#if anyone wants to do this then consider yourselves tagged

[disorganizedkitten]

Tagged by @diony-svs! Hi! <3

Last Movie: Scooby-Doo and the Music of the Vampire. One of the few movies I watch on loop.

Last Show: uhhh I think The Scrappy & Scooby-Doo show. Mostly it's been youtube crime fanatic podcasts, if those count?

Last Song: Currently listening to DIE from the RWBY soundtrack (Volume 2, I think?)

Song Stuck In My Head: Oompa Loompa or Am I Wrong. And Bubblegum {w}itch.

Favorite Color: Purple! and Teal!

Currently Reading: Venom and Vanilla by Shannon Mayer and The Coldest Girl In Coldtown by Holly Black

Currently Watching: All the Scooby-Doos and Sleepy Hollow (2013)

Next On Your Watchlist: Technically? How-to youtube videos.

Currently Consuming: My own organs /hj I'll get real food soon.

Currently Craving: Very cold water. And lasange.

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: Sweet and Savory! Spicy isn't my thing unless I'm trying to impress my brother.

3 Favorite Foods: Lasagne, Pierogi, and Quiche!

Last Thing You Googled: Headless Horseman TV Show bc I couldn't remember what Sleepy Hollow was called. Before that was word translations for hw.

Dream Trip: World tour, baby! Well, actually I'd love to get a giant B&B and invite all my friends and spend a week or more living together. But a world tour's an okay second.

Anything I want right now: A nap and a hug from my mom. And then to publish cgic fics >:D

No Pressure Tags: @overenthusiasticcartoonlover @sallertiacallidus @izanae @weak-fragile-mortal

[raksh-writes]

WIP themes tag

In the latest episode of the long saga of me being super late in doing these lovely tag games, I’ve been tagged by @iced-ginger-tea thank youuu! ^^

rules: bold the themes that appear in your WIP (& italicize those that are loosely covered).

Gonna do these for my VegasPete Sugar Daddy AU ^^ So:

addiction | beauty | betrayal | change vs. tradition | chaos vs. order | circle of life | coming of age | communication | convention vs. rebellion | corruption | courage | crime and law | dangers of ignorance | darkness and light | death | desire to escape | dreams | displacement | empowerment | facing darkness | facing reality | faith vs. doubt | fall from grace | fame and fortune | family | fate | fear | fear of failure | free will | friendship | fulfillment | good vs. bad | government | greed | guilt and forgiveness | hard work | heroism | hierarchy | honesty | hope | identity crisis | immortality | independence | individual vs. society | inner vs. outer strength | innocence | injustice | isolation | knowledge vs. ignorance | life | loneliness | lost love | love | man vs. nature | manipulation | materialism | motherhood | nature | nature vs. nurture | oppression | optimism | peer pressure | poverty | power | power of words | prejudice | pride | progress | quest | racism | rebirth | relationships | religion | responsibility | revenge | sacrifice | secrets | self-awareness | self-preservation | self-reliance | sexuality | social class structure | survival | technology | temptation and destruction | time | totalitarianism | weakness | vanity | war | wealth | wisdom of experience | youth

Oof, this actually wasn’t all that easy, ngl, but also super fun to consider and get the gears going ^^

No-pressure tagging: @fleet-off @roxannes-love-letters @theflowergirl @livingbythewords @msmischief101 @howlingmusketeers @oenothera5 and anyone who’d like to do it too! ^^

[bg-brainrot]

Unraveling Plan Meet Immeasurable Insecurity (Astarion x GN!Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Rating: Teen

Summary: Tav tries their damnedest to propose, only to be rebuffed by Astarion at every single turn.

Tags: Astarion POV - alternating w/Rogue!Tav, POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Spawn Astarion, Post-Canon, Marriage Proposal, Mild Hurt/Comfort, insecurities

A/N: based on a request from a kind anon on Tumblr– "Would you ever consider writing a one-shot where Tav tries to propose to Astarion but keeps failing multiple times. But Tav doesn’t give up and raises the stakes higher and higher. Astarion will completely remain oblivious because he still has some self esteem issues (why would anyone want to marry him?) and is really confused why Tav is acting nervous around him."

I ended up taking it in a slightly different direction (based on the man’s self esteem issues as you pointed out, anon). Set an undetermined amount of years post BG3, post saving Karlach from Zariel, post-Lae’zel finishing the githyanki uprising so the gang's all here. I hope the kind anon still enjoys it!

Word count: ~5.6k

Astarion first has an inkling that something is the matter when you sneak away from him.

Odd, he thinks, watching your retreating back. Usually they invite me along for this sort of skulking about.

But he understands, better than most, what a bit of privacy could afford someone who hasn’t had any in so long. So he watches you leave, pretending all the while that he hasn’t noticed a thing. Best not embarrass them, of course.

He brushes off the incident as an anomaly– after all, you continue to be your usual self upon your return. Neither of you speak of your absence, and you seem rather pleased with yourself, so he is pleased for you.

The next time he notices something is off he grows a tad more worried.

This time you don’t disappear, but you do spend a concerning amount of time staring at his hands, expression pensive.

“Darling,” he starts. He quickly tucks his hands under the Elfsong table that you both sit at and leans forward. “What are you doing?”

You blanch at the question– an uncharacteristic reaction to be sure. “Oh,” you sound startled, as if you’ve been caught doing something quite naughty. “Nothing at all. Just wondering if you’d done anything new with your nails? They look… nice.”

It’s a lie, that much is clear to Astarion. But it’s not typical that you lie so poorly. And why should you lie? No matter, you look flustered and gods does he love it when you look flustered– it happens so rarely that he feels the need to truly relish it. “Don’t they?” he asks, flourishing his hands in front of you now. “How did you know? I dipped them in an essence of ooze to thoroughly moisturize them.”

“Really?” Your bewilderment almost brings a laugh out of him.

“Gods no, my dear,” he says, reaching out from under the table and for your hands. “You seem quite out of sorts. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you dismiss, staunchly avoiding eye contact with him.

Odd, he thinks again. Where is their usual daring now?

He’s forced to dismiss the thought as you flag down a waitress, ordering yourselves another bottle of wine.

Astarion becomes genuinely concerned when you return home late one night.

The two of you have grown comfortable together in your house, just on the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate, in a cozy corner of Rivington. The location allows you to continue your work with the guild, gives him plentiful access to any criminals that needed exsanguinating, and your former companions are never far.

It does mean that you will sometimes stay late in the city, working well into the sunlight hours– but you also know to send him a message on the days you stay out late. Otherwise your poor, beautiful vampire will waste away in worry.

“Where in the nine hells are they?” Astarion curses aloud on this particular dawning day. He’d tried sending a message to you, only to receive nothing back. He’d sent another to Shadowheart, again to silence. He considers trying someone less responsible like Karlach, when you finally burst through the front door.

“Oh! Astarion,” you say, surprise plain on your face. As if he wouldn’t be here, in your shared home no less, waiting for your arrival. “What are you still doing up?”

He watches you silently for a moment as you tuck something behind your back, straighten out uncomfortably. Then, with all of the annoyance he can muster, he rolls his eyes at you. “It’s lovely to see you too, my dear. It’s not as if I was worrying my gorgeous head off at the thought of you dead in some rank Baldurian gutter.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, shuffling around the room in a rather suspicious manner. “I lost track of time. I figured you would go to bed without me.”

Astarion can’t remember the last time he went to bed without at least knowing where you were. Even if he could, he suspects he really would rather not. “Darling, you know I need my warm-blooded lover by my side to enter my reverie. Besides, what could have possibly taken you so long?”

You hesitate, and something tugs at Astarion’s insides. He feels a sudden sense of fear, a dread that he may regret asking you this question. 

What if you’re upset at him, and this was your way to maintain space? What if you’ve finally, rationally taken a look at your situation and determined that no, you’d really rather not love a monster like himself? Or worse, what if you’d found someone else, someone who could bask in the daylight alongside you? Gods, the idea sends his undead heart plummeting.

Just as you’re about to open your mouth to answer, he rescinds his question, “Nevermind. I don’t want to know. I merely wanted to make sure you were alive. You’re looking as sprightly as ever, so I shall head to bed.”

He doesn’t wait for your response, heading to bed in a dramatic swirl and even more sensational thoughts. 

He’s right, he knows it to his core. You’ve found someone else, someone who can give you the life he never could. More than anything he wishes he had the courage to confront you, especially as all of your odd behavior clicks into place.

They snuck off to find a lover.

They were staring at my hands in the hopes that they were someone else’s.

They stayed out late to relish in another’s company.

They’re aloof because they’re leaving me and it’s all a matter of time.

It’s as plain as day. How could he have been so very, very blind?

__

You had concocted a nice, simple plan.

It involved a ring, a smattering of your closest friends, and a particularly prickly vampire. Ideally, the plan ended with the vampire agreeing to marry you.

Gods. The idea thrills you as much as it scares you: you are actually going to propose to Astarion.

After years together, you and Astarion are practically already married. This is merely a formality in your mind. But of course, for a man like Astarion, it's a formality that means only the utmost effort must be put in.

But, as it always goes in your life, your nice, simple fell apart.

The problem you're finding is that, after weeks of preparation and secretive planning, the man is being oddly distant. Distant and dismissive. It's almost as if he knows something is afoot, and he's utterly determined to make sure it doesn't happen.

Five times now he has thwarted your attempts at a proposal.

"Astarion," you had started the first time. "Would you like to take a walk in the park with me tonight?”

The look he’d given you was equal parts wary and panicked. So much so that you thought maybe you’d misspoken. But his response was measured enough. “No, thank you, darling. I’m afraid I’m quite spent today.” He gave you a yawn to illustrate his point, and you dropped the subject for the night.

You had had to send a message to Shadowheart to call off the trail of poisonous flowers that your friends were laying out for your stroll.

The next time, you had tried being a bit more casual in your attempt.

“Would you enjoy a day at the spa, Astarion?”

Again, he gave you a look that confused you. Frightened face, hackles raised– his only response was, “Why, darling, do I look that ghastly to you?”

“You know that’s not what I–”

“No matter,” he’d waved you off. “I am afraid I’m busy today.”

You’d sent a message to Karlach, telling her that the reservation of Baldur’s Gate’s spa was no longer needed.

The third time, you’d called in some more magical help.

“Astarion, what do you say to a moonlit picnic atop the roof of the Elfsong? We haven’t had one in a while.”

Appalled– utterly and truly aghast is the only way to describe the face he’d made. The words that followed didn't make you feel better either. “And why would we do that again after such a long while?”

Your stomach had roiled, worry settling in at his tone. “I thought it would be a chance to reminisce together.” Your tone stayed light, your smile just as friendly.

“It’s far too cold to bother with reminiscing,” he’d said, glowering at you. Looking at the hard set of his jaw, this is when you’d begun to worry that you’d done something to upset him.

“Is everything alright?” you’d asked, reaching out for his arm.

“It’s fine,” he’d replied, curtly, retreating from your grasp. “I just don’t want to be colder than I already am.”

You’d sent a message to Gale, instructing him to call off the magical skywriting over the Elfsong.

For your fourth attempt, you knew you needed someone with a slightly more forceful personality– and to perhaps lean a little less romantic.

“Astarion,” you’d begun, inflecting your tone with just the right amount of panic. “Lae’zel’s found a flock of mephits along the beach of Wyrm’s Crossing. She needs our help.”

“Mephits?” he’d asked, looking at you cautiously. “In Wyrm’s Crossing?”

“Yes,” you’d replied, nodding hurriedly. “We need to go now.”

He’d clicked his tongue at you and shaken his head. “As if Lae’zel couldn’t crush them all with a single swing. Seems to me like she’s grown lazy after all of her heroics.”

“Astarion,” you’d chided. “You know she will incredibly cross at us if she finds out you declined to help.”

“I’ll survive,” he’d said, returning to the book on his lap, hands turning paler than usual in a tense vice grip. “Probably.”

After, you’d sent a message to Lae’zel, instructing her to do as she pleased with the stash of fireworks on the beach.

The fifth time you’d grown genuinely, truly worried that something was wrong with Astarion because, by the gods, the man had refused to commit crime with you.

After so many failed attempts, you’d figured that you needed to go back to the roots of your relationship– to a simpler time when petty theft gave you some time alone together.

“I heard a rumor through the guild,” you’d said offhandedly over dinner. “A newly minted noble in the Upper City has quite the horde of wealth and very little security. What do you say that we pay them a visit, perhaps ‘relieve’ them of some of their wealth?”

Astarion had faltered, clearly tempted by your offer. But after nearly two weeks of avoiding going anywhere with you, he didn’t outright agree either. “And why would you need me for this particular job?”

The question had taken you aback. You’d never needed a reason to invite him along for crime of all things. It made you near certain that he knew what you were up to and that something about it was distasteful to him. Sweet hells, it made you nervous. “I, erm… well, I could use an extra pair of hands to carry it all, I suppose?”

“I could lend you my pack then,” he’d said, narrowing his eyes at you.

Why is he trying to avoid me? Have his feelings changed? you’d thought in fear. Aloud, you’d only doubled down. “Well, the company might be nice. And you know that your lockpicking is, somehow, better than mine.”

“I thought you said security was sparse,” he’d countered.

“Sparse doesn’t mean nonexistent.”

“Not much of a challenge then, is it?”

You had wanted to scream into the astral plane. Wanted to flip the table over his pretty pale face. Wanted to tell him, ‘You know what, I didn’t want to marry such a stubborn vampire anyway!’ – but you did none of those things. Because you love this man and, even when he’s being difficult, you do want to marry him.

So you had gritted your teeth and said, “Very well then. I shall borrow your pack.”

You’d sent a message to Wyll later to call off his father’s help with the upper city guards.

For your sixth attempt, you decide you first need to reconvene with your council– also known as your former companions. 

When you’d first met with them at the start of this whole ordeal, you’d snuck away from Astarion. It made you feel a bit guilty, sneaking around, hiding things from him, but the entire proposal was meant to be a fun surprise– one you are starting to suspect is a misguided effort. 

You profess as much aloud now that you’re meeting up with the five of them again, seated around the table in Jaheira’s kitchen. “Maybe there is no sixth attempt. Maybe I’ve overestimated the love between us.”

“Don’t say that,” Wyll says, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, squeezing softly in reassurance. “Your love is strong. And together we will find a way to make this proposal work.”

You smile up at the man, one always so willing to believe in the power of a good love story. You’re almost sorry to be disappointing him– and the smut peddlers. Really, you’re sorry to be disappointing all of your friends. Each of your companions had been eager to help you in your endeavor, in their own ways, of course.

Gale had congratulated you prematurely at first, misunderstanding your Sending spell. But when you’d clarified, asked him for his help, he’d only been incredibly enthused, arriving the very next day, offering all manner of suggestions.

Karlach, for her part, was only ever excited, practically bouncing off the walls that two of her best mates may potentially tie the knot. At the low, low price of allowing her to be your person of honor, she was entirely at your disposal.

Lae’zel had been confused initially. In her mind, you were already committed to a life together. What was the purpose of this… proposal? Of marriage? But when you’d explained to her a bit, she’d been curious– and excited at the potential of catching Astarion off guard.

Shadowheart had seemed surprised when you’d asked. You weren’t already married? Alas, she’d gotten the plot of one of the many bawdy novels about you confused with real life. No matter, she was happy to help.

And, well, Wyll– when he returned from Avernus he’d been disappointed that you weren’t at the very least engaged yet. It was no shock or awe to him when you visited him for help. In fact, he had only given you a wry smile and said, “I knew you would be the one to cave.”

As for Jaheira, well, she was allowing you to use her house as a headquarters, but had proclaimed early, “Invite me to the wedding and I shall be there, but until then– well, this is for you lot to figure out.”

And gods were you having trouble figuring it out.

“I don’t know, Wyll. I’m worried Astarion may never revert back to normal at this rate,” you say, shaking your head.

“Was he ever normal?” Shadowheart asks with a soft snort. “Besides, he can be awfully dense at times, you may just need to ask him outright.”

“There is not a single realm in which Astarion says yes to a simple proposal,” you say, brows furrowing. “You know he’d want something flashy.”

Gale raises a finger sagely before countering, “Well, my friend, sometimes what we want and what we need are two different things. I’m inclined to agree that you may just need to pop the question.”

“What if…” you trail off, your worries from the past weeks bogging down your thoughts. Somehow, despite everything you’ve been through, this seems to be your toughest challenge yet. “Do you think he knows what I’m doing and is simply too afraid to reject me?” you ask the group, turning to each of them with pleading eyes. You’re honestly not sure you can take his rejection, especially after the last five rebuffs.

“Not a chance in the hells,” Karlach answers. “I think he’s being a right idiot, actually. And if he knew what was happening, he may even say yes before you can so much as get the question out.”

“Really?” Your mood lightens a bit, her harsh words slashing through the hardened doubts that have settled over your heart. 

“Is it any surprise to us that Astarion is incapable of seeing the truth before him?” Lae’zel says, rolling her eyes. “Such sharp skills, yet completely dull in the face of our efforts.”

“Again, we may just need a softer touch,” Shadowheart suggests, tilting her head at you.

You’re not sure what a softer touch might be, and, from the silence that follows, neither are any of your companions.

Your resident wizard is the first to break the silence. “I could always create a simulacra–”

“Gale,” Wyll interjects, politely. “I’m afraid I don’t think that’s much softer.”

“Right,” Gale says, leaning back in his seat.

Another long moment of silence and you’re truly starting to feel defeated. You hang your head a bit, thoughts filled with the image of a certain beautiful, pale elf’s mouth curling at you in distaste, forming a pronounced ‘no.’

“Soldier,” Karlach starts. You look up to see her smirking at you. “If he won’t willingly join you anywhere. I think we both know what you need to do.”

–

They are going to sink the final nail in the metaphorical coffin.

For nearly two weeks now, Astarion has successfully avoided his lover’s attempts to get together in a public space– likely what they saw was the best, most civil way to dispose of him. But, foolish as it is to cling to something like a withered love, Astarion doesn’t want this relationship to end.

Perhaps, if I can do this for long enough, they will change their mind, he thinks. Gods, that sounds pathetic, even for him.

Astarion was running out of excuses, and, worse yet, running out of willpower. What is the use in fighting the inevitable? he thinks, as he walks down the streets of Baldur’s Gate. It’s a moonlit night, and he’s on the prowl for a criminal to bite– he needs something, anything to distract him from his woes.

He turns the corner, on high alert.

Then again, a more selfish part of him counters. Why shouldn't you fight for your love? They were the first good thing to ever happen to you in this damned world.

That’s when he spots them– the-first-good-thing-to-ever-happen-to-him is hiding behind a bush directly before him, facing another alleyway. There are very few reasons that they would be out at this time of night, in the middle of this particular street of Baldur’s Gate. While they could be on a mission for the guild, he had last seen them at home, reading by the fire. It’s clear that they followed him, are waiting to ambush him.

Is this it? he thinks, eyes narrowing. His chest hurts, more than ought to be possible given his lack of beating heart. Is this how desperate they are to be rid of me? May as well go out with flair, I suppose…

Astarion sneaks forward, careful to remain outside of your field of view. He settles behind you in the darkness of the bush, watching you as you look out for him. Despite the ache in his heart, the clenching of his stomach, he can’t help but think of how lovely you look under the moonlight– of how lucky he has been to have had you.

If this truly is it, he thinks. I can’t wallow or cry. I shall hold my head high and consider myself fortunate to have met them. To have loved them. At least, he hopes he’s capable of such a performance. Because right now, quietly crouched next to you, he wants nothing more than to pull you into his arms, to beg you to reconsider.

But no. He refuses to look pathetic– not after the life he has lived.

So, after waiting with you for a few minutes, he leans forward into your personal space and asks, “Darling, what are you doing?”

Astarion is ready for your instincts to kick in, so when your knife is drawn in a flash and you’re lunging for him, he’s easily dodging backward, holding his hands up in peace. “Now, now darling, I thought we were past the knives at throats.”

“Astarion?” you ask, startled. “Sweet hells, you haven’t snuck up on me like that in years.”

“Yes, well,” he says, avoiding your eyes now. He’s surprised by how much gazing into them has weakened his composure already. “You also haven’t looked so utterly distracted by your own thoughts in years either.”

“What are you doing here?” you ask, ignoring his words. “I thought…”

Yes, dear, what did you think? he wants to ask, to catch you in the act with a cruel moment of revelation, to hurt you as much as you’re about to hurt him. But when he brings his eyes back to yours, he knows he can’t do that. While he’s still capable of maiming, killing, all manner of atrocities– he cannot hurt you. So he only says, “I was out hunting and I saw you hiding in a bush. What are you doing here?”

“I–” you falter, seemingly torn. Perhaps you’re having second thoughts. Perhaps this is his chance to keep you from breaking his cold, crumbling heart.

“Do you need assistance, dear?” he asks, ready and willing to show how much he would do for you. Anything, honestly, if it means you’ll stay by his side.

“Gods, I keep mucking this all up,” you mutter, head hanging in uncharacteristic defeat. “Maybe Shadowheart was right.”

What did that damned cleric do now? Is she the one you’re leaving him for? He’s about to make a reflexive, snide comment about her veritable barnyard of animals, but stops when he sees you sheath your blade. When you wipe a hand over your face in frustration.

Oh. You’re miserable. You wouldn’t look like this normally. You would never be this nervous, this stressed to see him– not unless his very presence had turned toxic. “I should go, shouldn’t I?” he asks, throat tight.

“No!” you say, reaching out a hand to keep him from leaving. Your grip is tight, painful in its panic, but he doesn’t complain. How could he when you look like this? 

More than anything, he wants this worry that lines your face to fade, the jittery movement of your hands to abate. So maybe it’s up to him to spark the beginning of the end… “Did you… have something you wanted to tell me?” he asks, swallowing down the fear that threatens to overwhelm him.

“I…” you gulp, bringing your second hand to join the first, loosening your grip. You raise your head, and he sees the tumult in your gaze. At the very least, you must care about him somewhat to stress yourself this much. “Astarion, please don’t be upset.”

How could he not? But, somehow, he manages a sad smile at you anyway. “As if I could ever be upset with you, my love.”

Then you drop to a knee in front of him.

– 

“Astarion,” you say, voice shaking a bit with nerves. “I had wanted this to be something lovely. Something meaningful. But… I guess you love ruining plans, don’t you?”

“What,” he breathes out, confusion plain on his face. His red eyes dart between yours, as if trying to process a sudden, large shift. You suppose it would be a shift in your relationship, even if you were practically married already. If he even decided to say yes.

You release his arm with one hand, reaching into your side pouch for the small square box that’s waiting for you. Fingers less dexterous than usual, you fumble over clutching it, opening it single handedly. You’re not used to looking this foolish, and you can feel a heat over your cheeks, an anxious shake to your movements.

But before too long the box is open, a shining platinum band resting inside.

It looks like everything you’d hoped for in the moment– its inlaid red rubies catch the moonlight just beautifully. You’d spent weeks agonizing, wondering if you had picked the right one, imagining what it might look like were it to be placed on his perfect pale finger. Here and now, with this man standing before you, you know it would look exquisite.

“Astarion,” you start again, courage returning to you with that knowledge, some of the words you’d prepared coming back to your mind. “These past years together have been the best years of my life. You’re my best friend, my dual blade, and I love you more than I can even say. I don’t know what our future holds, but I would consider myself lucky to walk towards it with you at my side. So…” You pull the ring from the box, holding it up to the man you love with a smile. “Would you, Astarion Ancunín, do me the honor of marrying me?”

Astarion Ancunín, despite years of quick quips and sultry words, seems to be frozen in place, unable to speak.

You’re used to these moments, when he needs to process, but you’re not used to them when you’re on one knee, waiting for a response. “Astarion?” you hazard.

“You’re…” he says, face slack, mouth barely moving. “You’re proposing to me?”

It’s not a no, but it’s certainly not the reaction you’d be hoping for. “Erm, yes. Is that… distasteful to you?” You can feel your hand recoil somewhat, your smile slip.

His expression remains blank, lips slightly agape as he continues to take in the scene before him. “You– you don’t have a new lover? You’re not planning to leave me?”

“What?” Now it’s your turn to be flabbergasted. “Astarion, what are you talking about?”

The sigh that leaves him then could collapse a small house. “Sweet hells,” he says, face and body relaxing. “I thought… I thought that you were acting odd, like– like–”

“Like I was trying to surprise you with the magnificent proposal you deserve?” you respond, suddenly understanding his behavior and growing a smidge annoyed. “Like I didn’t want to propose to you behind some damned bushes?”

Astarion looks around, as if just now realizing where you are, what is happening. “Yes, now that you mention it, like that.”

You want to be upset, but then the man above you laughs. It’s light, breathy, and utterly relieved. “You were really worried, weren’t you?”

“Oh my sweet love, I was about ready to jump into an Oubliette,” he says, shaking his head ruefully.

“You thought I would leave you, just like that?” you ask, brows furrowing in concern. Maybe you should have just proposed in your living room.

“I wouldn’t blame you,” he says, looking down at you with a tinge of sadness in his smile. “I doubt that this was the life you were looking for, darling. As a matter of fact, are you… sure about this?” He eyes the ring in your hand, all but forgotten in his confusion.

You proffer it again, raising your hand a bit higher this time. “The only life I’m looking for is the one with you in it, Astarion. I am quite sure.”

His scarlet eyes dart between yours questioningly, and you merely stare back, staunch in your words and intent. “Even if I’m a fool that forced your hand– left you kneeling in the dirt?”

“We’ve done worse things on dirt, Astarion,” you say, smiling widening at the memory of the first time he’d told you he loved you. “If you’d like me to get out of the dirt though, you could answer my question: Would you marry me?”

__

Once more, he looks between your eyes, this time his are wide, open– daring to believe that his darkest fears are just that. Fears. Ones that you would vanquish without a second thought. How could he have been so blind to that. Moisture pools at the corner of his eyes at the realization.

So he drops to his knees, reaching for your face with his hands. In a single movement, he’s pulled you toward him, captured your lips with his with an undeniable longing. A longing to hold you in his hands for as long as he is able. A longing to taste your lips on his, each and every day. A longing to never be without you, to be yours until death do you part.

You respond to his kiss in kind, lips pressing against him with your own pent up longing. He distantly hears the ring’s box fall to the floor, feels your hand brush past his ear to clutch his hair. You kiss him like he’s the answer to every question you’ve ever had and he feels a small tear run down his face as his eyes squeeze tightly shut.

Gods he would never tire of kissing you.

I ought to respond, he thinks in the back of his head, as he moves his lips against yours.

Is this not response enough? he argues, not wanting to break apart from you, for even a moment.

No, it wouldn’t do to have any confusion, not after the past two weeks.

So, before he can forget himself, he pulls back from you, far enough to look into your eyes. “That was a ‘yes’ in case that wasn’t evident.”

You laugh, short and breathless. “Oh good,” you say, leaning back further and bringing up the ring between you. “Then may I?”

Astarion removes his left hand from your face, holds it out to you with a large, gleeful smile. “You may.”

You slip the ring onto his finger. It fits well, matches his eyes, looks positively sumptuous– as always, you know him too well. “It’s stunning,” he says, angling it one way then another.

“I’m glad you like it,” you say, smiling at the sight. “And that you didn’t catch me when I tried to sneak it past you.”

The vampire laughs, shaking his head free of his own silly thoughts. “I smashed your plans into tiny little pieces, didn’t I?”

You don’t say yes, but the look on your face is evidence enough. “I’ll tell you all about what you missed out on later. For now, we should, erm, go get our friends.”

“Go get our friends?” he asks, wondering what in the hells they have to do with all of this.

“Yes,” you say, planting a kiss on his hand before moving to get up. “They’re all in place for another one of these ill fated plans.”

“Ah,” he says, following you up. Then, realizing what you’ve said, he looks at you with concern. “Just what were you in this bush for?”

To your credit, you look abashed. But your words do nothing to lessen his concern. “Seeing as you were refusing to come with me, well, anywhere, we had to pivot our strategy.”

“Darling,” he starts, his tone a deceptive sweetness. “Whatever does that mean?”

“It was Karlach’s plan,” you say, as a means of explanation.

“Oh good. I’m sure whatever it was was perfectly sane then.”

Scratching at the back of your neck, you finally admit the plan, “I was going to give them a signal when you passed. Gale was going to make an illusory double of me getting kidnapped by the rest of them in disguise, then hopefully you would take chase to go save me, they would lose you just as you got to the Elfsong where I would be waiting…”

Astarion looks at you sharply, his mouth a disapproving line. “Really?”

“In retrospect, I can see the flaws in the plan,” you say, palms open. “But in my defense, I was getting desperate. Either way, we ought to go get them. Karlach seemed just about ready to explode from hiding that long.”

“Fine,” he says reluctantly. “This is what we get for having such imbeciles for friends.”

“Funny,” you start, holding out a hand to him. “They said the same about you.”

He takes your hand with an exaggerated eye roll, but can’t help the smile that comes over his face at the feeling of your fingers twining with his. “It’s a shame you had to resort to them for help.”

“I really needed it. You know, I have killed more people than I can count, but you have been my most challenging mark by far,” you say, dramatically as you begin to walk down the alleyway.

“Worse than the giant, world-ending brain?”

“Oh yes.”

The two of you walk in silence for a few steps before Astarion feels compelled to say one last thing before reaching your friends. “Darling, I truly am sorry I ruined all of your plans, but I must ask: Please don’t try to surprise me like this again.”

The expression on your face deflates a little, and you say, “I thought you would like something grand?”

He brings your hand up to his lips for a soft, reassuring peck. “Normally, yes. But, I love you so very much. I’m afraid it clouds my usually impeccable judgment.”

You don’t comment on his judgment, instead focusing on his proclamation of love. “I love you too. So, hopefully, there isn’t a second proposal.”

“One can only hope,” Astarion says with a laugh. “And, if there is, perhaps it’s my turn to do the proposing?”

“Love, if you surprise me, I may kill you,” you say, plainly.

“A risk I’ve always been willing to take, my dear,” the man replies, pulling on your hand. “Now, come. I think I can spot Wyll’s peeking eye from here.”

Hand-in-hand, the two of you walk toward your waiting friends, ready to tell them the good news.

It wasn’t the grand proposal you had envisioned. Nor was it even a particularly romantic one. But, somehow, it was still perfect, still loving, still the beautiful new beginning to the rest of your lives together.

[novaursa]

The Silver and The Gold

- Summary: This was the first time you and Aegon acknowledged the bond between you, and the first time you are truly one.

- Paring: twin!reader/Aegon II

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N and is bonded with dragon called Starfyre. If you want to read this series in chronological order, you can find the list of my works on my blog. The list is pinned to the top. This is currently considered part one. But it can be a part just for itself.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 5 191

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm, golden hue over the Red Keep. You and your twin, Aegon, have managed to slip away from your septa’s watchful eye once again, finding solace in one of the many hidden alcoves of the castle. These moments away from the prying eyes of the court are your favorites, the only times when you can be truly yourselves—just Y/N and Aegon, two halves of a whole, inseparable from the moment you entered this world together.

Your laughter echoes softly through the stone corridor as you both rush through a narrow passageway, your hand firmly clasped in his. Aegon’s pale blonde hair glows in the dim light, and when he glances back at you, there’s a mischievous sparkle in his violet eyes. You’ve both been caught sneaking away before, but the thrill of breaking the rules only adds to the excitement.

“Y/N,” he whispers with a grin, pulling you into a small chamber tucked away behind a tapestry. “They’ll never find us here.”

Your heart races, not from fear of getting caught, but from the proximity to him, the closeness you’ve always shared yet lately feels different, more charged. The chamber is small, barely furnished, but it feels like a world of your own. The tapestry falls back into place, cloaking you both in semi-darkness, the only light filtering in from a high, narrow window.

“We’ll be in such trouble if they find us,” you say, though there’s no true worry in your voice. The thrill of being alone with him like this, away from everyone’s expectations, makes it all worth it.

Aegon shrugs, a playful smirk on his lips. “When are we not in trouble?”

The truth of his words makes you both laugh again, and for a moment, it’s just like when you were children, chasing each other through the gardens, getting scolded for dirtying your clothes. But as your laughter fades, a tension fills the small space, thickening the air between you.

You’ve always been close to Aegon, closer than anyone else in your life. He’s been your constant companion, your protector, and your best friend. But lately, there’s been something more—a longing in his gaze, a flutter in your stomach when he brushes your hand, a sense that you both are standing on the edge of something new and terrifying.

“Aegon…” you begin, unsure of how to voice the feelings that have been swirling inside you.

He steps closer, his expression softening. “Y/N, I… there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you.”

You look up at him, your breath catching as you see the earnestness in his eyes. He��s nervous, you realize, the ever-confident Aegon, unsure of himself for once. The realization emboldens you, and you reach out, your hand trembling slightly as you place it on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm.

“I think I know,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He covers your hand with his, his touch warm and steady. “Do you?” he asks, his tone soft, almost reverent. His free hand reaches up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly across your skin. The gentleness of the gesture sends a shiver down your spine, and you lean into his touch, your eyes drifting closed.

When his lips meet yours, it’s as though the world stops. The kiss is tentative at first, exploring, as if you’re both afraid of crossing an invisible line. But the moment your lips part and you taste him—sweet and warm and utterly intoxicating—everything changes. The kiss deepens, fueled by the years of unspoken feelings, of wanting and needing but never daring to take.

Aegon’s hands slide to your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. Your own hands find their way to his shoulders, then into his hair, threading through the silken strands as you press yourself against him. The kiss becomes more urgent, more desperate, as if you’re both trying to make up for all the time you’ve wasted.

You’re not sure when it happens, but at some point, you find yourself lying back on the small bed in the corner of the chamber, Aegon above you. His kisses trail from your lips to your jaw, down the column of your throat, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Your breathing is ragged, your heart pounding as his hands explore the curves of your body, as if he’s trying to memorize every inch of you.

“Y/N,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice rough with desire. “I need you… I’ve always needed you.”

His words send a jolt of electricity through you, and you arch into him, your body responding to his touch in a way that feels both entirely new and utterly familiar. You’ve always belonged to him, just as he has always belonged to you. It’s as if this moment was inevitable, written in the stars long before you were born.

“I’m yours, Aegon,” you whisper, the confession slipping from your lips before you can second-guess it. “I’ve always been yours.”

His gaze darkens, and you see the shift in him, the realization that you’re his just as much as he is yours. The passion between you ignites, and the world outside the small chamber fades away. There’s only Aegon—his touch, his breath, the way he makes you feel more alive than you’ve ever felt before.

Your clothes are discarded in a tangle of limbs and heated kisses, and when he finally joins with you, it’s like the world is remade. The sensation is overwhelming, a mixture of pain and pleasure that leaves you gasping, but the way he looks at you, the way he whispers your name, makes it all worth it. He moves within you, and the rhythm you find together is as natural as breathing, as if you were made for this, for each other.

Time loses meaning as you both give in to the storm of emotions that has been building for so long. And when it’s over, when you’re both spent and breathless, you lie tangled together on the bed, the air between you charged with something new, something that can never be undone.

“I love you,” Aegon whispers, his voice hoarse but filled with a sincerity that makes your heart swell. He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his touch tender, almost reverent.

“I love you too,” you reply, the words feeling right, like they’ve always been there, just waiting to be spoken.

You’re about to kiss him again when the door to the chamber creaks open. You both freeze, your eyes wide with shock as you turn toward the sound. A servant stands in the doorway, her face pale, her eyes wide with disbelief at the sight before her.

For a moment, no one moves. The servant seems to realize what she’s walked in on, her hand flying to her mouth as she stammers an apology. She backs out of the room quickly, her footsteps echoing down the corridor as she flees, leaving you and Aegon alone once more.

Your heart races, panic and embarrassment flooding you. But when you look at Aegon, you see that he’s not afraid. He’s smiling, a slow, confident grin that makes your heart flutter.

“Let them talk,” he says, his voice steady. “I don’t care what they say, Y/N. You’re mine, and I’m yours. Nothing will change that.”

His words calm the storm inside you, and you smile back at him, knowing he’s right. Whatever happens next, you’ll face it together, just as you always have.

The grand hall of the Red Keep is bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun as King Viserys Targaryen lounges on his throne, a sense of contentment softening the lines of his aging face. His golden crown rests heavily on his brow, but the weight of it seems lighter today as he speaks with Otto Hightower, his trusted Hand. Queen Alicent, ever dutiful, stands nearby, her hands folded neatly in front of her.

The rhythmic sound of booted feet echoes through the hall, growing louder as the doors swing open to admit a pair of Dragonkeepers. They stride forward, their faces marked with the quiet reverence that always accompanies news from the Dragonpit.

“Your Grace,” one of them begins, bowing low. “We bring news of the dragons, Sunfyre and Starfyre.”

Viserys leans forward, his interest piqued. His voice carries the weight of authority but also a grandfatherly warmth. “Speak then, what of the golden and the silver?”

The Dragonkeeper straightens, his voice steady but tinged with awe. “Sunfyre has successfully mounted Starfyre. They have mated, Your Grace.”

A collective breath seems to fill the hall, a hum of interest and excitement threading through the air. Viserys’s eyes light up with pleasure, his mind already considering the implications. “This is indeed prosperous news for our House. If their union brings forth viable eggs, it will be a blessing of great fortune.”

Beside him, Alicent nods in agreement, though her attention wavers as a servant, face pale and anxious, approaches her with hurried steps. The servant leans close, whispering into the Queen’s ear. Alicent’s expression shifts, her eyes widening before narrowing into a tight, painful grimace.

Viserys notices, his brows knitting together in concern. “Alicent, what troubles you? Speak plainly.”

The Queen hesitates, her gaze flitting to Otto before settling on Viserys. Her voice is low, strained. “It is… the twins, Your Grace. They… they were found together, in an intimate situation. They had eluded their septa.”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, there is silence. Viserys’s face hardens, but there is something else in his eyes—a flicker of understanding, perhaps, or resignation.

“Aegon and Y/N…” he murmurs, his voice trailing off. He closes his eyes briefly, then sighs deeply. “The blood of the dragon runs hot, it seems.”

Otto shifts uncomfortably, but it is Alicent who speaks next, her voice taut with disapproval. “They are young, but such behavior is… unbecoming, Your Grace. They must be reminded of their duty, of what is expected of them.”

Viserys opens his eyes, looking at Alicent with a mixture of weariness and something almost like amusement. “They are twins, born together, bound by blood and by fire. Is it so surprising that they would find comfort in each other, as their dragons do?”

Alicent’s lips press into a thin line, but she does not respond, sensing the futility of arguing with the king on this matter.

Viserys continues, his gaze distant as he muses aloud. “Sunfyre and Starfyre—brother and sister, golden and silver, a union as beautiful as it is powerful. They were born in the same moment, just as Aegon and Y/N were. Their bond is not one of simple affection; it is something deeper, something… ancient. The dragons choose their riders, and perhaps, in some way, they guide them too.”

The comparison is not lost on anyone in the room. Sunfyre and Starfyre, two magnificent creatures, both radiant with their own unique beauty, have chosen to mate, their union a symbol of strength and unity for House Targaryen. And like their dragons, Aegon and Y/N share a bond that goes beyond mere sibling affection, a bond forged in fire, blood, and the shared legacy of their house.

Alicent’s discomfort is palpable, but Viserys waves a hand, dismissing her concerns with a sigh. “They are of age soon enough, and they will wed as is our custom. This will strengthen the bloodline, as it has always done. There is no shame in what has happened, only the inevitability of it.”

The room falls silent once more, the tension easing slightly as Viserys’s words settle over them. The Dragonkeepers, still standing at attention, exchange glances before the king waves them away.

“Go,” Viserys says, “and let us hope that Sunfyre and Starfyre’s union blesses us with eggs, and that the fire of our blood burns ever brighter.”

As the Dragonkeepers leave, Alicent glances at Otto, her discomfort still visible. Otto, ever the strategist, simply inclines his head slightly, acknowledging the situation but offering no further comment.

Viserys, his mind already drifting to other matters, leans back in his throne. “Aegon and Y/N…” he murmurs again, almost to himself. “They are as their dragons, destined to be together. Let them be. They will learn their duties soon enough.”

The conversation moves on, but the parallel between the dragons and their riders lingers, unspoken but understood. You and Aegon, like Sunfyre and Starfyre, are bound by something elemental, something that neither courtly expectations nor the disapproval of others can sever. The fire of your shared blood burns bright, and as Viserys himself has said, it is inevitable.

And as you stand by Aegon’s side, you cannot help but feel the truth of it in your very bones.

The dawn breaks over the Red Keep, casting its golden light through the high windows of the royal chambers. The warmth of the sun does little to thaw the icy tension that fills the room as Queen Alicent stands before you and Aegon, her expression a mixture of stern disapproval and maternal concern.

You and Aegon sit side by side on a cushioned bench, close enough that your thighs touch, your fingers occasionally brushing as though neither of you can bear to be apart for even a moment. Aegon’s hand rests casually on your knee, a gesture of comfort and possession that seems to rile Alicent further. She stands before you both, her arms crossed, her lips pressed into a thin line as she gathers herself to speak.

"Do you understand the gravity of what you have done?" Alicent’s voice is sharp, each word carefully enunciated as though she needs to be sure you both understand.

Aegon lifts a shoulder in a careless shrug, his expression almost bored. "What we’ve done, mother, is what was expected of us. Or will be, soon enough." His voice is tinged with the arrogance of someone who knows his place and feels no need to apologize for it.

Alicent’s eyes narrow at his nonchalance, her voice rising slightly as she responds, "Expected of you? To dishonor yourselves in such a way, before your wedding even takes place? This is not just a matter of propriety, Aegon. You were found in an… improper situation, one that brings shame upon you both."

Aegon scoffs, leaning back against the bench, his arm slipping around your waist, drawing you closer to him. "Shame? There is no shame between us. We are to be wed, and what we do now is no different than what we will do once it’s official. The dragons have already shown us the way—why should we deny what is natural?"

His words are blunt, almost crude in their simplicity, and they make Alicent flinch. She shakes her head, clearly frustrated by her son’s cavalier attitude. "You are too flippant, Aegon. You speak as though this is a game, but there are consequences to your actions, even if you do not see them now."

Aegon tightens his hold on you, his gaze unwavering as he meets his mother’s eyes. "There are no consequences that matter, not when the King himself sees no issue. Father understands what we are, what we will be. Why can’t you?"

Alicent’s cheeks flush with anger, and she turns to you, as though seeking an ally in her reprimand. "And you, Y/N? How is it that you two continue to escape your septa’s watchful eyes? This is not the first time, and yet you act as though your actions have no meaning. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Your heart beats steadily in your chest as you look up at your mother, your expression calm. "We did what we had to, mother. The septa cannot keep us apart, and I would not let her even if she tried. Aegon and I…" You pause, searching for the right words. "We are meant to be together, as our dragons are. We are stronger together, and we find peace in each other’s company. Why should we be made to feel guilty for that?"

Alicent’s frustration gives way to something like despair as she realizes that neither of you feel any remorse for your actions. She looks between you and Aegon, her voice softer but no less stern. "You must understand that your behavior reflects on the entire House. You carry the weight of our name, and with that comes the responsibility to act with honor. Your bond is strong, yes, but it must be guided by duty as much as by affection."

Aegon’s grip on you tightens, and he leans in, pressing a kiss to your temple in a gesture that is both tender and defiant. "We know our duty, mother. But our bond is our own. No one, not even you, can dictate how we choose to honor it."

The intimacy between you and Aegon, your heads leaning toward one another, your bodies close, is a silent but powerful statement. It speaks of a love that is as much a part of you as the blood in your veins, a love that refuses to be shamed or hidden away.

Alicent looks away, clearly uncomfortable with the display of affection before her. She takes a deep breath, her voice trembling slightly as she tries one last time to reach you. "I only want what is best for you both. But you must be careful. The court is full of eyes, and tongues wag far too easily. You must be above reproach, especially as the future of this House."

Aegon’s expression softens slightly, though his resolve does not waver. "We understand, mother. But know this—we will not deny what we are. Not for the court, not for anyone. We are dragons, and dragons are not meant to be tamed."

Alicent studies you both for a long moment, and then, with a weary sigh, she nods. "Very well. But know that I will not be so lenient if this happens again. The next time, I will not hesitate to involve your father directly, and you will not like the consequences of that."

With those final words, Alicent turns and leaves the room, her posture rigid with the effort of maintaining her composure. The door closes behind her with a quiet click, and the tension in the room seems to dissipate the moment she is gone.

You and Aegon remain seated, your bodies still close, but now, the air between you feels lighter, freer. Aegon looks at you, a slow smile spreading across his face. "That wasn’t so bad, was it?" he says, his tone playful.

You smile back, leaning into him as you feel his warmth against your side. "No, it wasn’t. But I wish she could understand. We’re not like everyone else."

Aegon nods, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm. "She’ll never understand, not fully. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that we do, and nothing will change that."

You rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. "Nothing will change that," you echo softly, knowing the truth of those words deep within your soul.

The heavy oak doors to your chambers close behind you with a quiet thud, sealing the world outside as you and Aegon stumble into the room. The thrill of the night’s stolen moments pulses in your veins, a heady mixture of wine and newfound desire that has you both breathless with anticipation. Your heart races as Aegon pulls you to him, his lips capturing yours in a fierce, urgent kiss.

The taste of wine lingers on his tongue, sweet and intoxicating, as he presses against you, his hands already working at the laces of your gown. You reach for his tunic in turn, your fingers trembling with impatience as you tug at the fabric, desperate to feel his skin against yours.

“We have too many clothes,” Aegon murmurs against your lips, his voice low and rough with need. There’s a teasing edge to his words, but the fire in his eyes is anything but playful.

“Then we should get rid of them,” you reply breathlessly, your hands finally finding purchase on his tunic and pulling it over his head. His skin is warm under your touch, his muscles taut with the tension of restraint quickly unraveling.

Aegon chuckles, a sound that vibrates through you, sending a shiver down your spine. “I couldn’t agree more.”

In your haste, the two of you stumble over each other, half-laughing, half-moan as you attempt to discard your clothing. Your gown pools at your feet as Aegon steps out of his trousers, the two of you moving in a frantic dance across the chamber, neither of you willing to break the contact of your bodies for even a moment.

Aegon’s hands find your waist, lifting you with an ease born of familiarity as he backs you toward a nearby table. Your back meets the cool wood, and you gasp as he pushes your legs apart, his fingers digging into your thighs as he leans over you, his breath hot against your neck.

“You drive me mad,” he whispers, his voice thick with desire as his lips brush your ear, trailing kisses down the column of your throat.

You arch into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pull him closer. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you breathe, your words lost in a gasp as he enters you, a moan of pleasure escaping your lips at the feeling of him filling you.

Aegon’s hands grip your hips as he moves, his movements frantic, driven by the urgency of a fire that neither of you can quench. The table creaks under your combined weight, but the noise only spurs him on, his lips finding yours again in a searing kiss.

“I need more of you,” he groans against your mouth, his voice hoarse as he pulls you off the table, your legs wrapping around his waist as he attempts to carry you to the bed.

You cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders, but in your haste, his foot catches on the edge of a rug, sending you both tumbling to the floor in a tangle of limbs. The fall jolts a laugh from you, the sound bubbling up between moans as you feel the press of him inside you, undeterred by the sudden change in position.

“Aegon,” you gasp, your voice a mix of laughter and desire as you move together, the hard floor beneath you forgotten in the heat of the moment.

He chuckles, a breathless sound that vibrates against your skin. “I think the bed is overrated anyway,” he says, his hands roaming over your body as he thrusts into you with renewed fervor.

You can only moan in response, your body arching into his as the two of you continue your desperate union, every movement fueled by the need to be closer, to feel more of each other.

Eventually, the bed does beckon, and somehow, in the midst of your fevered passion, you find yourselves on it, the soft sheets a welcome change from the hard floor. Aegon’s pace slows slightly as he pulls you against him, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that is no less passionate but now tempered with a kind of tenderness that makes your heart ache.

“You’re mine,” he whispers against your lips, his voice filled with a possessive intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

“And you’re mine,” you reply, your voice soft but no less fierce, your hands caressing his face as you look into his eyes, the connection between you deepening with every word, every touch.

The night stretches on, the two of you losing yourselves in each other again and again, until finally, you collapse into each other’s arms, exhausted but satisfied, the fire between you finally quenched, at least for the moment.

As you lay there, your bodies tangled together under the covers, Aegon presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his hand stroking your hair as you drift toward sleep.

“Nothing will ever keep us apart,” he murmurs, his voice a soft promise in the quiet of the night.

You smile, your heart swelling with love as you snuggle closer to him, knowing that no matter what the world throws at you, nothing could ever break the bond you share. And as you drift into sleep, the last thing you feel is the warmth of his body against yours, the steady beat of his heart a comforting reminder that you are exactly where you belong.

The first light of dawn barely touches the sky, casting a pale glow over the Red Keep. The room is dim and warm, filled with the remnants of last night's indulgence—half-empty goblets of wine, discarded garments strewn across the floor, and the heady scent of passion lingering in the air.

You lay tangled in the silk sheets with Aegon, your bare bodies pressed together under the covers. His arm is draped lazily over your waist, and your head rests comfortably on his chest, rising and falling with the rhythm of his breath. The night had been a blur of laughter, whispered confessions, and the kind of love that leaves you both breathless and content.

But the peace of the morning is abruptly shattered as the door to your chamber bursts open. Before either of you can react, the heavy curtains are yanked aside, flooding the room with blinding sunlight. You groan, burying your face in Aegon’s chest to escape the sudden brightness, while he lets out a disgruntled noise of protest.

“For the love of—” Aegon begins, but his complaint is cut short as the covers are ripped away, leaving you both exposed to the cool morning air and the stern gaze of your septa.

“Good morning, my prince, my princess,” she says briskly, her tone making it clear that there’s nothing good about this morning at all. The septa, a stern woman named Septa Maris, has the kind of face that rarely cracks a smile, and this morning is no exception. Her greying hair is pulled back tightly, and her eyes are sharp as they take in the scene before her.

Aegon squints up at her, clearly annoyed. “Septa Maris, what in the seven hells are you doing here at this hour?”

Septa Maris doesn’t so much as flinch at his language. “I am here under the Queen’s orders, Your Grace. Her Majesty has instructed me to ensure that you both maintain a presentable state until your wedding. And further to that matter—” she pauses, her gaze hardening as she looks between you and Aegon, “—you will no longer be sharing a bed until you are properly wed.”

You feel Aegon tense beside you, his annoyance quickly shifting to anger. “That’s absurd,” he snaps. “We’re to be wed soon enough. What difference does it make if we share a bed now or later?”

Septa Maris raises an eyebrow, her tone unyielding. “The difference, Your Grace, is in the propriety of it. You may do as you wish after your vows are spoken, but until then, you will adhere to the customs of our house. Now, both of you, up.”

Aegon groans again, dropping his head back onto the pillow with a dramatic sigh. “This is ridiculous.”

You can’t help but chuckle at his exasperation, and you reach over to brush a lock of his silver hair from his forehead. “Come now, Aegon, you know she won’t leave until we do as she says.”

He turns his head to look at you, his violet eyes gleaming with mischief. “Perhaps we should just ignore her and see if she gives up.”

Septa Maris, unimpressed by the suggestion, clears her throat loudly. “You will rise, both of you, and make yourselves presentable. I will not leave until it is done.”

Aegon lets out another exaggerated sigh but begins to sit up, clearly not thrilled about being dragged out of bed so early. You follow suit, wrapping a sheet around yourself as you move to the edge of the bed.

“There,” Aegon says with a smirk as he tosses his legs over the side of the bed, “we’re up. Are you satisfied now, Septa Maris?”

Septa Maris’s gaze sharpens as she catches sight of the wine-stained goblets on the nightstand and the scattered clothes. “Hardly. You both look like you’ve been dragged through the Dornish desert. You will wash, dress, and present yourselves properly before the Queen hears of this.”

Aegon rolls his eyes but stands, stretching his arms above his head, entirely unconcerned with his state of undress. You can’t help but admire the way the early light plays across his skin, the easy confidence in the way he moves.

“Fine, fine,” he grumbles as he reaches for a discarded tunic. “But don’t think for a moment that we’ll abide by this ridiculous rule of yours. You might keep us apart during the day, but the nights belong to us.”

Septa Maris’s expression is as stern as ever, but there’s a flicker of frustration in her eyes as she turns her attention to you. “And you, my lady, you should know better than to indulge your brother in such folly. You are a princess, and princesses must uphold the highest standards of conduct.”

You offer her a small, apologetic smile as you gather your own clothes, though you’re not feeling particularly sorry. “Of course, Septa. I’ll do my best to remember that.”

Aegon snorts at your diplomatic response, pulling his tunic over his head. “Oh, we’ll remember it, all right. And then we’ll forget it again as soon as she’s out of earshot.”

Septa Maris steps forward, her patience clearly wearing thin. “Enough of this insolence. Lady Y/N, come with me now. You will bathe and dress properly before the morning meal.”

You and Aegon exchange a look as she says this, a silent communication passing between you. His eyes are filled with defiance and a promise—one that says no septa, no matter how stern, could ever keep you apart.

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” Aegon says, his voice light and teasing as he steps closer, his hand brushing yours. “We’ll find a way, as we always do.”

You squeeze his hand briefly before stepping away, following Septa Maris toward the door. “I know,” you say softly, a smile playing at your lips. “No septa or gods could ever keep us apart.”

As you walk away, you feel Aegon’s gaze on you, warm and reassuring. The two of you might be separated for now, but it’s only a matter of time before you find each other again, as you always do. And the thought of that next secret rendezvous, hidden away from prying eyes, fills you with a thrill that no amount of propriety could ever diminish.

And as you leave the room, you’re already thinking of the many ways you can outmaneuver your septa, the promise of another night together fueling your every step.

[sweetbluus]

love on the court

synopsis: you and kim chaewon were considered to be tennis prodigies. unfortunately, there's only room for one at the top. after years of rivalry, you now find yourselves on the same team, working together to help your university win a major title.

pairing: tennis player kim chaewon x tennis player fem!reader

tags: rivals to lovers, slow burn, hurt/comfort

warnings: cursing, toxic coach, mention of accident

word count: 18.1k

notes: while tennis is mentioned quite often, the technicalities of the actual game itself is not covered. aside from knowing that singles has one player on each side of the court, while doubles put two on each side, you do not need to know anything else about the rules of the sport before reading this. enjoy!

from as far back as your memory reaches, a tennis racket has been a natural extension of your hand. your parents were the first to notice your interest in the sport when you were just a baby. your father used to play for fun, and at the tender age of 4, you stumbled upon one of his rackets hidden in your parents' closet.

legend has it that you threw a tantrum the moment they tried to take the racket away from you.

ever since, you've been consistently enrolled in tennis lessons, mastering the rules and refining your techniques. tennis became your world, your life. however, your natural talent could only take you so far. you spent hours of your childhood dedicated to learning the craft and then slowly perfecting it.

even though you were young, you despised the assumption that your skill level was solely due to natural talent. those who made such claims were oblivious to the immense effort you invested.

they had no idea of the blood you shed on the court, the dives you took for every ball, the sweat that poured while running across the court, relentlessly striving to score, and the tears that were shed in moments of loneliness and isolation.

you trained under coach lim, a meticulous and stern man with a relentless pursuit of perfection. if you made an error in your hits on a given day, he would have you practice that specific hit repeatedly until it met his standards of flawlessness, regardless of the time it took.

while other kids your age were having playdates and enjoying weekends with friends, your focus remained on the court. unlike other kids who treated tennis as a simple hobby, your commitment ran much deeper—it had become your life.

you crossed paths with kim chaewon when you were just 6 years old. she also began training under coach lim's guidance. despite being your age, her abilities outshined yours. initially, this didn't bother you. in fact, you saw her superior skills as a motivating factor, spurring you to push yourself harder with each passing day.

you thought she was pretty. her hair was always perfect despite the long hours of practice. despite the sweat, she was incredibly beautiful. looking back, you'd admit you had a slight crush on her during those days. she was not only attractive and talented but also kind to you.

on one occasion, she offered you an extra peanut butter and jelly sandwich her parents had packed for her. you had forgotten to bring lunch and were starving, so you accepted the sandwich without hesitation.

"thank you," you managed to say with your mouth full of peanut butter and jelly.

"don't talk with your mouth full. you're going to choke," she scolded you, bossiness laced in her voice.

you were tempted to consider chaewon as a friend. you wanted it to be true, but coach lim always seemed to interfere. moreover, chaewon's parents were cautious about distractions, and you were unfortunately deemed a possible one.

due to coach lim's influence and the involvement of chaewon's parents, both you and chaewon directed your focus entirely toward the game, displaying little desire to establish a friendship with each other or anyone else.

nonetheless, occasional short conversations did happen between you two. her presence in your life didn't disrupt your rhythm in the least. in truth, you were eager to embrace it, hoping for a friend.

that was the case until coach lim began drawing comparisons.

“chaewon can do this, why can't you?”

“y/n, do it like chaewon! you're doing it wrong; she's doing it perfectly.”

“you're never going to go pro if you can't hit like chaewon.”

for the entirety of your youth, these hurtful remarks echoed ceaselessly during the harsh training sessions with chaewon under coach lim. with each repetition of such painful critiques, the seeds of resentment and bitterness took root within you, slowly but surely intensifying your animosity towards her.

while chaewon basked in coach lim's favor, he viewed you as inferior to her - an individual lacking the potential to become the best.

by the time you reached 14, you had dedicated the majority of your life to honing your skills. under coach lim's rigorous guidance, you attained a level of skill that was truly difficult to fully grasp.

despite your own high level of skill, victories against chaewon had been scarce compared to losses. throughout the years, it was inevitable that coach lim's immense pressure and expectations eventually impacted chaewon.

the last time you saw chaewon was right before the two of you started high school. the so-called goodbye between the two of you was less than ideal.

the sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the tennis court. the air was thick with tension as you and chaewon faced off at the net after another match. chaewon's triumphant smile contrasted sharply with your clenched fists and fiery glare.

"looks like i won again," chaewon's voice dripped with arrogance. "you really can't keep up, can you?"

"you got lucky," you spat out, your voice laced with resentment.

chaewon's triumphant smile didn't waver. "luck had nothing to do with it. i simply played better than you, just like every other time."

a spark of anger ignited in your eyes, your resolve strengthening. "you think you're invincible, don't you? just because you've managed to string a few wins together?"

chaewon widened her smirk. "well, it's not me who's struggling with straight losses against a single opponent."

your voice shook with fury, your cheeks flushed with emotion. "you know nothing about the effort i've poured into this, the sleepless nights, the sacrifices i've made. you're so blind to your own arrogance."

“save your sob story for someone who actually gives a shit,” chaewon let out a chuckle. "and yet your hard work can't even get you close. it's sad, really."

“fuck you, chaewon.” you walked away from her, not bothering to turn back to face her.

that wasn’t the first heated argument you had with her. coach lim’s toxic mentality had taken a toll on her, transforming her into a single-minded athlete consumed by her own arrogance.

she didn’t come to practice the next day.

your main goal in your tennis career, aside from becoming a world-renowned professional and winning prestigious titles such as wimbledon, was simply to be the best that you could possibly be - to reach your full potential and then exceed it.

despite its toxicity, it was difficult to avoid the influence of coach lim’s mindset since you had been under his direction for the majority of your life. it became ingrained in you, fostering a desire for perfection in every conceivable aspect.

balancing high school life with being one of south korea's best tennis players was no easy task, yet you managed to persevere.

in your freshman year of high school, you made your first genuine long-term friend. throughout high school, your reputation preceded you on the tennis team. you didn't go out of your way to make friends, which added to the intimidation people felt in your presence. however, one daring individual decided to take the chance.

huh yunjin was an impressive tennis player herself. with a rigorous practice routine, she had the potential to embark on a professional career. of course, she was no match for you - nobody in that entire city was.

she was the only person who dared to be your partner during drills and practice matches. to be fair, she was also the only person capable of keeping up with you. yunjin was friendly and talkative, two traits you lacked.

yet, you found comfort in her stories of teenage drama and the latest gossip she would share. it introduced a semblance of normalcy to your life, a rarity given your deep immersion in the world of tennis.

coach lim held a dislike for yunjin. he believed she might distract you from achieving excellence. he had repeatedly advised you to end your friendship. despite your usual compliance, this was one matter you chose to firmly oppose against your respected coach.

you firmly held the belief that your friendship with yunjin was not something to be casually discarded. that day you defied him, he assigned you extra laps and extended your time on the court for hours.

you decided to hide your friendship with her from him.

over the course of four years in high school, your connection with yunjin deepened, and she gradually became your best friend. as your senior year unfolded, a moment of immense happiness united the two of you: the news that both of you had secured scholarships to hybe university, home to the country’s best college tennis team.

at 18 years old, you reside in the university dorms, sharing the space with your roommate, yunjin. coach lim suggested that you turn professional right after completing high school. however, your parents encouraged you to embrace college life and experience it like any other young person.

during this time, you gained a degree of independence from coach lim, as you had a new coach to guide you whom you had yet to meet. in addition, hybe university was 4 hours away from your hometown.

ahead of the semester's start, all athletes moved in early for summer workouts. before the sun even had a chance to emerge from the clouds, you and yunjin were already awake, gearing up for the demanding day ahead.

without you knowing, yunjin prepared an additional lunch and extra snacks for your sake. your unwavering dedication to tennis often led you to overlook even the most basic needs, such as proper nutrition.

while unfamiliar with the incoming first-year teammates, both you and yunjin were well-acquainted with miyawaki sakura. she stood as a third-year student and the esteemed captain of the women's tennis team. her prowess on the court was widely acknowledged, and it was clear to everyone that she was destined for professional success following her graduation after her fourth year.

“i'm so excited to meet her," yunjin's step danced with excitement as she spoke. the walk from your dorm to the tennis courts took only about 15 minutes. "not only is she super talented, but she's also really attractive!"

“yeah, i know,” you replied nonchalantly. “i played a match with her once, a couple years back.”

yunjin’s mouth hung open, “why do you never tell me important things that happen in your life?”

“first of all, you’re exaggerating. you’re my only friend; i tell you everything about my life. i didn't think you'd be interested in hearing about a tennis match,” you reasoned with yunjin.

“i’d definitely want to hear about it, especially if your match involved a pretty girl!” yunjin exclaimed.

“she’s even prettier in real life,” you giggled as yunjin pushed you off the sidewalk and onto the grass.

respect for sakura ran deep within you. while your match ended in your favor, the victory had not been easily won. sakura's unwavering work ethic and dedication stood as qualities deserving of admiration. the opportunity of being part of the same team as her filled you with happiness.

you and yunjin were the first ones to arrive on the courts. the first light of dawn painted the clouds with hues of warmth and radiance. in this moment, gratitude welled within you. the results of years of unrelenting hard work and unyielding discipline finally bore fruit.

a commanding voice snapped you out of your thoughts, “good morning, ladies. you’re here early, i see.” coach yoo walked up to the bleachers where you and yunjin were warming up. immediately, the two of you bowed to her.

coach yoo's leadership, coupled with the athletes' dedication, had propelled hybe university to its standing as a top contender in collegiate tennis, not only within the country but worldwide. in your senior year of high school, you and yunjin received the chance to meet her and undergo interviews for your scholarships.

“good morning, coach,” you and yunjin said in unison. the sound of footsteps drew your attention.

“good morning, everyone. i hope you’ve had your breakfast because today is going to be a long day,” sakura announced as she walked up to the three of you. you nudged yunjin in the side, signaling her to close her slightly agape mouth.

“miyawaki, don’t scare the newbies like that,” coach yoo jokingly scolded the captain.

“oh, please. the two of them aren’t newbies,” sakura remarked, directing a nod at you. it was evident that she recalled your match from a few years ago.

sakura's stature was shorter than yours and yunjin's, yet her toned shoulders bore testament to the years of relentless dedication. a dark ponytail held her hair in place, and as she stood before you, her confident posture spoke volumes, while her presence held a quiet authority, ready to emerge when circumstances demanded.

after a few minutes, the remainder of the team started arriving at the court. among them were two third-years like sakura: choi yena and lee chaeyeon. you had seen their names before in past tournaments.

another teammate, yabuki nako, was a second-year student. like sakura, she was born in japan. however, she made the decision to relocate to south korea after being scouted by coach yoo during her high school years.

each of them extended introductions to you and yunjin. they all came across as quite friendly, leaving a positive impression on both of you.

“waiting for two more people,” coach's announcement rang out. “they should be arriving any minute now.” both you and yunjin shared a glance, curiosity evident as you anticipated the arrival of your new teammates.

and there they appeared. “y/n and yunjin, meet your fellow first-years,” sakura stated, her gaze locked on the approaching figures. a brief pause followed, and a sinking feeling took hold of your heart.

kim chaewon. she stood before the team and offered a bow, a smile gracing her face as she introduced herself. “good morning, everyone. i’m kim chaewon.” her eyes swept across your teammates, yet her gaze lingered on you for a fraction longer. a persistent thought pricked at you - perhaps she didn't even remember you.

the girl standing beside her introduced herself as nakamura kazuha. much like sakura and nako, she was discovered in japan and then made her way to south korea. you were much less attentive when kazuha introduced herself.

it had been years, yet the sting of resentment and bitterness still resurfaced. you failed to shake off the flood of memories that came when you glanced her way.

"alright, ladies. we'll kick off today's session with a few laps around the court to warm up. then, we'll move on to our drills. finally, we'll have our practice matches." coach yoo's authoritative voice filled the morning air. "is that clear?"

"yes, coach!" the team replied together.

throughout the day's workout, you and chaewon remained silent towards each other. while you'd held conversations with everyone else, you made an extra effort to avoid her.

you noticed her new appearance: short hair, secured in a small ponytail just like the rest of the team. her slender physique and well-defined arms captured your attention. whenever her gaze landed your way, you reflexively glanced away, almost snapping your neck in the process.

the practice matches pitted the upperclassmen against the underclassmen. you won each game against sakura, yena, chaeyeon, and nako. the matches were far from easy, further affirming the status of this collegiate team as one of the world's best.

chaewon herself secured victories against all the upperclassmen, while kazuha and yunjin fell short and experienced a couple of losses.

there was a shift in chaewon. if you were both still 14, she would often flaunt her victories, but now she kept her pride in check, not allowing it to overwhelm and dominate the court.

by the time the day's training wrapped up at around 5 pm, all of you were soaked in sweat, a clear demonstration of the commitment you all exhibited on the court.

"wow, the first-years this time around are really impressive," yena exclaimed with enthusiasm. the sentiment was echoed by the other upperclassmen.

you didn’t know who suggested it, but coach yoo readily agreed that tomorrow’s workout should pit the underclassmen against each other. it wasn't as if you were afraid of kim chaewon. certainly not. if anything, you were eager to face her once again to prove that you could win.

“are you okay?" yunjin's concern filled the air as the two of you got ready for bed in your dorm.

"yeah, what's on your mind?" you'd confided in her about chaewon before, recounting the challenges you faced during your formative years.

"i mean, i know how you feel about chaewon. i understand it’s in the past, but i just want to make sure you're okay seeing her again," yunjin reasoned while removing her face mask.

one of the things you truly appreciated about yunjin was her thoughtfulness. despite her boisterous nature at times, her kind heart and empathy shone through as true markers of her remarkable character.

"thanks for checking in, jin." you offered her a sincere smile. "i promise i'm okay." it wasn't entirely a lie. seeing chaewon earlier did churn your stomach, but you weren't about to run and hide.

"if you say so. just remember i'm here if you need to talk. good night!" yunjin's voice rang out as she entered her own bedroom. you thanked your past self for standing up and defying your coach to keep your friendship with yunjin.

the next morning, coach yoo leads you through a similar routine as the day before. by the time the drills conclude, it's time for the practice matches.

as the underclassmen, you watch the upperclassmen compete against each other first. despite your own impressive skill level, you carry a profound respect for anyone who commits to this sport. achieving such an elite status demands years of hard work and countless hours on the court.

that's why chaewon's seemingly natural born talent gnaws at you. in your eyes, she's never experienced the weight of enduring coaches' criticisms, discontent with their athletes' performance. she's never experienced the sting of wrapping her bleeding hand in gauze just to return to the court after an injury, all because her coach pushed her to win. she's never had to prove to her coach that she was more than good enough.

perhaps you weren't entirely truthful with yunjin. you're definitely not okay.

now, it's the underclassmen's time to participate in practice matches amongst themselves. your initial matchup is against kazuha. despite her determined effort, you manage to secure victory in the game.

"great matches, underclassmen. we'll take a quick break, and then we'll set up another round of games. on one court, nakamura will face huh, and on the other, kim will play against y/l/n. clear?"

"yes, coach!" the response comes in unison from you and the other 1st years.

following coach yoo's instructions, yunjin shoots you a look - an unspoken check on your well-being. you respond with a nod, reassuring her. you sense chaewon's eyes on you, even though neither of you have spoken a word to each other. fortunately, everyone on the team, except for yunjin, seems unconcerned.

next up are the practice matches among the underclassmen. you and chaewon head to opposite sides of the court and then approach the net.

"let's have a good match," chaewon offers her hand. she’s certainly not the same 14-year-old you remember.

you extend your hand and shake hers. "yeah, let's."

the first serve sends the ball hurtling, starting a back-and-forth that feels like a tense duel. each racket swing carries a silent rivalry, its roots unknown. chaewon's movements are smooth and graceful, her skill evident in every shot.

the rallies are fierce, both of you pushing your limits. with every point, the court witnesses a battle between your past and present selves. to you, it's a struggle not just for victory, but for redemption.

but as the game progresses, a sinking feeling settles in. chaewon's shots grow sharper, her tactics unpredictable. with every point she claims, the gap widens, and the tension in your chest grows.

as your points lag behind, coach lim’s voice takes over your mind.

“you’ll never get anywhere if you hit the ball like that!”

“that’s how failures hit the ball!”

“this is why chaewon is better than you!”

the upperclassmen observe, the air thick with anticipation. as the final point approaches, you fight to keep your footing. every rally is a test of endurance and willpower. but in the end, as the decisive point slips from your grasp, the weight of the loss settles in.

you brace yourself for the usual degrading comments chaewon would deliver after a match, but they never come.

“good game,” chaewon says to you breathlessly as the two of you come face to face at the net. once again, she offers her hand.

you also extend your hand and shake hers. "good game," you reply. although it wasn't, not for you. your form had faltered, your focus had wandered from the game, and your overall performance was terrible.

coach yoo thought otherwise. “that was an amazing game, ladies,” she says as the two of you walk up to the bleachers where the upperclassmen are also in awe of you and chaewon’s combined talent. you and chaewon send her an appreciative nod, unable to speak from the intense match.

"imagine if they teamed up in doubles… they’d be unstoppable!" an upperclassman's voice rings out, echoed by a chorus of agreements.

"that's a thought for the future. right now, our session's over. now, go shower because you all smell! i'll see everyone tomorrow." coach yoo bids the team farewell, and everyone disperses in their own directions.

"jin, i'll stick around for a bit. just want to work on something real quick," you inform your best friend, avoiding her gaze. you sense her disapproval of your decision to stay back and overexert yourself. but she knows her words won't sway you.

with a sigh, she grabs something from her bag. "don't stay too late, and make sure to eat." she hands you a sandwich she prepared in the morning. you offer a thankful smile and wave as she heads back to the dorm. you feel chaewon's eyes stay on you before she leaves alongside kazuha.

you've lost track of how many times you've struck the ball now. the moon hangs in the sky, casting its glow as the court lights illuminate the surroundings. your shirt is drenched with sweat, and your limbs ache from the relentless exertion.

just one more.

it needs to be perfect.

you serve the ball to the other side of the net, and it goes further out. “you know, i've heard of people trying to hit the ball over the net, not into the next galaxy,” a loud voice calls out behind you.

you turn around and spot chaewon. your surprise is carefully masked. she's in sweatpants and a sleep shirt, clearly ready to call it a night.

"what are you doing here? thought you left a while ago," you inquire as she approaches the other end of the court, racket in hand. it's the spare one you kept in your bag.

“i could ask you the same thing. just needed some fresh air, and i heard someone on the court,” chaewon reasons. “serve the ball.”

“what?” you hesitate, but she readies herself for your serve.

you serve the ball, and she hits it back with perfect accuracy. you volley back, and she lets it go past.

“your serve isn’t powerful enough. it’s too predictable, and anyone from a mile away can see the ball’s trajectory. your toss is inconsistent. you’re rushing,” chaewon critiques, and you feel anger boil up within. you take deep breaths, suppressing the urge to snap back.

apart from coaches, chaewon is perhaps the only one who can give such pointed criticism. she's earned that right, but you can’t stand that fact.

in that instant, any semblance of growth you had believed in during the years of separation seems to evaporate. suddenly, you and chaewon are back to being 14-year-olds, and you release the hold on your emotions that you've painstakingly kept in check over the years.

"offering some unsolicited advice again, are we?" your voice drips with sarcasm as you tighten your grip on your racket. you walk up to chaewon on the side of the court she's on.

chaewon's eyes flash, a mixture of annoyance and defiance in her gaze. "if you're so bothered by a little feedback, maybe you should work on your sportsmanship."

your nostrils flare, your temper flaring like a wildfire. "i don't need your condescension, chaewon. your opinions on my game mean absolutely nothing to me."

a derisive smirk tugs at the corner of chaewon's lips. "ah, of course. because you're the embodiment of perfection on the court, right?"

"and just when i thought you had changed, it turns out you're still the same arrogant little girl you used to be." your eyes narrow dangerously.

"at least i don't crumble under pressure like some people i know." chaewon's retort is quick and cutting.

your fists clench at your sides, your control slipping further and further away. "your arrogance is blinding you."

a mocking laugh escapes chaewon's lips. "and your insecurities are consuming you.”

“i don’t know what i ever did to you, chaewon,” your voice tinged with frustration and confusion.

chaewon's gaze hardens, her tone icy. "spare me the innocence act. you always played the victim, didn't you? always making everyone believe you were the hardworking underdog while secretly enjoying the attention."

your fists tremble with the effort to keep your composure. "you think you're better than everyone just because you have some natural talent. you never understood the meaning of hard work because everything came easily to you."

deep down, you recognize the unfairness in assuming that chaewon had never struggled. this game is challenging, demanding time, effort, and sacrifice to excel. however, in this moment, your anger clouds your judgment, making it difficult to think rationally.

the tension between you two is intense, an invisible wall of resentment and pride keeping you apart. years of pent-up feelings overflow, turning your argument into a clash of words.

"maybe you should learn some humility," you shoot back, your voice a mix of defiance and bitterness.

chaewon's lips curl into a bitter smile. "and maybe you should learn that not everyone owes you their admiration."

your argument becomes an explosive clash of egos as the air between you cracks with disdain. the intensity is palpable as you lock eyes, a silent challenge passing between you. neither is willing to back down, your mutual contempt fueling the fire of your heated exchange. 

the silence is broken by the ringing of your phone. retrieving it from your pocket, you notice it's yunjin calling. you try to collect yourself after the intense argument with chaewon before answering.

“where the hell are you? it’s almost midnight! we have practice at 6 in the morning!" yunjin's voice comes through the call, her words so fierce that you instinctively move your phone away from your ear to avoid the impact of her raised volume.

"i got caught up in something. i'm on my way home," you reply before ending the call. looking around, you notice chaewon has already left. your earlier assumption was wrong. chaewon hasn't changed a bit.

summer workouts lasted for a month. during that time, you formed a close connection with the upperclassmen. they shared their knowledge, and you reciprocated with your insights.

throughout the summer training sessions, you and chaewon don’t speak again after that night. most of the communication, if you could even call it that, between the two of you happened wordlessly - both of you apprehensive that an outburst of emotions might unfold.

it was a refreshing change not to be subjected to a coach's constant scrutiny. coach yoo brought a different approach, avoiding pitting teammates against each other and nurturing teamwork instead.

during one particular workout, you felt sick after not having eaten all day, causing you to miss multiple easy shots. coach yoo noticed and walked up to you. you braced yourself to hear the harsh critiques.

"are you okay, y/l/n?" her typically firm tone carried a hint of softness, unveiling a compassionate side beneath her exterior.

"yes, coach. just not feeling well," you weakly responded, your determination to push through still intact. "i can keep going."

coach yoo's reply was resolute yet caring. "head back to your dorm, y/l/n. i don't want you collapsing on my court. yunjin, make sure she gets there." yunjin promptly set aside her gear and accompanied you.

experiencing a coach who seamlessly blended unwavering discipline with genuine concern was a new and welcomed sensation.

the semester begins, and the team workouts now occur every other day, a change from the daily summer sessions. you find relief in sharing several classes with yunjin, and you're even more relieved that none of your classes overlap with chaewon's, thanks to the significant differences in your majors.

as for the team format, coach yoo's decision places you, chaewon, sakura, and yena in singles matches for the season. yunjin is paired with chaeyeon, while kazuha is teamed up with nako for doubles. the team effortlessly conquers the initial set of matches against other schools, solidifying the university's reputation as the country's best tennis team.

unfortunately, a setback arises when chaeyeon gets injured and nako has to fly back to japan due to a family emergency, both incidents happening in the middle of the season. as a result, coach yoo pairs yunjin and kazuha for doubles. nevertheless, the team is left with one pair missing.

"kim and y/l/n, you two will form the new doubles pair," coach yoo announces, sending a chill down your spine. yunjin picks up on your tension and raises a question, "coach, with all respect, i could be paired with y/n, and kazuha could be paired with chaewon." her inquiry carries an awareness of the history between you and chaewon. the upperclassmen raise their eyebrows at yunjin's nerve in questioning the coach's decision.

before she answers, coach yoo instructs the upperclassmen to return to the courts to finish their drills, leaving the underclassmen alone with the coach. “my decision is final, yunjin.”

your best friend sends you an apologetic look. although her suggestion was denied, you were still quite appreciative that she went out of her way and tried for you. you notice that chaewon’s avoiding your gaze, feeling similarly to how you feel about coach yoo’s decision.

"i'm not blind," coach yoo starts off, catching your attention with her very first words. your eyes widen, sensing that she’s directing her words at you and chaewon. "i can sense the history between both of you. even the football players on the field across the campus could probably pick up on the tension. it's noticeable for everyone, not just you two."

her gaze shifts between you and chaewon, each of you feeling the weight of her words. "this situation offers an opportunity for you to work together, set aside your differences, and learn to function as a united team. we may play singles matches, but the impact of individual actions or conflicts ripples through the entire team."

admittedly, you recognize the truth in coach yoo's perspective. the realization that your past with chaewon is affecting the whole team hits you, highlighting the significance of teamwork in an individual sport like tennis. a silent nod from chaewon signals her agreement with coach yoo's assessment.

"also," coach yoo continues, "it gives us the chance to make the most of the differing playing styles that both of you bring to the table." her reasoning prompts a puzzled exchange of glances between you and yunjin.

"i'm sorry, coach, but i don’t quite understand," chaewon interjects, voicing the confusion that mirrors your own. kazuha stands by chaewon's side, and her knowing expression leads you to believe that chaewon has likely shared some details about your shared history.

“chaewon plays with aggression on the court, going for powerful shots and taking calculated risks to dominate the game. meanwhile, y/n prioritizes precision and control. she aims for well-placed shots, aiming to minimize errors," coach yoo’s insightful breakdown of your playstyles leaves you in awe. it's clear why she's the driving force behind the university's success.

“not only that, chaewon is adaptable. she changes strategies and shots based on her opponent's weaknesses. on the other hand, y/n focuses on consistent shots, working to make fewer errors and capitalize on opponents' mistakes.” 

a rare moment of understanding passes between you and chaewon for the first time that day. both of you recognized the mutual reluctance to be paired, yet coach yoo’s rationale stands firm, reminding you that further questioning is unnecessary.

“i know it’ll be difficult to adjust at first, but you’re here for a reason. you are all elite athletes in this sport. don’t let some petty rivalry prevent you from reaching your potential,” coach yoo says in a gentle tone. “we’ll have our first practice match between the new doubles teams at our next practice.”

you take a deep breath, allowing coach yoo's words to sink in. you realize that you can't allow your history with chaewon and your relationship with her to hinder your performance on the court.

on the day of the next practice, the sun hid behind the clouds, casting shifting shadows across the court. as the upperclassmen squared off in practice matches, coach yoo closely observed your game against yunjin and kazuha, where chaewon partnered with you.

as the game went on, chaewon's aggressive style clashed with your focus on precision. a tense rally ended with chaewon going for a powerful shot that sailed just wide of the line.

"chaewon, you need to control your shots better," you commented, your frustration barely concealed.

the response was swift, brimming with a sense of defiance. "oh, and you think your careful little taps are any better?" chaewon retorted, her tone laced with sarcasm.

"at least i don't risk losing points with reckless shots," you shot back, your voice dripping with annoyance.

coach yoo's whistle cuts through the tension before the argument can escalate further. "kim and y/l/n, laps around the court. now." both you and your doubles partner let out exasperated groans, setting down your rackets and beginning the laps.

“if i hear another argument from the two of you, the entire team does laps!” coach yoo's voice echoes across the courts, a clear warning for all to hear.

as you jog the laps, chaewon deliberately nudges your shoulder. you muster all your self-control to dismiss it, not wanting to be the cause of extra work for the team.

the next practices end up similarly with you and chaewon bickering, not being able to play the best way the two of you possibly could. with an important match coming up against the university that you faced off against in last year’s national finals.

"jin, she's a terrible partner. she doesn't listen to me, she does whatever she wants, and she doesn't even play like i'm there," you confide in a hushed tone to yunjin, perched together on the bleachers.

"hmm, not listening and doing whatever she wants... sounds like you're describing someone familiar," yunjin playfully remarks, prompting you to lightly slap her shoulder. "just kidding! but seriously, you've got to find a way to make it work with her. i know it’s hard, but this upcoming match is important. you two are the best of the best, but if you can't cooperate, there’s no point."

you knew yunjin had a point. all those days of tough training, all that effort to secure your place at this top tennis university—none of it should crumble due to this situation. so, with a deep breath, you head over to where chaewon is seated with kazuha. you firmly grab chaewon's arm and lead her to a quieter spot.

“ow, jesus! you’ve got some man hands,” chaewon complains, trying to free her arm from your hold. you roll your eyes, holding back any sharp response.

"firstly, your hands are just as rough as mine," you start, your tone steady. "secondly, let me speak before you start interrupting." chaewon raises an eyebrow. "we can't keep this up. i know we've got differences, and our history isn't great. but now we're doubles partners."

"oh great, are you going to give a cheesy motivational speech?" chaewon scoffs, her eyes rolling. this is going to be nearly impossible.

"could you not interrupt? act your age," you sigh with frustration. "this isn't some pep talk. it's about the team. we're representing our university, and, let's face it, we're the best players they’ve got." chaewon stays silent, but you can sense she agrees.

“my point is, whatever this ‘thing’ is happening between us needs to stop, or at least be put aside. coach yoo is right. we can't let our personal issues mess up our game," you explain to her.

there's a pause before chaewon responds, “i don’t need you to tell me how to play this game.”

your response is quick and honest. "i'm not trying to tell you. i'm asking you to consider working together." you swallow your pride. "we both bring unique strengths to the court. if we combine them, we'll be an unbeatable team."

"is this your way of admitting i'm better than you?" chaewon raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

you feel like giving up. "you're impossible. i can't do this."

before you turn away, chaewon's voice catches your attention. "being unbeatable does sound appealing." she lingers for a moment. "after all these years, after everything... do you really think we can do this?" the sudden, unexpected change in chaewon's tone catches you off guard. there's a subtle trace of vulnerability, hinting at the impact of coach lim's harmful ideology.

“it's definitely going to be a challenge, no doubt, but i think we have what it takes. we're both talented players,” you respond.

“if we can just get over ourselves and focus on winning together, we’d crush everyone in the way.” a spark ignites in your eyes, mirrored by a similar gleam in chaewon's gaze. the fleeting vulnerability she displayed earlier has vanished.

chaewon lets out a quiet chuckle, “fine, let's give it a shot. don't expect any sappy gratitude speeches from me.”

“not in my wildest dreams, kim.”

the next practice is the last one before the important game against last year's runners-up in the national championship. while not the national tournament itself, this match holds great importance. it will set the tone for how your team fares for the rest of the year. your team is well aware that the competition is eyeing you all closely.

“today's practice match will have sakura and yena as a doubles pair going against the underclassmen pairs," coach yoo announces.

you and chaewon face off against sakura and yena first. the atmosphere is charged with tension, yet a new kind of energy fills the air. there is an unspoken determination between you and chaewon to put your differences aside and make it work for the sake of the team.

as the match begins, there are a few miscommunications and awkward moments. your precision clashes with chaewon's aggression, causing the two of you to miss easy shots. but as the match progresses, something begins to shift.

your well-placed shots start to complement chaewon's powerful swings, and chaewon's dynamic style adds an unexpected element to your controlled approach.

during a pivotal moment in the game, sakura and yena begin a relentless barrage of rapid hits. your quick reflexes allow you to anticipate yena's return, sending a scarily accurate shot back to the opposing side. chaewon, on the other hand, has positioned herself near the net, ready to capitalize on any opportunity.

as yena's return skims over the net, chaewon pounces with a fierce overhead smash that sends the ball hurtling downward with incredible force. sakura tries to counter, but her shot is rushed. you are already positioned perfectly, gently tapping the ball over the net. it lands just inside the line on the other side. 

sakura and yena can't reach it in time. yunjin and kazuha’s cheers from the bench reach your ears. locking eyes with chaewon, both of you panting, a silent agreement forms between you. the understanding is wordless yet profound – you can make this work.

“i love always being right,” you overhear coach yoo say.

you and chaewon easily beat your matchup in the game against the other university. and not just that, your whole team puts on an impressive display, completely outplaying the opponent and confirming the hybe university tennis team’s status as the best in the nation.

at the next team practice, coach yoo gathers everyone around for an important announcement. "the official national tournament is approaching. fortunately, chaeyeon's recovery is progressing well, and nako will be flying in from japan tomorrow." relief floods across everyone's faces, a testament to the genuine bond that the girls share.

"however," coach yoo continues, capturing your attention, "i'd like y/n and chaewon to remain as our doubles pair. kazuha and yunjin will return to playing singles, and chaeyeon will be paired with nako for doubles."

you notice a glint of confusion in chaewon's eyes, her brows furrowing in response. understandably so. you both assumed that you'd return to playing singles once chaeyeon and nako returned.

"i understand this might be unexpected, but witnessing you two on the court the other day was like witnessing pure magic. you two make an incredible team," coach yoo asserts with conviction. “it was pure perfection.”

hearing coach yoo express something so lofty is a rarity, and you, along with the rest of the team, are well aware of that fact. this makes her statement even more impactful and meaningful.

“now, let’s continue our practice. we have a championship to win. do i make myself clear?” coach yoo looks at everyone, emanating a sense of determination and conviction that is palpable.

in unison, the team replies, “yes, coach!”

after a particularly challenging practice session where your rhythm was off, you find a seat on the bench next to yunjin. "what's on the menu for dinner?" she asks, gathering her things to leave the court and head back to the dorm.

you shake your head, a determined expression on your face. "i think i'll stay back a bit. i need more practice."

yunjin shoots you a disbelieving look. "y/n, you're pushing yourself too hard again."

"i have to," you sigh. "i don't want to be a liability to chaewon."

"you're not a liability, and you won't be," yunjin insists, though she knows arguing won't change your mind. "alright, just don't stay too late. i'll come back after i eat and bring you some food."

"i appreciate it, but i'll be fine," you try to assure her.

"if i didn't feed you, you'd probably have starved by now," yunjin says with a deadpan expression.

"okay, okay. no need to be so dramatic," you chuckle at your best friend's playful exaggeration.

as yunjin heads off, you return to the court with your racket in hand. using the ball machine, you start a practice session focused on refining your form, determined to make each hit better than the last.

“this is tennis, not baseball. stop trying to hit home runs,” a familiar voice chimes in.

“what if i've had a change of heart and i'm just practicing for when i switch over to my new passion, which is baseball?” you retort with a touch of sarcasm.

“seems like you're the new comedian in town, y/n,” chaewon quips, strolling over to your side of the court. after the countless practices you've shared as doubles partners, you've grown skilled at rolling with chaewon's jabs and responding in a similar fashion. similarly, chaewon has learned to temper her humor, keeping it in the realm of playful banter rather than letting it escalate into a full-blown argument.

"why do you hit the ball like that?" chaewon asks, stepping closer to you.

"like what?" you scoff at her question, sensing that she isn't trying to insult you.

"like you're afraid," she comments, crossing her arms as she positions herself beside you.

you're not sure how to respond. "i don't know what you mean. this is how coach lim taught me."

at the mention of her old coach, you notice a change in chaewon's posture. her body tenses, and her expression shifts into one of displeasure. it's as if you've accidentally struck a nerve.

"well, he taught us wrong," chaewon asserts, her tone resolute.

you're taken aback by her defiance toward her former coach. even more surprising is the sensation of her front pressing against your back as she wraps her arms around you and places them on yours.

suddenly, you’re overly conscious of how terrible you must smell after all the hours out in the sun. heat rushes to your face. you tell yourself it's from the overexertion you’ve put your body through.

you swallow the lump in your throat before you ask, "what are you doing?"

"relax, i'm just helping you loosen up a bit," chaewon explains, her reasoning leaving you curious about her choice of words. “your swings aren’t too terrible, but they lack fluidity.”

as the ball machine shoots another ball towards you, chaewon gently guides your grip and stance, helping you align your body with the swing. the ball connects with the racket, and while the shot might not be as precise as your usual hits, there's a newfound sense of ease in the motion.

"see, you don't always have to aim for perfection," chaewon explains, her breath tickling your ear. "sometimes, it's about letting go a little and trusting your instincts."

you take a deep breath, feeling the truth in chaewon's words. as another ball comes your way, you try to mimic the more relaxed swing chaewon demonstrated. the ball sails over the net, landing safely within the court.

"you're overthinking it," chaewon advises gently. "just let your body move naturally. don't be afraid to take risks."

with chaewon's guidance, your swings gradually become less rigid and more fluid. there's a rhythm in your movements, a dance between your body and the racket. chaewon's presence, her arms wrapped securely around you, becomes a comforting anchor.

you clear your throat before speaking. "you can let go of me now." chaewon quickly releases her hold on you. walking over to the other side of the court where the ball machine is placed, you turn it off before returning to chaewon's side. she's still standing there.

her face is red too, likely from the intense practice you both had earlier and the sun's heat.

"thank you, by the way," you begin, addressing chaewon. "you didn't have to stay behind and give me tips, but you did. i really appreciate it."

"what did i say about corny speeches of gratitude?" chaewon says sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"you said i would never hear them from you. i never said you would never hear them from me," you reply with a playful tone. her laughter fills the air, a sound you can't recall ever hearing before.

you pause, a question that's been gnawing at you since chaewon mentioned him now on the tip of your tongue. "i hope this isn't too personal, but what happened between you and coach lim? you suddenly stopped showing up."

the air around you two suddenly becomes heavy and serious. “i couldn’t handle it anymore, y/n. he wanted me to be perfect. i don’t even think he ever looked at me as a human; he only saw me as a machine that could win him trophies and titles.”

confronted with chaewon's raw perspective, you find yourself torn between your past assumptions and newfound understanding. younger you was too caught up in your own resentment and your endless pursuit of perfecting yourself that you never really saw the extent of coach lim’s effect on chaewon.

this whole time, you assumed that chaewon loved the idea of being coach lim’s perfect player, of basking in his praise and validation.

out of nowhere, chaewon’s gaze turns dangerously intense. "you never once offered a helping hand. you never even bothered to ask if i was okay."

you feel a surge of conflicting emotions, caught between understanding her pain and wanting to defend your own past beliefs. "chaewon, it's not like i knew what you were going through. you seemed to thrive under his coaching, and you always appeared confident."

"thrived?" chaewon's voice turns sharp, laced with frustration. "i had to put on a brave face because that's what he demanded. but deep down, i was suffocating. and you, you were always so self-absorbed in your own battles that you didn't see mine."

"give me a break, chaewon. i was just 14 like you. i was clueless," you snap, the heat of the argument pushing you to react defensively. "i had my own struggles to deal with. i couldn't just magically see past my own challenges."

she shoots you a sharp glance. “right, because you have all the entitlement in the world to be self-absorbed."

"that's not what i'm saying. stop twisting my words," you retort, your voice tinged with frustration. "we both had our share of problems, and it's unfair to blame me for not being a mind-reader." at this point, you're trying your best to hold your tears back, years of pent-up resentment and bitterness finally reaching a boiling point.

chaewon lets out a bitter laugh. “coach lim took so much away from me. he took my sense of self-worth, my youth, and for a while, my love for the game. i was the golden girl, the one everyone expected to excel, and for a while, i thought i was living the dream. but it was a nightmare. every time i stepped onto that court, i could feel his eyes on me, his expectations pressing down like a weight i couldn't escape."

"i told my parents everything. i explained how i felt like i had ceased to be a person, how there were moments when i couldn't even bring myself to step out of my room. i became consumed by the fear of tennis. fortunately, they granted me the opportunity to switch schools and train in japan for high school," she goes on. you imagine that's where she crossed paths with kazuha and developed a strong friendship with her.

her voice rises as the anger surges within her. "i couldn't breathe under his scrutiny. he wanted perfection, and every time i fell short, i felt like i was falling apart. he'd praise me one moment, and the next, he'd dissect my mistakes as if they were a crime against the sport. i lost myself in his demands, in the pressure to maintain this image of the flawless player he created." tears begin spilling from chaewon’s eyes.

you haven’t said a word since she began her confession of the true impact of coach lim’s toxic style of coaching. after all these years, you were finally able to hear her side of the story.

her voice is tainted with pain. through tears, she asks, "do you know what it feels like, y/n? to be praised and adored for your skills but to also be trapped in that admiration? to have every victory overshadowed by the fear of disappointing him?” her words trembled, marked by the cracks in her voice.

“you thought i had it all, but in reality, coach lim's obsession with my success was suffocating me. it made me forget why i loved tennis in the first place.” she falls to the ground on her knees.

chaewon's chest heaves with the force of her cries, and her breath comes in ragged, uneven gasps. the sound of her anguish fills the air, a symphony of pain and heartache. her hands cover her face as if trying to shield herself from the intensity of her own emotions, fingers trembling with the weight of her pain.

tears flow down from your own eyes, mirroring chaewon's pain. you sit down beside her, pulling her gently into your arms. it's a moment when you manage to set aside the lingering resentment and bitterness that coach lim had planted between you and chaewon. 

in this shared moment, you both unleash years of pent-up pain and suffering that originated from that one man. together, you and chaewon allow the floodgates to open, releasing the years of pain and anguish inflicted upon both of you by a single man.

minutes pass, and you've spent every one of them on the ground with chaewon, your fingers drawing soothing circles on her back as you help her find calm. the air remains quiet, words unspoken between you two. the tears have ceased their flow, leaving the both of you enveloped in stillness.

eventually, you break the silence, your voice soft yet laden with sincerity. "i'm sorry, chaewon."

she shakes her head, her gaze fixed on the ground as she responds, her tone carrying a blend of self-reflection and regret. "no, you were right earlier. we were just kids, we didn’t know anything. it wasn't your fault."

you release her gently and shift back, allowing her a moment to breathe. chaewon meets your gaze, her eyes telling a story of mixed emotions that her words cannot fully express. "in the end, it wasn't on us, y/n. i was hurting, but you were hurting too. we were both too lost in our own struggles to truly see each other."

you nod at chaewon’s sentiments. “we can’t change the past, but we can move forward from this.”

“here you go again with your corny speeches,” chaewon softly jokes.

"chaewon, please. we're having a moment," you playfully retort, noticing chaewon's soft laughter, a weight lifting from the atmosphere. "what i mean is, i want to see you as my teammate, even as a friend. i don't want to perceive you the same way i have since we were six."

"i know it won't be an instant change. both of us need to deal with the personal aftermath coach lim left on us. but maybe, we can face it together," you offer a smile to chaewon, met with one in return.

"can i still make fun of you?" chaewon's familiar playfulness returns. this time, her words carry humor instead of malice.

"if you didn't, i'd think you got abducted by aliens and they replaced you with someone else," you say humorously, following her lead.

chaewon's nose is reddened, her eyes and lips still puffy from crying - yours probably look the same. yet, in this moment, as the sunset's last light embraces you both, she appears more beautiful to you than ever.

"teammates?" chaewon extends her hand, a gesture of camaraderie.

"i thought you hated corny stuff?" you glance at her hand, raising an eyebrow.

"only when it's you," chaewon quips, swift with her reply. a chuckle escapes you as you shake her hand.

"alright, teammate." a brief pause envelops you both. suddenly, footsteps approach the court.

the shrill of yunjin’s voice breaks the moment, "y/n! i got some fried chicken for you! i wasn't sure about rice, but i thought you'd be hungry, so i grabbed you s-"

yunjin's words falter as she takes in the scene before her. confusion washes over her face, her eyebrows knitting together. "what the hell happened?"

you want to laugh at how comical yunjin’s expression looks, but you hold it in because you can feel that she’s extremely confused.

"just catching up with my teammate," you gesture to chaewon. getting back on your feet, you reach out your hands, offering help, and she clasps them to stand up.

"see you at the next practice," chaewon says, her voice carrying a hint of warmth.

as she disappears from view, yunjin grabs your arm and shakes you. "you have to fill me in on everything!"

"i promise i will. now, stop shaking me. you might give me a traumatic brain injury," you joke, walking alongside yunjin back to your dorm. a burden you hadn't realized was weighing on your chest and shoulders suddenly lifts.

as practices come and go, and the season progresses, your connection with chaewon slowly but surely develops. initially, it was a challenge to release the grip of your shared history. yet, the genuine love and passion you both hold for the game serve as a balm, easing the burden of the past and guiding your attention toward the present.

during a match against another university, you and chaewon face off against a less-than-pleasant pair of opponents. these girls exude snarkiness and rudeness, assuming that you both will be an easy match for them.

"let's get this match over. just by looking at you two, we can already tell this is going to be an easy win," one of the opposing players remarks, followed by a mocking laugh from the other.

"thanks in advance for helping us keep our winning streak," adds the second girl. chaewon's temper flares, her sharp retorts ready to be unleashed. having been on the receiving end of her biting words before, you know her response could easily escalate into a confrontation. swiftly, you place a hand on her shoulder, silently urging her to keep her cool.

"let's have a good game," you respond, refusing to engage in their negativity. as you and chaewon head back to your side of the court, you meet her gaze and offer a quiet reminder, "you and i both know it's not worth it to stoop to their level."

rolling her eyes, chaewon begrudgingly agrees, acknowledging your point. "you and i both know we're going to destroy them."

and she's right. you and chaewon breeze through the match, your synergy undeniable. at one point, chaewon powerfully smashes the ball onto their side of the court. unintentionally, the ball strikes the ground and hits one of the opposing girls square in the face.

you and chaewon quickly turn away, stifling your laughter. "talk shit, get hit, bitch," chaewon whispers, her humor evident. despite finding it amusing, you lightly swat her shoulder.

throughout the season, the team's bond continues to deepen, fueled by a shared passion for the game. following matches against other schools, the entire team, except for coach yoo, gathers at sakura's expansive home near hybe university for girls' night. whether it's watching movies, playing board games, or engaging in heartfelt conversations, being in their company brings you immense joy.

in your younger days, you viewed tennis as an individual pursuit, given the one-on-one nature of matches on the court.

however, now immersed in the warmth of your team and experiencing the genuine friendship between you and the other girls, you gladly embrace this sense of unity. your heart swells as you wholeheartedly include your team in your affection, a clear indication of how much they mean to you.

"come on, y/n, serenade us with a song," yena's enthusiastic voice rang out. the team had gathered at sakura's house following a spirited match, and the evening had evolved into a cozy karaoke session, with everyone donning their pajamas. 

though everyone had already taken their turn at the microphone, one person hadn't yet had their moment - you. while you had been joining in between moments, you had intentionally stepped back to ensure others took the spotlight.

"i've been singing along!" you defended playfully, only to be met with a chorus of playful boos from all around.

"technically, you need to hold the microphone to truly call it singing," chaewon interjected, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. seated beside kazuha with a snack in hand, she seemed to be the resident instigator.

"alright, alright," you conceded.

"oh, so if we want y/n to do anything, all we need is for chaewon to ask?" chaeyeon quipped, addressing the entire team and causing a ripple of amused agreement.

a collective "ooh" echoed through the room as both you and chaewon found your faces turning the shade of ripe tomatoes. in your attempt to recover, you sought refuge behind yunjin, hoping for a moment to compose yourself. to your surprise, she didn't offer any help and instead stepped aside, leaving you feeling all too exposed.

that night, you sang your heart out, surprising everyone. luckily, they all joined in, and soon, everyone was singing together.

the hybe university women’s tennis team qualifies for the national tournament, not surprising anyone. the blood, sweat, and tears poured out from every single individual on the team are what got the team here and what will help this team.

after one practice session, coach yoo gathers the team and announces, “great news, everyone. i just received word from the international tennis confederation, and they informed me that if we win the national tournament, we can get a chance to qualify for the international collegiate tennis tournament!” cheers erupt from the entire team, further fanning the fire of your determination to do well in the national tournament.

the opposing teams sense the pressure radiating from both of you whenever you step onto the court, causing your opponents to shake in their shoes.

in your final match of the tournament, the entire team relies on you and chaewon. your match will decide if the team reclaims the title of national champions and earns a chance at the international tennis tournament. despite the weight of this responsibility, it doesn't negatively impact your performance.

you score the winning shot, and the team's cheers overwhelm your senses. in the height of the moment, chaewon drops her racket and wraps you in a tight hug. sweat and muscle fatigue from the long game don't matter. you hug her back just as tightly, the past resentments and bitterness gone.

the sky painted a clear blue canvas, as if the entire universe was joining in the celebration of your team's victory. yunjin's eyes welled up with tears as she raced towards you after the win, enveloping you in an almost bone-crushing embrace. the team, along with coach yoo holding the championship trophy, met on the court for a group hug.

in this moment, perfection hung in the air. you had just helped your team win a national championship, opening doors to an international title quest. better yet, your best friend shared in this triumph. in addition to all this, you had been gradually healing from coach lim's impact on your friendship with chaewon.

yet, nothing perfect lasts forever.

you're 19 when your first college year wraps up on a high note – acing your classes and clinching the national championship with chaewon for the team. after much persuasion from you and yunjin, your parents allow you to spend the summer on campus. 

before summer workouts start, you and yunjin explore the city, soaking in the sights, indulging in tasty food, and sharing laughter over anything and everything. having yunjin bring her car to campus has been a real blessing. without it, you wouldn't have had as many opportunities to go on outings together.

one day, chaewon texts, inviting you and yunjin to join her and kazuha for dinner at a local restaurant. approaching the restaurant, a message from yunjin pops up, saying she can't make it. disappointment arises within you, but your appetite wins out, so you decide to head inside anyway.

chaewon is seated alone. with a playfully exaggerated tone, you quip, "what's a pretty lady like you doing here all by yourself?" banter between you and chaewon has grown more comfortable over the school year and your time as doubles partners, sometimes hinting at flirtation. it's all harmless fun – at least that's what you tell yourself.

“lucky for you, i recognized your voice, or else i might've considered knocking you out," chaewon retorts. a faint blush colors her cheeks. "kazuha had to cancel. she's not feeling well."

"yunjin won't make it either, so it's just us," you let chaewon know, scanning the menu as you speak. detecting a moment of silence, you ask, "is that okay with you?"

chaewon mock coughs, grinning. "oh, i'm suddenly feeling under the weather too," she says playfully. "i’m joking, it's perfectly good with me.”

throughout dinner, you and chaewon enjoy each other's company. she shares that her time in japan involved training under "the best coach ever," coach minatozaki, a journey that elevated her skills even higher. kazuha trained alongside her.

afterward, the craving for dessert leads you and chaewon to a nearby ice cream spot. as you walk, your hands brush multiple times, each touch setting off a warm blush across your cheeks. in the midst of this, you spot a man on a bicycle hurtling down the sidewalk. swiftly, you grab chaewon's hand, pulling her closer to you just in time to avert a collision.

“that jerk!” you exclaim, failing to notice the telltale redness that colors the tips of chaewon's ears.

“i'm not sure what would hurt more, me getting hit by that bike or being yanked by your man hands," chaewon retorts with a sarcastic tone, though her actions give her away as her fingers entwine with yours.

you both stand by the entrance of your dorm, ice cream in hand. “thank you for inviting me out for dinner. i know it wasn’t supposed to be just the both of us, but i still appreciate it," you tell chaewon. "i'll see you at practice tomorrow?"

chaewon nods, offering a small smile. "absolutely. don't be late," she says before giving your hand a gentle squeeze and heading to her own dorm, leaving you with a heart that's surprisingly light.

as you step into your dorm, you're greeted by the sight of yunjin absorbed in a game in front of the television. "i thought you were busy?" you ask.

"i was at that time, but now i'm not," yunjin responds without hesitation. a mischievous smile dances on her lips. "so, how was your date with chaewon?"

heat rushes to your face, turning it as hot as a desert. "it wasn't a date!" you hastily grab a pillow from the couch and playfully hurl it at her, hitting her squarely in the face.

as the summer workouts begin, coach yoo tailors the training regimen to ready the team for the qualifiers of the international tennis tournament. with the team getting ready for this crucial competition, coach yoo makes the call to abstain from bringing in any fresh first-years to the squad. her focus remains solely on fostering the talents of the current players under her wing.

sakura lends a hand to yunjin and kazuha during their singles drills, closely observing areas they could refine. chaeyeon and nako train together, polishing their technique to be at their highest level. beyond being the team's chief motivator and wellspring of energy, yena tirelessly hones her swings, aiming for perfection in the impending competition.

with the rest of the team pushing their physical and mental limits to prepare for the upcoming competition, you and chaewon feel propelled to surpass expectations, determined not to let the team down.

while both of you, along with the entire team, acknowledge your status as the squad's best players, you see it not as an excuse to take it easy, but as a driving force that ignites your determination.

staying on the courts after everyone else from the team has left has become routine for you. yunjin no longer bothers trying to convince you to return to the dorm with her. chaewon would occasionally make her way back after heading to her own dorm, though not every night.

today unfolded no differently. you lingered on the courts until almost midnight, the moon illuminating the sky. chaewon didn't drop by for a visit tonight. you can’t quite put a finger on why that fact is bothering you. you start packing up your belongings and start making your way to the dorms.

en route, you reach a crosswalk. despite the campus being deserted at this hour, you quickly glance both ways to ensure no car is approaching. you begin crossing, but right as you're in the middle, the roar of a powerful engine reaches your ears. before you can react, the last sight imprinted in your mind is two blazing headlights.

you slowly come to, the world around you a haze of unfamiliar sounds and sterile scents. your vision blurs, but as it gradually clears, the stark reality settles in. you're in a hospital room, the faint beeping of monitors and distant voices of medical staff echoing around you. 

pain courses through every fiber of your being. the source of agony remains elusive. it's as though every inch of your body is engulfed in a relentless blaze of torment.

the remnants of a car crash flash in your mind—metal crunching, the tires shrieking, the overpowering impact. it's a puzzle with missing pieces, a story that seems disjointed and surreal.

with a heavy breath, you struggle to focus, to understand the gravity of your situation. tubes and wires snake from your body, tethering you to machines that are monitoring your every heartbeat and breath. your head feels heavy like a storm of confusion rages within it.

a face comes into view, a doctor jotting down notes on a clipboard. your parents stand behind her, concern etched across their faces.

"good morning, sweetie. i'm dr. chou. you've just woken up from a two-week coma," dr. chou explains. that would explain the dryness in your throat. "on a scale of one to ten, with one being no pain and ten being the worst, how bad is your pain right now?"

even in your dazed state, you don't need to think much about your answer. "ten," you rasp, the parched sensation in your throat intensifying.

"i'll give you some medication, but first i need to ask you a couple of questions," dr. chou informs you. "do you know your name?"

"yes, i'm y/n," you respond. your mother positions a cup of water by your lips to help you drink it, which you gulp down in a split second.

"good. you’re in the hospital near hybe university. now, do you remember what happened and how you ended up here?"

"not everything, but i do remember seeing a pair of bright lights and then waking up here," you explain to dr. chou. she proceeds to tell you that a drunk driver, a fellow student at the university, hit you. the driver was recklessly speeding late at night. thankfully, they were apprehended and would face the consequences.

dr. chou goes on to explain that yunjin located you when you didn't respond to her calls and texts. horrified by the sight, she immediately called for emergency assistance.

your heart aches at the thought of how yunjin must be feeling right now. you want to apologize, to express your gratitude, to tell her how thankful you are that she's your best friend. dr. chou tells you it's a miracle you're alive.

"how severe are my injuries?" you inquire of dr. chou.

"it's miraculous that your internal organs remained intact. however, your limbs bore the brunt of the impact," dr. chou begins. you gaze at your body and realize your arms are encased in casts, and one of your legs is too. you also feel a brace around your neck. hot tears well up as you take in the extent of the damage.

"i heard you're a tennis player at hybe university. that's quite an achievement. they say your team is the best in the nation," dr. chou begins softly. you can anticipate what's coming next. dr. chou takes a deep breath before continuing. "both of your arms were fractured during the accident, one from the car and the other from the impact with the ground."

the tears start to flow down your face. your chest feels heavy, and you're at a loss for how to process all of this. "your leg was also fractured, due to the collision."

"given these injuries, i can't provide an estimate of when you'll be able to get back on the court or if that will even be possible at all," dr. chou concludes, her voice carrying a gentleness, knowing that she just delivered the most devastating news.

sobs wrack your body. you're consumed by inconsolable grief. you can barely feel dr. chou's hand on your shoulder or hear her say, "i understand it's difficult now and it will continue to be for a while. just take it one day at a time." she looks at your family, your mother and father crying alongside you, "i'll step out now. just call if you need anything else."

the very essence of your existence, the labor you poured your soul into, had been mercilessly taken from you. it was a theft committed without showing even the slightest sign of remorse.

with tears blurring your vision and an agonizing weight engulfing your chest, you were left feeling like a hollow shell, drained of purpose and crushed by the weight of irreparable loss.

anger simmered within you. it was directed towards the world and the individual who had recklessly crashed into you on that particular night. however, your parents and teammates remained untouched by this anger. if anything, they became your anchors, keeping you steady through these trying times.

throughout your month-long confinement in the hospital, your teammates visited frequently. occasionally, coach yoo would accompany them. whether it was conveying their wishes for your swift recovery, bringing you your favorite snacks, or simply being a comforting presence, they stood by your side despite their own demanding training schedules.

the memory of yunjin's initial visit to your hospital room is still vivid. bursting into the room hours after receiving a text from your mother about your awakening, yunjin's presence remains etched in your mind. you recall her tears as she embraced you.

both of you find solace in each other's arms, tears flowing freely. the hug speaks softly, carrying murmurs of "i'm sorry" and "thank you."

when your teammates came to visit, they were aware of the sensitivity around discussing the sport. during their initial group visit, your parents had informed them about your situation beforehand, which led to tears from everyone.

particularly, chaewon chose to stay outside as the group entered your room, needing a moment to compose herself. she understood the significance of the sport to you, and its sudden absence affected her deeply as well. for a fleeting moment, she even contemplated not coming in at all.

that changed when kazuha went to find her and mentioned that you were looking for her.

as she stepped in, no words were necessary between the two of you. she sensed your pain, and you recognized that she was the one who could truly comprehend you. after all, she had been there from the start, witnessing your initial spark of passion for the game.

there was a time when she visited alone. your parents had gone home for a couple of days to attend to their careers and manage the house. you lay in bed, consumed by self-pity. the only yearning within you was to recover and step back onto the court, a dream that now felt as distant as the stars.

a knock on the door jolted you from your thoughts. "come in," you murmured weakly.

chaewon entered, a bouquet of flowers and a teddy bear with a heart bearing the words "get well soon" in her arms. "hi," she greeted softly, placing the items on a nearby table.

"how are you holding up?" her well-intentioned question fell flat as soon as it left her lips.

glaring at the wall, you struggled to maintain your composure. "i can't play anymore, chaewon." you paused, and the unspoken weight hung heavy in the air. "everything i've devoted my life to is gone." it took every ounce of strength to hold back the tide of emotions threatening to engulf you.

"don't hold it in," chaewon urged gently, her gaze steady on you. confusion mingled with your sadness as you met her eyes. "i know you're furious, and i know you're hurting. so why keep it inside?" concern lined her expression.

at her words, your defenses crumbled. it had been weeks since you awoke in this hospital room, a place you longed to escape from. throughout those endless days, you had attempted to come to terms with the harsh reality before you—a reality where the sport you cherished had been ripped unceremoniously from your grasp.

once the torrent of sobs subsided, silent tears continued to stream down your cheeks. chaewon reached for a napkin, gently wiping away your tears.

"everything i've worked for," your voice quivered, "it's gone." a hiccup interrupted your words. "torn away from me."

"i wake up each day in this hospital bed, trapped in a nightmare i can't escape. the pain is relentless, chaewon, and i can't even move without feeling like i'm being torn apart." anger began to lace your words, burning with frustration. “i let the team down. i let you down.”

chaewon listened, her focus unwaveringly fixed on you. she fought back her own tears, determined to stand strong beside you. if you were holding on, then she would find her strength as well.

chaewon's voice was soft but resolute. "you didn't let anyone down, y/n. and don't you dare think that for a second." she leaned in closer, placing her hand gently over your cast. "we're a team, remember? this isn't your fault, and you're not alone in this."

your gaze remained fixed on the ceiling, the weight of your shattered dreams pressing heavily upon you. "i know you're trying to help, chaewon. but it's hard to see beyond this pain, beyond the loss."

"i might not be able to fully understand what you're going through, but i want you to know that you have the wholehearted support of everyone on the team, including coach yoo," chaewon's voice carries a gentle reassurance. "fuck what the doctors are saying. if they're predicting that you'll never get back on the court, i have complete faith that you'll prove them wrong. we'll get through this one day at a time."

a sigh escaped your lips, a mixture of resignation and a sliver of hope. chaewon's presence was a lifeline in the storm of your emotions. "i'm just scared, chaewon. scared that i won't ever be able to play again, that i'll be stuck like this forever."

“right now, the most important thing is your recovery. we'll explore every option, every avenue to help you heal and get back on your feet. and when you're ready, when you're strong enough, we'll find a way to get you back on that court,” chaewon reassures you.

after that day, chaewon began visiting more frequently on her own. she was a constant source of reassurance, firm in her conviction that you had the strength to overcome this obstacle.

while the rest of your teammates tiptoed around the subject of the sport, chaewon had no reservations. she understood that you wanted to hear about it, knowing that it would fuel your determination to recover.

chaewon eagerly shared practice schedules for the upcoming international tennis tournament, providing detailed accounts of each player's performance. her descriptions were vivid, her words laced with hope for your swift return to the court. she informed you that she's back to playing singles after coach yoo rearranged the team formation.

the accident had occurred at the start of summer, granting you two months to begin the healing process. astonishingly, the hospital's physical therapists marveled at your rapid progress. although you were far from fully recovered, you had made enough strides to move an arm without enduring excruciating pain.

prior to leaving the hospital and heading back to your dorm, after numerous discussions with your parents, dr. chou advised you to consider your second year as a time for recovery. this involved concentrating on both physical and mental healing, as well as working on muscle strength.

while you felt disappointed and angry about the situation, you couldn't deny that she had a point. the reality was that you wouldn't be able to play a significant role on the team this year due to your condition.

by the grace of the universe, your fractured leg was the first bone to mend, given that the brunt of the impact had been absorbed by your arms. it was weak, leaving you reminiscent of a newborn deer attempting its first steps. still, you found consolation in the fact that the wheelchair stint lasted only a month, sparing you from a year-long predicament.

you quietly resolved to make yunjin's upcoming birthday special, a token of gratitude for the times she had pushed you around.

with chaewon's guidance and the support of your friends and teammates, you eased into your recovery year. while the ache of not being able to actively participate in the sport still lingered, you channeled your energy into healing and strengthening. physical therapy sessions became a daily ritual, and each small achievement felt like a victory.

you sat on the bleachers, watching the practice sessions until they wrapped up. the girls had been incredibly supportive and kind throughout your tough journey, and now you wanted to repay their kindness in any way possible.

your second year kicks off with a wonky right leg and arm. writing proves to be nearly impossible, your arm strength is almost nonexistent. walking is equally challenging, as you wobble with every step.

you rely heavily on yunjin, often feeling guilty and apologizing for needing her assistance. however, she consistently dismisses your concerns, assuring you that it isn't a burden and that she's more than happy to help.

you continue to watch the practices. on one occasion, yunjin calls kazuha over for something, leaving you and chaewon by yourselves.

"i hate to ask, but could you assist me in getting back to my dorm? just in case i accidentally fall into a bush," you joke, aiming for a lighthearted tone.

chaewon hesitates, clearly taken aback by your humor in the midst of the situation. then, she breaks into a grin. "absolutely."

it turns into a routine. you join yunjin for classes and practice, where coach yoo has now arranged a shaded area for you. the gesture warms your heart. following practice, chaewon accompanies you back to your dorm, as yunjin and kazuha always seem to have plans afterward.

during the walks back to your dorm, you and chaewon talk about everything and nothing. from the latest updates on your recovery - "how's your left arm coming along?" she inquires.

"it's making progress, not as bad as before, but it's still lagging behind my right," you pause for a beat. "i suppose you could say i'm all-right now," you say, attempting a lighthearted joke.

chaewon narrows her eyes, though a suppressed chuckle escapes. "if you say another joke like that, i might just push you into a bush myself,” she counters with feigned sternness.

to sharing life updates - "do you remember my little sister?" she asks.

"eunchae? the last time i saw her, she was still a baby," you respond, attempting to recall her face.

chaewon nods, a fond smile playing on her lips. "she's a teenager now. a pain in the ass, but i love her." you catch a glint in chaewon's eyes, brimming with affection and admiration.

"that's cute. did something happen with her?" you inquire, struggling to keep up with chaewon's pace. she slows down, matching your steps.

she hesitates for a moment, her gaze averted. "we were video calling the other day, and she asked if i was in a relationship." a hint of exasperation laces chaewon's voice. "teenagers these days are so nosy."

your heart sinks, a surprising wave of disappointment washing over you. why did you even want to know? "well… are you?" you find yourself asking, your curiosity getting the better of you.

chaewon's face flushes with color, her embarrassment evident. "am i what?"

"are you in a relationship?" you muster the courage to ask, your pulse quickening.

chaewon stammers slightly, caught off guard. "no, no. i've been too focused on preparing for the international competition."

you nod in understanding, masking the emotions swirling within you. as you both arrive at the steps of your dorm, you offer a casual, "that's good to know." with those parting words, you turn away, leaving chaewon behind in a state of mild bewilderment and flustered surprise.

while enjoying dinner with yunjin on a weekend without practice, you find a question crossing your mind.

"hey, jin," you begin, capturing her attention.

"what's up?" yunjin responds, her mouth full of food.

"i was wondering, if i were to ask chaewon out on a date, do you think she'd say yes?" you casually inquire.

yunjin chokes on her food, causing you to widen your eyes in alarm. you quickly stand and start patting her back firmly to help her stop coughing.

"holy shit! yunjin, breathe!" you exclaim, continuing to pat her back.

yunjin manages to catch her breath. "i'm fine, i'm fine."

"what was all that about?" you ask, still in shock from witnessing your best friend nearly die.

yunjin tries to calm down after her near-death experience. "it's just, after all our years of friendship, this is my first time hearing you talk about dates or anything close to it."

"so, should i ask her?" you genuinely ask.

yunjin wants to scream. “yes!”

later that night, while you’re in bed, you overhear yunjin on a phone call in the living room.

"zuha, you will not believe this. it's finally happening!" you had no idea what yunjin was talking about.

the qualifiers for the international tennis tournament are just a week away. with the team's departure for france coming soon, their training sessions are intensifying. naturally, you observe it all, your eyes often drawn to chaewon's skilled movements on the court.

you can't help but admire how flawlessly she executes the game. while she started out aggressively on the court during your first year, she has incorporated elements of your gameplay over time. her style has grown more precise and strategic, a testament to her adaptability.

as practice concludes, coach yoo gathers the team for an announcement. "alright, ladies. our flight to france is tomorrow. please ensure you have all the necessary documents. practice is over; you're all free to go."

"y/n, can you hold down the fort for us?" coach yoo whispers to you. you offer her a reassuring smile.

"of course, coach." you would miss witnessing the team's practices, but you understand they are embarking on something significant. there's a faint ache in your heart, the knowledge that you won't partake in the tournament you played a role in securing. yet, through your teammates, you're gradually healing from the emotional aftermath of the accident.

before you get too lost in your thoughts, a tap on your shoulder interrupts you. "ready to head back?" you glance up at the source of the voice, finding chaewon offering her hand to help you up. despite your weak grip, you accept her assistance and manage to rise to your feet.

as you walk home together, your fingers remain intertwined with hers. along the way, she updates you on her life, shares gossip about a girl in her major, and recounts the tale of a cat scratching her face and leaving a scar on her lip.

listening to her stories with your hand in hers, a realization dawns on you. this is it. she's your person—the one you'd willingly give your heart to.

as you reach the steps of your dorm, you take a good look at chaewon. the moonlight delicately traces her features, leaving you breathless. her eyes glisten in the night, putting all the stars in the sky to shame.

"y/n, are you okay?" chaewon questions, still holding onto your hand.

you draw a deep breath, gathering the courage you need. "when you come back from france," you begin, "and after you secure our university a spot in the actual international tournament by winning the qualifiers, go on a date with me."

chaewon stammers, "what?" she's thankful for the night concealing her blush, hoping you won't notice how her cheeks burn.

"go on a date with me, after you win, of course," you smile at her tenderly. "i like you. a lot."

chaewon's mouth hangs open, your hand clasping hers providing a sense of stability. she lightly slaps your right arm, knowing its fragile state. "you can't just say that the day before i leave for another country!" she shields her reddening face with her free hand.

a chuckle escapes you, and you release her hand, already missing its warmth. "good luck, superstar. you're going to do great," you convey sincerely. before you turn and make your way back into your dorm, you lean in and plant a swift peck on her cheek.

for the next five minutes, chaewon stands outside your dorm building, attempting to process the whirlwind of emotions that just transpired.

as you step into your dorm, you're greeted by yunjin, who's frantically packing for the upcoming tournament in france. you offer your assistance, but she insists you need to rest.

while you're getting ready to get into bed, yunjin comes into your room, disrupting the short moment of peace you were enjoying.

yunjin's voice cuts through the air, "can you please enlighten me as to why zuha just called me up, telling me that chaewon has been screaming into her pillow for the past ten minutes?" 

the tennis team would be gone for two weeks. before yunjin's early morning departure, she entered your room, waking you from sleep and sharing a farewell hug. despite the irritation of being woken up at such an early hour, you understood the circumstances and hugged her back, offering your own words of luck.

over these two weeks, your phone is flooded with texts and pictures from the team, sharing their activities, tourist spots they visit, and their meals.

among them, chaewon's messages stand out. she doesn't bring up that night before her departure. instead, she provides updates on the opposing teams, your team's performance, and occasionally sends selfies of her trying on hats and quirky glasses from a tacky souvenir store.

you save each picture, creating a digital album of them all.

you yearned for complete healing, not just physically but also mentally. to achieve that, you knew you had to trace back to the roots of the problem.

on a bright and sunny afternoon, you dial your mother's number. with just a couple of rings, her voice comes through the phone, indicating her swift response.

“hi, honey. is something wrong?” your mother's concern is evident in her voice.

you chuckle at her quick worry. "can't i call my mom just to say hi?"

"you can, but you usually don’t, so forgive me for assuming," she responds with a playful tone.

you share a bit of small talk, catching up on each other's lives. eventually, you bring it up. "i've been considering switching personal coaches."

a momentary silence on your mother's end. "you're not satisfied with coach lim anymore? why?"

you proceed to explain your reasons: his toxic mindset, damaging ideologies, and dehumanizing treatment of his tennis players. while he may have imparted his knowledge of the sport to you, it pales in comparison to the emotional toll he's taken on both you and chaewon.

once you hang up, your mother wastes no time. she calls coach lim and informs him that his services are neither wanted nor needed anymore.

making the decision was undoubtedly difficult. you had been under that man's guidance since your early days in the sport. however, you understood that if you didn't break free sooner or later, the damage inflicted would only continue to grow.

during the two weeks that your team explored france, you found yourself back in dr. chou's office following a physical therapy session. your legs and arms had gained more strength, and the wobbling in your walk had diminished.

"y/n, how did the therapy session go?" dr. chou inquires with genuine concern in her voice.

"it was great, much better than the sessions right after the accident," you reply.

"that's wonderful to hear. how are you feeling?" dr. chou starts jotting down notes on her clipboard.

"i'm feeling significantly stronger. my walking is more stable now, and i've got a better grip with both hands," you honestly report.

dr. chou acknowledges your updates, her expression reflecting amazement. "i must admit, y/n, i've never witnessed such rapid recovery from such a severe accident."

in that moment, a glimmer of hope shines through.

"given the pace of your progress, i can project that you'll likely be back on the court around the middle of your third year if you continue with physical therapy and maintain your exercise regimen," dr. chou continues, offering more insights. however, your attention wavers, and tears quietly well up in your eyes.

following the agony and pain you faced from every single aspect, this present moment reveals the dream that seemed unattainable during your time in the hospital bed.

you waste no time in reaching out to your parents, eager to share the incredible development. their voices tremble with happiness over the phone, and your own emotions overflow, manifesting in tears of joy that you all share.

amid this heartfelt conversation, you make a silent decision to hold off on spreading the news to the team until their return from france, wanting to deliver it face-to-face when they return.

it’s 2 am and you're peacefully enveloped in the comfort of your warm bed, lost in deep slumber. the sudden buzzes from your phone jolt you awake, prompting a frustrated groan as you're reluctantly pulled from your restful sleep. with a reluctant glance at your phone, annoyance gives way to a rush of emotion. your heart quickens its pace, an involuntary fluttering as your lips curve into a widening smile.

text from: kim chaewon

you owe me a date

the team returns from france with victory under their belt. they've earned their place in the international collegiate tennis tournament set for two months down the road in the united states. when yunjin returns, you give her a massive hug, surprising her with your newfound strength.

amidst the tears of joy and celebration, you believe yunjin's tears might be because of the tournament win. but you're unaware that her tears are actually about you, about the slow return of strength to your once-broken arms.

you gather with the rest of the team as coach yoo calls everyone into a university room for an early morning meeting. it begins with rounds of congratulations, the team sharing tales of their time in france as both tourists and athletes in the tournament.

gradually, the atmosphere shifts to a more solemn tone as coach yoo delves into the rigorous training regimen to prepare for the upcoming international competition.

as the meeting draws to a close, coach yoo extends her gratitude to the team. "congratulations once again, ladies. while there's still a demanding journey ahead, we've come a long way and accomplished great things. let's continue pushing forward!" the room resonates with the team's spirited cheers, carried by coach yoo's motivating words.

"don't forget! victory party at my place tomorrow night," your captain, sakura, announces, eliciting even louder cheers from everyone.

"excuse me, coach," you speak softly, aiming not to disrupt the room's heightened atmosphere. all conversations halt, and all eyes turn to you, causing a twinge of embarrassment to sweep over you.

coach yoo's gaze fixes on you. "yes, y/n?"

"i'll be back on the court next year." the room falls so hushed that even the slightest sound could echo like a thunderclap. "my doctor confirmed it. she mentioned i'll be able to play again by the middle of my third year."

the following moments blur together, all you register are the joyful cheers and the flurry of hugs enveloping you. during the excitement, you catch sight of coach yoo's proud smile.

"jin, go ahead without me. i need to sort something out real quick," you inform your best friend while she gathers her belongings, getting ready to return to the dorm.

yunjin raises an eyebrow at you. "you could just say you want to talk with chaewon and go on a date with her. no need to lie," she says, rolling her eyes in amusement before waving you off.

"i think you owe me something," a voice chimes from behind you. you turn and find chaewon standing there.

with everyone else having already departed for their dorms or homes, the two of you are left alone. it's the first time you've spoken since her return from the tournament.

you don't reply. instead, you step closer, drawing her into a warm embrace. you hope she senses the depth of your emotions that words often fall short of expressing: happiness that she's back, relief that you could play again, and the overall joy you have for the entire team.

"i missed you," you murmur into the curve of her neck. heat rises to chaewon's face, and you can almost feel her heart beating against your own.

"stop being cheesy, it's just been two weeks," she retorts, yet her actions betray her words as she pulls you into a tighter embrace.

you let go of her and extend your arm towards her, offering your hand to hold. “let’s go on a date, shall we?” she gives your shoulder a light punch before taking your hand. 

you invested a significant amount of time brainstorming the ideal date concept for chaewon. you wanted something more exciting than a regular dinner but not overly grand, knowing chaewon would've hated that. the thought of a sunset picnic on a hill with a beautiful view under a shady tree came to mind and felt just right.

"you're not kidnapping me and taking me to the middle of nowhere just to kill me, right?" chaewon jests from the passenger seat of yunjin's car, generously lent for the occasion.

"don't start giving me ideas," you quip, your focus on the road. one hand is on the steering wheel while the other rests between you and chaewon, your fingers intertwined with hers. you feel her tracing gentle patterns on the back of your hand.

the remainder of the drive to your destination passes in silence, the simple pleasure of each other's company and the music filling the car. upon arrival, you park and move to open the trunk, retrieving the picnic essentials: a basket, a blanket, and a bouquet of flowers.

"here." you extend the flowers to chaewon as you both make yourselves comfortable on the blanket.

her eyebrow arches slightly. "and what's the occasion?"

"well, it's a date, isn't it?" you offer your reasoning with a playful grin. your words elicit a warm laugh from her, a sound that adds to the enchantment of the moment.

under the sheltering branches of a towering oak tree, you and chaewon find your secluded haven. the air is filled with a soft, balmy breeze that carries the scent of blooming flowers. the golden hues of the sunset cascade over the landscape.

the sky is a canvas painted with warm shades of pink, orange, and lavender, creating a breathtaking backdrop for your picnic. the fading sunlight casts a gentle glow over chaewon's features, highlighting the subtle flush on her cheeks. her eyes sparkle with a mixture of excitement and contentment, mirroring the serene beauty of the scene before you.

as you both share bites of food, your laughter mingles with the soothing rustle of leaves overhead. playful banter dances between you, accompanied by shared smiles. with each passing moment, the cares of the world seem to fade away, leaving only the company of each other and the beauty of the present.

the moon has ascended high in the sky, and the picnic basket now sits empty beside you. both you and chaewon lean against a tree, your head finding a comfortable resting place on her shoulder.

"don't you think it's crazy?" chaewon's voice pierces the quiet around you.

"what?" you respond.

chaewon lapses into silence for a moment. "just everything, really. i mean, our journey. we started out under that... monster, our childhoods and youth stripped away."

"now, we're with coach yoo. i can't even begin to describe how much happier i am under her guidance. she's made me fall even more in love with the sport," chaewon admits, her words brimming with admiration.

you share the sentiment wholeheartedly. coach yoo is the antithesis of coach lim—equally ambitious and disciplined but also kind and empathetic. she views her athletes as individuals, not mere machines.

"don't tell me you have a crush on coach yoo now," you tease, provoking a laugh from her.

"please, don't be ridiculous. i'm just grateful," chaewon counters. you echo her sentiment. "you know, i never actually hated you."

lifting your head from her shoulder, you turn to fully face her. "where's this coming from?"

"just something i wanted to say. i've realized that while i've said hurtful things to you before, i don't think i truly meant them," chaewon confesses. "i think my own hurt and resentment towards coach lim made me misdirect my frustrations onto you."

"i think i can relate," you admit, your voice carrying a weight of shared experience. "he used to constantly compare me to you, and it cut deep. i thought i was harboring anger towards you, but it was him who fueled my anger and resentment, not you," you confess.

the two of you are now facing each other, still seated on the blanket. chaewon reaches for your hands, her touch both comforting and affirming. "i'm proud of us," she says, her gaze intense as she looks into your eyes. "we've come so far, and we've managed to heal from his influence." her voice is resolute.

with a tender gesture, she cups your cheek, her thumb gently wiping away a stray tear that had escaped your notice. "i'm especially proud of you," she continues, sincerity evident in her words. "you not only survived a car accident but also managed to recover in record time. you could have given up, but you didn't."

her touch and words hold a deep sense of reassurance. "you've made it this far, y/n. you've overcome challenges that most people would have simply given up on."

"thank you," you whisper, your voice carrying a mix of gratitude and emotion. you lean in, placing your forehead gently against hers, savoring this almost cinematic moment between the two of you.

beneath the soft moonlight, chaewon's voice barely reaches you. "i can't just say that i like you too," she starts, and you open your eyes, surprise evident on your face.

her hands still cradle your cheeks with a delicate touch, her thumbs gently brushing against your skin. "this feeling inside me goes beyond that," she continues, her voice carrying a sense of sincerity that resonates within you.

then, in a whisper barely louder than the rustling leaves, she confesses, "i love you, y/n."

"when i'm with you like this, it feels like everything's in the right place. like all the things i've been through were worth it, just to be with you.” chaewon pauses, seeking an answer in your eyes.

your heart's a jumble of emotions. you're on an emotional rollercoaster, uncertain where to land.

in the middle of the swirling sea of emotions within you, one truth shines like a guiding star: it’s her, only her.

“i thought you hated corny stuff,” you joke quietly, earning a soft chuckle from her.

her fingers graze your cheek, her touch feather-light yet electrifying. "i might hate corny stuff," she murmurs, her voice a mere whisper, "but i love you." and with that, her lips meet yours in a kiss that carries all the warmth, fondness, and hidden desires that have been swirling between you both.

her lips, soft and inviting, meld against yours with seamless grace—perfectly fitting against yours as if they were destined to be there. as your kiss deepens, you're aware of her hands gently shifting from your face to your neck, a subtle yet powerful gesture that speaks of her desire to draw you even closer to her. with each press, a spark of warmth ignites within you, spreading like wildfire through your veins.

you gently rest your hands on the sides of her waist, bridging the nonexistent gap between you two. your fingers trace along her sides, eliciting a soft sigh from her.

your senses intensify, capturing every detail: the subtle taste of her lingering lip balm, the synchronized rhythm of your heartbeats, and the gentle graze of her fingers against the nape of your neck.

you both ease back, the need for air breaking the connection, but your foreheads remain gently pressed together. "i love you too," you confess, witnessing a burden being lifted from chaewon's shoulders.

tears gather in chaewon's eyes. "good," she murmurs, then lets out a laugh infused with happiness.

a short silence envelops you before she breaks it. "you know, yunjin and kazuha made a bet on when we'd finally admit it to each other."

the following day, the two of you arrive at sakura's house hand in hand, your fingers interlaced. your teammates exchange knowing glances among themselves, a silent understanding passing between them. you make a mental note to address that curiosity on a different occasion.

coach yoo graces the victory party with her presence before things become too lively. just before she departs, she approaches both of you with a sly smile. "so, who said it first?"

you and chaewon share a puzzled glance, a momentary confusion crossing your features. nevertheless, you respond, "technically, i admitted that i liked her first, but she said 'i love you' first."

as the words hang in the air, a mixture of groans and cheers erupts from your teammates, their reactions varying from exasperation to celebration.

"i told you all y/n would confess first!" coach yoo announces triumphantly to the team.

you're left speechless, realizing even your coach had placed bets on you and chaewon. coach yoo departs with a knowing smile and a few extra dollars in her pocket.

you step away from chaewon to give her some time to socialize, and you join yunjin to catch up. after a warm hug with yunjin, you make your way upstairs to the balcony, seeking a breath of fresh air. the view from the balcony showcases the campus, its close proximity to the university apparent.

you gaze at the tennis courts in the distance, a mixture of emotions swirling within you. so much has unfolded, and though the future remains uncertain, you're not overly concerned.

your affection for the sport endures, but you've come to understand that your identity encompasses more than just your skill in a sport. with the support of your teammates, chaewon, and your family, you've embraced this realization.

you're pulled from your thoughts by the sensation of arms gently encircling your waist, and a chin resting on your shoulder.

"hey," chaewon whispers, her voice tickling your ear. "what are you doing up here? i missed you."

turning to face her, you lay your hands on top of hers. "just needed some fresh air. didn't know you'd be this clingy," you tease.

"shut up," she retorts, nestling her head against your neck.

a chuckle escapes you as you pull her into a tighter embrace. "the international tennis championship is coming up in a few months. you'll win, right?" you ask playfully, avoiding putting any more pressure on her.

but chaewon is chaewon, never one to shy away from a challenge. "of course, i will," she replies, drawing back to meet your gaze. "and our third year is approaching. you'll be back on the court, better than ever, won't you?" her tone matches the one you used earlier.

confidence brims in your response. "absolutely."

while your recovery is ongoing, you're farther along than anyone expected. with chaewon beside you, you have full assurance in your ability to conquer any challenges that lie ahead.

the seeds of resentment and bitterness that once existed have now blossomed into a garden of genuine love and admiration.

"i love you," chaewon declares, planting a gentle kiss on your lips. "so much."

"and here you were always giving me a hard time for being cheesy," you retort with a grin.

she playfully nudges you away, but you maintain your grip on her hips. "whatever.”

laughter rings out. this is it, the feeling that no trophy or title can match.

"i love you so much more, chaewon."

additional notes: could this have been done with fewer words? yes. but am i insane? also yes. in all seriousness, this is quite a long piece. if you’ve made it this far and read it all, i can’t begin to express how grateful i am that you gave my work a chance. i wanted to bring this fic to life just as i envisioned, which is why the word count might seem hefty for a one-shot. please let me know what you think by either leaving a comment or sending your thoughts through an ask! can y’all tell i never got over izone? did anyone notice the twice cameos? i just want to clarify that coach lim is not nayeon!  thank you one again for reading!

[tamayakii]

Mare's Milk & Cider

warnings: drinking(reader has no specific age), story takes place in "second of his name" during Aegon's II celebrations, canon events basically. pairings: Otto Hightower x reader(can be seen as platonic/romantic), hotd x reader notes: thank you Aaliah, @genshinluvr, she helped me out with the ending!!! Let me know if you'd like to be in a tag list for this fic :) this fic is also paired up with this drawing i made!

“Then it lies with you, to make him see it.” Hobert advised, stepping closer to his younger brother, “Lord Hand” It did not go under Otto’s nose of what his brother was suggesting, reminding him of his own title.

His eyes never leave Hoberts as he considers his brothers' words, “and speaking of growing,” Otto follows Hoberts's moving gaze to the Princess, Angel of The Red Keep, adorned in a headdress with a long silk veil, dragons and stars embroidered in. Face decorated in Velaryon pearls, neck and fingers embellished with the finest green rubies, jades and agate the Hightowers could find.

“The fine lady y/n has grown to be a wondrous young woman, hasn’t she?” Hobert eyes do not hold simple admiration for a young girl grown, they hold more, and they contain something that Otto wants to snuff out with his bare hands.

“She is betrothed?” Hobert asks, looking back at his brother. “A fine woman like that cannot go un-married for long. With her and Rhaenrya combined, I can imagine the king's chambers are filled with betrothal letters.” Otto looks back at the Princess, watching as she plays with her new baby brother, covering her face and pulling her hands away quickly.

“A fine mother she will make as well, Aegon loves her.” The comment almost makes Otto snap, the thought of anyone being her husband or the father to her children makes a fire burst inside him. One Otto cannot explain reasonably, so he stifles it.

“She.. is not betrothed, Brother, I don’t think the King has any interest in marrying her off,” Otto answers, his lips tightening when his brother looks at him with a smirk. A near-knowing one that always made Otto furious since childhood.

“The king, or you?” Hobert quips, smirk widening when Otto’s face scrunches, nostrils flaring and wrinkles deepening. Hobert pats his shoulder as he begins to walk away, satisfied to get under his brother's skin.

No. Lady y/n shall not betrothed. Otto thinks, especially not to the likes of his brother. He watches as she laughs, throwing her head back and hand over her heart. Nothing, nothing could compare to her.

She steps away as the Lannister boy steps in, talking about the stepstones. She treats herself to the glorious spread on the table, picking out ham and grapes, plate barely complete- Otto steps in.

“Please, My Lady, have more” He helps fill her plate, and she shakes her head,

“You’re so sweet, Ser Otto, but i don’t think i can handle it. I am trying to watch my waist.” She responds, in a honey-sweet voice, one that cradles his entire being but her words make him roll his eyes.

“Treat yourself, My lady, we do not wish you to starve on such a good day. Now go ahead; eat before the long journey” Soon Viserys is at her side, like a dragon protecting its kin. All it takes is one look to make Otto step away,

“Come eat.” The king demands, “Fortify yourselves for the journey.” Otto watches her, keeping by her father’s side; Like a lamb to its mother. She looks over her shoulder and smiles at him--

☾

The trip to Kingswood is long and cold. Hand intertwined with Rhaenrya’s as you arrive, the loud crowd applauding for the king and new prince’s arrival but Rhaenrya makes no move to depart from the carriage.

“Rhaenrya?” Whispering as you scooch closer to the princess, “They await to see you” Still unmoving, all she does is blink. “Come.” standing up and pulling her along, “We will go together.” You step out of the carriage, with the princess alongside you.

“The Realms Delight herself; Princess Rhaenrya of Dragonstone! Accompanied by Princess y/n, Angel of The Red Keep!!” You squeeze her hand, looking at her. She looks at you with a somber smile, squeezing your hand back.

The roar of the crowd could blow you back, it will never not be jarring to be reminded of your station. A Princess. Not by blood but by word, and who would tell the king no? Who would dare say to King Viserys that his second daughter, whom his own late lady wife believed she had birthed her, cannot be a princess?

The celebrations are grand, the finest cakes and delights, the meat freshly hunted and prepared before your eyes. At your father's request, you stayed by his side, forcing you to leave Rhaenrya.

The glorious tent is filled with laughter and talk, and the smell of wine and cake fills your nose. Looking over to where the pregnant Queen Alicent sits, you realize she has been staring at you. You offer her a smile and she too offers one back.

Settling back into your chair, crossing your hands on your lap as you look above. Looking into the tiny details of the royal tent, the golden threads woven with black.

“Tired, my dragonling?” Viserys looks at you, reaching his free hand to yours- the other holding a goblet of wine. You reach over and hold his hand, As soon as he questions you, a yawn tries to force its way to your throat.

“The ride was tiring and too long for my tastes but--” you look to your father with a reassuring smile, “I shall be okay, After some food and rest, I'll be okay” he smiles back at you before taking another drink from his goblet.

Soon enough you’re offered your own goblet, filled with mare’s milk and honey. Time passes by slowly, you blink once and your father isn’t by your side anymore, It seems no one has noticed you dozed off. You promise yourself you won’t fall asleep but as you close your eyes and your goblet tips in your weak hand; the promise is broken.

“Is that all I am to you? A prize to be proffer about to the great houses?” Rhaenrya's voice makes you jump out of your short slumber, eyes wide like a deer as you begin to process the situation. As Viserys steps towards Rhaenrya, you push yourself out of your seat, setting your goblet down on the table beside you.

“You’re of age, Rhaenrya,” he points out, “and Jason Lannister is an excellent match,” he adds on. Oh. Oh no. Stepping towards the pair they seem not to notice you, there was no smooth way to stop this bickering. The two argue every day at least ever since Queen Aemma passed and especially since Viserys took Alicent to wife.

“He’s arrogant and self-serious” Rhaenrya argued, You wring your hands together anxiously. Watching the two fight as a bystander was like watching two lions fight, watching them as their family felt like two dragons fighting overhead. All that would follow would be the destruction of varying amounts that was left for you to pick up and fix, being both of their shoulders to lean on.

“Well, I thought you might have that in common” Even Lord Lyonel could feel the suffocating air around the two, taking a third step back. Sending you an apologetic look, the face Rhaenrya has is indescribable. Perhaps she wanted to scream at him, or even shocked that he would say such a thing, or maybe she had been at a loss for words.

Otto stalks closer from the sidelines, watching closely. This catches your eye, you try to breathe; knowing he is here comforts you. For nearly three years now, he has been your aid, your comfort and your closest friend- even despite the large age gap. You realize the tent has now fallen silent, and everyone listening in.

You quickly step to Otto’s side, seeking his silent comfort. You wish you could fix everything, and make everyone happy; even if it left your hands raw and bloody. If you could give your own heart for it; then you’d do it.

“Even I do not exist above tradition and duty, Rhaenrya!!” You cover your ears quickly, eyes wide with fear. Turning your body away from them, you began to feel violently aware of everyone's eyes on your family, some on you but mainly on the spectacle; The King and The Heir fighting on Aegon’s second name day.

When Viserys turns to Otto what he sees makes his flesh burn; You. So very close to Otto but turned away from him- Your father. It makes his blood boil, you should seek comfort from him. Not Ser Otto. You are his daughter. Not Otto’s.

Viserys soon leaves after the news of the white hart, but Otto stays, just for a moment. His gloved hand sitting on your shoulder, a reassuring hold. Your breath is shaky and your chest tight but you still manage to look at him through your eyelashes,

“Breathe, Princess.” He insists, and he maneuvers you towards your seat. Hand traversing to your lower back, “Sit and have some milk.” He gently puts your goblet back in your hand as you seat yourself. Feeble hands grip the handle, eyes drawn to the floor.

Otto tries to find the right words, he has never been a man of comfort. His hand hovers over your dropped head, unbeknownst to you. He sighs and takes his leave, passing his goblet to a maiden.

The day gets longer, Rhaenrya has run off with Criston following behind her. You knew it was against your set rules but you sank into your cups, after whispering to the help to fill your cups with cider but to not tell anyone else.

Your eyelids get heavy again, head tipping back. You love your family, you do. They took you in as a child, they gave you everything even despite the tight rules provided, sometimes… sometimes you wish that you took to a dragon and flew. Flew somewhere, to old Valryia or maybe to the free cities.

Then you’d be free.. but never truly free. Your love ties you down to your loved ones but that is the consequence of loving hard. Looking down into your cup, you swirl your drink. Taking a deep breath you look back to Alicent, she is already looking at you.

You wonder how long she has been staring at you and you tilt your head, she gestures for you to sit next to her. Another sigh leaves your mouth, slowly pushing yourself up.

“oh! princess, here allow me to help!” a maiden comes to your side, you wave her off as you give her the empty goblet. You keep your steps slow so as to not wobble, to others; you looked like you were gliding.

“My Queen.” you address as you sit beside her, Alicent quickly holds your hand closest to her. You are surrounded by the lady wives of many different men along with Larys Strong, the son of Lyonel Strong, the brother of Harwin “Breakbones” Strong.

“This is Viserys’s other daughter, Princess y/n” Remembering to keep your eyes open, you look around with a smile. “Dear y/n, how’s your day? you seem awfully tired.” Alicent asks with concern, one hand on her belly and other on your hand as she leans closer.

“I’m quite fine.” you mumble back, fighting your heavy lids as you nod. “The day is long… but soon we shall dine and turn in for the night.”

The conversations bore you, useless politics, rumors, marriages of lower houses. You wave over another servant with a sigh, already they know what you want. They deliver it, you try to hide the contents from Alicent but she notices.

“Cider?” She whispers tightly, holding the wrist that holds your goblet. Your nose flexes, “You know you cannot handle that.” She states, “a maiden your age shouldn’t even be holding a cup of cider.”

The rest of the ladies converse, and you are unbeknownst to another set of eyes on you. “Please. I will be fine.” you whisper, patting her hand and prying her tiny fingers off.

You take another big swig of your cider, almost finishing it all in one go. Looking over to Larys who has nearly burned holes into your head, nodding at him as a greeting.

“La-Larys.” you slur and he smiles at you, and you return it with a half one. The sudden need for fresh air sits in your lungs, eating you like a snake does a vole. Chugging your drink before shoving it in between the cushions of the seat, you stand up.

“I’m.. gonna go get some fresh air.” You announced, trying to make your way out of the once lovely group of women who now seem like a horde of gossiping vultures.

“Oh!” Lady Redwyne pops, “I heard that the hunters found a fat hog, they should be smoking it just now!”

The thought of watching them gut a pig to smoke makes your stomach turn, “thanks.. Lady Redwyne” You hurry out of the tent, the sun shining upon your skin. The pungent smell of burning meat and spices hits you, quickly turning away and scurrying to the back of the tent- where it was closer to the forest edge.

“ugh…. fuck.” You groan, kicking the dirt below you, the cider sticks to your insides like jam to bread. You ache to be in the comforts of the red keep, painting, or perhaps riding on horseback. You ache for a lot of things. Ache for the motherly hands of Aemma, to feel the embrace of someone you refuse to let yourself say. Perhaps you ache for the unmade.

You stand there, for minutes. Just staring into the bushes and trees, the arrival of the hunting party brings you back. Smoothing down the white lace on your dress, gulping down the fresh forest air; you return to the celebrations.

“Princess?” a feeble voice calls out, you look around and are surprised to see Larys.

“O-oh! Larys.. Larys, you surprised me.” You turn to the man hunched over his walking cane, leaning onto it. “How have you enjoyed my brother's second name day?” you ask, almost swallowing your tongue.

“it has been fine.. not that i can enjoy the most of it.” He moves his twisted foot, something that has dubbed him “The clubfoot” among gossipers. “But to be honest, i think i prefer talking with the maidens.” he adds, “they are far more gentler”

You nod along, eyes flickering over to the hunting party. Dogs held right by handlers, horses snorting and throwing their heads back as their riders dismount.

“But you..” he continues on “seem to be left to your own,” You still and wrong your hands together. Adjusting your stance as you feel yourself leaning, telling yourself to keep yourself together.

“Yes.. but it’s okay, I don't… don’t mind.” You reassure,

“I’m sure the cups of cider helped.” he smirks, knowing, your face flushed. How did he know? noticing your red face he chuckles,

“not to worry, Princess. I shall not tell anyone.” His eyes never leave yours, following your finicky gaze. It makes you uncomfortable, like a child being examined.

“I suppose it’s not-“

“You shall not tell anyone, what?”

you almost jump out of your skin, you turn so quickly that your head may have spun all around. Otto stands tall, chin up. Almost looking down upon Larys,

“Ser Otto” Larys addresses, if Larys was scared, he made no effort to show it. Your heart beats against your chest, “She was telling me a story; about Aegon.” You try to catch up to where Larys was, but he seemed to be a whole book ahead.

“ye… yes!” you stammer over words, “i uh, guess you could say i spoiled him despite Alicent request.” Otto's hard eyes soften when they land on you, it was a siren's song to your intoxicated state.

“The princess should be with the king.” Otto says, he offers you his arm and you reach for it.

“I was keeping the Princess company as she enjoyed the fresh air.” Larys explains, “She felt a bit queasy. I guess the mares' milk may have gone bad.” Otto looks down at your averted gaze, examining your state. Shuffling in your stance, flickering eyelids and subtle swaying.

“I see, I will look into that.” Otto puts his hand over yours, a grip to keep you near- not to comfort. “Come on, Princess.” He tries to walk you back, you step on your own foot as he does so.

“I think the princess would like to enjoy the fresh air longer.” Larys turns slowly, looking dead in Otto's eyes.

“The king has requested her presence” Otto's grip tightens, his nostrils flare. “but you can enjoy the air if you wish. I’m sure you won’t be bothered” Larys watches Otto lead you off into the tent, eyes never leaving you.

Entering the red tent filled with dozens of folk and your father right ahead, your sister is nowhere to be seen. You want to go home, you want to lie in your warm bed with Rhaenrya and wake up to braid each other's hair.

Soon you’re back in your chair, holding Viserys’ hand and Otto to your left. You stare off, taking a deep breath.

You would always be in the jaws of someone bigger, the dragons or the hounds. You’d bare your neck like a lamb, and hope for the dark delicate love.

Entwined in other people’s fate, all you can hope is that the fates bring you peace.

[tulipfantasies]

night on the town ✩ n.romanoff

pairing; natasha romanoff x fem!reader

summary; a simple night on the town leads to the discoveration of pain and addiction.

characters; (mentions) og 6 and a woman named maria (not hill).

warnings; 16+ (just to be safe), use of alcohol and cigarettes, (mentions) underage smoking, (mentions) addiction, (mentions) natasha's past at the red room, (mild) swearing, (mild) jealous r, nat is ooc again, (minor) angst and fluff. 

my notes;  please, if any of the topics in bold make you uncomfortable or trigger you, do not read onwards. i don't want to upset anyone so consider it your warning. i don't think i like this one. can anyone spot the small pop culture reference??

word count; 2.6k ao3

A ‘simple night on the town’ turns into 1:04 am. 

The entire length of the streets of New York was bathed in a soft amber glow, all thanks to the street lights that were situated on every corner of the Avenues. 

Midtown, or at least the side you all find yourselves on, was eerily calm given the environment (and the atmosphere hidden on the inside) that was nestled amongst the usually busy streets.

No car horns were heard for miles on end.

For the middle of spring, the air was bitterly cold yet so freeing. In stark contrast to the air behind the secured doors, which was heavy and suffocating.

Tony, among one of his genius plans, had decided that you all deserved to take a break from your demanding and life-saving lives.

He described it as a ‘simple night out on the town’, but we all know that in Tony’s dictionary, that was an excuse for him to get shit-faced. 

So, naturally, you all tagged along to keep him out of trouble and to have a little fun yourselves.

Who could pass up a free drink and the chance to unwind anyway?

Now, none of the team members that tagged along were anywhere in sight except for those who were strictly keeping sober or physically couldn’t get drunk.

The sensible ones.

The only remaining ones were around the table in the VIP booth that Tony rented in the club.

2:45 am.

It’s been 1 hour and 41 minutes since you last saw her dancing with some brunette, who has definitely drunk more than the legal requirement.

Desperate.

1 hour and 41 minutes of scanning through the hot and heavy crowd in search of a single sign that she was still dancing with the brunette or getting another drink at the bar.

None. 

“Y/n? Where are you going?” Steve’s voice calls out over the booming music as he watches you snatch your phone from off the table impatiently.

“Need fresh air.” You reply hastily before throwing a small smile over your shoulder and in his direction.

“She’s going to find Nat,” Clint’s voice could just about be heard over the music as he was talking to Steve and you were walking further away. “Like always.”

The music was practically deafening to the ears; the last thing on a drunken mind was the volume of the music.

Sex and more alcohol always are. 

You were just silently thanking yourself that you had entered the club with a lot more self-control and had only ended up getting tipsy this time around.

Unlike Tony who was completely shit-faced.

Pushing through the thick sea of plastered couples (who were dancing in a way that was even too much for you) was a task in itself but you finally managed to reach the front doors to the club.

Soft, yet bright, light was emitted in your direction causing you to wince. 

You let out a large sigh of relief the further away you stumble from the raging nightclub, random shot glass in hand, and into the bitter air that pierced the exposed skin on your arms and legs.

A small shiver runs down your spine.

“Fancy seeing you here,” A sultry voice brings your, slightly blurred, attention away from the empty shot glass in your hand and toward the direction where it came from.

The dimly lit alleyway. “Got tired of being in there?”

“Nat!” You exclaim in relief as you slowly make your way over toward the alleyway. “There you are, I’ve been looking for you for like the past hour.”

The closer you reach her, the more of her outline you can make out.

She’s leaning up against the masonry while nursing a half-empty bottle of tequila (or vodka, it was too dark to make it out) in one hand and a lit cigarette in between her index finger and middle finger on her other.

A dangerous combo for a dangerous woman.

“I’ve been out here the entire time, detka.”

“Oh? With that brunette who was all over you like some desperate-”

“Careful now,” She cuts your words off with a smug grin and a tsk sound. “You had a lot to drink, detka?”

“Uh, yeah, a few but I’m not drunk like Tony.” You reply as you make a move to lean up against the wall opposite to her.

No other words were spoken as she raised the cigarette to her lips to take a long drag. 

Drag after drag, she slowly puffs the lethal smoke out towards the right of her while she makes sure that not once does she take her emerald gaze from off of you.

It was an intense gaze.

“But that’s beside my point, who the hell was that brunette dancing with you?” You ask abruptly with a raised brow. She chuckles in amusement at your clear jealousy. “Because she was getting way too cosy with you.”

“No one important, just someone who drunkenly came up and started dancing with me,” Natasha replies as if it never bothered her because it didn’t bother her. “Think she said her name was Maria or something.” 

Maria. “Hm, you seemed to get pretty handsy with her, do you like her?”

“Where’s all this jealousy coming from, Y/n/n?” She asks in an amused tone which is followed by a chuckle. Oh, she was enjoying this. “To be fair, it’s amusing seeing you go all green over some random girl, especially one I don’t know or have an interest in.”

“Y’know, I’d rather not discuss it.” You say, brushing off her question and ignoring her comment as you turn to face away from her so she can’t see you roll your eyes.

There’s a pregnant pause before you clear your throat and look back toward her with a slightly softened gaze.

The cigarette remains firmly pressed in between her fingers.

“Have you always smoked?” You ask, to change the subject, as you fold your arms over your chest.

Natasha doesn't reply straight away but takes another drag.

She drops the remaining bit of her cigarette onto the ground so that she can stamp harshly on it, with the sole of her shoe, just to make sure that it’s out.

“Mhm,” she hums with a shrug of her shoulders. “Just kept it to myself, I guess.”

Taking your bottom lip in between your upper front teeth, you nervously chew on it as she leans forward to slip the shot glass from out of your hand and into hers.

Without any sounds, she lets the clear liquid trickle out of the bottle and into the shot glass before gently handing it back to you.

You bring the rim of the shot glass to your lips before knocking it back in one go. Straight tequila. 

“Oh, god, that’s tequila.” You state in a strained voice and with a noticeable grimace as the liquid burns the back of your throat.

Natasha chuckles at the sight of your grimace before smiling softly as you clear your throat. “You okay there, detka?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You reply before sighing and reaching up to give your temple a quick but firm rub. “You know smoking is bad for your lungs, right? And besides, what are you out here drinking tequila straight for?”

With her fingers curled around the neck of the tequila bottle, she brings the rim of the bottle up to her lips intending to tip it back to take another swig.

But she doesn’t. 

“You only get one chance in life, detka,” she replies nonchalantly, ignoring your second question, before finally taking a swig of the alcohol. “I’ve learnt that the hard way.”

Given what she was forced to witness and trained into doing while growing up, it made some sense for her to be wishing away her life like this.

That amount of trauma is often immovable and can only be numbed by the effects of drugs and alcohol.

The Red Room raised those girls into being their bloodthirsty puppets, the ones who were forced to believe that they had no place in the world and yet here Natasha is, with her foot in the world, throwing it all away just to numb her feelings.

You never really know what you’ve got until it's too late.

The thought of going through what she had growing up made your skin crawl.

“How long have you been smoking for?” You ask cautiously as you stare at the redhead who lets out a long sigh.

From that sigh alone, you can tell it wasn’t a habit that she had recently picked up. 

“Listen, I didn’t come out to get interrogated about my unhealthy habits, so just drop it, alright?” She defends herself before she extends the neck of the bottle back over to you.

You decline with a shake of your head.

One shot of tequila is enough. You can’t stomach anymore tonight.

“How long have you been smoking, Nat?”

She lets out a defeated sigh. “Not sure. Since I was, like, 14 or 15.”

You would say that you’re surprised to hear that she’s been smoking so young but by the looks of it, smoking has become an unhealthy coping mechanism for the shit life she’s got.

You just wish it wasn’t her that was suffering like this.

“A cigarette is the least of my worries.” She replies with a shrug before closing her eyes to relive the memory.

“They drugged me with all kinds of things in the Red Room so I added to it by stealing a cigarette from a packet in a guard’s pocket. I can still remember getting in trouble now.”

Silence comes from her end as her gaze flickers down to the squashed cigarette on the floor before glancing back up at you, who peacefully analyses her.

She can’t stop.

“And it’s turned into a habit that you now can’t break.”

“Yeah, I guess you could put it that way.” 

“Does smoking and drinking like this at least make you feel better?” You ask curiously but cautiously.

When it comes to Natasha, you have to choose your words carefully.

Natasha doesn’t let her guard down around anyone yet here she was, in a dingy alleyway, letting you see the regret and pain shining in her eyes.

No, it doesn’t.

Your heart aches for her; all the cigarettes and alcohol that she’s taken over the years (outside and inside of you knowing her) haven’t numbed the pain in the way she hoped it would.

It just put her at ease for a certain amount of time.

“Oh, Tasha.” 

She doesn’t say anything else but instead, her gaze flickers away from your eyes (which she always finds herself lost in) and down to your soft-shaped lips.

So kissable. 

She could practically taste the bitterness and sweetness of the alcohol on the tip of her tongue.

At that moment, she knew that she wanted, no, needed to kiss you more than ever. 

Without any hesitation, she takes a step toward you so she can place her hands on your hips (despite still holding onto the bottle) so she can gently tug your back away from the masonry.

Her blurry gaze rests on your lips, memorising the shape and softness of them before she dips her head down slightly.

Her lips were inches away from yours. 

“Nat-”

“-Shut up and let me kiss you.” She growled before pulling you in closer so that her hot breath was fanning against your lips. 

The moment her lips crash against yours, your hands instinctively reach up to comb through her soft red locks.

She tastes like 5 different alcohols and nicotine all in one go; normally you’re not into that but, right now, you crave her. 

You didn’t want her to break the kiss any time soon but she did and instead of moving away from you, she rested her forehead against hers.

The both of you were panting softly.

“Are you addicted to them?” You whisper as your hands drop from her hair and down to cup her rosy cheeks. “The way they make you feel numb or how they make you act?”

Her forehead drops against yours as her head hangs low and the warmth her body was radiating disappears as she takes a step back from you.

A small nod confirms everything you need to know.

She’s addicted.

She stares at you as she extends her arm out so that she can carelessly throw the empty bottle of tequila as far away from her as possible.

Your grip on your shot glass loosens so the shattering noise rippling through the alleyway increases just like the pile of glass shards.

“I–I don’t know how to stop.” 

The alcohol in her system has weakened the walls she put up for her protection to the point where they were trembling.

“You’ll be okay. Everything will be okay.”

You take a short step toward her to go back to gently cupping her cheeks in your soft hands.

She leans into your touch as a thick singular tear rolls down her cheek. 

Here she was, standing in front of you, looking vulnerable and broken. And boy, did the people of her past break her.

“I want to stop. I do but I can’t.” She admits in a soft tone as if she is worried about other people hearing her. “I’ve tried so many times.”

The glass shards crunch under your footing as you drop your touch on her cheeks to wrap your arms around her torso.

She instantly wraps her arms around you in return. 

“I promise you, I am going to help you out of this.” You whisper your promise as she buries her head into the crook of your neck.

You’re wearing the perfume that drives her crazy.

It felt as if your promise was empty but the determination flooding through your system tells you that you will not let it be empty.

You are going to help her through this, like it or not.

“Let’s go get some water so we can sober up, yeah?” You whisper as she pulls away to give you a nod of agreement. “You’re stuck with me, now, Nat.”

“There’s no one I would rather be stuck with, detka.” She whispers back as she slips her hand in between yours to squeeze it before following as you both sluggishly walk out of the alleyway.

The alleyway that you stood in, kissed in and where she bit the bullet and admitted defeat. 

The streets remain silent as the two of you stumble down them, hand in hand.

The bitter air no longer bothered you or the exposed skin that you were showing, not when you were wrapped underneath Natasha’s arm. 

“Thank you,” She says, after silence, as you two stumble onto the corner of the street to call a taxi. Thankfully there was one in the distance. “For not judging me and sticking by me. Even in my darkest times.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Natasha.” You reply as a taxi pulls up in front of you. You both climb in and mutter your destination to the driver before you turn back to look at her. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, because I’d do anything for the people that I love. And it’s safe to say that I’m in love with you.”

She smiles softly at your, slightly drunken, confession before bringing your hand up to her lips so she can press a soft kiss on the inside of your wrist and then against your palm. 

“I love you too, detka,” she whispers as she moves her head to catch your lips in for a sweet but short-lived kiss. “More than anything in this world. I love you.”

[tin-wufborf]

Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics (Part 1)

Okay, so listen. A few months back, I mentioned the possibility of me doing a rec list of all the Sterek fics I like to re-read (basically my comfort library), right? Well, it turns out that what I thought was going to be a list of, like, 50 fics max is now, far, far, far, FAR longer than that to the point that I don't actually even have a number to provide due to the fact that I still finding more and more to add to the list. I really hate the idea putting them all in a single post--as someone who primarily engages with this site via it's mobile app, I personally find super long lists harder to navigate, especially when you lose your place and have to start from the top--soooo, I have decided to instead release my recommendations in a series of posts containing 15-20 fics/series each instead of dumping the whole library on you at once. This post marks the first of (almost certainly) many, so I hope you all enjoy!

List and links to next parts below the cut.

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DISCLAIMER: This is me warning you all that some of the fics I've included in this list may cover explicit, dark, and/or "taboo" subject matters. I cannot express enough how little I care what anyone thinks about any of that; all I want is for you to use caution when reading anything I've listed here and to please review and heed whatever tags the authors have provided in order to keep yourselves safe. Your experience from this point on is your own responsibility, not mine and not the authors'.

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17

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The Boy Who Loved Wolves by orphan_account (NR | 1/1 | 1,522)

Stiles always loved the tamed wolves his tribe used for hunting. When he finds himself face-to-face with an actual wolf, an alpha no less, how will it change him? And how will his tribe react to his change? Based on Paul Goble's The Girl Who Loved Wild Horses.

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Will of the Weakness by Cheshyr (G | 1/1 | 2,248)

Whenever Derek threw Stiles into walls, he always assumed that the teenager didn't fight because he couldn't. Not once did he consider the possibility that Stiles was holding back.

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Making a Memory by beenwandering (M | 1/1 | 2,702)

Stiles was prepared for what would come after the bite. He knew what to expect and, despite his worries, he was ready for his new life. Apparently very ready. Or, “that one where Stiles can’t be anything other than Stiles, even when he’s a wolf."

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A Cottage in the Woods by FaeryQueen07 (G | 1/1 | 2,960)

“There’s a cottage,” Stiles’ mother says, and then she presses a kiss to his forehead before turning off the light.

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Tell Me, Are My Words Worth Less? by Cheshyr (G | 1/1 | 3,830)

Stiles is proud of his words. He loves to talk and tell and share and speak. And he absolutely, deep in his soul, hates his stutter.

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Little Lion Man by lyllytas (T | 1/1 | 5,029)

Sheriff Stilinski has just been fired from his job and is at a loss for his son's recent behavior. All he wants is the truth, so when Stiles comes to him with another crazy story, he's had enough of the jokes and lies. Unfortunately for him, this time Stiles was telling the truth. And Derek Hale is very protective of his pack.

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Love in the Groves series by Sheepnamedpig (3 works | T-E | 5,706)

1. The Oak Tree (E | 1/1 | 1,533) A forest spirit decides to take up residence in Derek's forest. 2. The Cherry Tree (E | 1/4 | 2,170) Derek and Stiles get married. And then they get married again. 3. The Ash Grove (T | 1/1 | 2,003) Stiles gets sick. Derek watches him carve the infection out.

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Knotting Expectations by chase_acow (E | 1/1 | 5,722)

Stiles gets an eyeful and suddenly getting up close and personal to a werewolf is all he can think about.

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go home, or make a home by lady_ragnell (T | 1/1 | 7,437)

In a world where Derek lets Scott kill the Alpha and get the cure, he has to figure out how to rebuild his life, with help from Stiles.

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Communication (And the Lack Thereof) by ProofOfConcept, wilddragonflying (M | 1/1 | 7,687)

Sheriff Stilinski has been waiting for this day for a long time. As he watches his visitor walking up the path, he thinks about everything that's happened in the past year and his fingers twitch for his gun. But he can't do that; he can't shoot this man, as much as he might like to sometimes. Maybe he can go one worse, though.

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Integral to Survival by placeholdr (M | 1/1 | 8,529)

Derek is in the cell for about ten minutes before the lone door opens and a new body is tossed in. The person hits the floor with a grunt, rolls, and stands as the door is clanging shut.

“That’s really not the way to treat a guest!”

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Ten Weeks by scarletsptember (T | 1/1 | 10,024)

They say no news is good news at a doctor's office. The news Stiles gets changes everything.

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adore to see your eyes fly by 1001cranes (E | 1/1 | 11,309)

stiles is a pyromanic, derek is a sociopath. a match made in some kind of heaven. teen wolf kink meme fill.

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Blood and Bonds by ProofOfConcept, wilddragonflying (NR | 1/1 | 20,595)

Stiles wants to lose his virginity, so Derek sets him up with a nice female werewolf at a pack mixer. Nine months later, the pack gets a rather stark reminder, and with it comes realizations, feeeeelings, and danger.

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Heat of the Moment by ProofOfConcept, wilddragonflying (T | 1/1 | 21,320)

I'm the alpha now.

Derek never wanted the alpha power. But now he could feel the alpha power thrumming through his veins, calling to him and the those it considered pack.

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The Wolfvengers (Are Not A '90s Boyband) series by someonelsesheart (2 works | T | 23,152)

1. Angry Birds Is Not Meant To Be Taken Literally (T | 3/3 | 12,917) Derek gets that he and Stiles are kind of on a Need To Know basis, he really does, he just thinks that Stiles' godfather being in the freaking Avengers counts as pretty Need To Know. 2. The Captain America Law (T | 3/3 | 10,235) For the record, Derek is not very fond of talking about feelings, up to and including discussing his personal life, anything that has to do with Stiles, That Time With The High Heels, and games that include having to convey feelings. On a completely unrelated note, who knew that Tony Stark owned a sexy nurse's costume?

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An Exercise in Trust by ProofOfConcept, wilddragonflying (M | 1/1 | 25,529)

Derek Hale hasn't been able to hold a steady job for quite some time, thanks to his past. When an ad is posted for a babysitting job, Derek(thanks to his experience with his large extended family) jumps at the chance to maybe start rebuilding his life.

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hyper heart alone by hito (E | 1/1 | 34,570)

When Stiles returns home to help his father recover from an injury, he discovers that things have changed somewhat in his absence: Derek is working closely with Stiles' father, around the house and underfoot, generally annoying and disconcerting Stiles with his presence.

Well, Stiles isn't sure you could call all the sex they end up having annoying, but he isn't really willing to call it anything else, either.

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By and By series by 1001cranes (3 works | T-E | 35,611)

1. hear his alibis (T | 1/1 | 6,628) creepy never looked so cute - or, how Sheriff Stiles accidentally adopted a juvenile offender. (another) pyromaniac au. 2. multiplied by seven (E | 9/9 | 26,340) Derek isn't exactly like other people. Stiles doesn't say that because he's in love with him, or whatever. He's not like Scott, who thinks Allison hung the freaking moon, or was the first girl to ever let a guy under her bra. Derek isn't like other people. Sometimes he's not exactly sane. psychopaths in love - the story from Derek & Stiles's side. companion fic to 'hear his alibis' 3. up to the highest high (E | 1/1 | 2,643) Kate takes a day to think it over, to plan her attack. She's good on her feet, but a little preplanning never hurt anyone. And if she's going to make Derek bleed, well - she needs just the right weapon. The right words. A thousand little pinpricks and cuts, because Derek isn't the type you can cut off at the knees so easily. You have to look for that dark, hidden place to plant a seed of doubt, and Kate? Kate's good at that. "He wants to be with a girl," she says. Like poisoned honey. "Or he doesn't not want it, am I right?" You think that curiosity won't get the better of him one day?" She's got her hands on him when she says it. She feels the beating of his heart, the firmness of his pectoral muscles, because, hey, this is precisely the way she swings. And Derek might keep it pretty well tucked up under his cap, but he doesn't exactly hate the female persuasion himself. Or at least he's attracted to them. Same difference in the end. "Better the devil you know," she says, and from the way Derek's gaze narrows she's got a feeling she's won.

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Blood in the Water, Fire in the Sky: A Love Story series by ahab2692 (7 works | E | 69,750)

1. God, How Things Change (E | 1/1 | 9,056) After killing Peter Hale, Derek and Stiles have to deal with the aftermath: Scott doesn't want to forgive Derek for taking away his chance for the cure, Jackson struggles with adjusting to his newfound powers, and Lydia remains in a coma. Derek has his own demons to wrestle, and the more time he spends with Stiles, the less sure he is that he'll be able to control himself.

2. The World Spins, Regardless (E | 1/1 | 11,006) Stiles helps Derek expand his pack, and the two of them take steps forward in their newfound relationship. Meanwhile, new enemies arrive in the form of a dangerous pack of werewolves from a nearby town, as well as a pair of mysterious hunters with an unknown agenda. (Sequel to "God, How Things Change.") 3. Cracks in the Foundations (E | 1/1 | 10,107) Preparing for the oncoming war with an aggressive werewolf clan, Derek and Stiles make efforts to secure their friends' safety. Derek put the pack through a rigorous training regimen, and Stiles convinces him to form a temporary alliance with the Argents. However, no one is able to foresee a shocking loss that has a devastating effect on the pack's stability. (Sequel to "The World Spins, Regardless.") 4. The Wicker Throne and the Werewolf King (E | 1/1 | 11,241) Stiles and Lydia travel to a distant mining outpost in the woods to try and kill the Alpha of the rival pack. Meanwhile, Derek and Chris Argent struggle to ensure the safety of the pack in the aftermath of Stiles' recent loss. (Sequel to "Cracks in the Foundations.") 5. Conversation (and Carnage) (E | 1/1 | 9,096) Stiles attempts to negotiate with the Alpha. Derek attempts to negotiate with Meredith Wakefield. Hidden agendas lie beneath the surface. Everything is not as it seems. (Sequel to "The Wicker Throne and the Werewolf King.") 6. ...And Hell Followed With Him (E | 1/1 | 10,080) Stiles emerges victorious as the new Alpha. Derek and Chris Argent launch their attack on Meredith Wakefield. Stiles and Lydia return home. (Sequel to "Conversation (and Carnage).") 7. God, How Things Change (Redux) (E | 1/1 | 9,164) Stiles and Derek pay a visit to their last remaining enemy. The pack recovers in the aftermath. Everything ends. Everything begins. (Sequel to "...And Hell Followed With Him".)

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[aro-culture-is]

hey all. been quite a while. we recently moved cities, quit our job that was beyond our physical ability, and are about to try to finish our degree in materials science and engineering...

and we're thinking we're gonna try again with this blog. the 700 asks are a little too intimidating of backlog though, so we've decided that we're gonna mass delete prior asks (excluding the one submitted today? fun fact you were the first since uh. january i think) and see how it goes. no promises.

a few things we want to reiterate if you want to submit stuff:

aro in the title is short for the aromantic community as a whole, including anyone aro spectrum, questioning folks, or anyone asking good faith questions about these things. a great resource for questions about words is AUREA.

be nice. to others, obviously, but also to yourselves please! I don't mean that you can't vent ever, but tbh... the huge amount of "aro culture is [hating yourself/others/being aro/etc]" was why we burnt out on this blog. there were so many self-hating things that were being sent in, and there's a limit to how much of that someone can handle. especially a multiply disabled, queer, trans, college-dropout service worker.

as we've said before, the point of this blog was never serious. it was a gimmick blog for funny things. serious stuff is okay, but like... please be silly! have fun. aro culture is green :)

if you truly feel a trigger tag is necessary, and it cannot be filtered on your end, please for the love of everything tell me a damn tag to use. ie, 'spiders cw'

we are radically inclusive for all good faith identities. there is strength in solidarity, and infighting about shit like 'validity' or 'making sense [to you/outsiders]' reeks of respectability politics. be annoying somewhere else, or better yet, consider what is the most materially useful thing you can do to make your IRL community better today. some ideas: call your senators or representatives about an issue, create a group chat for your apartment building so folks can get to know their neighbors, volunteer for an event in your area. Learn about deradicalization, deescalation, and community building. Build a strong community.

[sugar-omi]

How do you think everyone would react if cove and mc got pregnant at 18? Like the reason for them being engaged so young is because they are expecting

tags : Angst, headcanons, fem/afab reader, pregnancy

[part 2: cove finding out you're pregnant]

CLIFF

cliff would be.. he'd have the same feelings he had when kyra got pregnant with cove

he'd be scared, but happy because it is an exciting thing that a lot of people wish to hear one day!

but as cove's dad, he'd first be disappointed just because he never would've wished such a struggle on anyone at such a young age, especially his own son.

doesn't bother getting angry, because what would that do? it won't make you un-pregnant and it'd just make cove (and you) mad at him or upset, since of course you already know it's not an ideal situation.

when he realizes that you got engaged because of the pregnancy though, he tries to have a talk with cove.

he knows how much you two love each other, but he also knows from experience that this just doesn't work.

i think that'd end up in an argument, because even though cove and cliff have a better relationship than before, 5-10 years doesn't erase all the hurt from back then

cliff might end up saying something like "you don't want to end up like me and your mom" or even worse, "you shouldn't mess up your future."

all that would upset cove so much... because does he think that cove was a mistake? is that what he's saying? is he saying that you and cove would fail miserably? either way. they aren't thinking clearly, and cove already has a lotta feelings about how he was born, let alone conceived.

cove would probably end up saying something (a bit) hurtful like "i would never end up like you and mom." , "i would never marry MC if i didn't know it'd work. unlike some people, i'm not gonna make my kid listen to us argue and then try to play happy family." , or "trust me, my kid won't end up with a childhood like mine." / "trust me, my marriage won't end up like yours."

is it very ooc? probably. but everyone has the ability to say something hurtful, and when you experience something traumatic like your parents fighting, or knowing the circumstances of your birth, you have a lot of thoughts and feelings...

he does end up apologizing, but cliff probably ends up apologizing too since, again, they both probably said things they didn't mean

after that, things get a bit better. there's probably a lot of emotional conversations after that, just to get everything off their chests. hell we might even need family therapy, just to smooth things over before your baby gets here...

KYRA

now kyra... mmm i think this is where her awkwardness comes in. remember how she says she felt more like a cool aunt than his mom?

i think this is where kyra gets close to you, tries to offer you support and helps you through all the changes of pregnancy

she's mostly afraid for both of you. doesn't want you to try and slap a bandaid on this with marriage, kinda like how her and cliff did...

although i do think she was first angry when the news dropped. she really thought that you and cove, cove especially, would be more careful considering everything...

but the distance between her and you guys makes her sit on it for awhile, she does calm down and realize that you're just in the same position she was in, and are likely scared but doing your best...

calls both of you separately, just some a little one-on-one time and a heart-to-heart.

asks if you're really sure if you wanna get married, of course she expects you two to be sure about it, you two haven't gotten tired of each other yet and you're about to be intertwined in every way possible

reminds you that marriage is all about communication. and when you're raising a kid especially, and patience! also knows how much you love each other, and tells you to make time for yourselves and your relationship.

PAM & NOELANI

i instantly knew they'd be mad.

remember how pam worries in step 2 that cove is bad news? i think in her anger, ends up saying something like, "i knew something like this would happen." "i told you he was a bad influence."

yknow i've always wondered how cove would feel if he knew pam thought that about him, and i think in this situation, it'd hurt him a lot, and it'd open up a new can of insecurities and doubts.

starts worrying that he's holding you back, bringing you down... but we can get to that later

noelani tries to keep pam calm, does chastise her for saying that in front of you, especially if cove is there.

noelani is so disappointed, and you can see it so heavily... she'd sigh, mumble something- probably about how she "cant believe it...", covers her face with her hands..

she definitely asks, "how could you let this happen?" she really trusted you to make smart decisions, and even if this was a really big accident (like the rubber broke), she still didn't expect it n can't stop being disappointed

it takes them a few days for them to relax. this news had them totally spun and their emotions jumble up whenever its brought up or they think about it

they know being upset is gonna make it better, and if you're still living at home, they can see how sad you are, which helps them cave in. even if you don't whenever you call, they can hear how sad you are, or maybe you're texting less, whenever you visit your energy is lower than usual...

to start with, just to get out the way, they reassure you that you don't have to get married, that you shouldn't do something you guys don't want to, that you can be parents just fine without marriage

feels better when you insist you're not doing it just for the baby, i mean, not much. but you're insistent, and if you found out you're pregnant after getting engaged, they just have to trust you.

they also have to trust cove when he says he's gonna take care of you and the baby.

they knew cove is always very sincere and determined, even if he hesitates at times, but when he's set on something, he does it, so even though they're not happy about the situation, you're flying the nest now, and hitting milestones at a young age so all they can do is support you

and if noel does have a bit too much fun helping you set up the nursery, don't say a THING!!!

all the parents do make you sit down and explain your plan, who's going to work, who's watching the babe, if you're still going to school... all that. it's not that they aren't going to help you, but are you ready to take on the responsibility for your baby?

LIZ

liz is super worried for you, and cove too actually. you're her little sister/sibling, she still sees you and cove as kids in some way, and she still preens when you come to her for help...

the news just makes her head spin, but her first question is if you're okay, n if she's at home, she gives you a hug, lets you cry if you need it.

and this is also where her (protective) big sister energy comes in.. she hates seeing you sad when your moms are still heavily upset about the news

she tries to be there for you as much as possible, and especially if the first trimester is really rough on you, if cove isn't by your side then she is.

doesn't bother lecturing either of you. whats the point? all of your parents have already chewed your ears off, and it's not like you need any more stress or worry, or need to know that there's someone else disappointed in you/cove

i was going to say she'd give cove a stern talking too about being their for you, but she realizes she doesn't really need to do that.

tells him "i'm sure you'll be a good dad" maybe even, "well, i guess this was gonna happen one day anyway.." and that you're lucky to have him.

although after all those comforting n reassuring words, she does slap him on the back and remind him not to hurt or fail both of you, least he wants to feel her wrath. :) (she's a protective auntie already &lt;33)

tries to keep the energy up by being excited for the baby, or by distracting you with some bonding time w your amazing older sister<3 makes jokes about being the cool aunt, when the times right ofc. she's really just trying to distract you, which works sometimes more than others

LEE

the phone is SILENT. which is really scary coming from lee...

she does speak eventually, asks if you're gonna keep it, what're you going to do, and depending on how you word the news, if cove is there to tell her, or if she's already heard some of the news from the rest of the family, she'll ask if cove knows

she tries not to ask too many questions, because she doesn't wanna upset you or seem insensitive

i think she's really lost on what to do. your and cove's parents have already done all the lecturing, and worrying over each detail...

so she just offers you comfort. or a distraction.

really, her reaction is based off yours, because if you're excited, then so is she! but if you're really sad and/or stressed, then she's subdued, tries to figure out how to help you even though she's not close by...

in fact, her and liz would plan a "girls trip" for you. just to distract you, help you feel better. it's nothing big, just 2 days in the city and you spend most your time going from shop to shop and different restaurants and cafes.

their energy keeps your spirits up, but if you're not up for all that, or even if you're tired of all the running around after the first day, they set up a nice "sleepover" in the hotel room and you only get one noise complaint!

both of them definitely reassure you that if you ever need a break, you can trust them, amazing and cool aunties lee and liz, with the babe (spoiler: you can, but just know you're interrupting many 'a tea parties when you come to pick up the babe)

DEREK, MIRANDA , TERRY, & BAXTER

their eyes fell out their head.

in fact, terry spat out his drink, like projectile spray... and derek is having an outta body experience probably, definitely dropped whatever he was holding.

baxter too, he's taking a sip of his coffee and when you tell him, he chokes a bit, squeezes the cup n now he has coffee on his pants... he's shocked as hell

i hope you didn't tell them in a public place btw, because terry definitely yelled out "you're pregnant?!" and now everyone in sunset bird/wherever you are who didn't know.. knows.

terry isn't sure whether to tell you congrats or not, is very very confused, says congrats but then starts rambling out loud about what if you're not excited, what if it's a bad thing... all that

and miranda too, offers a careful congrats and then says "um.. that is a good thing, right? i mean, it's okay if not!" and yeah you've broken them..

if you reassure them it is a good thing. well, as good as it can be really. then they relax

derek rambles off all his concerns, asks if you're really gonna do it (raise the baby)

and then starts rambling about how hard it was taking care of his brothers... is quick to remind you that it was fun! and he loves his brothers! and that you'll be great parents! and maybe your baby won't be as rambunctious as niko was as a toddler!

just offers you good wishes, and if you ever need help, call him! he's a expert at handling his brothers, so he might know a thing or two. unless it's genuine parenting advice then.. call his mom or dad, or yours, haha

now baxter... well assuming you told him you were engaged before he left, or even if you imagine all this happening while he's here, he doesn't have much to say

he's just a stranger after all, even if you befriend him quickly, he doesn't have much to say to you

he tries to contain his surprise, and he first asks if you're excited, then he offers his congratulations and says you two will be great parents and that the kid will be very loved by everyone.

after seeing you two around the neighborhood, and your getting to know your family and friends a bit, he doesn't worry about you guys too much.

even though he knows teen pregnancy isn't ideal, he does know your kid has a happy life ahead of them, and that you have a lot of support n love around you, and that you and cove will work hard to be good parents, so he doesn't worry for you too much

i'm tempted to say you or cove would find a unnamed flower or gift basket on your parents doorsteps, or maybe he even brings a very early wedding/baby gift since he knows he won't be around, but i'm not sure... although i think that's kinda a baxter thing to do

but now if he found out later in step 4, he'd be surprised by the news (and seeing that you have a kid already) but he'd just tell you he's happy it's all working out for you, and that your kid is very adorable and you have a lovely family

[daydreamsandcrashingwaves]

Keeping It Close To The Chest Pt. 3

TW/CW: Medical Trauma/ torture, medical experimentation, ptsd and flashback type stuff, vivisection wound, Brief suicide attempt with a blade, (If you wanna skip that part it's bordered by '~~'), child abuse, emotional distress, more Danny whump, hurt/comfort- just a lil comfort at the end lol

As always if I missed a tag please let me know! I want anyone who wants to read my writing be informed so they can make the best decisions for themselves. Be kind to yourselves and be safe.

Hey! Here's part three! I'm considering posting this to Ao3! If I do I'll probably edit each part a bit. I hope you all enjoy my humble offering! I'll let ya all know if I do! If you missed them, Part one Part Two

Much love to you all

~Ren

Danny didn't recognize where he woke up. He could smell antiseptic in the air in combination with the white walls and sheets made him uneasy. Last time he could bare to look they hadn't bothered to clean up his splattered ectoplasm, all the white was abnormal. Bandages, sheets, walls, floor, ceiling they all looked eerily familiar. He could still feel their hands digging inside him. Panic thrummed through his core- the lab, they have him back in the lab-he wrenches at the restraints the scientists had put on him, only for them to be missing.

With no resistance his body crashes to the ground next to the bed he was on with his legs twisted into the sheets. Danny flails his legs to free himself. The deep ache of his wounds pulls him forcefully from the swirling green noxious clouds that fill his head. His parents had never left him without something holding him exactly as they left him. Ready and waiting for their next experiment. His core sinks somewhere around his guts from the thought. Unrestrained. They left him unrestrained; he looks at his bare arms in reluctant wonder.

The knowledge doesn't soothe him at all, they'd return soon. One look at him would make it obvious to them that he was in no shape to run again. Run he has to run. Anxiety and uncertainty made his powers spike and the lights blow above him. The temperature drops around him and he settles for a moment. At least he had access to his powers even if he feels like he'd have to use far much more energy than normal to use even his invisibility.

His par- Maddie and Jack had made the table out of antighost material that kept him from phasing out of the straps, but it was the dried blood blossoms in the vents that had weakened him, his powers slipped through his fingers, out of reach until the hail Mary last ditch effort explosion from his core that had frozen them where they stood. Danny swung his head to look at the.. simple comfy looking bed he had been resting on. Why would they-

Footsteps pound towards where he is, a shadow in the doorway. Fuck, they were back. Whenever they visited it hurt. Jack and Maddie were creative in their experiments, each one brought Danny more agony. Brought Danny closer to a full death. If he couldn't keep them from finding his core again, he really would be dead. His core pulsed, memories pushed themselves to the forefront of his mind.

They touched it, a glove shouldn't hurt like it did, what did they do what did they do to him did they not see they were killing him. He's alive, he's here, he's their son whywhywhy. Jack's comforting bulk turned to cheerful aggression and brute strength used to hurt him; Danny misses his firm embrace, the hate on Maddie's face tore Danny up inside, to see how her face went from deep love to the equally strong opposite was heartbreaking. She once threw herself at Vlad's experiments in that damned forest, her marital arts training had amazed him. She frightens him now, they frighten him now. To use such brutality against their son, she had broken bones, flung him so easily once she had gotten ahold of him. How awful it was to have not one reaction to his pleas- mom please you're hurting me, please it hurtsithurtsyourehurtingmeYOUREGONNAKILLME!

Danny can still hear his own screams playing in his head.

Tension fills Danny's frame sending more shockwaves across his injuries, the brain fog making it harder to figure out who was on the doorstep. He struggled to get to his knees in preparation. If the Drs Fenton were gonna do Frog Dissection 2: Ghostboy Edition he wasn't going to be compliant, even if Danny felt like he wouldn't be able to fight them off for very long at all. Hope that they would come to their senses would cost him dearly. A light flicked on outside the doorway, illuminating... his older brother. Damian Al Ghul, stared back at him.

Danny jolted, he vaguely remembered he popped out of a portal basically on top of his twin, right? His memories are all jumbled. Danny raised a shaky hand to his head, the beginnings of a migraine building. Did he lose his bags? His dagger? Danny didn't dare turn away from the predator in front of him to look. That was how many foolish people during the twin's training lost their lives. How weak was he that he let himself be caught when he could've at least tried to fly away? In some ways this was worse than being caught by his adoptive parents again. Damian was an unknown after all these years, even if part of him wants to cling to his cape and beg for just a days rest before they send him wherever they were planning to.

Damian may be here on a mission, or if he truly did escape the League maybe he wanted to send Danny back in his place so he could remain away from Grandfather's clutches. Danny knows just how persistent the Demon Head could be. Damian had always been the superior heir, but if Mother had been sending... clones? That's what he had said earlier, if Danny could remember correctly. Clones sent to Damian. It was a last resort to claim him and bring him home. Or replace him with the clone that won, he shivers thinking of Vlad.

Would Vlad go for the superior twin if he knew of Damian? That was a meeting Danny wanted to avoid, not that Damian would comply with any of the Fruitloop's plans. Danny paled at the thought, Damian surely would kill Vlad if he tried, then only Plasimus would remain. As of now his human half was the only reason the older halfa wasn't more than a nuisance. What a nightmare a fully ghost Vlad would be. Danny never would've stayed in Amity if he knew the trouble he'd get himself into. Danny was always just the spare. There to take orders, nothing more. His life and death was up to Grandfather. Not even lazarus water was allowed to someone worthless. No need for him beyond the worst case scenario, but held onto until the heir could claim his place.

The domino mask was gone revealing those emerald eyes he's missed for so long, but he still was wearing what he was earlier, Danny can see his blood smears from here. Danny tried to guess what Damian was thinking so hard about but other than his furrowed brows, his twin gave nothing away. In a sick way it made him proud his elder brother hadn't lost his edge.

Danny remained silent as his brother panted into the dark between them. He had to wait to be acknowledged. If he broke this tentative peace there is no telling when the orders would start. Slipping so easily into his League training made Danny bite his cheek to avoid the frown that would take place. Emotion will do him no favors here, even if truly hiding what he was feeling was next to impossible under Damian's gaze. Danny watched as Damian watched him. Damian telegraphed his movements slowly so Danny could see his hands and what they were doing. He had started palming his hidden blades and dropping them carelessly to the floor. Danny's eyes grew wide at the sight.

Damian... he didn't do careless, his every move deliberate and well thought out. This must be something meant to throw him off, make him lower his guard. His elder brother would also never just throw his weapons around unless it was at a target. Perhaps he doesn't need them. Perhaps he wants to kill Danny with his own hands or perhaps he thinks Danny won't resist his order to return. (In this moment Danny couldn't resist anything Damian wanted to do to him, even if he wanted to. He could be shipped back to Grandfather in Damian's stead.) Danny clenched the disheveled sheets in his hands, if he had to take on his twin every advantage he could get. Danny would need.

Looking back to the door, Damian has a small but impressive pile scattered behind him, one last dagger is carefully held in his hands. They're trembling slightly, Danny would have missed it, should have missed it, but he remembered far much more of his past than he ever let on with the Fentons. Danny figured amnesia is a great excuse to not answer their questions on how he got to be alone in Amity Park or where his family was, how he got left behind. The Damian here confused him. Disarming himself, openly trembling- nothing like the brother he remembers.

(They were the same size, but Damian always seemed bigger, his shoulders meant to hold more, the League, Grandfather's expectations and Mother's indifference, Danny and his string of failures, he only ended up holding the heir back. Damian's arms always open to curl up in after Danyal's frequent punishments. A weakness, Mother had said when she caught them, she had ripped Danny from his brother's arms and had mercilessly beaten him until he couldn't move for his audacity, all while Damian watched blank faced. When they were once again alone Damian had whispered apologies while helping the younger clean and bandage himself. Danny had insisted on doing the same for Damian- he had clenched his hands so tightly into fights behind his back that he had a perfect set of bloody nail marks from holding himself back from intervening as he stood at attention nearby- before they slipped into their beds. There would be no sharing tonight, not when Mother would surely check on them to make sure Danny didn't continue to tear Dami down. His elder brother had hummed a soft tune though that Danny fell asleep to. But no, Danny can't be sure that part of Damian still exists, he can't risk the world for his selfish desire to stay by his brother's side. Ra's Al Ghul could never find out just what kind of power Danyal gained via the portal and Phantom in his absence from Ra's watchful eye.)

Damian looks awfully small to Danny now, curled into himself by the door. He sheaths the dagger and gently sets this one on the ground in front of him before he sends it straight to Danny with a perfect kick. Danny snatches it up quickly, he won't look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Danyal..." Damian seems to crumple under the weight of his name, he looks... lost. He clears his throat, goes to say something but clears it again instead. His brother has always been confident. This uncertainty Danny feels zipping between them keeps him on edge. "Ahki please you are hurt, can I help you back to bed?"

Tears. Those are tears falling down his brother's face. Danyal can only stare. Damian had only cried with Danyal a few times in the League, on that rooftop with the stars. Something about how since Damian was older he had to be strong, strong for Danyal, strong in the face of Grandfather.

"I won't go back." Danny rasps painfully slipping into their mother tongue, "I'm sorry Dami I won't go back. Not even for you." Danny thinks he popped some of the stitches holding his chest together under the bandages when he dove to the floor. His shirt feels wet, his blood would quickly eat at the stitches now that he's actively bleeding again. Better to die here, this way, then go back to-

Danny raises his hand.

~~

"Ahki! No!" Damian cries out desperately, he feels his face twist in horror as dim lights blink into existence under the cabinets. Damian had thought a blade in hand would make Danny feel safer, less vulnerable for their second meeting if he had something to defend himself with. The image his brother makes on the floor was something he never could've imagined happening.

Damian was going to be sick. Danny had always been a joyful and stubborn presence by his side. Not even in the throws of their harsh childhood did he ever give up, ever give in.

Fear almost stops his heart from beating before it stubbornly restarts hard enough for his chest to ache. The dagger Damian had relinquished to Danny was pressed lightly to his own throat by a shaky hand. Damian's exclamation caused Danyal's hand to press a bit too hard, red blood dripped down the side of his neck. Danny looked at him almost hypnotized by Damian's extreme distress at what the light revealed, he didn't recognize the blur of movement towards him in time to react. Damian's hand covers his own wrenching the blade away.

When he found out who broke down his baby brother to such a degree that he felt he had to turn his blade on himself, well, Father's rules be damned, Damian would make them beg for death before claiming their pathetic life. It would be good to remind others of what the Demon Heir was capable of if he deemed it worth his time. Worth crossing Batman and his no killing rule. Danyal was worth everything to Damian.

~~

Danyal is shaking like a leaf in front of him and Damian aches to reach out to his baby brother, yet he doesn't want to force contact. If Danny felt cornered he could spook and hurt himself more trying to get away from Damian and that is the last thing he wants. "There is no need for that here Danyal. I'm sorry Danny, I'm so sorry you've been alone," He chokes out, the Arabic heavy in his mouth, "it will be alright you're- you're Ahki won't let anyone force you to do anything. I'll protect you, I promise."

Damian can see comprehension spread across that scary blank face his twin had been making. It trembles and breaks as tears gather in the corner of Danny's eyes. Danny's hands grip his arm harshly, Damian doesn't correct him. A bruise is a small price to pay for his twin's comfort. Even back in the League Damian never lied to Danny, had always, always, kept his promises. Those tears fall.

Danny wails as Damian pulls him tightly to his chest, he can't hide how he pats Danyal down to check for more weapons. Richard hovers outside the room but Damian knows he's hesitant to insert himself into the situation and have the potential for Danny to act unpredictably again. How astute of him, Damian is relieved at his brother's emotional intelligence. Damian keeps repeating his words over and over while rocking them. Danny obviously doesn't want to settle into it but can't seem to help it. Twins together for the first time in almost a decade, Damian doesn't hide his hitching breaths as they cry together. Damain never wants him to let go.

"I can't stay Ahki, I can't!" Danny sobs, pulling back until his brother can see his face, "Grandfather will- he'll- I'm a walking weapon!" Danny blubbers and tries to get a breath to explain because his brother had always at least let Danny say his argument in the past but ends up coughing until it turns into a whine. His body hurts. His Y incision burns like his- Maddie and Jack- are freshly cutting into him and he just wants this moment to last but knowing they're on borrowed time makes Danny curl closer. His face is pressed to Damian's chest, somehow Damian had moved them, Damian's back rested against the bed while Danny was cradled in his lap. Soothing circles were traced onto his back, something had changed in Damian's demeaner but without looking at his face Danny could only guess what that meant.

His cries slowly petered out in the face of his brother's steady comfort and Danny could feel his body go boneless in Dami's hold. His elder brother's murmurs weren't hidden by his cries so he could finally hear what was being said,

"I've been with Father for five years, I, too will never go back to the League. Ra's is dead, I promise you. Dead and locked away so he can not get revived in the Pits. He will never darken our doorstep, he's dead and Talia knows if she comes here, she will meet a similar fate, Danyal it's going to be okay. We're okay now. We have family who will help. I won't leave you alone again."

Over and over again, Damian's voice full of confidence and vitriol but he keeps his hold loose. Damian had always respected Grandfather and his influence, Danny wasn't sure what to think hearing his brother speak Grandfather's name. Danny had known that awful day the twins were pitted against each other that once the spare died there would be no escape from the League for Damian. If what he says is true... Damian did escape, has been safe with their Father for years.

Exhaustion slams into him, Danny feels... safe. The safety he so desperately needed is here in his grasp and he's terrified of it disappearing, being false. "Dami-"

"Hush Ahki, just breathe, we will talk later." Damian uses his sleeve to clean Danny's face, the gentle swipes make more tears sprint to his eyes, but his brother is patient, content to clean him up. Danny opens his mouth to protest, but Damian gently shushes him. Damian shifts their bodies to move them back to the bed, but Danny reacts like Damian is getting ready to leave, leave him here in this strange new place, scared and alone. (Some part of Danny snaps back at the thought, Damian never had gone back on his word before. Not once, that was a miracle considering their childhood.) Danny's hand snaps out to grab his twin's wrist on instinct. Don't go please. Don't go, I don't want to be alone.

Damian's face softens out of it's natural neutrality, his mouth twisting into a small smile. His real smile, the one reserved only for Danny. "The floor is dirty Danyal and I need to check your stitches, let's get you back in bed." Damian chuckles quietly at the apprehensive look shot his way. Danny was always an open book, at least to Damian. "I'll stay with you, come."

Damian shifts them as carefully as he can only to abruptly stop when Danyal's hand flies to his chest on a gasp. Danny can see Damian biting his cheek and glancing from him to the door out of the corner of his eye before he straightens a bit decision made.

"Richard, I know you are still there," It's said with a sigh but he knows that tone, his brother is grateful. A black-haired man pokes his head warily into the room to look at them.

"Little D! Can I help with anything?" Despite his caution Richard is beaming at them from his spot by the door. Danny grew tense in Damian's arms at the new arrival, but thankfully, luckily, he didn't try to run.

"Tt. Tell Pennyworth I may need his assistance, Danyal potentially pulled his stitches." Richard's face rapidly paled, his gaze swinging to his youngest brother trying to see if blood was leaking through his bandages. Damian was certain Richard would be grateful for Superman's x-ray vision right now by how hard he was staring at Danyal.

Though Richard meant well Damian felt his irritation rise when he feels Danyal curl further into him, trembling hands gripping the life out of his suit. As he resumes rubbing Danyal's back he starts whispering again in Arabic, careful to keep his words between them. Damian is sure an audience isn't helping Danny relax. Damian draws his focus the best he can away from their buffoon of an eldest brother.

Richard lingers in the doorway so without turning to look Damian flicks his wrist and the blade Danyal was ready to use against himself sails true, embedding itself a hair's width away from Richard's hand on the doorframe. "Now Grayson." He growls. Then they are alone. Damian hides a smirk in his twin's hair, before frowning. Danyal would feel better if he was clean, if his hair is anything to go by Danyal hasn't had a bath in a long time. That is where Damian could start. Until he could have a talk with his twin and figure out what he was so terrified of he'd threaten his own life... this would have to do. He's sure that Alfred has some supplies stored in the recovery room. Damian put a tub in the sink to fill with warm water while he grabbed what he needed.

With a brief explanation Danny pouted but hesitantly let Damian lower him so his head was mostly hanging off the foot of the bed. He pulled a chair over and got to work. The first wash was to get the majority of the dirt, blood, and sweat out. After he rinsed the first shampoo out Damian took his time with the rest. Fingers worked through knots and a bit of pressure here and there had Danyal melting in his hands. Truly relaxing for the first time in what was probably a long time. Damian smiled softly. The boy looked to be dozing now, both content to remain like this for a while longer.

From the door Alfred waved Dick off, it had been a long night and Bruce's eldest certainly needed rest. Looking back at the two blood siblings Alfred was sure the immediate danger had passed. He was content to leave them to bask in eachother's presence for a little while longer before he checked on the youngest master's stitches.

Part four

[illarian-rambling]

Hopping on this tag from @happypup-kitcat24 :)

OC Assumption Tag

Share one of your characters' name and a quote from them with zero context and let your followers (or other people who stumble upon your post) make assumptions about said character. You can post about more than one character but only one quote for each one for things to stay out of context.

1) Izjik Meautammera

“My name is Izjik Meautammera and I’m not at all wanted by the wealthy Devaris family of Unity. They won’t give you money for my safe and unconscious return. What I am is End’s avatar. It speaks to me, it controls my actions when it wishes. I have killed spirits and Chosen under its command. Immortality shatters beneath the stone of my washava. I have come here to ask for your help in our ultimate endeavor; destroying the gods and all life on this planet. You, your kid, your dog—it’ll all be dead and gone. So, who, uh, who’s with me?”

2) Sepo Kaiacynthus

“I expect you to fight to the bitter end if that’s what it takes, because you might love your husband, your son, but the people on that ship are the reason I’m here today and if your impatience costs them their lives, then believe me when I say I will turn that city down there into a fiery crater when I rip this damn island out of the sky!”

3) Twenari Undetasib/Devaris

“Something to do with gravitation runes and the density of air. It’s brilliant; they combine the magical with the mechanical and get a miracle. Gods, if I could just get a peek inside one of those fans….”

4) Djek Kagura

“Look, my point is, it’s hard to trust a bleeding heart. You figure that you’re too weak for this world, too sensitive, so you get in tight with someone who knows their shit. Someone smart enough to tangle with society and come out on top. You trust them to make decisions for you because they know better. They’re harder, more practical; they don’t balk when there’s bloody work to be done.... The first step in doing good is to let go of those people. You have to learn to listen to that bleeding heart of yours. It’s not soft, it’s not weak; it makes you who you are. A good woman. One who now has the opportunity to go out and make the world better.”

5) Astra DuClaire

“Nah, but I’ve been listenin’ in on your little chat with my friend here. I know I got you real worried ’bout how I figured out how to preserve a mind and you didn’t. And you’re right to worry, which is why I said it before, but all good messages bear repeatin’, so I’ll say it again. I am better than you.”

6) Mashal Darezsho

“I don’t care! I don’t care if you think I’m nothing more than a stepping stone on your path. I don’t care if you don’t think about me at all! But you will come out here and face me, gods damn it! And I’ll make sure I’m the last thing that ever crosses your fucking mind!”

7) Ivander Montane

“I didn’t come after the Surgeon out of the goodness of my heart. I… I didn’t come here to solve your murder or bring anyone to justice. The Surgeon can strip the magic from a sorcerer. I’ve seen the bodies with my own eyes—yours included. I came here hoping he could take the godly magic from me. ...I told you, I’m a selfish man.”

8) Elsind Cavernsight

“I forgive you, too. Just by knowing you, I can tell that your father was a good man. Not a good ruler maybe, but I can honestly say that I believe both of you did the best you could within the system you inherited. Very few nobles I’ve met were ever so, well, noble.”

8) Avymere Spearsong

“We are not retreating. The longer we take to act, the longer the people of Salis—of all of Skysheer—are held in Vermir’s grasp. Every second we waste means the death of another sorcerer whom it is my duty to protect. We push on.”

I like games like these, so ima call all the homies! Consider yourselves no pressure tagged ;)

@amandacanwrite @elsie-writes @riveriafalll @kosmic-kore @kaylinalexanderbooks

@bard-coded @carrotsinnovember @patternwelded-quill @somethingclevermahogony @whatwewrotepodcast

@the-angriest-author @mk-writes-stuff @frostedlemonwriter @vyuntspakhkite-l-darling @watermeezer

@leahnardo-da-veggie @mr-orion @televisionjester @ray-writes-n-shit @evilgabe29

@trippingpossum @tragedycoded @halfbakedspuds @ominous-feychild @cain-e-brookman

@wyked-ao3 @thecomfywriter

[iiconicxpersona]

Whatever It Takes.

Javier Peña x f!Reader

Warnings: this fic features a scene from s02e03 Our Man in Madrid and that episode is a trigger warning in its own, but if you need specifics then this fic includes ANGST, mvrder, su!c!d3 attempt, depression, alcoholism. MINORS DNI & READ AT YOUR OWN RISK (I cannot stress that enough)

Word count: 3.4k

Summary: You and Javier get tagged along in a manhunt gone wrong with the return of Colonel Carrillo. After the tragedy that occurs, you look to Javier for comfort only to get heartbroken when he seeks comfort from another woman.

From the moment you were assigned the Escobar case in Bogotá, you prepared yourself for the best and the worst. You knew that once this case was finally over, and God only knew how long that would take, you would not return to Texas like the woman you were when you left. However, it didn’t seem to matter exactly how much you prepared yourself ahead of time in all aspects; nothing was ever going to prepare you for all the horrors you had witnessed and the ones still yet to come.

“We’re all in. Whatever it takes.”

Words you, Agent Javier Peña, and Agent Steve Murphy repeated to each other almost frequently to remind yourselves and each other that this is what you signed up for when you agreed to do whatever it took to catch Escobar and every single person whoever took a single dollar from him. Of course, Messina and the entire force did everything they could to keep your missions restricted, but to catch a bad guy; you must be willing to break some rules.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Colonel Carrillo was the King of playing by his own rules. His methods were cruel and relentless, but they were effective in one way or another. But those same methods ultimately led him to be transferred to Spain. When he was brought back on the team by the Colombian government, it shook you to the core, and the only problem was that you could no longer tell if that was good or bad.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

The first mission at hand with Colonel Carrillo is to track down every spotter Escobar had hiding in the area. It seems simple enough, considering the spotters were mainly children under eighteen.

“Peña, Y/L/N, you come with me.” Carrillo orders.

You and Javier exchange looks of concern to each other and then to Steve, who's disappointed when Carrillo tells him to stay behind for radio contact.

“You be careful out there,” Steve adds as you and Javier follow Carrillo to one of the unmarked cars.

“You got your vest on?” Javier asks without looking at you.

You nod and pat your stomach hard enough to make the bulletproof padding audible. “I never leave without it.”

“Good. This could get ugly, so I want you to always stay beside me. Understand?” He finally looks at you while still walking forward.

“Jesus, Javi, this isn’t my first rodeo.” You scoff.

He rolls his eyes, clearly not amused by your comment. “Cariño, I’m fucking serious. These kids are dangerous, and the last thing I want is for you to underestimate one, and he holds you at gunpoint or worse.”

Just then, you remembered what Javi had told you the day Steve’s adopted baby girl, Oliva, was rescued, and you instantly regretted trying to be sarcastic. He never told Steve, but while they were chasing down the two men responsible for murdering Olivia’s biological family and you were in the house guarding her, Javier came close to catching one of the men until a little boy caught him off guard from behind and held him at gunpoint. Javier was sure that at any moment, the kid would pull the trigger and kill him, or worse, he would miss his shot, and Javier would have to kill the kid instead. Thankfully, once the guy he was chasing got away, so did the kid, and ever since then, Javier knew that with the right amount of money and power, Escobar could make anyone do anything.

“Always stay beside me. Understand?” Javier demandingly repeated.

You nod. “I understand.”

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

One by one, each kid that Escobar hired as a spotter was taken into custody. However, Carrillo had other plans instead of taking them straight to the station for interrogation like you and Javier thought.

Given Carrillo's extreme methods in the past, you should’ve known that this wouldn’t be as simple as you had hoped. Though you figured that because they were just kids, what could go wrong?

Everything.

One right next to the other, at least seven boys are lined up in the middle of a dark alley with their hands behind their heads and sitting upright on their knees. You stand next to Javier off in the distance while Carrillo paces slowly in front of them. As you examine their faces, it breaks your heart to see how young they are. Some look at least sixteen, but the youngest looks six or seven.

They try to keep stone-cold faces on while Carrillo attempts to scare them straight. A couple of the boys laugh at him and make insults in Spanish.

“Shut up, kid.” Javier mumbles.

You do your best to look as emotionless as possible, but mentally, you are frightened to know what is going through Carrillo’s mind, especially when he pulls out his gun and begins loading it in front of them.

One of the older boys laughs and asks Carrillo if he should be scared.

“No,” Carrillo replies.

BANG.

You stood there and watched the now young lifeless body slowly fall to the ground. Aside from the streetlights, the alleyway is pitch dark due to the summer evening, but you’d swear you could see everywhere the boy’s blood had splattered as if it happened in daylight.

It took every fiber in your being not to lose your cool or vomit at the scene. You were even too afraid to reach for Javier, who was only a couple of inches away from you, for some comfort. Although judging from how his body tensed up and the look on his face, he was just as distraught inside as you were.

What was Carrillo thinking? Even if the kid tried to be a fearless macho man about it, he was still just a kid. There were plenty of other ways Carrillo could’ve tried to prove a point to them about the dangers of working with someone like Escobar. Regardless of whether you liked it, he gave them a harsh reality check.

Carrillo then takes one bullet from his gun and hands it to the youngest boy, telling him to give it to Escobar and let him know who it is from. You watch helplessly as the boy takes the bullet with tears running down his face and stuffs it in his pocket. Then Carrillo finally sets the remaining boys free. You immediately cling to Javier once they are out of sight.

He hesitates for a moment before slowly wrapping his arms around you, still in shock from what just happened as you tried your best to hold back your sobs.

“Cariño…” Javier struggles to find the right words. How could he comfort you when he couldn’t convince himself that everything was fine? “We have to go.” He finally said.

Whatever it takes.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

This is one of those nights you wish Javier wouldn’t depend on a cheap hooker to help him forget.

About six months ago, after almost losing you during a shootout mission, Javier suggested that you move in with him “for your safety,” which you hesitantly accepted two months later. Murphy always teased how Javier always had a soft spot for you, and although you couldn’t deny you also had a soft spot for Javier, you tried to keep your crush precisely that: just a crush. Even if it nearly killed you inside when he would come home late smelling of sex, cheap perfume, and cigarettes.

While staring blankly at a pile of paperwork, your mind couldn’t stop replaying what happened less than an hour ago. Steve tried talking to you about how frustrated he was about Carrillo not trusting him to tag along with the mission, but his words only went in one ear and out of the other.

“You should be grateful.” You finally spoke up, still not taking your eyes off the paperwork.

At that moment, Steve gave up on his argument. As much as he hated feeling like an outsider because of his looks, nationality, or poor Spanish, he knew his troubles were nothing compared to what you and Javier were going through at this very moment.

You could hear Javier mumbling under his breath on the phone at his desk, which generally meant he was talking to one of his hookers. At that point, you were already two shots deep in tequila and resting your head on your arms to hide your face like the game you used to play at school as a kid.

You hated the jealous feeling that crept up inside you as he talked to her about meeting with her in the next half an hour.

Why tonight of all nights? Or if he needed a good fuck to help him forget, then why couldn’t it be with you? You were there. You saw everything happen just as he did. Did it ever occur to him that maybe you needed a night of meaningless sex to help you forget everything too? In all the years you had known Peña, he had no shame in screwing every woman in sight, but he never once offered to put his hands on you. Sure, you flirt with each other almost every day, but would there ever be more? Were you not pretty enough? Or not skinny enough? Or because you didn’t open your legs to every man in sight?

“Cariño, you all right?” Javier’s low voice startles you out of your thoughts. He places his hands on your shoulders and begins to massage you once you sit up and lean back into your chair, feeling your body relax under his touch.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You lie. Your voice is now hoarse from choking back all the tears and emotions.

Javier leans down and wraps his arms around your upper body with his chin resting on your shoulder. “Don’t you disappear on me, okay?”

You nod, and he kisses your cheek and gives you one last squeeze.

“I gotta run a few errands, but I’ll be home late.”

Desperation kicks into high gear, and you cling to his arms for dear life. “Wait, you’re leaving?”

“It’s just for a few hours. I need to clear my head. You understand, right?” He pulls away from you once your grip loosens, but you still reach for him.

“Well yeah, but…”

“But what!” He snaps at you in frustration.

Then it hits you in that very second like a ton of bricks: you and Javier Peña will never be more than just friends.

You let go of his hand when the tears build up again. “You know what? Just go. I won’t wait up.”

Realizing what he had just done, a wave of guilt washes over Javier, and he slowly steps towards you. “Shit, cariño I’m sor…”

“I said go!”

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

By the night's end, you had already downed most of the tequila. Murphy knew Javier would kill him if he had let you go home by yourself, so being the southern gentleman he is, he gave you a ride home.

On the inside, you were trying to fight off too many emotions. You didn’t dare to let Steve see you cry, especially after witnessing your little moment with Javier. For what? So that he can tell Javi, and they can laugh at how pathetic you are behind your back? Though you knew they would never do that, it was still a fear that helped keep your emotions in check.

“Thanks for the ride, Murphy.” You half smiled at him.

“Of course.” He could hear the pain in your voice, but he tried his best to keep cool. You’re already going through enough as it is. “Hey, just know I’m right next door if you need anything.”

“You’re a good man, Steve. Connie’s a lucky girl.” You lean in to give him a small peck on the cheek before letting yourself out of the car.

You dread every single step toward your shared apartment with Javi. You dread it so much that if you were stable enough, you’d walk to your old apartment two buildings over. Most of your stuff is still there, considering you had just moved in with Javier four months ago. You had only brought essential things like clothes, makeup, bathroom stuff, and a few sentimental values. But the fact that you were barely making it on your own to Javi’s front door was enough to make you rethink.

Once you stumble inside, the first thing you noticed was how quiet it is. Too quiet. Not that you and Javi were noisy people when he didn’t have women over, which thankfully wasn’t often ever since you moved in. But even then, the apartment is never this quiet. You hate the silence. It only made the events of tonight replay louder and louder in your brain.

Throwing off your coat and shoes, you let them land wherever as you make your way to the radio and turn it on to a local rock station with the volume on full blast. You swerve over to Javier’s liquor cabinet and mindlessly scan around at each of his selections. The one bottle of bourbon he saved for special occasions had caught your eye. Judging from how rich the bottle looks, it must be one of his most expensive liquors. Your conscious told you to stop, but the music and your drunk state of mind were enough to tune it out. You grab the bottle from the glass shelf and gnaw the cap off before downing the liquor like water.

You never smoked a cigarette, but once you found Javier’s carton in the cabinet, you pulled out a fresh pack and ripped off the plastic wrap. Javier was already a heavy smoker as it was, but he seemed to smoke a lot more when he was stressed out, and you wanted to know what it was like. If it helps Javi calm down, why wouldn’t it help you?

You flick the first white stick out of the small paper box as if you were already a natural to smoking. Not that you would admit it out loud, but after seeing Javi do it a few times, you were tempted and tried it for shits and giggles.

Lighting the stick between your lips, you inhaled deeply only to choke out the nicotine and smoke immediately. “I can’t believe Javi likes this shit.” You gag.

The first few puffs were disgusting, and if it weren’t for the bourbon making it easier to wash down the horrid taste, you would’ve thrown up after the first puff. But soon enough, you were already on your second and third cigarette. Each smoke is smoother than the last.

Dancing around in the living room in a tank top and panties, with a cigarette in your mouth and another bottle of whiskey in your hands, you were on cloud nine, and for the first time that night, nothing else mattered. You weren’t aware of how much you had already drunk or how you were already almost finished with the first pack of cigarettes. You even forgot you were in Javier’s apartment until the clock caught your attention. It’s 2:30 am, and Javier still isn’t home. If you were sober, you probably would’ve been worried sick about him, but his delay made you angry. He didn’t have to spend the night with another cheap hooker, and if he did feel the need to, he could’ve at least called you to let you know he wasn’t coming home.

How dare he? After everything you two had been through tonight, how dare he leave you alone? How dare he not be here so you two can try to comfort each other? How dare he yell at you in front of Murphy, embarrassing you when you only wanted him to stay? How dare he be a typical douchebag and leave you just to get his dick wet by some random bitch he barely knows? How dare he not see that you care about him so damn much? How fucking dare Javier Peña!?

At that moment, you refused to reason anymore and instead let your anger-fueled adrenaline take complete control of your body.

His precious liquor cabinet is the first item to fall victim to your rage. You push it off the wall with full force and watch it slowly crash to the ground, just like the little boy did in the alley. Then you grab every bottle that didn’t break in the fall and throw them in random areas of the living room. Only the shattering noise, your cries, and the loud music fill the void that is Javier’s apartment.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

You don’t remember how you wound up on the bathroom floor next to the toilet with more bourbon in one hand and your pistol in the other. Your adrenaline was still pumping through your veins uncontrollably, and you couldn’t feel any of the cuts that formed all over your body from the broken glass. Miraculously, none of which were too deep to leave a permanent scar.

There’s no telling how long ago your rampage began, but suddenly the radio that was once blaring rock music had gone silent. You didn’t care. You sat there hugging your knees with the hand holding the pistol while continuing to drink.

You could hear heavy footsteps slowly inching closer to the bathroom, and then he turned the corner with his pistol pointing directly at you.

“C—Cariño…” Javier mumbled in shock.

He was about to rush to you, but then he froze in place the second you extended your arm and aimed your pistol at him. “Don’t. Come. Any. Closer.” You demand.

Suddenly, every ounce of color was flushed from Javi’s face. He slowly put his gun down on the sink and raised his hands in surrender. The image made you chuckle as he slowly dropped to his knees before you.

“Baby, plea—”

“SHUT UP!” You scream, and it catches you both off guard. “All I wanted was for you to stay with me. To help me forget. But no! Typical Javier Peña; you had to think with your dick! You didn’t even care enough to call me to let me know when you’ll be home or to see if I was all right. Do you realize that I probably would’ve never made it home if it wasn't for Murphy? Thank God he’s a fucking decent human being, unlike you!” At this point, you couldn’t hold back the tears as you cock the gun, making Javier tense up in fear for the second time.

“Cariño, I’m sorry. I fucked up, and I’m sorry. I should’ve been here for you, and I know that now. But please don’t do this.” Javier pleaded.

“It’s too late.” You choke out.

Javier felt his heart stop when you pointed the gun barrel at your temple. In his mind, he had already snatched the gun from your hand, but physically he couldn’t move.

However, once you pulled the trigger, the only sound filling the apartment was a click.

You gasp at the reality of what you were about to do and drop everything in your hands. Only then did Javier find the strength to stumble over and embrace you tightly in his arms.

You hyperventilate and bawl into his shirt as Javi tries to calm you down. Once again, your hands cling to him for dear life. “I’m so sorry, Javi!” You cry.

“Shh. Shh. It’s all right, baby. It’s all right. I’m here now.” He strokes your hair and slowly rocks you back and forth in his arms until you finally fall asleep.

Javier gently picks you up bridal style and carries you to his room, where he could grab a wet towel and some hydrogen peroxide to clean some of your cuts off before tucking you into bed. He took a second to sit there and stare at you as you slept peacefully. If he didn’t feel guilty before, he does now.

Javier sometimes liked to think of himself as a sharp man, but he was blind when it came to you. Murphy often told him that anyone could see you two were head over heels for each other, but he never accepted it as the truth. He never thought you cared about him as more than a friend. And he blew it when he finally had his chance to prove to you that he was worthy of your heart.

There was no telling how long it would take you to forgive him, but he was willing to do whatever it took to regain your trust. He’s all in now, and this time, he wouldn’t make this mistake again.

[siconetribal]

Put It On My Tab: Chapter 10

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!reader

Tag:

@vbecker10 @wordsfromthemoon @harlequin-hangout @harpy-space @tild3ath @gone-batty-fics @princessbl0ss0m @dakotali

Warning:

Banter, Fluff, Wit, Book-nerdiness, and more floof

Summary:

Everyone deserves time off, and the vigilantes of Gotham are no exception to the rule. The boys decide to take a weekend to let loose. Who knew a few drinks would lead to a stranger in bed?

Author Note:

A huge thank you and shout out to @harlequin-hangout for the amazing banners you made for me.

If you’re new to the story, please check the master list for the previous chapters!

Jason watched her turn her mug in circles, press a napkin to make it smooth, and shift her plate as if to find the perfect lighting to make her pastry most photogenic. One half of her lower lip was imprisoned by her teeth, the other half jutting out to the side. It was not hard for him to conclude that she was nervous, which made him curious. What does she have to say about what Cici said? How serious could it be? Maybe she’s embarrassed about the bill? Wait, if she brings it up I can insist on paying!

“So ,” Y/N finally spoke up after what felt like hours of silence. “I have been in a dicey situation because of the Joker and his gang of clowns. Wrong time, wrong place, sorta deal.” She paused again, but shorter this time. “I have been hit by his Joker Venom, but I was treated in time. It was a gas and it wasn’t one of the more lethal variants or long enough exposure to be permanently disabling. It’s…not something I talk about either. Cici wasn't trying to lie or cause trouble the day you came in. She was trying to help me out, because I recognized you.”

Great , she recognized me right away and I was just chasing 1’s and 0’s in a useless IP address! His lips scrunched to the side as he slouched in his seat, his pride was thoroughly bruised. 

“Don't pout, I was having a bad day, well week, and she was just trying to help me jot deal with another thing, and ended up blurting that out. So no, I’m not some lunatic because of it and yes, I’m perfectly normal, because who isn’t a little traumatized when living in Gotham City, right?”

“I would say ‘or insanely rich’, but they tend to be the actual targets and commoners like myself end up in the crosshairs.” She hesitantly added, seeing no flare of anger or annoyance, she sat up and took a bite of her flaky pastry of choice. 

“Are you sure ‘perfectly normal’ is the best term for you?” He grumbled. “You recognized me and did your damndest to be unrecognizable, why? You even got your friend in on it and made me think you're someone,” his voice steadily grew louder and his tone harsher as he sat up straight while she steadily shrank back into her seat, ducking her head to avoid looking at him. Shit , not what I wanted to do! “ Forget it , who am I to get pissed at a little white lie? I’m no stranger to bad days either.” Like being held hostage and left for dead by the Joker. He quickly deflated back in his seat. His foot lightly nudged against hers, making her jump and look up. “I also think anyone who isn't traumatized living here is either off their rocker or they've only just moved in.” His gaze softened as he smiled, coaxing her to relax with him again.

“Being rich comes with its own style of batshit crazy.” He rolled his eyes. Like throwing cash around for giant galas to make yourselves feel better about ‘charity’ which will obviously attract all the other criminals in Gotham. The only difference between them is that one group is considered legal.

 “Speaking of rich, you’re a Wayne, right?” Jason’s eyebrows shot up quickly before crashing down and furrowing together. “Cici told me, I was helping her with the drinks that day and she told me to not call it.” She quickly explained. “But that aside, what do I call you? Little Lordling? Littler Wayne? Wayne Jr the second? Wayne 3.0? There are a bunch of you, right? You're the second one, I suppose you'd be Wayne 2, or are you 3 because Bruce Wayne would be 1?” She thought aloud, watching his left eye twitch with each nickname she came up with. It was still oh so satisfying to see.

“Yes, I am an adopted son of Bruce Wayne and no , you can’t call me any of those.” His voice shook as his smile became a little strained, a little bit of a grumble in the undertones.

“Aww, not even ‘Little Lordling’? I thought that one would’ve won.” She pouted. The way her lower lip puffed and pushed out was adorable, but Jason needed to be strong. There's no way he was going to let anyone call him that. It would be the end of him if any of the other Bats heard of this. “So what do I call you by, oh nameless capeless savior?”

“How about you just call me by my name? Which you could’ve just asked me for instead of doing all this.” He rolled his left hand in the air as he gestured to the oddity that was this conversation

“It is absotively posolutely rude to demand such information! To ask without offering something of equal value is simply barbaric!” She scoffed and he snorted while trying to stop himself from choking on his drink. “Also, where's the fun in that? Now you'll remember me the next time you see me, you won't be so thrown off.” The smug grin on her face was frustratingly adorable and pleasantly annoying, he was not sure if he wanted to wipe it off her face or give her something else to gloat about. 

“And charging someone for asking questions is not memorable enough?” One of his eyebrows rose up in question. “I feel like we’re well past dinner and a movie first.”

“Who says that's my cup of tea? Maybe I'm a video games and books kind of gal?” She raised an eyebrow of her own in challenge to him.

Damn, games and books? “Well you’re in luck. I’m a bit of both myself.” He smirked. 

Oh that is cheating! You can't go looking like this, be a Wayne, and be into those! I’m trying to ask you for 4k, not a wedding ring! Her eyes narrowed as she leaned in closer. “There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.”

“‘Pride and Prejudice’ by Jane Austen, not bad.” Jason took a bite of his sandwich. Not bad, not bad. “There are some things you learn best in calm, and some in storm,” he calmly replied.

“‘The Song of the Lark’, huh, ‘a bit’ is what you said, right?” Y/N sat back. “Consider me impressed again, Wonder Boy.”

“Quit calling me that,” he grumbled as his eye twitched.

“I have nothing else to call you.”

“Then call me by name.”

“I don't have your name.”

“You could ask.”

“That’d be rude, of course. We haven’t properly met.” She smirked.

“And how do we properly meet?” He leaned forward, resting an elbow on the table.

“Dinner and a good book.”

“Are you asking or telling?”

“That depends, do you prefer me to ask or tell?” She leaned in closer as well.

“Doesn’t matter to me, so long as you say yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes,” he grinned. “I guess it’s settled then. Now all I need is your number.”

“Wait, what? My number?” She sat back a little in surprise.

“Yes, your number, how else am I going to get in touch with you?” He extended a hand towards her and she, still confused at what just happened, robotically handed over said device, the screen unlocked. He quickly sent himself a text through her phone and saved his number in hers. “Thanks, sweetheart, I’ll be sending you the details later. On that note, I gotta run. See ya,” he winked and finished his drink before heading out, Y/N sitting there mouth agape and utterly confused. The bell chimed again before she could even process any of it as she quickly cleaned up and got behind the counter once more, the rev of a motorcycle fading into the distance.

[magpiefngrl]

personal Top-20 Fave Books of the 21st century

I'm sure we've all seen the NYT list of the 100 best books of the 21st century and perhaps some of you caught the second list, Readers Pick their Best Books of the 21st century, after all the comments the newspaper got about the first one.

There are issues with both these lists for me, because I read mostly genre, I read more international books, and I used to read a ton of YA in the past. This is a predominantly US-centric list, with the kind of books that the readers of a highbrow newspaper would gravitate towards and it definitely suffers from recency bias.

Of course the great thing about these kind of lists is that they give rise to discussions. And I've been thinking of what my personal Top-20 would be for books that stood out in the past 24 years.

I am the kind of person who has forgotten what she ate yesterday, but luckily Goodreads doesn't forget and I've been doing the yearly reading challenge since 2013, which was a great help. If I've forgotten something amazing is because I read it before social media.

Here we go, the books published this century that blew me away:

Piranesi by Susanna Clarke

Girl, Woman, Other by Bernardine Evaristo

Γκιακ by Δημοσθένης Παπαμάρκος

Captive Prince by CS Pacat

Night Sky with Exit Wounds by Ocean Vuong

The Space Between Worlds by Micaiah Johnson

Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel

Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides

Brand New Ancients by Kae Tempest

The Queen of Attolia by Megan Whalen Turner

Mo Dao Zu Shi by MXTX

Empress of Salt and Fortune by Nghi Vo

Heated Rivalry by Rachel Reid

The Amber Spyglass by P. Pullman

Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrel by S. Clarke

The Likeness by Tana French

The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt

Silver in the Wood by Emily Tesh

Storm of Swords by GRRM

Long Price Quartet (a series, I'm cheating) by Daniel Abraham

Runners up:

The Dream Thieves, Brothers of the Wild North Sea, Spectred Isle, The Ruin of Gabriel Ashleigh, Bel Canto, Amberlough, Vita Nostra.

Anyone want to do something similar? Consider yourselves tagged and PLEASE tag me so I can see!

[ts4ritsa]

༊*·˚ falling in love with an ultimate jack-of-all-trades

ft. makoto naegi, byakuya togami, hajime hinata, & izuru kamukura from danganronpa * ˚ ✦

tags / cw ✎ male!reader, requested, for background reader is the ultimate jack-of-all-trades, was a normal student who earned title by learning many skills but faced bullying from peers — resulting in insecurity and a need to prove worthiness

MAKOTO NAEGI ✰

out of all the exceptional scholars makoto had researched before coming to hope’s peak academy, none of them stood out as much as you did. he had read that you were recently once a regular guy just like him — though steadily you had paved your way to excellence. it was honestly relieving to makoto, because all his other classmates had such… striking, demanding talents, so he felt very out of place among them. not that he was trying to drag you down to his level! but knowing that you had a similar background comforted him in a way. when he got to meet you, you both found yourselves getting along like it was the most natural thing ever. he felt at ease in your humble presence. as for developing feelings — well, how could he not? your connection had no bounds and your personalities went well with each other

makoto would always be willing to listen, still never forcing you to open up about your complicated past. he’s completely understanding once he learns of it. though not as severely as you, he is aware of what the feeling of being undervalued and criticized for not having “actual” remarkable talent does to a person. offers you quiet solace along with words of affirmation. he’ll even try to make a few lighthearted comments in an attempt to cheer you up. makoto would go the extra mile for you, and he hopes that you know that, always.

BYAKUYA TOGAMI ✰

when byakuya first met you, he instantly considered you someone important to have near. compared to mostly everyone else, your talent was so flexible and widespread that you were prepared for any situation that needed attention. he had not much to say to you, but you could tell that he did not mind your company. he even respected your skill, though wouldn’t directly say so if anyone asked. as time passed and feelings blossomed, his resolve and composure around you gradually softened until he finally let you in. though still holding on to his firmness, he directly approached you of his sentiment and… it went off from there

in regards of your past, byakuya does make an effort to comfort you, though not verbally as it is definitely not his specialty that way. he’s honestly surprised and offended that other students and even staff could criticize someone who would undeniably go further than they ever could. he’d try to not let it torment you so much now, after all he only wants the best for his man. byakuya only states that letting the past get to you is something he recommends you avoid, after all everything has already been said and done. instead, it’s better to focus on better tomorrows.

HAJIME HINATA ✰

hajime, like with the rest of his classmates, treated you friendly and with respect upon meeting you. he even complimented you on your talent, saying it must be a very convenient skill and that he wishes he had something like that. hajime appreciated having you around and it was fairly easy for you two to form a bond. he notices your intense desire to help others — even at the expense of your own well-being. well, he finds it admirable that you’re so considerate, but on occasion he checks up on you to make sure you’re not wearing yourself out. you’ll find that he does it more often when you even find yourselves in a relationship. he can’t help but worry about his boyfriend, you know? he fell for you for so many reasons, so he doesn’t want to see you crumble.

one day due to curiosity about the roots of your habits, he couldn’t help but ask you if it had anything to do with your past. oh boy… well, at least you both are familiar with that taunting feeling, despite the differences in circumstance. he finds it easy to understand where you’re coming from, and even if he can’t exactly find the right words, he’ll let you know that you’re not alone while holding you close, if you’ll let him.

IZURU KAMUKURA ✰

izuru had known about you, he knew practically everything involving his classmates — on an academic and observational level, to be precise. so, he knew that your past shaped parts of your behavior. he wouldn’t mention that to you, he had nothing to say of it, especially when he saw you trying to please other. if you looked at him you probably wouldn’t be able to tell but he just came off as… bothered.

so how did he fall for you? well the pull was always there, he just wasn’t aware. you definitely would have had to be the one who initiated things. he was more confronted with the attraction then — and while it surprised him, he couldn’t bring himself to deny what he felt for you. what an unforeseen turn of events, he’d think.

©2024 ts4ritsa | req by @beawesome04