#the icing on the cake is i reblogged this from my brother

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unwanted 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, bullying, insults, body insecurity, perversion, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You're used to being unwanted, but a strange man might just convince you that's a good thing.

Note: this is a sequel to Unsolicited/Unexpected, but with a different reader. This is Lloyd's sequel. Peaches is flourishing somewhere else.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You keep behind your brother a he marches through the mall. If you walk beside Derrick, he’ll be sure to elbow you away and if you get ahead of him, he’ll think you’re trying to prove something. Anything but out of sight is incorrect. 

That’s the way it goes in your family. Your brother is the chosen one. He’s perfect, but you, you’re a disaster. You’re a nuisance. Unwanted. 

“God, stop dragging your feet,” he snarls over his shoulder. “If we’re late, I’m going to tell dad it’s your fault.” 

“I’m going,” you go faster but he easily outpaces you. 

“And if they’re out of stock, it’ll be your fault too,” he spits. “I don’t even know why they sent you with me. Probably to get a break from you.” 

Probably. You can’t disagree. Your parents are no more fond of you than your brother. No one really is. Who would be? You’re thirty and you still live at home. Pathetic. Useless. Everything they say is true. 

You’re out of breath as you enter the department store. It’s one of the upscale ones with the overpriced throw pillows and the store brand merchandise. Derrick turns left even as you glance right towards the beauty department. 

“Um, Derrick?” You shuffle after him. “I think the perfume is--” 

“Shut up,” he sneers. 

You obey. It’s easier to let him figure it out on his own, even if in the end, he’ll be mad at you for not telling him either. That’s just how it is. You can’t do anything right. 

He wanders through the men’s clothing and comes almost full circle before he finds the fragrance desk. He growls and you don’t miss the glare he sends in your direction. You linger behind once more as he steps up to the desk and slaps the bell. 

“Yo, anyone here work?” He hollers. 

You shrink down in embarrassment. If only you could make yourself small. You’ve never been that. Curvy at best, chunky some might say, fat in your mother’s words. 

“About time,” Derrick huffs as a woman in a black turtleneck appears behind the glass counter. “Yeah, I’m here to pick up a bottle of... hold on.” He takes out his phone and taps around, mumbling as he scrolls. “I just had it... where the fuck--” He sniffs in frustration, “what the fuck kind is it?” 

He turns to bark at you and you flinch. You glance around as other customers pause to look at his rising voice. You push your shoulders up and gulp. 

“White Ice,” you say. You can see the gleaming bottle your mother forbade you from ever touching. You never had the courage to tell her it stinks to high heavens. 

“Yeah, what she said,” he spins back. 

“Oh, well, I think we might have a few bottles. The holidays are a bit chaotic,” she chimes. 

“Whatever,” he mutters. 

He follows her to the end of the counter and around to the shelves. You stay where you are. The blend of scents is a bit too much, you don’t need to wade any closer. 

You busy yourself by perusing the promotional shelf of beauty samplers. Body spray, lip balms, even hand lotion. You lean in to figure out what those little metal containers are. 

“Damn, look at the dump truck on you,” a man chortles heartily at the disgusting remark as it leaves his lips. “That’s not a peach, that’s a damn three-tiered cake.” 

You don’t react. You tend to block out the general public. They often to the same to you. 

“Hey, sugar stack,” a hand falls onto the top of the shelf before you and you stand straight. You gape at the man who leans on one foot and smirks at you, “I’m talking to you, or can you not hear me over that extra cushion? You need me to push it outta the way?” 

“Excuse me,” you utter. “Do I... know you?” 

“Nah, but you can get to know me,” he snickers. “Gimme a hint, huh,” he wiggles his finger towards your coat, “does the balcony match the basement?” 

You stare at him dumbly. He can’t mean... that. It’s gross. Disgusting. And not very flattering. You know what he’s doing, he’s making fun of you. 

“No thanks,” you turn away and fold your arms. 

“Where’re ya goin’? I’m just gettin’ to know ya, baby?” He trails after you as you search around for your brother. “Come on, I know you don’t wanna go back to that jerk you were following around. Jackass barely looks at you, does he?” 

You shake your head and keep going. You stop as you see your brother. He has a bottle in his hand and a scowl on his face. Even he knows it isn’t the right perfume but the associate is doing her best to sell him the substitute. 

“Really? You’re gonna ditch me for that jackwad,” the stranger scoffs. 

“He’s my brother,” you mutter. 

“Ah, that explains it. Even better reason for you not to both. Come on. Let’s get outta here and you can rest those legs,” he grabs your arm and spins you back to him. “I even got a nice seat for you to sit on.” 

He licks two fingers and smooths his mustache. You curl your lip. Oh god. He has nice enough eyes and his hair is tidy, but the lines around his eyes and in his forehead give him about a decade on you at least. Besides, the way he talks is nasty.  

You might not have many options but nothing is sometimes better than anything. Not much more or less than what you already have. You shake your head, “no, thank you, sir.” 

You turn your back to him again and tug your arm away.  

“Sir? Oh, say it again, jello jugs,” he purrs, “I like the way those lips sound around it. Oh, wait, wait, try Lloyd. Yeah, I wanna hear you say my name--” 

“Stop,” you hurry away but he’s quick. “Please, leave me alone.” 

“You should be thanking me with a wide load like you got. I mean, look at me, sweet cheeks. I’m a ten. Eleven if we’re being honest about it,” he taunts. “You really wanna hang out with baby boy brother or you wanna go with a real man and see how he can make you shake--” 

“I said leave me alone,” you hiss over your shoulder. “Or my brother will tell you himself.” 

“Pfft, alright, sweetheart, you really think I’m afraid of that bitch boy?” He scoffs. “Fine, you go one, hide behind big brother. All alone. Unlicked.” 

You stop short and peek back at him. He sticks his tongue out lewdly and you shudder. You blink at him then twirl back to your course. 

You reach your brother as he snarls at the associate, “stop wasting my time. You either got it, or you don’t.” 

“I’m sorry, sir--” 

“Save it!” He puts his palm in her face and turns to you, “come on, let’s get outta here. Fuck. Dad’s gonna be pissed.” 

You move out of his way and let him go ahead. You scurry at his heels and keep your head down. That man looms, pretending to look at the perfume rollers. You ignore him as you wring your hands. 

He isn’t wrong. You don’t get much attention from men. None, actually. Yet, his isn’t welcome. His makes you feel worse somehow. Dirty. Wrong. 

You just want to forget about him. You’re certain you will soon enough. With the mood Derrick is in, your parents won’t be much better. 

[holylulusworld]

Let's hunt Nessie

Summary: You came for bones. Dean wants to go on a special hunt.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x GN!Reader

Characters: Sam Winchester

Warnings: fun, crack!fic

“Now that we have the dusty bones of good old Crowley, can we go sightseeing? I’ve never been to Scotland before.” You excitedly clap your hands, giddy to play tourist for one day. “Right, Sammy. You want to explore Scotland and its mysteries too.”

Sam nods. He found this old library, and he’d love to explore it some more. Dean insisted on getting Crowley’s bones as fast as possible and Sam didn't have much time to look at the books.

“We are going back to Lebanon. No detours.” Dean shakes his head. He’s done with Scotland, the left-hand traffic, and the piss (his words) they call beer. “I want beer, my baby, and to sleep for a fucking week after getting in an airplane twice!”

“But—” You pout and fake a sob. “I want to go and explore Scotland! Let’s visit Stonehenge, the National Museum of Scotland, and Loch Ness!” You count all the places you always want to visit in Scotland. “Maybe we'll see Nessie too!”

“Nessie?” Dean cocks a brow. He had heard that name before but forgot its origin. “What’s a Nessie?” The hunter puts Crowley’s bones in a pillowcase and huffs. “We don’t have time to try out a fancy ice cream or another cake monstrosity.”

“Dude,” you snort at Dean’s comment. “Did you never hear of the monster of Loch Ness before? It’s famous, Dean.”

Dean slowly turns his head to look at his brother. He furrows his brows, his mouth falling open.

“Sammy, why didn’t you tell me there’s a monster nearby? We are not on a vacation!” Dean walks toward the rented car, stopping in his tracks to curse. “Crap, we don’t have guns!”

“Dean!” You laugh when the hunter starts pacing back and forth. “DEAN!”

“Just a minute,” he says and raises his hand. “I have to find a weapon.” He turns back around and looks at Sam. “Wait! Sammy! Scotland has lots of castles, right?”

“Uh—sure.” Sam nods, unsure what his brother is up to. “Why are you asking?”

“Castles were protected by knights,” Dean hums to himself. “Knights had swords and battle axes.” His eyes grow wide, and he grins. “Oh! OH! Sonofabitch! They had ball and chain flails and morning stars too!”

“I don’t know what you’re getting at, Dean.” Sam rubs his tired eyes. “We should head out. I don’t want to get caught with Crowley’s bones in our hands.”

“No, no, Sammy! We have to find a castle first and get all the weapons,” Dean stops his brother from turning his back on the battle Dean wants to fight. “After we got the weapons, we are ready to fight that monster.”

You gape at Dean. So far, you believed he tried to make fun of you or crack a joke. But he seems to be adamant about hunting Nessie down. “Dean, you can’t hunt Nessie!”

“Why not?” He cocks his head. “It’s a monster. We hunt monsters. Do not try to stop me only because we are not residents of Scotland.”

You snort. Sam chuckles.

“What’s so funny, Sammy? Did you lose your mojo on the flight? Don’t you want to hunt a monster? I could use a good fight.” Dean cracks his knuckles and looks your way. “What about you, Y/N?”

“Dean, I never say no to a hunt, but,” you snicker and hold your stomach. “No one knows for sure if Nessie exists. It’s a mythos, a legend. Nothing else. You can’t hunt an enemy that doesn’t exist for real.”

“And we won’t break into a castle to steal antique weapons,” Sam sternly says. He points his index finger at Dean to stop him from arguing. “Let’s leave Nessie and its legend alone. If it’s going to cause trouble, we can always come back.”

Dean sighs and pouts. All he wanted was to hunt a monster down.

“Well, if you’re up to it,” you say, “we can visit the Scotch Whiskey Experience in Edinburgh.”

Dean’s eyes light up. He licks his lips and slowly nods. “You’re going to buy me the most expensive whiskey if you forbid me to hunt Nessie.”

Tags in reblog.

[hisunshiine]

—so break me off another night [4/7]

Part 4 of 7 of the Seven Days Series ↣ series masterlist

🗓️pairing: nurse!jungkook x teacher!reader 🗓️au/genre: non-idol au, brother’s friend au, fwb, age-gap(reader is older), f2l, fluff, angst, smut 🗓️rating: M 🗓️wc: 3,596 + text messages 🗓️warnings: emotionally constipated pairing, reader is older, adult worries, growing older, dating younger, time passing and not hitting milestones everyone else is, biological clock ticking woes, angsty argument, feelings of being emotionally cheated on despite being single, parents with toxic viewpoints, self doubt, again Kim Seokjin as the antagonist, explicit sexual content: fingering, unprotected sex, only one person orgasms, dirty talk  🗓️an: thank you once again to my amazing team of betas for reading this for me. @colormepurplex2 @downbad4yoongi @peachiilovesot7 you guys rock. obviously we are getting towards the end of the week, but I am still working on the last two chapters, so idk if i can manage a surprise drop this week like last week, but i am aiming for consistency. thank you for reading, please let me know what you think.

Taglist: @sizzlingfestpeach @mochminnie @jungkooksmytype @kookslastbutton @taebangtanbabe (if joining the taglist, please think about reblogging with tags/leaving feedback!)

“Yoongi, darling, please put your phone away at the table,” your mom says as she reaches out towards his other hand. You share a look with him at the gesture and pet name, and he coughs to cover the awkwardness as you turn back to your cutlery, pretending to be invested wholeheartedly in the meal before you. Your dad sits on your mom’s right side, across the table from Yoongi’s fiancé, Leah, nose buried in a book and missing out on the conversation.

“Sorry, Mom. Just helping one of the guys out with some girl troubles.” Yoongi pockets his phone and smiles over at his fiancé, who sits to the left of him. “Thankfully, I don’t have those issues anymore.”

You know Yoongi doesn’t mean anything by his statement other than to bask in the love he shares with Leah, but you internally cringe because you know your mother. Three, two, one…

“You might not, dear, but your older sister’s biological clock is ticking. Speaking of your friends, is that one doctor, Seokjin, still single?” 

“Uh, I’m not sure, but he works a lot, Mom. He doesn’t really have time right now to date and stuff.” Yoongi looks over at you where you sit at the edge of the table on his right side, his eyes apologetic at opening up this can of worms.

“Now, honey, she’ll find someone when she’s ready. No need to rush, right, princess?” Your dad comes to your rescue, seeing the tension you’re clearly showcasing—tight smile, eyebrows raised, fists clenching around the silverware.

“But I want grandchildren! Healthy grandchildren at that! She is getting to an age where risks of certain disorders increase, and if she waits too much longer, she might not be able to survive a pregnancy, let alone the child,” she huffs, pouting about the scenarios she’s spewing. 

Your mom has always had a complete lack of regard for others’ feelings; it’s just one of her selfish qualities that you’ve all been subjected to over the years. Not that her wanting you to get married and have kids so she can have grandchildren isn’t selfish already, but now to demand that they have absolutely nothing ‘wrong’ with them—despite that not always being something a woman can control when carrying a child—just puts the icing on the cake. 

You make sure to time your response for when she picks up her wine glass. “Yes, Mother. I will be sure to tell the semen that gets ejaculated into me that it better not have any disorders.” 

The sounds of her sputtering the wine back into the glass fills you with satisfaction. Leah, Yoongi, and your dad all laugh to some degree, though your dad also displays wide eyes at the blunt nature of your words. 

Your mom says your full name once she regains her composure, but you’re too busy placing another bite into your mouth, the morsel melting on your tongue as you hum with contentment. 

“Young lady, I am speaking to you!”

“Oh? I’m sorry, I thought I was old and withering away, all my chances of giving you crotch goblins to dote on basically fluttering out the window.” You nod at the large window behind her. 

“Very funny. Seriously, you’re a true comedian. I’m just the villain in your life, because me wanting to make sure that you don’t squander your life away alone and without love is a bad thing to want for my daughter.” Her fake tears are building; voice warbling as if she’s getting choked up at her manipulated selflessness being misconstrued.

“Oh, give it a rest, Mom!” You raise your voice, fed up with her attempts at gaslighting. Especially with the way things have been between you and Jungkook lately, you’re a little more sensitive to her needling at you than usual. The rest of the table falls silent, not used to you responding to her like this. 

“Honey,” your dad tries to cut in, but you’re already set on being honest. 

“No, Dad, don’t try to change the topic. She wants to talk about this, so we will.” You turn to face her head on, hoping that you won’t see Yoongi’s reaction when he finds out the truth between you and Jungkook. “I’ve been seeing someone for awhile now, and I didn’t want to tell you about it because you like to push and push and scare people away. I didn’t want to tell anyone about it until it felt like it could be serious. So stop trying to pair me with Seokjin, or Namjoon, or any of Yoongi’s other friends, because I’m already seeing one of them. Jeon Jungkook.”

The room falls dead silent. 

“Wait, you’re…no way! You’re the one he’s been seeing?!” Yoongi’s incredulous tone has you swiveling to look at him. “I thought you guys were just like…best friends,” he finishes lamely. 

“Yes…why, what do you know?” Your interest piques as varying emotions cross Yoongi’s face. 

“Nothing, just that he’s been seeing someone for several months, and—actually, this is weird. I’m not talking to my sister about my friend.”

You sigh out, annoyance in every huff at the way he just decided to end the conversation. Especially since this means your mom now gets the chance to speak. 

“Jeon Jungkook? Is he that nurse friend of yours, Yoongi?”

He nods at her question, deciding to talk to her instead of you, as if it would be a safer territory. “Yeah, he works at the same hospital as Seokjin and Namjoon.”

“That’s a respectable job.” Your mom seems to be plotting, wheels turning behind her eyes. “How old is he again? Does he have any assets of his own?”

“Uhh, he’s twenty-six. And I’m not sure, I’m not his financial advisor. But he’s a good guy—works hard, is loyal to his friends, or so I thought, before I knew he was seeing my sister behind my back.”

You roll your eyes at him, about to speak up, when Leah beats you to it. 

“Yoongi, please do not tell me that you’re one of those guys who thinks that father’s and brother’s own the women in their families and that your older sister making her own relationship decisions is somehow something that needs to be run by you? And that it’s okay for you to be associated with him, but not for your sister?”

“I—no, I don’t think that way, I’m just shocked that the two of them kept it secret for so long, that’s all. That’s all, I promise!” He repeats it when Leah continues to glare at him, as if she is contemplating whether or not to proceed with their wedding at the end of the week. 

Your mom tries to direct the conversation back to your love life. “He’s twenty-six? Oh, no, he’s way too young for you! You’re thirty-two, darling, he’s not going to be ready to settle down with you at this point in his life! Why, he’s probably just now starting to enjoy his single life. At that age, men want to sow their seeds, not plant them for the rest of their life.”

Blinking at her, you feel dumbfounded at her words. As if twenty-six is so different from thirty—the age your brother is right now. You realize that there’s no arguing with her, nothing you do will be good enough for her. It stings to know that even if you were to get married and give her grandchildren, that they probably wouldn’t meet her expectations either. 

“Listen,” Leah breaks in, voice soothing as she reads the room. “I think it’s smart that you and Jungkook are keeping things quiet until you’re ready. Less room for others to try and break you up, and allows you to grow into love with each other without outside influences and doubt. He may be twenty-six, but you’ll know better than all of us what he’s ready for. Ages don’t have set milestones.”  

“Well said, Leah, thank you. Yoongi, have I told you that you did well choosing your future wife?” Your dad attempts to break the tension, and it works for the most part. The five of you resume eating lunch, and once it’s over, you bid your parents farewell under the guise of needing to finish preparing for your brother’s joint bachelor/bachelorette party that you’re graciously hosting. 

Unsurprisingly, Yoongi follows your lead, an excuse of last-minute wedding preparations rolling easily off his tongue so that he, too, can make an escape with Leah in tow. The three of you walk down the front steps into the summer humidity, and you wait patiently at the door of your car for Yoongi to gather his thoughts into words. 

“Hey, I’m sorry for what I said back there. I’m just surprised to find out about you and Jungkook because he’s talked to us about you before. I didn’t know it was you, and now that I do, I kind of wish I still didn’t,” he jokes with a gummy smile, easily settling your nerves, “but mostly, I want you to be happy.”

“Thanks, the only reason I didn’t tell you about Jungkook is because he’s your friend and I didn’t want to make it weird for you guys, especially if it wasn’t going to turn into anything. I still don’t know if it will, but Mom was pissing me off, and I just wanted to shut her up. It didn’t work, but, oh well.”

Yoongi looks at you with questions in his eyes. “Do you…you know, want you and Jungkook to turn into something?”

You ponder the question, blinking as you roll the thought across your mind. “I think—I…”

“Let me rephrase it. Maybe it will help you figure it out for yourself. How would you feel if Jungkook decided he did want more, and stopped whatever is going on with you to pursue it?”

Just hearing the thought that Jungkook would decide he wanted more and not deem you to be the person to pursue ‘more’ with…it brings a pang to your chest. Your face reveals it, and Yoongi just hums before asking another loaded question. 

“Would you be okay if Jungkook decided to bring someone with him to the wedding? Someone who isn’t you?”

This causes you to pause again. 

“What do you mean ‘if he brings someone with him to the wedding’? Like a date?” Your chest feels tighter, a string coiling itself inside of you making it hard to breathe. 

Yoongi doesn’t say anything at first, lips hesitant to speak, but you must be looking at him as if you need something, anything, to be able to fill your lungs fully. 

“Look, I care about you both, so I’m not going to gossip or share anything that I’m told in confidence. That being said—if either of my questions made you feel some type of way, do something about it.”

Yoongi leaves you with those parting words, moving to the driver’s side of his car. Leah waves at you from the passenger seat, and you wave back as Yoongi reverses out of the driveway and disappears out of view. 

Your living room is freshly vacuumed, various board and card games stacked on your coffee table and bottles of liquor lining the kitchen counter. You load a case of beer into the fridge, waiting for Jungkook to show up with the food you ordered so you can set it out on the small dining room table.

A few decorations line the edges of the counter and dangle from the walls to celebrate the upcoming matrimony of your brother and his fiancé. You were able to change into a cute summer dress, possibly a little short but you were at home and could easily change if you needed, and just about everything was done. You check your phone again looking for a message from Jungkook, and it pops up when you unlock your phone. 

Slipping into your flats, you walk out your front door and watch as Jungkook’s car pulls up to the side of your street and parks. You walk the short distance to his vehicle and open the back passenger door to grab the tied plastic bags of hot food. 

Jungkook is still seated, the car’s music still playing despite being turned off. He’s grabbing his belongings, a black backpack, car keys, and cellphone, before grabbing the cardboard box from the passenger seat. 

“Thanks for grabbing this for me, Gguk. I was able to finish all the decorating and cleaning.”

You shut the door with your hip as Jungkook makes his way around the car, locking it with care as he balances the box in his hands. 

“Of course, it was on my way. Plus, we have thirty minutes to relax before people start showing up.”

Using your foot to open your front door wider, you allow Jungkook to enter first and then follow him in. Setting the hot food on a platter, you turn your oven on to warm so that everything stays fresh and ready to eat once the guests arrive. Jungkook sets the cake in your fridge above the case of beer, and you can hear him double check the front door is shut properly before he returns to join you in the living room.

You’re leaning over the far end of the couch, searching for your charger cord. “You know, I really should invest in one of those six-foot-long cords, this one is always disappearing.”

“You know, that dress is really short, babe.”

“Yeah, but I really like how it looks on me. If I start flashing people, let me know and I’ll put on some shorts or something.” You’ve almost got the charger in your grasp, satin-like cord slipping through your index and middle finger multiple times. The heat of Jungkook’s body pressing into you is both welcoming and pleasant, but one glance at the watch on your wrist and you know you don’t have a lot of time. “Jungkook!”

“C’mon, how am I supposed to resist this perfect ass when you’ve got it up in the air for me.” Jungkook leans back, replacing his body with his hands, firmly massaging your exposed cheeks. “I can be quick.”

“People will be here in like fifteen minutes, we don’t have enough time!” You move away from him, climbing off the couch and going to the kitchen counter. You’re sure you have another cord there that you can plug your phone into.

“What do you mean? That’s plenty of time for me to get you off.” Jungkook follows you, not giving you much space as you lean over the counter.

“And what about you?” you say as you turn to face him, finally having grasped a cord to plug your phone into, the connecting sound chiming off.

“What about me?” he says, leaning into you for a quick kiss. “I don’t have to cum right now, I know you’re good for it.” He ducks his head and kisses you again, this time pressing his body into you.

You return the kiss, and you don’t stop his hands as they travel up your thighs to get to your thong. He wastes no time in pulling it down, and once the waistband slackens he lets it fall the rest of the way to the floor, his fingers moving deftly to part your folds.

“Can’t believe you tried to act like you didn’t want me,” he mumbles against your lips about the way you’re already wet when his fingers make contact.

“‘Cause there isn’t a lot of time—”

He cuts you off with his mouth, kissing you hard until he feels you melt in his hold. You hear the rustling of his pants; the sound of the fabric and the distinct zip of his jeans as his free hand tackles his clothes. His fingers leave your core briefly, and you open your eyes as he pulls back from the kiss. Following his gaze, you take in the sight of his glistening fingers applying your slick essence to his shaft. 

“Turn around,” he orders, and you follow his instructions. You’re not prepped like he usually makes sure you are, but sometimes it’s fun this way, even feels good, the pain mixing with the pleasure as he splits you wide. You feel the head of his cock as it slips through your folds and then the pressure as he penetrates your opening, thick cock stretching you open.

“So tight, fuck,” Jungkook growls out, and he continues to push his hips into you until he bottoms out. You feel yourself clenching, walls contracting around the intrusion as you grow accustomed to his size. 

“Please, Ggukkie—move.”

Jungkook sighs with relief at your request, pulling out of you just to slam back in, fucking you hard into the counter. You grasp at the edges of the counter, searching for purchase as you slide along the cool countertop. He never lets up, only picking up speed as you leak more after he adds his fingers to the mix, index finger spelling something along your clit as he pounds you. 

Pressed up against the counter like this, you place your cheek flat to the surface, the cool temperature helping to calm your heated skin. Jungkook leans over you, and you welcome the closeness as he kisses at your neck, sucking lightly when you mewl at a sensitive spot.

“Fe-feels so good. Don’t stop.” Your eyes are squeezed shut, feeling the tightening coil building, and you’re so close now that he’s found the rhythm and is hitting your spot exactly how you like. “Kiss me.”

His lips find yours easily in the position, but the kiss is sloppy; Jungkook’s always liked it wet and messy. Likes you wet and messy. You’re close, and the sound of your doorbell ringing should make you freeze—should make you push Jungkook away from you so you can clean yourself up—but knowing someone is standing just outside your front door while Jungkook defiles you only a few steps away? 

“Fuck, babe, that’s it, cum all over my cock.”

Jungkook shivers as you stifle a moan, and as impatience rings your doorbell for a second time, he slips out of your warm core and pushes you towards your bedroom. 

“Coming!” Jungkook calls out, grabbing a paper towel to dry himself before tucking back into his pants. He sees your discarded panties at the last second and pockets them before opening the front door to let in one of his coworkers, Kim Namjoon. 

“Hey man, come on in!” he greets, holding the door open as the Fellowship Doctor steps through the entryway. “Just finishing the last touches, let me wash my hands real quick, I was in the kitchen.”

You appear just as Namjoon passes the counter to enter the living room, and Jungkook can’t help but notice all the ways he’s affected you. It just makes him want you more. He plans to have more of you later tonight, hence his backpack with a change of clothes for work in it. 

He can see you’ve fixed your hair, smoothed out your dress, but a small blossoming mark on your neck remains the only proof that he made you cum seconds before letting Namjoon into the room. The doorbell rings again, and you greet Leah and Yoongi graciously as you lead them into the main room. 

Jungkook eyes your legs, wondering if you had enough time and sense to put on a pair of undies—he’s hoping that you didn’t. 

As the room slowly fills with more guests, you and Jungkook orbit around each other, close enough to touch but avoiding contact for several reasons. His smirks and your desire-filled eyes speak loud enough for the both of you, though. 

Hours pass, and the group is buzzed and happy after a drinking card game. You find yourself sitting on Jungkook’s lap, as there isn’t enough sitting space for everyone to be comfortable. No one finds it weird though—you and Jungkook have been close since college and with the alcohol flowing, no one notices the too long touches or the way his hand sits high on your thigh as you joke with Seokjin and Hoseok. No one pays any attention when he finds out that you did not replace the underwear burning a hole in his pocket.

“Hyung, I finally have my outfit for Sunday,” Taehyung shares, calling across the living room to where Yoongi sits with Leah. 

“That’s good, I was worried you might show up naked.” 

Everyone laughs, and once it quiets down, Yoongi makes an announcement. 

“If any of you plan to bring a plus one, please let us know soon, so we can make sure our counts are right for Sunday.”

Murmurs go through the group, everyone confirming what they’ve already RSVP’d, but you stare at your brother. Your buzz disappears quickly as you wait for the man under you to agree that he’s not going with a plus one, but he shifts under you, not saying anything. 

“Can I let you know tomorrow?” 

Yoongi’s eyes move from you to Jungkook as he answers him.

“Yeah, that works. You deciding on bringing that girl you told us about?”

“Yeah, I’m sure SoHee’s waiting on a reply,” Seokjin chimes in. 

SoHee? As in school nurse SoHee? Your brother looks at you again as if to say ‘See? I told you so’.

“Shut up, Jin-Hyung. I only said I might invite her. I’ll text you tomorrow.” 

Everyone returns to their conversations, but a silence settles around your corner of the couch as both you and Jungkook read a little too much into what each other’s actions mean.

stay tuned for “i must be favored to know ya” coming 8-?-2023!

↣ all rights reserved © hisunshiine 2023. please do not repost. translations & modifications are not allowed.

[moineauwrite]

ᓚᘏᗢLynetteᓚᘏᗢ

𓆩 Romantic Alphabet 𓆪

This definitely took me a while! This is an alphabetical compilation of headcanons and mini-fics! My personal favourites are G and R! I'm enthralled by Lynette as of late so I hope you're all enjoying my content! I would appreciate a reblog, but it's not necessary ♡

Word count: 4110 (4.1k)

Affection

(Are they affectionate? How do they show it?)

★ The story of your love is mostly told by unseen, romantic gestures. Lynette knows you are something to flaunt, a priceless stature of her hidden adoration. So why instead does her striking ice gaze, which melts into vapour in your gentle hands, adorn her ivory face instead of your kiss? Lynette's reasons are equally as tender. Her felinus instincts and fatuus occupation instil a looming cloud of caution over each move she makes. If an opponent noticed her attachment, it may cause her some considerable issues - or worse, hurt you in the process. There's nothing that would pain her more, so she waits arduously to embrace you under the veil of shadows once more.

Bouquet

(Do they give you flowers? Which ones?)

★ Contrary to her flamboyant brother, Lynette has extremely heightened instincts and senses - this presents undeniable benefits, a watchful viola eye, and ears that can discern every whistle and song of the breeze. However, in her daily life, having a hypersensitive sense of smell has proved to be quite a hindrance. Certain perfumes, most flowers, and the majority of spices can cause her to sneeze uncontrollably - almost allergically. Nevertheless, this doesn't end her pursuit, down by the quiet riverbanks of Fontaine: there blooms lotuses after the rain that treat her senses kindly. Each time the hydro dragon cries and brings life to the buds, Lynette will be there to retrieve and present them to you. Emitting a recognisable sense of rain; the Pluie Lotus will always remind you fondly of Lynette.

Confession

(Did they confess first? What happened?)

★ Whisking you away from the bustling streets, towards the golden shore that welcomed glistening turquoise sea. Lynette sighs, her shoulders rising with tension before falling with contentment. Her viola eyes open and avert instantly to you, so intently gazing. Her voice seems calm, but occasionally wavers.

★ "(Name),"

★ You perk up from her serious tone, which causes her to retract, unable to read your reaction.

★ "Through the course of a few months.." Her voice trails off, her first clenches, and she collects herself. "I've fallen deeply in love with you." Lynette's eyes meet yours, emitting certainty and resolve. "Will you accept my feelings?"

★ Reciprocating was the easy part. Embracing her tenderly came naturally. The challenge was to build a strong foundation and blossoming relationship. As long as you dedicated as much as she did, it would work itself out.

Date

(Do they take you on dates? Where?)

★ Lynette is a firm believer that money will only get you so far, and as long as she's with you, the scenery is a benefit at best. That being said, there are indeed a few places she likes to take you with nice additions. Cafè Lucerne is filled with sweet desserts that make your eyes marvel and mouth salvate. Flavourful ice creams whisked with care and exported into delicious, appealing swirls. Warm cakes that rise so perfectly - their homemade scent appeasing the mind and lulling it into a comfortable state. Your exchanges only feel more intimate in moments where everything is peaceful and your mind is truly free.

★ Or maybe instead of relishing in the homely atmosphere of Lucerne, you choose to stroll in the beauty of nature. The fauna performs natural music as you explore the nation in all of its true glory. Leaving behind the grandeur and passion of the city, the quiet of the outskirts has much to offer.

Embrace

(What are your embraces like?)

★ Your embrace brought consolation to her stormy endeavours. Lynette Snezhevna was born of snow, a child of ice. Rumour has it her glare summoned blizzards that could freeze over fontaine. A childish prophecy, one you'd never witness as you brought her such contentment. You knew she didn't pursue touch and preferred to keep a reasonable distance from those she didn't connect with. She latched to you with such a desperate grip, as if you could disappear at any moment. Lynette had always been so fearful, so scared of being left behind and lost. You never asked why. Your hands drew waves of serenity as you lifted it and stroked her hair softly. Her shaking breath seems to be steady, and she appears to be drowsy. That's alright. Taking her hand and letting her trail behind you, she gazes at you with a feeling, a sentiment, that you can not recognise. You smile vibrantly, and she returns it with one of solace - the suns first rays being born from parting clouds and breathing life into the fields.

Flirt

(Do they flirt with you? What is it like?)

★ Magicians have a playing card for charm, but Lynette seldom aims to flatter; maintaining a tranquil and balanced head is something she had long mastered. Echoes of your voice often occupy her mind, intertwining like vines with petals of your memorable smile - your flaws? Thorns that flashed so dangerously, Lynette wasn't intimidated. Those thoughts embraced each other, forming into roses she reached for, yet could not touch. Instead, her itching hand reaches onto your cheek. Cupping your skin, so fine in her palm, as she delivers each thought to you. With their vivid, intimate descriptions, it indeed sounded like she was flirting. It was not her intention. Although the sight of your dreamy fluster satisfied her moreover.

Gifts

(Do they give you gifts? What are they?)

★ The House of Hearth was where Lynette found home; seeking refuge all her life with an aspired and ambitious brother, they both easily adapted to the comfort of a broken yet warm home. It had always been a rite of passage in the orphanage to never take anything for granted, never to be materialistic, and aim to be self-sustaining and independent. This was a sentiment Lynette had never left behind, and alongside her twin, they moved forward in the world and made a statement, made a name for themselves.

★ One had blossomed into a charismatic show-stopper, a mesmering star which glimmered with magic, a spellbinding voice almost impossible to ignore regardless of who you were or who you would become.

★ On the contrary, the sister sprouts into a talented mystery. Inconspicuous, observant, and unpredictable. Her presence felt almost hypnotising. Tantalisingly close before she would vanish from the spotlight. Lynette had become a recluse of sorts. Relationships were a gamble, and she was too responsible to participate in potential loss for the sake of money she seldom spent.

★ That was until she was wandering the streets with you, watching as your eyes lingered and shimmered at certain objects. She memorised each item and came back alone after preformances before she would meet with you. Prices were no issue for her. She loved to spoil you to every extent. The way your gratitude conveyed through your actions much louder than words felt like she was the one who truly received a gift every time.

Heart

(What did you do to win their heart?)

★ Accidents: a term as fluid as water, they can lead to a stream of mistakes or a river of inspiring miracles. Lynette had never intended to fall in love, especially not with you, her close friend - a dear companion she would leisurely rest with over uniquely brewed cups of tea. Your presence had become second nature to her, the way you were expressive, through illustrious creations- immersive in the way you spoke and recited tales of your life to her, never prompting her to speak, letting her indulge into a silence unweighted by expectation. The gift of having someone nearby, yet the option to be yourself; and still receive their alluring, accepting smile. From that day forth, you would catch her staring intently before shying away- veiling soft smiles behind intricate teacups, itching closer to you as she daydreamed. It always leads you to wonder: What is she dreaming about? Unbeknownst to you, all you needed to answer was a reflection.

⛾ !Tea break! ⛾

Have you ate yet today?

I love you

(How long did it take them to say it? Was it easy?)

★ Day to day, Lynette's serene presence felt refreshing like morning dew, natural and free like the wind flowing east from Mondstadt. In the spring, dandelion seeds adorn the sky, relishing in romance and laughter and breathing life to fairies. Flowers blossomed and dispersed pollen, beckoned bees, and all sorts of fauna forth from hibernation. fantastical scenery and clichè displays like this were expected of Fontaine, where each of your lives felt like a constant performance, where everyone had an equal part to play- This was justice. Aside from the scenic allure, Spring was when Lynette had told you she loved you for the first time.

It hadn't been easy for her. To admit that she had indulged too much in your enchanting presemce, let herself fall under your spell and grow attached to you, feel drawn to you like an ember of radiant sunlight. You had been spending that day together. It seemed ordinary. You had never expected your life to change that morning. But what was a magician - if not a bender of reality and a weaver of dreams?

Jealousy

(Do they get jealous, if so, how easily?)

★ Lynette is tranquil and slow to anger; especially envy. If you have grown to the extent of a relationship, she has already placed her trust within you completely. It would be nearly impossible for you to drive her to jealousy, her understanding and reason: making you feel protected and acknowledged. However, this doesn't rule out the possibility completely. A beauty such as yourself with the serene effect of the ocean and seraphic eyes seemimgly celestia born. You were a radiant angel, and to glow to bright would surely result in unsolicited admiration and attention. These situations are usually small antics- and when shown disinterest, they leave, and you can move along smoothly. Though, what happens when you meet someone who just won't let up? Lynette notices from afar, for once wishing you'd let go of your unfaltering kindness.

Your relationship is relatively hidden - only her family and your close bubble knew. Still, she can't help but scoff at the audacity and casually intercept. After luring you away from the lovestruck lonesome, she'll spend the entire day with you to reaffirm the destination of your love and the strength of hers.

Kisses

(Do they kiss you? What is it like?)

★ You grace Lynette's eyes, filled with shy desires and intent - with your knowing ones. Your quiet giggle of acknowledgement floods her senses without mercy, sparing no thought and no time to think. With an elegant step forward- the strands of her bow dance behind her romantically with the breeze. Carrying your sweet laughter, which brought to life fairies. Her lips gently graze against yours, if only for a moment. She waits for your reaction with anticipating, yearning hands, and as soon as you bring her back to you, her arms enclose you, her kiss encircle your mind. Short, sweet, and filled with passion. As if every time she pulls away, another sweet notion draws her to you once again. Between each kiss, she whispers sweet nothings to you, but to her, they were everything. It felt so real- but the way you felt to each other, like a dream.

Love Language(s)

(What are their love languages?)

Words of Affirmation

★ Lynette is succinct; astute and mellow, soothing to the soul. Her words, the sweet ones she whispers into your ear, are each filled with meaning and genuineness. Whether it be in times of contentness, serenity, or despair- she can bring you to sweet solace in a few words. Emanating a gentle petrichor; she brings spring rain in a drout. And as the droplets connect to each other like constellations in the sky, you take forth the blessing of Kusanali, the knowledge of the true blessing that is your relationship.

Quality Time

★ Your souls seem to align perfectly regardless of what you may do, wandering the alleyways of Fontaine, shielded from the warm embrace of the sun, you feed the gathering stray kittens occasionally nursed by Lynette. As they scurry into the court carefree and cared for- you may decide to follow the scent of fresh pastries which Lynette had so keenly coordinated, or upon Twilight as she prowls under the curtains of the dusky stage, leaving behind her splendor to meet you under the silver moon. and as you lay together in your favourite valley, you relax into a comfortable silence and drift off to the gentle waves of Fontaine's måntaga.

Moon, Sun and Star

(Which are they most alike to in your relationship?)

★ As you meet in the midst of twilight, the stars illuminate your trail, 'The stars shine dim compared to you.' she chimes, quietly delivering her thoughts to you; intertwined with sparkling, trusting eyes under space. Despite the tender grip she envelops with your hand, she maintains an intentional sedate pace. Leisurely - with all light comes darkness, and behind your dazzling illumination, she is your endearing shadow. Her galaxyspun irises scan the forestry surrounding you, examining the terrain with such percision as she draws ever nearer, as you wander into the dreams and nocturnal marvels that come to play with the stars, and relish under the umbra: Lynette will always be right behind you. Ensuing you and lulling you as does the brilliance of the moon.

Nicknames

(Do they use nicknames? What are they?)

★ Underneath the light, Lynette greets you with sweet casualties. 'Dear' is a prominent nickname in warm daylight, dulcet, and comforting underneath the jarring volume of vendors and passers-by. In less disguised settings, she will use your name, even so, her love shows equally. Your name leaves her lips with such contentment, a sweet tone befitting of an aubade under the golden sunlight. Her eyes speak words in the loving silence, and despite the fading audience, you're both eachothers focus, unable to drag your fond gazes from each other.

The day descends into a familiar darkness that warms your soul. You are both only accompanied by the ghosts of the night. Lying by her side as you draw constellations with eachothers coveting hands, she tends to call you 'My Lune' as your splendor rivals the moon. Tender exchanges always happen in the dark, where the simple-minded rest and lovers awaken.

Open

(How open are they with you? Do they tell you everything?)

★ Gossiping and soft laughter underneath the shadows of parasols was an ordinary occurrence, her ears missed almost nothing; and Lynette would tell you anything you wanted to know. As long as it doesn't leave you susceptible to harm. You think that she's an open door rather than a locked chain, and Lynette likes it that way. The Fatui is a blistering, unforgiving blizzard. A cold and forbidding business that would draw blood in the name of secrecy. One phrase is all it takes for you to be torn away like a speck of dust. The House of Hearth said nothing short of these merciless teachings. While she admires your intelligence and intuitive eyes, she cherises you enough to sustain your naivety. As her hand reaches over yours, you may think nothing of it. But to her, she swears an oath. 'I will always be here for you; as you are for me.'

Promise

(How loyal are they to you?)

★ Her loyalty is never in doubt. You were her first love and destined to be her last. Lynette seldom expresses interest in other people generally, preferring to daydream over hours unless absolutely necessary. The mere fact she had experienced intense forelsket with you was bewildering still - a miracle, like magic. She knows she can never replicate the adoration she feels from your melodic voice, the security she feels from your attentive eyes; the fulfilment she feels in your presence, and the longing she feels in your absence. It's irreplaceable. And with that, alongside everything, her brothers even seem to like you. Each factor you offer aligns perfectly. Your love was truly meant to be.

Quiz

(How much do they know about you? Do they remember what you tell them?)

★ Every last detail, no matter how passing or insignificant. You'll notice how her ears perk up each time she discovers something new about you. She hears your dreams, receives your wishes, and does everything she can to make them come true. In golden lit evenings, when she saunters to you with eagerness. Beaming proudly as you pull an item you dearly wanted, but had only mentioned once, out of her hat. With an elegant flick of her wrist, it lands back onto her head, wisping her hair aside in the wind as the breeze accompanies your jubilation. The water is a dreamy blue with the low albedo of the sunset, and she extends her hand to you, beckoning you to witness the endless colours of the sky, hand in hand.

Reminisce

(What is their favourite memory of you?)

★ Secluded from the troubles of life, so too was the sun hidden away, long descended behind the cloudy, misty skies of Fontaine. Tonight, the Hydro Dragon had taken a strike to its heart, as did Lynette- cupids arrow hypnotised her as she watched you twirl and sway in the rain, in unison with the pattering rain against virid leaves. You were soaked - your locks hugging your figure, tightly bound and flowing with rain like rivers. Even so, your steps did not hinder. Under the shadows of the trees, you can not see her fond smile - although it gleams like stars unseen in her viola, felinus eyes. 'Amateur.' She teases in her thoughts. Standing up and letting the branches collide, she struts down her runway of wood and leaps into the air- her picturesque silhouette outlined by the moon as she extends a hand to you, she twirls you and guides you into a long, mesmerising dance through the showering sky. Blessed by the soothing lull of your tango- Dragon tears fade into a lasting scent and a lasting memory that Lynette holds dear.

Song

(Is there a song that makes them think of you?)

Can you remember the rain?

-Garret Atterberry-

★ You seemed to linger like cheap perfume. She hadn't anticipated that you would show up at a time like this, teacup in hand and staring into the sunkissed streets of Fontaine; Cafè Lucerne was - for once- not bustling with peckish customers. Dawn had just graced, and Fontainians seemed to play an endless sleeping beauty. Her tea ripples with sugar, and the spoon stirs a warm whirlpool as she exhales - appreciating the solitude and soft jazz accompanying her, an unbothering melody. A sudden voice: a slow, beautiful one of a woman. She sings of tales of the past, in the rain and sentimentalities. Lynette eases into the music and close her freshly awoken eyes, thoughts of that night loop in her mind and she can almost feel your enchanting presence- a soft smile spreads and she conceals it behind the rim of her teacup. She still remembers your cold, doused touch beating with your warm heart. Do you remember? Can you remember the rain?

⛾ !Tea Break! ⛾

Have you drunk yet today?

Time

(How do they envision a future with you?)

★ Now, Lynette believes pondering and questioning the future is a waste of time. Everything is subject to change. Despite the ephemerality of life, she finds herself with small dreams that occupy her head in engulfing cycles. A storm which you seem to be the eye of, an eye for her to get lost in and find home in your arms. Lynette doesn't ask for much. Willing to discard the fame, the lights, the wealth, anything to keep her loved ones beside her. She wishes to breeze through life knowing she made the ones she cherishes happy, that while she lived to the fullest, so did they. Lynette yearns to wake up to you each morning in a familiar scene yet distinctive memory. She wishes so dearly to embrace you in the cold winters and dive in the warm summers. Lynette doesn't care about the necessary changes. So long as at the end of the day; Despite everything, there's still you, her family, and her, against the world.

Unintentional

(They've accidentally upset you, what do they do with this realisation?)

★ It is a rare occasion indeed, but an unfortunate necessity of progressing relationships. Her bluntness and incapacity to sugarcoat seemed like an ideal. When debating, each word was accounted to be honest and honourable. Perceiving the light, die in your eyes like embers, her own narrow to examine you closer. Although, to any onlookers, it may be falsely perceived as glower and stubbornness. A curious scenario that rewinds in her head like a record, when the conclusion finally makes sense after considering your viewpoint- she wastes no time. Regardless of her current position, Lynette hastens to you. Her presumption was right, as to be expected. If she believes her point was simply amiss: she will correct and clear up the miscommunication. Or if she believes herself to be wrong completely, a gentle blush dusts her cheeks as she apologises to you with all sincerity. Seeing the smile reach your eyes soothes her nerves, and now she aspires to return the favour over a serene cup of tea brewed with care and sweet amends. While her sudden appearances can be...inconvenient, you appreciate her devotion.

Vanity

(How do they dress around you?)

★ Appearence was another art of which Lynette had performed and perfected. In favour of maintaining a professional and proficient image, she wraps her silky tresses into a picturesque ponytail. Ruffles her skirt to sustain grace regardless of breeze or storm - From long ribbons, cute buttons, the tip of her elegant gloves, it is each individually considered to their maximum potential. While this was initially only for business, she notices how it influences the people around her. Even you who has grown to adore her amethyst eyes. As your relationship progresses, it may start with a lost bow, then a lost button and untidy skirt. Ultimately, you sit on the couch and brush through her loose, voluminous hair. She feels calm and relieved you seemed content or even pleased with her state. With this in mind- you may catch her in much more casualwear, but she still likes to look decent around you, at the very least.

Wild Card

(🂭 Random relationship headcanon 🂭)

★ Lynette had seldom reflected her brother; nor did she change her view. Lost within herself, she stared into the setting sun, the warm colours that radiated and coloured the sky made thoughts of you fester in her brain, she smiles contently as she remembers your face of bewilderment and glee at even the simplest trick. She wonders, she longs, to see how your eyes would shine at a real show. So that evening, Lynette reserved a seat, especially for you. After catching a simple glimpse of your awestruck expression- it enthrals her, her effort doubles, and her performances feature an extra twirl and elegant bow. A lotus resting in between your fingers or stowed behind your ear, her hair brushing through your hair so gently. The audience is none the wiser, Lynette's expression doesn't flinch. Though behind her eyes reflects romance and a desire to steal you away from the crowd, to another place far away. As the crowd applauds her stunning, poised movements. Lyney looks on with surprise, barely concealed by his preformative voice. Needless to say, after Lyney discovered your relationship, it didn't take long for you both to become well-acquainted and for you to be a welcome backstage guest.

Xtremes

(How far would they go for you?)

★ Lynette would walk through the infernos of Khaenri'ah for you. Her devotion knows no bounds. It's quite an achievement to match the level of importance as she values her family. The significance you hold in her life is no joke. To say she loves you dearly would be a drastic understatement. The intimate moments underneath shadowy trees, the wondrous hours underneath the stars, the bright days of laughter, and dark nights of reassurance all culminate into an unbreakable bond between two destined lovers. Despite any obstacle the universe dare test you with, it proves to be a sad attempt. You, and her. The definition of perfection is the meaning of soulmates. There's nothing you wouldn't do for her, and there's nothing she wouldn't do for you.

Yearning

(Do they miss you? How do they deal with it?)

★ Lynette defined self-suntaining and exemplary independence. When you told her, with a weighing heart, that you would be leaving for a while- she thinks nothing of it. Bidding you a farewell kiss and accompanying you to depature, she resumes as usual for the day and the next. And then suddenly, it changes. Soulful nights feel strangely ghostly and drag into sombre days. She looks into parlours with wistful eyes and recurring memories- knowing that if they had been beside her, they would look at the presentations with fondness. Wanting turns to longing, her performances hollow with knowing - your gnawing absence defines her dance and silences the audience with portrayal through her artistic tricks. Your disappearance felt like a cruel trick indeed. As she revists your depature point, eyeing Lumidouce bells which chimed for you, she would wait for you through twilight and daybreak.

Zzz...

(Do you rest together? What is it like?)

★ At first, Lynette spent your nights together composed and alert. Only once you had fallen to the grace of Morpheus would her own eyes start to droop, yet as time went on, your inviting smile- sultry, tired voice, longing eyes filled with hope and life, she fell for you, to temptation. She could not describe what it felt like as she lay with you that night, the warmth of the fire in an unforgiving winter. The feeling of touching the clouds without dispersion. Thoughts of you spun around her head until her eyes gently closed. As dusk ascended into a symbolic, pink dawn, her shy smile never faltered as you held her too in her dreams. Now, cat-naps have become a regular routine whenever the opportunity may arise.

If you made it this far, thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! If you have any suggestions or questions, don't hesitate to let me know.

mꨄi

[srim01997]

Second Chance | Aemond T. x OFC

Paring:  Aemond “One-Eye” Targaryen x Viseara Targaryen (OC), Implied Aegon II Targaryen x Celtigar! OFC

Fandom: House of The Dragon (HBO)

Warning: Angst, Character Death, Blood and Violence, Criston Cole being shit

Writer’s note: Please don’t kill me; this fanfic has five more chapters remaining. I promised that I would provide an ending for Ser Crispin.

Please ilke, comment and reblog!!

Previous Chapter | Second Chance masterlist | Next Chapter

Chapter 12 A Song of Ice and Fire

Viseara felt a wave of nausea during a family meal at Dragonstone, forcing Rhaenyra to check on her aunt while the others waited outside the room. Maester Gerardys examined the rogue princess thoroughly before delivering his verdict.

“Princess, you are with child.”

“How is that possible?” Viseara protested, disbelief etched on her face. “I drank moon tea. Besides, at my age, I shouldn’t be able to conceive anymore.”

The maester hesitated before replying, “Perhaps you missed a dose during your stay, or this is the will of the gods. Shall I inform your family, Princess?”

“No!” Viseara’s sharp response was immediate. “If you tell them now, my brothers and cousins will turn the realm upside down looking for the father of this child.”

Deep down, Viseara knew exactly who the father was. There was only one man she had lain with over the past months—and one night in particular when she’d neglected to take moon tea after he’d spilled his seed inside her repeatedly. If her family found out, Vhagar would likely be torn apart by two other dragons, and her rider would be chop by Dark Sister.

“But…” Gerardys began.

“I’ll tell them when I’m ready,” she cut him off, waving dismissively. “For now, tell them I’m unwell from stress. Can you do that?”

The maester nodded and left to deliver the message as instructed.

Outside the room, Aemond had shifted his focus to Viseara, his usual hostility toward the Velaryon brothers replaced by concern. Tensions had risen since King Viserys had left the dining hall. Everything had been fine until a platter of roasted pork was served, which made Luke laugh as he recalled an old prank he had pulled on Aemond. In response, the one-eyed prince raised his glass for a toast, deliberately emphasizing the word “strong,” which nearly escalated into a brawl if Daemon hadn't intervened.

Viseara, however, knew she couldn’t let her condition be discovered. Adopting a look of discomfort, she feigned illness to divert attention. “The food doesn’t sit well with me, and I’m feeling a bit unwell. If the queen doesn’t mind, I’ll retire for the evening. Please, continue to enjoy your meal.”

Rhaenyra quickly instructed Jace and Luke, “Take your grandaunt to her chambers.”

The brothers helped Viseara to her room, with Aemond’s intense gaze following her retreating figure. Once inside, she dismissed them, removed her outer gown, and collapsed onto her bed.

After some time, she felt a presence near her. A soft kiss pressed to her forehead startled her awake.

“Daemon, stop bothering me…” she mumbled groggily.

“Afraid not,” a familiar, deep voice replied. “I brought you tea and some fruitcake.”

She sat up abruptly, her mismatched eyes meeting Aemond’s as he set down a tray. His hand moved to check her forehead, but she flinched away.

“You should leave. I need rest,” she said firmly. “Thank you for the tea and cake, but go before my brother sees you here. It’ll cause trouble.”

Aemond frowned but relented, leaving the room after a gentle nudge from her. Alone again, Viseara sipped the tea and nibbled on the cake while flipping through a book. Her thoughts wandered as she realized tonight marked the end of Viserys’ reign—and the beginning of Aegon’s as the usurper king.

Determined, she finished her meal and locked her door. She accessed the hidden passage in her chamber, leading to Viserys’ room. Kneeling beside his bed, she clasped his frail hand.

“Viserys,” she whispered.

“Rhaenyra?” his voice rasped.

“No, it’s Viseara, your youngest sister,” she replied softly, her heart aching at his deteriorated state. “Brother, do you still affirm Rhaenyra as your heir?”

“Yes… Rhaenyra,” he murmured, his feeble hand tightening around hers. “Viseara… protect her.”

Before she could respond, the door creaked open. Startled, Viseara slipped back into the hidden passage, watching as Alicent entered and sat beside the king. He began to ramble incoherently, but one phrase caught Viseara’s attention:

“...Aegon… Song of Ice and Fire… the Prince That Was Promised…”

Viseara’s blood ran cold. Alicent’s misinterpretation of these words would ignite a war, one that would claim countless lives—including her own if she didn’t act swiftly. She retreated to her room, hastily drafting a letter.

When her handmaid Angera knocked urgently, Viseara opened the door.

“Princess—”

“Angera, listen carefully. Take this letter to Dragonstone and deliver it to Princess Rhaenyra and Daemon. Tell them I’ll join them as soon as possible,” she instructed. Angera nodded, slipping away unnoticed.

Viseara then prepared her escape. As expected, Alicent moved to crown Aegon while imprisoning her and Rhaenys in their chambers. Feigning compliance, Viseara tied sheets to her balcony as a decoy while plotting her true escape through the secret passages leading to the dragon pit.

Her dragon, Nyx, stirred as she approached. The Midnight Executioner, as it was known, was silent and deadly. It crouched low, allowing her to mount before slinking toward the exit.

“We’re leaving, Nyx,” she murmured, her hand resting on her belly. “Let’s get away from the father of this child for now.”

The dragon soared into the night, heading for Dragonstone, where Meleys soon joined them. Upon landing, Viseara stumbled, caught by Rhaenys.

“Viseara, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, just a little dizzy. I skipped breakfast,” she lied. “We need to see Rhaenyra.”

Inside the hall, Daemon embraced her tightly.

“Viseara, you’re drenched in sweat. You need to rest.”

“I’ll rest after delivering my news,” she insisted. “Did Angera’s message reach you? Where is Rhaenyra?”

Rhaenyra’s anguished cries cut off Daemon’s answer. The tension was palpable as Daemon began fortifying Dragonstone. Meanwhile, Viseara felt the world spin and collapsed into darkness, Rhaenys’ voice and the maester’s hurried footsteps fading as she slipped into unconsciousness.

The scent of medicine and incense tickled her nose, rousing the rogue princess from her slumber. As her eyes fluttered open, she found herself in a chamber occupied only by Rhaenys and Maester Gerardys, who was busy examining her. Her cousin's face was etched with worry, her brows deeply furrowed as she gazed at her. Rhaenys dismissed the maester with a wave before settling at the foot of the bed.

"Viseara, why didn’t you tell anyone you’re pregnant?" Rhaenys asked, her voice calm but laced with concern. "The maester says you’re in the early stages. Who is the father?"

The rogue princess rubbed her face, hesitating before replying softly, "Aemond. My nephew."

Rhaenys’s expression froze in shock, her composure faltering for the first time. She hadn’t expected that the relationship between the two had escalated to such an extent. The revelation left her momentarily speechless, but she quickly recovered, clasping Viseara’s hands tightly.

"Does Daemon know?"

Viseara shook her head vigorously. "Not yet, Rhaenys. I’ll tell him when the time is right. If I tell him now, he’ll do something reckless, without a doubt."

"You plan to wait until you’re showing to tell your twin brother?" Rhaenys sighed heavily, shaking her head in exasperation. "I can help you keep this secret, but if he finds out on his own, I won’t intervene. You’ll have to explain it to him yourself."

Viseara hugged her cousin tightly, her voice barely a whisper. "Thank you, Rhaenys. Thank you so much..."

She must have been unconscious for hours, as by the time she entered the hall, Rhaenyra was already wearing King Jaehaerys’s crown. Lord Corlys, now recovered from his injuries, stood tall. Aenys and Meria were present beside Lord Celtigar, but there was no sign of Elia. Daemon approached her, placing a hand on her forehead to check for fever.

"Are you sure you’re up to this?"

"I’m fine, brother. How far along are the discussions?" Viseara asked as she approached the table, where the map had already been lit with fire, indicating the council’s seriousness. It seemed they were back to planning their next moves. What came after this meeting would determine whether she could save Lucerys.

"Aenys, can you try bonding with a dragon again?" she asked her second son. "Celtigar Castle needs protection against enemy dragons. Do you have one in mind this time?"

"I’d rather not tell you just yet," the young Celtigar smirked, clearly keeping his choice a secret on purpose.

"And Elia?"

"I didn’t see her at the coronation," Rhaenys said to Viseara. "The Greens didn’t kill her because she’s still useful to them. They’re likely using her and her child as leverage against Aegon."

That leech Otto! He’s going too far this time. He’ll be dragon food for Nyx soon enough.

Because of her earlier exhaustion and fainting spell, Viseara had missed Otto’s bold move—showing up at Dragonstone to propose a deal. He offered Rhaenyra recognition of Aegon as king in exchange for avoiding bloodshed. Rhaenyra would be Lady of Dragonstone, and her sons would remain unharmed.

As if anyone would accept that, you decrepit green leech!

The only option left for Rhaenyra now was to summon the houses that had sworn oaths to her father: Arryn, Stark, and Baratheon. Jace suggested that using ravens would take too long, so he and Luke volunteered to go as dragon riders to secure their loyalty.

Viseara immediately spoke up. "Let Lucerys go to the Eyrie, niece. Storm’s End is too dangerous for a young dragon if a storm arises. My dragon is strong enough to weather any storm. Don’t worry, Rhaenyra—I promise I won’t burn Storm’s End to the ground."

Before leaving for Storm’s End, Viseara bid farewell to Daemon and Rhaenys. Daemon chose to stay and guard Dragonstone while also keeping an eye on Aenys, ensuring he wouldn’t recklessly attempt to claim a wild dragon. Rhaenys, meanwhile, would lead the Velaryon fleet to patrol the Gullet and secure the sea routes.

"You’re in the early stages of pregnancy. Be careful," Rhaenys urged, gripping her hands tightly. "I’m not sure whether you or the Greens will reach Storm’s End first. Promise me you’ll return to Dragonstone safely."

"Are you worried about me, cousin?"

"I admit I’m more worried about you than Daemon," Rhaenys quipped.

"Rhaenys!"

Her cousin laughed before climbing onto Meleys. Viseara mounted Nyx and watched as her nephews flew toward Winterfell and the Eyrie. With a firm command, she directed her dragon toward Storm’s End, fully aware of what awaited her there: Aemond and Vhagar.

The sky darkened, and the wind picked up as if heralding an impending storm. Viseara leapt from her dragon's back the moment her feet touched the ground. The roar of Vhagar echoed, warning her of what lay ahead. Steeling herself, she strode into the hall of Storm’s End, where One-Eyed Prince Aemond stood beside Lord Borros Baratheon and his four daughters.

Ignoring her nephew, she walked forward confidently, reading the letter in her hand aloud against the backdrop of thunder and rain.

Lord Borros eyed Viseara with clear disdain, his memory vivid of the scandal involving her and her nephew. Yet, he refrained from voicing his contempt or acting against her, aware of her reputation on the battlefield and her status as Daemon Targaryen’s beloved sister.

“Which of my daughters will your nephew wed?” Borros demanded.

“My nephews are already betrothed,” Viseara replied coolly. “Not that I find your daughters unsuitable, but I abhor seeing women used as pawns in men’s political games—”

“And yet, you allowed your daughter to marry King Aegon.”

“My daughter has long loved Aegon, in case you didn’t know,” Viseara shot back, her tone laced with mockery. “And I can already guess you’re scheming to offer your daughters to him if anything happens to Lady Elia. Let me make it clear—dream on. As long as I breathe, your daughters will remain unmarried. Besides, my nephew has a taste for strong-willed women.”

Viseara tilted her head and laughed. “If you dare claim ignorance of Lady Jocelyn, I’d laugh louder. At least your father must have mentioned her. And lucky for you, it’s me standing here, not Daemon Targaryen—he’d turn this place into a second Harrenhal.”

“If you refuse our offer, so be it. But don’t come begging for mercy from my queen.”

As she turned to leave, she froze under Aemond’s gaze. Drawing her dagger, she threw it to the floor.

“Nyke dare ao naejot gūrogon issa laes. Aōha muñnykeā jorrāelagon se laes, daoriot ziry?” (I dare you to take my eye. Your mother needs the eye, doesn’t she?)

Aemond was momentarily stunned by her boldness.

“Skoriot iksos issa nephew? Nyke jorrāelagon zȳhon laes, daor aōhon.” (Where is my nephew? I need his eye, not yours.)

“Issi ao nykeēdrosa angry rūsīr zirȳla syt taking qrīdrughagon aōha laesi? Pār gūrogon issa laesi naejot issa nephew. Nyke sacrifice ziry syt ao yn keligon holding nykeā grudge against aōha nephew.” (Are you still angry with him for taking away your eye? Then take my eye instead. I sacrifice it for you, but stop holding a grudge against your nephew.)

She picked up the dagger and pressed its hilt into Aemond’s hand. “Gūrogon ziry. Nyke dare ao.” (Take it. I dare you.)

Aemond shouted, “Daor!” (No!)

Breathing heavily, Viseara shook her head and retrieved the dagger. Turning to Lord Borros, she said, “I bid you farewell and thank you for the most hospitable welcome.” She offered a mocking bow before striding out of the hall.

“Viseara!”

“You shouldn’t address your aunt by her full name, nephew,” she retorted, turning to face him. “You and your bride suit each other well—ha!” A pang of emotion struck her unexpectedly. What was she beginning to feel for this man?

Aemond’s lilac eye widened as he shook his head. “I’ve been clear with you, Viseara—have you not heard me?”

“Heard you say what—?”

Thud!

Viseara felt a sharp pain as a blade pierced through her chest, the weapon striking from behind before being pulled out. Crimson spilled from the wound, mixing with the rain-soaked ground. Aemond rushed forward to catch her, pressing his hands against the wound. His eye turned to the knight lowering his bloodied sword.

“Ser Criston...”

“I’m sorry, my prince, but the Hand commanded her death,” Criston said coldly.

Rage ignited within Aemond as he lunged at the white-cloaked knight, pummeling him until his face was a bloody mess. He stopped only when he noticed Viseara’s breaths weakening. Her expression revealed a hint of disappointment—did she believe he was involved?

“Viseara... I didn’t know,” he pleaded, holding her close. He saw her trembling hand rest on her abdomen, her pale lips forming a single word.

“Baby...”

“You’re with baby?”

Before he could say more, Nyx’s furious roar echoed through the storm, the dragon’s eyes blazing with wrath. It crouched low, nudging Viseara’s lifeless form before lifting her with its claws and taking off into the stormy sky.

Aemond watched helplessly as the grey-and-blue beast disappeared. His jaw tightened as he turned to the bloodied knight.

“I won’t kill you, Ser Criston,” he said icily. “But you’ll beg her brother for mercy yourself—as her murderer.”

He bound Criston Cole and mounted Vhagar, commanding the dragon to carry them to Dragonstone. For Viseara, Aemond was ready to kneel before Rhaenyra.

Daemon struggled to hold back his tears as a raven delivered a message from Lord Baratheon, accusing Prince Aemond Targaryen of being involved in the murder of Princess Viseara Targaryen at Storm's End. Overwhelmed with rage and grief, the rogue prince swept everything off the table in a fit of anger, causing the soldiers and servants nearby to avoid him in fear. Rhaenyra decided to intervene, stepping in to calm her husband before he could destroy any more of the room's furnishings.

Rhaenys stayed silent as she observed Viseara’s children, who stood nearby with puzzled expressions, unsure why their uncle had suddenly lost his composure after reading the letter. Rhaenys couldn’t believe that their maternal family had allowed a dragonrider to be killed in their own castle—especially someone she had cherished as the sister she never had. Before their grief could fully set in, the sound of a dragon's roar echoed through the air, drawing Daemon’s attention to the window, where he saw a massive dragon approaching Dragonstone.

Daemon's face twisted in fury as he recognized the approaching dragon, Vhagar. Grabbing his helmet from the table, he stormed out toward the dragon pit, determined to mount Caraxes and confront the one-eyed prince along with his ancient dragon. Aenys, following closely behind, prepared to mount the dragon he had recently bonded with.

Vhagar dropped Ser Criston Cole’s battered body onto the beach before the Queen’s Guard, who rushed out to seize him immediately. Meanwhile, Daemon and Aemond faced each other from atop their respective dragons, their mounts snarling and roaring in challenge. The rogue prince’s voice was laced with venom as he addressed his nephew.

“You killed my sister! I will slay you and your decrepit beast!” Daemon roared, his tear-streaked face filled with anguish. “You’ve stolen the last memory I had of my mother!”

Aemond shouted back, his voice trembling with emotion. “I did not want to kill her! I swear by the Seven gods I had no part in this!”

“You liar!” Daemon spat, his voice dripping with disdain. “You’re as deceitful as that leech of a Hightower. I’ll send your head to that green queen. Any last words?”

A deafening roar interrupted their exchange, forcing both dragons to pause. The shadow of an enormous beast loomed over them—Vermithor, the Bronze Fury.

“Uncle! Cousin! Stop this madness!” Aenys called out, panting as he struggled to steady himself. “Hold your blades for a moment!”

Daemon’s eyes narrowed as he addressed his nephew. “Aenys, you’ve bonded with Vermithor?”

“That doesn’t matter right now, Uncle. Let’s hear him out first.” The Celtigar youth stroked Vermithor’s neck, calming the beast before dismounting. Now on the beach, the three Dragonriders faced each other. Aenys, his golden-brown hair damp from sweat, turned to Aemond.

“What happened? Explain yourself.”

“Ser Criston Cole acted on orders from my grandsire to kill your mother,” Aemond confessed, his voice heavy with guilt. “I failed to protect her and…”

“And what, Aemond?” Aenys pressed, his sea-blue eyes sharp with intensity. “Say it.”

“Your mother… she was with child.”

“What did you say?!”

Both Daemon and Aenys stood frozen, stunned by Aemond’s revelation.

Viseara once again witnessed her death at Rook’s Rest, as if fate sought to remind her of the mission that had brought her back to this time before the Dance of the Dragons erupted. However, this time, the rogue princess saw something new—something she had not observed in the moments after her body and dragon struck the ground, shattering upon impact. Through her mismatched eyes, she saw Aemond leap from Vhagar and rush to embrace her lifeless form.

The one-eyed prince wept silently; his strong face buried in the curve of her broken, twisted neck. His muffled sobs carried words she could not decipher.

So that’s why his embrace felt familiar, she realized.

But she was dead, which meant her mission had failed. She had failed to stop the Dance of the Dragons. As despair overtook her, Viseara found herself standing before her parents and older brother. They stood across from her, shouting something she couldn’t understand. Moments later, she felt a firm hand cup her face.

“You must go back, Viseara! You cannot die yet!” bellowed Baelon the Brave, her father, his voice as commanding as ever.

“Viseara, my dearest daughter, return to where you came from, now!” pleaded Alyssa. “Please, my love, you still have time.”

Viserys, now appearing whole and strong, nothing like his frail self in his final days, stepped forward and spoke. “Follow the light, my sister. Do not look back. Keep moving forward and do not stop.”

The three of them pushed her forward into an empty expanse. A moment later, it felt as though she was drowning. Flailing desperately, Viseara clawed her way upward, trying to escape the unknown force pulling her under. Her slender hand reached out toward a glimmer of light, grasping for it as if it could save her.

Then, everything turned blindingly bright, so intense that she could barely see.

TBC.

[azxremoon]

RECIPES

all orders are customized to fit the customer's wishes! please be sure to understand what the hostess is willing to make and serve before placing an order in the askbox!!

─────── general

these rules are in regards towards requests exclusively. i may write something for my own enjoyment that contradicts the following.

the askbox will remain open indefinitely. however, please do not spam it with orders.

as mentioned in "cafe etiquette," writing is not considered a priority! it is done for my own enjoyment and at my own pace.

oneshots takes me longer to produce, but they are accepted. for more information, please refer to the ingredients list.

if you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to come by and ask! i'd be happy to clear up any confusion.

if you wish to support me and my work, and see more from me in the future, please me sure to reblog! it really means a lot!

─────── ingredients

i only accept drabbles !

i only write character x reader / character x reader x character. character x character or character x oc is not accepted.

the reader is always gender neutral or female with ambiguous anatomy, unless stated otherwise.

i can write platonic, familial, and romantic relationships. please be sure to specify which if it isn't already clear.

i primarily write fluffy romance, but angst, comfort fluff, hurt / comfort, hurt / no comfort are also accepted.

i can definitely write dark content if that is something you are interested in, such as major character death, yandere aus, etc.

the reader can be inspired by characters of other media or take the role of a canon character, but i must know and be familiar with them. for example: star guardian!reader, idol!reader, special grade!reader, sees leader!reader, black mask!reader.

additionally, the reader can be assigned a specific characteristic. such as shy!reader, tall / short!reader, student council president!reader, etc.

to avoid misrepresentation, i do not write readers of a specific race, culture, disabilities, or illnesses.

i do not write anything related to pregnancy, harm towards oneself, cheating (by or on reader), drug use, explicit (n)sfw, fetishes, or k!nks. i can write suggestive themes.

─────── recipes

*all names in italics are elluka's favorites !

BREATH OF THE WILD . . . COFFEE AND TEA

link, zelda, mipha, revali, sidon, urbosa, ganondorf, sonia, rauru.

CODE GEASS . . . CINNAMON ROLLS

lelouch vi britannia, c.c., suzaku kururugi.

FINAL FANTASY . . . CREPES

noctis lucis caelum, prompto argentum, gladiolus amicitia, ignis scientia, lunafreya nox fleuret, ardyn izunia, nyx ulric.

FIRE EMBLEM . . . MACARONS

chrom, frederick, robin, lon’qu, gaius, tharja, henry, grima, lucina, owain, morgan (platonic), corrin, jakob, ryoma, takumi, xander, leo, camilla, azura, odin, niles, silas, kaze, byleth, blue lions, rodrigue, golden deer, rhea, seteth, jeralt, shez, sothis, arval, alear, lumera, alfred, veyle, pandreo, diamant, alcryst, sombron, nell.

GENSHIN IMPACT . . . ICE CREAMS

arataki itto, kaveh, alhaitham, neuvillette, wriothesley, furina, dainsleif, capitano, mualani, kinich.

JUJUTSU KAISEN . . . SANDWICHES

satoru gojo, yuji itadori, megumi fushiguro, nobara kugisaki, maki zenin, aoi todo, suguru geto, ryomen sukuna, kenjaku, mahito.

NIER . . . FRUIT TARTS

younger + older brother!nier, kaine + tyrann, 2b, 9s, a2, adam, eve.

PERSONA . . . CAKES

makoto yuki, kotone shiomi, akihiko sanada, junpei iori, aigis, shinjiro aragaki, ryoji mochizuki, jin, takaya, chidori, theodore, ren amamiya, yusuke kitagawa, goro akechi, takuto maruki.

[viktoriakomova]

i want to make this a separate post instead of tacking it onto the last post i reblogged, because a) i feel like its getting way too far away from the point of the OP and as someone who has been in that position several times on my main blog its annoying as shit, and b) i dont want it to feel like anybody is ganging up on OP or "dragging" them or whatever, i dont think what they said was mean spirited or came from a place of bad faith etc etc etc. (if i did i would have been a whole fucking lot meaner in replying lmfao) and i also dont think anything it said was Wrong tbh.

okay all that being said!

i will put my tags of my last reblog in the main text here, because this is something i want to expand on:

not to get too Deep about it but. the colonizing countries literally have more wealth and resources and opportunity *because* th#*they stole so much from the global south. they have the $ and the stability to develop ‘frivolous’ things like gym#at the direct expense of the colonies who are left penniless and in perpetual chaos and upheaval

(for context this is re: children of immigrants in diaspora and their connections to their parents'/grandparents' homelands and culture, and maintaining those ties when the reason they came to the global north are for increased opportunity for success and upward mobility etc.)

i wont turn this into a treatise on economic exploitation and its consequences like i alluded to in the tags (i would if i had like 3 glasses of wine tho lol) but the following is something i really do want to underscore:

i love nemour for a lot of reasons. the gymnastics itself, yes of course. i know i snark and make jokes all the time about her shitting on the FFG every time she does anything great under the 🇩🇿 flag. but sincerely, what she is doing for gymnastics in algeria, in north africa in general (hell even in africa overall given the attention that african champs got because of her), is truly something special. i will admit that i dont stay on top of algerian sports media lol but i do speak french and what ive seen, just what has come across my radar, in the francophone algerian press (both in france and in algeria) is drumming up major excitement about her. this is the kind of attention that gets people who otherwise wouldnt give a shit emotionally invested in the sport. the social and historical baggage of the treatment of algeria and algerians in france, and the olympics being in paris, is just the icing on the cake.

its not exactly the same dynamic, especially not in terms of the Discourse about resources and access in diaspora, but i cant help but to be reminded of daiane dos santos, who famously started the sport at the age of 12. and only 8 years later she became a world champion on floor. she was the first world champion in WAG from brazil, south america entirely in fact, ever!!!! rebeca andrade mentions her all the time as an inspiration for her as a little girl. rebe went out of her way (i mean that figuratively as well as very literally, we all know the story about her brothers escorting her through the favela to the gym and back) to do the sport, because she saw dos santos do great things and looked up to her. and now shes REBECA FUCKING ANDRADE. would we have Rebe™ if it hadnt been for daiane? no probably not!

i guess it just..... not "upsets" me, thats not the word im looking for, but maybe gives me pause when i see anybody say (about any of the aforementioned US-born gymnasts representing other countries, not just in this case with nemour) that its opportunistic or undeserved to be competing under the flag of a country your parent(s) came from but you've never properly lived in. because...... isnt that the whole purpose of the multi-generational Narrative Arc? dont they pick up their whole lives and move to "wealthy" countries to pursue better lives for themselves, and more importantly, for their children? and then their children do take advantage of those opportunities they would not have gotten back "home" and reach the highest levels of a (very expensive and, until very recently, highly "inaccessible") sport. and then there's a chorus of "well it isn't like she's FROM from there and came up from the ranks within that country." i mean you're not wrong but thats.... kinda the point!!! she couldnt have done it at "home," shes a clear example of how much talent there is in places that are torn apart and dirt fucking poor and how if you give those people the opportunity, they can be really fucking good at this! world class, even!

she is, in a very REAL sense, "representing" algeria. if she does well in paris (🧿🧿🧿🧿 *furiously knocking on every wooden surface in my apt*) she will become an emblematic iconic sports star for algeria. she will be the reason a ton of little girls in algeria (and even franco-algériennes in france) will want to sign up for gymnastics! she will have (and has already had, by the looks of it) a tangible impact on the popularity and the future of the sport in algeria. it cannot be overstated how fucking much that means.

[icarianiscariot]

top 5 album covers? top 5 ice cream flavors?

pause from fic questions to backtrack to top 5s (me reblogging 2 ask games within an hour OOPS LMAO)

top 5 album covers: the urge to just list off mcr albums is. Real

green day's american idiot - listen. the heart-shaped handgrenade is just. so fucking iconic??? it's simple it's bold there are 3 colors on that album cover. blocky art style. it's just so banger.

my chemical romance's three cheers for sweet revenge - it's iconic what more can i say. it's recognizable instantly. it's been "draw your otp"'d by hundreds.

panic! at the disco's a fever you can't sweat out - the collage-style is SOOO fun and interesting to look at, i used to just stare at that cd case/lyric booklet for HOURS lmao

my chemical romance's danger days - i would/will get the spider tattooed

brother moses's desperation pop - nice bright fun colors, a less mainstream response but one that i saw while scrolling my spotify for album art and thought "actually yeah that one slaps"

top 5 ice cream flavors: significantly easier

any kind of cake flavor - wedding cake, birthday cake, idc. it's always >>>>>

mint chocolate ice cream except with the giant chunks of chocolate/brownie/etc. - mint haters begone!

specifically the sonic blast cookie dough ice cream - there is magic and nostalgia in those tiny chunks of cookie dough and i go feral

any kind of excessive amount of chocolate tbh. chocolate ice cream w oreos and brownie chunks and drizzles of chocolate syrup? yeah sign me up, sounds good

ok last one tie between raspberry chocolate OR red velvet (specifically remembering a red velvet from an old local ice cream place in KC that got shut down during the peak of the pandemic. miss u bb) (does red velvet count when i put cake flavored ice cream as my number 1.......)

[russellsppttemplates]

Dance with me (Charles Leclerc)

Although Ferrari's strategy is going somewhere, albeit all over the place, Charles and Y/N are quite sure about their feelings towards eachother

Note: english is not my first language. It took me a bit but I've managed to do a part 2 to Stomp your foot. Also @ ferrari, get your thoughts together so that, while the boys get the results they deserve, I can write about good things too, please and thank you. There is also a little Mariana Zapata reference, if you know you know 😏

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

Tw: Ferrari's season, curse words, mentions of gender inequality

"Y/N is on her way here to spend the day with us", Charles reminded his family as they tidied the table from breakfast. He messaged you when you posted an Instagram story of the beach view from the room you were staying in Ibiza, asking if the meet up he proposed in Hungary was still up, the two of you finding a day to get together after your friend had gone home and before you left for Maranello. "So we're finally meeting the Y/N you're always talking about, I feel like I know her already", and Charles rolled his eyes at his brother Lorenzo's antics, "It's true, it's always Y/N this, Y/N that, oh Y/N likes that ice cream flavour too, and I stopped listening to you talk about her a long time ago", he finished as he headed upstairs, and Charles was about to bite back with a reply when he heard the doorbell, heading there to open to, he assumed, let you in.

You parked the rental car in front of the house Charles had sent you the address for, checking the door number on the message before ringing in, hearing footsteps on the garden path before Charles opened the small gate, "Hi Y/N, glad you could join us", he greeted with a kiss on each of your cheeks, "Hey Charles, thank you for the invite once again", you smiled as he stretched his arm so you entered the property, excusing yourself in through the open front door and taking in the house before Arthur's footsteps down the stairs caught her attention, making her turn her body to see the younger driver, "here's my favourite engineer, it's a shame Ferrari swooped you from the academy", Arthur said as he greeted you the same way his brother did. "You two know eachother?", Charles asked, the confusion clear by his expression, "I filled in for Prema Racing when one of their engineers was unable to attend for two races", you explained, "you're not the first Leclerc I'm ordering around", you giggled as Charles took the information in, "you never mentioned it when I talked about her", Charles said, and despite feeling like he might have outed himself, Arthur smirking as he saw his brother put his foot on his mouth, he simply shrugged, "there are many Y/N in the world, how could I know?", he teased as you walked into the outside area, "And here's another person who has ordered Leclercs about for a while, Y/N, this is my mother Pascale, mum, this is Y/N". "Hello, it's so nice to meet you. Thank you for welcoming me here", you said as she greeted you with a tight hug, "hi dear, it's so nice having you here, I'm the one who's glad you could join us. If you ever need tips on making them listen to you just let me know", she winked, "Charles isn't the problem, it's the other men that usually don't listen to what I say", you replied as you watched her head to the big window that led into the kitchen, "Can I offer you anything from the kitchen, darling? Maybe a drink...?". Taking the box from your tote bag, you explained its content "I'm good thank you! When my friend was here, we went to this shop that had these cakes with cookie ice cream in them and I thought I'd bring some for you", you offered as Pascale went to grab the box, thanking you before heading inside to place it in the fridge, "I told you you didn't need to bring anything", he said, "like I ever listen to you", you teased, "You really should, I have some great ideas and things to say", he said before his older brother made his presence known as he laughed, "you really don't sell yourself short, not at all. Hi, I'm Lorenzo, the older brother", he said as he greeted you.

You placed your tote bag on one of the sunloungers like Charles told you to before he grabbed a some beach rackets, "care to join us for a game? I promise we will go easy on you", he smiled as you stuck your tongue out at him, leaving your sandals as the four of you headed to the large grass area.

Lorenzo teamed up with Arthur while you and Charles made the other team as the net delimited the area for each pair. When Charles said they were very competitive between them, you'd never think it was like this. The balls were hit with great force, given that you were playing with athletes, but you dealt with athletes since you joined race early on, you knew competitiveness at a high level but this was beyond that, every now and again hearing muttered brotherly offenses between the brothers whenever one of them scored a point, Arthur and Lorenzo (only?) glaring at you when you scored the points as Charles highfived you. After playing for hours, you and Charles managed to win two out of the three games they had set to play after the first one ended with a one point difference between the duos, Charles hugging you while he lifted your body off the floor, "put me down", you squealed as he finally complied, "See? I know how to order you about", and little did you know he would probably do anything you asked him to if it meant you kept that beautiful smile that was now on your face forever.

"How about a swim now? I could use it to cool off", Lorenzo suggested as you grabbed the rackets and a ball to place them back in their bag that was next to the sunlounger you had placed your things on, seeing Pascale removing a cover up she was wearing so that she could join, "Why do I have the feeling that if I wasn't playing with them that would've been much uglier?", you said to her as you saw Arthur purposely throwing a ball he found at Charles and then pretending it was unintentional, "Oh definitely, yesterday Charles lost and he didn't speak to them for an hour, they take these games very seriously!", she chuckled as she made her way to get in the water. You rummaged your bag for a little pouch you had brought, reapplying the sun protection lotion on your face, Charles snickering at your white face, "what? At least I know how to behave in the sun and, as much as I like to work for Ferrari, I don't need to sport their colours all the time", you teased back as you rubbed the product in, checking your reflection in the window to see if you had done it properly, you hands moving to the button of your shorts so you could undo it and get ready to join the guys in the water, taking your flowy top off too.

You looked really good, Charles' eyes scanning your body as you folded your clothes neatly on the end of the lounger, the dark forest green of your swimsuit hugging your body complimenting your gorgeous figure, making the Formula 1 driver gulp, his brothers noticing his reaction and chuckling, the snickering between them going unnoticed by their middle brother as he watched your strong legs strut their wait into the steps, "Anyone seeing you would think you work for Aston Martin instead", he somehow broke the transe he was in, not wanting you to feel uncomfortable from his stare, "Seb is a good man, after all he was the one to teach me where the good coffee was at Maranello", you said and Charles looked at you, "Seb too? Really?", he mused, "I have been working in Ferrari longer than you have, I know many many people", you said once you submerged your head to wet your hair for a much needed dip, coming back up and smiling back at Charles as he shook his head. You were going to be the death of him, that much he was sure.

You were helping Pascale finish setting the table when Lorenzo handed you a tray with the bowl with the meat for the grill, "Can you bring this to Charles, please? And maybe stay in there with him and make sure he doesn't let it burn, we have everything under control here and you're our guest, too", he smiled as you excused yourself and made your way to a shirtless Charles that was lighting the fire in the grill, "the meat is here", you said simply as you watched him, "Shouldn't you put a t-shirt on? You could hurt yourself", you expressed your worry, not that you wanted him to cover his beautiful and well shaped torso, but safety came first. Smiling at you, "I think I can handle it", he said as he managed to get the fire to last for a little bit before it started to die down, "wait, there's salt here, let me just", you said grabbing the bowl from the tray and taking a bit on your hand before throwing it in the wood sticks, the flames livening up again, "You're a do it all, aren't you?", he smiled as he poked at the embers a bit, "in my case, you have to learn how to do it otherwise people will treat you like a child and assume you're a fluke, unfortunately", you reasoned while looking at what he was doing, not wanting to look at his face after you blurted that without thinking much first, but he picked up on it. Grabbing the the tongs to place the meat on the grill, "How come?", he wondered simply, "when you're the only woman in the middle of men, it can get quite intimidating until you find your ground and learn to stomp your foot. They're always assuming I need to be helped and that's the only way I'll get anywhere. And I haven't. I got into Ferrari with my hard work, my own blood, swear and tears, and I pushed through everything and every occupation to be able to become a strategist", you explained, the outskirts of what you had read after the Hungary GP about your position on the team taking a toll on you. You could only handle so much.

Checking the meat, Charles turned to you, tapping your arm so you could look at him, "I have been in the business for a good time too, and maybe you know a lot of people too", he tried to bring a smile to your face, succeeding as your lips curved upwards, "but trust me when I say that I never thought less of you because you're a woman, I actually think you fit really nicely in the team and there have been so many improvements that were all your doing", he said, the genuineness in his voice making the words sink into you easily, the butterflies on your belly dancing a melody of their own. "Thank you, that means a lot coming from you", you nudged his side, wanting nothing more than to hug him but refraining from doing so as you were still tiptoeing around your feelings for him, sometimes feeling like they were reciprocated but the nagging option of it affecting your job still present on your thoughts.

Pascale was looking at you as she placed the drinks on the table, noticing how her son's body language showed some hesitation to touch you and how you nudged him, seeming to want more out of it before resuming to laughing along to something Charles said, the smile on his face bigger than ever, "those two are taking their sweet time admiting what we all know", Lorenzo mentioned, Arthur humming in agreement as he placed the bread basket on the table.

.

"But why did it happen like that? That's my only question", your assertive tone was heard in the room, not rasing your voice to be heard as you knew that it was not how things worked out for the best, "we win as a team and loose as a team, we fail and conquer together. We all know that what happened out there today was not what we work for. Carlos deserves more. Charles deserves more. Ferrari deserves more. Tifosi deserve more. So much more. So I think we should really think about what we need to do to make it better. I've expressed my concerns and ideas and I hope you, too, think about it and bring them to the next meeting", you finished your intervention in the debrief meeting.

After a mixed feelings Dutch GP for the team, positive since Charles had managed to get on the podium but negative about the way things were handled for Carlos, everyone was quiet as they tidied things around the garage once you left that tense debrief, heading to the hospitality's balcony to get some fresh air and gather your thoughts. Hearing footsteps, you look over to see both Ferrari drivers, "Hey Y/N", Carlos said, "Hey guys", you replied, "Again, sorry we couldn't do anymore", you honestly said, upset at how the afternoon turned out despite a slight happiness that Charles was back on the podium, even though not in the spot you knew he wanted to be. "The guys, they were showing us the recording you have from what you discuss in the pitwall. And thank you", Carlos said looking at you and seeing in your eyes that you knew what he meant. When you noticed the rear tyre missing, you were pissed off, looking at the situation with your fingers rubbing circles on your head, the words just coming out of you as you defended Carlos and talked to his side of the pitwall, no one being able to tend to your questions and back to the pit stop area, groaning as you looked at that mess, your mumbled words after he managed to finally go caught by the system showing just how disappointed and frustrated you were about the decisions that were made, "Isa is downstairs, so I'll get going. See you guys later", the spanish driver said as he waved goodbye. Sitting next to you, Charles noticed your clear distress, "you're not the only person making the decisions, you shouldn't be taking all of this on your shoulders", he said, despite he himself feeling all the emotions about his own race, "fuck, this is just so hard, week after week, as you guys must feel it even worse, that we're failing you", you let out, taking Charles' honest silence as an (rightfully so) agreement, "we have Monza next week, and I'm going to make sure everyone in this garage knows what they're doing, I promise you", you said as Charles grabbed your hand in his as he squeezed them together, wanting to share some of your hope and resilience.

.

Monza really was a whole different atmosphere, the fans that gathered making it an unique race. You were putting on your yellow t-shirt for the celebration weekend when you noticed both drivers in their new suits that matched everyone else's tops, "you guys really look like minions, people on the Internet are right this time. I'm sorry, but that's the first thing I thought of", you said, "But we are handsome minions", Carlos said, noticing your eyes checking Charles out, "the handsomest", you replied, your eyes kept on the monégasque's face before you excused yourself and let them recover between the free practice sessions, Carlos speaking up as soon as you were out of earshot, "Honestly mate, if you don't make a move on her, I will make it for you. You guys are so into eachother it's actually insane", before he sipped on his water, Charles' eyes following you was you moved some pieces around.

.

Qualifying always got your nerves going, already being known in the paddock by how you could never sit for long during the three sessions, "Do you think we can get them both on the podium today?", Xavi said while you looked at the data, the beggining of Q3 approaching, "at this point I feel like if we can, Max is quick but maybe Charles could have an advantage, because looking here", you said as you pointed to some graphs and the notes you had scribbled down.

When Charles and Carlos were in the first two spots, you started feeling hopeful that, despite still having to work with penalties for the race the next day, the pace seemed to be there, your heart thumping on your chest as you tapped your foot nervously as Charles' data improved after the warm up lap, and when Xavi yelled "And P1!" into the radio, you did your happy dance, not having a care in the world about what others thought as you watched the Tifosi erupt in cheer.

Team dinner was going really well, everyone happy with how the day had gone and feeling hopeful for the race as they dug into their plates, the nights chill still not bringing the mood down. When nearly everyone decided to go inside for a liquor the owner of the restaurant offered, only Charles, Carlos, Isa, Xavi and you stayed behind, speaking until Isa noticed how you and Charles weren't particularly interested in whatever they were talking about and started having a conversation of your own, "I need to get something from the counter, amor, can you come with me?", she asked as her foot nudged Xavi's, the two men getting the hint as they left the table, you and Charles carrying on your conversation until one of your favourite songs rang through the outside speakers, "C'mon", you said, getting up, "dance with me, we need to celebrate today", you explained as you pulled Charles by his arm, your hand holding his as he spun you around, the both of you giggling like mad until Charles thought this was it, under the italian starry sky on an empty patio, his hand cupping your cheek as his forehead touched yours "tell me to stop and i'll stop, I promise", he whispered as his eyes flickered between your lips and eyes, your mouth pressing on his taking him by surprise for a second before he responded the affections, his other hand cupping your other cheek as your hands grabbed each of his wrists. Interrupting the kiss for air, Charles giggled as you hid your face in his neck, your lashes tickling him as his arms circled your waist, "it's going to be hard, but I promise, if you'll allow me, that I'll protect you and support your decisions at the same time. You are my equal, my partner and my teammate, and I want to navigate these feeling with you", he whispered in your ear as if he was telling you his deepest secret. Looking up at him, you smiled, "I want that too" before his lips latched on yours again, dancing together as the newfound addiction seeming hard to suppress.

[jackrogersfrost]

The Pediatrician

Summary: (Chris Evans) Imagine.

You take care of your brother who has a weird sickness, with the best pediatrician in the city: Dr. Chris Evans.

Pairing: Chris Evans(doctor!)x fem!reader

Warnings: Fluff, a little bit angst (your brother have a sickness without a cure).

A/N: If it's any grammatical mistake, my bad, I'm still learning. Reblog this to support my works. Enjoy!

MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST OF MY ART

You arrived hand in hand with your brother, the 7-year-old boy smiled with his toy soldier while he jumped avoiding touching the cracks in the ground.

"Good morning Sonia." You greeted the receptionist, a lady in her 50s greeted them with a warm smile on her face.

"Good morning guys, how are you?"

"Good, thanks for asking Sonia."

The little boy, Eduardo or Eddie as he liked to be called, stood on tiptoe to see Sonia at the high desk she had. "Has Chris come yet? She promised to bring strawberry popsicles this time." You laughed denying as Sonia heard it, a voice from the corridor greeted them.

"I heard my name from afar." With a smile on her face; Chris Evans, the best pediatrician in the country, was coming in his typical lab coat with you.

"Chris!" Little Eddie ran into his arms and the older one carried him happily hugging him.

"Eddie, champion! I've missed you all this month."

"Me too, did you bring the popsicles?" He laughed denying the innocence of the little boy and lowered him carefully.

"Those are not manners Eddie, say hello."

"Sorry, hi Chris."

The named ruffled his hair and saw you with the same smile. "It's good to see you again, Y/N." He greeted you with a kiss on the cheek and a half hug, making you smile.

"I'm glad to see you too... Although you know I'd rather it wasn't for this." You sighed and Chris nodded with a grin.

"I know, but let's hope this all ends soon, ok?" You nodded and walked with him to his office.

Chris Evans was without a doubt the best doctor of all and apart from being handsome, who brought all the nurses dead for him, he was the most gentlemanly man anyone could meet, and you had to admit that he also brought you dead at his feet. But as said before, you would rather it wasn't in this situation; your brother suffered from a very rare disease in which if they did not give him medication to treat him he could suffer cardiac arrest and recurring fainting spells, they had been looking for a cure for almost a year but according to Chris, they were still looking for it, for now, they could only treat him for postponing symptoms.

You both sat in front of Chris and he began to ask the little boy routine questions. "How have you been feeling these days Eddie?"

"Good, yesterday I had a friend's birthday party and they gave us ice cream cake, I didn't know it existed!" He replied excited that you looked at him with a tender smile.

And so the questions continued until after doing their usual checkup on his body.

"Well Eddie, go tell Sonia if she takes you to the playground, okay? I must talk to your sister."

"Yep." He smiled with his bundle of lollipops that had been promised him and happily left to look for you.

"Well... Now, tell me the truth."

You frowned at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Y/N, we have been friends for a year, I have learned little but I know when something bothers you."

You sighed and passed your hands over your face, he perfectly knew your appearance and what you felt without even saying anything. "I'm sorry, I really try to put on a good face when it comes to Eddie, but they've been calling me from the bank that I have to pay and they even threaten to repossess me... You know I can't pay them, I mean I want to but If I do that, that would mean not paying for Eddie's therapies, and I can't do that to him."

Chris got up and stood behind you giving you a light massage on your shoulders making you sigh.

"I know that you work hard to give the best to Eddie, that you do your best to help your brother heal, but you are not alone in this Y/N, whenever you need help, don't hesitate to ask for it, ok?"

"I don't want people to confuse it with pity..."

He crouched down to your height looking at you sincere and at the same time serious. "It's not a pity, don't think that, you and Eddie deserve happiness, and believe me that with a little help you guys will get it." He smiled at you and you smiled, nodding more animatedly. "Look, we'll do this: you won't pay for Eddie's therapies anymore until you finish paying the bank, ok?"

You looked at him worried, denying quickly. "What? No, I can't do that."

"You will... I'm going to pay them." You gave him a surprised look.

"But they are very expensive Chris, I can't give you that responsibility..." He shook his head smiling and put a hand on your knee. "It's not a responsibility, I just want to help you and Eddie in this, don't worry, when you finish paying your debt you can continue paying his therapies but until then I won't let you do it, understood?"

You sighed relieved and denied smiling. "I must pay you in some way for everything you do for Eddie and me."

"Well... How about a date this Saturday?"

You almost choked on your saliva when you heard it, the doctor who brings in half the population of women is asking you for a date. You thought about it for a few seconds and smiled sideways.

"Are you asking me out on a date, Dr. Evans?"

He laughed a little blushing and nodded scratching the back of his neck. "What are you saying?"

"7 pm, don't be late."

You both smiled and got up, Chris said goodbye to both of them and promised to be on time on Saturday. You went out with Eddie hand in hand with a lovestruck smile that you were sure wouldn't go away for the rest of the week until Saturday.

Part. 2?

[orionwhispers]

Bravado // Tommy Shelby Imagine

(A/N - its been a long ass time and i wanted to ease myself back into writing but this ended up being long and also super super angsty. sorry that this illness imagine came during covid idk whats going on with my imagination lol. love you guys SO much thank you for always being there. reblogs, comments and likes mean everything to me.)

trigger warnings - LOTS of angst. fluff. implied smut. my hc that tommy has a fear of illness, bad descriptions of hospitals. 

He knew something wasn’t right the minute his car pulled into the driveway and you weren’t waiting for him under the great concrete arch, with that smile on your face that made his knees buckle and heart race like he was a love struck teenager.

You were always there as soon as he came home. Barefoot in a broderie dress in the summer with tousled hair and baby pink toenails. Wrapped in a hand knit blanket with fire flushed cheeks and woollen socks in the winter - even running across the gravel and into his arms in the middle of a storm, the ice cold rain whipping across both of your faces as you kissed under the light of the moon.

No matter how shit his day or week or month was, no matter what stained his hands or darkened his heart, no matter what lay heavy and hard deep in his gut, seeing you made everything vanish in the night air like wisps of smoke. You made everything worth it.

He refused to give into fear, he wasn’t that kind of man, so he swallowed all of the nagging thoughts and apprehensions as he came up to the dark foggy windows and the iron cast door. It felt strange turning his key in the lock without the weight of you in his arms or the sticky peach kisses you left down his jaw and neck, the smell of the vanilla in your hair and lavender on your skin.

The second thing that sent a jolt of white hot electricity down his spine was Mary, watching him anxiously and wringing her hands in the hallway. Usually, she was calm and collected, taking his jacket and leather travel bag with her signature placid smile and gentle fingers. Usually she would return to the kitchen and finish up whatever she was making - a hearty roast lamb with rosemary and garlic and glazed potatoes or a pheasant pie with honeyed carrots, always followed by a three layer chocolate ganache cake that was so thick and rich you practically had to saw through the sponge. She would always have dinner piping hot and dripping with gravy by the time the two of you returned downstairs, no matter how many hours it took for you to get... reacquainted.

Now she looked sheepish and pale, her skin almost translucent under the syrupy yellow lights. There was something about the way she stood, as still as a wraith, that made his blood run cold.

“Mary. Where is she?”

“Mr Shelby, I - ” Her voice was strained and hesitant, like a slowly fraying rope.

“Where is my wife?”

She moved forward, creases forming around her eyes. “We tried ringing you in Liverpool but the hotel said that you had already left, so we...”

“You rang me? Why? What’s happened?” He couldn’t hold back the desperation in his voice, and it lingered and festered around them both like a poisonous gas.

“Mrs Shelby came down with something a few days ago, we thought that it was just a common cold but unfortunately she seems to be getting worse.”

He tore upstairs before he could even think, his shoes leaving perfect muddy footprints on the cream carpet. He almost slipped at the top, and he lurched forward, his hands reaching out and holding onto the portrait hanging above the stairs for stability.

It was the oil of the two of you. A soft, personal picture that revealed more than he ever possibly could. The love in your gazes, the hint of a soft, drunk smile on the dangerous gangsters face as you leaned into him, melting into him like butter, him holding onto you as though he couldn’t bear to let you go. It was his favourite photo, one that always washed a sense of calmness over him, a reminder of the woman that he loved and the way he felt around you. But now he felt as if was riding out a terrible storm.

He lived his life with no fear, he was capable and practical and used to the sound of bullets and the copper sweet smell of blood. There was really only one thing, one terrible thing that he couldn’t control, and that was what drove him crazy.

Sickness.

It gnawed at his insides like a rabid dog, clawed under his skin and settled behind his ribs. Losing someone he loved was like ripping out a piece of his heart straight from his chest, and he knew better than anyone what it was like to lose somebody to a violent, quick death - the pull of a trigger or the smack of a fist. At least in those moments he could lock them away in his mind, he could leap in front of a bullet or crack the neck of any man who dared to get too close to you, but there was almost nothing he could do to stop sickness, and the devastation it caused.

When you first met him it had been a surprise, almost amusing, that this powerful God of a man had these small little quirks. His house was always sparkling clean and smelling of Lysol, his fruit bowls were filled with citrus fruits and round, plump blueberries. He always made sure you were wrapped up warm in the winter, always placing his coat around your shoulders and bringing an extra pair of gloves in case you forgot yours. It was adorable, the way he took care of you,

It wasn’t till a little bit later when you learnt of those he had lost. His mother and his childhood sweetheart taken away from him much too soon. It broke your heart when he told you late one night of the sallow tint of their skin and the way he could almost see them vanishing from earth, the way that illness had moulded and changed those he loved the most.

You understood.

Your best friends older sister had died of tuberculosis when you were young. The elderly woman across the street from your first flat had passed away from a bout of horrendous smallpox. Your brother lost his first child to pneumonia. Times were changing but the fear of disease was ever present. Medicine was improving and so was knowledge, but still there remained a huge, dark cloud of what could happen, one that always hung around your husbands head.

——————————————-

All Tommy could think was the worst as he ran through the landing. His heart was in his ears and his bones felt loose, like the sweet liquorice the two of you would share at the pictures. He came to a stop by the bedroom door, tentatively pressing his palm onto the wood and ever so slightly pushing it open, listening to the gentle creak it made.

The room was warm. The lace curtains were pulled shut, and your favourite lavender candles were flickering on your vanity, casting syrupy shadows against the wall. He exhaled loudly as he saw you, bundled up under a mountain of satin sheets and hand crocheted blankets, your hair splayed across the pillows.

He moved to your bedside, pretending not to notice the large, untouched jug of water and the tissue box next to you, hoping and silently praying that you weren’t sick - just asleep and waiting for him, ready to wrap your arms around his neck.

You were silent, your lips parting every so often as you breathed, your chest rising and falling. He reached out gently, as though he was picking up shards of glass, and brushed his fingers against your cheek. Your forehead was beading with sweat, your cheeks flushed, and yet your skin was ice cold to the touch. He recoiled quickly, his heart dropping like a weight into his gut, and he inhaled a shaky, deep breath.

He saw something curled up beside your hands, a fluffy white cloud with sparkling emerald green eyes trained on him. Despite everything, he smiled. He thought of your birthday - of strawberry cheesecake and champagne, and surprising you with a ribbon wrapped little kitten as you woke up. He thought of that day often. How you smiled and leapt onto him with tears in your eyes, his whole world blissfully quiet as he spent the day in bed with you and your new best friend.

He would have preferred a big dog, one with sharp teeth and a menacing gaze to ward of visitors whilst he was away. But you were drawn to the tiny, malnourished runt of the litter who was scared of his own shadow. A kitten no bigger than the size of his clenched fist. A little white hairball who only ate and drank from fine pink saucers. A cat that had a very frustrating habit of crawling in the bedroom right as Tommy’s hand was up your skirt and his lips on the sweet spot of your neck, the tiny thing mewling and crying until you picked him up and nuzzled him into your chest.

He was a horse lover through and through, and never saw himself having time for any other pets. But in the summer when you saw the litter from one of John’s barn cats and fell in love with the sweet baby who mewled and cried and crawled right into your lap - he knew that he would give you anything and everything you wanted.

Including a cat who refused to accept that Tommy was the man of the house.

“Hello, boy.” He said, leaning over to scratch Comet under the chin, using a voice he only reserved for the two of you. “Have you been looking after my girl whilst I’ve been gone?”The cat meowed loudly in reply, pressing his head into Tommy’s palm but not moving from his spot beside you.

Tommy suddenly felt you shift under him and his heart lurched into his throat. He turned to face you, cupping the side of your clammy face as your eyelids fluttered open, blinking under the candlelight. A rush of red hot heat built up in his belly as you registered him, that angelic smile growing on your face, your tired eyes glimmering with recognition of the man you loved.

“Tommy?”

“Hi, Princess.”

You smiled sadly. “You’ve been gone for weeks - I missed you.”

He felt his brows crease as he rubbed along your jawline softly, trying to stop you from falling back asleep. He felt panic in his throat as sour as vomit, and he tried to bite back the nagging feeling that something was very wrong.

“No, sweetheart, I’m early. It’s only Thursday. I left on Monday.”

“Oh.” You said softly, your voice as gentle as the breeze rustling through the trees outside. “Well let me welcome you back properly - let me make you a lemon drizzle or a...” You lifted your head from the pillow and shuffled under your blanket, but he pressed his hands against your shoulder and held you down.

“No. You’re staying right here.”

“But - ”

“No.”

“Hmm. Don’t leave me, Tommy.”

“Never.” He said, his tone firm and cast like stone. He stroked your hair softly as your breathing slowed, but it didn’t nothing to quell the hard thump of his heart in his chest.

——————————-

Tommy left the room as quietly as he could after you had fallen asleep in his arms. He hadn’t wanted to move, not when you were pressed against his chest, looking ethereal but vacant, sweat beading under your brow and your face lacking colour. He wanted to stay with you, curled up by his side, his fingers laced through yours, the sound of your heart thumping in his ears.

But he was a man of action, and seeing you there - your lips cracked and dry, shudders passing through your body and goosebumps raised over your skin - he couldn’t fight the fiery urge to do everything in his power to make you feel alright again.

He found Mary waiting outside the door, chewing on the skin of her lips and swaying on the balls of her feet in anticipation. He grabbed her by the arm, harder than he meant to and something he would apologise for later, and pulled her downstairs, determined to let you rest whilst he got some answers. As soon as they reached the drawing room he spun her around, clenching his jaw and pointing a finger at the anxious maid.

“Where the fuck is the doctor? Why isn’t he here?”

“Mr Shelby.” She said, stepping forward calmly. “We phoned Doctor Moore and he came on Tuesday to see her.”

“Tuesday?” He seethed. “My wife has been ill since Tuesday and no one called me?”

Mary raised her hands in defeat, making it clear that the decision wasn’t hers to make. “He said it was nothing of concern . He gave her some antibiotics and told her to rest. She asked us herself not to call you, she knows how you.. worry.”

He ignored her sugar coated attempt to quell his anger, but if anything it made his vision darken. “When it’s my wife, It is always my concern.”

“Mr Shelby, we were just doing what we were told. As soon as we noticed she wasn’t getting better we phoned the surgery again, but Doctor Thomas was out for the day and said he didn’t think it was necessary to come round again, so we -”

“I don’t give a fuck. My wife is the number one priority. Ring every doctor in England if you have to, get somebody out here now to see my wife.”

He stormed away, anger pulsating through his veins, but he stopped suddenly, and threw out over his shoulder:

“And call Doctor Moore’s ’office. Tell him to expect a visit from the blinders soon.”

———————————————————

Once, when you were first dating, you found Tommy at the door to your flat at midnight, with scraped knuckles and blood dripping from his nose. You let him in, cleaned him up and sat with him in the bath until his skin was clear and his breathing was even. He knew that night, as you were pressed against his chest and his lips were pressed to your scalp that he was truly, madly and completely in love with you.

He remembered waking up the next morning, love drunk and blissful, and finding the bed beside him empty. He found you in the kitchen, wincing slightly and pressing a hot water bottle to your belly as you buttered a few pieces of toast. He rushed to your side with eyes as wide as saucers, concern lacing the features that were usually ice cold and hard as stone. You were completely baffled as he held you at arms length, his bright cerulean eyes trailing up and down your body for any signs of injury he might have missed. You were bewildered at the sight of the powerful man practically on his knees as he made sure you were alright, and you bit back a giggle as his warm palms spread over your abdomen.

“What is it? Whats wrong?”

“Tommy. Sweetheart.” You said softly, bringing his gaze level to yours. “It’s just - you know - that time of the month.”

He brushed off your embarrassment and ran his fingers through your hair, pressing a uncharacteristically gentle kiss to your forehead, sending a swarm of butterflies around the pain in your stomach.

“Do you need anything?” He asked, half ready to run down to the corner shop and buy any amount of painkillers or chocolate bars or your favourite lavender tea that you might need; not caring who saw the seemingly terrifying gang leader in the street with an armful of strawberry laces and salt water fudges.

You smiled like the summer sun and he melted, pulling you close as you whispered in the shell of his ear that you only needed him, and that was all you ever needed.

That was the first time you fully saw the extent of Tommy’s fear, but it definitely wasn’t the last. He knew he wanted you forever and always, and it took only six months of neck kisses and pillow talk, red hot jealousy and possessive hands across your skin and dancing in the rain and falling asleep under the pale yellow moon for him to put a ring on your finger. You were both consumed by your love, as though it was the only thing that mattered, it was insatiable and powerful - the wonderful mix of the devil and his sweet little angel.

And with that, came the good and the bad.

Like when you got food poisoning after Arthur cooked you a Sunday lunch to cheer you up whilst Tommy was gone. He came home to you retching over the toilet bowl with Mary holding back your hair, and swore that he would kill his brother with his own hands. Or when you slipped on ice and broke your arm while out with friends in London, and Tommy went ballistic and tried to ban you from ever leaving the house. It was just in his nature, how he always made sure you walked on the side furthest from the road, kept an arm slung around you whenever you were together, kept his eyes alert and vigilant no matter where you were - always looking out for his girl.

But he had never been like this.

———————————————————-

You were falling in and out of sleep. Waking up drowsy and heavy headed, squinting under bright lights, an ache in your skull and a burning in your throat. Every so often you felt a pinch in your upper arm, a squeeze on your palm, a kiss on your forehead - but you always drifted back into unconsciousness.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you woke up. The room was dark and you could hear the wind howling and whipping rain across the windows. You felt all too hot and all too cold at the same time, and the bed was damp with sweat. You struggled and tried to sit up, your head swaying and feeling as heavy as one of Tommy’s marble statues; as if you had been carved up and moulded. You could hear voices out in the hall, and unsteadily got to your feet, moving towards the noises.

“Pneumonia?” You heard through the thick wooden door, instantly recognising your husbands voice. “That’s impossible.”

“Sir...”

“Fucking. Impossible.” You knew his teeth were clenched.

The other man cleared his throat.“I know that it’s hard to hear, Mr Shelby, but your wife is very sick.”

“Just...” You felt your heart flutter and clench in your chest as the sound of his broken words, could practically feel his desperation and you wanted nothing more than to hold him. “Just tell me how to make her better.”

The second man spoke again, his voice softening and lowering, something you knew Tommy would hate. “Mr Shelby, the first round of antibiotics didn’t work and that means that it’s time for something stronger. Usually I would suggest the Birmingham hospital but I don’t think it’s equipped for...” He paused, trying to think over his words carefully. He wanted to convey the severity of the situation but also didn’t want to risk getting a bullet in his head from your very protective husband. “...This kind of reaction. I recommend we send her down to London for extra testing.”

“London? That’ll take two fucking hours. How the fuck can you recommend letting my wife travel that far? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“I’m my opinion this is the wisest choice to make, but unfortunately that could mean your wife might get worse before she gets better.”

“Worse than she already is? That’s not an option.”

The man you assumed was the doctor was insistent, trying his best to portray the severity of the situation but failing as your hardheaded husband had already come to a decision.

“I’ll look after her here. She’s safest with me.”

Once Tommy had spoken that was the final result, and the doctor slinked away into the darkness and shook his head. You remained peering from behind the door, your tongue between your teeth and your heart hammering.

Tommy took one look at you and frowned, scooping you in his arms like a baby despite your protests. He ignored you, acting playfully and cheerful but you could feel his heated skin and the see flare of his nostrils. You wanted to help him but didn’t know how, and let him tuck you under the covers once again. He kissed your crown and stroked your hair and you wanted to speak but no words would leave your mouth.

“You stay there this time. You know I have no problem with tying you to the bed.”

You rolled your eyes as he left, and his clenched fists and tightened shoulders told you all you needed to know.

————————————————-

Comet watched from his spot beside you as Tommy wrestled with the fire. He had noticed you shivering despite your high temperature, and bundled you up in blankets whilst sparking matches beside the fireplace. There were raindrops across his shoulders, evidence that he had been outside and to the log store right at the end of the property - a job that had always been for the Groundskeeper. Your precious cat nudged the tips of your fingers as you sighed and watched your husband throw kindling onto the coal, a deep unease settling over your gut.

“Tommy, my love, I’m fine.” It wasn’t exactly true but you felt he needed to hear it. But you could practically see your words wash over him and evaporate like ocean spray.

He was shaking a metal tin in his palm as he worked, and you groaned and let your head hit the pillow as he pulled out two round chalky tablets. You winced as he placed them beside your glass, your mouth already tasting like the sour talc medicine you had come to loathe. He raised his eyebrows and shot you a look that told you he wasn’t far off plugging your nose with his fingers to force you to swallow, and you childishly stuck up two fingers as you took them.

Your stomach rumbled with nausea and you bit back the bile in your throat as you settled into the pillows. You watched your husband as he pulled off his crisp white shirt, revealing his taut tan stomach and the deep ink tattoos that you loved to trace with your fingertips and your lips. There was something about him standing there, with those damn cerulean eyes and hidden muscles, that boyish hair and slender fingers that you wanted desperately around your throat, that made a million tiny fireworks spark inside of you.

But instead you pushed him away from you despite your body wanting nothing but him wrapped all around you. “Don’t get too close. I might have something contagious. I can’t have you getting sick.”

He ignored you, smiling inwardly at the way you always put others before yourself. It was one of the million reasons he had fallen for you. You were sweating out a high fever and shivering in pain, and yet you always thought of him first. He pressed his lips to your temple and pulled you closer, knowing that skin to skin was a way to bring down a fever - even if it meant he had to restrain himself from tugging off your pretty little white nightgown and whatever frilly things you had on underneath.

“I’m not going anywhere. Fuck it if I catch anything.”

“That’s easy for you to say. I’m the one who will have to dote on you hand and foot, you big baby.” You teased, pressing yourself into him playfully, finally giving in.

He held you like a child, trying to hard to soften despite the way you felt underneath him. Everything on him was running a mile a minute, and he couldn’t help but want to try everything and everything to make you feel better. His hand was pressed against your temple to always try and measure your fever, his other palm across your chest to try and count your heart rate.

He could hear Mary treading across the landing carpet but he ignored his anxious maid, instead letting himself be completely consumed by the only thing that mattered - you.

This was something he had to do by himself. He was the only one who could care for you he reminded himself. And he let the words tumble over and over in his skull until they were all he could hear.

—————————————————————-

You had been asleep for a long time.

Every hour, after pacing the length of the hall and sanitising his hands and wiping the beads of sweat above your brow and above your breasts he woke you up and held a cool glass to your lips. You mumbled and moaned and pushed him away but he kept his fingers across your wrist - harsher than he ever had before - and kept you as close to him as possible.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had cooked. Perhaps it was last valentines when the two of you had camped out under the stars, drinking icy white wine and sharing stolen, day drunk kisses. That night he had roasted a chicken over the fire and it had burnt to a crisp as the two of you rolled around the grass, his head buried in your neck as you giggled at the poultry going up in flames.

He was trying now though, easy, plain substantial meals that wouldn’t upset your stomach. Boiled egg and dippy soldiers. Crackers with smooth cheese. Bubbly water and ginger biscuits. Each time he went upstairs you pushed him away, your whole body shuddering and almost retching, and he felt like smashing the plates against the wall at his defeat.

It had been almost thirty six hours since he had come home and it had been almost as long since you had eaten something, and his heart thundered and shattered in his chest when he found you gasping and wheezing over the toilet bowl when you had taken a bite of toast to calm him. He rarely left you alone, only for a few minutes to put the still full dishes in the sink, to ring Lizzie and tell her that he wouldn’t be coming for reasons that he refused to disclose, to smoke a cigarette under the grey stone archway, his shaking hands and bitten fingernails barely visible through the sleepy rolling fog.

He had grabbed handfuls of papers and the brass ink pen you had got him for your anniversary and broke his own rule - bringing work into your bedroom. It had always been a sacred space. For candlelight and soft laughter, aching hands and heart shaped bruises, a sanctuary for him to breathe and to love and to be loved fully in return. But he was afraid if he didn’t have a distraction, he might just completely lose it, and he had to be there for you.

So he sat squinting in his glasses, the room almost completely dark save for a few candles because of the migraines that had started to spread throughout your skull, and let himself be drawn into the mess of squiggly lines and numbers that suddenly didn’t add up, with you still centre stage in his peripheral.

After about forty minutes of rereading the same sentence a dozen times to try and make some sense of it, he heard your voice, like a small crack spreading across a sheet of ice, coming from the bed.

“Tom?” You sounded so weak, he practically flipped your cream vanity as he got to his feet and darted towards you. “I don’t feel well.”

He lifted you as you reached your arms up at him like a child. He almost gasped at the sweat pouring from your body but didn’t want to scare you, and instead held your shaking, shivering body against his own. How could you be so hot, yet so cold at the same time? Your skin was prickled with goosebumps yet you were burning with a fever, and for the first time in a long time, he had no fucking idea what to do.

He left you propped up against the headboard and he entered the bathroom. He ran over to the claw foot tub you loved, twisting the faucet and trying to find the perfect medium between boiling hot and freezing cold. He didn’t want to overwhelm you, just try and soothe your raging fever, and he ignored the shelves of expensive bath oils and scented soaps that you coveted, instead opting for a handful of something meant to ease tension - praying to whoever was listening that it would help you somehow.

There was a brutal, awful moment as he lifted you from the bed, limp as a rag doll, where he imagined what would happen if your heart were to stop. He couldn’t comprehend what it would be like to miss the weight of you in his arms, the smell of your skin, the feeling of your lips against him, the shovels stopping and fading into nothing. It hit him square in the chest, as merciless as a bullet, and he had to lean against the doorframe to stop the two of you from plummeting to the ground.

He undressed himself first. Tugging his white shirt off, sliding off his slacks and his underwear, keeping you as close to his chest as he could. Then he pulled your nightgown up and over your head. He gathered your hair and secured it up with a claw clip so that it was away from your face, the heat radiating off your neck as fierce as the fire now burnt down to ash in the bedroom.

He lowered the two of you into the bath, sinking down beneath the eucalyptus smelling lukewarm water, letting it wash over you both. Your teeth were chattering and you were barely awake. He gathered handfuls of water, letting it drip over your shoulders and pulse points, grabbing a washcloth and running it over your raised skin, hating how you barely registered his touch. As he scrubbed over your collarbones and up to your face he saw your lips had turned to an awful, silvery blue, as vibrant as a fresh bruise. He hissed and tugged on the plug, now determined to get you wrapped up in a fresh towel and tucked back into bed.

You were soft and placid and he helped you out, lacking the usual fire that he adored. Your eyes were glassy and missing their vibrance, like the vanishing spark of a lighter - and he felt miles and miles of invisible distance between the two of you. You were unsteady on your feet and he used his body to prop you up as he warmed your arms with a fluffy white towel. You suddenly stopped, lifting your hand to your mouth as you started to cough - a horrible, dry, gasping cough.

He noticed it almost immediately. His eyes darting to the splatter of red against the white, a smudge of crimson that was as loud and commanding as a siren, a warning signal that something was definitely not right. A bead of scarlet that would linger long behind his closed eyelids.

He managed to get you back into bed, remaining calm as he stroked your hair and kissed your temple. He tucked you under the duvet and waited for your breathing to even before he ran downstairs, his heart thumping in his ears as he practically ripped the phone off of the wall.

“Pol? Fuck. I think - I think I need help.”

—————————————————————-

The room smelt like bleach and metal. Unfamiliar and clinical. There was something hard on your chest and covering your mouth, it tasted like wet pennies and was as heavy as a hand over your throat, but for the first time in days you could finally breathe. You tried to sit up, but there was a needle in your chest, a gown you didn’t recognise cut straight down the middle to accommodate it. You struggled and lifted the thin bedsheet above your shivering torso, trying to look around the cold room.

“Careful!”

It was Polly, dressed immaculately despite her surroundings. She reached out and placed a manicured hand across yours, and you smiled at the woman who had always been a calming influence when you had joined the circus of a family. There was concern in her eyes, rimmed with black eyeliner and lifted lashes but still swimming deep around her pupils. That made you frown, and you moved as much as you could to face her.

“What happened?”

She ran her tongue over her teeth, choosing her words. “You gave us quite a fright, love.”

“I did?” Your memories of the past few days were much like a fever dream, blurry and distorted snapshots were all you could really remember.

“Your pneumonia got worse. A lot worse.” She paused, looking over to the door and you followed her gaze. “They found fluid in your lungs.”

“So...” You started, gesturing to the needle in your abdomen and the breathing apparatus around your head.

She nodded. “Yes. You were in surgery. It was touch and go for a little bit.”

“Really?” You were bewildered. You couldn’t remember anything, let alone having major surgery. You looked her straight in the eye, asking her the questions that had been on the tip of your tongue since you had woken up. “Where is he? Where’s Tommy?”

“He’s outside.” She clicked her tongue, reaching deep into her purse and pulling out some hand cream, gently rubbing your dry hands like she was your mother. You leant into her touch despite all of your questions.

“What? Why?”

“I think he blames himself. God knows what goes on in that mans head. All I really know is he was bloody terrified.” She paused, looking over in the distance. “I’ve never seen him so scared, not even on his wedding day.” She smiled sadly, trying to lighten the mood, but it soon faded. “He didn’t leave your side the whole time you were asleep.”

Your heart thumped in your chest, a soft aching that you knew all too well. “I want to see him.”

“I know you do. But right now...” She stopped right as a handful of nurses entered, clad in long blue dresses with white aprons, hair tied back and smelling of strong soap and disinfectant. You lost Polly in the bustle as one spoke softly to you before tugging on the needle right beside your ribs, your eyes just catching hers as she left, a promise to see you soon on her lips.

It wasn’t her you saw next, but Tommy.

The nurses had cleaned you up with wet flannels and bowls of warm soapy water. Your hair had been braided and your face washed, and walked you arm in arm over to the bathroom so you could relieve yourself. A skittish doctor followed after, his eyes darting across you and his touch gentle as he changed your dressings and took your blood - obviously under strict instructions from your husband, and despite everything, you smiled.

You were sat listening to the clock tick. A romance novel you had been given was dangling dangerously close to the end of the bed, but you were too tired to focus on it. You heard the door squeal softly, and the sound of familiar footsteps across the tiling, each small thud sending shockwaves across your spine.

“Tommy.”

He looked tired. Exhausted rather, as though he had been awake all the hours that you had been asleep. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin was sallow and bruised. His clean shaven face was dark with stubble and his hair was ruffled and unwashed. You longed to reach out to him and cradle him against you, but he stood in the doorway, lingering like a ghost.

“Tommy?” You repeated, your voice almost a whisper, breaking his already shattered heart once again.

“How are you feeling, my love?”

You smiled softly, like spun sugar and sweet honey. No hospital bed or itchy gown could dull your infectious light. “Better now.”

He approached you almost cautiously. He settled down on the hard chair beside your bed and stroked a line down from your temple to your lips, his touch setting you alight like an electrical storm. There was a sadness in his eyes that reminded you of how he got when things were bad, and you willed him to come back to you. His touch was tentative and he inhaled shakily as you cupped his hand with yours, pressing a tender kiss to the inside of his palm.

“Don’t scare me like that. Ever.” He was stern, as though hoping his words would make it true. “I mean it.” He kept his gaze on your pretty face, trying his best not to stare at the harsh bruising on your delicate flesh or the sickly tone of your skin.

“Tommy I’m going to get sick, even you can’t stop that.” You teased gently.

“I can bloody well try.” His hands cradled your face, pulling you into him and kissing you fiercely, still mindful of the wires and tubes taped to your body. There was something about the tenderness and deep longing in the kiss that when mixed with your total exhaustion and love for your husband prompted tears to start falling from your eyes. You sniffled as he pulled away, concern dripping from his beautiful features, his powerful mind wanting to do everything and anything to stop your hurting.

“Hey, hey.” He said, running his calloused fingertips under your eyes and wiping your tears away. You leant into his touch and he kissed your temple, squeezing you even tighter into him. “You know I hate it when you cry.” He toyed with your hair and winked playfully. “Besides, all you need to focus on is getting better. You’re going to have to take care of me when we get home, this week has given me a fucking stroke.”

You rolled your eyes, kissing the inside of his wrist. “You’re a idiot, Thomas Shelby.” You blinked at the clock looming above you both, wanting to stay in your blissful bubble but also knowing that Aunt Pol would probably be in the vicinity harassing a poor nurse over your results. “You should go and find Polly, let her know that everything’s alright.”

He shook his head and nuzzled his nose across yours, an act so innocent that your heart dipped and swooped in your chest. “Later.” He said, breathless and consumed by you. Everything had been too much. Almost losing you had been harrowing, it had punctured him completely and he just needed to feel his girl safe and warm around him. He needed to know that you weren’t found anywhere.

“I just want to stay here for a while. Just me and you.”

You grinned. “Always.”

[nights-nonsensical-ramblings]

I posted 2,717 times in 2022

That's 2,464 more posts than 2021!

221 posts created (8%)

2,496 posts reblogged (92%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@niyana-the-ambiguous-mobian

@doomfox

@help-i-need-a-cool-username

@autisticshadowthehedgehog

I tagged 2,303 of my posts in 2022

Only 15% of my posts had no tags

#sonic - 796 posts

#night reblogs art - 754 posts

#knuckles the echidna - 612 posts

#knuckles wachowski - 411 posts

#sonic movie - 389 posts

#sonic wachowski - 374 posts

#sonic the hedgehog - 356 posts

#tails wachowski - 354 posts

#video - 283 posts

#miles tails prower - 271 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#i was scrolling and thought i had come across one of those old and not quite popularenough to gain legendary only seen in screen shot status

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

boom and movie interaction ideas

scu tails and sonic keep getting people to have a hand shake with scu knuckles. theyll just be off to the side grinning wildly as someone makes the huge mistake of offering scu knuckles a hand shake who is doing his best and trying to be polite so of course gives them one without realizing how much pain he causes.

scu sonic probably got most of his belonging when was living in the cave by collecting stuff people had thrown away so sees nothing wrong with rummaging through garbage. And getting confused when someone calls Sticks out for doing it. “But people throw good things away all the time”

Sticks and scu tails being boomerang buddies. 

Scu sonic thinks amy’s giant hammer is one of the the coolest things

everyone gets “donut lord/pretzel lady” style nicknames

The Boom team trying to explain to scu tails and sonic that spying on someone to learn about them is not how to make friends 

dave the intern says something vaguely rude towards scu tails and scu sonic and knuckles take this as an insult to their little brother. and are ready to jump the counter and throw hands in their little brothers honor.

scu tail won’t stop making deadly and intense weaponry. (like the wedding cake exploder gun thing) and at one point  gets yelled at by Amy “WHY WOULD YOU MAKE THAT” “idk seemed fun”

the miles electric has caused a LOT of trouble (they didn’t tell anyone about the hologram function at first) some incidents include: a hologram repeatedly entering a room from the same door and everyone loosing their mind. using it to look like scu tails beat boom sonic to somewhere. an incident that caused sticks to run into the woods and not be see for hours

344 notes - Posted May 4, 2022

#4

general sonic headcannons

Rouge made team dark play untitled goose game. It quickly became one of their favorite games.

Sonic was once in the city and got the impulsive thought of “grab pigeon”  and he succeeded. Sonic then stood there for five minutes processing what to do next because his brain hadn’t come up with what to do next.

Knuckles has an extremely skewed sense of time. Like he sees midnight as a reasonable time for visits, he’ll have breakfast anywhere between 1 am and 11 am, he’s willing to wait for what everyone else considers absurd amounts of time but to him are nothing.

Silver loves collecting random trinkets. Especially things that most people these days would take for granted, everyone likes to give him random items to see his face light up with wonder.

Silver lives half in the present and half in the future.

Big gives the best hugs. Team Chaotix especially appreciate them during winter.

Not a single person in the group uses a chair in a normal way.

351 notes - Posted September 12, 2022

#3

Another thing I love about the sonic movies (that gives me major neurodivergent vibes) is seeing how the kids are leaning by mimicking.

We have sonic in the first movie copying Tom with pressing the ice to his face and Maddie with the yoga (come to think of it a majority of Sonics learning probably was from mimicry) oh yeah the trying to smash a bottle of a guys head because he saw it in a movie.

Then Tails with the dance sequence (I’m sure there was more but I can’t think of it off of the top of my head)

And knuckles getting ready to join the battle just like the older warriors. and especially the scene where he sees Robotnik playing around and acting destructive to the sonic hologram and then proceeds to do it himself. Or how sonic throws sand so he starts doing it to (I love this scene it really help remind you that they’re teenagers who went through hell and had to grow up too fast)    And The particular way he uses a handshake or power bump once he learns what they are.

I know there’s more examples of all three of them doing this but I’ll have them to rewatch the films to remember 

anyway they’re neurodivergent and I love them for it.

369 notes - Posted May 1, 2022

#2

i notice a lot of fanart likes to portray SCU sonic as being around waist height to boom sonic and following that logic I used these two screenshots to try and compare the scu and boom characters 

They where the closest I found where all the characters where standing straight/neutral in a line and all basically the same distance from the camera.

So I lined them up, put scu sonic at about waist height and measured them.

See the full post

392 notes - Posted May 6, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Idk I think this is the dynamics they’d have.

424 notes - Posted August 30, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[themagnusbane]

I posted 239 times in 2022

11 posts created (5%)

228 posts reblogged (95%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@three--rings

@bengiyo

@yeetlegay

@lutawolf

@ilargeicontradictmiself

I tagged 229 of my posts in 2022

Only 4% of my posts had no tags

#you’ve got to be queueing me - 107 posts

#you’ve got to me queueing me - 39 posts

#love in the air - 31 posts

#kinnporsche - 18 posts

#mdzs - 16 posts

#payurain - 15 posts

#lita - 14 posts

#love in the air the series - 14 posts

#wei wuxian - 14 posts

#mass effect - 13 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#i say let me enjoy my trashy gay smut. my artsy queer awakening cinema. my revolutionary punk rock burn down the establishment love story

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Gap The Series Episode 02 Thoughts

1. Everyone calls her Mon. But you can call her future wife. Love of my life. Walking goddess. Baby girl. The choices are endless Sam!!

2. Hfffgghhfhh. Or babe. Babe is a good pick too 😂😂.

3. Aaaaaand we have our first eye-fucking of the episode!!! This show’s like we know lesbians. Half of their foreplay is eye-fucking, and we aim to be as accurate as possible. To which I say, thank you for the blessing and consideration 🙌🏾🙌🏾

4. Oh Sam dearest. She’s not saying you’re old. She’s calling you Mommy!! 😏

5. Hear that “Your Line in my phone. Now” voice??? And you wonder why she calls you Mommy 😂😂

6. I feel you Sam! If my crush gave me their jacket, I’m never washing it, or taking it off!!!

See the full post

23 notes - Posted November 27, 2022

#4

Never Have I Ever - A PrapaiSky Fic(let)

So the thing is, I haven't written in almost 4 years (and no. My WangXian short doesn't count because it was meant to be 31 chapters and I still have 30 chapters unwritten since Mayhem November last year).

But, @suga4mycoffee requested for a fic where Prapai is made to realize just how badly he fucked up, based on the tags I made to her post, so that got the dusty ass writing plot bunnies going and now you have a fic that I think is rusty af, but I hope you enjoy anyway Suga.

**

If looks could kill, Saifha was sure his twin would have had him drawn and quartered, buried in a shallow grave with no headstone to commemorate his passing. And if he were a nicer twin, he would probably have found remorse buried somewhere in the depths of his heart.

But alas, he is very much Payu’s twin, and bringing his brother a measure of discomfort and misery soothed his soul. The fact that it made Payu’s boyfriend just a little bit miffed, which in turn meant that Nong Rain turned those bright eyes of his on his boyfriend in a glare that would have withered a lesser man, was just icing on an already spectacular cake. 

Having Nong Sky and Prapai caught up in all this however, wasn’t something he had planned.

But… Did he find it entertaining anyway? Certainly. It was wonderful the number of secrets that a simple game of Never Have I Ever, which he is proud to admit was his suggestion, could unravel. Besides, when you looked at it from the right perspective, he really was doing them all a collective favour. Best to let them air our their fears and insecurities and hurt, so their relationships can be the more stronger for it. 

Really, he should be deified for all the service he’s been rendering. 

“Never have I ever had an ex draped all over me, even though I already have a boyfriend, and I didn’t push said ex off, the minute he pulled his shit.”

At the words, Saifha’s eyes snapped to Nong Sky, and then Prapai. At the same time, Nong Rain turned to look at his best friend, whilst Payu’s eyes were locked on Prapai. 

“That is… Oddly specific,” Saifha murmured, leaning back to watch the chaos unfold. 

Praipai meanwhile leaned forward, fingers flexing on his glass of scotch whiskey, already half empty, because Prapai apparently had very few Never Have I Evers, and although Nong Sky’s been smiling every time Prapai’s had to lift that glass to his mouth for a drink—oh to be young and sickeningly in love—there was no smile on his face now, as he waited for Prapai. As they all waited for Prapai. 

Praipai meanwhile had his eyes on Nong Sky, a softening in their brown depths that pulled a low sound from his boyfriend’s throat, had Nong Rain’s eyes widening, and Payu tilting his head the way he did when he was furiously trying to connect the dots. 

Saifha could feel his own eyes widening. Oh shit. He fucked up didn’t he?

“You saw?” The words came out in a whisper so low, the wind almost caught it and erased it. But they were all hanging on a thread, heightened by the hurt in Nong Sky’s voice, and the remorse in Praipai’s, that they all heard it. 

“Are you drinking or not P’Pai?” Nong Sky’s voice was cold. Gone was the teasing inflection that Saifha was used to hearing. And clearly he wasn’t the only one who noticed. Nong Rain’s mouth was open, and Prapai flinched. 

Saifha watched him take a deep breath, and down the rest of the whiskey in one gulp. 

He heard an explosion of sound as Nong Rain launched himself at Prapai, only to be pulled back by Payu. Saifha noted that the grip Payu had on his boyfriend was loose, barely restraining him as Nong Rain’s eyes spat way more rage than that little body should have access to. 

Saifha could tell. If Payu wasn’t holding Nong Rain back, Prapai would have had to deal with the nails and teeth of his boyfriend’s best friend who looked like he was minutes away from breaking free of Payu’s hold and dealing all the hurt he could at the man who’d dared to hurt his friend. 

And with the way Payu was holding him, Saifha could tell that he was really considering letting go, and giving Nong Rain the free rein to dole out all the damage he wanted. 

Nong Sky meanwhile seemed to let loose all the air that he’d held in, waiting for Prapai’s response. Saifha watched as he deflated, and curved into himself. His hands digging into the flesh of his upper arms as he rocked back and forth. 

“I’m sorry,” Prapai whispered, knees sinking to the floor right in front of Nong Sky, hands reaching out to touch him, and then pulling back, fingers flexing like he didn’t have the right to do that anymore. 

“How could you P’Pai? How could you?” Nong Rain’s voice kept rising, his feet trying hard to connect with Prapai’s shin. But Payu’s hold held strong and he couldn’t come close. 

“Why?” At Nong Sky’s whispered question, everyone quieted. Prapai slid a step closer, and Nong Sky’s eyes locked with his. 

Saifha could feel the moment when everything, and everyone else faded away for them. They were together, in their own cocoon of hurt and pain and regret. 

“Why are you sorry P’Pai?”

“I—“

“Are you sorry that you said you would be out in 5mins and you didn’t keep that promise? That I ran into girls there who were talking about how they wanted to fuck you? Are you sorry that they mentioned that P’Payu had made it clear that he had a boyfriend, but they had no idea that we were together? Are you sorry that they thought they had a chance with you because they didn’t know otherwise, because you didn’t tell them otherwise?” 

Saifha watched Prapai’s shoulders slump with each question that Nong Sky tossed his way. The younger boy’s voice was low and level. No inflection of the rage that Saifha would have expected. It was like he had sunk deep into the depth of all that hurt and pain; like they were were questions he had asked himself over and over again, until he had numbed himself to it, and disassociated from it all.

See the full post

62 notes - Posted November 22, 2022

#3

Everybody else: The special episode had Daddy Kink, Prapai eating Sky out on a conference desk leading to some conference desk fucking, Sky pulling out his claws on one of Prapai’s exes, Rain and Sky being dumbasses and Sig having his villain cackle moment…

Me: Hold up! WHEN WAS SOMEONE GOING TO TELL ME THIS EPISODE HAD A ONE PIECE REFERENCE????! One Piece made it into Lita???? OMGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!

Look at Monkey D. Sky go! He’s going to become the king of boyfriends! 🤣🤣🤣🤣

102 notes - Posted November 27, 2022

#2

Things that will live in my head rent free, courtesy of the special episode

1. Daddyyyyyyyyy

2. Rain’s little hitch of his hips and eye rolling to the back of his head as Payu slides in

3. Conference tables are for gaming and fucking and gaming while fucking and fucking while pretending to be gaming

4. Payu in a pilot uniform

5. Prapai’s “huh” at Sky saying they should have a bath

6. Payu thumping Rain’s lower lip with that whispered “I’m trying to make it up to you now”

7. That little hitch to Prapai’s breath and his “absolutely” to Sky asking if he wants to kiss him

8. Payu and Rain’s final “I love yous” 😭😭😭

9. Prapai’s “I want to have the right to take care of you” proposal

10. Payu’s ass in those wet CLINGY white trousers. Jesus fucking Christ!!!

604 notes - Posted November 27, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

See the full post

1,259 notes - Posted November 29, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[steambend]

steambend’s end of year fic rec list [2020]

so i thought i’d just collate a list of my favourite fics i read this year. i’ll split it from completed to ongoing, and it will go from general to mature rated fics (each category is also in alphabetical order, because i’m that bitch). i’m sure most of these fics you will have seen or read before, but i wanted to get them all in one place and maybe start an annual tradition on my page!

these are all zutara fics

completed fics, rated: general

beautiful by dyce

zuko cannot stop noticing that katara is beautiful. 

brightest in the dark by soopersara

a less-than-friendly interruption in the crystal catacombs pushes zuko and katara together, and they have to work together to find a new path.

canon divergent from crossroads of destiny

completed fics, rated: teen and up

mending wounds by fictionissocialinquiry

'the fire prince is older. you can see it in the calmness of his expression, the relaxed carriage of his shoulders. he is smiling at her. she's never seen the fire lord's son smile.' while lost in the foggy swamp, searching for her brother and her avatar, katara is haunted by visions of the fire nation's disgraced prince. visions of peace after war, visions of honour and secrets...

stealing from pirates by dyce

without zuko to rescue her from the pirates, katara is captured... and finds that they already have a prisoner in desperate need of her help.

such selfish prayers by andromeda3116

katara's ambition, so long set aside for the good of others, breaks free and sets fire to her soul. or, katara has a vision of her canon future, casts it aside, and becomes a world-changing politician instead.

the color of the stars by bluenebulae

“roads were made for journeys, not destinations.” ― confucius

one moment changes the course of history. katara and zuko are imprisoned by the fire nation army during the day of black sun, and when they escape, they find themselves adrift in the fire nation with no one to rely on but each other. with only six weeks before sozin’s comet arrives and four nations to cross, the pair must track down katara’s allies, save the world—and learn to trust each other.

canon divergent from part 2 of 'day of black sun.'

there are worse things i could do by orosea

she thinks of how this must be so easy for sokka, to be married at home, to someone of his culture. she has nothing against princess yue, the sickly girl is kind, and frankly, far too good for sokka. which is the problem. sokka is in love with her.

and what does katara get? a marriage to a firebender. thrown into a country she doesn’t know, like fish carcass, to the nephew of the fire lord.

for her tribe, she tells herself.

rounding the edges by sadladybug

it can take some grit and hard work to grind out the sharp edges, but the effort can produce something that shines. a zutara oneshot in which katara learns a few new things about zuko, including the fact that he may be very difficult to live without. featuring unexpected teamwork, tense training moments, and more than a few awkward conversations. canon compliant(ish), book three beginning sometime between tsr and eip.

what fortune lent by lewilder

au; the southern raiders' mission aims true and katara is taken to the fire nation as a prisoner of war. as her circumstances and the political climate change, she forms unexpected alliances and makes it her mission to restore her people and find the avatar.

completed fics, rated: not rated

and you feel your heart (taking root in your body) by raisindeatre

"no one is now what they were before the war." - catherynne valente

after everything - the comet, the war, the coronation - katara tries to find the road back to herself. somewhere along the way, she also finds the road to zuko.

ongoing fics, rated: teen and up

in the kingdom of heaven by nautica_dawn

in her later years, katara will look back on the agni kai against azula fondly. in her younger, more immediate years, she wishes she'd turned down zuko's offer.

polar nights by crystalline talisman

in order to arrange a treaty for the long standing war between the water tribe and fire nation, prince zuko is sent to the south pole to arrange a truce by fire lord lu ten, where he is greeted by subzero temperatures, sea prunes, and quirky customs. this of course, is a cake walk compared to the revelation he'll be marrying the stubborn spiritual leader, katara. au. zutara.

the chief and i by jassmarie19

when the fire nation decides to take over the world, it is the temples that go down first (peacefully, and no one suspects a thing). then their eyes turn towards the mainland and all is lost for the earth kingdoms. at this onset of war, the southern water tribe shuts itself off from the rest of the world. it is a challenge at first, but the fire nation decides they have loftier goals than the tribal people of ice and water. they are forgotten.

a century has passed. the fire empire runs the world, emperor azulon at the head with his grandson, the herald of light, prince zuko of the southern isles by his side. fresh off winning the last vestige in the earth kingdom, prince zuko travels to the south to gain the last of the free world. but they come to the southern water tribe knowing nothing but snippets saved before the conquering. the herald of light has a lot of work ahead of him if he is to convince their vexing chieftain to surrender. the fate of the great imperial empire counts on this.

this might as well happen by owedbetter

stranded in a foreign country during a pandemic, zuko has a crazy idea.

ongoing fics, rated: mature

southern lights by colourwhirled

a world where the avatar has disappeared from memory. where sozin’s conquest was successful. where the unsteady order of the empire is threatened as members of the royal family are picked off one by one and lines are slowly drawn in the sand.

one last chance for peace forces an unlikely alliance between a homesick waterbender, a carefree air nomad, a runaway earth kingdom heiress, and the fire lord's inscrutable son. together they must learn to shed old enmities and become the balance they seek to restore to the world.

or:

the avatar has four heads.

x

[[chapter 4: "and always, his eyes, cautiously watching her. even when he thinks she isn’t looking. it drives her mad"]]

waste no more time by owedbetter

'waste no more time arguing what a good man should be. be one.’ - marcus aurelius

no one knew where the painted lady of republic city came from. they only know that one day, she did. healing the sick, fighting injustice where she could, and ruining profiteering capitalist organisations when she could.

and ozai corporations will stop at nothing to put an end to this brand of vigilante justice, even hiring the elusive powers behind blue spirit investigations to seize and desist her from further damaging the chaos her revolutionary care is inspiring among the people... by any means necessary.

a tale of justice, love, and revolution.

and that is it! happy reading guys, and feel free to reblog and add your favourite zk reads of 2020

[thevoilinauttheory]

Character Summary - Maximiloix Voilinaut

Alias/Nicknames: Max (begrudgingly, absolutely hates it) | Maxie (will only accept it from Caromont) | Soleil Fauvier (alias in which his home(s) are bought under)

Gender: Male

Age: 111

Zodiac: Capricorn [ The Spear ]

Abilities/Talents: All things magical in nature [ Conjury/White Magic, Thaumaturgy/Black Magic, Arcanima/Summoning, Red Magic, Blue Magic, Glamours, etc.; you name it, he knows it. ] | Tracking Aetherical Signatures | The Echo [ presents itself as visions of the past, specific to historical events; ability to understand any language (cannot write nor speak said language unless learned); and unnaturally resilient to overabundances of aether. ] | Manipulation 

Alignment: lawful / neutral / chaotic / good / neutral / evil / true

Religion: Surprisingly, the Ishgardian Orthodox Church

Sins: envy / greed / gluttony / lust / pride / sloth / wrath

Virtues: charity / chastity / diligence / humility / justice / kindness / patience

Languages: Common, Old Ishgardian, Old Sharlayan, (broken) Dragonspeak, and Sign Language; currently teaching himself Far Eastern languages, and is familiar with Ilsabardian words and phrases, but is not fluent (yet). He is fluent in other less savory languages, which he rarely uses unless as a scare tactic.

Family: [ He hasn’t lived this long and not have an extensive family - I’ll only list current living relatives that have made frequent appearances on my blog; all other relatives can be found here ] || Caromont Allard (Husband?), Lothaire Voilinaut (Grandson), Camilla Voilinaut (Great-Granddaughter), Misha Voilinaut (Grandson-in-law), Honorie Fauvier (Granddaughter), Tatienne Fauvier (Great-Granddaughter), Valere Voilinaut (Brother-Unbeknownst)

Friends: [ Really depends on what you consider a friend. ], Maximiloix will claim to only have one friend, Shango Thango. Anyone else in his life (not family), is considered an “acquaintance”. Really loose on that definition too.

Sexuality: heterosexual / bisexual / pansexual / homosexual / demisexual / asexual / unsure / other (polyamorous)

Relationship Status: single / partnered / married / widowed / open relationship / divorced / not ready for dating yet / it’s very complicated (legally a single widower)

Libido: sex god / very high / high / average / low / very low / non-existent

Build: slender / average / athletic / muscular / curvy / other

Hair: (unnaturally) white / blonde / brunette / red / black

Eyes: brown / blue / gray / green / black / other (Heterochromatic - left eye is silver, right eye is turquoise)

Skin: pale / fair / olive / light brown / brown / dark / other

Height: 7′4″ without the heels, 7′6″ with them (occasionally 7′7″, it depends on what he’s wearing)

Scars: Both hands are scarred from an over-usage of magic; left forearm is deformed from an improperly set broken bone; deep scars on bottom of right foot; various other smaller scars across his body from travel/battles.

dogs or cats || birds or bugs || snakes or spiders || coffee or tea || ice cream or cake || fruits or vegetables || sandwich or soup || magic or melee || sword, dagger, or bow || summer or winter || spring or autumn || past or future

A few songs that remind you of them:

- Bad Apple!! (English Version) - RichaadEB ft. Cristina Vee - When You Die - MGMT (original video not linked due to graphic imagery) - Punching in a Dream - The Naked and Famous (same for this one, kind of? better safe than sorry lol) [ Special Shoutout to “The Dismemberment Song” by Blue Kid - recommended to me by @yvesoix-sellemontiere ! thank you so much, this was an absolute treat to listen to and associate to Maximiloix lmao ]

Tagged by: @littlestcreampuff ! Thank you so much!

Tagging!: @renofmanyalts, @mathemagiks, @ever-searching, @lukawarrioroflight, @yvesoix-sellemontiere, @furys-mercy, @trishelle, @starforger, @houserosaire, @thegreatsharkleve​, @flamesworn, @scholarlostintime, @illia-ast, @bek-sc​, @tavard-ffxiv​, @cadrenebula​, @valdiis​, @captainkurosolaire​, @jasleh​, and whoever else wants to do this! Tag me in it - and just pretend like I tagged you here :)c I like learning about y’all’s characters. If you’ve done it already, feel free to just reblog and tag me, DM me it, or do one for another character you have! 

[bbysamu]

A (Sad) Love Story

⇢ Featuring: MIYA Osamu x you

⇢ Genre: Angst to Fluff

⇢ Warning: None

⇢ WC: 1,262

⇢ Inspired By: Love Story - Epik High ft. IU

Preview: A look back at the snippets of your relationship from the perspective of the camera.

You can’t even pinpoint it, but somewhere along the line, your paths diverged. You don’t realize until you look up and see him on the opposite shore.

“Do you think it’s for the best?” He asked.

“Yes.”

“Maybe one day we’ll come back to each other.” He sounded tired.

“Maybe.”

“This is it?” He doesn’t want to let go.

“I think so.”

“Okay.” With the reality in front of him, how could he say no to the inevitable future.

“okay.”

“bye.” He whispers and the line goes dead.

The bedroom darkens as the sun sets, you don’t bother turning on the light.

ding - click to see your memory three years ago today. You tap open the notification.

[ 3 years ago - a memorable Monday ]

MIYA Osamu smiles nervously.

“What are we doing today Samu?” His twin asks from behind the camera, panning the device around to capture the scattered petals and the picnic blanket on the floor.

“I’m asking Y/N to be my girlfriend. Y/N if you’re seeing this video it means you’re my girlfriend and I love you!”

“ew you creep. How can you love her already?”

Osamu glares at Atsumu, “shut up you faux blonde. I’ve loved her since the moment I saw her.”

“I --” Atsumu was interrupted by the notification on his phone, “yo Suna says Y/N is coming up to the roof now.”

“hurry, go hide in the corner over there.”

“you got this Samu.”

“thanks Tsumu.”

Atsumu’s hand trembled slightly as you emerged into view. “Don’t mess this up!” he whispered, cheering on his twin.

“Hey Samu, what’s up!” You called out cheerfully.

“I was wondering if you wanted to have a picnic with me today?”

“Does it involve onigiri?”

He pretended to look offended, “who do you take me for? of course there’s onigiri.”

You laughed and he smiled, “then what are we waiting for? Wait why are there so many flower petals?”

He answered your question with another, “before we have our picnic, I have to ask you something.”

“Please don’t be weirded out, we’ve been friends for so long and I don’t want to ruin our friendship, but I can’t hide it anymore. Ever since you entered the classroom two years ago, I’ve been in love with you. You’re the most amazing, kind, intelligent girl I know.”

Osamu looked at you shyly, “Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?”

With your back to Atsumu, the camera couldn’t capture your expressions, but your enthusiastic, “yes! Samu I thought you’d never ask!” made it easy for one to imagine the joy etched on your face.

“gosh finally, my legs are cramping.” Atsumu remarked just as the video cuts off.

You fingers hovered over the delete button before swiping left.

[ 2 years ago - a lazy Sunday ]

“Why do you guys always drag me along on your dates?” Atsumu groaned.

You smiled cheekily into the camera, “because we need a videographer.”

“couldn’t you get Suna to do it? He actually enjoys filming people.”

“He’s busy today. Plus don’t you want your twin brother to be happy?”

“Not really.”

“Don’t be bitter just because you don’t have a girlfriend Tsumu. Green is not a good color on you.”

“shut up, Y/N”

“don’t tell my girlfriend to shut up.”

The camera captured your surprised expression before turning over to Osamu’s confused one.

“Samu why are you here so early!”

“I always arrive early to our dates so you don't ever have to wait for me.”

“well you shouldn’t have today. Now the surprise is ruined!”

“what surprise?”

“Surprise!” The rest of the Inarizaki team jumped out from behind the counter.

Osamu looks at you, “what is going on?”

“Happy one year anniversary babe!”

“That’s not until tomorrow though.”

“yeah I know, but since every one is busy tomorrow, I thought I’d gather them today to give you a surprise anniversary event, since you know, the whole team helped out when you asked me out last year. I thought it’s only fair if they get to participate in our anniversary too.”

Kita and Aran brings in the cake with a picture of you kissing Osamu on the cheeks.

“Wait what was the surprise?”

“Well the lights were supposed to be turned off then we’d jump out and scare you.”

“Aren’t you the prankster?”

“hey love birds can we eat this cake or what?” Atsumu calls out from behind the camera.

“Go ahead guys!” You call out.

The camera captures Osamu leaning down towards you, “thank you my love.”

The video ends.

[ 1 year 2 months ago - a rainy Wednesday ]

“Hi everyone! My boyfriend and I are here trying out the hottest ramen place in town.”

Osamu looks at you curiously, “who is everyone?”

“I thought I'd take a stab at vlogging.”

“oh trying to be an influencer I see you.” He teases.

“shut up and eat your noodle.”

He gladly comply, his eyes twinkling as he looks up into the camera, “oh babe this is so good you gotta try the soup.”

He takes a spoonful, blowing on it before feeding it to you.

“mmm it is good. Try mine try mine!”

“yours is good too, but I think mine is better.”

“oh really?” You look down at your ramen disappointedly.

“Here we can trade, I ate half already.” He takes the camera from you, filming you as you ate the other half.

“thanks Samu, you’re right, yours is better.” You sighed contently, “there’s nothing better than hot ramen on a rainy day.”

“you got that right.” You boyfriend echoes behind the camera.

You take the phone from him and flip on selfie mode, “come here, now we can both be on screen.”

“well we’re almost done, should we plan what to do next?”

“wanna get ice cream?”

Osamu kissed you on the cheek, “you read my mind.”

You smiled into the camera before hitting “end recording”.

[ 6 months ago - a silly Thursday ]

The camera pans to you and Osamu sitting on the sofa, his arms wrapped around you as he nods, engrossed in your story.

“ew look at the love birds” Atsumu whispers.

He walked closer to the two of you when you suddenly draped your long hair over Osamu’s head.

Atsumu bursts out laughing, “what is going on here?”

You look up into the camera, laughing along, “I was telling him how this girl on YouTube bought a wig for her boyfriend and dressed him up as a girl as a prank on Tinder. We wanted to see how Samu will look as a girl.”

The camera cuts to a long-haired Osamu winking and blowing kisses, pretending to be a girl.

“well one things for sure, he’s the ugliest girl I’ve ever seen.”

The video blurs as Atsumu start running, Osamu chasing after him.

“we got the same face! You’d look just as ugly!”

“I’m more handsome!”

“yeah right!”

“don’t fight over stupid things you guys!” You laughed.

“it’s not stupid. Babe, tell him I’m more handsome!”

The camera cuts off.

You eyes hurt. You’re not sure if it’s from the tears or the fact that your phone screen was your only light source. You turn on the lights, fingers once again hovering over the “delete” button before deciding otherwise.

You text him, “hey”.

A reply comes in immediately, “hi.”

“One day we’ll come back to each other.”

“yes, one day.” There was no hesitation, you smiled.

“goodnight Samu.”

“good night Y/N.”

The two of you slept much better that night, the promise of “one day” etched in both hearts.

▸ Taglist:  @aonenthusiast, @donutwithinadonut, @sukunas-lady, @mango-smoothies, @akaashiwife, @mellowknightcolorfarm, @semhal, @elianetsantana, @kellyyween, @crapimahuman, @sakusasonlywife, @dekuspet, @rintarouschuupets, @tsukkisfatsimp, @420uwu, @kawaiiisis, @dora-the-grownup, @beautifulimperfections13, @zeyyackerman, @thisnoodlewritesao3​, @strcwberrieswine, @kirishimas-manly-eyeliner, @onetoothwonder, @graykageyama

▸ Join My Taglist!

▸ Reblogs, comments, likes are always appreciated !

© fushiguroll 2021 all rights reserved. Please do not copy / repost my work on other platforms.