#like you can let me know if this is the step too far I WILL FULLY UNDERSTAND

[autumnscribbles]

take care of you | rc

pairing: mommyissues!rafe x pogue!reader

summary: after a heated argument with ward, rafe seeks comfort from the only woman in his life who’s ever stayed

warnings: wee bit of theorizing about mama cameron (death)

wc: 1.8k

a/n: hey friends!! thank you to the anon that sent this request in!! i love me a soft rafe moment who just needs to be held🥹 enjoy!! feel free to send me more angsty/soft rafe i love it!!!

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘

Rafe slammed the truck door shut behind him, twisting his key into the ignition. Ward stood in the doorway ahead of him, his mouth moving but his words unheard. Rafe stopped listening to him even before he decided to leave. He couldn’t listen to it anymore. The rain pelted the windowsill, overpowering the pounding sound of his accelerated heartbeat. He pulled out of the driveway, no destination in mind. He just had to leave.

As he drove, his headlights broke through the rain ahead, illuminating the pitch black road. His breathing was still heavy, trying to ignore his fight with Ward. They weren’t exactly few and far between, but this one had escalated particularly badly. He replayed it over and over, on the verge of screaming just to make it stop.

He didn’t know why he tried to hard to impress Ward, or to get his validation. Everyone is his life left in one way or another. Whether it was on their own terms, or they were taken. He clung to Ward and the fact that just maybe, he would stick around. Be proud of him. In the end, everyone gave up on him. Everyone screwed him over.

Except maybe one person.

When Rafe first met you, he didn’t like you. He never thought he could be friends with a pogue, let alone be with one romantically. You had too much confidence for someone who didn’t have very much. He admit, he thought less of you. He judged you about things that didn’t truly matter. Eventually, he began to find you endearing. You didn’t need boats, a big house, designer clothes, or anything material to be happy. You knew who you were, and he admired that.

You understood him in ways no kook ever had, and probably more than any kook ever will. You knew hardship, and you saw through his bravado. You could tell deep down, he was in pain. No money could fix what was truly happening inside. All the other kooks were shallow. Never having any conversations with substance, just rambling about bullshit. Rafe never really fit in with any of them. He pretended to be friends with most of them, to keep up appearances and his reputation. At the end of the day, he knew none of them truly cared about him. Even worse, he knew they would mock him if they knew he was with you.

Without realizing, Rafe ended up pulling into your driveway. Through the still pouring rain, he could barely see your house. All the lights were off, including the porch light. Were you home? He didn’t even know. As his mind reeled, he automatically drove here. He wanted to see you. Wanted your comfort. Before you, he hadn’t had that in a long time. Since his mom…no one had ever been there for him. No one to tell him things would be okay, no one to comfort him, or hold him. He craved it.

He hopped out of the car, jogging through the rain to your front door. He rapped his knuckles, hoping you would appear on the other side. He saw a light turn on inside, and exhaled a sigh of relief.

You opened the door, met with a dripping wet and sad looking Rafe on the other side. You were surprised to see him. You had some distance from each other recently, since Rafe told you that his friends couldn’t know about your relationship. You pulled back as he continued to hang out with them, unsure how to move forward.

Seeing him here made your heart sink. He pouted as his blue eyes bore into yours, sadness overcoming his entire expression.

“Can I come in?” he asked. “Please.”

“Of course,” you muttered. You stepped aside, letting Rafe into your empty house.

He crossed the threshold, a shiver coming over his body at the sudden change of temperature. His wet clothes left him cold, making the warmth of your house even more shocking to his system. He wiped at his face in attempt to dry it.

“Are you cold?” you asked gently. “Here let me go get you some clothes and a blanket.”

You walked away for a moment, leaving Rafe standing in your doorway. You gathered a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie that belonged to your brother. He wasn’t here, he wouldn’t mind. You snatched your fuzzy blanket from your bed, scurrying back to where Rafe stood waiting. You passed him the clothes, offering him to go change.

As he took his time, you put a kettle of water on the stove. Opening your white cabinets, you rummaged through the various flavours of tea you had. You settled on chamomile. You knew Rafe liked it, even though he would never admit it to literally anyone else. You grabbed 2 mugs and placed the tea bags inside as the kettle began whistling.

You took the two steaming mugs out to the coffee table, where Rafe sat on the couch, waiting for you.

“Here,” you muttered, handing him the mug. You grabbed the blanket, placing it across his lap. “That should warm you up.”

“Thank you,” he said softly, gentle eyes looking up at you.

You sat down beside him, tucking your legs up on the couch. You both sat in silence for a moment, sipping your tea. He let out a small sigh after his first sip, a little smile tugging at his lips.

“My favorite,” he whispered. You responded with a nod.

“You take such good care of me,” he said, breaking the silence more. “I don’t deserve it.”

“Rafe,” you sighed.

He shook his head, not wanting you to deny the truth. He didn’t want you to tell him that he deserved it when he knew it wasn’t true. You were consistently there for him, exuding a kindness he’d never felt. Yet what did he do in return? Essentially tell you he’s embarrassed about your relationship. It was ridiculous, and you shouldn’t be nice to him.

“Come here,” you whispered, opening your arms to him.

His eyes welled up with tears, and he leaned over, resting his head on your lap. You tugged the blanket up slightly higher, covering his torso. You ran your hands through his hair and down his back, feeling the tension release from his body.

Unexpectedly, the tears continued to fall harder. Rafe’s breath caught in his throat as he heaved out a sob.

“You’re okay,” you cooed. “I’m here.”

He let out all the emotions he had been trained to hold back. Grown men didn’t cry. Strong men didn’t cry. This is what he was told over and over. No one ever let him express himself freely, or show vulnerability. For some reason, he felt safe to show it around you. Confident that you didn’t judge him, or view him as weak.

He didn’t realize how much he was craving to just be held. To have his hair played with, his back scratched. To be told it’s okay. He couldn’t remember a time when someone treated him so gently. He wondered if his mom was the last person who truly took care of him. Now, he felt responsible to take care of people around him most of the time.

“Talk to me,” you said. “What happened?”

“My dad,” he blurted out. He rubbed the tears from his eyes, taking a deep breath as he tried to compose himself. “We got into a fight, as always. I accused him of…of killing my mom.”

“What?” you asked, unable to hide the shock in your voice. “Do you really think…”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I was too young, but sometimes what he says just doesn’t add up. Doesn’t matter anyway, not like anything would happen to him.”

You nodded silently, knowing he was right. Even if Ward had killed her, no justice would be had. You knew Rafe grappled with the loss of his mom. Rose wasn’t exactly a replacement. She was cold, unkind. Rafe was in a constant battle with Ward. Trying to impress him, get his validation. Rafe grew up wanting his dad’s success, but most of all he just wanted his love. His acceptance. He didn’t think he would ever have a real family. That possibility only came into view when he met you.

“I’m so sorry, Rafe,” you consoled him. “I know how tense things can get with your dad. My arms are always open if you need a break, or need to talk.”

He sat up from your lap, facing you. His eyes were bloodshot from his previous tears. His usually hard features had softened, his eyes still carrying a deep sadness that you knew you couldn’t fix.

“I’m going to tell everyone we’re together,” he told you. “You’re…you’re perfect. You don’t deserve to be hidden. I don’t deserve you in general.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered. “When you’re ready.”

“I’m ready,” he nodded. “I think…I think you’re the only person who actually cares about me. Who listens and…sees me.”

Your eyes welled up slightly. You weren’t expecting Rafe to say something so vulnerable like this. His rough edges were beginning to soften around you.

“I see you, Rafe,” you told him. You reached out and cupped the side of his face, brushing your thumb along his cheekbone.

He leaned forward, his warm lips crashing onto yours. The kiss was desperate, yet gentle. You didn’t realize how much you had missed this. When you pulled away, Rafe’s eyes were glistening once more.

“Everyone in my life leaves, or screws me over,” he told you, repeating his previous thoughts. “Please don’t leave me.”

You pulled him towards you, wrapping your arms around him. He melted into your touch, safety and warmth encompassing his entire being.

“I’m here, Rafe,” you whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You heard his stomach gurgle, making you let out a quiet chuckle. “Hungry?”

He nodded into the crook of your shoulder. You laughed once more as he pulled back, a smirk on his face.

“Let me make you something,” you told him. You planted a kiss on his cheek before standing up, placing the blanket over his carefully. “You just sit here and relax, okay?”

“I love when you take care of me, baby,” he murmured as he rested his head on the arm of the couch.

You smiled down at him before going into the kitchen to make him some food. He felt safe with you. You had to admit that your heart soared at the thought that you were the first person he came to after a fight with his dad. The first person he opened up to about his mom, to try in front of.

You didn’t even realize it would always be you. You would always be the first person he would run to, even in a crowded room.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘

[chithereader]

playing it cool / aaron hotchner

[credits to the owners of these photos!!]

word count: 1.9k

pairing: aaron hotchner x f!reader

genre: fluff!!!!!!

cw: sickeningly sweet and soft aaron x reader, so much of aaron’s thoughts because we know that man thinks soo much more than he speaks!!

a/n: hiiii this is my third post so far and tbh i was so nervous to post the first two as that was my first time ever posting any of my writings anywhere!! but i’ve been getting so much more love on those than expected and i just really wanted to say thank you so much for all the likes and reblogs <33 i was honestly only expecting less than 10 notes as a newbie and reaching up to 200 is so so so wonderful. and especially for the love of hotch i– ugh!!!!! i already love u all 

The team had worked a straight 5 weeks worth of cases prior, which had warranted Strauss to grant them all a mandatory 3-day rest. This simply meant that for 3 whole days there are no cases, no deadlines, and no new case files. They could come to the office at whatever time they’d like as long as they finished some reports at the end of the day. 

Aaron being Hotch the boss man still aimed to arrive at the office at a reasonable time– 7:30am. To be fair, this is an hour and a half later than when he usually arrives at the office. And in his mind, the earlier he arrives, the more he can get done, and the more he gets done, the earlier he can come home. 

This is the only reason why he is up at 6:00am on a supposed rest day. He did expect that he’d struggle a bit more to drag himself out of bed, knowing you’d be keeping him hostage with limbs that wrap around him in ways he can’t begin to understand, but to his surprise, you weren’t there. 

Dragging his feet across the carpeted floor, his pajama pants hanging low on his hips and white shirt fitting him oh-so-snugly, he tries to find you. He’s rubbing the sleep of his eyes as he peeks his head into your shared bathroom. No sign of you. 

He’s covering his mouth as he yawns when he quietly opens the door to Jack’s bedroom–still no sign of you. Remembering his son has been nursing a stomach bug since yesterday, he opened the door further to check on him. No fever. No chills. No sign of discomfort. 

When he’s sure Jack’s okay, he turns around to go back to find where you went. He even checked the backyard as he passed by a window to see if you’re at your favorite swing reading, that perhaps you just woke up early and wanted to feel the morning sun because you claimed it lightens you. 

He smiles a little to himself as he treads downstairs, finally hearing your soft murmurs as you spoke with someone presumably over the phone. As he neared the kitchen he realized that the person on the line was your colleague and friend Tilly, and that she was on speaker phone making it easy to listen in. 

He slows down his steps as he nears the landing and pauses when he gets behind a wall near the kitchen. He doesn’t know what came over him. He doesn’t usually sneak around to eavesdrop, nor did he ever feel the need to especially when it came to you. You tell him everything, prompted and unprompted. 

But perhaps it was the haze of the morning or the curiosity of what could possibly get you out of bed this early when you’re usually the one snoozing away as he’s getting ready for work– he stayed quiet behind that wall and made it his mission to understand the conversation. 

He clears his mind and strains his ear, going as far as making his breaths slow and far apart. 

He hears Tilly giggling, “Don’t get me wrong, Adam from Finance is really cute but.. isn’t he just a little too serious? He’s always got that frown going on.” 

You sigh a little loudly, obvious that it’s a sigh to humor and not of exasperation, “Tilly, you know I love you, but every day you complain about being single. And every other day there’s a decent guy who you always always find that one flaw in that just crosses them off for you forever.” Tilly lets out a sound that’s a mixture of a laugh and a gasp. 

“That is so not tr–” “Oh, Hugh’s just too clean. And Frederick’s too hard, it’s like- scary. Yes, veiny hands are hot but there’s veiny and too veiny, and Jason was just a double too veiny.” 

Aaron momentarily pauses his listening and looks down at his hands, suddenly conscious where he fit in that category. Factoring in his age, his work, and the action he gets from the field– these all show. He tried thinking of a time you could’ve shown any dislike or disgust towards his hands but all he could think of was that one night when he cupped your face and you leaned towards it more, turning slightly to take his thumb into your mou–

He’s shaken out of his thoughts when he hears Tilly asking about you leaving, “What time are you getting to the office by the way? I just don’t want to get there without you. Adam might ask about that second date and I just need you as my bluff, my beautiful girl.” He makes a mental note to message Jessica before you both get ready for work. 

“Riiiight. Remind me how many guys have I scared off for you now? And how many times have I helped you scare them off? Besides, I can’t go today and I’ve already told Bobby I’m on leave.” 

In a slight surprise and panic Tilly whines, “What?! Why? You’re such a traitor. You know damn well I get so bored without you.” Aaron didn’t even know you were planning on staying home. You hadn’t mentioned anything about it last night which made him even more curious what made you decide. 

He hears your soft laugh, “Don’t be so dramatic. You’ll manage a day without me. I mean you have to– my son caught a stomach bug yesterday so I just want to make sure he’ll recover completely.” 

Aaron can hear Tilly responding, something about soup and warm baths, but his heart has just stopped so he’s not really processing any new words at the moment. 

My son. My son. My son. My son caught a stomach bug. 

He feels lightheaded. His heart kickstarts again, his pulse is ringing in his ear. He can feel his chest pounding to his heart’s beat. The words that rolled off your lips so effortlessly, so mindlessly, echoes in his head. 

Jack may be young but he is smart. So so smart beyond his years. And he has grown to understand what had happened to his mom Haley, but not once has he– and even you allowed Jack to forget who Haley is and how much she loves him. 

Images of you joining in their traditions of honoring and remembering Haley plays in his head in flashes. You helping Jack arrange a bouquet for Haley’s death anniversary. You helping Jack make a card for her birthday. You mixing the paint to get the right shades as Jack paints a portrait of Haley for his Mothers’ Day homework. 

Aaron had told you everything there was to know about Haley and you’ve listened. He knows you adore her. You adore her for the same reasons he adored her. You understood the space Haley had in his life and in Jack’s life, and not once were you ever jealous, immature, or selfish about it. Even though he would’ve completely understood if you were. 

You were nothing but supportive, and understanding, and loving. Even when he didn’t deserve it. Even when you deserved better. Admittedly, there was a point in time when he struggled with coming to terms with falling in love– with you nonetheless. You’re young, ambitious, brilliant, talented, insanely beautiful, and unfairly kind. 

When the two of you had met, this was his profile: divorced with a kid, recovering from trauma that stemmed from being stabbed multiple times in his own home, emotionally unavailable, annoyingly serious and fatally dull– which really makes him wonder what made you fall in love with him in the first place, and even more so what made you stay even when he was bafflingly dense about how you felt about him.  

He didn’t know how long he was standing there, like a deer caught in headlights. Replaying your words and his memories over and over again, slowly coming to the conclusion that you’re absolutely perfect and he’s absolutely gone for you. 

Slowly coming to his senses, Aaron becomes more aware of the silence. The call must have ended while he was having realizations about things. He rounds the corner silently, getting a feel of where you’re facing. Luckily he guesses right, that you’re facing away from him. 

You were rummaging through the fridge– the vegetable drawer if he had to guess, judging by how much you’re slouching and reaching, and the sound of the glass containers you use to prolong their freshness. 

He quickly surveys the scene- your phone is on the counter, beside it is a chopping board with carrots and onions, a carton of chicken broth, Jack’s favorite dinosaur-shaped pasta, and chocolate milk– the one drink you both know can make Jack feel instantly better, happier. 

His heart pinches again. You got up early to make sure Jack had something to eat for breakfast in time for his medicine. You got up early even though you aren’t planning on going to work. You aren’t going to work because you want to stay with Jack. You called Jack your son. 

With so many things running in his head, he stands quietly observing you finding god knows whatever vegetable. Maybe it's the intensity of his stare or the volume of his thoughts, or maybe he started to breathe loudly– but suddenly you knew he was there. He could tell. 

You slowly straightened your back from when you were leaning. Your hands have stopped rummaging through the drawer, and he could see the goosebumps on your legs and shoulders from the way the sunlight hits you through the kitchen window. 

You turn around slowly, as if you were just caught doing something you aren’t supposed to be doing, “I’m so sorry, did I wake you?” grimacing as if it was a crime to be hot and cute and gut-wrenchingly-sweet. 

“No.” His voice is groggy. Deep and rough given that he just woke up minutes ago and hasn’t really used it since. Looking at you through studying eyes, he clears his throat “Uhm, I woke up to get ready for work and you weren’t there.” 

Aaron suddenly feels a little cold. The thin material of his shirt and pajamas doing little to contain what warmth he has left in his body. Or maybe it’s you, maybe his body has sensed that you’re near and is now craving your warmth, making him feel a magnified amount of its absence.

“Oh.. I’m sorry I just wanted to get ahead of cooking so Jack can have soup before he takes his medicine at 8 and since I was also planning to do some work though I’m on leave, it just made sense to get an early start…” You slow your words, noticing how Hotch is studying you tenfold in the moment, as if you were an apparition, “Are you okay? Did you want soup too? I can pack you some before you go?”

His silence makes you panic a little. You can’t really tell if he’s upset about something or if he’s sleepwalking, “Or you can eat here. I mean– you live here, of course you can eat here. I mean like instead of bringing it to the office– not that if you eat here, you can’t bring some anymore.” 

The longer he stays silent, adoring you, the more you scramble to fill the silence, “I’m just– you know you can do whatever you want. You can eat here, there, anywhere. Unless you don’t want soup. I mean we still have leftover steak, I cou–” 

You pause your rambling because you can see a smile starting to form on his face. A real, big smile. Laugh lines and dimples and all, which makes you smile. Realizing how stupid you were sounding and how funny the situation was becoming, you started giggling.

And just as you think he’s about to join the laughter to make fun of you, his smile softens and he says, “Marry me.” 

[littlespoonevan]

your hand in my pocket to keep us both warm

post 8x08 because i'm SAD in a way that can only be eased with buddie hurt/comfort 💔 title from abstract (psychopomp) by hozier

-

Buck is the one to drive him to the airport because who else would it be?

It feels a lot like deja vu as he approaches the glass doors of Departures but his step only falters for a moment before Eddie’s hand is catching his sleeve at the elbow and leading him through them. It’s further than Abby ever let him get.

Eddie lets him go as far the security line and he almost looks regretful when he turns to face Buck.

Buck would like to think he’s handled this well so far. He’s been supportive, helped Eddie choose his new home, listened to his fears about his parents, reassured him about Christopher, promised to oversee the shipping of the rest of Eddie’s stuff next week. He’s done everything right.

It hasn’t made any of this feel less wrong.

They look at each other now, awkward in a way they never are, until Eddie drops his bag and pulls him into a hug without saying anything.

Maybe because there’s nothing to say. Buck’s heart has been lodged in his throat since he parked the car; he’s not even sure he could say anything if he wanted to.

Eddie’s arms around him are a familiar weight though so Buck allows himself to sink into them. To tuck his chin into the crook of Eddie’s shoulder and to fist his hands in the back of his jacket like if he holds on tight enough he might be able to convince Eddie to stay.

When Eddie does pull back he makes no attempt to leave the circle of Buck’s arms. Instead one of his hands goes to that same spot at the juncture of Buck’s neck – always the same spot – and when his thumb makes contact with the divot in Buck’s throat he seeks out Buck’s gaze.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Buck croaks, the tell-tale burn behind his eyes becoming more pronounced by the second.

“Like I’m Abby,” Eddie sighs. “Or Ali. Or Tommy. I’m not leaving you, Buck.”

Buck tries to laugh but it comes out too hysterical and Eddie’s hand tightens on his neck.

“I’m leaving,” he allows. “But I’m not leaving you.”

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you,” Buck says, the words wobbling in the middle. His hands are still twisted in Eddie’s jacket.

“And you think I do?” Eddie asks with a half-laugh. “Who am I gonna talk to when my folks are driving me crazy? Who am I gonna talk to when I do anything? Besides, you think Chris will accept you not visiting at least once a month?”

Truthfully, Buck has no idea what Chris wants right now but he clings to Eddie’s words anyway.

“Everyone at work is gonna find me insufferable. It was bad enough that last time you weren’t there.”

Eddie laughs again, thumb brushing Buck’s neck seemingly absentmindedly. “No they won’t. And I’ll be on Facetime so much it’ll be like I never left.”

Buck ducks his head but nods anyway, gathering up the courage to say what he wants to say next. “I know you have to go,” he starts, steeling himself as he makes himself meet Eddie’s gaze. “But please don’t go forever.”

Eddie’s expression blanks, his mouth parting over nothing. Buck can only stare back, hoping that just this once it might be different. That he won’t get a, ‘Take care of yourself, Buck,’ and a hand to the cheek before the person in front of him disappears forever.

Eddie doesn’t touch his cheek. Instead he presses their foreheads together hard enough to hurt, hard enough to make Buck’s breath catch and rush out of him on a shaky exhale.

“I won’t. I promise,” Eddie breathes and his hand moves from Buck’s neck to the back of Buck’s head and Buck can’t help wondering for a moment what would happen if he closed the distance between them. If Eddie would kiss him back.

It’s not a thought he’s ever entertained before but he’s thinking it now and it feels…like it makes sense. Like an inevitability.

And what a time to have a realisation like that.

Eddie leans back then and Buck forces himself to unclench his hands, attempting to smooth out the back of Eddie’s jacket with trembling hands.

“You should go,” he says because Eddie won’t.

Eddie nods faintly in agreement and it looks like it takes every ounce of effort for him to take a step back. Buck picks up his bag for him, offers it to him, and tries for a weak smile so Eddie will know it’s okay. That he can go and Buck won’t cause a scene.

“I’ll call you as soon as I get to my parents place.”

Buck nods. “Give Chris a hug for me.”

“I will.”

Eddie starts looking towards the security line again and Buck blurts out, “Tell him I love him.”

Eddie looks back to him, a devastating smile of understanding on his face. “He knows already. But I will.”

Buck nods again and then there’s nothing left to say. Eddie turns to go and Buck does the same because he can’t watch until he’s out of sight. It hurts too much already and he can barely hold his tears back as it is.

He doesn’t need to watch himself get left behind again.

~

He’s just unlocking his car when his phone rings. He doesn’t check who it is as he climbs in, just shoves the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he reaches for his seatbelt.

“Keep me company while I wait for my flight?”

He straightens so quickly the phone almost falls into his lap but he catches it just in time. And he tries to laugh but he thinks it might come out more like a sob. “Keep me company on the drive home?”

“Always,” Eddie says like they’re driving home from work after a long shift.

Buck switches his phone to speaker mode and looks down at the keys in his hand, at the keys to the loft, Maddie’s place and Eddie’s house respectively, considering his options before turning on the ignition.

“So there’s the guy at the gate-“ Eddie starts and Buck lets the sound of his voice wash over him. Allows himself just one singular moment where he closes his eyes and holds his hand to his chest before he pulls himself together and drives out of his space.

Eddie is offering him a play by play of the guy at the gate who’s insisting his luggage is not chirping and Buck gets his breath back enough to make a quip about how that made it through the security scanner.

When he reaches the freeway it takes hardly any thought at all for him to take the exit that’ll get him to the Diaz house fastest.

He’s going home after all.

~

[creamflix]

can I have nanami + mistletoe (naughty) 😈😈😈

you’ve received a gift! ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ want to check out other gifts? ・:〃➜ click here! 

NANAMI knew this was a terrible idea. he didn’t need to look up to know the mistletoe was dangling just above your heads. 

what cruel, festive prankster even hung it there? his money was on satoru.

he shifted uncomfortably in the doorway of your house, half-blocking gojo from barging in and causing chaos. the white-haired menace had just been lingering around the mistletoe, openly smirking, clearly waiting for an opportunity to swoop in.

“don’t you have someone else to bother, gojo?” nanami asked, his voice calm but laced with thinly-veiled irritation.

“oh, come oooonn, nanamin,” gojo drawled, leaning casually against the wall. “it’s christmas! and isn’t it tradition to kiss under the mistletoe? don’t be shy, I’ll take care of it for you.”

you rolled your eyes, though your heart fluttered at the implication.

“gojo, maybe you should —”

“out,” nanami said firmly, stepping forward to nudge gojo away from the door.

“fine, fine. don’t do anything i wouldn’t do,” gojo teased, winking as he finally wandered off, leaving you and nanami alone under that cursed sprig of greenery.

you turned to nanami, unsure whether to break the silence or pretend like the mistletoe wasn’t there. “so... uh —”

“there’s mistletoe,” nanami interrupted, his gaze flicking up briefly before returning to you.

“i see that,” you said softly, your cheeks heating.

nanami cleared his throat, his hands awkwardly smoothing down his tie.

“it’s... tradition,” he murmured, his usually steady voice faltering.

you bit your lip, trying to suppress the grin threatening to spread across your face. was he... nervous?

nanami kento, the epitome of composure, looked like he was debating the ethics of kissing you.

“tradition’s important, right?” you teased gently, tilting your head.

“yes. it’s... important to honor traditions,” he said, sounding almost defensive. his brow furrowed as he looked at you, his hesitation obvious.

“then what’s stopping you?”

his breath hitched, his hand twitching at his side. “i don’t want to —” he stopped himself, his jaw tightening.

“i don’t want to overstep.”

you took a shaky breath, feeling your own nerves bubbling up. this was nanami, the man you’d quietly pined after for far too long.

and here he was, standing inches away from you, looking so painfully earnest it made your heart ache.

“kento,” you said softly, reaching up to tug lightly on his tie, pulling him closer. his eyes widened, and for a moment, he froze.

then, as if a dam had broken, his hands came up to cup your face, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that stole the very air from your lungs.

his lips were warm and firm, moving against yours with a desperation that felt so unlike his usual controlled demeanor. you gasped softly, and he groaned in response, the sound deep and raw as he leaned into you, one hand slipping to brace against the doorframe while the other remained on your cheek.

you whimpered against his lips, your fingers curling around his tie to pull him closer. his breath hitched again, and suddenly his knee was nudging between your legs, the motion subtle but enough to send a jolt of heat through your body.

“kento,” you whined, your voice barely audible.

“you have no idea,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and low, “how long i’ve wanted to do this.”

you let out a soft laugh, breathless and giddy. “and here i thought you didn’t notice me.”

he pulled back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours.

“notice you? you’re all i think about,” he confessed, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek.

your heart swelled, and before you could second-guess yourself, you shifted against his knee, drawing a sharp inhale from him.

“don’t,” he warned, his tone half-serious, half-pleading.

“don’t what?” you asked, feigning innocence as you did it again, this time more deliberately.

he groaned, his grip on you tightening as his knee pressed up more firmly in response. “you’re going to ruin me,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire.

“maybe it’s tradition to ruin you under the mistletoe,” you teased breathlessly, grinning against his lips.

“if it wasn’t, it is now,” he murmured, capturing your lips in another searing kiss, and this time, neither of you held back.

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[grayve-mistake]

It's good to know how to protect yourself, but I agree that a lot of people take it way too far. I think the best general rule is; Like the first person said, highly populated areas during the day are generally safest for the first few dates. Cafe, movie, restaurant, picnic at the park, whatever suits you. As long as there's cameras and people and it's not the middle of the night. Shoot someone a text about where you are if it makes you more comfortable but it's generally not necessary to be too stressed about it. NEVER go to a bar or a club with a guy/date without telling anyone. Yes, even if you're gay, mlm and wlw dates aren't always safe either. Tell people where you are and when you plan on coming home, don't take your eyes off your drink. Common sense. Never go to a house or secluded location unless you know the person REALLY really well. Shoot someone a text letting them know where you are beforehand. If you get a bad gut feeling to the point where you feel the need to use a million extra security measures, just listen to your feelings, make an excuse, say "sorry i have to go, thanks for your time", and politely leave. Don't try to push through it or make it work if you're getting a bad vibe. Just end the date early, don't bother with a million extra paranoid measures. You're better off just going home if you feel unsafe. If you think someone's following you home, drive around a block a few times to confirm they're actually following you, then drive towards a police station. Usually they'll back off.

You don't need a million self defense devices and gadgets. Learn some basic maneuvers, keep one or two REASONABLE self defense tools at most if necessary. You only really need any of this stuff if you're walking home alone at night a lot. You don't need a million alarms and locks in your house either, they're probably more dangerous than whatever threat you're trying to protect yourself from. Simple latches on your doors and windows will usually do just fine, especially if you're not in a high-crime area (most of the women posting their elaborate security systems online, nay, the only people that can AFFORD elaborate security are white people in a nice little middle class neighborhood with white picket fences. They have nothing to be scared of). You don't need 50 guns, you don't need a husband with you 24/7, most of you don't need 10 alarms or 100 different locks on your door and barricaded windows that'll be real inconvenient when you're in a housefire or a more realistic emergency. Let loose a little. enjoy your life. Go on a cute date without checking your phone 80 times. Live in the moment for a change. It's ok. A while ago I had to walk a mile in the dark after a long shift at work. I share transportation with someone and I live too far away to just walk home, but they had the car, and we worked in the same town so I thought I'd just walk over and ask for the keys instead of waiting around for the next few hours for them to get off their late night shift. The sun went down before I left, it was quiet, dark, and there were lots of run down houses. I passed by a few strangers on the way there. You wanna know what happened? Nothing. Well, my legs were tired and I got a few stickers stuck to my shoes. But other than that, nothing. Did I have the means to defend myself if I had to? Yeah. I keep a couple practical things on me just-in-case. But I've never needed them, and hopefully I never will.

You know the most dangerous thing I encountered on that walk? The lack of fucking sidewalks and crosswalks. Had to strategically dart across some very busy roads and watched a guy slam on his brakes past the white line because he was going to run a red light until he saw me step forward a bit. The danger was not the random guy or two I saw walking around, probably in a similar situation as me, and minding their business. If you want to make your city safer, advocate for better walkability or public transit, lmao.



i'm sorry the self-victimization of some women i see online is crazyyyyy, they're saying shit like "yeah being a woman is so crazy, if you go on a date you have to text his full name and picture to your friend, and also where you're meeting, and share your location throughout the date, and check in hourly" girl the only safety measure you need is meeting in a populated place. that man is NOT going to kidnap you from Popular Cafe on Well-Frequented Street in broad daylight at 2pm. i promise. do you go forest hiking as a first date or what the fuck.

[livbedum]

WHERE’D ALL THE TIME GO?

CHAPTER ONE

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ new summer , new camp , new people. you were beyond ready to take on the next few months , but you had to get through your first day before that comes.

word count 7.7k

warnings profanity , mentions of underage drinking , sexual innuendos , mentions of a cult.

CAMP JESSAMINE was going to be your permanent summer camp , you decided. just the drive to get to the campground was a perfect time. your best friend , taylor , was with you— with some persuasion , and the weather was perfect. the windows to your car were rolled down , stereo to the highest volume as it pumped out the tune of your favorite songs.

you and taylor were the type of people that listened to very specific songs that would only ever make the best coming of age movie soundtrack. it was something very special to the two of you ; romanticizing your lives through music.

as you turned onto the driveway before the parking lot in front of the administration building , two weeks by grizzly bear was playing. taylor reached over , twisting the volume knob to lower it as she took in your surroundings.

“this looks much better than skyline ridge did,” she pointed out , leaning out the open window just a bit.

you laughed at the welcomed diss on your old camp. “i don’t think that’s a tough standard to beat , but i do agree. this is a lot nicer,” you replied , rolling to a stop in the gravel lot. there were several cars already parked— some of the staff showing up to help orientation along.

the radio cut silent as you killed the engine before you reached over and grabbed your tote bag. “we need id’s and..?” taylor trailed off , looking through her own bag.

“just our id,” you reassured her, “lets go check in.”

you both clambered out of your car , not having stood on two feet for several hours. your heart was pounding as you made your way to the front door. it was decorated with a banner above shouting, ‘welcome to camp j!’

with one hand clutching taylor’s , you push the door open and step inside. there’s a line of tables with staff members behind them , helping some new staff members sign in and get instructed on where they’d be bunking for the summer. you were silently praying that taylor and you would be close to each other if not paired up.

“hello! welcome on in , guys!” it was a blonde girl , probably your age , waving you two over. her hair was the perfect amount of curled and flowy for it to look naturally effortless , and her smile was practically blinding you as you walked her way. she looked like the human embodiment of sunshine. “hi , what are your names?”

“y/n,” you answered before clarifying, “y/l/n.”

the blonde didn’t even need to look down at the clipboard in her hands before letting out an excited squeal. “ah! you’re my newbie!”

taylor laughed for a moment before covering her lips with a hand. “and me? taylor mcmahon?”

“ooh , you’re with cleo,” sarah— if she was wearing the proper name badge, answered with a smile, “she’s one of my best friends. our cabins are actually pretty close to each other , too. she’s probably in the dining hall right now getting our dinner set up for tonight , but i’m sure you’ll meet her soon. actually , i’m almost done for my shift of signing people in , so if you wanted i could bring you guys around. introduce you to cleo and kiara. she’s another one of my friends who works here.”

while sarah talked and got papers ready , you could feel a good summer coming in your veins. you and taylor were paired up with two best friends and wouldn’t be staying that far a part , and the girl you were paired with seemed plenty nice.

“i think we’d love that,” you smiled back , picking up a pen and filling out the small sheet handed to you. meanwhile , taylor’s eyes were elsewhere.

“who is that?” without looking up , you know she found a boy to ogle from across the room, “and can he be my newbie?”

sarah chuckled for only a moment before she cut herself off. “oh,” she spoke , eyes landing on katherine’s latest find. “that’s—“ you didn’t really listen to who it was , focusing on your form to get it out of the way as fast as possible.

any allergies? no. any food allergies? no. any health conditions that require medication? no. favorite color? green. favorite drink? probably coffee? you finished filling the blanks before slipping the branded pen into your pocket.

“here you go,” you cleared your throat , handing sarah the slip of paper before picking up your bag from the floor, “anything you need to give me?”

sarah grinned , noticing you wouldn’t be a newbie newbie , just someone who hadn’t been to camp jessamine before. “just your name badge , some t-shirts , the cabin key , itinerary , and list of campers!” it was all handed to you in a packet , badge and lanyard laying on the top of it, “let me grab taylor’s and we’ll head over to the cabins.”

taylor took her own packet and lanyard , slipping the blue loop over her neck with a smile. “you know what , y/n/n? i think you were right : this will be a good summer.” her eyes were still trained on the guy at another set of tables.

looking at him now , you could actually scan over him. camp jessamine t-shirt a half size too small , making his arms budge out of the sleeves just a bit ; buzzed hair ; beyond tall ; perfectly tan skin. “you can have ‘im , babe,” taylor started, “i’ll take his friend.”

your eyes shifted ever slightly to the right , taking in the dark skinned boy that just entered the building , immediately going to his friend and dapping him up. “i don’t date guys from camp , tay. that’s like rule number one.”

“you guys ready?” sarah’s voice cut through your conversation.

“let’s go!” taylor beamed , hooking her arm in yours.

leading you back outside through a different door , sarah began her tour. “so we were just in admin , and that is the gymnasium,” she pointed across the way at another bigger building. it had an outside court as well , giving away its title. “over here is the dining hall , so we’ll stop in for cleo.”

she was smiling the whole time , as if this was some paradise , and you couldn’t help but hope that’ll be you next year. “how long have you been a counselor here?” you wondered , looking all around you all while following sarah through the grass.

“forever,” she simply answered, “i think my first actual memory is from this camp. i went every summer growing up ; a lot of us did. the next move was to obviously start working here,” she continued to explain , slowing her pace just a little for you two to keep up. her eyes noticed how you and taylor were trying to take everything in. “and here we are!”

ever the welcoming committee , sarah opened the door and let you walk through. “sare , who you got with you today?” a boy spoke up , heading your way. she quickly kissed him on the lips before ‘presenting’ you and taylor to the few others in the dining hall.

“y/n , taylor , this is john b , cleo , kiara , and pope,” she introduced everyone , pointing at each of her friends, “guys , this is y/n and taylor. y/n is my bunk buddy , and cleo you get taylor!”

“alright , come here , girl! let me check you out,” cleo hyped taylor up before pulling her in for a hug, “i’m not the newbie anymore , y’all.” the last bit was directed to her friends.

you all laughed at her words , knowing almost all of you had felt that feeling before. “were y’all headed to the cabins?” pope had asked , breaking up the chuckles.

“yeah,” you nodded, “sarah wanted to stop and grab cleo before we settle in.” as you answered , your eyes took in the group , sizing them up in a way to get your read on them.

“yo! new chicks just came in and they are hot! saw ‘em with sarah getting—“ two swing doors opened , a guy walking backward through them with boxes in his arms. when he turned and saw the three extra people in the room , he quickly shut up. “hi there! uh— there’s actually like , i don’t know , four other sarah’s who work here,” he lied , stumbling over his words as everyone laughed.

“right , okay. well , that’s jj,” sarah groaned , clearly unimpressed despite her giggles, “j , this is y/n , my roommate. and this is taylor , cleo’s roommate.”

the blonde swiftly flipped his hat to be facing backwards after putting the boxes down on a table. “nice to meet you , ladies,” he smirked , reaching his hands out crisscrossed for you to both shake. being polite , you both meet his hands , shaking them with smiles.

“nice to meet you , jj,” taylor smiled , catching the fact that he was perfectly your type ; catching that fact that you were blissfully aware that he was perfectly your type.

“hi,” you managed to speak , cheeks flushing bright and ears getting hot, “well , we gotta go— gotta go get , um , unpacked,” you stuttered , pointing to the door and stepping away, “sarah?”

your new friend was grinning ear to ear watching you drown , but she quickly came to your rescue. “see you guys later,” she chuckled , coming and grabbing your shoulders before pulling you away. she led you out the front door and to one of the several golf carts. “so that was something.” sarah couldn’t help herself but laugh a little when you were alone.

“i’m going to kill myself if i talk like that all summer,” you joined in on making fun of yourself, “is everyone that volunteers here that hot?” you questioned , thinking back to the guy you saw signing people in.

“yeah , that’s a perk for sure. something in the water on the cut made those pogues fine,” sarah agreed , turning the golf cart on whenever you threw your bags down in the back.

“okay , first of all : what’s the cut? and secondly , what’s a pogue?” you asked , turning in the seat as sarah took off in the direction of your cabin. neither one of those words seemed too endearing.

sarah looked back at you and took a deep breath. “well , we’re all from this island : kildare. on said island , there’s the nice neighborhood which we call figure eight. then there’s the not so nice neighborhood which we call the cut,” she explained as you listened intently, “all of them are from the cut , sparing kie. she’s a born kook.”

“so if you’re from the cut , you’re a pogue , and if you’re from figure eight , you’re a kook?” you recalled , still not entirely understanding the classist labels.

“it’s dumb , but yeah,” sarah nodded simply.

you took the answer for what it was and focused ahead of you. you could see the cabins now. they were set in five half circles , three cabins in a group. in front of them was a fairly large fire pit with handfuls of chairs littered around the area.

“which one are we in?” you questioned as sarah slowed to a stop.

“we’re in cabin number six! cleo and taylor are going to be in four , and kie is in five,” sarah answered , grabbing one of your bags to help you inside.

“these are nice,” you gaped , stepping into the cabin. there were six bunk beds , three on either side of the building. a bathroom in the back , and another door next to it.

“our room is back here,” sarah announced , moving through the cabin towards the last door, “ta-da!”

you set your bags down at the end of the bed that was still available and looked around. sarah had set up her side of the room already , fairy lights across the ceiling , posters on the wall , and her bed all done up.

“okay , these are really , really nice , dude,” you echoed yourself , amazed at how much more money is clearly put into this camp than your last.

sarah waved you off, “eh , it’s whatever,” she laughed, “just kidding. it’s actually insane how fancy this camp is. even i can admit it.”

“my last camp was an actual dumpster fire compared to this,” you admitted , starting to unravel your bedding to make the room seem homier, “packed cabins , shitty food , bunch of old people for camp counselors. jessamine is an upgrade.” sarah sat down on her bed and listened to you with a smile. she liked you already , that wasn’t hard. “and you all seem actually nice too. that’s another perk on top of how hot you guys are,” you continued with a laugh.

jj. you hated you were still thinking about him. that’s not how you ever want your summers to be. summer flings were not on your list of things to do in your twenties. you wanted to completely focus on yourself and getting to where you wanted to be in life. no blonde surfer boy was going to change that.

“so… you’re still picturing jj in that pretty , little head of yours,” sarah read your mind , holding back a cheesy grin when you turned to her.

“i don’t date boys from summer camp,” you simply said , going back to making your bed. the two of you stayed in silence until you had finished setting up your bed and unpacking. you fell into the mattress with a sigh.

sarah’s position on her bed matched yours , completely sprawled out and exhausted. “i feel like this is the first time i’ve gotten to just chill in like a week,” she huffed , staring up at the ceiling.

“yeah , me too,” you agreed, “me and taylor were on a road trip just before we came here , so i’ve been cramped in my jeep for way too long.”

“wait— how old are you?” sarah questioned , sitting up on her elbows to look over at you.

“nineteen. almost twenty,” you answered , copying her actions, “you?”

“twenty…” she replied with a smile, “which means i’m no longer the baby of the group , so thank you for that.”

“it’s okay. i’m used to it,” you mused, “youngest daughter of six. taylor is older than me , and most of the friends i’ve ever made have been too. nothing new to me.”

it was true ; you were quite used to being the ‘baby’ of whatever group you were around. you grew up that way. as much as you hated it , you did get away with a lot more. such as doing what you’re currently doing. your dad was pissed when he got the email you sent him one morning. it was the day you officially packed all of your things and left home. he had decided you were to be a doctor— what kind? he didn’t care , but a doctor nonetheless. you , however , wanted to travel and experience everything you possibly could while snapping pictures and showing the rest of the world. not exactly an easy thing to come to a compromise on.

that was two years ago.

“well , i hated it. the guys would make fun of me all of the time,” sarah laughed now , it not being as sore of a spot for her, “but that makes taylor… twenty?”

“—one,” you finished for her, “she’s like my best friend and big sister all in one.”

“don’t you already have five of those?” sarah recalled , furrowing her perfectly groomed eyebrows.

you looked away for a moment , fairy lights catching your eyes again. “technically , but i don’t really think blood is what makes family,” you shrugged , pushing yourself to sit up entirely, “show me around some more?” it was an obvious attempt at changing the subject , but it worked.

“wanna see the ponies?”

AFTER ABOUT two hours of sarah showing you around the camp grounds , you found yourself back in your cabin. it was nearly three , so you still had some to yourself before the counselors’ meeting started up before dinner.

you hadn’t seen taylor since you split up at the dining hall , so you were by yourself since sarah had to help with some administrative duties. with your free time , you made the decision to start setting out the things you brought for the girls you’d be mentoring for the summer.

daisy.

amber.

noah.

celeste.

miranda.

kylie.

the first thing on the list was making the covers for their journals. you had pressed three-d stickers on the front , spelling out all of their names. you set the books down on the dressers , pairing each with a disposable camera and pack of pens.

in the bathroom , you had set up a box of essentials. twelve teenage girls in one cabin? it was needed. you hung up a cuter shower curtain , laid down a better floor mat. you were happy with the way everything looked so far , so you moved back into the living area. you set out the mini projector you brought , coloring books and markers , card and board games , bracelet making kits. you were just making the cabin more lived in with plenty of things to do.

you had your headphones in , listening to your own music while you got everything set up. lost in your own world.

“excuse me!”

you jumped , hand clutching your chest as someone pulled one of your headphones from your ear. “holy shit! wow! sorry,” you breathed out , turning to face the person who disrupted your jam session.

“no , i’m sorry,” he replied with a chuckle, “i’m looking for sarah. last i heard she was here , but i guess not.”

“oh , yeah. she went to admin,” you answered , pulling the other headphone out and draping the wire across your shoulders, “i can tell her you stopped by…”

“rafe,” he finished for you , reaching a hand out, “i’m sarah’s brother. cabin seven.”

you nodded with a smile , reaching your hand out for him to shake. he took your hand in his , engulfing it entirely. “y/n. sarah’s roommate. cabin six,” you replied, “just do you know.”

“won’t forget it,” rafe assured you , taking a look around the room, “i like what you’ve done to the place,” he added as he inspected the hanging plant you had hung up.

“i think it’s good for campers to live in a cozy place while they’re away from home,” you explained it , hands coming behind your back as you rocked back and forth on your feet, “i don’t know— it might be dumb.”

“nah,” he immediately dismissed you. he shook his head and looked at you again with a soft smile, “s’cute. see ya around , freshie.”

your eyes trailed after him as he left the cabin , most likely in search of his sister. “see ya , vet!” you called after him , smile still gracing your lips, “jesus , something is in the water around that island.” somehow , rafe looked even better up close than he did when you first got a glimpse of him earlier.

“so you met rafe?”

another voice pulled you out of your thoughts this time. taylor. “thank god,” you sighed , moving to the bedroom and flopping on your now made bed. taylor laughed to herself , following in suit and cuddling up next to you. your arm draped over her stomach , holding your friend close.

“what’s going on , bug?” she asked , dragging a loose lock of hair out of your face, “talk to mama.”

“i think i miss my sisters?” you hummed , staring off at the wall lazily, “which is ridiculous. most days , i would rather go back to cult skyline , but i don’t know. sarah and i somehow brought that up for a moment , and i haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

“okay…” taylor nodded, “do you want my advise or or me to just listen?” god , she knew you so well.

you just sighed deeply , letting all of the air in your lungs leave your body. “i just wanna sit here for a second. take a minute before the kids get her in two days,” you shrugged.

the two of you laid in bed for a while— you weren’t sure how much time had passed until your phone started going off to let you know it was nearing five. you groaned , reaching over a sleeping taylor and grabbing your phone to shut your alarm off.

“tay , time for the meeting,” you spoke , nudging her awake. she groaned , stretching out her body as she came to. “let’s go meet everyone else.”

“yeah , yeah. i’m coming,” she promised , pushing herself up as you did the same.

despite taking the golf cart to the cabin , the walk back over to admin wasn’t all that bad. cleo had met up with you , formally introducing herself to you. it wasn’t long before you were sat around another fire pit the camp had with the rest of the camp leaders.

“all right , everyone! how we doin’?” the woman still standing clapped her hands together , and you recognized her as marsha , the person you were communicating with before you got to jessamine. everyone applauded , hooting and hollering in excitement. “okay , okay. so to start summer off , i just wanna go over a few rules. i know— i know , boring rules. boo. however , once i get them out of the way , all of the fun begins so…”

“she’s just like meagan,” taylor leaned over and whispered to you , referring back to one of the administrators from camp skyline.

you chuckled under your breath before facing back to marsha as she continued. “… no letting kids have sex , no letting kids do drugs or drink alcohol , no letting kids sneak out around camp by themselves in the middle of the night , and finally : absolutely no fraternization between counselors!” she made it a point to shout the last rule louder than the others, “cameron , maybank , i’m looking right at ya both , okay?”

the boys smirked to themselves , a few other guys patting their backs. you were sat somewhere in between them , getting a chance to look at both. jj was laughing with john b , smacking each other back in forth in argument as to who was the bigger camp slut. they agreed on the blonde.

and rafe , he was with his friends you hadn’t met yet. they were dapping him up , congratulating him on his many conquests over the years.

“now that we’ve all agreed on not fornicating on property , let the games begin!” marsha smiled, “you all know how this works. for you newcomers , you’ll pick up just fine. get with your cabin mate and check your emails. scavenger hunt begins… now!”

everyone shot out of their chairs , finding their partners if they weren’t already sat with them to start the game. when you got to sarah , who was only a few chairs away , she already had her phone pulled out with the email pulled up.

“okay , so this is what we do every year on the first night of camp,” she started , handing you her phone to look at the list, “winner gets to have their cabin get their meals before everyone else does for the first two weeks. it actually gets pretty intense.”

you laughed , handing the phone back to its rightful owner and smiling. “let’s win then.”

“alright! i like you a lot , miss y/n/n,” sarah replied , bumping your shoulder with hers. she started walking , so you kept up with her. taking advantage of the golf carts , sarah plucked the keys out of the cup holder and started one up. “we gotta start at the end. marsha thinks we don’t know , but she puts the list in order of location. the further down the list , the further it is from home base.”

“sounds like we’re going to come out on top then,” you commented, “drive faster.”

“back to the ponies we go,” sarah nodded , pushing her foot down on the gas pedal.

you sped off , passing several counselors that were on foot , including rafe. he was with the boy from check in that taylor was checking out and another blonde.

“sare , you know that shit’s practically cheating,” rafe yelled at his sister , causing her to slow down to a complete stop.

“really?” sarah feigned innocence. her big , brown eyes practically sparkled as she looked at rafe.

you leaned forward to look past sarah and at the guys standing next to your cart. “i don’t think marsha ever said that it’s not allowed,” you chimed in , pretending to think back in time, “so we’re gonna go win real quick , and we’ll see ya when we’re passing you in line for dinner.”

it was almost despicable how sweet your smile was compared to your competitive words. rafe eyed you up and down , not bothering to hide his gaze. “sounds like sarah’s already rubbing off on you , sweetheart. better get away from her before it gets worse,” he joked, “have you met kelce and topper yet , honey?” his hand pointed back to his friends , who were impatiently waiting for rafe to shut the hell up.

“no , she hasn’t,” sarah answered for you, “and also screw you. have fun losing again this year!”

with that , sarah hit the gas and drove you away from her brother. her hand flew up , waving bye as she laughed along with you. “god , please don’t take anything that boy says to heart,” she advised , looking over at you with a serious expression all over her face.

“what do you mean?”

“well…” she started, “y’know how marsh called him and jj out for being camp’s biggest whores? she’s not kidding. i love jj , and i love rafe , but those boys can’t keep it in their pants to save their lives. and they’ll say pretty much whatever to get into someone else’s. that includes sweet talkin’ you like rafe was trying to do with his ‘honey’ and ‘sweetheart’ and shit,” she continued explaining, “just be cautious.”

you nodded slowly , taking her words as gospel. every summer camp ever has one or two counselors that fuck like rabbits , but it was your luck that you found them both attractive here. good thing you had your one rule. no dating boys from camp.

it was simple and definitive.

it was clear you and sarah were going to finish before the rest of the counselors by the time you got to the last scavenge point on your list. it was at the fire pit by the cabins in plain view. sarah took a quick picture of you standing next to the fire and holding up the medallion that was placed on the bricks. finally , you were able to hop on the golf cart and head to home base.

“so there’s this party the counselors do every first night of camp , and i think you should come,” sarah spoke up as you steered your way passed the others.

“there’s not a party on the itinerary,” you replied , already having the next few days memorized.

she laughed at you gently , patting your thigh. “babe , it’s not exactly something marsha knows about,” she explained, “it’s , like , a right of passage for the leaders to get drunk off their asses before the kids come. i mean , we usually have kick backs on the weekends , but this welcoming party is much different.”

“different how?” you asked , furrowing your eyebrows, “party’s a party.”

“well , it’s bigger. every single leader comes to it. hangouts on the weekends are usually split up amongst us and our little groups , so this one is the party.”

“yeah , sure. i mean , it would be dumb to miss out on it,” you chuckled with a shrug , pulling up to the administrative office you had been in hours and hours ago.

the blonde let out an excited squeal , yanking you into a hug before hopping off the cart and running into the building. you stayed still , waiting for her to come back out. “first in line , baby!” she shouted , raising her fists into the air as soon as she stepped out the door.

you cheered and laughed with her , turning the golf cart off and getting out. “i love you , sarah cameron,” you confessed , pulling her into a hug.

it was only one day , and you were convinced she might be your person. she had divulged you into all of her stories and drama and didn’t feel the need to hide anything from you so far. she gave you space when you wanted it earlier. she was good. “i love you too,” she replied with a smile, “lets go gloat!”

AFTER SARAH rubbed the win in her brother’s face , while you stayed back and watched it , you met up with the pogues. thankfully , taylor was still with cleo. you immediately pulled her to the side.

“okay , you’re pulling me,” she grumbled , stepping along with you.

“there’s a party tonight,” you stated.

“yeah , there’s one every year. they were just telling me about it,” taylor shrugged, “we going?”

“well , yeah , but on top of that rafe was flirting with me,” you blurted out , cheeks rosy from the thought of the interaction before and after the game.

taylor nodded slowly , glancing back at your new friends before looking in your eyes. “what about jj ‘perfect for you’ maybank?” she asked , nodding to the blonde boy , who was trying to wrestle with cleo.

“no , no. that’s the point. i don’t want anything to do with either of them,” you groaned , dropping your head back for a moment, “so i need you to cockblock if anything happens.”

“all summer? why don’t you just put on a frickin’ chasity belt?” taylor whined.

you rolled your eyes. “just for tonight. hopefully , rafe will catch on , and leave me alone. as for jj , i’ll just be his friend.”

“just lead him on?” taylor corrected you, “he was already bothering me about you. asking me all sorts of questions.” there was a smile in her words , trying to push you to go for it like she always did when it came to the cute boys at camp.

“not happening,” you simply stated , shaking your head, “just cockblock this once , and i’ll , like , suck your dick or something. i don’t know , just help me. because my roommate’s brother giving me slutty eyes and smiles the three times i’ve met him is not on my agenda , taylor. especially after sarah told me he’s kind of a douchebag.”

“okay , okay. you’re so uptight,” taylor agreed, “and now that you mention it , cleo and kiara were saying the same sort of things ‘bout him , so fine. i’ll cockblock.”

just as you two finished up , jj called out to you. “ladies , c’mon! dinner time!” he waved you both over. taylor sent you a look before jogging to catch up with the rest of the group. you headed that way , noticing jj stayed behind in wait. “i see congratulations are in order,” he smiled at you , walking in step with you.

“it was all sarah , really,” you smiled coyly.

he was cute. taylor was right about that. his unruly blonde hair shoved under a beat up , red cap. combat boots pires with a cut off tee. you hated that you were so obviously eyeing him. even more when he said something again.

“you can take a picture you know.” there was a smile evident on your face , eyes gentle as he looked at you like you looked at him.

you just blushed , walking a little faster. “dinner smells good!” you commented , opening the door and rushing in to find sarah or taylor.

you all went through the line , shoving yourself in between the girls so jj couldn’t talk to you. sarah and kiara led you to a table , and you were able to eat. you didn’t even realize how hungry you were until you were sat down.

“cleo , i think i’m in love with you,” you groaned , taking another bit of the sandwich.

“girl , this is nothing,” kie cut in, “you should’ve been here last year. she went all out!”

“i was trying to make a good first impression,” cleo shrugged with a smile , like her cooking skills were mediocre and not something you’d dreamt of before.

“so…” john b started, “taylor told me you guys used to go to some camp in tennessee?” his question was directed at you.

you nodded , covering your mouth as you swallowed the oversize bite you just took. “mmhm,” you hummed, “skyline ridge.” you answered.

“how come you came here?” pope asked this time.

“turns out it was a baby cult,” you admitted , feeling your ears turn hot at the statement. it was kind of embarrassing how you didn’t realize until after. but who’s to blame you? you were a kid. “like , it wasn’t obvious until you left , you know?”

“kinda like the kooks!” jj pointed out with his fork.

taylor shook her head, “no , it was a little more established than your classist island drama , jj.”

“yeah , it was bad , but who cares? we’re here now,” you smiled simply.

soon enough , you all finished your meals and split up yet again to get ready for the not-so-secret secret party. sarah and you were alone again , trading clothes and trying to find a good outfit for each other.

“hey , so i know we just met and all,” sarah began , shyly twist a skirt in her hands, “but i could tell there was something bothering you when we were getting dinner. everything okay?”

god , she was so sweet.

you paused , adjusting the shirt you had switched into before looking at her. “taylor’s convinced i should get a boyfriend this summer. specifically jj , and i’m just , i don’t know , that’s just not for me.”

she nodded , perching on the edge of her bed. “why not?” it was an innocent question.

“i don’t stay in one place too long ever. i think summer camp is the only place i’ll stick around for longer than a few weeks,” you answered , sitting on your bed to face her. clothes were scattered around the both of you , but your eyes locked and it was all left behind. “ever since i ran away , i haven’t stopped to look back. there’s no reason. i travel the world and do my own thing. boys just drag ya down,” you think you explained it well enough.

“i think the right boy could lift you up , if you let him,” sarah philosophied with a sneaky smile, “on that note , i’m gonna go meet up with john b. i’ll see you at the party , y/n/n.”

you waved goodbye , watching her walk out the back door and skipping over to cabin eight. you took a deep breath , mulling over all of the options your friends had been giving you all day.

by yourself , you finished getting ready. to be completely honest , you didn’t know if you wanted to go as much anymore. it was dark , and you didn’t know your way through these woods enough to go alone. you could easily just cozy up in bed and read a book.

a knock at the door pulled you out of your thoughts. you rushed over , opening the wooden slab as you poked your earring through its hole. when the door opened , it revealed none other than rafe. “hey,” he greeted you , waiting for you to invite him in before he moved. he watched as you put another earring in.

“hi,” you replied , moving to the side to let him come in away from the bugs, “looking for sarah?”

he let out a chuckle , nodding his head. “yeah… she said she’d go on a beer run with me,” he explained , shoving his hands into his pockets after closing the door.

“she left for the lake , like , twenty minutes ago,” you grimaced , continuing to get ready while rafe stood in the cabin area. you shrugged on a crocheted cardigan and stood in front of him. “how do i look for my first party?”

his deep blue eyes scanned over your figure , taking their time to drink you in. your legs were exposed as you wore a pair of shorts you obviously cut yourself. the bralette-esque top sarah let you borrow covered hardly anything. the cardigan was your saving grace for any modicum of modesty. his fingers found his lips , rubbing them almost in an attempt to physically stop any nasty comments from flying out.

“you look real good , freshie,” rafe complimented you, “uh— i’ll let you get to the party. see ya,” he stammered out , reaching for the door handle.

“oh , well i can go with ya. since sarah ditched you,” you offered up , promptly getting him to stop opening the door. you don’t know what changed in the last minute for you to go from wanting to stay in for the night to wanting to join the camp whore on a beer run , but it was already offered.

“if you wanna. i mean , it’s just a beer run , so it shouldn’t take long,” rafe nodded, “i’ll have you back to your little pogues in no time.”

“you guys and your kooks and pogues,” you rolled your eyes , running back into your room to grab your phone and camera, “you do realize you’re all nobodies outside of that little island , right?” you questioned him , brushing past his body to slip out the door.

“you wouldn’t understand,” rafe sighed , following you outside before taking the lead to his truck.

“try me,” you pressed. you were walking passed everyone— going against the grain. you both waved to a few of the people who said hello first , and then your eyes lock on jj’s.

he was walking with pope and kiara , but his eyes were trained on your movements and who you were with. and you don’t know why , but your heart actually stung a little bit when you saw him tear his eyes away from you , going back to talking to his friends like nothing happened.

nothing did happen.

it’s a beer run with a fellow camp leader. big deal.

“so?” you nudged rafe with your elbow, “what’s this big thing between kooks and pogues my tiny mind just don’t understand!” you were being theatrical , and rafe chuckled a little bit before shoving you a little in the direction of his truck that came into view.

“it’s always been that way. the island was always the rich and the poor,” he began to explain, “but i think right now is the most polarized it’s ever been. i mean , we’re getting into fights all of the time. jj got arrested for sinking topper’s boat a couple of years ago! it’s all eye for an eye back home.”

rafe stopped to open the passenger door for you before moving around and climbing behind the wheel. you buckled up and looked at him. “you know that saying though?”

“hmm?” he hummed.

“if it’s always eye for an eye , eventually everyone is blind?” you mused , waiting for him to pick up on it.

“okay,” he rolled his eyes now, “you don’t get it.”

“no! hey , don’t pout,” you pointed at him when he focused more on the roads than the conversation , which usually you’d be grateful for a responsible driver , but you can only assume he usually isn’t. “it’s not me making fun of you as much as it is telling you there is a big , big world out there that doesn’t give a damn if your from the cut or the loop or whatever the fuck you call it.”

“figure eight,” he corrected you , fixing his pouty lips into a smile as he glanced at you again.

“whatever— do you have a fake? if not , i do , so we can get the beers,” you changed the subject.

and he laughed at you. “baby , i don’t need a fake id.”

“oh , well , okay. how old are you?” you stuttered at the nickname. what was with this man and terms of endearment?

“twenty-three.” he leaned over and gave you the biggest , toothiest smile.

“old man,” you scoffed , pushing his head away from you, “you should be old enough to realize that—“

“that the stupid generational rivalry is pointless. yeah , yeah,” he finished for you, “just let me buy you some drinks for the party and be happy about it,” he joked.

“oh , i don’t drink,” you shook your head.

that’s what got him to look at you fully. “shit— sorry , i didn’t mean to offend you. it’s just , i don’t know , you offered to come with me , so i guess i just assumed,” he rambled off as you started giggling.

his brows furrowed in confusion , not understanding what was funny or why you were laughing at him. “i’m kidding , ray,” you laughed , patting his head gently, “of course i drink. why else would i have a fake , doofus?”

with the relief that you weren’t actually making fun of him , rafe was able to laugh along with you. he did take notice of the nickname you gave him , though. “ray,” he whispered.

“like sunshine , ya know? it’s an oxymoron,” you explained, “and it could easily be an actual nickname for you , so it’s perfect.”

“ray like sunshine,” rafe echoed with a nod, “how exactly is that an oxymoron?”

you looked at him with a sly smile. “you’re not exactly cheery.”

“uh uh!” he argued back, “i can be cheery as fuck!”

you let out a belly laugh , tilting your head back , and rafe thinks he’s met his maker when you do. “i would looooove to see you be anything but flirty with me or grouchy with sarah. truly , i’d enjoy it,” you remarked , shifting your seat a little.

“there’s a lot you haven’t seen from me yet,” rafe remarked , proving your point of only ever being cheeky or grumpy.

“exhibit a,” you pointed, “i’m gonna start keeping count.” the two of you chuckled as he pulled into the parking lot ( of what you assume is ) the closest liquor store to camp.

“c’mon , honey. you’re mrs. rafe cameron if anyone asks,” he included you in his little scheme as if it was a necessity to this beer run. he hopped out of the truck , opening your door once again for you to slide out and land on the ground. “after you,” he smiled , opening the business’ door.

“okay , my ray of sunshine husband,” you playfully scrunch your nose , walking into the store. he was already trying to be ‘sunshiney’ after your comment.

you paused when you stepped in , waiting for rafe to drag you through the store as you’d never been. “follow me,” he simply said , grabbing your hand like he’d done it all his life , like you weren’t two total strangers. it was that moment that made you realize you were starting to break your own rules. well , maybe you didn’t realize it realize it , but in the back of your head? you did.

he lead the way to the back cooler , stepping inside and grabbing a case of beer and one of the seltzers. “you want anything specific?” he looked over to you , seeing you standing in the door way , holding yourself tight at the temperature change. “c’mere,” he gestured to himself and opened his arm.

despite yourself , you moved quickly to him and snuggled into his side. his hand ran up and down your arm , trying to warm you up. “grab whatever you want , and we’ll get outta here.”

your hand reached for a case of ciders , but you paused to look up at him for approval. he nodded and grabbed it before you could and ushered you out of the cooler.

“id please,” the cashier spoke monotonously , looking at you and rafe like you were idiots.

“marco , i literally come here every year. we have this conversation every year,” rafe groaned , digging in his pocket for his wallet.

“and up until two years ago , you were just another jessamine shit head underage drinking,” marco joked , nodding to you, “id , hon.”

“oh—“ you started , but rafe cut you off.

“hey , she’s good,” he nodded , sending marco a message you couldn’t quite read yet, “mrs. cameron isn’t old enough yet. she’s just along for the ride. right , baby?” he continued with his lie , wrapping his arm around you again and squeezing you tight.

marco rolled his eyes , knowing rafe was going to slip him a crisp if he just processed the purchase. “have a good night , y’all,” he grumbled. you muttered a small reply , waving meekly as rafe set a hundred dollar bill on the counter. he tapped it once before grabbing the cases of drinks.

you held the door open for him this time , seeing as his arms were full. “m’lady,” you jested , even bowing before him as he walked through the exit with a scoff.

“shut up,” he chuckled , shaking his head. he set the drinks in the back seat and opened your door. “git on up,” he tapped your back before closing the door— only after making sure nothing of yours was in the way.

rafe wasn’t too sure why he was being all gentlemanly with you. maybe it was because he wanted to prove you wrong when you said he was just a flirt or a grouch. maybe it’s the way you were someone that didn’t know him yet , and he could be someone else for once.

hell , wasn’t that what summer was for?

the drive back was calm. you and rafe just chatted , asking each other questions and really listening to the other one’s answers.

you couldn’t help but think to yourself that maybe everyone else had got it wrong. rafe had depth. you listened to the way he talked about his work , his aspirations , his ideologies. he wasn’t just some camp whore you were so easily labeling him earlier.

“you know what , hubby?” you hummed , hand out the window , surfing the air. your head was rested against the seat , but you turn to look at him with a smile on your face.

“what ever is on your mind , dear?” he replied , goofy smile matching yours as did his tone. the ongoing joke between you two made you giggle before continuing.

“i think you might be one of the most complex people i have ever met,” you confessed genuinely , sweetly almost. and like it wasn’t the best , most heartfelt compliment anyone had ever given rafe , you turned forward again , closing your eyes to just feel the wind passing you by.

rafe held back a grin to himself , mimicking you and just focusing on the road to give you a quiet rest of the ride back. the peaceful kind of quiet rafe didn’t even believe existed.

a/n here it is! please let me know if you hate it or love it or have ideas!!! also: tea me posting this earlier than i expected:)

taglist @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @viennafantasies @cnnamongrl @embersfae @enchantingexile @urbrunettebombshell @wearemadeofstardust0 @psychicnatural @ecstqzy @ssqra @st4rkeyl0ver @shincidios

[galactic-magick]

For You: AU!Claggor x Reader

Summary: In the alternate timeline, Powder encourages you to admit your feelings for Claggor.

Words: 800+

Author's Notes: Adult alternate timeline Claggor is fine af so I wrote this short oneshot. Also I just needed to write something more lighthearted and cute after writing that devastating Viktor fic earlier. Enjoy <3

“I don’t get why you can’t just tell him,” Powder huffs, shuffling through her drawers for a particular brush. She glides on eyeshadow in your favorite colors, endlessly teasing you while she works, “It’s obvious he’s liked you since we were kids.”

“Oh, like finally admitting your feelings to Ekko was so easy,” you roll your eyes, causing her to scold you for opening them. “Besides, that’s not even true. He probably just sees me like a sister.”

“Look,” Powder tilts your chin up as she applies blush to your cheeks. “As someone who was actually raised as his sister, I can promise you he treats you differently. I catch him staring at you all the time, and he goes out of his way to be nice to you. Like, he literally made a new hybrid flower for you for your last birthday. What is it you’re not getting?”

“He gives plants to everyone, I don’t think I was special,” you shrug, pressing out your lips so Powder can swipe on some gloss.

“You’re a lost cause sometimes,” she sighs with a laugh. “Come on, it’s time to make our entrance.”

-

The Innovator’s Competition is crowded as usual, with loud music and ambient lights showering the entries and guests. Powder meets up with Ekko while you go to grab a drink and browse the inventions.

People start dancing, and you sway back and forth a bit to the beat. You don’t particularly want to third wheel right now, so you make do on the sidelines. You’re closer to the snacks here, anyway.

“Wow, Y/N. You look beautiful.”

You whip your head towards the voice, your mouth stuffed with one of Jericho’s famous, sloppy appetizers.

“Oh! Hi, Claggor!” You swallow as quickly as you can and wipe your face with your sleeve. “Sorry, um, thank you.”

“Anytime,” he chuckles. “How come you’re not out there dancing?”

“I...I just don’t like dancing alone,” you say, your eyes darting back to Powder and the other couples and friend groups on the dance floor.

“Well let’s go then,” he extends his hand to you.

You smile and take it, weaving through the crowd as he pulls you towards the middle. You see Powder give you a thumbs up before your attention is back on Claggor, and suddenly the crowded room feels less overwhelming.

You let lose, showing off your most ridiculous dance moves without a worry in the world. That was the thing about Claggor, he always made you feel safe, like you could be yourself whenever he was around. There is never a glimmer of judgment in his eyes, never an inkling of unkindness. He’s been your most stable and trusted friend for years—he played with you, explored the city with you, mourned with you, rejoiced with you. He’s just that kind of guy, with a heart of gold that never wavers.

But if you told him how you really feel—how you’ve felt since you were young—things might not be the same.

-

After the competition, Claggor takes the scenic route while walking you home, showing you a couple new gardens he’s been working on around the city. He hopes that one day plant life can be the key to the pollution problem in the underground, a dream that isn’t too far off with the latest hybrids and prototypes he’s made. It’s fascinating, and you’ve always admired his natural talent with nature.

He picks you a flower from one of the gardens, the kind he knows are your favorite.

“For you,” he says, slithering the stem into your hair. His hands, his face—it’s all so dangerously close now. You can feel his warmth, feel his gentle gaze.

Maybe Powder’s right, no man who saw you as just a friend would look at you like this.

You take the chance and close the space between you, kissing him quickly before stepping back to gauge his reaction.

He immediately pulls you back in, grabbing you by the waist and kissing you harder. You wrap your arms around his neck, fingers twiddling with his soft wavy hair.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” he says, your lips barely moving apart.

“I think I have some idea,” you giggle.

“Would you look at that, what did I tell ya?” You see Powder and Ekko coming around the corner, clearly ecstatic about this new opportunity to tease you. “Finally.”

Claggor keeps holding you close as you fire back, “Did you follow us just to say ‘I told you so’?”

“Nah, I didn’t even know you left the party yet,” Powder laughs. “But boy am I glad I saw this!”

She keeps walking with Ekko, whispering and chuckling as they go. You and Claggor can’t help but burst into your own fit of laughter as well, basking in the hilarity of the whole situation.

“We’ll never live this down, will we?” Claggor smirks.

“Absolutely not.”

[letsbangts]

umbrella || jjk

⤷ summary: when rain pours more into your life instead of washing things away

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ word count: 2k+

⟶ genre: fluff, strangers to lovers, established relationship

⟶ content: boyfriend!jk, college au, kook is a flirty tease, mainly just a fluffy couple in love with a barely there argument because of a protective jk

⟶ warnings: explicit language

a/n: so this is a very old piece I polished up a bit. it was inspired by a narration in a scene from the drama ‘goblin’, so that tells you how old it is haha. hope you enjoy & let me know what you think!

masterlist

☂︎ ☂︎ ☂︎ ☂︎ ☂︎ ☂︎ ☂︎ ☂︎ ☂︎ ☂︎

on this rainy night, what is your umbrella?

I stood under the awning outside the building, which I was supposed to be far from as of 2 o’clock. My other classmates were long gone, having made their way off campus through the rain by running to their cars with the protection of a coat or umbrella. None of the things I have because I continue not to be an adult and watch the news, missing the weather report that everyone else was aware of. Watching the heavy raindrops smack against the pavement, I contemplate how I’m getting home.

Should I make a run for it? A run for 30 minutes? Yeah, that’s not happening. I could call a taxi. But I’m not going to pay for that so no.

“Fuck, I’m such an idiot,” I say quietly to myself, or so I thought.

“Jeez, that’s a little harsh don’t you think.” a beautiful deep voice says.

Startled I turn my head quickly to be met with what I could have sworn was a literal angel in disguise as a twenty-something-year-old boy. The tall boy looks away from the rain and towards me. He gives me a quick look over and sees my empty hands and smiles.

“Ah! You don’t have an umbrella. You didn’t watch the news?” he asks. I shake my head to answer him.

He smirks and nods his head while looking back out at the downpour.

“Maybe you are an idiot.” He says all too casually while shrugging, clearly teasing me.

“Hey!” I scoff out with a laugh, finally speaking.

“I mean, today is one of the worst days we are supposed to get this year! How can you not have an umbrella or at least a hood?” He laughs out loud, gesturing his hand at me from head to toe.

His laugh and my current predicament both cause me to join in. Once we both settle down the dark-haired boy looks at me with round eyes still slightly crinkled from laughter although nothing but kindness is present in them.

“How far do you live from here?” he asks with a melodic voice and an endearing head tilt to match it.

Upon first look, he may seem like someone with an edge to them; dark-coloured clothes, piercings and some tattoos. But it is ever present that there is an apparent softness to him, one that accompanied by his calm demeanour is pouring a level of comfort over me that I can not explain.

“30 minutes that way,” I point out the way to my home, “Pretty close to Bam's House Cafe.”

“Hmm, I’m headed the same way, so it looks like you're a lucky idiot.” He says shooting me a wink while opening his umbrella held in his tattooed hand.

“Gee thanks, but I’d feel more lucky if you’d stop rubbing my idiocy in my face.” I chuckle.

“I would call you by name if you told me it.” He says with a slight, dare I say flirtatious smirk that causes my breath to get stuck in my throat.

“It’s Y/N.”

“Well Y/N, I’m Jungkook. The handsome, well-prepared gentleman escorting you through this storm today.” He sends me a beaming smile that almost sends me to my grave.

He holds out the clear vinyl plastic for me to stand under it. I do just that and as I step close to him, arms brushing I'm hit with his clean fresh scent.

“Thank you again, Jungkook," I reply looking down to hide my sudden blush.

"Shall we get going?” He asks flicking his head out to the direction I earlier pointed out, and with a nod of my head, we step out starting on our journey to my home. And so much more.  

the voice that responds when you call.

The ringing in my ears finally stops when I hear the voice on the other end of the phone say, “Hello?”

But it is no surprise to me, knowing he would answer because Jungkook always did. I knew once he saw my name flash across his screen he would not hesitate to slide to answer.

“Hey.” my voice is small when I reply.

“What’s wrong?” he asks immediately concerned, because just like how Jungkook always answers, he always knows. He knows you.

“I just miss you, I wanted to hear your voice.”

“I know I miss you too. But I’ll be back in two days.”

“Ugh! That’s going to feel like forever.” a whiny sadness to my tone.

“Hey, I told you you could come with me. My mom is still upset I didn’t bring you.” He chuckles.

“Yeah, I know but taking a trip to Busan is not an option with work right now.” I sigh.

I hear him sigh as well and there is a long pause between us.

“Then quit your job.” He states in an all too serious tone.

“What? Jungkook have you lost your mind? You know I can’t qu-“

“Sure you can! I’ll quit my own too! Then we can move out here and buy a house. We can live by the water and have a bunch of kids, it will be perfect.” His tone gets more excited as he hears my giggles pleased with my happiness.

“So what do you say, babe? Sounds good right?” he asks still joking.

“Sounds perfect,” I reply with a content smile.

And just like that you were no longer sad because Jungkook knew how to make you happy. Jungkook always knew.

the memories of seeing the same thing at the same time.

It was Monday, and although I was not as fond of it as any other person towards that day of the week, I had one thing to look forward to on Mondays. That was the one day of the week Jungkook would meet me at work and we would walk home together.

So here we are walking through the park, which was a shortcut to our home. My hand in his, fingers interlocked this being the beckon of light at the end of my work day. I feel him rubbing his thumb across the back of my hand and I glance at him to see him just looking off into the distance. My usually chatty boyfriend is now just quietly at my side. I use my free hand and pull him by the elbow holding him close to my side, gaining his attention eyebrows raised in question.

“Rough day?” I ask looking up at him.

He breathes out an airy laugh through his nose.

“Yeah you know, just one of those days.” He glances back at me with a small shrug then continues.

“It was one of those days I wished I was just with you at home, just had you beside me,” he squeezes my hand  “Only me and you, the rest of the world blocked out.”

He looks down at me and softly smiles that eye smile I could never fall out of love with.

“I wish for that every day” I reply returning the squeeze to his hand while smiling up at him.

While we share this moment I notice small white flakes landing on his raven-coloured hair. He must have taken notice too as we both look up.

We are met with flurries quickly floating down all around us making their way to the ground.

“The first snowfall.” He states almost in a whisper.

“It's so pretty,” I say fascinated and fully entranced with the beauty of Mother Nature.

I feel his gaze on my face and turn to make eye contact. He has the most delicate look, eyes filled with adoration.

“I may not have had you by my side all day, but I’m glad I have you here right now.” He says lovingly.

And at that moment, witnessing the beginning of a new season with my love and sharing this memory, I could have sworn the rest of the world was blocked out and it was just us two.

the first time you matched each other’s pace.

Angry.

No, that’s not even the right word, enraged. Yes, enraged that is what I am feeling right now. And why was I so mad you ask? My boyfriend seemed to think that a guy having a friendly conversation with me, albeit a drunken one on his part but innocent, was the perfect reason to cause a huge scene in the middle of a party with all our friends and more to see.

So now here we are walking home furious with one another because I think he overreacted while he thinks I underreacted. Not only am I annoyed with him for how he acted but now I’m annoyed with myself for wearing heels knowing I would have to walk home after a whole night in them.

My pace starts to get slower because my feet start killing me and it suddenly feels like Jungkook is running a marathon instead of walking home. I glance up and see the distance between his back and me getting bigger and bigger. I focus on trying to ignore the pain soaring through my feet and as I continue walking with my head down staring at the shoes I have come to despise I suddenly bump into a shoulder.

I look up to my side and notice the man that was ahead of me seconds ago now right beside me.

“If you can’t keep up just say so,” he grumbles, the first words I hear from him since we left the party.

I notice how he starts walking slower for me and does not move an inch further from my side. I continue my struggle to walk, feet pulsing more with every step.

“Ah fuck it,” I mumble to myself as I take off my heels.

Jungkook halts and turns towards me once he notices I stopped walking. Once I start to continue I feel my heels being ripped out of my hands, as I'm about to ask what he’s doing he kneels in front of me, wordlessly telling me to get on his back.

“Kook, you don’t-“

“Get on.” He quietly demands.

I don’t argue because my feet yell at me not to. I get on his back, arms around his neck and he tucks his hand under my knees immediately standing up with ease and continues our journey home.

“I told you not to wear those damn shoes.” He says after a couple of minutes.

For some reason that comment brings a slight smile to me, as I realize that my anger has disappeared without me even being aware.

“Thank you,” I say into his neck as I tighten my arms and lock my ankles around his torso hugging him closer to me.

He adjusts his hands to my thighs as I pull us closer together.

“For what?” he questions taking a peek at me.

“For trying to take care of me before and still taking care of me now,” I answer giving his neck a peck.

“You know I’ll always do that, it’s my job too. A little fight won’t stop that, taking care of you comes naturally to me now.”

“I mean it kind of has to look at our situation right now.” he continues with a breathy laugh as he squeezes my thighs to emphasize his statement.

I giggle at his response knowing the truth behind it. Jungkook has always taken care of me. We’ve always looked out for each other. We have always matched ourselves to each other.

did someone come to mind?

I hear the lock of the front door opening and the jingling of keys, followed by some rustling around, most likely the removal of outerwear. A few seconds later I see the handsome tattooed man I call my boyfriend walking into our living room. He smiles as he sits beside me on the couch wrapping his arms around me and kissing the top of my head. I look up at him head on his shoulder and begin to stare unconsciously as thoughts run around my head.

“What?” he asks me with a confused chuckle.

I smile at him, “I love you.”

He gives me that butterfly-inducing eye smile and kisses me on the lips.

 “I love you too.”

yes, that’s the person.

[wildestdreamsblog]

The Story of Us: Unedited

Pairing: Mahwa Character!Min Yoongi x Reader

Summary: You wake up in the body of the second female lead in a manhwa, determined to rewrite your fate. No longer willing to be trapped in unrequited love for the elusive main lead, Min Yoongi, you set out to change the ending of the story. But leaving him behind isn’t as simple as you thought. As the lines between fiction and reality blur, the narrative begins to shift in unexpected ways—Yoongi, who was once only devoted to the main female lead, starts to see you in a new light. Can you escape the cycle of heartbreak, or will you find yourself entangled in a love story you never asked for?

or in which Yoongi found out you aren't from that world and refuses to let you leave.

A/N: This is an unedited very very very raw draft! But I wanted to share this with you before I forget the ideas and before my flight today <33 let me know what you think! ALSO I WILL EDIT THIS WHEN I GET BACK NEXT WEEK AND I WILL POST IT IN TUMBLR. okay bye ily

It was your second week in Paris when curiosity finally got the better of you. Her phone—your phone now—sat untouched on the marble nightstand of your hotel suite. You’d avoided it so far, reasoning that it felt like rifling through a stranger’s diary. But tonight, as the soft glow of the Eiffel Tower illuminated the room, you gave in.

Plugging it in, the device vibrated to life, and a flood of notifications lit up the screen. Your jaw dropped slightly as you skimmed through the endless stream of missed calls and messages. Most of them were from Yoongi.

“Of course,” you muttered under your breath, scrolling through the list. There were texts, voicemails, and even some emails from him, all timestamped over the last two weeks.

His messages started casual enough, asking you where you were and if you were still avoiding him. He even stopped by the mansion only to find out that you weren’t there, let alone in the country. Not one in your mansion could tell him where you were despite his endless threats. As days passed by, however, his tone shifted to frustration.

I’m not kidding anymore. If I don’t hear from you, I’m coming to find you.

I am hiring a team to find you, princess.

His final message was dated today.

I do hope you remember that it is my birthday today. We always celebrate it together. We’re not gonna stop now just because you’re hiding from me.

You stared at the phone for a moment longer, the screen dark now but somehow still demanding your attention. Should you respond? What would you even say?

The phone vibrated in your hand, the screen lighting up with his name. Your stomach did a little flip, but you shook your head firmly. No. You weren’t going to answer. It was better this way—for him, for you, for the storyline. Yoongi belonged with the female lead, and the longer you stayed out of their orbit, the better.

Instead, you grabbed your jacket, ready to explore the city some more. Paris was too beautiful to waste time fretting over a fictional man’s messages. Let Yoongi wait.

But just as you opened your hotel room, there he was with his signature stoic face, his dark brow raised. He pointedly looked at your phone, his name on the screen. He had his phone on his ear, while you had yours in your hand. You were literally caught red-handed ignoring his calls.

He ended the call with a deliberate tap and tucked his phone into his pocket, his gaze never leaving yours.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, shocked at his sudden appearance. He was supposed to be with her. The story said that he was supposed to be with her, celebrating with her, saving her from any other accidents or situations she found herself in.

Yoongi tilted his head slightly, his gaze narrowing. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” His tone was calm, but the edge was unmistakable. He stepped inside as though he owned the place. He didn’t ask for permission, didn’t wait for an invitation. He was just… there, filling the room with his presence like he always did. “And Paris, of all places? You’re more predictable than you think, princess.”

“I-I mean, I didn’t think you’d notice,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper, already regretting how ridiculous it sounded.

“What? How could I not? You literally disappeared on the face of the earth. You think I wouldn’t notice when you disappeared? When you’re not there?”

The intensity in his gaze left you momentarily stunned, your thoughts scrambling for coherence. “Y-you’re not supposed to be here…” you muttered, more to yourself than to him. Your disbelief bled into your words, your mind struggling to reconcile his presence with what you knew—or thought you knew. “The story says you’re supposed to be with her. This isn’t—this isn’t how it goes.”

“What story?”

You blinked owlishly, realizing what you’d said. “Huh? Nothing!” you exclaimed a little too quickly, waving your hands as if to physically push the moment away. “Anyway! Happy birthday!” you added, your voice unnaturally bright, hoping to distract him.

His squint deepened, a mix of curiosity and frustration flickering in his eyes. He clearly didn’t buy your deflection, but he let it slide—for now. Without a word, he crossed the room to the small bar cart in the corner, casually pouring himself a glass of whisky.

The tension in the air was thick as he swirled the amber liquid in the glass, his movements deliberate. He raised the glass to his lips, his gaze never leaving yours. After taking a slow sip, he finally spoke, his voice low, “Glad you remember my birthday, princess.”

Okay, fine. You were at loss. How were you supposed to know what you should say? This was not in the manhwa! Yoongi was basically going off-script!

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Instead, you turned your gaze to the door, silently willing him to leave. But Yoongi didn’t move. If anything, he seemed more determined, his presence as unyielding as ever.

“Fine,” he said after a long moment, his voice quieter now, almost resigned. “If you won’t come back, then I’ll stay. Paris is nice this time of year, isn’t it?”

Full story (unedited) in KoFi

[throneofsapphics]

hello! can i get an iced hazelnut chai with whipped cream and cinnamon <3

absolutely you can!

summary: azriel, forced proximity with fluff, spice, and angst

warnings: not very descriptive but still smut, angst

coffee bar celebration

“I can't look at you,” he stood by the window, hands braced against the glass planes. “Every time I look at you, I think about doing something stupid.”

You weren't certain you wanted to know what stupid impulses he was having.

His shadows were nearly encasing the room, poking at all the barriers and wards placed to keep the two of you in.

“We could just make a plan to kill our High Lord,” you said the title with a hint of mocking disdain, enough he would know it was a joke. Azriel never took threats against his friends lives lightly.

His chest shook, but not a sound escaped him.

Your mouth tightened into a thin line. In the past, he'd always let his laughter loose around you. Always. Fists clenched at your side, a shadow swirled around one and you released them.

One hand still placed firmly on the glass, Azriel pivoted just enough for his face to become clear. Beautiful, raw, and threatening to drag you under.

Insisting you could stay friends was bullshit, this would never work. You tried to reach out to Rhys and tell him that, but the normal channel he kept open between the two of you was airtight.

This time, you turned around, facing the mirror.

Eyes tired, bags underneath, hair disheveled, face wan. You looked a mess.

“Every time I look at you,” you tore your gaze, still in the mirror, away from your own reflection to find Azriel watching, his reflection wavering slightly. He cleared his throat. “Every time I look at you, I don't know if I want to go drown myself in liquor or kiss you until you can't remember your own name.”

Goosebumps trickled down your spine, one after another like a haunting melody playing its tunes on your body.

“There's plenty I'd like to forget right now,” you swallowed, pulse jumping in your throat.

“Oh?” You spun around, ready to curse him to an eternity, but Azriel was in front of you, so close that if you arched your back your breasts would brush against his chest. “What, exactly would you like to forget?”

“You,” you spit the word with as much venom as you could manage, and he laughed.

Planting both palms on his chest, you shoved. He didn't move. Unsurprisingly.

“You're an asshole,” you hissed.

“And you wouldn't have it any other way,” mirth danced in his eyes, pressure built in your chest, ready to explode.

Before you could say another word, he leaned in and kissed you. His lips were soft, gentle, and you found yourself falling into familiar patterns, into that dance of decades you'd done for far too long, before logic overrode the other parts of you thinking too much.

You gripped his chin, shoving his head to the side, away from you, and stepped backwards. Your back hit the dresser.

Perhaps for the first time, you saw the shadowsinger shocked. You'd never rejected a single advance from him before. Good. Maybe he should get used to rejection.

But … your soul was clawing and scraping in your chest, begging to be reunited with the one it thought completed it. It was wrong.

“You don't get to kiss me to keep me quiet,” you seethed.

“That's not what I meant to do,” his voice was dry, perhaps a tad bored, but you saw the plea in his eyes. The truth.

Crossing the two steps between you, you gripped the front of his leathers.

“Promise?” You didn't know what you were asking him to promise.

“Always,” he answered, not missing a beat.

This time when you walked him back, Azriel moved easily. When you undid the laces on his leathers and rode him, he thrust his hips up into you. When your eyes met, he held the contact, gripping you chin so you would too. When he flipped you on your back and pushed your legs up to your chest, he moaned loud enough Rhys's wards couldn't possibly keep the sound out.

When you'd driven each other to completion, your head resting on Azriel's chest, his arms wrapped tight around you, you thought perhaps you were always destined to burn hot and fast, but maybe there's a chance this could work.

[rafeskai]

Life as We Know It — Rafe Cameron

Epilogue

Two opposites must navigate love, loss, and unexpected parenthood to discover the meaning of family.

Summary: When tragedy strikes, two very different individuals find their lives unexpectedly intertwined as they become the guardians of an orphaned child. As they navigate the challenges of co-parenting, balancing careers, and confronting their pasts, they discover that family can form in the most surprising ways. Through heartfelt moments and unexpected humor, they explore what it means to build a life together—one step at a time.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Character deaths & angst.

Author's Notes: That marks the end of this series :( thank you guys so much for all the love and feedback! I’m so proud of this series and I hope u guys love it as much as I do.

Masterlist: Here

It had been a year since the custody battle, since Rafe and you had found yourselves standing side by side, figuring out this whole "family" thing. A year since both of you issued a restraining order against Ward, and the judge granted it. A year since you stopped pretending you didn’t feel something for him, and he stopped acting like he was too good for anyone, especially you. Now, the chaos of life had settled into a strange, beautiful rhythm. It wasn’t perfect—far from it—but it was yours.

And, somehow, against all odds, the three of you had made it work.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The morning sun streamed through the kitchen window, where you stood trying to assemble breakfast. You had learned, over time, that cooking for Willa was an Olympic sport. Every time you managed to whip together a simple meal, she somehow managed to flip the situation on its head—literally.

"Willa, no!" you heard Rafe call out from the living room. You looked up just in time to see him frantically trying to stop her from scaling the couch like some sort of tiny, diaper-clad Spider-Man. “You can’t climb up there!”

But Willa was undeterred. She gave a small shriek of triumph, her baby legs scrabbling up the cushions like she was born to conquer furniture. You had to admit, you were impressed.

"I swear she’s part monkey," you muttered under your breath, flipping pancakes with a practiced hand.

Rafe stumbled into the kitchen, his hair sticking out at odd angles, the look of a man who had given up on ever having a decent morning.

“You say that like it’s a surprise,” he deadpanned, rubbing his face. “We’ve had this conversation a hundred times. No more couch climbing. She’s already an inch away from that giant coffee table, which, let me remind you, is made of solid oak. And do you know what happens when Willa decides gravity is optional?”

You snorted. “We end up on the floor with her holding a half-empty juice box like she’s just conquered the world, while you scramble to pick up the pieces of your dignity.”

He shot you a pointed look. “Exactly.”

You set the pancakes aside and wandered over to rescue Willa, who was now attempting to climb up the back of the couch like a small, determined mountain goat. Scooping her up with one hand, you held her up in front of you. “You know, kid, you’re lucky you’re so cute, because if I had to stop doing my work every time you decided to do a backflip off a chair, I’d be in therapy by now.”

Willa gurgled, her eyes wide and innocent, as though she didn’t have a single rebellious bone in her tiny body.

Rafe leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms. “I’m just saying, if she’d stop doing that, maybe I could get ten minutes of peace. But no. We live in a house of chaos.”

You smirked, watching as Willa grabbed his shirt and yanked. “If she’s chaos, you’re the tornado that hits right after,” you teased, making Rafe roll his eyes dramatically. “Just admit it—you love it.”

He groaned but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, yeah, I love the chaos. But you have to admit it’s a lot of work. I mean, who’s going to put together her tiny little rocking horse without accidentally breaking something?”

“Not me,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure I broke that rocking horse three times already.”

At that, Rafe laughed, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, I’ll take that as my cue to fix it. You keep trying to make breakfast, and I’ll figure out what’s going on with the toy horse that’s apparently haunted.”

Willa babbled in your arms, and you kissed the top of her head. “I’m not saying this to be dramatic, but I’m pretty sure she is a secret agent in training. I’ve seen her figure out how to break into places she’s not supposed to be like she’s in a spy movie.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow. “Spy movie? She’s more like a tiny burglar who knows how to manipulate you with her big eyes and unstoppable giggle.”

You chuckled, nodding. “Fair. But I still think she could make a killing in espionage. Maybe we should start saving for her college fund in case she ends up needing a fake passport.”

Rafe grinned, his mood visibly lightened by your banter. “I’m pretty sure we’re going to need therapy more than we need a college fund. But I’ll get started on that fake passport idea, just in case.”

You grinned back at him, feeling that familiar warmth settle in your chest. There was a time—just a year ago—when you had no idea what your future would look like. Now, here you were, a family, even if it didn’t look like any family you had ever imagined.

“Well,” you said, turning back to the pancakes, “we better get our act together before she eats all the syrup by herself.”

Rafe snorted and shot you a grin. “You think she’s not going to try that already?”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Later that day, after Willa’s nap (which, let’s be honest, was more of a battle than an actual nap), you and Rafe found yourselves in the backyard, taking a breather after the chaotic lunch you’d just survived. Willa was happily playing in her little sandbox, tossing sand like it was confetti at a New Year’s party, while you and Rafe collapsed onto the porch swing, exhausted but content.

"How the hell did we get here?" you asked, your voice quiet, more to yourself than to him.

Rafe leaned back with a sigh, staring up at the sky. "I’m pretty sure we got here because you’re too stubborn to admit you love me," he said with a grin.

You nudged him with your elbow. "Excuse me, but it’s not just me that’s stubborn. Have you seen the way you try to resist her puppy-dog eyes? You can’t even handle Willa when she does her sad little face, and you know it."

He groaned. “It’s my kryptonite. I’m weak. I’ll admit it.”

“Good. Because that means you’re finally accepting that she’s the boss around here. We’re just along for the ride.”

Rafe chuckled, nudging you back. “If that’s true, then I’m okay with it. Besides, she has the best team behind her, right?”

You smiled softly, watching Willa scoop up a handful of sand and drop it like a tiny little sandstorm. “Right. And we’re the best team for her.”

There was a pause, a quiet moment where both of you watched Willa. The future was still uncertain—life always was—but for the first time in a long time, it didn’t seem so scary.

“Well,” Rafe said, standing up and stretching, “I guess we better go make sure our future crime boss doesn’t eat the sand. You know, for her health.”

You snorted, laughing as you stood too. “You mean for the safety of our sanity?”

“That too,” Rafe said, laughing as he grabbed your hand and pulled you into a warm hug.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was real. And for once, that was enough.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

And so, life continued. Chaotic. Messy. Full of love. Your newfound family was far from conventional, but it was undeniably theirs—and somehow, that made it all the more beautiful.

Plus, Willa? She’d definitely grow up to be a world-class agent of chaos, and Rafe and you would have to learn to live with that.

But at least you’d be together.

© 2024 rafeskai | All rights reserved. This fanfiction is a work of fiction inspired by characters from Outer Banks, and no part of it may be reproduced or distributed without permission.

[captainsophiestark]

Worth The Risk

Jason Todd x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2024!

Fandom: DC

Day Twenty-Eight Prompt: "Just say what you want"

Summary: Jason's teammate has been trying to ask him out for a long time now, but he's always ducked the question before it's officially been asked. Now, it seems he's finally ready to talk about why.

Word Count: 1,955

Category: Fluff, little bit of Angst?

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"I'm telling you, Art, I'm starting to go a little crazy! He'll flirt with me all day long, but the minute I try to turn it into a date or a kiss or even a fucking conversation, he pulls back like he's been shocked!"

I could hear Artemis, one of my best friends, trying to stifle a laugh on the other end of the line. I narrowed my eyes, but didn't call her out on it. I had bigger problems right now, as far as I was concerned.

"Okay, when you say you've tried to turn it into a conversation...?"

"I mean I've gotten as far as 'so, Jason, I've been thinking' before he suddenly has a call coming in from Bruce or an urgent cramp in his leg or a super interesting bird outside the window that he has to go look at right now!"

This time, Artemis didn't bother trying to hold back her laugh. I scowled even though she couldn't see it.

Jason Todd and I had been friends for a while now, working together as vigilantes. We'd hit it off from the first time we met, and our relationship had always been a little flirty. More recently, though, it had felt on the verge of something more. And I wanted that. I liked Jason, a lot, and I wanted to see where we might be able to go, if he was interested too.

Most of the time, it did seem like he was interested. But for whatever reason, he kept pulling a 180 on me and defaulting to more platonic behavior than we'd ever had with each other any time I tried to bring it up. I'd decided to talk to Artemis about it, to see if she could give me any advice or anything, but so far she'd been absolutely no help.

"Alright, Art, I'm glad I've been able to entertain you tonight, but can you please-"

I stopped short at the sound of a knock on my door. I frowned. I hadn't ordered anything, and I wasn't expecting anyone. So who the hell was at my apartment?

"Hey, you still there? You alright?"

I hummed, standing from my seat in the kitchen and heading for the door.

"I'm fine. Somebody just knocked on my door, hold on."

I leaned forward to peer through the peep hole, and to my immense shock, I saw Jason Todd standing on my doormat. After a few moments of stunned silence, I finally managed a few words into the phone.

"Yeah, Art? I think I'm gonna have to call you back."

I hung up without waiting for her reply. I'd owe her an explanation later, but I knew she'd understand. Whatever this was about, it seemed pretty serious. Jason had never once shown up at my civilian residence, despite both knowing each other's identities.

I cleared my throat and stuck my phone in my pocket, trying to get a handle on the nerves that had suddenly exploded in my chest. After a moment, I couldn't stall anymore. I took a deep breath and opened the door to find Jason fidgeting almost as much as I was.

"Hey," I said, giving him a weak smile. "What's... what's up? Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, everything's fine," Jason said, glancing down and rubbing at the back of his neck. "I just... wanted to talk to you. About something. Didn't want to wait till the next time I saw you on the rooftops, hunting somebody down. I hope that's okay."

"Yeah! Of course, yeah. Come on in."

I took a quick step back from the door, holding it open for Jason and trying not to let him see my nerves. He walked through, but stopped in the entryway between the kitchen and the living room, looking a little lost. All I could do was stare at him for a moment as I shut the door. It was strange to see Jason in the middle of my civilian apartment like this, but it was also the kind of strange I could get used to.

"Here, take a seat," I said, heading to the kitchen and motioning towards one of the stools at the counter. "Can I get you a water or something?"

Jason cleared his throat, moving with me after a moment's delay.

"A water would be great, actually. Thanks."

"Sure thing."

I used the time it took me to get some water from the fridge, with my back turned to Jason, to take a few deep breaths. I was a vigilante, for god's sake, I knew how to keep myself from panicking in stressful situations. I wasn't going to let this impromtu visit unravel me.

I returned to Jason with a water for each of us, then sat down at the stool next to his. I was still a little nervous, but my heart had at least stopped pounding quite so quickly, and my hands weren't shaking when I set down the waters.

"So... you wanna tell me what's up?"

Jason cleared his throat, shifting in his seat before meeting my eyes. I gave him a little smile, and it seemed to help him relax, at least slightly. He smiled back.

"Listen... I really like spending time with you. And working with you and talking to you and... and everything. And Roy has been telling me he's sick of listening to me talk about you, so I'm taking his advice and coming to talk to you."

My heart did a backflip in my chest, but I refused to get too far ahead of myself. Jason still looked grim and stressed out of his mind, like he did when I tried to ask him out, which didn't exactly match the positive topic I was hoping this conversation might have.

"So... what are you saying?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light. "Because it sounds like you're building up to one thing, but your tone and your body language is pointing to something very different. Are you trying to ask me on a date, or trying to tell me you're not interested."

"I'm not not interested," Jason responded quickly. I raised an eyebrow, but he looked more stressed than before.

"Okay... so then, what is it? Just say what you want, Jay."

Jason took a long, deep breath in, closing his eyes for a minute and apparently trying to get in the right headspace. When he finally opened his eyes again and met my gaze, he at least looked marginally calmer.

"I want to ask you out."

"...I feel like there's a but coming."

"...But... I don't know, I just feel like you should be fully informed. I'm not necesserily the most... stable potential partner. I'm still working through a lot of shit from before and after the Lazurus Pit, and I'm a regular letdown to my family. That whole experience... I think it broke something in me. And I've been trying to fix what it broke, but I'm not sure I can. I don't want you agreeing to a date or anything else without knowing exactly what you're getting into."

I frowned, which Jason seemed to take as an expected bad sign. His shoulders slumped a little, and he looked resigned. I shook my head.

"Jason... what the hell are you talking about?" Jason opened his mouth like he intended to speak, but I held up a hand to cut him off. "That was mostly a rhetorical question. Believe it or not, I've gotten to know you pretty well in the time we've spent together, working side by side in life and death situations and passing days upon days with each other. And frankly? I like you. A lot. If you hadn't sent up the signals for a hard no everytime I tried, I would've asked you out a long time ago."

Jason sighed. "I still feel like you don't know what you're getting into. I don't want to go down this road and have you end up regretting it and hating me."

"Okay," I said, letting out a sigh of my own. "First of all, let's clear something up. Not once have you disappointed me or let me down, not in all the time we've known each other and worked together, even though you've had plenty of opportunities. And Jay, I didn't know you as Robin. I don't know the old you that you're so intent on comparing yourself to. But the guy sitting in front of me right now? He refuses to see it, but he's a wonderful person and friend, and anyone would be lucky to date him."

Jason flushed and looked down at his lap, but I didn't stop.

"Second, if I ever hear Batman or another one of your family members calling you a disappointment, it's game over for them. I'm punching them in the mouth like they deserve, and that's the end of that."

Jason snorted, briefly picking his head up to give me a look. I grinned back at him.

"And third..." I let the smile fall from my face, adopting a serious expression instead as I gently reached out to take one of Jason's hands. To my delight, he let me. "Third, nobody knows how things're gonna go when they go on a date with somebody. There's no real predicting that, there's no garuntees that we'll be perfectly matched and instantly work out and never have trouble forever and ever. But I know you're a good person, and I love spending time with you, and I trust you with my life, and my heart likes to do a gymnastics routine whenever you're in the same room as me. So if you feel similarly about me, and you want to give it a shot...?"

Jason sighed, chewing on his lip for a moment as he stared at me. Finally, he nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah, I really do."

"Good. Then that's that, Jay. There's no garuntees of anything, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't try. The only way to really lose is to let fear keep us from taking a shot at happiness, right?"

Jason shook his head, but he was smiling all the same as he took my other hand in his, too.

"I guess you do make a pretty convincing argument. But seriously, are you sure you want to do this? It... feels like it could lead to a lot of complications."

"Jason, I'm sure." I laughed. "Honestly, I have been for a long time now. Are you sure?"

I saw Jason take another bracing breath. Then he straightened, shoulders back, and gave me a genuine smile.

"Yeah. I'm sure."

"Great! Then what do you say we turn tonight into our first official date? I was just about to make dinner, and I've got some good movies we can pick from."

Jason's smile grew, taking on a little bit of an edge.

"That sounds perfect to me. As long as you promise to let me take you out for our second date. Somewhere nice."

"Believe it or not, that's not going to take too much convincing."

The two of us shared a smile again, and I gave Jason's hands a squeeze before standing and heading for the kitchen. He joined me, and when I stood at the counter to lay things out, Jason only hesitated for a second before coming up behind me to wrap his hands around my waist. He leaned in to place a soft kiss on my temple, and I leaned back, a smile on my face.

This time, my heart didn't do a backflip. Instead it radiated warmth through my chest and into the rest of my body. I knew we were at the beginning of our road, and there were no garuntees about what might be at the end of it. Still. I couldn't help having a good feeling.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @samreich @misshale21

DC Taglist: @gaychaosgremlin @v1ckycheesue @lavender-dinos @g0atmansbridge182

[sonnyangeluvrrr]

˚୨୧⋆｡locked out

Gojo should have seen it coming, you think to yourself, leaning back against the couch with a smirk. He’d been testing your patience all day, his playful teasing going a bit too far for your mood. And now here he is, standing outside, playfully rapping on the door.

“Baby” he calls, the sound muffled. “I know you’re in there! I only left my keys inside for, like, a second!”

You roll your eyes, pretending not to hear him. He taps again, more urgently this time.

“Come on, sweetheart! It’s cold out here! And you know how fragile I am.”

You try not to laugh, biting your lip to keep from responding. It's petty, sure, but something about having Gojo in this position — a little on edge, a little out of his element — feels satisfying. You don’t often get to see the overly confident Gojo Satoru anything other than entirely in control.

“Are you really ignoring me?” His voice comes again, incredulous. “You know I could break in if I wanted to!”

You finally walk over to the door, unlocking it and swinging it open just enough so that you can peer out at him. Gojo’s standing there with his usual, impish grin, looking entirely too amused for someone who’s supposedly been “locked out.”

He gives you a wounded look, leaning against the doorframe. “So you were planning on letting me freeze out here?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You shrug, crossing your arms. “Maybe.”

“Aw, don’t be mad,” he says, reaching out to lightly tap your nose before you can pull back. “I didn’t mean to annoy you. I just can’t help myself. You’re cute when you’re mad.”

You roll your eyes again, though your resolve starts to waver. “If I’m so cute, then maybe you should listen when I tell you you’re being annoying.”

He places a hand over his heart, looking theatrically offended. “Me? Annoying? Never.”

You bite back a smile, but he catches the faint curve of your lips. “Look,” he says softly, letting some of the playful glint fade from his eyes. “I’m sorry if I overdid it. Really. You know I’d hate to actually upset you.”

The sincerity catches you off guard. You take a breath, your annoyance finally fading. “Fine,” you say, stepping aside and motioning him in with a playful eye-roll. “But next time, you’re staying out there until you freeze.”

“Oh, I’ll keep that in mind.” He grins, stepping inside and letting his arm slip around your waist, pulling you close. “But if that’s the price for getting under your skin a little, maybe it’s worth it.”

You shake your head, giving him a small, amused shove. “Don’t push it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” But the mischievous twinkle in his eye tells you otherwise — and you know it’s only a matter of time before he’s up to his antics again.

[rosewaterandivy]

you’re a dream to me (steve’s version)

a continuation of this blurb

pairing: s.h x f!reader

themes: smut mdni, “they were roommates,” shame surrounding sex/orgasm, casual intimacy, heavy petting, fingering, light praise kink, squirting

Steve didn’t get a wink of sleep that night.

You, however, woke refreshed and in a brighter mood. Hopped off the couch without some much as a “good morning,” and padded over to the kitchen to start the coffee maker.

He’d tossed and turned in vain for another hour or so, until the din of “hushed” voices was too much to ignore.

The couch sags as someone takes a seat on the edge, boxing in his legs underneath the blanket. Turning from a perfectly comfortable position on his stomach, shirt tucked up to his chest, Steve wakes to the scent of cinnamon and coffee.

“Hey sleepyhead,” You greet with a smile, “Made a fresh batch just how you like it.” Only to place the cup in your grasp on the coffee table in front of him, just out of his reach.

“Rude,” He rasps sitting up and rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “Have you seen my—”

You place the glasses in his lap before he can finish asking the question. He mumbles his thanks and puts them on, running a hand through his wild hair.

“The kids and girls are making their rounds in the old neighborhood. I’m hanging back to do some stuff around here.”

He takes a sip of coffee and nods along.

Steve’s supposed to do the typical holiday check-in with his parents, but really has no interest in it. Christmas isn’t far off, he could just put it off until then. Besides, it’s not like they’d do anything but a tension filled lunch at the club where his mother will ask when he’ll finally settle down and his father will remind him that it’s past time to get serious about his future.

He mulls it over while drinking his coffee. Half-watching you mosey around the house starting laundry, writing a grocery list, opening the windows to let in the brisk autumn breeze.

It’s Sunday. On Sundays you do chores, pick up the groceries for the week, spend approximately two hours in the bathroom doing god knows what only to come out nearly a new woman, and order take out from the good Thai place just off-campus.

Steve leaves you to your routine, making a pit-stop to find the cordless phone and leave a message for his parents.

“Hey, it’s me. Something came up and I can’t make it. I guess I’ll see you at the Christmas Eve party. Okay, bye.”

He places the phone back in the cradle to charge and walks back to his room. He didn’t exactly leave it pristine, but it’s essentially an unmitigated disaster now. Whatever hell Dustin and Mike had wrought, they would be paying for in spades.

Sheets don’t knot themselves up, he knows that much for sure. And yeah, Will and Lucas were in here too, but they had far too much sense for whatever this chaos is.

There’s a soft knock on the door. He turns to find you leaning against the jamb wearing a familiar Stop Making Sense tour shirt.

Steve can’t even bring himself to be mad. You flash him a smile and say, “I’m running out to the store. D’you need anything?”

“Nah, I’m good honey.”

“Okay,” You fiddle with the strap of your tote bag on your shoulder. “The washer should be free soon, I just have to move my stuff once I’m back.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He says stepping closer, “I can flip your stuff.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Thanks Steve. I’ll be back soon!” You say with a turn toward the door and toe on your sneakers. With a brief wave, the door shuts behind you and Steve, for the first time in a long time, is left to his own devices.

Not that he takes advantage of it, of course.

He showers, lets the phone ring and machine pick it up, eats something vaguely decent (though the expiration date is questionable), and flips your laundry only to begin his own.

Piling his laundry into the washer and eyeballing an appropriate amount of detergent, he hears you call out a greeting as the front door opens.

You’re weighted down with paper bags and trip twice from the entry way to the kitchen. Steve takes the bags from you without much fuss, sets them down on the counter how you like and sorts out the pantry versus refrigerator goods.

There’s a garbled sound from the answering machine as you press the play button in the living room. He continues to put the groceries away, not paying much mind to whomever had called.

You slide in on socked feet nearly careening into him.

“Shit, sorry!”

This you say directly to his sternum, face plastered to his chest. You can feel his laughter as he says, “S’fine sugar. No harm, no foul.”

Steve’s hands grip your forearms, warm and wide, as he sets you back to rights. He gets a good look at you— freshly washed hair, bare faced, and already in your comfies. He notes the distinct lack of voices in the house. Then, he gets an idea.

“Who was on the machine?”

“Oh, just the kids and the girls.” You say, filling a glass of water. “They’ll be at the ‘rents tonight. Something about giving us our space back.”

“Huh.”

“I mean, they’ll be back tomorrow night. You know they can never last long confined to their childhood bedrooms and loving parental advice.”

Steve considers this information.

“Do ya want me to wash your sheets?” You offer, “I think Dustin may have just passed out in his clothes last night, shoes and all.”

All it takes is a nod from him and then you’re trotting off down the hall. You come back with a smile, sheets miraculously free of knots, and disappear into the laundry room humming a tune from the radio.

The night passes unceremoniously, unfolding in its typical fashion of ordering way too much food and then watching the Twin Peaks episode from last week that you’d taped.

Steve finds himself in a familiar place— arm around your waist, snuggled on the sofa, a blanket draped over you both. He can smell that lotion or perfume you only wear on Sundays, clean and fresh like sheets drying on a clothesline.

“Hey, um,” He begins, trepidation rattling in his voice. “Don’t get mad, but are you okay?”

He can feel as you tense in his arms.

“M’fine Steve. Why d’you ask?”

“Oh, you just said something last night and it got me worried is all.”

You heave a sigh, turning from the tv to face him. Your lips are drawn in a tight line, brow furrowed.

“Just forget I said anything.”

He worries his thumb along your jaw. Eyes tracing along your face— the fading freckles from the summer heat smattered across your nose, the high color of your cheeks.

“I don’t think I should,” He says carefully, “It doesn’t sound like something anyone who cared about you would dream of saying.”

He lets the words land. Watches as realization flashes across your features. Wonders why you’d let something so baselessly wrong bother you so much.

“I mean, they’re not exactly wrong.”

Steve cringes at the thought.

“I’m not like, the easiest person to deal with in that respect.”

“How d’you mean?”

He draws you closer, hand falling to the small of your back.

You bite your lip, eyes flitting to and fro.

“Sex, Steve, I mean sex.”

His mouth falls open in an oh of recognition.

“Apparently, it takes a lot of work for me to come and even when I do, it’s a mess.”

Steve tries to school his expression into one less shocking. Who the fuck would say something like that to you? What is wrong with people?!

“To add insult to injury,” You say with a snort, “I haven’t been able to come for weeks. It’s beginning to be quite the issue.”

Huh. So that explains why you flew off the handle at trivia night the other day. He knew it couldn’t have been over not knowing something as innocuous as which mountain range separates Europe and Asia?

You’re squirming in his grasp and he can tell you’d like nothing more than to turn around and pretend this conversation never even happened.

But the thing about Steve is, he’s like a dog with a bone. And unbeknownst to you, you are the bone in this scenario.

Before you can pull away, he grounds you with an arm to the waist. In response, you raise a delicate brow.

And ah, fuck here he goes.

“I could, uh,” He swallows audibly, “Help with that, if you want.”

Your immediate instinct is to roll your eyes and laugh, let slip a sardonic sure, Steve.

And you can’t help the huff of a laugh that escapes as you say, “Offer that service to all you gal pals?”

“N-no. I - don’t. Just—”

The you is left unspoken but it hooks at something in your chest and pulls. Leaves you jittery and… wanting.

“Okay,” you say with an inelegant shimmy onto your back. “Show me your moves, Harrington.”

Shocked still, Steve doesn’t know where to begin. You’ve maneuvered your back against his chest, head resting on his shoulder and hips slotted beneath his. Your legs splay open, the hem of his shirt falling just above your black briefs.

His heart rattles in his chest, and he’s sure you can feel its frantic pace. He scooches back a bit, separating his hips from the swell of your ass, and sits you up.

The vantage point is better, he rationalizes, he can see what he’s doing here. At his movement, you grab the hem of his shirt and peel it off your body, the image of David Byrne’s big suit landing in a heap at the foot of the couch.

“You can touch me, y’know.”

And yeah, he definitely wants to. Stripped down to your basics, black on black and nothing fancy, Steve’s mouth begins to water. It’s so surreal— he never thought you’d actually take him up on his insane offer. Much less so willingly.

“Y-yeah, okay.”

Your warm back settles against his chest once more. His hands trail the notches of your neck as you turn your head.

“Can you do me a favor though, and just like, talk to me?”

He swallows, desire carving a searing path through his chest.

“Course, sugar.”

And then there’s the hot press of his mouth against your jaw, and the scent of him rushes into your shared space and has your groaning softly. Fresh citrus from his body wash tanged with something that’s ineffably Steve.

His entire body shudders against yours. His hips lurch into the sliver of space between you as he breathes brokenly, “Holy shit.” And you can’t help but agree.

Steve’s fingers end up buried between your legs. Hand wedged into the impossible space between your clenching thighs. His opposite hand splayed against the soft curve of your abdomen, holding you in place and pressing you down into the cushions.

He’s talked you through it all, gentle murmurs and slurred words, the nip of his teeth at your throat. Told you how pretty you were, how good, his mouth smearing hot and wet against your skin.

And how he’d worked you up with his soft, lingering touch. Fingers trailing along sensitive skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. How he’d eased the straps down your shoulders, circled your nipples over the fabric and teased them to peaks before letting the black fabric pool at your waist.

There’s a slow drag of words from his throat when his hand brushes the band of your briefs.

“Y’ready, honey?”

All you can manage is a nod, chin clearly thumping against your chest as his fingers dip beneath the fabric to slowly drag through your soft curls. The point of his nose traces a line against the column of your throat, breath hot and seeping while you’re positively leaking through the fabric.

Shifting your hips in desperation, his fingers slip lower and barely brush against your clit. It draws a deep whine from your chest as you reach back in desperation to find his hair and pull.

“Fu-ck.”

Steve’s hips buck against the fat of your ass, his hand pressing down against your pelvis, the pad of his finger petting delicately at the seam of your sex.

“So good like this,” he says raggedly, thumb alighting on your clit with a smear of slick as you gasp. “I know, I know,” he soothes, as your mind drips into something syrupy and slow.

His clever finger slips inside, punching the breath from your lungs. Your head turns to the side, pleasure loosening your bones and burning like an inferno. But Steve never lets up, even as he’s breathing heavy, eyes half-lidded and staring back at you.

His cheeks are flushed pink as he murmurs and mutters, words long lost to you now as heat cracks through you like a live wire, coaxed gently along by Steve’s careful ministrations.

“— want you, please,” you babble incoherently. Already fucked stupid, buoyed by the senseless desire he draws from you like water.

A lewd squelching noise as two of his thick fingers sink into you, causing your voice to break, “Want your cock— inside, oh fuck.” Your eyes roll back in your head at the deep press of them, cunt clenching as they slide against your walls.

His thumb brushes your clit, a firm press as he buries his fingers deep and presses down with his opposite hand, hot and searing on your skin.

“Wanted you for so long,” he groans, urging your hips forward in his fingers buried to the hilt. “Jus’ like this.” He murmurs something else into the hollow of your throat, something lost to time and space.

You’re shivering and throbbing and rocking downwards onto his hand as his fingers continue to ignite your pleasure. His touch searing like a brand as he continues to press against you, until your voice breaks on a moan.

“Yeah,” you breathe, head lolling against his chest, fingers loosely gripping his damp hair. “Right there, oh fuck, Steve —”

You make a mess of him as he draws your desire up, up, up. As it peaks, your back bows and strangled shout falls from your lips, moisture rushing from you. Soaking his fingers and hand, your thighs, the couch cushions, fucking Christ.

“Imsorryimsorryimsorry,” you whimper, fingers clutching tight in his hair.

And all he makes is a deep sound of satisfaction, hips stuttering against your ass. A dark rumble from the confines of his chest, and you look up to see his eyes molten gold and heavy lidded, a smile breaking across his face.

The last of your release shudders through you, his fingers slipping slowly from your sex, petting in soothing strokes and easing you from your pleasure. But still, there’s a keen ache making you clench and flutter around nothing.

Forcing your fingers to loosen from his hair, you let them graze his temple, his cheek heated and damp beneath your skin.

“Holy shit,” you murmur, catching your breath as your eyes flutter closed. Pushing hair from your face, you find your brow slick with sweat. Steve, without a care, whispers a kiss to your brow and huffs a laugh.

“How did you get so good at that?”

Can’t even be bothered to turn back, you roll your head on his chest catching an inelegant shrug of his shoulder.

“Mmm,” you murmur, content to be splayed against him. “I owe you one, pal. Jus’ gimme a minute…”

Steve sighs softly, letting his fingers tangle in your hair as your breathing evens out in sleep. Eventually, he’ll rally and heft you back to your room and clean sheets.

And eventually, though who can say when, he’ll screw his courage to the sticking place and cash in that I.O.U.

[hrrtshape]

THINGS TO REMEMBER WHEN YOU'RE DOUBTING SHIFTING a.k.a REAFFIRMING YOUR MINDSET.

welcome back to HRRTSHAPE's series of: THINGS TO REMEMBER WHEN YOU'RE DOUBTING SHIFTING. where i hold your hand and help you through helping your mindset if it was mixed by the blender that is shifttok.

in this chapter, we're talking about the why. why does shifting work? why is it possible? why can you, specifically, do it? the truth is, it comes down to mindset, belief, and the magical soup of existence that connects everything. if you want to shift, it’s not about "if"—it’s about when.

✶ NR ONE. YOU ARE THE ARCHITECT OF YOUR MINDSET.

your mind is POWERFUL. like, you could be chilling in your room and suddenly be in a DR castle because your consciousness is the architect of everything you experience. think of your brain as a projector: whatever’s playing in your mind becomes what you see.

⋆   LAW OF ASSUMPTION. what you assume to be true becomes true. if you walk around KNOWING that you can shift, then shifting is inevitable. your subconscious doesn’t differentiate between “real” and “imagined.” if you FEED it with affirmations and belief, it builds that reality for you.

affirm, affirm, affirm !! "i am the creator of my experiences. shifting is natural for me. my mind and reality align effortlessly."

⋆   WHY IT WORKS. your brain loves patterns and shortcuts. when you repeat affirmations, your brain starts to accept them as facts. it’s like carving a path through a forest—the more you affirm, the easier it is for your mind to follow that path straight to your DR

✶ NR 2. LET'S DIVE INTO SCIENCE.

okay, let's get a little nerdy because i LOVE to sprinkle some quantum spice into this. science might not outright say, “shifting is real,” but it gives us so much evidence to vibe with.

⋆  MULTIVERSE THEORY. every choice, thought, and possibility exists somewhere. you’re not creating your dr; you’re just stepping into the version of reality where it already exists.

⋆ NEUROPLASTICITY. your brain literally rewires itself to match your beliefs and experiences. when you practice visualisation, scripting, or affirmations, you’re training your brain to believe in your dr—and to eventually shift there.

⋆ THE OBSERVER EFFECT. in quantum physics, particles behave differently when they’re being observed. translation? your focus changes reality. what you focus on grows.

✶ NR 3. SCHRÖDINGER’S CAT: HOW A DEAD-AND-ALIVE CAT PROVES INFINITE REALITIES.

now, we're far from dummies, but let me freak down schrödinger’s cat down like we’re having a latte and chatting about quantum mechanics? it’s a wild concept, but soooo perfect for understanding the possibility behind shifting. let’s go:

alright, picture this: there’s a cat in a box. it’s not just chilling in there, though—it’s part of a very weird science experiment. inside the box, there’s:

a cat (obviously), a vial of poison, a radioactive atom, and some device that might break the vial if the atom decays (science is chaotic, let’s move on).

HERE'S THE DEAL.

⋆  the radioactive atom has a 50/50 chance of decaying within an hour. ⋆  if it decays, the poison is released, and the cat dies. ⋆  if it doesn’t decay, the cat lives.

BUT—and this is the trippy part—you, as the observer, don’t know what’s happening inside the box until you open it. so, until you check, the cat is in this in-between state. it’s both dead AND alive at the same time. this is called superposition—when something exists in multiple states until it’s observed. It’s not until you open the box that the reality “collapses” into one outcome: the cat is either alive or dead.

WHAT THIS MEANS FOR SHIFTING. now let’s take that poor cat out of the box (RIP or congrats to it) and apply this to your reality:

⋆  YOUR REALITY IS A QUANTUM SOUP. just like the cat, you and your consciousness exist in a state of superposition. right now, you’re in your current reality (CR), but there’s a version of you in your desired reality (DR) too. both exist at the same time, in the same “box.” ⋆  OBSERVATION CREATES REALITY. in quantum mechanics, things don’t take on a definite state until they’re observed. In the same way, your dr is “waiting” for you to observe and claim it. when you focus your mind on your dr, you collapse the possibilities and step into that version of reality. ⋆  YOU GET TO CHOOSE THE OUTCOME. the cat doesn’t get to choose its fate, but YOU DO. you’re not just an observer; you’re the creator. by choosing to focus on your DR, you make it the “reality” that wins out. ⋆  WHY THIS IS SO MOTIVATING. think about it: schrödinger’s cat teaches us that multiple outcomes exist at once. the universe doesn’t “lock you in” to one reality. shifting works because your dr isn’t some faraway dream—it’s already there, existing simultaneously with your cr. all you have to do is open the box (or, in this case, SHIFT) and see yourself in the reality you want.

HOW DO I USE THIS IN MY MINDSET?

⋆  VISUALISE YOUR DR AS THE CAT. instead of asking, “can i shift?” think of your dr as already existing in superposition. it’s BOTH real and reachable, waiting for you to observe it.

⋆  COLLAPSE THE REALITY YOU WANT. focus on affirmations, meditations, and practices that align with your dr. the more you believe and focus, the more you “collapse” the possibilities into the reality you desire.

⋆  TAKE THE PRESSURE OFF. just like you don’t need to “force” the cat to be alive or dead, you don’t have to force shifting. your dr already exists. it’s inevitable—it’s just waiting for you to claim it.

✶ NR FOUR. SO, WHAT'S THE DEAL WITH DIMENSIONS?

𖥻 3D (third dimension): the "PHYSICAL REALITY." let’s start with what you already know. the 3D is the world we live in every day—the world of physicality, logic, and observation. it’s the “solid stuff” you can see, touch, and experience. things here have length, width, and height.

think:

⋆  that chair you’re sitting on. ⋆  your phone screen. ⋆  the way your crush smiled at you yesterday (!!!).

the 3D is super focused on “what’s real,” aka what you can prove or measure. it’s all about time moving in a straight line (past → present → future) and cause-and-effect logic.

𖥻 4D (fourth dimension): the realm of "THOUGHTS & BELIEF." the 4D is where the magic happens. it’s not just physical—it’s the dimension of consciousness, thoughts, emotions, and POSSIBILITY. time here isn’t linear like in the 3D; it’s fluid. in the 4D, your focus determines your reality, not the other way around.

think of the 4D as:

⋆  YOUR MENTAL PLAYGROUND. it’s where your imagination, affirmations, and beliefs exist. ⋆  THE CREATOR'S DIMENSION. what you think and feel here shapes what you experience in the 3D.

when you’re in the 4D, you’re no longer just a passive observer of reality—you’re creating it. your thoughts aren’t just “floating ideas”; they’re the building blocks of the world you want.

𖥻 3D vs 4D: WHY IT MATTERS FOR SHIFTING.

⋆  THE 3D IS REACTIONARY. it only shows you what you’re currently focused on. if you’re stuck in doubt, negativity, or thinking “shifting is impossible,” the 3D reflects that back to you like a mirror.

⋆  THE 4D IS LIMITLESS. it doesn’t care about the “rules” of the 3D. In the 4D, you can visualize, affirm, and believe in your DR, even if it hasn’t shown up in the 3D yet.

⋆  SHIFTING HAPPENS IN THE 4D. your dr isn’t tied to physical limitations—it exists as a POSSIBILITY in the 4D. when you focus your thoughts and emotions on it, you bring that version of reality closer to your 3D experience.

𖥻 HOW TO USE THE 4D TO SHIFT.

⋆  STOP REACTING TO THE 3D. the 3D might tell you, “you haven’t shifted yet,” (u have. a thousand times) or “this reality is the only real one.” that’s a LIE. don’t let the 3D trick you into thinking it’s all there is.

⋆  TIP, TIP, TIP. whenever doubt creeps in, remind yourself: “the 3D is just a reflection of my past focus. my dr is already mine in the 4D.”

⋆  LIVE IN THE 4D. spend time in your dr mentally. visualise it, affirm it, FEEL it. the 4D doesn’t care if it’s “real” yet; it only cares about what you believe.

⋆  CREATE NEW ASSUMPTIONS. the 4D operates on the law of assumption: what you assume to be true becomes true. assume your dr is inevitable, and don’t waste time questioning it.

⋆  ANYTIME YOU CATCH YOURSELF DOUBTING, flip it into an assumption: instead of “shifting is so hard,” say, “shifting is natural for me.” instead of “what if i fail?” say, “i’ve already succeeded.”

⋆  SEE TIME AS FLUID. in the 4D, time isn’t a straight line. your dr isn’t in the “future”; it already exists, and you’re aligning with it.

⋆  IGNORE THE HOW. the 3D will scream, “HOW is this possible? HOW will it happen?” Ignore it. The 4D doesn’t need explanations. your job is to focus on the end result—living in your DR. the universe handles the how.

✶ NR FIVE. THE IMPORTANCE OF AFFIRMATIONS.

affirmations are your bread and butter, your foundation, your ride-or-die. why? because they reprogram your subconscious to align with your dr. they're not just “words.” they’re instructions to the universe.

HOW TO AFFIRM EFFECTIVELY. ⋆  speak in the present tense: “i am already in my dr.”⋆  make it emotional. the more you feel it, the stronger your focus. add excitement, joy, or calmness. whatever your dr feels like. ⋆  keep it simple: “shifting is easy for me.” ⋆  sneak them into your day. affirm while brushing your teeth, scrolling your phone, or walking. your dr energy should feel as casual as breathing. ⋆  repeat, repeat, repeat. consistency is queen. say your affirmations in the morning, before bed, or anytime your brain tries to pull a "what if?" moment.

✶ NR SIX. THE BOOSTER PACK OF BELIEF.

here’s the tea: belief is EVERYTHING. you don’t have to be perfect. you don’t have to follow a method like it’s a rigid rulebook. you just have to believe it’s possible for you.

⋆  WRITE A LETTER TO YOUR DR SELF. pour your heart out. about what you're doing. what you're excited to do. it makes the connection feel real.

⋆  TRUST THE TIMING. just because it hasn’t happened YET doesn’t mean it won’t. think of it like baking cookies—just because they’re in the oven doesn’t mean they’re not baking. your dr is already aligning with you.

✶ NR SEVEN. THE PHILOSOPHICAL MINDSET.

now let’s take a step back and look at the big picture. why would shifting even be real? why would the universe allow it?

⋆  WE ARE CONSCIOUSNESS EXPERIENCING ITSELF. at the end of the day, you are not your body. you are not your cr identity. you are a soul, a spark of consciousness, moving through infinite experiences. shifting is just a way to explore that freedom.

⋆  REALITY IS REFLECTION. everything you see around you is a reflection of your inner world. if you shift your beliefs, your reality will shift too.

⋆  YOU ARE INFINITE. the fact that you can imagine your dr means it already exists. the universe doesn’t create limitations; it creates possibilities.

✶ NR EIGHT. IT'S ALREADY YOURS.

this isn’t a question of “can i?” or “will i?” it’s a statement: i AM shifting. your dr already exists. your soul, mind &&& consciousness already knows how to get there. the only thing standing in your way is the belief that you can’t. and guess what? that belief? it’s an illusion.

think of shifting like a cosmic cheat code—it’s not “too good to be true”; it’s your birthright. every doubt, every fear, every tiktok rant in your head about ‘what if it doesn’t work’—yeet them into the void. affirm, affirm, affirm.

you are meant to experience everything you dream of. whether it’s walking into hogwarts as a wizard, sipping lattes in a fame dr apartment, or going full demigod chaos—your reality is yours to claim.

[just-some-random-blogger]

"I didn't want to overstep"

My honest reacton

NOW *make a man out of your plays in the background* LETS GET DOWN TO BUSINESS

The splash of cold water against your ankle makes you grumble more. You hated getting your shoes wet. Or your ankles. You fix your hair scarf, worried that the sea breeze will make it come loose.

She is so me

As you look up, you see him. A man, with silver hair and a smug look on his face, riding atop a dragon. He is showing off, ducking low, the dragon’s tail dipping in the water before springing back up again. It is what is causing the breeze.

🙄 gago I hate him stfu

You marvel for a second, wondering how such a gigantic beast can be so nimble.

I WOULD LITERALLY HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON CARAXES AND LEAVE THIS PLACE

The man smiles. He winks at you.

The few captains and sailors that were on the docks alongside you have fled. But not you. Alone, silver hair in full display, you stand frozen in the same spot you had been before seeing him pass.

Main character things

Daemon would have so enjoyed to play such a game himself. His future bride was far too young to do little more than court under her parents’ watchful eyes.

🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢 YUCKKKK CAN HE JUST BE FUCKING NORMALLLLLLL CAN HE JUST BE FUCKING NORMALLLLLLLL YUCCKKKKKK

Your laughter was the first thing that caught his attention, a sound so girlish it seemed improper among the men carrying saws and woods for the ships.

We love to see it. DIVINE FEMININE

Daemon seethed. He hated sharing. With whores, it was to be expected, yet it didn’t make it anymore palatable. It was why he enjoyed taking maidenheads so much. Yet, he could ignore it if the woman was pretty or well-trained enough, like he did with Mysaria. To watch a whore with her lover, though, it was intolerable.

❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨 SHUT THE EVER LOVING FUCK UP????????? A MAN WILL WANT SOMETHING THEN THINK THEY ARE ENTITLED TO IT????? EAT SHIT AND DIE?????????

The man tickled your side, and you laughed again. You handed him the basket and kissed him on the cheek.

🧍‍♀️ oh. I personally don't fuck with strangers tickling me please goodness I hope it's addam

Whores were professional liars. You paid them to pretend to be someone they were not. But watching you with a man you truly loved would forever break the fantasy. There was no way he could believe the sweetest lies on your tongue, not when he knew what you looked like when truly in love.

Men shouldnt have rights

“I looked for you in the brothel, but you were not there.”

CRISTI WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS BULLSHIT I WILL RHAE ROYCE THIS FUCKING DEGENERATE

“I… Excuse me?” Your voice is shrill, more angered than panicked. “Do I know you?”

🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️STAB HIM????!!!!!

And oh, the nerve on you. The nerve to question him, as if he were just a passing man on the street and not a Prince of House Targaryen. The same nerve that drove you to stand your ground against Caraxes.

❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓ LICK THE BOTTOM OF MY SHOE YOU CAME TO ME???????? 🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱

“You should be more careful on how you address your betters.”

?????????????? DONT TALK TO SOMEONE BENEATH YOU????? 100 YEARS IN JAIL????

You shove him, hard. And Daemon feels his rage bubbling up, and raises a hand to do something he will most likely regret… But before he can strike you, the man you had been smiling at steps in.

HE WAS WHAT????? 🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪 IM GOING TO FUCKING GOUGE HIS EYES OUT

“And who are you? The husband? The brothel owner?” Daemon sneers, getting in his face. Your hand comes up in between them, fragile and unadorned. Yet, you hit with strength, palm flat against his chest. Daemon laughs and grabs it between his. You attempt to pull back, but his grip is much firmer. “Ah, cupping a feeling, sweetheart?”

??????? BEAT HIS FUCKING ASSSSSS STAB HIM AND BASH HIS FUCKING FACE IN ALYNN???????

“I do not care. Unhand her. We do things different in Driftmark.”

STAB HIM CORLYSSSS

“YOU DO THINGS different here, for certain.” Prince Daemon says, appearing at your window while you knead bread.

CASUALLY BREAKING INTO PEOPLES HOUSES????????? POLICE 🚓🚨

“I won’t hurt you, my lady. I didn’t mean to scare you, either.” His voice is gentle, as if dealing with a spooked animal.

STAB HIM GURL STAB HIM RIGHT FUCKING NOW

As a child, you used to watch Laena Velaryon and pretend you were her.

You are no lady. You are a bastard girl, and you have gone to bed nearly starving more times than you could count.

)))): my poor girl. My baby girl

“Any child of mine, even if natural-born, would never have to go hungry. Your father should be doing more for you, not hiding you three like a shameful secret.”

Am I supposed to be impressed? Am I supposed to pat you on the back?

“Here.” Prince Daemon pushes the parcel through the window. “Consider this my apology for my behavior. Rather uncouth, huh?”

Baho mo gago

Curious, you peer into one of the parcels. It’s full of cured meat.it would have cost him a pretty penny, having it already preserved for you. It is a luxury Addam, Allyn and you never get to have. Not since your mother passed.

))): I hate this so much for them

He says it is because he enjoys the walk. You are not entirely sold, but thinking it is to see you seems a bit conceited.

Be conceited diva WHO IS THIS DIVAAA

Daemon laughs. He uses his now free hand to tug you towards his side. You love when he does that. The gesture feels very protective. He never lets you walk too far from him, or on the side next to the ocean, so you never stumble or get soaked by an errant wave.

Ew

“Wouldn’t you like to go somewhere else?” You ask him, watching the waves lap at the shore. Then, feeling stupid for asking, you lower your eyes. As much as you feign blindness, you are not blind. He is probably ashamed to be seen with the likes of you. Even your father is. Why wouldn’t a Prince?

I believe all men should experience the pain of child birth and labor constantly forever

Your eyes feel warm, and your vision blurs. Gods, you hate crying.

“Close enough. A tad more lemony than the one at Driftmark, but I like it.” He smiles. You fight the urge to beam. He has been coming almost daily after bringing you the lemons, but it is the first time you allow him to taste your creation.

First of all fuck you second of all you're not cute third of all ITS HER FIRST TIME fourth of all I'm glad you can AT LEAST make her happy. THE BAR IS IN HELL

Your mother and you are different. She didn’t know your father was using her. You know Daemon is using you. And you intend to use him right back, milk him for all of his worth.

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔 MILK HIM BLEED HIM SUCK HIM DRY

What your father is like, too. How they use women as if they were little more than things, how they produce children and leave them to their fates.

Not all men EXPLAIN THIS THEN

“Do you listen to yourself?” You scoff, getting up. “Maidenheads, as if I were some great lady. I can handle it. Handle him.”

😬 yeesh famous last words

“To my room. The two of you have ruined my appetite.” But it wasn’t the two of them, not really. Daemon is ashamed of you, the voice in your head whispers. Ashamed of you, just like your father was. He only wants to use you, and once he has had his fill, he will discard you. Just like your father did to your mother.

MY POOR GIRL MY POOR POOR GIRL

Yet, your dark eyes were so kind, your face full of such happiness, Daemon dared not to sully you. Something in you screamed at his instincts to protect, something tugged at his heartstrings when he saw your face scrunched up towards the sun, and told him to gather you in his arms and never let anything touch you.

BROTHER EUGHHHH GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER GIRL RUNNNN ILL WWE ROYAL RUMBLE SMACK DOWN ELBOW TO THE FACE STEEL CHAIR THIS BOZO

Bedding you would ruin you. Daemon enjoyed playing the role of mentor, teaching you new things, helping you gain experiences you would never get as a bastard girl. Yet, you had such a tempting figure, with a mouth made for sin, and a body that begged for worship. You were a little girl, but you had all the self-possession and looks of a grown woman.

MY FUCKING GOODNESS CAN HE JUST BE FUCKING NORMAL IS IT SO HARD FOR HIM NOT TO FUCKING THINK WITH HIS COCK FUCK YOU DIE

“I was thinking…” Daemon says, watching your expression closely. “We could go to a tavern tonight.”

You think? Terrible idea btw fuck off

“It’s rowdy, but in a good sense.” Daemon cannot help it. Your curls are a bit mussed, from wearing the ugly headscarf for too long. He fixes them, fluffing them up slightly at the roots in the way he has seen handmaidens do for Laena. He then tosses the damn thing into the sea, for good measure, ignoring your outraged cry. “Drinks, music, people, greasy food. You will love it.”

NOTHING IS FUCKING SACRED LITERALLY KEEP YOUR HANDS RO YOURSELF MY SCARF IS MY BUSINESS YOU HAVE TERRIBLE MANNERS AND YET IM THE PEASANT FUCK YOU CHOKE ON YOUR GREASY FOOD I HOPE THE ROWDY CROWDS TEAR YOU APART

“I hate drinking.” You wrinkle your nose, cutely. He fights the urge to bite you. The face you make is too sweet, too tempting.

Why would you write him this way. Why is this endearing. HAJIMA STOP

“Because you have only drunk swill. I’ll teach you to drink real wine.” He tugs you into his side, and begins walking back into the city.

Ok alcoholic.

Still, you face it all bravely, as you had that morning at the docks. The two of you manage to get a cozy table in one tavern that Daemon had visited before. He calls for wine to be served, an expensive barrel from the Arbor he is sure they had kept around for years before anyone had the coin to buy it.

No cuz she's better than me I fucking hate being stared at I hatttttteere it she's so much better than me

“Come here, hunes.” His own voice sounds strange to him, low and demanding. When he calls you bunny, he is not exaggerating. Does the fox feel as wrong as he feels when becoming over his prey? Does his gums ache like Daemon’s do, with the urge to bite, to tear apart, to wound? Does he mourn the little bunny whose innocence he is about to shatter? “There is something I wish to show you.”

So you agree

You're a predator

You splutter, but Daemon holds you down, arms held by your side. He forces you to take and take some more, chasing the tart taste of the wine into the honeyed one of your mouth.

NDJDJD YUCCKKKKK (I'm into this shit) YUCCKKKK FUCKING HELL DIE RUNNNNN GIRL RUNNN

“Do you trust me?”

Absolute the fuck not. Eat broken glass

“I did not think it to be true.” A woman’s voice, one he knows too well, says. Rhaenys. Her face is a mask of absolute rage. She gives you a shove that sends you stumbling before Daemon can even get out of his chair. “You have much nerve.”

RHAENYSSSS NOOOO PLEASEEE NOOOO NOT THE VILLAIN ARC NOOO PLEASE )))): I DO NAWT BLAME HER BUT NDJDJNDKSKSKKSKS

“I am talking to you!” Rhaenys insists. You cower behind him. It only makes Rhaenys angrier. “No, not you, you stupid girl. You, Daemon.”

THE WAY I FUCKING SCREAMMMEDDS

BEATTTTT HISS ASSSSS

🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️BEATTTT HISSS ASSSSS

“Are you calling me a whore?”

Well I ain't callin yo ass a prude IF THE SHOE FITS DIPSHIT

He feels the slap before he even sees her move. His head gets forcefully turned to the side, and he hears you whimper. His cheek stings. Daemon has to blink back tears, Rhaenys has hit him that hard.

IM DOING A DANCY DANCE LITERALLY EXPLODE

What Daemon had done to you had seemed purposeful. You had not realized when he had stolen the kiss from you, giving you your first taste of fine wine, but you understood it now. Had Princess Rhaenys not been there, or had she been any less merciful, a much different fate would have awaited you.

😭😭😭😭😭 IM CRYING MY POOR POOR GIRLLLL

“Daughter.”

😃🔪🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕

“It’s a pleasure to finally have you join the family.”

BURN IN HELL ❤️

Addam and Allyn are still in the crowd, unacknowledged. They are your family, not this man who is grasping your hands with a calculating gleam in his eyes. Wondering, as all highborn do, how he might use you. How you might serve to further his own ends.

))))))))))))))))):

“I figured you wouldn’t have one of these.” Her smile is strained as she reaches for your hands. “Since you weren’t raised the proper way.”

FUCKING HELLLLSSSSSS DAMNNNNN MDIRNSJJSJSNSJSMSKANSNNSSJAJAKAKAKAKAKAKJANANAN STOPPPPPP

“I do not think I will.” Daemon cups your cheek in his hand, hands gentle despite the calluses on them. It was one of the things you had first liked about him. His hands were artisan’s hands, like the ones of your brothers, despite being highborn. He had seemed so different from the rest of the men you knew, back then. “Not when my betrothed is nearly weeping in her own feast.”

? I don't like you never have never will I hope you have a heart attack

You bloom under his praise.

I hate that for you.... *Sigh* congrats ig

There is no other word for it. It warms you, from head to toe, and your stomach fills with butterflies. A small smile forms, even through the tears that threaten to fall.

)))): I hate this for you so much baby girl

“There she is.” Daemon brushes his thumb over your cheek. “That’s my girl.”

? Ok? Get it ig. Fuck shit up for her. It's the only thing you're good for.

“Be mine instead.” Daemon whispers, and when you nod, he kisses your forehead.

Oh that's not

“I would protect you.” You say, and it warms something inside Daemon he wasn’t even aware that he had. “If only because killing a Prince is a crime worthy of the ax, and I wish to have nephews.”

😭😭😭😭😭 my girllllll. Get it ig. I'm glad she's happy. That's all that matters

THIS WAS A RIDE. I LOVE HOW MUCH I HATE HIM. I HOPE HE DIES 😃😃😃😃

On a real level, it made me think how fascinated I am in exploring themes such as gender class whatnot and how I as a writer myself am unashamed to admit 'yeah I write daemon fucked up, s'part of the appeal' while simultaneously just being unwilling to let him take the piss ya know HAHAHAH LIKE I WONT DEFEND THIS MAN HES FUCKED UP AND FICTIONAL DIEEEEE ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

The Brave (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: A collection of first times with Daemon.

Warnings: Bastard! Reader. Daddy issues. Corruption kink. Innocence kink. Age difference, power imbalance. Poorly translated HV. Angst. Enemies to lovers (Sort of?) Happy ending. Usual warnings for Daemon (Sexual thoughts, mature language, violence)

Requested: Yes! My first after Halloween, life has been crazy.

THE FISHERMEN SAIL too early for your liking. You know it has little to do with their personal preference, and more to do with the tides. It doesn’t mean you are happy about it, though.

Your job is to ensure all your ships are in good condition and ready to transport whatever those men bring home. Your mother had made a small fortune by expanding her father’s fleet, and after her passing, it was your turn to handle it. You preferred to oversee things personally, knowing that only an owner’s touch could ensure the quality of service you prided yourself in.

No one loved these ships more than you. Small and old they were, but they tied you to your mother. You lacked her knowledge, and sometimes, they made you far less money than you hoped for, but you insisted on keeping them. Your siblings had not shown such an interest, choosing other pursuits.

Allyn, much more practical, had preferred to learn the trade of a shipwright. He now worked under Lord Corlys. It embarrassed you to say it, but it was him and not you who was the breadwinner of your family. Some months, if not most, it was far more lucrative than your business with the ships.

Addam worked occasionally as a shipwright too, but he didn’t have a steady source of income. He was far too young to be hired anywhere, lacking the experience most lords wanted from those building their ships. Sometimes, he also helped you.

Today wasn’t one of those days. Otherwise, you would have forced him to come here in your stead. With a grumble, you jumped from the ship to the dock. Everything was as it should, so you had to move to the next one.

The sunrise makes Hull look even more beautiful, the city slowly beginning to rise under Driftmark’s watchful eyes. The white marble and ivory of the castle provide a backdrop for the goldens and pinks that color the scene. It would make you smile, were it not for the fact that the peaceful morning is ruined by every damn bell in the city tolling.

Visitors. Noble ones. By the amount of noise, they are announcing the visit of someone very high ranking.

The splash of cold water against your ankle makes you grumble more. You hated getting your shoes wet. Or your ankles. You fix your hair scarf, worried that the sea breeze will make it come loose.

You shouldn’t have bothered. A harsh gust of wind takes it fully off and nearly sends you caroling into the water. The dock shakes underneath you, the ships and water agitated by the same thing. You scream, as do the rest of the sailors who are near.

As you look up, you see him. A man, with silver hair and a smug look on his face, riding atop a dragon. He is showing off, ducking low, the dragon’s tail dipping in the water before springing back up again. It is what is causing the breeze. You marvel for a second, wondering how such a gigantic beast can be so nimble.

You had never seen a dragon up close before. You are not allowed to go near Driftmark, where the Princess and the Lord and Lady keep theirs.

The few captains and sailors that were on the docks alongside you have fled. But not you. Alone, silver hair in full display, you stand frozen in the same spot you had been before seeing him pass.

The man smiles. He winks at you.

You lower your eyes and do not stop running until you are safe at home.

DAEMON SEES YOU again when he least expects it. He has looked for you in every pleasure house on this island and has not been able to find you. The brave little maiden with silver hair, who had screamed bloody murder but stood her ground on the docks when she saw him approach.

You must be of Valyrian descent. There is no other explanation for your lack of fear. You were young and comely, so he had guessed that you must be a whore. It was what happened to girls who looked like you. Men loved pretending they were either a Princess or the daughter of some lord. And so close to Driftmark? They probably asked you to pretend you were little Laena Velaryon.

Daemon would have so enjoyed to play such a game himself. His future bride was far too young to do little more than court under her parents’ watchful eyes. If he could sneak a bit of a taste in advance, you wouldn’t catch him complaining about it.

When he had agreed to accompany Corlys to oversee the progress being made on the news ships for his fleet, the last thing he expected to encounter was you.

Your laughter was the first thing that caught his attention, a sound so girlish it seemed improper among the men carrying saws and woods for the ships. His head had turned instinctively towards the sound, and it was then that he saw you.

The dress you had on was a plain gray, as it was the headscarf you wore. But Daemon would know that face anywhere. He had sought everywhere for it. You were holding a small basket, next to some shipwright. The man looked older than you, already bald. You were all smiles and animated gestures, seemingly taken by him.

The man tickled your side, and you laughed again. You handed him the basket and kissed him on the cheek.

Daemon seethed. He hated sharing. With whores, it was to be expected, yet it didn’t make it anymore palatable. It was why he enjoyed taking maidenheads so much. Yet, he could ignore it if the woman was pretty or well-trained enough, like he did with Mysaria. To watch a whore with her lover, though, it was intolerable.

Whores were professional liars. You paid them to pretend to be someone they were not. But watching you with a man you truly loved would forever break the fantasy. There was no way he could believe the sweetest lies on your tongue, not when he knew what you looked like when truly in love.

Is it in bad taste to approach you when his future father-in-law is distracted by his sailors? Probably. But he cannot stop himself. Because the only thing Daemon can think of, the only thing that would make him feel better, is to bring you as low as he. Ruin your little fantasy as you had ruined his.

He marches towards where the man and you are, and gently cups your chin in his hand. The sudden interruption startles you, and you try taking a step back, but his sweet hold has turned into Valyrian Steel. There is no escape for little whores.

“I looked for you in the brothel, but you were not there.”

“I… Excuse me?” Your voice is shrill, more angered than panicked. “Do I know you?”

And oh, the nerve on you. The nerve to question him, as if he were just a passing man on the street and not a Prince of House Targaryen. The same nerve that drove you to stand your ground against Caraxes.

Begrudgingly, Daemon has to name the strange feeling taking place in his stomach. Awe. Admiration. You had fire in your belly, and steel on your spine. You were a truer Valyrian than many of his own family members.

They were weak. Soft. You were not. But you were still a mere peasant, and he couldn’t allow you to disrespect him such.

“You should be more careful on how you address your betters.”

You shove him, hard. And Daemon feels his rage bubbling up, and raises a hand to do something he will most likely regret… But before he can strike you, the man you had been smiling at steps in.

“Unhand her.” He says, voice firm. His expression doesn’t waver, the same steel you have mirrored in his brown eyes. Up close, he is much younger than Daemon expected, tall and muscular from what seems like a life of hard work. He tugs you behind him.

“And who are you? The husband? The brothel owner?” Daemon sneers, getting in his face. Your hand comes up in between them, fragile and unadorned. Yet, you hit with strength, palm flat against his chest. Daemon laughs and grabs it between his. You attempt to pull back, but his grip is much firmer. “Ah, cupping a feeling, sweetheart?”

“Daemon.” And really, things were just turning interesting. Why does Corlys have to interrupt at the worst time possible? “Unhand her immediately.”

At his appearance, both you and the boy turn an awful gray shade that matches your dress and headscarf. Fear of their liege, perhaps?

But the boy’s jaw ticks, and your dark eyes lower in a manner that they hadn’t when facing him. Something else is at play here.

“I was just…” Daemon slowly retracts his hand, studying the surrounding faces carefully. You, sullen, the boy enraged. Corlys’ cold as ice. Neither of you speak, yet it is clear you are not strangers.

“I do not care. Unhand her. We do things different in Driftmark.”

And the tone Corlys uses is strange, for a man unbothered by the costs of power. What are two peasants to the favor of a Prince? Why does he know them? He had never struck Daemon as someone concerned by his subjects.

And then, a piece of your hair falls out of your headscarf. Silver against a dark background. And it is then he knows it. You are no dragonseed. Nor is the boy with the shaved head.

“YOU DO THINGS different here, for certain.” Prince Daemon says, appearing at your window while you knead bread. His presence is as unexpected as it is unwelcome. It is the first time you are home alone after the incident, not Addam nor Allyn willing to risk this stranger attempting anything worse than he already has. Three days had passed, and they had considered it enough. If the man had not approached you during that time, it meant he wouldn’t, right? Clearly no. He had just been bidding his time, waiting for both of your brothers to go. “Corlys's little secret.”

Your hands shake. You wished Allyn wasn’t so set on teaching Addam his craft, and hadn’t gone out today. Being home alone with a strange man around didn’t spell anything good for you.

A quick glance at the door reassures you that it is still barred. You take a not so subtle step back from the window.

The prince lip’s quirk upwards, not quite a smile, but betraying his amusement. Does he find your fear funny?

“I won’t hurt you, my lady. I didn’t mean to scare you, either.” His voice is gentle, as if dealing with a spooked animal. The title makes you scoff. No one has ever called you a lady, much less a Prince.

As a child, you used to watch Laena Velaryon and pretend you were her. Wondering what life would have been like if you didn’t have to hide, if your father acknowledged you. Wondering what it would feel, to be a Lady and never go to bed hungry, to be surrounded by beauty all day.

You are no lady. You are a bastard girl, and you have gone to bed nearly starving more times than you could count.

As if sensing your thoughts, Prince Daemon lifts one of his hands. He holds up a package, wrapped in bright white silk. Both he and his gift look deeply out of place here, near your window. In his fine clothes, in brighter colors than you can afford, he sticks out like a sore thumb.

“Any child of mine, even if natural-born, would never have to go hungry. Your father should be doing more for you, not hiding you three like a shameful secret.”

You do not take the parcel. You merely look at him and fight an overwhelming urge to cry.

“Here.” Prince Daemon pushes the parcel through the window. “Consider this my apology for my behavior. Rather uncouth, huh?”

You open it carefully. Two smaller parcels fall from it, both as carefully wrapped.

“You can wear the silk.” He tells you, gesturing to your hair. “And the rest…”

Curious, you peer into one of the parcels. It’s full of cured meat.it would have cost him a pretty penny, having it already preserved for you. It is a luxury Addam, Allyn and you never get to have. Not since your mother passed.

With rushed hands, you open the other parcel. A small sack of flour, lemons, and pages torn from a book. They are all expensive things, nothing like the flour you buy at the market to make bread or the bruised fruit you get when Addam craves something sweet. You squint at the pages, puzzled by their presence.

“Mix one cup of flour with… Is this..?” You ask him, astonished. A small smile begins to form on your face.

“The recipe for lemon cakes. For your baking.” He smiles back. He then gestures to your hands, still covered in flour. “I hear you enjoy it. Just… Save me a piece.”

“Thank you.” You beam at him. He gives you a bow, and leaves. You find yourself smiling like a fool the rest of the afternoon.

You cannot believe it. Prince Daemon has just given you the recipe for lemon cakes. As far apologies go, this is a great one.

Addam and Allyn go to bed with full stomachs. You go to bed with yours full of butterflies. No one has ever ensured such for the three of you.

“IS IT CLOSE enough?” You bite your lower lip, watching Daemon chew a piece of cake. His brows furrow a bit, and he lets out a small, throaty moan.

“Close enough. A tad more lemony than the one at Driftmark, but I like it.” He smiles. You fight the urge to beam. He has been coming almost daily after bringing you the lemons, but it is the first time you allow him to taste your creation.

He says it is because he enjoys the walk. You are not entirely sold, but thinking it is to see you seems a bit conceited.

“I got excited.” You scratch the back of your neck, sheepish. The batter had smelt and tasted so heavenly, you had just kept adding more.

Daemon laughs. He uses his now free hand to tug you towards his side. You love when he does that. The gesture feels very protective. He never lets you walk too far from him, or on the side next to the ocean, so you never stumble or get soaked by an errant wave.

It’s peaceful here. He often says he cares not for the ocean, but the two of you always walk the same route. From your home, towards your ships, then back.

“Wouldn’t you like to go somewhere else?” You ask him, watching the waves lap at the shore. Then, feeling stupid for asking, you lower your eyes. As much as you feign blindness, you are not blind. He is probably ashamed to be seen with the likes of you. Even your father is. Why wouldn’t a Prince?

Your eyes feel warm, and your vision blurs. Gods, you hate crying. You try to focus on something else. Your scuffed shoes. His boots. The sand under your feet. The urge to run away, and scream, and die from the humiliation of even asking.

Daemon sighs. He sits down on the sand, patting the space on his side. His clothes, despite their simple design, are very fine.

“Your clothes…” You mumble, without sitting.

“Bah, I have three other cloaks like this one.” As if proving a point, he takes it off, laying it down for you to sit. You feel even sillier at his patience. “Come. Sit down, jorrāeliarzys.”

You obey him because there is little else to do. You have already messed up, you don’t wish to make any other mistake. His company has become precious to you, a welcome respite from your brothers. Living with two boys, you are never alone. But every so often, you wish for more engaging conversation.

“I am not ashamed of being seen in your company. I just… I thought you preferred it here.” Daemon explains, softly tucking a stray curl behind your ear. “Would you like for us to meet in the city, instead?”

You think of meeting him in the city’s market. Of the rumors that would sure follow, of the names you would be called. Of your father finding out. You know what it would look like to him. That you are making the same mistake as your mother did.

You are not dumb. Daemon is not here to simply plan an alliance. Alliances are always sealed in blood, and your half sister is barely old enough to be considered.

Your mother and you are different. She didn’t know your father was using her. You know Daemon is using you. And you intend to use him right back, milk him for all of his worth.

So why does it hurt like this, why does it feel like something inside you is breaking?

You take the parcels he gives you without any shame. That night, as the three of you are eating a generous serving of venison, Allyn scowls.

“I don’t like it. Can’t you see what he wants?”

Addam’s fork freezes midway to his mouth. He looks down at his plate, as if he is truly seeing the meat he is being served for the first time.

“I am not mother.” You say, icily. The venison tastes bitter on your tongue, but stubbornly, you keep eating. Allyn is just angry that it is not longer him who is putting the meals on the table. “I know what highborn men are like.”

What your father is like, too. How they use women as if they were little more than things, how they produce children and leave them to their fates.

“All the more reason not to allow him to take your maidenhead.”

“Do you listen to yourself?” You scoff, getting up. “Maidenheads, as if I were some great lady. I can handle it. Handle him.”

Allyn looks at you, eyes full of pity. You cannot bear it. Your eyes sting again. You hurry out of the table.

“Where are you going?” Addam reaches forward, as if to grab you.

“To my room. The two of you have ruined my appetite.” But it wasn’t the two of them, not really. Daemon is ashamed of you, the voice in your head whispers. Ashamed of you, just like your father was. He only wants to use you, and once he has had his fill, he will discard you. Just like your father did to your mother.

Alone, in your room, you tear the headscarf he had given you to shreds. You squeeze the rests on your palm, you make a ball, you throw it against the wall.

The next morning, you have sobbed your throat raw. You still go to meet him in the afternoon.

SOMETHING IS WRONG. Daemon can tell when he picks you up that day. Your eyes are swollen and bloodshot, and your complexion an awful gray. The headscarf he had given you is nowhere to be seen, and you are back to your severe gray one.

Like a bad case of heartburn, the lie he had told you comes back to him, leaving an acrid taste in his mouth.

Daemon is not ashamed of you, but doesn't want to be seen with you either. The consequences for you would be too great. He had learned his lesson with Mysaria. The double stain would have made you a pariah, both because of your birth and because of whom you were bedding.

Because it was all that people would think about when they found out. No one would believe Daemon had yet to touch you.

He was unsure if he ever would.

You were an extraordinary girl, yet still a bastard. There was nothing to be done about it. All you could be was friends and lovers, and nothing more.

Yet, your dark eyes were so kind, your face full of such happiness, Daemon dared not to sully you. Something in you screamed at his instincts to protect, something tugged at his heartstrings when he saw your face scrunched up towards the sun, and told him to gather you in his arms and never let anything touch you.

Daemon had been like you, once. When younger. He, too, felt a lack of acknowledgement by those around you, and an urge to prove himself. His father had passed when he was still young, and Viserys had received all laurels. It would have never bothered him because he loved his brother, but Viserys had left him behind. Married Aemma. Had children. Gained the love of his people, found new friends.

Never once Viserys had looked at Daemon. No matter how hard he tried to reach for him, his brother always evaded his hand. Daemon had been left there. He, too, had stood on the shadows and feigned indifference, burning up with secret resentment.

The idea of you growing up to be like him was both appealing and horrifying. There was a sweetness to you, a naïveté that he had lacked even in his younger years. He wanted to preserve it. Shield you from the world.

Bedding you would ruin you. Daemon enjoyed playing the role of mentor, teaching you new things, helping you gain experiences you would never get as a bastard girl. Yet, you had such a tempting figure, with a mouth made for sin, and a body that begged for worship. You were a little girl, but you had all the self-possession and looks of a grown woman.

You would taste exquisite on his tongue, crumbling from his caresses. Your cunt would feel like wet velvet around him, and you would sound your sweetest when he was spearing you open on his cock.

And how would you smile, joyous and fierce, his brave girl. Some maidens cried, but not you. You were made of sterner stuff, a heart that burned brighter and stronger than the Fourteen Flames. You had stood your ground, terrified but unbowed, in front of Caraxes himself.

Such a face you had, all Valyrian empress. A sovereign nose, the fleeting shadow of your eyelashes, and a slippery laugh that always gave you an air of mischief. A face not made for sadness. It is what prompts him to do what will become either the greatest mistake of his life, or his greatest triumph.

“I was thinking…” Daemon says, watching your expression closely. “We could go to a tavern tonight.”

“A tavern?” The surprising offering shakes you out of your sadness. Your face changes from a sad little frown into a curious one.

“Have you ever gone to one?” Daemon tugs the hair scarf from your hair, softly. The silver curls fall free, in a lovely mess. You scowl, trying to get it back, but he holds it just out of your reach. It’s a lovely thing, to watch you give little jumps on your tiptoes, curls bouncing with the motion. “Ah! None of that, now. Answer my question first.”

“No, I haven’t. Addam and Allyn go from time to time, but it sounds too rowdy for my liking.” You cross your arms over your chest.

“It’s rowdy, but in a good sense.” Daemon cannot help it. Your curls are a bit mussed, from wearing the ugly headscarf for too long. He fixes them, fluffing them up slightly at the roots in the way he has seen handmaidens do for Laena. He then tosses the damn thing into the sea, for good measure, ignoring your outraged cry. “Drinks, music, people, greasy food. You will love it.”

“I hate drinking.” You wrinkle your nose, cutely. He fights the urge to bite you. The face you make is too sweet, too tempting.

“Because you have only drunk swill. I’ll teach you to drink real wine.” He tugs you into his side, and begins walking back into the city.

The walk to the city is awkward. Not because the two of you have nothing to talk about, but rather, because of the stares. Your silver hair, despite your simple clothing, commands attention. So does Daemon’s presence, and the arm he has around your shoulders.

He had not been wrong. This would cost you. A cost too steep for someone he sought to keep safe.

Still, you face it all bravely, as you had that morning at the docks. The two of you manage to get a cozy table in one tavern that Daemon had visited before. He calls for wine to be served, an expensive barrel from the Arbor he is sure they had kept around for years before anyone had the coin to buy it.

It’s delicious. But when he serves you a goblet, you take a big sip and begin to splutter.

“Mittys hunes iksā.” Daemon tuts. His silly bunny. “You are not meant to drink it such. You ought to savor it.”

“Savor?” You arch an eyebrow. “Tastes like dragonfire.”

And perhaps it's the choice of words, or the glint of your silver hair under the low light emanating from the torches, but something about you reminds him of the way he had loved Rhaenyra and admired Laena, the other Valyrian beauties in his life. They are not here, he cannot reach them. But you are.

“Come here, hunes.” His own voice sounds strange to him, low and demanding. When he calls you bunny, he is not exaggerating. Does the fox feel as wrong as he feels when becoming over his prey? Does his gums ache like Daemon’s do, with the urge to bite, to tear apart, to wound? Does he mourn the little bunny whose innocence he is about to shatter? “There is something I wish to show you.”

You eye him warily, but get up from your chair and move until you are standing in front of him. It's not enough for Daemon. It never is. He always wants you closer, closer to hold, to protect, to own.

He tugs you between his parted legs.

“Do you trust me?”

There is a slight furrow of your brow. The barest hint of hesitation. Yet, your voice is firm when you answer him.

“Yes.”

His girl. His precious girl. If you had been his, he would have never hurt you like Corlys had. Never allowed to become easy prey for men like him. You shouldn’t trust him.

Daemon shouldn’t be doing this, either. It is a good thing he has never claimed to be a good man.

He takes a sip of his wine, and leans towards you, capturing your mouth in his. At first, you fight him, the suddenness startling you. It’s only when he gives your lower lip a sharp nip, that you melt into the kiss. When your mouth parts slightly, he passes you the wine.

You splutter, but Daemon holds you down, arms held by your side. He forces you to take and take some more, chasing the tart taste of the wine into the honeyed one of your mouth.

Your obedience and compliance only makes him wilder, drives him to grasp at your hips, pull you closer. Just when you begin to lean into Daemon, dutifully swallowing the wine, someone jerks you out of his grip.

“I did not think it to be true.” A woman’s voice, one he knows too well, says. Rhaenys. Her face is a mask of absolute rage. She gives you a shove that sends you stumbling before Daemon can even get out of his chair. “You have much nerve.”

Your face turns ashen. You look like you are about to cry, or worse, flee. Daemon jumps up, and gets between Rhaenys and you.

“You were always a whore!” She screams, her index finger digging into his chest. You let out a sob, quietly. Daemon’s heart feels like it is being wrenched from his chest. At this point, the screams have attracted all the tavern's attention. Daemon doesn’t doubt that by this time tomorrow, the whole island will know.

You will be shunned. Just as he had feared.

“I am talking to you!” Rhaenys insists. You cower behind him. It only makes Rhaenys angrier. “No, not you, you stupid girl. You, Daemon.”

Daemon feels utterly stunned. Never in a million years he would have thought Rhaenys was referring to him.

“Are you calling me a whore?”

He feels the slap before he even sees her move. His head gets forcefully turned to the side, and he hears you whimper. His cheek stings. Daemon has to blink back tears, Rhaenys has hit him that hard.

He wasn’t even aware that a woman could land such a blow.

“You dare! You toyed with my daughter and this girl as you saw fit.” And Daemon cannot even get a word in because she is too angry. He feels his cheeks reddening, and its unsure if he is feeling embarrassment at being scolded like a child, or rage at her words. “But worry not. I will make this right.”

Rhaenys has a manic gleam in her eyes. For a frightening second, Daemon thinks he sees in her the famous Targaryen madness.

Instead of setting you both on fire, she lunges, avoiding Daemon, and grabbing you hands in hers.

“I shall not allow you to make the same mistake your mother did.” Rhaenys says, and she is gone before Daemon can answer anything.

THIS IS YOUR greatest triumph. Why, then, does it taste like ashes on your tongue?

You are wearing the finest dress you have ever owned, gifted to you by Daemon. Princess Rhaenys has forced both him and your father into complacency, and even forced King Viserys to allow your betrothal. Still, you feel adrift. Even betrayed.

What Daemon had done to you had seemed purposeful. You had not realized when he had stolen the kiss from you, giving you your first taste of fine wine, but you understood it now. Had Princess Rhaenys not been there, or had she been any less merciful, a much different fate would have awaited you.

The stink of shame that followed you around, the whispers of dishonor and the looks of distaste, would have been even more intense. You would have been ruined, known as little more than a whore. And your family no longer had the money that had shielded your mother during her pregnancies.

You had not known it. But Daemon must have. He had a reputation for taking maidenheads as he saw fit, Addam had informed you. You were a fool for not knowing, and a fool for believing he wanted something else from you.

The royal decree is read by a Maester, in front of all the Lords of near castles, the smallfolk of Driftmark and the Velaryons. Even in the first beautiful dress you own, you feel small. Out of place. The looks your half siblings are shooting you do not help you feel better.

Once the bill is read, Lord Corlys steps forward.

“Daughter.” He says, grasping your hands in his. He is cold. He is cold, and it makes your skin crawl, even when it is all you wanted as a little girl. It’s the first time he acknowledges you, and he is not at all like the man you imagined, when dreaming as a child of what it would be like for him to look at you. Because even a glance would have been enough back then. “It’s a pleasure to finally have you join the family.”

Addam and Allyn are still in the crowd, unacknowledged. They are your family, not this man who is grasping your hands with a calculating gleam in his eyes. Wondering, as all highborn do, how he might use you. How you might serve to further his own ends.

Your brothers could not be recognized as you were. You had shyly asked Princess Rhaenys, and if she thought you dimwitted before, she had probably confirmed her suspicions. They were men, she had explained, and a threat to Laenor’s rights once your father passed. You, instead, were nothing but a girl who had sullied herself, whose honor had been compromised so thoroughly you had turned even less important in the great scheme of things.

She was helping you because you had been taken advantage of by Daemon, Princess Rhaenys had said, but also to spare her daughter from your fate. Wife to a husband that would most likely betray you and sire bastards.

Lord Corlys was just happy to have another pawn to marry off and forge alliances. Freeing his daughter from a disloyal husband was an added bonus.

Every time you heard them, your hands turned into fist, and you could barely fight the rage from clouding your expression. You had not done the thing everyone was accusing you of, and yet were being judged for it all the same. Daemon, too, did nothing to correct them. Not even when the most scandalous rumors surfaced, saying you would wed him with a child already in your belly.

You had not let him touch you like that. You were not as stupid as everyone thought. As a daughter to a single mother, you knew all about scorn and loneliness. You would never doom a child to your same fate.

The day doesn’t pick up from there. The feast to follow feels just as empty, and you turn down an insincere offer from your father to be housed here. You cannot wait to run back to your brothers.

It would be impolite to leave so soon, though. Lord Corlys has thrown this feast in your honor and is making the lords and members of his household present you with gifts. You admit it is a clever strategy, to avoid having to spend money in your trousseau. Hence, you need to stay a little bit longer.

You get handed new quills and parchments, alongside a new seal for your correspondence by Laena.

“I figured you wouldn’t have one of these.” Her smile is strained as she reaches for your hands. “Since you weren’t raised the proper way.” It says a lot about the company you are in that it is the most polite greeting you receive all afternoon.

When it all begins to become a bit much, and your eyes are stinging after a lady said you had no grace and no manners, you decide you need to run. But when you are stepping a foot outside the hall, Daemon appears by your side.

“Rather improper, isn’t it?” He asks, grabbing your hand in his. You try to jerk away, but he merely interlaces your fingers together. “A lady cannot quite run around unescorted as you used to.”

“Leave me alone, Daemon.” You say, still trying to free yourself. The last thing you want today is to deal with him.

“I do not think I will.” Daemon cups your cheek in his hand, hands gentle despite the calluses on them. It was one of the things you had first liked about him. His hands were artisan’s hands, like the ones of your brothers, despite being highborn. He had seemed so different from the rest of the men you knew, back then. “Not when my betrothed is nearly weeping in her own feast.”

“You heard all those people. I do not belong here.” You look up at him, fighting your tears. You feel like such a whiny child. What happened to you is something that only happens in fairytales, it's the stuff songs are written about. No bastard girl gets acknowledged by her father and marries a Prince.

“Who cares what those cunts think?” Daemon scoffs. “You are above them. You always were.”

You bloom under his praise. There is no other word for it. It warms you, from head to toe, and your stomach fills with butterflies. A small smile forms, even through the tears that threaten to fall.

“There she is.” Daemon brushes his thumb over your cheek. “That’s my girl.”

His girl. There is nothing you would like more.

“I never wanted to be a Lady.” You lower your eyes, embarrassed at the admission. You feel ungrateful for saying it, but it’s the truth. You had never imagined a home away from your siblings. The marriage will mean you will be taken away from them, and only see them if Daemon feels like it.

You do not own a dragon, after all. And you aren’t too sure Allyn and him will be the best good brothers.

He grabs you by the waist and gives a little tug.

“Be mine instead.” Daemon whispers, and when you nod, he kisses your forehead.

MARRYING YOU HAD never been in his plans. Yet, when he saw you walk down the aisle, dressed in Velaryon blue and looking awkward, Daemon was sure you were the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

You were not a lady or a princess, yet you and him were alike. Birds of the same feather. For the first time, Daemon could say there was someone who understood him.

Daemon had never been poor, nor had he been born a bastard, but he too, had lost his parents while young. He, too, was considered too wild by his brother. And he knew all about of trying to fulfill an impossible task while honoring the legacy of his ancestors.

Laena was a mere child by your side. Her innocence and Valyrian looks had appealed to him once, but after meeting you, Daemon knew no other woman could compare. There was an edge to you, beneath all the innocence and beauty. A fire that burned bright in your belly, and could not be quenched. An anger that both amazed him and scared him, and drew him in like a moth to a flame.

You would have been great if you had been born into his house. Great but terrible.

Or perhaps you wouldn’t have. Perhaps, if you had grown acknowledged by your father, you would have not been the lost little girl who dreamed of recognition and slept lulled by the sea. You wouldn’t have grown into the woman who got the recognition and understood she did not need it at all.

A shame that recognition had come at a price so steep. Recognition in exchange for rumors of dishonor, whispers of the shame of your existence and the shame you had brought on yourself. These cunts did not see you for what you were. Not some malicious creature, some silver tongued temptress. No. You were determined and fierce, brave and true. You honored your house’s words. Your ancestors would have been proud.

Yes, Daemon decided. He would marry you and take you away from here, from this horrible little island where people behaved like they were above you. The cunts should be honored that you were even looking their way.

The distance might even help those stubborn brothers of yours to forget all about the way Daemon had become part of their family. When the grudge was forgotten, he would bring you back, less the eldest skewered him alive.

Not because Daemon feared Allyn. Of course not. But because killing him would be such a nuisance, and you would cry, and… Ugh. He couldn’t stand to see you cry.

You were about to burst into tears right now. He could tell. Daemon grabbed your hands in his, uncaring he was breaking protocol, and pressed his forehead against yours.

“We can still marry on the beach, with only Caraxes as witness.” He whispers, gently. “Hells, I would prefer it. We can run still. The Septon has not spoken.”

You laugh, a bit watery.

“Addam and Allyn would drop dead, thinking we will not be wed.”

“Allyn looks like he would attempt murder.”

“Attempt?”

“I doubt he would succeed.”

“I would protect you.” You say, and it warms something inside Daemon he wasn’t even aware that he had. “If only because killing a Prince is a crime worthy of the ax, and I wish to have nephews.”

Daemon's mouth opens and closes.

“You little..!”

You laugh, but before he can lunge and throw you over his shoulder, the Septon clears his throat.

“If the two of you are done..?”

“Just get to the part where you handfast us.” Daemon says, giving him his best lecherous expression. “I have many things I wish to show my new bride.”

And there were. He had taken many of your firsts already, he wasn’t about to stop now.