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[nanaslutt]

since the year is ending i just wanted to say thank you to everyone who has ever read, liked, reblogged, followed, sent me a request, or message messaged me <3 posting here has given me a space to express myself and my brain worms and i’ve met so many amazing people and friends on here :,)

i never would have imagined 33k+ people would be so interested in the silly shit i have to write but i just wanna let you guys know how thankful i am!! if ive never done your request or responded to a message or comment just know ilysm and u are so cherished here!!!

happy holidays!! >.<

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 12

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, pregnancy, miscarriage, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: i would just like to bring everyone's attention to the fact this fic is called tormented spirit. BTW some of yall might wanna read my weasely twins fluff cuz 😀 yeah you should read some fluff! leave comments/reblogs ok!!! MERRY CHRISTMAS | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @myllovellybones

Since your sister's wedding, there were two things you no longer did: speak to your sister and go to your father. Everyday, instead of having the Lord Hand accompany you to your maester, you were accompanied by one of your wards.

At first, you were apprehensive with the change. After all, they were your knights, but neither of them were the father to your babe, and even fathers were rarely involved with prenatal care. Though, the patience they extended is not unusual, you were surprised that Erryk and Arryk took time asking the maester additional information concerning things that might need their attention in the future.

Today, you walk to the maester's ward, one hand on your belly the other on Erryk's bicep. As he opens the door, you freeze when you hear the voices in the room.

"Daughter." "Sister."

These words are spoken at the same time. You clench your teeth and turn to Erryk, whose jaw is set. You take a breath and decide to simply come back later.

Alicent stands the cot she sat upon and raises a hand, "please! I'm finished. You can come now."

Finished? Why is she being examined by the maester?

Otto is angered by your persistence to ignore them. He scowls and glares at Erryk, "you remind your princess to practice some humility," he points a finger, "her actions are affecting the queen, who is now carrying an heir."

Your face drops as you turn to her.

She is already staring at you. You watch her pick her nails. You catch the redness of her cuticles.

Erryk is equally shocked. He stutters before nodding in regard, "congratulations, my queen."

Alicent shakes her head, forcing a smile, "t-thank you, ser."

Your father's eyes remain on you. He waits for you to offer the same sentiment, but his anger only intensifies at your continued silence. He scoffs, "will you not even congratulate your sister?"

You clutch your pronounced belly and turn to your maester, "may we please do the examination? I cannot bear to stand for long."

Otto and Alicent watch you move past them. The latter is resigned to your commitment of not speaking to her, the former seethes and laughs dryly. He offers his arm to the queen, "come, daughter. Let us pray that your sister's impertinence is merely as side effect of childbearing."

Your sister spares you a glassy glance before taking Otto's arm and leaving with him. You watch as they leave, feeling yourself grow hard of breathing.

The maester asks you to sit, but before you do, you snatch his arm, "is she truly with child?"

He looks at your teary face. He feels the tremble of your hand as he places his own atop of it. He carefully speaks "it is joyous news, is it not?"

You release a shaky breath as he helps you sit.

"Princess," the maester warily says, "breathe for me. We cannot proceed if you overcome by your affliction."

You place both your hands on your belly and take a couple deep breaths. You close your eyes and resist the sob that threatens to come. A couple of tears wet your cheeks, but you manage to remain intact. You wipe your face and mutter to yourself, "it's barely been a moon since they've wed."

Your maester hears it though and offers, "your sister is blessed with a fertile womb."

You wish he had not tried to comfort you with such an idea.

You try not to think of Alicent as you do your daily examination, but she is all you think of. You think of how frightened she must be. You think of how your father surely told her about your daily visits to the maester. You wonder if he would force her to do the same, just to get you to talk to her. She wouldn't need daily examinations like you; she is perfectly healthy, stronger than you, as she said herself.

You are so deep in thought, you don't even realize the maester was finished with you, up until he says something that demands your full attention.

"What?" you knit your brows at him.

"We will be more certain of it as the moons wax and wane, but considering you are a twin yourself, and, again, because of the rather rapid growth of your belly, chances are my deduction is correct."

He helps you up and Erryk is quick to take your arm. You mutter through a shaky breath, "I'm carrying twins?"

Your maester nods, "highly likely."

You turn to Erryk, who offers you a reassuring smile, "I... congratulate you, my princess."

You stare at him for a moment and blink rapidly.

"You might give birth to a boy and girl who will have the same devotion you and your brother have," Erryk says in an attempt to take away some of the fear written across your face.

It does actually. You recall your visit to Oldtown and find yourself nodding, "I... I must write a letter at once."

Many moons come and go, but across the sea, the sun shines. Daemon's day has just started. His mood is nothing but sour, as it always is. He is loathe to start his day, but he does, and with a grunt, and leaves his tent to break his fast.

We eats with the Velaryons, Corlys, Vaemond, and Laenor, and though he did not hold any particular fondness for them, there was something in the way they all spoke in nothing but High Valyrian that made mornings not completely unbearable.

"My prince," Corlys greets him in their mother tongue. He hands Daemon a plate, "duck."

Daemon raises his brow at it, "with salt?"

"And pepper," Leanor says with a half-amused expression.

"My," Daemon sits down with them, "I am spoiled."

Corlys waits for Daemon to have a few bites before continuing conversation. He clears his throat, "before the day passes, allow me, my brother, and my son-" he looks between the said people, earning furrowed brows from Laenor, "-to greet you, both on behalf of House Velaryon, and as your comrade in battle for you—"

"Oh, yes!" Leanor interjects once he remembers, "congratulations, my prince!"

This earns him a look from his father, and his uncle. Laenor, who had been grinning, slowly raises his brows, "a-... apologies for interrupting, father."

Corlys sighs, "as I was-"

"And have we won the war overnight?" the prince says, rather uninterested, both in small talk and in his duck.

Corlys is confused by this, "I... no." He slowly tilts his head, "does your lady wife not write to you?"

Daemon is immediately on edge at the mention of you, "and what of her?"

Corlys narrows his eyes. He puts him to the test, "... you are aware your brother, the king, has remarried?"

Daemon whips his head his direction.

"And that also he expects an heir to be delivered come spring?"

"Remarried?!" Daemon repeats in offence, "and which scheming cunt managed to tricked him into marriage?"

Corlys turns to Vaemond, who turns to Leanor, who turns back to Corlys. The latter clears his throat, "your bride's sister, my prince."

His eyes widen. He looks between the Velaryons, then scoffs dryly. He begins to laugh, "that roach of a Hand has Viserys's bollocks shoved down his fucking throat."

Their faces contort at the foul language. Vaemond, in particular, is so offended that he cannot help but ask, "doesn't the princess write to you every day?"

Daemon clenches his plate

"And she never mentioned thi—"

"WHAT USE HAVE I TO READ THE WEEPY WRITING OF MY WIFE?!" the prince snaps, coming to a stand as he chucks his plate to the ground.

Corlys understands then Daemon's initial shock. However, he is still confused, "have you not read any letters from your wife?"

"Would you rather I be distracted, Corlys?" he snaps again, hands now clenched into fists.

Corlys is not intimidated by Daemon's anger, but he is also unincited by the idea a fight. He raises his hands in surrender, "most men gladly welcome distractions in the heat of war."

Daemon chuckles dryly, "I am not most men," then storms all the way back to his tent.

"Jiōragon hen ñuha ñuhoso!" he snaps in High Valyrian still, shoving the unwitting soldier aside. Get out of my way!

He returns to his tent. Another unwitting victim is there. "My prince," he bows, "a letter from Lady H-" Daemon snags the letter from him and shoves him away with exceeding anger and force.

He enters his tent and immediately chucks the letter to the floor, as if it was a vase he intended to shatter into a million pieces. It doesn't, of course; the paper remains intact, along with its seal. He crushes it beneath his heel then grabs the sack containing all your unread letters. He empties it on the floor and violently begins to stomp all over them.

You were his. You were meant to be his! Yet here you were, a pawn in someone else's game. His lust and infatuation has blinded him from this truth. You and your sister were mere tools of your cunt father to manipulate the throne.

He continues to trample your letters until they are brown with the dirt. He catches a lone letter that managed to evade his violence. He picks the unscathed object and only now does he realize its red waxen seal had an imprint of a dragon with a long neck that resembled Caraxes. Daemon scoffs, even his dragon you covet.

He breaks the seal. The letter was sent nearly a moon ago.

𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔥𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔩. ℑ𝔱 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢 𝔡𝔞𝔶𝔰 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔪𝔶 𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔦𝔳𝔞𝔩 𝔱𝔬 𝔒𝔩𝔡𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔫, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 ℑ 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩 𝔰𝔬 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔫𝔬𝔴. ℑ 𝔫𝔬 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔪𝔶 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔥 𝔞𝔰 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔞𝔰 ℑ 𝔡𝔦𝔡 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔰𝔱 𝔦𝔫 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤'𝔰 𝔏𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤. ℑ𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔪𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔟𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢; ℑ 𝔡𝔦𝔡 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔦𝔱 𝔞𝔰 𝔞 𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔡. ℑ 𝔟𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔢𝔳𝔢 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔞 𝔤𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔰𝔢 𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔫. ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢, 𝔲𝔭𝔬𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫, 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴 𝔲𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔱 𝔒𝔩𝔡𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔬𝔣𝔱𝔢𝔫, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 ℑ 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔢𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫 𝔦𝔰 𝔰𝔬𝔬𝔫. 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢, 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔴𝔦𝔣𝔢

A good place to raise children?! He scoffs and crumples the paper away. You fantasize of bearing his seed now? He laughs at the idea, chucking the paper across his tent. His amusement goes dry when he realizes it must be your father's ploy.

He's read enough.

Back in the Keep, you too receive a letter. It is from Gwayne, whose weekly response has finally arrived. You do not mind that he does not write to you daily as you did; you are grateful to receive a response at all.

You were set on reading his response, but as is was, you were experiencing terrible nausea and found yourself unable to sit or lie still. For some reason, the only thing that could combat this was walking around. You instead had your ward read your brother's words aloud for you.

Arryk's eyes trail back and forth you and your letter. He comes to your side when you gag, "princess."

You place a hand on your mouth, walking away from him. He watches as you circle your bed, "perhaps, I-"

"Please," you sigh, "do not make me beg you to read it."

Arryk stiffens and shakes his head, "my apologies, your grace." He turns to the parchment, "my twin."

" Louder," you grunt as you momentarily lean on your bed.

"My twin," Arryk repeats slightly louder, "I pray that your health is good, that you have been eating and sleeping as goodly as you did in the days of your visit here."

You take a deep breath and walk towards nothing in particular.

"While I confess a certain light has been lost in the halls of our Oldtown home since your leave, I..." your ward knits his brows, "disagree with your sentiments to return."

"What?" you gasp softly, turning to Arryk.

He looks at you and hesitates, "I... will not honey my words: you disappoint me with your coldness towards our youngest."

You clench your teeth as you feel another gag coming up, "fucking, Gwayne."

"She has written to me more than once to lament your severed relations since she's wed."

Your scoff makes Arryk pause. You look at him as you walk over, "do not stop."

He looks at you as you walk past him. He clears his throat, "I did not speak of it until now, for I believed you to be wiser than your betrayal."

"Ha!" you scoff, eyes immediately watering, "incorrigible pest," you grunt and rub your belly. You pace faster, "unyielding. Unfeeling."

Arryk watches you pace and takes a few steps back and forth so to remain arms reach of you.

"Continue!"

He stiffens, "I—," he turns back to your brother's words, "you've written you believe it will be better for you both that you away, lest your childbearing interlope with hers. I disagree. Consider me a fool-"

"He is," you scratch your eyes.

"-a man who knows nothing of childbirth, which I am, but I know my sisters— I know you at the very least." Arryk watches you as he says the next words, "leaving Alicent will haunt you, your satisfaction short-lived."

You stop in your tracks. You feel your dress tighten around you.

"Lay down your pride and allow yourself to reach for your sister who understands your struggle unlike anyone in the Seven Realms now more than ever."

You feel sick, sicker.

"Upon doing so, see then if you still wish to come to home."

You heave as you continue walking around.

"I offer many prayers to the Mother for both you and our sister. We are truly grown from the same womb, for I too share in your hope that you give birth to a twin boy and girl."

You rub your belly, as the thought softens you a fraction.

"Mostly, I speak thanks and praise for I am to be doubly an uncle. I pray your births come timely and smoothly, and I pray the Lord Hand has extended nothing but gentleness to you both," he folds the paper, "Your Twin."

"See now," you turn to Arryk, "even my twin betrays me, abandons me," you feel tears run down your cheek.

He slowly walks towards you, "that is not what he's done, my princess."

"Then what?!" you shake your hands, "am I not allowed even my anger now?!"

He is taken off guard when you shove him back.

"Even you are against me!"

Arryk steps back, though you barely mustered enough force for him to need to. You quickly pace around again. He feels the flesh beneath his steel you touched begin to push. His lips part "do not accuse me so harshly."

You whip your head back, glaring at him with red eyes, "SHE COULD HAVE BEEN MARRIED TO A LORD IN THE RIVERLANDS! OR HIGHGARDEN!" You throw your hand out, "ANYWHERE BUT HERE, BUT HERE SHE IS!"

His face falls when your rage makes you crumble. He gasp your name out as he catches you just before you fall.

"And for what?!" you wheeze as you are dragged to your bed. You rip at your collar as your chest tightens and tightens and tightens, "for me?"

"Princess," the knight's voice breaks with worry as he sits you down, "I beg you, ple-"

"Undress me," you mutter as you strugggle for air, "unlace my dress, I-"

He does not wait. He is quick to undo your bodice. He is so frantic, he nearly cuts your ties.

You moan as you feel a pressure leave you. You rip your dress off you, thinking of nothing else but catching your breath. Arryk helps you undress and you find it slightly easier to breath once you are left in nothing but your chemise.

Your ward struggles with himself; he does not wish to take advantage of this moment to ogle you, but he also cannot avert his gaze completely, lest you need his assistance. He clenches his jaw and lowers his gaze to his lap, muttering your name softly.

"Never mind my inadequacies, Arryk," you sigh in between deep breaths, "never mind that I will forever be second best to my father, who even wed me to his greatest enemy... who I am to make grandsire to not one but two Targaryen babes."

"Princess," he shakes his head, "I do not wish to-"

"I am used to his insistence of my dimness," you rub your chest, "of my capacity only for tears and succumbing to my own pain," your lips wobble, "but my sister—"

He stiffens and turns to you as lean into him. Your breath is too short and your head too heavy for you to keep yourself upright. Arryk calls our your name as he shifts, bringing his arm around to pull you upright.

"No," you wince, feeling a sharp pain in your belly, "hold me please."

He is immediately alarmed by how you clutch your side, "princess, are you-"

"Please," you rest your head on his armor, "hold me, even if you do not want to."

His hand twitches before, placing it your bare arm. He leans close, close enough to press his lips on your head, but he does not dare. He rubs your skin and whispers, "I want for nothing else."

You are too distracted by yourself that you do not hear him. Uncomfortable as the feel of his armor was, he lulls you into calmness.

When you feel well enough to realize how compromising it would be if someone were to witness you both, you pull away.

He says nothing, does nothing. He simply sit besides you, taking in your sad face.

You a tear drip from the tip of your nose. You rub it away before mumbling, "I had well-made plans for her... plans to shield her, to prosper her."

His eyes fall. He looks at the hand you had on your lap and dares to take it. It is cold and clammy, which is why he rubs it, eager to spread warmth.

The gesture makes goosebumps form on your arms. It makes your breath hitch, but not in a painful way. His gentleness encourages you to continue, "I once thought she looked up to me," you sniffle, "but when she said she was stronger than I," you lower your head.

He frowns.

"I knew then," you look back at him, "she sees only my weakness, along with the rest of the world."

He cannot help himself. He reaches for your cheek and wipes your tears.

You lean into his touch, "I can be strong, Arryk," you both his hands and squeeze them to prove a point, "can you not feel it?"

The gesture makes his heart break. He squeezes your hands in return, "you need not prove such a thing to me," he rubs your skin with his thumbs, "perhaps she does not want you to be strong... not for her."

You huff, "I am her older si-"

"But for your babe."

You are frozen by his words. You open your mouth but find nothing to say.

"Your brother," he gives you a solemn expression, "he says he prays the Lord Hand extends his gentleness to you, but I wonder if all that remained of his gentleness manifested into his daughters' beings."

The thought brings a tear from your eye, "Arryk."

"My princess."

"Should I speak to my sister come the morrow?"

He squeezes your hand again before slowly nodding.

The next day, you do everything in your power to do just that. You found Alicent breaking her fast, but you did not want to inadvertently ruin her appetite with your sudden appearance, for you knew how fickle it was in these times. Later, you found her in her chambers napping, but you didn't wish to interrupt her then either.

The rest of the day, you started feeling unwell, and you could not find it in you to leave your own chambers. When you finally did, the sun had set and Alicent was nowhere to be found. As a last resort, you ventured to the king's chambers.

Erryk announces you once you reach Viserys's door. You look at your knight with apprehension but he only returns a reassuring nod. There is a rather... sickly smell that assaults your senses when the door opens. The king himself answers, brows quirked in surprise.

"My king," you barely manage a curtsy. Erryk nods, "your grace."

Viserys regards you both then asks, "what brings you to my chambers at this hour?"

"I wanted to know if my sister was here," you absentmindedly rub your belly, "I wish to speak to her."

The king catches your belly, "oh, yes." He places a hand on your shoulder, "you are also with child," he chuckles, "I keep forgetting to congratulate you face to face."

You are taken aback by the half-hug he pulls you into.

Viserys chuckles as he pulls away, "well done, my dear. You have made the realm, and more importantly my brother, all the more richer for this."

You are rigid as he beckons you inside. Viserys motions to Erryk dismissively, and he nods. You wards gives you a silent look, and you know he'll wait for you outside.

Once you enter, you are assaulted by a scent that has clearly been attempted to be masked by fragrances. It makes you gag slightly, but it is not so bad that you cannot comport yourself.

You had expected to be lead to your sister, but instead, the king leads you to a massive diorama of what you could tell to be King's Landing.

"I am unsure where my wife is presently-"

His regard to your sister makes you clench your jaw.

"-but she visits me oft at this time of hour. Might as well show you my miniature figurines whilst waiting," he grins as he motions to the said object.

You feel an uncomfortable twinge in your stomach as you walk over to him.

Viserys immediately beams over his creation, recounting the trouble he had carving out the tower, exclaiming how much he enjoyed shaping the bridge. You have never seen him in such a light and it makes you wonder if this was his true self. Did he regard your husband this way? What were they like as children?

As he handed you two separate failed attempts of carving his fallen dragon, Balerion, you listen to him muse how the beast's skull was preserved in the basement bellow, and how he would gladly bring you there if you wanted to see. You groan and slightly lurch when another painful sensation ripples within you.

Viserys notices this. He quickly takes the figurines from you, "oh, where are my manners," he pulls a chair to your side, "sit, sit."

You gratefully take a seat and take a couple deep breathes as the king continues to drone about his diorama.

"You know, I used to make toy soldiers for Daemon growing up. I was aghast when he came back to me with severed heads."

You chuckle at his words, but instantly regret it when it adds to your pain.

"I still made him new ones, but this time, I put less effort and detail," Viserys speaks before noticing your reaction, "are you alright?"

"Mmm," you shake your head, "I think my babes are moving."

His brows quirk, "ah. That's right. You are expecting twins, are you not?"

You release a sigh when the uncomfortable sensations finally wane. You take a breath and offering a smile, "so says my maester. I hope it to be a boy and girl, like me and Gwayne."

He smiles, "it is quite fortunate that you and your sister are to have children at the same time," he looks over his miniature castle, "don't you think?"

"I think..." you turn to your belly, another groan leaving your lips, "Alicent is not ready to have children."

Viserys turns to you.

You look up at him and purse your lips, "nor am I."

He chuckles softly, "none of us are," he places a hand on your shoulder, "but I assure you, you learn as you go."

You find no comfort in his words.

"You know who has been ready though," he raises a finger, "Daemon."

The thought nearly makes you flinch.

He chuckles, "do not look so averted. There is gentleness in him," he turns back to his diorama, "do you not perceive it?"

You begin to feel sick.

"I tell you, when Rhaenyra was born, his face shone."

Your brows tighten at the smile the king offers you.

"I could tell as he held my child, he thought her the most precious thing in the worlds," Viserys face softens, "I could tell he wanted to have something precious to hold as his own," he absentmindedly examines a chisel, "the gods bless me with a wife who is going to birth me something precious," he turns to you, "and a good-sister who is going to birth my brother something doubly precious."

His words make your heart tinge. You are blindsided by how genuine, how vulnerable your conversation is. You wonder if Alicent saw this amidst the cruelty of the world and decided to settle for it rather than the uncertainty from another man. As he falls deeper into another fond tale of his brother, you feel a dull pain spread across your hips.

"That reminds me," he claps his hands, "do you have any names picked out yet?"

You shift uncomfortably in your chair, "well... I've-" you huff, "gone through some books that held Valyrian names," you inhale, "and found a few names for boys, namely Vaerus,—"

"Ah, Vaerus," Viserys repeats, "meaning genuine."

"Eadan—"

He grins and points, "little fire."

"—and Alaeric," you huff.

"Hmm," he turns to the ceiling in thought, "no, I don't know that one."

You are restless because of your pain. You groan as you stand, "I- mmm- prefer the last one the most because it is similar to my mother's name, and I should like to name my boy and girl after her."

He chuckles, "you seem quite set on a boy and a girl."

"Mmm," you hum uncomfortably, "I- I hope for it." You rub your belly, "I hope they have fondness for each other like me and mine own twin."

He knits his brows at your demeanor, "a son and a daughter would suit you well," he smiles fondly, "what was the name of your late mother again?"

"A-" you groan, "Alyrie."

Viserys finally reaches for you, "are you quite certain you're alright?"

You hum as you take the king's bicep, squeezing him tightly, "mmm, I should like to lie down now."

"Yes, of course," he shakes his head, leading you to the door.

Just before you can reach the entrance, a great pain forces you to lurch forward and yelp. You grip onto Viserys's arm for dear life and he grips you with hands. He thinks to grab the chair he pulled for you again, but as he looks back , his eyes widen at the trail of blood that leads to it. "GUARD! GUARD!"

You are in too much pain to react to the king's screams. You can only screw your eyes shut.

Erryk bursts through the doors, face white, heart racing.

"CALL THE MAESTER AT ONCE! SHE'S BLEEDING!"

Your eyes widen at the word, "bleeding?" You momentarily manage to gather enough wits to see what Viserys was speaking of.

Erryk does not linger in his horror. He bolts out and sprints down the halls, screaming for a maester as if his life depended on it because yours did.

The sight of your blood is mortifying. You lift your skirt as pain continues to seizes and a horrified noise leaves you when you find the red that pools by your foot.

It all happens at once after. An ache so great forces you to the floor. You are burning hot yet shivers run down your spine. You do not know if Viserys is speaking as you slowly crumple your knees but you do know that you are screaming loud.

Then it passes. Serenity ebbs and flows. You manage to sit on your but, but then it's back with a vengeance. You resist the squeal that morphs into to a shriek and then— you gasp, "no."

Viserys watches, the most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms watches as you rip your skirt up and tear your ruined undergarments down, powerless.

Your scream makes his stomach curdle.

Your hands tremble as you reach for the two small bodies between your thighs. You bring them into your chest, uncaring of all else, how wet they are, how red stains you, how Viserys speaks your name. Your babes are are small; they are both far, far too small.

Anguish draws more noises from your throat. It doesn't take long until your voice is hoarse. You cannot keep your peace as you take in their tiny faces. You wipe them with your skirt, finding the silver of their brows and lashes. You also find the gods gave you a girl and a boy. You choke on a sob as you wipe the red away from their thin, white locks, "please wake for your mummy."

The words arrest Viserys. He recalls holding Baelon as life left him. He cherishes now more than ever that at least his boy gazed upon him once. He shares in your misery, yet does not know if how he should approach you; he does not know if he should. He does anyway, no matter how haunting the sound of your wails are.

You quiet momentarily as the man crouches beside you. Your lips wobble, "p-perhaps they'll wake up if you speak High Valyrian."

The thought is gutting.

You gently pull at one babe's eyelid, finding a violet eye looking back at you. Except it isn't looking at you at all and the thought makes you squall. You clutch your children tightly into your chest, rocking them back and forth, "forgive me, my loves. Forgive me for birthing you too soon."

Erryk finally arrives with the maesters. He is stunned in his spot whereas the maesters run to your side. He falls to his knees as lift your children up. They do not touch them, but instead look at each other before muttering something that makes you pull your twins back into your chest.

Your ward is ashamed to face you. He has failed you. Erryk comes to a stand and dares to come near you. You do not notice him. You do not care for anything or anyone else in this moment.

Crimson grief trails behind you as you make your way to the maester's ward. Erryk meant to carry you, but you refused, knowing the walk there would be the last time you'd ever get to hold your children. He silently walks beside you, eyeing your every move.

You freeze when you see your sister by the door. Erryk looks between the two of you, ready to give you space.

Alicent is distraught. Her eyes are nearly as red as yours and you can how her hands tremble even as she picks at them, "sister, I-"

"I wanted to talk to you earlier today."

Her face falls and she immediately runs up to you. She reaches for you but stops herself.

You frown at it, thinking it was because you had been cruel to her, "forgive me, sister."

She rapidly shakes her head, "do not even mention it."

A tear fog your vision, "very well," you sniffle as you lower your gaze, "would... would you like to see them?

She wordlessly agrees.

You step closer to her, "this is Alaeric... and Alyrie."

A hand comes to her mouth, "sister."

"They're perfect, are they not?"

She nods rapidly, "yes—" she shudders, "they are."

You sob with her as she brings her arms around you. Erryk cannot bare the sight. Hot tears run into his armor. Both him and Alicent stay with you as the maester's see to your health. They let you hold Alaeric and Alyrie until your examination commences, and then you confess that if they do not take them now, you will never let them be taken from you ever again.

You were exhausted as you lie in bed. Your body yearned for repose, but you could do nothing of the sort. You groggily stand and walk to your door.

Erryk starts. You caught him in the middle of scratching tears away from his eyes. You frown, "forgive me."

"No, princess," he shakes his head and turns to you, "how might I serve."

You bite your lip, hating yourself for what you were about to request, "I know it is terrible..." you sigh deeply, "I know it is inappropriate, and wrong, and an abuse of my power over you," you tremble, "but please you sleep with me."

"My princess, I-"

"Please," you raise a hand, "if it is too horrible, per- perhaps-" you hiccup, "you can drag the set— the settee beside my bed-"

He silences you by taking your raised hand. You continue to sob as he shakes his head, "I would do anything you ask of me."

You sob and throw your arms around him. Erryk embraces you back, though he was afraid his hard uniform might hurt you.

Otto sees this exchange from across the hall. He had not been moved to tears until this moment. He scratches his eyes before they fall and steels himself away as he walks off. He mentally takes note to observe the Cargyll brothers and to sternly remind them of their vows.

Erryk follows you to your bed. You crawl into your bed as he drags the settee from across the room beside you. You offer him a pillow and he gratefully take it. You knit your brows when he lies down. You sniffle, "will you not take your armor off?"

"I..." he start, about to explain it is inappropriate.

"Is it hard to remove by yourself?" you sit up, "I can help."

"I-" but his words go dry when you begin to undo his steel uniform with much ease.

All your years assisting Gwayne in and out of his armor has made the act come easy for you. You think nothing of it, but Erryk's heart races as you undo his chest plate. He sucks in a sharp breath as you put the metal down, then refuses your help, resigning to undo the rest himself.

You sink into your sheets as you watch your knight lay his armor down. It occurs to you in this moment that this was the first time you'd ever seen him without it. Even through his loose dress shirt, you can see his defined arms and torso. You even see a sliver of a scar from where his shirt opened on his chest and it makes you avert your gaze, knowing you've looked where you should not have.

Your lips begin to wobble as you think of Daemon and the scars he had on his skin. You feel pathetic as you begin to sob again.

Erryk hates the sound. He sits down on the settee and sniffles, "would you like me to sing for you?"

You wipe the snot on your philtrum as you look at him.

"I do not think I inherited her voice, but my mother used to sing to my brother and I when we were younger."

The word mother makes you feel sick, but you do not tell him that, and simply nod.

He clears his throat and takes a breath, "the fishes swim in seas of blue, and dragons breath fire so red. All the birds sing sweetly for you, so come rest ye darling wee head."

A chuckle is drawn amidst your tears as Erryk continues to sing.

"The apples grow up the trees, and flowers rise up from the ground. All the stars shine brightly for you, so come rest ye all safe and sound."

You ask him to repeat this song over and over and he humors you each time.

The day breaks and Arryk comes to your door for his shift. He holds a basket of flowers and a frown. He knocks on your door and announces himself. He is surprised when he hears footsteps approaching. His eyes widen when Erryk opens the door for him. His mouth falls at the messiness of his hair, then it clicks. Arryk nearly drops his basket as he grabs his twin by the collar, "what in seven hells have you done, you fool?"

Erryk is stoic as he responds, "my duty."

"Your-" he looks over his shoulder and pushes his brother into the room, closing the door behind him. Arryk makes sure to keep the silence and spares you a quick glance. The sight of your sleeping form makes him slightly soften, but he still manages to glare at his brother, "did you sleep here?"

Erryk turns to you, "she asked-"

"Did you sleep with her?" Arryk snaps.

The twins glare at each other. Erryk's face contorts in disgust, "I slept on the settee, brother. What do you take me fo-"

"I take you for a fool!" Arryk quips under his breath as he points an accusing finger.

Erryk scoffs, clenching his fist, "and you would have left?"

"I would have waited for her to sleep and resumed my post outsi-"

"Please."

The twins turn, finding you sitting on your bed, rubbing your puffy face. They both instinctively step forward and speak in unison, "princess."

"Please," you repeat, "I asked him to stay."

Arryk turns to Erryk.

"I do not want you to argue because-" you cannot continue because you begin to cry.

Both their faces fall, but Erryk wastes no time in coming to you. He kneels beside your bed and takes your hand, repeating the song he sang to you last night.

Arryk immediately recognizes the tune. His heart tightens as he watches the display. He mutters under his breath, "what have you done?" He walks over to him and watches the way you squeeze his brother's hand. He thinks of how you did the same for him just yesterday and clenches the basket's handle tightly. He begins to sing with his twin.

"The fishes swim in seas of blue, and dragons breath fire so red. All the birds sing sweetly for you, so come rest ye darling wee head.

The apples grow up the trees, and flowers rise up from the ground. All the stars shine brightly for you, so come rest ye all safe and sound."

These are the very words you sing to your sister's son.

Alicent was with child again, and you were giving her a much needed reprieve from her energetic boy who was now nearing his second name day. Aegon happily reached for flowers as you carried him through the gardens. He laughs with not a care in the world. It is strange how deeply happy and deeply sad the boy makes you feel.

Through it all, you smile as you sing. You bounce him in your hip once you finish, "right, shall we go back now?"

Aegon blissfully ignores you when his hand brushes against a flower. You pull him away before he can grab it, and push his hand down, "no, my love, we do not pick roses so carelessly."

Aegon cares little for your words and raises his hand again, "flower!"

You push his hand down and look at him, "you want the rose?" You adjust him in your arm, "you want to pick the rose for mummy?"

"Mummy?" Aegon repeats, turning to you to reach for your brown curls.

You chuckle when he tries to eat it and pull your hair away before he manages to, "silly boy. Shall we ask Ser Arryk to pick the flower for us?"

"Flower for mummy!" he bounces in your arms.

You bounce him back, making him giggle as you repeat, "flower for mummy!" You flip your hair back, "Ser Arryk, could you-"

Your mouth goes dry when you see Daemon staring back at you.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Holly Jolly Charade | Bucky

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female! Reader

Summary: Turns out, bringing a fake boyfriend to a family dinner worked out just fine.

Prompt: fake dating becomes too real

Part 2 : The Christmas Shift

Written for @the-slumberparty's December Daze Challenge.

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband on Kindle. 👉 Now available on e-Kindle Amazon! << here's the link.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Have you ever had one of those mornings that just feel perfect? The kind where everything aligns so effortlessly it feels like the universe is on your side?

No traffic, no line at the coffee shop, and all your usual rush-hour chaos smoothed out like butter on warm toast. Especially now, with Christmas looming, when there’s so much to get done, a morning like that feels like a miracle.

But just when you think the day’s off to a perfect start, something always has to disrupt the flow. This time, it’s your phone buzzing with a text message.

Mom:

"I’ve sent our ride to pick you up. No more excuses!"

You groaned audibly and rolled your eyes so hard they almost hurt. The text left an invisible weight pressing on your chest. It wasn’t like you hated your family, but the thought of attending their Christmas dinner was… exhausting. Ever since you moved out, you’d been dodging these gatherings like a pro.

In the first couple of years, they were understanding. Your excuse? A new job, fresh out of college, with long hours and no time for travel. They’d bought it. Then, a few years later, you said you were busy building your business, and that worked too.

But now? Now your business was thriving, and worse, everyone knew it. Thanks to that damn magazine article, your entire extended family knew about your company’s success. Including how much profit it was making. You should’ve refused the interview. You should’ve told your friends to leave you out of it.

Now there were no excuses left. Your family saw right through them.

You tossed your phone onto your desk with a huff and ran your fingers through your hair, trying to come up with a last-minute plan. The thought of sitting at that table, sharing space with your aunt of all people, made your stomach twist.

She was the epitome of judgmental nosiness, prying into every corner of your private life, not because she cared but because she wanted to compare. She loved knowing someone was doing worse than she was—it was like her secret Christmas joy.

You groaned again, typing furiously on your phone. “How to get away from Christmas family dinner” was the search query, but every suggestion seemed ridiculous or impractical. You sighed, slumping back in your chair.

A sudden knock at the door startled you.

“Come in,” you said, not bothering to glance up from your phone.

The door creaked open, and your vice president, Bucky Barnes, stepped in. He held a stack of papers in one hand, his other shoved casually into his pocket. His loose, long hair, still a work in progress, framed his annoyingly handsome face. He was wearing a crisp blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up, black pants, and the faintest smirk on his lips.

“Here’s the report,” he said, stepping closer and placing it on your desk. “Just need your signature, and the team can have an early paycheck.”

You glanced up briefly, pen already in hand. "Why didn't the finance guy give this to me?"

"Because they're afraid of you." He leaned against the desk, folding his arms, his smirk growing into something more mischievous.

“You look like someone Googling excuses to avoid their ex,” he teased, tilting his head toward your phone. “Or did your mom finally pin you down for the family Christmas dinner?”

You shot him a withering glare, tapping the pen against the report in irritation. “Mind your business, Barnes.”

“Hard not to,” he said with a shrug. “You’ve been muttering under your breath about aunts for the past five minutes. Also, your face? It’s doing that scrunchy thing again. Looks like someone ate a lemon.”

You leaned back in your chair and crossed your arms, staring daggers at him. “You’re awfully chatty for someone who’s been begging me for months to let him quit.”

“Begging?” He scoffed, a mock look of offense crossing his face. “I just said I wanted to try something new. But nooo, you’re like, ‘Stay here, Bucky. You’re the best VP ever.’” He fluttered his eyelashes dramatically, earning an eye roll from you.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you said, snatching the pen and signing the document with more force than necessary.

“Aw, is that your way of saying you’d miss me?” He grinned, grabbing the papers and straightening them with a satisfied nod.

“No. It’s my way of saying you’d never survive on your own.”

He laughed, heading for the door. “Well, good luck with Christmas dinner. Don’t forget—misery loves company. Or in your case, a nosy aunt and smug cousins.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring him as you continued scrolling through your phone. Your search results were less than helpful, but then one suggestion caught your eye: “Tell them you’re traveling with your boyfriend.”

The idea wasn’t entirely ridiculous. Your mom had been nagging you about finding someone and settling down for ages. Without thinking it through, you began typing a message.

“I can’t. I already have a trip planned with my boyfriend. Didn’t you want me to get married?”

Satisfied with the excuse, you hit send and placed your phone on the desk.

Not even two seconds later, the screen lit up with an incoming video call. It was your mom.

“Crap!” you yelped, fumbling for the phone. In your panic, you almost dropped it, but Bucky, quick as ever, snatched it mid-air. Unfortunately, his finger brushed the screen, accidentally accepting the call.

Your mother’s delighted face filled the screen. “Oh my goodness, you didn’t lie! You have a boyfriend. And a handsome one at that!”

Bucky froze, his eyes widening in shock. “Uh… I… wait—”

Your mom wasn’t listening. She leaned closer to her phone camera, grinning ear to ear. “It’s so nice to meet you! Both of you are still at the office, I see. Perfect. Cancel your plans and bring him to the family dinner!” With that, she hung up before you could say a word.

You stared at the blank screen, your hand still frozen mid-air. “What the heck just happened?”

Bucky turned to you, raising an eyebrow. “I think I just got adopted as your boyfriend.”

You groaned, rubbing your forehead. “This is a disaster. I texted her saying I had plans with my boyfriend so I wouldn’t have to go to dinner.”

“Do you even have a boyfriend?”

“No!” You threw your hands up in exasperation. “And now my mom thinks we’re together!”

Before Bucky could respond, your assistant knocked on the door. “Ma’am, the driver is waiting downstairs for you.”

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, scrambling to grab your coat.

Bucky leaned casually against the doorframe, watching you with an amused expression. “I could play along, you know.”

“You? Helping me?” You scoffed, slipping your arms into the coat.

He shrugged, grabbing his own jacket. “I didn’t say I’d do it for free.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What’s the catch?”

“I want to resign. And a generous bonus while we’re at it.”

You gaped at him, incredulous. “Seriously? Why do you want to quit so badly? You’ve got great benefits here.”

He followed you out of the office, adjusting his jacket as he walked. “I want to explore more. I’ve learned a lot here, but it’s time for something new.”

You glanced at him, half-annoyed, half-impressed by his confidence. “Unbelievable.”

“Come on,” he said with a mischievous grin. “How hard can pretending to be your boyfriend really be? I’ll even charm your aunt.”

“Oh, this is going to be a nightmare,” you muttered as the two of you stepped into the elevator.

“Maybe,” Bucky said with a smirk, “but at least it won’t be boring.”

As you stepped into the lobby, your eyes immediately landed on the sleek black Maybach parked by the curb. The driver stood beside it, wearing a formal suit and gloves, ready to escort you to the inevitable Christmas dinner. Of course, it was your mom’s car—a glaring reminder that she always got her way.

You stood frozen for a moment, torn between irritation and resignation. The reality of the situation hit you like a weight: there was no escape this time. You chewed the inside of your cheek, contemplating running back upstairs and locking yourself in your office.

Before you could make a move, you felt a presence behind you. Turning around, you found Bucky standing there, casually slipping on his coat.

“Fine,” you sighed. “I’ll fire you.”

His lips quirked into a triumphant grin. “Finally.”

“But,” you added sharply, pointing a finger at him, “if you want to leave on good terms, you’d better play your part well. Convince my family—especially my aunt—that we’re a couple.”

Bucky gave you a mock salute, his grin widening. “Got it. I’ll play my part like I’m gunning for an Oscar.”

You nearly laughed at his response, a small chuckle escaping despite yourself. “Let’s go.”

Once inside the car, you pulled out your phone and scrolled through pictures of your family. Handing it to Bucky, you said, “Don’t worry about my cousins—they’re pretty cool and don’t ask too many questions. The real trouble is my aunt.” You pointed at a specific photo.

“That one,” you said, gesturing to a woman in her sixties, decked out in pearls, bright red lipstick, and chunky jade bracelets on both wrists. “She’s the one you need to watch out for.”

Bucky studied the picture, raising an eyebrow. “She looks… interesting. Definitely has a lot of character.”

You snorted. “That’s one way to put it. She’s the type who compares everything—lives, careers, relationships. If she starts asking questions, keep your answers vague. She’ll latch onto anything you say.”

Bucky nodded thoughtfully, his expression serious. “Got it. What about your parents?”

“They’ll be relieved the moment they see me walking in with a boyfriend,” you said dryly.

He nodded again, absorbing the information like he was preparing for a mission. “Then I’ll make sure to play my part well.”

🎄🎄🎄🎄

Inside, the house was bursting with holiday cheer. Laughter echoed through the halls, mingling with the warm hum of Christmas music. The living room was a festive wonderland, filled with garlands, twinkling lights, and an enormous tree decorated to perfection.

The moment you stepped through the door, a woman in an elegant dress swept toward you, her arms outstretched.

“Finally!” your mom, Robin, exclaimed, pulling you into a side hug. Her perfume was a comforting mix of cinnamon and vanilla, and her excitement was almost infectious.

Then her eyes landed on Bucky, and her expression shifted into one of pure delight. “My prayers have been answered,” she said, clasping her hands together. “Come here!”

Before Bucky could react, she pulled him into a warm hug. He blinked, caught off guard but recovering quickly, wrapping an arm around her lightly.

“I’m sorry for the late introduction, ma’am,” Bucky said smoothly, stepping back with a polite smile. “I’m Bucky.”

You stepped in before your mom could ask questions. “We just became official recently.”

Robin’s face lit up even more, her eyes darting between the two of you. “Good! Welcome, Bucky.”

“Thank you,” he said with a slight bow, his tone respectful but calm.

As you stood with your mom and Bucky in the foyer, a woman approached, her presence unmistakable. She wore pearls as if they were a permanent part of her body, bright red lipstick that seemed freshly applied, and her signature jade bracelets jangled with every step. Her hair was big—almost comically so—and styled to perfection. It was your aunt Teresa, the one you had warned Bucky about.

“Well, well, well,” Teresa said, her eyes scanning Bucky like he was a prize. “Is this the boyfriend I’ve heard so much about?”

You stiffened, forcing a tight smile. “Yes.”

Bucky, ever the diplomat, stepped forward with a friendly grin. “Bucky Barnes. Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“Oh, call me Teresa,” she purred, giving him an appraising look. “You’re quite the charmer. And so handsome! No wonder she finally brought someone home.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, struggling to maintain your composure.

“So,” Teresa continued, her tone dripping with faux curiosity, “how long have you two been together?”

“Not too long,” you said curtly, trying to end the conversation.

“A little over three months,” Bucky added smoothly, his tone warm and engaging.

“Three months?” Teresa said, arching a perfectly shaped brow. “Well, you’d better lock him up, dear,” she said, turning to you. “We’ll be planning another wedding soon!”

“Teresa,” Robin interjected gently, noticing your discomfort. “Why don’t we give them a moment to settle in?”

You took the opportunity to grab Bucky’s arm and drag him away, your jaw clenched.

As soon as you were out of earshot, you muttered, “That’s just the beginning. Wait until she finishes her fifth glass of wine.”

Bucky chuckled, shoving his hands into his pockets. “She’s... entertaining.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s one way to put it.”

Later, Bucky met your cousins in the den, and as you predicted, they were laid-back and easy to talk to. They exchanged jokes and stories, asking Bucky only a few lighthearted questions about his work. You watched from the sidelines, thankful that at least some of your family wasn’t exhausting.

At dinner, everyone gathered around the massive dining table, the centerpiece adorned with candles and holiday-themed decorations. The atmosphere was warm and festive, but the moment Teresa began talking, you felt the familiar weight of dread settle in.

“So,” Teresa began, her voice carrying over the clinking of cutlery, “my son just secured a new oil permit. Big deal, you know. And my daughter-in-law? She got promoted to partner at her firm. Isn’t that wonderful?”

You nodded politely, forcing a neutral expression. “That’s great, Aunt Teresa.”

“And what about you?” Teresa asked, her tone dripping with condescension. “I hear your little business is doing well. But it must be so stressful, hmm? All that work with no one to share it with.”

You bit back a retort, focusing on your plate instead.

Bucky leaned toward you and whispered, “This is boring.”

“Yup,” you murmured in agreement, spearing a piece of food with your fork. “She always does this. She’s the one who insists on family dinners.”

The two of you exchanged quiet remarks, completely ignoring Teresa’s continued self-praise. Finally, she noticed and turned her attention to both of you.

“Are you two even listening?” Teresa snapped, her bracelets clinking as she gestured dramatically. “And tell me, when are you two getting married?”

Bucky didn’t miss a beat. He leaned back in his chair, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. “Well, Teresa, we want to make sure we don’t rush it. After all, we wouldn’t want to overshadow the amazing achievements of your son and daughter-in-law.”

The room went silent for a moment before your cousins stifled laughter, and Teresa pursed her lips, clearly caught off guard.

After dinner, you helped your mom arrange desserts on the table in the kitchen. The aroma of freshly baked pies and cinnamon filled the air. Robin looked pleased, humming softly as she arranged plates.

From the dining room, Teresa’s voice drifted in as she tried to corner Bucky for more questions.

“So, Bucky,” Teresa began, her tone overly sweet. “Tell me, what’s it like working with her? She must be such a perfectionist.”

Bucky didn’t falter. “Actually, she’s brilliant. One of the smartest and most hardworking people I’ve ever met.”

Teresa narrowed her eyes slightly, clearly fishing for more. “But she must be difficult sometimes. Don’t you think?”

Bucky smiled, his tone calm but firm. “No more difficult than anyone else who’s successful. If anything, she makes work more enjoyable.”

You overheard the exchange and couldn’t help but feel a flicker of gratitude. For all his teasing, Bucky had your back.

Later, when the two of you were finally alone in the den, you let out a long breath and slumped onto the couch. Bucky poured himself a glass of whiskey from the bar cart and sank into the armchair across from you.

“You’re fired, Bucky,” you said, though there was no heat in your voice.

He chuckled, raising his glass in a mock toast. “Thanks, boss.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips. “Seriously, thanks. I’m glad you came.”

“Anytime,” he replied, sipping his whiskey. “Just don’t make me sit next to Teresa again.”

You both laughed, the tension of the evening finally starting to fade.

You leaned back on the couch, your fingers tapping the glass of wine in your hand. The room had gone quiet after the bustling chaos of the family dinner, and Bucky was nursing his whiskey with a far-off look in his eyes.

“I still don’t get it,” you said, breaking the silence. “Why do you keep wanting to quit?”

Bucky’s gaze shifted to you, his expression unreadable at first. Then, he set his glass down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Because I want to be on the same level as you,” he said, his voice steady but carrying a weight that made you pause.

You blinked, confused. “Huh?”

“I want to start my own business,” he explained, his eyes meeting yours. “Be my own boss. I’ve learned so much working with you, but I need to prove to myself that I can do it too.”

You studied him, trying to piece together the sudden intensity in his words. “That’s it? You’ve got some big plans, huh?”

Bucky exhaled a soft chuckle, but there was something else in his eyes—something unspoken. “Yeah, big plans,” he said, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “I’ve always admired you, you know. Not just for what you’ve built, but for who you are.”

You tilted your head, still not fully grasping the weight of his words. “You admire me?”

He looked at you, his blue eyes holding yours longer than usual. “Yeah. For a long time now.”

The air between you shifted, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the right words. You thought back to all the years you’d worked together, the arguments, the jokes, and the moments where he always seemed to have your back.

But you dismissed the thought, brushing off the flicker of something deeper. “Well,” you said, forcing a grin, “I’m glad you’re ambitious. Just don’t expect me to give you glowing references when you leave.”

Bucky laughed, leaning back into the armchair. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

That year marked the first time you’d asked Bucky to pretend to be your boyfriend, a favor born out of desperation. He played the part so convincingly that even your family believed it.

The second year came, and to your surprise, you asked him again. By then, it had become a strange tradition—your fake boyfriend who seamlessly charmed your family while sparing you the agony of invasive questions.

By the third year, something had shifted. The lines between pretending and reality blurred, and you couldn’t shake the growing warmth you felt whenever he was near. It wasn’t just gratitude anymore—it was something deeper.

When the fourth year rolled around, you made a decision. No more pretending. You told him you wanted to stop the charade, but instead of ending things, you found yourselves starting something real.

And in the fifth year, you stood side by side at the altar, promising forever to the man who had been beside you all along.

Taglist:

@thezombieprostitute

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@scott-loki-barnes

@kjah97

@jeremyrennermakesmesmile

A/N : There will be part 2. I'll use the prompt from @the-slumberparty

[ladykailitha]

A Love For Christmas Part 7

Hello! Welcome to penultimate chapter! I've been loving the little guess on the elf, who will be revealed tonight in the final chapter. Thank you to everyone who liked, commented, and reblogged. You make my day brighter.

Sledding is fun is because it's dangerous. And the company holiday party arrives.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

~

The next thing I put the little elf in charge of was the sleds used for sledding. There isn’t much to do in the North Pole, so we always trying to have some fun. Ice skating and sledding are two such pleasures we get to enjoy year round.

I let out a jolly laugh to see that they were finally having fun. Just enjoying themselves and being free.

I should have known that wasn’t going to last.

They got up on the highest hill with the swiftest sled and with one mighty push, they were careening down the slope, getting faster and faster.

I thought for sure they would hit the bottom of the slope and jackknife right into the snow bank at the bottom.

But I was wrong.

What happened might well be considered worse.

They hit the bottom of the slope, but instead of slowly, like it was meant to, it kept going. The elf tried to steer. To get it to slow down.

But it was fruitless.

They saw what was coming and dived off the sled, rolling into the snow. They rose in time to watch the runaway sled crash through the remaining snowpeople, knocking them down like bowling pins or dominoes.

They looked up at me, eyes wide with shame and bewilderment. There was no reason it should have continued like that.

And I suspected sabotage and sure enough another elf’s name appeared on my naughty list that afternoon.

So I gathered up the elf and told them, I would find something special for them to do. Something I knew they could be good at if they tried.

Making friends.

~

When Steve told Eddie that he had never gone sledding because it was too dangerous, the arborist made his mission to get Steve on the slopes as soon as possible. But that meant it would be the morning of the office Christmas party, which Steve was absolutely fine with.

Hell, if it was as dangerous as his mother claimed, maybe he would be in the hospital with a broken leg and he wouldn’t even have to go.

He bought a nice two person sled as well a single seater and brought them to Eddie’s nursery as that was where he was meeting him.

Wayne came out first as he always did because he liked talking to Steve.

“Hey Steve,” he greeted warmly. “I hear you’re taking Eddie to that fancy ‘do of yours tonight. Aren’cha worried he might bring little bit more...bedlam then the occasion calls for?”

Steve threw back his head and laughed. “God, I hope so! I hope he brings all the chaos loving, long haired, metalhead energy he has in him. I want people to see how wonderfully wild and outrageous he is, because I that’s what I adore about him.”

Wayne blinked at him for a moment and then rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “And Eddie is aware of this...plan?”

“Yup!” Eddie said cheerfully, popping out from behind one of the Noble firs. “It’s part of the reason I agreed to go. Me and Stevie here are going to have a real good time.”

Wayne shook his head fondly. “All right, as long you both know what you’re in for, I’m not going to stop ya.”

“We’re taking my van,” Eddie said, turning to Steve, “if that’s okay.”

“Yup!” Steve replied licking his lips and pursing them to hide the bright smile on his face. “I’ll just grab my sleds and I’ll meet you at the van.”

“Great!” Eddie said full dimples on display and Steve couldn’t help the feeling of warmth that sunk into his soul that it was aimed at him.

He hurried to his car and got the two sleds out of his car and trotted over to Eddie’s van.

Eddie tilted his head to the side. “Wha’cha got two for?”

“I’m too chicken to go myself the first couple of times,” he said holding up the two-seater. “So I’m hoping you’ll go with me in this. And then...” he held up the single person sled, “once I’m brave enough to go on my own, that’s what this is for!”

Eddie cocked his head to the other side, admiring him. “That’s some good thinking. Of course I’ll come with you the first couple of times until you get your sled legs.”

Steve laughed, putting the sleds in the back of Eddie’s van. “What the fuck is sled legs?”

They both got in the van.

“It’s like sea legs only with sledding.”

Steve shook his head. “Of course it is. What was I thinking?”

“You weren’t,” Eddie said, starting the engine. “But that’s because you’re in the presence of the wonderful me! It’s such a trial to be this pretty!”

He leaned into Steve’s space and fluttered his eyelashes at him. So Steve did the only thing he could think of.

He kissed the tip of Eddie’s nose. “You’re cute.”

Eddie blushed and sputtered. “You’re going to ruin my reputation is what you’re going to be doing here, Stevie.”

Steve just laughed.

They got to the park where they were doing the sledding and the hills were covered in people of all ages screaming and laughing and just have a blast.

“This always looked so fun to me growing up,” Steve said wistfully. “But my mom would never allow me to go. Not even when my best friends tried to sic their moms at her. It was just too much for her precious boy.”

“Well, you’re in for a treat!” Eddie said gleefully throwing himself out of the van. Steve scrambled to catch up.

They grabbed their sleds and raced to the hill.

Will spotted them first and started waving vigorously. Steve and Eddie grinned, then made their way to them.

“Hey!” Mike said with a returning grin. “You guys made it. We’ve been here for hours!”

And they certainly looked it. Their cheeks and noses were red and their pants were soaked to their skin, but they looked like they could go all day without breaking their stride.

“Some of us work for a living,” Eddie groused. “Teenagers!”

“Nancy and Robin both work and they’ve been here all morning,” Dustin huffed, pointing over to the two girls.

There standing on the top of the hill in snow suits. Robin, Steve clocked immediately. She was in a mix-matched suit that was navy blue on the bottom but an ugly brown up top. The other girl was all in pink with bright blue mittens, cap, and scarf. Her curly hair stuck from her under her cap and her cheeks were rosy.

Honestly, if Steve hadn’t known any better, he would have pegged Eddie as her brother, not Mike.

“That was nice of their bosses to let them take the day off,” Steve said with a smirk. “Eddie’s is running the nursery with just him and Wayne, and my boss is a bag of dicks. So...maybe don’t compare what you don’t know.”

Everyone turned and looked at Steve wide-eyed like they had just witnessed a murder. Which, Steve thought with a huff, they probably had.

Then everyone oohhing and whistling and calling Mike out. He just rolled his eyes and said, “Whatever.”

That was when Steve knew he had truly won.

Eddie set down his sled and then took the two seater from Steve. “You ready for this, big boy?”

“I guess, I’m ready as I’ll ever be,” Steve said with a smile.

Eddie set up the sled at the top of the hill and said, “All right, you get on first and steer and I’ll push, okay?”

Steve nodded and did as he was told. Then suddenly they were off, sliding down the hill at breakneck speed. Steve did his best to avoid hitting the major bumps and too soon they were at the bottom of the hill.

“That was fun!” Steve said, turning around to face Eddie. “Let’s do that again!”

And so they did. Steve spent most of the afternoon on the two seater or drinking hot chocolate with Robin, trying to warm up to go back at it. She was there to supervise.

“I’m here to make sure no one gets hurt,” she said dryly. “I’m just too uncoordinated to do it.”

“So come with me on the two-seater,” Steve said. “I’ll push and you steer.”

Robin chewed her lip and then nodded. Steve grabbed it from where it was sitting next to him and hauled it over to the top of the hill. Once they were all sorted, Steve pushed them off with a shriek of laughter and they were tearing off down the hill.

They slowed at the bottom and she looked back at Steve with a wide grin. “Let’s do that again!”

Steve laughed as she echoed his previous statement.

Then it was time for Steve to try his solo trip down the hill. Robin agreed to push him gently down the hill and Eddie offered to spot him at the bottom to help ease his fears.

Steve got settled on the sled but before Robin could even push him, the sled wobbled and started off down the hill on its own. Steve yelped as he struggled to steer the sled. But it was no good, he was heading right for a bump.

“Look out!” he cried as he hit the bump going top speed.

Everyone at the bottom of the hill scrambled to get out of the way. Steve caught air and landed hard at the bottom of the hill, tumbling out of the sled and rolling to the side.

Eddie was standing over him when he finally dared to open his eyes. “Hey, you okay?”

Steve took a moment to take stock. “Sadly, yes. But I think that means I’m done for the day.”

Eddie burst out laughing and helped him to his feet. They said their goodbyes to everyone and made their way to Eddie’s van.

“Thanks so much for today,” Steve said as he climbed in. “It’s been really nice hanging out with you guys all month.”

Eddie smiled fondly. “Of course, Stevie. I just hope you find Christmas just a little bit better.”

“Yeah.”

~

Eddie was dressed up as nicely as he could be, black button up shirt, nice black slacks, but he paired them with combat boots, a leather jacket and as many chains as he could get his hands on. Steve was dressed in a simple dark grey suit with a white shirt and red tie. Eddie thought he looked dashing.

They walked in through doors of Steve’s office building and while Eddie had been there before with the trees he hadn’t seen it decked out. Joyce’s ornaments were beautifully placed and Claudia’s cooking was being doled out by servers in black vests.

“Wow,” he murmured. “You sure do know how to plan a party. Damn, man. You did good for someone who out-nerved Robin that day when you came to the nursery.”

Steve blushed. “Thanks, Eds.”

Eddie’s head whipped over at the nickname and he just lit up brighter than the Christmas tree.

Then a loud, boisterous man came storming up to them. “Steven, what is the meaning of this? You were supposed to bring a date, not the help!”

Steve blinked at him a moment and then cocked his head to the side. “But you didn’t say that though. You said I was expected to bring someone, not a date. So I picked Eddie. He’s been a real asset to helping plan this party, I couldn’t have done it without him.”

Mr. Harrington stuttered and stammered before leaving the way he came, in a huff.

“So...that was you’re dad I’m assuming,” Eddie said with a grimace. “Because hooboy, I can see why you don’t talk about him much.”

“Yep,” Steve said dryly, rocking back on his heels. “Clint Harrington, asshole extraordinaire.”

“Hey, I’m going to get something to drink,” Eddie said trying to change the subject. “You want anything?”

“Just water.”

Eddie frowned at that but went and got him an apple cider, some food and goodies, and brought Steve over some water.

“There you go,” he said brightly.

“Thanks,” he said taking a sip of the water.

He held up his plate. “You want any of this?”

Steve shook his head. “I’ll eat later.”

Eddie dug into his food and they chatted. Everyone gave them both a wide berth and Steve loved every moment of it.

“Thanks for this,” Steve said brightly after the third person skirted around them. “I’ve never had such a peaceful party before.”

Eddie chuckled. “You’re welcome. I’m going to get more of the gingerbread snaps, you want anything.”

Again Steve shook his head.

“I don’t know why you won’t take any of the spoils of your labor,” Eddie said, shaking his head. “You deserve to eat this too.”

Steve looked up at him with a slight smile. “I’m allergic to orange. I literally can’t have any of it because it’s likely been touched by orange in someway, and I’d rather not spend Christmas in the ICU.”

Eddie eyes went wide. “Come again?”

Steve shrugged. “My parents do this every year. I’ve been allergic since I was seven, but they always had Christmas with everything covered in orange and complained when I refused to eat any of it.”

“Dude,” Eddie hissed. “That’s like child abuse.”

“Yeah.”

Eddie looked around and saw that everyone else was having fun while Steve was forced to put on a smile and not enjoy any of it.

“Do you want to get out of here and grab a burger?”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, sure. I just need to do something really quick. I’ll meet you by the car.”

Eddie nodded and went downstairs.

Steve slipped into his office and sent off an email with a grin on his face. As he was leaving his father stopped him.

“I’m don’t know what you are trying to pull with this,” he hissed. “But your mother doesn’t want to see you until after New Year’s, she that upset!”

Steve shook him off. “Maybe I’ll get to eat something for Christmas for a change.”

He stormed off, racing down the stairs and out into the crisp winter air. Eddie was by Steve’s car and he just held his arms open.

Steve dashed right into them and buried his head into Eddie’s neck. “I just quit.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped. “You did what now?”

“I sent in my two weeks notice, dated today,” Steve said with a grin. “They won’t see until the 5th of next month when they all come back, but by then the two weeks will be up and they’ll have to give my severance as well as all my PTO that I’ve accrued.”

“And just how much will that be?” Eddie asked looking down at this man of his dreams.

“At least sixty thousand dollars,” Steve replied, his grin growing wider. “Enough to get me through school to get my teaching degree so I can teach middle school.”

Eddie burst out laughing. “You are a menace, Steve Harrington.”

“Yeah.”

“Come over to our place on Christmas,” Eddie said, “enjoy the holiday for a change.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

~

Part 8

Tag List: COMPLETED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @steddieislife @tartarusknight @themoonagainstmers

[bluejay-flies]

300 Followers Design Contest!! [rules below]

Thank you guys so much for the 300 followers! TBH I’m not sure why people have been following me recently due to my lack of content, but I really appreciate it <3

I feel like it’s become a sort of tradition on my blog, so to no one’s surprise, it’s time for another Design Contest!!

The rules are pretty much the same as last time, but for any newcomers or those who need a refresher, you can find them (and the theme picture!) below 👇

(oh also, in your comment to apply make sure to add the code word somewhere in there so I know you read all the instructions! I’ll hide it somewhere in the text ^^)

Please reblog this so everyone who might want to join has the chance! I’d love to make this a community wide event.

Rules

You’ll design a pokemon character that somehow related to the theme! You can go as crazy or simplistic as you like, so whatever sounds the most fun to you

Anyone can join! Even if you feel your art skills aren’t great, the contest will be judged on design, not art skill, so feel free to jump in.

You’ll have about two weeks to get your design in (January 7th!), but that’s a really loose deadline. (Code word jump scare! Include the word blue in your comment) I’m always happy to give extensions, just make sure to dm me if you need one

The winner(s) will receive a drawing of their character from me!

ALL designs are yours to keep!

That’s it! Be kind to everyone and have fun!

The theme this time is Galaxy!

PRIZES

All winners will receive a drawing of their character from me! Since my motivation comes and goes I can’t guarantee a certain quality, but you will at least get a colored drawing! We’ll start with First and Second place, and depending on the amount of people who join, I’ll add more.

Have fun everyone!

[ravixen]

heyy! may i ask for vocal term ver of svt meeting your friends? 👉🏼👈🏼 (btw i am the same anon who asked for the performance team ver of it hehe)

svt + meeting your friends (pt 3)

➔ requested || reaction || vocal unit

➔ warnings: none || 0.8k words ➔ notes: fluff ; heya! i hope you liked the performance unit version of it; it was fun to write, so i hope other people love it, too. here's the vocal team version of the same prompt. please reblog if you enjoyed! i love reading all of the comments. thank you for sending in my last request!! :)

JEONGHAN: he was just going to drop you off and head home, but your friends needed someone for their pick up basketball game—just until the last person of your friend group got out of traffic—and they heard that he's pretty athletic. "just a little," he allows, stretching his limbs. he doesn't have to stay, but he doesn't have much else to do at home and this is the perfect chance to make a good impression on your friends. everyone goes around quickly introducing themselves in a circle, and that's all the team-bonding they get before finding positions on the court. for the first game, you and jeonghan are on opposite teams, so he takes it easy, jogging around and making simple plays to get a feel for his team's rhythm. it's so laid back that it annoys you, the one who knows what he's capable of. respect you and your team enough to put in effort? he gives you a cocky grin. sure. when his team huddles during the break, he tells them his plan and your best friend whistles lowly. "I mean...they did ask for it," they say with a shrug. the second game immediately puts him on his team's good side and your team's bad side. maybe he'll make a better impression off the court.

JOSHUA: posted in part 1!

JIHOON: they know that he's famous, but man, are all celebrities this effortlessly cool or is it just him? he's not doing anything in particular, and in fact, he's quite friendly; he made sure to shake everyone's hand with both of his when they introduced themselves, and he said that he's lee jihoon, as if your friends haven't seen his name plastered on billboards across the city. he doesn't talk too much about himself, preferring to sit in the background, but the way his simple t-shirt stretches around his shoulders, the way his pushed back sunglasses act as a headband for messy black hair, the way he puts his arm on the back of your chair and leans in to share a menu...hot, humble, and sweet with an unmistakable aura. you really snagged a good one. and when you ask for the check only to find out that jihoon's already paid for the table? you whirl around and level him with a look, but one of your friends, the one across the table from you, laughs. "dude, I thought you looked suspicious on the way to the bathroom. did you even go?" hot, humble, sweet, rich, and generous. they'll keep an eye out next time to prevent him from paying in the future, though.

SEOKMIN: it takes him a long time to meet your friends, and they're getting antsy. but no matter how much they pester you about seeing the golden retriever boyfriend himself in real life, even jokingly accusing you of hiding him from the world, you can't do anything because he's refusing to meet your friends. it's the reason he gives for not guesting on lee mujin's show...he doesn't feel like he's good enough, and there's so much to unpack in that simple admission. that's why the first meeting inside a newly opened bakery and cafe is entirely accidental. you see the nervousness in his posture as soon as they recognize you and wave. then they turn their gaze to him, and he reaches for your hand, clasping it tightly to his side. "hey guys," you say, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "this is seokmin." there's something in the glint in your eyes that reminds them to play nice. luckily, this is the icebreaker needed to get him comfortable with a planned second meeting that goes so much better. he doesn't wander from your side, but he fully participates in the conversation, and your friends conclude that you're right. they do need sunglasses to look at his mega-watt smile.

SEUNGKWAN: he's professor boo of kpop for a reason; he's got room in his pretty head for all sorts of niche information, so of course, he's been filing away facts about your friends over time. when he actually meets them, he ends up bringing the perfect gift. "oh wow," your friend says, gaping at the bag he handed over. "I've actually been eying this for a while but didn't tell anyone! how did you know?" he shrugs as he kicks off his shoes at the door. "it just seemed like it would suit you," he says easily. the world can't sing his praises enough. there's a reason why so many people love him and invite him everywhere. he uses the information he's collected to perfectly navigate conversations: what topics make people light up and lean forward in interest? what topics should he avoid to prevent awkward silences? deep down, he feels like he has to make a good impression because you chose him and he wants to prove to everyone that he deserves you, even though no one is thinking that in the slightest. (in your eyes, it's him that deserves more than the world can give him.)

[joffyworld]

FURTHERMORE,

PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD,

IGNORE THE NUMBERS

They mean nothing.

One thing I forgot to mention is that there's this expectation some people I've spoken to have that if their post doesn't do its usual numbers of notes or comments or likes, whatever the platform you're on uses, then it wasn't "worthwhile" or people "didn't like it".

Dude. Bro. Girly. They. It.

Whatever notes you get, whether it's 10k or 1 is a genuine life touched. People don't come on here and reblog or share or like without having felt something. Okay, yeah, sure, maybe you didn't explode and reach 50 thousand people and they didn't all simultaneously explode from excitement.

BUT THAT'S OKAY.

Social media platforms are designed around algorithms to push content they assume people want to see. Quite frankly, however, these algorithms suck balls. Tumblr might be one of the better in terms of posts reaching audiences and old posts gaining recognition for a long time after they were posted, but it's still just a computer throwing shit on a screen.

I see, and talk to, a lot of artists that feel they can't OC post or that they have failed because "my usual audience size didn't all see the post I made" when there's a dozen things beyond their control that affect whether or not people even know they've uploaded. Here's a short list of shit that can affect whether or not your post is seen by the average joe:

Tags

Notes

Fandom or OC

Followers

Time of Day

The weather outside

The Algorithm™

Luck

Hype around a fandom at a given time

Trends

A total of ONE of these you can control, being the tags. You have literally no say whether your post does well or not, at it SHOULDN'T MATTER. As discussed in the original post, do art for you! These numbers are genuine people behind a screen that have felt touched by what you have made. It doesn't matter whether that's one person ever, or a million people at once. People were altered even in the smallest ways by your creation, whether it was a smile or a happy cry, and that's beautiful. That's what art is, an expression of self that others can find comfort in when shared. But the key words are "EXPRESSION OF SELF." Not what the audience wants, not what God wants, but what you want.

Let me put it this way:

If you open a hospital, and are used to treating a million people a day but then suddenly have a day where only 5 people show up in need of help, is that a bad day? Or is it just good that people didn't need help? One day they might and you'll still be there because hospital equipment doesn't just vanish into thin air one day.

Audiences will see your work when they need to, and when they don't they won't. There's no two ways about it, you're fighting impossible odds if you try to make it any other way. So just let it be, do art for you and fuck everyone else. Because ultimately, the only person you're fucking by doing otherwise is yourself, and the world does plenty of that for us by default.

So go ahead, OC post! Create porn! Create the most angst-riddled depressing shit you possibly can! Don't worry about whether or not it'll do numbers and blow up big, because it doesn't matter! All that matters is that you had fun, and every life you touch with your work is a genuine human connection made over impossible distances that otherwise would've never occurred. Even posting this I'm speaking to people all the way from China to Mexico.

Will they see it? Who knows! But it doesn't matter, as long as one person sees it then that's a good thing. If nobody sees it that's great too! It means nobody needed to, so the world didn't need more lecturing on how to be happy.

Live life folks. No matter who you are, someone loves you, whether they know it yet or not, whether you know it yet or not.

Thank you for coming to my inane rant, have a good day! :D

From,

Jofferson

DO ART FOR YOU! 🫵

FUCK EVERYONE ELSE!!!

Seriously.

I'm so sick and weary of logging on here and seeing creators I adore, and people I don't even know alike, apologising for not uploading or basically begging for a break like they're not a human with needs.

You're literally a human being, with thoughts, feelings and emotions. You're not an art factory, you're not some positivity pump, you're nothing other than a genuine human being living a genuine life experience.

SO GO LIVE IT!!!

YOU OWE THE INTERNET NOTHING!!!!

There should be, and realistically is, no shame in just fucking leaving if you want to. There's no contract you signed, there's no permit you bought or lease you hold. You're a person who decided to share their art with the world, FOR FREE, and garnered an audience of faceless people behind screens who enjoy that art because YOU wanted to make it and share it.

Let me be frank as best I can. You owe the internet nothing, you owe the world nothing and you owe yourself EVERYTHING. You are the only person who can live your life, you are the only person who can create the things you create and you are the only motherfucker that should matter to you when you create those things.

Art is supposed to be a wondrous joy that inspires the mind and indulges ideas that other creatures can't even comprehend. It's supposed to be a magical and fun fantasy land where anything is possible because you make it possible. It's not a 9-5 unless you make it one, so stop making your hobby a 9-5 unless you're getting paid for it, and even then put in limits because no job that you choose to do should end in you burnt out and wishing you'd never started in the first place.

Remember when we were all kids? When we all drew and wrote for fun simply because we could? We'd show people are shit and be like "Mama look!" and she'd clap her hands all proud. But she wasn't why you picked up that crayon, you just did it for you because you wanted to make some shit.

That's how it should be. That's how it is unless you let those fake ass numbers on a screen rule your life. It's all meaningless, the praise may be genuine but that doesn't mean you should spend your whole life running in circles and performing for an audience.

Be a human being! Be an artist! Fuck everyone else!

Just be yourself <3

[miniseokminnies]

the gambit —- y.jh

♙ pairing: yoon jeonghan x fem!reader ♙ genre: enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers, 1960s au, university au, chess club president!jeonghan, club member!yn ♙ wc: ~12.5k ♙ warnings: 18+ MDNI, sexism (it's the 1960s), heavily implied reader is a virgin, unprotected sex (that's a no no), oral sex [f. receiving], fingering, pet names, praise kink, marking, drinking and getting drunk, a lot of rude men ♙ a/n: this is obviously VERY LOOSELY inspired by The Queen's Gambit lol. give jeonghan a chance he's learning okay?? thank you to my army of beta readers: @haologram, @lovetaroandtaemin, @highvern, and @tomodachiii i genuienly would not have this posted without them. ♙tags: @seungkw1, @cherry-zip, @crab-ranjun, @myhimbomingi oh and happy holidays i guess (i wanted to have this out way sooner) enjoy! and as always comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated

Three succinct knocks rang out as you rapped your knuckles against the door frame. The man alone inside the room looked in your direction. Looking him over you noticed his striking features that were delicately framed by his black hair that was only a bit shorter than your own. 

“Are you lost, miss?” He straightened up, “Sorority recruitment is across the hall.” He turned back to setting up the chess set on the table in front of him. 

“What?” you asked, confused, “No, this is the chess club, is it not?” 

“It is,” he didn’t bother looking in your direction this time. 

“Then I am in the right place,” you took a few steps into the room as he looked up at you again. 

“Girls don’t play chess.” he stifled a laugh. 

“There’s nothing in the university rules against gir-women joining recreational clubs.” You watched him sigh and snatch a notebook off the table. 

“Look,” he walked closer to you and held out the notebook, “you may watch” 

“I have my own notebook, thank you.” You turned on your heel and huffed into a chair near a chess set across the room. The man watched you for a moment before turning back to his task of setting up the chess boards. You could only assume that he was the president of the club, but could not wrap your head around why he was voted in.  

After waiting for a few moments several more boys began trickling into the room, all of them giving you a once over. Have these people never seen a girl before? 

“Excuse me miss,” one of the boys approached you and sat at the board nearest to you, “I’m Minghao”

“Y/N,” you nodded and scribbled his name down in your book. You could feel Minghao’s eyes on you, but you didn’t feel as though you owed him any explanation.  After a few minutes another boy who introduced himself as Wonwoo joined Minghao at the table. 

The president announced that the meeting today would function “tournament style” and everyone should get the chance to have a match with each other. Perfect.  

Wonwoo and Minghao played well, but Wonwoo had a bad habit of leaving his queen unprotected and Minghao always overutilized his rook. In the end, even with a queen out in the open, Wonwoo found a checkmate. 

Minghao was unhappy with this result and challenged him to a rematch outside of club time which Wonwoo eagerly agreed to.  You were finishing up your notes on their match when two new men appeared at your table introducing themselves as Mark and Yunho.  

The remaining matches went by quickly, you felt the president’s eyes on you every so often, he wondered what you could possibly be taking such detailed notes about when you weren’t even playing.  Men came and went, all politely introducing themselves to you, clearly they don’t take after their fearless leader in any capacity.  

The “tournament” went on for a few hours, your ass was starting to go numb from the chair by the time it was called in favor of the president, who peculiarly you never had the opportunity to observe.  He dismissed the club and they all filtered out as you finished up your notes. You heard his footsteps approaching as you dotted the last punctuation on the page.  

“So?” he started smugly, “Enjoy your observations?” he watched as you ripped out several pages of your own notebook.  You rose out of your seat and square your shoulders, you shoved the pages into his chest and left the room without another word. He watched you leave the room, your skirt swishing around your knees.  

Tearing his eyes from the door he looked down at the papers you left him.  He read over them and quickly realized what it was you were doing all this time.  Each member was written down and in detail you scrawled out every single missed check from each and every game played here today.  

The bottom of the page reads “The President: ?”      

“What are you doing?” your roommate, Cami, flopped around in her bed, “It’s the first month of classes, there’s no way you have course work already”

“I don’t” you moved your rook, not looking away from the board, “Remember how I told you I was going to join the chess club?”

“Yes?” 

“Well the stupid president won’t let me play” you captured white’s queen, “so I’m not able to practice with anyone” you heard her throw her blankets around and the clatter of her hand hitting her glasses, 

“What?” she hissed, “he can’t do that can he?” she sat up in bed

“I mean,” you finally looked up at her, “He didn’t technically bar me from joining”  

“Look at you” she scoffed, “Making you just sit there and watch when you’re the best player like ever!”

“I am nowhere near the best, Cami.” 

“Well” she protested, “You’re the best player I know!”

“I’m the only player you know,” you laughed. 

“Not true!” she hopped off her bed, “Teach me.” She pulled out her desk chair and pulled it next to you.  You quirk an eyebrow at her, “Seriously! Teaching is great practice plus you keep me awake with this dreadful lamp anyway” 

You swipe all of the pieces from the board and begin to set them back up in their proper places, you set the black in place and invite Cami to mirror them with the white on the other side.  Starting off you teach her some simple and popular openings.  For as airy as she tends to be she is an attentive listener and is able to grasp the basics quickly.  

You feel like you could cry, no one has truly taken this much of an interest in you, besides your parents and some friends from high school.  When you first moved in with Cami you were worried she would join a sorority on campus and never be around, and while you like your alone time, being alone is a difficult task.  

“And how do you win?” Cami asked once the board was scarce with pieces.  

“You need a successful and all encompassing check,” you move your queen to trap her king sufficiently, “Like this one, check mate” you reach over and softly lay the king on the board. 

From your usual chair in the back of the room you strain to listen to the conversation happening between Wonwoo and the president, who you learned recently was named Jeonghan.  The discussion looked heated and Wonwoo was hesitating at the door frame like a child being scolded.  

Jeonghan threw his hands up, exasperated, and turned to make a beeline for you.  You fumbled about trying to get your notebook open and to a page to make it look like you weren’t just eavesdropping. 

“You heard all of that I’m assuming,” he asked gruffly, “You’re not as subtle as you would like to think.” 

“What?” you blinked up at him.  He bent down to get closer to your face, 

“Don’t play dumb, we both know you aren’t,” he nearly growled, “You were listening to that entire conversation” 

“I was trying to,” you admitted with a roll of your eyes, “I couldn’t hear a thing from over here,” He backs away from you and makes a subtle noise of approval.  

“You’re with Minghao today,” he said as he was turning to leave, which made you shoot up out of your chair.  

“I actually get to play?” You blurted out, which caused him to turn back to you, 

“Yeah,” he scoffed at your enthusiasm, “Uneven numbers, Minghao needs a partner, Wonwoo had to go tutor our idiot friend Mingyu, I guess” You made a mental note to thank whoever Mingyu was profusely if you were to ever meet him.  Jeonghan took your silence as an invitation to leave this conversation,as if he had ever needed one before.  

You glanced around the room until you found Minghao’s eyes on you.  

“Hi,” You offered your hand for him to shake as you approached his table.  He easily took your hand and shook it.  

“Sit, sit” he insisted, “It’s an honor to be the first to play you, sorry it’s under weird circumstances,” he chuckles awkwardly.    

You told Minghao not to worry about the circumstances, you were just happy to be playing after weeks of sitting around watching.  With this he began the game, he utilized a simple opener and your first capture came quickly.  This wasn’t to say that Minghao wasn’t a good player and didn’t put up a fight.  

You, however, were hungry to show everyone here that you were not to be messed with. Minghao felt that you were two steps ahead of him the entire match, he didn’t understand how it felt like you were in his head and knew his moves.  If it wasn’t so impressive he would be infuriated. 

He didn’t even mind that you baited him quickly into a checkmate.  He wanted to see you beat Jeonghan, to wipe the winning streak clean.  Even more, he wanted to see Jeonghan get beat by a freshman, a wickedly smart and kind of scary freshman.    

“What are you doing?” Jeonghan asked from across the room where he was putting pieces back into boxes, “I need to clean that up and I can’t very well do that when you’re still using it”

“Minghao almost beat me” You mumbled, not looking up from the board.  You hear Jeonghan sigh and walk toward you.  

“Almosts don’t matter in chess, you either win or you don’t” he swiped your notebook from under your elbow, “And you won” 

“Give it back, Yoon, I’m not in the mood” you attempted to grab it back from him.  

“When are you ever,” he snorted, holding the book over his head. You shot out of your chair.

“Give it back!” you attempted to reach for it, “I’m trying to find weaknesses in my game and you’re acting like a child!” 

“Fine,” he lowered the book with a look in his eyes that let you know that this would not be that easy, “play me then” You blinked at him, 

“Really?” 

“You’re looking for weaknesses in your game, play me” he pulled out the chair recently vacated by Minghao and sat down, “Well? I don’t have all night." You took your seat, studying Jeonghan’s face.  He has never been across from you as your opponent, let alone offered a match. He passes your notebook back to you and watches as you carefully turn to a new page, crack the spine, and scrawl out his name and the date at the top of the page.  

You carefully move your first pawn, which in return Jeonghan moves his, beginning the dance.  Your second pawn takes its place and you hear your opponent chuckle.  

“What?” you spat defensively.  

“Oh nothing,” he hides his smile with his hand, “you’re just predictable, you always start with attempting a queen’s gambit”.  Heat rushes to your cheeks and you immediately know you are at a disadvantage, Jeonghan knows your game and you know nothing of his.  He delicately moves a second pawn forward, “Queen’s gambit declined” he sits back in his chair, thinking he already has you beat.  

The first capture of the match is in you taking his first pawn, he returns the favor by taking yours quickly.  The two of you go back and forth like this for several turns.  You realize quickly that he is very much your equal, he is smart and clever, but he plays rigidly and by the book.  By the book players are usually easy for you to handle.  

Jeonghan was different, it’s almost as if he knew your moves before you made them, and admittedly he kind of did.  Not well enough, you were nervous in the middle of the match but now you were sure that you could lure him into a checkmate within three moves. 

Letting him capture your rook was a small sacrifice.  Luring him into a false sense of security letting him take this piece and your queen earlier in the game, so that your second rook could move to take his queen and leaving his king open.  Attempting to move his king out of the line of fire from your rook only placed it in harm's way at the hands of your bishop.  

“Checkmate” you declared.  Jeonghan sat quietly, you saw the math he was doing in his mind by the way his eyes were flitting around the board, calculating his mistakes.  You gathered your things and swiped them into your arms and turned to leave.  

Fingers encircled your wrist and pulled you to face him.  Judging by the look on his face he did not think before he acted for once, “If it means so much to you, I won’t tell anyone I beat you,” you offered, rolling your eyes. 

“You’re infuriatingly irritating” was the last thing he said before pulling you closer and pressing his soft lips to yours. You stood perfectly still, shocked at the sudden development, Jeonghan didn’t push until you parted your lips.  With this he deepened the kiss, his mouth tasted of tobacco, the expensive kind.  His skin was warm against yours, and you weren’t sure why you didn’t entirely hate this exchange.  

Tentatively, you placed your hands on his hips, your notebook falling to the floor forgotten.  Jeonghan swiped his tongue into your mouth and you let him.  He felt your fingers grip for dear life and tried to ignore the fact that the gesture caused his head to swim.  He had the faintest idea of why he kissed you and even less of an idea on why you let him but he would not complain.  He tangled his hands in your hair.    

He pulled your lip between his teeth and it snapped something in you, you pressed your thighs together and sighed.  When Jeonghan moved to plant kisses just below your ear you realized what was happening and pushed back against his chest. 

“What the hell are you doing?” 

“You seemed to enjoy it.” he sighed pushing a hand through his hair.  

“I don’t know what this is,” you picked up your notebook, “but find someone else to help you out next time you get hard over a girl beating you”           

You shifted uncomfortably in the doorway of the fraternity house as Cami was informing the poor boy working the door who she was and who the two of you were intending to meet inside.  Finally, after what felt like an eternity out on the porch, he stepped aside and the two of you shuffled past him. The inside of the house was nothing special, it smelled of smoke and sweat.  There were groups of people scattered about talking and drinking.  

Cami put a hand on your arm and began to pull you further into the house, “Come on!” she shouted over the noise, “I’m meeting him in the kitchen!” and she began weaving her way through the house, as if she had done this a thousand times before.  

The kitchen was open and frankly dirty.  There was a couple making out against the counter closest to where your roommate dragged you.  

“Y/N, this is Mingyu, the guy I told you about,” she smiled up at him, “and this is Y/N, my roommate”  

“Nice to meet you,” Mingyu smiled at you momentarily before turning his attention back to the girl he actually invited to this party.  You were surprised, you figured it would have taken longer than five minutes for you to start wondering why you came here in the first place. You were starting to feel boxed in, the couple on the counter was getting dangerously close to exposing themselves to you, and Mingyu was whispering close to your roommate's ear.  You could only imagine the filthy things he was surely saying to her, judging by the scarlet blush rising up her neck and the giddy smile playing at her lips.  

“Take this,” a familiar voice cut through the panic, a small glass being pressed into your hand.  Looking up, Jeonghan had a matching glass up to his lips, looking down at you expectantly.  You followed suit and the two of you tipped the glasses back together.  The liquid burned your throat and you sputtered a cough as you felt the heat settle in your belly.  “Woah,” he stifled a laugh, “Never had a drink before, noted,” he filled up his shot glass with water from the sink and traded it for your empty glass.  He guided it to your lips and disappeared down the hall, just as quickly as he approached.

The water dulled the burn in your throat.  During your exchange with Jeonghan your roommate and Mingyu disappeared somewhere, sighing you left the kitchen to find them or somewhere quiet to sit down, whichever came first.  

As it turned out, at a party there are few places unoccupied by people.  You took to walking laps around the bottom floor of the house looking out for anyone leaving or a room you missed.  On lap one thousand (give or take) you heard your roommate’s laugh cut through the dull thrum of the music from the turntable in the living room.  You looked toward where you heard her, your shoulders slumped seeing Mingyu lead her up the stairs, cursing under your breath you stomped through the kitchen and into the first door you came across. 

 You plop to the ground and cross your arms over your chest, if anyone were to be looking at you right now you’re sure you would look like a petulant child.  You’re not even sure why you’re angry, you knew she would end up hooking up with this guy tonight. Walking home could be an option, however it’s getting cold…and do you even remember how to get back? Don’t parties like this typically have sober drivers? But I’m not drunk…I only had whatever Jeonghan gave me, you thought, Jeonghan! You could find him, but how embarrassing would it be to crawl to him for help right now? He would use it against you forever and you are as good as kicked out of the chess club after this! What would have been the point of any of this if you can’t play chess? This stupid situation with Jeonghan would have been for naught.  

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening, you scramble to situate yourself in this damned skirt to have any semblance of appropriateness for whoever is coming through that door.  

“What are you doing in the laundry room?” you could hear the smirk in his tone before you even looked up.  Jeonghan slipped into the small room, which when looking around you realized it was in fact the laundry room.  He closed the door behind him with the hand not occupied with a bottle of liquor and a cigarette perched between his pointer and middle fingers.  Scooting back you pressed your back against the washing machine and stretched your legs straight in front of you.  Jeonghan grunted while sitting down on the floor next to you, his back up against the dryer.  He set down the bottle and two of those little glasses from earlier on the floor in front of him.  

“There was nowhere else to sit…” You offered quietly. “My stupid roommate went upstairs with some guy and she is the only reason I’m even at this fucking party! I wanted to stay home tonight, but she dragged me out here and–and are you trying to get me drunk?” you interrupted yourself, eyes flicking between the contents on the floor and Jeonghan.  He cracked a smile, not a smirk, a smile, at your question.  

“No, Dove,” he chuckled sticking the cigarette between his lips, “I’m trying to get you to loosen up for once,”  he brought his hand above your thigh, hesitating in the air for only a moment before placing it down slightly above your knee, kneading the flesh there.  Jeonghan had kissed you last week, but this felt…intimate, not angry. Before you had the chance to yell at him he brought his hand back to his lap, “You’re tense.” 

“Yeah, not a great night,” you pointed out, “And it seems like it is getting weird now,” he rolled his eyes at your addition and began pouring the liquid into the two glasses.  

“Take another shot with me, will you?” he attempted to hand you the glass, “before I decide you’ve annoyed me too much for one night” 

“No” 

“Y/N please, don’t be so insufferable for once,” he moved his glass to his lips and removed the cigarette, which admittedly was distracting enough for you to almost give in.  You held strong.  Jeonghan clicked his tongue disapprovingly and threw back the contents of the glass.  He brought his free hand and scrubbed his face, “Fine, let’s play a game.” he poured himself another shot. 

“What kind of game?”

“Really that’s all it took?” he looked at you, his eyes starting to shine with the alcohol, “Beggars can’t be choosers, I suppose.” he taps the glass with his fingers, a habit that manifests when he’s thinking, you’ve noticed throughout his chess matches, 

“You’re making a game up,” you point out nonchalantly, 

“What?” the drumming stops for a moment, “No, I’m remembering the rules”

“No you’re not, tell me about your made up game, Yoon”

“It’s a real game…anyway, rules are simple, you ask me a question, I answer, then you answer.  If you don’t want to answer, you take a shot, if we both answer, we both take a shot”

“Those rules don’t make sense” “Yes they do, who was the first LP you ever got?” you were taken aback by the tameness of his question, but you figured he was just getting started.  

“The Blues and the Abstract Truth by Oliver Nelson” 

“Jazz?” he scoffed, “Have you ever thought about not being boring?” 

“Have you ever thought about being a decent person?”

“Don’t get unglued,” he rolled his eyes, “mine was Nice’n’Easy by Frank Sinatra” With that he tipped his glass back and emptied it, you followed suit and tried not to cough this time. He gestured to you seemingly inviting you to ask a question of your own.  You thought for a moment, 

“Why do you play chess?” you asked. 

“My dad figured it would be a good skill to have” he shrugged, “But I think it has something to do with the fact that the world chess champion was, and still is, a Soviet. I don’t really care about that though, I just like to play, I’m good at it.”

“You only play chess because you’re good at it?” you said flatly

“Ah ah” he tsked, “You already asked your question, so either answer or drink up”

“Fine,” you sighed with a pointed look in his direction, “My grandpa taught me, I always watched him and his buddy play when he babysat me.  I learned by watching and then eventually playing, and beating, both of them.” 

“Learning chess just by watching,” he mumbled and shook his head. “Gimme,” his lithe fingers took the glass from your hand, set it on the floor next to his and poured another round.  You both drank the shot with no complaint.  

The game continued like this for a while, Jeonghan never asking anything that stumped you, and in return he answered every question of yours. You weren’t sure what being drunk actually felt like but if someone told you this was it you would believe them.  Your muscles relaxed more than you can remember in recent months, your vision was slightly blurry, and you felt a pleasant buzz in your brain.  Jeonghan was slumped against the dryer and his head leaned on your shoulder.  

“When’s your birthday?” Jeonghan asked, playing with your fingers lightly.   

“January 2” 

“Coming up,” he noted, “Mine was October 4”

“How old are you now?” 

“22” he sighed, “graduating in May” You knew Jeonghan was older than you, but you hadn’t thought about the fact that he would be actually graduating, leaving.  Something about that made you sick to your stomach in a way, but you weren’t sure why, don’t you hate him?

“I’ll be 19 next month” you mumbled. He shifted his body to sit up and look at you.  His eyes were glassy and heavy, physical evidence of the alcohol thrumming in his system.  

“Are you drunk?” he asked 

“I have no earthly idea, Han” he smiled at the nickname. He reached over to cup your cheek in his hand, unconsciously you melted into him. 

“I might be,” he mumbled, and even in your intoxicated state you couldn’t miss the way his eyes flicked from yours to your lips, only for a moment.  After what felt like ages he connected his lips to yours.  The kiss was sweet, his lips were warm and he didn’t rush it.  He held you as his tongue swiped against your bottom lip, requesting entrance.  Once that entrance was granted it was as if the floodgates opened for him.  Both of his hands were in your hair and he was licking into your mouth.  Jeonghan tasted of the alcohol the two of you had been drinking the entire night, different from the taste on his lips last time.  Jeonghan curiously tugged at the hair around his fingers.  

Butterflies, or something like that but infinitely more intense, erupted in your stomach.  The suddenness of it all allowed a whine to escape your lips. With that Jeonghan pulled back from you but stayed close enough for your noses to still be touching. 

“I think you should start coming to meetings early,” he panted. The only response you could muster was a nod, and an attempt to bring his lips back to yours.  He pulled back against your request, and much to your dismay the wicked smirk was back on his face, “Y/N, are you a virgin?”  You were taken aback by the question, you backed away from him and grabbed the bottle on the floor.  You forwent the shot glass and just took a long pull from the lip.  He watched you down the burning liquid before nodding, “So that’s a yes,” he settled back against the dryer and watched you flounder.  

“You don’t know that!” you stood up, feeling wobbly on your feet, “Maybe I’m just being a lady” 

“Woah,” he stood up and wrapped his arm around your waist in an attempt to steady you, “but it doesn’t really matter, I trapped you, even a nonanswer would have told me what I wanted to know, I won and you know it.”  You attempted to hit his chest but the way he was holding you proved it impossible. He maneuvered you to sit back down, “Sit right here, I’m gonna go find your roommate and get you home.”    

The walk back to your dorm was quicker than you thought it was, but that could be on account of the alcohol warming your skin.  Jeonghan informed you that your roommate had decided to stay the night with Mingyu back at the house so the responsibility of getting your drunk self home fell on him.  Serves him right, he’s the one who got you to this state in the first place. Your arm linked with his and his arm around your waist he walked the short trek very carefully, because he truly was not sober himself.

He fished your room key out of your pocket and let the two of you into your room.  He blinked to adjust to the lower light, the room was only illuminated by the lamp on your desk that you must have forgotten to turn out before leaving earlier in the night.  Moving further into the room he helped you sit down on the bed.  On the desk there was a chess board with a half finished game set up.  He smiled to himself moving closer to see that the pieces of paper strewn about were the notes you always take during matches with him.  You’re replaying matches between the two of you he realized.  

“Y/N” he called, tearing his eyes away from the pretty way your handwriting captures his name, “You gotta change.”

“Tired,” you grumbled from the bed. He moved towards you and attempted to pull you up.  

“Come on, you can’t sleep in this” he begged, “Fine! Where do you keep your pajamas?”

“Top drawer”

He moved the short distance to your dresser and opened the top drawer.  He flushed seeing your undergarments being housed in the same space as your pajamas but he tried to ignore the feeling in his stomach.  He pulled out the first nightgown he found and moved back to you.  

“Okay, undress” he was met with protest noises.  He sighed and moved to the hem on your shirt, “I’m going to help you and then leave, okay?” he waited for your approval and then began lifting your shirt up over your head. He felt perverted in a way as he watched each inch of your skin come into view and then the clothed swell of your breasts.  The situation was in no way sexual and he had no plans to take advantage, but he had never seen you in a vulnerable state before.  You were softer than you often let on, something he almost didn’t believe.  

He removed the shirt completely and moved to unclasp your bra.  He hesitated only slightly before taking the plunge.  He removed the piece of fabric and quickly, and unceremoniously shoved the nightgown over your head.  Finally, you were dressed for bed and he helped you under the covers.  

Soon he heard your soft snores and took this as his signal to leave.  Turning out the lamp he pressed his lips to your forehead, hoping it didn’t hurt too terribly in the morning.  

“Goodnight, Y/N”      

The gentle sting of teeth against your neck paired with the vice grip on your thigh under your skirt almost sent you into a frenzy.    

“Jeonghan” you shied away from his mouth, he grunted and chased you in response, “Jeonghan!” you hissed and pulled his hair until his lips separated from your neck.

“What?” he whispered, his eyes heavy and clouded with lust. 

“The boys will be here in,” you twisted to check your watch, “Twenty minutes and I would rather not have them distracted by fresh hickies on my neck for the entire meeting.”

“And why not?” he attempted to connect to the spot below your ear again, “They might respect you more if they know you’re getting some” 

“They respect me just fine!” you shove against his shoulder, but there weren’t many places for him to go in the small closet.  His hand stayed gripped on your thigh.

“Okay, okay” he conceded, taking back his place crowding you against the wall behind you.  “You’re tense again” a squeeze to your thigh, “let me help” his hand slowly traveled higher, leaving goosebumps in its wake. 

All you could do was nod.  

A flash of a smirk and he is wedging his thigh between your knees, “Keep ‘em spread” he commanded.  His hand continued up and up until - oh - his thumb pressed that delicious bundle of nerves, separated only by the thin cotton of your underwear.  He watches your face as you bite your lip, if he was a better man he wouldn’t be doing this in the supply closet, but the promise of seeing you unspool was too delicious.  He’ll make it up to you someday, he promises himself.         

He started with slow torturous circles, refusing to move the barrier. The touches are too feather light, you resist the urge to rut up against him in an attempt to increase the friction.  This didn’t stop the pathetic whine from escaping your lips.  “What was that?” Jeonghan teased, increasing the pressure on your clit.       

“Please…” you screwed your eyes shut. 

“Is this what you want?” he slid your underwear to the side and gathered your arousal on his fingers.  Nodding you felt him slip in a finger experimentally. You bucked your hips to meet him, “Eager” he commented nonchalantly.  The tightness in his pants reminded him that time was of the essence and he slipped in another finger.  

You bit your lip to keep quiet, no matter how much Jeonghan encouraged you to let him hear you.  His long fingers reached a spot inside you that you didn’t know existed with ease.  You rocked on his fingers, feeling a tightness in your stomach begin to gather.  

Jeonghan pulled aside the neck of your sweater to access a new swath of skin untouched by him until now.  He sucked a deep bruise just below your collarbone as you felt the snap in your stomach.  

The euphoria washed over you in waves and Jeonghan continued his ruminations until you came down from your high.  Once you were more lucid, you noticed the gaping neck of your sweater.  Your hand flew to where the top two buttons once were and gasped.  

“You ripped the buttons off my sweater, you ass”

“Right like I meant to!” he began to scan the cluttered floor for the buttons.  

“Well I don’t have the time to go back to change” you gritted your teeth, “This was my favorite sweater” you stormed out of the closet, leaving Jeonghan’s apology to die on his lips.  What you didn’t expect was Minghao sitting at the table closest to you, reading.  You clutched your sweater, careful to cover your new mark.  He tore his eyes away from his book and just looked at you, it felt like he was looking right through you.  

You open your mouth to explain yourself but the sound of Mark bursting through the door with Yunho stole the moment away from you.  Minghao gave a curt nod of understanding and snapped his book closed.  Jeonghan entered the room, clearly trying not to look flushed. You shot him a pointed look and proceeded to sit in front of an empty chess board. 

“Pair up,” he mumbled, “scrimmages today” and throws himself into the chair across from you.  “Take that look off your face, Dove” you blinked at him, not realizing there was even a look, you were just surprised he was willingly choosing you, in front of everyone.  However, if he was going to act like this, you could make the meeting Hell too. 

His timer clicked, he made his first move.  Jeonghan was going to lose this match, you stretched your legs, leaving your foot next to his.  You felt his eyes boring into your skull as you were making your opening.  Your timer clicked.  Jeonghan laced his fingers under his chin, it would look like he was thinking, but you knew better, he was trying to figure you out this time.  He reached to move his knight and you trailed your foot up his leg, disrupting his trousers. Placing his knight down with a definitive thunk he looked up at you with widened eyes.  

“Your timer, Jeonghan” you smirked. Click. Jeonghan watched your subsequent move, trying desperately to ignore the tightness in the crotch of his pants.  You played it safe for a majority of the game, letting Jeonghan believe that you were the one distracted by your nonsense.  You let him have some meaningless captures.  

His fingers weren’t drumming on the desk, he felt confident.  You captured his bishop.  You could easily have a checkmate within four or five moves.  You brought his bishop to your lips and hit your timer.  You looked at him from under your lashes and waited. 

Jeonghan watched the white piece rest against your pretty lips, what was wrong with him? You were doing next to nothing but the hardness in his pants was almost painful at this point.  His hesitancy was evident, 

“I know” you whispered against the bishop, “It’s just so hard” Jeonghan had to bite his lip to keep from whimpering.  He made a quick careless move and hit the timer. Smiling, you set the bishop aside and moved your queen into position, “Checkmate.” 

“What is wrong with you?”

The only sound in your room was the soft drag of the white bishop you moved across your chess board.  Cami was out, probably with Mingyu, as she is most nights nowadays.  The game you were playing against yourself was almost finished and you were planning to retire to bed or to do some reading afterwards.  Even you had your limit on the amount of chess you could play in a day.  

You picked up the black knight thinking to capture a white pawn when there was a knock at your door. Untangling yourself from the position that was comfortable until you thought about it you stretched your legs and padded to the door.  You don’t tend to get visitors unless Cami is home so you’re not sure who this could be.     

Swinging the door open you see the familiar shape of Jeonghan standing in the hallway, illuminated by the fluorescent lighting.  He was dressed more casually than you’d ever seen him, clad in an oversized t-shirt and pair of shorts with the faded logo of what you guessed was his high school hanging off his hips. You fold your arms over your chest, suddenly very aware of your lack of bra. 

“Are you stalking me now, Yoon?”  he blinked at you a couple times before pushing past you into your room and uttering, 

“Do you really not remember?” he sits at your desk in front of the almost finished chess game, “Can I sit here?” 

“You already are,” you raised an eyebrow as you took a seat across from him on your bed.  Seeing Jeonghan comfortable and relaxed in the low light of your room was strange, but not entirely off putting.  Almost as if he belonged here in a way.  “Remember what?”

“I brought you home after Seungcheol’s party when Cami ditched you” he studied the remaining pieces on the board. Jeonghan doesn’t know when he started remembering things, like the name of your roommate, about you.  He didn’t mind having you in his head, but he wasn’t aware just how often you were on his mind until this moment, seeing you bathed in the lamp light of your room.       

“Wait,” your cheeks grew red and you felt the heat in them rise.  

“Yes, I changed your clothes, no I didn’t look, but at this point does it matter?” His brown eyes gazed up at you before they trailed down your body, he realized that this is the first time he has seen you in your casual attire since that night. 

“Maybe not…” You mumble, “But it certainly did at the time.”  He scoffed and rolled his eyes and settled them back on the chess board in front of him.  You watched as he moved the rook into position, 

“Checkmate” he smirked smugly, 

“I played that game myself, don’t think you’ve beaten me because you finished it.” He clicked his tongue disapprovingly at your comment and stood up from the chair and moved toward you. He stood in front of you and tapped your knee, you spread your legs so he could stand between them, you mentally cursed yourself for the automatic response.  Moving in between your knees he ran his hands through your hair, he looked down at you, his face softer than you’d seen it in a while.  His features were beautiful when he was concentrated and vengeful during a match but the soft moments between were quickly becoming your favorites. 

“Hi,” he whispered, he could almost laugh, he felt so boyish.  “Are you feeling okay?” 

“Han,” you laughed, “you don’t need an excuse to kiss me, if that’s what you’re looking for” 

“Okay Ms. Smarty Pants,” he ducked his head to press his lips to yours.  What felt like lightning crackled between your lips and into your stomach, he hadn’t touched you let alone kissed you since that day that you teased him at the meeting in front of everyone.  Partly because you stopped showing up early, and partly because he was clearly mad at you for the spectacle you caused.  He had never anticipated Wonwoo of all people to ask him what that was all about. 

A hand trailed from your hair down to your chest.  You whined as Jeonghan took a handful of your breast and kneaded it underneath his fingers.  He deepened the kiss at the sounds you were making. His teeth grazed your lip as he pinched your nipple between his fingers.  His other hand was gripping your bare thigh.  

He broke the kiss and grabbed the loose fabric of your nightgown and pulled it up around your hips.  Hooking his thumbs under the waistband of your panties he mutters, 

“Can we try something?” All you could do was nod in response.  He swiftly shimmied the fabric down and onto the floor. “Let me know if it’s too much for you, okay?” 

Jeonghan sank to his knees in front of you, his mouth level with your bare cunt.  He takes his time sucking deep bruises into your thighs, he was only going to do it once but the sweet noises you made in response were too beautiful to ignore.  You felt the sting of teeth on the last bruise, and then the soothing sensation of his tongue.  In an attempt to get his long hair out of the way he raked his hand through it and leveled himself with your heat.  

He licked the first fat stripe up your cunt, the warmth of his mouth on you was a new and spectacular feeling.  He felt all encompassing, you were surrounded by him, and you couldn’t imagine anything better in this moment. He flattened his tongue against you and dragged it through your folds slowly.  Your eyes screwed shut at the overwhelming sensation. 

His lips wrapped around your swollen clit and began to suck.  Jeonghan felt absolutely high on the sounds he was eliciting from you.  Slowly, he moved from your clit to your entrance and experimentally dipped inside.  You filled the room with quiet moans as he began to pump his tongue in and out of you. The coil in your stomach began to tighten, you bucked your hips up searching for stimulation on your clit.  Jeonghan pulled away from you and you shivered at the lack of warmth.  He blew lightly into your cunt, a whine getting pulled from your throat.  

“Just wait, Dove, I’ll take care of you.” He stood and helped you out of the nightgown the rest of the way.  You sat up slightly and reached for his shirt.  He looked beautiful with the flush of want on his cheeks and the sheen of you on his chin.  He smiled down at you and allowed you to peel off his shirt, “Lay down all the way” he whispered as he pulled off the rest of his clothes.  You readjusted on the bed.  He crawled on top of you, “Are you okay with this?” You nodded, you let your eyes wander down his body and caught a glimpse of his stiff cock, leaking and angry.  The tension in your thighs returned, nervous for this next step.  

“Hey,” he whispered, “look at me”, your eyes finding his, “Relax for me, Dove. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to”  

“I want to,” you whispered.  He smiled softly at you and pressed his lips to yours.  He reached down and stroked his cock a few times before lining up at your entrance.  You took a deep breath.  

“I’m serious this time, you need to relax,” his eyes were dark with lust but ultimately serious.  He reached to knead the muscle of your plush thigh. You nodded to show him you understood and tried to release some tension you were holding.  

You felt the head of his cock push past your entrance.  The feeling was entirely different to what you were used to with his fingers.  He moved slowly, scared to overwhelm you.  He stayed still for several agonizing minutes, allowing you to adjust to the new sensation.  

“You can move now,” you breathed out quietly.  He nodded and slowly began to rock his hips.  It was almost as if you could feel every single vein dragging against your walls.  The feeling was nothing short of intoxicating, you felt so full.  

“Oh Dove,” his voice was deeper than you have ever heard it, “you feel so perfect, like you were made for me.” His praises went straight to your core and you couldn’t help but moan.  “If you keep,” he grunted, “sounding perfect like that I won’t last.” 

He doesn’t.  Neither do you.  He didn’t expect you to, you don’t last long on his fingers, his cock was a different story entirely.  What he didn’t expect was how fast he was spent.  He thinks he meant it when he said you were perfect, he fit inside of you just right.  Thinking about how perfect you were had him releasing hot white spurts of himself inside of you.  

He leaned forward to move the sweaty pieces of hair from your forehead and pressed a kiss to your temple.  

“You okay, Dove?” 

“I’m fab,” you breathed.  Jeonghan laughed and slowly pulled out of you.  He took a moment to look at your spent cunt, leaking with him.  

“Uh, let me get you cleaned up,” he stumbled out of the bed and moved toward your collection of bath towels.  He returned with one and helped clean you up.  He rummaged through your drawer, retrieved a clean set of underwear and sent you to the bathroom. He got himself dressed and sat on the bed.  He ran his hands through his hair.  

When you came back you laid back down together.  You draped your legs over his.  The two of you stayed this way for what felt like hours.  You talked about everything, he asked you about your classes, how you’re adjusting to being away from home, and your impressions of the guys in the chess club.  

Talking to Jeonghan was easy, much easier than your first impression had led you to believe.  Eventually, you fell asleep mid sentence.  Cute, Jeonghan thought.  He was starting to realize he found most of the things you did cute.  

He slipped out of your bed and covered you with the blanket.  Before he left he slipped your ruined sweater from where it was draped haphazardly over the foot of your bed.  With that, he was out of the room and bounding down the hall.    

               

   

 “Y/N! Wait up!” Turning around you see Minghao jogging to catch up with you.  You smile at him as he joins you, “Where you headed?” 

“The teaching building,” you jerked your head in the direction of the building.  

“Let me walk with you, I’m going to the art building, but I need to ask you about something.” he gestured for you to keep walking.  You nodded and began the walk, “So what on Earth are you doing?” 

“What?” you raised an eyebrow, “I’m going to class?” 

“No” he shook his head, “With Jeonghan” you had to force yourself to keep walking and not stop right there in the middle of the sidewalk and gawk at him, “Oh come on, Y/N I’m not stupid” 

“I never said you were,” you shifted your gaze to the ground, “But I have no idea what you’re talking  about”

“Yes you do” A telling silence fell between the two of you for a few minutes before you reached the front of the art building.  Minghao stopped walking and put a hand on your shoulder, “Listen it’s not my business, but whatever game you’re playing better have a good reason.” he sighed, “I don’t know if you actually like him or what this bullshit is, but be careful,”

“Careful?” 

“You’re a threat to him, Y/N” you must look as confused as you feel because he continues, “I’m good at chess, Wonwoo’s good at chess, Jeonghan is great at chess, but Y/N, you’re phenomenal at chess.” 

“So?” you protest, “It’s just a club, this doesn’t mean anything does it?” 

“The competition season is coming up,” he offered, “You’ll be asked to be on the team by the faculty supervisor, so will Jeonghan, and hopefully me and Wonwoo, but there’s the individual tournament to worry about.”     

“Okay?” you huff, “And?” you try to see the point Minghao is making.       

“Just…” he sighs, “I’m worried he’s using you.  He’s never lost the collegiate division, Y/N” you nodded, taking in what he was suggesting, “You’ve painted yourself as a threat to him winning that title for his last year. That’s why it matters, that’s what he cares about.”

“Isn’t he your friend?”

“Well, yes,” Minghao blinked at you, “Doesn’t that put me in the exact position to know what he might be capable of?” 

“If I’m selected, I’ll try my best, win or lose” You assured him.  

“I know you will, just be careful, don’t get distracted” He turns toward the entrance of the art building, “And stop using the supply closet, you have more dignity than that” you feel your face heat up and you turn on your heel toward the teaching building.    

If anyone could see the great asshole, Jeonghan Yoon right now Mingyu could die happy.  He bounded down the stairs and took in the sight of the man himself with a sewing needle snug between his teeth, instead of the usual cigarette.  

“Oh you couldn’t be more keen on her, huh?” Mingyu plopped down on the couch next to the sweater Jeonghan had carefully spread over the cushion between himself and the younger man. 

“Shut your fucking trap, Kim,” Jeonghan mumbled around the needle.    

“She has you sewing,”  Mingyu stifled a laugh.  

“As if you have room to talk,” Jeonghan ripped the needle from his mouth, “Cami has you just about as tied up,”  Mingyu blinked at him, “Oh come on! You don’t need tutoring, let alone from Wonwoo, you’re not in any of the same classes.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,”  Mingyu attempted to insist but avoiding Jeonghan’s eyes gave him away.  

“Obviously you do, Y/N was mad about not being able to play, so you and Cami decided to take matters of my club into your own hands,” he began to thread the needle.   

“You could’ve let her play,” Mingyu shrugged watching Jeonghan struggle to find the simplest way to put the thread through the hole.  

“She could’ve earned her spot like everyone else” he muttered, “Besides there’s nothing between her and I so there’s no need to compare”

“You made the comparison…” Mingyu pointed out, confused.  

“No I didn’t,” the thread made it through the hole in the needle.  Mingyu opened and closed his mouth, not sure what his friend was getting at.  Jeonghan claiming that there was nothing going on between you and him was almost laughable, but Mingyu knew better than to voice this, as he valued his life.  So instead he settled to watch Jeonghan skillfully sew the pearlescent buttons back on to your sweater.  

Mingyu also knew better than to ask what happened in the first place.  He knew that Jeonghan had his own way about things, and this was more than likely an apology of some kind.  If Mingyu Kim was a far stupider man he would point out the fact that Jeonghan never denied that this was your sweater.    

You could hear the other members of the chess club before you even saw the door to the meeting room, there was an excited buzz spilling out into the hallway. As you closed in on the room you saw a paper hanging up on the closed door.  

“1963 Collegiate Chess Championship: University of Michigan 

Yoon, Jeonghan

Xu, Minghao 

Jeon, Wonwoo

Y/L/N, Y/F/N

Congratulations and good luck!”

That’s your name, you’re on the team.  You thought Minghao was potentially exaggerating when he was predicting the team but he was right on the money.  Something akin to anxiety bubbled in your stomach, what if you lose? What if you win?

Walking into the room Minghao smiled at you, Wonwoo gave you a thumbs up, and Jeonghan was simply staring at you  He couldn’t deny that he was scared of your placement on the team, when it came for the individual matches you potentially have him beat, he needed to play his best set of games in his career.  

You took your usual seat at the table you share with Wonwoo and Minghao.  Jeonghan’s eyes bored into your skull as you set up your board.  Was Minghao right? Did he do all of this as a distraction? Were you really that big of a threat to him? You knew the answer, but that didn’t stop the seeds of doubt from sewing in your mind.

“Congrats teammate!” You heard the smile in Wonwoo’s voice before you saw it.  

“Congratulations, Y/N.” Minghao smiled at you as he took his seat next to Wonwoo, “A force to be reckoned with, as always.”  

“Thank you both,” you smiled, “congrats to you as well.” You stole a glance in Jeonghan’s direction, he was still staring.  He was quick, he saw your eyes, and knowing he got what he wanted he slowly licked his lips and turned back to the board he was setting up with Mark.  

Your blood boiled in your veins, Minghao had to have been right, he’s so cocky even with no wins against you under his belt.  He must have been banking on you losing your composure, now and at the competition, so you determined right then that you would not allow it.  You began to slam the white pawns into their places, earning you sideways glances from your tablemates.  

Wonwoo pulled the black pieces out and tried to match your pace, knowing that your patience has run out, for Jeonghan Yoon related reasons he’s sure. The meeting is spent by you beating the boys in a variety of ways and shooting angry glances at the back of Jeonghan’s head.  Jeonghan was stealing his own looks in your own direction under the guise of “keeping an eye on the games”.  A few times he catches you looking at him, he attempts to soften your face to no avail.

After watching Wonwoo deliver a final checkmate to Minghao, you shot out of your seat and attempted to flee the room as quickly as possible.  Unfortunately, Jeonghan had other plans.  He caught your arm and pulled you to face him.

“Congratulations,” he said softly after he made sure everyone was out of the room.  

“Likewise,” you bit, “is that all?” Jeonghan blinked at you, clearly confused.  

“What’s wrong?” He asked earnestly, “Aren’t you excited?” You couldn’t tell if he was truly confused or if he was acting again.  

“I am,” you nodded, “what do you need? Or can I go home?”  

“Right,” his lips pressed into a tight line, clearly no longer in the mood for whatever you decided you were mad about.  He pulled his messenger bag to his front and pulled out a bunch of fabric.  “I fixed this for you,” he held it out in front of him.  You took it gingerly and unfolded it so you could look at what it actually was.  The sweater he ruined a few weeks ago.  A swooping feeling in your stomach took hold, something between tenderness and anger.  You chose anger.  

“Oh so you’re stealing from me now?” You snapped.  

“What?” He hissed, “I fixed it for you!” He pointed at the top two buttons he carefully sewed back on.  He looked like a petulant child if you weren’t seething you could laugh.  

“You still stole from me!” 

“Y/N you’re missing the point on purpose!” He whined at you, “I wanted to fix my mistake!” 

“By making another mistake.” You turned and walked out the door and all Jeonghan could do was stare after you.  For once he was at a loss for words.        

You’re in over your head, you have to be.  You have never felt so unprepared for a set of matches in your life.  The day was going to be full, only breaking for lunch and then your schedule thinning out God willing that you get to participate until the finals.  

You smoothed your hands over the new outfit you scrounged up money to buy for the occassion. The blouse is pretty, but the main focus is the new trousers.  You have never worn pants to a big event before, and you’re nervous for the reactions of the men downstairs.  Determined to exude confidence even when you were scared out of your mind you took deep breaths and practiced looking tough in the mirror.  You could not, however, forget how out of place you felt at this moment.  

You check your watch and mutter a curse under your breath.  Snatching your notebook off the hotel bed you tossed and turned in the entire night you bounded out the door. Once downstairs you snaked through throngs of people, picking up bits and pieces of conversations about chess strategy.  

You spotted Wonwoo’s head above various members of the crowd and made your way to him and where you assumed Minghao, Jeonghan, and your faculty advisor were as well.  Your fingers wrapped around Minghao’s arm and he turned to you quickly. 

His eyes lit up seeing it was you, “Y/N, hi” he smiled down at you.  

“Hi Hao,” you wiggled through the last of the crowd and up next to him, “did I miss anything?” you look around at the people, trying to spot Jeonghan.

“No, we’re just waiting for table assignments,” he pointed toward the window, “he’s over there.”  You followed his gesture and saw Jeonghan talking with the faculty advisor.  He looked almost ethereal silhouetted against the window, cigarette delicately perched in between his fingers.  You watched them talk for several minutes before you saw an official post a list on the wall opposite you.  Jeonghan noticed as well, extinguished his cigarette, and excused himself to look at his table assignment.  

The competitors funnelled into a line to check where they will be starting the day.  You shuffled in behind Minghao, Jeonghan tucked in behind you.  He was trying his best to ignore the new outfit and how good you happened to look in it as the line slowly moved.  Minghao quickly found his name and moved out of the way for you to scan the document.  You felt Jeonghan pressing against you slightly, clearly impatient and looking over your head.  His hand hovered awkwardly over your hip, he ached to touch you even just casually.  

Locating your name and your table you exited the line, leaving Jeonghan’s hand hanging in the air before he dropped it.  He followed after you silently.  Several other competitors were whispering about your outfit, he could hear them plainly even if you couldn’t.  

The thing about Jeonghan Yoon was that his reputation proceeded him.  Every person in this building knew who he was and what he came here to do today.  This type of reputation comes with a healthy respect and a bit of fear. So the dagger-like glances he shot these stupid men were not to be questioned.  To their knowledge it was because you were his teammate, none of them were aware of the affection he held for you.  

You broke away from your team in order to find the first table, your opponent already sitting on white’s side.  Holding your hand out for him to shake you could tell he was cocky, he rose to take your hand.  His handshake was firm, an obvious attempt to scare you.  Only you weren’t scared anymore, you felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.  The environment was different but the game was the same, and you were one of the best.  

The officials signaled for the beginning of the round and you watched as your opponent contemplated his first move.  He selected a safe opener; for the first round and knowing nothing about your opponent this was a respectable choice.  You tend to play it safe as well, opting for your classic attempt at a queen’s gambit.  The match went uneventful for the first several moves, the only sound in the room was several timers clicking at different times.  Some players were faster than others, and you were attempting to take your time and not get cocky.  

The same could not be said about Jeonghan across the room.  He was the epitome of confidence, as he has been every year since he won the first time.  Freshly 19 and on top of the world.  He always felt like the first win was some unbelievable stroke of luck and then he just continued to win.  He realized quickly that he enjoyed winning, almost more than he liked playing the game itself.  Maybe that makes him cocky, but he didn’t care.  He was making quick work of his first opponent, he was confident and playing defensively.  He clicked his timer and watched the man on the other side of the table panic under his gaze. 

Jeonghan watched as the man moved his rook across the board.  He leaned forward, seeing now that the opponent’s king was unprotected.  Jeonghan moved his knight.  

“Checkmate.” 

Your timer clicked as you gently pressed the button.  The man across from you looked perplexed as the board was dominated by your pieces.  He figured that this would be an easy win for him, figuring that your university stacked the team so that Jeonghan would have an easier time winning.  He was wrong, and everyone else in the room would soon find out if he didn’t find a way to save his own ass and soon.  He moved his bishop across to prevent you from queening your pawn on your next turn.  His timer clicked.  No matter, that bishop was the last piece protecting his king from your rook.  

“Checkmate.” 

Your name was on everyone’s lips as you moved to your next table.  It was almost annoying, all you did was win one game against someone who needed a lot of practice in your opinion.  They could start whispering when you were at least in the semifinals.  If that first game was any indication on how the rest of the day would go it would be easy to get there.  You knew Jeonghan was faring well, because once people were done talking about you they were talking about him.  

You took your place on the white side of this board as you were at the table far before your next opponent.  Jeonghan watched you from his side of the room, smiling to himself that you won your first match.  He slipped a cigarette between his lips and brought his lighter to the end.  He dragged on his cigarette as he watched his next opponent take his seat.  

Jeonghan lost track of you at some point over the next several hours, as the matches became a bit more difficult he felt the need to focus.  While he wanted more than anything to know how the rest of the team was faring, he had to win.  This was his last chance, what no one knew was that he was declining the faculty advisor’s offer to continue his career after graduation.  He was getting his degree for a reason, and for him the reason was to move on from this part of his life.  So finishing with four consecutive collegiate championships under his belt would be great. Only problem here was, unfortunately, you.  

You beat Minghao again right before lunch.  Things were going incredibly well, much to your surprise.  Minghao shook your hand, his smile almost cracking his face.  The two of you walked toward the conference room where the complimentary lunch was set up.  Jeonghan and Wonwoo were already seated at a table in the corner. 

“The sophomore from Clempson” Wonwoo mumbled as Minghao and yourself joined them at the table.  

“What about him?” You asked as you reached for the water in the middle of the table.  

“Beat me in round four,” Wonwoo sighed, pushing his food around his plate.  

“Oh so you’re both out?” You looked between Minghao and Wonwoo, “What about you?” You asked, turning to Jeonghan. Jeonghan shook his head,

“I’m still in,” he turned to Minghao then, “Who got you?” In response, Minghao smirked and pointed a finger at you.  Jeonghan’s eyes followed in the direction he was pointing.  He tried not to smile and pushed away from the table. You don’t miss the roll of Minghao’s eyes as he watches Jeonghan walk out of the conference room.  

“I’ve heard about you,” your first opponent after the lunch break spoke over confidently as he sat down across from you.  “A girl at this competition is asinine.” 

“Well, I made it just as far as you so far,” you opened your notebook, “and I have heard nothing about you so might as well get this over with.”  You brought your eyes up to his, refusing to back down.  The man across from you scoffed at your bold reply.  

“God are all of you people from U of M like this?” He rolled his eyes, “A bitch and a bastard, you and Jeonghan.”  You could punch him, him and his smug face.  You bit your tongue to avoid getting yourself in trouble, if you didn’t beat him, Jeonghan certainly would.  

The match was quick, he was careless and sloppy, letting the delusion of confidence brought on by sexism carry him to a loss.  You thrusted out your hand for him to shake.  

“Thanks for the practice,” you smiled, glancing down at your hand.  He walked away without taking it.  You let your hand drop to your side, trying and failing to hide the fact that you were upset by his words.  

“This is my next table,” you heard Jeonghan’s unusually timid voice at your side.  

“Oh,” you shuffled to the side, “I’m sorry.” 

“What’s wrong?” He blinked at you, “Did you lose?” 

“No, obviously not,” you looked toward him.  

“Okay,” he chuckled, “then what happened?”

“He called me a bitch, and you a bastard.” You mumbled.  

“He called you what?” Jeonghan’s eyes wildly searched the room.        

“A bitch, but he also called you a bastard.” You reminded him.  

“Yeah, yeah,” he gestured vaguely, “that’s not the point.” 

“Drop it, no big deal, I knew this would happen,” you shook your head, “it always does.” With that, Jeonghan watched you walk toward another table. He sighed and sank down into the chair that you just vacated.  

Jeonghan was distracted for the rest of his matches, did he make you feel that way? He was sure he did, that first meeting you attended.  The difference was that he seemed to light a fire with his comment, whereas this asshole dampened your spirits.  Jeonghan could rip his face off, your confidence was one of the best parts of you.  

He sighed, moving his bishop across from his opponent’s king.  

“Check.” 

The man moved his king one space to the left.  This allowed Jeonghan to move his rook to trap the king.  

“Checkmate.” He muttered, raising from his seat, ignoring the other man’s outstretched hand.  He misses being challenged, namely by you, but he won’t admit that to himself just yet.  He wandered toward the front of the room, trying to waste time before his next table opened.  He caught sight of your concentrated face.  He leaned against the wall across from your table and watched the end of your match.  

You won, of course you won.  

“So your semi finals match against Ms. Y/L/N will start in 20 minutes at the table towards the front.” An official interrupted his thoughts.  

“What?” He tore his eyes away from you.  “Semi finals is this round?” 

“Yes, you and Ms. Y/L/N will begin in about 20 minutes,” he repeated gesturing to the table.  Jeonghan didn’t stick around to chat.  

“Y/N,” he snaked through people, “Y/N!” He caught your arm, and placed his hands on your shoulders.  He was smiling.  

“Jeonghan,” you nodded trying to ignore the feeling of electricity coursing through you.  

“We’re paired for the semi finals” 

“I am aware,” you smirked.  Your last match had given you the confidence to let your smug attitude reemerge.  

“Dove, please, nothing funny, just a straight up and down match,” he searched your eyes.  

“Oh, Jeonghan, this is too important.”

“Thank you, I agree,” he exhaled.  

“I need you to lose all on your own, not because I turn you on” 

You watched Jeonghan fiddle nervously with his fingers from across the table.  He was trying, and failing, to keep cool.  On the other hand, you kept eerily calm, you always prided yourself on your ability to seem unaffected by the situation at hand.  The breakdown earlier was a mistake you made in front of Jeonghan, one you wouldn’t be making again now.  

Once you were given the go ahead you began your opener.  Jeonghan felt his stomach drop watching your first several moves, you ditched the queen’s gambit, you weren’t playing safe.  He had no idea how to handle this.  You watched his fingers falter just slightly, you knew he was freaking out.  He might know your game well, but you knew him.  He was absolutely out of his depth.  

The two of you were well matched, eliminated participants gathered around your table.  People who didn’t know your name before today were watching in awe as you made moves that stunned even the man who’s name was on everyone’s lips before he even entered the building that morning.  

He knew you could play circles around him, that wasn’t the question anymore, he knew you were better than him.  That fact made him furious, and he had to figure out a way to beat you, and quickly because you pressed the button on your timer after claiming his second rook. His fingers twitched and he resisted the urge to make an uncalculated move. He could get a check right now, but he knows it’s flimsy and you could get out of it easily.  He settles for capturing your first bishop.  You always liked to use your bishop.

You calculated possibilities in your head, and then you saw it.  You dragged your queen to the center of the board, leaving Jeonghan no choice.  

“Checkmate,” you whispered, you weren’t sure if anyone but him heard you.  The moment seemed to freeze, you didn’t dare breathe, just in case Jeonghan shattered in front of you.  After what felt like an eternity he dragged his eyes from the queen to your wild eyes.   

He rose to his feet and walked out of the room wordlessly.  The crowd was silent as you watched him go.  Jeonghan Yoon, the reigning champion, was just defeated by a freshman, on his own team.  No one knew what to say.  You didn’t know what to say, in all honesty. You just sat there, watching the door, willing him to come back, but he never did.  

Minghao broke through the crowd and grabbed your shoulders.  

“You did it,” he breathed, “Come on.” He pulled you out of your chair. He congratulated you profusely as he held your hand and dragged you back to your room upstairs.  “Rest, recuperate, finals begin in a few hours.”

“Make sure he’s okay, Hao,” was all you could muster before closing the door and flopping yourself onto the bed.   

“Stop pacing, you're going to wear a rabbit trail into the floor,” Minghao muttered watching you continue your ruminations back and forth.  

“What if I lose?” 

“Then you lose, that doesn’t take away the fact that you made it this far, beating the reigning champion to do it.” He sighs.  You nodded, still not sure if you were okay with coming this far and losing.  Minghao watched your opponent approach finally and wrapped you into a hug, “Good luck,” he whispered into your hair before letting you go and taking his place in the crowd next to Wonwoo.  Jeonghan was still strikingly missing.   

You shook your opponent’s hand and took your seat.  The match started quickly, and rather unceremoniously.  It almost put your nerves at ease that there was no fanfare, just a straight up and down game just as you had been playing all day.  

The match quickly sucked you in, it was as if the rest of the room melted away.  The man across from you was good, almost as good as Jeonghan.  He was lucky that Jeonghan was paired with you in the semi finals, because you would have a different opponent right now if that weren’t the case.  However, this would end up working in your favor, you’ve never lost to Jeonghan, so why would you lose to someone worse?  

When you captured both of his knights he knew it was over, he didn’t let it show, but he knew.  He knew that you had dissected his game as you were playing him, which was the smartest strategy a player could use.  If you were smart enough to watch, learn and adjust as you were playing, you knew exactly what you were doing.  

He was almost honored when he heard you squeak, 

“Checkmate.” He held out his hand and you took it.  

“See you next year, Y/N” he smiled.  “Don’t expect it to be an easy rematch.” 

“I would never assume anything would be easy,” you smiled back at him, “thanks for the game.”  You turned back to the crowd for the first time since the match began.  Immediately you zeroed in on someone that wasn’t there when it started.  He was smiling widely.  The officials prevented you from leaving your table.  They spoke to you but none of it registered with you, you couldn’t take your eyes off of Jeonghan.  

“Smile,” he mouthed to you.  Camera flashes explained what he meant quickly, and you turned to smile at them while the officials were talking with reporters.  Eventually, everything settled down and you were able to find Jeonghan leaning against a wall near the window.  He once again had a cigarette lazily perched in his fingers.  

“You came,” you called to him as you approached.  His eyes lit up as he saw you and he reached out to smush the cigarette in a nearby ashtray.  

“Of course I did,” he wrapped his arms around you, “I’m sorry.” 

“What for?” 

“Girls not only can play chess, but they absolutely should, they’re smarter than all of us anyway.” You couldn’t help but laugh, the most freeing feeling after the insane day you had.  

“Finally, you see it!” 

“Oh shut up, we both know I’m stupid,” you didn’t even have time to agree before he was tilting your head up to give himself access to you.  He pressed his lips to yours, a continuation of the apology, showing everyone in the room how proud he was of you and not caring at all who sees anymore.  

[zeldalizzy]

You know what time it is?

(Yes, I did post this at exactly 4:00 P.M.)

But that's not the point!! It's time for another poll! This time, it's Four's turn. I actually... yeah, I've got no ideas for the poor guy. Please send help 😂 Obviously it will be a while before I get started on this one, but I want to send the poll out now so by the time I finish Hyrule, I can get started on Four!!

Thank you to everyone who has helped me brainstorm, voted, liked, reblogged, commented, and overall just supported this fun crossover series! It has been so helpful in helping me grow in both my artistic skills and confidence! Happy Holidays!! 🎄✨

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Christmas Shift | Bucky 🎄

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female! Reader

Prompt : We're doing a poor job hiding our relationship troubles at this family event. 

Part 1 : Holly Jolly Charade

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband on Kindle. 👉 Now available on e-Kindle Amazon! << here's the link.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

It’s two days before Christmas, and you decided to go back home.

Your hand moved slowly to close the apartment door. It felt like you were forgetting something. Last year, he would always double-check the door before locking it.

This Christmas could be the last one, you thought, sighing.

You were headed to your parent's home for Christmas this time—mainly because your annoying aunt Teresa wouldn’t be there. On the ride, it was usually just you and Bucky, who started as a fake couple but ended up in a real marriage.

But it seemed like the honeymoon phase was over. You and Bucky had just had a big argument, which led him to stay at a hotel for a few days. That’s why you were here alone.

Your mom, Robin, greeted you with a hug. “Did the company lock you up?” she asked with a smile. “I’m glad you’re here before the storm.” She helped you take off your coat. “Bucky’s already here.”

You widened your eyes in surprise. He’s here?

“He’s got a much more relaxed schedule than you,” she added casually.

After Bucky resigned from the company, he invested in drone cameras and outdoor equipment. Since his hobby was photography, it seemed like the perfect fit. He made a good decision and gained a lot of profit. His work was successful, but his schedule was much more laid-back than yours.

As you walked into the living room, you saw Bucky talking to your dad and your cousins. He noticed you and made his way over to you, offering a side hug.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’d rather be here than with my dad, who’s with his third wife, and my mom, who’s with her new boyfriend,” he whispered, his lips brushing your forehead.

You and Bucky were in the room, sitting on opposite sides of the bed. The distance between you both felt greater than it ever had before. The usual closeness you shared during Christmas wasn’t there. Both of you acted like everything was fine, but your parents noticed.

Robin, sensing the tension, quietly led you to the master bedroom. “What’s going on? It feels like there’s a wall between you two.”

You sighed, your hands nervously fidgeting with the hem of your sweater. “It’s…,” you hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “We…” You usually had the confidence to speak up at the company, but talking about your relationship with Bucky made your stomach knot.

On the other side of the house, your father was talking to Bucky in the living room. “Did you make a mistake with my daughter?”

Bucky looked at him, surprised. “How did you know?”

“Son, I’ve been married for 35 years. I would know. So, you did something,” your father said firmly, though not unkindly.

Bucky sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. “She wants a baby. I’m not ready.”

Your father’s brow furrowed. “Why’s that?”

Bucky’s voice softened, and his eyes looked distant. “Because I’m afraid. I don’t think I’ll be a good father. Look at my parents. You saw them at the wedding.”

Your father nodded, understanding the depth of his concerns. “Well… it’s complicated. But you’re you, not your father.” He placed his hand on Bucky's shoulder. “You're a good man for acknowledging your doubts. It's not a shame, son. Everyone feels nervous about being a parent.”

Meanwhile, in the master bedroom, Robin sat across from you, her hand resting gently on yours. “Listen, I know things aren’t easy right now, but you and Bucky can make it. There will be challenges ahead, but that doesn’t mean it’s the end. You’ve built something real together, and that counts for a lot.”

You looked at her, searching for the reassurance you needed. Robin gave you a small, encouraging smile. “You’ve both come this far. You’ll find a way through this too. Just remember, love isn’t perfect—it’s about sticking together, even when it’s hard.”

Later that evening, you finally found the courage to talk to Bucky. He was sitting on the couch, his arms crossed as he stared out the window. You walked up to him, and without saying a word, he pulled you into a tight embrace.

“I’m ready,” Bucky whispered into your hair, his voice low but steady. “I’m in it. If you’re in it.”

You held him tighter, your heart feeling lighter. “We’re doing a poor job hiding our relationship troubles at this family event.” You chuckled softly, pulling back just enough to look up at him.

He smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “Yeah, but we’ll figure it out. Together.”

And the next Christmas, both of you came home—this time, with a beautiful, giggling baby girl in your arms. Bucky and you became the best parents this baby girl ever had.

Taglist:

@thezombieprostitute

@mostlymarvelgirl

@scott-loki-barnes

@kjah97

@jeremyrennermakesmesmile

[crinosg]

Oh I know, I meant someone actually commented on one.

Thank you to everyone who has reblogged, comments or not.

[soul-eater-novel]

Suikoden I Soul Eater Light Novel Translation - Chapter 22!

For your reading pleasure and enjoyment, below the cut is the full rough English translation of chapter 22 of the official 1998 Suikoden I Soul Eater novel (volume 3 of 3). Individual page translations and original Japanese text can be found in the chapter 22 tag. As always, feedback on translations is welcome. Thank you so much to everyone for your support and your comments. They keep me going! Eventually I want to run a Kickstarter to officially license and print these books! Email me at rinuzuki@gmail.com if you're interested in helping plan this.

Chapter 22: The Man Who Chases the Night

A gentle, early summer breeze blew across Lake Toran. As the wind blew in through the window of Tir’s room, he was laying on his bed, gazing up at the blue sky. 

Four months had already passed since his battle with his father, Teo. After they defeated Teo’s units—the main force of the Imperial Army—there hadn’t been any other big battles, but a war was still raging in Tir’s heart. 

Just what is the Soul Eater?

He had been able to think of nothing else since Leknaat’s visit after the battle with his father. Even when he was training with his staff, even in the middle of military matters, even when he went out fishing with Yam Koo for a change of pace—all it took was him noticing one aching twinge of the rune on his hand to send his mind tumbling back to that question. 

Tir went around asking everyone he could think of. He started with Cleo, then the rune master, Jeane, and even Luc, Leknaat’s disciple who bore the True Wind Rune... but none of them knew anything about the Soul Eater. 

I only know two things for sure. One, the rune is cursed. Two, something strange happens to it each time someone dear to me loses their life. 

But these two facts brought him no closer to understanding the true nature of the rune, and his spirits failed to lift as the days passed. Gazing at the clear blue sky, Tir thought to himself, If I could leave on a journey right now, I’d try and look for clues about my rune. 

He took a breath and jumped up from his bed. Well, doesn’t hurt to try, right? he thought, and went to Mathiu’s room. 

There he found Mathiu, Lepant, Kasumi, Viktor, and Flik. The five of them were putting their heads together discussing something. 

“Heya, Tir! Perfect timing,” Viktor said, turning to him with a grin. He got up from his seat and stood next to Tir, smiling cheerfully. “We were actually just talkin’ about what to do next. Wanna go on a trip with us? Whaddya say?”

“A trip? Why?” Asked Tir, surprised by the sudden question. “What’s going on?”

“Lord Tir, the Liberation Army has already liberated the Great Forest and the Kunan region,” Lepant began by way of explanation. “For the moment, we have also taken back the Goran region, which Lord Teo’s forces had captured. Our strength grows by the day. If we can incite more revolts in other regions, the Imperial Army will focus their attention on putting those down.”

Mathiu continued, expanding on Lepant’s ideas. “We thought, for this purpose, it would be beneficial for us to spread the word in other regions about how we defeated Lord Teo, the strongest in the Empire. There’s no doubt that Lord Teo’s military might had everyone under the Empire’s thumb.”

Lepant spoke again. “Since we defeated Lord Teo, the Imperial Army is reorganizing. They are calling back their regional forces to put down the rebellions closer to the capital. This means that the Imperials have left many regions low on defense. So we’re thinking it’s best to seize on this gap in their armor to bring together rebel forces from many different regions into one force.” 

“Now we just need to decide where to go first.” This time it was Kasumi who spoke. “They say that, in recent days, the Imperial Army has completely withdrawn from the Lorimar religion in the southwest of Kunan. In the place of their army, it seems they have dispatched a single general to that area.” 

“And that general’s forces number how many?”

“None. The general is there alone.”

Flik crossed his arms. “Then what of the Lorimar Fortress?”

Lorimar Fortress was the name of the stronghold which straddled the upper reaches of the Dunan river that flows between the Lorimar and Kunan regions. 

Kasumi frowned. “The fortress was completely empty of soldiers, too. I went to see for myself. Not a single soul. But the weirdest part was that the graves for the fallen soldiers had all been disturbed.”

“Graves, eh?” Viktor rubbed his hand across his unshaven face. “How ‘bout it, Tir? A stronghold where all the graves’ve been messed with... everyone gone but the lone general... Lorimar’s sure fulla puzzles. Sounds like a pretty good adventure, don’t it?” 

“Mmh... but can I really go?” Tir hung his head, dejected. 

“Hear me out, Tir,” Flik chimed in. “In Lorimar, there’s this place called the Village of Warriors. Even the Empire recognizes their strength. See, in this village, all the men are warriors and all the women are mages. Ignoring all Viktor’s nonsense, if we could enlist the people of that village to the Liberation Army’s cause, they would make a powerful ally, don’t you think?” 

“You keep saying’ ‘they’ like they’re a buncha strangers.” Viktor butted in, grinning slyly. “Hey, Tir. Wanna hear somethin’ good? Flik’s actually from that very village of warriors. And his village has this very interesting ritual. To be recognized as a warrior, the men of the village gotta do this ceremony to become an adult, right? They go on a journey to make a name for themselves. Seems they can’t come back ‘till they’ve done somethin’ really noteworthy. And guess what? Till this day, Flik ain’t ever gone back...” 

“Put a sock in it!” Interrupted Flik, clearly riled. “I’m trying to go back now, aren’t I?!” 

He got up from his seat, pushed aside Viktor, and stood in front of Tir. “Come on, Tir. Let’s go. You gotta get some fresh air. Staying cooped up in the castle all the time is bringing you down, right?”

There was kindness in Flik’s voice. Tir lifted his eyes to look at his friend and saw a gentle smile on Flik’s face. But he hesitated before answering. 

I’m the leader of the Liberation Army. I can’t just leave the castle on a whim... 

Tir’s gaze shifted to Mathiu and he saw that the tactician was smiling, too. “Lord Tir, do not fret over us. The Empire does not even have the resources to launch an attack right now. Besides, as our leader, it is one of your duties to recruit new allies for the Liberation Army, is it not?” 

“Right! That’s that, then!” Viktor and Flik yelled at the same time, each thumping Tir on the shoulder. 

“Okay, hurry up and get ready, Tir! We leave tomorrow,” said Flik, already leaving the room himself at a brisk trot. 

“What, so soon?”

“Y’know what they say, gotta strike while the iron’s hot!” Viktor cackled gleefully, slipping past Tir, who was still reeling. 

Mathiu followed and called out, “I need to talk to you, Viktor!” 

Viktor turned on his heel and the pair went back to Mathiu’s rooms. 

Just as Tir was about to leave, Kasumi spoke his name softly.  “Lord Tir. It is good, sometimes, to take a trip and distance oneself from battle. Lorimar is beautiful this time of year.” 

“That’s true. I’ll be sure to keep my eyes open,” Tir replied absently on his way out. 

Maybe this is the perfect excuse to try to unravel the mystery of the Soul Eater. 

Tir’s hopes rose and his heart started to beat a little faster.

＊＊＊

The next day, Tir and the others took a boat from the castle docks, heading toward Kunan. The Lorimar region lay alongside the Kunan region, accessible via the Lorimar Fortress. Flik thought that, even on horseback, the trip would take about a week.

Tir’s guard was composed of Flik, Viktor, and Cleo. At first Tir had just planned to go with the two men, but Cleo asked to come along as well. Gremio and Teo’s deaths had left gaping holes in Tir’s heart, and he thought Cleo must be feeling similarly. So it was decided, in the end, that the four of them would go together to Warrior’s Village. 

They docked at the town of Teien off Lake Toran and offloaded their horses and cargo. Once they had everything ready, they left the town. Galloping across the fields, Tir saw what Flik had meant—the wind here felt different than at the castle.

Is it summer already…? 

This was the first time he had visited Kunan in the four months or so since the battle with his father, Teo. A pleasant, early summer wind blew here, laden with the scent of grass. The field at Scarleticia Castle that had run dark with blood during the battle now burst with fresh life, looking like a completely different place. 

As they continued their journey, traveling across the wide fields, camping outside, sitting around the fire, Cleo and Tir both slowly began to smile again. Maybe this change was due to the warm, pleasant weather, or maybe it was thanks to Viktor and Flik’s easygoing, amiable company. 

During their trip, Tir asked Flik more about Warrior’s Village. Flik told him that the mayor of the village was a man named Zorak, unrivaled with the sword, but also unmatched in his love of chatting endlessly. He also told him that once a man of the village was recognized as an adult, he could give his sword a name. Tir asked Flik what he had named his sword, but the older man just smiled sadly and didn’t answer. 

It took four days to cross the Kunan region on horseback. They passed through Lorimar Fortress, eerily empty, and continued on for three days. At last, the four arrived at Warrior’s Village. 

Nestled in lush greenery, the village felt quiet. Simple huts with straw-thatched roofs dotted the village. A clanging sound came from somewhere, perhaps a blacksmith at work. The four travelers felt their hearts relax in this peaceful environment. 

Feeling the evening breeze on his skin, Flik looked around the quiet village and let out a big sigh of relief. Maybe happy to be back in his hometown after so long, a smile played on his lips. “All right, first things first! Let’s go give the mayor a visit.”

Flik strode forward, the wind pushing his blue cape out behind him. Tir followed after, then Viktor, and Cleo came last. Flik walked through the village square and went straight to the large house on the left. He knocked on the door. 

“Mayor Zorak?” he called out. But there was no reply. 

“Is the mayor in?” Flik tried once more, but, again, no reply came. “No good, looks like he’s not home.”

“Flik, wait.” Cleo held a finger to her lips. 

Listening closely, they could hear the sound of someone muttering inside the house and clattering noises as if someone were ransacking the place, searching for something. 

“Hey.” Viktor whispered, pointing at the door. Flik nodded. He turned the doorknob and cautiously pushed the door open. It swung open slowly, hinges creaking. Peering through the gap, they saw a solidly built middle-aged man moving from room to room in a blind panic. Lost in his search, it seemed the man hadn’t heard Flik. 

“I’ll show you to look down on the Warrior’s Village, Neclord...!” they heard the man hiss. 

“What did you just say?!” Viktor cried in shock. 

“Viktor?” 

But Viktor ignored Tir and barged into the house. “Hey, old man! Did you just say ‘Neclord’?!”

“What the—?! Who the devil are you?!” The man stopped rummaging in his closet and turned to Viktor, a fierce glint in his eye. He had an eyepatch over one eye, his face covered in scars from sword wounds. It was Mayor Zorak. 

The mayor looked ready for battle. He wore a crimson cape, a dark green breastplate, and golden knee plates. His very expression brimmed with the dignity befitting the mayor of a village of warriors. 

To everyone’s astonishment, Viktor lashed out at the mayor, completely out of control. The man in front of them now bore no resemblance to their easy-going friend. 

“Shuddup! I’m the one askin’ questions here! Answer me! What do you know about Neclord?!”

Tir and the others rushed to pull Viktor away from Zorak. 

“What’s come over you, Viktor? Calm down.” Cleo spoke to him in soothing tones while Viktor continued to glare at the mayor. 

Something big must have happened to shake Viktor up this badly. 

Tir moved to stand in front of Zorak. “I am Tir McDohl, leader of the Liberation Army. My sincerest apologies for entering your house so suddenly and without permission. We meant no offense.”

Zorak’s remaining eye widened in surprise, then narrowed to look at Tir more closely. “What? Leader of the...? Well, this is a surprise.” He smiled good-naturedly. “I am Zorak, mayor of this village. Word of your activities have reached us even here. You honor me greatly by coming all this way to visit.” 

A little embarrassed by how politely Zorak spoke to him, Tir was at a loss as to how to reply. But Zorak looked past Tir, noticing Flik for the first time. 

“Oho! Why, if it isn’t Flik! Have you returned to our village to present your achievements?” His tone changed completely from the one he had used with Tir to a much stricter way of speaking. 

Flik wilted a little under Zorak’s gaze, but answered. “N-no, sir. That’s not why I’m here. I thought I would give you a report on what I hope to achieve, which is still in progress.” 

“Hmm. Well, in that case, get on with it, boy. Spit it out.”

“Mayor, you spoke of a Neclord just now. Who is that? It seems my colleague here is an acquaintance of his...”

“Acquaintance, my ass! I’m no friend of that bastard’s.”

Glancing over at Viktor’s outburst, Zorak agreed. “Mmh. It seems this gentleman does have some connection to Neclord. Let us discuss this matter in more detail.”

The mayor led them to the living room. They sat on the sofa, and Zorak began to speak, the words tumbling out in a rush. “This tale brings me great shame, but please hear me out. It was about three months ago that a new general, Neclord, first came here to rule over this region. In the beginning, our village was an ally of the Scarlet Moon Empire. If you follow the records back to Solar year twenty, Klift the Crusader...” 

“Mayor...” Flik hastened to intervene. “We’re not here for a history lesson. We would like to know about Neclord, please.”

“R-right. Of course. Neclord moved into this area and cast a terrible spell. He turned all of our dead into zombies and skeletons... undead monsters.”

“Ah, I see.” Cleo nodded. “That’s one mystery solved.”

The disturbed graves at Lorimar must have been the result of Neclord raising his forces. 

His gaze earnest, Zorak went on. “Neclord took the old castle in the southeast for his base and now he has begun using his army of undead to terrorize the neighboring villages. He made the villages hand over their young women. Our own daughters...!”

“Yep, that’s his M.O., all right,” Viktor grumbled. 

Zorak’s face suddenly clouded in frustration. “Neclord demanded the same of our village. I had to give him my own daughter, Tengaar. On our pride as the Warrior’s Village, we fought back... but Neclord used his powerful magic and defeated us.” 

“Yeah, that’s how it goes with him.” Viktor shut his eyes, scrubbing his hands along his scruffy stubble. 

For a moment, no one spoke. Flik broke the silence to ask, “So what became of Tengaar?”

“She was abducted, like all the rest! But the Warrior’s Village will not let it end like this!” Zorak roared, jumping to his feet. “I was just preparing to storm his castle and take back our daughters and our pride. Tomorrow I will march with fifty hand-picked warriors to attack. We’ll capture Neclord and wring his neck!”

Viktor sighed loudly, stopping Zorak in his tracks. He looked straight at them and said bluntly, quietly, “Yeah, it ain’t gonna work.” 

His words were met with shocked silence. Zorak raised his voice. “Wh-what?! Explain yourself, sir!”

“Like I said, it ain’t gonna work.” Viktor drawled in his usual laid-back way of speaking. “You attack Neclord by any normal means, you’re just sendin’ your men to an early grave for no damn reason.”

Zorak grabbed him. “You dare mock the warriors of this village?! Your insolence knows no bounds, sir!”

Flik and Tir hurriedly got between the two and pacified the older man. The mayor glared daggers at Viktor for a while in loathing, but eventually spoke again. “My apologies for getting worked up. However, Lord Viktor, why ever would you say that we cannot bring down this enemy?”

“Mr. Mayor, Zorak...” Viktor replied, his voice soft. “I understand how frustrated you must be feelin’, havin’ your daughter abducted like that. But you gotta understand. Neclord ain’t a creature you can defeat by any normal means of attack. It’s best ya just think of him as a impossibly powerful opponent.”

“Yes, of course we realize how powerful he is. That is why we—”

Viktor once again interrupted the mayor with a loud sigh. “That’s not what I’m sayin’. Neclord ain’t human. The power of his rune turned him into a vampire. That’s why normal weapons won’t even scratch him.”

“What?!”

“You need somethin’ special to bring that bastard down. Beats me what that something is, but until you find a weapon that’ll have an effect on him, no point in rushin’ in.” 

“I see...” Zorak stared at the floor. “I had no idea, Lord Viktor. I apologize for losing my temper. Please forgive me.”

“S’all good. You’re worried about your daughter, ain’tcha? It was me who got bent outta shape first.” Viktor smiled, looking oddly forlorn. “By the by, you know anywhere we could get our hands on a weapon that’ll defeat a vampire? Since you’re the mayor of the Warrior’s Village an’ all, figured you’d know a thing or two ‘bout weapons.”

“Hmm...” Zorak hummed in thought. “While I do not know of a specific weapon, there is a temple to the west of here. Qlon Temple. They are said to be miracle workers. Especially for those who have troubles with runes—knock on their gates, and they may offer you an answer in the form of a divine revelation...”  

“What did you say?!” Now it was Tir’s turn to shout in surprise. 

Troubles with runes! That’s me! I’ve got those!

Staring at Tir, Zorak continued. “It may sound odd, but that is what the rumors say. If it was a rune that turned Neclord into a vampire, then they may be able to tell us a method of defeating him.” 

“Qlon Temple, got it!” Viktor practically leapt out of his chair. “Okay, I’m gonna go check it out. I’ll head there, and if there’s a weapon that’ll defeat Neclord, I’ll find it and bring it back.”

“But I couldn’t possibly wrap you all up in this—it isn’t your battle to fight...”

“It’s okay, Mayor Zorak.” Tir jumped to his feet, too. “The Liberation Army was formed in order to free people from the misrule of the Empire. If this Neclord is harassing you, then it is our duty to fight him and put a stop to it. Please, allow us to travel to Qlon Temple on your behalf.” 

“Lord Tir...” Zorak let out the breath he had been holding. “Of course. Thank you so much. We will continue our preparations for the raid on Neclord’s castle, and will await your return.”

“‘Sides, I’ve got a private score to settle with Neclord,” Viktor growled almost to himself, his tone brooking no argument.  

***

Their next course of action was decided. They would depart for Qlon temple in the morning. Zorak let them stay at his house that night. The four travelers were able to eat a meal and rest their bodies, exhausted after their travels.

Though he was getting a little tired of the mayor’s chatter, Tir did enjoy the tour he gave them of family heirlooms—weapons, armor, and other artifacts—passed down through the generations. And so the night deepened. 

Flik came back from meeting up with old childhood friends and, at long last, everyone climbed into their beds. Wrapped up in his warm blankets, Tir listened to the sound of the wind blowing outside the window and thought. 

If I go to Qlon Temple, maybe I’ll learn something about the Soul Eater.

Once again, he began pondering the nature of the rune on his right hand. 

Creak...

He heard the quiet creak of floorboards. Listening closely, he heard footsteps walking over to the window, where moonlight flooded in, and then a big sigh. Viktor stood at the window, looking at the moon, which had risen high in the sky.

“What’s up, Viktor?” Tir got out of bed and went over to stand at the window with him. Standing in the moonlight, Viktor’s expression looked sorrowful, somehow.

“What’s up with you, Tir? Can’t sleep?”

“Yeah, guess so.”

Of course, Tir was worrying over the Soul Eater. But since they came to this village and met the mayor, he had gained yet another worry to add to his list. Viktor, who knew so much about Neclord. Viktor, who turned into a completely different person when it came to the subject of Neclord. 

What in the world has he been through?

“Hey, Viktor. How do you know so much about Neclord, anyhow?”

Viktor’s sharp gaze met his, like a knife to the stomach. “You really wanna know?”

“I... think so...” Tir faltered. Staring back into Viktor’s eyes, Tir recalled that Viktor had never spoken a word about his own past. Not a word. Not when they first met, not during all their travels together, not even when they fought at each other’s backs.

“Tell me, Viktor,” Tir commanded, still looking him straight in the eye. 

“All right... but you asked for it.” 

Sighing wearily, Viktor began his tale. 

He had come from the City-States of Jowston—that age-old enemy of the Scarlet Moon Empire. Born and raised in North Window village in the south of the city-states. 

One night, when he was twenty-one years old, Viktor had gone to a neighboring village to buy something. But when he returned to North Window, he found his home utterly changed. Fires burned throughout the village. As he made his way through the town, his ears were filled with the moans of the suffering, and even covering his nose, his nostrils still filled with the stench of rotting flesh. Treading carefully, he returned home… to find his family had been turned to zombies, and were eating each other’s flesh. 

He was shaken to his core. The villagers-turned-zombies swooped down on him. Amid his tears and his rage, he swung his sword, chopping down zombies in droves. 

That was when Neclord appeared before him. Purple hair oiled and slicked back, his face as pale as a corpse. The man’s lips twisted in an unpleasant, condescending smile. His long, skeleton-thin body was clad in pitch-black formal attire and a cape, black on one side and crimson on the other. He leered at Viktor and declared, “It was I who turned your friends and family into zombies.”

Unable to contain his rage, Viktor stabbed Neclord. But being a vampire, Viktor’s attacks had no effect. Instead, he himself was driven nearly to death’s door. 

“And that’s when my journey to hunt down Neclord began...” finished Viktor, still looking up at the moon. 

“I’m so sorry, Viktor...” Tir mumbled, dropping his gaze to the floor. “I had no idea...”

He understood how painful it was to recall these kinds of memories and felt bad for making Viktor talk about his troubled past. But Viktor’s usual carefree manner returned and he spoke to Tir kindly. “S’okay. Was thinkin’ I’d have to tell you about it someday, anyway. ‘Bout time I found the bastard, eh?”

The ghost of a smile twisting up the corners of his mouth, Viktor ruffled Tir’s hair, making a bird’s nest of it. “Get some rest, kiddo. I’m gonna look at the moon a while longer.” 

“Okay, Viktor...”

Tir padded across the wooden floor and climbed back into his bed. Viktor eventually got under his own blankets. Tir fell asleep listening to him sigh. 

*** Table of Contents

★ Chapters 0-1 ★ Chapters 2-3  ★ Chapters 4-5  ★ Chapters 6-7  ★ Chapters 8-9 ★ Chapters 10-11  ★ Chapters 12-13  ★ Chapters 14-15 ★ Chapters 16-17 ★ Chapters 18-19 ★ Chapter 20-21

«-first // archive // Ramsus-kun Scanslations

[morningnoodles]

my sole entry for bagginshieldtober 2024. fix it version of the ending under the cut ✿

big shoutout to @acorn-and-oakleaves for hosting this year's bagginshieldtober!! come join us on discord, folks (❁´◡`❁)

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Transferrable Skills Part 7

Transferrable Skills Masterlist

Read on AO3

CW: Smut, 18+/MDNI, CMNF (clothed male naked female), continued hamstring stretches (advised by the appropriate medical professional), praise, kissing, manual stimulation/fingering, touching under clothes, explicit consent, dirty talk

The noise you make would be embarrassing if you couldn’t feel the effect it has on him, see the way his pupils almost swallow his irises. With your calves over one shoulder, he pulls your underwear clear. You expect him to toss them aside, but instead, he places them down gently next to your hip.

Then, he parts your legs to let the left one fall back to drape over his leg. Your your face gets hot when you hear how wet you are. Simon makes an interested noise, getting your left leg back into position as he pets lightly over the hair you’d thankfully groomed before your trip. His thumb dips down to just barely brush over the hood of your clit.

“Already so wet f’ me,” he rumbles. “Set your hips. Good girl.” As he straightens your leg, he shifts his own hips and makes room for his hand between you. The breath hisses out of him when his fingers slide across where you’re wet and wanting. “Fuck. Tell me you want it.”

“I want it,” you whimper, resisting the urge to roll your hips into the barely there touch. “Green. Green, Simon, please, I want it.”

He doesn’t make you ask again, just lets a thick finger sink in ever so slowly. His thumb rubs soft and slow, using your wetness to glide gently over your clit. You try not to moan too loudly, to hear the way he huffs into the side of your calf. For once, he’s not staring at you. Instead, his eyes are closed, breaths shallow as his finger pulses inside of you, almost metronome steady.

The heat that’s been pooling in your belly spills into the rest of your body. You can’t help but squeeze around him, once. He’s so gentle that you can feel yourself soften and open for him, until the friction is nothing but the shivery, slow ascent toward your peak. You don’t resist the urge to tip your head back with a soft sound.

After a few long moments, you flutter your eyes open. When you look at Simon, you notice the slightest tremble in his shoulders. His head is tipped down, but you can see tension in his neck, though there’s only the lightest pressure where his temple meets the leg that is still over his shoulder.

You touch the top of his thigh, surprised by how rigid he’s holding himself. “Simon?”

“Mm?” His voice is just as soft as his muscles aren’t.

Your voice comes out just as quiet. “You okay?”

The hum he gives you is noncommittal. But he keeps petting you inside and out, steady and distracting. Three fingers on his other hand tap two times. He needs some time to think, to center himself.

Did you do something to upset him? You try to sit up to speak to him. Before you can get an elbow under yourself, he squeezes his fingers toward each other, a sudden, staggering pressure that makes you fall back with a yelp. You try to twist away, but as gentle as he is, you can’t break his hold on your leg - or between your legs.

“Settle,” he rumbles, pinning you with a heated look from beneath his lashes. He starts petting over your raised thigh. “’M okay, Bambi. Ready?”

You almost say yes. Your whole body wants nothing more but to melt into him. But… “A-are you sure?”

“’F course,” His whole face softens when he smiles. “Mos’ beautiful woman in the world ‘s in bed wi’ me. Tryin’ no’ to mess my pants like a green boy.”

You end up swallowing whatever you might say to that when he curls his thick finger back up to make quick, hard strokes against your g-spot. Even as a part of you starts purring with the knowledge that he’s so undone for you, you feel yourself start to come apart at the seams.

Simon straightens your leg, asking, “Number?” Which isn’t fair of him. You have to consciously resist the building tension in your body, resist chasing the orgasm that is building ever so slowly.

“Number, Bambi,” he prompts you again, with mean pressure over your clit.

He’s barely putting any strain on your leg, just holding your it up. “Two,” you gasp. “One and a half.”

He leans forward, just a fraction, with a grin. “Now?”

“Three-ee!” you yelp as his fingers speed up.

He holds you there, watching as you struggle to relax into the stretch. Each time you start to tense into the pleasure, he slows his ministrations, just a little. Just enough to pull you back from the edge. You want to curse him out, you want to cry. It’s agony just as much as a reward, a slow syrupy pleasure that makes everything a little fuzzy around the edges.

“Doin’ so good, Bambi,” he rumbles, what you suspect is much longer than 30 seconds later. “Ready for the other one?”

You give into the urge to arch your back as he adjusts you. Your voice is so soft you’re not sure he’ll hear you when you ask, “C’n I have more?”

Simon hums as he adjusts you to drape your other calf over his shoulder. “Ask me nice.”

Your whole body feels warm and soft and pliant. “Please, Simon, can I have another finger?”

“’F course,” he coos. He straightens your leg. It’s the barest hint of pressure. You whine as his finger withdraws, then settle when he pets at you with two. “Askin’ so nice. C’n ‘ave whatever you want.”

He pushes in, slowly, before he adjusts your leg, and you’re grateful. His hands are so large, and you appreciate them in a new way, now. His fingers are so thick you have to take a few deep breaths to let him in fully. You can feel the groan that scrapes its way out of his chest. Your own hands seek his thighs, clenching the cloth of his sweatpants in a shaky fist as he pushes your leg where it needs to go.

He doesn’t seem to need your input this time, pushing your leg just to where you need it. Or maybe he did ask, but you’re too focused on the gentle and implacable way he caresses you inside to hear him. He barely has to move to devastate you. Before, you had to try not to tense around him. Now? You’re not sure you have any command over your body. You’re at his mercy, the most serene you’ve ever been.

You can’t stop the noises you make when he starts moving again, little whines and moans that he echoes. The climax that has been building inches closer with every beat of his fingers. When he sets your leg back down, you only notice because he leans forward to brace his hand next to your shoulder.

“Good girl,” he rumbles, and the hand between your legs gets so insistent that you have to gasp for breath. “Good girl, Bambi. Tha’s it. You wan’ to come, pretty girl?”

“Si-mon,” you hiccup, turning your head to mouth at his wrist.

“Yeah, you wan’ it,” he rumbles, ducking down to pant against your cheekbone as he works his hand. “You c’n ‘ave it, beautiful, take your reward. Come f’ me, now. C’mon.”

Before Simon, you’d never been able to come on command. After a few months, his voice could coax you to you peak with a little preparation. Now, with his lips brushing your skin and his presence filling your senses?

You couldn’t resist him if you wanted to.

The orgasm feels like it’s torn from behind your belly button. You can barely breathe for how it rolls through you. If Simon wasn’t caging you in, you might shake apart. As it is, you grasp at him however you can, trembling and crying out in ways you’re barely aware of. His voice anchors you through it, rasped encouragement and snarled affection that you can’t understand.

It takes all of your strength to turn your head to catch his lips with yours. Simon takes over, immediately, perfectly, and you give in to him with a panting moan. He steals your remaining breath, but also starts to gentle you down, hand and fingers gentling from earth-shattering movement to something so slow and gentle that your hips chase the echoes of sensation. He lets you. The way he kisses you, you think he really would give you anything you want.

[virgothozul]

Jsdcbbccbhcb !! Merci !! tant de personnes ont réagi au précédent post en français ahahahah 🤣 c’est incroyable ! je ne m’attendais pas à tant de réactions merci merci ! Thank you everyone for the attention on my last post !!!

This is when Miles drops at the police station like a prince, a whole year later, nonchalant about his hiatus. And Phoenix is most likely losing his 💩 3 feet away.

[topsyturvy-turtely]

Love at First Pride 💜

Johnlock fic for the may prompts hosted by @calaisreno <3 (31st may)

summary:

John just recently discovered he is bi. So this is his first Pride Parade. And then this tall, attractive man catches his eye and he promptly falls in love.

[based on a true experience by the author]

Teen And Up Audience, 892 Words, Fluff. Alternative First Meeting, Pride Parades, Bisexual John Watson, Mike Stamford the proudest straight ally, Gay Sherlock Holmes, Genderqueer Sherlock Holmes, Love at First Sight, POV John Watson, POV Third Person, Meet-Cute, they are in their 20s, Brief Mention of Alcohol and Weed

tags under the cut!

tag list! (tell me if you wanna be added or removed please 💚) @justanobsessedpan @helloliriels @catlock-holmes @fluffbyday-smutbynight @inevitably-johnlocked @hisfavouritejumper @rhasima @forfucksakejohn @ohlooktheresabee @turbulenttrouble @so-youre-unattached-like-me @totallysilvergirl @peanitbear @train-mossman @loki-lock @smulderscobie @timberva @grace-in-the-wilderness @chinike @jawnn-watson @whatnext2020 @escapingthereality @missdeliadili @kettykika78 @musingsofmyown @7-percent @speedymoviesbyscience @astudyin221b @francj15 @ladylindaaa @we-r-loonies @mxster-jocale @sherlockcorner @noahspector @our-stars-graveside @jobooksncoffee @baker-street-blog @macgyvershe @myladylyssa @battledress @a-victorian-girl @dreamerofthemeadow @oetkb12 @ohnoesnotagain @mutedsilence @jawnscoffee @raenchaosandcozyadashofmurder @lisbeth-kk @quickslvxrr @compact-and-beautiful @kabubsmagga