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theostrophywife · 5 days

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curiosity killed the cat.

pairing: regulus black x reader.

song inspiration: late night talking by harry styles.

author's note: i've been in such a writing rut lately, but sweet baby boy reggie is singlehandedly bringing me out of it. this idea has been floating in my mind for a while so I hope you all enjoy it. <3

Curiosity killed the cat.

The irony of the phrase wasn’t entirely lost on Regulus as he cautiously peered through the bustling kitchen. The elves were cleaning up after supper, humming and working diligently to keep the castle in order behind the scenes. Some of them leaned down to reach for him with soapy fingers, but he narrowly avoided each attempt, baring his teeth in warning.

They would not deter him from his true mission to infiltrate the basement. Having explored all the nooks and crannies Hogwarts had to offer, the Hufflepuff common room was his Atlantis—the last unexplored territory that he had yet to set foot in.

In his current state, it was perhaps more accurate to say that Regulus had never set paw in this corner of the castle. Most of the time, he found his spontaneous transformations terribly inconvenient, but as Regulus slipped past the door without a trace, the youngest Black brother was suddenly grateful for his complete lack of mastery over his Animagus form.

To be fair, he was only trying to find some peace and quiet. As of late, Regulus had become particularly fond of the kitchens. It was always warm down here and the smell of freshly baked bread wafted from the ovens and beckoned him towards its glorious scent like a beacon. Not to mention the fact that the elves often left a bowl of cold milk for him every night.

Well, he supposed it wasn’t exactly for him. At least, not his true human form. The elves were not fond of Regulus the person, but they did adore the feral black cat that haunted the halls of Hogwarts.

Potato, potato.

The point is, that his benevolent caretakers were typically careful about securing the ever mysterious door at the end of his little haven. Lest he get his wily little paws all over those timid badgers. Much to his delight, the security measure was not in place tonight. The door was wide open, presenting Regulus with an offer that was simply too good to pass up.

With a shimmy, he slinked behind enemy lines. Despite being located in the lower levels of the castle like the dungeons were, the Hufflepuff common room was far more welcoming. Instead of gothic furnishings and depressing color palettes, Regulus was greeted with warm earth tones and mismatched furniture. Plants of all shapes and sizes littered the room, which were far more pleasant to look upon than the haughty portraits that lined his own common room. At least the mimbulus in the corner didn’t sputter out rather unnecessary comments about the length of his curls every time he entered the dungeons.

The Hufflepuffs seemed averse to the menacing lighting that his fellow serpents seemed so fond of, choosing instead to illuminate their space with enchanted sun lamps. It was charming and cozy, if one were to take notice of such things. Malfoy would have deemed it greenhouse chic with a sneer that conveyed aristocratic distaste. For that reason alone, Regulus decided he liked the place.

The growing fondness was solidified as he followed the intoxicating scent of banana nut muffins. The trail led him to a dorm tucked away into the heart of the basement. Luckily for Regulus, the door was slightly ajar, which was more than enough permission for him to venture inside and make himself comfortable. It was the standard issue room—two beds, two desks, and two dressers. Yet the right side drew his attention.

The top of the nightstand was brimming with books, all stacked in no particular order. The color scheme of the blankets and pillows consisted of golds, pinks, and oranges, reminding Regulus of the sunset. Fairy lights and enchanted plants provided a lived in feel, which was more than he could say for his obsessively neat dorm with its alphabetically arranged library and utilitarian furniture. Everything in his room was designed with practicality instead of comfort in mind. A choice he was rather proud of until the stark contrast made his space feel cold and rigid in comparison.

The reading nook nestled beside the hearth drew him in like a moth to a flame. Regulus inspected the cloud chair, stomping on the soft woven blanket and plush pillows with his paw before coming to the conclusion that it was as good a place as any to burrow.

This was the life, he said. Or purred, if he was being technical.

As Regulus enjoyed the comforts of his newfound paradise, he failed to consider the fact that this dorm belonged to someone and that someone would likely be back any second to reclaim their refuge, given the late hour. Engrossed as he was with licking his paws, Regulus startled when the door swung open. Instantly, he recognized the owner of the dorm as the shy and quiet Hufflepuff that sat beside him in Charms. Regulus lifted a paw to his furry head, feeling foolish that he had not connected the dots earlier.

No wonder the banana muffin scent drew him in. Every now and then, he caught a whiff of it in class when you quietly claimed the spot beside him. The colorful scrunchies on the dresser also sparked his memory. How many times had Regulus witnessed you twisting the hair tie around your wrist as you quietly murmured the correct answers to Professor Flitwick’s questions under your breath? It never made much sense to him that you would allow the others to blatter and stutter through topics you were clearly an expert on, but Regulus attributed that to his proximity to pompous know-it-all pricks all his life. Slytherins were known to be showoffs, but you seemed to be the complete opposite.

Perhaps that was the reason why he stayed. Well, that and the fact that he was currently too comfortable to even dream of leaving his sanctuary. Really, the decision was made for him. Regulus watched as you settled into your desk, studying diligently as your quill flew across the parchment. Every so often, you leaned back against the chair and stared at whatever problem eluded you as though intimidating the parchment would bring forth the correct answer. It was rather endearing. Dare he say, charming.

In his mind, only minutes had passed since the start of your silent companionship, but a glance at the clock said otherwise. It was nearly midnight at this rate. As Regulus grumbled about his inevitable separation from the comfy cloud couch, a group of girls spilled into the room. They briefly said hello to you before gathering at the vanity table on the left side of the room. Regulus assumed one of them was your roommate. Probably the dark haired girl chattering on about the party the Gryffindors were hosting tonight.

“Do you think Cormac will be there?” she asked hopefully.

The other girls nodded in agreement, asking questions about the older boy with misplaced enthusiasm. Regulus wrinkled his nose. McLaggen, really? Your roommate truly needed to raise her standards. He glanced over in your direction, snorting as he caught the tail end of your grimace. Clearly, you weren’t a fan either.

After the girls were satisfied with their appearances, your roommate sauntered over to your desk with a friendly smile. “Would you like to come to the party with us, Y/N?”

Before you could answer, one of the other girls rudely interrupted. “Oh no, Y/N doesn’t go to parties. She’s too shy.”

Regulus vaguely recognized the annoyingly nasally tone of the speaker. He thought her name was Brandy or Brenda. Whichever one it was, she always hung around the quidditch team batting her eyelashes and laughing in an exaggerated way that bordered on deranged. It deeply irritated Regulus.

“Isn’t that right, Y/N? Our little bookworm only prefers the company of her novels. No chance of embarrassing yourself in front of boys when they’re just words on paper.”

“That’s mean, Britt,” scolded your roommate.

Regulus very much wanted to scamper across the room and bite Britt’s ankles. He lifted his head up as you stood, mentally encouraging you to even the score by chucking a tome at that horrid girl’s head, but instead you simply smoothed down the front of your gingham dress and smiled.

“Thanks for the offer, Mina, but I think I’ll stay in tonight. You girls have fun though.”

The others were more than happy to flee the awkward tension in the room. You bid them goodbye at the door before closing it behind you. As it clicked into place, you released a sigh. Regulus tracked your movements as you swiped a book from the teetering tower on your nightstand before collapsing into bed.

“God, what’s wrong with me?” You whispered softly to yourself. “It’s Friday night. I should be going out and partying, but instead I’m wallowing alone. No wonder everyone thinks I’m just a boring bookworm.”

Regulus voiced his disagreement. Unfortunately for him, the words came out as a series of meows. He blended in amongst the blankets, his whiskers barely peeking out from a distance. Unaware of his presence, you yelped at the strange cat peering at you from the reading nook. The noise startled Regulus, causing him to launch across the room and into the bed.

“Oh, it’s just you.” You sat upright, cocking your head at him. Your fingers twitched at your side, probably itching to pet him. You restrained yourself, respecting his general aversion to humans. “If you’re here to bring me bad luck, then I’m sorry to say that I’ve got enough of that on my own already.”

In protest, Regulus attempted to headbutt your hand, but it only resulted in an unintentional nuzzle. You chuckled in amusement before carefully patting his furry head. He dodged your hand and swiped at your leg, but the padding motions quickly turned to him just making biscuits on your thigh.

You chuckled in response. “Hm, everyone says you’re a mean kitty, but I think you’re just a little misunderstood.” Regulus huffed, but his displeasure was short lived as you scratched under his chin. He was only slightly embarrassed at how eager he was to receive more. “Look at us, we make quite the pair.”

At that, Regulus purred in agreement.

From that night forward, Regulus became a frequent visitor. He hadn’t intended on making a habit of it, but every time Regulus accidentally transformed, he found himself in your dorm. It wasn’t his fault that it was warm and toasty and smelled like pastries. If you weren’t trying to attract a feral cat, you shouldn’t have made your room so inviting.

During one of his visits, your roommate walked by and yelped at the sight of him. Regulus lifted his chin up in challenge as he claimed his rightful seat on your lap. “Is that the feral cat that almost took off Cedric’s fingers?”

Regulus purred in answer. He was rather proud of that moment. Would’ve gotten away with it too had it not been for Diggory’s quick reflexes.

You barely looked up from your book as you combed through his fur. “Mhm. He likes to follow me around sometimes. He’s like my little shadow.” A bright smile curved against your lips. “Oh, I think we found you a name. Shadow.”

From then on, Regulus wore the name like a badge. The name seemed to awaken more of his animal instincts because his spontaneous transformations became a rather frequent occurrence. At the beginning, they were isolated to nights and thus easier to manage, but now his Animagus form seemed to have no respect for convenience. As of late, the transformations were happening more and more often with absolutely no rhyme or reason.

The only common denominator seemed to be you. Every time Regulus was in his Animagus form, he sought you out. Whether he was interrupting Potions class to jump in your lap or resting next to you in the courtyard while you read, Regulus was resigned to the fact that he would end up in your proximity one way or another. He basked in the attention you showered him with, shamelessly nuzzling against your hand for more chin scratches and cuddles. It became a routine for the two of you. Most nights, you read in silence as he curled against you for warmth, but other nights, your inner monologue spilled out and he listened to you grapple with your shyness and anxiety.

Funny, you didn’t seem all that reserved around him. But then again he had taken on the form of a grumpy yet harmless cat. You were none the wiser that Regulus Black was currently purring for more pets as you lamented over the events of the day. He listened intently, not quite understanding your desire to become more sociable. You seemed to view it as a deficiency, but Regulus had always leaned towards the extremities of introvertedness. Though in his case, no one batted an eye when he was abrupt and abrasive. It was just how he was.

Hufflepuffs, on the other hand, were expected to be sunshine and butterflies. You were, Regulus thought. In your own quiet way, you radiated joy. It wasn’t loud or obnoxious or overbearing. It was just right. Regulus longed to tell you just as much, but it wasn’t like he was in a position to. Outside these late night talks, the two of you hardly spoke a word to one another.

Perhaps it was time to change that.

The first time Regulus tried to speak to you was a complete and utter disaster.

It was bright and early on a Monday morning. You slipped into your seat a few minutes before the start of Charms. The two of you were always the first ones in class, so he figured it was an opportune time to strike up a conversation without overwhelming you.

“How was your weekend?”

You blinked up at him, surveying the room covertly as though you weren’t quite sure that he was speaking to you. Regulus watched you flush as you realized that he was indeed addressing the question to you.

“It was good,” you responded cautiously. “How was yours?”

Regulus paused. “It was…fine.”

Never in his life had he wanted to swan dive into the Black Lake and become fodder for the merpeople. The response was a natural conversation killer, but he couldn’t very well tell you that he spent the entire weekend lounging in your dorm as you read Pride and Prejudice for the umpteenth time. That little revelation probably would’ve resulted in a restraining order.

The short and awkward dialogue made him cringe internally, but you simply smiled politely at him. For Salazar’s sake, where was the basilisk when Regulus needed it?

When lunch came around, he was still pondering the less than lackluster encounter. Regulus needed to find a way in. As his friends chattered and chatted, he stared intently across the Great Hall and watched you. Things were so much easier when you thought he was a cat.

“Reg, mate, you haven’t blinked for like five minutes. You’re really starting to freak me out.”

The annoying little quip from Nott brought Regulus out of his stupor. Had he truly been staring for that long? He hoped to Godric that you hadn’t caught him being an utter creep. A sly glance told him that you were none the wiser as you continued chatting with Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley. He turned to Theodore and frowned.

“What are you staring at, anyways?” asked Mattheo. The curly headed git surveyed the room for the object of his friend’s focus, which only made Regulus more irate.

“Nothing,” Regulus mumbled.

Riddle, ever the menace, grinned as he spotted you. “Doesn’t look like nothing to me.”

He elbowed Theo, who smirked once he too caught sight of you. “Say, Reggie, don’t you have Charms with that cute little Hufflepuff?”

“Shut it, Nott.”

“Whoa, a little touchy there, aren’t we? No need to fret. I won’t turn my Italian charms on her. After all, I wouldn’t dare go after one of my mate’s crushes.”

Regulus bristled. “I do not have a crush.”

“Sure, mate, and I’m Harry bloody Potter,” scoffed Mattheo. “You’re not fooling anyone, you know.”

“Does this conversation have a purpose besides showcasing your remarkable skill of grating my nerves?”

“Aw, Reggie’s upset.” Mattheo and Theodore chuckled as Regulus stood abruptly. He flung the napkin onto his plate and walked off without explanation. “Don’t worry, mate. We won’t tell anyone about your secret girlfriend.”

Unfortunately for Regulus, the childish teasing gained traction over the next few days. Trust Nott and Riddle to be a general nuisance to his everyday life. Every time you walked past Regulus in the halls, his friends (debatable as of late) would nudge him and smirk. Given that Mattheo and Theo possessed the subtlety of a bull in a china shop, you were definitely beginning to notice.

Even worse, Lorenzo had taken it upon himself to chat you up in the courtyard. Regulus looked on in horror as his best friend laughed and gesticulated alongside you on the bench. His presence had not gone unnoticed by their fellow classmates. A crowd of Hufflepuffs began crowding near your usual spot under the willow tree and Regulus could easily spot the tell-tale signs of your anxiety blooming. He needed to put an end to this.

“Berkshire, can I talk to you for a second?”

Lorenzo appeared completely unbothered as he nodded. “Sure, just let me wrap up here. Reg, you’ve met Y/N, right? She was kind enough to lend me notes for History of Magic.”

You looked up and gave Regulus a shy wave. The desire to throttle Lorenzo diminished by a few notches. “Sorry about him. Berkshire’s a bit overeager. Not fully trained, you see.”

His friend protested the accusation. “Hey, I’m standing right here!”

Regulus ignored his protests. Lorenzo might as well have been halfway across the world with how little attention he paid to his friend. He was far too busy being enamored with the way you tried to bite back a grin.

“Thank you for indulging him. I’ll make sure he doesn’t go off leash again.”

You chuckled. “It’s alright, really. I’ve got a habit of attracting strays.”

“Where is that little monster of yours, anyways? Busy clawing off some unsuspecting student’s face?” Lorenzo quipped.

“Shadow isn’t so bad. He’s actually very sweet, once you get to know him.”

Regulus tried not to grin.

Lorenzo shot him a knowing look. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Sorry again about him. I’ll make sure he returns your notes.” He tugged Lorenzo by the collar. “Now let’s go, Berkshire. We’re going to be late for practice.”

“Bye, Y/N!” Lorenzo called over his shoulder. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“Bye, Lorenzo,” you said with an amused smile. “I’ll see you in class, Regulus.”

Regulus couldn’t help but smile. “See you in class, Y/N.”

Thanks to his meddlesome friends, Regulus kept finding himself in less than ideal situations. The twats seemed determined to force you two together. Lorenzo, most of all.

Every time they studied in the library, you seemed to conveniently be seated a few desks away. Every time they were walking back from quidditch practice, you coincidentally seemed to be headed to the greenhouse. Every time Lorenzo fetched something in his locker, you just so happened to be walking by between classes.

It was during one of these times that Regulus overheard Britt making snippy little comments about your dresses and bows, commenting on how you were always lost in your books, even citing the fact that the feral cat had taken a liking to you because birds of a feather flock together. Your roommate defended you, but she was a lone voice amongst the other mindless girls who laughed along with Britt. The next time Regulus ran into her in his cat form, he made sure to hiss and claw at her.

In terms of finding his way in, Regulus had yet to crack the code. When it was just you and your Shadow, you spoke to him for hours and hours. But when he was actually himself, you were so quiet and reserved.

“Why don’t you just talk to her?” Lorenzo offered.

The glare Regulus cut his way was sharper than a splicing spell. “I’ve tried, but I’m terrible at it. I asked her about the weather, Enzo. The bloody weather!”

To his credit, Lorenzo didn’t laugh. Instead, he seemed deep in thought. “You’ve got to find out what she’s passionate about. What’s something that she could talk about for hours and hours?”

Regulus bolted out of his chair, startling Lorenzo. “You’re a genius, Berkshire.”

His friend looked utterly confused. “Thanks, I suppose?”

Half an hour later, Regulus found himself standing in a labyrinth. Plot Twist, the largest bookstore in the village, was as magical as you described it to be. Each aisle was filled to the brim with books, the shelves winding and twisting in on itself to reveal even more volumes. Soft classical music played throughout the shop, its interior filled with kitschy trinkets and illuminated by enchanted candles.

If Regulus recalled correctly, the latest installment of your favorite series just recently released. You mentioned it to Ginny in the Great Hall last week while he lounged on your lap. Was it ethical to eavesdrop on your conversations and use the information he gleaned to grow closer to you? Perhaps not, but he couldn’t help it. Cunning was in his nature. There was a reason Regulus was sorted into Slytherin, after all.

So here he was on a Friday afternoon, looking absolutely engrossed in the romance section of the bookstore. Regulus picked up a novel from the display. One of your favorites, of course.

From the corner of his eye, Regulus glimpsed your entrance into the store. Naturally, you were headed in his direction since romance was your preferred guilty pleasure. He pretended to skim through the summary despite the fact that he already read the book in its entirety. When you were reading it back in your dorm, you blushed so much that he had to see what the fuss was about for himself.

“Oh, that’s a really good one,” you said shyly.

“Yeah?” Regulus asked, noting the pretty flush dusting your cheeks. “Have you read it before?”

“About a thousand times.”

“What’s the verdict, then? Would you recommend it to me?”

You cocked your head in observation, taking him in. Regulus was acutely aware that he didn’t fit the usual demographic of romance novel readers. Hell, even his all black ensemble clashed with the vibrant book covers.

“I know, I know. I have the looks of someone who would rather binge murder mysteries, but I’m trying to branch out.”

The grin you gave him made his heart stutter. “Well, I’d be more than happy to be your guide.”

Regulus had no idea why he hadn’t realized it sooner. Books—that was the gateway to your heart. He listened in fascination as you pulled books from the shelves, talking a mile a minute about your favorite authors, characters, and tropes. You lit up the entire room as you spoke, filling the place with your infectious energy. He had only ever seen you this way in the comfort of your own dorm, so he relished in the fact that he was witnessing this not as Shadow but as Regulus.

“Oh my god, I’ve been rambling. I’m so sorry. Once I start, I just can’t seem to stop.”

He smiled softly. Regulus could have listened to you talk about books for the rest of his life and never grow bored. “I don’t want you to stop. I like that you’re so passionate. It’s adorable.”

Suddenly, Regulus wished he had a camera because the sight of you smiling up at him was a memory that needed to be captured and immortalized. For now, he settled for its dizzying aftereffects.

“Thank you for letting me talk your ear off,” you said shyly as the two of you made your way to the counter.

“No, thank you for helping me expand my horizons.” Regulus countered as he set both of your books down.

You started to fish for your wallet, but Regulus simply waved you off. “Please, let me.” The shopkeeper gaped at him. “Would you mind putting everything on my tab?”

“Of course, Mr. Black.”

“Regulus is fine.”

“Sure thing Mr.—I mean, Regulus.”

As the shopkeeper carefully packed up the books, Regulus leaned in. “You can call me Reg, if you’d like. Reggie, if you’re feeling particularly brave.”

You beamed. “Thank you, Reggie.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N.”

The Monday after the breakthrough, Regulus marched into Charms with purpose. You glanced up in amusement as he settled into his seat.

“You were right. Your recommendations were fantastic. I read it all in one sitting.”

“Which one?” you asked curiously.

Back at the bookstore, you had gotten a little overzealous with the recommendations, but at the end, you managed to narrow it down to your absolute top picks.

“All of them.”

Your jaw nearly dropped. “You read all of them?”

Regulus shrugged as if it were no big deal. “Yes.”

“Every single book?”

“Mhm.”

“But I gave you six recommendations,” you stated incredulously. You considered yourself a voracious reader, but Regulus Black was giving you a run for your money.

“And I devoured every single one.”

As it turns out, that was all it took to unlock the floodgates. Soon your conversations flourished from books and literature to hobbies and future plans. Regulus could tell that you were warming up to him. The conversations that were once isolated to the Charms classroom flowed easily outside of it as well.

The first few times you were spotted together, it turned a few heads.

Regulus had never been particularly known for his sociability, so he supposed it was a rather strange sight for everyone else to find him practically glued to your side. Never mind that he’d done it a hundred times before as your Shadow and no one ever said a word about it back then. As he spotted you in your usual spot under the willow tree, he found that he really didn’t give a damn what anyone else thought of your newfound friendship.

“Is this seat taken?”

You nodded as you moved your belongings to make room for him. “Yes, by you.”

Regulus dropped his backpack by his feet before stretching his long legs out on the wooden bench. You watched in amusement as the wood creaked under his weight. “I prefer to be horizontal when I read. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Knock yourself out, Mr. Black.”

“That’s Regulus to you, love.”

“I thought it was Reg.”

“Actually, I prefer Reggie. But only if it’s being used by you.”

“Okay, Reggie.”

He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips.

Despite spending time with you during the day, Regulus still made his visits in the night. He truly just couldn’t get enough. Thanks to his questionable methods, you were starting to open up to him more. Just that morning, the two of you ate breakfast together in the Great Hall. You teased him for eating such a bland meal.

“Honestly, Regulus. We attend a magical school. You could ask for anything your little heart desires and you choose to eat gruel?”

“It’s not gruel. It’s oatmeal.”

“My point exactly.”

“What’s wrong with oatmeal?”

“Nothing, I suppose. If you prefer eating cement for breakfast.”

“You’re awfully judgmental. Let’s take a closer look at your choices. A chocolate chip muffin? You might as well swallow a spoonful of sugar and call it a day.”

“My apologies, Mr. Black. I forgot that you abhor flavor. Shall we share your cement goop, then?”

“After you insulted my culinary preferences? I think not, Y/N.”

Needless to say, the two of you got along like a house on fire. Both of your friends constantly teased you about the newfound friendship. Regulus simply rolled his eyes and brushed off the comments, but even his mates noticed the way he smiled every time you were mentioned. You knew your friends were bursting at the seams with questions regarding Regulus, but to their credit, Ginny and Luna were happy seeing you happy.

Not everyone shared their enthusiasm though. Britt, in particular, was rather cross. It made no sense that someone like you would catch the attention of Regulus Black. She had harbored a crush on the youngest Black since third year and he could barely even spare her a glance, yet here you were receiving his full and undivided attention. Britt was seething with jealousy. She simply could not accept losing to you, of all people.

Perhaps you dosed Regulus with a love potion. Perhaps he pitied you, viewed you as some wounded animal to save. Either way, Britt was convinced that Regulus wasn’t meant to be with someone like you. A shy and quiet girl who could never hope to hold his attention for long. She just had to make Regulus see it. The perfect opportunity presented itself one Friday afternoon.

In the crowded hall, Regulus shielded you from the incoming traffic of students rushing to their next class. It wasn’t much of an effort on his part since your fellow classmates cowered and parted as soon as they caught sight of your companion’s scowl.

“Reggie, could you try not to scare the first years away?” You teased, bumping your hip against his. “Poor Anderson looked ready to cry when you glared at him.”

Regulus bumped you back. “He nearly stepped on your foot.”

“Did that really warrant you threatening to hide bullfrogs underneath his pillows?”

“You’re right, I’ve gone soft. I should’ve threatened him with fire serpents instead.”

“You’re hopeless, Regulus.”

Regulus placed a hand over his heart, feigning hurt. “You wound me, ma chérie.”

The nickname made you flush. Regulus had never been more thankful that French was his native tongue. The language of love certainly had its effect on you.

“However will you live?”

“I’ll tell you what, if you come keep me company tonight, then all will be forgiven.”

“I’m not helping you sneak bullfrogs into Anderson’s dorm.”

He pouted in response. “Fine. I suppose we can have a quiet night in. Come join the dark side. We can read together in the common room.”

“The dungeons?” You asked apprehensively.

Though you’ve gotten used to the occasional Slytherin greeting you in the halls, the whole lot of them still terrified you. You weren’t quite sure how you felt about marching right into the serpent’s nest.

“It’ll just be us,” Regulus added softly. “I’ll make sure of it.”

The way he eased your worries was endearing. You bumped his hip again. “You can’t just kick people out of their own common room.”

“I’m Regulus Black,” he said haughtily. “Of course I can.” Regulus draped an arm over your shoulder and leaned in to whisper conspiratorially. “Come on, I know you’re dying to read that new novel you bought last weekend.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. He knew you too well. “You mean, the novel that you bought me. Against my will, thank you very much. I will pay you back.” Regulus started protesting, but you only held your hand up. “You’re right, though. I’m convinced. I’ll bring the snacks. Chocolate frogs for me and a bowl of gruel for you.”

You yelped as Regulus dug his fingers into your side. “It’s a date, love.”

Regulus paced back and forth, watching the door to the dungeons. To say he was nervous would’ve been an understatement.

As soon as classes were dismissed for the day, Regulus wasted no time. He raced back to the common room and made sure everything was perfect. The boys were taking the piss out of him, but he paid no mind to them as he fluffed the pillows and draped a blanket over the couch.

“Ooh, what type of candle is this?” Theo asked as he wrapped his grimy little fingers around the banana nut muffin scented candle.

Regulus smacked his friend’s hand away. “Don’t touch that.”

Mattheo snickered as he took in the scene before him. “You must really like this girl, Reg. I don’t think I’ve ever put in this much effort for a date.”

“Yeah, and how’s that working out for you?” Regulus snipped. Blaise and Pansy snorted in response.

Lorenzo bit back a smile. “I think it’s nice. Y/N will love it.”

“You think so?” Regulus asked absentmindedly. He wanted to make sure everything was perfect. The dungeons were a far cry from your dorm, but Regulus did his best to emulate the comfort it provided. “It’s not too much?”

“It’s a bit…cozy for my taste,” said Draco. Regulus fought the urge to throttle his cousin. To be fair, Draco hated anything that wasn’t French or expensive. “But I’m sure your girl will love it.”

“She’s not my girl,” Regulus corrected. “Not yet, at least.”

Tom shot a disinterested glance at him from the couch. “What on earth are you waiting for? You’ve been pining over her for months. Your yearning is starting to sicken me.”

Mattheo grimaced. “I think that’s Tom’s way of encouraging you to make a move.”

“Consider me encouraged,” Regulus said with an eye roll. “Now everyone get out.”

As his friends filtered out, Lorenzo patted him on the back. “Good luck, mate.”

Luck had nothing to do with it. Regulus refused to take his chances on such a finicky thing. He was far too resourceful to leave things up to chance. Instead, he compiled everything he’s learned about you to ensure that you wouldn’t feel overwhelmed.

At exactly six o’clock on the dot, Regulus opened the door to the dungeons. He smiled when he found you standing in the corridor, fidgeting with the hem of your sunflower dress. You clutched your book to your chest as he stepped through the threshold.

“Hi, Reg,” you greeted shyly.

“Hi, love.” Regulus offered his arm, which you gladly took. “Come on in.”

You weren’t sure what to expect at first, but you found the dungeons to be quite cozy. The waves from the Black Lake gently lapped against the stained glass windows, the murky waters shimmering across the onyx floors. The furnishings were all dark wood and harsh lines with pops of emerald tying everything together. The velvet couch was piled with pillows and candles illuminated the space, providing a warmth and coziness that you never would’ve attributed to the dungeons.

“This is quite lovely,” you said softly.

Regulus took your bag from you and set it gently on the marble side table. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Where’s everyone else?”

“Out,” Regulus responded. “If they’re smart, they’ll stay that way.”

You chuckled. “I guess it pays to be mean and scary.”

“To everyone else, yes.” Regulus said as he guided you over to the couch. “Not to you, though.”

The sentiment made you smile. “Well, big scary Reggie, thank you for inviting me over. As promised, I came bearing snacks.”

As you laid out a treasure trove of treats, Regulus watched with an amused smile. “For Salazar’s sake, I’m getting a cavity just looking at all of this candy.”

You grinned as you waved a sour gummy worm in the air. “But it’s good, though.” Regulus backed away from the neon colored candy with a grimace. “Come on, Reg. Try it.”

“No, thank you.”

“Please,” you pleaded, poking his cheek with the worm. “Just one little nibble. I know you want to.”

“You’re a terrible influence,” he sighed defeatedly.

Regulus leaned over, his lips brushing against your fingers as he took a small bite. You flushed furiously, heat prickling your skin as his emerald gaze pierced through you. From this close, you could make out the golden flecks swimming in his irises.

“It’s a bit sweet,” Regulus murmured. His eyes never left yours as he held your wrist in place, devouring what was left of the sour worm. “But I’ve grown an appetite for sweet things lately.”

Regulus licked flecks of sugar off of his lips, smirking when he caught you staring. You cleared your throat, eager to diffuse whatever tension was brewing between you. He tracked your movements as you retrieved your book and daintily perched yourself on the couch.

“Shall we?”

A comfortable silence befell the common room, broken only by the lulling crash of the waves against the windows. It baffled you how at ease you were in the dungeons. Usually, it took a bit of time for you to adjust to new environments, but something about this place seemed familiar. You felt safe here, thanks to the boy sitting beside you.

As you curled up on the sofa, Regulus assumed his position. He scooted towards you, placing his head on your lap and stretching his long legs out until they touched the other end of the couch. With a smile, you peered at him as he nuzzled against your free hand. Regulus sighed in satisfaction when you ran your fingers through his curls. The action reminded you of your little Shadow.

You had no idea how you hadn’t realized it sooner, but the two of them were similar in a lot of ways. They were both standoffish and prickly on the outside, but complete softies on the inside. The thought made you chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” Regulus murmured. Despite the fact that the two of you were supposed to be reading, his book remained perched on his stomach while his eyes fluttered close.

“It’s just hard to reconcile grumpy Regulus to the Regulus that practically begs for his head to be scratched.”

Regulus scoffed. “I do not beg.”

You placed your hand back in your lap. Regulus furrowed his brows as he glanced up at you. With a soft nudge to your side and a matching pout to boot, he single handedly proved your point. “Why’d you stop?”

The pointed look you gave him made Regulus flush. “Fine, I suppose I’m not above begging.”

You raised a brow, which only made him sigh in defeat. Regulus lifted your hand and placed it back atop his curls. “Please?”

“Only because you asked nicely, Reggie.”

The rest of the evening was blissfully peaceful as the two of you continued reading. Well, you were reading. Regulus, on the other hand, hadn’t even cracked open his book. You could feel the intensity of his gaze boring into you while you pretended to be engrossed in your novel.

“Do I have something on my face?” You asked self-consciously.

“No.”

“Then why are you staring?”

Regulus sat upright and faced you, his emerald eyes locking onto yours. His expression was soft as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, knuckles brushing along your jaw.

“Because you’re beautiful.”

The air left your lungs as Regulus beheld you. The calluses on his thumb stroked your skin as he caressed your cheek. You shivered at his touch, at his scent, at his closeness. Regulus was like poetry come to life. A work of art that moved and breathed and mesmerized everyone around him. If anyone was beautiful, it was him.

“Reggie…”

The words died in your throat when Regulus brushed his thumb over your lips. “Y/N…”

Little by little, the gap closed between you. Anticipation swelled in the room, enveloping everything with unspoken tension. You felt like a harp string pulled taut, waiting for release. Just as Regulus tilted your head back, a loud smack echoed through the dungeons.

You nearly jumped out of your seat, but Regulus shielded you behind him, keeping you close. A stream of people made their way through the common room, trampling the once serene atmosphere. The commotion from earlier seemed to be coming from the large keg that Adrian Pucey was now rolling across the stone floor. The other Slythering began clearing the furniture, chattering excitedly amongst themselves.

Regulus was incensed. “What the fuck is going on?”

One by one, his friends streamed in. Blaise was the first to squeeze through the crowd. “Common room party, apparently. We ran here to warn you, but they were already rolling the kegs through the corridor before we caught up.”

Theodore and Mattheo pushed their way through a couple of fourth years. At their complaint, the two boys glared at them so intensely that they slowly started to back away.

“The fuck are you looking at?” Mattheo barked.

“Are you deaf or just thick? Get fucking lost, mate,” Theo added menacingly.

You flinched at the display of aggression. Regulus clocked the reaction and pulled you closer before frowning at his friends. Theodore elbowed Mattheo when he caught sight of you, who in turn elbowed Theodore back.

“Sorry about that, Y/N.” Theodore drawled, his Italian accent seeping through the words. “We didn’t see you there. Usually, we’re more well-behaved in the presence of a lady.”

“That’s a lie,” Pansy interjected. “You’re horrid around me all the time.”

“I’ve known you since we were in diapers, Pans. You’re certainly not a lady,” Theodore quipped.

“Why, you little twat—”

“Guys,” Regulus scolded.

Pansy stopped in her tracks, sighing as she put her hand down after landing a smack on the back of Theodore’s head. She offered her hand. “Right. Well, this isn’t how we thought our first introduction would go, but it’s nice to finally meet the infamous Y/N. Regulus talks about you all the time.”

You flushed as you took Pansy’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you too, Pansy.”

“Me next,” Theodore exclaimed. “Theodore Nott, at your service.”

The floppy haired boy bowed cheekily before taking your hand in his and kissing your knuckles. Regulus glared daggers at his friend, but you merely giggled in amusement.

“Move, Nott. It’s my turn now.” Mattheo smacked Theodore away and enveloped you into a hug. “Mattheo, the most handsome Riddle. Although don’t tell my brother that. He might hex me. Anyways, nice to meet you." He paused, sniffing your hair unabashedly. "Oh! Reg is right. You do smell nice.”

“Riddle,” warned Regulus.

Mattheo only winked at you before stepping aside. You exchanged introductions with Blaise and Draco next until Lorenzo caught up with the rest of the group. He gave you a warm hug before explaining that someone had printed out posters promoting a party that none of the Slytherins had any clue about. Of course, it didn’t take much convincing on his housemates' part before they jumped on the bandwagon, hence the packed common room.

“I’m so sorry,” Regulus said as he turned over to face you. “ I didn’t know any of this was happening.”

Worry marred his beautiful face. Though the situation was a little more than overwhelming, you didn’t want Regulus worrying on your behalf. It was touching, truly. But you could try to push through it.

“It’s okay, Reg. I’m fine, really.”

“We can leave,” he offered. “Find somewhere more quiet.”

“Already?” Mattheo asked, pouting. “But we haven’t even played butterbeer pong yet! Dibs on Y/N as my partner.”

“No fair! I was going to ask her,” Theodore said, shoving Mattheo. His curly headed friend shoved back, which only escalated into Theodore putting him into a headlock. You shook your head in amusement.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I have no idea how to play butterbeer pong.”

Mattheo slithered out of Theodore’s hold and beamed. “Oh, it’s easy. You just arrange a bunch of cups into a pyramid and then take turns shooting ping pong balls into them. Surely, you’ve handled balls before, right?”

The double meaning was not lost on the group. Regulus tensed, charging up to smack Mattheo into next week for the inappropriate joke, but your response stopped him in his tracks.

“I have,” you said softly. “Have you? Because it doesn’t seem like it from the way you kept missing the goalposts during the game last week.”

Mattheo gaped in shock before bursting into laughter. “Oh, she’s a keeper.”

“You’re lucky Y/N found that funny,” Regulus said to his friend. “Otherwise, I would’ve twisted your intestines into a bow for her.”

“Taking a page out of my brother’s book, I see,” Mattheo taunted.

“Is this a bad time to ask if you’ve ever had a body shot, Y/N?” Theo asked with feigned innocence. “If not, I’m more than willing to show you.”

Regulus reeled back and smacked Theo on the head while the rest of the group cackled. Theo rubbed the sore spot and grumbled. “A simple no would have sufficed.”

The more time you spent around them, the less intimidating they became. From what you gleaned, they seemed to be a tight knit group. It wasn’t at all what you expected from the Slytherins.

“Your friends are silly,” you whispered to Regulus as the group migrated to the couch.��

In the background, Mattheo and Theodore bickered over who drank the last of the firewhisky while Lorenzo wiped the back of his mouth and burped. He winked when he caught your eye, charging you with keeping his secret.

“They’re idiots,” Regulus scoffed. His tone was contrasted by the softness in his eyes as he watched his friends muck about. “But they’re family.”

Throughout the night, you didn’t miss the way that Regulus fussed over you. He was a constant presence by your side, attuned and attentive to every need. When you felt parched, Regulus was there to offer you a drink. When you felt cold, Regulus draped his jacket over you without you needing to ask. He checked in with you often, making sure his obnoxious friends weren’t offending you and ensuring that the attention wasn’t too overwhelming to handle.

You assured him that you were fine. In fact, you were surprised to realize that you were enjoying yourself. It was a lot easier to deal with your social anxiety when you had someone there to ground you.

The Slytherins were a rather social bunch. Pansy was thrilled at the prospect of having another girl join the group. Within thirty minutes, she had talked you into going to Hogsmeade with her next weekend. She wanted a break from the boys, she said. But she also made it known that she expected a full rundown of the situation between you and Regulus.

Draco and Blaise were very clearly eavesdropping, despite their efforts to appear nonchalant. Apparently, everyone was as invested in your pairing as Pansy was. Theodore and Mattheo didn’t even try to hide the fact that they were talking Regulus up. When Mattheo declared that Regulus rescued an injured baby bird and nursed it back to health, you nearly lost it. Regulus hated birds.

“You’re an idiot,” Regulus exclaimed.

“No, let him talk. I want to hear all about it. What kind of bird was it, Mattheo?”

“Uh…the kind with wings?”

Lorenzo shook his head. “Really, mate? That’s the best you could come up with?”

The group continued their bantering as you watched in fascination. Their dynamic fascinated you. They bickered like siblings, but you could tell that they would go to the end of the world for one another. You could see why Regulus thought of them as family.

“Feeling okay?” Regulus asked, nudging you with his hip.

“Mhm,” you responded, bumping him back. “Thanks for inviting me over.”

“This isn’t what I had in mind when I did,” Regulus said. “But I’m still glad you came.”

“Of course, I had to see you in your natural habitat. I didn’t know you were such a party animal, Reggie.”

He grabbed hold of your waist and leaned down to whisper in your ear. “I preferred when the party was just you and me.”

You flushed, pitching forward to hide your face behind a curtain of hair. “I did, too.”

“When everyone leaves, I intend on picking up where we left off. You should know that I’m not the type of man who leaves things unfinished, love.”

There was no hiding the blush that blossomed on your cheeks. Crimson colored your features even as you excused yourself to the bathroom. As you washed your hands in the sink, you studied your reflection. While you would always feel the lingering social anxiety that came from being in large crowds, you thought that tonight was going fairly well. With a smile, you made your return back to the Regulus.

“I don’t know who you’re fooling, Y/N.” Britt sneered at you as she leaned against the wall, a cigarette held haphazardly between her neon painted fingers.

You frowned. “What are you talking about, Britt?”

“Regulus may have fallen for your shy and sweet little act, but he’ll get sick and tired of you dragging him down sooner or later.”

A lump formed in the pit of your stomach. Though it was no secret that Britt wasn’t exactly a fan of yours, you hadn’t expected her to say such hurtful things. Even worse, she touched a nerve with her words.

Britt nodded pointedly towards the crowd. “Look at him. He can’t even enjoy himself without worrying about poor, helpless little Y/N.”

Regulus towered over everyone, cutting an imposing figure in the middle of the room. His eyes darted through the crowd, seemingly searching for someone. Perhaps it was the reality of seeing the worry in his features, his half-distracted responses to whatever Lorenzo was saying as he stood stoic, unable to partake in conversation because he was too busy looking for you. Worrying about you. However horrid Britt was, you realized that there was merit to her words.

The last thing you wanted was to hold Regulus back. You didn’t want him worrying about babysitting you instead of having fun with his friends, which is exactly what he was doing now. The thought made you sad. Sure, Regulus was fine with catering to your needs now, but he was bound to tire of it sooner or later. You didn’t want to find out how long it would take.

You didn’t want to be a burden to anyone. Most of all, Regulus.

Without a word, you passed by Britt and weaved your way through the room. You stuck to the alcoves, passing beneath its shadowy refuge until the door came to view. Only a few steps stood between you and your escape when a low, stern voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Y/N,” said Tom Riddle. “Leaving early, are we?”

“Oh, hi there Tom,” you mumbled, casting your gaze towards the floor. You were afraid that you’d cry if you stayed in the dungeons a second longer. “M’just not feeling very well.”

You could feel his observant gaze sweeping over you. “I imagined you wouldn’t after encountering that hag outside of the bathroom.”

“You saw that?” You asked in a small, defeated voice.

Finally, you deigned to look up and found Tom staring at you. As always, the eldest Riddle was cold and stoic, but there was something in his gaze that conveyed concern.

“Yes, and I heard it too.”

“Please, can you—can you just not tell Reggie?”

Tom’s expression was imperceptible besides his curt nod. “If that’s what you prefer. I’ll let him know you left early because you weren’t feeling well.”

“Thank you, Tom.”

You bid him a good night before reaching for the door. Behind you, Tom cleared his throat.

“For the record, that hag doesn’t know what she’s talking about. You’re not dragging Regulus down. If anything, you’ve made the twat more tolerable over these past few weeks.”

Before you could respond, Tom was gone. You barely caught a glimpse of his back as he climbed the stairs that led to the dormitories. The parting surprised you, but you figured that Tom probably just felt bad for witnessing the conversation between you and Britt.

Casting a last glance towards the common room, you spotted Regulus once again.

Softly, you whispered, “Bye, Reggie.”

Once you were back in your dorm, you showered and decided to turn in for the night. It was just a few minutes shy of midnight as you tossed and turned in bed. Your roommate was most likely still at the party, leaving you to ponder your thoughts alone. There was an air of restlessness in the room as you stared up at the ceiling and considered your predicament.

No matter which way you looked at it, there was only one solution. You had to end your friendship with Regulus.

The thought filled you with overwhelming sadness. Letting go of Regulus made you feel so isolated and alone, but you knew it was the right thing to do. As though sensing your need for comfort, Shadow slinked through your door and hopped right into your lap. The black cat stared up at you with knowing eyes and meowed.

“At least I can count on you to always keep me company,” you murmured softly as you scratched under Shadow’s chin. “It’s been a rough night.”

Shadow bumped his head against your hip, seemingly telling you to stop feeling sorry for yourself.

“Britt is right, Shadow,” you confessed. “I’m just not the type of girl Regulus should be with.”

The cat bumped you again, stomping his feet on the bed in frustration. Shadow gave you a rather argumentative meow.

“Oh, don’t give me that. We both know it’s true. Reggie is Reggie and I’m…well, I’m me.”

Shadow hissed in response, demanding your attention. You sighed as you pulled the cat into your lap. “It’s a shame,” you whispered against his dark fur. “I really like him.”

To your surprise, Shadow purred softly and cuddled against your side. Though the feral little cat had taken a liking to you and your dorm, Shadow was always usually gone in the morning. Tonight though, the cat curled up next to you as though it knew that this was what you needed.

“Good night, Shadow.”

Regulus knew it was reckless.

But after Tom informed him of your sudden illness, suspicion rose in him like a tide. Even if you weren’t feeling well, it wasn’t like you to leave so abruptly, which meant that something was definitely wrong. All of his suspicions were confirmed when he got to your dorm.

It broke his heart to hear you say that you weren’t right for him. How could such a thought even cross your mind? There had never been anyone more perfect to him than you. Didn’t you know that you were the first person Regulus looked for in a room full of people? Couldn’t you tell how head over heels he was for you? His sweet, sassy, shy, sunshine of a Hufflepuff. There was no one better.

Certainly not Britt. Regulus was well aware of the crush she had on him. At first, he simply ignored it. He had absolutely no interest in someone as foul and loathsome as that girl, but now that she had come after you, Regulus had half a mind to sink his teeth and claws into her ankles until he drew blood.

At the moment, his plot for revenge was set aside as he focused on comforting you. Up until this point, Regulus had always been careful not to fall asleep in your dorm because he never knew when he was going to switch back, but tonight, he was willing to risk it. He didn’t know if this would be the last time you ever spoke to him given what you confessed earlier.

Perhaps it was selfish of him, but he didn’t want the night to end. Regulus wasn't ready to face the prospect of you ending things, so he snuggled into your side and fell asleep to the sound of your heartbeat.

It was a choice that would certainly have its consequences in the morning.

The first thing that woke him up was not the sunlight streaming through your windows or the chirping of the birds, but instead your surprised yelp. Regulus blinked sleepily, rubbing his paw against his snout, but instead bumped his hand into his nose.

This was not good.

This was definitely not good.

You were on the other side of the bed, blankets pulled up over your chin as you stared at him in disbelief.

“Reggie? What—what are you doing here?”

Regulus was an idiot. A stupid, careless idiot.

But none of that mattered now.

“Don’t end our friendship.”

You reeled back in surprise. “I—what—what’s even happening—”

“Don’t end our friendship,” Regulus said once more. “Fuck, it’s not even a friendship. You and I both know it’s so much more than that.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m not going to get bored of you. Never in a million years would I ever get bored of you. In the months that I’ve gotten to know you, not once have I ever stopped feeling drawn in. I want to know everything about you, Y/N. Even though you tell me everything without realizing it, I still want to know more. I want to listen to you talk about your books and hold your hand when you’re overwhelmed and follow you all around the castle like I’ve been doing all along.”

You were speechless as Regulus continued. “Tom told me that you weren’t feeling well last night. I knew it was a lie, so I had to come and see for myself. I had to make sure you were okay, even if you didn’t know it was me.” He sighed, closing his eyes. “But then you said you wanted to end our friendship and I just—I was selfish. I should’ve gone back to my dorm, but I didn’t know if last night was the last time you’d ever speak to me and I just couldn’t bring myself to leave.”

Realization dawned over you. Pieces of the puzzle started clicking into place. “You’re—you—you’ve been Shadow this whole time?”

Regulus nodded guiltily. “I understand if you’re angry with me, but please know that I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I found your dorm by accident that first night and I don’t know. I just kept coming back. You just kept drawing me back.”

He bowed his head and ran a hand through his curls. “I realize you might hate me after this, but you have been the best part of my day since I accidentally stumbled into your dorm and I think—no, I know that I’ve fallen for you.”

You blinked in disbelief, still processing his confession. “So you’ve been…you this whole time? You knew everything I’ve ever said to Shadow. You listened to me vent and rant, thinking I was just talking to a cat.” You paused as something niggled at your brain. “When we first ran into each other at the bookstore, did you already know I was going to be there?”

Regulus didn't deny it. “I did. I also already read all of the books on your shelves in advance on the off chance that you might mention it in class. I didn't really need help in charms, that was just an excuse to spend more time with you and I...I bought the same candles and blankets you like so you'd be comfortable in the common room. I learned all of that by listening to you, by spying on you, and I'm sorry. I’m so fucking sorry —"

His apology was cut short as you surged forward to kiss him. Regulus was stunned for a moment as your lips met, but it didn’t take long for him to reciprocate. One arm slid around your waist to pull you closer while the other cradled your cheek. His kisses were hungry, like he was a man awaiting the gallows and you were his final meal. It was full of passion, the longing and yearning evident as he gorged himself on the taste of you.

Coming up for air, Regulus finally opened his pretty emerald eyes and looked at you. His gaze pierced through your skin, raw and vulnerable. “You’re not mad at me?”

“Are you kidding? That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” Regulus sighed in relief, pressing his forehead against yours. “Plus, how can I be mad when you make such a cute little kitty?”

Regulus laughed, the sweet, melodious sound filling the room. You brushed his curls back and grinned. “For the record, I’ve fallen for you too.”

“That’s a relief. My friends have been pestering me on finally making a move for months. Pansy cornered me last night and lectured me on asking you to be my girlfriend before you realize that you’re too good for me.”

“I think I like Pansy.”

“Don’t tell her that,” Regulus groaned. “She’ll definitely try to steal you away from me.”

“I don’t think you’ll have any trouble with that.”

“Good, I don’t want Parkinson getting any ideas about running off with my girlfriend.”

You raised a brow. “Oh, I’m your girlfriend now?”

“Girlfriend. Love of my life. Apple of my eye. Take your pick, mon cœur.”

“I’ll take all of the above, boyfriend.”

Later that morning, after much cuddling and kissing, you and Regulus finally decided to head to the Great Hall for breakfast. You smiled as he held your hand, bumping your hip as the two of you walked through the corridors. It was strange how at ease you felt. You were vaguely aware of the eyes that trailed your every move, but they quickly blended into the background when Regulus pulled you close and kissed your cheek.

Luna and Ginny perked up at the sight of you, surprise marring their faces when they spotted Regulus at your side. Their eyebrows raised to the skies, pointedly staring at your linked fingers.

Later, you mouthed. You had a hell of a lot of explaining to do, but your friends merely smiled and nodded.

“Finally,” Pansy announced exasperatedly. She patted the seat next to her as you shyly slipped in. “I was beginning to think that we’d have to scheme to get the two of you together.”

“No need,” you said with a smile. “I think we took care of that on our own.”

Regulus smiled and nuzzled against your shoulder. The boys flashed him shit-eating grins, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Stop scaring my girlfriend away, Pans.”

“Oh, is it girlfriend now? It’s about time. I’ve only listened to you pine and yearn for months.”

“Excuse her,” Blaise said. “She’s just happy to have another girl in the group.”

“Damn right I am. I’m tired of spending so much time with you heathens.” Pansy patted your shoulder. “I hope you’re in the market for new friends, because you’re not getting rid of me now. My first act of friendship will be to determine whether or not to hex that little trollop for glaring at you. Do you know that girl, Y/N?”

You turned and found Britt frowning at you with her arms crossed. “It’s alright, Pansy. She’s not worth it.”

At the same moment, Tom sauntered through the aisles. Once he reached Britt, he cut her a glare that would paralyze a basilisk. She cowered back and made a hasty retreat.

Tom merely continued walking before taking a seat next to Mattheo. “So, that hag, “ he says in a no-nonsense tone. “Would you like me to take care of her?”

You glanced at the group in concern. “What exactly does taking care of her mean?”

Mattheo’s curly head popped up from his plate. “Oh, he means he’ll feed her to his snake.”

You laughed at the jest, but Tom remained stone-faced. He was obviously just kidding. Right?

“He’s dead serious,” Theo added. “I’ve seen him do it before.”

With a gulp, you turned back to Tom. “That won’t be necessary, Tom. Please don’t feed Britt to your snake.”

Tom shrugged as though you were discussing the weather. “Suit yourself.”

When everyone returned to their morning banter, you turned to Regulus. “What have I gotten myself into?”

Regulus smiled and pecked your lips. “You know, I considered clawing her ankles off, but I think Tom’s way will be much quicker.”

“Regulus Black.” You scolded, though it wasn’t entirely convincing given the grin you were biting back.

“It’s Reggie to you, love.” You stared at him pointedly, which only made him sigh dramatically. “Fine, Tom’s snake will not have a new snack, but only because I have a saint for a girlfriend.”

“And I have a devious little sinner for a boyfriend.”

Regulus smirked. “I’ll make sure to worship at your altar for penance.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help but blush as Regulus laid his head down on your shoulder once more. You ran your fingers through his curls, smiling to yourself when he let out a satisfied hum that sounded awfully close to a purr.

#he's so cute my little black cat baby boy #regulus black #regulus black x reader #regulus black x you #regulus black fic

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winchesterandpie · 2 years

Text

A Healing Shower

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x reader

Word Count: 1362

Warnings: highly self-indulgent, possibly OOC Jake, insecure reader, showers with Jake (but he's a gentleman)

A/N: Ok, I can explain, I'm working on another drabble with a bet, but I have been starting to love the hidden soft side of Jake Seresin. Lo and behold, this was born. I'm a bit nervous writing for him, especially having written so much for Bradley, so let me know what you think and if I should write more for Jake.

“Jake!” You were swept up into a hug by the excited aviator. He spun you around with a laugh and you hoped he didn’t notice your tiny flinch when he lifted you off the ground.

“How’s my best girl?” He always asked the same question with that same, stupid grin, and you always gave the same answer.

“Better now that you’re home.” You grinned at him. “How’s my favorite aviator?”

“Better now that I’m home.”

Jake leaned in to kiss you and you met him eagerly. You had missed the feel of his lips on yours, so you pressed in closer. One of your hands found its way into his hair, drawing a sigh from his throat. His hands wandered down your sides, and you couldn’t help the flinch when he reached your hips. You knew he noticed when his hands froze, then slid back up to safe territory.

The kiss slowed, then you pulled away, pressing your forehead to his. His arms kept you pulled close, for which you were grateful. You hadn’t had a strong bout of insecurity in a long time, not since before you met Jake Seresin, and you were nervous about his reaction.

He didn’t press the issue immediately, content to just take in your presence. Eventually, though, he pulled back enough to look you in the eyes, cupping your cheek in his hand.

“What’s wrong?” When you opened your mouth, he fixed you with a firm look. “And don’t tell me it’s nothing. I know you better than that.”

You grinned, a little ruefully, when he predicted what you would have said. “Sometimes I think you know me too well.”

“Is it something I did?”

“No, it’s not you,” you reassured immediately, shaking your head. “It’s just my head.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s alright, Jake, I’m sure it’ll be better tomorrow.” You waved him off, starting to move away. His arms tightened and green eyes searched yours.

“If you’re sure.” He wasn’t actually letting it go, you could still feel his concern, but he wasn’t pushing either. “I’m gonna get ready for bed. Join me?”

You were torn at his invitation. On the one hand, you didn’t want to let him go just yet, needing the closeness. On the other, you knew he wanted to shower, and you weren’t sure you could shower without giving yourself away. Your internal dilemma was solved by the pleading look in his eyes. He wanted the closeness just as much as you did.

You let him lead you to the bathroom, turning the shower on so the water could get warm while you got ready. Jake didn’t comment on the way you faced away from the mirror while you undressed, but he did smile softly at you.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, approaching to press a kiss to your temple.

Sometimes, he would use such an action to lead into something more, but today there was nothing but soft affection. If you hadn’t been so distracted, you might have realized that he had you figured out. Still, he didn’t push, he just guided you into the warm stream of water.

Even feeling down on yourself, you were not too distracted to admire Jake’s form as he undressed to join you. He tossed a wink over his shoulder at you when he caught you looking.

“See something you like?”

“Maybe,” you hedged, shrugging innocently.

Jake sauntered toward you, grinning. “Only maybe?”

“Well, like isn’t how I would describe it.”

“Mmm, then how would you describe me?” He took your hand, hiding a sly grin as he kissed the back of your hand.

“Gorgeous, sculpted by the gods, too good to be true” you teased, then softened and finished by simply saying, “Someone I love.”

Jake melted, releasing your hand so he could hold your face in both hands. “There you go again, being so perfect.”

“I--”

“No, don’t do that,” he stopped you gently, but firmly. “You don’t have to see it, but don’t tell me it’s not there. Please, baby.”

You paused for a minute, then dropped your gaze and nodded. His thumb brushed back and forth on your cheek a few times before he was nudging you back to join you under the water. Often when he came home from an assignment, you would wash his hair and generally dote on him while you reveled in how soft he was for you and you alone.

Today, Jake still let you take your time washing him. You couldn’t help pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw when he tilted his head into your hands. Both of you loved it when you played with his hair, but he didn’t let you go on for very long.

When he turned it around on you, his touch was gentle and undemanding. You pressed your face into his neck to hide a shuddering sigh when his hands reached your stomach. You didn’t push his hands away and he rewarded you with a kiss to the side of your head. Once he was done, it turned into just holding each other in the hot water. That was what finally had you ready to talk.

“Yesterday, I just got more worried than normal,” you started and his arms squeezed a little tighter around you. “I’m not sure why, I just couldn’t stop it. Then this morning, that had worn off, but I started overthinking how worried I got and it went off from there.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” he offered quietly, tracing circles on your skin.

“I don’t normally get insecure about how I look, I swear. I was just overthinking everything else and it was like the wall I’d built to keep those thoughts out crumbled and--” you cut yourself off before you could ramble more.

“Hey, it’s okay.” he reassured, resting his cheek atop your head. “It’s okay.”

“I didn’t want to say anything because I thought I could get it under control, and you had just gotten home. It’s just… you’re so wonderful and your job is so cool. I wonder sometimes if I deserve you.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. “Of course you do, of course you do. Darlin’, you’re all I want.”

“I know that, consciously,” you said, emphasizing it with a nod, “but today, my little traitor brain is being nasty and not listening.” You chuckled at yourself, hoping it might make him smile. It did, if only a little. “Come on, let’s get out of here before the water gets cold.”

He turned the water off while you reached out of the shower for towels. The two of you changed quickly into sleep clothes--a big shirt of Jake’s and underwear for you, and just a pair of boxers for him--and did the rest of your evening routines side by side. Jake was in bed first, holding out an arm in invitation.

“I’m sorry your brain is a traitor,” he said, smiling softly at you when you had settled in his arms.

“Eh, it’ll be ok.” You shrugged, turning your head to press a kiss to his chest. “It’ll shut up after sleep, I think.”

“And if it doesn’t, or if it comes up again, you’ll talk to me?”

“I’ll try,” you promised.

He hummed a response, shifting on the bed to draw you closer. “Tomorrow, I can give you a demonstration of just how wonderful you are.”

“Is that so? I wasn’t aware you were a teacher.”

“Excuse you, I would be a wonderful teacher.” He played up the indignance, shoving your shoulder lightly.

“Mmm, but you’re too sexy to be a teacher.”

Jake laughed at that, throwing one arm over his eyes. “Oho, I see. How about we have a lesson tomorrow on how sexy you are?”

“I suppose I could agree to that.”

He tilted his head to kiss you properly, even as sleep started to creep over you. When you started to drift off, he pressed a kiss to your forehead and pulled the blankets higher to cover both of you. He couldn’t help the fondness that warmed his heart as you snuggled into him.

“Love you,” you mumbled.

“Love you too.”

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #hangman #top gun #top gun maverick

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iwritetopassthetime · 2 years

Text

home to you (4/9)

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x fem!reader

CHAPTER THREE: At Last // Previous chapter // Masterlist // Next chapter

Wordcount: 6K

Summary: When two people are meant to be together, fate will always find a way to bring them to each other. It's just that sometimes it's not under the normal-est of circumstances. But a flower that blooms in adversity is the rarest and most beautiful of all, and Bradley will be ready to go through anything for the love of his Blossom.

Warnings: themes of abuse/domestic violence, mentions of the Navy being homophobic, Blossom is still dealing with self-esteem issues but she's getting there, a smooch maybe *wink wink*, Maverick ships Blooster (can't think of a better ship name at the moment)

Song inspiration: At last by Etta James

A/N: I'm very sorry this took me so long to update. I had a hard time starting this chapter for some reason, then my best friend came from out of town for the weekend so I had to take big breaks. Anyways, I managed and I hope you like this chapter because I do. 🌸

You exhaled slowly as your eyes lifted from the sink to stare at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. You gently applied the concealer around your eyes and nose, followed by some liquid blush and a dab, dab, dab of gloss to your lips. You ran your fingers through your hair, seeing if you liked it better this way… or that way.

It was almost surreal how in a matter of days — almost two weeks since being welcomed into Penny’s house, welcomed by her, Amelia, Pete… by Bradley — the hard outer layer of the shell you’d resined yourself to occupy had started to chip off. The attentiveness and care of your newfound— why, you didn’t know, weren’t sure if you could call it family, but it felt like one.

You ruffled your hair with a groan, then smoothed any flyaways down. You were perfectly aware that all this fuss wasn’t because of wanting to look good for your third shift at the Hard Deck, but because you were desperately trying to impress a certain Navy pilot. You tried to stifle a giddy smile as you finally decided to leave your hair as it was, its form and texture much improved since Penny lent you those hair products.

It was true that Bradley’s care for you was something that touched you in a different way than that of Penny and Pete’s. Even the happiness at being included into Bradley and Amelia’s bingeing of Friends, couldn’t compare to the quiet, peaceful joy you felt every time that man simply looked at you.

On one hand, you were sure that you had never felt that same calm with Jett, you were never as peaceful even when you first started dating. It all had felt thrilling and anxiety-inducing, like a rollercoaster. He had whipped your head with crazed declarations of love, of devotion, of your "amazing future together". Bradley was a complete opposite; he was tender and calm, he never spoke over you and made himself your equal. He was wonderful and you had started to like him… a lot.

On the other hand, however, it was difficult to ignore the nagging feeling of worry in your heart. You had shared with him where trusting someone with your heart had gotten you the last time. At the time of saying that you didn’t exactly think you were admitting that you saw him as a contender for your heart. Frankly, you thought it was impossible that he might develop feelings for you. You were difficult, unlovable, too much. Jett had made sure you learned that, both with his words and his hands.

If Bradley could ever like you, love you, would you be enough? Or would he grow tired of you and push you aside?

You didn’t think you’d survive another heartbreak.

Nevertheless, you let out a final sigh of resignation as you turned away from the bathroom mirror to go downstairs for breakfast. You’d already had one coffee with Bradley, as per your daily tradition, so your stomach had started to churn in hunger. Penny had made sure to build your appetite over the first week and now you couldn’t really start your morning without her delicious forest berry and honey oatmeal.

‘Morning,’ you smiled at everyone gathered at the breakfast table. They all smiled back.

Pete, or Mav as he’d told you you could call him, was reading the news on his tablet, Penny was making another brew of coffee and its fragrance filled the space of the kitchen, Amelia was watching YouTube videos with her earphones on so she was unaware of anything surrounding her.

Bradley grabbed the chair next to his and pulled it back for you, beaming through a mouthful of eggs and bacon. Your stomach fluttered briefly again, but not with hunger. You gladly accepted the offered chair, sitting on your friend’s side for the second time this morning.

‘You look really nice,’ he told you quietly. His voice sounded a little unsure, his cheeks and neck were flushing a very bright red. You sincerely prayed that a minuscule part of it was because of you and a particular sweatshirt you were wearing.

Suddenly, all your fussing in front of the mirror made more sense.

You brushed away an invisible speck of dust from your mum jeans, then said just as quietly to him, ‘Thanks, Bradley.’

He leaned back in his chair, a stupidly large grin on his lips and his moustache curling above them. He stuffed his mouth with more bacon, humming contentedly at the taste. A bowl of oatmeal was placed in front of you by Penny who took the seat next to Mav.

‘When do you need me at work today, Penny?’ You asked, digging into your breakfast.

‘From 4 till close tonight, I’m afraid.’ Penny sipped from her coffee. ‘We always get a lot of people on Wednesday and with the Dagger Squad starting to pour in... There’s bound to be a lot of people.’

You nod, but notice the cautious look she gives you over the rim of her cup.

‘Are you gonna be fine?’

You know what she means. Everyone’s been practically walking on eggshells about you moving in large groups of people. Any other person would get annoyed at being treated so cautiously, but you actually feel grateful to have someone care for your comfort and not a see it as nuisance. You were having to re-learn to accept care and attention as a standard and not as a luxury. ‘I think I will. We were busy last night and I did well, I think.’

‘You were amazing!’ Penny grinned.

‘You were a natural!’ Bradley added next to you and you felt your chest swell with a huge breath of pride.

‘But I worry, you know.’

‘I know, Penny.’

You two smiled at each other and you could see in Penny’s eyes that she was willing to leave it at that. If you were certain that you would be comfortable surrounded by lots of people then she was perfectly willing to trust your judgement.

Amelia finished up her breakfast, pulling one earphone out of one ear to ask Bradley, ‘Is 'Nix coming back today?’

‘Yeah,’ he replied. ‘I’ve promised to pick her up from the bus station. But I’ll drop Blossom off for her shift first and the two of us can go get her.’

‘Noice,’ Amelia grinned.

You turned to Bradley, curious who “Nix” was. It was stupid, but you were suddenly holding on to hope that she wasn’t someone important to Bradley. Like a girlfriend, or a wife… it would make your feel so stupid about your little crush and make you doubt every interaction you’ve had with the guy.

What if she really was his girlfriend? Why hadn’t he mentioned her? What if you’d misconstrued his attention towards you and this was all just his way of showing kindness to a stranger? Because you were still very much a stranger. Yes, you had shared things about each other’s lives, but there was still a big chunk of your life — encapsulating the past three years, to be precise — that you were still very secretive about even after he’d basically given you his entire biography.

‘Phoenix is one of the pilots in our squadron,’ Maverick explained to you and your gaze snapped to his friendly one across the table. ‘She and Bradley were friends in the Academy. Am I right?’

He turned his eyes to Bradley who was wearing a very endearing goofy look on his face. ‘If by that you mean that she was the only person who could, and still does, kick my ass from time to time to keep me in line, then yeah.’ Bradley grinned your way and you felt all doubts subside. ‘She’s really cool, you’re gonna love her!’

‘And her girlfriend, Frankie,’ the older man added.

Mav gave you a conspiratorial smile and a quick wink that seemed to go unnoticed by everyone else at the table. You didn’t get it at first, but then Maverick made a few more offhand remarks about how Phoenix was visiting her girlfriend in San Fran and you understood.

A tentative smiled pulled at your lips and you were happy enough to look back down as you continued to dig into your breakfast.

You hurried around the bar, delivering drinks and taking orders for the next ones. The Hard Deck was crawling with people, mainly Top Gun personnel, and the stools around the bar were full by several groups who were enjoying a nice night out after work.

Beer mugs were hanging off of pegs above your head, the ochre light of the many tiny bulbs on the ceiling bouncing off of their clear white enamel surface. The jukebox in the corner was softly humming the end notes to Danger Zone. Chairs scraped against the wooden floor as some patrons dragged them from table to table, joining their friends or colleagues.

When you checked the time on the register, it was barely past 8:30. Penny was right when she said that it would be a busy evening. But a busy evening meant you would tire yourself enough that you’ll sleep like a log through the night. But even if you did, you still were going to wake up early enough to have your morning coffee with Bradley on the back porch.

The thought seemed to bring with itself a small pinch in your upper back, causing you to roll your shoulders a few times to ease the feeling. If the pinch turned into full-on pain, you’d take some painkillers — Penny seemed to have a good enough stock in her medicine cabinet because you never seemed to run out. Small blessings, you supposed.

You were bringing two of Penny’s regulars a couple of Bud Light’s when you saw a familiar face pop up above everybody else. Bradley grinned when he met your eyes, making his way around tables and people to get to you. When he got near enough, he slipped in the gap between two stools and rested his elbow on the bar.

‘Hey, Blossom.’

‘Hey, Bradley.’

The two of you stared at each other, smiles on your faces but no more words were exchanged.

‘And I’m Phoenix, thanks for the introduction, Rooster.’

A shorter woman slid next to Bradley, bumping her shoulder against his. Her hair was loosely falling about her shoulders in perfectly styles beach waves. She wore a pristine white tank top with a simple golden chain, interlocked with her dog tags, to finish a look that screamed confidence. She smiled at you and you instantly felt the need for her to be your friend.

‘Sorry.’ Bradley let out a soft chuckle. ‘Blossom, this is Phoenix.’

‘Natasha Trace,’ she added as she extended her arm to you. You shook it gladly. ‘Phoenix is my callsign, but you can call me whatever.’

‘You wrung Hangman’s arm behind his back when he called you “Tash".’

‘He was asking for it. I hate “Tash”, sounds fucking pretentious. I’m used to Phoenix though,’ she let you know and you nodded.

‘Phoenix, it is then.’

‘I’m guessing Blossom isn’t a callsign…?’

You heartily laughed, ‘No, no. It’s an old nickname. Curtesy of Penny. Bradley seems to like using it.’

You glanced at him just in time to notice the intense shade of red cover his cheeks and run down his neck, matching the hibiscus print on his Hawaiian shirt. He looked around, waving at some other people at the pool table. You’d noticed them when they came in and ordered their drinks from Penny. She seemed to know them well and apparently so did Rooster. They included a tall blond who could pass for a Golden Age Hollywood star and an equally handsome black man who smiled at you politely when your eyes met across the bar top.

‘I’ll, uh… I’ll go say hi to Hangman and Coyote. Didn’t know they were back,’ he scurried off, clearly embarrassed, and you worried it was because of you and what Phoenix said.

One of the barstools was left open and Phoenix dragged it over and sat at the bar, giving you her order. You quickly made the two double rums with diet coke she asked for and handed them to her.

‘Gotta admit,’ she said after popping two metal straws in the drinks that she carried in her tote bag. ‘I’ve never seen Rooster so smitten.’

You choked on your own spit while polishing a tray of glasses, seeing as no one needed you to service them. Phoenix’s words didn’t just take you aback, they threw you across the floor and made you splutter in shock.

‘I-I don’t know what you mean.’

You felt the tips of your ears heat up.

Phoenix smiled at you, but before she could reply, she was joined by a curvy brunette who thanked her for the drink and kissed her cheek. Phoenix quickly introduced the two of you and you shook hands with Francisca Vasquez (“call me Frankie, Francisca is such a mouthful”, she told you), Phoenix’s girlfriend.

‘I was just telling Blossom here that I’d never seen Rooster that smitten before.’

Frankie nodded, ‘Yeah, me neither. Poor boy couldn’t talk of anything else on the car ride over. He was really excited for us to meet you.’

‘And she doesn’t believe me,’ Phoenix added.

‘It’s not that I don’t believe you,’ you apologised. ‘I just think he’s being friendly, that’s all.’

‘Trust me, I’ve known Bradley for a long time and I have never seen him be friendly like that.’

Frankie hummed in agreement around the length of her straw.

‘You should’ve seen him just now. That chicken fucking blushed.’

‘No!’ Frankie gasped in disbelief, grabbing her girlfriend’s shoulder. Her features soften and she clutched her heart as she looked at you, ‘Oh my god, you two are, like, the cutest!’

You tried to stifle a smile as you furiously rubbed the rag over a non-existent speck of dirt on the glass in your hands.

‘Alright, let’s not freak the girl out yet,’ Phoenix said to Frankie. ‘Let’s go join the squadron. Bob should be here any minute.’

‘Oh! I also wanna know why Hangman and Coyote look so touchy-feely all of a sudden.’

‘Weren’t we the same when we first started dating?’ Phoenix wiggled her eyebrows.

Frankie gasped again, ‘Do you think!’ She hurried towards the pool table, dragging her girlfriend along who threw a quick “see ya later” at you before hurrying away. Her and Frankie joined the gathered men, exchanging brief greetings. Bradley patted his best friend on the shoulder, telling her something which made her laugh. And then he glanced back towards you with a little smile which you gladly returned.

The evening passed quickly and most people filtered out of the bar to either go home or change locations. At one point, Penny told you to go sit with Bradley’s squadron as there wasn’t much else to do than take stock and close the registers, something she was completely fine doing herself. Before you could start to protest that you needed to help bring bottles out of the cellar, she pushed a glass of iced water into your hands and gave you the rest of the night off.

You tentatively made your way over to the table where what you now knew to be the Dagger Squad was hanging out, drinking and laughing the night away. Bradley was the first to see you approach and patted the empty chair on his left side for you to sit. Thankfully, Phoenix was on your left so you didn’t feel that anxious about joining this new group of people. Bradley took notice of your unsurety, opting to take over introductions so you wouldn’t have to do it yourself. Thank whatever god for Bradley Bradshaw!

You learned that the Old-Time-y-looking one was Hangman (or Bagman as Phoenix called him to which he responded to by playfully flipped her off), the man beside him was Coyote. Then there was Bob who much like you seemed the shy type, lingering around the edges of the group without getting too involved in the conversation but was otherwise kept close by the obviously tight-knit group. Fanboy, a goofy but really nice guy whose every second sentence included a Star Trek reference — explains the callsign, you guessed. Finally there was Payback, the most laid back in the group, who was sat between Phoenix and Frankie and showing them photos of his niece. They’d all just returned from visiting their families and had stories to share about their time on leave.

When the stories ran short and Penny handed them the last round on the house, before she gave you the keys to lock up because Mav was taking her on a late screening of a movie they both loved, the group decided to quickly finish up and call it a night.

Hangman and Coyote were the first to leave, the latter claiming that he’d forgotten the keys to his flat on base and he’d have to take the couch.

‘Are the two really dating?’ You’d asked Phoenix after the pair had made their way to Hangman’s truck in the Hard Deck’s small parking lot.

Phoenix snorted, ‘I’d be surprised if they weren’t. Honestly, Bagman and Coyote have been years in the making and I guess it took a life-threatening mission for the two to do something about that sexual fucking tension.’

‘They look happy,’ you commented quietly. ‘But why all the hiding?’

‘It wouldn’t be as easy for them. I was always out and made it known. Couldn’t care less if people had an issue with me, because I certainly didn’t.’ You nodded and she continued with a serious tone. ‘Whatever is they like to tell themselves, the Navy still is very conservative about those things. I understand the two wanting to keep things private until they’re sure that they’re ready to come out with their relationship.’

‘I hope it works out. They both seem like great guys.’

‘Oh, they are! Bagman is a bit full of himself—’

‘Just a bit?’ Bradley seemed to join your conversation at the right moment.

‘Admit it, you like having those little bickering sessions with him.’

Bradley grinned, ‘Keeps the blood pumping.’

Just then Bob said he’d be heading out and Payback offered to drive him, Phoenix and Frankie back to base. Which would leave you and Bradley to lock up by yourselves.

You felt all too nervous to just sit there as everyone was making their way out and sharing hugs and pats on the shoulder. You opted to give Phoenix and Frankie a quick hug goodbye before going to lock the back door first.

‘Hey, do you want to go out with us tomorrow?’ Phoenix asked you, her arm casually thrown over her girlfriend’s shoulder. ‘There’s a really nice nightclub that we visit every time we’re together in town.’

You flustered, ‘Oh, I don’t want to intrude. You two would probably want to spend some time on your own.’

‘Girlie,’ Frankie smirked, putting her hand on your shoulder. ‘We spent the last three weeks in bed with this one’s head firmly lodged between my legs, I think we’ve seen enough of each other.’

‘It’d be a good opportunity to get to know our new friend better.’

Your heart made a leap at already being considered their friend. ‘Well, if you insist. I’ll, uh, have to check with Penny to see if she’ll need me for a shift tomorrow, of course.’

‘Here—’ Frankie fished her phone out of her jean pocket and handed it to you, ‘— put your phone number in and we’ll text you tomorrow to sort out details.’

‘Okay,’ your smile grew a little as you typed in the digits of your phone number then handed the device back to her. ‘That’s me. I’ll go check on the back door and make sure everything’s good. I’ll hopefully see you tomorrow.’

‘Bye, bye, honey!’ Frankie hugged you again, followed by Phoenix, before you turned on your heel to do what you set out to do.

After you were out of sight and out of earshot, Phoenix pulled Bradley into a hug. When she leaned back, she looked at him all seriously and told him.

‘You better pull your head out of your ass, Bradshaw. This girl obviously likes you and if you don’t do something about it, Frankie and I will snatch her away.’

Bradley stifled a laugh and nodded to his best friend, cheeks once again dusted bright red.

‘Will do, ‘Nix.’

‘Come on, amor, let’s leave those two lovebirds alone. They might as well make use of that pool table while the bar is empty.’

Frankie simply wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, snickering when Bradley’s mouth dropped in astonishment (and a litany of incoherent noises poured out in response) as her and Phoenix made their way outside to leave with Bob and Payback.

Sitting alone in the quiet gave Bradley enough time to go over every possible scenario as he went to throw away the final group of bottles in the glass bin. He was panicking, of course — why wouldn’t he panic? It wasn’t like he was putting his feelings on the line — a wholly uncharted territory — or allowing himself to believe, to hope, that your shyness and your sweetness around him was just for him, because of him. Maverick and Phoenix wouldn’t let him forget it, if they turned out to be right. Which he hoped for beyond fucking everything. He was too far gone at this point.

‘Fuuuuuuck,’ he groaned, rubbing a hand all over his face in exasperation. Wasn’t he too old for this shit? For heartache, and fluttery feelings in his chest, and—

‘Bradley, are you okay?’

He whipped around to see you, looking at him with worry etched in your features. He really hated to see you worry, couldn’t fucking stand seeing anything but happiness in your eyes. He wanted to be able to give you that and so much more, if you’d only let him.

‘Yeah, Blossom. Just a little tired, ’sall.’

You took a step towards him, fingers fiddling with the edge of the sweatshirt, his sweatshirt. Bradley couldn’t stop thinking about that fact, he’d latched onto it and felt stupidly giddy about it. You looked beautiful in anything, but especially so in his clothes.

‘… would you?’

‘Sorry?’

You seemed to be trying to hold back a grin as you pointed to the ceiling. Bradley looked up to find you gesturing to a light switch that was placed — for some inane reason — on the fucking ceiling.

‘I’m a little short,’ you explained softly. ‘Last time I had to get on a chair, but I thought… since you’re here…’

‘Yeah, you’re not getting on a chair, baby.’

The term of endearment slipped out accidentally and he made the choice to ignore it altogether. Maybe you didn’t notice, but he couldn’t really count on it. Even if he’d managed to escape death by the skin of his teeth a month ago, he didn’t think luck would favour him this time round.

He reached up, easily fingering the switch and turning it off. Almost immediately all the additional lights above the bar, pool table and jukebox were off, leaving on only a few lightbulbs. The semi-darkness made their closeness all the more intimate and Bradley could count on one thing: you couldn’t see him blush for the nth time today.

You stood mere inches from one another, chests nearly touching but not quite. You shakily exhaled, a sound that drew goosebumps to Bradley’s skin. He could distinctly feel the warmth of your breath on his chest, where the collar of his Hawaiian shirt was open. He slowly brought his hand down, letting it drop to his side while he kept his eyes on yours.

You broke the silence first, ‘Do you… Do you wanna head out?’

He nodded, moving out of the way to let you through first.

You opened the front door, hit the switch by the entrance which plunged the Hard Deck in total darkness, and walked out. Bradley waited for you as you locked up and pocketed the keys, then the two of you silently walked over to the Bronco.

‘Do you mind if I let you drive?’

‘Me?’

‘I’ve had a couple of beers,’ Bradley explained. ‘They were light, by this time I should be fine enough to drive back to Penny’s, but I’d rather not risk it. Especially with you in the car.’

‘Okay, uh…’

‘Do you have a driver’s license?’

‘No, no, I do!’ You pulled out your phone, waving it. ‘I started keeping all my most valuable documents behind my case a year ago. Keeps it easy to access.’

‘Good, good,’ Bradley nodded repeatedly. Some sense seemed to come back to him and he opened the driver’s side door for you, letting you settle behind the steering wheel.

‘Okay, it’s been a while since I’ve driven a stick shift,’ you admitted as Bradley fastened his seatbelt. You made yourself comfortable in the driver’s seat, checking the side and rearview mirrors.

‘Don’t worry, I can walk you through it if you need me to.’

He did as he promised and only when you were sure enough of yourself, you started the car and left the parking lot.

The drive passed in relative silence this way. Bradley was much too unsure of what to do with himself in between giving you the occasion direction through the streets of North Island, so he sat back and kept his hands to himself.

‘Your friends are really nice.’

‘They are,’ Bradley smiled, eyes on the road ahead. The streets were more and more familiar, two blocks away from the Benjamin residence.

‘I-I hope they… liked me.’

‘There’s no question about that, Blossom. Phoenix doesn’t keep people around who she doesn’t click with. She’s a good judge of character.’

‘That’s good then,’ you briefly looked at him. ‘She seems to know you very well.’

‘Hope she didn’t air out all my dirty laundry. Oh, turn here,’ Bradley pointed you to the right direction.

‘No, she… she just cares for you like any good friend should.’

‘That’s Phoenix. And now she’ll care for you, too.’

‘That’s good to know.’

‘We’re here.’

You slowly turned into the driveway. Penny’s jeep was nowhere to be seen, her and Mav were most likely still at the movies. You and Bradley undid your seatbelts, only to stare at one another in silence.

This was one of those moments that last a few seconds, but seemed to contain ages within them. Two pairs of eyes delving into one another, reading one another, understanding one another. Your breaths matched Bradley’s in rhythm. Your hearts, albeit neither of you could feel the other’s yet, matched in rhythm, too.

And then suddenly, you were reaching for him just as Bradley was reaching for you. Hands reaching for faces and lips joining in a kiss. Bradley couldn’t wait another second, desperate to have you closer. His hands dipped down to softly grip your thighs as he moved you from the driver’s seat over to his. You didn’t seem to need much convincing because you were comfortably settling yourself onto his lap.

Bradley kissed you with a thirst that he’d never felt before. Like he was drinking from you, feeling full with each sip yet still needing more. Your lips were soft, just as they looked. Your hands were gentle, cupping his face. Your body felt sinfully wonderful, fitting itself against his.

Bradley needed you, wanted you. He couldn’t remember feeling that for another person in his life. He wanted you so bad!

Your smaller hands trailed down to his shoulders, your lips leaving his to kiss the corner of his mouth, his cheek, his jaw. Bradley’s hands gripped your hips, grounding them down on his groin. You two were like a couple of horny teenagers, him copping his first feel of a girl, you getting to rub yourself on him. His cock was growing harder and he needed you, right then and there he needed you. In any way he could have you.

‘Bradley.’

Your soft whimper of his name seemed to snap him to reality and he pushed your shoulder back a little which instantly stopped everything you were doing.

‘Wait a second,’ he gasped, tongue coming to lick his upper lip and the taste of your chapstick lingering there.

Your eyes widened and brows furrowed.

‘D-Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry.’

You looked confused, you looked hurt and Bradley wanted to kick himself.

‘No, shit! Sorry,’ he stumbled over his own words, his larger hands coming up to tenderly hold your face. ‘You didn’t do anything wrong. I swear!’

‘Then why did you— I thought— I mean, you kissed me back. Did I misunderstand?’

‘No, you didn’t. I just… I feel like I’m taking advantage.’

Now you look even more confused, but at least you didn’t look pained.

‘Taking advantage how?’

Bradley sat up which caused you to wobble in his lap, but his hands came up once again to steady you. ‘You… You just came out of a relationship. A very bad one.’

You nodded sombrely, letting him continue.

‘I just… I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage. I would’ve waited longer, let you settle more, but… fuck, baby, you just looked so beautiful tonight!’

He leaned in and kissed you again, more softly and slowly. Taking his time to savour each second that his lips were on yours.

‘You are not taking advantage,’ you whispered the words into his open mouth. ‘I want this. I want you.’

Bradley groaned. His arms came around you, holding you against him. ‘I want you, too.’

You wrapped yours around his neck and rested your forehead against his. You took a few moments together and breathed slowly.

‘I know what worries you,’ you said. ‘But what happened to me before. It ended long before I met you. And the last… week or so… Bradley, I feel… I feel happy around you, with you.’

He nodded, staring into your eyes and taking in every word of yours with great attention and care. ‘I feel that way, too. I just didn’t want you to think that I was using you right now. Or something.’

You chuckled, cupping his jaw and drawing him in for a kiss.

‘I think I’ve learned enough about you to know that you’re not that kind of person.’

‘You never know.’ He grinned, sitting up and positioning you more comfortably on his lap, his clothed cock still rubbing deliciously between your legs. ‘I could be a… a scoundrel.’

‘A scoundrel?’ You asked through a giggle.

‘Yes, a scoundrel.’

He kissed you again, tentatively licking the corner of your lips. You seemed disinclined to make him wait any longer, opening your lips slowly and letting him in. Bradley dipped his tongue between them, exploring and tasting more of you.

‘You’re not a scoundrel, Bradley.’

He pulled back and opened his eyes to look at you. He reached up his right hand, touching the tips of his fingers against your bottom lip. Your pupils were blown wide with passion, breath slipping past your lips and tickling his fingers. His other hand toyed with the hem of the UVA sweatshirt.

You smiled, softly kissing the tips of his fingers. You looked simply angelic, your hair illuminated by the porch light behind you. Bradley felt the corners of his own mouth turn up and return your smile. He owed Mav and Phoenix an apology, but maybe not right now. He didn’t want to give them the satisfaction just yet.

You took a deep breath. ‘So.’

Bradley smiled even wider. ‘So.’

‘We’re obviously two people who are on the same page about how they feel about the other… right.’

‘Right as rain, baby.’

You seemed to like the term of endearment, biting down on you lip. ‘So… we take this slow?’

‘As slow as you need.’

You nodded and the two of you were in agreement. Not that it was hard to agree on; Bradley was ecstatic.

‘You know… I’ve felt really guilty that you’ve had to sleep on the couch for the past two weeks.’

‘There’s no reason for you to feel bad. I’ve slept on much more uncomfortable surfaces.’

‘Yes, I know. But still…’

You sheepishly looked away for a second and Bradley waited for you. Your hands were warm against his jaw and he didn’t want to part with the feeling of them for a second.

‘Would you like to come sleep with me? Just sleep,’ you added with a smile.

‘I’d like that very much, Blossom.’

Bradley reached out to grab the door handle and open the car door. He slipped out of the car, with you still in his arms. You buried your face in his neck to stifle your laughter and so did Bradley, neither of you wanting to wake up anyone in the houses near by.

Your arms were wrapped around Bradley’s neck, your legs around his waist and he held you there, effortlessly. Not really much of an effort if the fact that it was you he was holding brought such a sense of happiness to his heart.

He blindly closed and locked the Bronco, then walked the both of you up the front steps and inside the house. Then down the hallway, up the stairs, through the door of the guest room and finally! the both of you were on your own.

In the darkness of the room, he gently placed you down on the floor. His hands travelled up and down your body, hands barely skimming your skin, as he helped you out of his sweatshirt. You unbuttoned his Hawaiian shirt in return.

Bradley held your gaze, cupping your cheek and leaning in to tenderly kiss you once you had the shirt off of his shoulders. The pieces of clothing were dropping one by one until you were both left in your underwear.

‘I’ll pop into the bathroom real quick,’ you told him. ‘Just wanna take my make-up off and change into my sleep shirt. Are you…?’

‘I’ll run downstairs quickly to get my sweats. You go and get ready for bed, baby.’

He gave you a quick peck and dashed out of the door, a stupid grin on his face.

When he was back upstairs, he caught the sight of your ass in the lacy underwear as you climbed into bed and slipped under the covers. The sight was enough to have his mouth as dry as a desert.

Bradley cleared his throat as he closed the door behind himself, pattering over to the bed and joining you. You held the duvet up, letting him sneak inside with you. The two of you settled against one another; Bradley rested his head against the pillow while yours was on his shoulder. This was the first time you were laying this closely to one another yet it felt like you’d been doing it forever. It felt right and oh-so good.

Sleep was coming fast and quick. Bradley’s eyelids were growing heavy, his breaths slowing down as he slipped deeper and deeper into the bliss of sleeping next to you.

‘Good night, Bradley.’

‘Good night, Blossom.’

In the morning, the two of you woke up much later than you had been in the last fourteen days. Bradley was holding your smaller frame against his, spooning your from behind. He kissed the back of your neck as you stirred against him, turning around in his arms to say “good morning”.

And for the first time in a while, you woke up without a single pain in your body or worry in your mind.

Next chapter

A/N 2.0: Gotta admit, making Hangman and Coyote a couple was mainly because the first Bradley fic I read was the same-mistakes story by @hufflepuffprincesse and the thought of the two of them as boyfriends has REFUSED to leave me for a second.

(taglist is still open, click here and fill out this Google Form)

tags: @gretagerwigsmuse @jupitercomet @youlightmeupfinn @craftymoonchaos @the-winter-marvel33 @agent-jbarnes @blahehblah @katieshook02 @amysteryspot @daisyhollyxox @marantha @piceous21 @mak-32 @twoosinrooster @adoringsebstan @beachesandboats @ishipit1420 @machsachds @wishfulhope @everyoneslovechild (crossed over names are people I wasn't able to tag, sorry)

#home to you #iwritetopassthetime #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw

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northwest-cryptid · 7 months

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the problem i think with ai isn't that its good as a tool, its that the "tool" suddenly became replace jobs that society already views as worthless. Authors and artists already have to fight for pay worth the time and effort they put in (the recent wga and sag-aftra strikes) and ai tech bros coming in basically saying "you don't need them just use this handy tool that stelas their work without paying them or acknowledging their work in any way."

again not saying doesnt have a place, just that i wouldn't be surprised that a lot of people are going to get angry about anything that can be seen as defending it rn

The problem I have with people isn't their anger towards it; trust me I understand that anger. However my issue is that they don't bother to understand what AI really is. They want to talk like they do, they come out here saying statements that are simply inherently false and it gets passed around as truth.

The biggest reason I believe is because it's comforting to "know" that AI isn't capable of doing convincing work then they don't need to worry about it. If they believe they can identify it they believe they can avoid it.

A big issue I have is when AI is used to generate images that get pushed on basically "news" websites that generate; for lack of a better term, actual fake news. Which yea I know the term "fake news" is unfortunately associated with a certain someone.

However ESPECIALLY during a time like this I really want people to be educated on just what AI CAN and cannot do. But specifically what it CAN do. Like I always hear people go off about "AI can't do hands, if they have more than 5 fingers it's a clear give away!" That USED to be true, but as AI constantly advances that's just not the case anymore.

Even the most casual user will have access to plugins like OpenPose which can work with something like ControlNet to create some images most people likely wouldn't identify as AI at first glance.

OpenPose is actually really cool on a technical level as it's able to identify everything from body positioning to even facial and hand recognition:

However this, like anything; can be used for bad/wrong reasons as well as it can be used for harmless/good/fun reasons.

I totally understand what you're saying, I just think that if people are so against AI they need to take the time to stop throwing elementary school level insults at the people who are offering to teach them what they need to look out for; and actually try to pay attention so they can identify AI.

If you're scared of it, and you don't want bad people to get away with using it in bad ways; then PLEASE do yourself, and everyone else a favor and actually take the time to understand it.

A lot of the words being thrown around are really vague, the reblog that sparked a lot of this kinda "got me" because of it's wording. People just believe this without thinking about it:

I'm leaving the username out because I don't want to in any way seemingly "attack" the person, I just want to talk about what they're saying here.

"[so much] Overwatch content is just porn" sure, I have actually done adult animation to pay the bills before and I know just how popular OW is in that market. So I assume there's a lot of drawn porn as well as animated. However, let's take a quick second and think about this... You really think the MAJORITY of that porn is about dicks? Let's be real, if it's going to generate any form of NSFW anything from association of OW with Porn it's likely going to be boobs. Yet we don't see that, we also don't see that sort of anatomy being used for the two characters shown in the image. That just doesn't add up.

Likewise "The AI" which AI? There's a ton, and depending on the model/checkpoint and various lora they're using the weights can change a LOT. But let's assume they mean some website's AI, which as far as I'm aware are not some hivemind so they don't all have the same training; but let's just assume they mean NovelAI as that seems to be a popular one. So we have "The AI" that learns from "The Internet" again that's just... not how that goes. That's like saying you found an image "on Google" a lot of AI will use specific websites; that's how it knows "what" is in the image, those key words have to come from somewhere, so websites that specifically use a tagging system are great for AI to learn off because otherwise you have to manually teach it what each image represents.

As a quick note I do not in any way shape or form condone the actions of training an AI on material that you did not create, be it photography/art/whatever. If you don't have the permission to use it, then the acquisition of it and the training using it as material; is inherently unethical and yes, stealing.

Okay so back to what I was saying; just like how the porn they're talking about is typically congregated to specific websites; "The AI" also uses specific websites for their training, and I will be the first to admit that since I don't know which AI we're discussing I don't know which "internet" it's trained with. However I know that NovelAI uses a lot of "Booru" websites; likely because of their tagging system. I know this because if you use StableDiffusion (which is the most commonly available free AI on "the market") from way back in the day, prior to the much more streamlined 1.5 system, you'd find that the main training file being passed around for NovelAI specifically mentioned "Booru" in it's titling system, at least for the generation of anime imagery.

So while I do not know exactly what websites were used here, these statements are just egregiously vague. "The AI" learns from "The Internet" where "The porn" is. Okay that last part is kind of a joke because we do actually know roughly what "the porn" in question is. But even then, we really don't. We're just grouping all OW porn into "you know there's porn on the internet?! AND THE AI LEARNS FROM IT!" Which is a statement a lot of people, who don't really understand all of this; can latch onto and believe. I mean it makes sense, and the thing is it's TECHNICALLY true! However that's sort of like saying "I got Groceries from The Store, where you know; the food is." Alright are we talking Walmart? Whole Foods? What Groceries did you get?!

Now the way AI is trained also drastically can change results, in the comment they say the AI thinks that because the AI sees a lot of porn when looking up OW that it thinks a Penis is normal for OW and associates the two. That sort of "association based learning" isn't really how that works though, at least not commonly. I really do not believe that this was the case for a lot of reasons, ranging from the fact that the object positioning tells me the prompts given and even the overall image don't depict that section as being organic; so it's unlikely it would think to make a dick there. However let's say it was trying to make a dildo, even though again it's uncommon that there'd be enough dildo art specifically of OW that it would somehow learn that the "OW" tag should generate a dildo. It would technically be possible but not very plausible.

See if I'm trying to train an AI to identify "a man with red hair" I would use a system of target and control. Basically the defining thing here is "red hair" but not necessarily "a man" right? So I want my AI to know what "a man" looks like, but more specifically I want it to understand that the outlier has "red hair" this way when I tell the AI I need an image where a person has red hair, it understands what red hair "looks like" if this makes any sense. The typical ratio I've seen used is a 1 to 10 ratio. Meaning for every 1 image of a man with red hair that I identify to the AI as "a man with red hair" I need to include 10 images of "a man" and those images should not contain red hair. Now if we assume that it can scan hundreds of images without user input there's literally nothing stopping that ratio from being 1 to 100 or even 1 to 1000 which would mean that my AI has a REALLY good understanding of what "red hair" is, or more specifically, what a man without red hair looks like; therefore it's not likely to create red hair unless I tell it to.

Why does that matter? Because here's the thing, even if the AI did just generally scan a bunch of images of "Overwatch" it's going to identify common outliers, like how any image containing NSFW material is going to have that material in the tags. So let's say the AI has identified 100 images of OW art, and in let's say 25 - 50 of those images there is a dildo / penis specifically. Well it's going to identify the tag of Dildo/Penis and if I do not include that word specifically in my prompt it will understand (more often than not) that I'm looking to create a generation that does not include that material, but pulls from the other listed traits it finds in OW art. By that same logic however we should also see generic sexualized anatomy, we should see boobs as well as dildos, and yet; generally speaking we kinda don't, so I REALLY don't think that's the case here.

And yet people believe that comment on a whim, maybe they believe the source poster to be a credible individual; I haven't heard of them myself so I don't know if maybe they're some authority figure. If they are I would love for them to, you know; back up the claims with actual less vague information.

Yes, I do mean that; because if they could tell me which AI, if they could tell me what websites it specifically is trained on; then we have that information. Information makes us a lot more aware of how AI is progressing and how we can identify it even when people put effort into hiding that something may be AI. It widens our arsenal against AI and I think that's a lot more important than simply saying "AI stupid AI bad!"

So much about this is just "off" and I'm genuinely saddened by the general response that flooded my inbox, and let this be known;

I'm not saddened by the words people sling my way, I have heard worse. I fucked up a lot in my past, I did a lot of things I regret; and I've heard it all. I've been getting death threats since I was 16, I have had people deadname me trying to get some kind of reaction from me. Trust me when I say that elementary school kid shit doesn't hurt even my insanely thin skin.

No, I'm sad because people don't care as much as they claim to when it comes to this sort of thing. They don't actually care about staying safe from misinformation that could potentially spread from AI. They don't care about actually putting some kind of end, if such a thing is possible; to art theft due to AI. They don't care about educating themselves about AI. They just see the two letters and immediately go into a blind rage, throwing whatever petty insults they can and likely blocking me before they'll ever see my response.

It feels hopeless, it feels like a lost cause. Why should I bother to educate people, why should I bother to care?

And okay, listen to me here please, I know I've said a lot and I don't care if you want to skip over everything else in this post but PLEASE I am actually begging you to read this and understand this next part, I know we're the "how dare you say we piss on the poor" website but PLEASE.

I am an artist, I understand why people look down on AI. However, you're never NEVER going to convince a tech bro, or anyone going down the wrong path; that you are in the right when you throw petty insults at them.

I know you think people can't be convinced to begin with, but I want you to understand something, I used to be a horrible person and had it not been for a very good friend of mine telling me not to listen to the anons telling me to kill myself, telling me I'm a waste of oxygen, or that I didn't deserve to be born; if it hadn't been for this one person telling me that those people are assholes but that I DID screw up.

I'd have never given it a second thought, because who is going to give you the time of day when everyone on the other side says "yea they're all just going to yell at you and hate on you and shit." Who's going to think you're right, when you literally only prove the wrong people to be correct?!

If we sling insults and throw a fit over anyone ever doing something we're not happy with, instead of attempting a civil conversation on the matter; no not a debate, a CONVERSATION. Talking, not arguing, not debating, not manipulating or some shit. Just TALKING.

If we don't do that, we're never going to actually see change, because all it's going to do is make those tech bros look like they know you inside and out already, and it's going to convince some poor individual, maybe a child; who picked up AI because they were curious; that yea you're just an asshole and they shouldn't listen to you and what you have to say.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk, and thank you to the Anon who sent this for being chill, you're a real one.

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theprogrockbstheorist · 1 year

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Hello!

I know that in this blog, you mainly analyse the prog music and don't care much about some things in the prog world that aren't music-related. However, I wanna know your opinion on this...

Why is prog rock such a male-dominated genre?

Even though most people say that rock music in general is male-dominated, this statement isn't that true anymore. Because female rock musicians are becoming more. Yet, when you look at the world of prog rock, there are only and only male musicians. And also, back in the 70s, the fans of this music were mostly young men as well.

Why do you think this has happened?

If one day, a prog rock band gets formed with all members being women or even a band that its members are all genderqueer or sth like that, will they get the attention that they deserve and be noticed just as much as the all-men bands? Or do you think that'll start an era in the world of prog where critics don't care about the music itself anymore and just talk about sexism??

This is a great question, and while I do primarily focus on the music and the artists themselves, one cannot overlook the cultural factors at play in progressive rock.

It's very difficult to explain why progressive rock in particular is such a male-dominated genre. Firstly, one would have to investigate if there really are fewer female and/or genderqueer prog musicians than in other subgenres of rock, or if that's simply public perception due to being perceived as having a largely male fanbase. As for why prog appears to have a largely male fanbase, that's an equally difficult question. Are there really more male prog fans than female and/or genderqueer prog fans, or are they simply more vocal about it, and more likely to go to concerts?

From what I'm aware of, there haven't been any large studies on fans of progressive rock and their demographics, so that's more or less impossible to answer whether there are actually fewer female and/or genderqueer prog fans and musicians, or if it's just public perception. However, the fact that prog fans and musicians are largely assumed to be male is an interesting occurrence in and of itself, and that may be rooted in sexism.

The reason why it may be rooted in sexism is that prog typically strays from your typical pop song topics of love and emotions, and so it is assumed that women must not be interested in that. This builds this culture that assumes women aren't going to be present at progressive rock concerts or on online forums, because why would they be interested? This could ironically drive away female or genderqueer fans that might otherwise be interested in the genre.

As for the issue of female musicians, there are a few from the 1970s! Annie Halsem of Renaissance, and Tal Wilkenfield, who played bass with Jeff Beck, are the first two that come to mind, however, there are many more that often do get overlooked, perhaps because of the assumption that there aren't any women in prog. I, for one, am an aspiring female prog musician myself, so I've actually thought about this quite a bit, and I'm not quite sure how the prog community would react if a major band was formed consisting of entirely female and/or genderqueer members. I'd imagine that many older prog fans would have a hard time calling them prog, instead calling them "art-rock" or "prog-adjacent", unless they were playing stuff that sounds like it came out of 1972. However, I'd like to be optimistic and hope that the focus would be on their music rather than on their gender(s).

Honestly, this is a topic that I'd like to do some more research into, as well as looking into related topics such as queer representation in prog or BIPOC representation in prog, so thank you for bringing it up!

#essay #prog rock #progressive rock #anon asks

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lunaamatista · 8 months

Text

Only putting this here so that I won’t forget.

Good Omens S2 places a deep emphasis on memory. To look where the furniture isn’t. To remember the mechanisms of gravity, but not its purpose. Not to remember Furfur before the Fall. To remember, however, the passwords to Heaven’s files or the crank used to start up the universe or the tall tales told to cherubs.

To have memories wiped out as a consequence of disobeying Heaven, and to have them kept away and restored as they were.

To gather memory in any way, shape, or form; whether that be through photography, drawings, books, or diaries.

How memories are colored by our limited perception. One angel would only know the blueprints of the universe and the next one would only know when it will end. One would know Extreme Sanctions as mythology and the next as reality. One would know a person as a writer and another as a criminal mastermind.

A biblical account of a true event could’ve omitted the help of a certain angel or demon. The fire of exploding rockets might not be present in the memories of someone who’s seeing an event through rose colored glasses. A diary is not a confessionary, and one could simply make themselves more infallible out of lack of perspective, cognitive dissonance, or shame.

The story was previously told by an omniscient God. Now, it’s mostly reminisced on by an angel whose greatest issue is lacking knowledge and perspective, despite ironically standing beside that whom initially led humans to it.

Memories, even left as they were, are never fully accurate, are never fully complete, are never fully comprehensive, are never fully unbiased.

I, too, see the small discrepancies in costuming, in staging, etc., and while I don’t quite enjoy the thought that these mental records of the past would be tampered with—I do believe if, and only if we believe these are purposeful, we could be dealing more with an issue of the unreliability of memory (and ensuing unreliable narration) than anything.

I care less about that than the following, though…

The Book of Life does feel like an unfired Chekhov’s gun. I know many people are reluctant to believe a certain initial theory (and if it wasn’t clear from this post, so am I), but I don’t think the idea should be dismissed entirely.

The concept itself had kind of been alluded to in the book:

And we’ve also got these quotes of Adam’s:

With the result being that, evidently, he does some rewriting himself, and the humans’ memories of that day are not quite exact.

See also the last conversation of Aziraphale’s and Crowley’s we see in the book, which could read as Death messing with their memories once they’ve gotten too close to figuring out something that ought to be ineffable:

Ultimately, we do know two mechanisms through which memory could not be a particularly reliable means of narration in Good Omens. And memory is such a strong theme this season, that they clearly want us to think of it.

One does not need to actually change events of the past for them to affect the present and thus, the future. They simply need to change how they are remembered.

Know what way there is for someone to never have existed without actually eliminating their existence?

Think of the power a name holds.

Without a name, anonymous deeds could belong to a single person or a hundred. There is no way to ever be certain.

We do not know the name of the gleeful angel who cranked up certain nebulae. Aziraphale doesn’t know, either. He says he remembers the angel Crowley was, but Crowley says that angel is not him.

For Crowley (or Crawley) to never have existed, all that’s necessary is for Aziraphale not to remember his fall. The perception of that being a wrong is at the core of so many grievances he has regarding Heaven, and his determination to right it.

One has to imagine ‘AN ANGEL’ happy, perhaps working on some other important things as they did before without their work ever overlapping. It’s not like that angel had initially cared that much for him at all.

#the people I can talk about Good Omens with are either not done watching season 2 or are sick of me #I was writing this on and off all day so it’s a bit disjointed #this is not meant to be taken as a theory #just a musing on memory #feel free to discuss this with me though #Good Omens #good omens meta #Aziraphale #Crowley #my post #good omens season 2 #good omens series 2 #good omens 2 #(again this is literally for me to find in the future so I’m adding all the tags I can think of)

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brekkie-e · 2 years

Text

This is a PSA: Wycome is on the border of Antiva.

Don't believe me? Look:

My bestie @dalish-kunoichi and I went through the trippy experience last month of discovering our perception of Northern Thedas's map was in no way based in reality. This lead to many fun geographical discoveries, not the least of which was the proximity of Wycome to Antiva. Quick disclaimer, I have a lot of headcanons, but I am in no way an expert on language. Nor am I claiming to be the keeper of all DA lore.

:readmore:

Now, upon further scouring over the map, I think this really hammers home how much the British accent (in its' varying forms) for the Free Marchers simply does not make sense. Yes, they are North of Ferelden. They are also across a sea. Every country bordering the Free Marches is shown with a thick accent in some capacity. Are they consistent? Not always. Do they make sense? Perhaps not. But for the most part, accents all around.

This is my justification for arguing that characters from the Free Marches should for the most part be bilingual at the minimum, and have more diverse accents than simply "insert fantasy British stereotype." This extends to Trevelyan, Cadash, and Adaar mostly but also many of the people we meet in DA2.

For a Lavellan, the situation becomes a little trickier. There are so many ways for Dalish accents to be developed. The base is Elvhen, but after spending years in Tevinter the dialect would grow into something new over time.

I have a selfish little headcanon that Dalish vs Elvhen is essentially Yiddish vs Hebrew. Considering the other Jewish influences in the Elven storyline, I feel like Im justified, and will continue to run with it. Also I dislike the fact that the vast majority of Dalish clans in the series are only given snippets of Elven language because they "lost it" over time. That would make sense if they had completely assimilated back into Orlais after the Exhaulted Marches. But they didn't, and remain seperate to this day. So the fact that their primary language is "Thedas common" feels like a gap in the lore that I headcanon away. There are many arguments for their language now being a combination of Ancient Elvhen and other languages, but for it to be widdled down to nothing but a few phrases feels unrealistic.

That being said, considering Clan Lavellan travels as far as the Antivan border, there is nothing to say they don't migrate even further through the years. They roam. They could spend years in the Free Marchesnand also years in Antiva. There is a good chance they atleast learned the languages of the surrounding areas if they were indeed trading with humans as frequently as canon suggest. Therefore, consider, bilingual Lavellans who's primary languages are Dalish Elven and Antivan.

I think it would be really interesting both on how that frees up a lot of room for cool headcanons about your characters accent, but also because it would change the politics of the game. It briefly touches upon the "Inquisition is a foreign power sitting with an army on the border" in Trespasser. However, the impact it could have on the player's perception of the situation if the Inquisitor is walking through Fereldan, and sounds like Josephine and Zevran. For role-playing purposes, there is now another visible element of your characters story to connect with. They have travelled a long way and are far from their home and loved ones. Sure, that is true regardless of the presence of an accent. But it is an element that is pretty much untouched in the narrative. And it would be a huge emptional impact for many characters to be trapped in a foreign land, forced to become the "great savior of the world" while so far away from all you know and love. I mean they go into how homesick Josie, Dorian, and Varric are. Why would the Inquisitor feel any different?

It also helps raise the stakes of the Winter Palace. For many Inquisitors, the writers relied on the racial issue to make your character be seen as "other" in that mission. But with politics, your place of origin can be just as much of a setback. So doing things to highlight the many ways the Inquisitor is a foreigner at this ball would have added missing depth.

To a lot of new players, the scenario presented in the game almost encourages you to miss the fact the Inquisitor is just as much from a different country as Josie, Cass, and Dorian. Despite having more in common with them geographically than anyone in Fereldan. Now, I get that there is a responsibility to the fan to educate yourself on the other games if you are coming in to a series in the 3rd installment. But things like this fall to the wayside often even for long term fans, like myself. There's areas of the game that could help reinforce your lore and foster an understanding of the setting better, and this is an area that I think fails to do that.

Also, I just think elves and dwarves and qunari with Spanish accents are amazing. I want more of them.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #clan lavellan #cadash #adaar #trevelyan #inquisitor #da4 #dragon age dreadwolf #dragon age meta #meta #brekkie thoughts #long post #text post #languages #yiddish

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viruslearnt · 1 year

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Wesker + S.T.A.R.S.

Wesker has ... lets say complicated feelings towards his time as a STARS captain and his fellow team members. As much as he'd like to pretend otherwise, working closely with the team for a year and a half ( and maybe a bit more ) left some marks. Playing the role of the protective, caring captain to such perfection took both a lot of careful planning and DEDICATION. It is obvious that Wesker put in enough work to make his team appreciate and trust him considering things such as Jill being willing to consider Barry is the traitor during the mansion incident simply because Wesker implied there's something off about him. Rebecca, Jill and Chris are all shocked and horrified to find out the truth when they confront Wesker in the lab. Rebecca especially seems struggle to accept the betrayal. It is obvious then, that Wesker succeeded in bonding with his team beforehand, to ensure they have FAITH in him and don't see 'X-day' coming.

It makes sense that Wesker put a lot of effort into ensuring his team genuinely looks up to and likes him. A team like this HAS to be able to follow orders and rely on their captain to lead them or they'd fall apart very quickly. It is also simply beneficial for his true intentions to be liked. The more his team trusts him the less likely he is to be discovered even if something should happen to threaten or weaken his cover. Wesker also had the advantage of retaining a lot of control over STARS by the virtue of Umbrella being one of its biggest sponsors, like obtaining seniority over Enrico despite Enrico being the more popular choice, older than him and more experienced.

So what about the team itself? Alpha team had a lot of direct contact with Wesker, so did Bravo team if Rebecca's experiences are anything to go by, and she only joined a month before the incident so clearly, Wesker spends a CONSIDERABLE amount of time with both teams. We only really have the mansion incident to go off, but during that event Wesker frequently fakes concern for the missing members of STARS and even takes up the support role for Chris that Barry fills for Jill in scenes where Rebecca cannot or should not be present. It becomes clear why STARS trusted him despite his uptight and arrogant attitude that even his attempt to fake being a great boss couldn't always cover entirely for the sheer length of this assignment.

Was it all fake then? Well ... kind of. Its complex. Again, as stated before, you cannot be a leader for a task force such as STARS and not get somewhat personally involved. People won't open up to you and trust you if you don't give a little of yourself too. I doubt Wesker told many real stories during his time as alpha teams leader but the truth may have been hidden in some of them, the tiniest hint of genuine emotions that he CAN offer to STARS given the circumstances. He also clearly picked favourites, given the fact he praises Chris for figuring out the truth while only getting annoyed at Jill for being in the way. While I'd say it is definitely not friendship or love that connects Wesker with Chris there is certainly some type of fondness he feels for him, as twisted as it may be. Jill on the other hand is someone he seems to perceive as more of a threat, someone he knows he can't silence as easily as he did with Barry and who would never see things his way ( as he may have hoped Chris would, further suggesting he formed some kind of twisted fondness for Chris ). It is also obvious that he views Rebecca as the weak link, likely due to her age and naivety.

Despite the hints and implications at Wesker's genuine connection to the team though, he also clearly has no issue terminating the team given that he executes Enrico himself and shoots Rebecca with zero remorse. Despite this, saying STARS meant nothing to him would be WRONG. He did connect with his team, he did have some weird bond with them he just happens to have a very easy time stepping away from a situation and cutting ties no matter how strong the bond between him and the team was. In all honesty Wesker would have liked to keep Chris alive and possibly at his side but he also had no issues facing the REALITY that Chris was a risk and if he moved against Wesker ( which he did ), there would be no room for emotions to get in the way of what 'had to be done'. Wesker is a realist and a brutal one at that. He likes cold hard facts and will put them above any human connection he has made with basically no hesitation. We see a similar thing happen to his friendship with Birkin. While he would have liked to evacuate Birkin and his family from RC, he also knew when to cut his losses and abandon a hopeless case to continue his own work.

#if u bring up the rebecca photo im eating u #anyway yes wesker made some weird almost meaningful connection with his team #yes he threw it all out the window at the first sign of trouble #its funny cause he DOES retain some weird connection to chris that eventually becomes his downfall bc he cant fucking let GO of his grudge #—* META

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leqclerc · 2 years

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Sigh. As much as I love and respect Laurent and personally believe he’d be a much more palatable TP than Binotto this unfortunately points towards a bigger issue within the team, this idea of constantly reiterating that nothing’s wrong, there’s no reason to change anything, most of their poor results are down to outside factors, no one really understands their plight, etc.

Granted, they’re hardly going to openly admit morale is poor or whatever, but not taking responsibility and doggedly defending bad decisions, when everyone else can clearly see many, many costly mistakes were made, is not a good look either. It’s difficult to feel sympathetic when the team’s policy so far has largely been denial (there’s no reason to change anything within the team), deception (claiming the race in Hungary was unwinnable regardless of strategy simply because the car had “no pace,” which was absolutely not true for Charles), and delusion (there’s no reason we can’t win the remaining 10 races), or some mix of the three. It’s frankly insulting. To Charles, to all the people back at the factory who worked so hard to make a championship contending car, and to all the fans tuning into this clown show. In all my years of following F1/Ferrari, I don’t recall a time when they so blatantly made so many bad calls with such frightening consistency. It’s not just a genuine mistake here and there. It’s week in, week out; the rule, more so than the exception at this point. You can comfortably go into a weekend and predict that the pitwall will do something to compromise Charles’s race and be correct more often than not, and that’s concerning.

And now, a little over halfway through the season, they’re closer to Mercedes in the standings (30 points difference) than Red Bull (97 points), who started off as their main rival for the championship(s). My prediction? They’re going to be pipped for second by Mercedes and ultimately finish the season in P3 in the Constructors’ standings. Mercedes. The Mercedes whose resurgence was supposedly a good thing for Ferrari, because it would “take points away from Red Bull.” Yep. P3. From P1. P3, where they finished last year, a result that was considered a massive success for their then-midfield car, coming off the back of a disastrous season. And the worst part is, should it happen, it will be absolutely deserved. P3 is just a more accurate reflection of their goals and ambitions than P1. After all, Binotto shamelessly moved the goal posts while the championship fight was already well underway and downplayed their ambitions from winning a title to just winning some races here and there.

In its current form, with its current attitude, this is not a team that has a genuine hunger and determination and desire to win championships. When Red Bull or Mercedes lose out, they are sick. They’re disappointed, they (generally) hold themselves accountable, and they analyse their weaknesses in order to come back stronger at the next opportunity. To them, anything less than a win is not good enough, especially when they know they have the car and drivers to achieve such results. They’re always pushing for more, bigger, better. There’s ambition there to win - and not just a race, but races, and, crucially, titles. Ferrari, meanwhile, seem to be content with mediocrity, treating the ultra-competitive sport that is Formula 1 like it’s a school sports day, where everyone’s a winner simply for showing up and participating.

In the past their title bids have also been flawed and ultimately fruitless (2017, 2018) but, I don’t know, at least I could feel they tried, they wanted it, which is more than I can say for the current pitwall/management. It’s this feeling that they just don’t care, that they’ve thrown in the towel much too prematurely and are now pretending this was the plan all along...that’s the inexcusable part. To have everything in your grasp, have the driver, have the car at your disposal...and then so carelessly dismantle everything for no discernible reason. If there is one given behind the scenes for this fiasco, then we’re not privy to it.

If the management, the people who hold actual executive power, who are responsible for making important decisions, really and truly see no issue with how the team is being mishandled at the moment, the way it’s failing to reach its full potential, then this malady is more serious than we initially thought. If there’s only talk of “learning lessons” and no actual, tangible action follows - worse, if the same mistakes keep being repeated over and over and keep being defended in the face of fair, constructive criticism, then the team has a massive problem, and I can’t, right now, see any clear solution. They are insane for this (derogatory). After all:

#text #discussions and predictions #scuderia ferrari #meta #long post #idek i just saw that article and - combined with that 'highs and lows of charles leclerc's season' video that dropped on f1 yt #it just pissed me off so much #i know the title's done and dusted. i guess charles knows it too #but the WAY in which they lost it is honestly unforgivable to me and much worse than i ever could've imagined them losing #it's not a case of ferrari just not building a good enough car and having that hold them back as was the case in the years prior #it was literally theirs to lose and they CHOSE they actively decided to lose it and that i can't grasp or forgive or come to terms with #they can be better than this. they SHOULD be better than this but they are actively choosing to be a disgrace instead #and then defend themselves and claim they're in the right and anyone who says otherwise is just a mindless hater

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meltingpenguins · 8 months

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I would love to read that rant about Crowley if you're up to writing it

*cracks knuckles* Right, this might get a little long:

Neil has stated that (paraphrased) 'you can't really call Crowley and Aziraphale homosexual as they are not humans, thus human terms do not apply to them'

Which, in and on itself is correct, but there's still themeing and all, and the show attempted to make crowley come across as more genderfluid than anything.

So, I'd say in order that to work, we have to apply human terminology to things, but from the angle that they are supernatural beings.

Crowley's a demon, a Fallen angel.

Good Omens is rooted in and dissects christian mythology and its version of the bible.

Thus the equivalent of 'cis' for angels and demons would be 'what is the general, most common idea of how these beings handle/approach gender'

For demons, the most common thing is that they will shapeshift to whatever form they need to carry out their evil deeds, to have it easy to corrupt the hearts of humans, to trick, deceive and bring misfortune etc

So, for a 'cis' demon, technically, it'd be normal to not care much about their shape, even delight in changing it willy-nilly.

Now, as stated, book!Crowley is a demon who feels much more comfortable in a (male) human form than in any other. He even states he hates shapeshifting, because he fears he might one day forget how to 'change back'. Change back to his human form. Not to his demonic form. His human form is his 'favourite shape'.

But show!Crowley? In season one we constantly see him in disguises and, supposedly, twice in a female form (as nanny and at the cruxification). In season 2 there's less of it, and he seems to have raided Neil's wardrobe >_> But that just on a sidenote.

The issue is that we see a crowley who delights in shapeshfiting and disguises in the way you'd expect a demon to behave. so that's already a little off. And then there's the issue with the Nanny and the Cruxification scene:

There's a common thing in fiction about cis men donning dresses as 'last resort'.

Now, we're all too familiar with the transphobic crap of having a cis guy in a dress as a sign of evil, of depravity.

But when it's not done to mark a character as evil, it's commonly that the (cis and usually straight) guy has 'no other choice' (even if that is technically not true): Look at movies like Tootsie, Mrs Doubtfire, Some Like it Hot (the discussion about daphne is a different topic), Nuns on the Run, Bosom Buddies etc.

Each time the cis guy(s) put on women's cloths and identify themselves as women to gain something otherwise 'unreachable' for them, or to protect their life, or because they simply have to for other reasons and it's portrayed as humiliating

(note: stories like 'birdcage' fall not under this trope, but that's a different discussion)

And that is a legit interpretation of Crowley in those scenes:

On the show, we don't get the Nanny bit until Warlock is 5 years old, which can be interpreted as no one else wanted to do it for the whole time and Crowley simply HAD TO.

Same with the other scene: We know crowley's been hanging out with Jesus, and we have it famously in the bible that the romans were rounding up the people that been hanging out with jesus. So it is just as fair to view crowley in women's clothing as Crowley (in a male form) hiding from the authorities.

yet we are expected and told to view it as Crowley taking a female shape. so no matter how you turn these bits, it's not as great gender stuff as we're meant to read it as.

Now, I don't know how book!crowley would have behaved in these situations (well, the latter one, in the book the nanny bit happens straight away AND I'd argue in the book it is left ambiguous if that's actually crowley, or if he and aziraphale only serve as advisors to the actual Astaroth and St Francis), but the show has those scenes like that TO give the impression crowley shapeshifts as he pleases and delights in it.

Thus, technically, rendering show!crowley akin to being cis. (same with Aziraphale, but that's a different rant)

There's in general a lot on the show that rubbed me wrong, giving of a certain

'Here is this ambiguous scene/dialogue, that can be read various ways, but YOU HAVE to read it like this, and applaud us for it'

It's just....eeesh

EDIT (in bold): The two mentioned scenes feel, in addition, as if there's a lot of plausible deniability written in on purpose. As if the 'applaud us for it' bit was simply one of two options, depending on how the audience's 'majority' would interpret it as, to then jump on that wagon.

It feels as if Neil & Co would have 'confirmed' it's just crowley in disguise had the majority of people read those scenes that way. :/

#good omens #good omens critical #good omens crowley

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arainmorn-art · 1 year

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A path of self-destruction

So I’ve seen that 14th March is Write Your Story day. Sounds neat, though I have no ideas for fiction to write about right now. But I have a personal story. I wanted to write about it for quite some time, because for some weird reason I feel more comfortable writing about some psychological stuff in English. It seems easier - and safer. Here might be no people that know me personally. And with a small audience it also feels... like I am in a small circle of silent respectful strangers, telling my story without a chilling fear of being interrupted or shunned. Or being avoided.

People don’t like sad body horror stories.

It’s an act of self-preservation for sure, our mind tries to protect us from horrible things, as it tries to be a protective parent guarding its kid. I understand it. It’s not like I tell the whole story to everyone, firstly it would take a long time, secondly - I don’t like making people upset. If people around me, who like me, are getting upset only by mentioning a miniscule part of stuff, why should I force them to listen the rest?

But sometimes... I need to tell it.

Heh. And how should I begin?

“There once was a girl with a loving family. She had both parents, a mother and a father. But strangely the girl was growing up strongly relating to fatherless kids her age. She was growing up waiting for her father’s death”

An intriguing kind of start, I hope.

The thing is it’s quite hard for me to tell you about only this part of my forming years, because right after high school there were also several traumatic circumstances I lived with, and stories about my dad and the coup, and the civil war, and severe trust issues, and loosing a feel of basic safety, and a crushing feeling of being a hated outsider in my own country are heavily intertwined. But... I doubt my writing abilities to tell you everything in one post. Maybe next time. I’ll mention those situations briefly, just keep in mind that... well, it was all happening at the same time.

So.

“She was a shy girl, whimsy and timid, a kind that usually becomes some sort of an artist. Five years might be not the best age to learn about death, but this realization came to her quite early. We all gonna die, she realizied, and nothing will stop it. She cried and ran to the kitchen to her mom, looking for comfort, but mom couldn’t say anything to console her. “It happens in many years!”, she tried to tell her crying daughter. She wasn’t expecting this conversation so soon”

I don’t know how others get this awarness of their own mortality. I simply haven’t asked, actually. I got mine after watching Conan the Barbarian and The Fifth Element movies. Oh, and add Princess Mononoke to this soup. And many 80s and 90s scince fiction and action movies, that were by far not kid-friendly! Yeah... my mom admits she and my dad were stupid to show me these movies before elementary school, but now I can tell young gen-Ziers that in my time we were much tougher kids!.. Well, come on, don’t give away all the credits to Don Bluth, a Grand Child Traumatizer, an old Total Recall was a blast! :D

My mom also thinks that there were too many familiar people who died through my forming years, both relatives and friends. I don’t know, maybe she is right. My grandpa was buried at the day of my 14th birthday, a year before two family friends died, a year after there were grand-grandma and three family friends, and many more...

14 years old. Yeah. I remember, it was a first time when I thought: “My dad will probably die because of a stroke. His face gets so red when he is screaming in anger”. 2008 year, hello, House M.D., teaching me new words.

“A girl was told by her dad that she had a happy childhood, a roof above her head, a food on her table and some money. Often told. Constantly told. It was true, but was there a need to repeat it? He needed to. He also told her he can clearly see she doesn’t value anything he gave her. That she doesn’t respect him. He demanded love. He believed there were all the ingredients for happiness. He was telling it but he rarely talked to her. They lived in one appartment yet she felt they were a little closer than strangers”

My dad was a complicated man to say the least. He was a large man with a strong physique, a wide chest yet narrow shoulders. His features were rounded: a round face, a big nose, plump lips, bushy eyebrows, even his black beard was making him feel rounder. My whole childhood I was told I was a female copy of him. He was a man leaving a grand impression about him, a succesful man, loved by his friends, relatives and wife... and strangely enough he was also an absent father.

For some reason I still can vividly remember his dark yellow teeth, black on the edges, and a brown tongue behind them. He drank a very strong black tea, 2 to 4 teabags at the same time in a large cup. The stains after such tea was impossible to wash away. Oh, and I just have to mention the amount of smoking he had. Pack after pack. Some fathers quit smoking when they get kids. My father was smoking even when I, being an infant, was sleeping near him in my mom’s embrace. I never smoked myself. Never ever.

The smell of cigarettes was everywhere. It was on the furniture, on my clothing, on my hair. The smell was so strong sometimes my teachers in school were asking if somebody recently smoked, although I was a whole day away from home. The smoke turned wallpapers in my dad’s room yellow; a lamp, a table, a computer and bookshelves had a very distinct greasy feel about them because of resin and dust. Maybe only whiskey and vodka bottles were cleaner. They were changing often.

My mom was worried about him. She called it “a path of self-destruction”.

And he still had a leg in those years.

It was 2011, I was still 16, soon turning 17, when I heard about the second type diabetes. I didn’t understand how it workes, but the most shocking news were: “They are going to amputate your father’s big toe”. Oh man, it’s so silly now how scared I was.

It’s just a toe.

What’s weird to me to remember that from this and several years later I was fixated on the topic of amputation. It was a repeating theme in my sketches... though it weren’t legs. It were hands. A crying mermaid with amputated hands. A cheerful alien with stumps instead of her arms, with clunky prosthesises made of thin metal tubes. A monster bleeding out with a chopped arm. Zombies falling apart. Decaying robots. A blood. A torn skin. Scars. Bare bones. And crying. Lots of crying characters. It was my weird way of coping.

So the doctors kept slicing his foot until there were no toes on it.

I thought he was powerful. I thought he could hurt me, though not physically. He never beated me, no. Though I was so stressed I believed my scared mom, that he could kicked us out of the house.

Bones in my dad’s foot were destructing, because he was refusing to change his lifestyle, even at cost of his own health.

I was 19. It still is a gentle age for a girl. I needed a feeling of safety... and yes, I had it at home. While also being afraid of my dad’s rage, if he knew about my sexuality.

Even if he was already in a wheelchair without a leg.

And then the coup in 2014 happened. I lived several districts away from it. For me it was one of the most traumatising events. It was brutal. I was afraid I could be killed just while walking with my dog. The world I’ve lived before was burning alive in front of my eyes. People were drunk of inpunishability. A feeling of safety was lost for many years.

The only thing in her terrified words might be true that he could turn our lives into emotional torture. Oh, he was very good at making you feel like a trash. Like the lowest of the low. Like a pathetic piece of a garbage.

My father was afraid of death and uncertainty. Numbing himself with alcohol he was able to push through those fears and take care of me and my mom. The truth is... he was a weak man, too. Instead of trying to discipline himself so diabetes would stop devouring his body, the bloodvessels in his brain, his eyes, his legs, his kidneys, my father just... stayed on the path of self-destruction.

No cries would convince him to change so he could stay longer with his loving family.

No foul wound would stop him.

I was 21. I remember that night, when he returned from the hospital. He seriously was at the death’s door. Before his return I’ve cried for several hours feeling guilt that I was angry at him, being horrified that I might loose him. When he returned, I thought about all the inspirational movies I’ve watched, you know, that kind: “After near death experience our protagonist will find a will power to change his life!”. I loved such kind of movies.

I wanted them to be truth.

I’ve heard my mom starting to weep when she walked out of my dad’s room, yellow of nicotine. I walked into his room and saw him... smoking and pouring a glass. He wanted to relax. As if nothing has happened. As if me and my mom hadn’t cried our eyes out for him.

It was the first time I’ve screamed at him in rage. I was afraid of my dad for those last years, I was always meek and passive around him because he would easily suppres me. But I was enraged at that moment. How dare he smoke after everything. How dare he drink after what doctors told us: “You can start mourning”, because his kidneys were clearly failing. And he was surprised, of course. He started laughing at me. “Look at you! You can be like that?”. I remember his dark yellow teeth glistening in the light of a table lamp. He was laughing in self-defense.

“Hey, look at her!” - he called my mom, rolling his wheelchair to the bathroom door. He kept laughing, almost hysterically, as we both could clearly hear my mom hopelessly crying in the shower.

I felt so much disdain, and anger, and sadness, but most of all - the horror of understanding. Dad was still laughing. My outburst had no other way to leave my chest but to shout at the top of my lungs right in my father’s face: “I wish you would die already!”

He stopped laughing.

I ran to the kitchen and burst into tears sitting on the floor, as that new realization weakened my knees.

There was no hope.

It was not an inspirational movie. It was not a fairytale. It was not a story about taking control over your life and trying to save it.

It was a story about unstoppable relentless self-destruction. No matter how many bones would crumble, how much flesh would be cut away, how further blind he would become.

It was despair. Soul-crushing despair. In the chaotic world after the coup, during the civil war, where it still felt safer beside my half-blind father with no leg on the wheelchair, than far from him... there were no hope that he would live long enough to even see me graduating from university.

About two more times he was also near death. Diabetes killed his kidneys.

“There once was a boy in a body of a big grown man. Both of his parents died of cancer. His lighthearted yet timid father faded away, turned into a skeleton covered with skin. His narcissistic mother, who looked like a giant jellyfish on her deathbed, died right after her son scolded her for tormenting a nurse. The boy was so lonely and sad no one around him could bring him comfort. Even the sight of sauce that his mother cooked him in the past could brought him into tears. It reminded him how harsh he was with her right before she died. He didn’t say goodbye. Or that he loved her”

I haven’t told my father a proper goodbye either.

I was abroad trying to date a girl that was clearly not a good match for me. I was looking for comfort and haven’t find any. My mother hasn’t told me anything before I returned home. She thought I was happy and didn’t wanted to ruin that trip for me. For several days she was forcing a smile for me during videocalls.

It was cerebral edema. He died at night, delirious and screaming, shouting us to run away, so the infamous nazi gang from my country wouldn’t catch us. She told me when I’ve returned home and at first I haven’t any words to say or any tears to cry.

The 6th January of 2017 was the date of his death.

He kept slowly dying over the next couple of years.

People were confused how I could be so stoic at the funeral. I don’t know myself. I just felt hollow. My mom though was falling apart, overventilating as she tried not to cry while seeing her husband in the coffin. She asked my cousin to slap her across the face so she would no lose consciousness - and yeap, it was me who slaped her, as my cousin was too shocked by such request. I felt that me being calm and stable helped my mom more than anything. I supported her. I gave her comfort. The world was crushing for her without him.

While I was thinking... that, strangely enough, my world continued to exist.

I’ve cried for my father’s death several times, but the death itself wasn’t happening. And when it finally happened, there were not many tears left. Though I still feel the ache in my heart for him. He was so lonely. He had such a big responsibility on his shoulders, he continued to work even in the hospital bed so he could provide us. He tried to protect us from the evil of the world around us even at his last moments.

I respect it tremendously, dad.

I’ve looked into my old drawings I have on my PC. My gosh. So many crying people. I haven’t realized before, how many tears were shed without actual tears, but through my artwork.

It’s such a pity we couldn’t became closer.

Eh.

It’s been six years.

I suppose I can say I’m no longer a person I used to be. I hope so. I was such a coward.

It’s 3 am on my clock, I’ve been writing for five hours in one sit, gosh darn it. Perhaps I really needed it.

And I feel better.

Despite everything happened between us, I still love you.

#my writing #writeblr #writing #family drama #diabetes #amputation #death #father's death #sad memories #writers on tumblr #pencil #pencil sketch #drawing #pencil drawing #my post #my art #arainmorn's art

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luvsavos · 10 months

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12 and 30 for the peepaws naas and vul, a silly question and an interesting👀 question a perfect balance lmao also E and G i am making you work

oc questions ask game!

as always thank u for the ask<3

12: How do they deal with an itch found in a place they can’t quite reach?

iizthur: instead of doing anything rational, he just gets Salty about it LMAO, how dare it be in some place that he can't reach, absolutely Inconceivable smh

lokzii: like everyone Except Iizthur, if possible he'll find something to rub himself against to get rid of it, HOWEVER if that isn't an option he'll try his best to just Ignore It and wait for it to go away on its own, no matter how Loud it might be.... or just do the smart thing and ask another person to scratch it for him. somehow he is the Only One that thinks to do this

naas: if he can't rub himself against something to get rid of it (that likely only being in his human form, since i THINK a fatalis could reach every part of its own body somehow?? Think. i am not 100% on that), he'll probably rapidly get pissy over it, but he'd rather be pissy about it than ask someone else for help

vul: if she's not able to rub against something to get it to go away, she probably tries to make it go away via the supposed method of focusing Really Intensely on the itch to make it go away, with... mixed results™️. she somehow does not even think to just ask someone else to itch it for her. also i'm going to project onto her and say that if an itch is particularly bad if it DOESN'T get itched it'll actually cause muscle spasms, which she finds particularly annoying and undignified-looking

30: Who do they most regret meeting?

iizthur: vul, absolutely no questions asked. bitch took his fucking eye!!!!! his whole shtick of conquering other monsters' territories and forcing them out to take for himself temporarily was going all fine and dandy until he met her and she not only refused to relinquish her territory but actively managed to beat him in every single confrontation they had. not only did she take his eye but she wounded his pride too and that's Unforgivable™️

lokzii: honestly? nobody, really (Yet). he's always been somewhat distant from others outside of his brother and his goddess, so he hasn't properly met anybody and known them well enough/long enough to consider himself genuinely regretting having met them.... though i'm sure that'll change soon<3

naas: do the Entire Ancient Civilizations count LMAO.... naas feels that if he had never been as fond of the ancient peoples as he was, and never intermingled so much and been so keen on not hurting them, even despite being a destroyer, that nothing of what happened to him would have happened---he wouldn't have gone to them in peace and thus given them the opening to capture him as he did; he would have been able to simply destroy them all without issue, and he would've never been captured and experimented on. humanity is, in his eyes, the five's greatest mistake

vul: there is TWO to this! iizthur, Obviously, but also another specific malzeno (a friend's oc<3) that's caused her no small amount of problems (see: spreading a vampiric plague and letting his qurio run rampant and then letting the blame get pinned on her bc she was the only other malzeno in the area at the time and, bc she prefers her true form and he was, at the time, in a human form, that led to assumption that it was her at fault) and emotional distress (see: literally fucking killing bahari at one point lmfao) and taken Extreme genuine glee in her distress

AND for the creator's questions!;

E) Are they someone you would get along with? Would they get along with you?

i would absolutely NOT get along with naas or iizthur nor would they get along with me; iizthur's a bitch, and i am a mortal which means naas would disdain me and be an asshole and i wouldn't like it ahdksjgk i DO think i would get along nicely with vul and lokzii though<3

vul and i would be able to have the 🤝 over The Tism and i think she'd greatly appreciate that i wouldn't be offput by how uncanny valley she is in her human form, nor would i react negatively to her in her true form (even though she would absolutely be incredibly intimidating), and lokzii is a very patient and laid back person, which i can vibe with and i think he'd vibe with me also being laid back; he would let me infodump about my hyperfixations and listen with genuine interest (and make us both some tea and a meal as well probably) and i would appreciate that So Much🥲

G) What trait of theirs bothers you the most?

hooh boy!

iizthur? the fact that he keeps fuCKING SHOWING UP EVERY SINGLE TIME I'M IN THE GUIDING LANDS IN WORLD /hj

seriously there's like a 70% chance that when a monster rotates out he will replace it. or when i open the game and go to enter the gl he'll already be there. He Will Not Fucking Leave!!!!!!!!

lokzii: aside from the fact that i absolutely did not INTEND for him to be Depressed, he just kind of Decided that he Wanted To Be, Apparently (/lh), i think it's the fact that he's. FAR too patient and forgiving for his own good. while he can, obviously, be aggressive when need be---even if primordial malzeno are docile by nature, malzeno as a species still have latent, innate aggression and are Brutal when provoked---he tends to prefer to avoid fighting and conflict that isn't necessary, and can be. much more patient than he SHOULD be with others sometimes

naas; definitely his stubbornness and unwillingness to see other perspectives. to be Fair, that does absolutely stem from his trauma, but... Still. it's REALLY hard to get him to even be OPEN to an outside perspective; usually he'll just close off immediately and get defensive rather than listen

vul: i can't really think of anything off the top of my head for her honestly, maybe the fact that even when plainly presented with clear-cut evidence of gods existing (see: that one time when she Literally Met Xeno Face To Face) she just.... still Refuses to acknowledge or believe that deities exist. but tbh any "frustrating" things about her are just objectively really fucking funny so i can't even be mad about them bc girlie is just a hot mess of a dragon masquerading as being significantly more regal and well put together than she actually is LMAO

#mar.txt #answered #wing-dingy #why did it never let me put the dash in that until Just Now what #thanks tumblr very cool #oc tag: iizthur #oc tag: lokzii #oc tag: naasfilrah #oc tag: vuljud #oh now tumblr's acting like ive never used the oc tags before and it doesn't know what they are #okay grandpa lets get you to bed smfh #long post

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tanenigiri · 2 years

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Review #5: I Hear the Sunspot (Volume 1)

Japanese title: ひだまりが聴こえる (Hidamari ga Kikoeru)

Story and art: Yuki Fumino

English publisher: One Peace Books

Number of volumes: 5 in English, 6 in Japanese (ongoing)

What’s a wall to someone who’s willing to jump over it?

(This review contains story spoilers.)

Sometimes you come across a book (or a movie or a TV series) with a premise that’s so interesting that it’s almost begging you to read (or watch) it. Sure, you don’t know if the execution will live up to your initial hype, but it’s worth it to see how they treat that premise and see it through.

That was the feeling I got when I came across I Hear the Sunspot - its premise was so unlike any of the other manga I’ve read or watched by then (and that still holds true now) that I knew I had to put it on my to-read list right away. I might've been a bit hasty with my decision, but I figured it was worth it to see just how the dynamic of a hard-of-hearing boy and his note-taker plays out. And in any case, if I didn’t like the first volume, I could just drop it, right?

Thankfully, this first volume exceeded all of my expectations. As I mentioned above, Kohei is a college student experiencing hearing problems that makes it difficult for him to take down notes in his class. Because of a chance meeting, he runs into Taichi, a student from a different department who takes on various jobs to make ends meet. Thanks to Kohei’s great lunches and Taichi’s insatiable appetite, they form an agreement where Taichi takes notes in class and Kohei gives him free lunches in return.

While it’s easy to see this as the start of a back-and-forth that leads to an eventual romance, the story takes a very interesting turn before talking about Kohei’s attraction to Taichi. Because his disability came so suddenly to him - as opposed to something he was born with - Kohei had a hard time adjusting to his new reality, which severely affected his social life and emotional well-being. Because of this, and amplified by some unfortunate encounters with his old schoolmates, Kohei decides to shut himself off from the world, even going as far as to calling people who don’t share his disability as living on “the other side.”

Taichi picks up on Kohei’s self-induced seclusion rather quickly and proceeds to help him break out of it in any way he can, whether it’s bringing him to the school’s cafeteria or inviting him to play in a baseball game. Despite what others say about him - Kohei is said to have very good looks but his cold personality drives most people away - Taichi doesn’t think twice about giving Kohei the tools to slowly break down the walls he built around himself.

There’s also something to be said about how Taichi doesn’t really have a “solid” reason to act like this to Kohei - he doesn’t have a disabled family member, and initially, he’s not at all doing it out of infatuation. Rather, he’s simply reaching out to Kohei and helping him deal with his issues because, in his mind, that’s the right thing to do. The most concrete reason he says in the story is that he wants to see him smile more, and even then, this is already after several instances where he goes out of his way to help Kohei with his issues. Taichi is just, quite frankly, someone who’s sensitive enough to recognize that Kohei has different needs but doesn’t alienate him because of them.

I’ve found characters like Taichi incredibly rare among the stories I've read so far, as most drastic actions like what he does come with tragic backstories or a flashback scene that shows that they’ve been pining for the other long before the events of the story even started. To have a character who’s just genuinely kind and shows a lot of empathy is honestly very refreshing, and it’s a character trait that I think this story really nails down. Taichi might have his own flaws that he has to work through - though that’s given more focus in later volumes - but you can never take his open-mindedness and caring personality away from him.

And it’s in that context where Kohei’s attraction begins, and you can’t blame him - here’s a literal gift from the heavens who suddenly understands what he’s going through and doesn’t ridicule him for it. But with his newfound attraction, he finds himself once again in unfamiliar social territory. Unfortunately, because of a misunderstanding involving a girl, this leads him to going back to his old ways of secluding himself from the world - and secluding himself from Taichi.

Thankfully, Taichi is having none of that and proceeds to talk to him about it - both indirectly and directly - which eventually leads to Kohei confessing his feelings and kissing Taichi. The volume is already ending at this point, though it gives us a curious little bonus chapter that shows Taichi admitting to himself that he didn’t necessarily hate the kiss. It’s a curious way to end the volume, and it’s even more interesting when you find out in the afterword that this is how the story was originally going to end. I’m thankful that it didn’t go down that route, but if it did, I do think that I’d find it a nice note to end on, as it lets the reader fill in the blanks now that we know that Kohei's feelings of affection aren’t necessarily one-sided.

While there isn’t a lot to work with in terms of the romance - which the mangaka even alludes to in the afterword - I Hear the Sunspot more than makes up for it with how it presents its two main leads. They’re very fascinating, and in Kohei’s case, it’s not just because he has a disability. Rather, it’s how the story uses this disability to shape his personality and present his flaws, and it does so in a very believable way that it never feels like he was made hard-of-hearing for the sake of it. And, after all, that’s the type of treatment that Taichi would want for Kohei.

Random thoughts that I couldn’t fit elsewhere:

I should definitely note that I’m going into this story as someone who doesn’t have a physical disability, so my praise for the narrative does miss out on a lot of context that someone who does have a similar condition as Kohei would pick up on. Most of the other comments I’ve read online have good things to say about how Kohei is presented, and I definitely agree with them, but I’m of course curious how someone closer to Kohei’s situation would react to his portrayal here.

You’ll notice that I don’t talk about any other characters outside of the main pair in this review, and that’s because the story doesn’t actually give too much focus on anyone besides the two of them. I find future volumes actually having the opposite issue of having a bunch of characters sharing the limelight, and I do think I prefer how this first volume deals with its cast. There are some side characters thrown in to add conflict as well as flesh out dynamics, and while I would’ve wanted to find out more about some of them, I do think streamlining the plot to just Kohei and Taichi was a good call here.

It becomes a more apparent image in later volumes, but like I mentioned above, Kohei refers to Taichi in an early chapter as someone who lives on “the other side.” The same chapter depicts these two sides in a few ways, but the most notable one is a pair of curtains. And to see Kohei open these curtains at the very end of the chapter is such a powerful image that I really wanted to highlight it.

Thanks for reading! I still think I Hear the Sunspot has one of the most unique premises of the genre, and it definitely doesn’t disappoint on the execution side. I have a review lined up for the next volume in the series - Theory of Happiness - though I’m still going back-and-forth about whether or not I should review the three Limit volumes.

#I Hear the Sunspot #Hidamari ga Kikoeru #Yuki Fumino #Sagawa Taichi #Sugihara Kohei #BL manga #manga review #manga

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captainswanapproved · 2 years

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An Indecent Proposal-Chapter 5

A03, Prologue, Chapter 1,Chapter 2,Chapter 3, Chapter 4,

Daemon x Rhaenyra Multichapter AU:

Daemon leaves Rhaenyra at her wedding feast. Rhaenyra marries Laenor. After a year of trying to do their duty and produce an heir, Rhaenyra writes to Daemon.

She needs a true Targaryen heir.

It only needs to be an arrangement of business, she says. And it would result in Daemon’s child one day taking the Iron Throne.

Daemon accepts the proposal and returns to court.

Only, ventures like these are never simple. As much as they would wish to, Daemon and Rhaenyra cannot let go of the past, or the feelings they once had for each other.

“Rhaenyra, I beg your leave to participate in the melee today,” Laenor said. “I am a warrior. I have been idle too long.”

“If Ser Qarl has no issue with risking your pretty face than nor do I,” Rhaenyra said as she selected a dress for the day.

Laenor kissed her cheek. “Thank you, Rhaenyra. I expect Daemon is entering,” Laenor said, “Though the festivities are in his honor.”

Rhaenyra nodded. “You and Daemon are not so dissimilar, though I confess, I do not savor the brutality of a melee.” This was not entirely true. She took great pleasure in watching Daemon fight. He made brutality into an art form, and she would be lying if she denied its impact upon her desire for him.

“You always twist your ring when you lie. Did you know that?” Laenor asked with a grin.

Rhaenyra tried to protest, but Laenor knew her too well. Their marriage was a farce but their bond of friendship was real.

“Tell me true, Rhaenyra, is Daemon doing his duty? Is he treating you well?”

“Yes. You need not worry on that account,” Rhaenyra said.

“Good. He will give you what I cannot.”

“Does it not bother you that you will have to raise a child who is not yours?”

Laenor shook his head. “I always knew this would be my lot in life. All will be well, Rhaenyra. Now I must prepare for the melee.”

Rhaenyra waved him away. As her maids dressed her and arranged her hair for the day, Rhaenyra felt the urge to visit Daemon. She could not publicly bestow her favor upon him, but he was hers after a fashion.

Rhaenyra dismissed her maids and crossed to the wardrobe, removing a silk handkerchief embroidered with the Targaryen sigil. She rarely had the patience for needlework, but this was one of the few projects she had completed.

Rhaenyra slipped behind the tapestry and into the secret passageway. She had visited Daemon’s chambers before, in the days following her wedding. Laenor had been distraught by his losses. And Rhaenyra had sought solace in her uncle’s bed, for his scent still lingered on the bedclothes.

Rhaenyra entered Daemon’s chambers to find him polishing his dragon helm.

“Isn’t that work for a squire?” Rhaenyra asked.

Daemon looked up from his task, and a small smile crossed his face. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Princess?”

“I have something for you,” Rhaenyra said, approaching him. She handed him the square of fabric. “Keep it with you as you battle in the melee.”

Daemon traced their house sigil with one finger. “I shall treasure it,” Daemon said. “And I shall force those who would oppose your rule to yield to me today.”

Rhaenyra smiled and before she could stop herself, she kissed him. It was only a chaste brush of the lips, and Rhaenyra instantly regretted the casual show of affection, a clear violation of their arrangement.

Daemon did not press her for an explanation. He simply tucked the handkerchief into his pocket and led her back to the concealed door.

***

“Let the melee begin,” Viserys called.

Two teams of seven stood in gleaming armor and chainmail. Daemon was easily distinguishable, his magnificent armor far finer than the rest.

Rhaenyra held her breath as the teams charged each other on foot and the combat began. The clanging of castle steel filled the arena as the first man was felled and forced to yield. It was a Tyrell boy, which was unsurprising, as that house was not known for its battle prowess.

Laena sat beside Rhaenyra. “It is strangely exhilarating to watch, is it not? If only women could compete.”

“And what would your weapon be?” Rhaenyra asked, “for dragons are not allowed.”

“A Valyrian steel short sword,” Laena said, “named Sea Sprite. The men would not think me a threat, and I would use that against them.”

Rhaenyra laughed. She did not doubt her friend’s courage. Perhaps one day she would find a way to gift Laena with such a weapon.

Rhaenyra watched as Daemon knocked a Lannister man to his knees and forced him to yield. This was the last of the rival team’s opponents. Daemon’s team was declared the victor.

Laenor stepped out with one of the next teams, a sword in hand. One of the Baratheons stood beside him, with his battle axe. Ser Qarl wielded a morning star.

Their team was not as impressive as Daemon’s and many of the fourteen combatants sustained minor injuries such as bloodied noses and broken fingers. Laenor knocked his final opponent to his knees and Laena cheered.

The next round consisted of teams led by Gwayne Hightower and Ser Criston Cole. Ser Criston’s white cloak was been replaced with a gold cloak, and he fought with ferocity and dishonor. Rhaenyra hoped that Daemon would face the man and mar his pretty face again. The fresh wounds were uncovered, stitched up by a maester.

Ser Criston’s team was victorious. Rhaenyra saw Alicent applaud for the first time that morning, her eyes fixed upon her protector as he wiped blood from his armor. Viserys was oblivious to the look of hunger upon his wife’s face. Rhaenyra wondered just how often Alicent had broken her marriage vows.

The final teams competed, the last two led by Ser Harwin Strong of Harrenhal and Gerald Royce.

Laena cheered loudly as Ser Harwin made quick work of one of his opponents, being true to his nickname of Ser Breakbones.

“Are you fond of Ser Harwin?” Rhaenyra asked, her voice low.

Laena blushed furiously. “He is a fine dancer.”

“And a fine fighter,” Rhaenyra observed, as Ser Harwin smashed his fist into Gerald Royce’s chest.

Ser Harwin’s team won the round, and there was a break in the games.

Rhaenyra left the royal box to stretch her legs. Some moments later, Viserys approached her. In truth, their relationship had been strained since he had forced her to marry Laenor.

“Your husband did well,” Viserys said. “He is a true warrior.”

“Thank you, Father. I will pass your compliment on to Ser Laenor.”

“Rhaenyra,” Viserys began, “I am not blind. I know this marriage has not been what you hoped for. But Ser Laenor is honorable and your marriage has strengthened our bond with House Velaryon.”

“So you used me to fix the rift you caused when you denied Laena’s hand?” Rhaenyra said with no small amount of bitterness.

Viserys sighed. “You will be happier once you have a child to dote upon.”

“Have your three new children made you any happier, Father?” Rhaenyra could see the truth in his face.

“Perhaps the gods will see fit to bless me soon,” Rhaenyra said when her father did not speak again. “I am in need of an heir, one who has the blood of Old Valyria on both sides. The Iron Throne will not accept anything less.”

Viserys took her hand. “I will pray for that outcome, my love. And when the day comes, we will have a tourney to rival all that came before it.”

Rhaenyra almost smiled. She doubted her father would feel that way if he knew who was going to father that child.

They returned to the box just as Laenor’s team faced Ser Harwin’s team.

Rhaenyra grinned at her friend. “And now who will you support?”

“I am loyal to my house,” Laena said, but she screamed with delight when Ser Harwin knocked Laenor to his feet and forced him to yield.

Daemon’s team entered the ring next, against Ser Criston Cole’s team. Daemon drew Dark Sister and cut through his opponents as if they were training dummies. Rhaenyra reveled in his ferocity, knowing he would defend her and their future child with the same fervor. Heat pooled at the juncture between her thighs as she watched him cut his opponents down.

He soon had Criston Cole on his back and panting.

“So eager to get cut again, Ser Criston?” Daemon called out, only to be met by applause.

Instead, Daemon punched Ser Criston square in the face, breaking his nose. “Yield before your prince.”

“I yield,” Criston Cole said through gritted teeth.

The exhibition ended and finally, the two remaining teams took their places, each of the men a little worse for the wear, save for Daemon who was unscathed. His armor was spattered with dirt and the blood of his opponents. He strutted into the ring with feral confidence.

As it happened, Ser Harwin gave Daemon somewhat of a challenge, though his castle forged steel was no match for Dark Sister. The other members of their respective teams dispatched their rivals, leaving Daemon and Ser Harwin to face each other in single combat.

Rhaenyra gasped as Ser Harwin managed to knock Daemon to the ground. He placed his sword against Daemon’s breast plate. But Daemon Targaryen had never been one to yield to anyone. Rather, he unsheathed a dagger, rolled out from Ser Harwin’s sword and rose to his feet.

The men continued their battle, the crowd watching in breathless awe. At last, Daemon gained the upper hand and had the dagger pressed against Ser Harwin’s throat.

Ser Harwin, far more honorable than other knights yielded immediately. Daemon was declared the victor. As such, he was granted a boon.

Daemon knelt before Viserys.

“You may have anything, Prince Daemon.”

“I would like a seat on the small council. Master of Laws would suffice.”

“Done,” Viserys said before his Hand or his Queen could protest.

Rhaenyra smiled. Small council meetings would be far more entertaining with her uncle participating. And she had little doubt he would use this new position to stabilize her claim to the throne.

***

Daemon did not wait to be summoned to Rhaenyra’s chambers. Rather, he entered them after sunset to find Rhaenyra sitting in a large copper tub, her hair damp and clinging to her breasts. She looked at him with wide violet eyes.

“I did not expect you so soon,” Rhaenyra said, grateful she had dismissed her maids for the evening.

“Your father granted me a boon for my victory. I thought you might extend the same courtesy.”

Rhaenyra bit her lower lip to keep herself from saying she would grant him anything. “I will consider it,” she said after a tension-filled moment.

“Let us continue where we left off that night in the brothel,” Daemon said, taking a towel and approaching the tub.

Rhaenyra looked up at him, his eyes flickering in the candlelight. “You wish to treat me as your whore for the evening?”

Daemon shook his head. “I wish to show you that fucking is a pleasure, for the man and the woman. Taking what you want in the face of other ties and obligations is an unmatched delight.”

Rhaenyra rose from the tub and allowed Daemon to wrap her in the towel. He swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed.

“My shift,” Rhaenyra said.

Daemon shook his head again. “You won’t be needing it tonight. Consider it a part of my boon.”

Rhaenyra had spent countless nights dreaming of what may had happened had Daemon not abandoned her in the brothel. This would heal old wounds, she supposed. It would give her the closure she had lacked for over a year. “Very well. I grant you this boon.”

Daemon rewarded her with a kiss that melted her insides. He pressed her against the mattress as he ravaged her mouth.

Her hands tugged at his shirt and removed it. If she was to be as naked as her name day, then he would be as well. Daemon quickly divested himself of his trousers and boots before joining her again. This time, though, he seized her hips and dragged her so that she was sitting astride him.

“I want you to take what you want, Rhaenyra,” Daemon said. One hand cupped her breast, his thumb tweaked her nipple. Fire coursed through her veins. She lifted her hips and impaled herself upon him, throwing her head back and gasping with pleasure as she did.

She established a brutal pace. Daemon was just another dragon for her to ride, and she was the youngest, most accomplished dragon rider in the history of her family. Soon she was panting hard, her release shattered her resistance and she collapsed. Daemon’s arms tightened around her as he gave her a bruising kiss.

He moved them so that she was now on her back, her legs still wrapped around his hips.

A few more strokes and he found his own release, but he was not finished with her. Not tonight.

He continued to worship her body, and when she grew impatient, he chuckled against her bare flesh and challenged her to take what she wanted again. She was the queen, and he was her loyal subject.

She did and for the second time, her pleasure crested. Her sated body went limp and he kissed her again. “You see, Princess? This arrangement does not need to be perfunctory. This can be a pleasure. You do not need to smother your fire. Unleash it upon me.”

His words shattered the afterglow of her release. “Daemon. I can’t. We can’t. Tonight was a boon. Tomorrow we will return to normal.”

And in that moment, she meant it.

But the surest way to make the gods laugh was to tell them of your plans. And despite Rhaenyra’s best intentions, part of her knew that she could not go back.

#daemon x rhaenyra #daemyra #hotd fanfic #hotd an indecent proposal #oooooooh look two chapters in one day #my writing #smut

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