#for real everytime 'we took each other hands' comes on my playlist

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

You still remember School Live?

There's not a day that goes by without me missing Megu-nee ever since that day 3 years ago.

[houseofhyde]

v. another man's legacy

pairing. aemond targaryen x fem!reader synopsis. prince aemond calls all with fire in their blood forth to dragonstone with promise of a grand announcement, unawares of the king's own announcement. chapter warnings. no use of y/n, brother-in-law!aemond, stark!reader, infidelity, purity culture, extended family drama, possible spoilers for events that take place in fire & blood! smut ( unprotected piv, creampie, [redacted]'s cum used as lube, fingering, exhibitionism? possibly? maybe? if you squint? ) please kindly notify me of any warning i may have missed. word count. 13k. hyde’s input. i ideally wanted this posted a week ago but i've unexpectedly had quite a busy month, sorry besties. lowkey hate how this turned out, wrote it in a rush, but hopefully you enjoy the chapter x ( if you see a typo, no you didn't )

another man's series. feast. comfort. pleasure. pain. legacy. jealousy. ( coming october ) read on ao3. listen to the playlist.

The ravens are put to work.

Daybreak, nightfall. Sunrise, sundown. Highwinds, dry air. Blue sky, grey storms. Between man’s certainty of life and death, a new one arises: the promise of feathered wings flying high over the streets of King’s Landing. Dark wings, dark words  — a phrase your late septa had sworn by, fear in her eyes everytime a bird dared arrive at Winterfell carrying a message — it does not ring true to the ink that fills the recent parchments.

The guardsmen saw me home safely through the southron sands, past the Stormlands, and alas, to King’s Landing. I pray for safety in your own travels.

You had written it in a hurry and sent it with even more haste, the innocent intentions of wishing well to a man bound to you in marriage. You had awaited no reply, in truth, yet when the raven perched itself upon your window sill at the Hour of the Wolf, you felt your heart try to flee out of your chest.

Whispers travel faster than ravens, I knew of your arrival already. It is good to read of it in your own hand. You need not fret on my safe-being, for I sit upon a mount from where no man may harm me. 

No name, no signature. A rule unspoken yet well-kept. Should words be seen by unintended eyes, there is no space for errors, big nor small, for errors lead to questions, questions lead to answers, and answers lead to exposure.

It is truly a bore to attend courts as of late. No one lends me the privilege of a dance and, the few who do, seem to possess two left feet. I fear for the health of my toes, crushed under the weight of misplaced steps.

Your days in Dorne have come to mark a significant shift in your life, moulding you into a different version of a woman who always existed within you. You returned to the capital not only wearing a new dress, but a new attitude. A life divided by two key phases: Before Dorne, and After Dorne. And, yet, all that has truly changed in your life is this: the letters.

We danced this evening, when you visited my sleeping mind. Naked, sweet, pliant. It felt so real. I could taste you, smell you, feel you. I woke with a most horrible discomfort in my loins. You have ignited a longing in me befitting a petulant child, not a man of my class. How am I expected to live with never having you again?

There is a creature inside you that wishes to collect his words,  like a crow collects a shiny trinket. Assign them a drawer at your bedside, a place for them to live near your resting head and hopefully whisper themselves into your dreams, the only lands you are able to get a glimpse of his blonde hair, and lean arms, and soft mouth. That would mean danger, however, a trail of evidence for someone to find. Each parchment lives on as nothing more than a pile of ash in your hearth.

There is rumour of Lohar’s death. Assassination, they say. It ripped apart the triarchy, half of them fighting, the other half fleeing. I must be honest when speaking on the swelling of my own pride. You not only heed my warnings, but also took my advice. Perhaps my next advice will be that you meet me beneath moon and sky, and let only our bodies and the gods bear witness to what we do.

Words grow bolder as minds grow desperate. You find yourself in a rut, counting days as if it does not add to your own torture. Insatiable, a term you have scarcely used to describe yourself in past times, yet it is all that feels adequate since that night upon foreign sheets. Your husband takes you, like a hound takes its bitch, and you welcome him. Close your eyes, picture that same silver hair, but another’s face, hands, voice. It ends how all couplings end between you — an unanswered prayer between your thighs, a bud on the permanent precipice of bursting into bloom, only for Aegon to rip it out by its roots and spill his own seed in its place. But for a moment, while his hips beat relentlessly against the swell of your arse and his nails dig crescents into your skin, you feel it: a subtle, low-burning pleasure. Not much, but enough, more than before. 

Give me cause and I shall give you no rest, my Lady.

“Are you not enjoying the boar, wife?” Aegon’s voice cuts through the fog of your thoughts and brings your surroundings back into focus.

The King’s chambers, a table set for two, a handful of maids carrying pitchers of wine, and a nervous harpist, plucking a disjointed tune with shaky fingers. You pity the man. It is one thing to play to a court of dancing bodies and chattering mouths, it is another to play in the privacy of the King and Queen Consort as they dine in one another’s company.

You cough out a denial, shake your head as if to emphasise, “it is as tender today as it was yesterday, my King.”

“You’ve hardly touched it.”

“My thoughts feed me tonight.”

“Any that you care to share?”

No. “Of course,” Aemond takes the centre frame in your mind’s eye, not so much an image as he is a concept. You push him aside. “I attended this morning. Your dealings with the smallfolk, I watched from the balcony that sits over the throne room.”

“I saw,” he seems to light up as the topic is brought forth. Intrigued enough to lay down his cup and rest his forearms along the table, leaning closer as if awaiting some great secret to spill from your lips. You wonder if he would be half as amused if your mouth followed through on his unspoken request. “Well go on then! What did you think?”

“What did I… Think?” Your husband nods his head with enthusiasm, his unruly locks of hair shaking as he does so. It is hard to picture him any other way than this, unkept and unbothered, nothing like the rest of his Valyrian bloodline, with their meticulous braids and their well pampered image. Were it not for the striking colour that grows out his scalp, you would hardly believe Aegon is a Targaryen. His dark eyebrows shoot up expectantly. “You did well. You were cooperative and understanding. Just, too. No matter the personal issue they laid at your feet, you truly tried to solve things as best you could. You were… Aegon, you were kingly.”

“Do not sound so surprised,” rose tinted cheeks, a splash of bloodrush upon his soft skin. The wine must be getting to him and yet… And yet you wonder if it is something more, a rush of excitement at praise. He had never wanted this — the crown, the throne, you — until push came to shove and he felt the sweet weight of the Conqueror’s legacy rest upon his head and the grip of Blackfyre in his fist. Whether driven by ego or a genuine wish to do well by the people of his realm, Aegon has taken on his duties as of late with a grace no one, not even his own blood, had expected of him. A mess made in times of war, he spears ahead to clean up what rubble and ashes remain of the land. “I’m sure you’re wondering what prompted my invite to sup here, alone.”

“You are my husband, I am your wife. Who else would I share my meals with?”

“I am sure there are names ahead of mine on that list,” the smile he flashes is jaded. “Sometimes I worry you wish to forget our marriage.”

“Aegon, husband, I would never do such a thing.” And yet, you have. Naked in the Dornish heat, another name upon your tongue, another man inside your cunt. 

“Leave us,” two words, enough to send the serving wenches out in a flurry of footsteps. The drag of a harp across the floor, loud and resounding as the musician slips his way out the room, closing the door behind himself. And then it is truly just the two of you, inspecting the other under a gaze cold enough it reminds you of the snow that falls over Winterfell. “The letter,” your heart leaps to your throat, blocking the space and robbing you of your breath. He knows, he knows, he knows. He knows of the letters, and the deceit, and all those complicated feelings you hold for- “That I sent to you during your time with my sister. I have not forgotten it. I expect you haven’t either.”

Air fills your lungs, your heart settles back down in the cage of your chest. The shake in your hand remains, and so you fill it with the weight of your other hand, clasp them both into stillness. “No.”

“Wonderful. Then you’ll recall my mention of a chat we’re overdue. There is no time like the present,” the little of your dinner that sits in your stomach stirs. Flips. Threatens to claw its way back up and out of you, spill itself all over the table. That would not rouse any suspicion, surely. It would be a perfectly rational response to your husband, bound to you in cloth beneath the Seven, requesting to chat with you. Aegon continues, as if unaware or simply unbothered by the distress bursting out of your seams. “It is not lost on me, you know? The looks you cast my way, the disdain that has slowly wiped itself over our union, a permanent stain that hovers over every interaction we share. I believe it is time to admit to-”

The chamber doors burst open anew.

“Your grace,” Maester Orwyle, out of breath, sweat lining his brow, and his chain hanging heavy from his neck. Never has his face been such a welcomed sight.

“I believe I ordered that my wife and I be left alone.”

“Apologies, your grace, but this is a pressing matter,” the maester holds up a scrap of paper, the edges curling in on themselves. “I carry word from the Crown Prince, Aemond Targaryen.”

You sit up a little straighter at the mention of his name. Days of private correspondence, nights of fantasised meetings, you have forgotten just how commanding his name sounds when spoken aloud. 

Aegon sinks deeper into his chair, a boredom taking over his features as he waves his hand, “well then, go on, spit it out!”

“Prince Aemond has requested the presence of all members of House Targaryen at Dragonstone,” his sandal-covered feet make gentle pitter-patter against the floor as he approaches the table, laying out the note for Aegon to grab at and inspect for himself. “The letter brings promise of an announcement from the prince.”

The great Targaryen dynasty.

Built on the ashes of burnt kingdoms and the man-shaped collateral damage of one family’s lust for control. Centuries of legacy, an infinite amount of tales that better fit the stuff of legends and scriptures. Lavish castles, luxurious clothing, Valyrian steel. A puritan bloodline, a family tree that circles itself. The smell of a dragon’s breath, the shine of silver-blessed hair. And this is what it has been reduced to.

Four dragons. Two crippled by war, wings with crooked bones and punctured skin. One a mere hatchling, no older than three, with a sickly pale colour and an unhealthy disposition that keeps it curled around its bonded rider’s shoulder, unwilling to stray far. And then there is the eldest of them, unchanged by the war, already well-versed in the age-old Targaryen tradition of burning enemies to a crisp. 

The Martells are the first to arrive. A small boat, with a handful of guardsmen, two ladies in waiting, a wet nurse, Princess Helaena, and her two children. The Prince of Dorne has remained at the seat of his house, unwilling to leave it defenceless in the early hours of peace.

The Hightowers arrive next. Three great ships, stuffed to the brim with armed men, and mute maids, and shy squires. Amongst them, the lowly Garmund Hightower stands at command, but it is his wife who’s presence has truly been requested: Rhaena Targaryen. The last time you had seen her, no war had transpired and she had been betrothed to another. If only Aemond had not taken to the skies that fateful night…

Above the Hightower fleet, another representative of House Targaryen flies, sat atop the blue beauty, Tessarion, the left side of her still marred with scars and puncture wounds littering her left wing from the battles she had endured during the war of kin. Daeron had insisted she fly, however, having not taken to the skies in moons, since the wedding at Winterfell.

The Velaryons do not answer the summoning. It is said Baela Targaryen, infuriated at her cousin’s request, had to be shackled to her bedpost, ranting and raving threats of greeting  Aemond Targaryen in Dragonstone — with a sword down his throat.

And then, at last, the King’s fleet arrives. An outlandish six ships, with more guards than dare fit on the island, enough chamber-maids to fill the Great Hall, and the main figureheads of the Green Council. Up above flies Sunfyre, a watchful eye amid the clouds, yet his back remains riderless. The King, instead, stands at your side aboard the ship, his mother and grandsire on the opposite end of him.

At last, you step foot on Dragonstone, and that is when you notice her.

Vhagar, a mass resting atop a hill, too large to nest within the caves, too lonesome to answer the call of her kind, the excited screeches taking place on sand as Tesarion and Sunfyre circle one another, jostling against the keepers who attempt to wrangle the pair into the mouth of a cave. You watch as the giant she-dragon merely lifts her head, peering at the antics, before laying back down, uninterested in the commotion of everyone’s arrival.

To tell the truth, you are not all that interested in greeting everyone either, too many heads bowing in your direction as you smile and exchange pleasantries by your husband’s side. The commotion of an extended bloodline retracing the halls of its ancestral home, unwanted as it may have been, only makes it all the more easy to slip away once you cross the threshold of the castle, however, letting your feet sneak off to your own private summoning.

Once you arrive, I recommend you find your way to the library. Alone.

The raven had arrived hours before you departed the capital, shaking out its feathers as you awoke from your slumber. You barely had the time to read over it once before the doors to your chambers came barreling open, an army of ladies waiting to grab all your loose threads and sort them back into place. Wash your hair, scrub your skin, rouge your lips. Tighten your bodice, clasp your necklace, rest the dainty tiara atop your head.

Running your thumb over the dried ink, you trace the words he wrote to you, before tucking the note safely back into the sleeve of your dress.

The library is miniscule in comparison to the one living within the Keep, yet it still manages to steal your breath away, stumbling through the door. Rows of dark oak bookcases, stuffed full of colourful, aged, leather-bound, cloth-bound spines of books. The smell of old, the smell of history, with a hint of spice and a flare of cinnamon. Candles with their wax melting into the surfaces they rest upon. Chairs, cushioned by green leather and detailed with dragon-like carvings. A table littered with scrolls, and ink, and feather quills, signs of life having been here. But no sign of Aemond Targaryen.

Boredom brings your feet to a halt within the row of bookcases furthest from the door, curiosity leads your hand to pulling at the spine of an aged book. Dragons: A Record of the Hatched. The smell of dust infects your nostrils as you flick through the wrinkled pages, from end to beginning.

Morning has yet to be listed. You let a few pages flick past, find yourself staring at the sketch of a familiar creature. Syrax. A splotch of ink covers the name of her rider. Turn to the next page, and there sits the Blood Wyrm, with Aemon Targaryen followed by a splotch of ink listed under his riders. Page after page, dragon after dragon, sketch after sketch, the names of the Black Council sit hidden behind stains of black ink.

An uneasy feeling stirs in your stomach and a sadness burns at your eyes, staring down at how easily their existences are being erased from history. How long, you wonder, until Rhaenyra Targaryen is nothing but the beggar Queen in a folk song, another name lost to time and another life lost to the throne? How long until the stories of the Black Council are more myth than fact?

How fickle of a thing, life. Order dictates that a name promises a legacy, a memory, a marking in a family tree to be listed until the end of time. And, yet, so easily man picks and chooses the scraps of history that will remain, when time has long passed and all who lived through it have perished back into the ground.

The sickening feeling wells inside you, uncomfortable and heavy, and so you turn another page, and another, and another, until you find yourself faced with Vhagar. The sketch does no justice to her sheer size, cramped within the page, but your eyes do not linger long enough to care. Instead, they are reading over the list of riders to find the one they seek. Aemond Targaryen. You lift a hand off the edge of the book, fingers skirting forward to trace over the lustrous A of his name.

The weight of the book shifts, resting carefully in the palm of your left hand, teetering on the edge of slipping, when something grabs at you. With a great smack, the book crashes to the floor, a cloud of dust bursting out as its pages snap shut. Arms wind around your waist, loose yet firm in their hold, and a spread of warmth blankets over your back.

“They just reached the crypts. We have less time than I had hoped.”

The voice is a whisper in your ear, a fleeting kiss against your neck, the flutter of a butterfly’s wings. Gentle, soothing, delicate. Something given only to you, meant only for you. It warms a chill within you, melts away the frost encasing your heart, heating you to the bone and soothing the uneasy feeling in your loins. It is the feeling of tired limbs sinking into soft sheets, it is the feeling of stepping through the familiar gates of Winterfell, it is the feeling of home. It is Aemond.

The arms that bind you to him pull a little tighter, a momentary rob of your breath. Your hands claw at his wrists, squeezing down to feel the firmness of bone beneath skin, skin beneath leather. No ink, no paper, no written promises. Tangible, tactile, sentient. Him, him, him. Firm at your back, calm in your heart, forgiving in your ear. Your tongue itches to tell him you have endured that longing, the very same he confessed to, head deep in his cups, mouth stained in the strawberry jam of your tarts.

“You erased them. Their names, they no longer exist,” the words are an accusation, your tone is not. It is just — sad, empty, disbelieving. The mourning of strangers, a family you met once upon a time, a table set in honour of a dying man, a family feud brushed falsely aside. Until the tension snapped, until Aemond raised his cup. Final tribute.

Final.

Tribute.

“Traitors have no place in our history,” fingers tug at the green velvet of your dress, moulding the golden stitching of a dragon out of shape. You resist his call to turn, not when his words feel so cold compared to his touch. “By order of the King.” 

“They were your family, your blood,” you say, willing it to mean something, willing him to show a moment of vulnerability, like his confession amid tangled limbs and wrinkled sheets. A rusty chain in need of oiling, his remorse sits buried beneath layers of oxidised irony, a faux coldness the sorrowful look in his eye so often contradicts.

You turn, at your own will, and find that very look staring back at you. Momentarily, it bleeds with something, the sharpness in his stare softening as he takes in the features of your face, as if he needs reminding of how you look, to tune his imagination more deftly to your true image.

“They tried to kill you,” it is a whisper yet the prince almost seems to spit it out, as though it is a struggle to let the words form on his tongue, his eye widening as if the memories all come barreling in, the sight of blood on your skin, blood on your sleeping gown, coin beneath his table. “Do not ask me to mourn them.”

“And what of it, if I do ask it of you?” It is daring, to straighten your back and tighten your grip on his wrists, only to drop them and grab for his face, instead, as he tries to flee from your eyes. You hold him there, thumb smoothing over scarred cheek. “Would you mourn them?”

His mouth does not answer.

Instead, it kisses you.

Everything melts away under his lips, all thoughts, and questions, and pleadings. Words drift away, your mind rids itself of all the letters that do not belong to him. Aemond. Why would you ever need more than those six letters?

It is the seventh time the prince has joined his mouth to yours. You know this not because you have tried to keep count, but because each one is as striking as the last, as utterly world-bending, and fear-ending, and noteworthy.

There was the night in your chambers, from sudden kiss, to hesitant lips, to sinful tongues. Two nights later, the weight of Helaena’s teary eyes still heavy on your shoulders, you fell tangled amongst sheets with him once more. Breaths exchanged, whimpered names, a carnal hunger that only grew the more you both fed it. Twice, with no respite between, as the moon hung stars in the sky. And when the sun began to paint an orange hue, he woke you just to have you once more, eyes barely departing from sleep, bodies laying on their sides, a leg thrown over his waist, and a hand cradling your mouth against his own.

The last kiss had tasted of sorrow and longing. In the early hours of the morning, a flurry of soft knocks at a door opened to him, wide awake and dishevelled.

“I could not do it,” he had muttered, cradling you closer with each step he took into the room. “Not again.”

Though the matter of this it had never been clarified, you knew, you understood. You agreed. Not again could you see yourselves departed from another, without so much as a proper goodbye. Suddenly, that momentary longing you had to return to the Keep had been nothing but a bout of insanity, and all you wished was to fall asleep one more night in Dornish sheets. Instead, you would later count sheep whilst attempting to ignore the turning of wheels and the whinnying of tired horses.

That kiss came with no warning, his mouth on yours in one blink of a teary eye, and lingered longer than either of you dared acknowledge. Each time one seemed ready to let go, the other pulled closer, pressed harder, kissed deeper. An ending, no pause. No see you later, only goodbye. A picture-perfect ending to an affair already gone too far with, left behind by both of you as you raced to return to reality, abandoning the whispers, and the sighs, and the unspoken vows to bury themselves beneath layers of sand and silk.

But this kiss, the one that has your back pressed against the wooden bookshelves and all sense bleeding out of your ears and spilling onto stone floor, is no goodbye. It is hello. It is I missed you. It is welcome home. 

It is a kiss for the simple sake of a kiss, like true lovers do, meant nothing more but to fulfil a craving for one another’s taste. 

“You look lovely in green,” he brushes the compliment against your lips, eye slipping shut and unaware of how your own trace down the healing flesh atop his eyepatch, no sign of the thread of your dress still embedded in his skin. You should be happy he has healed up, yet there is a twist in your gut that longs for the return of something belonging to you being threaded into him, a physical marking of your place in his life, no matter how small a space it occupies. “Have I ever told you so?”

A sting in your eyes. You try to recollect the last time anyone had told you such a thing, paid you such an earnest compliment, and come up empty handed.

You shake your head.

“What a coward. I should have told you, everytime,” he gifts you an eighth kiss, a fleeting peck against your mouth, yet the tingly feeling lingers on, a reminder that he has touched you. “I thought it, each time I saw you wear it.” A ninth kiss. “Each time I saw you wear anything,” a tenth, eleventh, twelfth kiss. “Each time I saw you.”

“Aemond,” you pull back from him, in hope of remembering what you had been saying before he laid his mouth on you.

The brush of a hand up your thigh has you forgetting all over again, head falling back against the books with a gentle thud and a subtle sigh. If he notices the way your legs slip open with no resistance, or how the left one hooks itself so easily over his hip, the prince says nothing. 

A trail of goosebumps, following the path of his palm up the length of your inner thigh, tugging at the layers of underclothing and smallclothes, meaningless scraps of cotton that only waste time.

Time. 

“We don’t have much time,” you hate yourself for saying it, and even more when he reminds you of the bliss of his kiss down your neck. “You said it.”

“Then we make do and act with haste.”

It takes you longer to register what Aemond says than it does for his fingers to make good on his promise, slipping wordlessly beneath garments and meeting warm skin, wet skin, a buzzing bud of nerves that lives between the apex of your thighs. 

In a pathetic display, a singular circular rub against you, followed by a gentle stroke between your lower lips, has you biting the inside of your cheek, noise stifled in the act. Satisfaction crosses through the prince’s eye, a quirk in the corner of his razor sharp lips. Teasing, playful, he is watching you writhe over his touch.

A harrowing memory dawns over you a moment too late, when Aemond has already gone and spoken his thoughts aloud.

“Eager, Lady Stark?” The tips of two fingers, long, and lithe, and a welcome intrusion in your cunt as the prince curls them, pressing against an eye-roll inducing spot within you. “Tell me, your grace, was it the taste of my tongue or the ludicrous act of sneaking off to meet me, under the very same roof as your husband, that has you soaking my fingers?”

Your lips part. You try to speak, no words are produced.

The prince must mistake it for bashfulness, a challenge to best, for he slowly thrusts his fingers, back and forth, brushing a little deeper each time, curling a little more sinfully against the soft walls of your core, the occasional brush of his thumb over the warmth of your pearl.

No longer biting your cheek, a traitor’s moan, gentile and heard only in the space between you, bursts out your mouth. You speak his name, trying to get the words right, trying to warn him of the unknown spoils he is knuckles-deep in.

Aemond mistakes it for just another call of pleasure.

And then, all by himself, the realisation seems to fall over him.

Hand slips out from under cotton smallclothes and green velvet, fingers that shine wet, shine white beneath candlelight. You stare at them in a mixture of horror, shame, and ruined dignity, apologies already rushing off your tongue before the prince can even speak a word of the seed that drips down his knuckles.

“Aegon, he- Gods, I am sorry,” his silent observation of the white fluid only makes your loins tangle in their own web, a twisted sickness creeping to the back of your throat, the blood draining from your face. “He insisted on coupling, this morning. I did not think-”

Your rambling is interrupted by the sudden intrusion of Aemond’s soiled fingers, thrust against your tongue and coating it in your husband’s flavour.

It should disgust you. It should bring a wave of shame, flooding over you and dragging you beneath its unforgiving surface, drowning you in its overwhelming currents. Remains of an act of marriage, mixed with the taste of your act of passion, and the taste of his skin, beneath it all.

But it is hard to feel shame, when Aemond looks at you with so much approval in his eye, when he’s feeding his fingers deeper, till they bump the palate of your mouth and trigger that teary-eyed effect you remember, all too well, from his chambers’ floor, your knees bruising into stone, his hips fighting against the urge to buck up into the warmth of your mouth.

“It seems I owe my brother some gratitude,” the clink of metal, a belt tugged loose. Somewhere, beneath where your eyes dare stray from his hypnotic gaze, his free hand works himself free from the confines of his breeches. Shooting under your skirts and dragging them up the length of your legs as you lick one last time at his fingers, watching how they slip out your mouth and shine once again beneath the candlelight. Not a trace of Aegon remains, except for between your thighs. “He’s gotten you prepared for me, whether he be so aware or not.”

With one leg hooked around his waist and the layers of your gown bunched around your own, the prince pins you between the bookcase and a hard place, a hard thing, notching at your centre and reminding you of the pleasures of the flesh, the pleasures of Aemond’s flesh.

With one roll, then a second, and a third, of his hips, the prince’s cock sinks slowly inside your cunt. There is a small ache, a sensitivity left behind by Aegon’s earlier frantic motions over the edge of a table, the corner of it digging into the meat of your thigh over, and over, and over again with each uncoordinated thrust. The wince escapes you before you can even try to correct it. The prince stills, instantly, a hand cupping at your cheek and a kiss pressing against the tip of your nose.

“I do not wish to hurt you,” he whispers. Gentle, earnest, reassuring. Tears well at your eyes again, you try to blink them away, and scold yourself for getting so wet in the eye, so often. A tear escapes you regardless, charting its own course down your cheek. Aemond catches it with the tip of his tongue, warm against the cold of your face. “Tell me, it will not cause me anger. Tell me if you do not want this.”

Memories of those same words, that same voice, the same body. But a different room, a different position, a different state of undress. Naked, denial, hesitation, then. Clothed, touching, anticipation, now. The prince, buried deep inside you physically, is still giving you the option of an end, of an exit, of pushing him away and repositioning your clothing and leaving, like nothing has ever happened.

It only serves to reaffirm what you do want.

Him. 

Somehow, the surety of this threatens a new wave of tears that you almost shed. You want to collapse into him, sink into the vessels of his arms, let yourself be lost to eternity within his hold. You want to tell him the truth, to tell him what Aegon had wanted of you in his letter, in his chambers, to tell him what Helaena had prophesied. The Stranger. The truth feels too complicated a thing, however, and the sin of lust is a more pleasurable subject to get lost within. You do not have much time, the prince would not wish to waste it on silly things, like feelings, and fears, and where your relationship with your husband stands.

The leg at his waist holds him closer, reaffirming your grip at the first sign of him stepping back. You don’t let him, won’t let him, “it’s fine. I’m fine. Please, don’t let me go.”

The prince proves he can listen well, no more questions falling from his lips, movement resuming in his hips. Slow, smooth, back and forth gyrations, a remedy to the dull ache below your womb, the lubrication of Aegon’s seed aiding in the slide of his cock within you.

A back that digs into the surface behind it, yet you ignore it in favour of the delightful thrill of Aemond working into you each time a little faster, a little harder, a little less restrained. A hand that finds cause amidst his Targaryen tresses, tangling in the locks as the prince’s forehead lays itself to rest upon your own. A set of mouths that hover inches apart, a single breath of air exchanged back and forth in sync with the rhythm of his thrusts.

Time. Time. You do not have much time.

But who is counting the seconds while the pair of you merge into one against the spines of books carrying the words of history? It is best it all be forgotten — the duty, the King, the announcement Aemond has promised his kin — in exchange for just another moment here, pressed one to the other, forgoing titles like Prince, and Queen, remembering only the shape of mouths, and the burn of skin.

The prince’s fingerprints carve out bruises along your thigh, gripping, and pulling, and kneading at the skin, a leverage to grasp onto as he continues to fuck into you. Sweat drips down your neck like wax drips down lit candles, disappearing beneath the lace atop your dress’ bodice and slipping between the valley of your breasts. Warm all over, you crave no refuge from it, from him, tugging him closer, arching your back, losing yourself in the feeling of friction. One foot still pressed to the floor, perching on your tip-toes, your composure buckles alongside your knee and, if not for Aemond’s fast-moving hands, quick-thinking mind, you would be moments away from crashing, elbow first, down to the floor.

Instead, you feel the prince hoist your leg around his waist, ankles locking behind his back with a reinforced grip as he takes on the weight of both your bodies. The effort he puts into fucking you manifests in a series of grunts, clenched teeth that hold back words, bite back filth.

One hand still tangled in his hair, the other stretches up, reaches behind you, scrambling to find purchase on a panel of wood from the bookcase. It finds, instead, the top of a book, slipping down its leather spine. The book falls, crashing to the ground near the one you had been reading with a great sound. A domino effect, in which two, three, four more heavy, bound by string and wrapped in leather, books fall from the shelves. Thud after thud, after thud, no doubt heard from anyone passing by.

The prince does not flee. If anything, he appears almost spurred on by the scandal and mess, a hand sliding from your waist to pull and bunch the layers of your dress higher, as if wishing to unveil to the naked eye the sins transpiring beneath the green of it, the repeated plunge of his manhood into your core, soaked in a vile mixture of your own pleasure and Aegon’s spend.

“This is what you wanted, hmm? What you needed, Lady Stark,” his voice is a whisper, his teeth biting at the lobe of your ear and pulling a shocked gasp from you. “To be filled by a man’s seed, the kind that knows how to get the job done. Not the King’s poor excuse. No. No, not Aegon’s. Mine.”

Time, and how little of it you both have, feels all the more unimportant, that familiar feeling — of everything warm, and soft, and delightful — begins to tighten at your loins, poking and proding at your dizzied conscious as you feel his cock bullying itself deeper, and deeper, impossibly deeper inside of you. The end is near, within your grasp, waiting for the right thrust, or the perfect grind, or the best friction, to finally let the thread snap.

A knock, loud and forceful, at the wooden doors to the library, is followed instantly by a voice. “Is someone in there?”

Movement stops, both of you frozen, bodies tangled in a crucifiable state.

The handle turns, you gasp, Aemond slaps a hand over your mouth. 

For a moment, you feel a weight fall off your shoulders, that ever-looming fear you have dragged along with you — a ball and chain attached to your heart, ever since your return to the capital  — that all your guilt sits written upon your face and, soon, someone will read it and see the treason you have committed, the adultery you have engaged in. For certain, they will have your head separated from the rest of you. Perhaps, the King will find enough grace in his heart to forgive his brother. After all, what blame does he truly possess? He is a man, unmarried and unburdened by the threat of a bastard’s life ever swelling within him. At the very least, you will die swiftly and be able to put all your lamenting to rest at last.

Then, the door fails to open and the prince’s voice is in your ear.

“I locked it. Do not worry.”

Mouth still covered, all you manage is to continue staring at him, eyes wide with fear, heart beating against the confines of your ribs. As if to worsen things, you watch as something flashes behind his eye, and he pulls his hips back only to thrust right back into you, the bookcase rattling softly behind you.

“Who goes there?” Aemond calls out, voice steady, unwavering. Even as he repeats the movement, the slow pull-back of his cock, the quick refilling of your core. “Announce your intentions to your prince.”

The golden handle goes still, a throat clears, and metal clinks, as if a knight were straightening his posture. “Forgive me, Prince Aemond, I did not mean to interrupt, I know how dedicated you are to your studies,” the voice is familiar, something that strikes deeper fear within you and more daring in Aemond’s features.

“Do you think he knows,” the prince croons against your skin, a sickly sweet, well-deep sound that entices you to throw yourself, head first, into it. The dull pleasure between your thighs is slowly rebuilding itself into something monstrous, something you lost sight of at the echo of knuckles on wood, with each thrust the prince drives into you. “Just how dedicated I am to studying you?”

“I was sent in pursuit of the queen,” the man at the door continues when he receives no word from Aemond. Your nails dig scratches into the bookcase. Your heart doubles, triples in speed with each beat it takes, yet you do not push Aemond away, you do not shake your head, you do not so much as move an inch away from him. Your ankles tighten their grip on one another at his back. “Have you seen her?”

Aemond nods, a cheeky grin taking shape upon those lips. As if staring right into your soul, the prince reads you effortlessly, watching as the seconds pass by and sanity slips surely out of your reach, the haze of lust fully overtaking the fear that fights against it.

Another book falls from the case. The man outside is too consumed by the sound of his own voice to notice. At least, you hope. “I’m her sworn shield, you see. Ser Arryk Carg-”

“Have you tried any of the guest chambers?” He cuts the knight off, confident in his words, as if he does not stand mere inches from your face, manhood buried to the hilt inside of you. “Perhaps Lady Stark grew tired of our Graces’ company and desired some much needed respite?”

With a rush of flustered agreements, and a couple of apologies, Ser Arryk clinks away, a mass of metal that grows further away with each step he takes. Not a moment too soon does he leave, for at last the tension snaps and you’re crying out into the prince’s palm, eyes rolling back into your skull as you reach your peak. He follows not long after, a series of grunts that follow the pistoning of his hips before he stills, as deep within you as either of your bodies allow, spilling himself inside your walls.

A few laboured breaths pass between the culmination of your coupling. Your feet meet the ground once more, the aid of Aemond’s hands guiding them down from their pedestal. Weak in the knees, you sink forward, sink into him, hands reaching for any inch of him. The prince meets you halfway, mouth finding your own once more, lips melting together in a fleeting kiss.

Time. You don’t have much time. 

“Aemond,” you whisper, half to grab his attention, half to savour the shape of his name on your tongue. Now is the time to tell him, even if it is rushed out amid heavy breathing and on shaky legs. He needs to hear of it from you, before the threat of Aegon grabs ahold of him, thrusts the news upon him off-guard. “Aemond, there is something you must know-”

He cuts you off, a chaste kiss against your forehead before hands shift your weight backwards, resting you against the bookcase. The same hands adjust the skirts of your dress.

“Turn left down the hall and up the first staircase you see. There you shall find some guest rooms,” he steps back and takes the warmth of him too, leaving goose-skin to bloom along your neck as cold air bites at sweaty skin. “You will need to move with haste, before your sworn shield reaches that wing of the castle.”

The door to the library shuts gently at his back, and there the prince leaves you, chest heaving, lips parted, heart racing. An ache blooming between your legs and the stain of his seed sliding down your thigh.

The very same state Aegon had left you in, hours earlier.

Never has the castle been so full of life.

The flicker of candlelight brightens every hall, painting shadows over slate walls. Voices of men, women, and children carry through the space, ring through every corner. It reminds him, momentarily, of hosting an army of soldiers, mind dragging him back to the dark days and darker nights lived within Harrenhall, echoes of haunted shrieks and unpleasant sleep, men huddling under the crumbling ceiling, mere leagues away from the charred bones of a House that no longer stands. Beneath the molten breath of a dragon, it truly does not matter what name a man wears, he will never be Strong enough to endure the skin-splitting, blood-boiling, eye-popping heat.

In truth, Aemond loathes the sudden company.

Moons now he has lived at peace, Lord to the island and Prince of Dragonstone, waiting idly for the day to come where his duty as heir at last calls upon him. But then he just had to go and open that damned letter, answer a call that never should have been laid at his feet, and fly out to the dusty lands of Dorne. The new warmth in the air to blame for all his impropriety, landing him tangled with you in his own muddied desires. Since then, the prince has known no peace: his bed now too quiet, his castle now too empty, his… you now too far away.

The restlessness is what drove him to act, hours spent with his nose thrust between the pages of books, wrist cramping and fingers aching as they wielded a quill, delicate swirls filling empty pages. When he ran out of things to read, and history to recount before sending it off in ravens to the maesters at Oldtown, he took to the courtyard, determined to make men out of squawking squires, so puppy-eyed and pink-cheeked, they seemed to have hardly lived a day away from their mothers’ teats. And when that became a bore, a lost cause he dumped back on the shoulders of the master of arms, the prince took to exploring. A lonesome activity, peaceful enough to find an emblem of rest for his soul in the echo of his own footsteps bouncing off cave walls. It was there, deep in the dark corners of the island, he stumbled upon a discovery, a reason to call upon the King, an excuse to see your face. After all, where the King goes, the Queen is expected to follow.

Were matters left in his hands, the only raven sent would have been the one flying out to King’s Landing. Unfortunately, the rational words of a maester had him agreeing that this was too momentous a thing to not include all those of his bloodline, no matter if that blood be thick or thin.

And here he now stands, seeking out that quiet his castle had lost the moment their ships all docked ashore. Falsely, he had believed he would find it hidden away in the hall that houses the throne of Dragonstone, away from the rapidly filling dining hall. The unwelcome sight of a crown sitting lopsided on a head of silver hair halts his step.

“Tread carefully, brother,” Aemond watches how the other man’s shoulders rise with a jump, startled by the sudden sound of his voice announcing his arrival. No guards stand nearby, no guests watch on. It is just them, the King and the Crown Prince, and the heavy presence of Dragonstone’s seat, currently being warmed beneath Aegon’s rump. “Your throne is in King’s Landing. That one belongs to your heir, to me.”

Propped upon his throne, the King swings both legs over its side. Aemond ponders over the man’s distasteful care for grace, an image that so wholly encapsulates his attitude towards ruling the Seven Kingdoms, and feels himself fighting off a frown. How can it be that the gods chose Aegon to man the task of carrying on the dragon empire?

He, a drunken fool, a boy more interested in spreading a whore’s legs than a book’s pages. He, a graceless soldier, a threat to his own safety each time he wields a blade. He, a useless husband, a leech draining the life out of a wolf-pup, locking her away in a kennel with not a lick of water nor a stroke of affection.

Aemond could recite the pages of every book, back to front.

Aemond could thrust his sword through the chest of his uncle with one hand, while the other steered Vhagar free from plummeting through the surface of the God’s Eye.

Aemond would keep the wolf at his heel — morning, noon, evening  — close by and content for eternity, free to roam beyond the four walls of a castle.

“Worry not, I just wanted to make sure you’re keeping the seat warm.” As if to make matters worse, Aegon gives him one of those smiles, the kind that flashes half of his teeth and accentuates how foolish he looks, unkempt hair swaying as he rises off the seat. The crown slides a little closer to the left, his ear caught beneath the band of it.

“The others are taking their seats at the table,” he shifts his weight, one foot to another, one hand clasped over the other behind his back — just like your ankles had been. The pommel of his sword pokes out the opening of his leather coat, pointing ahead at an approaching Aegon. Strapped to his side for nothing but purely decorative reasons, the younger brother suddenly feels the hackles rising in his neck, a need to unsheath the steel itching at his palms. No one would have to know, no one would see him hold a blade to the King’s neck. “And here you are, hiding away in a damp room, sitting in my seat, and-”

“A seat I gave you,” Aegon cuts in, a smug lilt lifting his words and delivering them harshly into Aemond’s ears. Where the younger of the two delivers accusations with the seriousness they deserve, the older brother has always thrown a blanket of humour over every argument, debasing the sentiment, luring his opponent into a false sense of safety.

“You have no child to call heir. As the eldest of your male siblings, I am next in line, by right. You have given me nothing.” Nothing but a dull ache in the head. 

That respite he had come searching for, now so out of reach. It has the prince longing, wishing he could travel back in time to being burrowed between the shelves of books and the warmth between your thighs. He should have stayed longer, kept the door locked and you close, for as long as you would allow him. 

But he had been spooked.

First by your sworn shield, a confirmation that your absence had been noted and the two of you were far away from the lack of watchful eyes of the Water Gardens. Then, by that look that came over your face, the words that left your mouth. Hesitance, vulnerability, shame. Aemond, there is something you must know. If this something was the reason for your shift in demeanour, he did not want to know. For once, he wanted to taste just how sweet ignorance could be.

A laugh pulls him back to the present.

A cackle, in truth. Shoulders shaking, cheeks wrinkling with the stretch of Aegon’s lips, eyes reflecting the dull flames that remain on the candles. The King paints an unsettling image, the mixture of lighthearted laughter lit beneath the growing darkness of the hall, the echoes of noise bouncing off the walls, swirling atop Aemond’s head like a murder of crows, each one waiting to spot something shiny to dive down and peck at.

An arm is thrown over his shoulder, five tight fingers clamping a grip on the back of his neck. Can you feel your wife’s fingerprints, singed into the skin you are touching? His brother fortunately cannot hear his inner thoughts, too busy bending himself at an awkward angle, his shorter stature struggling to turn the prince towards the door.

“Lighten up, brother!” With a clenched fist, Aegon delivers a weightless punch into his bicep, the hand at his neck squeezing him even closer, the King’s chest pressing into the prince’s elbow. Reluctantly, he follows in the footsteps of the elder, letting himself be led over and out of the hall. The door thuds shut at their backs, neither of them sparing at it. Out in the hallway, the world seems brighter, louder, a distant hum of chattering voices coming from the left. In sync, uncomfortably close, the pair move towards the noise. “Is the lack of whores in this decrepit place leaving your cock so lonesome you now see it as a weapon? Say the word and I’ll have your favourite madame shipped over. Or better yet, come home. We’ll visit the streets together, just like when we were boys.”

Boys. The word makes Aemond feel sick, empty stomach twisting up inside him. His older brother had never grown out of that mindset — boyish, foolish, reckless. At times, Aemond had wondered if the King had robbed him of his boyhood, kept those years for himself and left the younger nothing but the misery of being a man — grown, wise, calculated. 

Two sets of guards stand at either side of the double-doorway, swords hanging at their sides, armour fixed to each inch of skin, floor-length spears clenched in their right fists. One after the other, they bow their heads as the Targaryen men pass by them.

A table stands in the centre, set with the shiniest of tableware and topped by pitchers full of wines, meads, and baskets spilling fruits down their sides, and assortments of breads and cheeses. He counts a total of six birds, roasted and sitting on silver platters up the length of the table. In the very centre, an entire pig shines pink beneath the light, an apple clamped in its mouth and a bed of leaves cushioning it upon the platter. And, gathered around it all, any guest with a name worth mentioning.

Children, cousins, siblings, wives.

Martell, Hightower, Targaryen, Stark.

Across the room, standing at her husband’s side, with a stiff-lipped smile and a barely-there attempt at engaging with the woman dishing out congratulations, stands Rhaena Targaryen. Grown a head and a half taller since the cousins had last crossed paths all those years ago, sat around a table not so different from this one, her white curls cascade down the back of her black dress, denoted with the shine of red rubies and golden stitching. In a sea of Hightower green, she stands out like an aching thumb painted in colours of her dead queen. For her audacious bravery alone, Aemond feels a smirk twitch at the corner of his lips. It falters the moment you come into focus.

A vision wrapped in green, you stand before his cousin, smile a blinding light that pulls him into its vortex, numbing him to all else that surrounds him. The emerald gowns, the mustard robes, the golden chains, the auburn hairs, it all grows mute, a dull grey beside the colour you wear, possess, exude, a rainbow that strikes its mark across dark clouds.

Your lips are moving. You are talking, with both hands clasped at your front and fingers that fidget with the rings housed upon them. A pause in conversation, an exchange of laughter. There is an air of hesitance in everything you do, standing before Rhaena Targaryen and the small bump that protrudes out her midriff. The desire to swoop in by your side, to snake his hand into your own and give those nervous fingers a solid squeeze of reassurance, to watch the stress flood down the length of your spine and melt away to torment some other body, it burns at Aemond.

But, he does not move. He cannot move. And, even in a world where he can, he doubts his presence would do any good at diffusing the tension that swells in the air around his cousin. Quite the opposite, truly, his face alone may be what drives her to at last snap and drop the forced smiles.

“She’s a pretty thing, isn’t she?” Aegon’s voice cuts in, and the room bursts back into colour. The hall grows loud, a renewed noise the prince had unknowingly blocked out the moment his eye found you. The same eye he drags away to look at his brother who has just caught him unapologetically staring at you like you are the only person in the hall. Humour still dances over his features, a daring grin spread upon his mouth as he glances between you and Aemond. “She’s even prettier on her back,” the hand at Aemond’s neck slips down, a sharp smack delivering itself upon it. “Maybe someday I’ll let you try her, brother, let you get a taste of how it feels to be king for the night, between her thighs.”

Visions of you, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, lips dropped open, burn behind Aemond’s eyelid with each blink. In the library, legs clinging to him, sweat slipping under your dress. On the bed, bare to his mouth, hands tugging him deeper by the hair. If that is what it feels to be king, he can die happily without ever knowing the weight of the Conqueror’s crown upon his head, because how could that possibly feel better?

“I was not aware you were so fond of her,” he finds himself retorting, stealing any excuse to look at you.

Helaena has reached your side, one arm linked with yours, and he can see how visibly relaxed you are in her presence, shoulders back down where they belong instead of pointing up to your ears.

“Perhaps I was not. But let’s say I’ve had a revelation of sorts.”

“Oh,” the sound escapes him dripping in… something. Envy, disappointment, confusion? He hates to give his brother any chance to pry into his own mind, if ever Aegon possessed the wits to do so, and finds himself clearing his throat, fixing his neutral expression back on, reopening his mouth. “And what would that revelation be exactly?”

Both you and Helaena part from where his cousin stands, arms still linked and eyes too caught up with one another to notice the way you both almost smack into two members of the Kingsguard, Giggling, like two young girls who share the biggest secret, you make your ways further down the length of the table, searching for the little cards that hold your names, mark your place along the table. He itches to follow after you both, to pull back your chair and offer it out to you. Maybe he could even lie, switch your card around with his brother’s to have you just that little bit closer.

“That I enjoy being king. And I want to continue being one, for as long as I like,” the reply has Aemond’s head snapping immediately back to his brother. No longer is he painted like a fool with humour, but something different. Something Aemond has never seen reflected on his features. Determination, it almost seems. “I do not want to just be king. I want to be good at it,” he continues speaking, head turning to where their grandfather stands, smiling politely back at you as he pulls out your chair. “And, if I want to be a good king, I need to be a good husband.”

Aemond wishes he never inquired about the revelation.

Is this what you had wanted to tell him? Is this what he must know? That no longer are you a pair split in two, but a union. A united force. A marriage. A good husband, and a good wife, and absolutely no one else in between. Had the only reason you had even gone to the library been to put an end to the madness transpiring between you and the prince? Aemond had given you an out, but had he given you enough time to truly think your answer through, before he put his hands on you once more?

“I do appreciate all the… kindness you have shown my wife,” your name curls over Aegon’s tongue and the sound is a poison to Aemond’s ears. Wrong, out of place, he does not deserve the grace of speaking such a pretty name. “Over the years, dancing with her at feasts, and even keeping her safe on that boat up north. I think I’ll do those things myself from now on, however, take that burden of mine off your shoulders.”

He wants to protest. Wants to say you are far from a burden. Wants to insist on his usefulness, on how he can keep you blissfully busy upon the ballroom floor while Aegon sneaks off to mess around with women of coin and drown in his cups. Wants to use Aegon’s own words against him, that a King should not waste his time travelling sea, or dirt, or anywhere else you may be, when he has the skies at his disposal. 

But his tongue is made of lead and he is too weak to speak, frozen as he watches you speak across the table to his mother. Suddenly, the fact that all but himself and the King have taken their seat strikes upon his conscience. That hand claps against his back again and, though it is weaker than the last, Aemond wavers under the impact, swaying slightly.

“Come, brother,” Aegon whispers, a chuckle sneaking out. “Let us sit. Your King is eager to hear what announcement you bring.”

Seventeen.

That is the number of times your eyes have betrayed you and turned to sneak a glance at him. 

He crests the top of the table, sitting by himself and staring down at his summoned guests. Power suits him, especially the kind that rolls off him in waves, pride in his eye at the way everyone is looking at him, hanging on to every last one of his words, patient anticipation for the why and the what of Aemond’s ravens. He is close. Close enough you can swell the spiced freshness you have come to recognize on his skin. All that sits between you and the prince is Aegon.

Aegon, who currently has a mouthful of pork and a hand resting, possessive, at the back of your chair. It is a distracting fact. One that robs you of the ability to pay Helaena and your good-mother the attention they deserve, only half hearing their exchanges of mutual flattery, complimentary words on dresses, and hairs, and smoothness of skins. Every so often, a young girl tugs at Helaena’s sleeve, seeking her mother’s help with cutting the food on her plate.

Otto Hightower sits across from your husband, engrossed in conversation with his three grandsons and Ser Criston, who you barely recognize out of his armour. The hand’s pendant sits pinned to the leather jerkin he doubtlessly has borrowed.

Further down the table, guests sit entranced in their own bubbles of conversation, a hollow chatter that buzzes throughout the room. The table is no longer the picture of perfection it once had been, platters of half eaten carcasses, and stains of spilled wine, and sparse grape vines housed in empty fruit-bowls.

All it takes is the clink of a knife against a glass for the bubble to burst.

Silence befalls the table as every head turns towards Aemond, expectantly, only to find him frozen and with equal question in his eye. Down the other end of the table, someone clears their throat, a chair scrapes back, and Rhaena Targaryen stands up.

Her lips are stretched wide, so far up her cheeks you can almost hear the way her skin cracks under the pressure of it. You half expect the corners of her mouth to split open. She reaches a hand down towards the table and, where you think she is going to grab at her goblet, she reaches for an empty plate and a fork.

“Pardon my intrusion,” she calls out with not a hint of apology, smug satisfaction candying her voice. All eyes follow as she steps away from her seat, yet none seem as panicked as those of her husband, who borders somewhere between scolding her and dashing after her. He remains seated, however, as the Targaryen girl travels slowly up the length of the table, plate and fork gripped tightly in her hands. “But I cannot sit still with the joy this all brings me.”

Eighteen times now.

To unsuspecting eyes, you are certain the prince appears unbothered, unshaken. The way his finger twitches over the wood beneath it tells you a different tale.

It would be so easy to reach out and intertwine your hands. Just a simple stretch of your arm, you would not even have to scoot your chair closer. If only your husband were not between you, a boulder in the shape of a man unbothered by his cousin’s display, shovelling up another mouthful of food.

“To sit here, at this table, surrounded by so much… family,” Rhaena continues her advance, coming to a halt halfway up the table. Turning her attention towards the glistening pig — or, better said, what remains of it. With no apology, she squeezes a space for herself between two seated bodies, the subtle swell of her expectant womb bumping at the shoulder of a woman you scarcely recognise — a hightower, no doubt about it, wrapped in green and the emblem of their house denoted across her left breast. “Such a beautiful site we all make. Why, I wonder, has it taken us so long to gather like this?” She pauses, only a moment, and you watch how her piercing gaze zeroes in on the man who sits at the head of the table. “Ah, that’s right. The last family feast ended in fisticuffs and.. Strong accusations. But we were just children back then, weren’t we, cousins? We have grown. I do hope so, at least. It would be such a shame to learn there is still someone among us who cannot take a mere… Joke!”

A stomach-turning noise fills the hall as you watch Rhaena stab her fork into the pig’s eye.

The left eye.

Nineteen times. Aemond’s jaw sits impossibly clenched, so much that you fear for the survival of his teeth.

Back by the pig, Rhaena raises her fork to the air in a sickening toast, eye secure in its prongs as she smiles a little wider and loudly proclaims, “To House Targaryen! Long may she reign!”

Heads shift, back and forth, no hands moving for their cups until the King himself does so, laughter bubbling out of him followed by an obnoxious, “Hear, hear!” Within an instant, glasses rise and heads tilt back, welcoming the burn of wine down their throats.

Twenty, and you see that even Aemond follows suit, though his eye remains glued on Rhaena’s back as she carries herself triumphantly to her chair.

No sooner than she scrapes herself back into place, another clink rings out. Once again, all heads turn to the prince and, once again, he greets them with his own confusion. Close by, it is Daeron who’s legs stretch to a stand, hand clasping at a goblet. 

With a clearing of his throat, the youngest of the siblings commences. “I hesitated on whether I wished to deliver this news at the table, however, cousin, you have inspired me.” Ever the polite man, it would not be hard to take his words towards Rhaena as true, as honest, as appreciative. The fierce loyalty that exists for his Green family, on the contrary, has you believing it is nothing but a means for peace at the table. “After the many happy years I have spent living in Oldtown, I have decided it is time I take my leave. It is time I return home,” he pauses, glancing over at his mother. “To King’s Landing. And, if the King finds place for me, I would like to do so as a knight of the Kingsguard, under the command of the very man who taught me to wield my first blade, Ser Criston Cole.”

Without a pause for silence, Aegon is shooting out of his chair and rounding the table, pulling his brother into his side and clapping a hand over his chest, “I’m sure I’ll find a space for you! Seven hells, we can hang one of the other six and have his armour melted down and reworked to fit you. Can’t we, Ser Criston? Pick amongst yourselves, whoever’s the weakest link.” There’s an eruption of laughter, and you take it as an excuse to sneak a twenty-first look. The doubt on his face matches your own, a worry that the poor fools at the table think the King speaks in jest.

Cups raised, wine sipped, seats refilled. Aegon returns to your side a ball of energy, hands fidgeting without control. First, one lands on your thigh closest to him and clamps down on the meat of it. The same hand shoots up, fingertips brushing over your cheek, tangling in a loose thread of hair and tucking it behind your ear, pulling a little tighter than you think he intends. At last, he returns it to the spot behind your chair, fingers drumming a nervous energy into the carved wood, and a third knife meets a glass.

This time, it is Aemond, and you have your twenty-second chance to look at him.

And keep looking at him, just like everyone else is, eager ears awaiting to hear what brings them all to the island. 

“I will not waste your time with unnecessary words,” but you wish he would, if only to listen to the soothing lullaby of his voice enough to memorise it a little better, refine how your sleeping mind tries replicate it when you are drowning in the waters of dreams and his is the only face you want to conjure by your side. “I have already taken enough of your time, dragging you all out here.”

Pause for laughter. And for him to shoot a pointed look down the table at his cousin and her plate-full of pig’s eye. See, he seems to be saying, I can joke. 

“It is no lie that our house is half of what it used to be. War is a god, however, and it demands a sacrifice in the shape of death. The dragons we lost are not a stain on our hands, but all of those who dared mount them with treacherous intentions.”

No sound has ever haunted you as deeply as the screech of a dying dragon.

It is a memory you do best to suppress, the screech of Helaena’s she-dragon struggling to escape her attackers, horrific shrieks carried from the Dragon Pit all the way up to your window at the Keep. The momentary burst of freedom, the flash of Dreamfyre rising out the crumbling roof of the Pit, only to crash back down in one final scream, the city turning silent moments after. Your good-sister had been inconsolable for days, a mess of tears, that bond between princess and beast lost forever to the rioting of smallfolk.

“But, we can rebuild what they took from us. That is what I wish to show you all,” Aemond continues. He nods his head towards a serving wench and, with a screech, the doors of the hall open, making way for two men, a heavy chest carried between them, and a man carrying the chain of a maester around his neck. The chest travels up the hall, all the way to the prince’s side, before coming to a rest gently on the floor. With ease, he twists a key, tugs off the lock, and throws the lid open, hands disappearing within. When they emerge, it is with an oval shaped rock in each one. No, not rocks. Eggs. 

The maester at Aemond’s side holds out two more eggs. Each a different colour of scaly, rough surface. There is a golden one that reminds you of Sunfyre’s own scales. A black one that, as Aemond turns it in the light, undertones of a dark green shine through, and a pale lilac egg that appears near white. The most striking of the four — and the one you feel your eyes drawn to the moment it is unveiled — a bright, sapphire blue colour.

“A clutch of four,” he says, a look of pride on his face as he stares out at expressions of amazement. “I found them in the depths of the caves. Our maester has already confirmed to me they show promise of hatching, with time and patience. We will have a new generation of dragons.”

The first to move is Alicent, who rises out of her chair, hands clasped over her heart as she makes her way over to her son. Careful of the eggs in his hands, she wraps herself around his slim waist. “Aemond,” she speaks so softly, you doubt the other end of the table hears her. Hesitant fingers reach out, halting, only to let themselves brush down the length of the golden egg at the prince’s insistence. “This is wonderful news! You have… Oh, my sweet boy, you have saved us, ensuring the future of your house.”

Those words are enough to send the room into a ruckus of applause. Voices cheer, hands bang down on the table, cups are toasted and emptied. But you pay them no mind, not even a single glance over your shoulder.

All you care to look at is Aemond, and the earnest smile that takes over his face. Happiness looks good on him. It warms the tips of his ears, the apples of his cheeks, the length of his neck, a rosy hue blooming beneath porcelain skin. He deserves to look like this all the time, radiant beneath the spotlight of people’s praise, the validation of being recognised for the things he does on behalf of his family. The rug is ripped from beneath his feet, however, with the clearing of a throat and a fourth clang of a knife.

Celebrations cease and chairs are refilled as their king comes to a stand.

“I’ve never been one for speeches. In truth, I find them to be a bore,” Aegon laughs at his own honesty, and the others are quick to follow. “But, listening to you all, well, it inspired me to give it a try. First, I want to thank all of you in this room. It’s no secret the trials and tribulations that have tested our family since my coronation. You, who fought for my claim, are the true heroes of our realm, and your king is proud of you all. If only my father were still here, I’m sure he’d feel the same, pride for those who defended the heir he chose with his dying breath,” a choked back laugh echos from down the table as Rhaena saws her steak knife through the eye. “If any doubt still remains towards my claim, I believe my dear brother’s discovery is a sign from the gods, the gift of more dragons. And, for that, I thank you, Aemond.”

“It is I who must thank you, brother,” the prince interrupts, eye looking just past where the King stands, cup in hand, and at where you sit, hand tugging at your husband’s sleeve and an unspoken pleading furrowing your brows. It seems I owe my brother some gratitude, Aemond’s voice replays in your mind, so real you can almost feel the shelves at your back, the smell of dust and books in the air, the sound of Ser Arryk knocking at the door. “For naming me as your heir and gifting me Dragonstone.”

“I’m glad you see it that way, brother. These dragon eggs are the dawn of a new era for us all, one of prosperity,” heads that nod in sync, radiant joy still beaming from Alicent’s face. The smile on Aemond’s face, however, is gone, stolen by Aegon. “But they are not the only gift the gods have favoured my reign with.”

The urge to drag your husband back down into his seat spikes at those words. You want to shovel food into his mouth, fill his stomach with wine, sew his lip shut. Anything, before he says something foolish, something he should not.

But as you tug harsher at the sleeve of his doublet, the King misunderstands. He turns to you, fingers twisting themselves in an uncomfortable grip with your own and pulling you to stand at his side, that same hand curling around your back and holding you tight against him.

“Apologies, it seems my wife wants to help me do the honours,” you shake your head, shooting Aegon a look he does not even notice, too busy smiling out at the table full of his family. Too busy pulling you that little closer, both of your sides smushed together. Too busy smoothing the hand that still houses his glass down the golden embroidery of your dress, an honour to his own dragon. Too busy bringing his hand to a stop atop your lower stomach, knuckles brushing against the green velvet. “After many years of marriage, the gods have at last blessed my wife’s womb with a child of our own. A new heir.”

If anyone cheers, if anyone raises their glass alongside the King, if anyone congratulates you, you do not hear them. You do not see them.

All you see is Aemond, frozen in his chair, face a mirror for anger, and white-knuckling his grip on his chalice, refusing to drink, refusing to toast.

Refusing to look anywhere else but your sorry eyes.

You send a letter, the eve of your return. 

I did not wish for you to find out like that, from him. You must believe me. 

By morning, no reply arrives. By noon, no reply arrives. By evening, no reply arrives. As a day turns to two, and two turns into a moon, no reply arrives.

The ravens no longer perch upon your window.

+ extra hyde !

this week, a new bombshell has entered the villa! so aegon bestie is trying to be a better king/husband. how are we feeling about that, chat? definitely don't see this being a point of contention.

in completely unrelated news, rumour has it that taste by sabrina carpenter can be heard on dragonstone at full volume, on repeat, 24/7. sources say the noise is coming from prince aemond targaryen's room.

my irl bestie is reading this fic on ao3 & now i'm so hyperaware of any smut i write. hopefully, i rectify my own apprehension towards writing the filth these two deserve in time for next chapter, because they're supposed to fuck, no more of the silly couplings they've done so far. thankfully my bestie and i are long distance right now so i won't have to look her in a the eye for a while.

see you next month <3

[waitimcomingtoo]

Where We Start Again 2

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: how do you fake date someone you have real feelings for?

Series Masterlist and Regular Masterlist

Playlist by @tiny-friggin-human

“This is my room.” Peter weakly gestured to his bedroom as you walked through his door. His eyes were immediately drawn to everything he needed to hide as you began to look around. He kicked a pair of boxers into the closet and threw a hoodie over the vials of web fluid on his desk. When he looked up at you, a smile dawned on his lips. You stood out in your mini skirt among his nerdy ambiance, but you didn’t look out of place. You noticed him staring and tucked your hair behind your ear nervously.

“What?” You asked, feeling a little self conscious under his gaze.

“Nothing. I just like looking at you.” His lips moved faster than his brain and he was defenseless to stop the words from coming out. Luckily, you found it sweet and gave him a small smile.

“Star Wars bedsheets?” You nodded towards his unmade bed where tiny green Yoda heads dotted his sheets.

“Those aren’t mine.” He scoffed playfully, watching as you took a seat on his bed. His throat tightened at the thought of your bare legs on his sheets. The skirt he’d fawned over so many times was on his bed right now, and he was beginning to panic.

“Uh huh.” You humored him and ran a hand over his pillow. “They’re very soft. You should thank whoever they belong to for taking care of them.”

“I have your laundry- oh! A female.” May was startled by your presence when she came to Peters open door. Peters eyes widened when he noticed she was holding a few pairs of his boxers in her hands and prayed you didn’t notice too. Unfortunate for Peter, you had manners and got up off his bed to shake Mays hand. You shoot Peter a look when your eyes fell on the pile.

“Hi Mrs. Parker. I’m Y/n.” You said politely as you shook her hand. May looked between you and Peter with a surprised expression.

“Y/n L/n?” She asked and you nodded.

“Yeah, that me.” You told her. Peter looked up at the ceiling, silently cursing God for what was happening in front of him.

“It’s nice to finally meet you. Peters been telling me about you since freshman year. You’re the one with the skirt, right? Oh, you’re wearing it now.” She laughed spritely and handed Peter his boxers. “You were right, Peter. It is a nice skirt. And please, call me May.”

Peter knew a nail in the coffin when he saw one. There was no coming back from what May just said. You were gonna think he was a creep and your fake relationship would end before it began.

At least you sat on his bed, though.

“Thank you, May. It’s from H&M and I hear there’s a sale right now. It kinda matches your nails. They’re so pretty.” You told her and she looked down at her nail color. Peter did a double take between you and May. For some reason, you weren’t running out of his apartment in fear.

You were giving his Aunt shopping tips and nail compliments.

“Oh, wow. It does. And thank you. I just got them done but of course this one didn’t notice.” She gave Peter a pointed look before returning her attention to you. “I think I’ll go check it out. I’ll leave you kids to it.” She winked at Peter before closing the door.

Peter braced himself for an abrupt end to your newfound relationship as you turned around. Instead, you had your arms folded and a surprised smile on your face.

“Have you been talking to your aunt about me?” You put yourself hand over your heart like you couldn’t believe it. Peter opened his mouth to apologize, but decided against it when you didn’t show any signs of disdain.

“However did you know?” He replied sarcastically and got a laugh out of you. So you didn’t want apologies, he thought. You wanted humor. “I hope you know, you just witnessed the most embarrassing moment of my life.”

“Well if I know anything about women, she’s gonna be at H&M for a while. You don’t have to worry about her coming in here to embarrass you and drop off your Scooby Doo boxers.” You picked up a pair from the pile he was holding and dangled it in front of his face. He snatched them away from you and quickly stuffed them in his drawer.

“Give me those. They also aren’t mine.” He lied and you held up your hands in defense.

“I believe you.” You insisted and walked over to his LEGO Ferris Wheel. He joined you, standing next to you in silence for a moment as you admired it.

“Ruh roh.” You muttered and his head snapped to you.

“Hey.” He whined. You leaned into him as you laughed, making his breath hitched in his chest when you touched him

“I’m sorry. How does this thing work?” You returned your attention to the Ferris wheel. Peter took a moment to admire the wonder in your eyes as they trailed over the bricks. He pushed a button on the side and it began to move.

“Effervescent.” You said flatly at the anticlimactic way it worked. Peter watched you fondly as your eyes followed the LEGO man and woman in one of the carts.

“What made you want to come over?” He asked suddenly. “Do you have to do community service or something?”

“No.” You said like it was a crazy thought. “I wanted to hang out with you.”

Peter was taken aback by this answer and thought for sure you were lying. He looked at you skeptically as you watched the Ferris wheel.

“Why?” He asked. “And how has nothing you’ve seen so far made you want to stop hanging out with me? You know, the boxers, the bedsheets, the aunt.”

You leaned against his book self and looked down at your boots as you shrugged.

“The boys in our school show up hung over, smelling like mango juul pods and hotdog water. They sleep through class and pelt spit balls at each other at lunch. And I’m pretty sure half the football team hasn’t made the full transition from monkey to human yet.” You said as you kept your eyes down.

“These are all things I already know.” Peter said when you didn’t answer his question. You looked up at him and shrugged slightly.

“You show up in button downs and cute sweaters, smelling like apple shampoo. The one that can get in your eyes and won’t sting. You pay attention in class and build LEGO desk lamps for the science fair. And you give people your gogurt.” You said timidly. The corners of Peters mouth turned down as he fought a smile, as well as the urge to scream into a pillow.

“Well she packed me an extra one.” He reminded you and you rolled your eyes. You walked away from his bookshelf and over to where he had set the LEGO lamp down.

“Can I help you glue the legos down?” You changed the topic. “It’ll go faster with two people.”

“Sure.” He nodded and joined you at his desk. He took a vial of web fluid from under the hoodie and handed it to you. “Here.”

“What kind of glue is this?” You asked as you examined the vial.

“Oh, uh, I made it myself.” Peter stammered as he pulled up a chair for you. You gave him a grateful smile and took a seat.

“You made your own glue?” You asked him once he sat down next to you at the desk.

“Yes?”

“You’re incredible, Peter.” You shook your head and started glueing pieces down. “Out here making your own glue. Elmer’s is quaking.”

Peter took a moment to collect himself before he started glueing the pieces together. Everytime he thought he did something lame, you liked it. And not only that, you praised him for it. All the things that made him unpopular were the things you seemed to enjoy. He was curious about your intentions and could only hope they were good.

“The fair is this Friday, right?” You peered at him through your lashes as you focused on sticking a piece to the base.

“Yeah, right after school.” He replied, freezing momentarily when your pinky touched his.

“I’ll be there.” You said definitively. He stopped what he was doing and looked at you to see if you were joking, but you looked completely serious.

“You don’t have to. It’ll be really boring.” He said softly but you dismissed him.

“Then I’ll hang out by you the whole time.” YIU said simply. “What kind of fake girlfriend would I be if I wasn’t there to watch my boyfriend win the science fair?”

The tips of Peters ears turned pink when you called him your boyfriend. As much as he’d love to have you cheering him on at the science fair, he didn’t want to make you do something you didn’t want to do. He was about to insist that you didn’t have to go when he stopped himself. Something about all the impossible things that had happened today made him want to go against his normal behavior.

“It’s every boys dream to have his fake girlfriend watching him awkwardly tell judges about his science fair project.” He said instead of telling you you didn’t have to come. You seemed like you wanted to, and he’d love to have you there. Why not let it happen?

“I know, right? How’d you get so lucky?” You tossed your hair off your shoulder and winked at him. Peter has gone from never speaking to you to you winking at him three times in one day. You were right. How did he get so lucky?

“Are you sure about committing to this whole fake dating thing? If you’re at the science fair with me, more people are gonna know. It won’t just be between you and me and Flash anymore.” Peter warned you. You stopped glueing legos and looked at him.

“I am sure. I want to do this. It’s just until the dance right? I can dedicate two weeks of my life to mess with Flash.” You insisted as you put your hand on top of his. He tensed up so you quickly drew it away and cleared your throat. “We should probably come up with nicknames for each other to really sell it. What do you want to be called?”

Still recovering from the hand holding incident, his mind was blank.

“You pick.” He said blankly.

“Thank God. I thought you were gonna say “my lord” or some shit.” You laughed and went back to glueing. “How about baby? Nice and simple.”

“Sounds good.” He smiled shyly. He wasn’t even on your radar this morning and now you were calling him baby.

“What do you want to call me?” You asked. The hope in your eyes made Peter determined not to disappoint you.

“Daisy.” He said confidently. You raised your eyebrows at his quick response.

“You had that prepared.” You remarked and he rubbed the back of his neck.

“I see you drawing daisies on your notes all the time.” He admitted. “And then you color the center with yellow highlighter. It’s cute.”

“Good eye, baby.” You emphasized the pet name for effect.

“I just have a good view, daisy.” He did the same. You pulled your tongue between your teeth and giggled. The sight of it made Peters knees weaken as he glued on the final piece.

“You should give me one of your shirts or something so I can wear it to school.” You said as you got out of your chair. “Do you have anything that says your last name on the back?”

Peter got up from the desk and dug around in his closet for his decathlon hoodie. He made sure not to touch the area where his suit was hidden.

“Would this work?” He asked as he held it out to you. You traced your fingers over the bold white block letters and smiled.

“That’s perfect. And here.” You slipped your scrunchie off your wrist and gave it to him. “Wear this on your wrist. I wear it a lot so people will know it’s mine.”

Peter put it on his wrist and thought of all the times he’d seen you wearing it. He loved it when you wore your hair up. And down. He loved it all.

But so did the rest of his school.

Guilt bubbled in the pit of his tummy at the thought of what the fake relationship could do to your reputation.

“You really don’t have to do this, Y/n.” He said softly. “You’re committing social suicide.”

“That’s not a thing.” You stated as you tied his hoodie around your waist. “And I told you, I’m happy to do this. Flash needed to be put in his place. I always hear him picking on you over nothing.”

“Yeah. He’s a real piece of work.” Peter shoved his hands in his pockets and blew out a breath.

“You pronounce “dick head” funny.” You smirked. “Why do you let him get away with what he says to you? How do you resist the urge to punch him in the face?”

“He’s not worth.” Peter shrugged. “I want to get out of here and go to a good college. I’m kinda depending on scholarships and I hear schools prefer kids who don’t get into physical fights with other students.”

“Well you’re very patient.” You complimented him as you stepped closer. “I see him beating up on you all the time.”

“Are you stalking me?” He teased and you shoved his shoulder.

“Says the boy who tells his aunt about my mini skirts.” You shot back before pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Touché.” He squinted at you. “You know, you could’ve just told him to back off. Now you’re stuck pretending to be my girlfriend.”

“Would you stop?” You pouted as you sat back down on his bed. “I don’t feel stuck. I think this is gonna be fun.”

“Not that I’m not enjoying looking at legos with you, but wouldn’t you rather be spending your time with your actual friends? Not your fake boyfriend?” He asked as he took a seat beside you. You took a rubix cube off his nightstand and toyed with it, solving it almost immediately.

“Wanna know a secret?” You asked him as you handed him the solved rubix cube.

“Tell me.” He urged.

“I hate those people.” You laughed sadly. “All of them. Everyone who cares more about what brand you’re wearing than how your day was. I don’t think I’ve ever had an intelligent conversation with any of my “friends”.”

“Then why do you hang out with them? And how was your day?” He added to make you laugh.

“It’s a lot better now.” You said as you drew your knees up to your chin. You had shed your boots at some point and Peter could see your mismatched socks. “And I hang out with them because they count on me to. I don’t know when I became the cult leader around here but now they don’t leave me alone. It’s like, you have to be at this party and you have to wear a dress by this brand unless you got it from this store because that’s cheap. And you must wear your hair this way and drink this alcohol and know this song. It’s exhausting. That glue smells like flint stones vitamins, by the way. It’s all over my hands.”

“I didn’t realize being popular was so trifling.” Peter replied as he reached for a bottle of web dissolver (disguised as hand sanitizer) on his desk and offered it to you. You held out your hands and he squirt some in.

“I know how it sounds.” You said lowly. “I know that people would kill to have my status. But no one in my circle is happy. They’re running on 10 shots of expresso and fake smiles.”

Peter took what you said into consideration as he watched the solemn expression on your face.

“Are you unhappy?” He realized. You had said no one in your circle was happy, and he worried that included you.

“Sometimes. A lot of the time, actually.” You admitted and his heart sank. “I know it looks like I have a lot of friends, but I don’t have a single one. Not one who cares about me or checks on how I’m doing, anyway. I would give up my dozens of fake friends for one real one.”

You kept your eyes down as you spoke to hide your emotions, but Peter couldn’t ignore it. He tried to redeem himself from earlier by putting his hand over yours.

“I care about you.” He promised. “And I may be your fake boyfriend, but I’m your real friend…friend.”

You gave Peter a half smile and flipped your hand so you were holding his instead of just under it.

“You know, this is the first time I’ve done something after school that I actually enjoyed.” You told him.

“We could hang out more, if you want.” He suggested, not thinking you’d actually say yes.

“Yeah, totally.” You agreed, much to his surprise. Your smile seemed different to him, more genuine.

“To convince Flash, I mean.” He added quickly. Your face faltered a little and you took your hand away from his.

“Right.” You gave him a tight smile. “Flash.”

~

“I need to talk to you.” Peter whispered harshly the next morning when he found Ned at his locker.

“Is this about you walking home with Y/n? Everyone’s talking about it. People are saying you took her to an alley and killed her.” Ned recanted the rumors he heard with excitement.

“What? I didn’t kill her.” Peter defended. “She wanted to come over to see my legos.”

“Oh wow. And I had Tia and Tamera over to bake me a loaf of bread.” Ned said seriously.

“I’m being serious, Ned.” Peter sighed. “Flash was making fun of me and she just-“

“Peter!”

As soon as Peter turned around, you jumped into his arms and wrapped your legs around his waist. He quickly wrapped an arm around you to keep you from falling as you hugged him tightly. When you let go, he could see you were wearing his hoodie over a jean skirt. It reminded of of his sleepless night as he couldn’t get over the fact that his bedsheets now smelled like you. He tossed and turned all night with a smile on his face, too giddy to go to sleep. He didn’t even care when he heard the birds chirping, signaling that he had never fallen asleep. Nothing could break his smile.

“Good morning, baby.” You cooed as you kept your arms around his neck.

“Baby?” Ned sputtered. “Big confused.”

“Haven’t you heard? Peter and I are dating.” You smiled brightly as you linked your arm through Peters. A huge grin broke out on his face at your display of affection as Ned’s eyes bulged out of his head.

“Fake dating.” He said to calm his friend down.

“Semantics.” You replied quickly. “If anyone asks, we’re together.”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you.” Peter explained when Ned still looked shocked.

“Look! I’m wearing your hoodie.” You pulled the hoodie forward so Peter could see.

“And I have your small headband.” Peter held up his wrist to show you where the scrunchie was.

“It’s called a scrunchie.” You giggled. You took his hand and held it to your chest. “We look so convincing. Ned, don’t we look like a couple?”

“I’m having network connectivity problems.” Ned mumbled as he struggled to understand what was going on.

“Wait. I forgot I have to talk to the student council about the dance decorations.” You remembered. “See you at lunch?”

“Have a good day, s-sweetheart.” He stuttered out a new nickname he had always wanted to call you.

“Sweetheart? I like it.” You twirled yourself under his arm before walking away. “Shaking things up.”

Peter and Ned watched you walk away, Ned with his jaw slacked and Peter with his eyes soft.

“Dude.” Ned breathed.

“I know.”

“You have a fake girlfriend.” Ned said in disbelief. “And it’s Y/n.”

“I know.”

“You’ve been in love with her for years.” He whispered.

“I know.”

“She is way out of your league.” He looked at his friend.

“I know!” Peter exclaimed. “Do you think people are gonna buy it?”

“I don’t know.” Ned answered honestly. “Why did she agree to this? You didn’t try to kill her in an alley did you?”

“No, Ned. This was all her idea. She asked for my hoodie and gave me this little skirt for your hair.” Peter held up with wrist with the scrunchie again.

“It’s called a munchie, Peter.” Ned rolled his eyes.

“Well she gave me hers so people would know she’s my girlfriend. Or fake girlfriend. I don’t really know the details.” He sighed but broke into another smile. “She came over yesterday and God, she’s so much better than we thought. She’s funny and a good listener and everytime I thought I did something lame, she liked it. She liked me! This might be the greatest thing that ever happened to me, Ned.”

“But is this really what you want? You’ve liked her since the first day of school when her dad almost hit you with her car and she started crying.” Ned reminded him. “Do you really want your first relationship with a girl, especially this girl, to be fake?”

“MJ was right, Ned. A girl like that will never be interested in someone like me. This is the only chance I’m gonna have with her. And yeah, it’s a fake relationship. But it’s a real friendship. I’ll take what I can get if it means I can be close to her.” Peter decided.

“I don’t want you getting hurt, Peter. If this ends badly, it’ll crush you.” Ned said sincerely.

“I know what this. I know she’ll never actually like me. As long as I keep reminding myself that, I’ll be fine.” Peter insisted.

“Okay.” Ned patted his back. “If you say so.”

“Don’t-“

“Didn’t even notice. No punches there to roll with.” Ned began to sing as he walked down the hall. Peter kept his distance as he followed him to class, already thinking about the next time he’d get to see you.

~

Peter waited a lifetime for the lunch bell to ring. The best parts of his day were when he got to see you. Those parts were the morning if he got to his locker on time, lunch, 7th period, and after school when you had Volunteer Club. They met right across the hall from the Decathlon team and of Peter angled his chair correctly, he could catch a glimpse of you.

He kept his head up as he headed to his table, always on the lookout for you. He spotted his hoodie a few seconds before you made eye contact.

“There you are, baby.” Your eyes lit up as you made your way over to him. “Come on. Let’s eat together.”

Peters heartbeat quickened as you lead him towards your usual lunch table. It was already full of popular kids, the very popular kids that Peter feared.

“Your friends won’t like me.” Peter protested to save himself from 40 minutes of torture.

“No one at that table likes each other, Peter.” You laughed but he sensed a sadness in your voice. “Let’s sit with your friends then.”

You pivoted away from the cool kids table, earning yourself a glare from every inhabitant. It struck fear in Peters heart, but it didn’t phase you. You linked your arm through his again and led him towards Ned and MJ’s table.

“Are you sure?” Peter asked nervously as he made eye contact with an angry quarterback.

“Yes. Come on.” You tugged him harder until you got to the table.

“Hey guys.” You greeted Ned and MJ as you sat down. Ned looked up in shock and the water he was drinking fell out of his mouth.

“Girl?” He asked Peter, reverting to his inability to speak around you.

“Yes, girl.” You chuckled. “Come sit with us, Michelle.”

“Fine, but only because this cannot end well.” MJ picked you her stuff and slid next to you. You handed her her daily granola bar and she took it with a sly smirk.

“Flash is coming.” Ned whispered and you quickly took Peters hand. You leaned your head on your other hand and stared at him with a dreamy smile as Flash walked by. He shot you guys a look and pretended to gag before walking away.

“He totally bought it.” You squealed as you watched him sit down. “We are so good together.”

Peter nodded stiffly, his full attention on the fact that you were still holding his hand.

“Are you in the science fair too, Ned?” You changed the subject but began to trace patterns on Peters palm. It took him a moment to realize you were drawing daisies.

“No. I’m not.” Ned replied and everyone perked up.

“He just said a full sentence.” MJ realized.

“Yay!” You released Peters hand to clap softly. His hand felt cold without yours holding it and he felt disappointment sink in. He thought he’d be okay as long as he reminded himself that the relationship was fake, but he wasn’t. He wanted to hold your hand all the time, not just when Flash was around.

“Why not?” You asked as you opened up your lunch bag.

“I usually just hang out by the snack table until Peter wins. Then we go to Delmars and order a sandwich with every single ingredient on it.” He explained. “It wasn’t that bad until they added tuna to the menu. Tuna really doesn’t go with peanut butter and hot sauce.”

“Haha, he’s kidding.” Peter lies and shot Ned a look. “We don’t do that. That would be absurd.”

“I have this really strong feeling that you do do that-“

“Do do.” Ned chuckled.

“-and it sounds fun. Is it cool if I tag along this year?” You asked Peter, slipping your hand back into his. Peter looked at your intertwined hands before looking to Ned for approval.

“Girl welcome.” He nodded until he realized he was doing it again. “Damn it.”

“Of course you can come.” Peter made the decision when Ned was no help. “But I have to win first.”

“I’ve seen your picture in the display case the last three years. Come on, you had the robotics arm, the homemade spinneret, and the thing with the flies.” You surprised Peter by listing his lady entries. “This solar powered LEGO lamp is gonna blow the judges away. You’re gonna win. My boyfriend is the smartest guy in school.” You gloated as you moved some hair off Peters forehead.

“You know your don’t have to call him your boyfriend around us, right? We’re not the ones you’re trying to fool.” MJ cut in. Peters has tightened at MJ’s interruption.

“I know.” You said timidly and took your hand away from Peter again. He huffed out an angry breath but kept his mouth shut. If you could take his hand, he could take yours.

“She can do what she wants.” Peter said decidedly and laced his fingers through yours. You smiled proudly at him and squeezed his hand.

“Thank you, baby.” You said, happy he was taking initiative. “What are you doing after school today?”

“You’re in luck, Y/n. You chose the best possible boy to fake date. His schedule has been open for the last 18 years.” MJ jeered.

“Haha. Don’t you have a chicken to ritualistically sacrifice or something?” Peter shot back.

“Ooo. Witch joke. Original.” She whispered and twiddled her fingers like she was casting a spell.

“I’m not busy, daisy.” He ignored MJ and kept his eyes on you. “What did you have in mind?”

“I’ve been so busy planning the dance that I never got a dress.” You told him. “Would you come with me to pick one out?”

“Do I want to spend my afternoon watching you try on dresses?” He repeated your question back to you and you realized how boring it sounded.

“You don’t have to-“ You began.

“Hell yeah I do.” He cut you off and you smiled. “Where do you want to meet?”

“If you walk me home after school we can go from there.” You suggested. Peters mouth dried out at the thought of going to your house but he forced himself to nod.

“Okay.” He squealed.

“Shoot, I almost forgot. I have to meet with Mrs. Carlisle about the DJ.” You packed up your lunch and cupped Peters chin. “I’ll see you later?”

“I’ll be at your locker.” He nodded as your thumb slid off his chin.

“Good boy.” You smirked. “Bye Ned. Bye Michelle.”

Ned waited until you were out of sight until he freaked out.

“Dude! She invited you to her house! She totally wants to jump your bones.” He whispered loudly.

“Why would she jump on my bones? Like my skeleton?” Peter asked innocently. “You think she want to kill me?”

“How is the hottest girl in school interested in you?” MJ shook her head. “Especially when you ask questions like that.”

“Shes not into me. We’re fake dating.” Peter reminded them.

“And who’s idea was it to do that?” MJ cocked her head. “Because she called me yesterday to tell me all about your little plan.”

“Yesterday you were saying I’d never have a chance, and today you’re insisting that she’s into me?” Peter asked in confusion. “Wait, she called you? About me?”

“I hadn’t seen you interact before yesterday. She was doing girlfriend shit when no one was watching. Not even you! Check your notebook.” MJ grumbled and angrily took a bite out of her granola bar. Peter curiously opened his notebook and found a pink slip of paper inside. He opened it up and read it out loud.

“This is my favorite color on you. Have some sweet tarts, for my sweetheart. See you after school.” He read the note and held up a fun sized packet of Sweet Tarts.

“She put that in there when you were too busy staring at the jocks.” MJ told them. “Now tell me, why would she sneak candy into your notebook entirely out of Flash’s view? Who does that convince?”

“I love sweet tarts.” Peter muttered as he stared at the note. Even your handwriting was pretty.

“Everyone knows that. Remember when you had to go to the nurse freshman year on Valentine’s Day because you ate 18 packets?” Ned brought up.

“I don’t remember that.” Peter mumbled, trying to think of what Ned was talking about.

“Because you were sent home for going into a sugar coma.” MJ snorted.

“Wow.” Peter raised his eyebrows. “I never knew that.”

“Well she did. And now she’s sneaking you candy.” MJ said and laughed in disbelief.

“What’s so funny?” Peter laughed defensively.

“I think Y/n actually likes you. And I think that hilariously paradoxical.” She laughed again.

“What? No.” Peter didn’t allow himself to have hope, even for a minute. “She doesn’t like me. She’s just faking.”

“You’re going to her house today right?” MJ raised a single eyebrow. “See how she behaves. If you acts like your girlfriend when no one is around, you’ll know she isn’t faking.”

“Okay.” Peter decided, figuring he had nothing to lose. “Okay. I’ll do that.”

~

Peter stationed himself at your locker directly after school. He kept MJ’s advice at the front of his mind as he waited for you to arrive. All he had to do was observe you. He did that all the time anyway. Only this time, it counted. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and let out a breath.

“Baby.” He heard your sweet voice from behind him. He turned around and saw your equally sweet smile.

“Ready?” He asked as he took the books from your hands. You gave him a puzzled look and he explained. “I’m carrying your books for you. My uncle told me to do this when I got a girlfriend. I figured he’d still appreciate it, even if our relationship is fake.”

“He sounds like a smart man.” You said kindly and Peter nodded.

“He was. I’ll tell you more about him on the walk.” He offered and you smiled like you liked the idea. “Lead the way.”

Tag List 🏷

@a-villain-vying-for-attention​ @wendaiix3-blog​ @dorbiksbitch​ @t-monosapiens-h​ @badhollandfluff​ @silteplaittais-toi​ @thisisthebiplace​​ @seasidecrowbar​​ @spideygirl2003 @5-seconds-of-mendes @bitchylittleredhead @oh-whatabeautiful-parker @everydaymj @write-from-the-heart @blackpetalsmeandeath @electraheart-3174 @shawni-h @peterparkoure

[tchallasbabymama]

Funeral

Hey y’all, here’s Chapter 12 of Playlist. Catch up on the story and read my other fics by checking out my masterlist HERE! Also, In a couple weeks I’ll be starting up “Ménage `a Trois”, a T’Challa x  OC x M’Baku throuple fic. Check out the preview here!

CW: Smut (consensual non-consent, knife/claw play, cutting, blood play). Basically if edge play bothers you, don’t read the last scene except for the verrrry end. Child endangerment. 

Word count: 10,313

The King and Queen of Wakanda, along with their newborn baby girl, stayed in the royal birthing chambers for the rest of the day so the midwife could keep an eye on mama and umntwana. T’Challa spent almost the entire time holding and talking to his daughter, only easily giving her up when it was time for her to eat.

“Challa, can I have my child please?”

“Our child,” he said as he carefully handed her off to her mother.

“I know that, do you?” she said with a look that made the king’s cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

“O-of course, I just-”

“Shhhh, I’m kidding,” she chuckled before her face changed as Siyanda latched on for the second time since she’d been out in the real world.

“Does it hurt?”

“No it’s just...a weird feeling, but it’s good.”

T’Challa climbed in bed next to her and stroked her hair out of her face as she fed their daughter.

“I already want another.”

“Can my entire bottom half heal first, please?”

He chuckled and kissed her temple.

“I can be patient.”

Ashanti shot him another look and he changed his tune.

“When it comes to this, anyway,” he said with a smile.

When the princess was all fed and burped they felt it was finally time to let their loved ones in to see the new addition to the family.

Ramonda, Bisa, and Chidi came in first, each crying tears of joy over their baby’s baby. However, when it came time to hold her, T’Challa’s reaction surprised them all.

“I...I’m sorry, was that a growl?” Ashanti asked her husband, dumbfounded.

“...No.”

“Sounded like one to me,” Chidi said, cautiously stepping back from the bed.

“It’s just the herb in his system making him extra protective. Those panther instincts really kick into gear when you have a child,” Ramonda chimed in.

“Oh so is that why I barely get to touch my own baby?”

Ramonda nodded and reached for the baby, causing yet another deep rumbling in T’Challa’s chest.

“Down, boy,” Ashanti joked as she handed Siyanda to Ramonda and reached for her husband’s hand.

“How are you feeling intyatyambo?” Bisa asked, sitting on the bed next to her daughter.

“I’m tired and everything is sore, but I’m floating in the clouds everytime I look at her.”

“That feeling never goes away,” Ramonda chimed in as she looked down at her granddaughter. “You know, it’s too early to tell for sure, but she has N’Yami’s eyes, just like her baba.”

“That’s what T’Challa said!” she looked over to him as he followed Ramonda’s every movement with his eyes. Ashanti squeezed his hand and he broke his gaze. “Baby, stop. Nobody here is going to harm her.”

He lightly cleared his throat and nodded. Deep down, he knew that to be the case, but he just couldn’t help himself.

Ramonda walked over to Bisa and carefully placed Siyanda in her other grandma’s arms.

“Bast, she’s beautiful,” Chidi stood behind his wife and stared down at his granddaughter, too afraid to touch her out of fear that her father would rip his head off.

“Do you want to hold her?” Bisa asked him.

“That’s probably not such a good idea right now,” Ramonda noticed how T’Challa reacted everytime Chidi got close. T’Chaka had done the same thing. He had been wary of anyone touching Shuri, but other men brought out the predator in him and his territorial nature flared. It calmed down after a while, but it was the worst when she was a newborn. “In fact, I’m not sure if Daka can even come into the room.”

“Why is that?” Ashanti asked.

“Look at how he is with a normal man. We’ve never had two panthers at the same time, so I could be wrong, but I would give it a couple weeks for him to calm down...just in case.”

Ashanti nodded and kissed her husband’s cheek, his eyes still glued to their baby girl.

“I’ll go bring in Shuri and Kwame,” Chidi offered before heading out the door, a little hurt he couldn’t hold his granddaughter.

Ashanti lightly slapped T’Challa’s chest, “You hurt his feelings.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t help it.”

“Try closing your eyes or something.”

“I’d still hear it.”

“Not with my headphones! I’ll be back,” Shuri had barely made it in the room when she ran back out, and when Kwame entered he went straight to his best friend and pulled her in for a hug.

“I can’t believe you’re a mama now! Where is the little bundle of joy?” he looked around before his eyes landed on Bisa rocking her granddaughter in the corner.

“If you want to hold her I’d suggest waiting a couple weeks, baba might attack you,” Chidi complained from the doorway.

“No worries, I don't like holding them when they’re fresh out anyway. Too delicate.”

Just then, Shuri returned with her headphones and T’Challa tentatively placed them on, turning around to look out the window as a distraction, still holding Ashanti’s hand and bouncing his leg from the anxiety of not being able to know what's going on with his baby girl.

“Ok, now try, baby,” Bisa said, handing Siyanda off to her umakhulu.

“She looks just like you did when you were born,” Chidi added, walking closer to Kwame so he could see her cute little face.

“Awwww she really is cute!”

Everyone laughed as Chidi passed Siyanda to her auntie, but it was quickly cut short when everyone noticed the look of complete adoration on the older princess’ face.

“She...she’s beautiful.”

She stared at her little nose and her little round cheeks and swore to herself that she would protect her niece with her life.

There was a light knocking and everyone looked up to see the prince, never really one to follow directions, standing in the doorway.

“Stay there, don’t come in,” Ramonda warned.

“So I don't get to see my baby cousin?” he pouted.

Shuri looked at her brother, still turned towards the window and unaware of what was happening, then to Ashanti and Ramonda. Ashanti nodded and Ramonda let out a deep breath before doing the same. Shuri walked over to N’Jadaka and placed her in his arms after taking one last look at her distracted brother.

“Wow...she’s so tiny.” he played with her little fingers as she looked up at him. T’Challa shifted and they quickly but carefully placed the baby back in Shuri’s arms. N’Jadaka stayed in the doorway as Ashanti reached to take the noise-cancelling headphones off her overprotective husband.

Shuri placed her niece in her baba’s arms and T’Challa’s tension melted away.

“I apologize, I don’t know how to control it yet,” the king said softly while staring at his greatest creation.

“You’ll get there,” Ashanti placed her head on his shoulder and he smiled, kissing her temple.

Just then, Binta and Ramla entered to check on mama and baby so the family left to give them some space. After Ramla made sure everything was safe, she allowed the new little family to return to their quarters to start their new life together.

--------

Princess Siyanda was a very sensitive and reserved child. As an infant, she only wanted her parents and would cry whenever anyone else held her. It took her a few months to warm up to the rest of the family, but she eventually got there and they were able to step in and help take care of her.

As she grew, she continued to be a shy baby. During her crowning after her first birthday, it was almost impossible to get her to stop crying, seemingly overwhelmed by all the attention. After a few more months, the princess started to come out of her shell a little bit, but she was still very cautious around new people and people she wasn’t fond of.

Siyanda was also a quiet child, and she didn’t speak until she was almost two. Now, at three years old, Princess Siyanda was the chattiest little thing to people she deemed worthy, but still very silent in the presence of those she didn’t like. Like Mala and Ode, for example. Siyanda had been coming to council meetings since she was an infant, sitting in one of her parent’s laps as they ruled the kingdom, and even then she grew anxious when the Merchant and Mining tribe elders approached her. Now she would hide behind whatever family member was closest. It had started to become bothersome to the two elders who felt disrespected by the child’s behavior, which only fueled their already deep disdain for her and her common mother.

Ashanti and T’Challa were head over heels for their temperamental little girl, so when they found out the reason for her actions they were floored that they had missed the signs.

It all started with a headache that just wouldn’t go away.

“Mama? Baba?” came a little voice from outside their door, prompting T’Challa, who was a much lighter sleeper than his wife, to get up and let in his baby girl.

When he opened the door she squinted up at him and looked as though she were seeing him for the first time. She burst into tears as her baba crouched down to scoop her up, but she wiggled out of his arms.

“What is it, sithandwa?”

By this point, Ashanti had made her way over to the doorway and stood behind her husband as he tried to calm their daughter down. Siyanda’s tears subsided for just long enough for her to speak, “My head hurts. You’re too bright.”

“What do you mean bright, baby?” Ashanti crouched down to Siyanda’s level with T’Challa, hoping to stop her baby girl from crying.

“My head hurts, and it woke me up. You’re too bright.”

“Who, baby?”

“Both of you.”

T’Challa and Ashanti looked to each other in confusion before turning back to their daughter.

“Close your eyes, baby girl,” Ashanti said as she reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her into a hug.

“Now, tell us, how are we too bright?” he rubbed her back in slow circles to calm her down, but it didn’t seem to be working.

“There’s colors around you and-and it hurts my eyes,” the little princess huffed out between sobs.

“Colors?”

“Mhm.”

The two parents were perplexed as they turned to each other with their eyebrows furrowed yet again, both unsure of what they were hearing.

“Why don’t you come to bed with mama? Baba will make you some tea to help you sleep, ok?”

“Ok mama.”

“Keep your eyes closed, baby.”

Ashanti carried Siyanda to the bed while T’Challa disappeared to the kitchen to make a quick cup of tea. The princess kept her eyes closed as her mama sang her favorite lullaby and played in her soft curls that she got from her baba. Slight whimpers left her lips as a dull aching throbbed in her head, but she preferred it to the stabbing pain of the bright colors.

T’Challa returned and he set the tea down to cool before crawling into bed with his two favorite girls. “Tell us what you see, sithandwa.”

She sniffled as Ashanti wiped the tears coming from her eyes and T’Challa held her little hands in his. She tried her best to explain to them the bright purple and yellow light radiating from around them that they couldn’t see, but they just couldn’t wrap their heads around her words.

“How about we go see Umakazi Shuri tomorrow?”

“Ok baba.”

Ashanti helped Siyanda drink the tea with her eyes closed and eventually she drifted off to a fretful sleep, tossing and turning between her parents all night. They desperately needed to talk  about the situation so they texted on their beads so as not to wake their sleeping child up.

A: It sounds like she’s seeing auras.

T: Isn’t she too young for that kind of thing? A: I always thought mutations kicked in at puberty.

T: They normally do.

A: Maybe it’s not a mutation?

T: I don’t know what else it could be.

A: Me either, but I’m worried about her.

T: Me too, Kitten.

They both gazed at their sleeping daughter’s not quite so peaceful form as she slept, neither one of them getting much sleep of their own that night.

The king, queen, and both princesses were missing from breakfast the next day, leaving Ramonda and N’Jadaka to dine alone. Siyanda found that she could open her eyes as long as she didn’t look at anybody, but that proved to be a harder task than she expected so she just kept her eyes closed behind sunglasses the whole way.

As they entered Shuri’s lab, she immediately sensed something was wrong with the usually much more excited princess.

“Yaya! What’s up?” she picked up her favorite niece and spun her around, surprised by the lack of giggles. “Ok something is wrong, talk to me.”

T’Challa cleared his throat, “We think she is seeing auras.”

“She has powers?!”

“Well that’s what we want you to help us find out,” Ashanti added.

“Sure thing, it’ll only take a second,” she set Siyanda down on the table before putting a painless blood collection device over her arm and distracting her while the machine drew her blood.

Shuri connected the device to her computer and the results appeared on the screen. After combing through the data, Shuri felt almost ready to make her declaration.

“I’ll need to run some more tests, if you don’t mind.”

Ashanti grabbed T’Challa’s hand and he looked down at her concerned face.

“Challa, I don’t want her to feel like we��re experimenting on her.”

“She won’t, I promise. I’ll do it with her.”

Ashanti nodded and the four of them spent the whole morning in Shuri’s lab. It turned out that Siyanda could in fact see auras and she had most likely been empathic since she was an infant.

The adults watched her play with fake gauntlets Shuri made just for her as they spoke in hushed tones.

“So that’s why she’s picky about who she lets near her?”

“Looks like it,” Shuri swiped through the screen until she came across a picture of a brain. “You see here? This is my brain.”

Ashanti and T’Challa watched the synapses fire and light up the screen.

“And this is ubhuti’s brain,” She pulled up another projection, this one with even more synapses lighting up the screen. “The heart shaped herb altered his brain so that he could have heightened senses and panther instincts, so that’s why he’s got more going on up there...I’m still smarter.”

T’Challa rolled his eyes as Ashanti grinned at her sister-in-law.

“But this...this is Yaya’s brain.”

All three adults stood in awe as they watched parts of her brain spark in ways they hadn’t ever witnessed before.

“What is that?”

“That’s her visual, emotional, and sensory centers firing off. Now look at this scan from when I had her look at T’Challa.”

“Bast…”

“Is she...this won’t keep hurting her will it? She has a headache and it gets worse when she looks at us, I don't want her to-”

“My love,” he grabbed her hand and kissed it.

“Sorry, right.” Ashanti took a breath, “Ok so what now?”

“I’m thinking: glasses.”

“Wh...glasses?”

“Yes, if I can filter out at least some of the light it’ll be more manageable for her. She’ll probably grow out of the headaches when her body gets used to her new power.”

“What if she develops more powers? Can you tell ahead of time?” T’Challa asked his little sister.

“Not unless she’s hooked up to machines when it happens.”

“So you for sure found the mutation in her genes?” Ashanti chimed in.

“Yep!” She swiped across the screen and brought up a swirling double helix before typing in a code and pulling up the exact genome. “Here it is, the X-gene.”

Ashanti’s mouth was wide open as she released her husband’s hand and stepped towards the screen, taking it all in. Her mind raced all over the place. She knew these things usually came from the mother, but as far as she knew there were no mutants in her family. She’d have to talk to her parents, and soon.

Despite her confusion and fear for her child’s safety Ashanti couldn't help the slow smile creeping up her face as she turned back to T’Challa.

“Our baby has superpowers!”

--------

“Umakhulu!”

“There’s my grandbaby!” Chidi swooped Siyanda off the ground as she giggled, but he paused when he noticed something was a little different. “What’s with the goggles?”

“Auntie Shuri made them for me because people were too bright.”

Chidi looked at Ashanti in total confusion and she waved him off.

“Yeah, I’ll get to that in a little bit. Where’s mama?”

“She should be back from closing the restaurant any time now. You know, I’m surprised you have her up this late...is everything ok at home?”

“Yes baba, T’Challa would’ve come but he got called into a meeting with the Avengers.”

“Your baba is such a busy superhero,” Chidi whispered to his granddaughter, making her giggle right as Bisa opened the door, saying hello to the Dora Milaje stationed outside.

“Well hello you two!” Bisa kissed everyone’s forehead and sat down next to her husband just in time for Siyanda to crawl into her lap and make herself comfortable. “Where’s my son in law? Somewhere getting on your nerves?”

Ashanti chuckled, “Not today mama, he’s working. Actually I’m here about Yaya...and her glasses.”

“Yeah, what’s up with these? They make her look so old.”

“They do, but she needs them until Shuri can come up with a better idea,” Ashanti took a breath, “Mama, baba...she’s an empath...a mutant.”

“What’s a mutant, mama?”

Ashanti took in her parents’ shocked faces before looking down to her child.

“A mutant is a person with special gifts.”

“Gifts?”

“Mhm, like how baba and Daka can run really fast.”

Siyanda nodded and went back to playing with Bisa’s bracelets, shaking her out of her daze.

“You said she’s an empath, what does that mean?”

“She can see auras and feel people’s energy. Shuri thinks when she’s older she might be able to feel peoples’ emotions, but we can’t know for sure yet.”

“What colors does she see around us?”

“Yaya?”

The toddler looked up from her grandma’s beaded wrists and her big brown eyes landed on her mother. Ashanti couldn’t help but smile down at her cherubic face. Siyanda was her little twin, she looked and acted just like her mama, right down to wearing her emotions on her face.

“What is it baby?”

“You don’t see the colors?”

“No, that’s your gift, not mine.”

“It’s pretty, mama. You’re yellow and baba is purple. And when you’re together it swirls.”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” she turned to her grandparents, “And you’re green and blue mixed together.”

“What do the colors mean, intyatyambo?” Bisa asked, her eyes wide with wonder at her granddaughter's gift from Bast.

Siyanda shrugged, taking in the swirling colors around them with a smile on her face.

“So what are the glasses for exactly?” Chidi asked. Much like his daughter and granddaughter, Chidi wore his emotions on his face and his bewilderment was still very obvious.

“The colors are really bright and they hurt her head, so Shuri figured out how to filter out the light so she can still see them without it hurting. Hopefully she’ll grow out of it.”

“Auntie Shuri said I’m a superhero like baba!” The princess jumped up and started play-fighting with her granddad, who then chased her around the living room and into the backyard.

“Those two,” Bisa chuckled, shaking her head before turning serious. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m ok as long as she’s ok. I’m just confused on where it came from. Does anyone else in our family have powers?”

“Well that depends on who you ask...the women in my family have been gifted for centuries, but it was mostly through dream work and divination, not as empaths. Though I’m not really sure what the difference is between a gift from Bast and a mutation.”

“I don’t think there is one.”

“Me neither.”

The mother and daughter sat in silence for a moment before Siyanda’s screeching laughter rang out as Chidi chased her back into the room. Ashanti scooped her up into her lap when Chidi plopped down on the couch, resting his head on his wife’s shoulder.

“I'm too old for this.”

Siyanda nodded and Chidi’s hurt face sent Ashanti and Bisa into a laughing fit. After they came back down to earth Ashanti felt her stomach growl and invited her parents to come back to the palace for dinner.

The four of them arrived just before everyone else and took their seats as the rest of their small party filed in. All except for the king, that is.

“Where is my son?” Ramonda asked.

“Yeah, where’s baba?”

Ashanti sighed and pushed back from the table, kissing her daughter’s head before sauntering out the room and down the hall towards the business side of the palace. When she reached his office she didn’t even bother knocking before she swung the doors open.

“T’Challa.”

He looked away from the documents on his screen, his tired eyes filling with worry as he took in her tone. She almost never said his whole name, so he knew he was in for it.

“Is something wrong, my love?”

“Uh, yeah. It’s dinnertime. Let’s go,” she turned to usher him out of the room, but he didn’t move.

“Kitten, I have work to do. We spent half the day in Shuri’s lab and then I spent the rest dealing with the Avengers-”

“You have to eat, don’t you?”

“Yes, I was going to have it brought to me.”

Ashanti crossed the room and rolled his chair back from the desk, sitting sideways in his lap.

“Your eyes look tired baby, give them a break from all the screens. Mama and baba are here...Yaya misses you...I miss you,” she pouted.

“I know what you’re doing-”

She placed a soft kiss on his lips. “I’m not doing anything,” she said before kissing his cheek, then his jawline. Her lips trailed to his Adam's apple and back up to his earlobe before whispering in his ear.

“I miss you, Kumkani.”

“I’m not doing anything,” he mocked, making his wife giggle. The king let out a sigh as Ashanti kissed up and down the column of his neck. He had already made up his mind about going to dinner, but he was also very willing to see how far she’d take her seduction.

Ashanti moved in his lap to straddle him and they connected in a passionate liplock, her hips grinding slowly into his. He let her have her fun before he stood and placed her on his desk, reaching his hand up the leg of her flowy printed shorts until he made it to his destination between her thighs. She moaned as his fingers grazed her clit, slowly stroking it through her underwear.

“You come in here and distract me.” He pushed her panties to the side and ran his bare fingers up and down her juicy slit, “All you had to do was say please.”

“Please kumkani,” she begged as he continued to tease her lips and his fingers slowly made their way deep inside her. He held her gaze as he fingered her slowly.

Ashanti wanted more, she needed more.

“Fuck me.”

“What was that? A little louder.”

“Fuck. Me.”

“You are giving orders now?”

“Please baby.”

“That’s better,” he said with a salacious smirk resting lopsided on his chiseled face. He grabbed her hand and brought it to his dick so she could feel how hard he was. “You think I don’t miss you too, my love? I miss your taste-”

He planted a sloppy open-mouthed kiss on her lips.

“-your smell-”

His head nuzzled into her neck and he took a deep breath, letting out a moan as he exhaled.

“-How you feel around my dick when I’m inside you.” He had her pussy hanging out the leg of her shorts, exposed to the elements as he stroked her clit and looked into her eyes as he spoke. The next thing she knew she was filled with her husband. His hips snapped into hers and his hands found their way to her hair, grabbing a handful of her curly faux locs and pulling her head back. He licked and nibbled on her throat as he buried himself in her and all she could see was stars.

It had been about a week since the King and Queen of Wakanda had been able to have any alone time, and they were both at their limit. They were used to going long stretches without any physical contact when he was away on missions, but when they were together they could barely keep their hands off each other. A week was way too long.

Her legs tried to wrap around him, but he was in no mood for that soft and sweet shit. He wanted to tear her to pieces and she wanted him to do it.  

Ashanti’s eyes rolled back in her head and she felt the tension rise inside her as his thumb circled her clit. Her body melted into the desk and she struggled to stay up on her elbows as he leaned over her, teasing her.

“You miss me?”

“Y-yes Kumkani.”

“What do you miss?” He loved teasing her, especially when he knew she could barely speak.

“Mmm fuck. I...I miss your hands on me.”

He slowed his strokes and his large hands made their way up and down her body. His left hand found it’s home at the dip of her hip, gripping her tight. His right hand rested just below her throat as a tease, refusing to squeeze her the way she wanted.

“What else?” he slowly dragged his tip along her g-spot and a shudder went through her body.

“Your lips.”

He trailed kisses on every inch of her body he could reach, ending on her chest. His tongue brushed across each nipple as he french kissed her breasts, pulling each bud into his mouth and nibbling softly as she moaned in his ear. His hips kept a slow and steady pace until he released her from his mouth and dug deep inside her.

“Kumkani!”

“Mhm, what else do you miss?” T’Challa’s hands gripped her hips tight as he leaned over her and pulled her into him to meet each stroke. Her hips grinded up into his until he pushed her legs back further, damn near folding her in half and laying his weight on her as his hips rolled his dick deeper inside her.

“This. I miss this.”

“I bet you do, Kitten,” he chuckled before slowing down his strokes and kissing her softly. “I miss this too.”

Their tongues danced against each other as her body tightened and released around him, coating him in her juices.

“Where do you want it?” He couldn’t hold on any longer and desperately needed this release.

“Right there, baby,” Ashanti cooed as she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in tight. The tension in his body rose to an alltime high and the vein in his forehead threatened to pop before his body jerked and he stilled inside her.

The two of them laughed as they untangled themselves and came back down to reality.

“You think they know?” Ashanti asked as she straightened his tunic. He twirled her around and was surprised there was no visible wet spot.

“We got lucky this time. You’re going to have to start keeping a change of clothes in here,” he slapped her ass just to watch it jiggle.

“Challa!”

“I’m sorry, let me kiss it-” he grabbed her and started kissing down her neck again as he firmly gripped her ass.

“No, we have to go,” she giggled as she struggled to get out of his grasp. “We can get back to this later.”

“But I want it now, you started it,” he whined and bit into her neck. “Let’s skip dinner.”

“Challa, I invited my parents.”

He visibly deflated and let out a deep sigh. He loved his in-laws, but he would much rather be blowing Ashanti’s back out in their quarters. He released her from his arms with a roll of his eyes and tried his best not to pout as she pulled him out the door, but his sad face was quickly replaced by one of great amusement as he watched his wife limp down the hallway.

Later that night, T’Challa was called to an emergency mission with the Avengers and was gone for a whole month.

--------

Ashanti had passed her creative genes right on down to her daughter. The little princess loved to draw and regularly surprised her parents with colorful portraits of the people in her life. They loved seeing the world through her eyes and kept every picture, even when the subject was unrecognizable. Their favorite was a picture she drew of the whole family holding hands, each one of them glowing in their different colors. N’Jadaka was red, full of passion and strength, and Shuri’s ambition came through as a vivid orange color. Ramonda was surrounded by a peaceful cloud of light blue and the bold blues and healing greens of Chidi and Bisa’s auras swirled together in perfect harmony. She even drew pictures of her favorite aunts and uncles, capturing how M’Baku’s red aura danced around Shani’s pink glow. The twins were a bright yellow with tinges of purple and blue, Okoye’s aura was the same fiery red she wore as armor, and the blue light emanating around Zina contrasted beautifully with the pink surrounding Jafari.  

Siyanda’s drawings were always so bright and colorful, until one day she surprised her mother with a much darker piece of art.

“Who’s that, baby?” Ashanti asked with concern as she looked over her daughter’s shoulder. She was drawing a dark cloud of putrid greens and browns around a group of blacked-out people.

“I don’t know. I saw it in my dream.”

“Was it a bad dream?”

Siyanda nodded as she continued to focus on her dark masterpiece.

“Tell me about it.”

“I just saw the people.”

“These people?”

“Mhm.”

“Do you know who they are?”

“No, mama, they’re just the people.”

“Did they do something in your dream?”

“They were just there. It was scary.” She reached for the black crayon and scribbled around the perimeter of the peoples’ collective aura, encasing it all in the darkness.

That night, when Ashanti’s beads trilled with T’Challa’s special tone she quickly pressed her communication bead, prompting her husband’s figure to rest in the palm of her hand.

“Something’s wrong,” she said before he could even speak.

“What is it?”

“It’s Yaya...she drew this.”

Ashanti held up the wild crayon drawing and T’Challa’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Who is that supposed to be?”

“I don’t know, she just kept calling them ‘the people’. She saw it in her dream, Challa.”

“Her dream?”

Ashanti nodded, “I don’t think that’s ever happened before.”

“And she never uses dark colors like that, not even for an outline...what happened in her dream?”

“Nothing. She just saw this...she said it was scary.”

T’Challa was quiet for a while, wheels turning in his head.

“And these ‘people’ aren’t anyone she knows?”

“Nope. I’m worried about her, what if this is some sort of premonition? I told you what mama said about the women in our family.”

“Kitten, if it’s a premonition I think we should all be worried. It doesn’t look good.”

“No it doesn’t...when are you coming home?”

“I’m cutting it short, I’ll be there tomorrow.”

“Don’t they need you?”

“Probably, but I am needed even more elsewhere.”

The next morning, a very sleepy Siyanda waited for her baba on the tarmac with her family. Shuri held her on her hip as she rested her head on her shoulder, but the second the Talon came into view she perked right up and jumped down from her auntie’s arms. She tried to take off towards the ship, but Ashanti grabbed her arm before she could go anywhere.

“Not yet, baby. Wait until the doors open.”

“Ok mama.”

Her little leg bounced in anticipation and the second the doors opened and Ashanti gave her a nod, she took off towards the ship, running almost as fast as her Baba, when she noticed he wasn’t alone.

“Daka!” She tackled her big cousin and he “fell” to the ground.

“You’re getting strong, Punkin!”

She giggled as he tickled her until a throat clearing stopped them both.

“No love for me?”

She sprung from the ground and into T’Challa’s arms, leaving a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

“I missed you, baba!”

“Not as much as you missed him,” he pretended to be upset.

“It’s been longer since I saw Daka, baba.”

“It’s ok to say you missed me more. Don’t let him pressure you,” N’Jadaka said with a wink.

Siyanda giggled as the three of them disembarked the Talon and the returning Udakus were greeted by their family.

After a month apart, T’Challa and Ashanti were relieved to be back in each other’s arms. They held each other for a moment before going in for a kiss. They tried their best to keep their hands to themselves, but their kiss turned heated until Ramonda cleared her throat and Ashanti  looked up to see Shuri shielding Siyanda’s eyes.

“Sorry, it’s been a while,” Ashanti hid her face while her husband laughed and pulled her in for another kiss.

“Eewwwwww,” the littlest princess was disgusted by her parents’ display, prompting Shuri and N’Jadaka to join her in her protests.

“Yeah, ewwww.”

“Mmhm, y’all nasty.”

“Alright, alright, damn. I can’t love on my husband?”

Siyanda shook her head.

“And why not?”

“Because it’s gross!”

T’Challa chuckled and scooped her up, placing her on his shoulders as they walked back into the palace. “You just keep thinking that for the next twenty years.”

“Make it thirty,” N’Jadaka chimed in from behind them.

“How about forty? Fifty, just to be safe?”

“Sounds good to me, man.”

“Stop it, you two,” Ramonda slapped the back of her nephew’s head at the same time her son received a deadly glare from his wife.

“Ow, ok. Twenty it is.” N’Jadaka laughed as he dodged his auntie’s hand, sending a wink to his big cousin who was trying very hard to not look down at Ashanti.

“So, what have I missed, little one?” T’Challa asked his daughter.

“I rode a rhino!”

“You did?!”

“Mhm. Mama almost didn’t let me, but Auntie Okoye talked her into it.”

“Well thank Bast for Auntie Okoye,” he sent his friend and protector a smile.

“Anything for our princess,” Okoye said, trying to keep a straight face since she was on duty.

“Anything?” Siyanda’s eyes were filled with wonder as her mind raced through the possibilities.

“Anything within reason,” Ashanti interjected before she got too carried away, booping her on her nose as they continued down the hallway to the living quarters.

--------

“Your highnesses, there is a rebel faction within our borders,” explained T’San, the River tribe elder. He had asked for a private audience with the king and queen to discuss sensitive matters, and they were intrigued when he said it was something he didn’t want to announce in front of the council.

“What proof do you have?”

T’San nodded to the guards stationed at the door and they opened it to reveal two River tribe warriors with a very angry looking woman between them.

“Let me go!” she struggled to get out of their grasp, but they held tight as they walked her into the throne room.

“Thetha,” Ashanti ordered. The woman stared at her in contempt and remained silent.

“Your queen commanded you to speak. Now speak.”

“She is not my queen,” the woman spat, eyes narrowing at Ashanti, who shifted in her seat uncomfortably. She could almost feel T’Challa’s blood pressure rising.

“She is and you will respect her. Ungubani?”

The woman remained silent until the River tribe warriors squeezed her arm tighter.

“Ouch! Ok, damn. My name is Iniko, your highnesses,” she said sarcastically as she gave them a weak Wakandan salute.

“Enough of your disrespect-”

“T’San, thank you,” T’Challa cut him off, standing and slowly walking towards Iniko. “Tell me, what is it you want?”

“We want a real queen, not some common whore.”

“That is enough! Take her to the holding cells, I will deal with her later.”

The palace guards collected her from the warriors and she thrashed in their arms as they led her out of the room.

“You’ll never stop The People!”

Ashanti and T’Challa made eye contact right as the doors closed. He made his way back to his throne and sat down, taking the queen’s hand in his.

“My sincerest apologies, my queen, my king.”

“Thank you T’San. How many more are there?” Ashanti asked, still a little shaken up from what she just heard.

“She is the only one we have found so far, my queen. My warriors are questioning her friends and family as we speak”

“Good. Keep us updated on what you find, and T’San?”

“Yes, my king?”

“Don’t breathe a word of this to other council members, I will address it in our meeting.”

The elder bowed his head in understanding.

“Anything else, T’San?”

“No, my queen, that is all.”

“Well, the king and I would like to thank you for your service to Wakanda.”

“It is my honor,” he saluted them and left with his warriors in tow.

As soon as the doors closed behind him Ashanti hopped up from the throne.

“She saw them in her dream, Challa.”

“I know…”

“This isn’t good.”

“I know…” He was in a daze. Not only was there a rebel faction out to get his wife, but his daughter was certainly having premonitions.

“Yaya has another power.”

“I know…”

Ashanti turned to look at him slumped down in the throne with his head resting on his hands. She went and sat across his lap, burying her face in his neck. They stayed like that for a few minutes before T’Challa shifted to check the time.

“It’s time to make our rounds, love.”

Ashanti sighed and got up, shuffling towards the door with her husband on her heels. They made their way to Ramonda’s vegetable garden to find her and the littlest princess digging around in the dirt, harvesting yams. Siyanda looked up and excitedly ran to her parents.

“Can we go see the rhinos now?”

“In a little bit,” Ashanti chuckled. “Let’s get you cleaned up first.”

“Mama, these look delicious.”

“They do,” she said proudly. “We’ll find out for sure at dinner.”

“I’m already hungry, let’s go before I bite into one of these things raw.” Ashanti said just before her stomach growled. “Zana Cafe for lunch?”

“Yes!” Siyanda was always excited to see her grandparents.

“We had better get going. See you later, mama,” he kissed her cheek.

“Don’t be late for dinner, I can’t promise N’Jadaka won’t eat all the yams again.”

“Oh we’ll be there, and tell him I’m not above fighting him over food,” Ashanti said with a serious look on her face as they walked away. Ramonda chuckled and went right back to tending to her garden.

T’Challa always loved making the rounds to the different tribes, but this time he was on high alert, as were the Dora Milaje that guarded the family of three. Siyanda had inherited her baba’s love of interacting with the tribes, and while her parents took care of the business side of things, she got to play with kids all over Wakanda. They’d swim in the river, play hide and seek, ride rhinos, and sled down bunny slopes. Naturally, she liked visiting the Jabari and Merchant tribes the best because she got to see some of her favorite people in the world.

Siyanda loved her big cousin M’Bari and followed the nine year old everywhere, but she really loved her uncle M’Baku. He always joked that she was his second child, even as his actual second child was still baking in the oven. It didn’t help that “Siyanda” was his suggestion.

“You know, I am the one that named you,” he told the little princess as she threw a snowball at him before hiding behind M’Bari.

“Really?”

“Yes, your parents could not figure out what to call you, but your Umalume M’Baku knew.”

Shani and T’Challa rolled their eyes as Ashanti chuckled.

“He brings that up at least twice a week,” Shani deadpanned as they watched M’Bari show Siyanda how to make the perfect snowball.

Getting Siyanda to leave Jabari land was like pulling teeth. She loved it up there and if Shani and M’Baku had anything to say about it, she could stay as long as she wanted to, but the royal family still had to visit Ashanti’s tribe. They said their goodbyes and Siyanda pouted most of the way down the mountain until T’Challa leaned in and started tickling her, making her frown go away.

They walked through the bazaar hand in hand, with Siyanda in the middle between her two parents. They spoke to passersby as they made their way to the center of all the hustle and bustle. Before settling in at the Cafe, Ashanti decided to stop by Taj’s, which was now completely run by Zina and Jafari.

“My queen!” Zina shouted when she saw Ashanti, almost knocking her over in a hug. Jafari poked his head out the back and smiled at the scene.

“Your majesty,” he bowed sarcastically, making Ashanti roll her eyes and pull him in for a hug.

“Stop that.”

“Where’s the rest of the family?” Zina asked, looking behind her for the princess.

“Across the way, stuffing their faces. Come eat with us.”

The three of them closed the shop down and joined the Mostafa-Udaku clan for lunch. Chidi and Bisa were already seated on either side of Siyanda and Ashanti took her place between her mama and husband, across the table from her friends and former employees. The seven of them chatted for what felt like hours before the princess let out a yawn.

“Nap time?” Bisa asked the king and queen.

“A little bit past it, actually. We should go before she starts getting cranky,” T’Challa responded, already standing from his seat.

The royal family said their goodbyes and returned to the palace so Siyanda could take her midday nap. While she slept, her parents figured they could get into some grown-up fun, but just as things were heating up both of their beads trilled.

Iniko was dead.

--------

Another week passed with no leads on Iniko’s death or on The People. T’Challa spent almost every waking hour pouring over evidence that led to a brick wall every time. He decided to call in the only reinforcements he knew he could trust, and as usual they answered.

Steve, Bucky, and Nakia appeared as holograms in the middle of the room as T’Challa explained the situation to them. N’Jadaka leaned against the door and M’Baku took up most of the couch, both listening intently as the king spoke.

“All my leads are coming up short, so I’m opening the floor to suggestions.”

“I could always go undercover. It won’t be hard for people to believe I turned my back on you,” N’Jadaka suggested.

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” Ashanti chimed in from T’Challa’s desk chair. He nodded slowly, wheels turning in his head.

“Let’s keep that in our pocket for now. Convincing Wakandans to accept you took too much time, I don’t want to impede that progress.”

“I will see what I can get from my contacts,” said Nakia, already typing away.

“What is it they want again?” Bucky asked.

“This ‘common whore’ off the throne.”

T’Challa bristled as she said the words again and everyone grew silent.

“Do they have a replacement already in mind?”

“We don’t know, we don’t even know how they communicate, where they meet, who’s in charge...nothing. Yet,” Ashanti tried to remain hopeful.

T’Challa let out a sigh and leaned back onto his desk.

“Maybe it’s time to let the council know-”

“The only one I trust other than M’Baku is T’San. He’s the only one of them who respected her before her title.”

“That’s good though,” Steve chimed in, making everybody turn to him, confusion written on their faces. “You already know some of them are untrustworthy, so pluck 'em one by one and see who squeals. One of them is bound to know something.”

“How did ole girl die, again?” The prince asked for clarification.

“Cyanide.”

“Damn, that’s too easy to get your hands on. Did Lil Bit track where it came from?”

“Ground up apple seeds.”

“Ok so we know they’re DIY-ing it, which means they probably don’t have the resources to do anything big yet. I’d say go with Blue Eyes’ plan for now.”

“You, Ashanti, and I will head the interrogations. The rest of you, keep your eyes and ears open.”

The three holograms disappeared and a hush fell over the room.

“Challa, I don’t think I should be there when you question the council members.”

“You won’t be, but I want you to come in towards the end so I can gauge their reactions to you,” he ran his hand over his face and sat down in the chair across the desk from his.

“You look tired...you both do,” M’Baku pointed out.

The king and queen looked at each other and took in their appearances. They both had bags under their eyes.

“Yes, well, it’s been a long few days.”

“Why don’t y’all take the rest of the day off? Dr. Jekyll and I can handle the kingdom. I’ll even take Punkin for the night, I know y’all need some alone time.”

“Is the word not ‘pumpkin’?” M’Baku asked, genuinely confused.

“Not if you’re Black. Anyway, what do y’all say?”

“Shuri won’t like that you volunteered her to run the kingdom…”

“Then I’ll run it and she can take Punkin, doesn’t matter to me.”

T’Challa thought it over before he noticed the hopeful look on his wife’s face.

“Ok, we’ll take the day, but you have to tell Shuri.”

“Damn, aight I got it. Y’all go take a nap or some shit.”

And that’s exactly what they did. A couple hours later they woke up and ordered dinner to be brought to them. They lazed around in the nude, watching movies, stuffing their faces, and just enjoying their time together not having to act as king and queen but simply T’Challa and Ashanti. They laid in the bed with his head resting on her stomach as his fingers lightly traced invisible symbols into her skin.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Hm? Oh, nothing.”

“Challa, I know when you’re lying. You’re not good at it.”

He chuckled and sat up before sighing.

“I’m thinking about The People-”

“No work!”

“I know, my brain just won’t stop going there.”

Ashanti brought him back down to her and played with his hair as he spoke.

“I’m just worried about how you’re holding up in all this.”

She took a moment to collect her thoughts.

“I can’t say it’s easy to hear that people want me dead-”

“They never said-”

“Challa, we know...they don’t have to say it. I’m just worried about where Yaya fits into all this.”

“Her premonition?”

“Yes and no. I’m more so worried about what their plan is for her. Is she in danger too or just me? I can handle being a target again, but my baby?” Ashanti fought tears as she thought the worst. She unknowingly fiddled with her pinky and T’Challa pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed it.

He hadn’t even considered that his little girl might be in danger, too. Just as he started to spiral down that rabbit hole he felt Ashanti move to the side of the bed and stand up.

“Come on, get up.”

“Where are we going?”

“Nowhere. We need to get our heads right.”

Ashanti went over to the balcony and sparked up one of the pre-rolls they had ordered from Amare, the royal grower. T’Challa came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and placing his chin in the crook of her neck as she held the blunt to his lips. He turned her face to his and shotgunned the smoke into her mouth before taking a hit of his own.

“More Snow Goddess OG?” He took another hit of his favorite strain before passing it back to Ashanti.

“Mmmhm, Amare must want a little prince running around here.”

“Or another princess,” T’Challa smiled just thinking about it.

“Don’t get too excited-”

“Too late,” he said as he kissed her neck.

“I mean about another baby, Challa,” she giggled.

“I know, and I mean this.” His hips thrust forward and she could feel his thickness between her cheeks.

“Oh well in that case, please do continue.”

He pulled away and she felt the chill of the night air on her back. The queen took another hit before ashing the blunt and following her husband back inside.

“I have a surprise for you.”

“What is it?”

“Stay here,” the smile on his face intrigued Ashanti. She hadn’t seen him look that giddy in a while.

When he came back she was very confused to see he was empty handed.

“Where is it?”

He pointed to the panther necklace that he definitely wasn't wearing before, eyebrows bouncing mischievously. Before she could say anything he called the suit on.

“Ok...I’ve seen the suit before baby.”

His smile grew as the suit retracted from his body, but stopped at his waist. Ashanti watched in awe as the suit partially covered and uncovered him. His hands were exposed while his torso was covered, then the nanites fused into his mask as the rest of the suit retracted into the necklace.

Ashanti reached out to feel the fibers and sure enough, it was the same as his old suit, just a little more...flexible.

“Shuri finally did it,” she said in awe.

“Mhm, and it took me forever to convince her. Of course, I didn’t tell her why.”

She had wanted to fuck him in the suit ever since she first saw it on him in Shuri’s lab all those years ago, and now her dream was finally coming true. Ashanti was about to fuck the Black Panther.  

“Put it back on.”

“You don’t give the orders here.”

A shiver travelled down Ashanti’s spine as he circled her.

“So tell me,” he whispered in her ear as his fingertips lightly ghosted along her hips and down to her thighs before turning her around to face him and grabbing two handfulls of her ass. “How do you want it?”

“Push me to my limit,” she whispered and a deep rumbling chuckle erupted from T’Challa’s chest.

“You sure about that?”

“Yes, Black Panther.”

The chuckling was soon replaced with a growl as he pushed her up against the wall.

“Say that shit again.”

“Yes, Black Panther.”

He attacked her lips and his tongue slithered into her mouth as his hands pressed her hips into the wall behind her.

“That’s how you’ll address me tonight, understand?”

“Yes, Black Panther.”

“Mmm...you remember the safeword?”

“Papaya.”

“Good girl,” he grabbed her by her jaw and made her look at him. “You sure you want to be pushed to your limit?”

“Yes, Black Panther.”

He licked his lips and looked down at her as he called his suit on all the way, leaving his face visible.

“Hey Kim, play ‘Kitten’ playlist,” he called out to the AI and a shiver went down Ashanti’s spine.

Send my regards to the mother and father

'Cause somebody's daughter I just fucking slayed

Blood on the carpet, it came from my heart

Once I start, I can't stop it, and now we are prey

“I’m not stopping unless you say ‘papaya’. You can say ‘no’ or ‘stop’ all you want, it won’t work. Do you understand me?”

“Yes Black Panther,” Ashanti shivered as she spoke. She could feel the wetness pooling between her lower lips. He had always been dominant, but now he felt downright dangerous and that excited her.

“Go get my kit.”

Ashanti’s eyes lit up and she damn near ran to their closet. She found the small suitcase and rolled it out to the bedroom. T’Challa was seated at the edge of the bed with his suit completely on, face covered and all. She laid the suitcase on the chair and unzipped it, splaying it open.

I wanna dive in you tonight

Wouldn't that be special? (special)

'Cause you're so fucking special (special)

And that pussy ain't a rental (no)

I wanna get you so high (high)

'Til you feel it in your mental (mental)

Do you feel me in your mental? (mental)

I'm fucking drilling in your dead soul (woah oh)

“Did I say open it?”

He was behind her in the blink of an eye, but she never even heard him move. His hand wrapped around her throat and she shuddered.

“No.”

“No, who?!” he squeezed the sides tighter, putting pressure on her pulse.

“No, Kum- Black Panther.”

“I’m glad you caught yourself, you’re still a good little slut,” he held her face still with one hand as the fingers on his other hand slapped her cheek. “Vula”

She opened her mouth wide and stuck out her tongue, prompting him to remove the suit from his hand and stick his fingers down her throat.

“You better not fucking gag...good girl,” his helmet disappeared as he dangled his tongue from his mouth and let his spit drop into hers. “Swallow.”

She did as instructed and a sinister smile took over his face.

I lost my mind, yeah

So I made yours mine, yeah

Two souls and a dance with the de-

Only one comin' alive

“Get my favorite toys out,” he instructed and she hopped to it, pulling out her remote control buttplug and her clitoral and g-spot stimulator.

“Put them in, slowly.”

She reached for lube and put a generous amount on the plug before working it inside her. Once she was full of it, she then slid her other vibrator in and made sure it was situated on top of her clit.

“Good girl. Now stay just like that.”

She squirmed from the feeling of being filled in both holes as he dug through the suitcase, pulling out a blindfold. He stopped for a moment to press his beads and she released a moan as her buttplug started vibrating, followed shortly by the internal portion of her vibrator in her pussy.

“Don’t move.”

“Yes, Black Panther, but I-I want to be able to see you. Please don’t blindfold me.”

“Only because you said please,” he gave her a peck on the lips as he turned the vibrators up to the next level, making her moan even louder. “Bast, I love that sound. Come here.” He picked her up and placed her in the swing that had come down from its discreet hiding place in the ceiling, strapping her in and tying her wrists to the bar at the top before turning on the clit stimulator.

Send my regards to the mother and father

'Cause somebody's daughter I just fucking slayed

Blood on the carpet, it came from my heart

Once I start, I can't stop it, and now we are prey

Ashanti convulsed as an orgasm washed over her and she squirted all over the floor. He laughed at her as she came back down to earth and he continued to take her there over and over until she was a blubbering mess. Eventually he took pity on her and his suit covered his face again and uncovered his lower half. He ran his fingers along her pussy and removed her vibrator before stroking his already hard dick with her wetness and plunging deep inside her.

Go until you see the light

(Yeah)

Baby, do you see the light?

(That's right)

She stared into his eyes through the mask and struggled against her restraints as he took her there, suspended in the air and at the complete mercy of the Black Panther.  

Call the coroner tonight (tonight)

Blacked-out girl, it's a funeral (funeral)

She was dead on arrival (arrival)

Heart crossed, hand on the Bible (alright)

Ashanti  cried, she screamed, she begged him to stop, but not once did she want to use that safeword. In all the time they had been together she had never seen him so unhinged. If the bite marks up and down her body were any indication, he seemed to enjoy being so rough with her. They both looked forward to seeing her bruised skin in the morning and wondered how long it would take for the teeth indents to go away.

The one thing T’Challa didn’t expect from her was her excitement at seeing the razor sharp claws extend from his fingertips. They had engaged in knifeplay before, but it was more so his kink than hers. However, the sight of those claws flipped a switch in her, and he could tell.

'Cause I lost my mind, yeah

So I made yours mine, yeah

Two souls and a dance with the de-

And only one comin' out alive

“Tell me what you want, I see you staring.”

“I want you to cut me.”

He double checked that the first aid kit was in his suitcase before his thumb sliced a very shallow incision right down the middle of her thigh. He removed his mask and his tongue came out to lick away her blood, making Ashanti moan out with pleasure. She hadn’t expected that.

Send my regards to the mother and father

'Cause somebody's daughter I just fucking slayed

(Call the coroner tonight)

Blood on the carpet (it's a funeral tonight)

It came from my heart (my condolences tonight)

Once I start, I can't stop it (go until you see the light)

And now we are prey

When he kissed up her body and finally made it to her lips their tongues lapped at each other and she tasted the copper of her blood. It turned her on even more just thinking about it, her bloodthirsty apex predator.

He called the suit back into the necklace and undid her restraints, kissing the marks on her wrists.

“How do you feel?”

“Really good,” she smiled drunkenly. He wrapped her arms around his neck and removed her legs from the straps, wrapping them around his waist and walking to the bed. He placed her down in the center and grabbed the first aid kit.

“Challa, I’ve had paper cuts deeper than this, you don’t have to do all that,” she chuckled.

“Please, for my peace of mind.”

Ashanti sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes, but placed her leg across his lap and allowed him to tend to her wound anyway. “‘Only because you said please.’”

T’Challa laughed as he cleaned her cut, “You think you’re cute, huh? Even after all that?”

“Yes, Black Panther,” she giggled out as he tickled her other thigh. “We should do that more often.”

“Which part?”

“All of it. Even that little surprise at the end,” she gestured to her leg. “Bast, I love how nasty you are.”

“And I love how you’re such a good little slut for me, Kitten.”

Ashanti bit her lip and leaned in for a kiss, but they were interrupted by a banging on the door.

“AYE, GET UP!” N’Jadaka yelled, almost busting down the door. T’Challa’s suit immediately came on as he ran to the door and swung it open.

“Wh-”

“We gotta go, NOW!”

T’Challa and N’Jadaka took off running and Ashanti just sat on the bed, confused and concerned. She only sort of heard the beginning of N’Jadaka’s sentence as they ran out the room. Someone was being held hostage, but she didn’t hear who. She got up and ran the bath that T’Challa was no doubt planning to run for her before their night got interrupted by business. She soaked in the water for a while before she heard T’Challa’s tone coming from her kimoyo beads.

“Take care of it already?” She asked before looking up at the hologram to see the unthinkable. There was her baby girl with a blaster pointed right at her temple with tears in her eyes. Her lip quivered as she stared at the man with the slimy black tendrils surrounding him, his aura unlike any she’d ever seen.

“Hello, my queen,” seethed an unrecognizable voice behind the camera. “You have ten minutes to get here before I pull this trigger...or maybe they’ll pull one of theirs.” He panned the beads around the lab and she saw Shuri, N’Jadaka, and T’Challa with masked people standing behind them holding blasters to each of their heads.

“Please...please don’t hurt them, I-I’m on my way right now. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

“Nine minutes,” they teased before ending the call.

Ashanti threw on whatever clothes she could get to quickest and ran out the door towards the lab. There was no way she’d make it in nine minutes on foot, so she alerted her Dora detail before hopping on T’Challa’s hoverbike and taking off as quickly as she could towards Shuri’s lab, praying to Bast she would make it in time.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @ljstraightnochaser, @determinednot2fall, @dersha89

[mellie1409]

Moving in with the boys

As the playlist and name of the album had been decided, there was only one thing left to do: start practicing all the dances and performances before recording them.

As having two managers and having separated training schedules would be too complicated it had been decided that you would join the boys manager while the agency looked for a new manager for you solo debut the year after.

Sejin was very sweet and understanding with you as you were the only girl and his first decision was having you move in with the boys as you, after all, were a member of BTS.

This was all communicated to you the last day of training as a trainee. The others trainee only new you would debut, but you weren't allowed to tell them in which group or anything about the debut concept. After 10 hours of training they all gave you a hug and you left to look for Sejin's van. There were no party's thrown or any beautiful words said. But you were okay with it, you knew yourself it wasn't easy to see others debut as you stayed behind for who knew how long. You weren't gonna cry, you told to yourself. But as you walked out of the building in to the van, you eyes got watery. They had been your siblings and moral support for so long. You could only wish them the best.

As you walked in to Sejin's van you put your pet on. Now that you were going to debut as a member of the biggest group in Korea, you had to keep your identity a secret. You weren't allowed to be seen with Sejin until you debuted. For this reason, you seated on one of the back seats were the windows were dark coloured.

As you took a deep breath and shook your tears away, Sejin spoke up: 'We will go get your things at the GFriend dorm and then we will go to your new home: BTS dorm'

You were utterly surprised. 'He wants me to live with BTS? But, but... '

'Yes that's right' he answered. It's then that you realized you were thinking out loud. 'I alredy told the boys about it and they are very excited. They have prepared a room for you. ' he continued.

'But what will people think?' that was actually the only thing you were worried about. It's true that you had only met them a few times, but you could already feel a connection with them and knew living with them wouldn't be a problem at all. But you were worried about the consequences it might have for the boys. If people started shipping you with one of the boys... No, that couldn't happen. You had been told when you signed your trainee contract that you weren't allowed to date anyone in the company and that dating scandals would mean a reduction of your pay. No, you would do your best to not let anything happen.

'It's a new situation for everyone' You snapped back to reality. 'I've talked with Namjoon and he has made the boys very aware of the situation. You don't need to worry about them, they will take care of you as if you were their little sister. And about scandals, as long as you don't give opportunities for it to happen, the company will handle them with no problems. ' Sejin said.

By now you were already close to your old dorms. What Sejin had told you, had defenetly eased your nerves but you were still a bit worried. A voice in your head saying that ARMY wouldn't like you living with them.

As you stepped out of the car, a soft brizzle hit your face, somewhat grounding you from those dark thoughts. 'No, this is my time to shine. I'm not going to let anyone take me down'  you thought to yourself.

You stepped into the dorm and the complete silence overwhelmed you. GFriend were still at the company building practicing so you were all alone. It was strange to see the normally so full of cheer and life house so silent and empty now. You were somewhat sad that you didn't have the opportunity to say goodbye to the girls that had adopted you and treated you like one more member. Even though you were excited and happy to debut with BTS, you sometimes thought you would have preferred to debut with GFriend. You were gonna miss them, but at the same time you thought of your bright future. It was a sweet-sour victory for you.

You thought about this as you packed the little clothes you had there. You had left your homecountry with only a few clothes and even though you weren't short in money, the trainee pay wasn't exactly what you would call extensive.

When you were done you took a last look at the dorm that you had so many memories in. The kitchen were you would cook, the living room normally filled with laughter and the room you shared with the other maknaes. You were gonna miss it, but you had a big adventure ahead of you. So you took a deep breath and closed that creaky door one last time before heading back to the car.

Sejin helped you load you luggage onto the back and then you stepped back into the van. It was alredy getting dark and you were tired after such an intense day. As you were driving around Seoul on your way to BTS' dorm, you started to doze off, head filled with wonderful dreams that seemed closer everytime and face full with a sweet smile.

'Y/N, we have arrived. '

You wake up to Sejin opening your door and helping you step out of the van and taking your backpack. As you look around you, you realize it has stopped raining and it's completely dark. You can't see very well around you, but as you inquire in the darkness you start to see the outlining of what you can only call a cute modern apartment building.

You follow Sejin into that building and step into an elevator. As the door open, you heart starts beating faster and faster. You don't know why, but you are nervous. It's true that you had already met them a few times, but this was different, you were about to live with them. See them in their most vulnerable but at the same time most comfy state. You weren't sure if you were prepared to show them as well that side of you.

Right then, you got to the door. Sejin was about to knock on it, when he got a phone call. He quickly answered it and started to leave, turning around to sign you a knocking motion before finally leaving with the elevator ding

You turned around shocked and hesitantly raised your hand to knock. Before you could even give a second knock, the door flew open, two goofy and fun faces apearing through the opening to greet you, together with the smell of meat being grilled.

'Y/N!!! You're finally here!! ' Taehyung says while Jungkook jumps on his back, unable to contain his excitement. But before you can even answer Jimin appears out of nowhere and takes your luggage.

'C'mon Y/N! I'll show you your room! ' he says while starting to run through a corridor to the right.

'No! I want to! ' says Jungkook while jumping off Taehyung's back and chasing Jimin.

You stare at them startled but happy to see they are as cute in real life as in the Run episodes you had once watched and rewatched. Taehyung looks at you with his boxy smile and takes you by the wrist guiding you into the corridor Jungkook and Jimin had once disappeared.

You pass through some closed doors as well as some open ones. You get to peek into one of the rooms and you see a recording studio-like room with white walls and tons of music related stuff. Before you can ask yourself who works there you have already arived where the other two maknaes are.

A beautiful little room at the end of the corridor. It has broken-white walls and a huge window with open curtains. As you look around you start to discover furniture. A double bed in the middle of the right wall, a white wardrobe in the middle of the left wall, a desk in front of the window and a bed side table between the bed and the wall. You can see that a lot of effort has been put in this simple but cozy room, with even a rugmat on the floor in front of the bed.

'Wow, this is just... ' you say as you tear up. You were worried you would feel like a stranger, but this actually felt like home. Them being some welcoming made you emotional and you couldn't stop the tears from flowing.

'Don't you... Don't you like it?' Jungkook asks timidly. You look at the looks on their faces and realize how worried they are.

'No, oh god, I love it. It's just perfect. ' you answer quickly. They give each other relieved glances and as you wipe away the tears that keep falling, Namjoon and J-Hope walk in.

'Boys, what did I tell you? She has just arrived and you have already made her cry? You are unbelievable.' the leader speaks.

The three maknaes at once start running out of the room with cheeky laughters while J-Hope throws a slipper at them in a try to "teach them a lesson".

This whole action makes you laugh and forget about all your worries. This is perfect, this is your new home and those are your new roommates. 'This is gonna be fun' you think to yourself.

After having retrieved his slipper, J-Hope takes a look at you and starts explaining. 'This was our old game room were we would play computer games and just chill on our free days. We did our best to clean it and prepare it for you. We hope you like it. ' he says while smiling.

'We hope you will feel comfortable and at home and please feel free to tell us if any-' Grrrrrr

'Oh no, this can't be happening, did you really just interrupt Namjoon with a rumbling stomach?' you think.

'Woah, someone's hungry! ' J-Hope says with a big smile on his face. 'Jin and Suga are nearly done cooking. '

'Why don't you take a shower and come join us for dinner after? ' Namjoon suggests.

'That would be great, thank you' you agree with a smile.

"Great! Let me show you your private bathroom then" he says while leading the way.

.

.

.

.

.

The shower was great, you felt refreshed and confortable in the clean clothes that you put on.  And you used the shower time to think and absorb everything that had happened in the last few hours.

As you walked out of you room you guided youself to the living room through the smell of food. You walked into a huge room that combined a kitchen with the dining and living room all in one. As you looked around, you saw everyone was there. Suga finishing the cooking while Jin scolded Namjoon for trying to cut the strawberries for dessert with a butter knife. J-Hope was walking around with a spoon full of food trying to get Jungkook to try out (an experiment he had done) and Jimin and Taehyung were setting the table in a competition to try to make it as beautiful as possible.

Looking at this scene made your heart jump in happiness, you were lucky enough to be able to share one year of your life with this amazing human beings and you were going to make the most out of it, after all, you were the 8th member of BTS. And with those happy thoughts you walked in to join the jolly chaos that was BTS' living room.

[xzephyrusx]

SEVENTEEN Imagine

seungcheol x reader

notice! before you start reading, the BLUE texts with underlines are links to show you what I’m talking about. you can click on it or not, it doesn’t matter. it’s just more of a visual just to let you see what I’m talking about. also, here are some terms/abbreviations I used for this imagine so you don’t get confused: (Y/N) your name; (F/N) friend’s name; (U/N) username

plot: the boys are filming a going seventeen episode and your boyfriend seungcheol asked you to come with.

Slowly opening my eyes, I reached for my phone on top of my bedside table. I squinted because of the sunlight beaming through my white and slightly translucent curtains. The bright light filled my room, but not enough that it blinded me.

I rolled on my back and checked to see if I had any important notifications.

30mins ago from FACEBOOK — (F/N) tagged you in a comment.

4hrs ago from FACEBOOK — (F/N) liked your picture.

17mins ago from INSTAGRAM — (U/N) and 12 others followed you.

18mins ago from INSTAGRAM — (U/N) and 25 others commented on your photo.

4hrs ago from iMESSAGE — Cheolie ❤️ : Good morning, jagiya. I’m on my way to the company. My schedule is full today ㅠㅠ I miss you. I hope you’re getting your beauty sleep. I love you, beautiful. 😚

I smiled and tapped on the message from my boyfriend. It wasn’t a secret that he’s always busy, especially since he is in a band called Seventeen which is becoming very popular nowadays.

They haven’t been touring because of the pandemic. That’s the reason why they’ve been busy just preparing for their comebacks, stages and different contents that they will be releasing. I don’t really mind not seeing him as much.

It might sound as if I don’t love him, but the real reason might be too cliché. Although, it’s really because of the fact that he’s happy with what he’s doing. I can see it in the way Cheol’s eyes light up when he talks about his members.

Everytime he calls me or FaceTime’s me after a long day at work, he’s still gonna be smiling. You’d thought after a long day at work just practicing for hours and hours, he would look tired. But he’d be so happy to tell me about his day and how much he had fun with his members.

I quickly replied to him with, “Good morning, oppa. I woke up later than anticipated. ㅋㅋ I don’t have anything planned yet, but I might go to the café I own later just to check things out. I might have my breakfast there too. I know you’re having fun at work. I love you.❤️”

I opened up Spotify and connected my phone to my home speakers. I clicked on my playlist which played their recent song Home Run and stood up to get ready for the day ahead of me. With the song playing loudly in the background, I went in the bathroom to take a shower.

It was about 11:40 when I had finished taking a shower. As soon as I was finished, I went in my closet to find what to wear for the day. Dancing through the song playing in the background, I dug through my closet to figure out what to wear.

About 5 minutes later, I settled on wearing a casual business outfit since I’ll also be checking on my café today anyway. My days usually just consist of working in my café or just staying there while I work on how to improve the cafés menu, ambiance, or managing the different places where people who franchised had put up our café.

Although it’s theirs to take care of, I still make sure to visit and keep in touch with the owners. So as not to bring down the good reputation of my brand name. It’s been about 3 years since I had started this business and I couldn’t be luckier. My sweat and hard work had finally paid off.

After getting dressed, I took the elevator to the parking lot. I walked toward my white Mercedez, then drove to the direction of the café. It’s located near Han River at Apgujeong-dong. It was a really hard spot to get but, thanks to my hard work I convinced the owners to sell it to me.

I finally arrived at the shop, so I parked my car at the back. I took out my laptop and bag, check if I had my keys and phone inside before circling back to the front to go inside.

“Annyeonghaseyo, (Y/N)-nim!”

I was greeted by the two staffs as soon as I entered. I greeted them back and went to a table near the counter to place my things down. Then I walked up to the counter to tell the staff what I wanted.

“Kindly give me a Summer Jam Waffle and one iced americano. Thank you.” I said then gave my credit card. Yes, I own the café but I still had to pay so I won’t mess up the gross sales and inventory.

I proceeded to my table and opened my laptop to check my emails. About 5 minutes in from what I’m doing, the staff handed me my order. I thanked them and continued to eat while I worked.

Standing up, I took my phone with me because I had to go to the comfort room and stretch my legs a bit. I’ve been in the café for I don’t know how long. There were a lot of emails coming in today. I had to read each and every one of them, then send my responses.

After washing and drying my hands, I opened my phone to check the time; 3:28 PM; when I got greeted by a text message from my boyfriend.

Just now from iMESSAGE — Cheolie ❤️ ; Hi babe, you’re probably still busy at work. Don’t forget to eat. I just wanna tell you that you can come by the set if you want. We’ll be filming at for our next Going episode.

I got excited when I read the text. I don’t really go to their filming sets that much since I’m busy most of the times, or just the fact that there’s always a lot of staff with them and I get shy.

“What time should I come and how many people are there?” I replied.

I sat down to continue working while waiting for Seungcheol’s reply. Not a minute later, I immediately got a response.

Just now from iMESSAGE — Cheolie ❤️ ; You can get here before 7pm. I’ll send you the address. It’s only gonna be the staff and the members.

I clicked on the shared directions he sent. It was about a 40 minute car ride. I guess I’m gonna be driving for a long time then. It’s a good thing I always keep sneakers in the trunk of my car.

“Wow, I didn’t know it would be so far. But it’s okay. And I wanna know because I want to bring some food from the café to you guys.” I replied.

I put my phone in my pocket and went to the counter to check the inventory. There were still a lot of cups and straws in stock, so I went to check the back of the house for ingredients. Everything was still okay. I think I can bring them food. My phone vibrated in my pocket so I took it out.

Just now from iMESSAGE — Cheolie ❤️ ; You really don’t have to, babe. But there’s 13 of us, plus the 9 staff that’s with us. Drive safely. I’ll wait for you.

“Alright. I’ll be there. 😚”

Fast forward to how many hours later, it was finally 5:30 PM. I went to the bar to help the barista make 22 iced americanos and heat up 22 croissants. I thought I should just bring snacks since they’ll probably have dinner after the shoot.

While the barista was making drinks, I punched in the orders and swiped my card.

Iced Americano — 22 x ₩ 5,600

Croissant — 22 x ₩ 3,640

Total : ₩ 203,200

I helped the staff pack the orders and made a double ristretto for myself. The coffees and croissants were inside two different thermal bags to preserve the heat of the pastry and coldness of the americanos.

I went to put the drinks in the trunk and sat down to change into my sneakers. It would be much more comfortable to drive with my sneakers on. After changing into my sneakers, I closed the trunk then went off for a long drive.

“You have arrived at your destination.” The app said. The place was quite big, there were lots of parking space. I saw where the staff were setting up so I just parked behind them.

Seungcheol knew what my car looked like, so that’s probably why he was walking towards my car with some of the members. I turned off the car and exited the vehicle, thinking it was best to just keep my bag in the car and put my keys and phone in my pocket.

“Jagiyaaaaaa!” Seungcheol shouted, running towards me. I laughed, facing him. He went to hug me and lifted me up.

“I missed you so much.” He whispered.

“I missed you too, baby.” I told him, kissing his cheek. He put me down and held my face between his hands then have me a quick peck on the lips.

Dino, Mingyu, Joshua and Jeonghan who went with him greeted me. I gave them all a hug, greeting them back.

“How was the drive, (Y/N)?” Joshua asked.

I sighed, “It was long. And pretty tiring.” I laughed. “But it was great. As long as I get to see this big baby.”

I turned to Seungcheol who was smiling from ear to ear. He grabbed me by the waist, “You can’t resist not seeing my handsome face.”

I rolled my eyes and laughed. “Yeah, yeah. Now help me get the food out.”

“FOOD!” The 4 other members yelled at the same time and quickly followed me to the trunk. They took it out as soon as I opened the trunk.

They were going to bring the food to the other quickly before I stopped them, “There’s also food for the staff.”

They all nodded and ran to bring the food to the others. Seungcheol grabbed me by the waist and held a hand to my cheek. “I’m glad you came, even if it was a long drive. You don’t know how much I missed you.”

“I know. I missed you so much.” I leaned in to his touch. He pulled me close and kissed me softly.

After pulling away, he kissed my cheek. “Come on, we’re about to start soon.”

I nodded, then suddenly remembered my coffee. “Let me just get my coffee. I forgot it in the cup holder.”

When I finally got it, he held my hand and led me to the set. When we got there, the staff was thanking me for the food that I had brought for them. I bowed to greet them. “Annyeonghaseyo. You’re welcome.”

Seungcheol then led me to where the members were at. They seemed to be enjoying the food that I brought. He sat down on one of the chairs and patted his lap, signaling for me to sit. I was too shy to do it so I shook my head and just stood by him.

“Thanks for the food, (Y/N). I swear your café has the best pastry and beverages.” Seungkwan said, sipping on his coffee.

“Thank you.” I laughed. “I try my best to establish quality control within the café. Taste is very important.”

“You brought the food just in time. The staff told us we couldn’t eat until we finished filming. Who knows how long that would take?” Jeonghan joked and the staff laughed, along with the members.

“Okay, guys. We need to start filming so we can wrap up quickly.” Their producer announced.

I squeezed Seungcheol’s hand and smiled down at him. “I’ll be behind the cameras with the producers.”

“Okay.” He pouted, then pouted his lips. “No goodluck kiss for me?”

I scoffed at him while smiling. “We’ve have enough PDA for today.”

I walked towards where the staff was at. We greeted each other again and I sat beside their producers. All of them went inside the car.

“Hana, dul, set!” The staff yelled. Then one by one, they slowly went out.

“Someone looks very happy to see you on set.” The producer whispered at me, while laughing. I turned to see my boyfriend Seungcheol smiling while looking at me. I waved my hand to tell him not to focus on me.

The film set was full of laughter. The past half an hour or so consisted of Joshua’s failed attempts at hosting the show, the members getting angry and protesting at their producers. Even I couldn’t hold my laughter in. These boys don’t even need content to have a content, because they are the content.

After Joshua was “fired”, the producers just randomly played Sorry, Sorry for the boys to dance to. Then they went in to get angry and throw the table with bowls, chopsticks, spoon and fork.

Suddenly Cheol stood up announcing that they had to have a meeting with the staff. One by one, everyone started complaining. It was all getting so noisy and I had to bury my face between my arms and knees to hide my laughter.

“Come here, come here.” Hoshi said, gesturing for them to there. “You too, (Y/N). You’re part of this too. Apologize now.”

Seungcheol gestured as well, pointing to the spot beside him. “Babe, apologize right here.”

When it was Dino’s turn, we all couldn’t take him seriously. Everybody was just laughing too hard. Then he showed the letter in front of the camera that was facing the staff, which included me. I gasped but still couldn’t hold in my laughter when one of them brought the camera closer to the producers.

At that point, I was kind of nervouse because it might be an issue. But I ignored it since both of the producers were women and it just looked like I was one of them.

Then the complement festival came. It was a part of the episode where they had to complement each member.

It was time for the each one of the boys to pop up on the sun roof of the van and other other members to speak up one by one. My stomach had been hurting for about 40 minutes at this point. These boys never cease to make people laugh.

“Thank you for being a reliable person.” Dokyeom told Seungcheol.

Next it was Jeonghan. “Hyung, thank you for having a girlfriend like (Y/N) because she always brings us food and is such a great person.”

Everyone laughed and looked at me. I shook my head and hid my face, being shy.

“Mmm,” Seungcheol nodded while smiling and looking at me. “But we can’t air that.”

“Producers, please edit that out.” The boys begged. “We have to keep Seungcheol’s private life in... private.”

We all laughed, then Jeonghan said. “Do I have to say something else then?”

“Yes,” I yelled. Everybody chuckled. “Please do.”

“Okay. Okay. Let me think,” he seemed deep in thought then spoke up. “Hyung, thank you for having the same hobbies as me.”

Then everybody started laughing again.

Unbeknownst to them, the staff had prepared fireworks for them to enjoy. They handed out the candles and fireworks to each of the boys.

“Eonnie, can I light one firework in the back?” I asked the producer. There were lots of fireworks that were set up behind them, waiting to be lit up.

“Of course. Just be careful.” Then she handed me a lighter.

While the boys were lighting up their sparklers, I stood up and dusted myself off. One of the staffs accompanied me to light up the fireworks. There was a song playing, while the boys were enjoying themselves.

I proceeded to go at the back, knowing that they’ll blur my face if I ever get caught on camera. Seungcheol looked at me with a questionable look, probably wondering why I was going there.

I held up a the lighter and gave him two thumbs up. I bent down, slightly shaking. To say that I wasn’t nervous or scared would be an understatement. But I proceeded to light it anyway.

“Woah.” I whispered as soon as it lit up the sky. I was in awe, it was beautiful.

I heard the snap of a camera and looked at the direction of where it came from. I saw my boyfriend holding his phone out, with the camera pointing at me. He smiled, embarrassed that I caught him.

— photo creds —

I proceeded to look up at the beauty of exploding lights above me. After what felt like a long time, someone had finally snapped me out of it. I felt a hand grab my arm and an wrapped around me. I looked to see my boyfriend beside me.

“It’s beautiful.” I told him, looking back at the sky.

“It is.” He answered. I looked back at him only to see that he was staring at me.

“You’re so cheesy.” I giggled, burying my face in his neck.

He kissed my forehead and told me, “Only for you, babe.”

“Alright! We’re done!” The staff announced. Everyone cheered and clapped. Seungcheol and I went back to where they were.

“We’re done for today. You guys can stay or you can ride with us back to the dorm.” They announced.

Cheol went to his members and talked to them. I checked the time on my phone. 9:39 PM

I looked back at him and saw him saying goodbye to his members. Then they went to bid goodbye to me and gave me hugs as well.

“Let’s go?” Cheol asked, his hand waiting out for me.

I held his hand and I looked at him confused. “Aren’t you gonna go back with them?”

“I was thinking, we could drive back together.” He smiled. “Then I could sleep over at your apartment.”

I nodded and led him to my car. I was about to go to the driver’s side when he stopped me. “Give me the keys.”

“What? No! You’re tired enough as it is. Let me drive” I protested.

“Babe, come on. You drove a long way just to see me. Now get some rest.” He tells me.

I tossed the keys to him and went to sit on the passenger side. He sat down and gave me a peck on the lips before starting the car. Then he proceeded to back out of the parking lot and drive the both of us home.

It was a great way to end the night.

[crimsonbluemoon]

Working For Love: A TerrorMoo Story 13/17

It’s still Saturday and I am posting on time and I can’t get in trouble yay! Also I totally hinted this was gonna be a sad chapter but I got my chapters messed up so y’all spared for now. 

Enjoy!

Previous Part

Start from the beginning

Brock tried to be a good friend most days of his life. 

“Tyler should be naked in my bed by now.” 

Brock bit back a groan at Mini’s statement when he leaned on the front counter, praying that Brian would be done with the closing of the gym sooner rather than later. The trio were meeting Tyler, Marcel, and Scotty for drinks, a meeting Craig called ‘necessary’ due to his lack of improvement with Tyler. Brock had only heard about the plans an hour prior, surprised to see Craig already waiting at the gym when he arrived at their meeting point. 

It was confusing to Brock to see Tyler put up such a fight against his obvious feelings for Mini, though it seemed to be an odd trend for Brian’s side of their friend group. Evan and Jonathan couldn’t get out of their own disastrous ways, Tyler threatened Craig with physical violence anytime he felt anything close to romantic development, and Luke would rather beat up anyone who looked at Ryan in a funny way than actually do something about the growing feelings between them. Nogla didn’t seem to know what love even was, and Anthony claimed he too invested in watching all his friend’s miserable attempts at love to try for himself. The only one who had a semblance of emotional intelligence was Scotty, who only needed a few weeks to pick up on Marcel’s flirting and ask him out. But besides the youngest of the group, the others were simply hopeless. 

He conveniently ignored his own glass house. 

“Do you think maybe it’s stuff like that which makes him pull away?” Brock asked, Mini’s lack of understanding obvious in his eye blink. 

“Why would that make him run? I’m amazing in bed. Ingrid even taught me how to put my foot behind my head during-”

“Do not finish that statement.” Brock snapped out, already feeling embarrassment rushing up his neck. The woman was in her seventies! Why was she still so flexible? And how had they even gotten onto that topic to begin with?

“Relax, her husband was fine with her sharing their sex life.” 

“And there goes my libido for the rest of my life.” Brian’s flat tone made Brock sigh in relief, turning to watch him saunter out from the back. He looked good in his new outfit, the long sleeves of the black v-neck emphasizing the definition of his arms. His waist was so tiny when looped with his leather belt, and Brock tried not let his stare last longer than appropriate when giving Brian a smile. 

“You ready to go?” 

“Yeah, just finished up.” Amused at his own thought, Brock saw Brian send Craig a teasing look before he continued. “We should take a shot every time Mini fails at hitting on Tyler tonight. Could get drunk in the first ten minutes.” 

“Laugh it up, but you don’t know what it’s like to have someone you like continuously shut you down.” Dramatic as always, Craig made a scene of dropping his arms onto the counter next to them flopping his head down with a sigh. “Unrequited love is too painful.”

“You know he likes you,” Brock replied, feeling a hint of sympathy for Craig. Trying to be supportive, he moved closer, patting his shoulder. “He lets you hang out here all the time even though you still haven’t technically signed up. You get yoga classes and smoothies for free. He doesn’t yell at you for bringing alcohol despite 100% knowing you do. And he even texts you on days you don’t end up here for a visit. Maybe Tyler’s just not into aggressive flirting.”

“But that’s all I know how to do besides get boozed up with vintage women.” The statement was too funny not to laugh at, though Brock tried for a sympathetic smile after Mini sent him a pout over his arm. 

“Then you just need to find someone who can teach you a few tricks,” Brock suggested. Mini hummed at the thought like he was tossing it around in his head, and Brock patiently waited for his friend to come to a conclusion on his suggestion. Instead, Craig glanced back at Brian. 

“You know Tyler the best; you got any pointers for me?”

“I do not get paid enough to get my boss laid.” A loud whine from Mini seemed to be enough of a bother for Brian to roll his eyes, his sigh showing his protest while pushing away from the counter. “Your lines are shit. They’re too pun-heavy and have no real connection to your relationship with Tyler. He sees them like lines you toss out to anyone, and he’s seen you flirt with almost every other hot guy in the gym.” 

“In my defense, Luke could crush my head with his thighs.” Mini’s dreamy sigh didn’t show he’d mind the scary thought, but Brock could see it was more an act than actual interest. Craig’s eyes always rounded and softened when talking about Tyler, hinting at his genuine attraction that’d developed with more time spent between them. Sure, Mini had found Tyler hot the second they’d met, but the joking flirting had begun to solidify into serious emotions with each week that passed. Tyler probably couldn’t tell the difference like Brock, who had years of getting to know Craig to spot the changes in tone and body language. To a newcomer, Mini might seem disingenuine with his attempts to court the gym owner. 

“You can’t say shit like that and then wonder why Tyler won’t take your offers seriously.” Brian rolled his eyes in a way that oddly was reminiscent of said owner, and Brock hid another smile at how they picked up each other’s behaviors. Neither man would admit it, bickering with each other any chance they could, but they were far closer than they let on. 

“So then show me what I’m supposed to do; give me a demonstration.” Craig got needy when he was focused on something. He didn’t mean to forget his manners or boss others around in their absence; that side just came out without permission. Brock was set on reminding him of his lack of etiquette before a hand set on his shoulder, leading him to turn back and face Brian. 

“Can I say something?” The intense connection between their eyes immediately caught Brock’s breath, making his stomach warm while he gave a hesitant nod. 

“Su-sure.” Brian flashed him a smile and stepped forward, the hand that had touched his shoulder slow in its movement of cupping the back of Brock’s neck. Heat burst from the skin-on-skin contact, and Brock’s mind melted from the temperature change. Brian seemed to pick up on the change, but he didn’t look bothered by it, his thumb gently fluttering over the fast pulse in Brock’s neck. 

“You’re really something special, Brocky. Everytime I get to see you smile or you give me a laugh, the world feels right. You’re creative and considerate of your friends and students alike, and I love listening to you talk about em’ the way you do. I’d listen to you talk about rocks for hours simply because your voice is so pretty. And when you gave me that playlist, I wanted to ask you this. I’ve wanted to ask this for months, really, but I had to wait. Not during a busy hour or right after you gave me something; I wanted it to be the right time. So now, I gotta ask; would you like to go on a date with me?” 

“Oh, wow.” Brock wasn’t sure the voice that pushed out through his tightened throat was his, everything in his mind hazy with emotion. Somewhere, logic was trying to remind him that Mini had asked for an example of an intimate version of flirting, and Brian was just...just playing the part. But his heart rejected the thought as soon as it entered his head, stomping it out with a reminder of how soft Brian’s touch was against his pulse. His hand, which had somehow found Brian’s shirt during the ‘charade’, tightened in the fabric, unsure if it was to push Brian away or pull him closer. Neither answer sounded right, so he tried to clear his throat a few times to buy him time. Even though his next sentence was aimed to the person behind him, Brock couldn’t pull his eyes away from Brian’s watchful stare.  “Yeah, Mini, if you did that with Tyler, I-I think he’d say yes.” 

“Yeah, maybe you should be focusing on yourself for the moment.” The whiny, bossy persona Craig had taken on earlier was gone in a flash, something plastic sliding across the front desk. Brock took his time looking away from Brian to the object, eyes widening when catching sight of the plastic wrap surrounding the bouquet of roses. A mixture of pinks and whites, the arrangement was gorgeous, leaving Brock stunned. 

“These are...these are mine?” He took the bouquet as he asked, fingers trailing against the petals of the flowers. He wanted to press his nose to them, but his attention moved back to Brian in his need for answers. Craig was shuffling away with a soft snicker, making Brock wonder if Mini was having any problems with Tyler at all. Had he and Brian planned this? Was that why Mini had somehow managed to get to the gym before him, despite living further away? The thought made Brock’s head spin, and he hesitantly pressed the roses to his chest while staring up at Brian. “Wait, were you- did you really mean to ask-”

“I’d really like to take you out to dinner,” Brian confessed in a quiet voice he’d never used with Brock before. “You don’t have to answer right now, I knew you’d need some time to think it over.”

“No!” His blurting of the protest was taken wrong. He could tell from Brian’s flinch and downcast gaze that he’d associated the word with the wrong sentence, so he rushed to explain. “No I don’t need time. I’d really like to answer your offer now with a yes.” 

“Yeah?” Brian’s hand was gentle when it squeezed the back of his neck, reminding Brock of the intimate embrace they’d stumbled into. Or maybe this had also been planned, since the position made Brock’s inhibition lower. It made him feel safe, like he could bury into Brian’s chest and not have to worry about the anxiety he’d have later over his date. Somehow he resisted the urge, but held his gift closer to compensate. 

“If the offer’s still there.”

“It always will be.” From the honest light that sparked in Brian’s eyes, Brock knew he wasn’t lying. 

“Then it’s a...a date.” He whispered, hiding his smile behind the edge of his bouquet. 

Maybe Brock would get a chance to prove he could be a good boyfriend, too.

This was a fav chapter of mine and I really enjoyed the flow and writing it. I hope you did, too. As always, like, reblog, and let me know what you think!

[anotherbeingsworld]

My Favorite Pairing

Dr. Bryce Lahela x F!MC (Dr. Alessia Lyxienne) 

(The moodboard was my aesthetic for Bryce and Alessia’s relationship! I hope you all liked it! 💖😊 ALSO, I APOLOGIZE FOR THE REPETITIVE PICS FOR THE QUOTE. I DIDNT REALIZE IT UNTIL ITS TOO LATE 😅)

Thank you for the tag @bitchloveskcbaseball​ and @mvalentine​ ! I had fun knowing your fav pairing! I hope all of you enjoyed the long description for their relationship. ❤❤ 

P.S: A few of the points were taken from the book itself, and some of them were my imagines for them! Some of them had appeared on my fics and, a few of them was just... something to have fun with! 

Book: Open Heart 

Pairing: Dr. Bryce Lahela x Dr. Alessia Lyxienne (I used a different name in my playthrough, but her personality is based on Casey from my fics! And, its just... the same person but a different name!)

Relationship status: Not official yet! They are still casual eventhough they are somehow official on how they act with each other. They are indeed in love with each other.  (PB, WE NEED TO BE OFFICIAL SOON WITH OUR LI’S!)

Song(s): I Like Me Better (Lauv) // Delicate (Taylor Swift) // More Than Words (Extreme) 

Ideal date: They don’t have dates often since their schedule would be tight by working in a hospital! But, they would have unexpected dates either at 4 in the morning or 8 at night. Bryce would always encourage Alessia to live in the moment! Their dates can go from a rooftop date, a movie night date and sometimes.. just talking to each other whilst enjoying each other’s company in the doctor’s lounge would count as a date! Sometimes, they would just go to any concert venue that Bryce had found out from a friend or co-worker. 

A show they watch together: Alessia enjoys watching sitcoms! Sometimes, they would just have their day-off binge watch Brooklyn 99 or FRIENDS, any sitcom that could ease her mind after a long day! . (which I am obsessed now lol) Sometimes, they would do a Disney marathon with Keiki as Alessia would share a piece of her childhood with both Bryce and Keiki! 

Their favorite meal to share: Alessia is definitely a Joey! (Joey doesnt share food lol) especially during the time of the month where she would eat a whole tub of ice-cream on her own! But, Bryce would definitely share his food with her. Sometimes, when Alessia is being nice... she would definitely share, but... in the end... She is Joey Tribbani. 

Favorite thing about each other :  

Physically: 

1) Alessia’s top favorite would be his bods and abs! (I mean who doesnt lol) Above all that, Alessia love his eyes. Everytime he holds her gaze, she would definitely melt! Besides, his hair! Something about his hair make her smile, its messy and unique its own way. Finally, she loves his magic hands (DUHHHH) !!! Those arms when they were hugging made her feel at home and she really enjoys all the hugs he give! 

2) Bryce’s favorite thing about Alessia would be her smile. He would try his very best to make her smile, and its just lights him up! Besides, he really loves her hair! He would playfully ruffled it sometimes making her mad, but... she really didnt mind! To put it short, everything about her is beautiful in his eyes. Every time she would be insecure about herself, he would be the one to show her that she is amazing, just the way she it. 

Personality: 

1) Alessia adores Bryce’s confidence! She sometimes would get jealous at his confidence since she is far from it. Alessia adores his flirty banter that made her laugh everytime, as he would flirt at her every chance he gets! But, above all... Alessia adores seeing his vulnerable sight! They would have late night talks and, she loved seeing his walls come down as she saw the real him. Like, the moment Bryce revealed his past to her. She somehow, felt more in love towards that persona of him. 

2) Bryce adores her empathy towards her patients. Especially in the Mr.s Martinez case, where she wanted nothing but to make her dreams come true. At that moment, he had fallen deep. He knew she was an amazing doctor, but... seeing her being selfless towards her patients made his heart soft. Also, his heart went aww everytime Alessia and Keiki are bonding. The way she cares for Keiki made him happy, as she loved her like a sister she never had. 

Who …

made the first move: Definitely Alessia! She took the chance in the supply closet at him and the rest is history. *winks*

cooks better: Neither of them! Alessia knows a few basic recipes and that’s all. They would either order take-out or do a cooking marathon with Keiki whilst watching the Food Network! (And they would make a huge mess afterwards)

dances better: Bryce Lahela all the way! I would imagined Bryce being trained when he was young since he is from a well known family before he rebelled against his parents! Bryce would often lead the way as they danced with each other at the bar or even, just... dancing in his living room to live into the cliche fantasies that Alessia enjoys! 

wakes up first: Both! Since their doctors, they would be waking up as early as 4 AM! Sometimes, they would survived an all nighter together. 

is funnier: Bryce Lahela! Alessia tries to be the jokester, but... she would failed miserably. One day, she attempted on a joke and.. nobody laughed. She never jokes about anything after that unfaithful day. 

is more organized: Alessia! She has been an organize persona. She could be a messy person depends on her mood. Sometimes, she would have a clean room, but.. when she is in during her mood swings; it would be a mess. Bryce is a bit of both (50:50) He can be organized at times since sometimes he dont have much time to do all the tidying! But, with Keiki around.. the house tends to get more organized as she would fill her time by doing some organizing at his apartment.

has a better taste in music: Bryce would have a good taste in music since he would often explore what’s new! (He love to take Alessia on random concerts as and just... live in the moment.) Alessia’s taste is a bit old school in Bryce’s opinion since she loved all the classics from the 80s that was influenced by Alessia’s family. Bryce would sighed everytime she played her playlist but deep down he enjoys it and have been caught humming through a few of her favs! 

is more romantic: Alessia! She is a hopeless romantic at heart, and sometimes.. she would imagine herself dancing in the rain with Bryce! She would practice in front of the mirror to ask him, and.. she ended up stuttering as she invites Bryce to dance on their way to Donahue’s! He laughed at the suggestion, and they would dance on the sidewalk as Alessia imagined in the movies! (It is their own secret *wink*) Bryce has its romantic side, as he knows how to make her flushed instantly! But, if they had a contest.. Alessia would win in this game named Love. 

is more likely to scream at the sight of a spider: 100% Alessia! She has this fear of everything bugs related. Bryce would mock her about it and he loves teasing her about it. 

cries more at movies: Definitely Alessia! She is a sensitive bean at heart, she cries at anything. She once cried watching a Disney movie and Bryce would comfort her at times. Bryce didn’t cry while watching since he is not ‘weak’ but... he has it moments because Alessia once caught him wiping tears away whilst watching Toy Story 3 although, he would never admit it.

is more likely to steal all the covers at night: Both of them! Mostly, Alessia since she would always fall asleep in a cocoon and without it, it would feel incomplete! Sometimes, Bryce would hog the blanket as a way to make her curled up around him. And, most of the times... the covers would be gone from the bed since they had a war on who can take it! (The end result is, neither of them lol) 

the first to fall in love: DR. ALESSIA LYXIENNE. Her hopeless romantic persona makes her fall for him, when their first encounter at the supply closet! She realizes she is in love with him, when everything good about life ; he would be the first one to know! Despite, their early moves (hooking up and etc ) towards one another,she knows that Bryce means a lot to her and she can’t imagine a life where Bryce Lahela didnt exist.  

the first to say I love you: It’s both of them, maybe... they would say to one another after an adrenaline rush! Or.. Alessia would suddenly blurted it out, after she had talked about it with Keiki who is shipping them silently!  (THIS IS MY HEADCANON, but.. its gonna change depends on the book!)

Bonus: Bryce and Alessia would get matching bracelets and ended up getting tease by their friends! Bryce found it quite cheesy and cliche, but... deep down he is very excited about it. // Alessia would silently take loads of pics of Bryce especially when he is in a candid especially when he is eating, she gushes about him a lot on her pictagram making her friends frustrated at the amount of Bryce content she posts online! 

Tagging: @storyofmychoices​ , @raleiighcarrera​ , @lahellacute​ , @aylamwrites​ , @mrsbhandari​ , @brycelahel​ , @choicessa​  ,  @princess-geek​ , @lahellacute​ , @kacie-0156​ , @simp-for-villains​ , @annekebbphotography​ , @brycelahel​ , @mrsbhandari​ , @dcbbw​  , @fantasyoverreality98​  and anyone who wants to do it! (I AM TAGGING MY TAG LIST SINCE THIS IS SOMEHOW A FIC-ISH // HEADCANON FOR BRYCE AND MC IN THE FUTURE.) 

[puddygeeks]

𝔅𝔞𝔡 ℭ𝔬𝔪𝔭𝔞𝔫𝔶 - 𝔖𝔲𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔞𝔩 𝔇𝔢𝔞𝔫/𝔒ℭ - ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 1: ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔈𝔫𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔰

Masterlist

Rating: Mature

Summary: Following the footsteps of several generations of Creed hunters, Faye’s upbringing revolved around training to continue the family legacy. Since her parents death, she has been content to work alone until a chance encounter with the Winchester’s shatters everything she believed. Despite her complicated past and initial reservations about the boys, she finds herself crossing paths with the troublemakers at regular intervals. Faye discovers more in common with Dean than she could ever have anticipated and leaning on each other becomes a habit they can’t quit.

A/N: I needed a project to give me a creative break from We Come Running, so thought I’d delve into Supernatural. This will not have a posting schedule, as I don’t need another thing to stress over! But I’ll update whenever I need to write outside of The 100 Universe. I don’t have a huge plan for this fic, but I can say that it will not be a full rewrite of the show that includes every episode like my other works. It will dip in and out of the Supernatural storylines whenever I feel she has something to contribute. I hope you enjoy this new style of writing that I’m trying <3

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: OC x Dean Winchester

My writing is entirely fuelled by coffee! If you enjoy my work, feel free to donate toward my caffeine dependency: will work for coffee

Warnings: Mature content. Language, alcohol abuse, violence, character death.

Chapter One

I stared back at my reflection in the cheap motel mirror with a strong feeling of unease. A deep sigh escaped my lips as I adjusted the blonde wig into place so that none of my natural hair was visible and checked that my makeup adequately covered the small holes that remained in my face once my piercings were removed. The black suit jacket slid easily over my shoulders and I stepped into my neat black court shoes with a wobble. I seized the worn holdall containing my ordinary clothes with attitude and stomped out to the car. The blaring sound of my trusty playlist filled the clunky old jeep and I felt myself gradually relaxing over the course of my journey to the local police station. 

This part of hunting had always grated on me. Over the years, I’d learned to embrace the lifestyle of living on the outskirts of society and enjoyed the simple pleasures of expressing myself however I wished. I wasn’t limited by the same restrictions as everyone else, I didn’t have to conform to office dress codes or feel the social pressure to dress my age. It was only when I needed to pass as law enforcement to gather information that I had to force myself into a characterless uniform and stiff appearance. Everytime that this was necessary, I felt like I stripped away all of the benefits of the hunter lifestyle and instead was left feeling like an outsider as I tried to fit into the regular world.

I parked around the corner from the station and made one last check of my appearance to ensure that nothing suspiciously unprofessional was on show. Before stepping out of the vehicle, I took a deep breath and forced myself into the facade that always gained me access to anything that I wanted. I strutted into the station with an unnecessary sway to my hips that I knew were well displayed in the pencil skirt that I wore and felt my stomach churn at the sickening manner in which the officers in the room watched me pass. It was worryingly simple to flirt my way past the first officer at the desk and into the captain's office. I didn’t even show my badge, all it took was a charming smile over the top of my horn rimmed glasses and a lingering sweep of hair behind my ear. 

The Captain was a middle aged man who at least remembered to ask me for ID before he eagerly spilled the details of the strange case. He roughly commented that I seemed very young to be working alone, FBI agent or not and I smiled through my discomfort as I grilled him for the information that I sorely needed. 

I was smoothly exiting the office in a determined march for my car and sorely needed change of clothes, when the Captain called out to announce the arrival of another couple of agents. My stomach flipped with nerves as I rolled my eyes and made an offhand comment about poor organisation at the bureau. It wasn’t the first time that I’d bumped into actual feds on a job. As a matter of fact, I’d learned early on that it was one of the many risks of investigation, but every time that I had to improvise my way out of their scrutiny left me feeling drained. 

I allowed the Captain to lead me outside the front of the station with a forced air of calm whilst I mentally rehearsed the lines that I had prepared for this situation. I hoped that I wouldn’t have to call in another favour; every time that I needed to give a number for real investigators to call to confirm my identity cost me another night of stroking a hunter colleagues ego.

My nerves dissolved into amusement as we neared two obnoxiously tall men in black suits that I recognised immediately. One of them had shoulder length, chestnut brown hair and kind eyes that twinkled as he fixed me with a warm smile. He was clearly younger than me and there was something in his posture that indicated a calm nature that was beyond his years. The other smoothly slid off his sunglasses with a brow cocked in interest as his gaze roamed my figure before landing on my face. He had shorter brunette hair and mischievous eyes that seemed to challenge me as they met mine. He had chiseled, handsome features and broad shoulders that hinted at a muscular physique hidden away beneath the suit jacket. There was no doubting that they were both attractive, but were absolutely not federal agents and everything about them screamed trouble. The Captain asked whether a little lady like me would need help arguing with two such large men over jurisdiction, but I convinced him to leave us with a polite smile and a falsely flattered giggle.

“Good to meet you. I’m Agent Stark, this is Agent Banner. We���re from the Atlanta Bureau. Could you bring us up to speed on any case details that you’ve been given?” The flirtatious man that I had easily recognised to be Dean Winchester spoke first, introducing the two of them as they both briefly held up their fake ID’s and I peeked between them with my brows raised. I’d heard descriptions of these men more times than I could count but they didn’t do justice to the hulking reality that stood before me. It wasn’t unusual for men to tower over me; at 5’4 I wasn’t exactly tall. However, I was surprised to find that the impending attitude they were often characterised as displaying seemed to be absent and I wasn’t remotely intimidated by them. 

“Stark and Banner?” I repeated as I surveyed Dean with amusement and he furrowed his brows together in confusion. I wondered if they’d ever been doubted before from the obvious shock in their body language and couldn’t help sensing an opportunity to seize the upper hand with the infamous hunters. “That’s really what you’re going with?” I drawled as I smiled smugly at them and noticed that they subtly glanced between them with concern. “I thought the Winchester’s would be better at this.” I teased as they visibly stiffened and stared at each other in alarm. I revelled in the knowledge that I’d caught them off guard as I crossed my arms and waited for them to formulate a response.

“You’re a hunter?” Sam breathed in a tone that was more of a statement than a question. He scanned me in an analytical manner and I quickly understood that he was the more logical of the two. I stretched out the silence as I prepared my answer and enjoyed watching Dean squirm nervously as he considered that Sam might have made an error in judgement. 

“Yes I am.” I confirmed firmly and caught sight of a slight sag in Dean’s shoulders. It occurred to me that he was the protector of the two and I stored this information in the back of my mind for future use. “And this is my job. I’ll handle this case from here, so you two can feel free to move on.” I revealed with a disinterested shrug as I held my ground. Confusion flitted across both of their faces at almost the exact same time and I was struck with the impression that they weren’t used to hearing women say no very often. 

“Well, hold on a second. We’re all here, we might as well help you out.” Dean suggested in a manner that tried to be helpful but mostly sounded condescending and I cocked a brow at him. Sam studied me closely as my face grew stern but Dean seemed to be completely unaware of his effect on me. 

“I can handle myself just fine, thank you. Besides, witches tend to fight much harder against men anyway, you’ll only spur them on.” I crooned as I started to wander toward my car in an effort to end the undesirable conversation and rolled my eyes when they followed with a shared look of concern. “Not every girl is a damsel in distress you know. I’m sure there’s plenty of other jobs you could pursue with girls who will be awaiting your rescue. I work better alone.” I clarified with an annoyed expression as I increased my pace to suggest that I wanted to be left alone. Dean caught my wrist to pause me in place and I whipped around on the spot to view him with suspicion.

“Hey, I don’t know what your problem is but we’re offering to make your job easier.” He remarked with a confident attitude and I scoffed. “Look, you don’t want our help, that’s fine but don’t just take off. You seem to know exactly who we are and we don’t even know your name. Give me something here.” He drawled with a keen expression and I chuckled under my breath.

“There’s not a hunter around who doesn’t know Sam and Dean Winchester.” I commented as I removed myself from his grasp and stepped out of his space with a look of disapproval. “And you don’t need to know my name. You can call me Agent Brooke if they ask any questions about who’s taking the case.” I clarified before I turned on my heel and strode to my car without a backwards glance.

I stopped back at the motel to change out of my feminine agent disguise with a tense feeling of stress. I had known that I was likely to run into the Winchester’s at some point or another, but it didn’t make the experience any less jarring. I’d been anticipating it for almost ten years whilst I worked jobs all over the country and although I’d met numerous hunters along the way, I’d somehow managed to avoid them. They were exactly how I’d expected, full of over-confidence in both their ability and charm. Enough years had gone since I ran away from my past that there was only a hint of bitterness remaining for them and I’d found that toying with them was more for my own amusement than as a result of envy. I’d grown accustomed to pushing people away and working alone so sharp, deflective humour was more of habit than anything personal.

I shook out my shoulder length purple hair and ran my fingers through it to relieve the soreness from the wig. I took a shower to clean off the taint of the act that I’d been forced to perform as an agent and changed into an old band t-shirt, black ripped jeans and a pair of black doc martin boots. I returned my black studs into the two piercings under my lips and the silver ring into my left nostril. It took some time to replace all of the ear jewellery but once I had, I started to feel like myself again. I quickly applied some black eyeliner and dark eyeshadow for my own satisfaction as a small act of rebellion against my earlier self presentation. 

I settled on the edge of the bed with my laptop to pour over the new intel that I’d received and set aside time to form a plan of action. I couldn’t concentrate properly on my task as the memory of the boys’ clueless expressions floated through my mind and after a while of battling it, I threw the laptop aside in frustration. There was a common coping mechanism amongst hunters of burying your feelings instead of dealing with them and I had depended on this unhealthy strategy for more years than I cared to acknowledge. The act of finally matching faces to the all too familiar Winchester names had stirred up memories that I’d long been repressing and I struggled to contain the feelings that came with them. 

I felt a pang of guilt as Bobby’s voice rang in my mind, scolding me for not accepting their help. He’d always recommended teaming up where possible; he considered it a good chance to learn from other hunters' experiences and to make contacts that you could utilise in future. Fortunately for me I didn’t have to do anything Bobby’s way any more. I was an adult now, if I wanted to drink myself into a stupor and pass out in my motel room, there was no one here to scold me for doing so. It was a weak justification but as I slipped into a whisky fuelled coma, I felt relieved that I had been able to drown out the criticism.

The next few days were spent in town interviewing people close to the mysterious deaths and was pleased not to hear any mention of the boys. It seemed that they hadn’t processed their investigation any further and I convinced myself that I had successfully managed to scare them from town. This assertion allowed me to focus on preparing for the upcoming confrontation. I discovered that I was dealing with a duo of witches and planned carefully to ensure that I couldn’t be overwhelmed by them. I packed a plentiful supply of weapons and visited the home of one of the previous victims to set traps. I knew that I could lure them to revisit the scene of the crime with a few simple social arrangements to inspire jealousy and used this to ensure that the fight took place somewhere that I could control.

I waited in my car, parked in the dark street for hours for any sign of the witches' arrival and was pleased to find that they were exactly as predictable as I expected. The back door allowed me to creep into the home and I could hear them frantically searching the rooms for the next victim that I’d led them to believe would be here. I carefully approached the living room where I’d planted traps with baited breath and as I neared the door, I was startled by the loud crash of a boobytrap springing into action. My stomach lurched at the unexpected sound of a mape crying out and tiptoed closer to peek inside.

“Sam!” I recognised the panicked voice of Dean from the next room as I reached the door and was able to view Sam tangled in my trap.

Dean burst through the entrance hall in a rage as Sam struggled with one of the witches who was somewhat thrilled by the containment of her new captive. I growled under my breath as they trampled over my carefully laid plans and tried to quickly analyse the best way to take control of the rapidly escalating situation. Dean charged toward his choking brother in a manic attack before the second witch revealed herself and launched him across the room with merely a flick of her wrist. It was evident from their reactions that they had only expected one enemy and I rolled my eyes at their chaotic behaviour.

“Dean! Let him go!” Sam wheezed between pants as Dean was crushed against the wall by magic so forceful that it cracked the plaster around him. I fidgeted nervously on the spot as I realised that Sam was turning blue from oxygen deprivation and I fell into the room in a moment of impulse. The two witches had their backs to the door that I rushed through and were paying little attention to each other as they individually toyed with the boys. I entangled my fingers into the back of the tangled hair of the woman who was choking Sam and yanked her backwards toward the circle that I’d prepared earlier. The moment that Sam stumbled out of my trap, I caught his attention with a wide eyed stare.

“Pull the rug!” I ordered with a firm authority before lapsing into well memorised incantations under my breath to activate the containment. He crouched to rip the rug out from under my captive’s feet without question, revealing a freshly white painted circle on the ground. Now that the shock of my assault had passed, the witch easily fought out of my grasp and whipped around to face me with an expression of absolute outrage. I jumped back to remove myself from her reach and now that the circle was active, she was unable to cast or escape. Sam leapt to the side in a frantic bid to reach a sword on the ground and the moment that he gripped it, he rushed toward Dean with a fiery determination. The witch in the circle released an agonising scream that warned the other of his approach and I flinched as I instinctively covered my ears. Dean slammed to the ground in a wheezing heap as his assailant turned to lift Sam instead and he dropped the sword with a clatter as he scraped against the wall.

I snatched the sword in a desperate movement and dove from the room before either of them could plan to attack me. The boys were manically yelling behind me as I rushed through the house to my bag that I’d stowed at the back door. My shaking hands grabbed a pot of salt and a flare before I sprinted back to the door that I’d entered the room through originally. I dumped a shaky line of salt in the doorway before I sparked the flare and lobbed it into the room to draw attention away from Sam. 

Whilst the fighting descended into chaos, I scrambled to the entrance hall and past Dean’s crumpled form at the other end of the room. The remaining attacker was still distracted by the flare which allowed me to stalk up to her from behind and I swung the sword with as much force as I could muster. The blade neatly removed her head in a clean cut and it flew across the room with a satisfying thud. The witch in the circle howled in anguish and when I brought my attention to her, I realised that her eyes had turned completely black. I didn’t hesitate for a single moment as I grabbed the flare from the ground and tossed it into the circle. It set alight the fuel that I’d doused it in earlier and I rushed through the blessing to dispel the demon.

I leaned forward with my hands on my knees as I panted from the exertion and listened to the sounds of the witch sizzling to nothing. After a few moments of recovery, I heard Sam and Dean struggle to their feet and their heavy footprints alerted me to their approach. I straightened up to fix them with a disapproving look.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” I spat in an accusing tone and they shifted awkwardly as they viewed me. I couldn’t believe that they had ignored my direct request to leave and as I stared at their guilty faces, I felt frustration building in my chest.

“We thought you might need help.” Sam muttered in a poor excuse and I crossed my arms in annoyance as I scoffed.

“Oh yeah, thank god you guys were here to save me. I’d never have managed without you.” I drawled with a heavy sarcasm and I noticed that Dean rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. “You two are supposed to be the best hunters around and you just almost got all three of us killed!” I scolded in a raised voice and although Sam squirmed at my words, Dean only seemed to get defensive.

“Look, we messed up, alright. But what the hell kind of a hunter sets up contraptions like that?” Dean argued as he indicated to the trap that Sam had found himself tangled in. It was a method I’d used regularly for years now to ensure that I always had a back up plan if I found myself outnumbered or cornered. It was difficult to hunt without anyone to watch your back and I’d adapted to the challenge.

“The kind of hunter that works alone, not all of us charge in without a plan. I thought you’d be smarter than that with all the training you’ve had.” I confirmed as I surveyed him with dismay and immediately kicked myself for hinting how much I knew about their upbringing. I dropped my gaze to the ground to avoid his expression but from my peripheral vision I could see that he raised his brows at me whilst Sam observed us in silent interest.

“You’ve got a lot of assumptions about us for someone who claims they don’t give a shit...Faye Creed.” Dean drawled as his words tore my eyes back to his face. He smiled smugly at me as he paused to emphasise my name and I felt a lump form in my throat. My back stiffened involuntarily and I rolled my eyes at them both.

“So, you finally thought to consult Bobby. Guess you aren’t as dumb as you seem.” I sneered as I ran a hand through my hair and tried to present as unphased by their research into me. I knew that it had been foolish to hope that they would allow me to walk away without any interest but I didn’t expect to see them again once they had found the information. “Only a matter of time, took you longer than I expected though. How’d you get him to narrow it down? I don’t use his aliases any more.” I enquired with a controlled interest as I wondered what it was that had given me away. I had been careful about my choice of words in our first meeting and I expected my disguise to protect me from them as much as it did the police. The thought crossed my mind that Bobby may still be keeping tabs on me if he was aware of my FBI presentation and I pushed it away to deal with later.

“Not that many hunters with a British accent around.” Sam commented from the side with a charming smile and I shrugged in defeat. There was little I could do to hide that and it was an ongoing identifier that I wished I could remove.

“Took me longer than I want to admit to figure out that alias too, Agent Brooks.” Dean remarked and his voice drew my attention back to his intrigued smile. “Eric Brooks, Blade. That’s a pretty obscure reference, even for a comic nerd. No wonder those ID’s tipped you off.” He detailed with an obvious admiration in his tone and I felt a genuine smile escape my cool expression.

“So, what did your Nick Fury tell you about me to make you so convinced that I needed your help?” I grilled as I raised a brow at Dean with a more flirtatious interest than I intended. I couldn’t contain the playfulness that he encouraged from me despite my determination to keep them at a distance.

“Nothing. Just a name and a warning that you were bad news.” Dean confirmed with a mischievous delight in his eyes and I chuckled under my breath.

“Actually, he was remarkably tight lipped about it all. Maybe you could fill us in on how you know each other?” Sam interrogated, a warm smile attempting to cover his curiosity. I waved my arms in front of me as I stepped back slightly in defence.

“Oh I’m no snitch. That’s the old man's story to share, if he even wants to.” I deflected as I gathered my things to leave and increased the distance between us subconsciously. “Seeing as I saved your asses from your own idiocy tonight, I’ll leave you two clean-up duty.” I declared as I indicated to the remains of the witches that were spread across the room and they glanced at each other regretfully. “It’s been fun, see you around.” I crooned with an exaggerated solute as I wandered from the room.

The disgruntled complaints of them gathering the pieces of our enemies was clear even from the back of the house as I grabbed my duffel bag and I reached out to touch the door handle before I paused in place. A thoughtful sigh escaped my lips and my heartstrings pulled me back to the room they were in. I leaned carefully on the doorframe as I peered inside and cleared my throat to gain their attention.

“Could you...could you boys pass Bobby a message for me?” I asked nervously and they glanced at each other uncertainly before Sam shrugged in response. “Just tell him that I’m sorry. He’ll know what for.” I relayed and quickly turned on my heel to stomp out before they could ask any questions.

[raiswriting]

dancing with your ghost

inspired by this song

warnings: symptoms that are similar to mental health issues like depression but never explicitly stated

genre: pure angst sorry

pairing: lucas/yukhei wong x reader

summary: ummm heartache???? basically the aftermath of a ‘hey let’s pretend to be dating bc i need someone to take to this wedding and you need someone to scare off your ex’ type of story

word count: 1582

a/n: lmao i am reposting this because it absolutely flopped the first time hehehe ALSO i made a playlist to go with this story. the first half or so is the same playlist that is mentioned in the story then the second half is more about the theme of it. i put way too much effort into it but i hope you enjoy it!! 

there was an emptiness that couldn’t be filled

an ache that couldn’t be soothed

a feeling of nostalgia for what never was

honestly you couldn’t be sure if this hole in your chest was a bad thing anymore. you’d grown so used to it that the thought of one day living with out it seemed so fantastical and out of reach. you found a sort of morbid comfort in the sorrow

time has slipped away as routine comfortably took its place. mondays became indistinguishable from wednesday or friday. the only thing separating saturday and sunday from the rest was the lack of work.

your thoughts drifted from the idea of getting up and taking a shower or even just washing your face to the cup of tea that’s been sitting on the coffee table and once more to your phone lying next to it. it lit up with yet another text message to which you would send yet another half-assed response of ‘id love to get together but work has been super busy lately and i need a me weekend.’ you wonder how many more ‘me weekends’ you’d be able to have before someone saw through it.

you just couldn’t have that face to face conversation with any of them. how do you explain that none of it was serious. or that all he needed was someone to take to family get-togethers for when his uncles would ask about his love life. or that you had grown so used to his hand in yours that the emptiness you felt when he wasn’t there scared you. or that you missed him. how could you look someone in the eyes and say that you had not only lost a love but also a best friend. how do you describe that hurt. how do you say that you feel unlovable. how.

you couldn’t say those thoughts aloud because as soon as you did they’d become real. he would really be gone. and happy. and in love. and you would have to admit that you were hurting. you’d have to admit that it was really over.

so instead you lay here on the sofa. and keep it all in. sometimes you can’t help but remember him. and how happy he’d been.

the knock on your door drew your attention from the sheet of cookies ready to go into the oven.

there he stood in the doorway with a smile so bright that it put the stars on the clearest of nights to shame.

‘hey y/n’ he pulled you into a warm embrace. the scent of his cologne was intoxicating. strong and inviting, the prefect reflection of his personality.

‘hey lucas. i wasn’t expecting to stop by today.’

‘yeah i just wanted to share some good news with you. like really good news. like i came here as fast as I could kind of news.’ he spoke so excitedly as he followed you back into the kitchen.

‘well spit it out,’ you reply while placing the sheet of cookies in the oven.

‘i found someone,’ his smile wider than ever.

you almost dropped the sheet of cookies as you took in what he said. you knew this day would come. the day he would find someone to actually love and care for. the day he no longer needed you. but still you hoped and prayed that maybe there was something there. maybe the secret touches shared between just the two of you actually meant something. that maybe he’d choose you.

he didn’t.

‘so get this. i was walking into the coffee shop on seventh street that me and you usually go to. and i bumped into this gorgeous girl and spilled her whole coffee so i offered to buy her a new one.’ he rubbed the back of his neck and looked to the floor. ‘so cheesy and cliché i know. but y/n this girl. we talked and talked and she made everything seem to….right. when I looked into her eyes i just felt…’ he sighed and leaned against the counter.

‘…like everything just seemed to make sense for once.’ you finished the sentence for him as you checked on the cookies.

‘yeah exactly’ he didn’t even try the hide his love struck expression. it was clear as day that he was really falling. ‘when i talked to her it was so easy. almost as if we knew each other for years.’

we did.

you looked him in the eyes for the first time since he broke the news and forced a smile to your face. you couldn’t even fathom the idea of ruining this for him.

‘lucas im ecstatic for you.’

‘really?’

‘of course. if there’s anyone who deserves true love and happiness in life, it’s you.’ and you meant that. it just hurts that he found it in someone else.

‘and hey. at least now you actually have someone to take to all your family functions.’

he chuckled lightly, ‘yeah you’re right. i don’t know if your cheeks could handle another one if aunt maya’s pinches.’

‘the pinches i could handle,’ you say as you forced a laugh out, ‘but I’d have to buy a gym membership if i had another dinner at your parents house.’

‘it’s not my fault mom loves insisting on third helpings’ this time he let out a full real laugh, remembering all the shared glances between the two of you at a dinner table. wondering how you could possibly eat another slice of meatloaf.

‘we can celebrate your new found love with some cookies, if you’d like. they should be done in a minute or two.’

the smile dropped slightly from his face. ‘oh y/n. i’d love to really but i promised angelina that i’d meet her again for coffee. i just stopped by the tell you the good news.’

‘of course, of course. you should get going then. a love like this comes around once in a life time.’ and who am i to stand in the way of someone living their lifetime.

lucas cast a sympathetic look before pushing himself off of the counter and embracing you once more.

‘thank you for everything y/n. seriously. you’ve helped me out so much. if you need anything let me know.’ his cologne was still so strong. and it hurt to know that someone else was going to experience it like this.

‘that’s what best friends are for lucas. you’ll be the first person i call when im sick and throwing up everywhere.’

you could feel him chuckle lightly before placing a kiss on the top of your head.

‘you got it y/n.’

the door shut, leaving you alone.

your hands shook as you took the cookies out of the oven and set the tray in the stove top. they shook as you turned it off. they shook as you took off the oven mits. they shook as you ran them down your face only to find them wet with tears. and they shook as you lowered yourself to the kitchen floor.

your hands were steady now and found their way to that playlist like muscle memory. you had long since deleted all the photos of you and him. but you just couldn’t find the strength to delete this. he had made it for you before the whole fiasco of pretending to be together had ever crossed either of your minds. he said that ‘these song remind me of us.’ and maybe you had gotten your own hopes up. maybe you had searched too deeply between the lines of lyrics. maybe you looked so hard that you had only found what you wanted to. because they were just songs. songs of bad timing and unrequited love. but at the end of the day still. just. songs.

as they played throughout the room. filling the stale silence as your body began to move, lifting you from the couch. your gaze landing on the sweater which rested on the arm of a chair. it was his. he had left it accidentally when spending the night here one time. you had meant to give it back for some time now but haven’t been able to. everytime you had gained the courage to call him and ask him over, he was busy. eventually you stopped calling. and he stopped texting. stopped checking in. so there the sweater sits. still smelling of him.

your body began to move once more reaching out for it and pulling it close to you. maybe if you breathed in enough of his scent, it’d feel like he was here with you again. of course it didn’t but it was as close you could get.

your hips swayed to the rhythm. as your feet worked their way around the living room. stepping over pillows and discarded take out. you danced for the first time in what felt like years. you felt the tears fall but paid them no mind. still clutching the article of clothing impossibly close to you, you sang along with the lyrics.

Yelling at the sky

Screaming at the world

Baby, why’d you go away?

I’m still your girl

Holding on too tight

Head up in the clouds

Heaven only knows

Where you are now

I stay up all night

Tell myself I’m alright

Baby, you’re just harder to see than most

I put the record on

Wait ‘til I hear our song

Every night I’m dancing with your ghost

Every night I’m dancing with your ghost

a/n: there it is. i was listening to this song today and got super inspired and just had to write. there’s also a reference to a hobo johnson song if you can find it ;) thanks for reading. let me know if you’d like a prequel to this when reader and lucas were together. i hope you enjoyed and pls feel free to leave constructive criticism. thanks, rai :)

[rkivepacks]

TITLE: good dreams make you bleed Originally posted on: AO3/dtgloss Pairing: taekook/kookv/vkook (Kim Taehyung & Jeon Jeongguk) Rating: PG13 Genre: Fluff Word Count: 2,081 Trigger Warning/s: Swearing Disclaimer: This work is solely from the idea of the author. Should there be similarities with the works of other respected artists are purely unintentional. This also do not reflect on the real lives of the artists portrayed in this work. Comments, suggestions and any other concerns are accepted in my inbox. Thank you! 

Summary:  i made reservations at a restaurant and the hostess informed me about my company that has already arrived and hey it's you ???? au

Jeongguk is a painter by law. Babysitter by choice.

It started when doing commissions all throughout his junior and senior year of arts school became too much for an arts major to handle all at once because, as his mother once said when he went back home to Busan for a short break ‘you’re in the last two years of your college which also means things get hard and even harder. At some point you have to drop a responsibility or two if you still want to walk the damn convention center and get the diploma yourself.’

Commissions and extra money for better dinner and boba teas be damned. Jeongguk gradually had less commissions coming in and some days and weeks, no commissions at all. He had actual plates and actual student stuff he has to finish unless he wants to repeat his past mistake of almost submitting a commission as his final project.

Jeongguk is officially a graduate. Unemployed definitely not by choice.

The period where he was waiting for his graduation up to the present, the man was busy babysitting on the side, doing some commissions and having art classes for kids during month-long summer camps nearby. Although he hates kids between the ages of six to twelve, it will have to do if he wants to be all mighty and independent as all people born under the sign of virgos do.

“Jeonggukie, Sanhi kept on moving and now my lines are messed up!” One kid from his class that day wailed, pointing to his ruined drawing sheet.

“That’s enough. Sanhi would you mind saying sorry and then finish your work on my table instead?” He reprimands and gives the kid with the ruined sheet, Miri, a new clean one. Jeongguk helps the naughty little boy move farther as not to cause more chaos and goes on with checking the works of the rest of the class.

“Remember to clean your brushes before packing up!” He reminds the kids who thought nodding once or twice would be enough to let their teacher know they heard him.

Eventually he gets tired and sits at the corner, checking the time. Only 43 minutes left until class ends and he can go home and wallow in self-pity. He checks the notifications he didn’t mind during the early hours of the class and figures he can reply to some (hoping some of these were commissions).

From: Joon-hyungoo Jungoo are u gonna go grocery shopping today?? Let me know so I can do it Press 1 for more info.

From: unknown Good afternoon! This is the guardian of Haechin. Do you mind keeping her company for a little while? I won’t be able to make it on time from where I am now. I’m sorry for the trouble.

Jeongguk ponders for a moment before checking the time again, seeing that there are 22 minutes left.

Haechin is the little girl with different hairstyles adorning her head everytime she shows up and her Sofia the First bag she always carries that contains more packed snacks than school materials.

To: Joon-hyungoo Got held up hyung !!!! Can u do it hhhehehek

To: Unknown Hello! I’ll be waiting in the classroom with Haechin. See you!

Later on the kids were dismissed, their parents slowly coming in to check on their child packing up and cleaning. Jeongguk taught the kids that cleaning up the work area is important and all that shit. He calls Haechin over and tells her to occupy the teacher’s table as he cleans up the rest of the materials and his own personal belongings as they wait for Haechin’s guardian.

“Daddy!” Haechin explains and waddles to the door. Jeongguk looks over to where she ran off to, expecting the guardian who was always taking Haechin to and from the art classes only to see a different person this time. He opts to make the connection that this man must be the guardian in the text messages.

Jeongguk shortly wonders if the usual guardian getting Haechin from his classes was the mother or a babysitter. The woman could pass for a mother although she’s young and petite.

The man (in a suit. Definitely not a baby sitter because he doesn’t think babysitters baby sit in suits. Or maybe this is a different household with different house rules?) squishes Haechin’s cheeks to greet her and asks questions about her day before putting his attention to him.

“Hi! Thank you so much. I’m really sorry for this I could not leave for work earlier to make it on time here.” The man in suit who definitely isn’t the babysitter says, extending a hand to Jeongguk.

“Oh. No worries, I don’t have to be somewhere else after this. So. It’s okay, really.” He says, shaking the man (again, in a suit) that was extending his hand to him.

“We’ll get going, I guess. See you soon…” The man trailed off, realizing the two adults do not actually know each other.

“Jeon Jeongguk.” He introduces himself. “I’m the teacher… obviously.” He chuckles.

“Kim Taehyung. I’m Haechin’s dad.” The man in suit says. “It’s getting late so we’ll head out.” He waves and takes a hold of Haechin’s hand.

“See you tomorrow, teacher!” Haechin waves and Jeongguk makes the same gesture before muttering a “bye!” just loud enough for the two to hear. On their way out, voices that could only be attributed to the daughter and father duo in the hallway discusses what to have for dinner and the daughter replying with what she wants for her packed snacks tomorrow instead.

+

The shared apartment sounded eerily quiet and the locked door could only signify that no one was home as of the moment. Jeongguk makes his way to the kitchen only to find a cup in the sink that Namjoon or Hoseok probably used, and assumes that the two went grocery shopping and sending a silent prayer that they don’t miss something essential for Jeongguk’s daily routine (His fortified milk).

The sound of the passcode being punched in outside resonates throughout the apartment, signaling the arrival of the two and as predicted, the sound of numerous supermarket bags being carried into the kitchen. Jeongguk rushes to aid the older men in carrying the large bags before setting them on the counter.

“Why did you get home late? Didn’t I tell you that your curfew is only ten in the evening? Stop spending your lunch money on liquors and cigarettes. Study, Jeongguk.” Hoseok makes a big show of portraying a hardworking mother with a low-class financial background, Jeongguk being the deadbeat son.

“You’re so full of shit, hyung.” He deadpans before laughing at the latter’s antics. Namjoon goes straight for the coldest pitcher of water from the fridge and pours himself a glass, ignoring the usual banter of the two.

Jeongguk checks the fridge if it has been stocked up with fresh groceries (and to make sure his Hoseok hyung does not put another toothpaste in the freezer just because he can. The toothpaste tube ended up in the side of the sink for a whole three days to defrost and to properly be used). Jeongguk decides not to mention the nut tarts that are in the fridge that surely cost more than usual as it was a delicacy being sold in the local supermarket.

After a quick dinner all by himself as he got home late and the two already had their share of the dinner, Jeongguk retreated back to his room to check his other works in progress. One of his wips.

(“The fuck is a wips?” Namjoon asks, incredulously.

“Work in progress, hyung.” Jeongguk answers, half-annoyed his cereal was halted halfway to his mouth. “I thought it meant what in actual phuck.” Hoseok supplements, aiming to high five Namjoon across the table.

The three men laugh at the light joke over instant noodles for snacks.)

“Look at this baby… You’re only lacking a background and a few details, right?” Jeongguk talks to one of the paintings for a client. “Yes… I’m just going to save what’s left of these decent pants and I’ll give my full attention to you.” He sighs, walking over to his drawer full of clothes then to the bathroom.

Jeongguk gets back to his room with his face slightly wet from being washed and a few droplets getting to his top. With a soft playlist of live performances from various ballad artists from youtube, Jeongguk gets to work, opting to not do a grand background and only fixing minor details on the painting.

+

For Friday class Jeongguk had prepared his 17 students their own sheet of paper with a large initial of their first names covering the whole page. The students were bound to think they are in for another game that will surely get the whole class chaotic. Jeongguk promised to never again host another game (someone used a permanent market on the whiteboard that took ages to get off. He looks at the faint mark left on it). Everyone erupts in murmurs and Jeongguk listens to the crazy ideas of toddlers.

“We know how to do the alphabet though.” One wondered aloud.

“Teacher, why is my H bigger than Aehoon’s A?” One asked thoughtfully. “Teacher, Gonghoon wrote on the paper already!” Someone chastised his classmate.

“Okay, listen toddlers.” Jeongguk gathers their attention. Once settled, Jeongguk asks the little children to draw inside the big letters in order to describe themselves. He scans the faces of the children as some were left confused, some already forming ideas, and some were too busy folding the corners of the sheets.

Jeongguk settles to watch over the kids from his place, from where he can see all of them in one vision, with a rough overview of their artworks. Some dived in into work while some were busy watching the others work. He goes around at some point to assist students and to reprimand one for almost ruining a clean sheet of a classmate.

The class ends soon, Jeongguk signhs in relief at the realization that it’s the weekend, he can work on some commissions and rest. He tells all the children to clean up after themselves and to take home the unfinished work and finish it at home. Jeongguk cleans up the rest, only residing to his table once he has managed to fix the mismatched crayons to their proper boxes. He notices that Haechin is tugging at his pants, only the two of them in the room after having the other kids driven home by their guardians and parents.

“Is my daddy not here yet?” Haechin asks.

“Haechin, how about we draw something else? Your father said he’s having trouble looking for your favorite candy right now so he’s running late!” He comforts the child, although he also wonders who’s going to be at the door to get Haechin.

“Haechin?” A familiar voice makes way through the door.

“Daddy, teacher said you got me my candy?” Haechin greets his dad.

“I’m sorry I had to compromise so she wouldn’t feel bad.” Jeongguk rushes to apologize to the distressed father. He does not even know if Haechin is allowed near candies. Save him for panicking.

“It’s okay.” Taehyung smiles apologetically to the man before turning to his daughter. “Baby, your candy is so hard to find, I went everywhere for it but it’s gone?” The father consoles the little child.

As cute as the scene is in front of him, Jeongguk checks the time and he really should be closing his classroom now if he wants to make it home on time before rush hour picks. He tells the same thing (except for the getting home because his car’s coding hits on Fridays so he takes the public transportation) and the father and daughter duo rushes to get home but not before apologizing profusely courtesy of the man.

Haechin waves at him and he manages to choke out a “don’t forget your homework!” and the father smiles at him before the two disappears behind the door.

That night Jeongguk stays up in front of his laptop, using it as a heater on his lap as he browse through his emails and blog. An email confirming a dinner meeting with a new client was opened up to a new window, the secretary of the client of his informing him the details for tomorrow night (as it is the only available time for the busy man, apparently).

+

[end]

[See all works here]

[lavendertitties]

let’s talk about my sweetener tour experience

I’ve been too exhausted to really talk it at length because the rescheduled date was on the last day of my vacation and it just kicked my ass. 

anyway let’s get started

I’m gonna start off my saying my ponytail easily rivaled Ariana’s for biggest and longest so I’m fully coming for her brand jkjk

I have really bad social anxiety and I arrived at the venue about 10 minutes before the doors opened and I about shit because of all the people and started my search for Eden but didn’t get far because I’m short and was overwhelmed.

When the doors finally opened and we got in, pretty much everybody there was so fucking nice. Saw a lot of Ariana inspired looks and a handful of fully decked out head to toe recreations and it was just so cool. Saw a girl with the anal bead ponytail and it was magical. 

Did a lap around the venue and found Eden and met her and talked for a short moment then went to find my seat. However long afterwards we met up again and let me just say real quick @suchadreamtome is a dream[finger guns] and the sweetest and just great 10/10 human being. Has really pretty eyes. hi eden i didn’t tell you but you have really pretty eyes.

so at some point Social House went on and I don’t know them but like they were just really cute and energetic and I liked their music more than I thought I would. 

Normani and her dancers and her band gave me gay panic. She’s a superstar. Her dancing and her silky voice was so much better live than I could have ever imagined. At one point, between songs, I expressed to no one particular that I was too gay for this and the girl next to me snorted in what i assumed was agreement.

Ariana’s preshow playlist came on and I captured this wonderful moment

(my sister next to me was really feeling this]

When I last saw ariana live[and the only other time] she had bronchitis and while she still sounded amazing she didn’t have her full voice power so when she opened the show with whistles during GIAW, I had a stroke.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by WoahItsJayce (@woahitsjayce) on Jul 14, 2019 at 6:53pm PDT

*its the first video

Also the gay behind me losing his shit when she started voguing during Be alright was a moment

I’m gonna take a sec to talk about her visuals because they were STUNNING!!! The Everytime, Into You and the My Heart Long Belongs to Daddy interlude are all severely underrated. And while the light isn’t coming is my least favorite ariana song ever, the visuals for that were pretty fun and captured a good energy that I can appreciate. It also gave us the only real close ups of Ariana through out the whole concert.

Speaking of which; the only bad things about the concert were the lack of spot lights through out the whole set. There were times when she wasn’t illuminated at all because she had walked away from the one[(1)?] light on her and it was impossible to even see where she had wondered off to on stage, unless you were close up I would assume. The little screens on each side of the stage were... not all that helpful unless you were sat right next to them. While sitting in my seat I kept thinking about how they should’ve had at least one more of them in front of the stage for the people up in the upper bowl in the middle. 

Okay so back to the good things about the concert. The interludes: Let’s talk for a bit. The in my head visual was stunning. Her fetus interludes were so cute and caught me right in the emotions and i almost teared up a couple times.

Compared to the dwt the energy went from like a 50% to a 120%. It was amazing the crowd was amazing and loud and wonderful. and I think Ariana was pleasantly surprised

Closer to the end of the concert ariana stopped and took the time to talk to us and it was just one of those moments where I am reminded why I’ve been a fan for so long. She was so genuinely grateful for her crew and her team and all of us. She told us that she wasn’t even sure she would make it this far into the tour was overtly happy that she had.

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A post shared by @angelcloudari on Jul 16, 2019 at 5:17am PDT

Because it was the last show of the first US leg, everybody on stage was particularly emotional. Normani’s set ended with a big group hug and Thank U, Next was wrapped up with a big group hug of all the dancers near crawling on top of each other to get close. I could feel the love from however many rows away and almost starting crying because I’m an emo bitch. Just big hugs and wiggling pride flags did me in.

So I’m done. Tumblr has a 5 video limit and idk what else to say without visual help but this is so fucking long anyway.

10/10 experience and watching Ariana grow as an artist has been amazing.  

[felunacactus]

I saw Fall Out Boy in Fairfax and it was the greatest experience of my life

It's been two days since the actual concert but it's still fresh in my mind to where I can still make this post

•Jaden smith was absolutely amazing, wish I had listened to his music beforehand because it's all like really good

•He called us lit??? And I was like 'why jaden why' but followed it up with we were the greatest crowd he's seen since the tour started and I was super happy about that

•they had a little pre-show and like in between playlist going on and it included Molly, DOAB and LA Devotee, literally the entire stadium just started screaming everytime his face was on the screen. It was so funny and cool

•BLACKBEAR MAN, JJST LIKE AH

•I was the only one of the people I went with that knew any of his songs, and I didn't know all of them but I did like the ones I had heard and when he played them I was just getting it and freaking out while my mom and my friend were just like 'no tabby why'

•Blackbear's Sax dude was just living it up the entire time like YES MAN GET IT

•we also got a really nice drum showcase in between Jaden and blackbear which was coolio, I got a vid of it on my phone I think

•the longest wait was defenitly between Blackbear and FOB, they circulated the playlist about 5 times while they cleared the stage. But at least we had a nice picture of a wave to look at that started MOVING when the lights went down

•there was a little timer thingy and we were all counting down till when they came up out of the stage and I stg I saw petes forehead going into his little slot

•also VIP seats were 100% worth it? I mean eaglebank is a small arena so there isn't really a 'bad seat' but like I never thought I would be that close to any of them it was amazing

•the fact that they started with the Phoenix blew me away because there was like fire and shit and that's like one of my fav songs EVER and it just got me that much more hyped

•I thought I blew my vocal chords out about ten times during this concert

•they had big hero 6 visuals in the background of immortals, and I was loving it up until right before the chorus they played the clip of when the facility blows up right after Tadashi runs inside and I went from screaming to 'NOOOOO'

•at the end of one of the songs Andy was like standing on his drum set or something And then my mom and I actually realized that this man is much more covered in tattoos then we originally thought holy shit

•speaking of Andy, he got his own little solo bit while Patrick and Pete were going up on the little floaty stage thingy and it was so freakin amazing like he's so good

•The floaty stage was cool but scared the everloving shit out of me. Like I kept having visions of it just collapsing and one of them falling and I'm like grabbing my friend like 'WHY ARE THEY SO HIGH PLEASE GET BACK ON SOLID GROUND'

•although I did glance back a lot to the main stage because Patrick and Pete kinda had their backs to us during that because they were in like the back of the arena but they were on the main screen thing so I'd look at that

•and since Andy was kinda stuck in his little drum area Joe had that whole stage to himself and I could see him just making his way around it while he played and I was just like 'yesss you work that stage'

•My friend and I got into a habit of screaming 'hydrate yoself' whenever a performer went to go get a drink, starting with Jaden and going on

•there was a little Llama interlude which I loved, they had canons with t-shirts and I knew they wouldn't reach us, we were just a little too high for that but it was still awesome

•the I don't care visuals were the greatest thing I've ever seen. That is all

•Centuries had visuals of people kneeling during the anthem which I thought was actually super cool of them to adress controversy like that

•Diana visuals during Champion was a little sad, but nonetheless cool as heck

•Before champion when Pete was announcing the little champion of our venue he ended it with kind of apologizing for pushing it back and I felt the need to scream 'WE LOVE YOU' because we do

•after champion they left and I knew there was probably gonna be an encore but the interlude was kinda long and I got worried sometimes like 'are we not loud enough? Are they gonna come back??' But they did

•My Songs was literally the coolest shit because there was so much damn fire and it got 10 degrees hotter in that joint but it was amazing

•up until this point I forgot Saturday was a song, like I knew it but I forgot it was there and that's what they ended with

•CONFETTI EVERYWHERE, TSHIRTS FLYING FROM THE CELING, PETE WENTZ ON THE RAILING IN A BASKETBALL JERSEY AND PATRICK STUMP CHILLING ON OUR SIDE OF THE STAGE FOR A WHILE CAUSING ME TO DAMN NEAR START CRYING

•the end was amazing ^^^

•All of our arms punching in unison during Arms race gave me 5+ years to my lifespan

•save rock and roll was so beautiful I almost cried, like seeing Patrick there doing his thing and then the entire stadium was lit with our phones

•be careful making wishes in the PUNCH PUNCH dark dark

•the best thing about last of the real ones (which was amazing and like one of my fav songs ATM and was amazing live) was Patrick didn't have a guitar so his hands were free when he wasn't at the piano so he was able to just go down the little stage pathway with both arms and I'm like 'YES BBY GO'

•also every time any of them got close to each other or one of them went down the stage pathway I was screaming my lil lungs out

•there was a v good pupper service dog in front of us who was out cold the whole concert

•when FOB came back onstage after the llama interlude they came back in pairs, Pete and Patrick and Joe and Andy, who got significantly less screaming so I made sure to scream as loud as I could when they did something to show that they were loved and appreciated

•because Joe and Andy need more love and appreication

•Pete's jacket, I want it

•also the fluffy white tail thingy Pete had? Actually killing me

•Pretty much the whole band kinda went silent at the beginning of Sugar, Were going down and it was just us singing the lyrics and they looked so happy and I felt blessed

•what else made me feel blessed? Patrick skipping down the catwalk thing. Bless

•I got a planet fitness shirt that I need to cover when I go to school oops

•I wasn't able to get one of those MANIA project thingies but oh well

•I got a large coke, took a total of three sips of it

There is probably so much im forgetting that I'll remember later, sorry for the long post but I needed to share my experience with the internet

[parapluiepliant]

Polaris Con Panel Post - Part I

Hi peeps, mutuals and followers!

 Last weekend, Eliza, Tati and Tasya were in Frankfurt attending Polaris Con. For all those of you who are interested and/or couldn’t be there, I have made some notes and written them down in two posts.

 Before you start reading, I want you to be aware that I tried my best to write everything down. However, being not a machine, I might have missed a few things.

Most of the time, I’ve only written down the most important parts of the answers that were given. Therefore, the bullet points are always a paraphrase to some degree. Yet, I tried to be as close as possible to the intended meaning.

Also, take into account that I am not a native speaker.

 For the panels: Any information that is interesting in regard to season 3, 4 or 5 are bolded.

In-between, you will find either some additional description or side notes that are more or less of personal nature. You can read it or leave it. It’s your choice.

Tagging specifically @slayyourdemonstogehter @alexthedevil @insufficient-earth-skills @echoxbellamy and @istilldothiseveryday because they asked me to or had questions that might be hopefully answered with that post.

I hope you enjoy it and without further ado, the Polaris Con Panel Post - Part I!

Expect Part II tomorrow.

 Polaris Con – Friday and Saturday

Friday, June 2nd:

 After using the Autobahn appropriately (damn you, traffic jam!), I finally got to meet @forgivenessishardforus (Sam) and @stardust-blake (Hana) in Frankfurt.

[side note: is it just me or does it really feel weird to ‘know’ people from online chats/fandoms and then meeting them for the first time in real life?]

 All three of us agreed that the organisers of the con and their organisational skills are more than questionable at this point; a fact that that will unfortunately stay true in the next two days.

To tell the full story here would take too long.  

 Anyway, we still had a tiny bit of hope that we can get at least a partial refund when we appear at the venue. [side note: Bob had to cancel, so getting our money back for the Meet & Greet should have been a given, right?]

 Registration started at 2pm and took rather long for the handful of people waiting outside. One of the reasons might have been that almost everyone wanted to have some clarification about the ridiculous rules and the vouchers they got; vouchers for things that were bought beforhand but were no longer available due to guest cancellations in masses.

 Surprise surprise, we didn’t get our money back, so we had to settle for something different. Whereas Sam had (wisely) chosen to continue her travel through Europe and to visit friends instead of going to the con, Hana and I were determined to make the best out of it.

 After accompanying Sam to the nearest train station (and my heroic deed to stop the train before leaving and getting several times yelled at by the train driver in the process), Hana and I went back to have our vouchers exchanged for another Meet & Greet (for which we had to pay additionally money due to the price difference).

 Apart from a self-made poster depicting the dropship, a button, the photos we were allowed to use for collecting our signatures, and our pass, we got a DIN5 paper with the schedule. However, said schedule would be proven to be incomplete the next day.

  Saturday, June 3rd:

 10 o’clock and no opening ceremony as scheduled. Later on, we were told that the chauffeur didn’t know where the location for the event is. Eliza as well as Tasya grabbed the first taxi of which they could get a hold of, being the determined and initiative women they are.

 Their duo panel (the only duo panel for the whole weekend!) took place some time past 11am instead of 10.30am with delay being a recurring theme the whole day.

 Eliza and Tasya’s panel:

 -         Eliza and Tasya were irritated that we didn’t have a moderator.

-         Eliza: In the finale, preparing Bellamy was Clarke’s way to deal with her knowledge about the radiation poisening, being convinced that she is likely to die because of Abby’s vision.

-         Eliza would like to play Murphy because of his complicated character.

-         Tasya would like to play Jasper because she is impressed by the character and his development throughout the seasons.

-         Eliza: Richard has a Murphy playlist to which he listens to everytime he has to shoot a scene; Eliza herself doesn’t have one but always wanted to create one.

-         On the day when they were shooting the scene of Azgeda marching on Arkadia, Tasya listened to a Rihanna song on the radio on her way to the location. She channeled the energy into playing Echo that day.

-         Some fan asked Tasya and Eliza to enact a fanfiction on stage. After some time, they stopped because it was too long tho.

-         Tasya’s and Eliza’s favourite action sequence is the fight scene between Roan and Lexa.

-         Will Echo change during the time in space because of her confrontation with technology? --> Tasya thinks so. On Earth, there has been always danger of some sort, so Echo now has the chance to be a bit more “chilled out”.

-         How do you manage to hate or have a conflict with your friends on screen? --> Eliza: The moment you’re on set and in your costume, you’re getting into character and the actor’s true personalities isn’t really present in that moment.

-         Did Clarke draw back emotionally during the seasons and has found herself again in the season 4 finale? --> Eliza: yes, especially visible in the last scene.

-         Did Clarke adapt to the leaders around her? --> Eliza: Clarke did what she thought would be the most diplomatic thing to do, by finding a middle ground between them.

-         For season 5, Tasya is most excited about seeing “who is Echo at home” (due to the lack of enemies and life theratening fights). She thinks that it would be interesting to see a Grounder find to themself in space.

-         How will the characters develop in season 5? --> Eliza thinks that Clarke will have taken on a more maternal role in a small scale by keeping her and Madi alive. It will also have softened Clarke and uncomplicated her mind.

-         Tasya has the vision of Echo watering and taking care of plants, thus going into botany. Maybe she even teaches Raven to fight with a sword and Raven will teach her to do technical stuff. How the characters will develop and live together was actually a question Bob, Chris, Olivia, Richard, Lindsey, Chelsey, and her asked themselves and discussed for a time during the shooting of the spaceship scenes.

-         Any advice when you feel self-loathing and when you experience the feeling of coming short? --> Eliza said that whenever she felt to hit rock bottom, she went back to the basics by taking one step at a time instead of tackling the gigantic mission in front of her. This also includes to take small everyday steps like waking up, making breakfast, going out to take a walk, etc.

-         Eliza had made an audition tape for a movie 1 ½ year before she got the call for The 100. She didn’t get the role for the movie and had already forgotten about it, so she was surprised about the call she received for auditioning for The 100.

-         Tasya said that the universe sometimes simply conspires to reward you for your hard work and stamina. She had auditioned for different Grounders (among them Anya), but Echo was the one she finally got. Reading the script, she was instantly fascinated about Echo’s character.

-         What kind of tattoo would they choose for each other? --> Nutella jar.

-         Tasya has a secret vault for Nutella in her trailer.

-         Which Pokémon would you be?: Eliza doesn’t know Pokémon well, so she would be the “yellow guy” (Pikachu) and fans suggested that Tasya could be Vaporeon (?).

-         If they could have 3 clones, how would they be called and which skills would they have? --> Eliza: 1.Ya 2.As 3.Queen; cooking, cleaning, fighting // Tasya: 1.The Good 2.The Bad 3.The Ugly; ninjas

-         Clarke met Madi on her travels and picked her up along the way.

-         Eliza prefers to get to know people first before giving any general advice.

-         With whom would you like to switch your life? --> Both: Jessica Harmon

-         The bear story (https://twitter.com/tasyanews/status/871139299483279361)

 The next panel was Tati’s. Here, Hana and I were a bit late because Tati’s panel for Saturday was missing on the schedule and we were getting our autograph from Chad Rook. [side note: no one really knew why he had been there but it’s likely that the Dreams Con was mingled with Polaris; and the only attendee left for Dreams Con was Chad apparently whereas the rest had cancelled. Either way, he is a cool guy and most of us felt bad for him because so many people didn’t know him and thus didn’t know what to ask during panels]

   Tati’s panel (just for the record: Tati is a literal ray of sunshine!):

-         Favourite Disney Movies: Hercules and Atlantis

-         Favourite Disney Song: Colour of the Wind

-         Personalities that inspire her: Gandhi and Cleopatra, the 7th

-         With whom did you get along the best with: Tati is very close with Chai because he is “like a big brother” to her and she cried when Ilian died on screen. She is also very close with Nadia.

-         Who did you meet first on set? --> Chai

-         With whom would she like to have (had) more scenes: Ian and Isaiah because they “bring a lot your way”, as well as Zach and Lindsey. She bonded the most with Chai.

-         How is it to work with Adina? --> Tati said that Adina is someone who “gets shit done” and as much as she jokes on Twitter, the more so she does in person. Adina is an awesome person overall.

-         Something you wish you knew before becoming an actor: how to do social media. Tati wants to talk to all her fans but doesn’t know how to reach them the best way.

-         She likes karaoke a lot and her favourite songs to sing are “iSpy” by Kyle, “Dear Prudence” by The Beetles and “Let it be” (Across the Universe Version)

-         Does she have a playlist for Gaia: “Rise” and “Weary”, each by Solange

-         For season 5, Tati hopes that Gaia will fight for her belief as she is the face of the tradition now. She added that there are “great things ahead”.

-         It was amazing to work with Adina. She is like a mother to her.

-         Gaia is jealous of Octavia when it comes to her mother but respects her at the same time for the way she managed to become close to Indra. A part of Gaia wants all of them to get along and to find a way to bring them together.

-         She wanted her mother’s love and seeing it going to someone else is heartbreaking for Gaia.

-         Tati hopes and thinks that something will happen between Madi and Gaia in season 5 due to their current roles as nightblood and flamekeeper respectivelly. Considering Gaia, Tati thinks that she will want to have another commander because Octavia has been chosen against/not in accord with their tradition and belief. Therefore, Madi might be the chance for Gaia to make things right again.

-         Tatis’s favourite Behind the Scenes took place during the filming of 4x08 when Kane, Jaha, Monty and Indra tried to get into the bunker and met the Azgeda guards. It had been 2am, it was freezing cold and everybody was delirious (especially Chris and Isaiah), and everyone was stepping on Indra’s long cloak so they had to do a lot of retakes.

-         Did you watch The 100 even before you got the role: yes, but only season 1. She watched it during her 1st year in college and loved it but wasn’t a huge fan. Later on, she binge-watched it tho.

-         Tati recommended to go to LA for doing animation arts or performance arts. NY would be better suited for artistic people because the culture there is more diverse and appreciative of it.

-         What would Gaia study if she lived today: Theology, Ancient History and Anthropology.

-         Asked for a crossover with The 100, Tati answered Supernatural.

-         What does Tati think of Lexa? --> She loved Lexa (for being focused and for her elegance) as well as Alycia.

-         What kind of roles would you like to play in the future? --> Anything that is completely different to her personality. ‘Rent’ would be a musical dream.

-         Tati thinks that social media is supposed to connect people with another but most of the time, people put up a façade. Social media has its good as well as its bad sides to it.

-         With whom will you be working more in season 5? --> Tati doesn’t know. However, she hopes to work more with Ian and Isaiah. She would have liked to have more screentime with Zach, Chai and Nadia (who is like a sister to her) if they hadn’t died. It is likely that she will have more scenes with Octavia and Indra.

-         Party tricks? --> Not really because she is socially awkward.

-         If she could choose who would she like to play in The 100, Tati would also love to be Roan, Jackson or Monty.

-         If you could, with whom would you like to have a fight scene: Roan would be “epic”. In a Roan vs Gaia fight, Gaia would win tho as she was trained by Indra.

-         Tati’s favourite book is ‘The Alchemist’ by Paul Coelho because it helped her out of a dark place and gave her a new purpose.

-         If Jasper had been your friend, would you have stopped him: Tati told us that she had a friend that committed suicide. She said that she would support that person in any way she is able to. Yet, she wouldn’t hold that person back if they really wanted to go peacefully because everyone had to decide for themselves how to live their life. She cried watching the scene with Japser and was amazed by Devon’s acting because he thinks everything through.

-         Does she do her own stunts: she does and loves to do them. She might also have more stunts next season.

-         Who would she choose to kill off in the show if she could: for Gaia it is Roan; for her, no one as it is not in her nature to want people dead.

-         Favourite type of vacation: beach trip

-         What would Tati teach a nightblood? --> She strongly believes that children are the future. Therefore, she would teach them compassion and how to defend themselves emotionally, mentally, verbally, and physically. For her, learning doesn’t and shouldn’t be seen as a chore. Because “the world is your classroom”, one should go out and make their individual experiences. There is nothing to be afraid of. Life and learning is a path with no right or wrong. Beauty is in everything if you look at it and her childlike fascination is in that regard helpful to her.

-         Advice for Gaia (or the other way round): Bent but don’t break.

-         Tati’s comfort food: Bin Bin rice crackers and macarons.

  After the lunch break,......

 Eliza’s panel:

 -         Which Hogwarts House: Eliza doesn’t know. (“Is there a test?”) Fans told her that she might be a Hufflepuff.

-         Do you know any words in Trigedasleng? --> the typical ones, followed by saying “Yo gonplei ste odon.”

-         Eliza had to learn the Trigedasleng dialogue Clarke recites before taking the Flame on the spot because it was added in the last minute. Zach, Tasya and Marie are really good in speaking Trig in contrast to her.

-         Favourite song: ‘Elusive’ by Scott Matthews; She has one line of the lyrics as tattoo (“my destiny lies in the hands that set me free”) (https://twitter.com/dailyejt/status/871866581797789697)

-         Favourite Colour: depends on mood; usually blue because of the ocean, or red.

-         Favourite episode of season 4: acting-wise the finale; it was their strongest episode yet and they all had a lot of fun with the script. With the helms, it was tough and crazy to interact with each other, so it was more lip reading than anything else.

-         Would you prefer space or the bunker? --> Eliza is terrified of space as well as claustrophobic; Clarke would love to go to space tho.

-         She would love to play Ilana from “Broad City”

-         Eliza is still in contact with Alycia. The last time they have seen each other was last year. They are missing each other most of the times due to their busy schedules.

-         Eliza’s greatest fear: being stuck in an elevator

-         Eliza’s greatest joy: her friends and family because she doesn’t get to see them often

-         Thumper was one of the hardest things she has ever done

-         A fan asked about her school project in Thailand: the project is going well thanks to the donations but it is still hard. Seeing the whole community come together to help is amazing.

-         Favourite scene of season 4: the radio scene because Clarke is now closer to her age. It also offers a calmer and more hopeful Clarke.

-         According to Eliza, Bellamy and Clarke gained back the respect they had for each other in season 1 and 2, being allies. It was also good not to have to yell at Bob all the time. (https://twitter.com/SourcesThe100/status/870991188647661568)

-         The audition for Thumper took place 1 ½ year before the movie began filming. She got the call for Thumper after they finished season 2. She had some workshops with the director in preparation for Thumper.

-         For the Netflix original “Christmas Inheritance”, she was simply asked.

-         In a real life action movie of Sailor Moon, she would like to play Sailor Moon because she could finally have those long pigtails.

-         She would like to play the Schuyler sisters in Hamilton.

-         How are the different relationships going to look like after the time jump? A lot will have changed.

-         About Thailand food, she thinks that Pad Thai is “noodle extravaganza” and she likes to drink coconuts.

-         She loves Thailand for the wonderful nature and the incredible, loving and lovely people. When she leaves Thailand after her visits, she comes always home with a different sense of what is important.

-         What could Eliza and Clarke learn from each other? Clarke could teach Eliza how to delegate, and Eliza could teach Clarke how to crack a joke ot two.

-         Eliza quit school in 10th grade because she was already working as an actress.

-         Eliza said that she would like to have more scenes with Lindsey.

-         When asked about her favourite ship, Eliza said that “she doesn’t do the shipping”.

-         About the 6 years+, Eliza said that Clarke tried to but couldn’t get in touch with her mother. Eliza gathered that Bellamy and Clarke had decided off screen that Bellamy would be in charge of the radio on the Ark ring.

-         The red streak of hair is related to Clarke’s disconnectedness.

-         The best present fans have given her was the adoption certification of a whaleshark.

-         Have Madi and Clarke a mother-daughter or a sibling relationship? Mother-daughter. Clarke might be taking on from her mother but definitely more Grounder and earth skill lessons due to their life circumstances.

-         Eliza is excited that she doesn’t have to wear a wig for season 5.

-         Favourite movie: “Almost Famous”; She is obsessed with the 60s/70s and loves Penny Lane.

-         Eliza loves the old Batman movies.

-         Playing a villain would be really cool because she never got to play one but being a bit of both (good and evil) would be fantastic.

-         Does Clarke have a sense of self? --> In season 5 for sure. Before, there was too much going on for Clarke to concentrate herself on developing a sense of self.

-         What would you do if Jasper was your friend? She thinks that it is a “loaded question” but Eliza would try to stop him. In case that she wouldn’t have succeeded, she would try to understand their motivation and hope that they are now at peace.

-         What would she have liked to know about social media before she became an actress? --> She would have liked to be mentally prepared for it because no one really tells you how it can affect you. There should be some sort of preparation, especially for young girls who can get messed up by being exposed to the public eye. It can be very invasive and it feels like they take a piece of you without permission.

-         Eliza likes the American Footbal League and sees Calden as her team. Being in Vancouver, she recently got into hockey as well.

-         Eliza doesn’t like to talk about Lexa’s death. It brought a love to many people and it’s better to celebrate the good things that came out of it.

 After the panel, it was our turn to get autographs of Tasya and Tati. However, the queue was too long and Tasya’s panel was about to start, so the organisers decided to hand out numbers so that people wouldn’t have a disadvantage for the second queue after the panel (needless to say that we never came back to use the numbers in any way).

 Tasya’s panel:

 -         Tasya does some of the stunts herself, for example the fight scenes. She actually signed up for archery lessons because she still doesn’t know how to do it and had to rely on a director on set who practices archery as a hobby. She joked that you can never know how you might need that skill in space.

-         If Echo would meet herself, they would fight each other.

-         Tasya would teach Echo how to love other people. Echo could teach Tasya how to be strong and to stand her ground.

-         Are there other projects she will stare in? --> Tasya will be part of the show “Travellers” that starts shooting in 2 days (so basically on Monday; one of the reasons she had to leave early on Sunday)

-         Favourite scene: The scene when Roan cauterizes his wound. Not only Roan and Echo, but also Zach and Tasya tried to figure each other out that day. Tasya also tried to figure out how long Echo and Roan might have known each other. For that scene, the director also gave Tasya a word of action/an operative word to help her acting in that scene. The word itself was “seduce” (Roan into wanting power).

-         Her resolution for 2017 was to stop eating anything that was made with palm oil because of all the damage that is done for retrieving it. Getting to know that Nutella has stopped using it made her really happy.

-         Tasya is part of an organisation against human trafficking called ‘Unslaved’. After being part of a film about that topic, it was important for her to get people to talk about it without being afraid of it. It is more than important to raise awareness, stop it and help those who are threatenend to become part of the system as well as those who are left alone with their experiences.

-         She got to know about her season 5 contract around the time of her birthday in February and had to stay tight lipped all the time. She was actually quite nervous during the negotiation process.

-         About who she thinks might end up together in space, Tasya joked that Echo might probably end up with Monty. A bit more serious, she added that she doesn't think Echo would stick with one of them for the whole 6 years.

-         Echo is pretty quiet and watchful in space and Tasya is curious about how Emori and Echo will adapt, given that they are Grounders.

-         Tasya doesn’t know about Echo’s sexuality, same as Echo because her duty to protect the king was the only thing that actively occupied her thoughts.

-         What would she do if Jasper would be her friend: Tasya would talk him out of it. She said that it’s a tough question and that she thinks that people respond to love which reminds people to keep fighting.

-         Whereas Chelsey and Lindsey enjoy to work out, Tasya prefers Yoga and Boxing to stay fit.

-         With whom would you want to be friends? Octavia because of her pissy attitude as well as Raven because she gets shit done and because Tasya likes her strength.

-         Asked about a possible romantic involvement between Roan and Echo, Tasya said that she believes that it was more of a “hairpulling thing” between them, stemming from their childhood days. However, given more time it might have had potential to develop into something more. In this time frame that was shown on screen, Echo and Roan were not romantic.

-         Favourite colour: purple

-         About Echo’s position within the Azgeda military, Tasya said that between season 3 and 4, Echo was promoted by Roan. Yet, she was always a spy and the most trusted by Azgeda royalty.

 Tasya and Tati autographs, the second try:

I told Tasya that it is really sad she has to leave early on Sunday. She said that she was actually thinking about not attending Sunday at all but decided against it. I mean, she has to take a flight on Sunday to be ready for filming “Travellers” on Monday and still decided to stay for at least a few hours?! That needs to be honoured with a hug! And so I came to hug Tasya (who looks like an actual model and I might stan her now for several reasons...don’t judge me!). All in all, everything went pretty fast so I didn’t get the chance to ask anything.

 Tati was a little adorable sunshine! I asked her how she likes it so far and she told me that she was really happy, said that it is her first convention and she likes it a lot so far. Another thing I asked her was if the Flamekeeper tattoo had any symbolism or meaning behind it. Tati answered no, at least as far as she knows. The most important thing was the middle of it showing the Second Dawn symbol.

 I know that Hana asked them some questions as well but I cannot for the live of me remember what it was. :/

 So far, so good. Saturday is almost over. Let’s see what Con-Sunday brings.

[temenosjournal]

It’s that time of year when everyone gathers a list of all The Best of, of which this not, or least not ‘best’ as in good, or should be nominated for a Giller Prize. Anyways, I got looking back through my drafts, and actually used one from the summer for a recent post (shhh…not saying which), and thought maybe I’d take a look at what I posted, in comparison to what got shelved.

I haven’t edited these (well, some spelling cause I am horrid). So, here we go, for better or worse.

~~~~~*~~~~~

HOW TO TALK TO TREES – [March 6th]

It has come to my attention recently that I’m not a total whack job, and that talking to Fred, my Ficus, is not completely in vain.

Yip, that’s it. Had been watching this Doc on the interconnected nature of trees, and was spellbound by the bond they have with their environment, how they send out nourishment to their offspring, and the …well anyways, began to sound in my head like I was writing some article for National Geographic, and not a personal blog. So that was ditched.

Five days later I published this – make it so. Instead, I wrote about my Ficus benjamina that I call Fred. And yes, I do talk to Fred, we’ve been together now for over 25 years, so we know each other well.

Then, later in the month I dove back into the heady waters of U.S. Politics, of which I do try to stay clear, but not always successfully. This is a product, you know, of my insatiable news addiction, I need to find a new hobby. But anyways.

~ * ~

AND I CRIED REAL TEARS [March 26th]

Was cleaning the front door yesterday afternoon, as the rain fell, I’d got ansy and found myself on this cleaning spree. Had swept and washed the floors, after rearranging everything last week, so the door was the last on the list. Had the music playing, some random Classical playlist from YouTube, so I’d been zening out all afternoon. Scrubbing away all this dirt and grime that had collected somehow to almost a degree that I found rather shocking I hadn’t noticed earlier, washing away the dirt of almost 4 years. And than it played…

‘Tis the gift to be simple, ‘Tis the gift to be free, ‘Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be, And when we find ourselves in the place just right ‘Twill be in the valley of love and delight.

One of my favourite versions, from ‘Appalachian Waltz’, with Yo Yo Ma and Allison Krause…stunning.

And somehow these tears came to my eyes.

It has always reminded me of my Grandmother, that song Simple Gifts, as she used to hum it all the time. It was one of her favourite songs, and basically in a number of ways sums up some of the things she taught me.

But these tears were not for her.

No, these tears were maybe frustration, disillusionment. When I look south of the Canadian border and look towards my Fathers family, I don’t know who it is I see anymore. What did I miss?

And don’t get me wrong, this creeping fear of the other has manifested itself here, with comments on come across on Facebook, and snide remarks about new policies in Toronto schools about providing a place for those of other faiths to pray, such as Muslim. And the quip about taking out the Lord’s Prayer in the morning, as I stand in line with them after work on Sunday afternoon at some retail store. Doesn’t prevent them from SHOPPING on Sunday though, I see.

Anyways, I am delusional.

Completely off in LaLa land to actually imagine maybe the world was a different place than it is.

I get sad, you know? I cry real tears for an America I understand. And I hear those beautiful words, of that simple song, and I can’t help but wonder, what happened to just simple gifts? You know, like maybe inclusion, community, compassion, empathy, faith, understanding? Love? When we have so much, and there are those with so little.

And all this hate, for what? 

To what ends? 

And God alone knows what the heck conspiracy theory of the moment is, but mark my words, you can guarantee someone is benefiting a WHOLE bunch.

And, dang it all, why am I crying REAL TEARS over this!!!??

I’m saddened, sure, just more than I realized.

How did this once great nation lets the wolves in? How?

With racism, and hate. Well, and believing all the BS that these talking heads spout.

See, I don’t watch TV, don’t catch the evening news, don’t follow the latest crap of some Kardashian or some other media “star”.

Seriously, couldn’t care less. Actually, I could care less, but I don’t believe there is an actual word for how much less I could care. So there.

But there I was, washing my door, and listening to simple gifts, and crying real tears.

I was born in the North Carolina, and lived there, in a dinky little trailer till I was 2 and a half. After which I’ve merely spent vacations every few years in the south. Driving down I95, winding so far round Washington D.C. and then crossing that Mason Dixon line, everytime thinking about why it’s there, and what that line means.

Same division, just I guess the lines got a little tangled up over the years, but there is still a line.

And I cried real tears, thinking about a place that I thought was just crawling out of that dark age it put itself into, through racism and hate of the other. Thought maybe they had learned a thing or three.

See, delusional.

A day later, I posted this – EUSTON. Just pictures, no words.

But I couldn’t let it go. That sense of something lost haunted me, but I decided I needed to say it in another way, so I went back and finally posted The Comfort Of Historical Knowledge. [April 6th] The featured image was a shot of the floorboards of the old attic, or we called the attic; actually would have been the servants quarters back in the mid-1800’s. It was taken just before the space was renovated as a suite for Dad and MsB a couple years ago.

~ * ~ THE VALUE OF THE EARTH OUTSIDE MY DOOR [April 28th]

The dirt underneath my fingernails, the sweet scent of the earth, the hope and gratitude gardening creates is a beautiful distraction from the insanity that haunts me. Or, rather I suppose that I allow to haunt me. For I do hunt for the tidbits the same as any other news junkie. I can’t help it.

It’s an insidious hate that poverty doth wrought. On the backs of those whose very existence is hand to mouth. Kept ignorant, impoverished and at the mercy of those whose actions, when they do choose to act, are done always for their own benefit. Believing every hateful utterance that condemns those they have been trained to be hateful towards. It’s a vicious, self-serving blanket of lies and half-truths, that haphazardly covers any truths they wish to hide from.

And, so I garden.

Ugh.

So, it is to the garden that I escape. At the end of the sidewalk, inbetween, is where you will often find me. Sitting on my stoop, with my dog at my feet, soaking in the shade of the Black Walnut over my head, here in my nook.

Instead, I posted garden the very same day.

This was one of the first where I took those long-winded essays and swept away whole sections, getting right to the core, but this time I left the two separated.

Yet, at other times, I ignored it completely and went off in a completely different direction. ~ * ~

DOING WHAT YOUR NOT SUPPOSE TO [June 8th]

Even now, I still half expect him to show up some night, real late at night when I have to work early early early the next morning, just like he always did. I don’t really believe he would, and he said he never would, not in two million years, but I still half expect it. Like anyone I’ve cared for, figures into my world long past there expiration date. Not so much from some pathetic belief they want something, but more as a fantasy, I suppose, so I know they really did actually care.

Although, in BealArt guys case it was never clear if he actually could feel real emotions anymore, or if everything had just been switched off when his baby girl passed on that night so long ago.

His ability to feel was always a joke, but I always thought he was the way he was because his feelings ran so deep, they were so big, but he never learned how to deal with them, just how to control them. Though every now again I could see the side of his mouth twitch, you know, like a ventiquilquist.

Instead, later that same day I posted – On Creating Woodlandia, And How You Can Too

Two shots I didn’t include with that post, for whatever reason.

Yes, I do sometimes prefer plants to humans, far less complicated.

~ * ~

paulab’s day off [July 4th]

i smelled the scent of the milkweed in the morning sun hundreds of them in bloom around me and i did not know that they had a scent at all as the morning coolness gave way to the noon day sun alone amongst them in wonder there atop the rise at euston meadow. later with nowhere to be but sit and watch the light change under the walnut tree in the in-between garden just watching shadows play dancing on the sidewalk flickering and i catch the breeze with my bohemian dress and skip over the cracks in the light fantastic on my way to a new day.

Which I guess I was going to post in response to a Photo Challenge, but something stopped me. Instead, the next day I posted this, actually for another Photo Challenge – a bridge for the sun.

It was inspired by a walk a couple of days before, and the air was filled with the smell of Milkweed from Euston Meadow. Even the next morning, when I was riding to work, as I rode by it was intoxicating. There were hundreds and hundreds of them, great sweeps of them. I had no idea Milkweed could smell so sweet.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Can’t remember what books it’s from, but it applies, “it was the best of times, it was the worst of times”. It’s interesting, looking back at what I posted, and what I left unsaid. Kind of a snapshot, in a certain way, of my writing process (or lack of at times). Sometimes its something I came back to, while others never saw the light of day, till now.

As this year comes to a close, I do want to thank you, all you who read my simple words.

Love,

The Best Of What I Didn’t Say This Year It's that time of year when everyone gathers a list of all The Best of, of which this not, or least not 'best' as in…

[nessienoona-blog]

In Denial

Characters: Jeon Jungkook x Noona Reader

Genre: Angst?/Fluff

Warnings: None

Summary: I was waiting for her, I had to know for sure if what she felt was real or if she is just playing with my best friend’s feelings.

I was waiting for her, I had to know for sure if what she felt was real or if she is just playing with my best friend’s feelings. Jungkook and I met on Overwatch a few months back during the Chinese New Year event, we met during a session of Capture the flag: which we sadly lost due to a Symmetra camping near our flag with her teleporter and a Bastion sitting near the spawn entrance. We were so salty that none of our team helped us that we decided to stick together for another few games, eventually we became best friends. At first, he was surprised that I was older than him because I “didn’t sound like my age” but he got use to it quite quickly.  We told each other our secrets, our hobbies, everything.... including crushes.

3 months ago, I was on my PC listening to my spotify playlist when I heard a knock at my door.  “Noona!” I knew that voice from anywhere, I walked over to the front door and opened it to see Jungkook.

“Hey Jungkook” I said with a smile and we both walked to my couch to sit down. “Noona, I have some great news” he replied with that bunny smile you adored so much, you nodded as to tell him to continue with is great news, you couldn’t help but smile at his excitement.

“Remember the girl i told you about, G/N?” he said, with that question alone, your smile faltered. “G/N? yeah, what about her” I asked. He held my hands together and said “I asked her out and she said yes!”. He was so happy with the fact that the girl he liked for 5 months came to like him but what he didn’t know is I wasn’t happy, I’m older than him so he thinks of me as a big sister plus I can’t tell a guy who is younger than me that I like him, he’d laugh... right?

I put a fake smile on “Yay Jungkook, I knew you could do it” you said and hugged him. If he was happy then I was happy... I had to hide my feelings from him until they disappear.

Now I am waiting in the park to see G/N and confront her, 2 weeks ago she sent Jungkook a message saying she would be busy throughout the week because she has to help her mom with some things. You both believed it until you saw G/N making out with another guy in his car and just when you thought it didn’t get much worse, she had a different guy in those 2 weeks doing the same thing.

I called her number on my phone. “Hello?” she said with an innocent voice. It made me angry, how can she play innocent when she is hurting my Jungkook. “Hey G/N, Do you think we can talk this weekend at our usual spot, usual time?” I asked in my innocent voice, two can play that game. “Of course” she said and hung up.

It’s 4pm and I've been waiting for an hour, I was starting to lose my patience wit her until I saw her walking hand in hand with someone who was NOT Jungkook.  I balled up my hands in order to keep myself calm, She saw my face and knew what was about to go down.

“So, care to tell me what’s going on between you and Jungkook?” I asked “Because the last time i checked, that is not Jungkook” pointing to the guy she came with.

“Unnie, Let me-” she started to say before i cut her off, “No, you listen to me G/N. Were your feelings ever real for Jungkook or were you just playing with him like you did with the other guys?” I said angrily. The guy looked at G/N and at me “Yeah, she has had 4 guys in these 2 weeks alone plus you, so make it 5″ I said and he walked away. 

“Unnie...” she said as she started to tear up, “Don’t Unnie me, you don’t deserve to call me that” as I looked away from her. “Jungkook loves you, you know?” I said sadly “He loves you with all of his heart and you do this to him? He doesn’t deserve this”. I heard G/N footsteps slowly coming closer until she was a few inches away from my back.

“Unnie....Y/N, I know this is not the time to say this but i kept asking myself this in my head or and over again” she said, I moved my head to the side to hear what she was going to say “Why haven’t you told Jungkook that you love him more than a friend?” she said.

I froze in place and my eyes widened, how did she know about my feelings for Jungkook?  Was I that obvious? Should I come clean?

I took a deep breath “What do you mean? It’s not like that” I said trying to tell myself the same thing for these 3 months. I felt her hand on my back “Y/N, you should tell him and stop denying it yourself” she said. I shrugged her hand off my back and faced her “Tell him what... That one of his best friends is in love with him; everytime he smiles I can’t help but smiled too; That everytime he is so passionate about something whether it’s video games, photography, drawing or music, It makes me fall harder for him?” I said angrily at her with tears falling down my face.

“Yes” she said while smiling and nodding “Why don’t you tell him all of those things?”. I looked down at my feet and I knew the answer straight away.  “Because I’d rather be in denial than be denied of my feelings” I said.

That was the truth, I’d rather tell myself a lie that be rejected by him.

“You love me?” a familiar voice from behind me brought me out of my thoughts as i looked up to see...

“J-Jungkook?” I faltered...

(A/N: OOOOOOOHHHHH What a cliffhanger huh? This was my first BTS imagine that i thought of like listening to Nandemonaiya which is an amazing song! Should i make a part 2 but JK POV?)