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#I can't believe it's almost been eight months....
luveline · 5 months
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I love your KBD universe it is soo adorable!! All the kids are written so cutely! I relate to Avery so much! I was thinking about what if mom is super pregnant and she always wants to be near Steve, like she almost doesn’t even want him out her line of sight. Always wanting to touch him and get kisses from him. Love your blog!!
kisses before dinner ♡ you're pregnant and steve is lovely
There is a silver lining to being eight months pregnant (that isn't the baby at the end) —your husband. 
Steve gets soft. When the physical evidence of your pregnancy becomes unignorable, and then glaringly obvious, he treats you with exceptional care, love and tenderness. You can't get enough of it or him. 
And you're like a lost puppy when he's not near. “Steve,” you say, feeling rather morose about the whole thing, “where are you?” 
“In the kitchen! Do you want something?” 
No, you think, just you. “What are you doing?” 
“Babe, I'm making you and Ave your drinks!” A telltale plink of ice cubes knocking against glass follows. “Don't get up, okay?” 
You squeeze Avery's hand where it's held in yours. “Does he think I'll explode?” 
She giggles, her almond eyes lit with her laughter. “Maybe, mom.” 
“Do you think I'll explode?” 
“No way. You didn't explode before.” 
“‘Xactly.” You'd offer to carry her, or simply scoop her up without asking, but being so pregnant actually does feel like you're going to explode sometimes and you figure it's a bad idea. “Let's go see what he's doing.” 
You and Avery pick over Dove's tea party, abandoned sadly in the middle of the living room, and make your way into the kitchen, which is less hecticly messy but a tad grimy after a long week. Grease clings to the stove top and there's a cherry red stain down the front of the refrigerator. Death of a stolen popsicle. 
Steve sighs when he sees you, too much love around his eyes for any believability when he chides, “You can't sit down. It's impossible.” 
You push yourself back against the counter next to his hip. Avery does the same immediately, giving him a similar look, you're sure. 
He tries to hide his smile with a sip of Avery's too full drink. “Here,” he says when it's at a safer level, “apple juice for you. And ice, princess.” 
“Thank you,” she says, eyes wide as her open palms. She takes it and drinks at it greedily, the sweet taste of concentrated sugar enough to steal her attention. She walks out of the kitchen calling for Beth. “Come have some juice!” 
“That's adorable,” Steve says. 
“You tend to make them that way.” 
He throws an arm against his forehead, slouching beside you, the other wrapping behind your back. “I know. It's exhausting.” 
You spy your youngest under the kitchen table. The girls are fascinated with alcoves and small spaces. If they can fit into a nook, they will, and if they can't, they'll squeeze in anyhow. She breathes through her mouth over a pad of paper with a shard of a crayon in hand, drawing rather intricate things, considering her age. 
“Are those flowers?” you whisper. 
“Think so…” Steve lifts his head high to kiss the top of yours, his arm moving up to your shoulders. He rubs at them like he's trying to relieve a pressure you haven't announced. “You really need to stop getting up all the time. You're at risk–” 
“No, the doctor said if I'm not careful I'd put myself at risk.”
“And what are you doing?” he asks, voice like velvet, smooth and soft as he looks behind your ear. He must see something, petting away a flyaway or a loose strand or something, his touch as tender as his voice. 
You tilt your head away from him. After as long in love with one another as you have been, he knows you're asking for something rather than moving away, and he leans in again to kiss your cheek, rubbing behind your ear all the while. 
“Let's go sit down,” he suggests. 
“In a second.” 
You're terrible lately but it's all his fault. You crave his affection both big and small, all the time, and in every place. You'll be off work any day now and you're sure you'll spend that time soaking him in while he runs ragged trying to get things ready. You've done it before. Steve in the grocery store looking for a hundred different things while you draw stars into the backs of his hand, or trying to fix the baby gate onto the wall while you sit on the stairs making googly eyes at him. 
“My boy,” you say stupidly, wrapping your arms around his neck. Regrettably, he can't continue to dote on you like that, but it prompts him to hug you as close as he can manage. “I love you.” You lay your cheek on his shoulder. “You smell really nice.” 
“I love you too.” Pine, today. Fresh. “I see what's happening.” 
“What's happening?” 
You think he's going to put you down. The baby hormones are making you clingy, he might say, but he doesn't. “You've realised how hot I am. You're late, but I'll forgive you. You know, ‘cos of your predicament.” 
“Thank you,” you say, kissing his neck gently. 
You leave a series of butterfly kisses down the column of his neck before squishing yourself into the curve of it, resting too much weight on him. He takes it all without complaint, hugging you tighter, the distension of your bump a beach ball between you that makes you unfortunately shorter, bending as you are. 
His breath is a pleased sound in your ear, but he doesn't say anything. You hug until you have a strange pain in your neck; he encourages you away from him like he can sense it. 
“You okay?” he asks, thumb under your eye, a millionth sweet touch to add to the mountain. 
“I'm great.” 
“Yeah?” He holds you in place and kisses you. “Love you,” he says, his bottom lip jutting against yours. He kisses you again, and then he pulls away completely, a hand between you both the only tether. “Time to sit down. I'm gonna take your blood pressure.” 
There's no need. If anything, the way he's looking at you might give an inaccurate reading, but you think of the fawning and fretting and the rough of his fingertips digging into the top of your arm and smile, giddy. “‘Kay.” 
“Come on, Dovey, let's go be mommy's doctor,” he calls to Dove. 
In a rather uncharacteristic episode of actually listening, she abandons her crayons and takes his offered hand. He shoots you a quick smirk, as if to say, Yeah, I did that. It's stupid and it makes you laugh, because you couldn't love him much more than this. 
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1nyourdr34ms · 1 month
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100 days of mark
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+18, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
pairing: mark x fem!reader
synopsis: just before your wedding, karina convinces you to go on a 100 day trip to europe where you meet mark lee.
warnings: unprotected sex; p*ssy eating, doggy, missionary (guys, always. ALWAYS PROTECT!).
a/n: 1) jonas is fictional. 2) do you need a part 2 of this? then pls let me know ✍️🏻
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"I'll miss you so much," you murmured, clinging tighter to your fiancé under the blanket. The dimmed light of the room reflected off your face, your cheeks almost crushed against your fiancé's chest. You felt his lips in your hair. "Me too, sweetheart," he replied in almost a whisper.
You and Jonas had been engaged for 6 months. You met at a software development company where you both worked, 2 years ago. He had much more professional experience than you and introduced you to the workflow. Right from the start, he fell for you.
He was taller than you, with a sweet smile, doe-like eyes, and a muscular build. He was always kind to you, mostly taking care of you when you felt misunderstood or rejected by others. With him, you could share your sorrows, whether they were work-related or personal. You knew he was always there for you.
Three months after your first acquaintance, he confessed his love, and after eight months, he proposed. He was quite determined... You knew everything was moving too fast, but you surrendered to him. That's just how it was in your relationship: Jonas knew what was right and guided you through life, and you trusted him completely. With him, you felt like a winner.
Karina, your childhood friend, watched as your life changed rapidly. You were 25 and on the verge of becoming a married woman. She was happy for you, yet at the same time, she was sad that she wouldn't see you as often as in the old days after the wedding. She believed Jonas wouldn't allow it.
Naturally, you found the idea absurd. Jonas wasn't the type to forbid you things or limit you, but maybe Karina wasn't entirely wrong... You feared that after the wedding, you wouldn't be able to experience your old freedom anymore.
So, you came up with the idea to join your old scholarship group from university on a 100-day trip to Europe: London, Vienna, and Brussels. Jonas - and especially his mother - were initially skeptical about this idea, but somehow, you managed to convince him at least.
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"Did you remember your ticket? And you have provisions too? Very good... Ah, what about your phone credit, do you have enough?" Jonas pressed, as he checked the necessary documents for your flight.
Karina rolled her eyes as she hurried along beside you and Jonas. You kept nodding and assured Jonas that you were perfectly prepared.
"Take care of yourself, love, and call me as soon as you arrive at the hotel," he reminded you with care. You gave him an affirming smile and a final kiss before heading off with Karina to your plane.
"Finally, you can breathe again. It's okay to still feel sad, but as soon as we're off the plane, you're switching off from all that stress, promise?" By stress, she meant Jonas. You rolled your eyes, "Yeah, whatever."
Karina glanced at your hand and frowned, "And take off that stupid ring," she noted. "Are you crazy? I can't just take off my engagement ring!" you protested. Karina sighed, "You can't fully enjoy the trip if you're constantly reminded of Jonas every time you see your ring. These might be the last 100 days we spend together as friends. Take it off," Karina urged encouragingly.
You felt uneasy about it, but ultimately you followed Karina's advice. After all, these were indeed the last times you would spend unmarried with your best friend, and a little break from thinking about your relationship might do you good.
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Day 1 to 33 in London
A trip organized by a scholarship foundation is not quite a real vacation at the end of the day. That means you sometimes get assignments to explore the history of the city and present it to the other participants in the form of a lecture, or to participate in discussion rounds.
Despite this, the trip was a lot of fun for you because it didn't really feel like school. It was much more relaxed, and you weren't obliged to do anything you weren't interested in.
In the first few weeks, solid groups formed. There were a total of 40 participants. You and Karina were initially always assigned to the same people during group activities: Johnny Suh, Mark Lee, Nakamoto Yuta, and Wendy.
Therefore, it was no surprise that you continued to stick together in the following days. Most people were quite likable and easy-going. The evenings were always full of laughter, fun, and joy. You also met a few times just the six of you without the other participants, which helped you get to know each other better.
With Johnny, Mark, and Yuta, it was never boring. These guys always managed to make you laugh. You found it particularly funny when Mark became the center of the jokes. He was such a naive, genuine boy that you always had to laugh at, even when he did nothing special. Just the fact that he would burst into laughter at every little thing Johnny did was hilarious to you.
You even created a group chat, which was also always filled with laughter and silliness.
Mark: dude, I'm serious ㅠㅠㅠㅠ
Wendy: you're in the same room
Wendy: but can't manage
Wendy: to communicate
Wendy: ´_´
You: hahahhaa
Johnny: the thing is
Yuta: I'm telling you
Johnny: we don't want to go
Yuta: I can go
Johnny: -_-
You: hahahhaa
Karina: ahhahahaha
Mark: soooo?!
Wendy: okay okay
Wendy: who wants
Wendy: to accompany Mark?
Wendy: not me
Yuta: ME!
Johnny: nope
You: I can go too:)
Karina: too exhausted
Yuta: yesss, so Mark, y/n, and me??
You: okay:)
Mark: 👍🏻
"Geez, what’s taking him so long?" Mark muttered as you both waited outside for Yuta. It was 11:11 PM, Mark couldn't sleep and wanted to buy something to drink at the hotel's café.
By chance, you couldn't sleep either and didn't mind the idea. Mark sighed as he read the message on his phone, "Yuta canceled." You nodded, "Then it's just the two of us. Come on, before they close the café," you called out and started walking ahead.
You had never been alone with Mark before. It felt odd to be with him without Johnny and Yuta around. You got a cup of cappuccino while Mark ordered a cup of black coffee. "You know that's going to keep you up even longer, right?" you suggested. Mark shrugged, "I can't sleep anyway," he clarified. You both thanked the waiter. "Why not? Are you suffering from insomnia?" you asked. "I'm not sure. Since college, I haven't been able to sleep properly."
Mark looked at you for a long moment, "It's more than just insomnia. Sometimes... sometimes my mind is just too loud. Too many thoughts, too many worries keeping me awake at night." His voice was softer, more reflective.
You took a sip of your cappuccino, letting the warmth spread within you as you studied Mark. The contrast to the Mark you knew was striking. The ever-cheerful and carefree boy in front of you suddenly seemed vulnerable, almost fragile. "I never got the impression that something was weighing on you so heavily," you said gently.
Mark forced a small smile, more sad than joyful. "Well, guess, I'm good at hiding it."
You pondered over Mark's words, wondering what could be troubling him so deeply. Just as you were about to delve deeper into your thoughts, Mark broke the silence.
"You know what's weird? I read somewhere that if you can't sleep, it means…um… you're awake in someone else's dreams. Well… Maybe someone is constantly dreaming about me, and that's… y’know… why I can't sleep. Imagine it's a total stranger taking me on weird adventures in their dreams," Mark said with a crooked grin.
For a moment, you couldn't believe he had just said that. You stared at him, unsure whether to laugh or shake your head.
"Are you serious?" you couldn't help but ask, trying to suppress your grin. "So you're saying, somewhere out there, someone dreams about you every night, taking you on imaginary adventures, and that's why you can't sleep?"
Mark's smile widened as he realized how absurd his statement must have sounded. "Well, when you put it like that, it sounds pretty crazy, right? But…. who knows, maybe it's true.", his voice cracked.
Both of you burst into liberating laughter. What was going through his head to come up with such nonsense?
You didn't know why, but you liked his quirky ways. It was like a breath of fresh air to talk to someone who could freely express his thoughts without worrying about how they might come across.
The next day, a trip to Regent's Park, one of London's Royal Parks, was on the agenda. You were quite excited to visit this place known for its beautiful gardens, expansive green spaces, and sports facilities. You, Karina, Johnny, and Mark naturally formed a group as usual.
The day was sunny and warm, perfect for an outing. Mark was unusually energetic and seemed to particularly enjoy the sunny day today. He was almost hopping with excitement and made charming comments about everything encountered on his way.
"Yo, see that dog over there? We had one like that at home when I was a kid. They're known to be brave. Kind of crazy, because they don't look brave... Reminds me a bit of myself," Mark said, pointing to a dachshund chasing a squirrel.
"Dude, if you're already identifying with animals, what kind of bird would you be then? A parrot does not sound bad, right?" Johnny teased.
During your walk through Regent's Park, you encountered a particularly lively squirrel that approached you curiously. Mark looked fascinated and began talking to the little creature,
"Hey buddy, what's up? Come here, buddy," as if it would understand him. He didn't notice that he started to dance with his feet unconsciously while his entire focus was on the squirrel.
You watched him from behind and couldn't help but smile when you noticed Mark's unconscious foot movements. You quietly pointed it out to the others – Johnny and Karina – who also couldn't help but giggle as they watched him.
While Mark was still occupied with the squirrel, you carefully stepped closer behind him, directly into his field of vision, and began to mimic his foot movements.
When Mark turned around and saw you directly in front of him, imitating him with a charming smile, he burst into a heartfelt laughter, delighted and surprised by your attention.
However, the sudden closeness and your smile made him momentarily nervous, which he hid behind a smile. Despite the nervousness that arose within him, he wasn't overwhelmed by it; he shook his head laughing and continued on.
During the days in London, your bond with Mark deepened increasingly.
It seemed as if you were magnetically drawn to each other, whether you were participating in a guided tour through London's historic quarters, relaxing in one of its numerous parks, or exploring the local cuisine in small, hidden restaurants.
It had almost become a matter of course that you always sat next to each other; your places were always side by side.
During group meals, you instinctively sought out Mark's proximity. You shared dishes, tasted from each other's plates, and exchanged glances and smiles that was sus to others.
You believed you had found a good male friend who understood you just as well as Karina did, maybe even more. And you had never had a male friend before, so the whole friendship thing with Mark was entirely new to you.
Jonas texted and called you regularly to ask how you were doing and what new things you had seen or learned. He mostly talked about his day-to-day life but also listened to you now and then. You decided not to tell him about Mark, unsure how Jonas would take the news that you got along so well with another man. Besides, it was unclear when you would see Mark again after the 100-day trip was over.
In the evenings, when the group settled into cozy pubs to wind down the day, you and Mark often found yourselves in deep, personal conversations.
The topic unexpectedly turned to fairy tales, perhaps inspired by the historical settings of London you had explored earlier. Mark, with a thoughtful look in his eyes, leaned back and played with the rim of his glass.
"You know," he began, choosing his words carefully, "fairy tales have this incredible way of fascinating us, no matter how old we are. They speak of courage, adventure, and, of course, love. But I…um..  often wonder, like…  how much of that is really transferable to our real lives."
You nodded as you absorbed his words. "Fairy tales have always fascinated me. The romance, the heroics, the happy endings... but somehow, they seem too good to be true. Real life is more complicated, unpredictable."
There was a brief pause as both of you took a sip of your drinks, contemplative about what had been said.
Then, with a crooked smile you had come to like about Mark because it always brought a certain lightness, he posed an unexpected question.
"Do you believe in the prince on a white horse?" His voice was gentle, almost cautious, as if he didn't want to stir your innermost feelings.
You paused for a moment, taken aback by the directness of the question.
"I'd like to believe that there's such a thing as a 'prince,' yes. But not in the literal sense. More like someone who's there for you, who understands and accepts you as you are. Someone you can team up with."
Mark's eyes lit up as he heard your words, and it seemed like he had wanted to hear exactly that. But then, almost hesitantly, he asked another question that changed the atmosphere.
"Have you ever thought that there could be such a 'prince' in your life, or might be?" His voice was softer now, almost whispering, as if he was intruding too closely.
This question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you felt as if the ground beneath you was giving way. Your heartbeat quickened, and you felt a knot forming in your stomach. Thoughts swirled through your head—Jonas, your engagement, the expectations, and the uncertain future.
You tried to keep your emotions in check. Your gaze lowered, and you nervously played with the rim of your own glass. The silence between you was oppressive.
Finally, with a voice quieter than intended, you shook your head. "I... I'm not sure." Your words were a whisper, almost lost in the noise of the pub. "I thought I might be certain... but now, I'm not so sure, to be honest."
Mark's expression shifted from curious to contemplative, perhaps even concerned. He leaned in closer, his presence strangely comforting. "It's okay not to know everything," he said softly, finishing the alcohol in his glass in one gulp.
The days in London flew by, and with each passing day, the bond between you two grew stronger, woven from shared experiences, shared laughter, and quiet moments of closeness.
On the evening after another eventful day in London, the group gathered in a cozy cabin, somewhat secluded, to wind down the evening. The atmosphere was lively, with music, laughter, and the sound of glasses clinking. You played various games, from card games to truth or dare, and everyone seemed to enjoy the moment to the fullest.
Mark, in the midst of one of the games, suddenly became the center of a challenging task that led him to sing spontaneously. His voice, surprisingly soft and emotional, filled the room, and his eyes half-closed as he immersed himself in the song.
In that moment, as you saw him like this - vulnerable, authentic, and completely in his element - you felt your heart beat faster for the first time. It was as if the world around you fell silent for a moment, and all that remained was the melody of his voice. An unfamiliar twinge shot through your stomach.
Without really understanding why, you suddenly felt the urge to leave the room, to escape the loud voices and laughter. You quietly retreated to your room and sat on your bed, gazing out the window into the night sky. The stars twinkled as if they were harboring a secret that was simmering inside you.
Your grasp on your phone, an attempt to cling to the familiar, led you through the gallery of shared moments with Jonas. Yet, as you scrolled through the photos, you felt a strange distance from these memories, as if they were part of another life. The images no longer seemed capable of filling the emerging void that Mark's unexpected performance had left in you.
On the last evening of your stay in London, the group decided to come together once more to drink, play, and fittingly conclude the time you had spent together. The mood was lively and cheerful, a perfect ending to the unforgettable days you had shared.
During the evening, as music played and the group was in high spirits, the idea suddenly came up that everyone should take a turn dancing. Naturally, you were chosen.
At first, you hesitated, as you weren't usually one to take center stage. But the others, led by Karina, cheered you on with shouts and encouraging calls. Even Mark's expression, full of anticipation and an infectious smile, gave you the final push you needed.
Finally, with a deep breath and a tingling feeling of excitement, you stood up. The song "Nobody Knows" by KISS OF LIFE was playing. Thankfully, you could dance the choreography from start to end and were even quite good at it, having danced extensively in your past. You began to dance, initially with hesitation, but with every move, you became more confident. Your movements started to become more sensual and alluring.
Mark, who had been cheerful and boisterous until now, felt as if he had been struck by the sight. Each of your fluid movements enchanted him, making his heart race. A dry feeling spread in his throat as he tried to hide his reaction from the others. The way you moved to the music was mesmerizing, and he found it increasingly difficult to look away from you and your body. He suddenly saw you in a completely different light and was scared of the feelings and desires that had been stirred within him.
As the dance ended, the energy in the room was electrifying. The group stood up, cheering and applauding, impressed by your unexpected performance. Mark, forcing himself back to reality, began to clap slowly, nodding in appreciation while he tried to sort his thoughts and emotions. His heart was still beating faster than usual, evidence of the effect you had on him.
You, now back in your seat, tried to calm your breathing and ignore the rising blush on your cheeks.
Your eyes met Mark's. You noticed that his expression had suddenly changed, and his gaze seemed to penetrate deeply into you. Without knowing why, it sparked an inexplicable warmth within you that you relished. At the same time, you felt proud of yourself for having such an effect on him.
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Days 34 to 66 in Vienna
As the group arrived in Vienna, a new chapter of your European adventure began.
The city, with its rich history, magnificent buildings, and cozy coffee houses, provided a perfect backdrop for deepening the bond between you and Mark.
You felt freer in Vienna than ever before. You could be yourself, without restraint, and Mark seemed to appreciate every facet of your personality. It was as if you could unleash your inner child in his presence, without fear of rejection or judgment. Something you hadn't experienced in a long time.
Since meeting Jonas, you had been trying hard to stay on his level, to be mature and not disappoint the image he had built of himself. Vienna unleashed the exact opposite in you. Mark, for his part, just went along with it, his lightness and humor often made you forget there was a world outside your little bubble.
On a rainy evening in Vienna, the group decided to gather in the cozy lobby of their hostel to play games. The atmosphere was warm and inviting, with the gentle pattering of rain on the windows and the dim lighting creating a cozy mood.
Someone suggested playing Twister. The group enthusiastically agreed, and soon the Twister game mat was spread out on the floor, colorful and inviting.
Mark and you were both players in this round, along with a few others from the group.
As the game started, Mark and you quickly found yourselves in precarious positions. Each spin of the wheel added another layer of closeness and intimacy to the game. You felt your cheeks flushing every time you had to bend or stretch, feeling Mark's warm body so close to your own.
Mark's breathing was calm and focused, and despite the humorous and light-hearted atmosphere of the game, there was a certain tension, an electrifying feeling in the air, every time your hands or feet found touchpoints.
In a particularly memorable moment, as Mark tried to place his left hand on green while simultaneously maintaining his balance to avoid falling on you, your eyes met. In that brief, silent exchange, there was an unspoken question, a curiosity, and perhaps even a hint of desire.
Suddenly, Mark stretched out his right leg, positioning you beneath him with his lower part pressing against your abdomen.
The intense impact of his body made your heart pound loudly in your chest as if it were the only sound you could hear over the laughter and cheers of your friends. The warmth of Mark's body, separated only by the thin layer of your clothes, sent a tingling through your entire body that you hadn't known before.
When the game finally ended, amidst general laughter, you felt oddly dizzy, almost as if in a dream. Mark, returning to his usual boisterous self, gave you a broad, irresistible smile that made your heart skip a beat for a moment.
The next day, as the clouds cleared and the sun began to shine over Vienna once again, the group decided on an outdoor game to enjoy the free time.
Dodgeball was the chosen activity. In a nearby park, which offered ample space, two teams were formed. You and Mark naturally ended up on the same team, again.
Mark, proving to be surprisingly agile and skilled, quickly became the central player of your team. With his quick reactions and clever handling of the ball, he managed to eliminate opposing players multiple times.
You noticed how safe you felt when you were near him. Instinctively, you began to position yourself behind him to shield yourself from the incoming balls. Mark quickly seemed to notice this and almost naturally assumed the role of your personal protector. He strategically positioned himself to shield you with his body while still keeping an eye on the game.
Every time a ball flew in your direction, Mark was there to deflect it or catch it skillfully. His protective instinct was impressive, and you couldn't help feeling a bit flattered.
You noticed your teammates and even some opponents chuckling as they saw Mark repeatedly shielding you.
In the shade of the trees, as the group relaxed and talked about the funniest moments of the game, you found a moment to quietly thank Mark.
"Thanks for being my personal bodyguard today," you said with a mischievous smile. Mark returned the smile. "Anytime," he replied, his voice full of unspoken promises.
After the successful day playing dodgeball, the group planned another game for the following day to promote camaraderie and fun among everyone.
This time, they decided on a game of Capture the Flag in a larger park in Vienna, which was perfect for it with its many hiding spots and open areas. The group was divided into two teams again.
During the game, you often found yourself alongside Jaemin, Mark's cousin, who proved to be a skilled strategic planner.
You worked well together, carefully planning your moves and supporting each other in defending your flag as well as attempting to capture the opposing team's flag.
Your collaboration was purely platonic and focused on the game, but from the outside, it could appear differently, especially in moments when you leaned in close to consult or patted each other on the shoulder to congratulate on a successful play.
Mark, who was on the opposing team, noticed the close cooperation between you and Jaemin. Even though he knew it was just a game, he couldn't shake off an uncomfortable feeling.
Watching you laugh and devise plans together, he felt an unexpected pang of jealousy arise within him. The obvious chemistry and shared laughter with Jaemin caught him off guard and awakened a deep-seated insecurity in him.
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Days 67 to 99 in Brussels
Upon arriving in Brussels, you sensed a noticeable change in the group's dynamics. The city provided a perfect backdrop for many adventures. Yet, despite the breathtaking surroundings and numerous new experiences, you increasingly felt uncomfortable with the evident changes in the behaviors of Johnny, Yuta, and especially Mark.
During communal meals or while exploring the city, Johnny and Yuta made insinuations and exchanged meaningful glances that obviously concerned Mark and you. It was as if they were hinting at a subtle connection between you and Mark, one you hardly dared to dream of yourself.
The situation came to a head one evening when the group gathered in one of the cozy Brussels cafes to play "Truth or Dare."
The mood was relaxed, and the game seemed a welcome distraction from the day's exhaustive explorations. When it was Mark's turn, he chose "Truth" after a brief hesitation.
A tense silence fell over the group as Johnny posed the question: "Mark, who in this group do you feel most connected to?" All eyes were on Mark, and you felt your heart skip a beat.
Deep down, despite knowing about your engagement and the inappropriateness of such feelings, you hoped he might mention your name.
Mark was silent for a moment, his gaze sweeping over the faces of those present, and it was obvious he was wrestling with himself. Finally, after a deep breath, he mentioned the name of another female participant, Giselle. His answer came as a surprise and raised a few eyebrows in the group.
Johnny and Yuta couldn't suppress a giggle, as if amused by Mark's attempt to conceal his true feelings.
Their reaction only added to your confusion and discomfort. Deep down, you felt hurt, even though you knew you had no right to.
After all, you were engaged, and any hope for something more between you and Mark was nothing but an illusion.
Despite the sharp disappointment that threatened to overwhelm you, you put on your best smile and continued to participate in the game as if nothing had happened.
It's incredible how much change 50 days have stirred within you. You hardly recognized yourself anymore.
The following days in Brussels were marked by a subtle distance you built up towards Mark.
Although you remained part of the group activities and Mark was always friendly and accommodating, you couldn't help but wonder what was really going on behind his facade.
Was his answer in the game a conscious decision to hide his true feelings, or did it actually reflect his sentiments?
You increasingly spent time with other group members to fill the growing void left by Mark's distant behavior.
Among these was Jaehyun, a likable and charismatic participant who proved to be pleasant company. Your joint outings and conversations offered you some comfort and distracted you from the simmering emotions.
Mark, observing the growing closeness between Jaehyun and you with increasing unease, found himself in a whirlpool of conflicting feelings.
His eyes betrayed a mix of irritation and concern every time he saw you laughing or discussing together. You, unable to ignore Mark's glances, felt a growing restlessness in your heart.
You missed the ease and depth of your earlier interactions and longed to bridge the gap.
Determined to break the silence and bridge the unexplainable distance, you summoned the courage one night to call Mark to your room.
With trembling hands and a heart full of hope, you typed a message to him: "Can you please come to my room? I need to see you."
After sending the message, you lay awake, clutching your phone tightly, staring at the screen, half expecting, half fearing his response or the lack thereof.
Minutes passed like hours, and a part of you started to believe he would ignore your request, that the gap between you had grown too wide.
But then, you heard a soft knock at your door. Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you hardly dared to breathe.
With hesitant steps, you approached the door and opened it to find Mark standing there.
You and Mark sat next to each other in silence on your bed. Despite the tension between you, you felt a deep longing to be even closer to Mark than mere physical proximity allowed.
Your thoughts were running in circles, caught between what was wrong and what you secretly desired.
Mark broke the silence, his voice fragile and hesitant. "You know, sometimes, when I see or think about you, thoughts come to my mind... thoughts that feel wrong."
His words hung heavily in the air, laden with the fear of the consequences of his confession.
Your heart pounded in your chest, your nervousness mixed with an unexplainable excitement.
You turned your head to him, your eyes seeking his, as you quietly asked, "What kind of thoughts?"
Mark's gaze met yours, filled with an intensity that shook you to the core. "Instinctive ones... the kind of thoughts that one should think twice, if not three times, before indulging," he confessed.
You felt the air around you start to vibrate. It was clear to you, what he was trying to say.
With a lowered gaze, barely audible, you whispered, "And what if I... would like it, when you just do?"
Mark was taken aback from your response, his "What?" was a whisper, fearful he might have misunderstood you.
You swallowed hard, your throat felt dry, your eyes fixated on a point at the window behind Mark, "I… I want to experience something new, Mark. Something... special?." you confessed.
Your eyes didn't move away from the point you were fixated on.
Mark searched your face for certainty but was even more confused than in the beginning, he frowned, "I need more words, y/n. What… what do you want to experience? Tell me."
"I… I don't know. Kinda emotional, physical intimacy, I guess. I want someone who accepts me as I am. Someone I don't have to pretend with to be someone, who isn't me. Does it make sense? I... I just want to let go and... feel, without thinking about whether it's right or wrong."
"Do you want it now?"
"What do you mean?" you asked, confused. You were disconnected from reality for a moment, sharing your deepest desires with him, that you totally forgot, that he was actually listening to you.
Mark shifted his position on your bed to face you fully. "I mean… what if I can give you the emotional… and…" he cleared his throat, and even in the evening light, you could see a hint of pink on his cheeks. "…the physical intimacy. Here and now."
"Here and now?" Your eyes widened.
"I can give you all of that if you want it. I mean… I'd like to… very much."
"So you're willing to accept me as I am?"
"Yes."
"Trust me completely?"
"Exactly."
"Not judge me for my weird choices?"
"Of course not."
You pondered for a while.
"If that's the case… then… would you like to… kiss me?"
Mark chuckled, "i’m dying to, actually."
He slid his hand to the back of your neck, before leaning in, while you looked down at his lips.
Your eyes closed right before the small gap between you two closed. Mark sighed as though he had just sunk into a hot bath after a long day.
You dropped your hands to his thigh, feeling the solid muscle below his denim. Marks free hand came to rest on your hip, his fingers dripping under your shirt to graze your bare skin.
The contact made you shiver slightly before he slid one of your hands up his thigh. You couldn’t help but smile into the kiss as you felt him shiver too.
You fell back onto your bed, pulling Mark with you. Your mouths opened simultaneously.
Mark groaned as his tongue slipped into your mouth. His grip on your hip thightened while his other hand pushed up into her hair.
He pulled gently your hair, making you moan as your kiss broke.
Mark used this opportunity to kiss your buttom lip, then your cheek, down your jaw and setlling into your neck, where he left opened mouthed kisses, allowing his hand to glide further up under your shirt until his fingers were resting underneath your bra.
„Mark“, you whispered and he mumbled into your neck, the vibrations pulling a soft moan from you.
„Do you... want to have sex with me?“
Mark pulled away from your neck and pulled his hand out from under your shirt, both of his hands were now cupping your face.
He gently pecked your nose, revelling in the little giggle you made before leaning his forehead against yours.
„You remember, when you had danced in Vienna? Then I knew, I wanted to have sex with you, but was too afraid, since I thought, you would reject me."
You remembered that day. Even then, it was clear to you that there was more between you and Mark, but you were too afraid to dig further and admit to yourself that you were attracted to him.
"Jesus, I want to give you everything you need, y/n.“
"What about you? Why don't you tell me what you need?", you said while your voice trembled. You couldn't believe you were in this situation, in Brussels, in a hotel room, with Mark Lee.
You felt inwardly relieved that you had insisted on staying alone in a room from the beginning. Without Karina or another roommate. Otherwise it would be very difficult to have him on your bed right now.
„You. I need you.“ Mark sucked the side of your neck lightly. Your lips lifted at the gesture, though your eyes remained shut. „Do you like this?“ he asked.
„Mmm…“ you hummed.
Mark moved his mouth to the opposite side of your throat. „I want to give you pleasure, y/n. I wish to make you cum today, does it sound good?“, he asked to reassure.
You swallowed at his choice of words. The abrupt change in him surprised you a bit, but at the same time, you were excited about what was about to happen.
You coaxed hum down with a twitch of your fingers, bringing his mouth to yours. The kiss was softer this time.
Your mouths barely parted and lips slowly caressed each other, and only parted for the cruel necessity of verbal communication.
„How can I say no to that?“, you said, stroking his face. „But, please… be gentle. Take your time.“ You shyly remarked.
„Gentle. I got you.“ Mark confirmed. Then, he pulled away.
You made a small noise of protest, but that didn't stop him.
Mark grasped your breasts and groped you tenderly, rolling the flesh within his palms and brushing your erect nipples with his thumbs.
You gasped at his light touches and he could smell sweetness of your cunt as you started to become wet.
With mooth, broad sweeps of his hands, he moved down your belly as he inched lower and lower. He kneeled between your legs, parting them, so he could rub circles into the insides of your thighs.
Above him, your breath quickened.
„May I-„
„Just do as you like.“ You stated.
Mark kept his approach gentle and slow as you wished, lapping at the outer folds, his tongue only incidentally dipping inside your clit.
You groaned and tried to close your knees around his head but he kept them still, forcing them back down on the mattress.
He kissed at the tantalizing mound until your muscles once again unwinded; then he resumed, this time licking into the dripping source of your torment.
When he focused his attention on throbbing bud at the apex of your inner folds, passing the flat of his tongue over it again and again, your hands weaved into his hair and begin to tug it.
He ignored it at first but then he heard a breathless, “Mark,” which made him lift his head immediately.
You gathered his face up in your palms, thumbing away at your juices on his chin.
Your eyes became dark and heady, pupils blown wide and skin hot as fire.
Mark wiped the liquid out and hovered back on you so that you were face to face.
„Mark,“ you moaned into his mouth as he kissed you hungrily while his hands were busy playing with your breasts.
„Do you want to try out a certain position?“ he whispered in your ear before nipping at that turn on spot just below your ear. Earning another moan from you before you nodded your head enthusiastically.
„Can I help choose one?“
„Of course“ Mark assured you as he pulled out his shirt and placed it out on the floor in front of you.
„Can we do this position, where…“ you tried to form a sentence, but were too taken aback from the sensation the situation gave you.
„What position?“ Mark queried as he climbed back onto the bed with you, now both only in your underwears, before kissing your neck tenderly.
„I want to try that…um.. you know which one.“ you were too try to speak it out.
„No, I don’t, tell me baby,“ Marks begged as he kissed you again just under your ear before returning his kisses to your neck as he lied on top of you.
He could guess which position you wanted but just wanted to hear the words roll off your tongue and out your mouth first.
„The… doggy… style one,“ you murmured, making Mark grin as he allowed his hand to snake back up your body.
He gently started to kiss down your neck, over your collar bone then down the valley in-between your breasts bevor kissing over your stomach.
„Do you want to take off my boxers or shall I?“ he asked before he kissed the top of your thigh.
„I want to do it,“ you breathed out as you sit up and him wathching you how your hands slowly slide down the hem of his grey boxer shorts until his hard member appeared.
„Arch your back a bit,“ Mark murmurrd into your ear before you could admire his member any longer.
You did as told and wihtin the next second he had your bra unclasped and thrown on the floor with the rest of your clothes.
„Are you sure you want to try this position?“ he confirmed with you and you nodded as you sit up and allowed him to put you in the position.
Mark got you to kneel in front of him with your back to his, and your legs opened enough for him to enter you.
„Ready?“ Mark asked to make sure, you were prepared.
„Just fucking do it already, Mark.“ you plead unpatiently.
Mark thrusted into you, revelling in the wetness and warmth of your dripping pussy.
After enjoying the sensation for a few moments, Mark beginned to pump in and out of you until you both found a speed that you could enjoy.
Marks cock was definitely enjoying itself as it slided into your wet folds and proded your g-spot every time.
„Oh, Mark, oh… god-“ you moaned out as you started to move back against him, making him groan in response.
„Ah- fuck, you’re doing so well, baby,“ Mark groaned but before you could answer, he thrusted into you with some force making you shout out in pleasure.
Just as he felt, you were beginning to get close to your release; he stopped moving in you.
Before you could protest, he had you lying on your back on the bed. All that before he plunged his throbbing cock back into you.
„Sorry, darlin', I want to see you climax. I want to see your face when you go over the edge“, he murmured in your ear before nipping at your neck.
You easily adjustee to the new position as you began to meet hum thrust for thrust, as well as rocking against him.
With each thrust, Mark went deeper and deeper into you until you both meet your end.
Mark kept moving in and out of you until you have both come down from your highs.
Once that has happended, he moved so he was laid down next to you on your side. He started to softly draw random patterns on your stomach as you both tried to catch your breaths back.
„Dude, that was…“, he to form the correct words, but there were just so many that he couldn’t think of the perfect ones to say.
„Explosive? Mind Blowing?“ you filled in, making him chuckle as he rolled you on top of him before connecting his lips to yours.
„Gosh, am I fucking glad, that I listened to the boys and agreed to this trip. Where else would I have met you instead?“ Mark mumbleed as he looks at you with lovely eyes.
You forced a smile to his words. Calm and worried at the same time. Calm because you will by no means regret that you have this thing with Mark, and worried because you will probably hurt him if he found out about Jonas.
So for tonight, you decided to enjoy his presence next to you and dive into a worryless sleep. At least, that was an important motto, you got from Mark.
To your surprise, he was also be able to sleep safe and sound next to you, showing no signs of insomnia. Guess, someone out there forgot about taking Mark on an adventure that night - while you had your best, you could ever wish for.
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birthedstars · 18 days
Text
A Legends Baby
“Ash, dude…You had to have been high or something,” Liam looked at Ash skeptically.
“I'm telling you, it was Bigfoot. The guy had to be almost eight feet tall, hung like a horse by the way, and had feet big as a Hobbits,” Ash threw up his hands for example.
“You expecting me to believe Bigfoot piped you on the ski trip AND no one else seemed to notice? No fucking shot,” Liam rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, well, it happened. What? Did you want me to take a selfie while he was fucking me?
“Yes. If it was THE Bigfoot, I would have!”
Ash crossed his arms and went back to his room. “Fine, don’t believe me.”
~3 months later~
“Fuck, why am I gaining so much weight,” Ash struggled to button his pants.
Over the past few weeks Ash had been gaining weight. Particularly around his lower abdomen. His belly button has gotten slightly shallower.
Ash suddenly felt nauseous. In an instant he's bent over the toilet bowl, hurling last night's burrito into the water.
Liam dropped a pregnancy test on the table.
Ash blinked.
“I'm not pregnant,” Ash said.
“Oh, so you took a test already?” Liam cocked an eyebrow.
“No…”
“Uh huh. You're Bigfoot’s or some super lumberjacks baby daddy, I'm telling you,” Liam said.
“So you believe me now?” Ash laughed and shook his head. “Bigfoot is not even the same species as us, He couldn't get any regular human pregnant.”
Liam shrugged and walked out the bathroom. “Fine, remember me when you get a deal for ‘I didn't know I was pregnant’ episode.”
~7 months later~
Ash closed his apartment door and nearly fell to his knees. So much pain, so much pressure, drowned him as soon as he got away from prying eyes. He clung to the wall, face scrunched and sweat on His brow. Ash's gait was wide as if he was preparing to squat.
For the past few hours, the pressure and routine tightening of his belly had gotten so much worse than the days prior. Brief discomfort has become aggravating pain. The work day had been bad enough with all of the comments about his appearance and the sweltering summer heat.
He tossed off his sweatshirt to reveal the cause of his pain.
His stomach was huge, round, and taut. His belly button disappeared into the skin of it, replaced by stretch marks only slightly hidden by hair. It hung low, only being cradled by his palm. The waistband of his drenched sweat pants curved dramatically beneath it. He stumbled forward into the apartment, his gait wide and waddle slow.
“Fuck, this can't be real. Please no,” Ash grunted and held his tightening belly. “Just need to rest…”
He still denied the obvious conclusion, even after 7 months. There was no way, despite contractions, huge belly, and fluid as evidence.
At least the apartment was empty, so he could save some dignity. Liam was away on a vacation out of state. No help or snarky commentary from him was going to come.
Ash gripped the frame of his bedroom door. His mouth and eyes widened as a heavy weight dropped into the cradle of his open cervix. Something was dropping into his pussy. His eyes widened as he realized the shape of it was round, hard. He wanted to just get to his bed, lie on his back, and close his legs tight.
A strong contraction crashed into him in response to that thought. Ash cried out, digging his nails into the door frame. His stomach twisted. The instinct to bear down overwhelmed him. The huge object surged forward as he pushed unconsciously. It took everything in his power not to fall to his knees.
His vagina quickly filled tightly with what he was creating for weeks. Ash's toes curled in his shoes in pain. He couldn't walk to his bed with his hips so splayed out.
Ash's pussy bulged around the solid round object. The burn nearly drove him to tears, but then the contraction stopped. He dry heaved and looked down at the pool of fluid dripping from the bowled out crotch of his sweats.
The same pussy Bigfoot had cum in 10 months ago was now spread wide and bulging through his sweatpants. Ash trembled as he slowly accepted the truth he'd been denying.
Ash untied the drawstring and allowed his pants to fall to his ankles. He reached over his belly, towards his crotch, knowing and fearing exactly what he'd find. His fingers immediately felt the wet, hairy head of a baby between his fingers.
Ash clasped his other hand over his mouth as he felt the huge head spreading his pussy under his palm. His whole body trembled in disbelief.
He should have listened to Liam. He was pregnant and giving birth. His stomach and back seized, sending Ash into another chorus of crying. His pussy spread wide into a painful circle around the hair head.
“Fucking! Get out!” Ash screamed as he slid further down the doorway into a squat. His belly, hung between his thighs, seized in on itself. The pressure and power behind his push drove the baby forward and spurts of fluid gushing out onto the wood floor.
His body lurched as the head and shoulders rocketed out of his pussy with a rough gush of fluid.
He gasped in relief, but continued to push regardless. The body didn't budge and offered Ash nothing but a severe pain in his cervix.
Ash stood up painfully with a deep ragged breath, head and shoulders between his thighs. Why didn't he just fucking listen to Liam. He just had to have Bigfoot's cock, couldn't just snap a fuzzy pic of him and run like normal people.
Another contraction came, he pushed. Nothing happened. No matter how hard he pushed, he couldn't get the baby to descend any lower. Something was stopping the baby from moving lower. The pain was already infuriating.
Desperate, Ash carefully wrapped his hands around the body. His belly began tightening and his back started to lock up. With an almighty roar, Ash pushed and pulled. His body twisted, the muscles in his body rippled as whatever was making the baby stuck started to give. Ash could feel something big come out of his cervix and into his canal. He bit his lip, tugging Bigfoot's baby out of his pussy centimeter by centimeter.
“Fucking hell!” He screamed out.
He threw his head back as his pussy rapidly spread apart . The burn hit him hard and then left as quickly as it came. Ash's body finally released its grip on the baby, his stomach deflating instantly as his child slid out of him. Ash's legs gave out beneath him, leaving him to fall against the wall.
Ash tiredly stared down at the heavy baby in his hands. It had his dark black hair as a mane on its head. But what really caught Ash's attention were what was at the end of the kids legs. The hairy, already crying baby had larger than normal feet. Because of course it did. This is Bigfoot's Kid after all.
“Never fucking without a pill again…” Ash murmured, slumped against the wall.
158 notes · View notes
imaginecolby · 4 months
Text
truth serum || c.b.
summary: after a few too many drinks, colby finally finds the courage to tell you the truth about his feelings for you.
colby had been crushing on you for as long as he could remember. pretty much from the moment he met you, he knew you were someone different. someone special. he was just way too nervous to ever tell you his true feelings.
you and him had become fast friends, after meeting a few times between other influence friends you had in LA. his move to vegas was hard on you both, as you'd become rather good friends in the years that you'd known each other. fortunately, vegas wasn't that far and he and sam were in LA pretty often for work.
"i can't believe you've already been gone for over a year." you said to colby over facetime.
"i know. it really doesn't feel like that though, considering how much sam and i have been back and forth to LA." he said.
"yeah, i guess that's true." you laughed. you and him talked for a little while before you both had to get back to some work.
a few weeks passed, and the next thing you knew, you were on your way to the airport to pick up sam and colby. they were returning from their most recent work trip, and had been staying in LA the last month or so, as they had a lot of business to take care of and people to meet.
"thanks again for coming to pick us up." colby said as he and sam began loading their things into your car.
"no worries!" you said with a smile. you drove them to their airbnb, and helped them get settled. you hung out with them for a bit, deciding to head home as it got later. you said bye to the boys, and grabbed your purse and keys to leave.
"i'll walk you out." colby said, catching up to you in the kitchen. "thanks again for picking us up." he said awkwardly as you stood outside your car.
"yeah. it's no problem." you said, avoiding his gaze.

"so, are you doing anything this weekend?" he asked you.
"nope, i'm free. what's up?"
"sam and i have to make an appearance at a brand party this saturday. you wanna come with us?" he asked.
"sure. what time?" you asked.
"around eight or nine. i'll text you the details, but we'll come pick you up."
"sounds good." you said with a smile. you wished each other a good night and you got into your car, colby waving as you pulled out of the driveway.
the weekend quickly came, and you were at home getting ready to go out. colby had just text that he and sam were on their way to get you, and they arrived just as you finished getting ready. small chatter filled the car as you drove to the party.
once you arrived, you all quickly began mingling. fortunately, with the three of you all being in the social media space, you almost always saw people you knew at these parties. after a bit of mingling, you made your way to the kitchen to make yourself a drink. as you stood there mixing a number of liquids on your cup, someone you knew came up to you, saying hello and quickly making conversation. you'd only met this person a few times before, but you knew them enough to be comfortable having a conversation with them.
unknown to you, colby was standing at the opposite end of the kitchen, eyes glued to you. he had stars in eyes, swooning at the sight of you. he knew he wanted to be with you, but something about the thought of actually telling you that made him want to throw up. he tried to move, but his shoes felt like they were filled with cement. he had butterflies in his stomach, and his heart was racing in his chest.
it was as if everything else was melting away, and you stood in his line of vision, stars shining all around you. he heard harps playing as you smiled, your face was shining brighter than he'd ever seen it.
you were the most beautiful person he'd ever seen. and he was falling hard.
"if you're not gonna talk to her, at least stop staring. you look like a creep." sam said, interrupting colby's train of thought. he didn't even say anything, but his face flushed. he stood up straight once he saw you walking towards him.
"you okay? you look a little flustered?" you asked him, noticing the redness in his cheeks.
"just a little too much to drink probably." he said, throwing away his cup.
"we just got here?" you laughed. "did you and sam pregame without me?" you asked. colby just laughed and shook his head.
"no. i'm just feeling kinda out of it today." colby shrugged.
"you okay? do you need to talk about anything?" you asked, and colby shook his head again.
"not right now. i still need to wrap my head around what's going on before i start talking about it with other people."
“okay. well, you know where to find me.” you said before walking away.
as the night continued, colby didnt leave your side. you were practically connected at the hip, colby being there for you and getting you anything you may have needed. it weirded you out a little bit, but you appreciated it.
once the two of you had many many more drinks, colby was much less flustered and feeling more comfortable. after a while, you two ended up outside in the yard area of the place you were at, cozied up on a couch in the seating area that had been set up.
"so, are you ready to talk about whatever was bothering you earlier?" you asked him. he chugged the rest of his drink, and turned to look at you. his eyes were barely open, but he looked at you with deep and longing admiration.
"i like you. like, a lot." he said, gaze locked on yours.
"oh." your voice was soft, and your heart was racing.
"i dont want you weird you out. but i just want to be honest about my feelings. i've liked you for a long time, but have been too nervous to ever say anything about it." he let out a loud sigh and stared down at his shoes.
"mister take chances was too nervous to do something? that's not very on brand for you." you teased him. a smile spread across his face, and you poked his dimple. "i like you too." you admitted.
"really?" he perked up, looking back at you. you just nodded.
"i think i may have liked you before we knew each other. i'd known who you were before we met, just from seeing your videos. and i had a bit of a crush. i thought you were to handsome, and so funny. but when he met, and became friends, i pushed those feelings aside as to not come on too strong and scare you away. i guess had we just been straight up about our feelings, we could've gotten over this a long time ago." you laughed.
"well damn." he huffed a laugh before looking back up at you. you moved closer to him, running your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. he rested his arm over your legs, thumb mindlessly rubbing the side of your knee. you locked eyes for a moment, before you noticed colby's gaze flick to your lips. you both slowly closed the gap between you, lips meeting each other for the first time.
as you kissed, you felt colby's hand move to your waist, pulling you deep into his side. he kissed you hard, each of you pulling away for the briefest of moments, just to catch your breath.
your mind was racing with a million thoughts and questions, but you couldn't bother with those at the moment. you kissed for what felt like hours, before you finally pulled away. you were so dizzy, your head felt like it was going to explode. colby's eyes met yours again as he pulled his bottom lip into his mouth.
"let's go inside." colby said, standing from the couch. he offered you his hand, and you took it. your fingers intertwined, and your hands fit perfectly with each other. he led you through the venue, finding a more private area, plopping down on a more comfortable couch away from the large room where majority of the partygoers were.
you quickly pulled him close, lips meeting his again. you felt him smile against your lips as his arms wrapped around tightly around your waist. he pulled away briefly, eyes analyzing your face.
"so," he paused and pressed a kiss to your cheek, "what do you say?" he kissed your other cheek. "can i be your boyfriend?" another kiss to your lips.
you placed your hands on his cheeks and held his face. you nodded and smiled sweetly. "i should say i so. i wouldn't make out with someone like this if they weren't." you teased, causing colby to laugh.
"good." he said, kissing you again. just then, someone came over to the area where you were hidden away.
"oh shit, sorry guys." they said awkwardly. you and colby just laughed, finally getting up from the couch. you made your way back to the party, mingling with the guests for just a little while longer before getting ready to leave. you, him, and sam rode back to your airbnb in silence, barely even speaking to each other. once you arrived back, sam finally perked up.
"you two disappeared for a while. what happened?" he asked, the three of you standing in the kitchen.
"we'll talk about it tomorrow." colby said, moving to walk you to the door.
"so, we have two options here. i can go home, and we can miss each other all night. or, i can go upstairs and spend the night with you." you said, taking colby's hands in yours.
"i think i like the second option." he said.
"me too." you nodded. you followed colby upstairs and he offered you a hoodie to sleep in. you changed out of your clothes and climbed into the bed with colby. his arms immediately found their place around your waist. he held you tight, resting his head on yours.
nothing happened that night other than the two of holding each other in your arms. that night was one of the best you'd ever slept. you were calm and comfortable in colby's arms, happy in knowing that you and him were finally taking this next step in your relationship.
224 notes · View notes
punishereditz · 11 months
Text
Under The Table
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Pairing: Jake Seresin x f!reader
Warnings: 18 plus only! Minors DNI! DO NOT COPY! Slow burn. Enemies to lovers. Fake dating. One use of y/n. Little bit of angst. Bad family relationships. Mommy issues. Smut. Unprotected sex. P in V. Marking kink. Praise kink. Choking kink. Creampie.
AN: This is by far my favorite story I have ever wrote.
Summary: 'Kick me under the table all you want; I won't shut up.'
~
You smiled warmly at Bradley, and he knew by the look on your face and how nicely you were acting, you were up to something. "Okay, what do you want? Spit it out." He took a sip of his beer, tilting his head at you.
"I need a favor. I need you to come to this family dinner and pretend to be my boyfriend..." You trailed off. Smiling at him nervously as you waited for him to speak, but he only looked at you perplexed.
"Your family knows me; they won't believe it." You rolled your eyes. Leaning against the hard deck counters and stretching. Sighing in defeat. Knowing that he has a point.
"True, but I'm desperate here." You pleaded.
"Can't you just get out of it?"
"I have. Eight times. They won't let me talk my way out of it this time. I have no choice but to go." He hummed. Nodding his head as he took in the information. He looked up and saw your sad expression, knowing that diner with your family is the last thing you want to.
"When is it?" He asked.
"Tomorrow night." Bradley goes to respond but he is quickly cut off.
"Could I have one more sweetheart?" Jake spoke from behind you. And when you turned to him, he held a cocky grin. His eyes glistening with sin, and you put on your fakest smile you could put on.
You turned your back to him to get his beer, and when you did, his eyes skimmed over your body, and Bradley noticed it. He noticed how Jake looked at you. How he always looks at you for that matter. Bladley knows that Jake flirts with everyone, but you? It's this constant game of teasing and toying with you. And Jake knows you hate it. He knows that you can't stand him, so he takes his game of flirting to level ten with you. At this point, after months of flirting, it's just become an ambitious sport for him. And for you, it has been tortuous.
But as Bradley looks at Jake practically undress you with his stare; he gets an idea. A brilliant, evil idea. He knows there's a good chance you'll hate him for it, but not only him, but also everyone else sees the tension that you two have had between each other for almost a whole year. So, he puts it all out on the table, and he goes over to Jake as you hand him his drink. Looking between him and you.
"Hey, y/n was just telling me that she is looking for a date for tomorrow." Bradley swings his arm over Jake, a smile tugging at his lips.
Your eyes grow wide as you look at Rooster. Your heart sinking to your stomach and your breath being pulled right out of your lungs. Fear taking over your body as you feel every muscle tense.
"Is that so?" Jake looks over to you. Looking at the death glare you give both Bradley and him.
"Yes, but I've got it all sorted out." You spoke through gritted teeth. Trying your very best to say it nicely and put on a smile, but you failed miserably.
"Really? Cause you were just telling me that-" Bradley tries to speak, but you quickly put a stop to it.
"Bradley..." You said in a warning tone, and by the look you were giving him, he knew that he was for sure a dead man.
"You know, I would love to keep you company sweetheart." Jake said his words arrogantly and it only made your blood boil hotter. And at this point, you were so annoyed, you didn't even care if you were nice or not.
"Call me sweetheart one more time and you'll be paying for everyone's round." You let your filter drop and said what you wanted to.
Bradley knew by the darkness that grew in your eyes that he should step in. "Can I speak to you?" He gently put his hand on your shoulder and he went back to where he sat.
"What the hell are you thinking?!" You spoke before he could, and he sighed.
"You know just as well as I do that your family won't buy that we're together." He tilts his head, and you don't want to hear. Mostly because you know it is true.
"It's one night with him. Then it's over." He reassures you. Taking your hands in his.
"We hate each other, how am I supposed to make them believe that we care for each other?" You say in true panic. You know Rooster is right. It will just be one night for two hours at most. You see him every day, so how's that night going to be any different?
You know that Jake is the only way you could make it work because Rooster can't do it. You shake your head, scoffing. Laughing at yourself because this situation just keeps getting more and more ridiculous by the second. Your mother has been up your ass about when you would start dating. It's the only thing she talks about when she sees you, and it is your last worry. You're too busy trying to graduate from medical school and keep the lights on, but she is worried about when you will find a man. All your sisters and brothers are dating, getting married, having kids, and you don't want that. Not yet. But she refuses to see eye to eye with you.
So, finally one day, in frustration, you blurted out that you're dating someone so she would leave you alone about it, but that wasn't good enough. Oh, no. She has to meet him. So, you look from Bradley to Jake. Rolling your eyes, knowing what you have to do. You take a deep breath. Letting go of Roosters hands and walking back to the man that is smugly smiling at you.
It's only one night. It's only one night. You remind yourself. "Meet me at my house at five, not a second later." You say firmly. You go to walk away, but you quickly turn back to him. "Wear something nice." You write your address and number down on a napkin, handing it to him. "We'll talk over everything on the way there." You walk away before he can say a word. Shooting Bradley one last death glare, and he only smiles proudly.
You go back to work. Trying to focus on wiping the counters down, and not the mistake you just made. Uh, I'm going to regret this. You thought to yourself. The feeling of dread taking over you.
~
You sprinted into your bedroom, not even standing in the room for more than a second until you heard a knock at the door. You let your head fall forward, sighing, you run your hand over your face. Turning around and leaving the room, you went to the door to be greeted by Jake who is actually on time.
He looked you up and down, his eyebrows furrowing. "What are you wearing?" He said with a tone of disgust that made you scoff.
"My scrubs." You explained.
"Why?" He shrugged his shoulders as he looked down at you.
"I just got out of school." You stepped out of your door. Locking it behind you, not even worrying about trying to change, knowing that you don't have any time.
"You're in medical school?" He asked as he followed you to your car. Getting in the passenger's seat.
"Yes." You respond, taking a deep breath. He nodded slowly. He looked you up and down once more. He hummed to himself. Having no idea that you were in medical school. And now that he sits and thinks about it, it all makes sense. It explains why you are so tired some days at The Hard Deck. Why you work so hard, trying to make as much money as possible.
But he was quickly pulled out of his thoughts as you started talking. You told him why he was going with you, and that he had to pretend to be your boyfriend, and that made him laugh. The whole situation was hilarious to him. Truth be told, he thought it was priceless. He couldn't get enough of it. Having to pretend to be your boyfriend because you got frustrated with your mother? He loved it. He has been trying so long to get close to you, and all it took was you losing your temper and Bradley running his mouth. Who knew?
You sure as hell wasn't expecting this. You didn't see this going this way, but here you are in your car with Hangman, explaining to him that he needs to be your boyfriend for the night. God, how stupidly ridiculous. The closer you got to your mother's house, the more anxious you got. Your leg was bouncing, and your breath was unsteady. Your hands fidgeting on the steering wheel. You were on edge and Hangman noticed it. I mean, he knew that you were nervous about this, but he didn't realize just how badly it bothered you. It made him sad, seeing you so edge.
You took a deep breath, leaning back in your seat. You stopped the car and looked up to the house. "Let's get this over with." You mumbled. Getting out of the car. You opened your back door and grabbed your sweater, putting it on, you hugged it tight to your chest. Walking up to the door, Hangman followed close behind you and his stare stayed on you. He looked at you closely and how you shivered. He didn't know if it was nerves, or that you were just cold, or maybe a little bit of both.
You knocked at the door and only a second later, the door swung open. Your mother had a huge smile on her face, and she held her arms open. Wrapping you up in hug. What's so bad about this? Hangman thought to himself.
She let go of you but kept her hands on your arms. She looked you up and down. "Uh, what are doing wearing those scrubs?" Her tone was playful, but you knew she was serious.
"I didn't have time to change." You spoke softly. Hangman looked down at you, concern in his eyes as he saw how uncomfortable you were, and it confused him. He wanted to know why, but he didn't have time to think. Your mother wrapping him up in a hug.
"You must be the boyfriend!" She beamed. Then looked him up and down with curiosity, she stepped out of the way. Holding her hand out in a gesture, letting you step inside. She closed the door behind you, and Jake continued to stare at you curiously. Your arms crossed over your chest. Your mother walked up to him and held her hand out to him and introduced herself. "And you are?" She raised a brow at him.
"Jake Seresin." He shook her hand. Giving her small smile. "She hasn't told you about me?" Hangman looked down to you, his words playful. You nudged his arm. Shooting him a glare. This is going to be a long night. You thought.
"Ah, all she talks about is work." Your mother chuckled and her words irritated you. Typical.
"Let's eat. Shall we?" You spoke up. Putting a smile on. You interrupted before it could go any further and she clapped her hands together happily.
She walked you over to the table before she went into the kitchen. Jake sat by you. You keep your eyes down. Your mother starting to bring food to the table. She then sat down herself. Sitting across from you. You both fixed your plate, then she spoke.
"So, tell me, how did you two meet?" She asked and you froze. You looked over to Hangman, and he had the same fear in his eyes as you did.
"Well..." He started, but you interrupted him.
"He came into the bar one night celebrating. And..." You chuckled. Before you continued. "He can't hold his liquor. He got so sick, and I had to take care of him. I mean, he puked everywhere." You turned to look at Jake and he was steaming with anger. You smiled proudly. Maybe tonight might not be so bad after all.
"Aw, that's nice." Your mother said genuinely, and you brought your napkin up, covering your mouth. Trying to hold back your laughter. "Now, Jake, what is it that you do?" She looked up to him.
"I'm a naval aviator ma'am. Top of my class at Top Gun." He grinned proudly. Eating the food.
"Really? I thought you were third." You smirked, sipping your wine. He brought his hand up, taking a bite of his food, he used his elbow to hit the bottom of the wine glass. Making you spill it down your chest.
He bit his lip to hide his smile. He turned to you, grabbing a napkin. "Oh, I'm sorry sweetheart. Let me get that for you." He used a napkin to rub your chest. And as you stared at him, you were thinking of a hundred different ways you could kill him.
"It's fine honey." You spoke through gritted teeth, and he kept moving his hands over your chest, you waited until your mom wasn't paying attention, then you slapped his hand. Snatching the napkin from him. He had to hold his laugh back.
"How long have you been together?" She asked and you wondered how many questions she was going to ask.
"A year."
"6 months." You both spoke over each other.
You looked over at him confused. "Uh..." You began to spoke. "6 months." You said, nodding your head, putting a smile on your face.
Your mom slowly nodded, and she hummed, eating the food. She looked between the two of you. "Jake, how did you ask my daughter out?" Oh, dear god. You thought.
"Oh, actually, I asked him out." You spoke before he could, and his eyes grew wide in fear. "Yeah, I kept waiting and waiting for him to make a move, until finally one day I just asked him out myself." You chuckled.
Glaring over at Jake, you have never seen him get so mad before. Then, suddenly, he kicked your foot under the table. You groaned and when you did, your mom looked up to you confused. You pretended to cough. Acting like you were choked, you glared over to Jake, then you leaned over to him.
Whispering in his ear, "Kick me under the table all you want, I won't shut up." You nudged him, then looked back to your mom. What she said next completely shocked the both of you.
"So, when are you having kids?" Your eyes grew wide, and your cheeks blushed in embarrassment. Jake snorted the wine up his nose, choking. You sighed, completely embarrassed and surprised by your mom's words.
"Not anytime soon." It was impossible to hide the irritation in your tone.
"Well, why not? You need to settle down. He has a good job. It's time to think of the future." She spoke and you gripped the fork tightly. Your knuckles turning white, Jake noticed how badly it bothered you.
"I do have the future in my mind." You didn't even try to speak nicely or put on a smile.
"Clearly not. You don't want to keep kids in daycare with strangers. You need to quick that job." You rolled your eyes and stood up. Putting your napkin down on the plate harder than you meant to. You grabbed your plate, then spoke. "Can I talk to you in the kitchen?" You said to your mother. Walking to the kitchen. She then stood up and followed you.
"What's wrong honey?" She asked as you sat your plate in the sink. You turned to her. Rage in your eyes. "What's wrong? You completely embarrassed me out there." You said annoyed.
"Oh, don't be silly." Your rage grew.
"Silly? I don't want to be a stay-at-home mom! I don't want to be a housewife! I like working. I enjoy it. I always have. Why can't you fucking see that?!" You lost it. You finally had it to your wits end. Tears were in your eyes, and you stormed out.
You rushed outside and got into your car. You rubbed your hands over your face. Taking a deep shaky breath, you didn't allow any tears to fall down your face. You just stared down into your lap. Sitting there with your thoughts, then, a few minutes later, the passenger's side door opened. Jake got in, staring at you, he looked at you worriedly.
"You okay?" His voice was soft and comforting.
"I'm fine." You kept your stare down. Fidgeting with your hands. "I'm sorry about that. I don't typically lose my temper." You said sincerely. Looking up to him, you softly smiled.
"You don't need to apologize. I understand." He kept a comforting warm tone with you. He looked down for a moment.
"Why don't you let me drive you home?" You looked to him confused. Why would he do that? You thought to yourself. You looked at him closer. At the concern on his face. Why is he acting so nice? You didn't understand it. Just a few minutes ago he was spilling wine on you, now he is trying to comfort you. And why do you actually feel safe with him? He's usually the last person you want to be around, but right now, you couldn't be happier to be with him.
You looked down. Then slowly nodded. "Yeah..." You whispered. Getting out of the car, you walked over to his side. He closed the door for you, then he got into the driver's seat. Pulling off of the curb, he started driving to your apartment.
The ride was silent, but it wasn't bad. It was comfortable silence. Odd enough. It confused you though. Why he was doing this for you. He is probably just trying to be nice. You thought. You're sure that that is all it is. He just feels bad. He's giving you ride back to your apartment, that's all. Hangman probably could care less. Right...? You started questioning things. Finally, you shook your head, trying to shake your thoughts that was running a 100 miles per hour.
You came to a stop in front of your place. He got out of the car, coming and opening your door, you got out. He started walking with you to the door until he spoke, "Can't hold my liquor, huh?" He smiled down at you, and you started laughing.
"Puking like crazy." You joked. Starting to laugh harder, it warmed Jake's heart that he was able to make you laugh. "Hey, you deserved that." You chuckled. Looking up at him. You stopped in front of the door to your building.
"Yeah, guess I did." He chuckled with you. His smile growing. He rested his hands in his pockets.
"Was the wine spilling necessary?" You raised a brow up at him.
"Oh, absolutely. You deserved that." He used your own words against you. "Guess that makes us even." His smile grew as you laughed at him. Shaking your head.
"You're an asshole Jake Seresin." You chuckled, smiling warmly at him. He took a step closer to you. His eyes locked on yours.
"And you're a jerk." His words were teasing and there was something about the way your name sounded on his tongue made your breath hitch.
As he stepped even closer, the tension was so strong, you could cut it with a knife. He gently rested his hand on your cheek. Cupping your face, he leaned closer. His eyes traveling from your eyes down to your lips. Then, he kissed you. His lips softly pressed against yours. Your heart felt like it was going to pound out of your chest, it was racing so fast. You leaned into him. His hand going to your hip, and you rested your hands on his shoulders. He pulled away. His breathe a little bit heavier than it was before.
Your eyes went to his, and you needed more. And as if he read your mind. He bent down, wrapping his arms around the back of your thighs, he threw you over his shoulder. His hand slapping your ass.
"Jake!" You squalled, and he laughed. He started to walk up the stairs. "What number?" He asked for your apartment number.
"47." He nodded, but you couldn't see him. He slapped your ass again. Not being able to resist himself. He put you down once he got to your door. You unlocked it, going inside, he followed behind you, and before you could close the door, he grabbed your legs. Lifting you up in his arms. You wrapped your legs around his waist. His hands on your ass, he closed the door, leaning his head up, he kissed you.
You wrapped your arms around his neck. Deepening the kiss. You grind against him, and he moaned into your mouth. He led you to your bedroom, and he tossed you down on the bed. With a devilish grin, he crawled on top of you. Kissing your lips, his hands moved over your sides, then up to your breast. He lightly squeezed them. He pulled away, leaving messy kisses along your neck. You let your head fall back, your legs squeezing around his hips. He bit at your skin. Leaving marks on you, he raised up, his hand going to your shirt. You arched your back up. Allowing him to take it off.
Your hands went to his pants, but he grabbed your hands, stopping you, he pinned your hands down with one hand, his other hand moving along skin. Making goosebumps tickle at your skin. His hand snaked up your back, he unhooked your bra. Pushing it off of your shoulders, he threw it over his head with a low chuckle. His eyes ghosting over your bare chest, he groaned before he attacked your neck. His kisses rough, he grinds his hips against yours, kissing down your chest, he took one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking it. He gently bit down, then moving his tongue in circles. You arched your back, pushing your chest up in his mouth. A moan slipped from your mouth.
He moved over to your other breast, giving it the same amount of affection. When he pulled away, he made a pop sound. You pulled him up to you, your lips going to him. You kissed him, your tongue teasing his. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you up. You both walked around the bed. Not breaking the kiss. You tugged at his shirt, desperate to have your hands on his skin. He pulled his shirt over his head. Your eyes dropping to his skin. His hands started to unzip his pants. Pulling them down with his underwear. Your mouth watered at the sight of him.
"Like what you see?" He raised a brow at you, a cocky grin on his lips. You rolled your eyes, scoffing, you pushed him back on the bed. You pulled your pants off, then you crawled on top of him. Kissing his neck, you kissed his abs, then you bit at his v line, and he whimpered under you. Your smile growing at his sweet sounds.
You kissed him desperately. The kiss all teeth and tongue. Completely messy. You started to rock your hips against him. He pulled away, groaning. His hands going to your hips, he gripped them tightly. He took your breast in his mouth. Needlingly kissing them. He took his cock in his hand, pumping it. He moved it along your folds, making you moan. He slowly pushed it inside of you.
You started to lower yourself down on him. The both of you sighing. He leaned up to kiss you. He wanted more. He needed more. If he was being honest, he didn't see things going anywhere between the two of you. He saw how determined you were. That the flirting was going nowhere. But now, you were riding his cock. Rocking your hips back and forth. He can't believe it. He feels like he is living in a dream. A beautiful, sweet, wet dream. But it's so real. He's actually fucking you, touching you, kissing you. He's always pictured what your body might look like, and it is even better than he could have imagined. Your sounds are even more heavenly than he fantasize.
He couldn't stop staring. He couldn't stop touching you. His hand moved from your hips, up your sides, to your breast, then he rested his hand on your throat. When he did, you clenched your walls tight around him. You were so close.
"That's it. Good girl. You like this?" His voice was lower as he praised you. His grip on your neck tightening just a little bit. Making your eyes roll to the back of your head, you moaned his name, your movement getting faster. He pushed his hips up into yours. A choked moan leaving your lips.
"Come for me sweetheart." He whispered into your ear. His middle finger going to your clit. Applying pressure to it, circling it. That's all it took for you to lose it. You milked his cock, moaning his name loudly. He kept pushing his hips into you until he soon hit his own climax. Filling you up, he whimpered. His hips slowing down as you both came down from your high. You moved off of him. His hand went to your waist. He traced small circles on your skin.
"That was..." You trailed off. Your breath heavy. You were speechless.
"The best you ever had?" He teased. His grin cheeky. You playfully slapped his chest.
"Don't worry. I'm not done with you yet." He spoke mischievously. Pulling you back on top of him.
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elzdaizy · 1 year
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Thursday is the new Saturday
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Warning: sexual content. a little soppy. 
Words: 3K 
Enjoy!
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"Look!" You gasp with dramatic excitement to catch the attention of your eight month old son. "Is that your daddy? Look he's waving!" You smile, holding him high on your hip and using your other hand to point to where Harry was standing, inside the boxing ring in the middle of the gym.
His eyes instantly light up as soon as he notices you both enter the room. His attention completely making a turn from his training to the smiling baby reaching his arms out towards his father.
You couldn't exchange this for anything in the world. The look on your sons face is priceless when he realises Harry is in the room. It's only been nine hours since they'd seen each other but you can just tell their bond is so strong that no matter how long apart, this son and father long to be by one another's side.
Harry takes off his gloves and throws them behind him inside the ring as he gets down and jogs over to take his son from your hold, but not before planting a loving, sweaty kiss to the corner of your mouth.
"I've missed you so much my big boy." He says in his baby voice whilst peppering soft kisses to your baby's face and neck. "Did you miss me, ey?" He continues and you just admire their moment together, standing there with a stupid grin plastered on your face.
"He has missed you today, and he made sure to keep reminding me." You say as you step forward and run your fingers through the delicate curls in your sons hair. "Kept pointing at the door during lunchtime today whilst repeating 'dada?" You explain and Harry's heart visibly melts as he cuddles his son closer to his chest.
"No way? You sure he wasn't just babbling?" Harry almost doesn't believe it.
"I'm serious. It felt like he was asking me 'where is dad?' Or 'is dad behind the door?'." You add on. Harry's face softens and he picks up your son so he's eye level with Harry.
"You are the smartest little boy ever. I love you so much little man." Harry says with a pout, finishing off his statement with attacking kisses to your baby, resulting in those cute baby cackling noises coming from your son. No sound in the world could beat that.
"You ready to go home now? I need to stop and get some more nappies on the way home so we need to leave before the store closes." You announce, hoping his session was already over by the time you walked in.
"Yeah, I'll just pack up and say bye to the boys." He hands back your baby's to you. "Ideas for dinner tonight?" He asks whilst placing a warm kiss to your temple.
"I'll probably do a stir-fry with the chicken I took out of the freezer this morning. Does that sound okay?" You reply but get distracted by your son starting to get antsy. Wriggling in your arms whilst trying to pull your top and bra down, indicating that he's hungry.
Harry tries to listen to what you just said but is distracted by his sons actions, especially when he yanks down your top and bra so hard that your entire boob is on display for everyone to see, which makes your cheeks go red and Harry can't help but laugh a little, which makes your cheeks go even hotter.
"That's not funny." You grumble at Harry, placing your bra and top back in place.
"Don't worry no one saw anything. That was kind of funny though." Harry tries to comfort your embarrassment but you just roll your eyes.
"Well I'm gonna wait in the car. He's obviously famished." You start but get interrupted by a whining, impatient baby in your arms. "Be quick, please." You ask pleadingly and Harry's eyes soften as he starts to feel bad for you with the tantrum that's brewing inside your baby.
"I'll be five minutes max, you go do what you need. Love you." He reassures you, placing another kiss to your cheek and your sons cheek before running over to pack up.
You return to the car but not before the storm unleashes from your child. With the waterworks turned on, you're trying to gently calm your baby down with quiet, soothing shushes. As soon as your comfortably sat in the passenger seat and your son laying across your lap, he doesn't need your help apparently to latch onto your nipple.
Within seconds the cries turn to soft whimpers as he feeds his worries away whilst staring into your eyes for comfort.
"There we go, much better hmm?" You stroke his soft cheeks and rung two fingers through the small amount of curls on his head. His eyes stay glued to yours although struggle to stay open as he begins to fall into a light slumber whilst being fed.
Once all is calm, not a moment later Harry opens the boot, putting away his training bag before hopping into the drivers seat.
"Be quiet, he's falling asleep." You warn softly.
Before Harry starts the engine he leans over the console and admires the way his baby boy looks so peaceful. Even with tear stained cheeks and wet lashes, he looks like an absolute angel. Harry can never get over how perfect his baby is. A perfect mixture of you and Harry.
"He's reminding me so much more of you lately." You speak up through a whisper, as if you could read Harry's thoughts, his eyes look to you.
"Really? I thought recently he's been more like you." Harry admits.
"No, he's definitely your son. Look, when he frowns like this in his sleep-" you point to the faint frown that appears every few moments to your baby's delicate face. "He's a spitting imagine of you. Those dimples as well, my god Harry. He's literally your double." You make a further point to rest your case.
"I know. I think it's bonkers sometimes looking at him knowing that he's literally in this world now because of me. Me and you." Harry admits.
You both do this at least once a week. You obsess over how perfect your baby is. How you can't believe you've both created such a beautiful thing. It's still a reality that feels like a dream sometimes and you both feel the need to express your gratitude on the matter.
It takes almost ten whole minutes for you to ever so gently place your baby into his car seat without disturbing his sleep but you manage to do it somehow.
"Don't worry about stopping for nappies, I just want to get him home to bed as soon as possible. I'll just go in the morning." You say as Harry begins driving home.
"Fair enough. How's he been today?"
"He's been good. We went for a walk in the park with your mum this morning then took him to see my sister before we got home for lunch. Slept the whole time on that walk with your mum but didn't sleep at any other point today so I bet he's knackered. I'm hoping he sleeps through the night but we both know pigs will fly before that'll happen." You rant.
"Don't worry, when he wakes up it's my turn so you can have a good sleep tonight. I can see how tired you've been lately. With me being back to training full time now, it must be so fucking hard looking after him on your own for the most of the day. I'm gonna treat you so well this weekend when he's at my mums." Harry says to let you know how your dedication to being a mother isn't going unnoticed. He's more than lucky to have such a strong woman like you in his life. He's always making sure you know how much everything you do means to him.
You reach out your hand to hold the back of his neck and stroke your thumb along his jaw in a loving gesture to his meaningful words. You try not not cry at how emotional his kind words make you but a small tear does manage to run down your cheek. Harry leans into your touch and whilst at this red light turns his head quickly to place a tender kiss to the inside of your palm.
"As much as I miss him when he stays at our parents houses every Saturday night, I really am looking forward to having just time for us two this weekend. I really need it." You admit, feeling a little guilty for wanting time away from your child but this whole week has been difficult because Harry hasn't been around as much since he started back at full time training on Monday.
The past eight months have been bliss with the two of you working as a team through the day and night to care for your baby so this has been one massive adjustment for you both.
"Me too. I feel like I haven't had you to myself in a hundred years." Harry admits with the dramatics. You roll your eyes and let out a quiet laugh.
"Shut up. I know it's been almost two weeks since we had sex but we've gone way longer than that before." You remind him.
"Yeah but that was because I was literally on the other side of the world for a whole month whilst you were home. It was different because you physically weren't around so in a way it made it easier but this time it makes it so much harder. Having you around but not being able to do anything has been an absolute tease." Harry stands his case making a fair point.
"Okay, okay I see your point."
"Thank you."
Once you return home, Harry insists on carrying in the baby whilst you start on dinner.
Within the space of half an hour Harry's managed to change and bed your baby whilst also showering himself. As if the timing was perfect, Harry walks into the kitchen as your plating up two bowls of chicken stir fry.
He places the baby monitor between the two of you as you both eat your dinner on the kitchen island, side by side, glancing at the monitor to watch your baby sleep whilst having little conversations here and there.
Harry refuses to let you clean up and forces you to go get a shower and wait for him in bed whilst he sorts everything out in the kitchen. You attempt to protest a few times but Harry has none of it so you do as he says.
You feel so much more relaxed after a shower. As you begin pulling the duvet and sheets back after putting your robe on, Harry saunters through your bedroom doors with the monitor, two wine glasses and a bottle of SB. His eyes glisten with lust as he notices how loosely your robe is fitted to your body. Your tits are almost on full display and your entire right leg, up to your hip is exposed as you sit on your side of the bed, facing him.
"You're doing this to wind me up, aren't you?" He sighs but gives you a suggestive look as he places the items in his hands on his bedside table.
"I don't think I can wait until Saturday, baby." You admit with a heavy breath, hazed with desire and lust after your little talk in the car earlier this afternoon.
You can feel the skin on the very upper inside of your thighs dampen from the arousal forming, just at the sight of your husband.
You feel flustered and warm, aching for a blissful release that only one person can provide.
Harry's eyes darken and it doesn't take him long to pick up on your body language. He notices the way your legs are crossed as you sit restlessly, itching for a release. He notices the uneven breaths that cause your chest to rise and fall heavily. He can see the desperate look in your eyes as they silently plead for him to ravish your body.
He can't help but let out a whimper as all these tiny details cause his cock to become sensitive as it hardens again his tight boxers.
Your thankful that he only changed into boxers and an old ragged shirt after he showered because it makes it so much easier to get him naked.
He goes on auto pilot, palming himself to ease the ache whilst his eyes are stuck on you as you shuffle back on the bed and spread your legs enough so he can see everything. You untie the robe and remove it from your body, lulling your head back as a wave of pleasure hits you as you run your finger tips over your sensitive nipple.
You look back to Harry who's still standing at the end of the bed but now he's naked as well.
"Holy shit, you're so fucking hot. No one turns me on like you do, I'm so bloody hard right now, look at what you've done to me." Harry blurts out in a fit of horny rage. He grabs both of your ankle and yanks you towards the edge of the bed as he kneels before your dripping core.
"Harry, please." You whine with your back arching, desperate doesn't quite cut it with how you're feeling.
"I know baby, gonna take care of you. I promise." Harry coos with his hands soothingly running up and down your thighs. He blows air against your entrance causing you to shudder at the sensation.
"Fuck me, do you want come all over my face, sweet girl?" Harry more or less asks rhetorically, already knowing the answer but loves teasing you to no end.
"Harry just get on with it." You plead through gritted teeth, squirming for any kind of touch from him.
He chuckles at how desperate he's managed to get you but doesn't say another word as he fulfils your wishes. He starts with delicate stripes with his tongue going up and down from your hole to the top of your clit. You simply cannot hold back the string of moans that leave your mouth from how delicate his mouth feels.
"You are a mess, aren't you?" Harry chuckles, referring to the amount of arousal that's expelled from you body, barely before he's even touched you properly. You huff a strained yes and Harry gives you a warm, loving smile before going to town on your aching cunt.
He uses his middle and ring finger to tease your hole as he sucks gently on your clit. your head lulls back between your shoulders as your chest rises and falls dramatically from the pleasure rippling throughout your entire body.
You decide to bring your head forward and look at Harry, watching him as he looks as though he's enjoying the most delicious dessert this world could offer. You're not the only one lost in the pleasure.
You can feel Harry use his tongue to flick the sensitive area that you both know will have you coming undone in a matter of moments. The blissful pressure builds inside of you, your hands reach forward to pull your fingers through Harry's hair, which causes him to tilt his head up slightly so his eyes are burning into your own. The look of lust couldn't get any stronger between you both. The look in your eyes only spurs him on more as he lets our a guttural, raspy moan which vibrates against your cunt.
"Harry, yes, yes, yes." You praise and encourage him to not stop as you feel yourself toppling over the edge.
With your legs in the air, Harry has complete control of the lower half of your body. One of his strong hands holding your thigh up in the air and the other one working in, out and around your pussy.
You have one hand gripping the sheets beneath you and the other pulling Harry's hair in attempt to get his face as close to you as possible as he devours your pussy.
"That's it baby, come on, come all over me." Harry encourages as he can sense you're almost there as well.
"Oh fuck." You whimper, legs trembling as you hold your breath with that intense pleasure coursing from your cunt and throughout the rest of your body. Harry rides you through your high, praising you and moaning along with you until he can feel you twitch from too much sensitivity.
He lifts himself up from between your legs and before you can even move, he's hovering over you, holding your chin between his thumb and finger to look directly at him.
"You're the sexiest woman of all time." Harry says, dead seriously as you can barely even keep your eyes open to look at him but his words bring life back to your body as your cheeks heat up.
You reach your hands to caress his head before pulling him down to kiss you. You taste yourself on him and it ignites a flame in your core once again.
Before either of you even have the chance to go further than a passionate kiss, the baby monitor starts making a few little noises before the deafening cries of your baby boy travel throughout the entire house.
You both sigh mid kiss before sharing a defeated chuckle. Harry pulls himself up from on top of you but not before planting a kiss to your cheek.
"It was fun while it lasted." You say, getting up from the bed and walking over to the wardrobe to wrap your robe around your naked body.
"I've never been so hard in my life. Babe, sorry to ask you but do you mind getting him whilst I take care of this?" Harry asks, standing at the ensuite entry, naked, with a raging hard on that you must admit looks painful.
His face looks like he's in agony as he breathes heavily and his cheeks are flushed.
"You go babe, I've got him. It seriously looks like your dicks about to explode." You reply humorously which causes Harry to chuckle slightly.
"Thank you, I'll be thinking of you." Harry says with a wink before disappearing into the shower.
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snowyslytherinowl · 9 months
Text
Joyous Nightmares - Part 1
PAIRING: Severus Snape x (Professor) Reader
SUMMARY: A year after surviving the Second Wizarding War, Severus Snape begins to have joyous nightmares where he dreams of having a wife and a daughter. These dreams bring him nightmares because he doesn't believe that he'll ever get married or have a family of his own. So what happens when the wife in his dreams is revealed to be you?
Warning: Nothing heavy, but there are some mentions of death. Angst and nightmares are also featured.  This is my first fanfiction for Harry Potter. I hope you enjoy it!
Part 2 | Part 3
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*GIF isn't mine
Severus has had nightmares for as long as he can remember. As a child, he dreamt of his parents arguing and his father hitting him when drunk. Then his nightmares focused mainly on his rejection from Lily, and Potter and Black bullying him. Sometimes they would trip him in the hall, causing his trousers to fall off, and other times Potter would make him kiss the ground and eat the dirt while Lily watched. As he grew older, he dreamt of Lily’s death. After the Second Wizarding War, he relived his near-fatal attack by Nagini almost every night. But about a year after the war ends, Severus starts to have nightmares about a much different topic. 
Severus is sitting on his bed when he hears crying. He walks down a hall in a house, one that looks much different than the one in Spinner’s End, to the source of the crying: a baby. He opens the door at the end of the hall and sees a small infant flailing around the crib. Gingerly lifting the baby from the bed, he cradles the baby in his arm and places their head on his shoulder. He doesn’t know why or how, but he knows that the baby is a girl and that she’s his daughter. He gently bounces her up and down and sits in a rocking chair. 
“Hush now. Daddy is here,” he whispers and kisses her forehead. “You have nothing to fear. I will always protect you.” He holds the little girl closer to him, and soon she falls asleep in his arms. 
Severus wakes up in his bed in his private chamber at Hogwarts. Although he has dreamt of much more horrific, much more gruesome things, this dream leaves him feeling immensely worse. He has been bullied and seen death in the real world, so seeing it in his mind’s eye at night is no different than experiencing it. But dreaming of cradling his own tiny baby girl? That leaves him with a gaping hole in his heart, a hole he cannot mend because he will never have a family. Pathetic, greasy-haired Severus, forever condemned to loneliness. 
He pulls the covers back up his chest, turns on his side, and closes his eyes. No matter how much he tosses and turns that night, he can't fall asleep until dawn. 
XXX
Several nights later, Severus has a similar dream. 
He’s back in the same house. With a quick peek through the window, he can tell that this house is in the countryside with its green, sprawling valley. Severus turns to the little girl in the highchair, who is now eight or nine months old. He dips a spoon into a jar of baby food and tries to feed it to his daughter, who purses her lips and turns her head.
“Do not be picky. This is delicious,” he says and puts the spoonful of baby food into his mouth. No, he was lying about the delicious part. “Perhaps it does not taste good, but it is good for you. My Half-Blood Princess must grow to be healthy and strong.”
Even though his daughter giggles at her nickname, she still refuses to eat the food. “Fine. I did not want to fall into temptation, but you are forcing me.”
Severus takes a small cauldron from the cupboard, which is no bigger than a large bowl. He puts the jar of baby food and spoon into the cauldron and uses his wand to make steam rise from the cauldron. He swirls his wand over the cauldron, pretending to stir it, and casts a fake spell of gibberish words. 
Severus’s daughter breaks into a giggling fit and bounces up and down in her high seat. Severus can’t help but smile and laugh at her joy. He uses his wand to lift a spoonful of baby food from the cauldron and towards the little girl, who finally opens her mouth and eats. 
He never thought himself much of a fatherly figure, but these joyous nightmares have made him realize how desperately he wishes to have a family of his own. Every time he visits Hogsmeade, he stares at the small children accompanying their parents at shops or playing in the playground. Even though he doesn’t show much love to the people around him, he somehow knows that he would shower his own child with love and affection. 
Severus decides not to go back to sleep. There are two hours until he must make his way to the Great Hall and he still has essays to grade. Anything to get his mind off the baby, though a small cauldron in the corner of his room ensures that the hole in his heart remains open.
XXX
Over the next few months, Severus has dreams about his child almost every night. In every dream, he watches her grow up, even if it’s by a month or two. Nothing particularly profound happens; they merely participate in average daily activities. Once he dreams that she plays with a toy wand set that emits tiny colorful sparks. Another time she sits on his lap as he reads to her and wrestles his hair from her tiny fingers. That one makes him feel especially pained as he’s always felt insecure about his hair, and he can’t imagine a baby happily playing with it. 
After a particularly hard day of disciplining dunderheads and spilled potions, another person joins his dreams. 
Muggle baby strollers are quite the invention, Severus thinks as he pushes his sleeping daughter around the main square of the nearest town. Stores here display all types of clothes, as well as chocolate boxes and snack bags; however, he doesn’t see anything suitable for his wife’s birthday. 
Finally, Severus spots a beautiful dark green pendant through a jewelry shop’s window. An idea pops into his mind about how he can transform this simple Muggle pendant into something enchanting for his wife.
He buys it, then spends the rest of the day locked in his study working on magically connecting the pendant and a journal. He charms the pendant to heat up and display messages Severus writes in the journal. This way, Severus can send short messages to his wife no matter where he is. “I love you,” he writes in the journal and watches it slowly appear on the green gem. 
“What do you think?” he asks his daughter when he enters the living room. She giggles and grasps the chain of the necklace, which Severus takes as a yes.
“One day, I will give you one of your own, my Half-Blood Princess.”
A wife. A wife whom he loves. A wife that loves him, too, even if he has no proof to support his theory. A wife who he loves enough to have a baby with. A wife who he knows he will never have. 
Since he started having these joyous nightmares, he has recognized that the existence of a wife would appear at some point. Though when she finally does, he’s caught off guard. He thought that as an adult, he would finally grow out of the nervous, insecure person he was as a child. But he’s thought wrong; a fist squeezes his heart as he thinks about how lonely and unlovable he is. His hand wanders to the pillow on the other side of the bed as he imagines a wife lying beside him. He wishes that he could hold her, kiss her, and love her. But who would ever be attracted to his oily hair and sallow skin, or not be appalled by his deeds as he served the Dark Lord? 
Tears have threatened to spill after waking from his past dreams. This time, though, the tears overtake him and sobs wrack his body. 
XXX
Steps sound from around the corner. Severus prepares to berate the student he catches, but he stops short when he spots you. “Hi Severus, you can go to bed. It’s my night to patrol the corridors, remember?” 
Severus doesn’t have many friends at Hogwarts, or anywhere for that matter. But out of the few people he can rely on, you are one of them. You frequently eat lunch with him and sit beside him for meals. You’re always there for him to talk to, though you aren’t pushy. He appreciates you more than you likely appreciate him.  
“I know,” he says a little too harshly. “I thought I should help since I could not sleep.” Do not want to sleep is more like it, he thinks. 
You don’t take offense to his harsh tone. “That’s nice of you. Are you having nightmares, perhaps? Are the ghosts in your dreams giving you too much grief?” You give him a gentle smile and Severus feels a warmth spreading over his body. 
“I consumed too much caffeine,” he lies. 
“Don’t I know the dangers of drinking too much tea before I go to bed.” 
You two patrol the corridors as he listens to your stories of catching students out of bed and making fools of themselves in class. He rather enjoys being in your presence, a warm welcome from his joyous nightmares. 
It seems too soon when your patrol is over and you head in different directions to return to your chambers. Determined not to fall asleep, Severus spends the rest of his time until breakfast grading essays. He has never physically seen his dream wife; he only writes to her or prepares dinner or breakfast for her. Unfortunately, his eyes feel too heavy and he eventually succumbs to sleep. 
It’s a beautiful day and Severus chases after his daughter, who runs through the valley outside their house. He finally catches up with her when she drops to the ground, picking at something. “I got you!” he yells after he grabs his daughter and lifts her into his arms. 
“Daddy!” she giggles and presents him with the flowers she has picked. “For you!”
He takes the bundle from her dirt-stained hands and smiles down at her. “Thank you, sweetheart.” He places her back down on the ground and kneels beside her. “How about you pick some for Mummy?”
“Okay!” His daughter runs around a little more until she picks the largest flowers in the valley and gives them to her dad for safekeeping. He lifts her back into his arms and walks towards the house. 
In the distance, he can see a woman by their house. He knows that it’s his wife, but the light from the setting sun and the shadow from the house blocks him from seeing her features. Severus uses one of his hands to shield his eyes from the sun glaring into his eyes and tells his daughter, “Wave to Mummy!”
Severus checks the time and jumps to his feet. He strains to discern the identity of his dream wife based on his memories of the dream but to no avail. He arrives at the Great Hall, takes his seat beside you at the High Table, and attempts to compose himself as he digs into his food. Why are you living under the delusion that this dream woman is a real person? Severus tells himself in his mind. If you ever see what she looks like, she will be an imaginary woman who only lives in your head. 
For a split second, Severus peeks at you from the corner of his eyes and imagines you as his wife blinded by the light from the sun. Deciding that it’s a dangerous path to take, he snaps out of it and goes back to nibbling his toast. 
You catch him looking at you and you ask, “Are you alright, Severus? You look like you didn’t get any sleep!” Oddly, he enjoys the concern in your voice and the furrowing of your brows. 
“I am fine,” he brushes off, but you’ve already poured him coffee and waved your wand at it. 
“Take this. It should get you through the rest of the day.” Severus grunts thanks and takes a sip. Normally, coffee makes him feel shaky and nervous as he unwittingly recalls his joyous nightmares. This coffee tastes different; it's sweet and makes him feel like he will stay awake and alert for the rest of the day. 
You talk to each other about your plans for the day until you finish your food and stand from your seat. “I’ll see you later!” you call from behind. For some indiscernible reason, Severus is looking forward to that. 
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chimivx · 11 months
Text
public occurrences. // myg.
pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Female!Reader
summary: It's been almost a year since Vegas. As one would expect, life hasn't gotten any easier. If anything it's gotten even more chaotic. The world knows who you are now... There aren't anymore secrets to hide.
words: 6k
warnings: SLIGHT SPOILERS IN THE WARNINGS. use of cuss words, they talk of anxiety, some mental health situations, talks about a miscarriage, talks about Jin and other members leaving. other than that- not much else. If I missed anything PLEASE let me know.
a/n: CAN'T BELIEVE ANOTHER VEGAS IS HERE. Enjoy my loves. Thank you for all the love and support always. <3 It's just a short little drabble of one specific moment of time, but I thought it was pretty important.
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~ the end of february 2023 ~
A dull pain begins to erupt where you’ve had your jaw clenched for the last twenty minutes. A soreness in your jaw you’re not quite sure will ever be able to go away. For the past few months it’s found itself in this compromised position.
Your entire body is made of steel, your joints creaking as you attempt to pull yourself together amidst the panic ensuing within your nervous system. Limbs heavy to the point you aren’t sure whether or not you’ll be able to exit the vehicle.
Breathe in, breathe out. The words repeat.
Breath in, breathe out. It made you want to sing Hobi’s song. Inhale, inhale, exhale, exhaaale. But there was no time for fun. Not when you were about to walk outside in front of cameras for the first time in eight years.
The morning was spent in a blur, the attempts to perfect your hair and makeup happening at an hour too early, much like how you rolled out of bed. An hour too early. You were awake before your daughter even had the chance to stir.
Anxiety had been simmering beneath your skin for weeks. You could barely eat, the nausea would rip through you violently. Again, for the past few months that’s how life has been, nausea, anxiety, melancholy thoughts and dreams, however this event seemed to be adding twice as much. These past few days you’ve probably accumulated a total of nine hours of sleep. You had more shuteye the week after your daughter's birth.
There seemed to be a butterfly effect from the events in Vegas. The incident that caused countless meetings and endless discussions because the company just couldn’t handle anymore media control or protection. You should never have trusted that girl.
BigHit took their time, the company drug out the announcement as long as they could so it would surpass Jin’s deployment and your goddamn wedding. Now, with it being the end of February, Yoongi’s been traveling absolutely everywhere for basketball games, photoshoots, and he’s announced a tour… It was about to happen. For the very first time in eight years you were officially about to be on camera, branded by flashes, posted online permanently, forever going to be seen and known as Min Yoongi’s wife.
Next to you, Yoongi grips your knee tight, in hopes to settle your worries. Glancing down to his knobby hand you sigh and suck in a deep breath.
“We’ll be fine,” he said softly. Meeting his comforting gaze, you attempt to smile, one that makes him laugh. “I promise. Remember everything we talked about?”
You do. Of course you do. It’s been playing on repeat for one hundred and sixty eight hours. 
That’s how many hours are in a week. You had to google that.
When this entire plan was set in place you requested a play by play, a step by step tutorial- a rehearsal even! You were walking out into the public eye with your child for the first time. People knew who you were now. 
There were going to be cameras, and fans, and paparazzi, and loud noises, and people rushing you, and standards to follow. It was all too much, it all seemed to be entirely too much. You were going to have a toddler on your hip, one who could barely stand to be in a room full of people her father worked with let alone god knows how many strangers at an airport.
“What happens first?” Yoongi asked, reaching for one of your hands to tangle his fingers with yours. He could feel your panic. “Tell me the first thing we’re going to do.”
Gulping, you respond, “Park.” Looking up at his short hair that you’re livid with- his long hair was dreamy, and sexy, and you could pull it- you receive another laugh. He hadn’t expected you to be so literal.
“Good, we’ll park,” he praised. “And then what?” Tipping his chin down his eyes widened a bit, becoming all the more endearing.
“Then, Branson and his team get out,” you said, feeling a bit better looking into his eyes. Yoongi gives you a soft smile, dragging his thumb over the back of your hand.
“Has Branson ever let you down?”
“Never,” you whispered. Almost nine incident free years with the man, after Yoongi, you depended on. 
Your husband leans in to press a kiss to your forehead. “Exactly,” he said. “What happens next?”
Going through the last three simple steps, everything seemed ready to go to plan. Once Branson was ready, you were going to take your daughter out of her carseat, exit the car, and follow the men inside. You would be the one to carry your daughter, just in case. People were unpredictable in these situations, and Yoongi agreed that if something were to happen to him here, you should be the one to carry her inside. As much as that little comment terrified you to hear him say, he was right.
Simple as pie. You hoped.
In a perfect world that’s how it would happen, and you want nothing more than for this to go smoothly.
People knew your name. Everyone has found out that it’s been years. The company was prepared for mass destruction, and so were you and Yoongi. A first public appearance, this is where it would all go to shit. There isn’t much chaos people can fully ensue over the internet.
As for your friends, the two of you personally asked them to stay out of it and at the drop of a hat they agreed. The five boys and Sunny shook on it. No one would say a word publicly, no one would do any interviews, no tweets, no Instagram posts, no stories pushed, no Weverse comments. Silence. Radio silence.
Jin has most definitely heard what has happened, and the next time you and Yoongi get to see him, there will be tea to spill. Your heart aches whenever you think about him, especially for Yoongi. He’s had to go through this madness and so much more without his best friend.
The week after he left was complete and utter hell for your family. And not just because of Jin.
Pushing aside all thoughts of having to redo the motions with Hobi very soon, you come to realize that steps one and two of the plan have already commenced.
The black SUV was parked in front of the airport, and Branson and his team were setting themselves up. Through the dark tinted windows there are crowds upon crowds of people, masses of them so large one would think the entire band was here. It reminded you of a concert, they were all waiting in groups with their phones out, pointing them at the vehicles that you and your team were in.
Slapping your hand on top of Yoongi's, you grip it tight, digging your nails into his palm. He places his other right on top of yours.
“I can’t do it,” you mumbled, whipping your head to shoot him a terrified look.
Yoongi smiles, though your fear threatens to crack him. If this wasn’t ordered by the company he’d whisk you away to safety, getting inside the airport without a soul knowing. He’s broken these rules before, going against what his company wants for your sake, it’s been eight years of you coming first, you topping all things that have to do with his job. 
Now that the gig was up, now that people knew who you were and knew that it’s been forever, he feels as though he owes it to his fans to do a three minute appearance. As much as he was deeply in love with you, he loved his fans almost as much. He wanted to show you off, he wanted the world to see who’s been keeping him sane all this time, who’s been the source of his happiness for years.
“Yanno, the last time you told me that you seemed to handle everything just fine,” he said, glancing at your sleeping daughter beside you. Blowing a gust of air through your lips, you roll your eyes.
“I didn’t have to do any work, D, they cut her out of me,” you grilled back, narrowing your eyes. “I can’t-” your words are cut off by a sudden short breath. “I feel like I can’t breathe,” escapes you in a whisper. 
Branson taps his fist on the window a couple of times gently, signaling that he was ready for the three of you to come out. The murmurs from the crowds can be heard, leaking through the cracks in the doors, swarming around you constricting your chest.
Yoongi slips an arm around your back, holding you against him tight. Burying your face into his chest, he rests his chin on top of your head and takes a deep breath. You can feel his beating heart steady between his lungs. This was just another day for him. He’s had ten years to grow used to this.
“I was afraid this was going to happen,” he said softly. Peeking up at him, you frown.
“What?” you question, lowering your brows. He nods a couple of times, giving you a small smile.
“I was afraid this was going to happen, because I knew this was going to happen,” he said.
“Me freaking out, right?” you sighed, your tone completely breathless. A soft hum leaves his chest as he ponders what you’ve said, then he shakes his head. “What?” you question again with more vigor.
“Well,” he huffs a gentle laugh, “I figured something along the lines of that would happen, but only ‘cause of her,” he nods to your daughter, “Not because you’re scared of going out there. You’re only worried for her. If it were seven years ago you think you’d feel this way?”
Shaking your head to answer him, the electricity coursing through your veins seems to subside.
“Exactly,” he smirked. “Before her you were dancing in the streets before my shows, you were talking to people, my fans! You were prancing around stadiums and concerts like it was nothing.”
“I loved doing that,” you smiled. 
“Fuck yeah, you loved doing that,” he said, giving you the smallest shake. “And, you know what? It’s not just you going out there as my wife, right? They know what you’ve done for us, they know what you’ve made for us.”
Your smile starts to grow. He was right. The fans, the people, they loved your work. The music videos, the art, the TinyTan, the creative concepts, the photoshoots, all of it. They finally knew that it was you. The ghost creator had been unveiled.
“You probably have fans of your own,” Yoongi said matter of factly. “I guarantee you all these people are here for you, not me.” Frowning humorously, you make him laugh.
“Doubt that,” you said flatly.
“Alright, half and half,” he winked, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “We can do this, you can do this. We’re doing it together, like we do everything. We’ll get through this together. We always do. Just think, next time we see Jin we have to tell him all about this, he’ll never believe it.” 
Averting your eyes from his, your mind is suffocated by the many, many things you’re going to have to tell Jin when you’re with him again, which you’re hoping is soon. So much has happened, so much has changed, and it’d only been about three months.
“Yeah,” you whispered, flickering your eyes up to Yoongi who’s flashing you a curious look. “He probably still thinks I’m pregnant.”
A flash of discomfort wrecks his expression for all of two seconds as he glances away from you with a breath. Swallowing hard, he relaxes his face and looks back at you, his lips pressed together tight.
“He, uh,” he began in a whisper, “He... knows.” Before you have a chance to say anything, the subtle shock on your face telling him plenty, he cuts you off. “I’m sorry, baby. I had to tell him, it’s Jin, that’s my best friend, he’s the only one I could even say the words to.”
Sitting up a bit, you reach a hand up to cup his cheek, dragging your thumb over his smooth skin. “D, it’s okay,” you reassured him, bobbing your head. His lips form a pout, one that gets you to giggle. “I promise, it’s okay.”
There’s a moment of quiet between the two of you, feelings swirling around the empty air as you both choose what to do or say next. Yoongi leans into you, kissing your forehead once more before placing his own there.
“You’re so incredible,” he said, watching you flutter your eyes shut. “The strongest woman I know, the most talented woman I know. On top of having such a beautiful, creative mind, you’re a fucking fantastic mother.” Yoongi pauses, taking a deep breath, as do you. “He was lucky to have you for as long as he did.”
A lump lodges in your throat. Scrunching your face, you shake your head, rubbing your forehead to his.
“Don’t make me cry,” you said, voice wavering with uncertainty. 
“Cry?” a tiny voice speaks up from your right, a yawn of the same intensity coming out of her straight after. Popping your eyes open you share a small smile with your husband, and just as you’re about to turn to your little one, Yoongi slips a hand beneath your chin, holding you in place.
“Hey,” his voice is soothing. “I love you.” Your heart flutters.
“I love you, too,” you whispered, accepting the quick kiss he gives you.
Turning to the carseat that has secured a permanent spot in this car, you smile at your daughter who has her head turned toward you and her father. Her sleepy eyes entice a happy hum from you.
“You were supposed to sleep through this,” you said sarcastically sweet. Yoongi chuckles, unbuckling from his seat. The clang of the metal on the door makes your heart skip a beat.
“No,” your daughter said. “No sleep. All done.” Her voice is tiny, and slightly broken, and not hitting all of the right sounds, but her speech has only been improving. The two of you speak to her like she’s a human being, saving the baby voices for when she’s feeling silly, which can attest to her strong vocabulary and understanding of conversation.
You’re beginning to think she is a genius like her father.
“Mama, up,” she cooed, reaching out her arms that were finally starting to get a little chubby. Her cheeks had caught up to her as well, they were finally perfectly pinchable.
Freeing her from the car seats restraints, your daughter aids you in her escape, launching herself forward and up into your arms with a shout.
“Oh!” she giggles once her arms are around your neck and her face is buried in your hair. 
“Oh!” you and Yoongi copy her, to which she responds with another shout.
Her attentive eyes point out the window when she sits herself up, tapping on your shoulder a couple of times with her palm. Lifting a hand, she tries to point at the crowds of people.
“Where?” she asked curiously, looking to either of her parents for an answer. Her voice turned you into a complete puddle, the sound coming out as ‘Wheh?’, the middle syllable is even more pronounced when she questions the two of you again.
Yoongi brings a hand to her forehead, brushing away a few dark hairs that fell into her eyes. The girl hated bows, you stopped trying.
 “We’re at the airport,” he told her, and she listened with all of her might. “We’re going on a plane, isn’t that fun? You like flying.” Her eyes blink a few times, taking her time to process the words. 
Sighing aloud, dramatically of course, she glances out the window and mumbles a jumble of sounds. Following her gaze, you gulp. 
Eager eyes of bystanders attempted to shatter the glass of the tinted windows.
“Mama,” your daughter said, looking at you. “Go, Mama,” she bounced once. “Go,” she bounced twice. You knew the moment you stepped out into the noise and the flashing lights that she would have a meltdown, but you admired her desire to get out of the car. Yoongi was right, she loved flying, it was her second favorite thing right now. Securely at number one was Jungkook, for a year and seven months. That spot was unattainable for anyone else.
“Shall we?” Yoongi offered, watching you fiercely, letting you take the lead. He waited patiently for your answer, heaving a sigh of relief when you finally gave him a tentative nod of your head.
“Dada, go,” your daughter babbled. “Mama, go. Dada, go. Mama, go.”
Sharing a laugh with Yoongi, you take a long deep breath and tighten your grip around her back, holding her in front of your chest. Smiling at you, your baby touched a hand to your cheek.
“I love you,” you whispered to her. She leans her head toward you and puts her nose on yours.
“Ah-luh-oo,” she tried her best to repeat. Stealing a kiss from her, you let Yoongi press a thousand to her cheek to make her giggle, and then it’s time.
Everything seems to move in slow motion, your vision tunneling as your husband opens the car door. Pulling a mask over his face, he sends you a reassuring wink before he rounds the vehicle.
Screams erupt from every corner of the space, and shouting from the team can already be heard. Strict shouting, like things were getting crazy already. Your daughter’s eyes are wide as she looks out the windows and up at you. Her curiosity has been swapped for a little bit of fear. 
You couldn’t let her see you panic.
Sliding off of the leather seat and onto the concrete of the airport lot, you pull a mask over your own face and instantly slip a hand to the back of your baby's head. Her legs were wrapped around your torso, and the moment you stepped outside her arms clung around your neck for safety. You already had a suspicion that you weren’t going to have to actively try to hide her face, she would want to do that herself.
Your bags were already taken care of, there wasn’t anything else you needed to grab from the car other than your child and yourself. Everything else would be taken care of for you.
With another deep, dramatic breath, you hold your daughter close, allowing her to bury her face into your neck, and you circle the car like Yoongi had. Upon rounding the back, cameras that were already flashing began to flash faster, quicker. Wide eyed and stunned by the greeting of screams, you barely have time to process anything before Branson grabs your arm. 
It’s a gentle tug, one to help keep you on track. He pulls you close to him, staying one step ahead of you as you wait for a couple of seconds in front of the car. Glancing amongst the crowd, it’s mainly full of paparazzi and probably some journalists. Behind the tall men and their cameras you can see the fans, the ones holding up their phones and jumping up and down trying to catch a glimpse at the commotion.
Airport security guards held some people back, though no one seemed to be trying to push through excessively, which was your main fear. 
“Another minute here,” Branson said to you, leaning into your ear. “They need photos, then we go.” Nodding, you peek down at your girl who was content clinging to her mother and hiding from the chaos. A sound of admiration rips through the crowd as you stroke her back, one that surprises you.
Up ahead, close to the doors, Yoongi was walking backward slowly, watching you. His fans twisted their heads side to side, from him, to you, and back again. To spice things up a bit, he gives you a wave, and everyone goes nuts.
You can’t help but laugh at him, eyes crinkling at the sides. For some reason you had thought he’d treat you differently when you were outside, but aside from following the rules, he was still your husband. He points to the baby on your chest and questions you with a thumbs up. Another giant ‘Awh!’ rolls through the chattering crowd.
Sending a thumbs up back, the fans laugh, and cheer. Then, your heart plummets to your stomach.
From somewhere within the crowd your name is shouted. And then again. Before you knew it, the entire crowd wanted your attention. Overwhelmed, feeling utterly insane, your eyes well up with tears. You're unable to make out anything else they’re saying though, there were too many people talking at once, and to you, that was a good thing.
God forbid anybody had anything bad to say. You’ve heard it before, but you don’t need to live it in real time.
“Holy shit,” you mumbled. Branson leans into you again, questioning what you’ve said. Turning to him, you smile and repeat, “Holy shit!” 
“You’re okay?” he asked, gently putting a hand over your shoulder blade. 
“I- I think so?” you said to him, raising your voice over the crowd that was only getting louder. Glancing down to your daughter who’s little fists were attempting to rip holes in your sweater, you send a look to Yoongi, and he stops walking all together. Bundled up in the safety of her mothers arms wasn’t enough for the baby, she needed to be out of this situation immediately. “Branson we have to go.”
“I don’t have the signal yet, we need Yoongi inside before we move forward,” he said. Frowning, you knew the man was just doing his job, but a cry from your daughter flipped a switch within you.
“We need to go,” you insisted, shooting him a glare. Cradling the back of her head, you press your masked lips to her hair and take a deep breath, hoping she’d feel as much of your love as possible. 
“Go! Get him inside,” Branson spoke into the tiny walkie he carried on his chest, gesturing toward the door with persistence. 
The crowd, now roaring, and growing larger, began to push. The barriers that were blocked by guards were spilling over the edge.
Branson placed a hand to the top of your shoulder and held onto you tight. Grabbing the little speaker, he spoke clearer. “We need to move forward, and we cannot do that if you cannot get him indoors.”
Up ahead your husband was watching you with a heated gaze. His attention didn’t deter from you once. His heart twisted when you cradled your daughter, when he saw Branson begin to get defensive. The hand that was placed protectively on your shoulder could make him scream, and the team behind him, calling after him to get him to step inside the airport made his thoughts fuzzy.
What the hell was he doing? Why would he ever allow the two of you, the most important people in his life, why would he allow you to do it alone? This was the very first time you’ve done this, and he’s realized now that he’s made the biggest mistake.
Forgetting everything he was told, everything he’s learned, Yoongi bounds toward you, using the fast paced walk that his fans clown him for. They absolutely lose their minds, the people around you. 
Wide eyed and shocked, you’d never think he’d break the rules on this one, you sigh in relief when he reaches your side. An arm wraps around your shoulder, Yoongi closing you in front of his chest.
“What are you doing?” you asked, giving your head a small shake.
Your husband smiles, reaching up to pull his mask off of his face, removing yours as well.
“Not letting you do it alone,” he said to you, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. As you could’ve guessed, the collective lost their minds. 
“You’re gonna get in trouble,” you smiled up at him, laughing as he dramatically rolled his eyes.
“You two are always worth it,” he said. “Now, c’mon,” he stepped aside to hold you behind your back, keeping you tucked beneath his arm. Using his other hand he rubbed the baby’s back and gave her cheek a quick kiss, happy to find that once he joined you two she had calmed down. “Let’s go see Kookie.”
Her head shot right up with enormous dark eyes full of stars. “Koo-hee?!”
“Koo-hee!” Both you and Yoongi copy her tiny voice, making her giggle with the silly smiles you flash at her.
The world around you seemed to melt away the second you were in your husband's arms, like all of a sudden you had the strength to handle anything the world would have thrown at you. His grip around your body as he walked with you into the airport was enough to silence the crowd, and power your legs to get through the doors without an incident.
A mere twenty minutes later, the three of you were seated on the plane, your daughter snoozing soundly on her fathers chest while you scrolled through your phone, curious to see what the internet has had to say of your appearance already. Resting his head on your shoulder, Yoongi followed along, making a sweet comment at every single photo of you.
“Oh, that one is the best,” he said quietly, your Twitter scroll stopping on a picture of the three of you before you walked off. The big, genuine, happy smiles you and Yoongi wore were priceless as you grinned at your baby girl, one whose face didn’t make it into any photos- thank the good Lord that somebody believes in. “You should post that one.”
Giving him a sideways glance, you huff a gentle laugh. “To my Instagram? It’s just gone public, you want me to blow it up even more?”
Yoongi tips his chin up, flashing you pouty puppy dog eyes. “I just want them all to know you’re mine. Both of you. I want everyone to know I’m yours, and I always have been.” You gave his forehead a kiss.
“Okay,” you nodded, “I’ll post it. Her face isn’t in any of these, so I can post as many as I want.”
Settling comfortably on your shoulder once again, Yoongi gave you caption advice for the post- an emoji that seemingly had nothing to do with the photo… But, you used it anyway. The angel emoji, with a halo and little wings.
“That one’s perfect,” he whispered, tapping on it for you.
“If you say so,” you smiled. Yoongi sat up a bit, carefully to not disturb his sleeping daughter. “You always pick the random ones.”
“Every single one I use means something,” Yoongi gazed at you fiercely. “That little guy,” he pointed to the angel, “That makes four of us.”
Your lips parted in surprise, unsure of what to say. That week in December devastated you both. Your stomach flips while you watch him study your face. The whirlwind life you live hasn’t given either of you proper time to process, or grieve.
“Baby,” he whispered, closing the space between you to touch his forehead to yours. “You don’t have to post it if you don’t want to.”
Sucking in a deep breath, your eyes welling with tears, you furrow your brows. “What did I do wrong,” escaped you in an exasperated gust of air. Yoongi shifted, wrapping an arm around your back. 
“No,” he said, putting on his strong facade. “We don’t do that, we’ve talked about this. You know there wasn’t anything you did wrong. There wasn’t anything I did wrong. You heard the doctor say it, baby, multiple times. You gave him the perfect home, you’re healthy.” Yoongi paused to gauge where you were, praying that you were listening to him.
You respond after a few seconds, bobbing your head. Taking a deep breath, Yoongi swallows down the lump in his throat.
“It just wasn’t his time,” he whispered. “He wasn’t ready.”
“Yeah,” you whispered fast. Yoongi’s thumb found your cheek, wiping away the tears that had fallen.
“And, you remember the last time we were there, they said we could try again whenever we were ready,” he said. The end of last month you had a check-up with your doctor, just to make sure things were back to normal, and that your body was holding up alright. Your second pregnancy was a surprise, much like the first, you and Yoongi haven’t seemed to learn your lesson. However, losing your son before you had even gotten the chance to hold him in your arms put a lot of things into perspective for the two of you.
There were routine check-ups, you were eating better- both of you! This second child was something that you and your husband both wanted, and though each of your emotions have been through the wringer… You would be willing to try again when you felt like you could handle it.
“I want to,” you whispered. Yoongi smiled, but you could see his own worries within it. “I know, I feel the same way.”
“Together,” he cuts off the nervousness quickly. “We’ll do it together.”
“Uh, we kinda have to,” you giggled, making him laugh.
“I can’t wait,” he sing-songed through clenched teeth with a grin, stealing a kiss from you. Yoongi backs away from you to check on your sleeping daughter who hasn’t made a peep. He was surprised she had let her eyes shut while she was beside the window, normally she’d be gazing out at the clouds passing by.
Picking your phone up off of your lap, you smile at the angel emoji and click post, letting the notifications flood in like wildfire. This was all brand new. You were allowed to make your Instagram public about a week ago, and since then you’ve reached four million followers, while you used to have forty-six. Silencing the notifications from the app, every photo you’ve ever posted amassed an incredible amount of likes. Your feed was a feast, and the public was hungry. 
Four million followers and counting. The number was only going to get bigger.
Watching the photo gain twenty thousand likes whenever you refreshed the page, you nudged Yoongi’s shoulder to show him what was happening, and when he turned his head to look, an unknown number you’ve never seen before popped onto your screen, calling you.
“What the…” you mumbled, narrowing your eyes.
Yoongi snatched the phone from your hand and quickly snapped a photo of the screen with his own, then he silenced yours and went into it, blocking the number who tried to reach you. He called Branson over and showed him the photo, letting the head of security take his phone with him.
“Trace this, or, do something. Tell me who's number this is,” his voice is stern, on alert.
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” you said, laying your head down on his shoulder. “People get scam calls all the time.”
“Not us,” he said, tone flat.
Not even ten minutes passed before Branson came back, kneeling on the row of chairs in front of your family. He placed his elbows on the head rests and took a deep breath, darting his eyes back and forth from Yoongi to yours.
“Well?” Yoongi asked. Branson handed him his phone and frowned.
“Uh,” he stumbled over a few words, unsure of how to say what he needed to say. “We, um… The phone number belongs to your mother.” His voice is hushed, quiet, like he was afraid to tell you, when in actuality he was afraid to tell Yoongi. Touchy subject. Especially now.
There had been a restraining order set in place since the day after your daughter's first birthday. Yoongi held the meetings and took care of everything, all you had to do was sign. 
Neither one of your parents were allowed to contact you, speak to you or your daughter, or try to see you in person. They were not allowed to mail anything to you, send anyone to see you in place of themselves, nor were they allowed to be in touch with anyone close to you. Sunny included. You had to make a list.
Expecting him to jump out of his seat, you stretch a hand over his lap and grab his other hand, the one on your daughter's back. Sitting up, you turn toward him ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of his expression. It had not faltered. He was stone faced, and you were sick to your stomach.
“Sue her,” he said. Turning to you, he sighed. “We’re changing your number again.”
“D, come on, it’s not like-”
“I don’t care,” he said, peering down to admire his daughter. “She clearly hasn’t gotten the message that you don’t want anything to do with her.” He pointed his focus back to Branson. “Fight it. Do what you can.”
“Got it,” the guard said, and whisked himself away.
It’s quiet for a moment before Yoongi said, “Why are you defending her?”
“I’m not defending her,” you said, and he raised a brow, giving you a funny look. “It’s just… Super annoying to give everyone a new phone number for the third time.” Both your lips turn up into a smile. “Sue the bitch, I don’t care, D.” Yoongi laughs. “Just don’t make me change my number again, I beg of you.”
“Alright,” he said. “No new number. BUT!” His raised volume made your daughter stir. “One more thing happens, you’re changing it.” The little one lifted her head, blinking a few times before she grinned at her father.
“Fine,” you whispered, not that he was paying attention anymore anyway. Your daughter took his full focus, and all of his kisses. 
It seemed silly to just now realize that today was something of a confirmation of the last eight years. Living your life, being a secret to millions of others, while you and the people you cared most about knew, was nice, and secure, and peaceful. But, now… Now that everyone knew, the peace grew. It swallowed you whole, engulfing you and your family with stability and ease.
No more accidental reveals. No more false stories. No more rumors the company had to shut down. No more hiding.
You were absolutely free, and for now, that was everything.
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thank you for reading, I hope you’ve enjoyed this piece! 
feedback is always greatly appreciated & helps artists immensely. we also all love messages & the audience’s input, opinions, and ideas.
leave me some here! <3
support my art here! <3
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vegas tags <3 (i realize on the last post i missed some of you, i'm so sorry.) <3
@jewelrnicorn @yoongisducky @all-american-fangirl @funkylittlebisexuall @ahewlett @damn-u-min-yoongi @my-dark-happy-place
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hyuuukais · 9 months
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✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡ SUNSHINE AND STRAWBERRIES
pairing ☆ lee felix x fem reader
synopsis ☆ Y/N is a new streamer. after months of planning, and her best friend & now fellow streamer han jisung convincing her, she makes a twitch and youtube account. thanks to jisung giving her a shoutout to his own huge following, she gains some unexpected overnight fame. but what was more unexpected was waking up to see her long-time favourite comfort streamer _sunshine.bbokari_ following her.
warnings ☆ swearing, negative self talk
[TAGLIST -> CLOSED]
MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT
☆ partially written chapter, 8 screenshots ☆
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT ☆ T-REX
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Kai is at your door in ten minutes.
You used your safe word, "trex" to let him know you needed him right now. All the guilt and fear sat heavily on your chest; you couldn't even cry. Pain settled in your weary body, your eyes falling on the mug you knocked onto the floor and couldn't be bothered to pick up.
First Jake.
Then Han.
Seungmin, Jeongin.
Felix.
You inhaled sharply, barely containing a dry sob. Of all people, he affected you the most. Your feelings did nothing but grow stronger by the day, and now he was gone.
You fucked up.
"Y/N?" A knock at the door, then a creak signaling Kai let himself in. "Oh, Y/N..."
Taking a few steps forward, Kai took in the sight of you. Your hair stuck to the side of your face, blanket drawn up to your chin. He kneeled beside you, taking the hand that was clutching the couch cushion for dear life in his own, his thumb rubbing your knuckles. The simple gesture broke something in you and the second you locked eyes with your best friend, the tears wouldn't stop.
"Kai I-" You choke out, gripping his hand tightly. "Why am I like this?"
Next thing you know, you're enveloped in the warmest, most loving hug, forcing you to sit up just a bit. You could hear Kai soothing you, one hand rubbing your back, the other on your head. He knew one way to calm you down was by a simple hug, reassuring you he was there.
Once you could breathe and the thunderstorm of emotion was a mere drizzle, Kai pried himself away from you, looking you in the eyes with a firm expression.
"Y/N I can't say none of this is your fault," Your heart sank. "But everything with Jake? That started all this?" He shook his head. "Yeah, maybe saying you had a boyfriend wasn't the greatest move... no buts. Jake needs to learn to deal with his feelings, and if space from you is what it takes, then so be it. Sometimes you are the problem."
"I fail to see how this is supposed to help, Kai." Sitting up now, you cross your arms at him.
"General you, use your brain." Now you can't help but smile at him, sniffing and wiping your nose with your sleeve. "The point is, you can't please everyone all the time Y/N, and you're not responsible for other people feelings and how they deal with them. The only thing you're responsible for is how you react. Sometimes people hurt you, sometimes you hurt them. Right now, you need to acknowledge the pain you've caused and apologize."
You look down.
That's something you love about Kai-- he tells you what you need to hear, not what you want to hear, no matter how hard. He tells you when you mess up, but he'll also be your shoulder to cry on. He was your closest friend.
"Can I use your phone?" You ask.
"Why, yours not working?" He rolls his eyes with a small smile
"It is," You playfully smack his arm. "I just don't think anyone will pick up if they see it's me."
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notes ☆ i am so mf tired yall but HEY !! new chapter!! i love kai and y/n. i love this story. i love ynlix and need them to be happy together again. also i can't believe it's been almost a month into this series???? which also means almost a month of having this account OH ALSO BEFORE I FORGET i probably should have said this way at the start, but u can pretty much ignore any timestamps!!
taglist ☆ @marcillfll @toplinelix @neri-ner @tfshouldidohere @imasimplol @samvagejkflxhrt @yennifersgeralt @aestheticsluut @cherryuqii @tenebrisirae @roseidol @veryjeongintxtkid @amara-mars @nobuttpics @bmnyy @sheeshhhhfelixsworld @ellelabelle @gini143 @mrsseals16 @veedoesntknaur @channiesstars @daydreamer5006 @luvvvash @amesification @skzswife @blamemef0rit @soulphoenix1618 @lovingmny @stvrfir3 @boo-ven9eance @adestayskz @rag-iii @enchantedgrunge @mytherapisttoldmenotto @strawberry-dreamland @oh-my-fancan @lucktales @cookielino @fantasyaddict123 @sleeplessmin @alexxxxxthebitxh @flirtyskzbutterfly @vixensss @hannahs-docx @hash2013 @jellsxox @sserafimez @theblindhag @httphans @hannahhbahng
pink means i can't tag you
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beatrixstonehill2 · 4 months
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"Are you excited?" Shannon's mom asked her.
Shannon rolled her eyes. "No.... Of course not."
"Don't lie now, let me see that cock, darling."
"Mom.... Come on."
"Don't whine, let me see what a little liar you're being."
"I can't help it...." she complained, spreading her legs. Her previously tiny, two-inch cock was now eight inches, rock hard, super swollen, pushing out her panties. "There. Happy?"
"Oh it's so gorgeous! Look at how big that thing's gotten. Have they started you on testosterone yet?"
"Mom! I'm not going on T....."
"Of course you will, darling. Trust me, you can't avoid it forever."
"You're probably right..... Fuckkkk..... I'm so hard....."
"So masturbate, darling. Your next shoot isn't for another hour, you'll be hard as can be by then. Trust me! I'm so happy you actually decided to do this! You look like you're having so much fun doing these shoots and videos. I've never seen you smile so much!"
"It's called acting, mom. Well, OK, it is fun doing porn. I'm really happy you and dad talked me into giving it a try, but all these expectations are such a hassle."
"Well, we saw those huge udders you started growing and thought you weren't really into the whole school thing anyway. Porn is a much better fit for a girl like you. And the market is soooo hot for trans girls right now!"
Shannon rubbed her uncomfortably big bulge, biting her lip. It felt divine to touch. "I'm lucky I started transitioning when I did. But.... it feels weird that I'm being asked to undo all of that. Like I'm sooo happy you guys got me into this industry, and I'm having a ton of fun, but going through guy puberty is really awkward. I'm already shaving like twice a day, and my voice is cracking during shoots."
"That's what consumers want, darling! Your agent said it, and all the directors and actresses, well, mostly now 'actors', I talked to said the same thing. Guys love seeing trans girls go through male puberty or completely detrans. I dunno, something about seeing a pretty girl with big tits having to become a guy, all the while trying and slowly failing to look like a girl, it gets them off."
"Ew, when you say it that way it sounds gross. But I guess it makes sense. I've only been off estrogen four months and my body is totally sprinting through male puberty like crazy! I feel so fucking horny all the time; I'm cumming insanely hard, too! I'm getting thick body hair already, even my boobs are getting hair on them..... It's so embarrassing, I can't believe guys like seeing this. Keeping up with shaving is almost impossible."
"So you should stop. Like you said, guys love seeing you girls having to go through this and lose all your feminine qualities. It is fun seeing you go from a confident, sexy, curvy girl to a weak, submissive, feminine boy."
"Mom!" Shannon coughed, her voice cracked. She subtly rolled her eyes and played with her cock through her panties. "I'm not becoming a boy...."
"You say that, but you sure are going to town on that thing."
Shannon blushed, giving up trying to hide it. She took out her cock, jerking off, her oversized breasts bouncing and jiggling with each pump. "OK, whatever. So I am going through male puberty. No more estrogen for me. But I'm not, like, going on T and steroids. Or getting my boobs removed. ..... Right?"
"Well, your agent and I have been discussing it, since your detransition is going so well."
Shannon pumped her cock harder. "B-But I'm not detransitioning, mom! I'm just going off my hrt to do porn cause that's what guys want out of trans girls. A bigger cock, the deeper voice, maybe some facial hair peeking through our concealer.... just cute stuff like that!"
"Boy, you sure are in denial, sweetie. You're already going through male puberty. Of course you're gonna go all the way for your porno career. Why wouldn't you?"
"All the way? What have you guys been talking about?"
"Well, see, your next scene is gonna start with you trying to work out in a gym. Some guys will see your bulge through your shorts and..... I wanted it to be a surprise, but you'll be getting your first shot of T! The actors are going to give you a big dose, possibly right into that growing cock of yours..... Then maybe a steroid shot....."
Shannon wanted to fake outrage, but instead found herself pumping way harder. "Mom....! I--I.....! FUCK! Oh! Mmmmmm......!" Shannon came, shooting ten loads of thick cum across the floor, trembling as she held her cock, which stiffened up again in seconds.
"My, my, look at all that stamina! Such a stud, my son is starting to become! Aren't you excited to finally be a boy?"
Shannon bit her lips, nodding, pumping her cock slowly.
"Good boy. You keep playing with yourself and take extra big shots of T, and all the steroids your agent wants, OK?"
"I will.... mom. I'll miss being a girl."
"I know you will, you were having so much fun being beautiful and having huge fat tits like that. But those will have to go, too, in good time. Such a pity, so many girls would kill to have breasts that big and sexy. But you're a boy, darling.... so they've got to go."
Shannon blushed again. "Mmmmm, please let me keep them a while longer? Men can make fun of them.... abuse them, I can do bdsm vids centered around my boy tits! Humiliating me for having ever grown such silly, girly things....."
"Oooo, I like that. OK, you get to keep them a little while longer. But don't get too cozy, dear. Lord knows I spoil you enough, just look at you! Trans girls are such little princesses..... It's about time I see how well you take a little punishment. And when I say those boobs are done getting pulverized, I'll finally pay to have them done away with, the silly things that they are....."
"Thank you, mom..... You know just how to make a boy like me happy...."
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bluejaysandblackbats · 3 months
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Catch and Release
Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam
Summary: AU where Jason doesn't die in the explosion and he and Tim end up attending the same high school months later.
Chapters: 8/?
Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Sebastian Ives, Jack Drake, Janet Drake
Relationships: TBA
Additional Tag: Jason Todd Lives, Jason Todd-centric, POV Jason Todd, POV First Person, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake is Not Robin, Jason Todd is Not Robin (Anymore), Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Alfred Pennyworth Knows, Stalker Tim Drake, Jason Todd Has Chronic Pain, Jason Todd Has PTSD, Angst with a Happy Ending, Unlikely Friends, Injury Recovery, Emotional Baggage, Rage, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating
Chapter Eight: Pain in the Head
I hung out with Tim's friends and worked on character sheets. I spent three hours there before I told Tim I had to go. I had a great time. Don't get me wrong. But I was nauseous and didn't want to be sick at his house. Ives planned on sleeping over at Tim's place, so I didn't have to feel bad about leaving him home alone. I got a ride to the manor, and Bruce sat on the porch waiting for me as soon as I arrived. "Where have you been?" Bruce asked.
"I could ask you the same thing, Bruce... Can I go inside now?" I asked.
"You're pale," Bruce replied.
I wanted to lie down and nap, but I could tell Bruce didn't plan on letting things go. I didn't have the time or energy to explain myself, so I did what any reasonable teenager would do. I made myself throw up and burst into tears. "Jason," Bruce sighed before helping me to the family room. He couldn't accuse me of anything while I was sick. That and throwing up stopped the onset of a migraine.
"I'm so sorry, Bruce-."
"It's fine... When is the last time you took-. I swore I wouldn't ask you that," Bruce replied.
"I didn't think I needed them anymore... I thought I'd been feeling better lately," I replied. Bruce felt my forehead.
"I've been home for two days, and you-. Jason, I'm sorry for walking out on you. I wasn't trying to hurt you... I'm-. Our bond is different from the bond I have with anyone else. I'm holding on for dear life with you... And I know I'm losing you. I feel like you're slipping away when I look at you.
"I can't take the thought of knowing you suffered because I chose to leave you alone that day. Jason, you're so precious to me... And I'm terrified that if I let you talk about what happened, you'll say what I've been most afraid to hear," Bruce confessed. I wasn't in the mood for a serious conversation, but he was finally willing to speak about what happened to me.
"I don't hate you... And I don't blame you for what happened. I've been trying to tell you all this time," I paused, "I'm sure Dick told you I wanna die sometimes... But you don't realize what I have to experience every day."
Bruce exhaled through his nose. "Go ahead..."
"I wake up under debris almost every day... And then I lie about my nerve pain, which I know everyone can see. By the time I get to the mirror, I'm already so disheartened by the countless efforts I've made to appear normal that I barely notice my scars anymore. When I shower, my skin still hurts like the burns are fresh, and I want to cry, but if I do, I'd never get anything done. Then, I come down for breakfast... And sometimes the medications I'm on make me so sick I don't want to eat, but I know I'd be worse off if I didn't.
"Then I go to school, and you wouldn't believe what they say about me," I swallowed hard.
"Jason-."
"But I endure it because I know I have to... What I can't stomach is the isolation. Don't ice me out, Bruce," I begged. Bruce sighed.
"I don't know how-. I can't pretend that almost losing you didn't change the entire way I had to look at our life. You can't be Robin anymore, Jason, and I feel awful for having to take that away from you," Bruce whispered.
"You're saying our, but you mean mine. How can you expect me to step down from being Robin when you can't even walk away from being Batman?" I asked.
"Jason, it's been over a year, and you're still healing. I can't risk putting you out in the field again. Gotham needs Batman-."
"Bullshit," I snapped.
"Language-." "Oh! Go to hell! I told you about all my issues, thinking you would finally see me, and I realized you're no better than the rest of them!" I yelled. I couldn't help but get mad. I should've seen it coming. He'd never had the guts to say it, but I knew this was his way of shutting me out for good. It pissed me off. I threw my crutches and hobbled upstairs.
"Jason! Jason, you can't-!"
"Screw you!" I yelled as I went to my room. I slammed the door and packed my bag. I almost forgot I felt sick. He saw me as weak. That was the worst thing he could've ever opened his mouth to admit. He was no better than everyone that gaped and gawked at me. I was his walking tragedy, and I'd be damned if I let him treat me like a ghost.
I started packing with tears in my eyes. I wanted to get out of there before I said something vile. "Jason, don't be like this! Please come out and talk to me-."
"Bruce, I need to get the hell away from you before I say something I regret!" I hollered. "And I guarantee that if you follow me, I will never come home! Leave my crutches and get away from me!" I sat down and texted Tim. He was the only person I could trust at that moment. I asked him to come to get me, and he texted me immediately. I waited in my room until Tim texted me, and I left my bedroom. Bruce left my crutches in front of the door and retreated like always. I slung my duffel across my body like a messenger bag, hoping it wouldn't throw me off balance.
I swung the door open and left it like that. Tim took my bag and opened his mouth to ask if I was okay, but he kept quiet. It was for the best because I was in a particularly heinous mood. I fell asleep in the car and woke up in Tim's guest room. He was on the floor with Ives, eating pizza. My head throbbed, and I felt sicker than I did earlier. Ives glanced at me and got up to turn the lights down. "Sorry, were we too loud?" Ives questioned.
"No, I-. How long have I been out?" I asked.
"Thirty minutes... Maybe an hour," Tim answered, "Do you need an aspirin?"
I pressed my palms against my eyelids. "No thanks... Tim, do you-? Who carried me in?" I asked.
"We both did. Tim got you out of the car but wasn't strong enough to get you up the stairs. It was a team effort," Ives answered, "You're heavier than you look." I let out a soft chuckle despite the pounding in my head.
"Know how I asked you to move in with me?" I questioned. "Could it still work if it were the other way around?"
"You wanna live here?" Tim asked. I nodded. "Alright." I was shocked. I thought he'd say no, but he looked thrilled.
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jiangwanyinscatmom · 3 months
Note
Hello! Do you know that scene in mdzs where jyl comes to yiling with jc to show wwx her wedding dress?
What is your interpretation of wwx's attitude towards jc here?
I always thought he sounded pissed at him almost the entire time, telling him to shut up, saying it's none of his business when asked a question and getting annoyed at jc provoking him by toasting to the "yiling patriarch"
I've seen some comments where other people's reactions were something along the lines of "glad they're still friends" or laughing at the "banter" in this scene and I have a completely different view on this so i got curious and wanted to ask what do you think? And if you know how is it written in Chinese, what the tone of this scene is?
Maybe I got the wrong idea but it's almost uncomfortable for me how cold wwx is to jc in that scene, and justifiably so considering how jc fucked him over last time they met
Hello there anon!
For the scene in question (Seven Seas Edition)
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The hanzi of it:
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My translation:
Hearing this title, Wei Wuxian thought again of that domineering long flag fluttering in the wind, and his mind was filled with eight bright golden characters reading "Supreme Evil Lord Yiling Patriarch", and said, "Shut up!"
After taking a sip, Jiang Cheng asked, "How is your injury from last time?"
Wei Wuxian said, “It’s already healed."
Jiang Cheng hummed, "Ahh," After a pause, he added, "How many days did it take?"
Wei Wuxian replied, "It's been less than seven days. I told you, with Wen Qing, there's no need to worry. But, you were really fucking violent."
Jiang Cheng ate a piece of lotus root, "You asked him to break my hand first. You were sitting for seven days, and my arm was hung up for more than a month. "
Wei Wuxian hesitantly laughed and said, "How could I have not been cruel? It was your left hand anyway so it didn't prevent you from writing. A hundred days of broken muscles and bones to heal, three months of waiting isn't long."
Wen Ning's stuttering reply could be heard faintly outside the door. After a moment of silence, Jiang Cheng said, "Is this what you're going to do from now on? Do you have any plans?"
Wei Wuxian said, “Not sure. Those people don’t dare to go up the mountain, and no one dares to mess with me when I go down the mountain. As long as I don’t take the initiative to cause trouble, it's fine."
"Not taking the initiative?" Jiang Cheng sneered, "Wei Wuxian, believe it or not, even if you don't cause trouble, trouble will still find you. There is often nothing you can do to save someone, but there are more than a thousand ways to harm someone."
Wei Wuxian lowered his head, "One force with enough effort can defeat many, no matter the method. So, I will kill whoever comes. "
Jiang Cheng calmly said, "You never listen to any of what I tell you. One day you will know that what I say is right."
He drank the rest of the soup in one breath, stood up, and said: "Awesome. Amazing. As expected of the Yiling Laozu."
Wei Wuxian spat out a piece of bone, "Are you done yet?"
Before leaving, Jiang Cheng said, "Don't see us off. We don't want to be spotted."
Wei Wuxian nodded. He understood that this was not an easy journey for the Jiang family siblings. If others saw this, all the drama they put on for others would be in vain.
He said, "We'll go first."
So, as to my take for this, it's less of anyone is truly angry, as it is waiting for something to happen. The situation is played as a simple meeting when it no longer is, can't be, and will never be. There is a lack of this foreboding that overshadows the scene in the seven seas translation. Something I am not fond of as it uses more banter than Wei Wuxian exhibits in the scene. (Where snickers and the weird tone comes from with Wei Wuxian being surprised he was stabbed basically just brings more ire than I want that doesn't pertain to this question)
I think it's less that Wei Wuxian is angry at anything more than understanding what point they are at and him fully expressing he doesn't want anything further endangering him or the Wens after the defection was over and done with. If they keep low as he intends to, all could move on. Jiang Cheng of course doubts this as he thinks Wei Wuxian can't do anything else but cause trouble in his efforts to help. Two opposing sides of leave well enough alone, or, step in once again against cruelty despite the hurt.
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cowgurrrl · 1 year
Text
Kiwi
Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader
Author’s note: as I was writing this, I proclaimed in the most southern accent, “now we’re cookin’ with peanut oil!” so do that with that
Summary: Joel goes home for a month. You stay in California to work. What could possibly go wrong? [3.8k]
Warnings: HEAVILY implied casting couch culture, brief allusion to creepy Hollywood producers, yearning, I can’t think of anything else!!
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Boarding my flight now.
Thanks for letting me know?
Well, I texted my mama to let her know, and she told me to text "that girlfriend of mine."
Doesn't sound like she's a huge fan.
She'll live.
You like the message and go to put your phone away when it buzzes again.
Is it weird that I kinda miss talking to you?
You smile and ignore your name being called over the intercom for another beat.
There are a lot of weird things about you, Joel Miller, but that one feels the most normal.
Text me when you land in Austin. Tell your mom I said hi.
You tuck your phone away, fighting the stupid smile on your face, and look up to see a pissed-off PA walking towards you. You apologize and half jog to the sound stage where Ryan is waiting. 
"The perfect punctual queen is late for once? Is the world going to shit?" He asks, and you slap his arm.
"People are allowed to be late."
"Does your lateness have anything to do with your boy toy?"
"Are you ever gonna call him by his name?" You ask. He senses that you're stalling his question and take a deep breath. "Joel is flying home to Texas today to visit family and get some work done. He'll be gone for a month."
"Oh, how will you ever survive?" He pouts, and you give him a look. The director calling for places stops you from responding, but you threaten him with the promise of picking up the conversation later. 
You don't ever get to tell him off for suggesting that you can't live without Joel being in the same state because of how late shooting goes. It might've been exhaustion, but you swore that you saw the sun starting to rise over the horizon by the time you finally got to leave. You knocked out a good chunk of the scenes you were still working on, which is great news, but you were mentally and physically drained. You slept most of the next day and missed Joel's messages from one whole time zone away. 
Landed.
Jesus Christ, I forgot how hot it is here.
My mama told me to ask you if you go to church since she doesn't believe me.
Attached: Two photos
You laugh as you sleepily scroll through his texts when you wake up mid-afternoon, feeling a little bit better from your long night. One of the pictures he sent is of him sitting in the cab of an old truck with the caption, "This was my first car. I can't convince my dad to sell the damn thing." The second is a blurry photo of a blue-looking weed on the side of the road surrounded by what looks like thousands of other blue weeds. "Turns out the state flower will literally grow anywhere besides in a pot in my house."
A) I'm glad you made it in safely. B) Isn't Texas the armpit of the South? C) I don't go to church, and I never have, but please feel free to lie to her. D) I can imagine a young, emo Joel Miller driving it now.
He reads your messages almost as soon as they deliver, and your screen lights up with his initials as he calls you. You yawn as you pick up and hear chatter in the background of wherever he is.
"First of all," he starts in a determined tone. "Texas ain't the armpit of the South. That's South Carolina." He says. He hasn't even been in Texas for forty-eight hours, and his accent is already thick again.
"My mistake," you laugh. "Did you have another point, or was that it?"
"Second of all, why d'you sound so tired?"
"Obviously, I was out partying with strange men all night."
"Really?" He asks, and you scoff.
"No, Joel. Filming went really late yesterday. I don't think I got home until six this morning."
"Sounds intense." 
"Not as intense as being interrogated by your mother," you say, and he hums. You hear someone laughing in the background and relish in the joy that you're not there to witness. He doesn't say anything for a minute, and you wonder if the line dropped, but when you pull the phone away from your face, you see the call is still active. "You really miss me so much that you called me just to sit on the line?"
"Maybe I did." He says. You take a deep breath and glance at the clock on your bedside table. He's two hours ahead. The sun must be setting by now, casting gorgeous rays onto his skin and making his eyes look amber. You wonder what Texas air does to Joel's soul. Maybe it soothes him like only an old baby blanket can. Maybe it makes him jumpy, like he's waiting for a clap of thunder that never comes. Maybe it makes him wonder why he left in the first place. You wish you could be there to read his expression and try to decipher what he's thinking. Someone calls Joel's name in the background, and you hear him shuffle with the phone, probably covering the microphone with his hand because the voices become muffled. When the phone comes back to his ear, he takes a deep breath, and you do the same. "I gotta go. Can I call you tomorrow?" He asks. 
"I'm counting on it, Miller." You say, and he laughs before mumbling a good night and hanging up the phone. 
After that, it becomes a habit for Joel to call you every day from Texas. He'll tell you different stories about his parents, how Austin has changed since he left, and update you on how the newest album is coming. He listens to you rant about work, how tired you are, and how frustrated you always get toward the end of a project. Sometimes the conversations last ten minutes, and sometimes they last hours. One night, you fell asleep on the phone with him because he was trying to get your opinion on a new song, but you had spent the day filming the scene of your character giving birth, which was tiring in its own right. He doesn't chide you for it. He just sends you a goodnight text and promises to call you the following night.
You hate to admit it, but production speeds up with Joel out of town. You end up wrapping your scenes a week early while Ryan still has another couple of days of filming his scenes. You'll probably get called back in for reshoots in a few months, but you feel really good about the work you put out there, and you finally get the chance to rest before Melanie sends you more scripts to read over. You send Joel a photo of your open laptop and a glass of wine next to it as the California sun sets over your balcony. 
Wrap parties are looking different as I get older.
Don't worry. I'm sure you'll still be a drunk, no matter how old.
Asshole.
Lashing out is the first sign of a bigger problem. I think I should call Melanie.
You laugh and search for the middle finger emoji when he sends you another text.
Paul got me on the list for some charity event this Saturday. Want to come with me? He said it'd probably be better to get some more dates in sooner rather than later.
The reminder that this is all fake shifts your entire mood. Of course, it's always lingering in your mind, but the texting didn't feel fake. The late-night calls didn't feel fake. He didn't feel fake. In fact, this is the first time you feel like you have a sliver of an idea as to who Joel Miller actually is when he isn't selling out world tours and recording platinum albums. It's stupid for you to feel this way. You have no reason to. No right. You take a deep breath and type out a message.
Sure.
On Friday, you drive to the airport to pick Joel up, creating an over-the-top scene of you running and jumping into his arms. His hat falls off his head and onto the ground as he catches you and kisses you sweetly. When he sets you back on the ground, he doesn't let you go right away. He lingers in your arms, and even though your feelings are still hurt and you're still trying to remind yourself that this is all fake, you let him. He smells like a detergent you don't recognize, but underneath that, you catch a whiff of the cologne he always wears. You rub his back as you hold him in the middle of the airport. 
"'S really good to see your face," he says into your neck, and you nod. 
"You too."
As you drive him home, he brings you up to speed on how the album is coming along and how different Texas was when he was there. You tell him about the last few days on set and an upcoming press junket in New York City. He lights up when you tell him the dates as you maneuver through LA traffic.
"I'm scheduled to go to New York to work with my sound mixer that same time. He's got his own studio out there now and knows more about it than I do," he says. "Maybe we can fly together? Make it look like a couple's trip?"
"Sure," you say. He furrows his eyebrows at your lack of excitement, and you scramble for something else to talk about. "How are your parents?" You ask. The rest of the ride to his house goes off without a hitch, and he kisses you again as he gets out of the car, both of you highly aware of the car full of paparazzi that's been tailing you since you left the airport. He promises to pick you up at five the following night, and you just nod. When you get home, you walk calmly into your house, lock the door, and scream.
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Joel's hand is in yours as you wait for your turn to walk the carpet. You're not sure why there's a red carpet at a charity event, but you're not about to throw a fit about it. Joel is wearing a sleek black suit, and you're matching with a long black dress. It's a low-cut backless dress, and a sparkly necklace your stylist picked out rests against your sternum. Joel taps your hand, and you look at him.
"You okay?" He asks. He looks worried as he steps between you and the wall of photographers waiting for you to stand and pose perfectly for their photos. "You've been quiet the past few days."
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired. I think I'm still recovering from that last week of filming." 
"Are you sure you're not gettin' sick?" He asks, raising his other hand to your cheeks like he's checking your temperature. You smile half-heartedly and swat his hand away.
"I'm sure," you say. He tries to say more, but someone with a clipboard gets your attention and asks if you're ready. You nod and step onto the carpet, holding Joel's hand. The press erupts into a cloud of noise, startling you and making Joel laugh. You slap his chest and plaster on your rehearsed smile. You do your best to look where all the photographers are yelling at you to look and try different poses so they can get what they need. Everyone has to make a living, you suppose. You just wish their salary wasn't at the expense of your privacy. 
You get halfway down the carpet, taking pictures as a couple and some solo shots, before one of the photographers yells a new command. "Can we get a kiss?" He shouts. You pretend not to hear him and show off how the dress dips down your back, hugging you in all the right places. Still, the photographer is demanding a kiss, and now others have joined in too. It feels very "dance, monkey, dance," but you do your best to grit your teeth and smile. You catch Joel staring at you when you turn. It could be the flashing bulbs of cameras or how he's looking at you, but his eyes are sparkling, and the creases in the corners make you melt just a little. 
You hold out your hand for him to join you, which he happily obliges, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close enough for him to kiss your temple. "You alright?" He asks against your skin as you rest a hand on his chest and look up at him. You nod and glance between his eyes and his lips. The chorus of people practically begging for a picture of you two kissing is growing, and you raise your eyebrows at him. 
"You gonna keep them waiting, or are you gonna kiss me?" You ask, the playful lilt reserved for him returning to your voice. He gives you a look and smirks before leaning down a pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. Everyone ooh's and aw's at you two, but you only care about how fast his heartbeat is against your palm. You want to blame it on the anxiety of walking the carpet and having people scream at you to do whatever they want. No, you have to blame it on that. There's no other option.
When you finally get inside, Joel gets you a glass of wine and a mixed drink for himself. The event is sweet and goes by quickly as you listen to people talk about something they're so passionate about. You decide to donate some money under an anonymous name once you are all excused to the reception, where there's food, more alcohol, and dancing. Joel leaves your side to catch up with some musician buddies, kissing your cheek before disappearing into the crowd. 
You nurse your wine as people you've never met start conversations with you. They're all polite and ask about your newest project, how LA's been treating you, and what's up next for you. You can't reveal much due to the NDA you signed at the beginning of shooting, but you tell them how excited you are for them to be able to see it and admit you've got some auditions lined up in the coming weeks. You've probably given the same answers to a handful of different people when you realize you're out of wine and Joel is still missing. You scan the room for him, but you can't find him. That's fine, you think. It's not like he's obligated to stick to my side at all times. He can have his own life.
You sigh as you belly up to the bar and order another glass of wine. You almost make it a double when someone taps your arm, making you turn. "I don't mean to interrupt, but you look exquisite tonight. I just thought you should know," ultra-famous producer Richard Pike tells you. You blink at him, your brain struggling to catch up with the fact that one of the men who's made the most award-winning films in the past twenty years just noticed you. "I know everyone has probably told you that tonight, but-"
"Oh, no. Thank you. I'm sorry. I was just a little starstruck right then," you apologize before holding your hand out to introduce yourself. He takes your hand and kisses the top of it. It's very dramatic, but this is Hollywood we're talking about. Your glass of wine arrives, and he pays the bartender before you can even reach for your purse. 
"Women as gorgeous as you should never have to pay for a drink. Ever." He says, and you laugh.
"I mean, I won't argue with you on that," you say, taking your glass in your hand to clink it against his glass of scotch. "Thank you, Mr. Pike."
"Please, call me Richard," he insists. "You just finished another movie, didn't you? You're a very busy girl."
"Yes, sir. I'm already looking for new projects to audition for." 
"Oh, I remember when I had actors audition. See, that was before I started writing roles for specific actors. Some people call that crude or playing favorites, but it hasn't failed me yet." 
"No, sir, it hasn't."
"So formal! Yes, sir! No, sir! Are you like this with everyone?" He asks as he takes a big swig of his drink.
"Just people who can cast me," you say. You're partially joking, but it's enough for him. He laughs, and his hand lands perfectly on your exposed back as he cackles loudly. You force yourself to laugh along with him and suddenly get that sinking feeling in your chest. Everybody seems to strategically look away from you two at the bar, and you want to be anywhere but here. 
"You know, I've seen a few of your movies," he says, getting close to your face like he's telling you a secret. "I think you've got a lot of potential. With just a little coaching and one great role," his hand dips lower down your back, and you freeze. Ice water runs through your veins, and everything is screaming at you to run away, but your heels stay planted against the expensive hardwood. "We'll make an Oscar winner of you yet."
"Excuse me," a familiar drawl says behind you. You both turn and make eye contact with Joel. "May I steal my girlfriend for a dance? I promised her one on the way over." He asks, but he's already wrapping an arm around your waist, ready to pull you away. The hand on your back disappears and claps Joel on the shoulder.
"Of course! You take good care of this one!"
"Yes, sir," Joel says as he pulls you to the dance floor. Your heart is still beating in your throat, and you feel like you could cry, but Joel's looking at you with such kindness. You find safety in him as you wrap your arms around his neck and slowly sway with him, the soft material of his dress shirt calming you down. He waits until Pike is out of earshot to lean down to talk in your ear. "Now, I know you don't need me savin' you like that. Are you sure you're okay?" 
"He's one of the biggest producers in Hollywood. He could tank my career in a single email. You want to be the one to yell at him?" You ask. "If I said or did something, he would've doubled down, but he respects you more. He backed off because, in his mind, I belong to you."
"How do you know?"
"I've dealt with people like him before. They're all the same old men who think they can offer you a legacy on a silver platter if you fuck them. I've gotten enough advice from other actors to know how to handle them. Let them get touchy but find an out before it can go too far. Stroke their egos so they feel good about themselves. Basically, do whatever to keep you and your career safe."
"I thought stuff like that didn't happen anymore."
"You and everyone else in the world. Things don't just magically change because one guy goes to jail." You sigh. 
"I'm sorry," he says, and you shake your head. 
"It's fine."
"No, it's not. You shouldn't have to deal with that."
"It was one of the first things people told me when I started. They said it was something I might just have to… endure but that the weight would get easier to carry. One actress even told me that it was the price we have to pay because everyone wants to be us," you chuckle. He doesn't interrupt you; he just stares at you with apologetic eyes like he would take this burden from you if he could. You almost believe him. "I don't think that's true. I think most people would hand this lifestyle in the second it got too real."
"What would you do if you weren't an actor?" He asks, and you shrug.
"I always thought about being a teacher. Sure, the pay is shit, and the work is thankless, but kids are our future, you know? There's something really special about shaping young minds."
"Sounds nice."
"What about you? What would you do if you weren't doing this?"
"Probably something with my hands. I worked as a mechanic for a while, and I really liked that. I liked how it was a big puzzle that needed to get sorted out and fixed up."
"Why'd you stop?" You ask. 
"I needed to grow up. My dad owned a contracting company, so I worked with him until I saved up enough to record my first album. And that was that."
"It's crazy how we fought so hard to get to where we are, and now that we're here, it's..." You trail off, trying to figure out what you want to say.
"Terrifying?" He suggests, and you nod. "Yeah, I'm terrified every second of every day."
"You don't act like it." 
"I don't act like a lot of things that I should," he says. He stares at you so intently that the rest of the world fades away. You don't hear the song die down or the applause erupt around you as the band takes a bow. You can feel his heartbeat against your chest. You know how crazed it is. He wets his lips before stepping back and trailing his eyes down your dress and back up to your face like he's taking you in for the first time. "You really do look beautiful tonight." You swallow around the lump in your throat and smooth your hands down your dress, suddenly self-conscious. 
"Thank you." You mumble. 
Pictures of you two kissing on the carpet and dancing inside are circulating online before you even leave the event. You wake up to a huge batch of texts— one from your mom, two from Joel, six from Ryan, and one from Melanie about your trip to New York that you barely read. You would've stayed in bed wallowing in your own bad luck if there wasn't a sharp knock on your door. You groan the whole way down the stairs like it will help you greet whoever has decided to show up at your house at eight in the morning, but nobody's there when you open the door. 
Instead, a bouquet of flowers in a lovely vase sits on your mat with a note sticking out. You glance down your street and barely catch a delivery truck turning down the block. You carefully take the flowers into your kitchen before plucking the note between the petals. 
Pretty flowers for a pretty girl - JM 
(PS bought these of my own volition)
"Goddammit," you mutter under your breath as you think about his lips on yours, his soft shirt, and his stupid fucking, "I don't act like a lot of things I should."
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soulessjourney · 6 months
Text
Stranger In The Shadows (Part 3)
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Paring: Azriel x Reader (Rhysand's sister)
Word count: 2.5k
Summary: It's been almost two years since Y/N disappeared without a trace during one of her missions. Now, she suddenly reappears just outside of Velaris with no memory and a strange darkness enveloping her mind. What secrets does she now hold after her mysterious disappearance? What lies within that abyss of darkness that consumes her?
Warnings: Some violence, some angst
A/N: I promise that in this chapter, we'll see more Azriel and her relationship with him. It's going to be a slow burn, as our character feels the need to relearn how to love. Additionally, we'll witness a more formidable side of our character as she learns to harness her newfound power.
On another note, I'd like to express my gratitude for all the love and support you've shown me regarding "Stranger in the Shadows." I was never particularly confident about sharing my writing, but your enjoyment and appreciation of it have brought me immense joy. Your support means the world to me, and I can't thank you enough. I'm eagerly looking forward to continuing this journey with all of you!
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It had been months since you had finally returned to the Night Court after disappearing for two years, and yet there were still so many unanswered questions. You were no closer to figuring out what had happened to you during the time you were missing, and at this point, it felt like you might never find out. Your relationship with Azriel had improved, but there were still moments of tension, as if your body was trying to protect you from him. You and Amren trained every day to harness and control the power coursing through you. Amren had noted your improved control over your other half, which you had come to name Aefre, and she believed it was time to learn how to fight using the power that flowed through your veins.
Standing in front of the room, Aefre circled around you as a soft hum escaped her shadowed lips. "I must say, they did an excellent job with our new leathers," she remarked. She wasn't wrong. The dark leathers clung to your body, boasting a deep blue hue that matched the shadows in the room. The breastplate sat snugly against your chest, with a large Jade siphon placed delicately in the center. Each shoulder bore one siphon, and three others nestled between your wings lining down your back. Two more siphons rested where your collarbones were, resembling a necklace. You had a total of eight siphons to channel your power, yet it still didn't feel like enough.
Aefre approached you once more and shook her head. "Something is missing. To truly look like a total badass, I believe we need a cape or something. Women look badass with a cape," she suggested. Wrapping her arms around your neck, you looked back into the mirror and let out a gasp. The two siphons on your collarbones glowed as your shadows draped around you like a cape. Aefre would be one with you, easily separable when necessary to protect you or herself, and capable of shielding your back with your shadows acting as a protective barrier.
As you pulled your hair up into a braided crown, you couldn't help but notice the way the white streaks intertwined with your brown locks. It was a peculiar aspect that came with having Aefre within you. She seemed to siphon your vitality slowly, yet you remained alive, and you couldn't fathom why. Aefre had mentioned that your connection to her prevented your death. She held your life in her hands, and as her host, she was determined to keep you alive as long as she didn't have to return to the cauldron.
A knock sounded at your door, prompting you to cross the room and open it. Before you stood a taller figure, and you felt a tug in your chest. Looking up, your eyes met a pair of hazel ones, and a small smile involuntarily spread across your lips. "Rhysand wanted me to come to see what you think of the new leathers," Azriel said, his eyes scanning you.
Stepping aside, you welcomed him into the room as your shadows swirled around you, almost reaching out to touch Azriel's. "They surprisingly fit well. It seems he went for the fashionable side of things, which is very much like my brother," you chuckled. When you looked up at Azriel, you noticed his eyes softening as they gazed at you. It had been a long time since he'd heard your laughter, and he looked almost pained. How could you blame him? You had forgotten about him, and he had spent a considerable amount of time filling you in on what you two had been like as a couple, all while respecting your hesitation to return to that relationship. It was tearing him apart, but he was willing to wait as long as it took.
"Amren mentioned that I need more training, especially when it comes to my shadows. You're the only one who can truly help me with that, even though Cassian doesn't want to admit it. So, I was actually going to seek you out and see if you'd be willing to train me."
Azriel took a step back at your request, a slight blush tingeing his cheeks as he considered the implications. He realized that one-on-one training with you would allow for more time together. He looked away briefly, hiding his embarrassment before finally nodding. "I suppose I could make the time to work with you. Just be prepared to deal with Cassian's fit when he finds out you came to me instead of him," he said, turning his gaze back to you, a soft chuckle escaping his lips at the thought. Cassian had been eager to train you and help rebuild your confidence, making it clear that he wanted you to choose him for training. Sometimes he would wait outside your door early in the morning to offer his assistance, or he would appear behind you, startling you and often sending him flying across the room.
Shrugging, you looked back into the mirror, fixing your hair as you suppressed another laugh. "I'm sure Nesta will help him mend his broken heart. He's not the one I'm currently trying to repair a relationship with," you quipped, sending him a smile over your shoulder. "Now, go on. I need to finish a few things before our training." You playfully shoved the grinning man out of your room and closed the door. Your shadows whispered in your ear, informing you of the broad grin on his face and the lightness in his step as he walked away.
Part of you felt guilty because he expected a kind of love you weren't sure you could give. Each time he tried to hug you, something in your body froze, and you wanted to keep him at arm's length. You were afraid of hurting him, feeling as if he was delving deep and searching for someone who was no longer there. Something around your shoulders squeezed, and Aefre's soft whispers echoed in your mind. You turned back toward the door, opened it, and stepped out, ready for the hellish day that lay ahead.
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Sweat dripped down your back as you twirled around the ring, the sound of metal clashing together. "Focus, Y/N," Azriel instructed, giving you a quick kick to the stomach to emphasize his point. Letting out a growl, your wings flared out behind you as you lunged toward Azriel, only for him to step aside. "Coming at me while letting your emotions control you is the last thing you want to do in a battle. Now, focus or step out of the ring."
Throwing a glare in his direction, you could hear Aefre hiss in response to Azriel's words. "If he doesn't watch his mouth, I will knock him on his ass again." But that was precisely what Azriel didn't want. He didn't want you to rely on Aefre when your emotions got the best of you. Instead, he wanted you to use her and your shadows to your advantage while remaining level-headed. Taking a deep breath, you stood tall, your shadows slithering and rising around you like vipers on your shoulders. Shooting out, they wrapped around Azriel's wrists, immobilizing him, before you charged at him, ramming your shoulder into him and knocking him back, as cheers erupted around you.
You had spent the past four hours training with Azriel before he suggested a sparring match. Of course, with the two of you in the ring, it drew the attention of others, which led Cassian to excuse the other warriors and the valkyries to watch your bout. The other girls, particularly Nesta and Gwyn, cheered for you, and they couldn't help but laugh at Cassian's reaction.
Azriel nodded, giving you an approving smile before launching his own shadows at you. Twisting on your foot, you spun as Aefre moved off your shoulders to engage the incoming shadows, while you focused on Azriel. From the side, you could hear Cassian yelling at his brother to take you down, while Nesta and Gwyn cheered you on, trying to boost your confidence. Azriel struck your ribs, causing you to take in a quick breath at the blow. That one would surely leave a painful bruise that Aefre would tease you about for days. Turning, you kicked your foot out, striking the back of Azriel's knees, watching as they buckled under the sudden hit. You swiftly moved, wrapping yourself around him before flipping him onto his back and holding a sword to his neck. Cassian let out a loud, offended gasp from the sidelines. "You cannot be serious, Az. You let her hand your ass to you," he grumbled, earning laughter from Nesta and Gwyn.
It was true; the shadow singer had lost in the ring, and the feeling of winning made you feel light. Once you felt Aefre wrap around your shoulders again, you held out your hand for Azriel, who gently took it as you helped him stand. "You've improved; I'm impressed. Maybe it was a good idea that I was the one training you rather than the giant toddler over there," he said, looking toward Cassian, who was bickering with Nesta, trying to claim you were cheating.
"It's only been two days since we've begun training, and I've learned more from you than I have with Cassian," you murmured, crossing your arms as you stood next to Azriel, watching them. "Just don't tell him that; I think that would destroy his ego." Cassian's head snapped to you, which caused you to laugh as his jaw dropped and a look of offense crossed his face. For once, you felt like a family as Azriel laughed at Cassian beside you, and Nesta tried to calm the gentle giant, who was trying to climb into the ring, telling you he could hand your ass to you, unlike Azriel.
The crowd hushed as Rhysand walked through the training area and stopped just before the ring, looking at you with a cold expression and tension in his shoulders. "It's time," he said before winnowing away. Looking up at Azriel, he sent you a small, encouraging smile, which was soon matched by Nesta and Cassian. Handing your sword to Azriel, you thanked him before winnowing to Rhysand's office. Stepping inside, Madja, Feyre, Rhysand, and Amren stood next to the couch. "It's been a week since our last attempt. I think you have gotten some rest and your mentality is a lot better compared to last week. Training with Azriel and the valkyries seemed to have helped a lot. I believe we could finally crack open a memory, but only if you're ready," Rhysand said, stepping forward to rest his hands on your shoulders.
Nodding, you took a deep breath as Aefre held you tighter. "I'm ready. I know what I need to do, but what if she doesn't let me access those memories? You know how Aefre is," you whispered, looking up at your brother. It was true; your counterpart was protective of your memories, fearing that unlocking them could hurt you or drive her away, back to the cauldron, where she would have to suffer again.
Rhysand smiled, running his hand over your head, giving you a gentle smile. "You'll have to connect with her. We can only be here to guard and protect your body when you're there. What you two discuss is ultimately up to you, but she'll allow you to see those memories when she deems you ready. Today is just another opportunity to try, like all the other times," he reassured you. Swallowing hard, you glanced behind you as the door opened, and Azriel stepped in, offering you a supportive smile.
Turning your attention back to Rhysand, you returned his smile. "Give me a moment to speak with Azriel, and then we can begin," you said before moving toward the male standing by the door. "You came, after last time, I didn't think you would," you said, a frown crossing your face as you remembered the last attempt. Aefre had rejected you from accessing your memories, leading to a battle of power that had resulted in an explosion of shadows, broken windows, and your brother, Azriel, and Amren flying across the room. Shaking your head, you looked up at Azriel, who simply patted your head.
"I want to be here for you. Moments like these are when you need the people who care about you the most. You mean everything to me, and I want to be with you every step of the way. I'll be sitting right next to you, waiting for you to open your eyes. I won't leave your side, no matter how long you're in your head. Your family is here for you, Madja and Amren will watch over you, and I'll be here holding your hand," he said, leaning down to press his forehead against yours.
Taking a deep breath, you accepted the affection from Azriel, willing your shadows to remain under control. You closed your eyes, whispering a small thank you before pulling away and looking at your family. "I'm ready," you said, your breath shaky, flinching as Azriel gently grabbed your hand. Looking down at your hands, you led him to the couch, where you lay down with Azriel beside you, your head resting on a pillow Amren had set down. Feyre and Amren stood behind the couch, looking down at you with encouraging gazes, while Rhysand stood above you.
Madja stepped forward, bringing a chair with her. "The same as last time, but this time, you need to keep a clear mind. You struggled because you went in there demanding to see your memories. You need to be smart and play her game," Madja advised before looking at Rhysand and nodding.
Rhysand placed his hand on your forehead, sending you a gentle smile. "Be safe in there, little sis. You've got this," he whispered as you felt your eyes grow heavy and your vision darken.
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Sitting up, you looked around, a gasp leaving your lips as you took in your surroundings. The entire setting looked different from before. As you looked down at the silver gown you were wearing, you stood up. The cloth of the dress dragged as you walked forward, letting your eyes scan the horizon. The area around you appeared normal, but it wasn't. In the sky, stars lined the area, and planets spun around, resembling moons. The land under your feet was floating, and as you continued to look around, you discovered that you were on an island of sorts. A stone structure sat a few feet away, and off in the distance, you found more stone archways. Was this what your mind was like? Just an island that felt so peaceful?
Walking further into the area, you stopped when you spotted a woman sitting on a stone, gazing into the distance. Her dark locks circled her shoulders, and her tan skin gleamed under the sun. She wore a black dress with a deep neckline, and the dress hugged every curve, showing off as much skin as it possibly could. Turning her head toward you, she stood and walked closer.
"Hello, Y/N, I've been waiting for you," she smiled warmly, placing her hands on your arms.
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Tags: @historygeekqueen
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mayadoesfandomstuff · 7 months
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I don't care much for the persona protag name discourse because it's really just a matter of preference on which you like better but one of the funniest arguments I saw against using the name Akira Kurusu was that there was now a character named Akira Konoe after Strikers released so you shouldn't give the protagonist the name Akira anymore, and like it's so obvious that this person has not played Strikers at all.
I mean first of all, people can share names like have you not met multiple Johns or Marks or whatever the most common name is in your country? Akira is a pretty common name in Japan believe it or not so it's like arguing that you can't name another person Steve because that name's taken.
Second, having Joker share the name with one of the main villains of Strikers is so thematically good like he has to fight a guy who has the ability to change hearts and tries to run around and play hero because he believes that society is corrupt and he could be the only one to save it and they share the same name too???? Like???? The drama???????
Imagine that you're saving people by playing a cocky hero in the collective unconscious and then one of the big bads you've been trying to bring to justice for the entire month also share your name and the moment you step in the jail you hear applause for the hero name Akira, but they're not talking about you, they're talking about that bastard that framed you for murder, kidnap a young girl, and tried to kill your friends, while parading around that he's controlled the entire country.
He's also not doing this as just a personal power trip (although that's part of it quite a bit), but he truly believes that this is the best for society. He believes that to bring about justice, he has to change hearts just like you do, but unlike you, he's choosing to take away people's free will instead of giving them that freedom like you and your friends have been trying to do.
Almost as if he's some darker reflection on what you could've ended up as if you traveled your path to justice alone. Overtaking the free will of society in order to deliver them "justice" just as that false god had tempted you just eight months before all this. All the while you share the same first name to remind you of all this.
You walk through his false manifestation of justice as the crowd screams for "the great hero Akira" while calling for the extermination of your friends. It's almost a mockery.
This all, of course, aligns really well with the theme of Strikers where each monarch representing a somewhat parallel to the thieves and what they could have ended up with if they gave in to despair and isolation.
Konoe is a parallel to Joker. Them sharing their first name actually adds rather than detracts to the narrative. It reminds Joker of what he could become if he lets his ideals surpass his humanity.
Again, I don't really care about the name discourse and I'm not against the name Ren Amamiya (I actually quite like it too at times) but like, Akira Konoe existing is one of the weakest arguments against using Akira Kurusu as Joker's name in my opinion.
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star-anise · 2 years
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i see you have discovered history professor bret deveraux, my beloved. i highly recommend his battle of helm's deep and pelennor fields series if you want to learn about historical battlefield tactics (and operations and strategies) and his fremen mirage series if you want to learn about the facist view of history and why it's complete and utter bullshit. his series on sparta is also phenomenal
I'm having such a good time working through his back catalogue. AGreatDivorce on Youtube has recorded audio versions of many of his posts, which is a godsend for me.
The Fremen Mirage series was a balm to my soul after having to deal with SO many "military history buffs" and SFF reply guys who think that violence is the pinnacle of human achievement, and therefore acknowledging the personhood of anyone but the apex warriors is like, taking resources away from the war effort or something.
For the uninitiated, the "Fremen Mirage" is what Devereaux calls a "pop theory of history" that believes:
that a lack of wealth and sophistication leads to moral purity, which in turn leads to military prowess, which consequently produces a cycle of history wherein rich and decadent societies are forever being overthrown by poor, but hardy ‘Fremen’ who then become rich and decadent in their turn. Or, as the meme, originally coined by G. Michael Hopf puts it, “Hard times create strong men. Strong men create good times. Good times create weak men. And weak men create hard times.”
And then in his series he applies rigorous historical analysis to this idea, and takes it apart like Christmas wrapping. It's almost as fun as the Sparta series, where he demonstrates that Spartans would hate their modern fanboys, and also aren't actually as special or amazing as they're made out to be.
After a while, though, I got tired of the military side of things, and gone wandering. What I've found most refreshing this week were posts that take a step back from direct pop culture criticism and just simply lay out the material realities of life in the past. The really basic building blocks that help us get in tune with the daily life of the past. Stuff like the Lonely City series.
Or the clothing series! I said that I've been trying to figure out just how rare or common looms were, and while I've been looking at archeological evidence of loom types, he's just found the numbers that let me calculate it.
I'm using a base unit of 5 yards of cloth, which is, with a generous hand wiggle, enough to make one person's outfit, maybe two.
According to these estimates:
In the early middle ages, using a hand spindle and warp-weighted loom, that might take about 70 hours of weaving and, at a low estimate, 500 hours of spinning. If someone devoted eight hours a day to nothing but spinning yarn, it would take them over two months to have enough to weave with.
In the Late Middle Ages, with the invention of the spinning wheel and horizontal loom, that figure would go down to 180 hours of spinning and 30 hours of weaving. The change in technology reduces the time down to almost a third of what it was before!
This really settles for me the question I had about my early-medieval fantasy setting, which is that there would be a lot of looms, a loom in every household, and that it would not at all be out of place for even aristocratic women to spin and weave on a regular basis.
Which like, to be cranky about fantasy heroines who hate sewing: In that kind of world, embroidery is a luxury. Weavers and spinners have to bust their butts just to put clothes on everybody's backs. Spinning and weaving that much is gruelling work that I would absolutely understand hating. However, it is not stupid, silly, or useless. Being able to embroider—to do something primarily decorative and artistic, just because it looks good and feels nice—is likely to be more of an escape from drudgery than the drudgery itself.
It really can't be overstated, how much the Industrial Revolution was a textile revolution. Our relationship to cloth and clothing has transformed out of all recognition over the last 300 years. There are undeniable advantages to this, because it frees us to do so many other things with our time. But it also makes it tough to look back into the past clearly, because it's so easy to forget that the burdens we've shed still existed back then.
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