#but remember no matter how big of a morph fan you are i will always love him more than any of you ever will

[co-mixed]

X-Men '97: Beyond Expectations

Let’s be honest, who was ready for this? 

Personally, I didn’t have many expectations. I knew it was X-men and I knew I’d love it probably no matter what. I had a fear it might be a little too clean and knowing full well what the comics are, making it child-appropriate wasn’t an ideal option. Should I even say the words “pleasantly surprised” at this point? They don’t cover it. 

X-Men ‘97 did something that’s been missing ever since the MCU started. It built the X-men fan community back up, brought in new fans, encouraged people to take a look at the X-titles again. We finally get to namedrop our favorite mutants, share ridiculous facts from their past, and yes, remember things like X-Men Evolution and Wolverine and the X-men. But then the show also showed us how heavily emotional and deep cartoons can be. 

Okay, enough vague statements, and no more avoiding spoilers.

The show really relies on the previously established lore with Charles being taken off-world to Shi’ar and the X-men left under Scott’s leadership. Or so he thinks. Right off the bat in the first episode, we get an epic X-fight like we’ve never seen and a cliffhanger with Magneto showing up. Not much of a shocker and yet, we’ve never seen the movies dare to do that (or anything that strays too far from Phoenix). Whenever that happens, Magneto trying to abandon his murdery radical ways, it always comes down to his clash with Charles. They really manage to make their decades-long disagreement everybody else’s problem. X-men usually pay the price. 

This time though, you finally see the creators working with the comics. We get so many storylines adapted in the span of 10 episodes, it’s unbelievable. That actually does follow the tradition set up by TAS. Only it’s been years, hence more stories and newer, harsher ones. 

To be honest, I never even imagined Genosha being adapted. Not just because it’s a heavy arc but because it’s just so obvious: when you mention Genosha you state the fact. We know what their goal is. It’s removing any ambiguity and allowing no misinterpretations of what the X-men are really and have always been about. So it’s a statement for sure. And I couldn’t be happier they finally made it. Correction, I could be happier if they hadn’t killed off Gambit. We’ll get back to that. 

So yeah, we got Genosha, OZT, Inferno, and Lifedeath (aside from minor elements and arcs I can’t particularly point out at the moment). So this show went to the depth of what makes X-men X-men, they took the personal arcs like Lifedeath or Inferno, the ones that focused on character journeys, and really showed us who the people are behind these stories. That’s mostly  Claremont’s legacy since both stories were from his era and it was his thing to take mutants through their personal hell. Bot arcs were compressed, of course, but the essence remained the same. Which, again is the only goal of an adaptation anyway. So some metaphors had to be sacrificed but ultimately, they just give you a chance to relive it through comics if you’re into it.

But then they hit us with big events like Genosha and OZT. They absolutely go as epic as any movie, because remember how you felt after ep.5? If you’re anything like me, you were devastated and if you’re a Gambit fan, you were shocked too. And this is one of the things that they didn’t just put aside and ignore, something that movies never focused on: the emotions. Throughout the show, the characters say several times that they’re a family. But we actually see that in the friendship between Storm and Jean (which come on, it’s been a long freaking time coming!), or Morph and Wolverine (that one resembles Wolverine’s friendship with Nightcrawler in the comics). But then in the love and drama between Scott and Jean (and Madelyne! And Logan! And probably Emma one day!), Storm and Forge, or Rogue and Gambit (and Magneto!).

Love and friendship - the genuine connections that make you care about the characters and how someone’s death or disappearance or even inner turmoil affects you. We see these things through their reactions, so for them to feel true, we have to see those connections. And here we finally do. Just like we do in the comics. I hope the eventual movie screenwriters keep that in mind because that’s the only way to build an X-men story, brick by brick. 

Look at the way Roro and Jean are cheering each other on, with mind and weather, and then when Phoenix shows up. 

X-men are a superhero soap opera and we all know that. And ffs let’s never again pretend like it isn’t. 

The politics. Now if you’re one of those “keep the politics away from my comics/movies/cartoons” types, X-men are not for you. X-men ‘97 even more so, because this show is all politics. I mean hello, Genosha? OZT? Bastion, sentinels, hate groups? We are even finally calling out Shi’ar! Which I love. We’ve been looking at them through ally glasses since more often than not they play on the side of the X-men. But really, in terms of intergalactic politics, they are no better than Kree or Skrulls (not the cozy ones from the MCU). They can get pretty mean. In one of his finer moments, mainly because it allowed him to rest comfortably on his high horse, Charles points that out. Even explains the short and easy-to-understand version of what being an empire means. But as he does that, unfortunately, Genosha is under attack. 

We give him shit for ditching his family like that but really, he just relied on his pal Magneto to keep it together. And he would’ve too, had his gloved hand not been forced by the likes of Val, Trask, and the evil droid that is Bastion. 

Here’s where X-men ‘97 do the absolute most – they mix and match stories, piling them on to absolutely overwhelm the heroes. To keep everyone preoccupied and focused on their piece of the drama cake to sneak in a shuttering final forte chord. 

And Genosha ain’t even that. 

Let me be corny for a moment there, but it’s probably one of THE moments for every fan, when after episode 5 we were warned that the best is yet to come. And we kept asking how? How do you top that? And we saw today (5.15.) because holy shit, this show raised the bar. 

We got teamwork. Really, one of the perfect elements of this show is the characters’ powers. The limitless force with which they jump into a battle. We knew it at “Give them the forecast” really. Because we’ve never before seen Storm at the height of her power, with all she can and has done in the comics. Right then and there we knew what we were in for. But then, the rest of that, or any other fight sequence was everything you could hope for. There wasn’t a single one you would wanna miss. Powers depicted as they were always meant to and amazing teamwork. That was one of the best elements borrowed from the recent comics. Recent because while they’ve been working as a team since forever, it was Krakoa that really emphasized how powerful mutant circuits can be.

Thanks to that, we got to see a showcase of creative use of abilities. Beast using his knowledge to his advantage, Morph using their power to turn into everyone who’s anyone - I mean they gave us so many little fun cameos, even though every time you had to take a double look and ask wait, Warren’s here? Psylocke showed up? Or ehhh Hulk? That’s very X-men. The characters have fun with their powers too, with the team landing in the first episode or Ororo flying around when she got her powers back (this ain’t about Forge :D). And then there are devastating displays of power like Gambit charging the Wild Sentinel (still not over it) or Magneto turning off the lights. Of course, in any battle you have to keep things interesting, which is why they don’t just let the heroes use their ultimate ability from the get-go and be done with the whole thing. The baddies also have to surprise you with being harder and harder to defeat.

Speaking of surprises, the fact that all the stories have been stitched together like a quilt makes every turn unexpected. I mean you can predict some things and chances are, the better you remember the comics, the more things you can get right. But what’s the fun in that? They don’t simply adapt arcs, they add and remove crucial elements that make it into something new. And that new is always unpredictable. Like take Genosha - Bastion was behind it instead of Cassandra. While Charles was in space, she wasn’t after him, the Shi’ar politicians, however, were. Or the whole ordeal with Maddie - Scott didn’t stand a chance there. Really, no matter how you spin that story, he can’t get out of it looking good. But they did their best and it worked. 

Then again, these are the things that make adaptations work and this is what the MCU is so good with. Civil War was hella different from the comics and it’s still a fan favorite. 

And as if all that was somehow not enough, the show is so quotable. It has all those little callbacks to previous episodes or TAS or even the movies, clever writing, and beautiful lines that stay with you for weeks and probably even forever. All the things about chosen family – tell me you didn’t tear up or straight up cry because that’s pretty much what I did. And yeah the first time you’re watching to find out what happens. The second — you really live through all the emotions. Along with the characters because they so do live them.  

There is so much X-men lore. You can read them like obsessed (which I often do) and still have so many stories to go through. Anyway, X-Men ‘97 finally flipped the page from the stories we know well and picked a new evil, building a new arc with him at the center. 

And then, the details in general. How well the animation is done and how tiny elements you notice help them build the narrative. I’ve been thinking about it since the first episode when I saw the look between Storm and Rogue before the team landed. In that one look, they agreed on a landing strategy they probably trained time and time again in the Danger Room. Similarly, the sneaky sideyes and looks, just pay attention to them when you rewatch (and I know you will), cause the details just make the whole experience even better. All reactions are awesome in this show like Ororo hearing about Forge’s disastrous neutralizer technology and calling an epic thunder. That’s pretty much how the characters stop being 2d even when all they are meant to be is 2d.

Did I mention the soundtrack? Pretty much a masterpiece, right? It feels epic and grandiose and in many ways, it’s because of the music. It’s obvious things it’s still so easy to simply forget to mention it. You pay attention to the story and the visuals but they are tied together by the sound. And it’s most noticeable in the Wolverine/Nightcrawler fight with Prime Sentinels or when Ororo flies around, or when Cable, Jean, and Scott jump into that epic family fight. Breathtaking. 

A big part of this show is about family. The kind that supports you and stands by you. You know, the opposite of Nina DaCosta! It’s always touching too because no other team is like that. You don’t get this benefit of the doubt with the Avengers and FF are actually related. You only get that with the X-Men if you’re willing to share the dream. 

I’m not going into the dream though, been there, done that. But I do want to talk about the finale. 

As many have predicted, we did get a cliffhanger. As if we wouldn’t have come back, pah-lease! But we’re obviously back to Apocalypse and this time he’s gonna mess up with several timelines at once. Now what exactly are we getting - I wouldn’t dare theorize. All I can think about right now is… okay, we’re probably getting some resurrections, some Stryfe, and once again, I’m hoping for New Mutants (even though the only new face I spotted was Dust and she’s from an entirely different team.)

Also, we see a wider universe: Cap and Iron Man, Black Panther (where again did Storm end up ;)), Cloak and Dagger, Daredevil, Strange, Fantastic Four, Spider-Man. If we ever have crossovers… 

Still, it’s been amazing and it’s now forever with us. 

I might be biased, no, I am most certainly biased but it’s the best animated show I have ever seen and I am ecstatic that it’s about the team I’ve loved my entire life.

[ectterna]

AHHHHHHH THEY ARE RIGHT HOW DID I NOT THINK OF THIS…

so im a die hard fan since 2018/19 around the time season 2 came out and i know like mostly everything although the war arc made me not finish the series.

OKAY THIS IS WHY TOGACHAKO IS KILLER AND COLOR.

(this is made by a non togachako shipper i view them as platonic)

why killer is toga; Toga was like hated by her family because for her quirk (due to the blood thing), this led to her being a mentally ill teen who killed a boy bc he didnt love her or smth from what i remember. She kills people bc like she just wanted to be loved and now she doesnt care anymore. She basically has a similar personality to fanon killer (in the sense shes bubbly over the top and ‘always happy’)

Color comes in when ochacko starts to realize how little of a chance toga got to be loved/has a reason for her wrong doings. Ochako is becoming morally grey for toga because she doesnt think toga is invalid. Like she knows toga cant redeem herself but she wants to help her realize she isnt a bad person just because of her quirk.

Himiko realizes in the end that her live would have been better if she didnt resort to villany and if she decided to try to be good she might have actually had a chance.

The whole ur cute stuff was ochako just saying toga was human too.

So basically color saying “youre the cutest” would mean “you can choose what you want, its not your fault”

color just having one big ole hear me out for killer <33

The scene but in their words:

Color: “But if you still feel for even a little bit that you want to talk to me, I’ll sit with you no matter the stage, I want to talk about what you want in life Killer!”

Color: “I just want to touch you, the hate and sadness inside of you, *color talking ab his lore and why he is here idk much about color to tweak this part*. Thats why im here killer, tell me what you think! Tell me what you thought until now, everything!

*Killer going to kill color but stops*

Killer: “Chara, she changed my code… I- I Killed everyone, Over, and over, and over. When Nightmare saved me I thought that it was the only way out, that he was the only way I could escape my AU. I was told I couldn’t be happy anymore, I was blinded, you knew what it was like to love without LoVE.”

Killer: “I had to get my soul morphed to force a stage two, Nightmare would get so angry if I felt too much. He would say that ‘I was just a tool’ he’d think I was worthless. He told me that you were a bad influence, you were foolish and I shouldn’t be near you. Thats why I’m with Nightmare, I thought it was my only option! I never got a chance to choose what I wanted!”

Color: “You were sending me those signals the whole time, it took me so long to realize.”

Killer: ‘Oh no, I’m reverting back to stage one...’

Color: “I can’t bring back your old life, but I thought I’d tell you how wonderful my time with you was.”

Killer: ‘Im glad I met color.’

*insert the image above*

Have you seen season 7 episode 20 of my hero academia? I think Toga and Ochako are very Colourkiller

I’m sorry to say I haven’t watched beyond S3, cause to be completely honest I kinda lost interest in the Anime as it went on, I watched a very unique and beautiful story become another Dragon ball with the stakes (somehow) just going higher (even more than All for one??? Which doesn’t make sense to me?????) and with no end in sight, so I kinda just dropped it ngl hcchchhcvh

So I honestly don’t know anything beyond some designs for the characters that appear afterwards chchch

But since you’re mentioning Toga and Ochako, I’m assuming you might be referring to that scene in the manga that’s something like “you think I’m cute?”, “the cutest in the world”, I at least saw that around

And while I do not know the context, I still think it fits to an extent, but not fully?? I just find it a bit hard to connect them cause I don’t really feel like Tago and Killer or Ochako and Color are alike in any sense? (But that’s just me talking about how little I saw of their characters up to S3, I obviously missed a lot of characters arcs dhhdhd)

And when it comes to Toga and Ochako’s relationship, I honestly don’t know anything about it to form an opinion on whether I think they represent Color and Killer’s relationship chchhchc

Still, I think that specific scene is adorable so have a sketch of it

[assortedbirds]

14/01/24: Log 3- Static Pulse

Coming at you....way too late at night! I should be asleep! However, I was deeply focusing on some much-needed Static Pulse work and I want to share it before I go to bed (no matter how heavy my eyes are right now).

So today I decided to tackle the behemoth, the thing about this story that I have been trying to figure out for years but could never make any progress with, the big question...."what the fuck does Wren's house look like?".

Now, in terms of aesthetics and functionality this was very easy to answer. Dalia was an obscenely rich woman and her decor perfectly reflects that uber-wealthy minimalist "how does anyone even live here it doesn't feel homey at all" aesthetic. Additionally, I have an extensive idea of how many rooms the house has and what they are for. For example, I can tell you that it is a one story home with high ceilings, it used to have two guest bedrooms only for one of them to later be converted into a medical office, or that it has a very extensive library room. However, there has always been one pretty big issue preventing me from drawing up a floor plan....I am really not an architect. As much as it is normal to not be great at an artistic field that is not your own, I cannot emphasise enough that I really suck ass at this. Complete and utter ass. Every sketch I had made over the past 7 years, regardless of whether or not I used reference material, was a disproportionate mess that felt impossible to sustain life (I would share an example here, but it is far too late for me to go diving through old sketchbooks, please just take my word on this)

Now, I could probably very easily search up "1 story, 4 bedroom, free to use mansion plans" and just use that as the structure, but with that comes an additional problem. I may not be an architect but if there is one thing that I AM....it is picky, and once I have a vision I will not rest until I feel that it is fulfilled. Those pre existing blueprints were not cutting it, the vibes were all wrong for what I wanted the house to be. Though they provided a good reference, there was no other option for me than to kick myself back into drawing a floor plan from scratch. So this morning I sat down, put up some references and got to work.

My original plan was to see if I could make the process easier by using a floor plan software (which I will discuss later ✨) but this proved to be even more intimidating somehow, so Procreate it was. I realised quite quickly that it is not something that comes naturally for me to translate my ideas for scenes and backdrops into a map-able space, so my brain oscillated between feeling like either overheating PC fans or like it was on fire for most of the process. However, I persisted, and after a few hours I had a wildly disproportional but workable plan for the house!

Once this was finished, I was able to import it to use as a base and began building the floor plan in Homestyler! I feel very lucky, as I only remembered this site's existence due to perusing 8 year old posts on my "art reference" tag (Tumblr's tagging system coming in clutch once again ✊) and, though finicky to use at times, it is proving to be extremely useful! As I went along adding the walls and rooms, the process morphed from being painful to actually being pretty fun! Adding furniture (and eventually re-proportioning the rooms as a lot of them are too-large) will be a long and arduous process, but I am quite happy with what I have achieved so far!

I will share the full map and some more images once I have finalised the design, but I would like to end off by sharing a render of one of the more furnished areas: the library. Anyone who has seen me draw Wren has probably seen art of him sitting in a chair and looking out the window, so may I present to you...Wren's Sulking Corner:

You can also see Dalia's room looming in the background....that kinda works thematically....

Isn't the rendering cool?! Fun fact: those shelves were empty and I had to add in the books myself. It was pretty fun but very time consuming and I have roughly 8 more shelves to fill so....pray for me.

That's it for today's log! If you have read this far....thank you I love you mwah mwah!

-Billie

[number1morphfan]

I'm bringing the Morph content to tumblr. Follow if you like Morph

[saetoru]

oliver is experienced, kind of a fuck boy we already know but i want to be the one who tames him ❣️❣️ pussy so good it changes his life jdndkfnckndkdnf

FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING — OLIVER AIKU.

「 SYNOPSIS 」 ⋮ oliver aiku x reader — 1.2k words — for the first time ever, oliver wants to stay

— contents ⋮ nsfw and 18+ content, fem! reader, fwb! oliver, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names (baby + princess), slightly angst ending idk

— notes ⋮ u right nonnie, pussy so powerful he becomes a lover boy 😍

oliver can’t remember the last time he’s felt like this—in fact, he thinks this might be the first. there’s something about the way you cling to him, he thinks, something about the way you wrap those arms around his neck and pull him in so close, he can feel the thrum of your heart right against his. and maybe, if he was a cliche man, he’d almost think your hearts beat in sync.

like right now, for example—he’s pretty sure his heart is lodged in his throat as he stares down at you, watching the way your face morphs with pleasure. he doesn’t know what’s gotten into him, doesn’t understand why his face buries into the crook of your neck or why his lips press those heated kisses along your skin. his hands are shaky, just barely perched on your hips as he rolls his into you, almost afraid to grasp you too roughly in case you disappear.

“f-fuck,” he rasps, voice gravelly against your ear, soft pants fanning against the skin and making you shiver. “fuck, baby…f-feel so good.”

“‘m close,” you whine, and he wonders if your voice has always been this dangerous—drawing him in to his doom like a siren calls to her victims. oliver thinks he’d let you, he thinks he’d let you end him here and now if you want, so long as he gets to fall right here in your arms.

“yeah?” he breathes, pressing a soft kiss to your jaw, nipping at the skin as his cock slides past your drenched folds, hitting deep against your spot with every roll of his hips. “you close? ‘m close too, princess. you wanna cum with me, huh?”

“yeah,” you gasp softly, nodding sweetly as you wrap those arms around his neck again, the weight so perfect against him. you fit so perfect against him, it’s something he’s never taken the time to notice about anyone before.

oliver aiku has never felt this way before—and something tells him you’re about to ruin his life.

he’s used to fucking around—he’s used to the pretty tears and choked sobs of girls he leaves behind, the heartbreak reflecting along the streams of their cheeks. and he thinks you’ll be the same, thinks you’ll plead him to stay as he moves onto the next. but you don’t—you let him come and go as he pleases, like he’s another option on your list that doesn’t matter. at first he thinks it’s his pride that’s wounded—later, he realizes it’s his heart.

it doesn’t sit right with him, being just another option on a lonely night. it leaves an acrid taste on his tongue as he thinks about how another set of hands might meet your waist or how another pair of lips might press against your skin. he can’t stop himself from thinking about you as he jogs in the mornings, or as he takes breaks between practice, or even has he blocks a goal during a game. it shocks him the first time—makes him do a double take as he realizes he’s searching for you in the crowd as he hears the cheers of his name.

oliver aiku has never felt this way before—in love and down so bad, it makes the tips of his fingers shake.

it’s funny, he thinks, almost like the universe is mocking him as the one person he takes an interest in seems so indifferent to his presence. you don’t beg him to stay in the mornings, and you don’t try desperately to hang off his arm. there’s something ruthless about that—something cruel about how you don’t let him keep you by his side.

“so fuckin’ tight,” he moans, hips rolling into your cunt sloppily as he chases his nearing high, “god—‘s like you were made for me, yeah? like this pussy was made for me.”

“d-don’t get a big head,” you stutter, whimpering as his thumb rolls over your clit.

there’s a clench in his heart at your words—like a rejection of its own that you don’t think he fits into you like he seems to believe. something in him makes him ache to get you to admit he does, desperate to hear you mumble about how you’ve never had someone like him, how you need him, how you want him to stay.

he thinks he’ll stay if you ask, thinks he’ll let you keep him and make him yours if you just tell him to stay.

but you don’t. you don’t seem to care about him that much, don’t seem to bat a lash his way once he’s had his fill of you. he’s attractive, you can admit that much—but nothing about oliver aiku makes you want to keep him, and the thought makes his throat feel dry and hard to swallow.

“you don’t think so, princess?” he grins down at you, but if you look closer, you might just see the hurt in his bicolored eyes—you might just see the heartbreak pooling in his irises.

“fuck—more, oliver,” you whine, back arching up as you roll your hips to meet his thrusts, feeling his skin slap against yours as the blunt head of his cock kisses your sweet spot perfectly. you mewl as he speeds his pace up, clinging to his body as his girth splits you open and his balls clap against your ass. “‘m gonna…gonna cum,” you sob.

“then cum for me, baby,” he whispers, and before he can even think, he’s pressing his lips against yours. he doesn’t do this—he never does, never kisses anyone he beds so intimately. but you kiss him back, and it’s cruel the way you let him have his way only to brush him off as soon as he’s done. “fuck—i w-wanna feel you, kay? cum with me.”

“‘m cumming,” you cry, and you do—coming undone hard on his cock and clenching around him tight enough his head spins, tight enough that he doesn’t think as he babbles away his next words.

“that’s it,” he groans, “fuck you feel so good—love this pussy…love you.” he’s spilling his cum into you as soon as the words fall off his tongue, ragged breaths meeting the crook of your neck as he trembles over your body, hips rolling sloppy and desperate as his cock twitches with every thick rope of cum. “fuck, fuck—‘s good, so good,” he chants, letting out a soft whimper as your walls clamp around him as fucks himself through his high.

it’s silent for a bit, just the harsh pants as you both catch your breaths filling the quiet room, the weight of his words clinging to the heavy air and lingering over your heads.

“you say a lot of things you don’t mean when you get your dick wet, don’t you?” you finally break the silence and murmur as he collapses onto your body when he finishes, and the words are like knives against his skin, carving deep gashes that bleed onto you as he lays over your figure.

he wonders if that’s what it’ll take for you to believe him, if he has to bleed out in your arms for you to finally take him seriously.

“who says i don’t mean what i said?” he chuckles, but it’s watery, a little choked as his head tucks under your chin and sinks into your chest.

“i know how guys like you are,” you hum—and because you’re cruel, you thread your fingers into his damp hair, scratching at his scalp as you deliver the words that shatter his heart. “i know this isn’t gonna go anywhere.”

and somehow, without even trying, you’ve got oliver aiku wrapped tightly around your fingers—and he thinks it’s a cruel twist of fate that you don’t even want him there.

© hanmas do not plagiarize, repost, translate to other sites, or recommend on platforms outside tumblr such as tik

[wingzie]

Brutally Honest Reactions to Jikook

It was requested on Twitter that I talk about the less positive posts about Jikook moments from my live reactions research. These will NOT include any screenshots, but I will discuss what I saw. I will continue to keep posting positive things about Jikook, but the fandom reaction towards Jikook is one of the reasons why I feel so strongly about supporting them so much. Please read ahead if you are interested. I will also keep it out of the Jikook tag.

I will quickly add my own experience here before I continue. I am an early 2019 ARMY. I didn't follow any BTS accounts on Twitter until after I caught up on content. I then started following Jikook accounts once I got braver, because I could see a clear difference in the way the fandom talked about them. (Or not at all in some cases.) It wasn't until I started following Jikook accounts, that I knew about GCF Tokyo. For a fandom that hyped up Jungkook being a director for LGO, his previous work and especially GCFT is rather ignored. Especially when it's obvious that Jungkook has always had an interest in making videos. 

GCFT

An important factor here is that GCFT was posted after Jimin's lovely twitter edit. From what I saw, no one had any real issues with Jimin's edit. The general consensus was that it was sweet that Jimin and Jungkook were finally able to go on a trip together and that Jimin made an edit out of it. But if that's the case, why were there then issues when GCFT was posted, that are still here today?

Compared to Jimin's edit, there is a clear sense of jealousy when GCFT was released. A "sweet trip" turned into a "not big deal" or started to include fake narratives. Some of which really confused me at first, until I asked someone at the time and got the truth. 

There is a sudden change of tone aimed towards Jikook: “How dare they go on a trip together?” and “how dare they share it with us this way?.”  It's clear to me that this jealously suddenly began because of the editing style, the camera shots and the song used. All of which made you feel a certain way when watching GCFT, if you were not so blind or bitter. However, the fandom did it's best to try to belittle JK's work. Saying excuses such as the song was not intentional or that the editing choices were coincidental. That's not the case at all and to quote a certain song "this is no coincidence."

There is an interesting notion that some shippers and y/n's turned to fan fictions after GCFT was released. This suggests to me that they did indeed in fact feel the same way about GCFT. They got the message loud and clear, but had to try to tune it out with another fantasy because of what they felt. They wanted what Jimin and Jungkook had for themselves or another member.

GCF's after GCFT

After GCFT there was a need to show: "look Jimin and Jungkook aren't that close." Which Jikook didn't get the memo of and it shows that people were keeping an eye on them. However, this was only to be able justify their negative thoughts about the possibility of two men being together. They couldn't stand the idea and came up with every excuse possible to deny it. There were a fair amount of “don’t assume their sexuality” posts floating around.

There was also a definite shift after GCFT with Jikooker’s themselves. Of course they were supportive, but much more discreet about it. Afterwards though ,and up through to today, they got louder about Jimin and Jungkook's bond. It's clear this reflects in the fandom perception of them together as a unit or just on the timeline itself. There is almost an annoyance whenever they show up.

The newer GCF’s turned more into a competition between the members. Something which sadly continued even with the Life Goes On MV. Rather than seen as a cute maknae trip in Osaka, GCFO was used as leverage against Jikook to prove that they weren't that close. Which is bizarre in itself and it was like Jimin wasn't in the video at all.

The outrage that sparked when GCFH was released showed the true hypocrisy of the fandom. Jungkook set the tone beautifully to match the Winter Package location of Helsinki. The fact so many quickly jumped on this, but ignored his skills previously is very telling. For all those yelling about appreciating Jungkook, they only yell when it's about making themselves feel better about something. 

Rose Bowl. I don't need to introduce this. However what I found interesting is that people outside of ARMY were more accepting of what happened than actual ARMY.  It also made me question what the definition of "ot7" is,  because these accounts were going around underneath posts with "stop shipping”, “they're just bros" or my most hated one "they do stuff like this in South Korea all the time."

The last one is an absolute hate of mine and is always used by NON Koreans. ARMY are often all about Korean culture until it's something they don't want to hear or know about. A general translation account has already pointed out that Jikook are extremely close due to lack of honorifics and it moe or less got ignored. Another account will mention the same , but for another unit, and it's worshiped to high heaven. Yet Jikooker’s are delusional for being the ones to understand the cultural significance of it?

Jungkook's Birthday in 2019

I am actually going to be calling out Jikooker’s here because the reverse happened this time. Others found Jimin’s Birthday video sweet, whereas Jikooker’s were being extremely rude and disrespectful ON the timeline towards Jimin about it. Plus the usual "Jikook broke up" malarkey that pops up twice a month happened. I only recently started researching this and I’m not even sure I can make a thread on it, because there was so much fighting on the Timeline about the Birthday video.

This is what spurred me on to write my twitter post about being careful about what you post and where your priorities lie. A lot of Jikooker’s were upset before Jimin posted. Not because "he hasn't posted.”, but because "he hasn't posted [for me]." 

This is something that Jikooker’s have to wrap their heads around. We only see a tiny percentage of their daily lives. They also have each other's phone number and see each other daily. They also know each other extremely well and probably better than any of us actually will. It is not up to us what they post or what we see. Do we miss them? Of course. However, to instantly start hating them for that is wrong. You're acting just like the fandom first did when GCFT came out. These same people also acted like nothing had happened as soon as Jimin posted the photo of Jungkook later on.

Seoul Final

For those that don't remember Rose, she was a k-army translator that went to Seoul Final. In one of her live shows afterwards, she explained how other Karmy were surprised by Jikook's closeness on stage. It wasn't just us.

However ,on Naver, there was a storm brewing about Jimin treating Jungkook inappropriately and the way they were acting on stage. This was first started by Jungkook akages and then spread around to some of the fandom who decided to jump in. 

This is one example of people using K-army as a weapon. That they know *best* when they suffer the same on their side with solos etc... It's also another example of the hatred towards Jimin. 

This isn't something new. Shipping was fairly peaceful and kept its original definition of wanting two people to be together. Even if this did include two real people. It wasn't until the definition of shipping morphed into something new and possibly real, that things started to erupt in the fandom. And this eruption was sadly placed onto Jimin, as people saw him as a disruption to their fantasies. 

This defamation of both Jimin and Jungkook's character from the fandom has been present since the beginning. They are seen as liars or not intelligent. That their closeness is fake, even though you can clearly see it from the start and then develop over the years. It's something that has always been beautiful to witness whilst watching, old content and new.

These examples of fandom reactions I have used are ones all related to expectations. If Jimin and Jungkook do not act as expected or they shock the fandom, one side will react negatively. The fandom also do not seem to like seeing Jikook be so loud, so to speak. And with the emergence of more Jikooker’s on social media, this horrid view of them will no doubt increase  Though many hate the term Jikook. It signifies the unit of Jimin and Jungkook and no matter what, they will do what they want too and continue to do so. Thank you for reading and feel free to ask questions if you have any!

[nightswithkookmin]

A quick lesson on ships

Because why not??😌

No but seriously, bare with me, I'm trying to answer your questions. Sit if you have to. Hehe

Uban Dictionary defines shipping as this:

A term used to describe fan fictions that take previously created characters and put them as a pair. It usually refers to romantic relationships, but it can refer platonic [sic] ones as well. (Just think of “shipping” as short for “relationSHIP”.) 9 Apr 2015

Ships can be platonic or romantic or both.

There's fictional ships and non fictional ships too. You ship two people you want to be in a relationship or who already are in a relationship or who you suspect to be in a relationship- perhaps due to queer baiting, ship baiting, romance baiting etc.

In the shipping fandom, there are two sects of people. Those who are Proships those who are Antiships- antis are ironically considered part of the shipping community because for some reason they are always in shippers business💀

Antishippers are those who oppose a particular ship or shipping in general (more on that later.)

Proshippers are well- Pro ships.

Pro-Ship

A term mostly used in fandoms, but can stretch outside of this to include original characters. The core belief is that shipping two fictional characters, no matter if they are family, share ages gaps, considered to be unhealthy, or show blatant signs of being abusive or other generally unsavory behaviours, are valid in a fictional setting.

Pro-Shippers or "anti-antis" are also known as "rainbow meaties" and will use 🌈 + 🍖 emojis together often in their bio on twitter or other social media platforms- usually within fictional settings.

These shippers reinforce the idea fiction is separate from reality and shouldn't be confused with the other.

‘Anti’ is short for ‘anti-shipper’ or ‘anti-[ship]’.

Kindly read through this thread to get the gist of it.

III

IV

Shipping non-fictional individuals is a subset of Proshipping, in my opinion, known also as alternative shipping- as far as my knowledge on it goes.

As with fictional shipping, alt ships have their antis too. People who disagree with shipping real couples in a romantic way for whatever arbitrary moral reasons they have and who feel entitled to go out of their way to correct, stop, police and punish such shippers.

Then there are those who although may be pro real people shipping think they have the right to tell others how they should ship and to what extent they can ship.

Others too prefer to ship real people platonically because they view romantic shipping of real people as problematic.

So to answer your question on Anon's post- there is no such thing as a Proshipper who is also Anti shipping. Thats oxymoronic. Perhaps they might be platonic shippers who are anti romantic ships but not necessarily romantic shippers themselves.

I don't think there's anything wrong with preferring to ship platonically. It is when they assume by virtue of their false sense of moderacy that they are better than others that shit starts to get funny.

Those shippers are delusionally confused beings with a supremacist imperialist complex rooted in ignorance and absurdities.

I usually walk by those quietly. keep it pushing. Gotta mind my business somehow even though most times I just want to pull their hair and bite them and shit😭

I try to keep it classy.

Lord knows I try.

You are either pro ship or anti ship. There's no in between. Those shippers who are shippers but claim they are not are nothing but fraudulent, fake us, simps trying to bamboozle their way through life- pardon my Swahili.

There are a lot of anti shippers moonlighting as shippers in this fandom. It's fascinating.

Personally I think those people are either confused or their desires to appeal to other Anti shippers must have morphed their brains into ass dick hybrids.

Anti shippers in general are notorious gatekeepers, gaslighters, bigots, high key sanctimonious and often have a cis white westernized sense of morality and ethics through which they fliter others and expect everyone and everything to conform to.

They impose their values on others, their ethics on others, resort to manipulation, policing, intimidation and bullying to impose their will etc.

Within shipping, there are those who are Proshipping yet anti certain ships. Most Tuktukkers are anti Jikook. And assume anyone who isn't a tuktukker is equally anti Tae Kook and so go ahead and exhibit anti behaviours towards them.

Think of such groups of shippers as Proshippers with a preference for particular ships if you will.

There are Pro shippers who also feel some kind of way about Shipping real life people or alt shipping.

Here's further resource to help you understand what proshipping is

If you are intolerant with other shippers choice of ships or style of shipping and you traumatize them for it that's Anti shipping. Especially if you feel entitled and justified to traumatize others because you take a higher moral status over them.

You can be proship and not like how certain people, how they go about

Simply walk away, click off, mind your business. You are not the only adult in these streets and leave people to do what interests them.

I think for as long as I can remember, I've always been a proshipper and I ship both platonically and romantically, fictionally and alternatively💀

Some themes in fiction are a hard limit for me such as the R word, pedophilia, incest, child abuse- I just can never find the entertainment in those topics and will struggle through such themes.

But others believe it's just FICTION and those fictional characters aren't really dealing with the imaginary struggles we read about.

Yall do you sis.

I don't really know why people make a big deal of it or try to demonize the concept of shipping as if it were something strange or mysterious- just keep your moral values to yourself. I am not your mother's daughter. we were not raised in the same households.

Then again I think it all depends on the different cultures and social backgrounds we all come from and how entitled, supremacist or imperialist they are.

For Yoonmin, I shipped them romantically but didn't think they were a real couple at all. I just romanticized their interactions and found humor in it. At the back of my head I was expecting them each to one day find husbands or wives and go their merry ways and even harbored the thought they each could very much be in serious romantic relationships with others.

In similar ways, I shipped Minimoni and Vmin.

You can ship a pair romantically and not think at all that they are actually REAL.

A lot of jokers ship Jikook romantically and don't assume they are real. Just as a lot of people shipped say Elena and Stefan romantically even though Paul was married.

Some shipped Elena and Damon too due to their unscreen chemistry and even felt they could be a thing- that was before later it was revealed they had started dating in real life. Even that I was holding on to my Bonnie x Damon fantasies because Bonnie was my bias and I shipped her with everyone romantically- of course I didn't expect any of those ships to manifest into something because it was the character I was shipping not Kat herself. To this day I still love her onscreen chemistry and friendship with Damon and don't see how people could wish for it to be more than that😭

It was beautiful as is. Not everything should climax into sexual intercourse.

But if I felt at some point any of her ships had crossed into alternative ships I would have jumped on those and supported it whole heartedly.

If you assume a pair are a real couple and dating in real life that's alt shipping- a lot of alt shippers suspect a ship is real and that's why they ship them.

There is no such thing as platonic alt shipping.

And for me personally, because I believe Jikook are a real couple and have made that cross over I don't ship any of that pair romantically with other members anymore.

It's bizzare to me to ship someone I know has a partner romantically with anybody else- I make exceptions for Vmin of course💀

I know JK is side eyeing me but I don't care.

I want Tae to be happy too😭😭😭

Tae just wants his bestfriend and soulmate😭

It's too much😭😭😭😭😭😭

He stays shooting his shots🤣

Jimin Harem is real🤭

I must admit, I catch myself slipping on Vmin and Minimoni every now and then- old habits die hard and they don't make it easy 😫

But that don't mean I think Vmin is dating. THAT WOULD BE WILD.

Summary

Proshippers can be Platonic or Romantic shippers and you can ship a pair romantically and not assume they are real at all.

Anti shippers are just assholes trying to beat their values down people's throats.

Alt shippers don't ship their OTP with other players romantically.

I don't know what you mean by Jinkooker...

Do you ship Jinkook romantically or think they are real?? Sis...

Maybe you just ship them platonically or casually.

I ship all the ships platonically.

Especially all Jimin"s Tae's ships. I'd let my self flirt with the idea of romance every now and then.

JK's ships don't make sense to me as ships.

As nonplatonic ships I mean.

I'm fascinated each time I see a hardcore JK x any member ship besides Jikook swearing up and down JK is screwing Namjoon🤣🤣

I hope this helps??

GOLDY

[loveyhoneydovey]

Dating Sam and Joaquín headcanons

Note: I was trying to write headcanons and I couldn't pick which one of them I wanted to write about, so I was like "why not both?" So here's the result, it's a mess and I wrote this at 3AM, I'm so sorry 💀

All my stories are written with a bisexual reader of colour in mind, but anyone else is more than welcome to read them

Sam Wilson x Joaquín Torres x fem!Reader

Warnings: slight mention of injuries, SMUT (lots of filth i'm sorry)

· listen omg, constant entertainment from all three of you, like one of you is always up to something

· ok so i think it started out with only sam and torres

· they had been dating for a while before they first met you, their new neighbour

· you know how torres was fanboying over sam?? yeah, that was nothing compared to how you felt when you first met them

· like maybe you were struggling with the boxes you were carrying during your move because they were so full

· sam and joaquín were on their way home from their morning jog when they saw you, and what kind of people would they be if they didn’t help their cute new neighbour

· when they first introduce themselves, you’re just grateful to see the people in your new building are nice. You also felt like they looked super familiar

· they could see the gears turning in your head when they’d first introduced themselves. Both theorizing about how long it would take you to realize

· and then after like 2 minutes, it hits you, and you feel so dumb

· you try to remain calm and collected since you didn’t want them to think you were crazy or feel like they couldn’t be comfortable in their own home

· they were super chill too, you noticed joaquín was the more talkative one, while sam was content with letting his boyfriend take charge of the convo

· by the end of it you ended up agreeing to hang out together, you promised them baked goods as a thank you for their help

· you’d totally stuttered a few times, and half the time you were staring at them with heart eyes (which joaquín was not used to but sam was jngercewdc have y’all not seen the way torres looks at him whenever they interact?)

· you end up forming a relationship with them, which eventually morphs into something more

· none of you had ever had more than a partner before, so you were all figuring it out together

· torres would be so chaotic. So organized on the field, yet so clumsy at home

· sam is the one that has his shit together (not always but definitely most of the time)

· and when you start dating them, they quickly realize you’re even clumsier than joaquín, and sam’s like “oh no, there’s two of them now”

· ok let’s talk about the good stuff now

· so many freaking cuddles

· post-mission cuddles are a thing in this relationship

· just the three of you laying in bed, holding each other, tracing patterns on each other’s skin, enjoying each other’s presence

· both of them LOVE having their hair played with. only difference is sam has a bit of difficulty asking for it while joaquín will put his head on your lap and put your hand on his hair

· if they come home with minor injuries, you help them clean treat their wounds. The first time this happened, you only had avengers themed band aids (which torres LOVES), so from that point on you only buy those

· on lazy days, after some lazy morning sex, all three of you like to spend the day baking new recipes and eating them in bed

· joaquín getting whip cream on the corner of his lips and on his cheek

· sam making fun of him before you tell him he also has some on his nose

· sam putting whip cream on your face when you least expect it to get revenge

· tickle fights, they used to team up against you until an elbow was once accidentally thrown and someone got a black eye

· you and joaquín love taking cute pics of sam when he’s not looking. He noticed it eventually but never said anything because he thought it was adorable

· both you and joaquín coming home with stray animals and trying to convince sam to let you keep them

· and of course he’s gonna say yes, you two had perfected your puppy eye technique

· he’s that kind of person who says no to getting a pet, then ends up spoiling it more than you and joaquín combined

· you never need a blanket when you’re around them, especially around sam because they’re always so warm

· movie night dates always ended in the three of you doing anything but watching the movie

· both of them flying you with their wings at least once

· you calling them captain and lieutenant in public to tease them

· messing with them by acting like a fan who’s never met them

· like at one point you buy a poster of each one of them and go up to them and you’re like “i’m a big fan, may I get an autograph”, which makes them roll their eyes

· dude they’re also both so playful. Always cracking jokes and even competing to see who’ll come up with the best joke

· the three of you always know you have a home with the two others, and that you can always openly talk about your problems and insecurities without fearing each other’s reactions

· I think sam is the one that has a harder time asking for help. so you and joaquín are more attentive to his body language and any other signs that might reveal that he’s feeling down

· it breaks your heart because he was always taking care of you, joaquín and everyone else, and you needed him to know he was important too

· you decide one day that the three of you should go on vacation every once in a while, because you’d all been working so hard and deserved a little peace

· (also bc shitless sam and shirtless torres)

· imagine eventually they’d give you their dog tags as a way of proposing 🥺 i’m melting

· you had a little ceremony while on a tropical vacation with your closest friends and your pets and had the time of your lives

· you knew you technically couldn’t legally get married, but that didn’t matter. You wouldn’t have it any other way

NSFW headcanons

· now let’s get into the filthy stuff

· whenever you act up, you usually do it around joaquín, because you knew he’d have a harder time saying no or disciplining you

· and he knew you were using that to your advantage, he saw right through it

· yet most of the time it worked

· sam was more of a no nonsense type of person, so if you wanted to break the rules and act like a big girl, he was going to treat you like one

· sam is the ultimate brat tamer and you can’t convince me otherwise

· as a punishment, he loved making you ride his thigh (have y’all seen this man’s thighs? three course meal), but not letting you cum

· whenever you’d whine or pout, he’d remind you that you brought this on yourself

· while joaquín would try to get him to go easy on you, because he took pity on you and kinda has a soft spot for you

· until one day you made the mistake of pushing him too far

· maybe you’d felt like they weren’t giving enough attention, so you threatened to go get it somewhere else. Maybe you even brought up how you could go to that one friend who had a crush on you (you definitely weren’t going to, but you knew how to push their buttons)

· whether you were planning on following through with that threat of not didn’t matter

· you got the punishment of your life on that day

· he’d edged you for hours, to the point where you were crying and trembling and begging him to cum

· so he made you cum, non-stop

· “you wanted me to let you cum, didn’t you? Now take it like a good girl”

· even sam is SHOOK, now he almost took pity on you

· by the time they’re done with you you can barely remember your own name

· they took you to pound town 😌

· ALSO, you’re all switches, and sometimes you enjoy cuffing one of them or being the one giving out the orders

· I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again, torres has a praise kink and LOVES being called a good boy

· Sam has one as well, but it’s more discreet

· likes being told how good he’s making the two of you feel, how no one else can do it like him

· ok but aftercare with them would be so soft

· you’re all super attentive to each other’s needs and usually know if it’s time for a bubble bath and cuddles or if you want to be held and drift to sleep

· lazy morning sex!!! just the three of you taking your time, exploring each other without a rush and not worrying about the outside world

· if they’re on a mission together and have a bit of free time, expect lots of nudes and teasing

· or sometimes even videos, which you find not fair because they have each other and you’re all alone

· NFJDNVEF imagine you buy them one of those clone a willy kits as a joke 💀💀💀 but you end up actually using them

· you know how they gave you their dog tags? yeah it drives them crazy whenever they’re fucking you or you’re riding them and they see the tags bounce

· especially those times where you’d wake them up in the middle of the night because you had a wet dream and couldn’t wait till the next morning. Where the only light entering your room would be provided by the moon, sometimes shining on the tags they gave you

· … imagine sometimes two of you decide to team up against the third and compete to see who’ll give them more orgasms 👀the loser has to do whatever the winner wants

· Jdfvfds lord this is such a long mess i’m so sorry

· in conclusion, there would never be a dull moment with those two and they’d be the sweetest, gentlest partners

Tags: @bury-my-love-inthe-moondust

[sopxhiea]

Anguish

Alfie Solomons X Reader

Summary: Y/N gets hurt but doesn’t tell Alfie and things take a left turn when Alfie finds out what happened during an impromptu visit.

“I think my problem is that I have really fantastic bad ideas.”

The air inside the room is hot, there are two fans on the floor but they don’t do much. There’s the sound of paper shuffling every now and then when the wind hits the yellow material but the pots on top of the papers hold them down.

The cup of tea is cold, at a reasonable temperature for you to drink at this weather. The sunlight is gentle against the closed window, it somehow manages the make the whole place hotter.  You put your hair up in a bun, no longer able to put up with the hot weather but it’s slowly cooling down inside.

There are bruises along the right side of your face, you don’t look in the mirror when you pass by the small one in your office.

It was silly, really.

You knew what was coming when you were called for a meeting in the enemy’s inn but it had gone better than you’d expected until their men pulled guns on your men and there were too many sounds of gunshots for you to recall the rest properly.

You’d gone out with a fraction of the men you had gone in with.

The right side of your face has a bruise near your eye, a couple purple marks that morph into one big disaster follow the covered bruise. There’s a bigger knife wound on your right leg but it can’t be seen due to your dress. You ignore the little cuts on your feet while putting them on top of the desk to feel a little better.

Then his voice booms through the corridor.

You’d tried to keep Alfie out of this but you of all people know how stubborn he is. He’s come around three times in the past two days and you’d told him you were entirely too busy and tired for him through your assistant, avoiding eye-to-eye confrontation at all costs but you know Joseph, your assistant, can only keep him out for so long.

“Mr. Solomons, you ca-”  Joseph’s voice booms through the corridor and your hear the sound of heavy yet fast footsteps along the corridor that leads to your office.

You can see the image.

Joseph is running behind Alfie but he’s not seen you in a couple days and you know how needy he gets. You’d avoided anything but phone calls and Alfie had been the most touchy partner you had so it was not avoidable.

You get up but before you have the chance to try to cover your face up, the door flies open.

Alfie looks angry at first but then his orbs fill with agony and fear when he sees your state. You can see the frustration in his eyes when his lips stay sealed and instead, he walks towards you in the silent room.

“You can leave.” you whisper to your assistant, knowing that he’s done his best dealing with your lover and he’s done a pretty good job knowing how persistent Alfie can be when it comes to you.

Alfie slowly walks toward your already standing form as your assistant closes the door, the room is filled with nothing but your heavy breaths. His calloused fingers lift your chin up and caress your hair as he looks at you.

Even though he’s not really looking at you.

His eyes are focused more on the bruises and the why, when and all those questions than the worry that seems to be swimming on your face. You gulp as he turns your head with his thumb on your chin to take a better look to the right side of your now bruised and cut face.

It’s not that bad, you think.

He swears under his breath, it’s a mumble of some sort you’ve heard him say before you know he’s going to be mad, it’s a matter of how mad at this point when he looks at your worried eyes.

His index finger traces something on the bruise and you can’t help but make a sound since the marks on your face are pretty new.

“Ouch.” you whisper but you’re silent again when he casts a look on you after the words come out of your mouth. He seems frustrated.

He’s frustrated at you, for getting hurt and not being as careful but he’s also frustrated at himself, for not being able to protect you. This was not the first time you’d gotten hurt since you started seeing him but it was the first time he was seeing you bruised like this.

You know he tends to worry, no matter how much you’ll try and convince him that you’re completely fine. You don’t look fine, you know that but it’s just a couple bruises on your face for all he can see and you’ll be fine before he knows but he won’t believe that, you know.

“It’s nothi-” you start speaking into the silent room as he inspects your face, you know it’s stupid to even speak at the moment but his worried face gets the best of you.

He cuts you off not too long after, not believing the words that come out of your mouth but you knew that he wouldn’t in the first place.

“What the fuck did I tell ya’?” he asks, staring right at you while you gulp. It feels like he’s about to scold you but you sigh and answer anyway.

“To be careful.” you answer like a little kid, your voice doesn’t skip a beat and he nods.

He doesn’t speak for a while and you remember that he had told you something in addition the last time you’d come across him bruised. It wasn’t as visible to the eye but you know for a fact that he remembers, he doesn’t forget things like these.

“To be more careful.” you say but your voice is not as confident as before, it’s a mere whisper but he hears it clearly since his face is inches away from yours.

He nods this time but a little more enthusiastically. He tugs at his beard then, eyes wondering off to now look at you and not your bruised state. He sees you then, he can see that whatever happened was taken care of but it shook you and in the midst of ogling your wounds and scolding you, he’s missed to see what has taken place.

“Are ya’ feelin’ alright, luv?” he asks after a couple minutes pass, you realise he’s seen the look of fear covered with pride and you hate that he can see right through you.

“Yeah, I...” you start speaking but you know he doesn’t mean the physical damage, he means the thing swimming inside your orbs. “It’s alright, I’ll feel better in a couple day-”

“Why didn’t ya’ tell me?” he asks, words loud and clear as he looks right into you, you ignore the pain on your right leg from the wound and you flinch slightly but he notices, like he always does.

“I didn’t want you to get all worried. You tend to do that, you know?” your words sound more playful now but his eyes are focused on your right leg from when you slightly moved. You pray for him to forget about it, joke about the situation like you are doing but he seems dead serious.

"I tend to get fuckin’ worried, yeah, when my girl is all bruised up.” he speaks against your face and you ignore the temptation to tell him that he’s shown up at your doorstep one too many times with bruises all over his body but you’d not made a scene then. 

It’s in his nature.

You watch the rays of sunlight dance with the lines of his face while his eyes scan your right leg. You don’t stop looking at him even though you know that he’s going to ask you about it and you have no intentions of lying, not at this time.

He then proceeds to speak a little louder, his words are clearer and not rushed like they had been when he first came barging in. You look at his dense stare as he speaks, head nodding at his own words. “This, yeah, is the only injury you got then?” his words are tricky as his finger traces the bruise on your face. 

You gulp.

There’s no point in lying, you know he’ll know about the injury on your leg by midnight when his hands start roaming around your body like they always do but you desperately don’t want to him to get worried, you need to him to think rationally and you know he’ll lose it once he sees how bad the wound is when you start cleaning it.

A sigh leaves your lips and you tilt your head to the side as he tugs at his beard, eyes on you the whole time and you speak. “Maybe.”

Your words are hardly hanging around the air when he takes a small step closer to you so that your bodies are touching. His hand comes in contact with the soft skin of your leg, he slowly travels up while a look of terror takes over your face.

Your breath is shaky when his hand meets the bandage. There’s the shake of your head when he lifts the dress you’re wearing to get a better look at how much the injury is covering and you can see his heart breaking when he sees that most of your upper thigh is covered with a thick layer of bandage and cotton.

“It’s really jus-” you start speaking but he makes you sit down on your desk that you’d been leaning on and puts his hands on both sides of you on top of the desk. You wait for him to speak, face inches away from yours.

“How many stitches?” he asks but he’s calmer than you’d expect. You gulp and decide to give him a vague answer, one that would not make him worry like the truth will. Your voice is soft against his face.

“I don’t remem-”

“How many fuckin’ stitches, luv?”

You break eye contact after his words, his stare is way too dense and he’s got you trapped between his large body and the wooden desk you’re sitting on top of. When your eyes meet his again, you speak.

“Twelve.”

He flinches at your words.

He knows there are certain things he can’t protect you from, no matter how badly he wants to and you see the lines of worry in his orbs while he takes a good look at the bandage covering your thigh. It would be easier, he thinks, if he didn’t love you this much.

He used to be a heartless man, someone who would not flinch when faced with death. He knows that he’s softer now, he still doesn’t flinch at the face of death but he worries about you, about what would happen to his precious girl after he’s long gone.

Your hands meet his as you stop him from interrogating your thigh, you know he’s making up scenarios in his head as to how badly things could’ve gone. It’s a two way street, you worry about him when he gets hurt and vice versa. You know there’s no point in hiding how you feel so you just speak your mind as his stare digs into you.

“I’m alright.” you say, voice confident but desperate to remind him that things are okay and that you’re there with him. He tends to forget.

You know he wakes up late at night with the worse thoughts of you being gone, but he holds onto your body tighter when he sees that you’re right there with him. He’s as needy as they come and you know that his love is domestic and physical, so you remind him with words and your soft touch against his.

“Ya’ say that now, yeah, but I know fuckin’ well, right, that you’ll be out there first thing in the mornin’..” he says while your hands caress his.

It’s your job, he knows you have to go. He just doesn’t want to let you go.

Because he knows how quick these things can be. One gun, one shot and you’re gone. He knows it all too well. He’s seen it happen to one too many guys and knows all it takes is a split second.

He’s gotten much more clingier, you think, since the time he told you he loved you and you returned the gesture. It was maybe his way of confirming the emotions swimming in his heart. He’s made you his girl then and this version of Alfie who happened to be worried each time you returned home late was born.

You weren’t complaining, it was endearing to say the least.

“I promise you that I’ll be extremely careful?” you say but it’s more of a question. You already know he has men watching you at most times but it’s the split second he lets you off the hook that you manage to get hurt.

He sighs and puts both arms on top of the desk you’re sitting on, you feel his breath against your face as he speaks. He’s stern this time.

“I don’t need that, yeah, I jus’ need my girl to be fuckin’ safe.” he says, head shaking at his own words because he knows you’re just as stubborn as he is and you’ll go back to finish the job, just better armed this time.

“I will be safe...” you speak and his eyes catch yours. You continue speaking with a smile on your lips. “..Just need more guns.” you shrug your shoulders and he chuckles at you. Something half his size talking about guns he can barely get his hands on.

“Luv..” he speaks but you don’t know what he’s planning on saying so you just give him a brief nod. He doesn’t speak any further.

“I’ll go with more guns and more men this time and I will pick the location so there’s less chance of this..” your fingers point at the blue and purple lines on your face. “...happening.”

“You ain’t gonna’ to listen, eh?” he asks but it’s more of a statement than anything. He knows you’ll get what you want.

“I think my problem is that I have really fantastic bad ideas.” your voice is soft through the room and he chuckles at you before pressing a kiss on your temple. 

No matter how worried he gets, he knows you’ll listen to him. 

You see the lines of worry in his eyes but it’s more faded now. He knows you’ll be alright. You watch as he patches you up, putting a couple band aids on your face where the deep bruises are. There’s no need to put them but he does it anyway, his heart clenches each time you wince so you hold your tongue.

He doesn’t show it but he’s terrified. He’s terrified of the possibility of losing you and now that you sit there in front of him with a bruised face and a pretty big wound, he figures it’s more of a possibility now.

You stop him when he tries to have a better look at your upper thigh, the wound covers most of it anyway. Your hands meet the surface of his calloused ones, there’s a question in his eyes as he looks at you. You gulp and then speak, he doesn’t miss the way you try to look directly at his eyes and not the room like you usually do.

“I’m sorry.” your words hit his ears and he blinks a couple times, standing still. He knows you know what you’ve done and that you knew the consequences. He doesn’t take you for a stupid person.

He lets go of your thigh and his hand finds his beard this time, tugging at it like he usually does. He knows you mean it, he doesn’t have to look at your face to know that you’re about to cry. But you hold it in.

“I know, dove.” he says, voice gruff as he plants a kiss onto your temple and you let go of your breath. You feel less guilty now.

He then cleans your wounds again and covers them with bandages, his touch remains soft against your skin as you wince every now and then. With each noice if disapproval that comes out of your mouth, Alfie stops and looks at you, you nod and he continues. 

He treats you like a fragile glass as he takes you home to give you a good day of resting. Your head remains at his shoulder the whole time, hands intertwined because you know you need the touch to know that he’s there, he needs it too.

The remaining part of the day is spent with you messing with Alfie as he makes sure you’re not even more hurt than you already are. He puts you to bed, as gentle as a person could possibly be and then gets in between the sheets. You soon find his body next to yours as your breath becomes steadier with time. He listens as you’re lulled into a good nights sleep.

He promises to protect you, always. 

----

Tagging: @clairecrive​  @parkbearum​ @sourirez​ @bicevans​ @mollybegger-blog

a/n:  i’ve been gone for a while now and here’s the new blurb? dunno what to call this :) Anyway, the requests are currently open and let me know what you thought of this? Also if you want to be tagged, let a gal know ♡

[maraudersandlily20]

No Need to Call me Professor... Professor

Draco insisted that he didn’t wear rings. He didn’t really like it. He had never been fond of jewelry, and if Harry was going to insist on formality for the rest of their marriage, then he got to not wear a wedding ring.

So Harry wore one, a simple black metal one, thin and unassuming. Most days, he didn’t even remember it was there. But he liked when it caught the like and his eye got drawn to it. He liked the look of the ring, showing that someone had claimed him. It looked nothing like the rest of his rings that we wore, and that made it special.

After their first year of teaching, Harry had popped the question. Draco had cried and hit him in the arm a few times before saying yes. They had a small summer ceremony in the backyard of Andromeda Tonks. It was a small and beautiful affair and at the end, they were married. Husbands. Some days, Harry still couldn’t believe it. It had been a little over a year since then, and he was still not over it.

They were in their third year of teaching, having settled into routine and consistency. Harry loved teaching and he loved being at Hogwarts. He was unsure of why he had fought it so hard in the beginning, but decided not to worry. He was meant, at that moment, to teach students. Harry felt very lucky.

Draco and he had moved into one of the housing quarters in the castle, since Draco was the head of Slytherin. He needed to be near in case of emergencies. And Minerva had attended the ceremony, so there was nothing to worry about in terms of propriety. So they had settled quite comfortably into the castle, not really flaunting their marriage, or even really discussing it. 

It turned out that this would be their downfall.

Harry was sitting on his desk, watching Gilfrey, a little pigeon-like bird that had the ability to speak in complete sentences, fly about in circles around the ceiling. He had offered to care for the bird, since Minerva wasn’t a big fan of him in her office. He liked the small creature. He always kept him entertained between classes, repeating some of the things the students said. As he stared up at the ceiling, he almost missed the movement of his husband walking into his classroom.

“Hello love,” Draco said, his face warm.

“My darling! Welcome to your least favorite room in the castle.”

“Thank you kindly. It does have a certain… air about it. One of superiority and aggression. So many terrible memories within these walls.”

“Hmm,” Harry hummed. “I could say the same about your room.”

“Is that why you never come down to say hello?”

“That, and I wouldn’t be able to help myself. What with all the colorful potions and the dark lighting.”

“Disgusting,” Draco laughed. “I would never allow such a thing.” The two were smiling widely at each other and Harry wrapped his arms around his husband’s waist, pulling him between his thighs. Draco let his shoulder rest against Harry’s chest and looked up at Gilfrey. “I don’t know why you like this bird so much, Harry. He’s just like a tiny gossip. He doesn’t even really do anything beyond repeating words.”

Harry gasped, as if affronted. “Gilfrey, please let Mr. Malfoy know how we feel about that.” But the bird just chirped and landed on his little bed, ignoring them both. Draco laughed, as if victorious, and his husband grumbled, pulling him in nice and close. “He’s a good bird, Draco. I like him. That’s enough.”

“Alright, my love. Whatever makes you happy.”

“You make me happy.”

Draco gazed at him through slitted eyes. “Don’t start that, Potter. You know how insufferable I find you when you try to be charming.”

“I was paying you a compliment!” Harry argued, trying to hide his smile. “In fact, I was simply stating a fact.”

“I will make you sleep on the sofa if you say anything even remotely romantic again for the rest of the night. Do you understand?”

“Yes, professor,” Harry chuckled, pulling Draco in and giving him a soft kiss. As he was about to deepen the kiss, the door to the room started to swing open.

Draco was not one for openly showing his affection and so stepped out of Harry’s embrace. Two students walked in, stopping in alarm at the sight of the potions professor in their beloved DADA professor’s room. It had long been thought that they had a bit of a rivalry going on, their bickering noted by many students as they would meet in hallways between classes. However, it was beginning to morph. Some of the older students began to watch their professors and wondered if maybe the rivalry was hiding attraction beneath it. 

The Gryffindor’s and the Slytherin’s didn’t agree on much, but they certainly agreed that Professor Potter and Professor Malfy were perfectly suited for each other. And it was a bit of a secret goal to get them together, or to catch them in the act.

Andrew and Tuy stopped in the doorway, eyes wide as they took in Harry on the desk and Draco moving away from him. They shot each other sly glances and knew that the other members of the house would flip with this new knowledge.

“Thank you for your time, Professor. I’ll see you at dinner,” Malfoy said, moving past the two boys with a kind smile. They grinned at him.

“Don’t eat all of the pudding this time, Professor. You know how I get without it.” Harry called after him, trying to smother his amusement.

Draco scoffed and rolled his eyes, disappearing down the hallway. It was peculiar that they had been in the same classroom. Other rumors of the two often pinpointed them in Hogsmeade, corridors, or the quidditch pitch. They were rarely spotted in the other’s classroom.The students moved toward Harry, looking at him curiously.

“Sorry to intrude, Professor.” Tuy said, face red. “It’s just, Andrew wanted help with his paper and I didn’t want to tell him wrong, and Lynn said you were still in here, so we thought-”

Harry waved him off. “It’s no worries, lads. You aren’t intruding. Come on in. I’m happy to help.”

The three sat and discussed the information needed for the paper, despite Harry hating papers and never wanting to give them out. Minerva told him he was required to assign homework to his students, despite how much he hated to grade it. So they compromised. Harry assigned one paper each term, and that was it. Even then, it was practically the easiest homework of any professor, more like an opinion than based on fact. Harry liked it that way. He thought it encouraged more free thinking. 

When Andrew had finally gotten enough to finish his work, he started rolling up his parchment. “You’re a lifesaver, professor.”

“We can always count on you for anything, at any time of the day.”

Harry laughed. “Don’t tell my husband that. He’ll think you kids will start showing up in our bedroom unannounced.” He didn’t think much of the comment, since he felt like he was pretty open about his marriage. He was sure that he had mentioned his marital status before, with some student or another. It was almost an assumption of his that it was common knowledge. But his words had shaken the two students. 

Married? Professor Potter was married? Then what on earth was he doing, flirting and chasing Professor Malfoy?

“Is there anything else I can help you two with before we head into dinner?”

Andrew shook his head. “No sir, we’ll just go ahead of you. No worries.” He grabbed Tuy’s hand and the two raced out of the classroom, intent on sharing the horrible and intriguing gossip they had received straight from the source. Professor Potter was married, which meant he and Professor Malfoy were most likely having an affair! 

Harry sat on his desk, watching the two of them disappear, and shook his head. “Strange boys,” he murmured before leaving to head to dinner. 

-----------

Milly was raising her hand as if her life depended on it, which surprised Harry. She was a talkative girl, but she didn’t care much about the subject of Netherland wraiths. She had made that clear the last few classes on the subject. 

“Yes, Milly. Go ahead.”

“Professor, I was just wondering. You always say that the best way to make a potion is to collect the correct ingredients. No matter how far away they grow. Right?”

“That’s right, Milly.”

“Would you say it’s true of people as well?”

Harry couldn’t understand the looks of shock and the gasps of alarm that rang from the students. His class was comprised of Ravenclaws and Slytherins, and while houses were much more inclusive since the war then his own day, he hadn’t seen any of these kids around each other outside of class. And he didn’t think they had much to discuss outside of his lectures. But here they were, riveted by Milly’s question and in turn, his answer.

“I don’t really see how that’s relevant-” he started, but she didn’t let him finish.

“Don’t you always say we should be curious about anything? That there should never be a time limit on our curiosity?”

He frowned. “I suppose.”

“I just want to understand better. You’re one of the only professors, besides Professor Longbottom, that discusses relationships. The other professors say that it isn’t important for us to understand the intricacies of human relationships, we just need to study academics.” There were murmurs of agreement at the statement, which took Harry by surprise. Were the other professors really so tight lipped about their lives outside of their classrooms? The students were interested in the world, they had questions that wouldn’t be answered anywhere else. “We just want to learn more about connection, and the “right ingredients”, you could say.”

He had to laugh. This was ridiculous. While he was glad they felt comfortable enough to ask him questions about life, it didn’t change the fact that they were all doing it to avoid learning about Netherland Wraiths. Were they seriously attempting to get out of classwork by asking questions on relationships? But, he guessed that they felt there wasn’t much choice. There was a moment where he remembered a young Harry Potter attempting to do the same, and he smiled. Sometimes, kids just didn’t want to learn.

He shut his book lightly and walked back to his desk, pulling himself up onto the ledge.

“Alright then, Milly. Let’s talk about connection.” He rubbed his face and wondered what to say to her question. “I suppose, to answer you, that it is true of people as well. Good relationships are proven when they are tested, right? Just like potions. Having the correct ingredients and putting them in at the right time is critical. Same with people. If you have someone in your life that fits you just right, but they show up at the wrong time, it can be disastrous.”

“What happens after that? Do they come back? Can you wait for them for the right time?” This question came from Roy, a Ravenclaw boy. 

Harry laughed. “You can. If you think that that person could be important to you, sometimes it’s a good idea to let them back in at different times, like testing the waters. My parents were a good example of this. My father was in love with my mother basically from the first time they met. But she wouldn’t give him the time of day because she thought he was a prat.” The class laughed, which made him smile. “But, as they grew up, my mum started to test the waters and found that he was her perfect match. It just took about seven years.”

A Slytherin girl, Hannah, raised her hand quickly and said, “Were they happy together?”

This made him pause. There was a tug in his chest that often came when he thought of his parents. But he knew the answer. “Yeah. Yeah they were happy together. Sometimes, the ingredients as Milly calls them, are actually right under our noses, waiting for us to sniff them out.”

“What if,” Milly spoke up again, “What if you find the perfect ingredient, but you’ve already… made the potion?” 

It was an odd question, and the girl beside Milly, Tanya, elbowed her to shut up, but Milly stared Harry down. In fact, it looked as if the Slytherin students were all casting him suspicious glances because of the questions, while the Ravenclaws were avoiding the conversation at this point entirely. He was surprised that it was coming to this.

“Are you… Are you asking me what I think about cheating?”

She nodded. 

It was an odd discussion to be having with these fifth year students. But he knew that some of them were dealing with terribly difficult situations at home, some not having good parents, others having no parents at all. But cheating? He wondered if they were dealing with this as well. It made sense. He really had no way of telling what their home lives were actually like. 

“Well, Milly, I think this might be a bit out of my league of knowledge,” he said, feeling himself get sheepish. “As your professor, I can’t give you a factually driven answer. But, if you’re asking me, Harry, what I think then I’d tell you that life is really hard. And the people you choose to keep in your life deserve to be loved and respected. And other people can become the right ingredients, over time.” There was a moment as he gathered himself before he pushed on. “I don’t think cheating is the way to go through relationships. I think it’s unfair and cruel. There should always be healthy communication in any relationship, and if that means calling it off before anything happens, then that’s important to recognize.”

Milly nodded, her face thoughtful. “And if, say, you knew that someone else was cheating and you and your friends didn’t agree on what was right and wrong and had split ideas about who and what to support, what would you do?”

Harry considered a moment before answering, “I would try and do what I thought was right. Sometimes people have different opinions than we do, and while it’s good to recognize that, what we think and what we feel deserves precedence. We can’t let other people’s opinions hinder our desire to do what’s right.”

The students were quiet. Some were staring at him, as if hurt by his words. Others seemed angry or unsettled. Others were staring at anything other than him. He didn’t know what was going on. 

“Any other questions?”

A hand, a timid hand, rose from the back of the room. His name was James, a Slytherin boy, that reminded Harry a bit of himself growing up. He didn’t speak much, so Harry felt shock at seeing his hand. 

“Yes James?”

The boy cleared his throat. “Are you… Are you happy, professor? Have you found your right ingredients?”

It was, without a doubt, the most personal question he’d ever been asked. But faces flashed in his memory; Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, Neville, the rest of the Weasley family and the Order members, and of course, Draco. And he smiled. “Yeah, James. I think I have.”

Class finished shortly after that, and Harry noticed many of the Slytherin students refused to look at him as they left. He said goodbye to everyone he could, and watched in confusion as his classroom emptied. He was unsure of why class had gone the direction he had, and he worried he had said the wrong thing. But, he had just been honest with them. Wasn’t that what they wanted?

Gilfrey flew and perched on the large branch sticking up beside Harry’s table, and opened his mouth. “The Gryffindors were wrong,” Gilfrey mimicked a student’s voice, though Harry wasn’t sure who it was. “It’s time for war.” Harry stared at the bird in alarm. “War?” he said, shocked. “What war? What were the Gryffindor’s wrong about?” But Gilfrey didn’t say anything else. 

“Oh Merlin,” he groaned, pressing the heel of his palm into his hands. “What have I done this time?”

-----------

Harry couldn’t explain it other than the fact that the students had split themselves in half. After hearing that the Slytherin and the Gryffindor houses were at odds over something, most likely regarding Harry, he began to notice how their behavior started to change. Students who smiled or waved at him in the hallways started ignoring him completely. Some students that he hadn’t spoken to since teaching them years before were actively seeking him out. He wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“Draco,” Harry broached the topic one morning as the two got ready for the day. 

“Hmm?”

“Have you noticed that the students are being a little bit… odd?”

Draco looked over at him, eyes smiling. “Is this about the supposed war you heard about last week?”

Harry didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

His husband rolled his eyes and turned back toward the mirror, slipping his tie together and pulling it snugly against his neck. Harry couldn’t help but admire how handsome he looked. “I haven’t noticed anything more than usual. The Slytherins and the Gryffindors have been at odds with each other since the beginning of time. I don’t know what you overheard and what war they were talking about, but I wouldn’t let it get to you, love.”

“Right,” Harry agreed, feeling paranoid. “But, you really haven’t noticed a shift? Some students treating you differently, classes being more tense?”

Draco hummed for a moment. “You know, perhaps. I think my Hufflepuff classes have gotten significantly more… protective. Many of them ask how I’m doing or how I’m feeling as soon as they come in.”

“And that’s not normal?”

“Not really. I mean, a few of them do it out of habit, but I have seen an influx lately.”

“The Slytherins won’t even look at me without glaring,” Harry grumbled, folding his arms. “I feel like I’ve offended them somehow and I just don’t know how. Have the Gryffindors given you any trouble?”

Draco laughed and turned back to Harry, crossing his arms over his chest. “You mean more so than the normal behavior of Gryffindors?” Harry smiled back at him. “I suppose there have been occasions. The older classes have definitely been looking at me oddly, but I try not to dwell.”

Harry sighed and agreed and the two finished getting ready and headed toward the great hall together. As they walked, their hands started brushing against each other and Draco rolled his eyes at Harry’s juvenile attempt for physical touch. 

As they walked, neither of them heard the movement behind them as a Slytherin boy was pushed by a group of his friends and he pushed between the two of them. Harry stumbled to the side and Draco almost lost his footing. The boy pulled himself up straight and turned toward his head of house.

“Professor Malfoy, sir, I think there’s something you need to know!”

Draco’s eyes were wide. “Uh, alright Neil. What is it?”

Neil looked back at his friends as if shocked that he had gotten this far. Florence moved forward to stand by her friend, her chin lifted.

“You’re being lied to.”

“What?”

“I don’t know what he’s said or done to make you think that he isn’t taking advantage of you, but we’ve all seen it and we think it’s time you knew.”

“What on earth are you talking about?” Draco asked, voice incredulous, before looking up at Harry who looked just as confused as he felt.

“Professor Potter is married!” Florence declared, followed by gasps from her fellow students at her bluntness. “He’s been married this whole time. And I know that you fancy him and that he’s not bad looking, but he’s using you.”

“You’re basically his mistress!” came a different student.

“You deserve so much better!”

The clamoring continued as the two professors stared at each other, eyes wide, humor building. Then suddenly, the yelling multiplied as a group of Gryffindors rounded the corner and joined the fray. 

“You can’t accuse Professor Potter without blaming Malfoy as well! He seduced him away from his husband!”

“Potter wanted Malfoy and didn’t care about his own husband to talk about his feelings and give him an out!”

“Malfoy is just as much to blame. He probably knew about Potter’s marriage and pursued him anyway.”

The shouting continued, both sides trying to place more of the blame on the other. Harry was being accused of being unfaithful to his husband and Draco was being labeled as a seducer who was a home-wrecker. On and on the fighting went, Harry trying to track the accusations back and forth like a tennis match. And then he looked at Draco, who had a grin growing slowly on his face, before he burst into laughter. Without another second, Harry was joining him, which made the students surrounding him fall silent. 

“Wait, so, you all think-” Draco gasped between bouts of laughter. “You all think that Professor Potter and I are… are having an affair?”

It was so ridiculous that Harry started laughing harder.

Draco grabbed at his hand and pulled him closer. “Come on, Harry, I think we’ve got some explaining to do.”

---------

It had been an odd request, Harry knew, but McGonagall had learned to not ask him too much about the details. He and Draco had told the students that they would address all of their concerns in the great hall after classes and before dinner, so if anyone wanted to come and listen, they had to spread the word. And it spread, quickly and thoroughly. 

Harry had stopped counting the groups of whispering students that entered the great hall, shooting him and Draco odd looks. They had pushed the tables out of the way and had the students bring benches over when each one was filled. There were hundreds of kids, of all houses, sitting and eagerly waiting to hear the story.

Draco had been laughing and grinning since the altercation that moment. They had escorted the students to breakfast and Draco said that he understood the war now, considering how violent both sides had been and how willingly they had all defended their professors. And then he suggested an intervention.

So, there they stood, surveying the students, watching them gather close together until there was barely any room in front of the professors table at all. “You know,” Harry whispered, voice filled with enthusiasm, “this wouldn’t be happening if you just wore a bloody ring.”

“I have changed much of my life for you, Potter. I will not compromise the freedom of my fingers. Just because you like the adornment doesn’t mean I have to. And besides, I wear your ring. They just can never see it.” He patted his chest gently, drawing focus to the ring Draco wore on a necklace around his neck. 

Harry rolled his eyes, but smiled. Draco pushed off from the table as Harry pulled himself to sit atop of it. 

“Alright then, settle down please.” The students immediately did so, their eyes glued to their professors. “It has come to our attention, that is Professor Potter and myself, that there are rumors floating around about the nature of our relationship. We wanted to get to the bottom of it, but we need to understand just what you all believe. So, I’ll have a few of you stand and explain what you think you’ve seen. Are there any of you who could offer some clarity?”

A few hands shot up, as if only waiting to be asked. Draco called on a Ravenclaw girl, Andy, which seemed a smart move to Harry. Ravenclaws weren’t too involved in the house war. Andy got to her feet and clasped her hands together.

“Well, it started at the end of last year, Professor. A few of the Gryffindors had noticed the interactions between you and Professor Potter, and they began asking around. It became a bit of a bet, an ongoing trial, to see if we could discern if you were together or wanting to be together or not. It was a long process. Neither of you give much.”

Harry snorted, and looked away in amusement. Merlin, had they really been so discreet that no one knew they were married? Draco smacked at Harry and gestured for Andy to continue.

“Well, this year, it became a bit more obvious that there were… feelings going on between you. You were seen chatting in the halls or going together to Hogsmeade, and we kind of started to believe that you were seeing each other. On the down-low.”

Andy then sat down, rather quickly, as if reluctant to continue and explain the rest. “Thank you Andy,” Draco said, surprised at her abrupt ending. “So, you thought we were seeing each other, is that correct?” A murmur of agreement and the nods of heads told them that that was in fact the case. “So, what changed? You thought we were seeing each other and then you all suspected that we were having an affair?”

A Slytherin boy called Malcolm raised his hand after seeing that no one else wanted to own up to it. Harry recognized him from the classes he had with him. He had been in the class with the relationship questions, he realized suddenly. That had been the class that had changed everything. 

“A few weeks ago, some Gryffindors starting spreading around the fact that Professor Potter was married. He had told them in passing, but it was pretty big news to everyone. We were in class one day, and Milly,” he gestured to the girl who had started all of the relationship talk in the first place in that class, who looked awkward at being mentioned, “she started asking Professor Potter about his life and it got a little... personal. We were all worried and on edge because of the marriage rumors about the both of you, considering that this was the first year anyone actually took notice of Professor Potter’s ring. All of us thought it was just for fun or fashion, because he does wear a lot of rings. But some of the Slytherins began to suspect that Professor Malfoy WAS seeing Professor Potter, but he wasn’t wearing a ring. So we… well, there started to be questions about the relationship between you.”

“Alright, and what happened in this class full of questions?”

Malcolm cleared his throat, blushing profusely. “Well, Milly asked him about how to tell if a relationship was good. It was the first time that Professor Potter had ever openly acknowledged being in any sort of relationship, so it felt like a shock to all of us. Just because it seemed to be proving a point. And then she… well she asked him about cheating.”

Draco glanced at Harry who shrugged. “And what did Potter say that had you all so riled up?”

“He, basically, said that sometimes life is hard and decisions are hard but hard things happen to good people. And then James asked him if he was happy and he said he was. That was when the rumors really started. If Professor Potter WAS married, as we all were starting to believe because of the ring and the relationship talk, then there was a high possibility that our thoughts of the two of you being in a relationship were going to take a nasty turn. Because Professor, you… well you don’t wear a ring.”

“And so you thought that we were cheating on his husband, right?” Draco clarified, trying desperately to hold a smile back. 

“Yes sir,” Malcolm answered. “And Milly had also asked if Professor Potter thought we should confront people we thought were doing wrong. Wind got to the Gryffindors and all of a sudden we were on opposing sides, trying to decide which one of you was in the wrong.”

“Hence the fighting,” said Draco, to which the student nodded. “Thank you Malcolm.” The boy sat down and the students watched Draco with wide eyes, wondering what he would say in return. He folded his arms, taking a moment to think, before looking up at them again. 

“I want to say, first of all, that you are all the kindest and most caring students we could ever ask for. Thank you for caring about us so deeply that you concerned yourselves with our happiness. I couldn’t even express how that makes me feel, and I’m sure Potter can agree.” He smiled at them, and it was like the group collectively turned red in embarrassment. 

“The next thing to say is that, what you’ve done; the war, the rumors, the confrontation? It can never happen again. I know you appreciate your professors and you feel that they need your help in their personal lives, but doing things like this can be a gross invasion of privacy that can be harmful. If this affair had been true, and word got around to all involved parties, it can be publicly humiliating for anyone. So I implore you to be kinder and if you have any qualms with the behavior of any of your teachers to speak with them directly before sharing your ideas with your friends. I know many of us are close lipped about our personal lives, but any of us would be happy to elaborate for you if you asked.”

Nods of acknowledgement and understanding passed like a wave and Draco made sure that all of the students understood just how serious he was, letting the declaration settle over them. And then he smiled. 

“Let me tell you a story, then, to maybe give you kids some context. When I was going to school, my father started to consider which family to align ourselves with through marriage. He and my mother, though they had some degree of affection for each other, had been matched at an early age. They learned to care for each other more and more over the years, but it had always been rather obvious that it hadn’t been by choice. And my father made it clear that I would have to go through much of the same. I was to marry for the purity of our blood, no questions asked.”

The students were riveted. Professor Malfoy was known for his soft voice and his kindness during his classes, but they had rarely heard him speak so much, especially about himself and his past. 

“After the war,” Draco shot a glance at Harry, who was staring at him calmly and gave him a smile to encourage him further. “After the war, my father was sent to Azkaban. This is common knowledge and not something I hide in shame. It’s simply how things happened. My mother left to live with my aunt, and I was left here, alone, trying to patch up whatever family reputation I could by donating money, by aiding in construction wherever I could. And my match with my Astoria Greengrass fell through.” The faces of the students showed their horror at the idea of any sort of arranged marriage and Harry couldn’t help but agree. In this day and age, to have an actual arranged marriage.

“She was kind, and beautiful, but she knew I didn’t love her. And she didn’t love me. So we ended a century old tradition in hopes of getting to have a chance to be with people we actually cared about. And then something remarkable happened.” He paused, letting the silence build the suspense. 

“I met a boy. I was in a bookshop in Paris when I ran into him. I was there, visiting my mother and my aunt, and had gone to peruse the muggle collection. We got to talking of course, but he wasn’t anything like I expected. He was crass and sarcastic and quick witted. But he made me smile, in spite of myself, and I liked the feeling.” A few of the students “aw”ed at him, making him smile softly. “I came back to the bookshop the next day and the next day, until he asked me to dinner. And then to a play. Then to ice skating. Next thing I knew, I was telling him I loved him.” He paused, laughing a bit as he hadn’t ever told this story like this before. 

“What happened?” a voice called out, to which many students started shushing dramatically. 

Draco shrugged. “We were both broken in a lot of ways. We’d had our fair share of trouble in our lives and being together sometimes seemed too hard. The war had taken just as much from him as it had from me. But we liked each other more often than not. So it worked.”

“He moved to a small town in France and I returned to England, both of us having unfinished work to do. Him seeking peace and quiet, me hoping to alleviate some of the guilt that was always on my shoulders. We broke up… six different times during our long distance relationship. But we kept finding our way back to each other. I started going to France every weekend to make things a little more steady. And after a year of this, he asked me to move in with him. And right after that, I accepted this position, without telling him.”

Silence fell over them, all wondering if this story was going to have a happy ending after all. 

“Now, before you all get too worried, this isn’t an explanation of how I seduced Potter or ruined his marriage or anything like that. It’s just so you can understand what has led us to this point. I accepted the position as potions master and head of house for Slytherin, without telling the man I love because I was afraid our relationship wouldn’t be able to handle it. We were just through a rough patch when the offer came through. But it felt right for me, so I accepted. And that same year, Potter came and took up the job of Defense. It was awkward at first, considering our history. But we made it work.”

“Hold on a minute,” Harry stated, pushing himself up off the table to look at Draco, who in turn was grinning like a madman at his sudden interruption. “You’re making this sound like it was all chance, like divine intervention. And you know I don’t believe in all that.”

Draco laughed. “How would you tell it then?”

“After leaving school, I went to Paris to have some peace and quiet,”

“I said that,” countered Draco.

“Right, but then after that, I was the one that pursued YOU.”

“That isn’t true.”

“It so is! And the six different times we broke up during long distance? That wasn’t mutual, Draco Malfoy, and you know it. Every time you went back to England, you went on and on about how there was too much baggage between the two of us and how you didn’t think we could ever make it work.”

“You broke up with me once,” said Draco. 

“That wasn’t me breaking up with you, you twit. That was me telling you that I couldn’t come back to England with you because I wasn’t ready! And I visited you almost every week after that, it wasn’t just you who made the effort to lessen the separation.”

“I think you’re being dramatic, love.”

“No,” Harry said, basically forgetting that they had an audience to whom they were supposed to be addressing. “No, I’m not. Because YOU also accepted the position here FIRST without telling ME. After agreeing to move in with me. As if these two huge life changes weren’t going to have a massive affect on each other! You didn’t know Neville was going to offer me the job, let alone if I was going to take it. And then what would you have done?”

“I had every faith in Longbottom, Harry. I knew he would be able to prick at your pride just enough to make you accept the job. In fact, I encouraged him to do so. And it worked, and you did, so what’s the problem?”

“I’m just saying that this whole thing isn’t a magical chance, Malfoy. I went to that bookshop in Paris because I saw you walk in first. I don’t read books, you know that.” Draco snorted at the admittance, but Harry was too fired up to stop. “I kept coming back after every time you insisted we break up because I knew that I didn’t want to be without you. In all of my peace and quiet, you were the only thing that made me want some noise. And I took this job out of the goodness of my heart. Neville didn’t force me because of my pride. And YOU said yes when I asked you to marry me, even though you insisted you didn’t believe in marriage and that you couldn’t stand to be a Potter and on and on and on. Everything that has happened has happened because of MY choices. And now, here we are, two years into our marriage, and our own students think I’m cheating on you WITH YOU because you insist on not wearing a goddam ring!”

Malfoy was staring at him, eyes brimming with amusement and a smug look on his face. “You ruined the suspense, Potter,” he said softly. 

“What do you mean?”

“ARE YOU TELLING ME THAT YOU’VE BEEN MARRIED THIS WHOLE TIME?!” Milly, the Slytherin girl who had started all this, screeched. Harry suddenly remembered where they were and what they had been doing and his face flamed red. 

The students exploded in a buzz of noise, talking over each other, exclaiming in disbelief that none of them had put the two dots together. And Draco was laughing. He looked, in that moment, so much like a younger boy, without all of the cares that had been dropped on him. And that laugh made Harry laugh as well until tears were coming out of his eyes. After a moment of shared amusement, Harry turned to the rowdy group of students and lifted his hand to quiet them. They all immediately obeyed. 

“I married Draco Malfoy two years ago, after our first year of teaching. He doesn’t like rings, and he refused to take my last name, despite how much better Draco Potter sounds compared to Harry Malfoy. I’m sorry if you lot thought we were being dishonest about any of it, but it wasn’t our intention. I’m not cheating on my husband with Professor Malfoy because Professor Malfoy IS my husband. So, I hope that clears everything up.”

There was a pause, a moment of silence, and then the room exploded in noise again. Draco entwined their fingers together and stepped closer to Harry, looking rather smug about the whole thing. “You know, there’s no need to call me Professor, professor.” 

Harry rolled his eyes before tugging Draco in close to his side, staring at the silver eyes he loved so dearly. He reached over to pull the ring hanging on a chain under Draco’s shirt out so it glinted in the torchlight. “We could have avoided all of this if you had just put it on.”

“Where would the fun be in that?” Draco answered, his eyes squinted up in a smile, happiness evident on every inch of his face. 

[epiphany-of-a-madwoman]

The Last Dragon | The Witcher

Chapter 17 | A Tale of Dragons

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Targaryen!OC

Summary: Visenya Targaryen is the eldest and only surviving child of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell. When Robert Baratheon’s rebellion was won, instead of being slaughtered by the Mountain like her mother and siblings, she was saved by Ned Stark and taken as his ward. Years later, after she’s killed at the Red Wedding, she wakes up outside Blaviken. Now she finds her destiny intertwined with the White Wolf on her quest to go back home.

Warnings: Soft Visenya being soft with Geralt and children

Word Count: 5.6k

Note: Click here to read the previous chapters ♡ Also! My tag list is open!

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

She counts out each second, blade in hand as she moves along to her quiet muttering. Each step is like a dance, careful and practiced, as she leaves footprints in the dampened dirt. Every breath is even and quiet, inhaling on the beat and then exhaling on the offbeat. If her movements are a dance, then her breathing and counting is the song she sways to.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

She spins in time with the crescendo to the imaginary music. Her blade slicing through the air, steel whistling in the wind. But it isn’t uncontrolled. She maintains a firm grip on her blade, manipulating how it moves and where. She’s in a trance, captivated by the breeze on her bare skin and the symphony in her head. It’s not the rigorous and disciplined sword training she’s used to, that’s been hammered in her mind from the day she first held a sword. Instead, it’s lighter and freer, her sword becoming an extension of herself rather than a tool she uses separately from her.

“What are you doing?” a small voice says.

The music silences and her movements stop. She lowers the blade to face the ground rather than outward and turns, eyes falling to the ground. A small elven boy stares up at Visenya, curiosity, and wonder gleaming in his wide green eyes,

“Practicing,” she says, staring down at the small boy, no discernable emotion on her face. Despite the bluntness of her words and the blank expression on her face, the boy isn’t deterred.

“Can I try?”

She recognizes him as Rohir, the little boy that got knocked unconscious by the skeevy bandit Visenya killed. Within a few hours of making camp, he woke, restless and unable to stay in one spot for too long, much to the chagrin of his mother.

The corners of her lips twist into a look of amusement, eyes faintly twinkling in the dim light. He’s small, not much smaller than she had been the first time she held a sword - albeit a wooden one. She remembers faint memories of training yards and practice dummies at the Capitol; holding weapons too large for her, whilst onlookers simply ignored her, except for Ser Jaime. He stuck close to Visenya when he could, whether out of a sense of duty or genuine enjoyment, she never knew. As the years go on, she leans toward the latter, but a small part of her still hopes it was genuine liking.

A grin slowly creeps onto Rohir’s face, the prospect of sword training making his entire face light up with anticipation.

“No.” One word, two letters; that’s all it takes. The grin on his face and the sparkle in his eyes immediately disappear, leaving no trace of ever being there. Instead, a scowl overcomes his young features, his hands crossing over his chest. Visenya can’t help the snort that leaves her mouth, only further infuriating the boy.

“Why not?” His voice is petulant, a faint lisp following each letter.

“You’re too small. You’ll only hurt yourself,” she says, a hint of amusement in her otherwise deadpan tone.

“Says you!” he responded, fire and frustration coating each word.

“Says me,” Visenya mimics his words, lacking any of the heat that he possesses.

“But I’m really good!” Rohir exclaims.

She sheathes her blade, turning away from Rohir, eyes focusing on Geralt. He’s sitting on the ground, back against the trunk of a tree that’s on the other side of the camp. He sits so he’s not in the immediate line of sight, but at a vantage point that he can still see everything.

“I am sure you are,” Visenya says, a slight smirk on her lips. Ice cold leaves crack under the weight of her feet as she moves towards Geralt. Her walk is loose and casual, not a tense bone in her body.

“So why won’t you let me hold your sword?” He follows closely behind her, a furious storm, but his anger only furthers Visenya’s amusement.

“Because, you’re too small, and my sword is too big,” Visenya responds. She’s halfway to Geralt, standing in the center of the camp. Rohir huffs an argument on the tip of his tongue, only to be cut off by Amaria.

“Rohir! Come here, En'ca minne,” He loudly inhales only to sigh a moment later. Visenya hears his feet stomping into the dirt as he walks away. Quiet laughter follows Visenya as she closes the remaining distance between her and Geralt.

His eyes don’t move to meet hers; not when her feet appear in his peripheral vision nor when she joins him on the ground and her shoulder faintly brushes against his.

She says nothing and neither does he. Gold eyes focus on the flurry of movement and noises that fill the clearing. It’s more lively and happy than it had been only four hours ago. Amaria switches between tending to her still unconscious husband, only bearing to leave his side when she has to chase around one of her children who are acting up. The two youngest - Elana and Vyron - squeal in glee, chasing each other around without a care in the world. As their forms zip past Visenya she hears faint wisps of their conversation. They’re acting out a grand tale brimming with adventure and happy endings. They’re so free and untouched by the tragedy that was gripping at their feet, begging to pull them under its desolate claws.

She remembers those days. When she’d run around Winterfell like a feral animal, unblemished by the fate of her family. The horrors she was able to bury so deep in her mind they felt more like distant nightmares rather than reality, the box only unlocking when she grew old enough to understand that more than just silver hair separated her from the Starks.

More often than not she wishes she could go back, to be protected by the naivety of childhood.

“I didn’t take you as a fan of children?” Geralt’s voice pulls her from her thoughts. She glances over at him, the small smile that managed to slowly creep onto her face disappearing.

“Why?”

“They seem too loud, I thought you liked the quiet,” Geralt says. Visenya snorts, rolling her eyes. She returns her gaze to the clearing. Rohir sits beside his mother, a pout on his lips, still upset by Visenya's refusal to train him. Elana and Vyron continue to whip through the clearing, with no sign of stopping any time soon.

“I do, but children aren’t terrible,” Visenya answers, watching as the two youngest stop in a portion of the clearing that’s the farthest from anyone. Elana is yelling, the words foreign to Visenya, but Vyron seems to understand her perfectly.

“Do you want any?”

Visenya shrugs, watching as the respite the two children have taken ends as they continue to run around the clearing. She’s never thought about the prospect of children. For most of her life it seemed inevitable; she would be married to some lord or another, bear his children, and then die at some point. But then the war happened, and everything about her life that seemed certain became undetermined.

Visenya opens her mouth, despite not actually having an answer for his question, but is cut off as Elana appears, jumping onto Visenya's lap. Her breath is temporarily lost, and before she can regain it, Vyron quickly follows, landing on the right side of her lap just as Elana moves herself to rest on the left.

Geralt grunts, watching the two rambunctious children with a wary gaze, praying to every god that may listen that they don’t decide to jump on him next.

“Do you have any stories?” Elana asks, her face beaming in the dim light. A wide smile makes its home on her face, wonder causing her wide eyes to nearly glow. Vyron’s expression mimics hers, but his face is softer and smaller, causing him to look more like an excitable puppy. It’s nearly identical to Rickon, who clung to Visyena’s leg as if his life depended on it.

‘How fitting that he’s now dead,’

The thought enters and leaves her mind before she can fully comprehend it. Mentally she clears her mind, opting to focus on the wide-eyed children in front of her.

“What an odd question to ask. Why do you believe me to have any tales to speak of?” Visenya asks.

“You’re an adventurer. Adventures always have tales,” Elana says, her tone not allowing for objections. Her words are fact and she seems set on not accepting any other truths. Vyron doesn’t speak but opts to enthusiastically nod his head in agreeance with his older sister, a matching grin on his face.

“Do they now?” Visenya asks, tilting her head to the side.

“Yes,” Elana says, giving Visenya a single nod.

Laughter bubbles out of Visenya's mouth - the sound so light and sweet it captures the attention of Amaria and Rohir. She throws back her head and her eyes shut, the noise continues to resound in the camp. Geralt watches with less wariness, his face morphing into a less stern expression. On the opposite end of the camp, Amaria stands from her position, quickly making her way to the group of them, Rohir following behind her like a shadow.

“Elana, please, I’m sure the both of them would like to be left to silence,” she says, moving to grab her daughter. Elana’s posture slouches, the smile on her face falling ever so slightly. Visenya finally stops laughing, opening her eyes and looking towards Amaria.

“No, it’s quite alright,” Visenya says, shaking her head in disagreement as she adjusts to get in a more comfortable position. Amaria freezes in place, eyes darting between her children and Visenya as if she doesn’t actually believe the words she’s saying.

“As a matter of fact, I happen to have a tale that I know quite well, but it’s not one that I’ve experienced personally. Would you still like to hear it?” Visenya asks a playful grin resting on her features. Elana immediately perks up, nodding her head so enthusiastically it might’ve fallen off - Vyron following his sister's every movement.

“Yes, please please please,” Vyron and Elana immediately begin to plead, widening their eyes to achieve a more innocent and puppy dog appearance. Visenya’s eyes dart to Amaria, silently asking if it would be alright. The worry melts from Amaria’s face, posture relaxing as she grants Visenya a single nod.

She pauses for a second, racking her brain for a tale to tell that would be suited for an audience this age. She doesn’t think about it for long, a story she’s known since she could read words on a page immediately entering her mind.

“Let me tell you a story about dragons,” Visenya says. Elana and Vyron grow silent, waiting with bated breath for Visenya to continue. Rohir appears from behind his mother, a pout still present on his lips, eyes scowling at the dirt, but he continues forward, sitting right beside Visenya. He grabs a stick and begins tracing symbols into the dirt, refusing to make eye contact with anyone but the ground, attempting to maintain an air of disinterest.

“Many years ago, in a world far far away, there once was a city - Valyria they called it, and what a grand city it was. A place filled with wonder, magic, and dragons.”

Elana and Vyron gasp, audibly portraying their excitement. Rohir is more subtle, his ears only twitching slightly as his movements pause for a brief second. Visenya leans her head back, closing her eyes as she begins to bury herself in the stories she read a million times over, clutching that worn and torn book every night like it was the only thing keeping her on the ground. After a moment of silence and a deep breath, Visenya opens her eyes, staring straight ahead and into the fire that flickers a few feet away from them.

“It was a great city, managing to tame dragons they would ride into battle. They were fearsome and respected, managing to conquer large amounts of territories with their dragon fire. For 5,000 years Valyria was the capital of the greatest civilization, the heart of an empire that ruled half of the world. It was grand, but unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, which leads into this story.”

The children are enraptured, eyes solely focusing on Visenya - even Rohir abandons his guise of not being interested in her tale. She doubts that Vyron is following the story, but his eyes are wide and mouth agape - growing more exaggerated each time she mentions‘<dragons>’. Elana is young, but her eyes are sharpened with intelligence that’s older than her as she seems to follow the story well.

Amaria no longer stands, opting to sit on the ground, opening her arms as Vyron crawls off of Visenya’s lap and onto his mothers. Visenya glances at Geralt, his eyes already on her, his gaze burning into her. Her mind stutters, fog momentarily taking over so she can no longer focus on anything. Eyes snap away, once again focusing on the fire to clear her mind.

“There were many great houses, one of them known as House Targaryen, with shining silver hair and amethyst purple eyes, the family held distinctive Valyrian features. Targaryens were believed to have a closer connection to their dragons, to understand them in a way the other dragonlords never would.”

“Because they had magic, right?” Elana says, her voice firm and sharp. Rohir turns to his sister, a pout on his lips as he shushes her. She turns to face him, a matching glare set on her face.

“If you wait, she’ll tell us,” he says. She huffs, an indignant look on her childish face.

“I just wanted to know!” Elana says.

“Well, you should just wait!” Rohir says, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Rohir, be nicer to your sister, she’s just excited,” Amaria says in a soft and soothing tone, diffusing the argument before it could get any worse.

“But--” Rohir says, but quickly grows silent when he receives a stern glare from his mother. He huffs, slouching his shoulders and looking towards the ground. Amaria sighs, looking at Visenya with a soft smile on her face. Visenya smirks, amusement glimmering in her eyes.

“But to answer your question, in a way they were magical. They didn’t have mages, but they had visions that would come in the form of dreams. The most notable of these came from Daenys the Dreamer, who saw the fall of Valyria.

“But they had dragons! What could beat dragons!?” Rohir says in disbelief, eyes wide in shock. Visenya turns to him, the smirk on her face turning into a knowing look that has Rohir ducking away from her gaze. She chuckles, a soft sound that is carried away by the sudden roar of the fire.

“They did, but dragons couldn’t save them from the natural disasters that tore through the city. Fire, ash, and smoke filled the air, managing to kill even the dragons.”

“So they all died?” Elana asks with a quiet and sad tone, a strong lisp following every vowel.

“All except House Targaryen, who because of Daenys’ dream went west to Dragonstone, an island far enough away from Valyria to escape the desolation,” Visenya says.

“What’s dissolution?” Vyron asks. Elana turns her head to look at him.

“I think it means the end,” Elana says.

“No, it means death. There was lots of death!” Rohir says, turning to face his siblings. Vyron just nods, whilst Elana cocks her head to the side, brows furrowing in thought.

“It’s when something is damaged beyond repair,” Amaria says. “Their homeland was destroyed, just as many homes to the elves have been.”

Visenya looks at Amaria, who meets her gaze. There’s a sadness in her eyes that Visenya didn’t notice before, but it’s familiar. It’s the same look she saw in Filavandrel’s eyes, and any other elf she met that day.

“But they brought dragons with them, right? The dragons weren’t all dead, right?” Rohir asks, breaking Visenya from her mild trance. Before she can answer him, Elana whips her head in his direction, a look of exasperation on her face.

“Of course! They were the best with dragons!” Elana exclaims.

“I was just asking!” Rohir yells back, straightening his posture and face contorting into a petulant expression.

“Well, why are you asking stupid questions?” Elana responds, turning away from Rohir to face Visenya and rolling her eyes. Visenya’s hand shoots up to her mouth, attempting to cover the grin on her face. It manages to muffle the small laughter that escapes her mouth, the noise escaping the notice of everyone except Geralt and Amaria - who looks at Visenya with exasperation in her eyes.

“There is no need for arguing,” Visenya says, looking pointedly at Elana with a single eyebrow raised. She at least has the decency to look sheepish, scrunching her nose and looking down at the ground.

“Sorry,” she mutters at the same time as Rohir.

“You are forgiven, shall we get back to the story?” Visenya asks, a slight smirk on her lips. Elana looks up at her through her lashes, nodding her head.

“Good. They did bring dragons with them - five to be exact. While the names of four have been lost to the ages, one name is known to everyone who knows of House Targaryen; Balerion the Black Dread. He was a massive dragon, who when he grew to full size, could black out entire towns as he passed over them, his wings large enough to cover the sun.” Visenya says. The children make various sounds of wonder, eyes wide and unblinking.

“What did they do next?” Rohir asks.

Visenya pauses, cocking her head slightly as she tries to recall. Her only source of knowledge concerning her family is an old book that had been buried in the depths of the library in Winterfell that was tattered and torn from continuous use by the time she marched off to war. It was vague at best, not offering any new or rare information about her house, therefore the time in between The Doom and Aegon’s conquest is blank.

“Well, House Targaryen made a home at Dragonstone, away from the war that ensued twelve years later when Valyria was destroyed. Nothing of note happened until roughly a hundred years later,” Visenya says.

“Well, what happened!?” Rohir exclaims.

“That would be a story for another day. I believe it is getting too late to begin another - much longer - tale,” Visenya says, glancing at Amaria. She stands from the ground, Vyron still firmly attached to her. She reaches a hand towards Elana, who groans, but takes her mother’s hand, getting off of Visenya’s lap. Rohir doesn’t voice his displeasure, opting to silently stand and move to stand beside his mother, but it’s clear on his face. His eyes aren’t as bright as they were when he was enraptured by Visenya’s story and his lips are pulled into a small pout.

“Visenya is right, it’s getting late and we have a long day of travel ahead of us. Let us give our saviors some quiet,” Amaria says, turning her gaze to Visenya and Geralt for a brief moment before herding her children to the other side of the clearing. “Now say goodnight.”

Three ‘goodnights’ resound all at once, in various tones and noise levels; Vyron gifting Visenya with a particularly toothy grin.

She smiles, unable to force away the action nor the laughter that escapes her mouth.

“Goodnight. I promise to tell you another tale tomorrow while we’re traveling,” Visenya says, earning a blinding grin from Elana and causing Rohir to immediately perk up.

“You promise?” Rohir says.

“Swear it on my life,” Visenya responds without missing a beat. He nods his head, turning and rushing across the clearing, eager to sleep the rest of the night away. Elana tears after him - yelling about racing him there. Vyron squirms in Amaria’s arms, the grin still on his face, but Amaria maintains her tight grip on him.

“To bed we go, Dilthen er,” Amaria says to Vyron and places a kiss on his cheek. She turns to give Visenya and Geralt, giving them one last warm smile before she turns to follow after her children. They all gather in one section close to the fire and near the sleeping body of Aldon. For a few moments restless chatter and light giggles come from the children as Amaria attempts to lull them to sleep with a soft lullaby. Eventually, the noise dies down as one by one they all fall asleep, leaving only Geralt and Visenya awake.

“An interesting tale,” Geralt says, after a moment of silence - once the children have all fallen asleep, Amaria shortly follows suit, leaving only Visenya and Geralt awake. Crickets chirp all around them, the low rustle of wind disturbing their melody occasionally.

“I thought so too,” Visenya says, bones cracking as she stretches her body out. She wraps her arms around the tree behind her as she reaches her arms behind her, slumping against the tree a moment later. She continues watching the fire as the flames that used to rise towards the night sky die out.

“Is it real?” Geralt asks. He’s looking at her, she always knows when he is. Something about the way his gold eyes linger on her is so distinct that she'll always know when a gaze is him, even if it seems impossible to know such a trivial thing. Nothing about a person’s gaze leaves any physical sensory that can be identified, and yet, never once has she been wrong about Geralt’s gaze.

“Supposedly. Although, I’m sure some details have been lost to the ages - some purposeful and some not. Books aren’t always incredibly accurate, stories are often skewed to the favor of the author,” Visenya says. She turns away from the fire to look at Geralt, locking eyes.

“Details you knew perfectly,” Geralt says. His tone isn’t accusatory, but she can hear the underlying question in his statement.

“When I was a little girl I had a book that I would read every day. It was the only comfort I had most days. That story was one of the many tales within the book,” Visenya says, a smile that can only be described as melancholic on her face. Geralt grunts, continuing to watch Visenya, but not saying anything further. His eyes are curious, hoping she’ll continue and say something that makes her less of a mystery. Yet he’s also not willing to press her for information she doesn’t want to share. That much they have in common: two people with too many secrets that are wrapped behind scars that they cover up with fury and rage. Because it’s easier to lose people if they were never allowed close to her to begin with. Life is safer when she keeps everyone at arm's length.

Visenya stares up at the night sky, watching the stars as the ambient sounds of soft snores and dream laced giggles resonate through the clearing. She swallows thickly, a lump beginning to form in her throat as her mind wanders farther and farther away.

“They were my ancestors,” Visenya says, shattering the silent air around them. Geralt doesn't move, doesn’t even breathe in fear that it might disrupt the trace that Visenya is in.

“House Targaryen, the Dragon Riders from Valyria that conquered the Seven Kingdoms.” She chuckles after the words leave her mouth, brows furrowing ever so slightly as her eyes briefly meet the dirt before returning to the stars.

“An impressive ancestry,” Geralt says, his gravelly tone unsure, the words fumbling nearly awkwardly out of his mouth.

“Yeah I suppose so,” Visenya says, voice sounding a million miles away as if she isn’t even physically only a few inches apart from Geralt.

“Better than my lineage, anyways,” Geralt continues, looking away from Visenya. He adjusts his body, resting against the tree more comfortably as his eyes scan the dark forest around them, wary of any threats that may linger just out of eyesight. Visenya’s lips curl into a bare smile, he whispers of a chuckle leaving her mouth as she languidly leans against the tree.

“The dragons were the most impressive part,” Visenya says, eyes fluttering shut, the hectic day finally catching up to her as her body grows wearier the quieter their camp grows.

“Maybe we should find you a dragon,” Geralt says, a smirk on his lips and a gleam in his eyes. Visenya snorts, opening a single eye to look at Geralt.

“This world couldn’t handle me with a dragon, Geralt of Rivia,” she says, shutting her eyes.

“That may be so, but I’d still pay good coin to see it.”

She laughs again, cautious to not be too loud in fear of waking up the camp. She opens her eyes, turning her head to face Geralt, meeting his gaze head-on. Their eyes lock, the beat of her heart steadily increasing the longer they maintain contact. A fluttering sensation fills her stomach, one that she’s almost entirely unfamiliar with. The tired smile on her face softens as Geralt’s lips curl into a similar grin.

“But could you imagine having a dragon,” Visenya says. “To ride on the back of one and feel the wind against your skin and to just...be free.” Her voice is far away again, as she dreams of fantasies she stopped having at some point between childhood and having to become an adult.

“Hmm, I imagine it’d be cold,” Geralt says, a teasing undertone in his otherwise deadpan voice. Visenya reaches out, pushing against his shoulder as another round of quiet laughter leaves her mouth.

“That is what warmer clothes are for,” she responds. “It would be foolish to climb onto a dragon unprepared anyways, lest you become its dinner.”

Geralt laughs, a quiet gravelly noise that nearly causes the ground around them to vibrate and it’s so contagious she can’t stop the bubbling of laughter that also leaves her mouth. Eyes shining and grin getting larger, Visenya watches Geralt's normally harsh and austere face grow softer the longer he laughs. He nearly looks like a child, despite the scars across his face - both fresh and faded - and the deep-set bags under his eyes from the lack of a good night’s rest. His voice is hoarser than usual, sleep and exhaustion weighing down his words causing them to slur together. But the way his eyes are alight and the sweet grin that tugs at the corner of his lips are adorable - a word not often associated with a man like Geralt, but Visenya wouldn’t describe him any other way.

“Stop, it was not even that funny,” Visenya says, and despite her attempt at sternness, laughter follows every word.

“I’m not laughing,” Geralt insists, and despite his best efforts at swallowing it, a small grin still rests on his face.

“Yes you are,” Visenya says.

“I think you’re hearing things, Vis. Perhaps it’s time for you to sleep,” Geralt says, moving his eyes to scan the camp. Her laughter immediately dies down as the smile on her face dims just the slightest, but Geralt seems unaware of the sudden shift in tone.

“What did you just say?” Her words are a whisper, nearly unheard by Geralt. He turns to look at her, the light grin on his face disappearing once he notices her expression.

“That you should rest,” Geralt answers.

“I heard, but what did you just call me?” Visenya says.

He pauses, eyes scanning the entirety of her face, focusing on the unreadable glint in her eyes and taking special note of the slight frown on her lips. But she doesn’t appear angry or sad or any of the other flurry of emotions he’s seen on her face in their travels.

“I called you Vis,” Geralt says after a moment of silence.

“Why?”

“Because Vis is shorter than Visenya,” Geralt says. “Should I not call you that?”

She inhales, quietly, eyes moving towards the dirt. It’s the nickname she’s had all her life. Robb, Jon, and everyone else always called her Vis. It was shorter and easier, they’d always tell her. She’d always argue her name isn’t even difficult to say, but they’d never agree and she’d never say how much she secretly enjoyed the name. It’s been so long since she’s ever heard anyone utter the nickname, it’s startling to hear it slip from someone's lips so effortlessly.

Then she exhales, an unknown weight lifting from her chest as she meets Geralt's gaze.

“It’s been so long since I’ve heard that nickname. I wouldn’t mind hearing it again,” she says, lips curling into a shy smile. A small sparkle appears in her eyes. It’s not the fiery gold eerily similar to burning flames that sparks when she’s furious or the sly mischievous glint he’s familiar with. Nor is it a glassy look from tears that she’s trying her best to hold back when she’s drowning in sorrowful thoughts. It’s bright, but not painfully so. Instead it’s sweet and soft, like the first flower blossoming on the first day of spring or the soft wind after a harsh winter.

Geralt nods, his stiff features relaxing as the stress of inadvertently offending her dissipates.

“Now I have to think of a nickname for you,” Visenya says, a teasing smile slipping onto her face. Geralt groans and rolls his eyes, flashbacks of all of Jaskier's attempts at creating nicknames to call Geralt. Much to his chagrin, the White Wolf seemed to stick as his title that the general public knew him as, but Jaskier was determined for another one to call Geralt. And Visenya knows this, as she was there for every failed attempt.

“Please don’t,” he says, only causing Visenya to laugh harder. She quickly rests a hand over her mouth in an attempt to suppress the noise so as to not wake up the camp. But every time she glances at Geralt and sees how truly exasperated he appears.

“What about Ger. We’d be a pair: Ger and Vis; Vis and Ger,” Visenya says. “I should be a poet, did you hear that little rhyme I did?”

“Hmm, you’d give Jaskier a run for his coin,” Geralt responds.

She snorts a small smirk on her lips. Her thoughts wander to Jaskier, wondering what he could be up to and if he is still happy. He probably is, he could find fun in the dullest of affairs.

“As much as I hate to admit it, but I miss Jaskier,” Visenya says. This time it’s Geralt that snorts, an exasperated look crossing his face as he rolls his eyes.

“I can’t say I feel the same.”

“Don’t lie, Geralt. We all know he’s wiggled his way into your good graces, it’s just what he does. You’re annoyed and want nothing more than for him to leave and then one day, you enjoy the constant jokes and mindless prattling,” Visenya says. Geralt hums, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

She adjusts her body, attempting to get into a more comfortable position, eyes growing heavier as each second passes. The cool wind is soothing against her warm skin, the crickets a lullaby that pulls her closer to sleep.

“What about your ancestry? What family does The White Wolf come from,”

Silence washes over them. And just when Visenya thinks Geralt won’t answer, he does.

“My mother was a sorceress, that’s all I know about my family. She left me with the Witchers when I was young.” His voice is somber and low, quieter than the volume they’d been talking with earlier.

“Do you miss her?” Visenya asks. She’s cautious and careful, taking special care to not push Geralt. Once again she’s met with silence and after a few moments, it becomes obvious he’s not going to answer.

“I miss my mother. I can’t really remember her, but I have this… this void that her death left behind,” Visenya says. She sighs, glancing up towards the stars once again, using the wind to dry the tears forming in her eyes. “And it never goes away, no matter how hard I try to pretend it isn’t there.”

Her breathing stutters and she huffs out a weak chuckle, attempting to cover the slip up of emotional vulnerability.

"I’m not sure how to feel. A part of me resents her for giving me to the Witchers, allowing them to turn me into a mutant,” Geralt says. She looks at him, wide eyes watching him. He doesn’t look at her, opting to stare at the dying fire.

“Sometimes I hate my father, it’s easier to blame him for everything that happened to my family because of his selfish decision. But I can’t bring myself to fully hate him, and I hate myself for feeling so indecisive about him,” she says.

It’s silent again, the air more uncomfortable than moments ago.

Not allowing herself to think on it too much, she begins to move her body, shuffling to sit closer to Geralt, only stopping when their legs are touching. Tentatively, she lowers her head to rest on his shoulder, hand intertwining with his. Neither of them say a word, and the awkward tension dissipates. Geralt’s stiff body relaxes, resting his head on top of Visenya’s.

"I wouldn't mind having children someday, to live a simple life and retire from adventuring," Visenya says. 

Geralt hums in response, drowsiness coating the simple response causing Visenya's lips to turn upwards and her cheeks to glow.

They stay that way, silent and content with the comfort of each other. Eventually, sleep begins to once again pull on Visenya, and she doesn’t resist.

“Goodnight Vis.”

“Goodnight Geralt.”

o0o

Elvish Translation:

- En'ca minne: Little Love

- Dilthen er: Little One

o0o

@lyssstark01​​ | @ayamenimthiriel​​ | @splderparker​​  | @historicallydysfunctional​​ | @stuckupstucky​​ | @aknerdchick​​ | @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​​ | @itskatrinahere​​ | @locht3ssmonster​​ | @alwayshave-faith​​ | @im-catching-feelings​​ | @magic-inthe-stars​​ | @thors-hair-extensions​​ | @seninjakitey​​ | @nevaeh-eden-morningstar​​ | @losers-club6​​ | @queenmendes​​ | @madamwhisper​​ | @deadlydemon​​ | @power-of-words23​​ | @demigoddesofchimichangagod​​ | @howlongtillidie​​ | @notatallfriendly​​ | @i-have-arrived-bitch​​ | @moonlights27​​ | @xxperfectionisdeadlyxx​​ | @why-do-i-even-study-japanese​​ | @possiblyafangirl​​ | @alatairion​​ | @teamcap0221​​ | @rangotangomango​​ | @mikariell95​​ | @rubyliquor​​ | @my-not-so-perfect-reality​​ | @kamrynzam​​ | @kohsongbird​​ | @napoleonisrad​​ | @loubells-stuff​​ | @toribentleyva​​ | @naughty-koala07​​ | @im-a-muggleborn​​ | @scarletmeii​​ | @tangerineliqu0r​​ | @dopeybubbles​​ | @toweavehistory​​ | @honestlystop​​ | @thinkaboutmara​​​ | @amarisjoy​​ | @buriedhatchetcominguplavender​

[taetaespeaches]

“Do you remember my promise?”

jimin x reader (or oc) genre: fluff; angst word count: 2.6K

a/n: Oh my goodness we’ve reached the last Jimin upload for a bit! So wild. In this one, Dear is feeling some anxiety after Jimin goes on tour for the first time since their brief break up and Jimin helps assure her. I hope you all enjoy, and thanks for reading! :))

Oh and it features a bit of Tae, Guk, and Jinnie. 

YOUR eyes stayed glued to the text conversation as your chest tightened by the second. The anxiety seemingly came out of nowhere, though you realized it must had been building up over the past few weeks Jimin had been away.

When the three dots appeared, alerting you to your boyfriend’s pending response, you held your breath.

Chim: Grab your laptop, I’m calling you.

Dropping the phone to the comforter, you reached to your bedside table, pulling the laptop off. Opening it, you quickly clicked on the video chatting app as you sat up straight, crossing your legs. Lightly chewing on your finger nails, you eagerly answered the call when Jimin’s ID showed up on the screen.

“Hi Dear,” he greeted before his face came into view, the sound of his voice allowing you to release the breath you’d been holding. When his video loaded onto your display, you could have cried at the image of him, sitting in his hotel room, looking at you with a face full of concern.

“Hi,” you exhaled, wishing for nothing more than to reach out and hug him. Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to blink them away.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, you sighing as you shrugged. “Talk to me,” Jimin told you gently. As he awaited your answer, he thoughtlessly ran his hand through his hair.  

“I don’t know, I just feel on edge,” you admitted. Your boyfriend watched you carefully, scanning your face as he tried to gage your emotions and figure out what was burdening your mind. “I just needed to see your face,” you admitted, Jimin giving you a sad smile. “Hear your voice.”

“I’m here, Dear,” he assured you. Smiling weakly back at him, Jimin stared at you thoughtfully, fully aware of your downhearted spirit. “Be honest, ok?” He started, you nodding in agreement to answer his impending question truthfully. “With me being away, are you feeling uncertain?”

Exhaling shakily, you nodded, watching as Jimin licked his lips, his eyes planted on you. “I just-” you started before pausing as you directed your eyes to the side of the room in thought. “I feel anxious,” you told him, resting your chin on your hand. “I know we’re fine, but my chest is still so tight and I don’t know why,” you said, almost ashamed of what you saw as unwarranted feelings.

“You know that’s understandable, right?” He asked, you shrugging as you stared at your bedroom door, still unable to bring yourself to look at the man. “It is. It’s the first tour since-”

“I know, but that’s in the past, that’s not us,” you told him, looking at him through the screen. “I shouldn’t feel this way when you’ve been so amazing and we’ve been doing so well,” you spoke out of frustration of your anxieties.

“Exactly though,” he told you, his eyes widened with a hint of excitement gleaming from the pretty orbs. “The feelings make sense, but we are doing really well, Dear. So those worries that are pestering your mind are just leftover fears from a shitty experience. We have to replace the last tour with this one,” he explained to you, you watching him thoughtfully as you took in his words.

Observing him as he pushed back his hair again, the soft strands flowing back into place, you smiled weakly. “So what you’re saying is we just have to right the wrongs from the last tour?” Jimin’s lips spreading into a pretty smile. “Create new good memories to push the bad ones aside?”

“Exactly,” he whispered with a nod. His smile slowly morphed into a smirk, causing you to pull your eyebrows together scrutinizingly. “Hey, do you have your ring on?”

Looking at your right-hand ring finger, observing the small inscribed PJM, you toyed with the metal band. He gave it to you the morning he left for tour, promising that he would always love and appreciate you, no matter how much distance is between you. “Of course,” you told him with a nod.

“Do you remember my promise?” He asked, you flashing him a small smile, accompanied by a light giggle; the first genuine one of the night. Nodding, he let out a giddy laugh, his grin widening into a stunning beam as he tossed his head to the side, leaning against the side of his chair. “Tell me,” he nodded at you, you letting out a light scoff with a smile.

“You will love me with your whole being, no matter where you are in the world,” you paraphrased his promise, watching as his smile grew even bigger, his eyes turning to crescents.

Nodding, his expression slowly became more serious as he looked down at his own ring, running his fingertip over the small engraving of your initials. Glancing back up to you, he stared at you with an expression of sincerity. “I’m coming home to you at the end of this thing,” he assured you.

“I know you are,” you told him. “But I want you to have fun while you’re away,” you added, wanting him to know you always supported him. Even if you did miss him unbearably so in that moment.

“I know that, Dear,” he told you genuinely, licking his lips. “You don’t have to pick one or the other, you can support me and my career and miss me and want me home at the same time,” he informed you gently. “I love being on tour, I love seeing the fans, but of course I also want to be home with you. I miss you like crazy every single minute of every day.”

With a sigh, you nodded, tears gathering once again along your bottom lash line. “I know the feeling,” you said simply, Jimin giving you a tight, close-mouthed smile.

“I just want to hold you right now,” Jimin confessed, you letting out a light laugh as a tear slid down your cheek, you quickly wiping it away. “Oh, Dear,” he cooed at you with pouted lips.

Shaking your head, you brushed off your emotions with a bashful smile. “I’m ok, Chim,” you told him. “Just missing you a little more today.”

Nodding in understanding, he watched you through the webcam as you scrunched your nose at him. Giggling at the action, Jimin sat up in his chair as you moved the laptop from your thighs to the bed, lying down as you stared back at Jimin.

“I’m glad you texted me,” he suddenly spoke, your eyes widening slightly at the comment. “Thank you for telling me you weren’t feeling ok, instead of going through it alone,” he expressed his gratitude for your admission of your less than favorable feelings.

“I don’t know,” you pouted, “I still feel bad putting this shit on you while you’re away.”

“That’s silly, Dear,” he insisted with a shake of his head. “I always want to take care of you and when I can’t be there, I have to rely on you to let me know how things are going. Really going, not some fabricated image of how you want to be seen.” The words were spoken with such earnest sincerity, it brought forth your tears again. “Thank you for being honest and letting me be here for you,” he thanked you once more.  

“God, you’re seriously too kind,” you smiled through your tears, wiping them away. “Thank you for being here for me,” you appreciated, Jimin giggling as you continued watching him, almost in disbelief of how amazing your boyfriend was.

Eyes widening in excitement, he held up a hand to you, telling you, “hang on.”

Observing him curiously as he unlocked his phone and started typing and scrolling, your eyebrows pulled together in question. “What are you doing?” You asked him with a sniffle, observing the way Jimin’s lips curved upward into a teasing smirk. “Chim,” you whined, dragging the word out.

“Patience,” he told you, you groaning.

“I have none,” you replied, Jimin scoffing through his big grin.

“That’s for sure,” he teased you, you lightly laughing in response. Setting the phone down, he shot you a close-mouthed smile, and there was a slight delay before the all too familiar song started playing from his device through the computer speakers.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, lifting your head from the mattress, a massive grin forming on your face. “Jimin,” you cooed, your eyes glistening as Jimin smiled lovingly at you. “You’re so cheesy, stop making me cry,” you whined.

As Beyonce’s ‘All Night’ filled your bedroom, the dreamy song soothing your remaining anxieties, Jimin swayed from side to side, wearing that pretty smile you adored so much.

“Aw, Dear,” Jimin giggled adoringly as his own eyes became glassy. “I want to wipe your tears away,” he pouted, you laughing as you dabbed under your eyes.

Lying flat on your back, you waved your arms back and forth gracefully to the smooth beat of the song, Jimin dramatically singing the chorus to you, throwing his head back as he sang in his angelic voice, which sounded amazing even when he was just joking around.

Just as he looked back to the screen, appearing as though he was going to say something, a knock sounded on his hotel room door, followed by three more knocks, all on different areas of the door.

Sighing, you giggled, Jimin shaking his head. “If I don’t let them in-”

“They won’t stop,” you laughed with a nod. “Let them in, Darling. I don’t mind.”

Shaking his head, he stood up, calling out, “I’m sorry,” as he moved further from the laptop to let his members inside the room.

“Wait, any bets on who it is?” You yelled out to him, Jimin popping back into view of the camera with wide eyes. “I bet you dinner it’s the nimrods and Jin,” you teased, feeling confident that it would be Taehyung, Jungkook, and the eldest member.  

“Isn’t it too obvious,” he whined, “who else would it be?” He continued to complain as he headed back toward the hotel room door, the knocks only increasing in both frequency and volume. You listened as the door opened, Jimin immediately groaning.

“It had to be you three?” He grumbled, you giggling on your end of the video call.

“Jiminssi” Jungkook’s loud voice echoed overtop the music, Taehyung and Jin’s voices combining as they all got closer to the computer.

“Looks like I get to pay for dinner when you get home,” you called out to your boyfriend, the man complaining in the background.

“Oh?” Taehyung’s voice sounded suddenly. “Is that my girl?” He asked, peering at the computer screen, his head humorously appearing in the corner of the shot, you silently giggling at how cute he was. “It is,” he said excitedly with an accompanying smile, stepping fully into the camera’s sight, you waving cutely.  

“Hi, Tae,” you greeted sweetly before scolding him. “Stop sending me photos of everything you eat, it’s actual torture,” you complained, Taehyung smiling at your complaint.

“I always eat enough for you, don’t worry,” he told you cutely, you laughing at the comment.

You grinned just as Jimin returned in front of the laptop, taking a seat once again as he turned down the volume on his phone so the song was just humming in the background.

“Ah, it’s Deary,” Jin cheered excitedly as he stepped in front of the camera, Jungkook in tow as he waved at you happily, you giggling as you waved back.

“Hey guys, how are you?”  

“We’re all good, I think,” Taehyung answered for them all, you smiling at how happy they looked to be touring.

“I would ask you how you are but lover boy here literally never stops talking about you so I already know,” Jungkook teased your boyfriend, Jimin taking in a deep breath as he looked up at the younger man, shaking his head before letting the air out in a huff. “Ah, Dear’s eating ramen for lunch, doesn’t that sound so good?” He mimicked your boyfriend, Jimin covering his mouth with his hand as he laughed before using his opposite hand to slap Jungkook’s arm out of embarrassment. “I miss my girlfriend so much,” Jungkook continued, raising the pitch of his voice to further the teasing, “she sent me a selfie today, she looked so pretty.”

“That’s true, he talks about you constantly,” Jin confirmed as Jimin hid behind his hands, “I spoke to him this morning and asked how he slept and you know what he said?” He asked Jungkook and Taehyung, the two men grinning, highly entertained as Jimin silently laughed. “I sleep better at home, I just wanna cuddle my girlfriend.”

You laughed at their playful mocking, directing your gaze to Jimin to see him running his hand through his hair again as he smiled shyly. Shifting his eyes from the boys to you, you scrunched your nose at him, Jimin giggling at your happy expression.

“You know, that’s so weird,” you interjected, all four of the men looking to you. “He never mentions any of you,” you told them with a smirk, Jin’s jaw dropping as he pointed at Jimin accusatorily.

“Hey,” Jungkook complained.

“What the hell, man?” Taehyung joined in, Jimin simply shrugging as he smiled at you.

Jin looked toward the nimrods, cocking his head to the side. “Well, I don’t talk to my girlfriend about you guys either,” Jin joked, the two youngest members complaining.

“Well if I had a girlfriend, I wouldn’t talk to her about you either,” Jungkook sassed back, Jin feigning insult as they began bickering.

“What is wrong with you guys? I talk to Peaches about you all the time,” Taehyung looked at them in confusion and offense, everyone looking to him for a moment.

“Are you admitting she’s your girlfriend?” Jungkook asked with his eyebrows raised expectantly.

“What?” Taehyung asked, a shy smile gracing his features as he became embarrassed.  “No.” You all laughed at the man, all of you fully aware it was only a matter of time before your best friend and Taehyung got together.

As the conversation continued behind Jimin, the guys’ voices all blending and yelling overtop each other’s, you and Jimin checked out of their joking and bickering, choosing to instead lock eyes with yours through the laptop screen.  

Jimin cutely scrunched his nose at you, you holding back a smile at the adorable action. He mouthed, “you ok?” you nodding sincerely. You were ok, knowing that this tour wasn’t a repeat of the last one. You and Jimin had grown as both individuals and as a couple. You’d never been so sure of anything before than you were of Jimin and your relationship.

“I love you,” you mouthed to him, Jimin dramatically placing his hand to his chest, you giggling at his dorkiness.

“I love you too,” he mouthed back with a stunning smile.

Even with all the chaos of the three men in the background of the video call, all you could see was Jimin, sitting there with a loving expression. He gave you more love than you could have ever asked for. Of course you still missed him immensely, but you were at peace knowing he was doing what he loves all while loving you with his entire being.

And at the end of it all, Jimin would come home to you. He’d barge through your front door and scoop you up into a massive hug and he wouldn’t let go for as long as you’d allow him to hold you. He would come home to you, because you were his home. And he was yours.

[lukealvezhimboextraordinaire]

Kathony + squishing the other's cheek

Please lmao they'd be so mad if one of them did it 🤣🤣

okay so this has gotten out of hand but here you go:

kathony + squishing the other's cheek.

heavily based on leap year.

It had been a series of unfortunate events that had brought them together in what had to be the worst road trip since modern cars were invented. Kate Sharma was not a woman that easily allowed anyone to get behind the wheel of her absurdly old yet still fabulous baby aka the old red beetle her father had passed down to her the day she left for university. Benji, as the whole family had called the car ever since Kate was a four years old with an avid imagination and a thing for giving names to any inanimate object she came across, had been with her for the past ten years and most days was the only thing keeping her sane. She did not want to dwell too much on the reasons why sitting in her old car gave her such a sense of security. Or why often she kept imagining her father smiling at her from the passenger’s seat, soft encouraging words leaving his lips as he patiently waited for her to gather the courage to park in line. Her father had been her biggest fan and Benji was all she had left of him. She had not driven or gotten into another car ever since her father passed away.

Maybe that was the reason why she was so annoyed by her current predicament.

Sighing, she cast a side-eye glance to her left. There, sitting in the driver’s seat of a rented car was the only man that had ever managed to simultaneously make anger boil in her stomach and set her skin on fire. Not that she would ever admit the second part - not even to herself. And not only was he looking like he had always belonged there, in a car with her, he also had the smuggest smile plastered on his stupidly handsome face. Kate huffed annoyed and turned her eyes to the window, purposefully ignoring the butterflies going wild in her stomach.

Life was incredibly unfair at times.

You might be wondering why exactly Kate Sharma was stuck in a car with her nemesis, aka Anthony Bridgerton. The answer is both extremely complicated and very simple. A series of very unfortunate events had led Anthony to be late for his sister’s wedding in a lovely and yet very secluded little town in lovely Ireland. Kate, who was a very modern woman, had gotten tired of waiting for her Irish boyfriend to propose to her and upon learning of a very fascinating tradition of the country of clovers had decided she might as well take matters into her own hands. But fate had wanted her lovely boyfriend to be out on a work trip in Dublin the only day in the next four years she could ask him to marry her and blame tradition for it. Naturally, she wasn’t going to let a couple thousand kilometers between them stop her from achieving her goals. The only problem? All the flights were booked for the next week.

And that’s when and where things had started going downhill.

It had not been the end of the world for Kate. She liked to drive and a road trip across one of the most beautiful countries in the world was hardly torture. But then her adored car had decided to not start and no matter how many times she tried, it did not start. That was a setback but not a big one to alter Kate’s plans. She grabbed her bag and rushed to the rental car point, only to be told there was only one car available. The problem? There was another person interested in it. And said person was willing to triple the fee to get the car.

In slow motion, Kate turned around to discover the person currently getting in the way of her and her marriage proposal was a prim, polish, stern-looking man. What started as an amicable and polite conversation soon morphed into a heated argument. The poor man behind the counter looked positively mortified but none of them seemed to notice. And then an amused voice had broken through the screams match with a suggestion so casual and logical that it left the both of them baffled.

Sharing the car. It was ridiculous.

But they had no other option.

Which brings us back to Kate and Anthony (it turned out the posh looking man had a matching posh name) stuck together in a way too small car for any of their likings.

“We have been on the road for four hours and you still haven’t told me what’s the oh so important thing waiting for you in Dublin?” A deep voice broke the comfortable silence.

Kate turned in her seat, casting him a quick look. He was not going to understand. He would even laugh at her, she was sure of it. So she chose to remain silent.

But Anthony had grown tired of the silence and decided to start a civil conversation with her even if that meant reciting a monologue until she had no option but to shut him up.

“I am on my way to the wedding. Of my sister, the wedding of my sister. My second younger sister. I have four sisters, you see. And three brothers. I am the oldest and I am to walk her down the aisle.” Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the dark-haired woman huff through her nose with clear annoyance. He wouldn’t have been able to stop the pompous smile from making its way to his face even if he had tried. Which he did not. There was something about getting under Kate’s skin that gave him a rush of adrenaline. He wasn’t sure what it was. But he liked it. “Frannie is getting married to Michael. He is the cousin of her former fiance, John.” That seemed to catch her attention but she stubbornly refused to give in. “John stood her up at the altar. It was all terribly dramatic.”

“And she is marrying his cousin?” Despite herself, Kate was not capable of stopping herself from asking. A terrible mistake because the moment her mouth opened Anthony’s eyes twinkled with pride.

The car didn’t get a moment of peace ever since.

“This was a terrible idea,” Kate muttered under her breath, a big fake smile plastered on her face.

“You were the one who wanted to stop for the night.” He pointed out.

“That was before knowing this.”

This was the only place available in the town, only booking rooms for couples. Married couples. It had to be a cruel joke. But they were both soaked to the core, tired and hungry and the pros of a warm shower and a comfortable bed outweighed the cons of having to pretend to be married to this horrible man she could not quite stop thinking about.

“Aren’t you an adorable couple! How long have you been married?” The thick accent of the woman lacing every word.

“Two weeks!”

“A month.”

They shared a look. Kate laughed, hitting him hard in the arm but making it look like it was just a caress.

“We have had this conversation before, honey.” The sarcasm on the pet name went unnoticed by their hosts. “He counts it since he proposed. I count it since we said our vows.”

The old couple was positively delighted by this. The woman took a step further towards them and then did something none of them had expected. She grabbed Anthony’s cheek’s and squeezed them in the most grandmotherly gesture ever. “Aren’t you the sweetest thing ever?”

Anthony’s ears turned a deep shade of red. “Err, yeah. I was looking forward to marrying this woman. I could barely contain myself, really.”

Kate had to bite down the inside of her cheek to keep from bursting out in laughter.

“I can’t believe she did that!” Anthony protested as soon as the door to their shared room closed behind him. His ears were still red from before but now his cheeks were matching and not precisely because he was blushing. 

Kate only laughed. She could barely remember the last time she had had so much fun. He fixed her with a murderous glance. 

“But you are oh so sweet!” she teased, brown eyes twinkling with good natured malice. “So cute! So in love!” 

“Stop!” 

“Barely able to stop yourself from marrying your wife right then and there! Such a prince charming!” Her hands were now resting over her chest and a dreamy look plastered on her face. 

“Sharma, I swear to god!” He had cut any distance between them and was now standing with his face mere inches from hers. He was so close she could smell the coffee in his breath. 

Kate’s whole body tensed. 

And then she did something unexpected. Her hands found their way to his face, crading it sweetly for a moment and then she simply squished his cheeks. His eyes went wide with shock and the laugh she had been holding inside broke through her ribs, filling the room. 

“I am going to kill you!” He growled. 

“Oh but you wouldn’t do that to your lovely wife, would you Mister Bridgerton?” 

He watched her disappear behind the curtain separating the ensuite from the room and shook his head, smiling despite himself. 

“Hey, Kate?” 

“Yeah?” The sound of water hitting the tiles resonated in the room. 

“If I was your boyfriend you would have a ring in your finger by now.” 

“What?” She peaked her head out of the curtain and looked at him through squished eyes. “Did you say something?” His heart missed a beat. 

“Yeah, I said that any man would have to be crazy to agree to marry you!”

[writingblackpink]

If You Leave Now, You Lose Everything (pt. 1)

read pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4

genre: angst (sorry)

word count: 3.5k

pairing: jennie x reader

You and Jennie have been together for two years now. While the relationship has been rocky as of recently, will you find a way to make it work before it's too late?

A/N: Hi! First fic on tumblr let’s goooooo! I hope you enjoy it :) Let me know what you think!

-

Her voice never sounded so cold.

“This can never work.” Her voice came out tired and weak. “We both know it yet we keep going around in these circles and it’s not healthy. For either of us. Sooner or later we were bound to hit a wall.”

Your eyes were filled to the brim with tears that threatened to spill out of your glassy eyes and over and out onto your flushed cheeks. You were standing behind Jennie, maybe ten feet or so, staring at her back facing you. She was holding her bags and was only mere seconds from taking a few steps and walking out your door for the very last time.

Your mind was a mess, but you shook it back and forth as if that would help your thoughts get in formation to help sort this out. You felt paralyzed in your spot; unmoving, barely breathing for fear of being too loud and breaking the deafening silence. You didn’t know what Jennie’s next move was, and for the first time in the two years you both had been together, you were afraid.

The relationship wasn’t all bad. You met Jennie when you were out shopping. You could see someone looking at you out of the corner of your eye as you sifted through some jeans on the rack and looked up just as she averted her gaze and easily jumped back into conversation with her friends, making it seem like it was all an illusion; like you made it up. You caught her doing this a few times while you were in the store, but didn’t think much of it. You knew she was a celebrity, in fact she was on a billboard right outside the store, but pop culture didn’t interest you much so you couldn’t say you were a big fan of her or her group. Not that you didn’t like them, you just didn’t know much about them.

Her group left the store and you finished your shopping uninterrupted. After checking out nearly half an hour later, you left the store with your head down, organizing your wallet in your purse when you heard a voice behind you. Not thinking anything of it, you kept walking until you heard the voice again.

“Hey! Hey, I know you can hear me!” She exclaimed. You briskly turned on your heels and not expecting your sudden movement, Jennie quite literally ran right into you. Catching her in your arms, you couldn’t help but think this felt like a movie scene. You looked down at her for a brief second, getting lost in her eyes. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. You figured the same was happening for her because as soon as you both realized what was happening, you jolted away from each other like you touched something you shouldn’t have.

She averted her eyes when she spoke next.

“I’m so sorry. I..uh...I saw you in the store and wasn’t sure how to approach you so I ended up leaving,” She meets your eyes, unsure, “but I came back when I realized I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to ask a beautiful girl like you out.”

That was the beginning of the relationship you thought was going to last a lifetime. For a while, it really seemed that way.

You and Jennie spent the first year of your relationship in absolute bliss. You were a lawyer and she was an idol, and being from different worlds meant you were both very busy, but you made it work. Not a day went by that you didn’t see Jennie, or at least heard her voice.

Just as the two of you began to talk about moving in together, your law firm offered you a job to start and lead the new branch in New York. After long discussions with Jennie that ended in promises to make the long distance work no matter what, you accepted the position and two weeks later were on a flight to the U.S.

If you would’ve known that would be the beginning of the end, you would’ve never stepped on the flight.

The second year of your relationship was the most tumultuous year of your life. Six months into your move, you could tell Jennie was starting to distance herself. You attributed it to her growing fame and the growing schedule that came with it. You were guilty of it too. With everything that went into starting this branch, you worked many late nights and long weeks and the time zones were much more difficult to sync up for a simple phone call than you had originally imagined it would be; trying to squeeze in ten minute conversations here and there throughout the day just so you could hear her voice on the other end of the line.

You two never even argued until just a few months ago. You had started something with her on a skype call after a few too many glasses of wine and a long stretch of loneliness, and after that night the argument seemed to never end. When she came to visit or you went to visit her, it seemed forced and anyone could see that you both were holding on to the miniscule threads remaining of your relationship.

To make matters worse, because of both of your busy schedules, your visits seemed to get shorter and shorter. What used to be an entire week together slowly morphed into a half of a week together that turned into only weekend visits maybe once a month. There wasn’t enough time to work on your problems even if you realized what they were before it was too late.

Now, here you are in your New York apartment. Another weekend visit gone awry, but you’re becoming increasingly frightened that this might actually be the end this time.

“If you leave now, you lose everything.” You croaked out, voice strangled from the effort of keeping the tears in. It seemed to be a lost cause as they suddenly overflowed down your cheeks and onto the floor.

“You lose us.” You continue when Jennie doesn’t respond. You were hoping that she was searching for the voice inside her that was telling her to stay just a little longer this time.

“Our friendship.” You keep pleading, your voice lowering to barely a whisper. You could hear your own pain seeping through the words.

“We said we’d still be friends if this didn’t work. What happened? What has changed?” This sounded more like a plea to yourself, but Jennie wasn’t sure, so she turned to face you.

It wasn’t a lie. When you started dating Jennie, she promised that even if you guys didn’t work out, that you would still remain close. She claimed you were just too special to not have in her life, either romantically or platonically. You had taken her word for it because you too felt Jennie as being someone too special to just cut out of your life. How things have changed.

She met your eyes and you could see the internal torment splayed out across her features. She was hurting too.

“Honestly?” Her voice softened, barely a whisper. “I had never thought that I would actually fall in love with you.” tears were now brimming her eyes as well. She remained standing by the door, bags in hand, eyes glossy and red.

You couldn’t hold it in any longer, collapsing onto the couch behind you and placing your head in your hands, hoping it would help muffle your sobs. You searched for a reasonable explanation for all of this. You guys could figure this out, right? All of the promises you made to each other had to be for something, right? You couldn’t accept that this is really how it was going to end.

“Why would you promise me-” is all you managed to get out, no longer able to complete a coherent thought in between sobs.

“I’ve never been in love like this before,” she said. Her voice was coming out stronger than before. “I didn’t know how to love another person until I met you. I barely even knew what it actually meant to ‘fall in love’. I can’t go back to being friends with you because nothing will ever be the same.” Tears were falling in tiny trails down her cheeks.

At those words, you quickly shot up from the couch and closed the gap. This time you were the hostile one. You ripped the bags from her hands and tossed them onto the couch behind you.

“Then tell me why we can’t make this work, Jennie. Tell me why you have to go. Tell me why you can’t just stay one more night and we can talk about this in the morning.”

Your pleas were sounding desperate, but you were running out of ways to get her to stay. At this point, you were just trying to slow the inevitable. You wanted to remember what it felt like to have her in your arms just one more night. You knew that as soon as she walked out the door, she’d be gone for good, and this time you wouldn’t have a date for when she’d come back.

You could feel your eyeliner melting off your face with your tears, but it was the least of your worries. You dug your index finger into her chest.

She quickly grabbed your arm and moved it down as she continued.

“I never see you. Even when we plan time to see each other it’s always a month after we last saw each other. An entire month.” She emphasized the last part, looking directly into your eyes, trying to get you to really understand. “My career-both of our careers are really just now starting to take off. If we keep this up we’ll only see each other once every six months.”

You looked down, realizing you were standing with Jennie’s hands in yours, and you watch as a single teardrop falls on them. Just like the day your relationship started, everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. You don’t even know who the tear came from at this point, not that it matters anyways. You looked back up with her with sad, pleading eyes.

She continued. “I can’t be friends with you because,” her voice pitched up as the tears became more frequent, “I can’t stand talking to you knowing that I still love you. Knowing that we had something, and now we don’t anymore and there’s nothing we can do about it. It won’t work.”

Her words shot through your veins like ice, and for a brief moment you closed your eyes, hoping that the stinging would go away, or that you would open your eyes again and all of this would be a dream. When you opened them and realized that this was very real, you didn’t have any words to say. Instead you moved your hands up to hold Jennie’s face. You stood like that for a moment before bringing your lips to hers. She returned the soft pressure, but nothing about this kiss felt right. Not after all the words you had just exchanged. Not after thousands of warm, passionate kisses you had shared in the past two years. It was forced, but it brought you some more time to process everything that was going on.

Jennie pulled away first. She used the sleeve of her sweater to wipe the tears from your face, and walked past you to retrieve her bags that had long been forgotten.

“Um, I’ll, uh, call you when I get home.” She said. Her voice was low. You stood paralyzed in place again. There was some metal clinking behind you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to turn towards the sound. She walked up to you, facing you, but you kept your gaze at the wall just over her shoulder. She took your hand to open up your palm, place something in it, and close your fingers over the hard metal. You didn’t even have to look to know what it was.

Jennie turned to leave, looking over her shoulder one last time before closing the door. Your gaze moved to the door as she closed it, and shortly after you opened your palm to see Jennie’s key to your apartment laying between your cold fingers.

You couldn’t remember how long you stood there before your limbs collapsed onto the hardwood floor. There was no strength in your body to pull you towards the couch that sat just a few feet away from you.

It was sometime in the middle of the night before you felt your eyelids flutter and sleep overtake you on the cold ground. Your phone laid on the ground near your head, waiting for her call. Maybe once you both had time to think about this you could figure it out.

Your brain rattled with ideas on how to make the relationship work, but you couldn’t tell if they were good or not in your current state, so you slept.

[babyybitchhh]

This is the anon who commented about yami! I didn't like nozel at first but I can't lie, he kinda grew on me and he's fine asf. I couldn't look at magna in anyway until I saw him with his hair down. Now I'm like 👀👀👀. More than anything, I just want yami to ruin me. Spank me and call me a good girl pleaseee

Yessssssss

Yami was BUILT to be daddy. So strong, so rough around the edges but with a big soft heart, so beefy 💗🥴💗

Words: 3937

Warnings: daddy kink, alcohol, drunk fingering, vaginal fingering 

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27172960

❤️❤️❤️❤️

You probably should have known better than to start drinking with them. No, not probably. You definitely should have known better.

Hindsight was always twenty-twenty though, and you could see now just how grievous a mistake it had been to accept Vanessa’s invitation without stopping long enough to consider the consequences but, well ... she was one of the only other women in the squad and she seemed to like you well enough. You wanted her to keep liking you, of course. So you’d foolishly jumped at the chance, far too eager to be included in this decidedly unorthodox team bonding exercise of theirs.

The Black Bulls were, by nature, sufficiently rowdy enough on their own but adding alcohol to the mix only seemed to fan the flames. They were the very definition of unruly. Clothes had been shamelessly discarded, more cigarettes smoked than you would have thought possible, arguments over nothing at all turned heated with alarming frequency only to be immediately forgotten and you, you were stuck in the middle of it. Thoroughly lost in your own world and floating serenely through the hazy bog of consciousness without a second thought to what chaos was going on around you.

It was kind of nice, actually. Liberating.

“Remember, ya’ gotta’ have at least three matching pairs to discard,” Magna reminds the assembled party as he quickly deals out a fresh hand. “Or you can do the same suit if ya’ want, but it has to go in order. No incomplete sets.”

The worse for wear table everyone had initially gathered around started off cramped, a tight fit for so many people and with little elbow room to spare. As the night wore on, however, most of the plucky squadron had gradually called it quits and retired until eventually only four remained. You were proud of yourself for outlasting the others but you also knew just how in over your head you were with this particular group. Yami could likely drink anyone under the table and Magna appeared to keep up with him just fine. While Vanessa didn’t exactly hold her liquor well , she could certainly put it away. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that you were on your last leg here even if you were, for all intents and purposes, having a good time.

“Alright, lets see what ya’ got.”

Feeling simultaneously as light as a feather and sluggish under the weight of heavy, invisible chains, you slowly flip your cards over. It was hard to tell which way was up anymore, especially when your inner vertigo was so off kilter. You were warm, too. Almost unbearably so. Clammy in the worst possible way and you teeter forward in your chair, struggling to focus your swimming vision on the cards spread out in front of you.

It was a shit hand.

Grumbling under your breath, you distractedly tug at your clothes. A soft, fitful whine claws its way up your throat when it does absolutely nothing to alleviate just how stiflingly hot you are and, in fact, only seems to make it worse. You were absolutely burning up and this card game was its own special brand of torture, you decide with nothing short of woozy contempt.

“What the hell’s your problem?” Yami asks mildly from his spot beside you.

He was infuriatingly collected despite having consumed even more alcohol than you had, guzzling down mouthful after mouthful while you’d taken your time sipping on the fruity concoctions Vanessa made special just for you. You’d lost track of how many cups he’d emptied quite some time ago but you were still only on your third. It didn’t make sense. How were you so damn tipsy already?

“Hot.” You groan, not bothering to look up from what was possibly the worst hand you could have been dealt. Letting Magna shuffle the deck was, unsurprisingly, yet another mistake to add to the ever growing list.

Turning his head, Yami glances over at you and you catch the movement from your peripheral but still refuse to divert your attention from the cards. Maybe if you just stared at them long enough, hard enough, they’d morph into something you could actually use. You weren’t a magic knight in name only, right? Surely your grimoire was good for something .

“You’re drunk.” He suddenly announces, loud enough to make Vanessa whip her head around.

“M’not.” You grumble.

“Bullshit.”

The inebriated witch inserts herself into the fray before you can respond, wrapping slender arms around your shoulders and pulling you in against her bosom. “Awww, honey! Did’ju really like my drinks that much?” She coos at you sweetly. “I wasn’t tryin’ to get you drunk. Promise.”

“M’not drunk.” You insist, louder this time, much to Vanessa’s giggling amusement.

Heaving a clipped sigh, Yami leans across the table and taps your cards with a thick finger, slowly drawing your attention back to them. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you,” He says around the cigarette in his mouth. “But someone who isn’t piss drunk would probably know better than to lay their hand out on the table like this. Do you even know what game we’re playing right now?”

Mouth tugging into a frown, you wrack your muddled brain for the answer to that question. “Go fish?”

Magna inelegantly snorts at that. You can feel yourself starting to flush in embarrassment as Vanessa begins fussing over you, softly petting your head with murmured, nonsensical endearments. She definitely wasn’t helping matters and you sincerely hoped none of them could see your fluster.

Yami doesn’t seem to miss it though and he purses his lips, pinning you with an unimpressed glower. “That’s what I thought. Sorry, sweetheart, but you’re officially cut off. No more booze tonight, okay?”

Both you and Vanessa groan in unison. Your head immediately starts to spin in earnest now and you slump against the other woman even as she grabs your drink and holds it up to you as if she were bottle feeding a baby. The notion that she might accidentally dump it all over your head when she was just as intoxicated as you doesn’t even cross your mind and you obediently open your mouth to accept her offering.

“Come on, captain! At least let her finish her dr-drink first! I worked really hard to -”

Yami cuts across her babbling with a huff, standing and grabbing hold of the cup so he can pull it away despite Vanessa’s best attempt to keep it in her fumbling grasp. You watch it go, feeling an odd mix of disappointment and relief. The giddy, jovial mood you’d been imbued with was nice, yes, but realistically your body probably couldn’t handle much more. It was likely for the best.

“Just knock it off.” Pointedly setting the drink down towards the center of the table, Yami turns back with a furrowed brow. “Are you trying to kill her or something? What all did you even put in that?”

Vanessa hums a noncommittal sound of guilt, winding a strand of your hair around her finger.

He scoffs and moves closer with an accompanying shake of his head. Your heart gives a little jolt when you realize he’s coming towards you, not Vanessa, and you can’t help the anxious tinge that sparks in your chest. He was probably mad at you for getting so drunk. He looked mad. You didn’t want to be on the receiving end of one of his lectures though and you lean further into the softly swaying witch next to you in search of protection.

Much to your faltering surprise, however, Yami’s tone sounds closer to exacerbated than angry when he says, “Alright, brat. C’mere. You get to sit with me for the rest of the night so I can keep an eye on you and make sure someone doesn’t try to sneak you anything else.”

You blink, thoroughly confused, and it feels like even something as simple as a muscle twitch takes a small eternity to accomplish. Yami either doesn’t notice or he doesn’t care though.

Shooing Vanessa away, he bends at the waist and curls big hands under your armpits, hauling you straight up out of your seat. You outright squawk, flailing weakly in Yami’s grasp when you suddenly find yourself much further from the ground than you were used to. But your panic lasts only a terrifyingly brief moment and you relax when he draws you close, allowing you to curl your limbs around his thick frame. With a slight jostle, he adjusts his hold and secures you to the front of him. You instinctively nuzzle further into his arms, drunkenly whimpering as you tightly lock your elbows behind his neck.

“You’re no fun …” Vanessa whines on your behalf.

He clicks his tongue. “I’m thinking ahead. You’re not.” He says, those rumbled words reverberating inside your skull and further grounding you by some margin. “But if she gets sick, you’re the one who’s gonna’ clean it up.”

With that admonition, he moves back to his own chair and sits down again. It takes you a moment to get situated on his lap, still unbearably hot and fussy now after forcibly being removed from the fun. The last thing you want is to look like a lightweight in front of your teammates but he finally stills you with a large, mindful hand against your lower back. The silent warning in that innocuous gesture is enough to make you quit while you’re still ahead and, mewling something unintelligible, you press your warm face into his neck so you can settle in to pout.

Magna says something then, successfully distracting Vanessa from the subject, and the game carries on without you. The three of them don’t seem to mind the loss one bit as they seamlessly pick right back up where they’d left off.

It's hard to shake the feeling that your presence at the table was nothing more than an afterthought to them, or maybe a simple nicety, and it stung a little. There was no denying that. But you were much too hazy and disoriented to linger on it for more than a moment, molding yourself to the firm weight against you and going pleasantly slack in Yami’s arms. He was surprisingly comfortable, given his hard physique. A little too warm for your liking when you already felt swelteringly hot, but ultimately comfortable.

The even rise and fall of his broad chest is almost enough to lull you into dozing off right then and there with your head resting on his shoulder. Yami’s rough fingers tracing nonsensical, soothing patterns across your spine is the only thing that keeps you tethered to reality and you sit there, eyes closed, just listening to the slurred conversation going on at your back. It sounded far away now. Muted, as if your ears were stuffed with cotton, but you didn’t mind that too much. Magna was loud enough when sober and even worse when he was drunk.

A long moment later, Yami removes the cigarette from his lips and turns towards you when the other two start bickering about the validity of a certain card sequence. “How you feeling, squirt?” He asks, pressing his mouth against your hair.

“Good.” You murmur dreamily.

He laughs, very quietly, and gives you the briefest squeeze. “Yeah? You’re deadweight, baby girl. Sure you’re not gonna’ pass out on me over there?”

“Mmhmm.”

With a soft click of his tongue, Yami focuses back in on the game. The hand resting on your back slips lower, inconspicuously giving your behind a playful tweak that seems to go unnoticed by the table's other occupants given that they keep talking without pause. Magna would more than likely look away, politely pretending he hadn’t seen it, but Vanessa … if she’d caught so much as a glimpse, you’d be hearing about it right now. That was at least one reason (of which there was many) why what you had with Yami, whatever it was, still remained a secret to the rest of the squad even though it was probably a miracle they hadn’t caught on already, especially when he was so damn handsy with you.

Normally you’d err on the side of caution for that reason alone but you felt just daring enough to give him little push back. Emboldened by the liquid courage sitting hot and heavy in your stomach, confident that he wouldn’t have initiated this had it not been safe to do so, you discreetly roll your hips into him. The drag of your pussy across the front of his pants makes your breath hitch and he stiffens underneath you. That’s all the reaction you get for your trouble though, prompting you to lift your head from his shoulder and lean close to Yami’s ear.

“ Daddy …”

It’s nothing more than a tiny, breathless sigh but the effect it has on him is instantly noticeable. Steel chorded arm tightening around you, he breathes out a terse exhale and pulls you more firmly against his chest until you can scarcely breathe. A wavering puff of air slips from you as your thighs flex around his waist, silently trying to urge him on. It doesn’t work though and a shudder works its way down the length of your spine when he turns towards you again, growling right against the outer shell of your ear.

“Watch it.”

You whine, bucking against him more insistently. “ Nooooo .”

Yami snorts and swivels his attention back around to the cards clasped in his other hand. Pressing your face into the crook of his neck, you take a deep breath until the naturally heady scent of him swarms your senses like a fragrant, masculine cocktail. You can taste him in the back of your throat and it just makes you want him all the more.

Another wiggle of your hips is all the incentive he needs, calloused fingers slipping further down to grab a pinching handful of your ass. Roughly nudging you to sit a bit higher up on his thighs, he reaches lower and snakes his hand under your skirt. You squirm at the first touch against your panties, whimpering softly into his skin. Yami merely tightens his arm around you as he ever so carefully pulls the thin layer of cotton aside just enough to slide those sinfully long digits past the flimsy barrier.

“Spoiled brat,” He murmurs fondly, just loud enough for you to hear. “Already so damp and needy for me.”

You bite down on your tongue to keep yourself quiet, shuddering when he casually traces the length of your slit with abrasive fingertips.

Magna abruptly cackles about something and the sudden noise makes you jolt. Yami, to his credit, remains perfectly still though and merely waits a torturously long beat before continuing in rumbling hushed tones. “How long were you sitting over there in your own mess, hmm?”

“I - it’s not a mess.” You warble into his shoulder, your cheeks flushing hot.

“Oh? This certainly feels like a mess to me …” Pausing, Yami dips a finger into the meat of your labia and the slick quality of your pussy suddenly makes itself known. You hadn’t noticed until now, either because you were too caught up in your inebriated stupor or simply too focused on pouting to pay it any mind, but you were absolutely soaked. It wasn’t exactly surprising. Your body always responded eagerly to being manhandled by the captain but even this seemed a bit excessive.

Whining low in your throat, you decide you don’t want to play this game after all and try to angle your defenseless little cunt away from his searching hand. But Yami puts a stop to that quickly enough and shifts his legs further apart, forcibly spreading your thighs until you can’t find the leverage needed to wriggle out of his hold. You lip quivers when he takes advantage of this vulnerable position to worm a finger into the tight, squeezing heat of your body, gummy walls contracting around the intrusion with a pleasant flutter. It takes everything you have not to throw your head back and unabashedly moan up at the ceiling.

“Can’t you feel that, baby? You’re so wet I didn’t even have to work you open.”

Hiccuping, you shove your face against Yami’s neck again. “Dah - daddy … please .”

“Shh.” He warns even as he starts up a slow pace, sedately pumping into you. “Keep quiet or I’ll have to stop.”

As if on cue, Vanessa says something to him then and Yami effortlessly diverts his attention to the slurring witch as if nothing about the situation were out of place. You dig your nails into the broad expanse of his shoulder blades and bite back a groan, suddenly feeling ten times hotter than before. Even with all your concentration focused on keeping as still and quiet as possible, you find yourself imperceptibly arching to give him better access to your sticky cunt. It was certainly a blessing in disguise that she was just as drunk as you were, otherwise she might have given the whole thing a second thought. The way you were sitting on his lap. The smallest twitch of your hips to accompany the shallow quality of your breathing. It was so obvious what you two were doing. How had they not noticed already?

The table.

Neither Magna or Vanessa could see over it unless they came around and stood right next to the chair. You were essentially safe from the waist down and a fresh spark of confidence alights throughout your whole system with this realization, doubling and then tripling your arousal. It was still risky doing something so brazen right in front of them but you were just drunk enough not to care.

Loins twisting and curling, you carefully rear back to meet his shallow thrusts. You’d never felt more uninhibited in your whole life. “Oooh, daddy,” You whisper, choking on it. “Right there.”

Yami doesn’t miss a beat, easily keeping up with the conversation as he allows a second digit to slide in with the first. You feel the stretch in your bones and you quietly seeth, lashes fanning against the apples of your cheeks when it pushes you to just this side of discomfort. Even being as wet as you are, his fingers were just too thick for your eagerly clenching passage to accommodate them without some resistance and you hedonistically bask in the searing burn. It felt good. Almost good enough for you to lose yourself to the pleasure but, somehow, you manage to keep your wits about you instead of shamelessly writhing in his lap.

You may as well have thrown caution to the wind though. Discretion hardly mattered anymore. You already felt like a blatant little slut and the shock of how much that turns you on has your pussy drooling obscenely all over Yami’s hand.

“Hah - harder, daddy … nnghh, harder, please.”

Rather than obliging, he actually pauses his ministrations and you quietly mewl at the loss of friction. You squirm on top of his muscular thighs and desperately try to fuck down on his digits, panting like a bitch in heat against the captains neck. He shifts underneath you, says something to Vanessa that makes her direct a chiding tone at Magna. Their bickering starts up again and with the rise in volume, Yami gives his wrist a good twist that shoves his fingertips into your upper wall. Static electricity shoots through your system at the sudden pressure on that pulsing sweet spot and the tension in your gut immediately starts to toe the line of unbearable.

Your mouth drops open in shellshocked ecstasy but nothing comes out. It’s hard just to draw breath when the dizzyingly sharp jolt of arousal has your toes flexing uselessly in the air and you tremble, quaking in his arms. Unperturbed by the effect this is having on you, Yami takes his time caressing the velvety soft lining of your insides with sedately smooth motions. Those worn fingertips gradually curl up in the general direction of your belly button and press in deeper, harder, making your cunt absolutely gush around him. You weren’t going to last much longer at this rate.

“Oooh god !” You gasp, clutching him in a death grip.

Turning your head, you press your cheek against Yami’s shoulder and fix your gaze to a random spot on the far wall. The room looked like it was tilted on its axis - - spinning, spinning, spinning - - and all you can do is whine and shake when he scissors his fingers, making more room for himself within you.

You weren’t just overheated anymore. It was as if you’d caught flame, burning from the inside out, and it only gets worse when he flexes his hand, jabbing at the spongy soft spot again and again.

A choked off squeal rises in your throat, just barely held back by tightly clenched teeth. You’re almost positive you can hear the greedy, slopping clicks of your pussy sucking him in deeper just below the surface of the enthusiastic argument going on behind you but they don’t seem to notice. They just keep shouting back and forth at each other, oblivious to what was going on at the other end of the table. You have no idea how you’re getting away with this - aren’t even really sure if you will get away with this when all is said and done - but that’s the very last thing on your mind anymore as you haltingly roll your hips into the blinding pressure.

“Ah - ahh - d - dah - ahh - ddyyy !”

“Do it.” Yami murmurs, his mouth pressed tight to your ear. “Come now , baby. Do it while you have the chance. Come on.”

Your eyes roll back in your head and you give your pelvis one good little twist. The drag of your throbbing clit across the front of his rough pants is the last push you need, the resulting friction searing your veins. It sends you spiraling right over the edge into doped out bliss and you squeak, jerking against him when full bodied tremors grip you in earnest and make you shake.

Riding out the cresting waves as discreetly as you can, you blink back an onslaught of reflexive tears. Your pussy squeezes tight, milking your orgasm on his fingers, even though the effort of forcing yourself to remain quiet nearly breaks your resolve. But you manage, somehow, to breathe through it even as your hips weakly buck in unmitigated pleasure, subduedly twisting in his arms. It felt like you were drowning in it, choking on immense, all encompassing relief.

But Yami doesn’t immediately let up on his concerted attack, continuing to work you over until the spasms start to subside and you whine in frazzled distress. Digits finally stilling inside you, he offers a brief kiss to your hair and it makes you breathe out a tired sigh. You immediately slump, going boneless on top of him, now even clammier than when you’d started. The sweat clinging to your skin has you feeling worryingly damp but you were also satiated and comfortable. It was an acceptable tradeoff, as far as you were concerned.

“Such a good girl. You even managed to stay quiet for me. I’m proud of you.”

Smiling at the hushed approval in his tone, you snuggle further into Yami’s musclebound frame. You were floating on cloud nine, no longer concerned about being removed from the card game; not when the pleasant afterglow and the reassuring presence of your captain - your daddy - had you feeling so at peace. There would always be a next time.

[dana-chan-the-control-brain]

Happy new year everyone 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉

I know 2020 has been hard for everyone.

And I want everyone to know, suffering isn't a contest and we all suffer in different ways. But I feel I should give my year in Review. Just some things that happened to me personally.

This was an intense, and long and spiritual and emotional journey for me...

I really discovered what it meant to have community, family and what my life means to me.

But I feel I need to get this in writing cause I can remember the year with vivid detail and I will probably forget if I don't get it down.

Do I have to share this publically online to my tumblr account for a bunch of strangers to see? not really.

Do I want to?

Yes. I think so. Just from how so many people on tumblr and real life have touched me.

This is kinda long and no one needs to read this.

(idk how to do a readmore on mobile. But this is where I would add it later. No one needs to read if they don't want to.)

January/February: (and some background on the last five years of my life cause.....well. it's important.)

As people knew, I got way into Invader Zim last summer. I spent most of my waking life working a dead end job at a grocery store. I lived a sad lonely life, going straight home to a single dark studio apartment. With not many material possessions outside of games, my laptop and my tablet to my name. Half of my material loves, such as home furnishings and books were still in boxes from when I moved in. In case I ever had to move again, or get some "big screenshot or copywriter" job in the city.

....

I lived in that city in the same dead end job and apartment for five years.

No friends. No social life. I often refused to make doctor appointments or attempt to establish myself in that city. I didn't even talk to anyone in my workplace.

Work. Go online. Go to sleep.

I lived like that for five years.

I thought it was good.

Even my therapist thought I was doing well.

When I really wasn't. My main character flaw I struggle with is motivation.

I can talk to someone about very detailed plans I have to fix a problem... But I tend to never follow through.

Just because I can describe in detail how to fix my personal problems, it doesn't mean I will do it.

(I have gotten better at this but it's a major struggle)

I might have been a Zombie during the day...

But by night I was pouring my soul into my AU and my analysis.

After being so thoughly ignored or overlooked by the Naruto fandom and the Undertale fandom, I felt like I had finally found my home and was settling into a community there.

I just loved that people loved what I had to say.

Especially my AU.

It's no secret that a lot of themes in my au revolve around found family, grief, and loss.......

Fatherhood, in particular.

What it means to be a father, how much do you need to try when you mess up, how willing should a child forgive their parent, especially those that have wronged you and how much of it is factually accurate and simply a self projection of what children want their parents to be and visa versa... What amount of forgiveness and change is nessasary...is it needed?

....

It's no secret that a lot of my AU is a giant coping mechanism for my Dad's death. Espessially the falling out and growing closer with a lot of my family members throughout the years following his death. (Most of the time I keep it ambiguous to how it relates to my personal life unless I include a readmore that states so outright. I feel my au can be enjoyed by a variety of people in the fandom who don't need to know me as a person or my life story.)

My Dad passed away in 2016 in February and my family still feels the aftershocks to this day.

It's part of the reason I moved to the city, alienated myself from my family and people that loved me and refused to experience life for five years.

My entire world was Zim, and I was okay.

March: When America finally realized and started to feel the effects of the pandemic....

A lot of people got scared.

Me included.

I didn't have any streaming services or access to the news. So I only heard accounts from my mom.

I didn't understand why the store was so dead quiet and empty for a few days, then it went into mass chaos and panic in the span of two days.

It felt like Retail black friday in the worst way. Everyone was packed like sardines. Everyone was yelling. The lines at the registers bled into the clothing department.

I was witness to customers shoving others for toilet paper, being rude to cashier's and just overall unpleasantness.

At the time, I didn't even fully grasp what the pandemic was, and I feel a lot of people at the time didn't either.

I ended up absentmindedly scratching my eyebrow in front of a customer and she screamed and villanised me for it. That they didn't want groceries touched by my "unclean hands"

I ended up breaking down into tears.

The customer behind me gave me a hug and told me I was doing a great job.

But the damage was done. It was the final straw, I couldn't stop crying and I was breaking apart.

Thankfully my Boss (the one who likes me) pulled me aside and asked what's wrong.

It was then that I quit. No notice. Same day. I had to get out of there.

I was planning to move to an apartment with my sister in the summer, but my Mom offered for me to move back in with her temperarily just so I can get out of the city and away from the pandemic.

So I did.

I got scared, broke my lease a month early and quit my job of five years that gave me nothing back.

He told me, "take care of yourself and your family, I won't keep you here, do what you need to do."

So I did.

April-June:

A very eventful few months.

My mom offered for me to live at her place, but for some reason she was acting like I would live there forever. That this wasn't a temporary arrangement, and that I didn't have an apartment set up already.

This was in large part to my sister, who had lived with my mom taking advantage of her for years.

Even though my sister and I were going to move in together, I was just never sure about it cause of how she never packed her stuff or made any effort to find a job.

My mom often acted like I was lazy and not searching and was treating me like... Well, an unruly teenager instead of a woman of 29 years. She acted like I was a failure for returning home when it was her idea in the first place.

I would have just been petrified in the city.

Like usual, I retreated to my au again.... And in the spring, something eventful happened.

In may, 8th 2020:

I was invited by @rissynicole to join an invader zim discord.

Now, I've never really used discord before. I always thought it's interface is too confusing.. and I'm a member of a few other iz discords and I usually don't follow them that closely.

Rissy assured me it was different cause some friends of thiers made it and it was smaller.

Before I knew it, I was sharing memes and getting to know everyone there.

It wasn't long after I invited my partner in IZ crimes, @paketdimensioncomic who was genuinely wary of iz servers due to a bad experience with the last one they were a part of.

But soon they were sharing memes and laughing with everyone else.

My eyes were starting to open and I was able to connect to fans of my work in an interpersonal way. And I was able to discover new artists and aus I never knew about.

I was also able to meet so many others of the community and invite them to the server myself.

The moo-ping 10 server kept me sane while I was living with my judgmental mother.

Not only that, the summer was very productive for my au.

Drawing was all I did, and it was a huge break from the job as a cashier I had.

Not only that, June came, and with it, me and Ceph's first collab fic:

A result of us just going back and forth in our DMs constantly about Professor Membrane and how he changed in ETF for the better and how much we adamantly stan "trying-to-be-a-good-dad-brane" and how much of his ETF development has to be implied off screen in order for the emotional resolution in the movie to matter.

The only reason I never professed my love for Membrane as a character in the fandom before the fic dropped was.... Well....

Membrane can be a decisive character in the fandom and I was so worried people would hate me if I did an analysis on him, simply because he's not the best parent in the world. (As an understatement)

Ceph and I really encouraged each other to scream our love for the science himbo loud and proud more frequently and so often.... I actually start to see less Membrane hate posts and breakdowns then their used to be.... I like to think it's a combination of Me and Ceph's influence, along with ETF and the Quarterly's painting Membrane in a slightly more nuanced light then he was previously.

I never wrote a collab fic before and it's such a rewarding and fun and unique experience that I don't think I'll ever have again. And I love working with Ceph on our fics so much.

So much so we did it again...

July-August:

I never thought I would be one of those people who writes NSFW IZ fic... But here I am.

The Brainbrane au started.... An au of my au where Membrane and the Computer fall in love and Membrane makes him a body.

This ship was based around the idea where we joked that Membrane and Zim's Computer would have funny interactions if they ever met, under the pretense Membrane thinks Computer is Zim's parent.

Our headcanons morphed and shifted until we just full blown started shipping them.

Just because Membrane and Zim's Computer have overall REALLY entertaining chemistry.

It's a character dynamic never seen in the show or comics (yet) and I imagine thier interactions to be nothing but entertaining banter.

The fic was also born from spite... Making fun of the troupes and cliches that we found personally destestible in some questionable zadr fics.

So an angry ace and a demi-bisexual collab on a porn and end up blessing the fandom with

Compapa headcanons,

Computer being recognized as a more common used fanon character,

The ship of Brainbrane.

The fandom having a crisis of "oh God, not only are we xenophiles we're technophiles too!!!" Or "why you gotta give Zim's Computer an ass"

More android Computer designs

It was an eventful summer.

In the midst of all this, I moved into my new place, got a new job, and I was able to see my friend (who is def my platonic straight soul mate) who lives in Indiana.

She came to visit, showed me how to decorate and how to take care of my body better! Things were looking up! It was great.

September-November:

My job was at a boat store. If was approaching the fall and my hours were being severely cut.

I was getting into a rut of depression again.

I thought things were changing but the same routine I was trying to escape from was the same thing coming back.

But instead of letting it take hold, I decided I was going to do something about it... I was gonna visit a museum and go with my sister. Just... variety stimulation.

Well that didn't happen.

I talked about this shortly in my au itself...but..

My sister had a complete mental breakdown.

She stopped taking her meds, went off the deep end and was in the hospital a total of five times throughout November.

A lot of it was acting out and the perfect storm of environmental factors that made her scream and act out so she would keep going back to the hospital.

It was traumatizing for me.

I just can't explain what it's like. For her and for me to be in that position.

I'm not telling the full story and a lot of bullshit things happened I won't share here.

She got diagnosed with bipolar one and my mom expected me to be a caretaker for her.

I threatened to disown my family and move away out of state.

It was just too much for me to handle.

So much I was a nervous wreck.

I tried to pick up a second job... Cause my sister was in the mental ward so frequently and couldn't pay the bills.

But I was fired within a week cause I was so stressed I couldn't retain the basic information they were training me for.

It was an office job.

My dream.

It could have been.

I was fired from something I really wanted.

I was only there for three days.

I could not retain any information.

I was a mess.

My sister was a trigger, my mom wanted me to live with her. I couldn't live like this.... I had to get out.

I had to get out.

December:

Remember my Indiana friend?

Well the first week of December is my birthday.

My 30th to be exact.

While I did pick up a seasonal position at Target (not my first pick)

I took the first week of December off so I could spend time with her. Cause she agreed, I needed a break from this crap.

Surviving 30 years is cause to celebrate and if I had to celebrate with my sister I would have cried.

I know there was a risk traveling out of state during a pandemic...

But I needed out, I needed a friend..

And I kinda wanted to look at the place since I was considering moving there.

My friend's mom was sick so she avoided me and her daughter and got us a hotel room.

It was fun! I got to swim in a salt water pool, we talked about Naruto, I showed her the iz and su art books I brought, also Computer and Membrane tea.

I also got to meet her other friends and get crunk. And her bf who is super nice and funny!

I had a super fun birthday....

Until her mom told my friend that her grandparents had covid and that was what she had. And my friend got sick within that same day.... As did I.

I owe so much to her family.

I was an entire state away...about a ten hour drive from home.... She let me stay at her house. "The covid house" we called it.

Cause everyone (except the father. He avoided everyone and booked a hotel immediately cus he was an ER doctor) had covid within a day.

I called in, the test results were positive and I had to stay with her family for ten days quarantine before I could work again.

Which would have been fine....

If my tumblr didn't log me out perminately of my old account. @dana-chan325 .... Which really sucked cause I had a constant headache and was too sick to engage with tumblr or much of the fandom. I didn't want to make a new account when my head was in a bad fog and I could barely breathe or smell.

It's not like I saw much of my friend either.... We all slept at different hours and she had more symptoms then I did.

It was just netflix, danganronpa v3 and cry.

I was miserable, but at the same time.... Not?

I really feel like God himself was the one who pulled me off from tumblr, and my living situation.

Maybe a whole extra week feeling like a bobblehead was what I needed.

It gave me some much needed clarity on my relationships with my mom and sis and friend.

Running away to Indiana was not the solution here.

Once I was better within ten days and no longer had a leave of absence, I drove home.

I am glad I fully recovered (but from how I understand it, my dear friend is still ill. I'm praying for her)

I might have gone to work a bit too soon, cause I had an asthma attack after trying to unload a single cart in the span of six hours.

My boss lectured that my speed was unacceptable, and even though I explained the covid situation and breathing problems many times, she threatened that I'd be fired if I'm that slow again.

Que the next few days of work where they put me on register.

Instantly I was sent into a panic remembering the last time I was on the register and how that panic attack caused me to quit.

I even asked if I could go back to stocking, since my breathing had improved. My boss assured me that I was put on the register cause they needed help and nothing to do with my covid thing.

Then as December concluded and the new year began, my boss said that this was the last shift for me cause my position was seasonal and they were letting a lot of people go.

I then asked why I was on the schedule for Sunday, and he told me to ignore it and I'm free to reapply for full-time.

I mean.... They can act smart about it...

But putting your general merchandise stocker onto register after she had an asthma attack and missed working the first two weeks of December due to covid.....

Not a good look.

So once again, I'm jobless once more.

Will probably continue to live with my sister for awhile.

But I do not feel as if it's a bad thing....

I met so many good people this year....

My friend's family even gave me 500 usd to cover my rent since I couldn't work for a majority of December.

I've seen evil and good from humanity this year. I've seen acts of god, good friends and what my real family means to me as well as friends I consider family.

This year really made me look back at the person in the mirror and say,

"I deserve better."

And actually worked for it this time.

Oh and after Christmas I got a horrible yeast infection that burns over most of my body currently.

Very accurate doodle to the pain I'm in right now.

(seriously my body is a fungus.)

But hey, good news, I respected myself enough to go to the doctor about it!!

So that's progress.

I really hope 2021 holds good things for me.

Thank you to the mooping 10 server for always being there and keeping me sane,

Thank you tumblr for liking my au and everything.

AND A SUPER SPECIAL THANK YOU TO @evartandadam and her family for housing me and my dumb diseased ass. Everyone, she is an angel and I can't express how much she means to me. Please check out her art and buy her stuff on redbubble.

Anyways... Byebye 2020.

I look forward to what I can accomplish for myself this year.