisurely strolls while holding hands, and about the possibility of letting him rest on your lap while you played with his thick locks of hair.

Now you’re glad you hadn’t tried to imagine it because the reality was sweeter than any dream you could have conjured, the warmth and softness of his mouth, the taste of his tongue as it slips past your lips, the possessiveness in his grip as he molds your body against his, as though silently claiming you. There wasn’t an inch of you that didn’t ache for him. When he pulls away, there’s desire flickering in the depths of his eyes.

Wordlessly, you take his hands and get to your feet, quietly pulling him inside your new quarters. You’re careful to not wake the baker; it was quite improper to invite a man into your room, but you didn’t care. You lock the door and allow Zayne to sweep you away.

Clothes slide to the floor, a whisper lost to the dark. There’s no shame as you reach for each other, hands relishing the feeling of skin, enjoying the contact between your bodies as he gently pulls you onto the bed. His lips leave trailing kisses on your skin, no longer supple like the young woman you once were, but worthy of being worshipped irrespective. You wonder if this moment would have felt different if you had consummated this relationship when you were younger but realized you had little choice in it. If the Master of Fate couldn’t control when things happened, then what good was it to think about what could have been?

Instead, you focus on him, on his skin flushed with vitality as you nibble his ear, shyly running your tongue down his neck. He suckles at your nipple, and pleasure, unlike anything you’ve ever experienced radiates into every part of your being. You feel his erection graze your belly as he patiently kisses you, moaning into his mouth as his fingers stroke your sex, finding the little knot of nerves that makes you close your eyes in ecstasy.

It’s all slow and unhurried, and when you finally gasp out your climax, he eases his body into yours. There’s pain, but only for the briefest moment, then as your body stretches around him, you feel a powerful sense of intimacy as he thrusts, his movements passionate and loving. He gathers you tightly against him whispering the same thing over and over as he empties himself. 

“I love you. I love you I love you I love you.”

A weak ray of sunlight peeks through the window when you wake up, and you panic for a moment when you see the bed is empty. 

“I’m here my love.” Zayne’s voice immediately reassures you and you see him stoking the fireplace. The small flames crackle merrily as he makes his way back to bed, pulling you against him and stroking your skin. It had snowed overnight, and the landscape was now unrecognizable, covered in a fresh coat of it. 

“It appears grief isn’t the only thing that can cause the god of winter to make it snow,” you tease and Zayne good-naturedly smirks at you. 

“Indeed. All thanks to you.” 

You giggle, a soft sound that fills him with joy. 

“I suppose we’re stuck in this village until winter ends. Makes no sense to wander for now.”

“Agreed. I suppose I can set up shop as a fortune-teller, or maybe as a herbalist.”

“We’ll decide what to do when spring comes.” You settle against his chest, finding comfort in the scent of his skin. 

“The snow has to melt sometime. But we’ll survive. Together.”

“Together.” You agree, and lay your lips over his. 

© nanamiscocksleeve original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating support banner by @/ cafekitsune

@theimmortalbuns @otomegamesforlife @sweets-kozume @supernaturalbaesduh @ladyparamount

[velvetures]

Hi!!! I saw your post about taking some requests so I thought that I'll give it a shot. If it's possible, could you maybe do a Captain Price one? I haven't seen a story about him yet on your page, so I hope that this request can finally add one to your masterlist.

So here it goes: A Price x virgin!reader one. I feel like he's the type of guy to be really gentle and slow when he realizes that the reader is inexperienced, mostly due to his calm and caring nature. But once they start to get comfy, he'll get kind of rough in some way? And aftercare, I just know that this man would be an expert at it. Would help in washing them up in a tub or even cooking them a meal after. I could see that he's also a sucker for cuddles and just being close to them in general.

So yeah, I really hope that you'll consider this request and possibly write something out of it. If not, that's totally okay!!

Side note: I just wanted to say that I love your stories and that it brings me comfort, too:))

I Knew, Sweetheart

A/N: I'm so sorry this is so fucking looonngg!! I just couldn't get it right and I ended up going for "better is more" in the hopes that it'll hide the god-awful writing. :( Anyways, please don't burn me at the stake. It's my first Price fic, and I've still not got his voice or character dialed in. Summary: Reader is Price's gf, and while they've been together for a little while... sex hasn't come up. Nor the fact that the reader is a virgin!. Reader goes about bringing it up a little unconventionally, and things progress. T/W: virgin!reader, fem-reader, NS/FW 18+ ONLY, p-in-v sex, fingering, unprotected sex (don't do that IRL), established relationship, a little bit of an age-difference?, cursing?, first-time anxiety?, aftercare, probably missed something else. proofreading is for people w/ friends of which I have none.

John Price set himself apart from most of the men that he often worked alongside when it came to matters of his personal life and the ways in which he operated. A lot of people would often make jokes, saying it was nothing more than his being an “old man” who couldn’t adjust to the newer ways of life. But fuck, he wasn’t that old when it came right down to it, and yes he liked going along with the traditional ways specifically when it came to relationships, at least when he had the chance to. He’d been a lot younger at one point, not seeing how detrimental his actions could’ve been affecting the women he associated with or spent a few hours in bed with just to leave without another word sent their way.

Captain Price knew he’d made many mistakes when the heart was involved. He threw away a lot of advice he’d been given growing up -some good and some bad- all because he thought he knew better or had enough intelligence to figure it out as he went. Much of that changed when he started realizing that he wasn’t fulfilled in the slightest. For a few years, he was bitter over the emptiness. Not understanding where it came from or how the fuck he could get rid of it. Unraveling layer after layer like a frayed pair of jeans, John kept questioning how he’d come so far just to be that alone. Praying his mistakes hadn’t destroyed his chances of finding a little sliver of humanity outside of his work to motivate him. Keep him sane in the most bitter of hours, and soft when everything and everyone else around him kept adding brick after brick into never-ending, emotionless walls.

Then you showed up out of nowhere, sitting on a barstool in one of the pubs he frequented when he had some time away from his work. Close to home and nowhere near busy enough to call a bar or club; John immediately thought you looked like you’d taken a wrong turn and wound up in an old man’s hangout. It took him a few hours of watching out of the corner of his eye to finally weigh the options of being shot down, or possibly making something out of a whole lot of nothing. His offering to buy you a drink led to taking a few puffs off of his cigar outside. From there he learned just about everything about you within the first few weeks of seeing you or calling here and there.

You liked to talk, a lot. Something John was thankful for since he developed a bad habit of just staring at your pretty face instead of listening like he knew too. Fuck it made him feel ten years younger. And that was something else that made your relationship feel unusual to the Captain. More than six years in age difference didn’t sound all that significant on paper. Yet it was more interesting than either of you thought it would be initially. Aside from just simple pop culture references and enjoyment of music and other low-stakes things, your lives were on different paces. John was stable… at least as stable as his work allowed for. While you’d finally got the job you’d been dreaming of, and hadn’t been working for a full year when you met him. Everything all together challenged John, and you as well, with figuring out what you wanted from each other. How you planned -or wanted to- go about making that happen. And if being serious was something that you shared an interest in.

A few months of going on dates and John walking you home was traded for him sharing half the dresser drawers in his bedroom with you. He was gone nearly all of the time, which put a damper on things but he liked having peace of mind that you were safe and in his home. Besides, it was a short drive from his house to your work and you could stop paying half your paychecks on rent and start saving it up for anything you really wanted. At least… anything John hadn’t already bought or given you. Well… there was one thing John hadn’t given you. And it began gnawing at your mind harder and harder every time he went away for a mission and came home without the slightest inclination to do more than give you a kiss.

John Price still hadn’t asked or hinted at wanting to have sex with you.

At first, you thought it was refreshing. Seeing a man old enough and patient to understand that sex wasn’t just given but earned. Yet every time you thought there would be a moment after a date or a ‘welcome home reunion’ where he’d finally bring up the topic, your expectations fell short. Plenty of excuses floated around your brain, including the more rational ones: he was just very respectful. While others were much more self-conscious and saddening: he was getting it somewhere else, or he could see that you weren’t experienced. The age-old struggle of being a virgin past the age of eighteen.

Too old for half the population, and far too young and inexperienced for the others. Sheltered didn’t describe you. You had toys and knew how to give head as well as having been on the receiving end. But going “all the way” eluded you by some miracle or curse. Looking at John in comparison to yourself was just as attractive as it was intimidating. You knew better than to think he didn’t know his way around the bedroom. He was just too smooth. Far beyond any man, you attempted a relationship previously. You wanted to think he respected you, but at the same time, waiting for much longer for him to make a move just felt like another eternity you lacked the patience and confidence to endure. So after a long night of overthinking and wondering how you could even go about bringing it up, you made a decision that when he got back home from his latest mission, you’d be the one to bring it up.

God your hands were sweating. He was supposed to have been home two hours ago and there was still no sign of his truck in the driveway or a single message from him on the phone you had gripped between your damp palms. Everything had been just fine all day, until the sun began to set over the hillside in the backyard, leaving you less than six hours away from John coming through the door. Worried didn’t even begin to explain how your stomach was tied in knots with a low burning fire in your throat. John had been nothing short of perfect -save for being gone so often- and you knew there wasn’t a single reason for you to be so overwhelmed at the mere thought of being an adult and asking him to have sex with you. Of course… You made up your mind to omit that you’d never done it before and just hoped the Captain would be too preoccupied with something else to notice.

Noticing the details quickly got turned around on you when the front door creaked open on its hinges and you hadn’t the slightest clue that John was standing halfway through the threshold with bags slung over his back and a small look of curiosity on his face. His pretty little thing, sitting on the couch with her arms wrapped around her bent knees and a deep stare somewhere far away from the both of them. He had to admit it wasn’t the first time he had caught you sitting with your eyes “comfortable” as you liked to call it; however, it was the first time he’d seen you wearing something quite that lacy for no damn good reason before.

Some kind of black, strappy, and frilly little number. It hardly left anything to the imagination, and John had to force himself not to go into deep thought about how you’d even got into the thing without instructions. It made your figure that much more eye-catching, and after staring at nothing but rain and mud for two weeks you were a sight for sore eyes. Even a Captain had to admit his biggest weaknesses to overcome himself and improve, but he wasn’t sure in that second if he could ever overcome -much less forget- how divine you looked. Honestly, he didn’t even know you owned it to begin with. But by the way, you kept spinning your phone in your hand, he had the vague gut feeling that you had something on your mind. A little more than dinner or fussing over the possible injuries he could’ve sustained while gone.

“Waiting on someone?” He asked lowly, trying his best not to startle you too much. Right away your eyes locked on his and widened. Almost like a little rabbit cornered by a fox and no hole to scurry into. He watched a flash of sudden panic overtake you and how quickly you reached for one of the throw blankets at the end of the couch to hide behind. Price chewed his tongue, forcing himself not to smirk at you at the moment. Wanting so badly to tease you a little bit for looking so sexy in that bodysuit, but acting nothing short of the little shy church girl getting kissed on the cheek for the first time.

“J-John,” Your voice sputters on his name a bit, forcing a smile to his face. He couldn’t help it after being away for this long without the chance to hear you even over the phone for a few minutes. “You’re home a little late.”

He nods, guilty. “Delayed flight. Weather kept us from movin’ out on time.”

Careful, he dropped his bags off at the front door without the slightest concern about how long they’d sit there. More important things were swirling around in his head. Trying to decipher if you were planning something and just backed out, or if you just needed a little bit of coaxing to not be so shy. Hostage negotiation wasn’t something he thought would ever come in handy when it came to interacting with you, yet John found himself rounding around the chairs on the other side of the living room from you, and planning each step he made to ensure he didn’t spook you. That lingerie wasn’t for nothing, and he desperately needed to know what you planned on doing with it.

He licked his lips, taking a steadying breath. “What’s under the blanket, sweetheart?”

You swallowed thickly, “N-nothing… I thought - I hoped it’d look nice,” Fumbling pathetically for an excuse, you finally spit one out all under the very soft and lightly amused eyes of one John Price. “It doesn’t fit.” The second it left your lips, you internally cursed yourself.

John’s eyebrows raised, instantly grabbing onto that loose thread and pulling on it. “I’m sure you’re wrong about that…” He came closer, standing just in front of you on the couch with his hands on his hips. “Come on, why don’t you let me have a look? I’ll give you a second opinion.” His words made your heart stutter, and you weakly shook your head in response.

“I should just return it.” You mutter, scooting over to the side of him and attempting to sneak off with your protective blanket.

You’re not even close to getting away from John when he chuckles, one arm curling around your shoulders and the other getting a firm grip on the material you’re hiding under. Naturally, you don’t exactly fight to get away. But a furious blush breaks out over your cheeks and neck, feeling the preverbal trap tightened around your throat. He’s turning around and sitting down on the couch with a nonnegotiable silent order for you to take a seat straddling his lap. That alone is enough to drive you up a wall with anxious feelings. Not that you’d never sat on his lap before -actually it was quite common- but under these circumstances, there was a lot more than just a little bit of heat passing between the both of you. Very slowly, John found the edge of the blanket and slipped a hand under, searching out for your skin and eventually landing on a little bit of the lacy material stretching in a high cut over your hip. You can actually see his eyes darken, tracing along the hemline and mentally picturing what was under his fingers. Touch alone was making you squirm, avoiding eye contact and trying to keep quiet so as not to embarrass yourself even more than you already felt.

“Oh, sweetheart… fits like a fuckin’ glove.” He whispers lowly, hand palming your asscheek and toying with the thin little string that disappeared into the cleft.

“It’d be a shame for you to get all dressed up… go through all this trouble… then not let me see your hard work.” His voice lulled slow and steady, swaying your fears just enough for you to feel your head nod up and down a couple of times before letting the blanket fall off your shoulders and pool on Price’s lap. The front of the bodysuit had been well-hidden up until now, with you sitting so lady-like in his lap. But the thin straps just crossing around your tits and holding them up without a single stitch of material covering them totally, John thought he’d been shot right through the chest. Between the innocent look in your eyes, and that damned outfit making you appear about as sinful as hell, he couldn’t keep from letting out a low growl and squeezing your ass just hard enough to make you gasp.

“This is what you were trying to hide?” His breathlessness couldn’t be masked, nor could the frequent shift in his eyes between your practically bare chest and eyes. John chuckled, hands drifting towards your hips and up to rest on each side of your ribs. Pushing your tits together just a little bit, almost bewitched by the sight of you like that on his lap. “Oh, you’re such a pretty girl…” He muttered, almost to himself.

Shifting in his lap, you tried to keep your growing arousal and nervousness under control. Each touch set you on fire, and with John moving this slow you couldn’t be sure you’d live long enough to see another day. It was too good feeling a man actually appreciated a woman in front of him. Not just finding the small bits and pieces he preferred and overlooking the rest. You knew being nervous was natural, but the more John rubbed and soothed, it was getting harder and harder not to whine or ask him for just a little bit more to satiate you. Right away, John’s eyes darted up to you, and something you couldn’t quite describe flashed through his eyes just long enough for him to lip his lips and sit up a little straighter, pulling you to sit straddling just one of his thighs.

“I think I know what you want, sweetheart.” He smiled so damn affectionately that it made your heart jump. “But just so I know… why don’t you go ahead and tell me, that way I don’t miss anything. I don’t like to disappoint.” Toying with the zipper of his sweater, you suck in a nervous breath to steady your nerves.

“I want you to, have sex with me.” You hardly whisper the second part, still drawing your own attention towards anything minute that could serve as a focal point with your body shaking so badly.

“Hmm…” His thoughtful hum sends shivers up your spine, and the feeling of his hands massaging your hips makes it hard to breathe. “So I was right,” A smile crosses his face. “Well then, how about you go ahead and take care of this.” He growls a little, his fingers slowly tracing over the barely-there strip of fabric covering your core, already soaking wet with your arousal. Your little moan slips out before you can even try to cover your mouth, and John’s fingers slip away like he was purposefully trying to be mean and deny you a taste of relief.

“John, please…” You whimper, hands resting on his shoulders hoping he’ll take mercy on you.

He just shifts down to rest against the couch a little more and bounces his knee a few times, sending jolts of extreme sensation right up your clit into your lower stomach. You didn’t get it at first… what he wanted you to do. But now you did, and John almost grinned when he saw the realization, followed by the shy look you gave him. Encouragement was needed, and he was more than happy to deliver. Slowly rocking your hips back and forth along his pants, purposefully having settled you on the side that his thigh-holster was strapped to, adding two extra ridges that instantly began working to overstimulate you. It was too good, and not enough. Pushing your inhibitions just a little further out of focus and forcing you to really focus on how nothing more than his thigh was getting you to a release quicker than any toy or trick you’d tried on yourself. Impeccable alone, it was his low voice right in your ear that made everything outside of John Price holding you on his lap disappear.

“Doin’ so good, sweetheart…”

“Making me feel bad for not helping sooner… If I would’ve known how needy you were.”

“That’s it, love. Keep going, want you to let go. Right on my lap, then I’ll take care of you.”

His lips suffocated your moans and whimpers, swallowing each little pleasure and claiming it as his own. John hadn’t taken his time like this in years, but damn it was special seeing you -his pretty little thing- so needy and whining his name. So sensitive to the texture of his cargos that he was actually wondering if you could withstand something more… purposeful. God, he hoped you could. He wanted to tase you so bad after feeling just how wet you were. Fuck, even the dark khaki color of his pants was getting darker with each little jerk and grind of your hips. Thighs twitching and clenching around him like you couldn’t get the right angle, and were slowly getting more pathetically and innocently frustrated. He needed you hungry though… wanted to ensure that this was done properly. And if it meant withholding from you just enough to make sure you were desperate, he’d bite back every urge he had to give you everything right away.

John knew right away that you were a virgin. Either by just his ability to read people or by the way that you didn’t particularly use sex appeal to draw him in right when you first met. You weren’t innocent of how you looked though, and always dressed and acted much to the benefit of being seen as the valuable woman Price always believed you to be. Yet it didn’t escape his curiosity as to how you’d been able to slip through the grasps of so many disrespectful and predatory men who would’ve done anything to have taken their chance at you. Fuck, he was thankful beyond belief. He hated thinking that you could’ve needed to experience pain or discomfort at any point… but he never asked you simply out of respect and the knowledge that at some point the topic would come up. Only, it didn’t come to fruition quite like he expected. In fact, he never imagined that you’d had your first orgasm with him riding his thigh while sitting on the couch in his house. He wouldn’t change it for a goddamn thing, though.

In the moment, he’d wanted nothing more than to hear you. After hearing so many little whines and pleas for his help, he knew you’d sound so beautiful. But his own intentions fell to desire when he crashed his lips to yours, taking those cries of pleasure for himself. There would be plenty more to come for him to bask in the sound of. The first one though? He needed it. It was his to taste and keep forever. Alongside the taste of your pleasure, he relished in your shaking legs and the harsh bite of your nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to feel through two shirts. He felt your desperation just as deeply as his own, and while his cock straining against his zipper was not totally lost to his attention, John could easily stave off his own needs to make sure you were satiated just as thoroughly as deserved for coming on his pants like the good little things you always were.

“Good girl… You did so good for me, sweetheart.” His rough voice rumbled against your ear as his kissed you softly.

Petting your hair and rubbing his other hand down your quivering thigh. As much as he wanted to keep you right here and not disturb your come-down, he wanted you in bed. Needed to see you laid out like he pictured when jerking his cock after weeks of pent-up stress needed a release. Fuck he wanted to take you slow in his bed and wake up in the morning with you wrapped around him and the smell of sex on the sheets. Before you could really even catch your breath, John had you spread out on the bed with him staring down at you almost astonished. You were just as affected, seeing the heavy outline of his dick parallel to his zipper and ending just at his belt. His eyes caught your lingering, and he chuckled, biting his tongue with his back teeth before squeezing himself and shrugging like it wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever seen him do. The little gasp you let out only gave him that much more confidence to keep teasing you as much as he’d been.

Slowly, painfully, stripping off one piece of clothing at a time and letting it drop to the floor. Eyes locked on yours like he was getting off to how you reacted to each little inch of skin that was bared to you. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought he enjoyed all of the attention on him. When in reality, he was just mesmerized by how in awe you were of him, looking like a war-torn soldier with his scars and hardened body. You were holding your breath for the moment he pushed his underwear down off his hips, standing downright predatory with his fist tight around the base of his thick and glistening cock. If you ever had a moment of hesitation about doing this with John, they dissolved in that single moment. Because your next movement was to reach your hands out, wiggling your fingers for him to come closer.

“What would you like?” He asks, coming to stand at the foot of the bed just out of your reach.

“You.” You answer a little plainly, making him chuckle.

“Not quite specific enough, sweetheart.” His eyes drop to your body hugged in that black outfit and he bites at his cheek. “But as much as I love you in that, I’d like to see you take it off.” A very easy request. Had it not been for your inability to reach the little snap at the back that kept you tied into all of the lace and straps. So, you very politely raised up and sat on your knees with your back to John and gave him the sweetest look you could manage.

“Give me hand, Captain?”

He nearly ripped the fucking thing off.

The moment he had your seduction tactic of clothing balled up in his fist, he felt the first little surge of his common sense holding him back a little bit. Base instinct screamed for him to sink into you as quickly as possible. But feeling your hands rub over his chest and your shy little kisses to his neck reminded him of circumstance. Pinned against your belly, his cock twitched in response to your teeth grazing accidentally over his collarbone. You were about to whisper an apology when John wrapped a hand around your throat to tilt your head up and suck hard just under your jaw. He liked when you did that… The thought gave you a little bolt of satisfaction. One that progressed into your hands sliding down his stomach until your fingers curled around his thick shaft, earning a warning sound of a moan deep in his chest.

“So fuckin’ soft…” He murmured against your shoulder, kissing it hotly and slowly rocking his hips against your hands. Teasing himself. Edging closer to try and raise a little bit of resistance so he wouldn’t spill his load on the bed long before he was damn well ready. Your silky little hands spreading his arousal over his length only lasted for a few minutes before John was pulling you away with heaving breaths and a flush breaking out over his cheeks.

“Too much?” You ask a little giggly when he lays you back and crawls up to kneel between your spread legs.

His reaction is one of raised eyebrows and a devilish kind of smile that makes you feel like you just made a little too accurate of a joke to be laughing. John gives you a little warning ‘tsk tsk’, shaking his head like he could try and hide the lust and affection swirling in his dark eyes at the sight of you giggling, and all spread out for him like a five-course meal the Queen of England couldn’t afford to buy. A wiser man might’ve believed himself worthy of you, enough that his dirty hands could touch you and try to give you pleasure in the way they assumed to know best. Yet John leaned over you with the knowledge that he was one of the most unworthy men on the planet, and you had so much grace and love inside of you that it didn’t matter. One little touch and you could cleanse him of every blood stain he’d not been able to clean or sinful act of revenge he couldn’t resist committing. Above all else, you’d decided in all your innocence of the world that you trusted him with your body as much as you’d already handed over your heart and mind.

John kissed you. Hard. With everything he had to offer in return for the invaluable

With that, he’s, hauling you up against him. He wants you laying right on top of him so he can sleep soundly with you right against him. He’s very quick to give you more praise and ask again if you’re feeling okay mentally and physically. You mention feeling just a little insecure, despite all of his very purposeful care throughout the whole process, but Price won’t have it.

Right away he’s kissing you softly, hands rubbing over your back and butt affectionately. Letting you know just how special he feels that you trusted him, as well as just how lucky he was to find someone like you in the first place. Holding the back of your head and gently cradling you against his lips; Tongue licking into your mouth and groaning softly when you mirror his movements, even going far enough to nip at his tongue. Using that same little hint of him enjoying your teeth on him. Just like before, you’re met with another warning sound of a growl, and John is pulling back and moving his head between your legs with a careful watch on your reaction.

“Can’t wait any longer, sweetheart.” He kissed your inner thigh sweetly. “Please let me taste your sweet little pussy.”

His words shock your body, and your head falls back with the little bit of erotic pleads overwhelming you. God, it was making you drip onto the sheets feeling him so close yet waiting for your answer. Pathetically, you couldn’t get the word ‘yes’ out of your mouth for a few long minutes. Just enough time for him to lovingly suck bruises onto your inner thighs and mean you scream out his name, squirming under his hands to try and get some real relief.

John takes pity on you, stopping long enough to let you catch your breath. “Come on pretty girl. Just say the word… I’ll make you feel so fuckin’ good.”

“Yes, yes, yes… please. I need more!” Your airy pleas fall like angel’s trumpets on his ears, as his mouth descends hungrily onto your cunt.

Licking through your slick folds and growling your own name back against your core with the sweet and alkaline flavor. Your hips buck up and you cry out, feeling his tongue lash over your clit for the first time and right away he’s got one forearm over your hips to hold them steady with the other hand held tight with his fingers intertwined with yours. His mustache tickles against your skin and you can feel him resting his head against your thigh, almost like he’s getting comfortable for an extended stay with his tongue in your cunt.

Another orgasm is ripped from you without warning less than ten minutes into John’s unyielding assault on your sensitive clit. And it’s this time that John ensures your thighs can’t wrap around his head for the sole purpose of hearing your loud and raw scream of his name. Blissed out, and shaking once again, John smiles against your pussy; Lapping up any remaining release he’d missed mere seconds before and feeling the dull pressure of your heels digging into his back.

“God, you’re so good for me sweetheart,” His praise blows cool air over your folds and you jerk a little, whining when you feel his lips return back down to you. Slowly, teasingly, he began all over again just as he did the first time.

It takes a couple seconds for you to realize he doesn’t plan on stopping. But when you do, crying for him to stop when he begins using his thumb to tease your clit while his tongue fucks slowly in and out of your clenching hole. John almost laughs, darkly and amused with your little cries and moans. Feeding off of your pleasure just to give it right back to you in the direct motivation of making you come on his tongue and fingers this time.

“F-fuck - John! Sh-shit,” Your stuttered voice falls into an unabashed groan when he teases his finger at your entrance, and slowly slides it deep into your fluttering pussy, squeezing around it tightly. Hungry for more, and weeping with each small curl of the digit hitting on your upper wall.

Your eyes roll back, and you attempt to push John’s head back to try and ease the stimulation, just to feel his hand holding you back and in place. It’s maddening, feeling so good that it’s almost bringing tears to your eyes, having already come twice -more than you typically gave yourself- and no sign of him letting you escape.

God, John was pushing you to the boundary of everything you knew about your own body, as well as giving you the first, raw, experience of just how good sex could be. Lifting your head up just to try and get a small glance at him, you catch the sight of his eyes, fiery and intense looking right back up at you with your own come soaking his mustache and the entire lower half of his handsome face. You clench around his digit again, being pushed that much closer to the edge just at the visual alone.

Your third release came as quickly as the first two, this time resulting in the delicious stretch of John’s three fingers pumping in and out of your cunt, literally slurping up your release; Almost dragging it out of you like he couldn’t stand the thought of not swallowing every drop. He whispered your name so gently as he came to rest on his forearms overtop of you, kissing your forehead with his wet lips and feeling his hair stick against your sweaty forehead.

“Sweetheart…” his tone had softened to the smallest whisper you’d ever heard from him. “Are you sure you want this? We can stop here if you’d like.”

Opening your eyes to see his handsome face and the slight of his hair in a total mess, you knew getting away with not mentioning your lack of experience was impossible. Your John… wasn’t nearly as unobservant as you’d wanted him to be. Without more than a tired little smile, you nodded. Raising your head weakly just far enough to kiss him gently, tasting yourself against your lips and feeling the slight quiver of his breath.

“Please, I want this. I want you John.”

Initially, no matter how much he’d taken care to prep you there was still a deep stretch as his thick cock began slowly entering you. Sweetly, he worked you through each little discomfort, giving you kiss after kiss and running his hands through your hair. Distracting from the little sting that had never been present with your toys, and praising you until his hips pressed flush against yours.

“Fuucckkk yes,” Price couldn’t hold back the loud groan as he looked down to see your pretty little cunt taking every last inch of his dick and squeezing so hard he could barely think straight.

“Takin’ my cock so good… Such a pretty girl, my good little thing…” His murmurs and curses slowly devolved the further you progressed.

Your body slowly adjusted to the intrusion and the gentle thrusts John made the moment you began squirming and pleading with him to move through your little hiccups. The unusual feeling of John moving inside of you slowly began to coax moans and praise from your mouth every time the crown of his cock rubbed deep against a swollen, textured, spot inside of you that built up pressure so quickly that you needed to wrap your legs around his hips to keep them from shaking uncontrollably. Each stroke got harder and harder, with John eventually pounding his cock deep inside of you, moaning and using one arm to wrap around your waist to hold your lower body still so he could bring both of you closer.

“J-John…” Your voice jolted with each snap of his hips as you tried to warn him.

Feeling that familiar yet almost destructive power of another climax rushing through your lower body. Convinced you didn’t have enough left in you to come again, you felt tears pricking your eyes, overwhelmed with immense pleasure skyrocketing you towards a final orgasm you kept denying until John’s fingers reached between you and expertly began rubbing tight circles around your clit, violently tossing you into whited-out vision, and muted hearing.

Above you, John found his own release and shared it at the same time as yours. Fisting the bedsheets to keep from grabbing ahold of you too tightly and bruising you; his cock getting squeezed so tightly from your climax that it was almost painful to stay seated inside of you. With so little arm strength left, he fell nearly full-weight on top of you and only propped himself up by his elbows to keep from suffocating you.

Utterly wrecked, and feeling more than you’d ever experienced more than you’d felt in your life, it took minutes before you could open your eyes and actually have enough of the mental capacity to realize that John was gently stroking your head, kissing your forehead and your nose, and holding you tightly to him as the strong muscle jerks and twitches in your body began to die out.

“You here with me?” Low and comforting, you smile dazedly with your eyes heavy and trying to focus on him.

You merely nod your head yes and give what you assumed was a ‘mhmmm’ but might’ve sounded more like a small animal being choked or drowned. Naturally, John’s lips spread into a very happy and amused smile, cupping your cheek with his hand and pressing a kiss to your lips softly.

“Come on, sweetheart…” John whispered, pulling your head up to his chest and gently easing himself out of you with a low sigh.

You’re once again lifted up and whisked away, this time, into the bathroom just off to the side of the bedroom where John carefully sits you down on the edge of the bathtub and starts running hot water with the lights dimmed low. Certain he’s got everything for your bath within your reach and the water is high enough for you to really sink down into in and relax, he gives you a soft kiss and promises to return after just a couple minutes.

He returns before you even work up the desire to wash your hair, and immediately takes over the task of getting you cleaned up himself. In between the lulls of soaps, and conditioners, John will pose quiet questions, asking how you’re feeling and wanting to know if there was anything that hurt you physically or was bothering you mentally. His care was intense and very personal, giving you much more confidence and comfort after having such a draining experience. Of course, you felt fantastic throughout, but when he asked if you were tired, there was a feeling that he already knew you were and expected you to tell him how he could best support you.

Other than letting your head rest against his chest. Leaving not one inch of your body neglected, from your face to your feet. Throughout the process you watch through sleepy eyes, seeing a very peaceful sort of look on his face while soaping you up and helping you rinse off and step out of the slippery bathtub into a warm towel you could only assume he’d thrown in the dryer just for your comfort.

Holding the towel around yourself, you peck him on the lips and smile, too tired to really say anything of real value. However, you’re certain John understands by the way his arms wrap you up and hold you tight to his bare chest while running his fingers through your wet hair, helping get out some of the little tangles your conditioner couldn’t quite take care of alone.

“I love you, John. More than anything.”

He drops a kiss on top of your head, rocking your weights back and forth in the dimmed light of the bathroom. Admiring your little form in the darkened silhouette of his much larger one.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

“You’re my best friend.”

He chuckles, finding that so very endearing.

“You’re mine too.”

yeah... the "you're my best friend" part, me and my husband do that <3 so.... that's a thing.

[spork-supremacy]

probably not that unpopular of an opinion, but I really believe that the love triange in season 3 could have worked if it had something to say about the characters and had proper care and attention put into it. Like it could've actually been somewhat beneficial to getting to know them.

Cole probably wouldn't really have needed much in terms of character study, considering it feels like he was more a victim to an impending break up. Honestly I would be fine if his entire thing was just about him being petty towards Jay because it woud be mostly justified considering Jay immediately puts the blame on him for Nya's change of heart. However, it could also focus on someone wanting Cole for himself, no matter who it was that took interest because, hear me out, while his Dad did love him, he never felt he could really be loved for himself growing up (especially after his mother's death) Because he was always hiding who he was and what he wanted. And now someone has taken an interest in him and who is he to pass up on the feeling of being truely accepted?

For Nya it could touch on her wanting to try new things as she finds her identity, even if that means wanting to try being with different people. Maybe instead of just blindly following the machine it could help her realise that she should consider other options. She is the type of person that needs to be absolutely sure she is making the right descision when it comes to who she wants to be with for life, so in order to do so she needs to branch out beyond the first boy she dated. Then she is no longer the bitch, or the helpless fool that came between a good friendship for no reason other than a machine said so. Instead just a girl trying to figure out if her current relationship was right for her in the first place. Sure Jay made her laugh, but there has to be more to a good partner than that, and how can she grow if she doesn't learn outside of what she knew?

Jay would definetly go into his boundary issues when he was in a relationship probably with some proper build up to better justify Nya wantig a break from him, the extreme jealousy that he displays to an unhealthily over the top degree, the insecurities and probably abandoment issues that I don't know the origin of...

wait, I feel like this one has been done already, just in a not so great way...

*scratches head* I can't seem to quite put my finger on it...

Hehe... all jokes aside...

For the love of all that is sacred someone please direct me towards something someone else has doen that does a deep dive into Jay's unhealthiness in relationships despite how much he really just wants to do it right.

Also by all means though, if anyone wants my own very long "Jay when he's in a relationship." analysis and properly expand on the points I made here...

[wombywoo]

how did you come up with good names for your original characters? it's something I struggle with, especially the last names :'DD

I honestly love coming up with character names, it's one of my fave parts of character creation 🥰 As for my own boys, I think Vincent's name came to me immediately, while I struggled with Quinn a bit--I actually had his last name first so that helped; I kept the name Lacey in the back of my mind and wanted to pair it with something monosyllabic. And for Vince's last name, I think I considered Croft but went with Craft instead because it corresponds with aircraft and witchcraft, etc, and I liked the vibe~ For some of my other characters, I came up with given names first then did some research for last names...

Suggested research: everyone and their mother knows about fantasy name generator (which I do highly recommend) They have so many categories which can be great for just picking one at random if you're not too fussy, and it can be fun to browse all the options; great time-waster if you're bored 👍

My other option is a site I've become obsessed with called forebears, which is a database for real names across the globe. It's a really neat site that allows you to see how common names are and where they're most prevalent! (fun fact--only 42 people share my married surname!) I honestly spend way too much time on here looking up trivial info, it's addicting 🤫

They even have a feature where you can click specific areas on the map. Here's me googling my own fictional boy to see how common his name is in England:

Turns out there are only 4 Quinns born in South Yorkshire as of 2014....what will I do with this data??? (nothing)

Some more useless insight into which countries have the most Vincents

Tragic news...the french have claimed him 😔🥖

Anyway! if I'm looking for a good surname for an English character, I might peruse this list here and find a suitable choice~ And they have this for every country !!!!! Seriously, it's addicting!

I like to be somewhat ~authentic~ in naming characters from specific countries/cultures, so a bit of side research into naming practices in different regions doesn't hurt. You also don't want to go the jkrowling route and just pick stupidly stereotypical names for your characters either 😅

I would say your best bet is to peruse sites like this, or wait for a sudden moment of clarity where the perfect name is bequeathed to your subconscious (I also rely on this method sometimes)

Also just... let your character's vibe guide you~ Sometimes the best name is one that simply feels like them 👍

[shatcey]

Robin doesn't know the ultimate evil hidden in the dark (William)

This is one of the rare cases when the story from his POV. I like such events the most. It's nice to finally hear his thoughts. But personally, I was most interested in William. Because outside he is always collected and, it would seem, just lets Kate do what she wants. What's going on in this pretty head of his remains a big mystery. So I was rewarded twice. Firstly, I heard his thoughts, and secondly, I realized the scale of his emotions. He really is a man of contradictions.

William and Kate were supposed to attend to the party, but at the last moment a task appeared. But Will insisted that Kate go without him.

Her wishes are the most important thing… He's so sweet.

Willy remembers his recent conversation with Vivi. Children began to disappear from orphanages, and no one has seen them since.

Earlier, this man was seen trying to make contact with golden butterfly. So now, most likely, he decided to create a new organization with the same goals.

Do that, honey! You're doing it so splendidly.

Willy is in his room reading the report on the latest investigation. He smiles happily, realizing that this is a real evil

Sometimes I think you live for such moments. "Finally, there is a person I can judge" (malicious laughter). I know it's a silly thought.

But the man in question has apparently gone missing. Willy considered the options of how he could leave the country, and decided that, most likely, he would not be able to do so yet. Ethan came in and handed him the guest list of the party Kate had gone to. And, of course, there was the guy Willy was looking for.

He remembered how happy she was to go to that party, and that he didn't want to spoil her fun. But…

At a party

Willy looks down at the crowd and immediately finds Kate among them.

You most definitely did. He-he

She seemed to have fun talking to a lot of people. At some point she pushed back her hair, and all the people around her suddenly froze. Willy couldn't help but laugh.

He specially put them on as an "insect repellent". Cute…

Kate doesn't realize this and doesn't understand why people react this way. Even the surprised expression on her face seems cute to Willy… He seems to find everything about her cute.

Ethan walked over to William.

So Willy went to take care of the count. But on the way, he kept thinking about Kate… How free and happy she looked, how he enjoyed watching her when he wasn't around…

He entered the room. The count, who was hiding there, instantly turned pale and took a step back. But… you're already dead, mister.

Yes, Father. (*Thud*) I haven't confessed since… Oh my god.. I've never confessed. My sin is grave indeed...

And since it was an order, the count told everything. Literally the same thing that Willy read in the report. William ordered the names of the buyers, and the man answered this question as well. Finally… Willy asked why he came here. The first part was obvious… for escape, but the second one…

Oh, now you've missed the only chance to die quickly… I don't feel sorry for you at all, mister. I'm such a villain…

William gave him a knife and ordered him to kill himself as slowly as possible. The man began to beg for forgiveness.

I… I have goosebumps. He's so sexy when he's angry…

But even after the man died, the irritation didn't go away. William walked over to the piano and started playing. I don't quite understand what exactly. For me, the title evoked a completely different vibe than what I have heard, so I leave it to your imagination.

Willy thinks she probably won't be able to hear him play because of the big noise around, but he still wants her to "fly up" to him… Suddenly, footsteps approach.

Bitter ending

Ethan came in. William felt betrayed and stopped playing. It turned out that the man who helped this count was arrested for another reason. So they left him be. Ethan happily added that Kate had seemingly heard him playing and was now running here.

Not disappointed anymore?

William noticed that there was no trace of his recent irritation.

He thinks that this is probably what is called love…

They leave before Kate finds them.

After Willy reported to Vivi, he stayed in his room and waited for Kate to return. She ran up and hugged him, asking if he was okay. She was told what he had been at the mission while she was away. He said he was fine and asked if she was having fun. She told him about the strange actions of the people she was talking to. He gave her a hand mirror.

Kate was embarrassed, but admitted that she felt happy. All the time at the party, she wanted him to be with her. She said she couldn't imagine her life without him anymore. And she believes that it is only her privilege to be a witness to his evil deeds and record them. Willy thinks they've both changed.

Yeah… Okay… Do your worst… Fill it to the brim…

Premium ending

Kate came in. Willy thinks that this is very similar to the situation of that night (prologue).

But now she wasn't scared. Willy thinks she has become very strong. He offers to change the place. They went into the hall. Kate said she would like to know what happened.

She asked why he hadn't told her about it. And he replied that it was because she was looking forward to this party, and he didn't want to interfere. But he doesn't like being in the same place and not seeing each other. That's why he "called her over" by playing the piano. And she, as usual, fell for the bait.

She tells him that she is his personal fairy tale keeper, his knight and lover, and she wants to be by his side while he condemns evil. And she doesn't like that he left her behind. He praised her for growing up, becoming free and greedy, and invited her to go dancing. She happily agrees. During the dance…

Really? That's so sweet…

She tells him about people's strange reactions to her. And William explains...

She is embarrassed again, but feels very happy. Willy thinks it's probably weird that he left marks on her to show that she belongs to him. He suggested that when they returned home, she would do the same to him.

At first, Kate was surprised and speechless. But then she pointed out that Will's formal clothes covered most of his body. Will said he didn't mind any place she could think of…

He said that… Awww…

Epilogue

This story is written from Kate's POV. This is a continuation of the premium ending.

As soon as they return to her room, Willy sits her down on a chair. Pointing to the typewriter, he asks if she should write about his evil deeds first. She agrees and starts writing, but Willy distracts her by kissing her neck. So… they pretty quickly went to the bed. But first…

She considered her options…..

What? Have you seen the size of his earring? Where exactly did she leave the mark? Or… how did she managed not sucked the earring as well? Or she did? Willy, how are you? Your ear is not bleeding? And the most important thing… my ears are always red in winter, so… this is an unpleasant reminder.

William did the same with her ear. Hopefully she doesn't have earrings… Hooray, now they're matching!

Wouldn't it be better and easier to just give her a second earring? Vivi mentioned that you only wear one. So… If you give her the other one, you will match. And that says a lot. Anyway. Continue.

He took her left hand and sucked on her ring finger. Is it even possible? The skin on the fingers is not so delicate as to leave a mark. I think...

I'm utterly confused. We already had a wedding event. They were supposed to have rings… no?

Kate said she was greedy, she wanted both, a mark and a ring. So even when he gives her a ring, he has to keep leaving marks.

He asked her if it was his fault that she had become so greedy. Kate said that was the case, and he had to take responsibility. So he did.

Kate thinks she's been attracted to his eyes since they first met. At first she was afraid of them, but now… She likes to be the only one reflected in those crimson eyes.

This is the first story in which I really tried to make sense of the original text. That's why it took me so long. Actually it is written quite poetically, but I still change the wording in the way that, in my opinion, sounds more correct. But there is one thing that I still don't understand. Some lines have the upper line with one word. I think it means "eye". And I have no idea how to combine them. For example, this is the last line in the epilogue.

And about this story. Willy is obsessed with Kate. I mean, we always knew she was obsessed with him. And it seems to be mutual. I'm happy about it. This is proof of how well compatible they are. And how much this guy has saved up for her. Really. He literally denied his feelings and desires all his life (I wasn't talking about the other guy, I swear. I literally just now realized this similarity) and now… it all fell on her. Lucky girl.

He likes absolutely everything about her. He's so happy that he laughs all the time… It seems like he can't contain so many emotions, and they spill out. He was totally possessed with her and was surprised himself that he left traces on her to show the whole world that she belonged to him. And this is despite his sincere belief that everyone should be free and he shouldn't bind her… but… he still wants that… A contradiction… again. I like that about him. It makes him more real.

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🔝 Start page 🔝

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[where-dreams-dwell]

I haven’t read the book and only have vague recolections of the movie (though I remember sobbing violently at several points) but I hoped I’d love Netflix’s One Day adaption. And of course I did but one of the things I loved was so unexpected.

I love how they portrayed Sylvie.

Particularly how that relationship both ended and endured. How even at the start there were issues but the small kind you want to work on and work through. She knew her family were hard work but she was on Dex’s side and wanted him to be accepted: but still knew that her opinion was the one that mattered. Dex knew he didn’t fit it but he was trying so damn hard to, and hoped that if he kept trying it would be enough eventually. And she wasn’t this demon or harpy, even people who just met her liked her. She was a nice person.

So many times when the male lead is with another woman before they eventually get together with the female lead this ‘other woman’ is portrayed as toxic, unmanageable, cruel, snobbish, etc… or even just unpleasant to be around; someone we’re happy for the male lead to leave. Maybe it helps us to support the male leads pursuit of the female lead and not confront his poor behaviour as a romantic partner if that ‘other woman’ is unlikable and we’re happy to see her gone?

But here they made it clear: Sylvie is a kind nice woman who loves Dex, and didn’t handle the crumbling of their marriage well.

It was almost voyeuristic how we saw the breakdown of her and Dex’s marriage. It seemed so bloody real. New baby, no sleep, renovating the house, all of it building up until you’re being a bitch and you know you are, and you’re apologising after the fact for what you said but you don’t know how to talk around the fact that you still meant some of the things you said. And a partner who you know is struggling with direction and purpose, and you want them to do well, but *god* you’re the one fielding questions and having to go to bat for them every time someone asks, and as a result you never feel safe to take a break or question them yourself.

And (I don’t know how intentional this was) but Dex’s joking tone which is clearly meant to relax and reassure just came across as him not taking things seriously or being trustworthy. Sylvie lists a whole range of food options for Jasmine while she’s out for the night, clearly showing she has prepped *everything* ahead of time: she isn’t leaving Dex in charge of finding or cooking Jasmine dinner, she’s leading him by the hand to the ready made stuff and telling him now to reheat it. Kind of like he’s a child too. It really shows how capable she feels he is.

And then Dex jokes about giving Jasmine crisps. He’s clearly trying to break the tense atmosphere and joke around with his wife, but it just comes across as ‘I wasn’t listening to you, I don’t realise how much work you’ve done, you were right not to trust me to cook dinner because look what I immediately suggested, you can’t rely on me’.

In all their conversations the tone of their voices just show they’re not sure how to talk to one another anymore, that they know everything they say will be taken the wrong way and so they have no idea how to speak.

It felt like no one was particularly demonised or made into a caricature. Just two people who were different, put under stress until they broke and grew apart. And Sylvie had been responding to this state of her marriage by having an affair, so she is clearly in the wrong there and the one who causes the divorce etc, but… I don’t know; here it comes across more as a plea for help or freedom in the midst of her confusion and less a lack of care or thought for Dex and her daughter (like I remember it coming across in the movies).

Even when they have the brief mention of dramatics and anger around the divorce, afterwards she’s back in the picture as a level headed co-parent: joking around to relate to Emma, sharing co-parenting pains with HER too (‘Jasmin’s learning the violin?’ ‘Yes that’s why we’re fleeing the country’). And genuinely congratulating them in their relationship and marriage.

You don’t see many ex-wives in media who are so openly concerned about how their ex-husband is handling his second wife’s death. She’s present, caring and supportive. And keeps reaching out to him well after she could be forgiven for stepping back.

So yeah I loved all of One Day and yeah it made me cry AGAIN, but I also loved how real they made those significant relationships look. How adult and complicated and messy and ‘no one was a monster/you were both wrong in different ways/there is no right and wrong’ they played out as.

Just because she wasn’t the ‘love of his life’ doesn’t mean she was a footnote either.

[yuna542]

[1.]

~About Kooks and Pogues~

Pairing: JJ Maybank × Reader/Oc

Genre: Fluff, Enemies to Lovers, Smut, Angst, Drama, Action

Warnings: Alcohol, Mentions of Drugs, That’s it!

Taglist: Open

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: The Kook princess is back after a year after a family tragedy and reignites the war between Pogues and Kooks on Kildare. But she quickly realizes that after this year, nothing is the same as before. Lies, dark secrets from the past, and dangerous conspiracies sweep across Kildare, leaving her no choice but to work with the Pogues and her personal nemesis to find the truth and maybe even $8 million. A dangerous treasure hunt begins that turns her world upside down.

Notes: That’s a series I’m working on and off for like three years now. I hope you’ll enjoy it

……………………………………………………………

Ain't shady baby, I'm hot

Like the prodigal son

Pick a petal, eenie meenie minie mo, and flower

You're the chosen one

The music was loud, the sound of the sea was pleasant and the sun warmed the faces of the young people who were on the large beach of the Outer Banks. One of the typical beach parties was held there this Wednesday. The vacations had begun and so the beach was full of Teenagers, tired of sitting still all day in a grey classroom, eager to have fun and forget about homework, exams and pressure on choosing the right College.

You didn't understand the Outer Banks if you didn't know the structure, as there were distinct differences not only among the Outer Banks youth. While some needed three jobs to survive, others owned three houses.

The Pogues, as a group of young people called themselves, had organized the ongoing party and quickly the beach had been filled by young people of all background’s. With the warm weather, most of the Teen’s were magically drawn to the sea and on the small island there were not that much other options to party and spend the night.

"Stop it!" exclaimed Pope, as a cloud of herbal smoke was blown in his face by his buddy. Pope was the most intelligent of the group and sometimes really strange. But that didn't bother his friends. Quite the opposite.

The blond who was now laughing and taking another drag on the joint was JJ. He was an excellent surfer and the troublemaker in the group. In fact he got very often into trouble and loved to provoke. But his friends always helped him out of it. Literally out of anything.

John B toasted the girl sitting next to him in the sand. He was the free spirit and adventurer of the group. He always came up with new ideas on how they could pass the time, even if they were not always so legal.

The girl with the dark curls and sun-kissed skin was Kiara. She was the only one who did not come from a poor background, and even belonged to the richer families. Still, she much preferred hanging out with the Pogues and didn't care much about possessions and wealth. Instead, she was a do-gooder who preferred saving turtles over going shopping. She loved to smoke a joint on the large glazed patio of the Chateau, that has a view of the backyard and the marsh with the guys, instead of talking about the newest season of the new reality show with her girlfriends.

The four of them laughed and teased each other as they drank beer and gradually more and more people came to the beach to party.

"Guys, I swear it will be incredible! We should really go out and surf on the other side“, JJ started the same topic as the day before all over again. His eyes were filled with energy and he couldn’t sit still.

"No, that's way too dangerous. The storms there are unpredictable and in the end no one will find us if we get in trouble," Kiara fended off and Pope immediately agreed with her.

"That's the thrill of it, isn't it? Dude the waves are going to be huge for sure! John B, you're up for it, aren't you? Don’t let me down, Bro!“

It sounded more like a statement than a question. Waiting, he looked at his best friend, who took off his cap, then put it back on, a gentle smile on his lips. The freckles on his cheeks glowing.

"Well, I’m in. Sounds like fun."

"Nice!" escaped JJ, while Kiara just shook her head in annoyance. Then Pope suddenly raised his eyes and seemed to spot something at the edge of the dune. As JJ and Kiara continued to argue, John B also noticed what he was looking at.

"Guys, the Kooks!" he muttered, clearly annoyed.

"That's exactly what we needed..." sighed Kiara sarcastically, and JJ stood up, beer in hand, to get a better look. Already tense and ready to throw himself in a fight. John stood next to him while Pope and Kiara remained seated. Both were already dreading another confrontation between JJ and the hated rich Kooks.

"That's Topper and Sarah," John B stated, to which Kiara just raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms.

"Someone else is coming," Pope remarked, and sure enough:

Behind Sarah Cameron, the current Kook princess and her boyfriend, two more people appeared.

"That's Rafe, but who the hell is that girl?" now asked Kiara, stretching her neck curiously.

"I don't know, but she's hot," JJ muttered, staring with John B in the direction where the Kooks were now walking across the beach.

"Hot as hell," John B added overwhelmed, continuing to watch the girl.

She had raven black hair that fell in many small curls over her shoulders, shimmering like wet ink in the sun. Her skin was tanned and possessed a bronze glow. She was not particularly tall, but slender and of athletic build, so even Pope looked curiously in her direction.

JJ's gaze was still wandering over her body when she had already turned to face them.

"Isn't that Skylar?" gasped Kiara, who was now staring in disbelief.

"Sky Diaz?" asked John B, elbowing JJ in the side as the Kooks moved closer to get him to stop staring. Topper had an arm around Sarah while the new girl chatted boisterously with Rafe. Her unusual appearance made her stand out from the blonde Kooks, and her style of dress was also quite different.

She wore a plaid pleated skirt that reached halfway down her thighs and loose white top, barely covering her belly and slim waist, with her black bikini top peeking through. She looked like she had been pulled straight out of an 80's rock and roll movie. JJ instantly was reminded of those musical-films Kiara forced them to watch, in which all of the guys had ridiculous hairstyles but the women always looked mysteriously beautiful.

"Is that really her? Diaz moved to Nassau over one year ago, didn't she?" pondered Pope aloud.

"Maybe she's vacationing here?" speculated John B.

Kiara shook her head.

"No, not after everything that happened. You don't take a vacation on Kildare after an incident like that. She must be living here again."

Now the Kooks were within range and looking around. Rafe gave the Pogues a disparaging look and Topper also stared warningly at JJ. Up close, it was now clear that Skylar Diaz was indeed standing in front of them. The amber eyes and full red lips were unmistakable. Even though she had changed considerably and her figure had become more feminine.

Even back then Sky had been pretty, but now they could see she had grown into a unbelievable beautiful young woman. JJ always hated the fact that she had everything. She was rich, adored and freaking beautiful. It wasn’t fair.

"Looks like you're going to have to give up your throne again, Cameron!" now JJ called out to Sarah, who just rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"The same rats as before," Rafe remarked, pointing at the Pogues as if they were animals behind a glass in the zoo.

Sky smirked mildly and regarded the Pogues briefly. Her gaze lingered a second longer on the cheeky blond, and it was then that she recognized him.

"What are you doing back here?" now asked Kie coolly, who had now also stood up. Back then Sarah, Sky and she had been best friends. But then she had moved away after the incident and the friendship between Sarah and Kie broke like thin glass.

"I'm living here again. My stepfather found new work on Kildare," she explained tersely, trying to ignore JJ's piercing gaze.

However, he put on an uninterested expression. Yea she was fuming hot and seemed to be even more confident and charming, but after all, she was still a stupid Kook. Her family was even richer than the Camerons and she was even more arrogant than all the rest thrown together, so she had been the leader of the Kooks back then and JJ's personal nemesis. The hatred between the Pogues and the Kooks had been current before, too. All Kooks thought the Pogues were filthy scum and the Pogues had the same opinion of the rich Kooks.

She tossed her hair back and turned around without saying another word to them. As if they weren't worthy of her attention. Then she walked over to the rest of the Kooks and was greeted with delight.

The evening took its course and there was drinking, laughing and dancing. Music blared from several speakers brought in by a couple of Kooks.

The sun beat down mercilessly on the sand, so that it was still warm even when it had long since sunk into the sea like a long lost wreck.

The Pogues were chatting animatedly with others from the Cut and JJ was drinking with a couple of tourists. A typical evening, as it had been so many times before, but the arrival of the Kook Princess, the royalty of Kildare, soon stirred up more than just a lot of sand, and JJ had a feeling that this summer was not going to be as ordinary as they had originally thought.

⬇️

© Yuna542 - all rights reserved.

[hothothotch]

hi sweetheart! after you absolutely killed my last request and cleaned every dish with it MM MM MMMMM I'm back

this time, DBF!Hotch. The two of you got caught on your dad's new security camera beside the house that you didn't know about. Your dad tries to send aaron home to chew you out on it but Aaron gets all defensive and refuses to let you take the fall for both of your actions (maybe this leads to aaron's first acknowledgement that he loves you, 😮‍💨) but yes just protective!hotch standing up for you and your relationship 🦋🦋

Hello I'm baaaack!

I'm finally taking the web off the asks that got lost on my inbox when I disappeared, so you may see me for a few days!

Requests are still open, and you're invited to send anything Aaron Hotchner on my way.

Thank you for your request!

LUCK: sucess or failure apparently brought by chance rather than through one's own actions. Chance considered as a force that causes good or bad things to happen.

With you, it was usually bad things.

Of course, there were exceptions — like when you graduated in law, only a few months ago; or the day your father (the Senator) allowed you to go for a guided visit to the FBI to study it's many Units just because you wanted to see law being applied on different contexts; or — and this one was your absolute favorite — when you stumbled into your dad's best friend, Aaron Hotchner.

The latter one had been an absolute blast.

Aaron Hotchner was BAU's Unit Chief, and thanks to his ties with your father, he had been the one responsible for your tour of the sixth floor. Aaron had been attentive and careful, he embraced your curiosity as if he was being paid to give someone a tour, and not to find serial killers.

At the end of your tour, he offered you his number because, "I was a lawyer, so if you ever need something, or another tour, just give me a call".

One week later, you called him to ask for advice on a hard case you've taken at the law firm you were working at; Aaron asked you to dinner so you could talk privately about it, and helped you go over the case files. You also talked some more about your private lives — how he had an 8-year-old son, how you had a dog, how both your jobs took more time from you than you wanted. At the end of the dinner, there was another one scheduled.

Aaron had to reschedule that one (a case in Alaska wanted his immediate attention), but he knocked on your door first thing when he came back, a bouquet of flowers (sunflowers, to be exact) in hand as he proposed you'd go out for that delayed dinner. You accepted right away.

The third date was at your home, and that was the first time you kissed. The first time you've done way more than kissing. By the time Aaron left your home that night — staying over wasn't an option when he had a son at home —, you were sure there was nothing you wanted more than a solid career and to have that man's hands on you again.

That was when things started to go wrong.

You've had your fourth date scheduled when a pipe at your home exploded, causing a flood to start in your bathroom and spread all over your house; and while you weren't excited to go back into living with your father, that was the only available (and financially worthy) option, because you certainly wouldn't ask Aaron to let you live with him.

No. Nope. Absolutely not.

It wasn't like you were dating, on the romantic sense of the word. Yes, you had feelings for him; yes, you messaged so often that people had asked more than once if you were in a relationship; and yes, you did way more than just making out like hormonal teenagers whenever you had a second to be together.

But Aaron had a son, and you had a golden retriever (and said golden retriever was too attached to Aaron, to be honest), and a month and a few days of hookup wasn't enough to justify calling someone and saying, "Hey, mind if I crash down at yours while my pipes are being changed?".

"Yes, honey" Aaron nodded, looking down at you as he played with your hair, "That's exactly what you should've said".

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head in bewilderment. That was probably the third time you've been having that discussion, but it was the first time you've done it personally since Aaron had just came back from a case.

As usual, Aaron spent the night at home with Jack (he did invite you to go over, but you didn't feel like you were this far in your relationship to say yes) and appeared first thing in the morning at your father's house to see you. Now, you were lying together on the backyard, Aaron looking down at you, prompted up on his shoulders as you laid on the towel you brought out.

It was intimate, cute. The kind of moment you wouldn't have anywhere else, since the two of you lived on apartments. It was special, as if there was something more going on there, something unspoken.

Frightening. That was the word to describe it. And yet...

"I'll keep that in mind next time" you replied, a smile spreading on your face at the sight of the smallest quirk on his lips, "I like it when you smile, Aaron".

Aaron's smile widened, and God — you could feel your heart beating faster at that godly image, at the fact that you had put that smile on his face, the realization that his look of adoration was for you, and not any other woman.

"I like it when you smile, too" he whispered, leaning to press a soft kiss against your lips, "Even if this is not a rare occasion, because you're the softest person I've met".

"Oh, come on!" you pushed him away, and even if it was nothing more than the touch of your hand against his chest, Aaron pretended to fall backward on the towel, a silent invitation for you to lay on his chest, "I'm not soft!".

"Yes, you are" Aaron replied with a laugh, "Even more than Garcia, and she's essentially a marshmallow".

You gasped at his words, placing your hand on your heart as if he had offended you, "I can't believe you said that! I am a serious lawyer!".

"Never said you weren't, honey" Aaron pointed, pressing a soft kiss against your head, "Just that you're a very soft lawyer, that's always good to everybody".

"Which some would point as a weakness".

"Some are stupid" Aaron shrugged, "You are not. You're the best lawyer I've met, and I know you can do great things, baby".

You didn't know how to react to his words if there was an appropriate way to react. On these few months you've been seeing each other, Aaron had made a point of cheering you on whenever he could, and even managed to watch some of your court hearings (a benefit he got from being both an ex-lawyer and an FBI Agent), always having some strategic input for the next one.

Aaron has been helping, and has been hearing. He believed you even when you weren't sure your father believed.

God, you loved that man.

"Thank you" you whispered shyly, moving to kiss his lips, "I don't know what—".

"What the fuck is happening here?".

So, here's where the word luck suddenly turns into unluck. That specific moment in time, when you realize that the feeling of something missed you've been nurturing, had nothing to do with a lack of word to define your relationship with Aaron, but with the fact that at the end of the day... your father had no idea you've been dating Aaron.

It wasn't like you were hiding it from him — you've been open about dating someone, and he was aware that he knew that someone, but in truth you've never properly told him who that someone was. And while you wanted to say it was pretty obvious (because you've lost count on how many times you and your dad talked about Aaron when having dinner together), your dad had never been the one to read between the lines.

So, yeah. That was kinda your fault.

"Dad!" you stood up immediately, thanking every god available you and Aaron had decided to just lay outside, and not do something else, "You're home early".

"Yeah? You tell me" your dad snorted bitterly, looking between you and Aaron with anger written all over his face, "I was watching the security camera because I know this is when you get Lucky ready for her walk, and what do I see? You and Aaron here together! What was I supposed to do?".

You had some answers on your mind, but none of them seemed important as you looked around, eyes half-closed as you studied the space around you, "There are no security cameras on the backyard".

"Thank God I put on some last week!" your father pointed, "I thought you'd be safer if I did, and now I see that was providential for some other reasons".

You noticed when Aaron stood up beside you, his hand touching the small of your back softly, "There's no reason for you to talk with that this way".

"No reason? No—" your dad stopped, pinching the bridge of his nose for a second before he pointed at Aaron, "You, I want you out of my house. And you—".

"No".

For a second, you thought you'd been the one to mutter that simple word, that you had dared to say 'no' to your father to defend a... situationship with Aaron; it made sense because in your heart you wanted — craved — to tell your father that he couldn't tell you who you could date, or to put your "I'm an adult" speech to use, but you hadn't been the person to retort.

It had been Aaron.

"What did you say?" your father barked, his eyes twitching in nervousness.

"I said no" Aaron replied, taking a step in front of you, "You're not gonna talk like that with her. Not today, not ever".

"I'm her father—".

"That doesn't mean you don't owe her respect!" Aaron retorted, his voice louder than your father's, "You wanna talk about us, that's your right. You wanna know about us, that's also your right. But to scream with her in order to get some manipulated answer, that's not happening, not on my watch".

You knew you were supposed to step up and say something. Maybe you should tell Aaron to leave, so you could talk privately to your father; maybe you should stand with Aaron and leave with him because, honestly, you were dreading this specific talk.

But having Aaron defending you?

You've decided to study law because you knew what it was not to have someone on your back. Of course, your father had defended you in some instances, but there were other moments he'd made it known he'd step out so you could solve things by yourself; it did help you build character (as he used to say), but you missed having someone patting your back at the end of the day, or helping with the fights you just didn't feel ready to fight.

Aaron was just that person.

You didn't know if it was because he was FBI or it was his lawyer side rubbing in again, but it didn't matter — Aaron was fighting for you. Fighting for what you had.

God, you really loved that man.

"Okay" your father humphed, both his hands on his waist as he looked directly at you, "Then plead your case. And I hope is a good plea, because I didn't pay for the best university is this country for you to give me some lame reasoning—".

"Shut up!".

Yeah, this time it was you. And you knew that if you didn't go on with that, you probably would get too afraid to continue, so... "I'm an adult, dad" you cringed at how lame your words sounded in front of what Aaron had just said, "I won't say there isn't an age gap..."

"Twenty years" your father pointed between gritted teeth.

"But I'm an adult!" you stomped your feet, holding Aaron's arm, "I'm 28, I'm a lawyer, and I..." you closed your eyes, biting your bottom lip before those three words escaped her lips, "I can make my own decisions, dad. I'm not asking for your permission, I'm asking acceptance".

Silence. Deafening silence.

"Can I talk to Aaron?" your father asked finally. You could read anger all over his face, the way his jaw was tense and his hands were closed in fists, but you could also see defeat in his eyes — the realization that it didn't matter what he did or said, you'd stick to what you had with Aaron.

And you were proud of yourself.

You looked up at Aaron, waiting to see if he wanted to have this talk with your father, even if you knew he was too much a gentleman to refuse something like that (you had your doubts he'd ask for permission if he ever decided to pop the question — but why the hell were you thinking about that?), which was quickly confirmed with his curt nod, "Okay" you whispered.

With a gentle smile towards Aaron, you made your way towards your dad, stopping your walk beside him before whispering, "I love him. Please, don't fuck with that".

He didn't answer, nor looked at you. Taking it as your leave, you walked back inside the house, closing the door behind you — but not quick enough not to hear Aaron's final words.

"I fucking love your daughter, man. Please, don't fuck it up".

Maybe you weren't that unlucky, after all.

Thank you for the request!

[1863-project]

I've been thinking a lot lately about my experiences as an autistic adult and how difficult certain things actually have been for me, and one of the things that really hit me recently was how I can tell the patrons at the library I work at are judging me. They say things to me they'd never say to my co-workers, because my co-workers seem "normal" to them. But I can think of two different cases in the last year or so that really stand out to me that illustrate this.

The first was a patron who wanted the writing address of the governor of New Hampshire. I found it and went to write it down for her. She didn't want it that way, she wanted it printed. Of course, Wikipedia wasn't going to print well, and she was starting to get difficult about it, so I came up with a solution - I'd type it into a Word document and print it for her. I was excited that I'd come up with something, and I enthusiastically expressed this excitement by raising the volume of my voice. She decided I was "weird," told me so to my face, and left instead of letting me help her.

More recently, I showed similar excitement when showing a patron how to use Google Maps, excitedly reassuring her that we'd do it together and that I wasn't going to just tell her to do something she didn't know how to do. This patron told me my enthusiasm made me seem "like a schoolgirl." I deflated immediately, pointed out I was actually 34 years old, and did everything else with an extremely dampened mood.

Being an autistic adult in the workplace - or anywhere - is an uncomfortable experience. The first patron decided I was scary. The second patron infantilized me. The dichotomy of being an autistic adult is that some people decide you're uncanny and scary and some people decide you're actually a child. Both are microaggressions. Both are ableism. The third option is, of course, to mask so well they can't tell, and then get told "But you don't seem autistic!" when you drop the big reveal on them (if you do). There's no winning here.

I think, often, of Ingo and Emmet, autistic adults who, like me, are in the workplace, are really good at their jobs and take them seriously, and are really enthusiastic about what they do. I think about what sorts of things people must say to them, about the judgment they likely experience from passengers and trainers. I think about how gratifying it must be for them to repeatedly face trainers like Hilda, who only cares about battling and not who she's up against, because in those moments there's no judgment, just Pokemon battles. Just as my regular patrons who know me and are okay with me are a comfort to me, so too must their returning trainers be one to them, a beacon of acceptance in a world that refuses to understand.

I think sometimes about how I can't go into the tags for these characters that are just like me, because there's content that treats them the way the real world treats me. It isn't all of the things people make, but it's enough that I can't take the chance of looking myself, because you never know. It's been this way since 2010, and it shows no signs of stopping. I think about how all fandoms have this problem, about how many people experience this, and it hurts deep in my chest. I wish desperately for a kinder world in which people like me aren't treated as "weird" because we're enthusiastic about work, because we don't have volume control, because we can't mask, because we're not like most people.

I do what I've always done - I generally just talk about the things I like with trusted friends who also like the things I like. It's safer that way. I don't have to worry about stumbling upon the things I already experience in real life. If my friends find something safe, they bring it to me, a wonderful show of kindness and affection that I am always deeply grateful for.

I just wish I lived in a world that thought about how things affect people more, about how a respectful portrayal can give someone hope and help them love the person in the mirror. But every "unhinged" or "scary" depiction of normal autistic traits reminds me how far we still have to go, how Autism Speaks and other hate groups still dominate the narrative even as they fade into the background.

Everyone can do what they want in fandom, but it's supposed to be an inclusive space, not an alienating one, and I think it's good to be thoughtful. You never know who you may be helping or hurting.

[kitthenameless]

I made this other post about the Emperor and Ansur once, but I had more things I wanted to say and couldn't quite fit in without muddying my point.

This is perhaps a bit of a reach, but this is not the first time I've found a portrayal of turning into a monster that I relate to as a chronically ill / disabled person who became ill later in life. It has nothing to do with feeling monstrous (I don't feel monstrous) or even body horror, and everything to do with how disabled people are treated by society and even those closest to us.

Obviously disabled people don't go around eating brains. We are not dangerous any more than abled people are. But becoming a mindflayer (or whatever monster) is comparable in the sense that, it can happen suddenly, and then your whole life is different, your body is not what it used to be (maybe visually, maybe the way it works or doesn't work now), and you need certain accommodations in order to thrive or even just survive. But people treat you differently now, you're not really given any help, and truthfully a lot of people would rather you just be dead. You're abandoned by society to figure out your new life and all its difficulties on your own. If you're lucky, you have some people who care enough to help you. If you're not lucky, you do the best you can in your desperation.

And that's why it feels so messed up to me that Ansur just gave up on Balduran/Emperor once he couldn't cure him. He clearly believes this is still Balduran, as shown by how he speaks to him when you meet him. So in his mind, he wasn't even trying to kill some creature that just had Balduran's memories. He was trying to kill Balduran. Who forcibly underwent a change to his body and accepted it and decided he still wanted a chance at living.

Edit to add: I'm pretty sure the Emperor even says it wasn't easy at first, so he didn't immediately embrace being a mindflayer. He came to accept it with some time, and that feels even more significant to me.

Like I said, I know becoming a mindflayer is not exactly the same as becoming disabled because mindflayers are dangerous. But also like I said, in my other post, the game shows us there are options to living ethically as a mindflayer. It's just that no one even helped the Emperor try to find them. And even so, he did his best on his own by eating criminals (which there is proof of, in a transcript).

I don't even blame him for disguising himself to the player at first. Look at how society treats freed mindflayers. Look at how the Emperor's own best friend and lover treated him. It makes perfect sense to assume we would hurt him or refuse to help him too.

Some people are so quick to forgive the companions for all the messed up things they've done because they have trauma. The Emperor has been through shit too though. He wouldn't admit to having trauma, but he was kidnapped, had his body forcibly changed, had his mind enslaved, had his lover try to kill him, had to kill his lover in self-defense, and was enslaved a second time. Sounds pretty traumatic to me.

Anyway. It's probably random to end this by talking about books, but that's what I do (literally, I also have a book blog), so. The other stories I also related to in this way were Dead Collections by Isaac Fellman (vampires) and Bored Gay Werewolf by Tony Santorella (werewolves). Maybe look 'em up, if you like that sorta thing.

[virginsexgod69]

1| A Cabin in the Woods

summary Daryl comes across your cabin during a storm and ends up staying

pairing Daryl Dixon x f!Reader

cw use of guns, gunshot wounds, probably some medical inaccuracies

1.6k words

series masterlist

 The heavy rain soaked Daryl to the bone. He was shivering and in desperate need for shelter, at least until the rain stopped. The trees in the forest provided no protection from the elements and in these conditions, building a lean-to to sleep under for the night was out of the question. He continued to trudge through the mud, his crossbow at the ready as he watched out for walkers. Giving up wasn’t an option, although he did feel hopeless. His home was destroyed, he was separated from his friends, friends who he wasn’t even sure were still alive, and then on top of all that, Beth got taken. 

 He wasn’t sure if his mind was playing tricks on him, but he saw a dim light not too far ahead. With the rain heavily pouring, it was difficult for him to see any tracks, which would have been helpful for him to determine if he was about to approach a place where people were already residing. It was a dangerous risk to take, but it could reap worthwhile results, so he followed the light until it led him to a cabin. The only plausible reason for light to be coming from the cabin was that someone was inside. Other people were far too dangerous these days, he wasn’t going to risk it. However, the opportunity to change his mind was taken from him when he felt a searing pain in his upper thigh. He knew what it was immediately, the pain feeling all too familiar, he had been shot. 

“Drop your weapon,” he assumed the shooter said. He didn’t want to disarm himself, but he wasn’t even able to spot the person who shot him. He’d be at a disadvantage if he didn’t comply with the commands. He slowly lowered his crossbow to the ground and raised his hands in surrender. Finally, he was able to get a good look at you when you approached to take his weapon, your gun still pointed at him. Through the darkness and rain, he couldn’t get a good look at you, but he could feel the coldness of your piercing glare. 

“What’re you doing ‘round here?” Your tone demanded an answer and he didn’t feel like fucking around and finding out what would happen if he didn’t give you one. 

“Was lookin’ for shelter. Didn’ know anyone was out here til jus’ now,” he replied evenly. 

“Did I shoot you?” You asked. 

“No shit,” he replied, thinking your question was stupid. 

“Well, excuse me,” you snarked. “That was meant to be a warning shot, but it’s kinda hard to see in this rain.”  He felt a little relieved that you weren’t deliberately trying to harm him, but couldn’t fully relax while staring down the barrel of your gun. You uncocked it and put it in your belt. 

“You can stay in my cabin til the rain stops, but only if you surrender all your weapons.” 

“Fine.” He didn’t want to stay in this rain for a moment longer, especially since he was now injured. He followed you into the cabin, hobbling slightly due to his injury. Once he was inside the lit cabin, he was able to get a good look at you. Your gaze was cold and guarded, but he could tell you were remorseful, at least a little bit. He touched his wounded thigh and looked at his fingers, now covered in his blood. 

“Want me to take a look at that?” You asked. He didn’t like the irony of the person who shot him possibly being the one tending to his wound, so he refused. 

“Nah. I got it.” You raised a skeptical eyebrow at him, but didn’t insist on anything. “If you say so. I’ll go get some towels and my first aid kit. Don’t try anything funny or dirty my furniture while I’m gone.” He rolled his eyes once your back was turned, annoyed as to why anyone would care about keeping furniture clean during a damn apocalypse. When you came back, you were in different, dry clothes with a towel wrapped around your head. 

“Here.” You tossed a towel at him and he immediately used it to apply pressure to his bleeding wound. He could feel you intently watching him as he pressed the towel, now saturated with his blood, to his thigh. You tossed him another and he quickly switched them out. 

“You sure you don’t want me to take a look?” He hated the pity lacing your voice. You had some audacity to pity him as if you weren’t the one who put him in this situation in the first place. 

“You a damn doctor or somethin’?” He snapped, growing frustrated with your hovering. 

“Never mind, you got it.” You placed the first aid kit beside were he was sitting on the floor and sat down on your couch before opening a book and reading. He was grateful to finally be left alone and continued his attempt to stop the bleeding. He checked underneath the towel and saw that it stopped. Upon closer examination, he saw that it was just a graze. He opened the first aid kit and cleaned the wound with the alcohol wipe in there. It needed stitches, but because of where it was on his thigh, he’d be unable to do them himself. He glanced up at you and you were already looking at him from over your book, hiding a smug look. 

“Everything okay?” You asked. He just grunted in response, not wanting to ask for your help after he was so adamant on refusing it. Even though it would take more time, his wound would heal without stitches, so he just bandaged it as is. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you close your book and set it down. You grabbed his bloody towels, left, then came back with a few fresh ones. 

“Dry yourself off. Don’t need you catchin’ a cold.” You tossed him the towels and he caught them and began to dry himself. 

“You can sleep up here. I’ll give back your weapons when you leave.” You turned off the lights, but let the fire place burn, which Daryl appreciated since he needed to warm up. 

…

When you awoke in the morning, the rain was still harshly beating against your window. You slid out of bed and got dressed before walking into the living room. The sight of a man in dark clothing sitting on the floor of your cabin scared you. You had forgotten about what happened last night. He glanced in your direction, but didn’t say anything. He leaned against the hearth of the stone fireplace with a hand held to his injured leg. 

“How’s the leg?” You asked. You hoped he was doing better for the sake of him leaving soon, but you doubted it. The wound was pretty deep and you didn’t see him stitch it, so he’d be lucky if it didn’t start bleeding again at the slightest movement. You would’ve gladly helped him had he asked, but you felt he was being rude, so you refused to offer your services again that night. 

“Fine.” You could tell that wasn’t all true. His skin looked pale and his forehead glistened with sweat. 

“I’m no doctor, but you don’t look okay. Like at all.” You couldn’t help the smirk that tugged on the corners of your mouth as he frowned at you. 

“Lemme just take a look. I wouldn’t wanna wake up to some dead stranger wanderin’ around my house tryna eat me,” you joked in an attempt to lighten the mood. Today was a new day and the least you could do was help him out. After all, he wouldn’t even be here had you not shot him. You picked up the first aid kit from the floor where he left it yesterday and sat down beside him on his injured side. He extended his leg toward you and you gave him a small smile in return. The tear in his pants from the gunshot was large enough to where you didn’t need to remove any clothing. You took off the old bandage and examined the wound it was fairly deep. 

“This definitely needs stitches,” you informed him as you rummaged through the kit for sutures. He brought his thumb to his mouth and nibbled on the skin surrounding the nail, but nodded his head in approval anyway. You cleaned the wound and unpackaged the sutures. 

“What’s your name anyway?” You asked while threading the needle. 

“Daryl,” came his reply. In return, you told him your name. You pinched his skin together and stuck the needle through it. You weren’t sure how to sew an injured person’s flesh back together, so you just did what felt right. 

“How’d you find my cabin, Daryl?” You tied the thread, bringing together the two sides of the wound then cut it before starting the next suture. 

“Jus’ came across it yesterday.” You repeated the process and finished the second stitch before starting the third. 

“Why were you outside in a storm yesterday?” 

"This a damn interrogation or somethin'?" he hissed instead of answering the question. To tell the truth, you were interrogating him; one, because you wanted to find out more about the strange man in your home and two, to distract him from the pain of you sewing his skin. 

"I'm just making conversation," you told the half-truth. 

"Got separated from my group a while back. I was out lookin' for em and got caught up in the rain. S'that what you wanna know?"  You didn't respond and instead focused on tying the last knot. You placed a bandage over the stitched up wound and cleaned up your materials. 

"Looks like you'll be stuck with me for a little while longer," you commented as you watched the rain come down even harder than it was last night. His only reply came in the form of a displeased grunt. 

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[bi-bard]

First Impressions - Hannibal Lecter Imagine [NBC's Hannibal]

Title: First Impressions

Pairing: Hannibal Lecter X Reader

Word Count: 937 words

Warning(s): none

Summary: Many knew the story of Hannibal's crime and arrest. However, the story of (Y/n) and Hannibal starts long before that. And the first to hear it was Dr. Bedelia Du Maurier.

Author's Note: I thought this would be more interesting than creating a simple story.

MORE OF THIS OC HERE!

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Hannibal and Bedelia's therapy sessions were far from the normal that Bedelia had known in her experience.

She would have loved to shrug such an observation off as simply her mind's immediate reaction to treating a colleague. However, she had to eventually dismiss such an idea.

This strangeness was something very different. Something about Hannibal was very different.

But she felt like she had few options other than continuing the man's therapy.

That day had been strange for an entirely different reason.

She had been sitting across from him for a while. Hannibal had fallen into some distracted silence.

"Something has captured your attention," she noted. "What is it?"

Hannibal let out a quiet chuckle before sitting up a bit straighter in his seat. "I'm afraid that 'it' is not an it, but a 'they'."

"A person," she replied. He nodded. "You meet new people almost every day. What makes this person so different?"

"For the first time, I cannot find the words to explain it," he continued. "They simply... are."

"I don't believe I have ever seen you speechless before."

Hannibal's grin grew just slightly.

It was a moment of pure honesty on his part.

It may have sounded harsh, but (Y/n) was nothing extraordinary. They seemed like every other person that had been around them at the time. Hannibal found trying to explain why they had so easily caught his eye similar to explaining to a toddler why one would need to go to bed at a reasonable time. So simple on the surface, yet seemingly more complicated when someone begins to question it further.

Maybe it had been (Y/n)'s kindness. They looked at everything around them with such genuine interest that it could've knocked the wind out of someone who looked in their eyes. They seemed so eager to help anyone. Hannibal could see that in the admittedly short amount of time that they spent together.

Maybe it was simply carried themselves. Their smile never seemed to dip. Hannibal felt childish for believing it, but he could've sworn that their eyes sparkled. There was something about their excitement that brought a sense of comfort. Hannibal thought it was affecting the whole room, but it could have just been him and he would've never been able to tell.

"How did you meet?"

His attention was suddenly turned back to Bedelia when she spoke. She tried to fight the knowing smile that so desperately wanted to show. She had never seen Hannibal in such a... distracted state, but she felt safe assuming the cause of it.

"At an art gallery," Hannibal replied.

"A guest?"

"An employee," he corrected.

"I see," she nodded. "Tell me about your... chance interaction."

"I had asked about a painting," he explained. He felt a need to avoid the specific details. He wanted those to be only his. "They told me about some small details. They seemed to cut themself off when they realized how many details they were sharing. They tried to apologize, but I was... intrigued."

"Was that the entire conversation?"

"No."

An amused smile formed.

"It feels strange to admit this, but I did continue pestering them while I was there," he continued. "I was curious about how much they knew."

"And?"

"The knowledge came from much more than simple education. It came from an interest that would have started a long time ago. Decades."

"Did you ask?"

"Yes," he nodded. "They told me that their mother was the reason that they knew so much."

"Many of us can unknowingly carry the habits and hobbies of our parents," Bedelia said. "The ones that we are aware of are arguably the most important."

"It would seem so," he replied.

"Please, continue your story."

"I watched them go around to help everyone else whenever needed. And then, they would come back and continue our conversation. As if there had never been an interruption in the first place.

"I promised to come back another day and continue our conversation."

"They seemed happy about the idea?"

"Yes."

Again, Bedelia had to fight that knowing smile.

Hannibal was smitten.

Intrigued and smitten could become mixed in the mind. Many could be misguided by mere intrigue. Hence why they would lose interest when the object of their affection had nothing left for them to learn about.

However, Hannibal never seemed to mix those thoughts together. He seemed entirely aware of the source of his thoughts. But this time, Bedelia could see the mix occurring in his mind. The question was whether or not he could also see the mix.

He could.

And he didn't mind it.

"What's their name," Bedelia asked.

"(Y/n)."

Hannibal almost said the name like it was made of glass. If he said it too harshly, it would shatter, and he would lose the right to speak it. That knowing smile was beginning to win the battle on Bedelia's face.

"What are you going to do when you see (Y/n) again?" she continued.

"Ask them more questions," he explained simply.

"Invite them to dinner?"

There was a small pause before Hannibal answered, "Perhaps."

She nodded.

Something about seeing Hannibal in such a state brought a sense of comfort. Like it provided evidence against a theory that Bedelia feared would be true.

"I'd like to hear about how your next interaction goes," she said. "To ensure that this becomes a healthy, fulfilling relationship in your life and theirs."

Hannibal nodded.

Bedelia decided then that she may be able to become comfortable with seeing Hannibal in such a state for a while.

This was a kind of strange that she could make sense of. 

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[lokigodofaces]

Okay so in reference to my additions on this post, I have brainstormed some ideas for different Asgardian anatomy with the help of my best friend, a MA that knows way more about anatomy than I do. Plus some others that I came up with later. (Tagging @gloriousburden because I feel obligated to since there are some of your posts linked here as well as @francisbegbieslefttit to let you see the new developments)

Asgardians have 2+ livers. We know from canon that Asgardian alcohol is way stronger than ours. And usually I see this interpreted as Asgard having super special strong alcohol but Asgardians are super special strong so only they can handle it. Which I mean, that isn't wrong. But how about we come up with an idea explaining this via their biology. Thus having multiple livers that helps them process the alcohol better than we can. So if they want to get drunk, they need strong stuff. Unless they drank a ridiculous amount of human alcohol, they would be fine. Also, historically wines and beers have been made without high alcohol concentration. Basically the process behind making alcohol cleans water as well so people so it was safer to have an alcoholic beverage. So what if human's alcohol is basically like that to Asgardians? I'm sure Asgard has purified water by now, but maybe a cultural thing that stuck was the low concentration drinks?

Asgardians have an extra organ/slightly different than our organ used for magic stuff. Okay, so I haven't nailed exactly how it would work. But an organ would explain why Asgardians could use magic and not most humans. Though as I'm typing this I think having an organ existing in humans but different could be interesting because what if that's not unique to Asgardians? What if humans can have magic-allowing organs as well but not the technology to determine that? But people like Stephen and Wanda are biologically different in that sense? I like that idea. But yeah. Biological reason behind why not everyone does magic. But also it's not immediate. Best comparison I have is with singing. Professional singers train their lungs and throat in order to sing as well as they do. And we all should have roughly equal potential to sing at a professional level biologically but must don't have the voice training to get their body to produce sound like that. Same idea with magic organ. If you never practice with it, you might get some little stuff going on but nothing compared to a trained sorcerer, and lots of humans probably never noticed it or were seen as superstitious. But give them some training and bam. Magic. But on Asgard there's the added benefit of knowing this exists so people can actually train for it if they want to. Still not the majority of people (Odin, Frigga, Loki, Thor, Heimdall, and Lorelei are the only ones shown to perform magic) but some.

Mentioned it on another post on menstruation on Asgard. There's potentially some sexist stuff going on with reproductive health like access to birth control. I get the vibe it might be a thing. But idk. But their medicine seems to be so good that they have ways to treat menstrual cramps and other concerns that's accessible. They seem to have medicine good enough to treat things, so why not treat it? Then Asgardians come to Earth and find out that's there's lots of treatment options here. That's good! But wait for it! There's this weird culture in multiple places that it's normal to suffer on a period! It's supposedly normal to struggle to walk or get out of bed! And no one treats it! To which all Asgardians are just confused as to why people are suffering despite treatment existing and being relatively easy to get a hold of in some places. And this has been my PSA that suffering isn't normal during a period. Also there's more listed on that post, but that's the thing that stands out the most to me.

Also there's the appendix thing mentioned in mentioned post. Basically, it's kinda weird that humans have an organ that isn't used but when infected is fatal unless surgically removed. What sort of nightmare anatomy is that?

Also Asgardians having absolutely no idea how fast humans develop. They know the life expectancy is around 80, but not when different stages begin. When does adulthood start? Who knows? But it's the same with humans and Asgardians. When does adulthood start? Who knows? Now imagine an Asgardian having a child with a human. No one knows what gonna happen with this kid.

Also what about puberty? When does it start? What changes are there? We can assume some are the same, like we don't see any little Asgardian children with beards. Along with that, I bet Loki had some weird experiences growing up (puberty and otherwise) due to being Jotun. But he's gaslit by his parents as being "an uncommon but not unusual rate of development" or "an imbalance of hormones" or something like that. Or even being told it was a result of him not doing something right. "Means you're not eating well enough" "you must not have enough physical activity" "magic can mess with your health at this age" "stop eating this" "start drinking this" or whatever else. Then he has to like have some weird diet and work out or whatever until it resolves over time.

Okay Asgardians have got to be allergic to something on Earth. What is it? Also humans allergic to Asgardian stuff. Or wait. What about a human allergic to Asgardians or vice versa?!

I talked about it before, but Asgardians triggering the uncanny valley. Post also talks about Asgardians smelling differently & other subtle differences there could be. I also had another post I can't find rn about the uncanny valley. Basically it questioned why humans evolved to have that and how that might've been a means to determine who was human and who was alien.

Okay what about Asgardians being impressed by some human sports that value traits Asgardians see as inferior? Like I dunno, gymnastics because they're all short but that is helpful in gymnastics or something like that. Not to mention wheelchair basketball and other Paralympic sports. I have a feeling ableism is a problem on Asgard. And also a really strict idea of conventional attractiveness.

These are just some, feel free to add on other ideas. I just think it's unfortunate when fanfiction or even the creators themselves forget that Asgardians aren't just strong humans with a longer life expectancy. They're alien guys. Have fun with that. Do whatever weird thing you want to do. Give them weird organs, extra organs, or even take organs from them. What weird stuff is going on with their biology? Have fun with it!

[jiwoosify]

Life is strange 2 broke me.

and I'm glad it did honestly.

Lis2 is my first video game of 2025. And it was an amazing experience. I just finished playing it today, and I kept crying throughout the WHOLE day. So, if you haven't played it, spoiler alert.

Let's begin.

The game follows Sean and Daniel Diaz, two brothers from Seattle. After a tragic accident leaves their father dead (and Daniel mysteriously develops telekinetic powers), the boys are forced to go on the run. Think Thelma & Louise but with superpowers and more emotional.

Their road trip is full of choices, and we decide how our playthrough goes. Along the way, they meet all kinds of people – good, bad, and everything in between.

At first, I bought it because there was a discount, and I was looking for a game to start the year with. So, I grabbed it right away without having any expectations. The only game from this franchise I had played before was the first one, and I absolutely loved it. The story and characters were really interesting. In my mind, the first game was better than the others, even though I hadn't tried the rest.

One evening, I sat down on my couch and finally decided to begin my adventure with Sean and Daniel Diaz. Right away, I found the game visually beautiful. It seemed like a chill experience at first. But oh, how wrong I was.

When their dad got killed, my smile immediately faded, to be honest. Everything went downhill from there, and the game instantly felt more serious.

I mean, two brothers just lost their father because of a damn cop, and they knew the police wouldn’t believe them, so they ran away. And the fact that Sean tried to hide the truth from Daniel made me so sad.

So their journey went on. Obviously, I always make dumb decisions in these types of games — and I definitely made a lot here, especially in Episode 2. The choices in this game are way more stressful compared to others. I hadn’t felt this kind of tension since Until Dawn, but damn, these decisions are even harder.

I had to pause the game multiple times just to think about the choices I was about to make.

Starting from Episode 3, everything got much sadder. Like, when Sean had to choose between singing or getting beaten up — that scene left me in tears. My boy went through so much, and he did all of it just to find his brother and keep them together. And honestly, that was one of the hardest choices I had to make. (I refused to sing, by the way, because it would’ve been too humiliating for him).

It’s like they never get a break. They lost their home, and every time they try to build something new, it all falls apart again.

I want to talk a bit about their mother, Karen. Honestly, I really liked her character. She helped them a lot, and I’m glad she was there for them, even if it was only for a short time. Thanks to her, they managed to escape and make it to the border.

Now, let’s talk about the ending… and why I’m so PISSED about mine.

I got the Redemption Ending, and I’m honestly so disappointed. I was too stressed in that final scene, so I chose to surrender — but I regretted it immediately. Like, what was I thinking? I wanted them to cross the border, but at the same time, I kept thinking, What if they get shot? So I went for the "safe" option. I SHOULDN’T HAVE.

Sean ends up getting 15 years of prison for something he didn’t even do. He didn’t get to see Daniel grow up or live his own adult life. He sacrificed so much, and for what? To spend all that time in jail? It’s just insane. This game shows us how unfair life can be — and the worst part is that sometimes, there’s nothing we can do about it.

After Sean is released, we see that the bond between the brothers just isn’t the same anymore. Too many years have passed, and that distance broke me. Their relationship feels so different, and that hurt me more than anything else.

After watching all the endings, I came to the conclusion that none of them are truly good.

Lone Wolf is by far the worst. Daniel ends up suffering alone, and everything they went through feels pointless.

Blood Brothers? They make it to Puerto Lobos, sure, but Daniel doesn’t really seem happy about it. He never truly wanted to go to Mexico in the first place.

Parting Ways feels like the best possible ending, but even then, they don’t get to stay together. They both achieve what they wanted, but they have to live their lives apart.

Okay, enough about all the sad moments!

This game is one of the best experiences I’ve ever had. I enjoyed every single moment of my playthrough. I just wish it got more recognition for its beauty and gut-wrenching story. Games like this are rare, and honestly, everyone should play it at least once in their life.

Life Is Strange 2 is now part of my top 3 video games, and it will stay with me forever. I don’t think I’ll ever fully recover from the ending I got.

Love you, Sean & Daniel ♡