#not sure if this was supposed to be a romantic ship request but i wrote it as platonic

[mutxnts]

Ohh okay my last chance, here we go! Black cat for Gumshoe and Edgeworth?

When Miles first woke up that morning, he did not ever think he would be forced to deal with a cat running around his office.

And yet here he was, doing exactly that.

The cat in question was currently hiding up on one of the top shelves of his bookcase. Several books and folders lay scattered across the floor from when they had been knocked over by the feline as it ran away from the detective trying to chase it down.

Gumshoe winced as another was knocked off by the cat flicking its tail, curling in on itself as it settled back into the cranny. “Err, sorry about that, sir. I’ll clean that up,” he promised, rubbing the back of his head. “If you want, I can call animal control to deal with it.”

At that suggestion, Miles frowned. “You will not be calling animal control. It is a cat; we can handle it ourselves.” He cast his gaze upon the cat again, who yawned—apparently it was no longer frightened, and was about to curl up for a nap. “Seemingly, we will have to play the waiting game until it feels comfortable coming down.”

“Why not just grab it after it falls asleep?” he suggested, immediately earning a scoff from the other man.

“Unless you enjoy being scratched, I would advise against that particular move. It will have to come down eventually, and I’d much rather it be on its will rather than us dragging it out.” Miles turned back to the detective then, folding his arms over his chest. “It could be a while. I suggest you return to work and come back later. We are in the middle of an important case, after all, and we do not have time to sit around waiting for the cat to move.”

Gumshoe hesitated, shifting his weight back and forth from one foot to another. He didn’t like the idea of leaving him alone with a stray animal, but after Miles raised his eyebrows expectantly, as if to say Well? What are you waiting for? he got moving and exited the room. With a sigh and one more glance at the cat, Miles took a seat at his desk and got to work.

Once he buried his nose in his work, it was easy to forget about the cat. He was too busy writing up his strategy for court, preparing his notes, and filling out any additional paperwork to spare too many thoughts for the feline slumbering up on his bookshelf—at least, not until the cat leaped down from its perch. Curiously, he set his pen down and leaned back in his chair, watching as the cat strolled over toward him.

It stopped near his feet to sniff him for a moment. Miles stayed perfectly still, not wanting to move and risk sending the cat running off again somewhere and having to repeat the whole process again. After a moment, the cat rubbed its flank up against his leg, evidently determining that he was not a threat anymore. “Why hello there,” he said in a gentle voice.

The cat turned its head toward him, rubbing its chin along his leg as it looked at him; Miles couldn’t help but smile at the sight. It was definitely leaving a few streaks of black fur on his pant leg, but did that really matter? This creature, this adorable little feline, liked him. That realization alone was enough to make his heart soar.

Tentatively, he lowered a hand to hold it near the cat’s face. He didn’t dare try to pet it immediately, letting it approach him first at its own pace. It gave his fingers a curious sniff before ducking its head into his palm as if it was asking him to give it a few pets. Miles did exactly that, lightly stroking his palm backwards on its head. Apparently that was the right move, because then the cat was purring—and oh god, he didn’t think his heart could get any bigger in size.

“Why, aren’t you the sweetest little thing?” he remarked, continuing to pet the cat. He even let his hand move down to its back, running along its body several times before returning to its head to scratch behind its ears. “I wonder where you came from. You don’t have a collar…”

That begged the question of how the cat even got into the building and up into his office in the first place, but Miles honestly couldn’t be concerned with that at the moment when the cat was making the most adorable sounds. He continued petting the cat for another few minutes before reluctantly pulling his hand back. “I wish I could keep petting you, but I do have work to do,” he sighed.

Before he could scoot his chair back in, the cat leaped up into his lap and laid down on top of his legs, effectively trapping him there. Miles let out an amused chuckle as it made itself comfortable on his lap. “All right, message received. I suppose I can pet you and continue working at the same time.” With one hand, he picked up his pen again and continued on where he left off, while the other hand began petting its side in long, slow motions.

By the time Gumshoe returned to his office several hours later to check on the cat situation, said feline had been sound asleep on Miles’ lap for some time. “Wow! It really likes you, sir!” the detective exclaimed when he noticed the cat tucked into his lap.

Miles smiled. “Yes, it certainly appears that way. I must admit, I’ve grown rather fond of her.”

“So what are you going to do with her?” Gumshoe inquired.

“As much as I would hate to part from her now… I would like to bring her to the vet to see if she has been chipped. If not, I will put up lost posters to see if anyone has lost their cat,” he explained.

“And then what?”

Miles looked down at the sleeping cat in his lap, giving it another affectionate pet. She did not wake up. “And then I will adopt her if no one claims her as theirs. Like I said, I have grown rather fond of her. Pess could use a friend when I am not home.”

Gumshoe beamed. “That’s a great idea! And you could even bring her into work sometimes, she really seems to be at home in your office!”

It actually wasn’t a terrible idea. Miles knew if he did it all the time he wouldn’t ever be able to get any work done, but if he did it every once in a while… well, then he would just have to work late to make up for lost time during the day.

“Maybe I should start bringing Missile in with me occasionally! I bet he and that cat would make great pals! In fact, let me go see if I can bring him in from the precinct…” With that, Gumshoe rushed out the door.

Miles couldn’t help but smile down at the cat once more. Today had been a very good day.

#ace attorney #miles edgeworth #dick gumshoe #ask #fanfic #halloween prompt requests #ash writes #not sure if this was supposed to be a romantic ship request but i wrote it as platonic #mostly bc i wanted to focus on him and the cat :) since i think he deserves to have animals trust him after everything #also sorry this took so long to post i kinda got carried away with the length of this one lol

[averagewriter-inthedark]

My Heart Will Go On 🤍 | Bradley Bradshaw Imagine | Titanic AU

Set where Bradley falls in love with a first class passenger aboard Titanic

TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: third class!Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x first class!female reader (romantic), Natasha Trace x Jake Seresin (romantic), Robert Floyd, Mickey Garcia, Reuben Fitch, Javy Machado, OCs for family members.

Content Warnings: fluff, major angst, profanity, classism and mentions of sexism & misogyny, historical event disaster, death, emotional, light smut-Minors DNI! | female!reader (she/her) wc: 18.3k (this is long be warned)

Requested 📨 yes/no (rules for requests)

Premise: On Wednesday April 10th, 1912, RMS Titanic set sail from Southampton, England on her maiden voyage to America. She carried thousands of passengers from across the world, including 21-year-old American socialite Y/n L/n. No one could have predicted the outcome the ship they said was unsinkable would endeavor. And for Y/n, never did it come to her she’d be boarding a ship with a path of leading her to her soulmate.

Note: Y’all I literally was a MESS during the final few scenes I wrote—I literally had to stop because I was crying. It didn’t help I was playing the Hymn of the Sea and My Heart Will Go On and envisioning the scenes as I wrote them. It was too much really—and I always cry at the end of the movie so it felt the same. Please not this is NOT an exact retelling of the movie plot, i referenced a lot but also did research on the real story of titanic (for example how it was a moonless night so it was very dark). Anyway I’m sorry if this made you a mess like it did to me….we can cry together.

———————————-

1958

“Grandma, can you tell us the story about how you met Papa?”

Crickles rose next to her eyes when she softly smiled, bringing the bed sheet up to tuck in the children. Only the dim light from the candle lit the room. Down the hall, the faint sound of Frank Sinatra’s “Fly Me To The Moon,” on the record player could be heard. She didn’t even hear her daughter, the children’s mother, come in.

“Honey, you both need to sleep,” the woman knew the subject was a sore one for her mother and father, despite being why they met. In her nearly forty years of life, she’d only heard the story first hand from them once. Any other information was the lectures in history class of the historical tragedy. “We have a long drive ahead of us tomorrow so you need to be well rested,” her look was scolding, causing the children, ten and twelve, to pout.

“Pleaaase.”

“Amelia.”

“It’s only half past eight, mama.”

“Yeah, please just one story,” Rebecca pleaded with her sister, “You said they met on a boat like the one we went on last summer!”

Their mother hushed them, “No, I said they met on a ship—that’s very different from the little steamboat your uncle and aunt have.” Her voice goes lower, careful to not to disturb her father from down the hall, “and what did I tell you about asking such things?”

“Sweetheart, it’s alright,” the older woman finally stepped in, casting a soft look to her daughter.

She didn’t look convinced, aware of the painful memories the story would bring up. Losing friends and family so suddenly on what was supposed to be the journey of a lifetime. “Mom…..”

“Trust me, Cynthia, it’s okay. You need not to worry about me,” she turns to her grandchildren who appear confused and a little ashamed for causing their mother to scold them. “I think it’s time these little ones get a little history lesson about your father and I. How the Bradshaws came to be.”

“Are you sure?” Cynthia stepped further into the room. She didn’t want to admit it, but she too wanted to hear the story again. The first time had been when she was eighteen, confronting her parents after she found newspaper clippings and the ticket for a first class passenger reading her mother’s name, Y/n L/n, stashed away in a box when they were moving. That’s when they sat her down at the table detailing everything from start to finish.

By the time her parents finished telling the story Cynthia was in a puddle of tears. She understood why her parents always had a haunted look in their eyes whenever April 14th rolled by. It never left them until the 16th, since the 15th was just as significant. Her older sister by eight years, Caroline, warned her to refrain from asking their parents about how they met and she soon realized why. After doing the math, her sister’s birthday was exactly nine months to the day, born on the 14th of January in 1913.

As she got older Cynthia met more children like her. Those whose parents, grandparents, uncles, and aunts were among the nearly 2,300 passengers and crew aboard. Children whose family members survived had the same look when the anniversary passed. Just like Cynthia’s parents.

“Mom,” she took a seat on the armchair in the corner of the room, “I don't want you to relive it if it’s too much.”

“I appreciate your concern, honey,” Y/n smiled at her, “but I’ve learned to cope and manage. Your father has too,” she watched Cynthia visibly relax. “In fact, he and I have talked about it a few times since you left home. And I promise to keep it short—and not go into detail about….you know,” she didn’t have to explain further for Cynthia already knew what she implied.

With a nod from her daughter, Y/n adjusts her position so she’s seated more comfortably, allowing the children and Cynthia to see her better. “To tell you the story of how Papa and I met,” she begins, the flicker of the candlelight reflecting against her. “We have to travel back forty-six years. To April tenth, nineteen-twelve…..”

“Hurry, Y/n, we’re gonna be late for check-in!” Her father shouted from in front of her, moving at a fast pace with her mother and younger brother. Clutching a bag in each hand, Y/n tried not to trip while apologizing left and right to people she bumped with. The dress she had on was tight, the skirt brushing against her ankles and Y/n wished she opted out of wearing the pillbox hat her mother insisted she wore.

“Sorry!” She said when she caused a man to drop his basket of apples. “I’m so sorry!” As much as she wanted to help she couldn’t, the whistle of the luxurious ship sounded off in the near distance, resulting in more stress to consume her. Her family was supposed to be dropped off right in front of the dockway, but due to a rough start in the morning they ended up getting caught in traffic just before the turn into the lot. Now they were running with little time until the ship would set off for Cherbourg, France, the first of two stops before sailing to New York.

It wasn’t a classy sight for such a wealthy family. Surely their fellow first class passengers were watching them with disapproval. But then again they always did.

The L/n’s were not your average high class family. While the majority of the first class aboard came from generations of money, Y/n’s father built his real estate business in New York from the ground up after being in the working class for thirty years. They were what you would call ‘new’ to the high class scene and still did things working class people did. She and her brother went to public schools instead of private institutions. They didn’t have an army of maids and butlers in their home, her mother preferring to do the housework herself. Y/n was in her last semester of NYU with passions of being a writer. And her father was very involved in his business despite making it big to the point he could just hire a bunch of people to run it for him.

To them, money was a privilege that could easily be taken away at any point. They were humble in their wealth, sharing it by putting resources into the low income neighborhoods they once lived in. Unlike their newfound peers who’d rather stockpile it away for safekeeping.

Yeah, even with money you hide away from judgment.

Out of breath already, Y/n finally reached the corner her parents had just turned to arrive at the docking platform. There was no stopping the awe-struck expression in face the second her eyes landed on the giant vessel. The smell of fresh paint struck her nose, gaze drifting to the large lettering that sent chills along her arm.

Titanic.

The rumors did no justice when describing the beauty of the ship. Titanic was magnificent. She wondered if her parents were as captivated as she was.

“Y/n! Come one!”

Scratch that thought. Maybe they weren’t.

Picking up the pace, Y/n hauled up onto the platform with her ticket in hand, amazed she didn’t drop it in the chaos.

“Ticket please,” the man dressed in a White Star Line uniform said with his hand out. Her parents and brother were standing off to the side, now taking in the beauty of the ship since they made it on time.

Handing over the paper, the man read over her information and stamped it, allowing her to pass where another man was waiting to escort them to their suite. Settling in Y/n unpacked her gowns and nightwear, hanging them up to prevent wrinkles. Makeup and what little jewelry she had filled the vanity, school books claiming the nightstand. When she finally finished her back hit the bed with an audible huff of relief, sinking into the mattress adorned with fine silk sheets.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” her father said when he found her just a short moment later. “Lunch will be served and my colleague wishes for us to join him and his son. He’d like for the two of you to meet.”

Instantly Y/n bolted up from the bed, suspicious in her eyes, “Why?” There was no denying the possible reason. At 21 years old, finding a suitor to settle down with was expected of her. Personally Y/n wanted to focus on her studies. Not finding a husband. Her parents never pressured her to find someone, but now it seems her father was suggesting such.

Her mother comes into the room, wearing the same expression as her. Her eyes go straight to Y/n’s father, “I told you, I don’t like that man—nor his son. He has no respect for you and you know that!”

“I know that, dear,” he sighs, exhausted in his tone. “Believe me I’m very aware. Look, I’m not trying to set her up on my own accord—in fact, I’ll be happy to decline a proposal if that is what he’s seeking. But he invited us to have lunch with them and I accepted because that’s how things are done. Honey,” he faces Y/n, giving her an assuring gaze, “I’m not pressuring you into anything. Okay? If I said no to this he’d likely pester the entire journey to America and I did not want that for us. So please, give me an hour of your time to get through this meal? Bore the man if you have to so he’s less interested.”

Y/n was eternally grateful she was blessed with a father who did not engage in the typical high class behaviors. Any other man would be presenting her hand in marriage like an auction. She’d seen it with the few friends she’d made. It always started with a ‘meeting’ arranged by the fathers of two people and before they knew it a rock was on the girl's finger.

Her father respected her. He warned her before she sat at the table and found out for herself. Even given his blessing to scare the man off or assuring he’d say no to a proposal. Not many fathers would do that.

“Thank you for telling me in advance, dad. I’m starving too so let’s get this over with,” she makes a face, knowing what he was going to ask of her next. “And I promise to watch my tongue.”

That didn’t last long. She knew the second she sat at the table it wouldn’t. Not only was her father’s colleague the most arrogant man on the planet with no respect for his peers, but his son was as equally the egotistical maniac as he was. Throughout the entire lunch, Y/n didn’t know who exactly was trying to win her affection. Both men seemed to be trying to one up the other. How odd of the father for doing such when it was thought he planned for his son to hopefully become her suitor.

Not the case really.

One comment from Richard to undermine her intelligence had Y/n bolt from the table with a sneaker remark, disregarding the looks of disdain from the two men and others. Her parents remained invested in their meal, shooting a smirk of approval to their daughter.

“You promised me this would be a mutual agreement!” The man shouted in frustration. Her father simply sipped his champagne.

“I promised no such thing, William. I said your son may meet my daughter, but I made no commitments for her to agree to anything more.”

The fresh air and sound of the sea hit Y/n as she stepped onto the deck, overlooking the rear of the ship where the second and third class decks were. Closing her eyes she took a deep breath before slowly letting it exhale. Men like Willam and Richard were not the first she’d interacted with. Unfortunately most of the male population in high class shared personalities in similar nature.

Egotistical, arrogant, narcissistic. The list goes on. Very little respect for women or those of lesser wealth. Y/n prayed she’d never settle for someone like that. The marriage would be a disaster.

Opening her eyes, Y/n rubbed her hands along the smooth railing before slightly leaning over to get a better look. Murmurs filled her ears, children laughing from the lower decks, the band playing a light melody. It was a pretty scene with the sun high in the sky and seagulls flying overhead. They’d be docking in France soon before stopping in Ireland until finally crossing the Atlantic.

As her eyes drifted over the area, Y/n locked gazes with a man who made no attempt to hide he was staring at her. It caught her off guard, but the young woman couldn’t let but stare herself. He was the most handsome man she’d laid eyes on. Brown hair with almost a golden hue to it. Though it was hard to see the color of his eyes from the distance she assumed they were as beautiful as the rest of him. He was tall—even with the distance she saw in the way he towered over the railing he was beside.

And he was looking at her like she was the only girl in existence.

Blinking, her admiration was cut short by the sound of a cheerful voice shouting, “Y/n!” Spinning around, Y/n was met with the dazzling smile of her best friend, Natasha Trace. Surprise etches her expression.

“Natasha!” The two embrace in a hug. “What—you didn’t tell me you were returning to America. I thought your studies were to finish in London.” Natasha was the only genuine friend Yn had made since her father hit the money pot. Maybe it was because Nat’s family was of humble beginnings like the L/n’s.

“I discussed the potential of finishing the semester early,” Natasha explained, beaming and looking radiant with the way the sun was hitting her. “My father sent a ticket through the post once I told him the news.”

“When was this?” Y/n had recently visited the woman when her family were in London. Her father had a business convention and with the finishing of Titanic, he wanted them to be one of the ships first passengers. During her visit, Nat revealed no indication she’d be joining the maiden voyage to New York.

“Shortly after you departed for Southampton. I only had few exams remaining and my professors were very forthcoming with allowing me to do them early. Plus I missed home. My mother has been writing me daily it seems—waiting for me to come home. I think my father spent all his fortune to get the ticket to me in time.”

“I’m amazed he managed to get one,” Y/n commented, taking her arm in hers as they begin to walk away from the railing, but not before casting a second glance to the man on the lower deck. A swarm of butterflies filled her to see he was still looking at her, his friend having to wave a hand in front of his face as though to pull him from a trance. Another gentleman beside him appeared to be staring at Natasha. She must’ve noticed, a faint blush appeared on her cheeks as Y/n escorted her away. “I heard many had to trade services and goods to get one.”

“I can see why,” Natasha waved to the beautiful vessel surrounding them. “This place is magnificent. Almost as though it were a ship made of dreams.” They continued to walk along the deck, nodding to passengers and crew members who greeted them.

“What are your plans once we arrive home? Off to visit your family I presume?”

“Yes,” Natasha confirms, waving to a small child. “I’ll spend a few days with them—my sisters cannot wait to hear of my adventures in England.”

Y/n hums, turning her head slightly with a knowing gaze, “And what of Alan?” She watched a tired sigh leave Natasha, face becoming defeated.

“He expects an answer from me as soon as I return.”

“Have you thought about it?”

“Of course,” Natasha replies, stopping to face her. “I’ve weighed in the advantages marrying him would bring me and my family—my mother is sure to remind me in every letter she writes. He is kind, generous, not like the other men my father wished me to court.”

“But….” Y/n trails off, eyes sympathetic.

“But,” her friend sighs again, “I do not feel what a woman is supposed to feel for her potential fiance. I can’t bring myself to love him. I like him, Y/n, I truly do. But I’d only be hurting the both of us by accepting.”

“Then tell him the truth,” Y/n tells her, bringing a comforting hand to Natasha’s shoulder. “Alan is an understanding man—you’ve been a friend of his since grade school. I doubt he would fault you for not being able to return his affections. Why subject the both of you to pain and a miserable marriage? What happens if you marry him and then fall in love with another?”

Natasha didn’t answer, glancing to the floor with heat coating her cheeks. Y/n squeezed the shoulder she was touching, “Come, let us have a drink,” she began to lead Nat to one of the many lounges in first class, “Take your mind off things while I tell you all about the father and son I recently had lunch with.”

“That sounds interesting…and a little concerning.”

“Trust, dear friend, it was.”

Later on in the evening, Y/n was pulling Natasha to her room to hand over clothing for her to change into.

“This is a horrible idea, Y/n!” She spoke in a rush, untying her dress and moving to be hidden from view.

“Oh it’s not so bad,” Y/n laughed, tossing the clothing she wore on the bed before pulling on the slacks and shirt. “Have some fun. Were you not the one who wanted to explore the ship earlier?”

“Not by sneaking into the third-class compartments!” She waved a hand like it was obvious, “We’re not allowed down there. What if we get caught?”

“That’s why I told you to have your ticket with you,” Y/n reminded her, placing her own ticket into the pocket of her trousers. “And your identification card. If we get caught we show them and if they still do not believe us I will send for my father.”

“You’re awfully confident about this.”

“Natasha, who’s to say we’ll get the chance to travel this ship again once we dock in America? Let us make the most of it while we can.” Placing a scarf around her neck, Y/n nods for Natasha to follow. “Follow my lead.”

Getting caught by crew members when passing between the class decks was what Y/n was prepared for when she first made the impulse decision to explore the ship. Running into the man she had a staring contest with earlier in the day was not something she had planned for.

“Hello,” she breathed out, hands clutching his biceps when he caught her before she could hit the ground after running straight into him without paying attention. He was even more beautiful up close. Hazel eyes boring into her with a small smile painting his lips. He must’ve recognized her too.

“Hello.”

“I think we lost them,” Natasha caught up to her, equally out of breath before freezing at the sight of the group of six men staring at them like deer in headlights. “Oh…”

“Ladies,” the blonde haired man, who Y/n caught looking at Natasha that afternoon tipped his messenger boy hat at them.

“S-sorry,” Y/n stuttered, flickering between the men but always coming back to the one holding her arms. Finally she broke away, embarrassed to have been seen in such a state. “I should have been watching where I was going—.”

“It’s alright,” he replied, voice as soft as his eyes. “No trouble at all, ma’am. Are you both okay?”

“We’re—.”

“There you are!” A shout captured all’s attention, Natasha and Y/n groaning before shooting apologetic frowns to them. “Stop them!”

“We have to go!” Nat grips onto Y/n’s forearm, pushing her to move. “Y/n, I’d like to make it back home and not be forced off this ship in Ireland!” Frantic sounds of approaching footsteps could be made out by the two crew members pursuing the women.

“We know a way,” the man she had yet to learn the name of suddenly said, holding his hand out. “C’mon.”

Maybe it wasn’t wise for two ladies to be following a group of strangers. But considering they’d be facing the wrath of their parents if caught they impulsively agreed, Y/n’s hand taking his. The blonde offered his to Natasha, the woman looking hesitant before accepting and the two led them away from the deck and towards a corridor. With the remaining of their group following from behind, it made it easier for the crew members to lose sight of them.

Music filled their ears, as did the chatter of a crowd the closer they got to wherever they were taking them. Y/n and Natasha shared a look, equally confused, concerned, and intrigued. When they turned the corner into a spiral stairwell, it revealed the source of the noise. Third-class passengers had gathered what appeared to be a celebration. Children and adults were dancing, drinking beer which had to have been smuggled in. A group of men were playing instruments while couples standing in corners displayed affection to one another.

A smile formed on Y/n’s lips. The energy was contagious, making her want to join in on the festivities. She’d almost forgotten what brought her there in the first place.

“They won’t come down here,” his voice brings Y/n out her thoughts, the young woman remembering she was still holding his hand. It felt warm in her own, bringing a heat to her veins that carried to her face.

“Are you sure?”

“They would’ve been here by now if they were that desperate to catch you two.” Pulling her further in, he and his friend let go of the women. “Apologies for being so forward—didn’t think you two would mind seeing you were in such a hurry.” A couple of the friends they were with already went off to mingle, leaving the four off to the side.

“We should be thanking you really,” Y/n replied, hand moving to run her arm nervously. “You’ve saved us from a load of trouble.”

“Looked like it,” the blonde removed a cigarette from his tin, lighting it with match. Offering one to them only Nat accepted, which would’ve been seen as scandalous to their peers above. “So…what brings a couple of first-class gals below deck?”

The two are instantly flustered, “H-how did you—.”

“Well, for starters there’s the fact we saw you ladies this morning on the first-class deck,” Green eyes drift over to Nat, causing her to blush. “And though you dressed the part to pass as someone like us, anyone could tell from the way you carry yourselves that you belong above.”

They didn’t know whether they should be impressed or offended.

“We wanted to explore the ship,” Y/n admits, arms going behind her back like a child caught doing something they weren’t supposed to. The man she was interested in raised a brow, “By dressing up like third-class passengers?”

Natasha made a sound, muttering, “I warned you this was a bad idea.”

“I realize that now, Natasha.”

“What are we supposed to do?” She groaned, “Wait it out till the sun rises? Or when we dock in Ireland when they’re easily distracted?”

“Do you want me to answer that with a plan or were those rhetorical questions to further prove you were right?” Y/n glanced around the place, aware of her friends' annoyed gaze compared to the men who looked amused. Huffing, Y/n faces them, “It’s come to my attention we have yet to know the names of our saviors. Mind telling us, and anything you could offer to help our situation.” Instantly the two straighten.

“Jake Seresin,” said the blonde.

“Bradley Bradshaw,” his hand extends to formally introduce himself. Y/n shakes it, mirroring the smile he gives her. “And about your situation, I’m afraid you can either attempt to sneak past the guards during shift change or like your friend mentioned, wait till we dock in Ireland.”

“That’ll be just before noon,” Natasha sounded like she didn’t like that option. “Your parents would notice you’re not in your room when it comes time for breakfast. We must return as quickly as possible.”

Bradley tilted his head, “Well if that’s the case then you better off with your chances sneaking past the crew, Miss…..” The trail off in his words made her realize she hadn’t given her name. But then again he may have heard when Natasha said it moments prior.

“Y/n L/n,” his reaction to her name was visible. As was Jake’s when she added, “and this is my friend, Natasha Trace.”

Both men shared a look. “L/n, huh? Like the name of that big building on 21st street?”

“That’s the one,” her lips tightened, ready for the judgment and assumptions about to be thrown at her.

Nat felt the same when Jake added, “And your daddy is the one competing with Rockefeller for king of the oil business. I remember reading something about it in the Times.”

“I wouldn’t go as far as to use the term ‘king,’” she crossed her arms, tilting her chin up with her walls already in place. “And I wouldn’t trust all you read in the papers. My father has high respect for John—he taught him everything he knows.”

Jake raised his hands in defense, “I mean no offense, ma’am. How about you tell me more over a drink?” The look of surprise had the man grinning, Y/n having to bite back a giggle to not embarrass her friend. She gave Natasha an encouraging nod that read, ‘he’s on the make with you!’

“While you two are chatting,” Bradley suddenly cut in, a determined look in his eyes as they set on Y/n. “Would you like to dance?”

“O-oh,” she began to stutter, now in Natasha’s shoes considering she had yet to accept Jake’s offer of a drink. They both were hesitant to agree to the offers. “Uh—shouldn’t we be looking to see when the night guards change shifts?”

“That’ll be towards dawn,” he assured, “plenty of time for you to return to your room before your parents wake.” At her still unsure gaze, Bradley’s voice turned softer, “just one dance. S’all I ask.”

Meeting Natasha’s eyes, who simply nodded in silent exchange, Y/n raised her hand and let it fall into Bradley’s grasp. “One dance, Mr. Bradshaw.”

“Did you really only dance with him for one song, Grandma?” The twelve year old girl, Amelia, was flabbergasted when her grandmother ended the story with, “and we lived happily ever after.” She yearned to hear more.

“That was the plan,” Y/n booped her nose, “but your Papa was a charmer back in the day—still is I should say. One dance became two, and then three. Before we knew it the sun was rising, Natasha and I were in a hurry to return to the first-class deck. Thankfully we made it before anyone could spot us,” lips curl up, a fond memory surfacing in her head, “though to this day I believe my brother knew what we did.”

“How?” Rebecca asked, earning a look from her mother.

Y/n chuckled lightly before responding, “He had that look in his eye that he knew something I didn’t. I never got the chance to ask him if he did,” a sad sigh leaves her, but she quickly masks it to not concern the girls, “but my brother and I had an unspoken connection when we were growing up. Able to know what the other was thinking or trying to imply with little to no words at all.”

“What happened after?” Amelia sat up straight, eyes full of hope. A hopeless romantic, even at a young age, she loved hearing the tales of how people found love. Fairytales were her favorite, where the princess meets the handsome prince and they live happily ever after.

The clock was pushing 9:30, well past the time she and her sister were supposed to be asleep. Amelia believed her mother would’ve stepped in earlier to cut the story short.

And it looked like she was about to do it just then. Standing from the armchair, Cynthia stopped her mother before she could answer, knowing the story was about to take a different turn if it went any further. “I think that’s a story for another day,” her tone was apologetic, but Y/n’s gaze assured her she was right to interrupt. The story would end on a happy note for the girls.

“But—,”

“You mother is right, sweetheart,” Y/n lightly pushed against Amelia’s shoulders to get her to lay down, bringing the sheet back up. Disappointment filled her granddaughter’s expressions, Y/n offering a small smile, “One day, I will tell you both more of my time on Titanic—and how your Papa and I fell in love in those short days sailing the Atlantic. But for now,” she goes to press a kiss to their foreheads, “sleep. We will have breakfast in the morning—I’ll even make French toast for you two.”

Though the girls wanted to hear more, the exhaustion soon took over, both releasing a yawn. Amelia drifted off, picturing Titanic and all its beauty from how Y/n described it, making a mental note to ask to see a picture one day.

Cynthia kissed her daughters goodnight as Y/n blew out the candle, the two exiting the room with Cynthia closing it behind her, leaving it slightly ajar. Approaching the kitchen, Cynthia debated on asking the question on her mind, growing bigger with each second. Everett, her husband of 15 years, had already gone to bed in the guest room they’d been staying the past weekend, leaving her father as the only person other than them still awake.

Y/n was handed her nightly cup of tea from Bradley, the man leaning to kiss her cheek. Sipping the hot contents, she released a sound of content, his arm going around her while he sipped his own. Leaning against the doorway of the kitchen, Cynthia admires the scene in front of her. The look of love in her father’s eyes while he gazed down at Y/n, his own wrinkles adorning his face. Both grayed haired with skin beginning to frail as they approached their 70s.

Cynthia pictured them at 21. Young and carefree with dreams and aspirations. Her mother, a timeless beauty and her father, the handsome charmer. Boarding Titanic to return home after being gone so long, unaware they’d meet their soulmate and experience an event regarded as the deadliest peacetime disasters in history.

They were one of the lucky ones. Surviving when so many were lost, yet they had their fair share of perished loved ones. Cynthia saw it anytime Y/n mentioned her father and brother. Saw it when her father discussed the days he spent with his best friends.

“Little ones finally in bed?” Bradley’s voice removed her from her thoughts, Cynthia nodded when she realized he was asking her.

“Yeah,” she rubbed her arms, “they insisted on hearing a story from grandma.”

“Oh really?” he looked intrigued, peering down at his wife, “which one this time?”

Y/n tightened her mouth slightly, “About how we met.” Instantly his expression changed, but it wasn’t like in the early years where Bradley would shut down at the mere mention of Titanic. Instead a hint of a smile found his lips, knowing it was his granddaughter’s wanting to know how they fell in love.

“Oh,” he hums, shuffling his feet a bit and tightening the hold on Y/n. “What all did you tell them?”

“Up to the morning of the eleventh.” A laugh leaves him, making Cynthia mentally sigh in relief.

“What a night that was,” the memory of him and Jake ushering Y/n and Natasha through the secret pathways they’d found that led straight to first-class replayed in his mind. Peering behind the corridor at the night crew relieving themselves from post, giving only three minutes for the women to cross into the deck without notice. Bradley catching Y/n’s hand before she could leave, “May I see you again, Y/n? If not tonight but the next?” The eye contact between them was intense, desire and what could only be described as the beginning stages of love swarming.

Y/n promised to return, noticing Natasha was promising the same to Jake and handed Bradley the handkerchief she had on her. A kiss to her hand and Bradley watched her go, dragging Natasha away until they disappeared out of sight, leaving the men to avoid being seen as they headed back to the third-class compartments.

“One to remember,” Y/n echoes, leaning more into him. The image of her and Natasha giggling when they made it to her suite flashed in her mind. “I cannot believe that just happened! Oh, Natasha, do you feel what I am feeling? It’s like walking on a cloud!”

“Mom, dad?” Cynthia suddenly spoke, nervous she was about to make them upset by asking the jarring question nagging her brain. When their heads turned the words flew before she could stop them, “Could…could you tell me again about that night?”

Sunday April 14, 1912 started out like any other aboard Titanic. Y/n rose early to accompany her family at breakfast before meeting with Natasha for lunch. Throughout the day they’d reside close to the railing of the first-class deck to oversee the third-class one where Bradley and Jake would wait for them. Subtle looks and waves would be exchanged, the men subjected to howls and whistles from their friends.

In the days leading up she felt like she was living in one of her fairytale novels. The night of the 11th she and Natasha were formally introduced to Mickey, Reuben, Javy, and Bob when they snuck back during the shift change between day and night crew. Y/n enjoyed being with the group. They were funny and outgoing, very different from the men she was usually surrounded by.

Together they’d drink whiskey and smoke cigarettes, dance to the music passengers played and tell tales of their upbringing. Y/n learned Bradley and his friends were all aspiring aviators with backgrounds as mechanics and had grown up in the same neighborhood. He was originally from Virginia and lived in New Jersey with his Godfather after losing his parents to illness when he was sixteen and had no siblings.

Y/n told him about her family, explaining how they were once working class citizens until her father had a leading hand in constructing The National Association of Realtors. Bradley appeared impressed when she told him, finding admiration in those who worked hard for their wealth and not had handed to them on a silver platter. She explained her studies at NYU, dreams of being a writer—a novelist to be more specific, and hobbies of hers such as horseback riding, reading, and writing.

“What type of novels do you wish to write?” Bradley popped some chocolate into his mouth, offering a piece to her which she gladly accepted.

“Thrillers would be interesting to do,” she walked with him along the deck, the sound of the water hitting the ship loud against her ears. Jake had dragged Natasha off God knows where. The others were likely enjoying the company of their new Irish friends they made who boarded during the stop in Queenstown. “A good mystery could be fun. Also who does not like a happily ever after when it comes to love stories?”

“Think this journey may inspire one of the sort?” Bradley’s voice took a different turn, Y/n glancing to see he was already staring at her, a look she could only describe as adoration. It made heat rise in her, butterflies pooling that were threatening to burst from her stomach.

‘Is this what they mean when you’ve fallen in love at first sight?’

Feeling confident, returning the same gaze as Bradley, Y/n replies, “It is too early to say, but if what I feel happening is the same for you…. I find it very well could be.”

That night ended with their first kiss. Shared before the sun rose and Y/n made her leave to her room. Though she was scolded by her mother for missing breakfast due to sleeping in longer than she should have, Y/n didn’t care. The tingling sensation from where Bradley’s lips met hers remained all day, making the young woman yearn for more. A light feeling in her chest as though she was walking on a cloud. It grew stronger with each time she was with Bradley.

Hours were spent together once the night sky took over. Y/n departing for bed right after supper to get a few hours of sleep. When she awoke Natasha was knocking at her door and the two would sneak off—careful not to draw attention to themselves. The night of the 12th Bradley and Y/n crept into the area where the motor vehicles were stored. It was like a candy store for the man, who worked on cars for a living.

They’d play pretend with Bradley acting like Y/n’s driver. “My lady,” he’d say while helping her into the unlocked vehicle. “Why thank you,” her giggle made his heart skip, wishing to hear more of it. Y/n would lean over the seat between them while he leaned back, the two sharing kisses between laughs.

Two young adults living in their own little world. Slowly falling in love as the day turned into night. Each time Y/n left there would be a gaping hole in her heart. Drifting off to sleep with Bradley’s face as the last thing she saw. When the cycle continued on the 13th, all Y/n could think about was coming clean to her family. She could no longer deny there was love between her and Bradley. Despite only knowing each other for three days, Y/n saw his love for her each time they locked eyes. Every little touch had her wanting more. The words he spoke to her were like a poem, her hand itching to write them down so they stayed with her forever.

She wasn’t worried about them judging Bradley for his status. They were once in his position not even a decade ago. Discriminating him for being lower-class would make them hypocrites and just like their peers they criticize on the daily.

Y/n knew her parents wanted her to be happy. Regardless of who or where the person came from, as long as they loved and respected her then Y/n’s parents would accept them. Her happiness was their priority. It was why they constantly turned down marriage arrangements from her father’s colleagues. And when looking at all the qualities Y/n desired in a life-long partner, Bradley possessed all of them.

“Are you going to tell them?” Natasha raised her teacup to her lips, eyes unconscious flickering over the railing to find Jake. They were seated at a table, discussing the feelings rising between them and the men who’ve caught their eyes. Raising her own, Y/n followed her movements and saw Bradley kicking what appeared to be a ball with his friends and some children.

“I don’t know honestly,” she sighed, placing the teacup back on its saucer. Tiny sunglasses framed her face, protecting her eyes from the sun directly in front of her. “Do you plan on telling your family about Jake?” Now it was Natasha's turn to sigh.

“I guess I share the same fears as you. While I believe my father would approve of Jake, I’m scared he will worry too much about his public image. Of my parents, he’s the one with the most hopeful I say yes to Alan’s proposal.”

“Your mother doesn’t want you to marry Alan?”

“She doesn’t want for me to end up like her. Though she grew to love my father eventually, their marriage stemmed from their parents pressuring them,” Natasha’s gaze wandered back over to Jake. “It wasn’t until they had my siblings and I that she felt the love a wife is supposed to have from her husband—and that was because of us. Truth is, Y/n, I don’t think I see myself falling in love with Alan even if we have children.”

“Then be honest with yourself and your parents, Natasha,” Y/n finally said, declining when a server approached with more tea.

Her friend gives a look of challenge, “only if you do the same.”

“I will,” Y/n spoke confidently, before making a face of unease, adding, “when we arrive in New York.”

“And have you discussed this with him yet?” Natasha didn’t have to say Bradley’s name for her to know he was who she was referring to.

“No, but I will bring it up when I see him tonight. We’ve only a few more days till we’re stateside, that gives me time to prepare.”

Y/n was late to meet Bradley that evening due to Richard visiting her unannounced. “Apologies for the interruption this late, Y/n. But do you have a moment?” It took her by surprise, casting a worried glance to Natasha who mirrored it.

“Um, of course. Nat, I’m going to step out for a minute. I’ll be right by the door,” a nod from her friend and Y/n stepped into the corridor, closing the door so it was slightly ajar. “Yes, Richard?”

“I wanted to apologize for my behavior on Wednesday,” the words shocked her, Y/n visibly reacting to them as though she was in disbelief he was actually saying them. “I mean no offense to you and feel as though I was misunderstood in what I was trying to say.” It took every nerve of her to not roll her eyes. Of course he was trying to pass it off as her not understanding him. He was only a few words shy of calling her over dramatic. “If you allow me, I’d like for you to reconsider my proposal of courtship.”

Y/n stated the obvious, “You never offered a proposal, Richard. I took my departure before any proposal could be made.” Naturally he didn’t expect her to point out his flaw, thinking he could get away with gaslighting her into believing she rejected him when in fact there was no rejection at all.

Quickly Richard attempted to improvise, “Well, then allow me to make one now,” he removed his hat, placing it over his chest in a slight bow, “Would you do me the honor of courting you in hopes a beautiful, highly respected marriage may blossom out of?”

Now she was put on the spot, heart increasing well over the average beats per minute. No doubt Natasha was listening in, equally as anxious to hear what Y/n would say. Mentally cursing, Y/n fumbled over her words, “I-I…I must discuss this with my father in the morning. Surely you understand, Richard,” of course she wanted to say no, but without her father with her Y/n feared the outcome. Even with Natasha behind the door, there was no saying Richard could react negatively to rejection. “I cannot give you an answer just yet. B-but you shall have one by tomorrow evening.”

Though Richard obviously didn’t like her answer, he did a job of concealing it, “Of course. It was foolish of me to come so late in the evening—and to assume you’d agree without consultation. Please, take all the time and I look forward to hearing from you tomorrow. Have a good night, Y/n.” Once he was gone, Y/n leaned against her door and released a breath she had been holding, Natasha bolting from her chair with a, “What the hell was that?!”

After explaining in depth the details Natasha couldn’t hear and a much needed vent to cool off, the two finally made their way to the third-class deck just after midnight. They found Jake and Bradley in the meeting spot they’d established, sharing a cigar and asking what took them so long. The nervousness in Y/n’s demeanor worried Bradley, who gently pulled her away to give them privacy, “What’s wrong?” The one question had Y/n spilling everything off her chest. From Richard and his stupid proposal to her wanting Bradley to meet her parents.

“I’m very overwhelmed and don’t know what to do,” she cried, eyes lining with unshed tears threatening to spill. “The man is already acting as though I’ve said yes and there’s no way in hell I am going to end up in a loveless marriage for my entire life—not when you’ve taken claim to my heart, though it seems foolish to think you could fall in love with someone in just three days a-and I worry my family is going to say absurd things about your status when it shouldn’t define you because you, Bradley, are the most perfect man I’ve ever met and I love you—.” Her last words are cut off when Bradley’s lips meet her. Large hands cupping her cheeks, the scuff on his face burning her chin as the kiss turns more passionate. Y/n’s hands fly to his hair, soft curls against her fingertips and the woman letting out a light moan when Bradley slips his tongue into her mouth in what people would call French kissing.

Pressing her chest further into his, Y/n feels his arms fall to her waist, lifting her slightly off the ground all while continuing to keep his lips on hers. The wind brushes through her hair, cool air sending chills along her otherwise flaring skin.

“I love you,” he finally whispers against her lips, saying it once more before retraining them to hers. Nothing is said for the remainder of the night, the two finding claim to a storage room where they make love until dawn. The only sound exchanged are hot pants of breath and sighs, Y/n’s nails digging into Bradley’s back while his arms cradle her like she was made of glass. He brings her to a climax so many times she loses count. Moans grew louder to the point she feared someone would walk by and hear them. Bradley swallowed each with a kiss, holding her hand and becoming lost within her. If cloud nine was what she felt when with Bradley, then at that moment she was experiencing euphoria. Feeling the reminisce of him lingering inside her well after they were done.

Basking in the afterglow, Y/n laid her head on Bradley’s chest and felt his fingers trail along her back, making her release a sound of bliss, “Where are you going when we dock?”

It takes a second for him to answer, sleep threatening to consume the man, “Back to New Jersey with the guys—see my Godfather and probably go back to working in his shop. What about you?”

“My studies end in late May so I will return to school for the time being,” she replied, lifting her head slightly to see into his eyes. They were the same as hers. Content, blissed, overwhelmed with happiness. “After that….I do not know. My father I think wishes for me to assist him and my brother with the business. But I’d like to travel—see different places on my own.”

“You know,” Bradley hums, a smirk forming on his mouth, “New Jersey is only a short drive from New York—actually it’s across the harbor, the ferry will get you there quicker.” Y/n’s own lips curled up.

“Are you implying I come visit you in New Jersey, Mr. Bradshaw?”

“Only a mere suggestion Miss. L/n,” he defended, cheekiness in his tone. He then becomes serious, hand cupping the side of her face, “I don’t plan on letting you go after this. My heart won’t allow it. It won’t go on without you.”

It was probably the most romantic thing Y/n had ever heard. Better than any writing on paper and forever engraved into her mind. “I don’t think mine will either.”

All throughout the 14th, Y/n was in a constant inner battle with herself. Wondering how to approach the topic of Bradley to her parents and declining Richard’s proposal. Once they learn she’s no longer a maiden Y/n worried about what their reaction would be. If her father would make Bradley marry her right then and there—not that she would mind honestly but she didn’t know if Bradley wanted the same.

“What is wrong today, my dear,” Y/n flinched from the sudden intrusion. Coming up beside her was her father, placing a hand on the railing in her typical spot on the deck. Natasha had stepped away to find a powder room, leaving Y/n to herself until her father appeared. “You appear to be in distress. I find it difficult you can be in such a state when you’ve got a view like this,” he gestures with his hand to the scene in front of them. Nothing but the beautiful ocean and clear skies, the scene straight from a painting.

“I am only deep in my thoughts, father,” Y/n fidgeted with the material on her dress sleeves, looking away when she saw Bradley as the memory of that morning flashed in her mind. “Thinking about my studies and what to do after.” She heard her father make a ‘humph’ sound.

“Nothing to do with your little admirer then?”

Instantly her stomach fell, heat flaring within her, eyes wide like saucer. Snapping her head to her father, she found his gaze forward and when she followed it, Bradley stood in her vision. Dread consumed her, quickly trying to play it off, “I-I…I don’t know what you mean.” A chuckle fills her ears.

“Darling, I may be getting old but I still have eyes and ears,” a hand rests on her shoulder, pulling her closer. “Do you not think I’ve noticed a shift in you these last few days? Ever since Wednesday’s luncheon you’ve spent every moment of your time on the deck. The knowing glances between you and Natasha—how you two come to this spot every day and spend hours watching those fellas over there,” he lifts his finger to point in their general direction. Crinkles appear beside his eyes when his lips curl, “Not to mention I checked your room the other night to find it vacant. Then when I went to have my late night cigar, I saw you in the distance creeping out of the stairwell with Natasha—but you weren’t alone. Those fellas were with you..” his voice becomes softer while Y/n’s heart picks up pace. “And I know the face of someone smitten. And that one over there—,” he points directly at Bradley, who stood frozen when he looked up to find them staring at them. “He’s smitten with you, my dear girl. Trust me, I know, it’s how I look at your mother.”

While she felt a sudden rush of calmness from her father’s implied approval, the linger of worry still remained. “Are you upset with me, dad?”

“What for, Y/n?”

“Because…” She struggles to find the words and lets out a sound of frustration. “Ugh—I know you are not one to invest your time in gossip but I still cannot help but worry. About how people will view you and all the work you did to give us this life—with these high expectations of who I’ll marry and for me to—.”

He stops her before she could finish, “do you love him?” She’s taken aback by the question, stuttering at his bluntness.

“It—it’s only been four days—.”

“I knew I loved your mother within two,” he tells her, still smiling to help put her at ease. “But let’s not make it a competition. And you didn’t answer my question. Do you love him, Y/n.”

“I do,” she falls to a whisper, finally answering when she locks eyes with Bradley. She could tell he was worried for her, slight strain in his face as though he was trying to decipher what the two were discussing. Offering a small smile in hopes to show it was all okay, Y/n says, “I think I knew from the moment I laid eyes on him he’d be someone important to me. But then talking to him every night since we departed England has only confirmed what I already know. My heart belongs to him.”

With the seal of approval from her father, Y/n spent the rest of the day avoiding Richard—even hiding when she caught him and his father walking the deck in a hurry, as though they were searching for something. More like someone.

She and Natasha had supper in Natasha’s suite, gushing over their newfound happiness with their lovers. Y/n wrote in her diary every single detail so as to not forget it when she got older, capturing the memories in writing. While braiding Natasha’s hair the two discussed the brunette's plans for when they docked. “I’m going to come clean to my parents,” Natasha declared, trying not to move while Y/n finished with the first of two braids. “Tell Alan I cannot marry him and let him know I’m spoken for. He’ll understand…I hope. And for my father he will learn to accept it if he has any objections.”

“I’m happy for you, Nat,” Y/n smiled at her through the mirror. “Truly I am. You deserve to be happy—and Jake is smitten with you.”

“As is Bradley with you,” Natasha smirked, causing her friend to look away shyly. “Oh don’t be shy about it now! I know what took place this morning.” At Y/n’s horrified expression, Natasha laughed, “You were way more tired than usual when we returned to our room. And I couldn’t help but notice a slight struggle when you walked.”

“Good heavens, Natasha!” Y/n let go of the hair to cover her face with her hands, cheeks hot from embarrassment.

“Was it nice?”

“Are you seriously asking me that?”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” eyebrows wiggled at her, Natasha giggling as Y/n playfully tagged at the braid before moving to the next one. Moving on from the subject the two finished getting ready until it was the typical time for them to leave, silently thanking whoever above that Richard did not find her. She’d have to confront him eventually. It was that or pray she could avoid him the remainder of the journey—which was only a couple more days.

Bradley lifted her in the arm when she met him, capturing her lips in a kiss before placing tiny ones over her face. It made her giggle, his scruff tickling with each kiss. “Everything okay today?” was the first thing he asked, “I saw you and who I assume to be your father this afternoon. Looked to be a serious conversation.”

“He’s aware of our endeavors,” she spoke truthfully, not wanting to lie or sugarcoat the inevitable. At his anxious eyes she was quick to explain, “He knows I’ve been sneaking at night to see you—he caught me returning to my room. He doesn’t know about this morning….” She watched him bite back a smile, her own forming as the memory resurfaced. “But from our conversation, my father has no objections about us. He wishes to meet you once we dock.”

“He does?” His tone was surprised, Y/n nodding to show she was serious.

“Yes. I told him about your work and he was impressed. Is….is that okay with you?” Her voice goes low, fearful of his answer. A hand cupped her face, holding her gaze to his and Y/n felt her heart nearly stop at the love in his eyes.

“I would be honored to meet your father, Y/n. It disappoints me we have to wait, but I would wait longer if it means I get to receive his blessing.” Before she could say anything else he kissed her, thumb brushing over her cheek making Y/n sigh with bliss. There was no way she could let go of Bradley after they arrived in America. Even if her father had disapproved of them she’d find a way to see him.

Chills run along her body causing Y/n to shudder, the air suddenly dropping in temperature. The reaction has Bradley pull away, “Are you getting cold?”

“A little,” she mentally cursed herself for deciding on a dress instead of trousers and a coat. It was one of her old ones from when she was fifteen. It was ivory colored and a little worn out from wearing it so often as it had been Y/n’s favorite until she got the privilege of purchasing high quality clothing. Though a little tight on her figure it still fit rather good on her.

Removing his jacket, Bradley pulled it around her shoulders before fixing her hair and ignored her protests. It was freezing outside, their breath visible. Surely Bradley would freeze to death as his long shirt would do nothing to combat the cold.

“There you go, doll.” Her reaction to the nickname had him grin, “That should warm you up. Though I could think of another—.”

“Shall I remind you, Mr. Bradshaw, you’re in the presence of a lady and you should refrain from insinuating such scandalous remarks.” Biting his lip, Bradley leans down to hoarsely whisper, grinning at the gasp she releases when she feels his breath hit her ear.

“I don’t recall you reminding me this morning…”

The heat Y/n felt rivaled a fire in a chimney. Consuming her with every inch of her being, she could do nothing but grin while Bradley hid his face in her neck, peppering kisses throughout.

For the next hour they laid on one of the benches, talking of what their lives would be together as the stars danced above them. Y/n pointing out constellations from time to time, making a point to identify Sirius, the brightest star of all. They laughed. They kissed. They dreamed of the future. What their house would look like, “At least two stories. With a big backyard and a dining table to fit ten people.” How many kids they’d have, “Two would be nice, but I wouldn’t mind three. A little mini you and me running around.” If they’ll have animals, “a dog of course. Ooh—a chicken to have fresh eggs for breakfast and possibly a couple of goats.”

It was perfect. Complete and utter bliss.

But that disappeared in the blink of an eye. Right as the clock struck 11:40 pm.

“What’s happening?” Y/n lifted off of Bradley’s chest, sitting up straight by the sound of people shouting on the decks above. Following her suit, Bradley made a motion to stand when he caught sight of Jake and Natasha running toward them.

“What is it?”

“It’s hard to tell,” Jake was out of breath, face red with worry. “But I think I heard someone yell about an iceberg—.” An ugly sound rocketed before Jake could finish his sentence. Jolting movement on the ship deck had them all stumble, Y/n clutching onto Bradley’s side as his arm met her waist. Moments later an intimidatingly large iceberg appeared in their view. Slowly moving as the ship literally whined with effort to avoid collision. But it was to no avail as more striking sounds of ice hitting metal echoed in the night. Pieces fell onto the deck, the four moving slightly aback.

Moments later the ship's engines stopped. Dazed and confused by what they witnessed. Titanic had hit an iceberg. A large one at that. The sound alone was an indicator of how bad the collision was. Stressed shouts of crew members only further confirmed it.

They were left to wonder what would happen next. Were they waiting for the crew to assess the damage before restarting the engines? Would they even be able to? Were they already sending signals to other ships about their collision?

Leaning over the railing, Y/n found the reflection of Titanic’s lights staring back at her. The water was eerily calm, no doubt below freezing. Several other icebergs could be made out in the distance surrounding the ship if she squinted her eyes. With no moon in the sky it made it difficult to see.

Y/n anxiety increased when the thought crossed her mind, ‘Are we going to sink?’ She removed the thought as it appeared. No. There’s no way the Titanic would sink. She was deemed unsinkable by everyone involved in the making of her. She was designed to remain afloat even if four water compartments were flooded.

‘It’ll be alright,’ Y/n thought silently, trying to convince herself more than anything.

But that didn’t last long when Bradley and Jake’s friends rushed over not even twenty minutes later, their nightwear drenched in water and fear coating their eyes. “It’s flooding down there,” Mickey huffed, “all over the floors.” Passengers filled the deck, families huddled together as they awaited information. Mickey’s news sent dread to the young women. Flooding was never a good sign.

Something in Y/n’s gut was telling her to find her family. “I-I need to go,” she glanced at Natasha first and then Bradley, “I should find my father. T-they may know more on the upper deck a-and are not telling us how serious it is down here.” Bradley looked hesitant to let her go, Y/n’s voice turning softer, “I’ll come back. I promise I will—a-and I’ll find out what’s happening.”

“I’ll go with you,” Nat removed herself from Jake, the man wearing the same face as Bradley. “We should go now while the crew are distracted.” Without consulting further, Y/n picked up the skirt of her dress and hurried away with Natasha trailing behind. They made it past each deck, racing up the grand staircase to the level Y/n’s parents were to find them in evident distress. Several other members of their circle were also there.

One look at her father and Y/n’s heart dropped to her stomach. “Dad…” it took everything to remain calm, realizing her hands started to shake when he took them in hers. “What’s happening?” He didn’t want to admit the truth she already knew, but as she squeezed his hands the words left him, confirming the worst.

“Titanic’s taking on water,” the choked gasp was audible no matter how hard she tried to hide it. Her father squeezed her hand, “They’re preparing the lifeboats—you two should go gather some belongings to take with you.” At the mention of lifeboats Y/n mentally thought back to the ones she’d seen lining the ship deck. Counting, her heart further shrieked at the number she summed.

“There's only twenty,” she whispered, horror on her face. “T-there’s got to be three thousand people on this ship. Wha-what—how are they going to save everyone?!” Her voice grew louder with each word. Suddenly she went quiet, the realization hitting her. Behind her Natasha gasped, also realizing the obvious.

All the lifeboats were on the boat deck. Right above the first-class one.

“O-oh my God. They’re not going to be able to save everyone.”

“Y/n—,” her hands slipped from his grasp, “Y/n!!” She was running, skirts dragging along her ankles as she hurried down the path she’d just come from. Urgent footsteps behind her signaled Natasha following, the two women bumping into people without apologizing. Tears lined her eyes the entire way, wishing it was all a horrible nightmare she was going to awake from at any moment.

When she finally found Bradley she collided with him, oblivious to the fact his trousers were soaked in water. Too frantic she made no mind to ask where it came from. “We’re sinking,” she cried against his chest. Even in his arms it did nothing to ease her fear. “The ship’s sinking.”

“Wh-at? No, that’s not possible.”

“She’s unsinkable!”

“It must be a mistake—I’m sure they are working it out as we speak.”

It was utter chaos from then on out. Minutes passed where slowly the passengers would realize the extent of the situation. Cries of children and babies were heard, their parents attempting to calm them despite their own emotions surfacing. Y/n rushed to her suite with Bradley, the man unable to contain his awe at how luxurious the first-class compartments were. He stood like a fish out of water as she flung open her small makeup bag to place her diary, ticket, the few photos she had, and whatever small compatible items Y/n thought were valuable. Clothing and anything else could be replaced.

The door flying open caused her to shriek, Bradley stepping back when Y/n’s father appeared in the doorway. He let out an audible sigh of relief when his eyes landed on her, “Where have you been?” He stepped further into the room, Y/n’s mother and brother trailing behind. All froze at the sight of Bradley standing with her, her father being the only one to recognize him.

“Who’s this?” Said her mother, not shying from looking Bradley up and down. It made him blush, glancing at Y/n for help. But she was also at a loss for words.

“This is the boy I was telling you about. Now as much as I wish we were meeting in any other circumstance,” her father strolled up, closing the bag for Y/n and pulling into his hands while using his free hand to gently push her toward the door, “We need to get to the boat deck this instant.” As they were coming out they met Natasha and Jake, Bradley asking his friend where the others were.

“I don’t know,” Jake stressfully removed his messenger boy hat to run a hand through his hair, “Mickey went to find that girl he’d been shacking up with and Javy I-I thought was behind me.” Bradley gulps, sweat pooling at his hairline.

“We’ll find them,” he firmly states. “We’ll find them all.”

When they reached the boat deck they were faced with the grim reality. Less than two dozen lifeboats would not be enough to get Titanic’s 2,500 passengers to safety. She was going to take many down with her. Time was their emissary. Slowly ticking away by the second.

Coming to the end of the first hour since impact, Bradley brings Y/n’s attention to him when he sees they were only allowing women and children into the boats. Crew members were telling passengers it was only minor damage and they were only putting them in the boats for precaution. Sparks from flares shot into the sky, with hope neighboring ships would notice.

Bradley stared deeply into the eyes he loved, “Marry me.” The question stops the world around them, Y/n’s eyes becoming wide as saucers.

“W-what?”

“Marry me, Y/n,” his tone is serious. “Right now on this ship. Under the stars you love while in front of your family and our friends—i-if tonight…” he trails off, voice becoming shaky. It brings tears to Y/n’s eyes at what he was trying to say. “If tonight is my last night I don’t want to waste another second.” The reason he said ‘my’ instead of ‘our’ last night was knowing deep in his heart Y/n would likely survive instead of him. She would get on a boat and hopefully be rescued.

“Yes,” she whispered, no sign of hesitation in the answer. All the love she felt emitting with one word.

And so the unthinkable happened not a mere ten minutes later. Y/n standing in front of Bradley, hands entwined as the ship’s Chaplin read off vows they repeated. Y/n’s family had tears in their eyes, as did Natasha, Jake, and their friends—who managed to find them at the right moment. Other passengers stopped and stared, some looking on with unreadable expressions, mostly women who found the sight bittersweet. It was almost fitting considering Y/n was wearing a near-white dress.

When asked about exchanging rings Y/n went to say, “no rings,” but Bradley stopped her.

“I have this actually,” his hand goes to his trouser pocket, “It’s not a ring but I think it’ll do.” Removing what could only be described as the most beautiful necklace Y/n had laid eyes on, her mouth parted in disbelief. Diamonds lined the chain, coming down to surround a large blue heart-shaped gem. “It’s a diamond,” Bradley said softly, making Y/n’s eyes widen even more. Wondering how he acquired such a magnificent piece of jewelry that looked like it was worth more than anything she owned.

He must’ve read her mind because Bradley was quick to explain, “My father gave this to my mother when he proposed to her. He got it from his mother, who received it from his father on their wedding day. He never told me how our family came into possession of it, but I once heard him refer to it as the ‘Heart of the Ocean’.” How fitting when they were in the middle of the ocean, and Y/n had become the owner of his heart. “It’s been passed down from Bradshaw to Bradshaw as a gift from a husband to wife. My mother made sure to give it to me before she died,” bringing the necklace around her neck while still facing her, Bradley secured it into place, adjusting it so the heart laid on her chest. Above her own beating heart. “And now it’s yours.”

Hand coming up to her chest, Y/n felt the smooth cut edges of the diamond, tears falling from her eyes. “It’s beautiful,” she croaked, sniffing from the overwhelming emotion. “Thank you. I’ll protect it with my life. H-how did you—.”

“Before you came back to find me I made sure to grab it from my room.” So that’s why his pants were soaked. He went to get the necklace before the compartment flooded.

“I-I,” she stuttered, glancing behind to peer at her father. “I don’t have anything—.”

“Worry not, my dear girl,” the watch he always wore unclipped from his wrist. It was his favorite one, the only item he splurged on before they became wealthy. And now he was given it to Y/n’s husband.

“I can’t take this,” Bradley goes to object, but her father silences him. Y/n kisses the older man’s cheek, whispering “thank you,” as she takes the watch before placing it onto Bradley’s wrist.

“By the power invested in me,” the two hold hands once more, letting the tears fall freely. “I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the Chaplin turns to Bradley, “You may kiss your bride.”

Warm hands cup Y/n’s cheek, lips meeting in the middle to seal the act. No longer was she kissing the handsome stranger who caught her eye aboard the ship of dreams. She was kissing her husband. The man she was to grow old with. To explore the world. Raise children together.

Their fairytale was only beginning. But tragedy was on the horizon. Ending the journey before it could start.

Their friends clapped and cheered, her mother cried. Passengers and crew members witnessing offered nods of congratulations. Before long the happy moment was gone and replaced with the dread once more at the reality facing them. At first Y/n thought Jake and Natasha would marry next, spotting a ring on her friend’s left hand.

“It’s his class ring,” Natasha softly said, admiring the jewelry with glistening eyes. “I told him I’ll marry him once we reach land.” Taking her hand, Y/n squeezes and offers a small, encouraging smile, “We’ll make it the wedding of your dreams.”

The hour reached a half after one, almost two whole since the iceberg struck Titanic. They all gathered to the edge of the boat deck, Y/n’s father ordering her, her mother, and Natasha to put one on. As they did they could hear the crew member shout the same thing he’d been shouting the last hour and half. “Women and children! I need women and children!”

It was then Y/n realized why her father and Bradley were slowly moving them closer. “No,” she whispered, turning fully around. Over Bradleys shoulder she spotted her father speaking to her mother. Behind her children were crying out for their daddies. “I’m not going without you.” His hands met her shoulders. “Don’t ask me to get in that boat, Bradley.”

“You have to.”

“No.”

He squeezed her jacket clad shoulders, “Y/n, please do this for me. Get in the boat with your mother and Natasha. You guys will be safer there.”

“And leave you here!” She shouted, not caring who heard. Here was her newly wedded husband saying goodbye. “You married me not even ten minutes ago—a-and you’re already telling me to leave!?”

“As your husband I’m ensuring you make it off this ship safely! That is my priority—that you’re safe!” His own voice raises, hand going to Y/n’s jaw to force her to look at him when she fights his hold. Bradley was doing his best to keep calm for her sake, not wanting her last image of him to be where he’s scared out of his mind. Though the crew made efforts to conceal the truth, Bradley wasn’t blind. The water was rising closer to the deck, submerging the lower floors past the point of fixing.

Titanic was sinking.

“Don’t ask me to leave you,” Y/n closed her eyes, lip trembling to hold back the sob threatening to escape. “My heart won’t go on without you, Bradley.” It wouldn’t allow her to. Bradley was the keeper of her entire soul. Losing him would destroy her.

“Look at me,” his thumb caressed her cheek, running over her bottom lip to wipe the stray tear. When her eyes opened, Bradley brought her into a kiss. “I’ll find you,” he said pulling away, “Get it in that boat and I promise I will find you when this is all over. I won’t stop till I do.”

“N-no—.”

“I promise you, baby,” he says again, tightening the hold on her. “I will see you again.”

A choked sob left Y/n, pressing her lips to his desperately, the taste of salt hitting her tongue from the tears mixing in. “O-okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated, offering a watery smile. “Hey, I’m the luckiest bastard in the world. You’ve made me so.” They kiss once more, Y/n being passed to her father. She leaps into his arms, shaking against him when he tells her he’ll always love her and to take care of her mother.

“Thank you, daddy,” she cries, nuzzling her face into his chest and not wanting to let go. She didn’t have to explain because he already knew the meaning behind her words. ‘Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for always believing in me. Thank you for letting me open my heart to him and giving your blessing. Thank you for loving me.’

“I love you, my dear girl,” his lips meet the crown of her head. “I’ll see you soon.”

After hugging goodbye to her brother, who was refused by crew to board with them since he was seventeen and viewed as a young man rather than a child, Y/n followed behind Natasha and her mother onto the lifeboat. A crew member assisted, taking her hand, “watch your step, madam,” Y/n’s heart raced with each step, falling to the seat on the edge of the aisle, closest to where Bradley stood.

“I love you!” He shouted to her, going as far to lean over the railing of the ship, Y/n rising enough from her seat to offer one last kiss. It was brief, but she poured all her emotion behind it. A shout from the man in charge of the lifeboat yelled for her to sit and Y/n unwillingly listened. All the way down Y/n kept her eyes on Bradley, briefly meeting those of her father and brother. Jake was next to her husband, no doubt watching Natasha seated next to her.

Even when they landed on the water Y/n could not relax. As the crewmen paddled them away, the sight of Titanic was more frightening than she imagined. Growing worse by the minute. The dark blue section of Titanic lower levels were nearly submerged leaving only the decks above the surface.

“I thought it was unsinkable,” a lady gasped, making murmurs of worry echo among the passengers. Y/n shared a look with Natasha, finding the same emotion etched in the other's eyes. It increased when an unpleasant noise filled their ears, snapping their heads to see the rear of Titanic rising in the air, the front completely foregone in the sea. Without realizing it Y/n had stood from her seat, face wretched with horror.

“Oh my God.”

Hands flew to her mouth, gasps radiating behind at the sight of Titanic going dark. Barely could Y/n make out the vessel due to little light without the moon. It made Y/n strain her eyes, desperate to see what was happening. Praying to whoever above Bradley and her family aboard was on the side of the ship still afloat. Y/n’s breathing increased, feeling Natasha stand beside her.

Everything happened so fast after that. What sounded like gunshots rang out mixed with the screams of those still aboard fighting to make it in time to the rear of the ship. Metal and wood crunching caused bile to fill in her mouth, feeling nauseated by the overwhelming panic.

Whimpers escaped Y/n, becoming full force sobs when a horrible *crack* echoed in the night. Titanic had been split in half. And though hard to see in the dark, the sound alone of the moaning ship sent her into despair. Within minutes the rear half of Titanic lifted once more, fully disappearing out of view forever, leaving the cries of her passengers stranded in the 26 degree water desperately fighting to stay alive.

Y/n dropped to her knees, cries mixing with everyone else. The scene was too much to handle. Screams echoing in the darkness, utter misery to show the terror. She didn’t want to imagine how many people were trapped when the ship sank. All she pictured was Bradley’s face. His smile when the lifeboat descended. That one last look of love.

Then Y/n thought of her father and brother. Were they already at the bottom of the ocean? Or were they part of the hundreds screaming in the distance? The sound that was slowly becoming lower signaling their battle was with cold water was ending. Whatever the case Y/n didn’t want to picture their dead bodies—the thought only made her more devastated.

She cried for her mother. She cried for Natasha—who was in the same state as her. She cried for those on the lifeboat. But mostly Y/n cried for herself. For what could have been

For what should have been.

The screams soon drowned out. Leaving a ghostly silence as Y/n’s sobs returned to whimpers. Soon the exhaustion took over and she fell asleep against her mother’s chest. The cold air was a painful reminder of what had taken place. When Y/n awoke it was to the sounds of engines and for a moment she thought it had all been a nightmare. She’d find herself in bed with the sun peering in from the window. Hearing the footsteps of passengers leaving their suits to attend breakfast. And she’d go about her day the same way until it came time to see Bradley.

But it wasn’t a dream. Confirmed when her eyes opened to the dark skies turning an array of colors from the sun rising in the east. First she felt panic, then came the anguish and soon she was silently crying as her heart broke in two, hand coming to hold the diamond on her chest.

RMS Carpathia was their saving Grace. Y/n was pretty much a walking shell of a woman, reluctantly allowing the crew to help her onto the ship. A blanket was placed around her shoulders, a hot tea in her hand, the saucer shaking from her slight tremor. Guiding her mother and Natasha to a spot away from others, Y/n made no effort to drink the tea. She had no energy even though it would warm her up.

A piece of her was missing—forever lost in the ocean.

People stood at the entryway of where passengers were coming in. Hoping to find their loved ones among the survivors. Seeing Natasha peek around to get a better look, Y/n plainly said, “What are you doing?” Her tone was void of emotion, depicting her mental state.

“I heard someone say one of the lifeboats went back—they were searching for survivors in the water.” Instantly a wave of hope rose within her though Y/n was careful to not let it grow. Scared it’d only be met with heartbreak.

But then sandy hair caught her vision causing the teacup to fall from her hand, contents splashing onto the deck. “Y/n?” She ignored her mother, moving to stand on top of the bench a few feet away to overlook the crowd. Heart racing, she desperately searched for the owner of the sandy hair. She didn’t have to search too long.

“BRADLEY!!” The strangled cry escaped her, the man that stood roughly thirty feet away spinning around in a flash he nearly broke his neck. Y/n could see a girl resembling her beside him, Bradley possibly thinking it’d been her and was disappointed to find it wasn’t. Their eyes met, a mix of astonishment and relief, but most of all pure love pouring into their expression.

“Bradley!” Y/n yelled again, dropping from the bench just as he started to run in her direction. It was like slow motion. Y/n pushing through the crowd, frantically keeping her eyes on him to not lose sight.

“Y/n!” She heard him yell. The crowd between them separated and not a moment later Y/n was leaping into his arms, a sound mixed between a cry and laugh falling from her mouth.

“Oh God,” it was really him. He smelled of sea salt and shook like a leaf, but it was him, Y/n pulling away from the embrace just to make sure. “It’s really you.” His hands cupped her cheek, the feeling all too familiar.

“It’s me.”

“Y-you….I thought you were dead!” A tear trailed her cheek, his thumb moving to wipe it. “I saw the ship sink—and I could not see where you’d gone. How—?”

“The boat that came back,” he started to explain, voice shaking from the cold making Y/n stop a man with teacups, handing one to her husband. “I-I was on a piece of driftwood. It kept me from being…being in the water—.” He gulped, flinching as his eyes watered before closing them. Like he was trying to avoid the painful memory.

Now it was Y/n’s turn to hold his face, offering comfort in the best way she could.

“I-I tried get-getting them on but it was too small for a-all of us. Y-your….” He didn’t want to meet her eyes, shame and guilt visible in his face. “Your father wouldn’t get on—no matter h-how much I told him to. Your brother…” he trailed off, tears spilling from his eyes and Y/n brushed them away while fighting her own. Understanding what Bradley was trying to tell her. “And the others…..wh-what they held onto wasn’t enough to keep them out. I-I thought they’d be okay—I kept calling to them when I saw the boat—b-but they wouldn’t—they wouldn’t answer.” The last word ended with a sob, Bradley’s head dropping down onto Y/n’s shoulders as she held him.

They cried together, Y/n cradling the back of his neck with a hand and feeling the rock of his shoulders against her. Mourning the loss of their friends and family. Y/n grieving the death of her father and brother. When her mother and Natasha arrived, both with hopeful eyes turning into despair in seconds. Seeing Bradley in her arms knowing he was on the boat with the other survivors pulled from the water. Neither Jake nor Y/n’s father and brother with him.

Y/n felt Bradley remove himself from her hold. He looked broken, a shell of a man. Placing a hand in his pocket, they watched him take out an item they couldn’t make out. Only when he unfolded it did they realize what it was.

Jake’s hat.

Natasha let out a gut wrenching weep, covering her face with the hat when Bradley handed it to her before falling to her knees. “I’m so sorry,” a fresh wave of tears threatened to escape, Bradley unable to look at her without feeling the guilt for not saving the man she loved. Y/n moved to hold her friend, Natasha clutching onto her forearm while her mother silently grieved beside them.

All around them was a similar scene. Haunting and dreary. Completely different from the joyous celebration not even a week prior when Titanic sailed off on her maiden voyage. Carrying close to 2,300 people across the Atlantic. Some traveling to America for the first time or were on their way home. Now at least 700 of those passengers were on the Carpathia while the other 1,400 belonged to the sea.

The ship’s crew went around to collect names. Recording them to make it easier when going through the logs when they docked to account for all who survived and persisted. Y/n nearly forgot what name she was supposed to give. Boarding Titanic as a L/n but leaving as a Bradshaw. At the crew man’s confused eyes by the hyphenated name she gave Y/n simply stated, “We married as she sank, but the records will show Y/n L/n.”

Three days. It took three days for Carpathia to arrive in New York. The Statue of Liberty greeted her like an old friend, the people she carried unable to enjoy the scenery they’d been anticipating for so long. The sky rained as though it were crying in mourning. Grieving the lost souls instead of welcoming them.

When the ship docked, Y/n held onto her bag in one hand and Bradley’s arm on the other. Her mother and Natasha followed behind, displaying their grief in every movement. Stepping foot onto the pavement, Y/n let out a breath she’d been holding, feeling only a glimmer of relief at the fact they were home. “What now?” Bradley squeezed her hand, conveying everything in the simple gesture.

“We go on,” he admires the skyline briefly, settling his eyes on hers. “As best as we can we go on. We go on for them.”

“My mother was never the same after that night,” the cracking of wood in the fireplace echoed behind Y/n’s words while she sat on the couch beside Bradley in their sunken living room. Cynthia was across from them, wiping at her puffy face from time to time. Unable to control her emotions.

Y/n’s left middle finger unconsciously traced over the jewelry on her right hand. Her mother’s wedding rings. And nestled beneath her blouse was the necklace worth more than what remained of her family’s fortune.

“She nearly sent herself into an early grave trying to stabilize the business my father built from the ground up. Difficult to do back then when men wouldn’t respect a woman's authority,” Y/n smiles fondly at the memory of her mothers strong willed temperament. “My mother was an intelligent woman. She always prepared for the worst at times. And when deciding what to do about the company, she wanted to make sure our family would be okay if disaster were to strike again. It was like she predicted the fall of the stock market—-preventing us from being affected by selling our shares and interests years before the crash even happened.”

Cynthia thought of her grandmother. How hard it must’ve been to lose her husband and son so suddenly then having to become the face of the family. Her daughter discovering she hadn’t bleed since the week prior to boarding Titanic, the family doctor confirming the pregnancy not a day later. Never remarrying despite the many suitors itching to get a hand on the L/n fortune. Cynthia thought of how her grandmother would wake up bright and early every morning to watch the sunrise. Remembering the smell of her perfume and taking Cynthia and her sister to her favorite bistro for afternoon tea. Teaching them how to be independent women. Even on her deathbed as the illness consumed her right as America joined the Second World War, Y/n’s mother never lost her strength. Thinking of the memories had Cynthia missing her.

“And what about Natasha?” In all the years she’d been alive, Cynthia only heard her parents mention Natasha a handful of times. Each one was met with a distant look in her mother’s eyes, followed by grief until she thought of a happy memory associated with her, causing a small smile to form on her Y/n’s lips.

“She was never the same either,” the answer came with a sad exhale. “After reuniting with her family, Natasha spent several weeks at their family home. I visited her often while I finished my studies and did my best to comfort her in any way she needed. She ended up accepting Alan’s marriage proposal, but on the condition that they travel across America first before being wed. The journey would last several months, but in the end they wedded in Manhattan in the winter of 1913 and welcomed a son and daughter soon after,” the memory of Y/n holding Natasha’s son in the hospital flashed in her mind. “They were happy. As happy as they could be. But Alan, the amazing man he was, knew he couldn’t live up to what Jake was to her. The impact he made on Natasha’s heart. Yes, she grew to love Alan eventually—the birth of their children being the main reason she did—but he was not her true love. And he accepted that,” Y/n felt the lump form in her throat. As it always did when she thought about what came next for her friend.

Bradley’s hand rested on her knee, offering consultation knowing it was hard for her to think about Natasha. Her fingers interlaced with his, swallowing back the lump.

“After the end of the War—the first one—Natasha was traveling with her children home from a weekend visiting her parents. It was late and raining, difficult to see….a vehicle ran the sign and plowed straight into them.” Cynthia didn’t hear the soft gasp leave her mouth, her mother’s own tightening to prevent her lip from quivering. “She was gone instantly. Her children too. Alan was a mess as you can imagine—drowning himself in alcohol daily until I stepped in….”

“Wake up, Alan!” Y/n’s palm met his cheek after knocking the bottle from his hand. “What is the matter with you? Is this how you want to die?” She gripped the labels of his stained dress shirt to make him look at her, voice rising with each word. “By wasting away like some goddamn bum when you could be living for them. By continuing on instead of disgracing yourself or their memory. Natasha could have done what you’re doing when Jake died. And she watched him go down, unable to do anything and hear his screams go quiet as he lost his battle with survival. How do you think she dealt with that? She had every reason to not go on. Let the grief consume her and become the shallow of the person you’re on your way toward. But she didn’t!” Y/n let her emotion release. “She went on—she lived for him! And built a life with you—and you may not believe it but Natasha did love you, Alan. Maybe not the way you wished, but she loved you and you are disgracing it by doing this to yourself! Honor her and your children by finding the strength to live for them. Because so help me God, Alan, I will not watch you waste whatever is left of your life like this. You will die alone with no one to show up when it comes time to be there. The choice is yours.”

“Did he?” Cynthia couldn’t help but ask, “Did he eventually learn to cope?”

“He did,” Y/n smiled. It was a genuine one to show she was happy her friend made it through his hard times. “Alan moved to London about a month after that visit. He wrote to us often, telling about his adventures in England and even traveling across the channel to France where he continued exploring Europe. In 1921 he met a nice woman and married. They had a son and permanently resided in London,” Y/n’s tone went lower, the smile slightly falling. “The letters stopped coming in 1943–during the Second War. I do not know to this day what happened to him. If the bombings claimed them or if he died of disease,” she sadly shrugs, “I only hope he was happy with his life. That despite losing Natasha and their kids he was able to find peace.”

“I’m sure he did,” Bradley finally enters the conversation, having been quiet for most of the time and only adding input during the moments Y/n wasn’t there for. Keeping his experience in the water after Titanic sunk short and limited. While he learned to accept what happened and cope with the grief of watching his friends die in front of him, Bradley still felt the open wound in his heart. “You stepping in is what saved him. Had you not said what you did that day, I confidently believe Alan wouldn’t have made it to the next year. Going to London saved him. All he needed was a strong push.”

A moment of silence passed between them before Cynthia broke it. “Do you think they’ll one day find her?” At the confused looks she received her voice went softer, “Titanic. Do you think she’ll ever be located?” She watched her parents take a sharp breath, like they had never thought of the idea.

“Well…” Y/n brought a hand to rub her shoulder, unconsciously moving it to touch her necklace. “I predict she’d be in the place where she sank, at the bottom of the Atlantic. Either in two pieces,” she winced, “or held together by whatever was able to withstand the pressure.”

“I’m sure if the government or whoever is that interested would be able to locate her,” Bradley comments, rubbing Y/n’s knuckles with his thumb. “But I don’t know if we’ll ever see it happen.”

The rest of the evening was filled with Cynthia hearing stories of her parents' lives before Titanic. Laughter fell between them as Bradley relayed the times he and his friends had gotten into trouble on occasion. Y/n talked about her adventures with Natasha while in college and how her father went from a working class man to one made of riches. How her brother was a mischievous child, playing pranks on the higher-class members who would say mean things about their family. Bradley spoke of Pete, his Godfather, and of his parents who were the reason he went to England in the first place in 1912 to fulfill a dream they once wished of.

When it came time to call it a night, Cynthia kissed her parents on the cheek and departed to her room, thanking them for everything and being open with her. Once in their room Y/n removed her necklace, admiring it like she always did before bed and placed it on its holding, letting her thumb run over the smooth surface. On his side Bradley unfastened his watch, placing it next to the framed sepia photo of Y/n from their official wedding day that took place in May of 1912. Next to it were other photos, some black and white, of them over the years after Titanic. Y/n in her graduation gown. Their daughters as children and teenagers, on their wedding days and the birth of their grandchildren.

Tucked into the covers, Y/n smiled at the feeling of Bradley placing a kiss on her forehead. “You okay, doll?”

“I’m good,” she answered, leaning up to press her lips to his jaw. “Are you?”

“I am. More than what I thought I’d be. But you know,” his hand goes to take hers. “Having been so many years and with you by my side every day since, It’s made it easier. When I think about that night I still feel some guilt, but I don’t let it control me. Now when I have so much to live for. You, our daughters and grandchildren. Them.” He didn’t have to say their names for her to know who he was referring to.

Reuben, Javy, Mickey, Bob, Jake, Natasha, her father, her brother.

They didn’t get to experience the lives they should’ve had. So in their place, Y/n and Bradley live everyday like it’s their last. Making it count so when they reunite with them they’ll have plenty of stories to share.

“Me too,” she whispers, curling into him so her head rested on his chest. The gentle beat of his heart filled her ears, bringing ease to the old woman as she drifted off to sleep. Echoing the words Bradley spoke to her the night they docked in New York.

“We go on. We go on for them.”

54 years later. April 2012.

Amelia stared at the pictures lining the wall, under the giant lettering that read First-Class. Hazel eyes drifting over each, reading the words inscribed on the plaques before moving to the next. When she landed on the one she searched for, her gaze turned soft. The black and white picture depicted the woman at a young age, the most eye-catching detail being the heart-shaped diamond around her neck. A moment later Amelia felt movement on either side of her.

“Is that her, Nana?” Her granddaughter, Melody, asked from her right. On her left was Melody’s mother, Amelia’s daughter, Y/n. Named after the woman on the plaque in front of them.

“It is, darling.” Together they read the writing detailing her grandmother’s fate following April 15th, 1912.

Y/n L/n: February 14, 1890 — December 1, 1985

Daughter of New York real estate developer, Y/f/n L/n and his wife Y/m/n L/n. Set sail from Southampton with her parents and younger brother.

Boarded Titanic at age 21.

Passed away at age 95.

Married third-class passenger Bradley Bradshaw aboard Titanic on April 15, 1912 as she sank. Graduated NYU May 1912. Moved to Virginia Beach, Virginia. Two daughters. Published romantic thrillers and a best-selling autobiography. Returned to Titanic wreckage site at age 95 in October 1985. Died from heart failure two months later.

“Wow,” Melody breathed, letting her eyes admire the beautiful woman in the photograph. Her great-great grandmother. When the idea of going to the Titanic museum on the 100th anniversary of the wreck came to her for her school project, Melody had no idea of her linkage to the disaster until the night before when her grandma Amelia said she had a confession to tell her. The whole night was spent sitting in their hotel room with Amelia relaying the story her grandmother Y/n told her when she was 12 before revealing the events of April 15th when she was 18.

Amelia’s own daughter, named after the woman who made a lasting impact on her life, hadn’t heard the tale either. She was just as shocked as Melody to learn her great-grandparents were on Titanic when she sank.

Originally Melody’s idea for her project was to discuss the impact on society the disaster made. But after hearing the story of how her great-great grandparents fell in love aboard the ship, married while it sank, and reunited on Carpathia and lived their lives in memory of the ones they lost, Melody shifted her idea, Focusing on how even when all hope seems to be lost, love finds a way to break through.

“She was beautiful.”

“She was. My grandpa said she was the most beautiful person aboard,” Amelia chuckled. “Though I think his best friend Jake would say otherwise.” Natasha, her grandmother's best friend, came to mind. Amelia takes a moment to point out Natasha’s plaque where they read her unfortunate fate. “It was love at first sight—as cliché as it sounds, but it’s the truth. Four days was all it took for my grandparents to fall in love. Waiting every detail in her diary. Marrying during the moment everyone was in a panic.” Together the three women stepped over to the opposite side of the wall where the third-class survivor plaques were. There Amelia found her grandfather’s handsome face near the top.

Bradley Bradshaw: June 10th, 1889 — September 5th, 1985

Traveled to New York from Southampton with his friends from childhood. Only one to survive after being pulled from the water having climbed onto driftwood after Titanic fully submerged.

Boarded Titanic at age 21.

Passed away at age 96.

Married first-class passenger Y/n L/n aboard Titanic on April 15, 1912 as she sank. Moved to Virginia Beach, Virginia. Two daughters. Became a fighter pilot for US Navy 1914. Drafted into First World War 1915. Died in his sleep four days after the wreckage of Titanic was discovered 1985.

Amelia’s smile was bittersweet, “My mother told me shortly after I learned the full story that she discovered their secret when she found her mother’s ticket tucked away in a box of newspaper clippings about the wreck. NOt too long later my grandmother shared with her the diary detailing her first-hand experiences on Titanic. The night they told her was the first time they had told the story from start to finish—telling it once again the night my grandmother shared with my sister and I how they met. Only she left out the details of that night for the sake we were too young to understand,” Amelia paused, her gaze still on her grandfather’s image. “They told us the rest when I was eighteen. After that, I don’t think I ever heard them mention Titanic until the news broke out that the shipwreck had been discovered. Four days later, my grandfather died in his sleep. His heart just stopped,” Amelia went quiet after adding. “It was like he was waiting.”

Though quiet the entire time, Amerlia’s daughter Y/n was deep in thought. Thinking back to her childhood and the short ten years she got to spend with her great-grandparents. Having been named after Y/n, they two shared a connection and even got the chance to wear the beautiful diamond necklace she always had around her neck. Little Y/n had been shielded from the media attention the family was receiving in the months after Titanic’s discovery. First the death of Bradley, then the elderly Y/n went on a secret trip she had no idea was about. Ending the year by attending her funeral that winter.

Knowing what she did now, Y/n understood why her family reacted a certain way whenever the famous ship was ever mentioned in conversation.

Melody read over the information, frowning slightly. “Do you think she died of a broken heart? Your grandma?”

“Oh I’m certain,” Amelia traveled back a few paces to see Y/n’s plaque. Careful to not bump into other guests in the exhibit. The significance of the day brought many visitors to the museum.

“Being with someone for seventy-four years..how could she go on? My mother feared the journey to the wreck site would kill her, but my grandmother was adamant she’d go. She and my grandfather never believed they’d be alive to witness the ship be located. With his death four days after, my grandmother fulfilled an unspoken promise between them. So she went with my mother and aunt—ninety five years old remember, and saw the waters one last time. One thing you should know is my grandmother never crossed the Atlantic again after 1912. My grandfather did, because of the war, but I think Y/n was waiting until Titanic was located to travel the sea again. A part of her soul was left behind that night—losing the father she adored and her brother. Then you had my grandfather’s best friends.” She took another pause, hands moving to her pockets where she felt the leather bound diary.

Y/n’s diary.

The one she wrote in her will that was to be donated to the Titanic museum on April 15, 2012. Exactly 100 years to the day that the ship of dreams became one with the sea.

“Going to the site filled that final gaping hole in her. But the loss of her true love was too much for my grandmother. And so she passed in her sleep exactly three months to the day after Titanic was found.” Amelia removed the book from her pocket, hand softly touching the rough and dated surface of the leather. “Leaving me with this to fulfill some of her last wishes.”

“Is that…..” Melody leaned closer, her mother doing the same. Both were staring at the book with wonder and awe.

“Her diary,” the older woman confirmed their suspicions. “She wished for it to be donated here on the centennial anniversary,” Amelia gave her granddaughter a look, “I didn’t plan for you wanting to come here when I made sure to fulfill the promise. Having you two here is a bonus—especially now that you know everything.” Amelia could see in their eyes they were practically itching to open the book, wanting to see the contents that laid within.

Moving to a bench in the corner away from prying eyes, Amelia motioned for them to sit on either side of her. “The museum director is expecting me once we finish here so I must be careful with this. For preservation reasons, I’ll be the one to hold and turn the pages, but I’d love to share with you her words. And I know she would want the same,” glancing at the women, she received eager nods. “Alrighty then.”

Opening the cover, their eyes met the cursive writing that belonged to Amelia’s grandmother, her name in bold cursive, Y/n L/n. Amelia gently turned to the first page, dated one month before Titanic sailed on her maiden voyage.

“Monday, March 10, 1912. Father has come home with the news of his invitation to a conference in London next month. Not only has he informed my mother and I of his wishes for us to join him, but also he has purchased tickets for the White Star Line’s new vessel expected to set sail one month from today. They are calling her, Titanic…”

As Amerlia read off the words of her grandmother one last time, she wondered if her grandparents were back on the ship of dreams with their friends and family. Crossing the Atlantic in a place where time and space ceased to exist. Only the open ocean and the beautiful skies. Where Bradley was chasing a giggling Y/n down the corridors. Where Natasha got to live the life she dreamed with Jake. Their friends with them and Y/n’s family together at last.

It was a long wait full of patience. One seventy-four years in the making.

But as Y/n took her last breath on the night of December 1st, 1985, she was young and full of life, wearing the Heart of the Ocean as she ran to board the ship about to sail for a journey that would never end. Coming to the platform where a young Bradley stood, a spitting image of what he looked like the first time she laid eyes on him, his hand out for her to take. Behind him were the smiling faces of her family and friends—some of whom she hadn’t seen in seventy years, with the passengers of Titanic on the decks above. A beaming Natasha holding Jake’s hand, waving to Y/n as her children peeked from behind her legs.

Y/n locked eyes on her husband. The soulmate she had been without for three months. No words were spoken. Conversing everything they wanted to say in just the one look.

‘We’ve been waiting for ya, doll.’

‘I had to do something first.’

‘We know,’ a silent nod passes. ‘We were there with you.’ Gesturing his head to the ship as if to say, ‘You ready?’ Bradley stepped forward, hand still out for Y/n to take. Not even hesitating, Y/n grasped his warm palm in his, the feeling all too familiar as a spark of life shot through her chest.

Boarding Titanic together for the first and final time.

………………

TGM Tag List: @avaleineandafryingpan @caitsymichelle13 @poppyalice2001 @cutelittlepotatofry @luckyladycreator2 @americaarse @elenavampire21 @back-tooo-black @wildellaa

#Spotify #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw #rooster imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x y/n #rooster x reader #miles teller characters #top gun imagine #top gun maverick au #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick fanfiction #tgm au #titanic au #natasha trace x jake seresin #TGM angst #tgm fluff #dagger squad imagine #dagger squad x reader #dagger squad #jake seresin imagine #natasha trace imagine #dagger squad x platonic!reader

[detroit-grand-prix]

make you better - susie wolff x personal assistant!reader

Summary: There's nothing worse than getting sick when you live alone, far away from family. But someone unexpected steps in to take care of you.

Tags/warnings: Reader/ Y/N perspective, contains descriptions of an (unspecified) illness and references to a gun violence incident, not romantic/ship content.

Author’s note: I wrote this a while ago, right after I had COVID in early February. It was the first time I'd had a symptomatic case of it. I don't get ill often, and I am not exaggerating when I say that I had never felt more ill in my life. I was also living alone at the time, which made the entire experience especially terrifying. After that, I decided to find a roommate.

I wrote this as a way to cope with the whole thing because it was strangely more traumatic than I expected. I've shared it with a few close friends and wanted to keep it mostly to myself, but with all of the requests I've been getting for more Susie-centric fic, it felt like the right time to share it. The illness isn't explicitly named so as to not place it in a specific period of time. The sex/gender of the reader isn't specified, and it is also not romantic or shippy, and that was intentional.

Writing this brought me a lot of comfort when I needed it, so I hope you find it comforting, too.

“Okay, here you go. I have to leave,” a man says, as you swing your leg over the jump seat and slide off of the motorcycle he was giving you a ride on. 

“Be good,” he says, as you take one last look at him. He reminds you of your grandfather, for some reason. Your grandfather died years ago.

As you turn around and listen to the roar of the four-stroke engine take off, you look around at the street you are standing in the middle of. It was dark outside, like it was the middle of the night. The only lights are coming from nearby houses, and the sickly orange cast of sodium-vapor street lamps. There was something familiar about where you were standing, like you’d been there before, but it had been a while.

You turn around and notice a large building that looks eerily similar to your primary school. Without thinking, you walk up to the entrance and sit on one of the concrete benches outside the front door, and wait. You’re not sure what you’re waiting for, but you have the distinct, creeping feeling that you are either way too late, or way too early to something.

You hear the sound of a church bell, but it’s oddly distorted and distant, even though it is likely coming from the Catholic church that should only be a block away. It rings four times. That can’t be right. It can’t be that early in the day, and you think you remember those bells being a lot louder, once. 

You get up from the bench and walk to the front door, giving a cursory tug at the old brass-toned handle. The door is locked. 

“Why am I here?” you think. “What am I waiting for?” 

These questions loop over and over in your mind, causing eventual panic to build in your chest. You’re not sure why someone - your grandfather, you suppose - would have just left you here. You think about walking back home, you’re fairly certain you know the way, maybe, but there’s just fog in the distance in every direction that makes you unsure of where you really are.

Not knowing what else to do, you lay down on the concrete bench and rest your head against the red brick wall of the building. Someone should come by eventually and tell you what to do, right?

As more time passes, you don’t see another soul. You just hear the distant, occasional peal of the church bells that sound increasingly distant. You’re still not sure what to do, so you do the one thing you know that you can do, even if it won’t help. 

You bring your knees to your chest and start to cry.

But then, the scenery around you shifts. You feel someone shaking your shoulder. Their touch is gentle as it coaxes you into the elsewhere. You open your eyes to see a dimly-lit room. It looks like a bedroom, but it’s not your bedroom.

There’s a petite woman with a light blonde bob haircut standing over you. She has a concerned look in her eyes, and her voice is so soft and quiet that it takes a moment to understand what she’s saying to you through the stubborn fog of heat, sweat, and pain that are gripping your senses.

“There we are,” she says, looking relieved once you manage to narrow your focus to her face. “I brought you some water and some more medicine. I know it might hurt to swallow, but do your best.” 

She holds out a glass of water for you as she waits for you to sit up, only handing it over once she’s confident your coordination has returned enough for you to not pour it all over your lap.

“Now, hold out your hand”. 

You obey, happy to have some instruction as she deposits two red-and-white capsules onto your palm. 

You pop the pills in your mouth and go to take a drink from the glass she’s handed you, remembering why she said something about it hurting to swallow. The water hitting the back of your throat feels like a hot knife, and swallowing requires conscious action. It’s difficult. You can only manage to drink just enough to get the pills down before you can't take anymore and start to cough.

“I know,” the woman says, her voice soft and sympathetic. You continue to cough, trying in vain to make it stop. “But we have to get that fever down.”

The coughing finally ceases and you settle back on the pillows you were laying on, and things start to become clear again, even though it feels like your mind is working on a delay.

The woman standing over you is named Susie, and the bedroom you are in is a guest bedroom in her condo.

Susie is your boss. A friend too, but your boss, first and foremost. You’re ill, and she’s taking care of you.

You came to meet Susie when you got a job working for a racing team in a division called Formula E. The team was called Venturi Racing and was based in Monaco. You moved to Nice, France to commute to work. It was a long way from home - a lengthy flight’s worth of a long way from home, but it was the kind of job you’d dreamed of having someday, so you jumped at the chance, packing all of your possessions and moving halfway across the world.

Monaco seemed like an alien world at first, but you settled into your new routine and your job quickly. The team principal, your boss, a formidable, confident woman named Susie Wolff, was the one that wanted to hire you, and you quickly hit it off, developing a sort of mutual trust that you’d never had with one of your bosses before. Before long, she invited you over to her condo for dinner once in a while. You met her husband and her son. Her husband was also team principal for a racing team, albeit one in Formula 1. He was in charge of Mercedes, and they made the chassis and power unit that Venturi used in their race cars.

You worked for Venturi for two years before getting a devastating announcement at a morning meeting in the early spring. The race team was being sold to Maserati, the Italian car manufacturer. They would take over the manufacture of the car itself and the power unit - the engine - severing the team’s tie with Mercedes.

Because of Susie’s own association with Mercedes, it meant that her time as CEO (which she had been promoted to from Team Principal) of the team would be coming to an end. She was an investor in the team as well, and would be selling her stake in the team to Maserati.

You were dumbstruck. New ownership meant a lot of changes would be made. You couldn’t imagine working for another racing team, or if you would even keep your job. Rumors of redundancies and the potential for reorganizing the entire structure of the team were abound, but you carried on with your job, going to London and Seoul for the last two race weekends, trying to act as if everything was normal. 

Susie announced her departure to the public during the weekend of the London EPrix.

The team finished the season narrowly as vice-champions, with Edo, one of the team’s drivers, finishing third in the driver’s championship. It was a season worth celebrating, but it was bittersweet, because it would be the last one as Venturi.

But one day, shortly after getting back from the Seoul E-Prix, Susie called you into her office. It was filled with boxes, as she was packing up. She only had a few days left with the company.

“I have a proposal for you. It’s going to sound unusual, but I’d like you to come work for me, just for a while. I will need an assistant to help me coordinate things, since I won’t have one here any longer.” 

She had an executive assistant at Venturi that organized much of her day-to-day work with the company. It made sense that she would want the continuity of that aspect of her life, and her current assistant was already slated to stay on with Maserati. 

But, your job wasn’t even remotely related to that kind of role. As you opened your mouth to protest, she cut you off.

“I know it’s not the kind of work you do here, and I know it’s not what you moved halfway around the world to do, but it will just be for a while, maybe a few months. I have some… other activities in the pipeline, but things aren’t settled yet. I will pay you what you make here, and then some. I will take care of transferring your visa sponsorship, and take care of the rent on your flat. If you want, after your non-compete clause in your contract ends in a few months, we can see about getting you a role similar to the one you have now in Brackley, should you so desire.”

Brackley, the town in the United Kingdom where the Mercedes F1 team was based - naturally, Susie would have more than a little sway in getting you a job with the F1 team, if you wanted it. Some might see it as some sort of nepotism, given that her husband was CEO and part-owner of the team, but that was the reality of the world of Motorsport. It was all about who you knew, and Susie was a very good person to know. 

You didn’t relish the idea of living in the UK after spending two years in the practically perfect climes of the French Riviera, but… 

“I’d prefer someone I can trust, and I trust you. I know you’re organized. You do great work around here. My son likes you, and if I can save myself the process of interviewing and hiring someone brand-new, I’d like to. At least give it some consideration, won’t you?”

She gave you the kind, warm smile she always gave you, and you asked for a few days to consider it, which she agreed to. 

In the meantime, your department met with the higher-ups at Maserati, asking them questions about their vision for the direction for the team. They assured you that they wanted to change as little as possible, not wanting to deviate from the patterns that made Venturi successful, but something about them rubbed you the wrong way, and you realized that you didn’t want to stay past the transition period.

You sent Susie a message to tell her that you accepted her offer. You left Venturi right after the changeover, telling your colleagues that you were going to take a bit of a break for a while. 

Being a personal assistant wasn’t the kind of work you necessarily enjoyed, but your job with the race team made you very good with the kind of attention to detail that being Susie's assistant required. You coordinated her travel schedules and all of the associated arrangements (hotels, cars, meals, special requests), sometimes having to work with her husband Toto’s assistant on the logistics. You responded to requests for interviews and scheduled those, handled all of the other inquiries she received (of which there were a lot) and even helped make arrangements for two keynote speeches she gave at various conferences. 

You also handled the smaller, daily minutiae - various errands, making appointments, doing the shopping for the household. You traveled with her sometimes as well when she was giving speeches at conferences or going to events. In just a few months, you went on trips to Ireland, Portugal, and even the United States.

For a woman that didn’t technically have a regular job after leaving Venturi, Susie was shockingly busy. 

“You’re a lifesaver”, she told you, more than once. “I know you don’t want to do this forever, but I don’t know how I got on without you.”

Hearing things like that, in addition to the more-than-generous wage Susie paid, made the work bearable, even enjoyable at times. Plus, she was generous and kind in a way that made you feel like you were her friend and trusted confidant, and not just her employee.

By the time the new year had come and gone, you’d fallen into a comfortable routine, until you woke up one Sunday morning in January, feeling a bit odd.

It felt like the early stages of a head cold. It was minor, an occasional sniffle and watery sneeze. You convinced yourself that it wasn’t worth worrying about. The heat in your flat was running at full-tilt, after all. Maybe you needed to tell your landlord that it was time to change the dust filter. 

You rarely got sick, and it was bearable when you did, so you didn’t give much thought to it. It was your day off, so you took some over-the-counter cold medicine and went about your usual Sunday. You went to the supermarket to do your own shopping, spoke to your mother on the phone (which was sometimes challenging, just because of time zone differences), tidied up your flat, watched something on Netflix, and caught up on some reading before going to bed early. 

It was going to be another busy Monday morning. Susie was due to give a keynote speech over Zoom for some conference, and things had to be prepared for her to travel to London for some meetings for the next week, so things had to be arranged for that. You fell asleep that Sunday trying to make mental lists of all of the things that needed to be done over the next few days.

You woke up with your alarm, and immediately knew that this was more than a simple head cold. Your nose didn’t feel stuffy any more, but your throat felt like it was on fire. You had woken up in a puddle of your own sweat, and your mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton balls. Your arms and legs ached like you’d gone to the gym, which you hadn’t in… a while.

The thought of calling in sick crossed your mind, but remembering how much work you had to do that day dissuaded you. 

Plus, you felt better after a hot shower and chewing on some cough drops while you were on the train to Monte Carlo from your flat in Nice. The brisk walk in the fresh air between the Monte Carlo train station and Susie’s condo on the eastern end of the principality helped, too. 

You could have driven your own car in less time, but you preferred to take the train and walk most days. The weather was almost always pleasant, even in the winter months, and the scenery never got old. (Plus, the tiny, narrow streets in the principality were an annoyance to drive around, and finding parking in your own neighborhood in the early evening was often a nightmare. It was easier to just take the train).

By the time you got to Susie’s building, though, you started to feel bad again. You felt strangely winded, and your limbs felt heavy and achy again. You had gotten plenty of sleep the night before, so you weren’t sure why you were so exhausted. A seasonal cold or allergies had never made you feel this way before.

The building’s concierge greeted you on your way across the lobby, and asked you if you were okay. You waved him off, insisting that your windedness was just from the cold breeze. You stood by the elevator for a moment to catch your breath before getting on and pressing the number for the Wolff’s floor, concerned by how hot and sweaty you felt, especially given that it was chilly outside that morning. 

You fumbled with the key to their front door for a moment. The door wasn’t unlocking, and you started to panic, knowing that neither Toto or Susie would be in at the moment. Toto would have left for his work week in Brackley last night, and Susie would be out, dropping her son, Jack, off at school. After a moment of struggling with the lock, you realized that you were trying to use the wrong key.

Feeling momentarily sheepish and glad nobody was around to witness your blunder, you unlocked the door, hanging your coat, scarf, and bag on the coat rack in the entryway. You toed off your shoes and left them by the door, before heading to Susie’s home office and starting your usual Monday morning tasks. She had set up a desk for you as well. It was small, but neatly arranged with your laptop, a whiteboard, and baskets for incoming and outgoing correspondences that the housekeeper would leave when she collected the mail. Most mornings, Susie would leave you a still-warm breakfast pastry or the coffee she knew you liked, depending on how cooperative Jack was with getting out the door for school in the morning, and you almost always arrived when Susie was taking him to school. There was nothing waiting for you on your desk this morning, not even a cup of coffee. It was fine - you had no appetite anyway. 

You were in the process of cross-checking Susie’s calendar for the day with inquiries in her email when you were seized with a painful coughing fit, wondering how the air in the condo was so dry when it was located so close to the edge of the Mediterranean. That had to be it, right? Or maybe there was just a tickle in your throat. There was no way you were actually getting sick. You got up to get yourself a glass of water and stood in the kitchen, waiting for the coughing fit to subside when you heard the condo’s door close.

“Good morning!” Susie called out from the entryway. She sounded cheerful as she talked, rounding the corner from the entrance to the kitchen. “My goodness,” she said, seeing you trying to contain your coughing . “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you said between coughs, trying to get a sip of water down. “Just a tickle in my throat, I think.”

Susie looked at you skeptically. “I don’t know… you don’t look so good. You’re flushed, and you look awfully pale,” she said as she stepped closer to you. You could feel her eyes on you. When the coughing subsided, she surprised you by reaching out to put the back of her hand against your cheek, then your forehead. You knew it was cold out, but her hand felt like ice against your skin. It startled you for a second, but felt kind of good. You were starting to feel a little warm. “And you are definitely running a fever, my goodness. Are you ill?”

“No,” you said. “I mean, not really. It’s just a cold, I think.”

Judging by the expression on her face, she definitely did not believe you. You weren’t sure you believed yourself, anymore. You hadn’t wanted to admit it, but what you had was definitely not a seasonal cold.

“Well, I’m going to take you back to your flat. You need to get some rest. And I won’t hear any arguments,” she said, knowing you were about to argue. “I will be fine for the day, and I won’t have you working while you’re sick.”

You gathered your things, and Susie gave you a ride back to your flat in Nice. It wasn’t a long drive - a half an hour at most, but you still felt bad that Susie was not only taking an hour of her day to bring you straight back home, but also that you wouldn’t be able to do your job today. You had always been a bit of a workaholic, it couldn’t be helped.

As she dropped you off at your building, she implored you not to feel bad, assuring you that she would be fine.

“If you need anything, and I mean this - please, please call me, or send me a message. I’ll come right away.”

You promised her that you would let her know if anything changed, despite not planning on bothering your boss with such things,  and trudged up the stairs to your flat. You changed out of your clothes, put on pajamas, and took some more medicine before crawling into bed and falling asleep almost immediately.

You slept peacefully for a few hours, but then, vivid nightmares started coalescing. In one instance, you dreamed of your mother dying. It seemed so real - she was hanging on to the edge of a bridge you recognized from your hometown, and you couldn’t summon the strength to lift her up by her outstretched hand. You watched as she fell into the canal below and was swept away by the current.

The dream was so vivid that you nearly started crying when you woke up. 

It was dark outside. You scrambled for your phone to check the time, confirming that you’d slept until just past midnight, somehow. 

Other sensations became obvious as you came out of sleep - the fact that you were burning hot and drenched in sweat. On the bright side, the sinus congestion had cleared up, but as a trade-off, your throat felt like it was an open wound, or like you’d swallowed a bucket of rusted thumbtacks. Your head was pounding. You couldn’t ever remember a time when you felt this ill.

You sat awake for a few hours, trying in vain to soothe your tortured throat and quell the vicious coughing and rasping. You tried gargling warm salt water, which helped temporarily. You ate some ice pops that you’d found in the back of your freezer, left there from an awful heat wave over the summer. You took some cough syrup, wincing as it burned like cheap alcohol as it went down. It just caused more coughing, making your whole body feel weak. You couldn’t do anything else other than sitting on the closed lid of your toilet with your head in your hands until it stopped.

After that episode, you ran a hot shower to try to get the steam to clear the congestion in your chest, and rinse off the sweat that was now drying grossly on your skin. It helped enough that you were able to go back to sleep for a few hours.

You woke up when you normally would have been getting up for work, but immediately knew you would not be going in today. The guilt was momentary, but you felt even worse than the night before, barely wanting to move. Just as you were about to message Susie to let her know you’d be out again, she called you, taking you a bit by surprise.

“I just called to see how you were feeling,” she said.

“Not good,” you responded, surprised at how hoarse and thin your voice was. You hadn’t talked since she dropped you off at home the day before.

“Oh, you sound awful. Well, I -” she paused for a moment. “I’ll be there in an hour. Pack whatever you need for a day or two, comfortable clothes and that.” 

She said it without preamble or explanation. “What?” you asked. “Why?”

Surely she wasn’t expecting you to work… maybe she was going to bring you to the hospital? It wasn’t that bad, was it?

“I’d like you to stay with me until you feel better. You sound absolutely wretched. I was worried about you all afternoon, being all alone when you’re ill. I know you don’t have any family in the area, and I’d hate for you to need help and not have anyone nearby to ask. I can’t make you come stay with me, of course, but I would feel a lot better if I could keep an eye on you. Please.”

It was a tempting offer, and your flat seemed a lot scarier last night when you woke up from the nightmares without having anyone else around. On the other hand, Susie was your boss, and as an adult, you weren’t her responsibility.

“I… don’t want to impose, or to get you or Jack sick,” you said, hoping that would be a reasonable enough excuse. You would find a way to manage by yourself. “Plus, you have that Zoom keynote this week and London next week-“

“Nonsense,” she said. “We have two guest bedrooms. You wouldn’t be imposing at all, and I’m doing the conference presentation from my office, anyway. And you were ahead of the curve on the prep for London, so I’m not worried. Really. Please, let me pick you up.”

She knocked down your objections one by one, and not even two hours later, you were settled into bed in one of the guest rooms of the Wolff’s condo. Susie had supplied you with some cold water and hot tea, and set up a small humidifier on the nightstand. It was shaped like an owl, so you assumed that it had come from Jack’s room. You heard a soft knock on the door and looked up to see Susie coming in. She had a tray in her hands with a steaming bowl, and something else that you couldn’t make out the shape of.

“I made you some soup,” Susie said as she set the tray down on the nightstand. “Well, I heated up a tin of it, really, but I thought you could use something to eat. And, I brought a thermometer,” she said, holding up the device. “I’m sure you still have a fever.”

She turned the thermometer on, and after it beeps a few times, holds it to your forehead. The device beeped urgently, and Susie frowned at the display.

“39.5,” she muttered. “I’ll be right back.”

It was high, higher than you were expecting. No wonder you felt so awful.

She left the guest room and returned shortly after, with a medication bottle and what looked like an ice pack, wrapped in a small tea towel.

“Here,” she said, handing you two small capsules from the bottle. “It’s paracetamol, for the fever.” 

She handed you the glass of water she’d given you earlier, and you took the pills with tentative sips. It didn’t make it hurt any less, and you groaned and winced. It was just water, but it still didn’t go down easily.

“Sorry, it hurts,” you whined, your voice barely there at that point. You settled yourself back down onto your pillow.

“It’s okay,” Susie said, quietly. She took the glass of water out of your hands and set it on the nightstand. “I know it hurts, but getting some rest will help.”

She placed the ice pack on your forehead, careful to keep it wrapped neatly in the towel, and it felt amazing on your overheated skin. 

“Getting that fever down will, too.”

Susie took your hand and gently squeezed it before she turned around to leave. “I’ll come back in and check on you in a bit. Try and get some sleep. And don’t try to yell across the house if you need something, you can send me a message, okay?”

“Okay,” you said. Or tried to. Your voice was only vestigial at that point. “Thank you, Susie.” 

“It’s my pleasure, darling. Feel better.” She patted the top of your hand as she stood up to leave. As soon as she closed and latched the bedroom door behind her, you closed your eyes and fell asleep almost immediately. 

That is how it went for two days. You lost most of your time to sleeping. You had more fever-fuelled nightmares. Susie roused you every few hours to take your temperature, to give you medication, to try to get you to drink some water or eat some soup or some ice pops. She said she was worried about you getting dehydrated, and it didn’t help that you could still hardly stand to swallow anything.

She continued to bring you ice packs for your forehead to help with your fever, extra blankets when chills wracked your body, tea with honey, and cough drops that didn’t seem to do much. She brought you clear broth that you tried to drink but the salt stung your throat too much for you to manage getting much of it down.

For the rare moments you were awake during the day while Jack was at school, she sat in a chair next to your bed and talked to you. The conversation was mostly one-sided as you still couldn’t talk much, but she was very good company, and it made you feel better that she didn’t seem to mind spending time with you, even if you were too exhausted and raspy to be a decent conversation partner. 

At one point, she brought you a plush toy that looked like some sort of alien cat with tiny wings instead of arms. 

“Jack wanted me to give this to you to keep you company.” she said. It’s the first thing that made you smile in days.

On the third day, you had an especially realistic, especially frightening nightmare. It must have been inspired by the news you’d read from the United States about a shooting at a university campus, because you dreamed about the university you used to work for before moving to France. You watched in terror as one of your old coworkers was taken down in front of you. You get shot trying to run away, and the wound you sustain to your hip burned. You swore you could feel the blood running down your leg. It all felt so real.

You bolted upright from sleep for the second time that week, opening your eyes to the darkness of the bedroom, but that time, you can’t help but cry.

Your sobbing didn’t make much noise as you still didn’t have much of a voice, but it was enough to prompt Susie to come and check on you.

You were a little embarrassed as she sat  on the edge of your mattress and gathered you into a hug, but the embarrassment was momentary. You let yourself be held as you cry into her shoulder. She rubbed your back with one hand, cradling the back of your head with the other, and told you that everything would be okay, and that you’ll be feeling better soon. She didn’t make you explain, she didn’t ask questions, she just let you lean into her and cry.

There was something in you that broke when you realized how badly you missed receiving this kind of maternal - or really, any, affection. You couldn’t really even remember the last time you’d hugged anyone. You moved halfway across the world, and while you don’t regret it, it feels awfully lonely at times. You don’t get home to see your family much, and your mother certainly couldn’t drop everything to fly halfway across the world to come and take care of you. 

It meant a lot that Susie is there for you, even though she didn’t have to be. She’s your boss, but she cares enough for you to look after you when you need it. The realization made you cry even harder.

You’re so thankful she insisted on you staying with her, because you’re weren’t sure how you would have managed to weather your illness, whatever it was, by yourself.

She calmed you down enough for you to go back to sleep, and, by some miracle, your fever broke by the next morning.

Within a day, your throat started to hurt less. Your voice came back, though it was thin and airy. Your appetite came back, and you started feeling human again. 

Satisfied with the progress of your convalescence, Susie brought you back to your flat after four days in her guest bedroom.

“Don’t even think about coming back to work until next week,” she said, as she parked her car in front of your flat. "I want you to be at one-hundred percent. We've got a lot of work to do, but I'll be fine until you're better."

You smiled, and thanked her for her kindness before you watched her pull her car away, keeping your eyes on it until it disappeared around a corner. Just telling her thank you didn’t feel like enough, but you’re not sure there is a way to thank her that would have felt like enough. 

#susie wolff x reader #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #y/n is not used #my fanfic #my fanfic writing #formula 1 fanfic

[cuffmeinblack]

Hey fam <3 How are your feelings towards Ominis and/or Amit and/or Leander? :3 I know I am being greedy so please pick whichever one you'd like 🤭🌷

Hi hi 🧀 my dear sorry for taking so long to answer. Mmmmm I think ima pick Omi for this!

How I feel about this character

Omi was the first HL character I really fell for and the first I wrote for. I suppose I can thank him for really cementing my interest in fanfic when I went on a mad binge in Spring last year writing a tonne of requests. I knew from the word Gaunt that I'd love his story and was so surprised and happy to see a representation of a Slytherin who abhors the dark arts and wants to do better than his family's reputation, shunning their legacy. There's so much to explore when writing his character and I'd really love to do something with his Aunt Noctua one day (either an AU or childhood fic). And he is of course one half of my OTP 🖤

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Mostly Garreth of course! I never really intended to fall for Garrinis as much as I did. I just had an idea of 'I wonder what would happen if Garreth helped Ominis in potions...' and it went from there. I said this in my answer for Garreth but I love the Slytherin x Gryffindor / sunshine x grumpy dynamic. Gar gives him the uncomplicated love Omi deserves and has never had, and a family who basically adopt him.

I did also begin writing a Sebinis fic ages ago which was (I think) beautiful in many ways, though for various reasons I dont really write Seb anymore. But I love soft Sebinis.

Also open to Andrew x Omi and Leander x Omi (thanks to @ellivenollivander and @pandanscafanfiction respectively).

Oddly enough I don't have an OC I ship with Omi (yet).

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Ngl I love writing Omi and Seb bickering like an old married couple 🤣 if they're not romantically involved they're still absolute besties and inseparable despite their past. Bonded through trauma and all that.

I've not explored it myself but Anne absolutely deserves a mention. They were obviously very close. Would love fic recs for a platonic Omi and Anne relationship.

My unpopular opinion about this character

Ehhhh I'm sure there's lots. The fandom is very divided on his...sexual preferences. I see Ominis mostly as a soft dom because I think after being controlled by his family for so long he would crave the ability to control the intimacy until he trusted his partner unequivocally. There's also the aspect of his blindness; unexpected sensations might be overwhelming for him.

Also food?? I absolutely agree this boy cannot handle spice however I think he has a refined palate. Despite his family being broke af I hc at that point the Gaunts were deeply in debt and had started selling their heirlooms to keep up appearances, to keep being able to afford the finer things in life as a matter of pride. They'd also still be invited to high society balls and banquets and the like so could expect a lot of fine cuisine with French influences.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

I've have loved to explore his experiences and relationships with his family more. The hint at Gaunt manor as a potential location in game is such a tease. He deserved his own questline separate from Sebastian, and to be reunited with a healed Anne.

#ask game #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt headcanons

[acacia-may]

I really love the bingos and it really gives insight on what kind of Black Clover ships exists out there. Nozel x Vanessa was a surprise, but... I find the idea of it already interesting and what you said in your bingo sounds good as well. I'm interested in this ship, so what kind fics did you found about them and which would you suggest?

Aww thank you so much, anon! 🥰 I'm so delighted to hear you enjoyed the bingo game! I had lots of fun with it so it makes me happy to hear others enjoyed it as well. 💖

Nozel x Vanessa surprised me too, to be perfectly honest. I think I mentioned this somewhere in the bingo game so I apologize if I am repeating myself, but Vanessa is definitely one of those characters I could see happy with a lot of different characters (and different types of characters), so I like and/or could see lots of different ships with her in them. I could also see her perfectly content as the unmarried fun, 'wine aunt' of all her Black Bulls nieces and nephews too. It's really up to her and what life she would choose for herself! (Or, I suppose, that the author would choose for her. As Vanessa's love life hasn't played much of a role in the story, I doubt we'll get much of a resolution on that point in the canon, but you never know... 😂) Vanzel/Nozessa may not my all-time favourite ship with Vanessa in it, but it definitely could be fun! [Vanessa x [Fill In The Tsundere] is just such an entertaining dynamic in general! Really fun stuff!! 😁] I'm glad you liked what I had to say about them. I really have the fandom to thank for helping me see the possibilities of that ship! 💕

I'm certainly no expert on Nozel x Vanessa fanfictions by any means 😅--I've really only dabbled in the ship a little bit, but here are a few I really enjoyed! (Listed in alphabetical order below the cut)

Hurdles by Oighear (on AO3) -- Domestic fluff about Nozel and Vanessa trying to assemble baby furniture. Really all the warm and fuzzies! [I've really enjoyed all of the Vanessa/Nozel fics I've read by this author, but this is probably my favourite! It was just so adorable! 🥰]

Poetry Hour at the Bookshop by @crazedstoryteller (on AO3) -- This was one of the very first Vanessa x Nozel fanfiction I read, and it brought the biggest smile to my face! Just fun, funny, and fluffy in a modern AU (Also really shows off Nozel's tsundere side and gives Asta his moment to really shine with an absolutely inspired poem about potatoes 😂).

Night of Vows by Vilandel (on AO3. Rated T) -- This was a great story even if the premise didn't exactly fit with my personal headcanons of how I imagine their relationship. I loved the depiction of vulnerable Nozel (and gosh he's such a tsun too), and Vanessa comforting him. Also, the traditional Clover Kingdom vows the author came up with are just beautiful! 💖

Sugar, Spice and... by succulentsunrise (on AO3) -- It's about Vanessa and Nozel's first kiss with each other, and the author gives them a refreshingly healthy dynamic for a secret romance. Very cute! 💕

I also loved this one @lyranova wrote on request about Yami and Charlotte discovering Nozel and Vanessa are dating! (It has a little bit of YamiChar and some great Yami and Vanessa friendship in it too!) 🥰

Finally, I'm not sure if this one is actually Vanessa x Nozel or not because it's really more focused on Vanessa giving up her feelings for Yami, but there is an excellent moment between her and Nozel towards the end that is really what first endeared their friendship (or the idea of their friendship). I don't think I would have been as open to the idea of them as a romantic ship without having read this, so I'm mentioning it here. It's also very well-written, and I really like the author's insights into Vanessa's character. Little Birdie by S.C. Tucker on FFN. (Honestly one of my favourite Vanessa fanfictions in general too! 💗)

Thank you so much for the ask! I hope this helps! 😊

#answered asks #answered anons #thanks for the ask! #i'm so happy to hear you've enjoyed bingo #black clover fanfiction recommendation #i've never been asked for fic recommendations before but i hope you like these #many thanks to the great vanzel writers out there in the fandom too! 💖 #nozel x vanessa #vanessa x nozel #vanzel #nozessa #ship bingo

[avenger-hawk]

Not a request, just curious. Would you ever write more about Sasuke and Madara’s relationship? I love the idea of him being a mentor to Sasuke and love the dark take you had on it in your fic. I know you said you aren’t particularly interested in Itachi’s character anymore, is there a specific character you’d like to explore more?

I would, sure. And I’m glad you like my fic. I said it already so I’m repeating myself here, but the main reason I put it Somber Creation Pale Destruction (ff.net/ ao3) on hiatus was that I liked so much Madara and Sasuke being in their own world, literally, and the morbid-dark yet cosy atmosphere they were in, and since Itachi was supposed to appear as well, I kinda didn’t want lol.

Ofc I planned the whole plot, but still.

Tbh when I first had the idea of that fic I wanted to write the Madara/Sasuke relationship as secondary to Itachi/Sasuke, because I always liked the idea of Sasuke having Itachi as “one and only” in his heart (which imo is realistic for Sasuke, not necessarily in a shippy way), so that even if he got close to others, deep down there would always be Itachi, and I mean not necessarily in a romantic way.

Now I’d continue writing it, and I’d keep this Itachi thing, but I am very interested in exploring Sasuke’s interaction and relationships to other characters, because they’re less explored.

Yup I’m no longer interested in Itachi as a character, like I said already mostly because of the fandom and their stupid interpretation of his personality, either turning him into a meek martyr or accusing him of genocide and dismissing him, both aren’t interesting and don’t portray how controversial and interesting he used to be. But I did explore him and his relationship with Sasuke, in all its aspects. I still imagine Itasasu related things but yeah I would prefer to write something else instead. I’d never write Itachi and someone else anyway.

Other characters I’d like to explore?

Always interacting with Sasuke ofc, I am not interested otherwise. I kinda wrote it already in my writing page, and even more here.

Among all the characters I mentioned in the aforementioned ask I’d like to write more about:

Kakashi. I said it so many times but I love Kakashi and Sasuke interacting in any possible way. Kakasasu was my first ship and I have a lot of thoughts about them., despite the ending. I like Kakashi because he’s controversial, btw. If only I had motivation...my KS tag.

Suigetsu. imo they have a better dynamic than N*rusasu. More interesting. Sasuke respects Suigetsu and is totally comfortable with his quirks. Suigetsu provokes Sasuke to have his attention and respects him so much, he expressed it more times. And also, Suigetsu has a strong sadistic side, it’s canon. While Sasuke has a masochist side. For me it’s perfect. (suisasu tag)

Juugo. I wrote about how interesting I think their relationship is more times like here and here but the high esteem Sasuke holds for Juugo, and the loyalty, protectiveness and respect Juugo has for Sasuke imo are amazing. And the ‘I’ll be your cage’ Sasuke told him is darkfic material. And it’s canon. (juusasu tag)

Obito. His interaction and relationship with Sasuke were so interesting in canon, so ambiguous, so promising. Because they did spend time together, and they were both Uchiha. And Obito knew things but Sasuke didn’t. And Obito called Sasuke ‘fellow traitor’ before being taken over by Madara...I did start something I never finished about them tbh. (obisasu tag and meta)

Deidara. Not many realize that despite his loud/bragging attitude Deidara has a low self esteem and he looks up to Itachi whom he tried to impress. Like Sasuke, in a way. And both are reckless when it comes to not caring what happens to themselves. They are opposite but they also have these in common...And, aeshtetically, Deidara is blond, like N*ruto but hotter lol. I kinda like to imagine an Akatsuki AU where Sasuke is in a team with Itachi but also he has interactions with the other members and Deidara is basically his same age but he’s more experienced and they have some rivalry going on.

Shikamaru. I kinda think it would be interesting to put a clever and aloof lukewarm lazy guy whose loyalty towards Konoha is strong, close to an equally clever and aloof guy but very passionate inside, whose loyalty comes from his own feelings and thoughts and personal values instead. It has potential for good interactions, meaningful discussions and ambiguous moments since Shikamaru can control shadow and tie people up, and is very ruthless when he wants. Darkfic potential.

In that post I also mentioned Gaara, Sai and others so I won’t repeat myself more.

The only character not related to Sasuke is Tobirama. I disagree with his values and ideas but he’s interesting in his controversial way imo. Such a strict character yet so open minded when it came to develop forbidden jutsu, even defying death with Edo Tensei. So apparently domineering but so loyal to his older brother. I am kinda interested in some angsty dark scenario with Hashirama and I kinda had an idea I never developed.

Like I said here even tho I have less new ideas it’s not like I don’t have any, but I don’t have much motivation to write so I play my scenarios in my head.

Also, mostly, because I like darkfics but ppl like ‘wholesome’ and tbh I’ve had enough of fandom police shitting on my work just like I’ve had enough of judgemental condescendence like ‘you write well but your fics are too dark for me’.

(or being tagged in some gorey fics bc creeps like Hawk must be into all kinds of creepy things even tho I’ve always said I’m not into that specific stuff lol)

#suisasu #deisasu #madasasu #obisasu #juusasu #kakasasu #shikasasu #vivalarevolution #vivalarevolution: bonds #vivalarevolution: visions #fanon and fandom stuff #my writing #somber creation pale destruction

[lossie92]

hi there, may I ask 5, 10, and 24, please?

Hi anon, sure thing 😊

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

Hmm I think I have to agree with @wisiaden that if you think you will get many kudos and comments on a fic, usually the exact opposite will happen and it has proven to be true with my fics so far. I know it's true for other writers too 🤔

Another one (which idk if it counts, but whatever) would be that if you write and post something you're not happy with, no matter the amount of nice comments you get it will never make you like the story and in most cases you will actually end up hating. Therefore you should write stuff that makes you happy from the get-go. If a particular trope or ship or concept doesn't feel right, just don't write it. Even if someone requested it, you are the writer and have the right to decide if you want to create this specific content. Don't force yourself, it doesn't feel well and it's not really worth it.

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

Definitely. I have two fics which "haunt" me, I suppose, aka occupy my thoughts sometimes in an unpleasant way and they are my own fics.

One of them, Reprisal, I decided to delete. I wrote that story for someone, but that person didn't seem to be interested reading the story, so that already made creating the fic kind of pointless and I also just hated the plot. It was an interesting experience to write it and explore once again some dark themes, but in the end I felt really unhappy seeing it on my AO3 account and I felt bad every time I got comments on it. That's why it went to the bin.

The 2nd story is Pull the Wool. It's a fic about cheating and even though I, once again, found it interesting to explore this topic, it feels weird. It's not the type of content I write anymore and I guess it just makes it odd, to have written it. The fact it is one of my more popular stories contributes to the oddness too. To be honest, I'm probably bothered by it so much, because imo cheating is one of the worst things you can do to your partner and I personally don't like reading stories that involve cheating. So yeah, this one is definitely weird for me.

When it comes to other people's writing... There are fics I think about sometimes and those thoughts are mostly annoyance, anger, or even disgust. I've read A LOT of fics over the years and unfortunately some writers don't put any thought behind their writing. I've seen my fair share of rape and paedophilia fetishism and glorification, terrible examples of internalised misogyny and sexism that the reader is supposed to read as something romantic, a lot of queerphobic stuff (Homophobic, transphobic, aphobic... You name it, I've probably seen it all by now), poorly handled violence, terribly written stories about abuse recovery, lots of poor "jokes" that authors tried to pass off as "dark humour"... There is a lot of content out there that's BAD and if you read it, it will stay with you (what was seen cannot be unseen etc etc).

I'm not going to list those fics here, because I don't think there's a point in that and I don't want to give this creators more of a platform either, but trust me, there are fics that I think about sometimes and they make me ask the question wtf is wrong with some people at the very least 😒

24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

Oh my. I put a lot of prep work into my fics. I do research, take notes, write down ideas for scenes and character interactions, do a bulletpoint list of what happens when (if it's a chapter fic, this is divided by chapters), brainstorm with my writer friends... So yeah, I'm definitely a big planner. At the same time I let the story flow.

Imo it's very important to constantly ask yourself What this character would do? Why would they do it? What's their motivation? What are the consequences? Is it something in character for them? If not, why? If yes, why? etc. and go from there. If a scene or plotline I wanted to include no longer makes sense, I will delete or change it. I have been actually known to change the story endings or get rid of entire pages of text if they no longer fit with where the journey is taking the characters.

I think it's very important to remember that as much as you want something to happen in the story, in the end writing isn't about what you want to happen, but rather what would logically happen in a given situation. That's what separates a well-written story from something that reads out of character or chaotic. It's a bit like playing detective with your own characters and writing, I suppose.

Either way, yes, I do enjoy the planning and brainstorming part of the writing process. It's a lot of fun 😄

-

Weird Questions for Writers 

#weird questions writers ask #dear lord this got LONG #i'm so sorry anon #hope you don't mind

[gar-trek]

I review killing time (or whatever)

Okay, yes this review has taken me forever and that’s because there’s so much I want to say, and most of it has very little to do with the plot of the book. I cut down a lot of this so you guys could just get to the main point of what I’m trying to say, so I apologize if this is a little brief or incomprehensible to those who haven’t read the book. 

And also, before I get into it, I would like to say rest in peace to the author Della Van Hise, who passed away in march of this year. She contributed a lot to the fandom, especially in regards to K/S fiction, as well as publishing a lot of non-trek related work during her life. 

First of all, if you have heard of Killing Time, there is probably one specific reason for that. It’s the same reason I picked up the book in the first place and why it’s really even a topic of discussion on this site. To put the story quite briefly, Killing Time was recalled during its initial release on account of the book having too many slash elements (aka, the relationship between Kirk and Spock could be read as sexual/romantic). I first heard about the book here in this post where the history of it is worded to sound like one very dramatic mystery. One user (no shade intended here) even goes as far as to say the book was recalled by old Gene himself! Now I’m always one for drama and such, but after reading the book I looked into it a little more, and I don’t think that’s exactly how it went down. 

Here you can find multiple statements from the author herself, in which she tells the whole story. According to her, the book publisher accidentally released an unedited manuscript that was never supposed to make it to the public. So technically the publisher did not recall the book because it was “too gay”, they recalled it because they printed a version that was never meant for the public to see anyway. These were the edits that were specifically requested by Paramount, who the publishers were supposed to go through to get the final okay on all material. And like, yeah, all of Paramounts edits were pretty much to delete any sentence where Spock and Kirk are tender to each other, they were trying to make is less homoerotic, obviously. I understand why this slight distinction may not make much of a difference to you guys, but for me it’s important to note that the book wasn’t recalled because it was too gay, it was just never supposed to be gay in the first place. It doesn’t make that fact any better, but it does make it less dramatic, in my opinion. I encourage you to read the statements from the author on this topic though, because she gives the whole story a lot better then I just did. 

Now to address the main question at hand, does Killing Time depict a romantic relationship between Kirk and Spock, or is it all just hype? (in layman's terms, is the book gay or not?) and to answer quite plainly, yes it’s gay. of course it is. but then to answer less plainly, no. What the fuck do i mean by this? well let me try and explain. 

I read the second edition of the book, aka the censored version, but I also followed along with the first edition (using this great article). The changes made to the book did not effect the plot at all, and were really only minor things. Notably, in the second edition they just kind of left out any part where Spock and Kirk touch each other (and I don’t mean in a sexual way). For example, there is a scene where Spock and Kirk are having a serious conversation in the ships garden. In the first edition, at the end of the conversation Spock places a hand on Kirks shoulder, which Kirk covers with his own hand. In the second addition, all mentions of this simple contact are deleted. The differences between the two are mostly little things like this. There is no secret sex scene or love confession hidden in the first addition. You see, in my opinion, the changes made to the second edition of the book do very little to censor the romantic undertones between Kirk and Spock. That’s because they are ingrained in the plot line itself. 

One very important aspect to this book is that Kirk and Spock share a mental bond. This is something that can only happen between a Vulcan and another when they are extremely close. The mental bond that Kirk and Spock share is so strong in this book, it’s even present when they enter an alternate dimension where they are strangers to one another. There is a romance in this book between two original characters, and their relationship is constantly being paralleled by that of Kirk and Spock. And, maybe most telling, Spock refuses a female Romulan who is very interested in him over and over again simply because Kirk exists. And no, that’s not an exaggeration, here is a line from when the Romulan woman was begging Spock to be in a relationship with her: 

“I need you. The Empire needs you, what more can there be?”

“James Kirk” the Vulcan murmured without hesitation.

That line is in both versions of the book. What I’m trying to say is yes, there are K/S elements in Killing Time. There are many tender moments and lots of talk about Kirk and Spock’s devotion to each other. 

So now you’re asking yourself, Gar, why did you just say earlier that “no, the book is not gay”? Well, that’s because it’s not. This isn’t a K/S book. This isn’t a piece of Spirk fanfiction. Because for as much as this book is about Kirk and Spock’s relationship, it’s even more about Romulans (and more specifically, that one girlboss Romulan Commander from the Enterprise Incident.... bet ya didn't see that coming!) That’s right, the most controversial Star Trek book ever published is at it’s core quite plainly just a Star Trek book. There is weird alternate dimensions, time travel, espionage and lots and lots of Romulans! 

Alright, alright, what I’m really trying to get at here is that yes, if you read into Killing Time there is K/S elements. I mean for god sake the author was a known K/S fanfic writer, that wasn’t a secret by any means. If she wrote their relationship a little more tenderly than most authors would have, can we really be surprised? But writing a K/S story was not her intention here, and that’s not what this is. I think the author put it best herself, so I’m just going to put that here: 

“If people chose to see overtones of K/S in it, maybe it’s because there were overtones of K/S throughout Star Trek itself.”

People will hype up killing time as some secret confirmation that K/S is real and canon, and I really get that. Like, it would be really nice to have some canon acknowledgment of K/S, and I really don’t blame people for acting like that’s what this is. But that really isn’t what this is. And even if there was some kind of love confession, I really hate to break it to you, but the Star Trek novels are just fancy fanfiction and are not considered canon by any stretch (excluding the one Gene wrote himself, which let’s face it, perhaps has the most K/S elements of all). 

If you are looking for a nice story about Kirk and Spock being in love, then I very much urge you to look at Ao3 or similar sites. Skip this, if you want a K/S story, because that’s not what this is. Now, if you’re a huge fan of the Romulan commander from the Enterprise Incident, then my GOD you have to read this. I think this was a pretty solid Trek book. It was no piece of literary genius, but it got the job done. There was a lot of it that I think could have been left out, because it the later half it started to drag horribly, and we got a few plot threads that went absolutely nowhere. I’m not sure I’m much of a fan of alternate universes, as I really really enjoy the established dynamic of the characters, but it didn’t bother me too much. But I mean hey man, there was defiantly parts where I was so invested I couldn’t put the book down. Give this one a read if you’re looking for a pretty interesting Trek book with a little bit of cheeky K/S sprinkled here and there. 

If you have given the book a read, or just have thoughts in general, I’d love to hear them! 

#here it is people #as always sorry for any grammer or spelling mistakes #i know there are prone to be some so just uhhhhh #ignore it if you can #star trek #killing time #kirk #james t kirk #spock #kirk/spock #k/s #spirk #the original series

[migilini]

Not So Secret Anymore - Charlie Gillespie

summary: It’s hard to hide a relationship from the public, particually when both work on the same show.

words: 2.5k

warnings: fluff

a/n: not my fave but i still somehow like it.

Requests are open :)

MASTERLIST

------------------------------------------------------

September

"When do we have our first interview?" you asked the boy whose head was in your lap. He looked up from his phone and your eyes locked with his green ones "Hmm, my calendar says in about 30 minutes."

You groaned at that and stopped playing with Charlie's hair which earned you a grunt and whine from him. "Sorry babe but I think I have to go, so I still have time to get ready and set up." You muttered and gave him a small kiss on his brown hair.

"Uhh fine." The weight lifted from your legs, you stood up and before you knew it you were thrown over his shoulder. Laughing, you slapped his butt and back repeatedly. "Babe! I mean it" you tried to press out between giggles, "we both decided to keep us a secret." He sat you down on the kitchen isle and cornered your body in between his arms, standing right in front of you, you're back hitting the kitchen cabinet.

"I know... come back later?" he asked and tilted his head, looking at you with big puppy eyes. "You know it." After a swift kiss, or rather a little make out session, you were on your way back to your own appartement. Just in time to change your top and put on a lip-gloss before opening your laptop and joining the interview.

"Hello everybody! I'm here with the cast of Netflix' Julie and the Phantoms that came out on Thursday. How are you guys?" the interviewer asked and smiled into the camera of his laptop. The whole cast chirped in with a good, great, or amazing.

"That's fantastic!" he clapped his hands "Now, Jeremy, how would you describe your Character and the show in general?"

"It's a show about ghosts from 1995 who come back 25 years later and join a band with Julie who didn't sing a note after her mother died. Reggie, the character that I play, is one of those ghosts and he is a loveable himbo. Did I use that word correctly Maddie?"

Maddie smiled and the interviewer changed the topic "Madison and y/n, birds have told me that this was your first ever acting job is that right?"

You nodded and signaled Maddie to speak first "Yes, and it was both amazing and traumatizing! I was so nervous, but the crew really helped to calm me down, especially y/n who just was in the same position as me, so we freaked out together most of the time." She smiled and the interviewer waited for you to answer. "Except, Maddie had a least some acting training at school, that's why she is the best. I more or less walked into the whole situation." You said laughing.

"I love this story." Jeremy exclaimed, making you slightly blush at his words.

"Would you be so kind and tell us?" the interviewer questioned and smiled at your little nod.

"Yes, yes of course. Well, I was on vacation with one of my good friends from back home..."

"She means Germany." Owen interrupted with a smile on his lips. "Yes, Owen. Thank you for adding important details. Anyways, we saw that there was an Open Audition nearby and though why not? We don't have anything to lose or to do on that particular day. And here I am, my friend sadly didn't get in."

"That really is an amazing story, I can see why Jeremy likes it so much. So, Charlie how would you describe y/n's and Luke's characters, she wasn't supposed to be in the script and was later added in right?" Charlie quirked up at the mention of your name and stated proudly. "Indeed, she impressed Kenny so much that he wrote a character just for her. He thought that Sunset Curve, the band name before we died, needed a female to handle their chaos or well... at least tries to. Y/N plays Allie, who against common speculation isn't any of the boys' love interest which is a very nice turn of events. She and Luke bud head a lot because Luke only thinks about music and the band and she tries hard to make him take breaks every now and then." 

A lovesick smile sat on your face while you listened to your boyfriend of nearly a year, once you realized your expression you quickly shook it off. Hiding this relationship was definitely going to be harder than expected.

The Interviewer asked some more questions before the last and dreaded question was thrown your way. "So, most of your fans are wondering if any of you guys are in a relationship." You and Charlie had discussed a million times before what you guys would say in such a moment, the two of you shared a look.

Jeremy's eyes switched from Charlie's box on his screen to y/n's before answering "I have a lovely wife! The rest of us are happily single, right guys?"

"100%" Maddie added, while Owen only shrugged, his dog conveniently jumping into his lap.

"How about the other two?" he eyed up the last remaining.

"Very single" Charlie laughed, and you agreed "Totally."

As time went on it was harder and harder for the two of you to hide the relationship, as you two spent nearly every day together and therefore did the same activities. Particularly after your social media accounts have gained over a million followers and people started to ship actors and tv show characters. But you two loved the little secret bubble you've created, there was no pressure to take good pictures together, or to post stories, to be asked a thousand questions about your relationship and no hate towards any of you.

December

It has been 4 months since the show released and the hype it got definitely was way more than you ever expected. It blew your mind. Currently, you are on Charlie and yours one-year anniversary / Christmas / good deeds vacation. Charlie and you found a good mix, that made you both happy, between chilling and doing adventurous things.

It was Christmas eve and Maddie wanted to do a 'guess the song Christmas Edition' with the main cast. Eagerly you agreed and hurried from the beach, where Charlie currently took the quiz at the bar you both sat on just minutes before, to your shared bedroom. You shot Maddie a quick text that you were 'out of the relationship zone' and ready when she was ready.

"Helloooo. How did the others do?"

"Not the worst but I still have faith in you to win this. ARE YOU READY?" she screamed the last part.

“I’m going to read you the lyrics of a christmas song and you have to guess the next line. There are certain cards that give one point and others give two. Whoever has the most points at the end…”

“Hopefully get your earrings” you asked with a sly smile and your shoulders raised.

Maddie laughed but shook her head “Sadly, no. I haven't figured out the price yet, but I for sure will! I like your backdrop by the way.” she added and you quickly looked behind you. You sat crisscrossed on the hotel room floor, you used the coffee table and a water bottle as a phonestand and used a white checkered wall as a background to try and hide the fact that you didn't sit in your living room.

January

“This should be the last box.” you cheered into the empty hall and shut the front door with a light push from your hip. Charlie popped his head out of the bedroom and walked over to, dropping his head on your shoulder in exhaustion. Nothing was set up, boxes stood randomly all over the apartment, the fridge stood there still empty and a lonely mattress covered the bedroom floor.

“The walls look a bit bare don't you think?” you said about a week later, standing in the middle of the now a bit furnished living room. Strong arms sneaked their way around your waist and a head dropped on your shoulder.

“Hmm… you're right. What do you have in mind?” Charlie said and turned you around so you were facing him. He smiled at the spark in your eyes “I was thinking, a yellow akzent wall with random secondhand pictures and some pictures of us, all in frames of course. So it's gonna have this homey and creative atmosphere.” You rambled on for a while longer, telling him where you think his instruments could go, the pillows you saw online and thought they worked perfect with the colour of the couch. Charlie just stared at you, a dumb smile on his lips with his arms around you.

“Do you not like it?” you noticed that he hasn't talked for a while and got worried. “I love it. We could live in a dumpster for all I care, as long as I have you by my side.” You fake gaged at his romantic words and gave him a kiss.

The first time people got really suspicious was the time you accidentally walked in on a live he had on Instagram. He sat in front of his instruments, phone propped up before him. You thought that he was already finished but you were wrong.

“Do you think this…” you walked into the room, a shirt in your hand that you just took out of the dryer and lost your words the moment you saw him sitting in front of his phone. He looked at you with wide eyes, his brain clearly searching for a good excuse. 

“Is that y/n?” he read outloud from the chat, gesturing you do sit next to him. “Yes it's her! We’re hanging out and she helped me with my washing because I somehow still don't know how to do it.” he laughed nervously, his hand grabbing yours out of the frame.

“He promised me food and I live really close by, so I thought I'll help this poor man out.”

May

Looking back at this moment now, you and Charlie weren't sure why you just didn't come clean. You didn't mean to hide the relationship this long, it just kinda happened and at one point it just got too awkward to tell. It was fairly easy to hide most of the time, you didn't most that much on instagram and Charlie only showed parts of his daily life.

The easiest was the time you filmed JATP Season 2. You were expected to hang out and live together. Back in 2019 you already lived with Owen and Charlie. This time poor Owen had to live with a couple instead of just two friends. (You were already dating for a while back then but didn't tell the cast, to not make a fuss.)

It wasn't like the fans didn't suspect a thing, especially after Owen posted a video of you two fooling around. 

Everybody sat outside, enjoying the everwarming sun on their skin. Half of the cast was already in costume just waiting for the break to end. In typical Allie (your character) fashion you wore an overall with a tight tank top underneath, your makeup stood out from the others with the heavy blush, freckles and black eyeliner. 

Charlie, in his Luke wardrobe, thought that it was funny to stand in front of you to shield you from the sun.

"Stop that" you whined and tried to shove him away, which was harder than you thought considering he stood before you and you sat on a bench.

"Make me." He flirted and stood even wider before you, puffing out his chest. Raising an unimpressed eyebrow, you stole his beany with a swift motion. His expresion quickly changed from cocky to shocked, snickering was heard from Maddie who was used to this type of behaviour.

"Ups… heavy wind blows in the shadows." You explained nonchalantly and pulled the beany on your head, sticking your tongue out at your boyfriend.

"Oh it's on my lady" he growled "I'm giving you a three second advantage. One…" your eyes widened and your heart rate picked up. "Two…" you got up and scanned the place internally making a good running line. "Th-.." you began sprinting across the lot. You heard the laughing from your castmates behind you as you and Charlie ran in circles. 

Unfortunately, he was still fitter and faster than you and about a minute into the running he had you thrown over his shoulder.

"Surrender!" he screamed as you tried to wiggle out of his grip.

"Never!" You screamed back and wiggled even harder.

"Surrender or i'll have to tickle you" he warned and those were the last words Owen was able to film before a producer yelled that the break was finished.

February

“Baby, if I would believe this News Article, you have a secret girlfriend, but it's not me.” you showed him your phone screen.

“I’m not cheating on you. I would never, i'd die rather than…” his frantic expression made you snort. “I know. Oh my god! People saw you with Lia.” you held his hands comfortably.

“Lia as in your best friend Lia?”

“The one and only. People noticed the hickeys... At least they’re getting closer now. So are we still on for the masterplan? You by instruments and I'm gonna sit in the bedroom?" He nodded and smiled at the sight of your equally plastered neck. 

Eventually, before you even were able to execute the as you'd like to say 'masterplan' your relationship got outed. I mean it was time, the two of you getting lazier with the hiding as time went by. 

Fans noticed that you wore a lot of Charlie's things and that you and him always seemed to be at the same place at the same time. It was actually one of your lives that spilled the secret. 

"That's a really nice akzent wall" you read outloud from the chat "oh thank you! It was a long process to get all the pictures but it was actually Charlie's idea to not only have pictures but also plane tickets, date memories and so on hung up on that wall. It really makes it homey. I think to get that wall this crowded it took us...what? About well since we moved in…" you didn't even realise what you said you just babbled and then it was out.

"Charlie actually is home! I could call him. Babe! Come here for a sec- oh my god!" Your hands flew up to your mouth in realizion. 

From that moment on you were public and your social media exploded once again. However the two of you were happy to finally show each other off.

#charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie imagine #charlie gillespie fanfic #charlie gillespie fic #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie x oc #charlie gillespie x y/n #jatp fanfic

[thoughts-on-bangtan]

Just an observation. The vminnies were being fed pretty heavily since the beginning of the year, and now the content seems somewhat focused on the other pairings (mainly involving JM & JK). This is not shipper narrative but what we are being shown. Why do you think this happens? We definitely don’t need weekly content aligning with our ship of choice, but it is something I have noticed from the time vmin caught my attention. Editing truly can mess with your head, not to mention when it jumps all over the timeline. I have to say, as great as Let’s BTS was, it left me scratching my head more. The entire group’s reaction was all over the place, and sorry JM was rather distant.

Hi everyone,

Since Admin 1 is very busy again, I’ll (Admin 2) answer instead.

It's true, I agree with the anon. All the content we receive is edited and by design is supposed to show us all the members and their interactions. However, depending on what we focus on, we will see our chosen members more than others. In this case our chosen members are Jimin and Taehyung, so naturally in every content we get, we notice their interactions with the members most, or lack thereof. One thing that’s important to keep in mind is that we don’t know why things are edited the way they are, be it to make them funnier, so scenes that are less funny get cut, or more serious, so scenes that are not serious are cut, etc. Does that mean the editors were told to cycle through “feeding” different ships? No. It just depends on which members interactions happened and which fit the mood of the content best, or which added more to the point/theme/message of the content.

Admin 1 wrote a post about a similar topic (as in the “no screen time = no bond” paradox) some time ago which you can read here.

Even if a specific piece of content has more interactions between, like you gave as example, Jimin and JK, that doesn’t mean it is this way for the sake of shippers, but that perhaps their interactions were ones that fit the episode best, but whatever else is interpreted into that, that’s only on the shippers and their narratives and often does not have anything to do with the actual interaction itself. Notice how some will take the most inconsequential interaction and turn it into the biggest romantic gesture ever, and yet gestures that really show a form of gentleness or “intimacy”, like Taehyung taking Jimin’s cold hand and touching it to his cheek, are ignored or drowned out or belittled even though, subjectively, interactions like these show us something that very much is significant.

So while we might get more interactions between members X and Y, the type of interaction is what makes the difference. As well as the choices editors made for whatever reason, but those reasons have nothing to do with romance. Bhit and the editors for their different content are not a dating agency and BTS content isn’t part of a larger “romantic” show like, I don’t know, Love Island.

Furthermore, we already had this conversation so many times, and Admin 1 also already asked for questions insinuating these types of things, to stop because it makes us feel like a broken record. We have to learn to differentiate between normal interactions between friends and those that actually hold more significance, because most interactions are just interactions between best friends and any romantic vibes and implications are projected onto them by those that want them to be this way. If you watch content through a more OT7 lens, these interactions will just be funny to you and you won’t think of them as “ship” interactions. After all, even OT7s noticed how much more significant Taehyung’s words to Jimin in Let’s BTS were while they laughed at how Jimin’s request from JK was like a typical thing between best friends/brothers. Only their shippers decided that their “I’m hyungs copycat” message has deeply romantic implications, because that’s what they wanted from that scene.

Besides if you pay attention to what happens in shipper spaces, when there are more vmin moments with clear implications pointing toward them being more, immediately other shippers jump into action to show that their ship supposedly has way more romantic interactions than whatever vmin did. Even if they are the only ones who see things like that. It’s treated as competition, which is unhealthy and misses the point.

Let's BTS was very interesting and funny and, in places, very controversial when it comes to shippers.

I've read a lot of different reactions. From the very nice and sweet reaction of OT7s to Taehyung's words over to unpleasant and even offensive opinions from shippers of other ML ships.

According to Jk*okers, Taehyung acted inappropriately and intrusively, in the opinion of Tk*okers this letter was actually somehow meant toward JK etc. the list goes on and on.

In my opinion, Jimin was not distant. Jimin was nervous and a bit surprised, but also behaved a bit as if he knew what to expect.

I think that: If Jimin hadn't agreed with Taehyung's words and all of his actions, we would never have seen it, the way Jin asked the You Quiz editors to cut large parts of his answers as well. The program was not live, it was edited, had music in the background to set the mood, and so on. As example the letter was blurred out for dramatic effect or because a request for that was made, we might never know, but if the translation of the content of the card being for Jimin’s eyes only was the right one, then it would be the latter option. If this situation had not been welcomed and okay with Jimin, it probably would not have been aired in this form and instead replaced by something else, redone, or a million other options. Jimin was visibly nervous, maybe a bit embarrassed, he wanted this situation to "pass" as quickly as possible, but he was definitely not distant or anything else that has a negative implication/connotation.

On the other hand, I personally saw some satisfaction on Jimin's face. Let's not pretend that not everyone would be happy to receive such a message from the most beautiful man in the world (lol). Taehyung spoke honestly about his feelings (“Jimin-ah, I like you the most”) and Jimin reacted the way he did. He didn't know what to do, whether to laugh or cry or run away from nervousness, but there was no negative reaction on his part. Jimin, with a very serious face and focused eyes, replied clearly by saying “Thank you, Taehyung, I also like you a lot”. He wouldn’t say that if he was distant, or if he wouldn’t feel that way or if he didn’t like the situation or Taehyung’s words.

Now firmly putting on my delulu hat just to be sure: In my opinion there was something important on this piece of paper but phrased in a way that wouldn’t cause any weird thoughts in the KBS staff (since those cards were clearly written and prepared by the same person and not the members themselves since the handwriting was the same) but that Jimin would understand. Taehyung and Jimin know each other long enough to communicate things toward each other in a manner that only they will understand the implication of something, I’m certain of that. Jimin's words were an answer to Taehyung's “confession” and while outwardly they didn’t seem as weighted as Taehyung’s, I wouldn’t be surprised if they did hold a deeper meaning that only the two of them understood. Maybe it has something to do with the ring that suddenly appeared on Taehyung's index finger?

Okay, taking my delulu hat off again.

In summary, in my opinion even if certain content has more scenes between Taehyung/Jimin and Z member instead of between the two of them, that doesn’t mean it’s to “feed” other shippers or that it contradicts vmin as what we see them. It all boils down to editing choices and what fits the mood/theme/message etc of the content best and what footage was captured. Also we should watch content as ARMY first and shippers second that way we don’t see other “ship” interactions as “negative” but simply as what they are: cute/funny/interesting interactions between the members, whom we should all love.

And no, Jimin wasn’t distant. He reacted in a way that made sense and fit Jimin, as in his way of keeping private things private and guarding his more affectionate interactions with Taehyung. If he hadn’t liked it or hadn’t agreed with Taehyung’s words, he wouldn’t have told him that he likes him a lot too, but instead he could’ve said something teasing to downplay the situation, or used Yoongi’s screaming and the other members reaction (I talked about those, and especially Jin’s, here) as an out to not say anything at all. But he didn’t. (also, to reiterate what I, and we, have said many times before, if Taehyung/Jimin were romantically involved with someone else, they wouldn’t do these things with their romantic implications, but they do them, so…)

I wish you a nice day or a quiet night, depending on where you are.

#vmin #Taehyung #Jimin #answered ask #answered by admin 2

[ladyxskywalker]

Tumblr Writer Q&A

tagged by the amazing @a-reader-and-a-writer 💖

open tag for any writer who sees this, feel free to tag yourself ! make a new post ! ☕

1) How many complete fics/one shots do you have(that you have not published (Yet)?

boba fett, cobb vanth, & will miller fics ! one shots that are almost finished, just not sure what to do with them 📖

2) How many WIPS do you have right now?

too many & 1 collab in progress 🌸

3) Do you take writing requests or write original ideas, or both?

both ! when I have free time I will sometimes take prompt or photo requests based on a theme

4) If you do take requests, how many do you currently have?

no requests right now ! but I will be happy to take a few once I *finally* finish this series

5) How many fandoms do you write for?

too many ! star wars, triple frontier, rogue one, multi fandom, etc.

6) Are there any fandoms you wrote for in the past that you no longer write for?

probably 'new amsterdam', I wrote a fic for lauren x leyla during pride month ! & I always wanted to write more for them, so the possibility is not completely off the table !

7) Do you write for ships, reader inserts or other?

I write reader inserts, & original poetry. thinking of updating some series to original characters / stories

8) Niche fandoms/characters you write for?

dorian gray (ben barnes), king arthur (charlie hunnam) klaus mikaelson (the originals) duncan vizla, michael kohlhaas, dr. johann, galen erso (mads mikkelsen), new amsterdam, etc.

9) Do you read fics as well as write them?

yes ! as much as I am able to !

10) What is your favorite genre to write for?

romantic fluff, emotional hurt/comfort

11) What is your favorite trope (to read/write)?

I love to read soulmate au fics

12) What do you do to get motivated to write?

listen to a lot of music, get comfortable under a cozy blanket

13) Is there a trope/genre you like to read, but not write?

I like to read soft smut written by other people, but it's the hardest genre for me to write

14) Any characters/fandoms you want to write for that are never requested?

Ezra (prospect, pedro pascal) I always want to write for him, (so badly!) but too afraid now because a lot of people already have that going on

15) How long have you been writing fan fiction?

Summer 2020, I never thought this would be something I would try !

16) Did you read fan fiction before you started writing?

Yes, I used to only read these 3 series that were my favorites. I used to look forward to them every week. I never interacted because I didn't have my blog yet ! Only my main page. I had no idea what to do.

17) Do you only post on Tumblr, or any other sites as well?

I post on tumblr & ao3 !

18) What do you personally consider the work counts of "Drabble", "One shots" and "fics"?

I guess a drabble to me is anything under 1k, one shot 1k - 4k, fics to me is everything, one shot, a series, long or short

20) Are there any stories you have discontinued? If so, why?

yes 😔 I stopped writing this anakin skywalker series called 'In Another Life' it was a cyberpunk / lost memories au. It was all supposed to be nightlife centric, with body mods, futuristic cool cars, & motorcycles. like most things, there wasn't a lot of interest & I kind of wrote myself into a major plot hole ! If I ever bring it back it will probably be a one shot where the story wraps up.

other ones that kind of fell off for the same reasons were 'Winter in My Heart' with viking!obi wan, a really soft soulmate au, & 'Endlessly' nyc!2008 ben kenobi

21) What is one of your main "pet-peeves" as a writer on Tumblr?

people in the writing community who do not support others

22) Do you write a particular time of day?

mostly late nights, that's usually the only quiet free time that I have, & sometimes I have to stretch my time so thin to either finish something, or spend time catching up on reading

23) Do you listen to music, ambiance/noise, etc to write or do you need silence?

sometimes I listen to instrumental things low in the background, calm acoustic & coffee beats playlists on spotify, or asot radio or tritonal radio

24) Do you outline your fics at all before writing?

sometimes I outline dialogue or ideas either before writing, or during

25) Do you post your writing as soon as you finish it, or do you schedule it to come out at a specific time/day?

I usually post on Weds, & Sundays, or whenever I finish writing something. If it's very late at night, or if I don't have time to post, I will most likely wait until the next day when I have time !

#writer questions #tag games

[lag1995-fics]

Hey can I request a fanfic for Evan's character kit walker and song a turning page from twilight?

I hope you like it thank you for requesting. ❤️

Turning Page

Song:Turning Page by Sleeping at Last

Pairing: Kit Walker X Reader

Warnings: some cussing

Words: 2010

Summary:Kit’s highschool sweetheart waits for him

Song Fic Masterlist

////::::////

You and Kit Walker had been high school sweethearts, he was your first love; and if you were being honest he was your only love. You guys had mutually broken things off after highschool when you had gotten into an out of state college.

When you came back the first time after getting your degree, you found out that Kit had moved on and married a woman called Alma. You weren’t jealous, a little disappointed maybe, but you were genuinely happy for them. Kit was a good man and you had always known he would make a good husband. You couldn’t put yourself through watching them though, you had never given up on your relationship with Kit. He had ruined you for other men. You had other boyfriends during school but the longest relationship had only lasted a month.

You decided to move back to Boston leaving your small town life behind. You loved a relatively happy life in the city, distracting yourself from the life you wished you had. You had gotten a degree in education, so you threw yourself into teaching children.

You had been happy to hear that they had apparently apprehended the serial killer, who went by the bloody face moniker. Well you had until they said it was Kit Walker, you reasoned with yourself that it had to be someone else named Kit Walker. Your Kit would never be able to do something as heinous as what they claimed Bloodyface did. Your Kit was a gentle soul, who would do his best to bring happiness and peace to anyone he might meet.

When you saw his face flash on the evening news that night you had broken down and sobbed. Kit was being framed for a murder he hadn’t committed. He wouldn’t even kill a spider much less the woman he married. You had started making calls trying to get on as a character witness. That whole town was racist and this stunk of a town coverup.

They wouldn’t let you be his witness though, they claimed you hadn’t spoken to him for over six years. You had screamed and cried even harder when they rejected you. You had never stopped loving Kit even if it had to be one sided from afar. You wrote him letters trying to convey to him that people still believed in him. That you would always love and believe him.

He never wrote you back. The guards at the prison who checked his mail had scoffed thinking of you as some loon and had trashed them. When he was committed to Briarcliff Asylum they too disposed of the many letters.

When you hear of Kit’s death you fall into a dark depression. You’re barely hanging on, when you happen to skim a blip in a newspaper. You almost choke when you see his face. He’s a bit older, but it is unmistakably Kit Walker. The article however was not a happy one: the man’s wife Alma had murdered a woman that lived with them in a fit of apparent hysteria.

Without preamble you packed a suitcase and began the trip back home. Kit would need you, not as a lover, that ship had sailed but he would need you as a friend. He was almost entirely alone now and with two toddlers to boot. You couldn’t help but feel the joythat he was alive even though it was steeped in sadness at his tragic loss.

Alma had been a sweet girl from what she could tell. She had never met her in person but if Kit married her it was apparent that she was a good person. She had been missing for so long though, she had been traumatized and snapped. It wasn’t her fault that bad things had happened and lord knows that the country's mental health system left a lot to be desired.

It had taken you almost all day to find the farmhouse that Kit lived in. It was dusk and the sun was starting to set. You took a steadying breath hoping that you weren’t overstepping any boundaries. You had flown out of the house with barely any thought, relying mostly on instinct. You hadn’t been able to help Kit when he was accused of being Bloodyface but you could certainly help now without the government involved.

You eased yourself out of the old Buick you were driving and shut the door. You began to make your way to the door but it opened before you got the chance to knock. There he was, he was still handsome as ever, but he had lost that carefree air he had when they were young. You supposed you had probably lost that too.

“I already told you I’m not doing an interview, leave my family in peace!” His voice was angry and you were now unsure if you had made the right decision. Then as if he hadn’t really been looking at you before, his eyes widened.

“Y/n?” He asked questioningly the anger had drained from his voice.

“Oh Kit I heard what happened I needed to make sure you were okay,” you explained trying not to cringe. You probably seemed like a crazy person showing up at your highschool sweetheart’s home after his wife had murdered someone.

“I thought you lived in Boston?” He questioned, still surprised at your arrival.

“I do, I hopped in my car as soon as I heard, I thought you might need some help. If I’m imposing I apologize… I can leave,” you were rambling, it was something you were prone to when nervous.

“No! Uh I mean no, you could never be an imposition doll. Come inside, I didn’t think anyone cared about me anymore,” he lamented, meeting her halfway on her way to the house. You got a better look at him up close. He still had beautiful brown eyes but there were dark bruise like bags underneath them. You could tell he hadn’t been sleeping well, and really who would after something like this happened.

You followed Kit inside his home, it still smelt of the bleach they used to get up the blood, but it was warm and cozy. You looked over and could see the two toddlers playing together on a rug with some blocks.

“This is Julia and Thomas,” he said, gesturing to the kids who barely spared them a glance.

“They’re precious,” you commented.

“Yeah they are pretty great, must take after their old man,” he bragged teasingly but it was half hearted.

“Kit,Are you okay?” You asked, laying a hand on.

“I will be,” there was a determination in his voice this time looking at the children playing happily unaware.

“If you need anything at all just tell me” you begged, hoping he would take the help. This trip wasn’t entirely unselfish, you had missed Kit the moment you left for college and the feeling had never left. It hadn’t faded with time like these things are meant to do, you had never stopped loving Kit and you would wait a thousand years if that’s what it took. You didn’t expect any romance, you knew that ship had sailed, but you would be there for your dearest and oldest friend.

“Don’t you have a life or a lover in Boston, surely you don’t want to spend time with someone as pathetic as me.” His self deprecating comment made you jerk him by the arm so he was facing you.

“You listen to me Kit Walker, you are one of the most gentle humans I’ve ever met. You are an incredibly good man and you deserve all the love and help in the world. Let someone help you, you don’t have to go through this alone,” You declared, staring directly into his brown eyes with your own y/e/c ones.

He only nodded before taking you into a friendly hug holding you close to his chest, his head buried into your shoulder. You felt a shuddering sob wrack through him. You only held him, you didn’t know how much time had passed as you held him close letting him sob. When he finally pulled away you could see the gratitude in his eyes.

****

Days bled into weeks and weeks bled into months as you stayed with Kit. Things for the most part remained platonic apart from a few lingering glances from each other. You didn’t want to put any pressure on the relationship. You had meant what you said when you told him you were here to help him. You would love Kit however you could get him be it romantic or platonic. You would always wait on him.

When he had come home one day in tears you had just held him. Alma had died that day and Kit had lost his wife for a third time and the children had lost their mother’s.

More time would pass and things became increasingly comfortable between you two. You had taken a teaching position at the elementary school the next town over and Kit continued to work as a mechanic.

It had been a day like many others when it happened. Kit had come home covered in a layer of oil and grease and you had been making dinner. After he had showered, he came into the kitchen to watch you cook and help Julia and Thomas with their homework. It was really quite domestic.

After dinner you had wrestled the children into bed and retired to the living room to watch television. You had felt the burning of Kit’s eyes on you and you turned to look at him pulling a face.

“Why did you stay?” He asked with a puzzled look on his face, “Your help has been indispensable, but it’s a year now and your still here. Aren’t you tired of me yet?”

“Oh, I can start looking for an apartment. I never wanted to overstay my welcome. I guess I just got comfortable being around you and the twins, is like breathing air” You rambled hiding your burning cheeks. He wouldn’t take that though and he grabbed you by your shoulders making you look at him.

“Doll I’m not kicking you out, you can stay forever if you want. I just don’t understand why you would want to stay with me,” he said and you gulped looking into his eyes.

“Oh Kit you’re the best person I know. Did you not get that with the hundreds of letters I sent to you in prison and while you were at Briarcliff” you joked trying to lessen the tension. You had never brought up the letters before you were honestly pretty embarrassed by them.

“What letters!?” He pulled back looking hard at you.

“I wrote to you everyday up until they announced your death” you explained cheeks filled with liquid fire.

“Fuck! He cursed getting up and pacing.

“I never got a single letter, y/n” he said and you not knowing what to do approached him opening your arms. He fell into your embrace burying his face in your hair.

“I’m sorry,” you croaked unsure of what to say.

“Don’t be sorry doll, but it still doesn’t explain why you want to be around me” He started in again and you couldn't help the anger that spilled forward. You took your fist and hit his chest.

“Because I love you dummy, I never stopped,” his eyes went wide at your declaration.

“What?” He asked dumbly, his limbs going numb.

“I love you Kit and I’ll always be there for you if you need me. If it’s only as a friend I can live with that, at least I get to be with you,” Your cheeks burned for the third time in what seemed like an hour.

Kit not knowing what to say decided to act on instinct. He gathered you in his arms and pressed his lips against your own in a searing kiss. You clutched at each other desperately the tension finally snapped.

“I love you too Doll.”

Requests are open drop a song or a prompt in my ask box ❤️

#kit walker x reader #kit walker #kitten #Kit walker is a babe #ahs asylum fanfiction #fluffy #evan peters #peter maximoff fanfiction #fem reader #gender neutral reader #reader insert #ahs fanfiction #fanfiction

[imma-potatoo]

For the bthb, may I request Logan and U!Patton with Thrown Down The Stairs? Maybe with some Remus or Janus comfort later? Idk, I just like your writing style and am crazy for Logan angst.

@badthingshappenbingo

Send me a prompt with a character! Please specify ships! No romantic prinxeity, r*mr*m or U!Janus and U!Logan please!

You wanted Logan angst? You got Logan angst~

Prompt: thrown down the stairs.

Warnings: U!Patton, blood, gore, choking, scratching at throat, concussion, thrown down stairs, pinning, graphic abuse, punching, slapping, ask to tag

(I'm really sorry this took so long. Wifi problems and family shit)

-----

Love

----

Logan walked out of his room, humming a small song (Crofters the Musical, but that was only for him to know) dress shoes clicking softly on the wooden floors while he skimmed over the book in his hands. The mindscape was just as bustling as usual, he could hear Janus lecturing Remus in the darker half of the mind about how stealing Roman’s sword and turning it into a dagger was inappropriate and that he’ll have to make Roman a new one. Roman himself was sulking in his room playing Burn from Hamilton on loop because “Remus is dead to me like Hamilton was dead to Eliza”…. Logan didn’t get it. Virgil’s music was turned on max; like always but this time he was trying to drown out Roman’s complaints with My Chemical Romance. Patton was most likely baking in the kitchen once again.

Logan flipped open to the page he left off on; he had just started this book so he wasn’t too far in. He couldn’t help the grin that spread on his face as he started to read,

The person who was supposed to love me the hardest-the most unconditionally-has always wanted me gone. No matter how hard I tried to be perfect. Now, this boy-who knows all my imperfections and has seen all my hurt laid bare-wants me to sta- Logan’s reading was interrupted by a door clicking open.

Logan looked up to see Patton closing his bedroom door. An ear to ear grin plastered on his face, it was a little too much teeth for his comfort. Patton locked eyes with the blue side, “Hiya kiddo!”

Logan slipped his bookmark back into the thin pages, “Greetings Patton.” Logan waited for a second or two for Patton to walk beside him; after all, when someone comes out of their door, you have to wait for the other to join you on your walk.

And Patton did, they started towards the staircase; Logan tracing the book pages with his fingers. “So! Where ya headed kiddo?!” Logan had always thought Patton was a little too cheery for his tastes, but that was just the father’s personality, he couldn’t change that.

“I’m headed to the imagination to read,” for a brief second, Logan forgot who I was talking to, “It's actually quite an interesting book! The Dangerous Art of Blending In is considered a must-read for pride month and is based on the author's true story,” Logan continued to talk; eyes twinkling with excitement and pure joy as he went on to explain the main character’s arc so far.

The blue side steeled his expression to his happy grin, “That sounds interesting kiddo! Can I see it?”

Logan grew stiff, but continued walking with Patton until they made it to the top of the stairs, Logan shifted his eyes downward and handed the book to Patton. Morality swiped the book straight out of Logan’s hands, he pulled it open to a random page and started to read. Logan watched in horror as the older side’s expression shifted from mild curiosity to confusion, to disgust, and finally to anger.

“Why are you reading these horrible things, Logan?” Patton’s smile was gone, eyes cold and disapproving as he stared into Logan’s eyes. “This is something Remus would read. Why. Are. You. Reading. It.” Patton stood tall, teeth formed into a sneer as he stepped closer.

Logan took a small step backward, “I-I-”

“Shut up.” Logan hit the wall when Patton hissed through his teeth, “Come on Lo-Lo! If you read stuff like this, you’re just as bad as Remus and Janus! You don’t want to be like them, do you?” Patton was inches away from Logan’s face. His breath hot on his skin, raising the hair on the back of his neck.

Logan gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. “W-well, I thought that Even and Henry’s story was a sweet story about overcoming hardships, even when you’re put in a bad si-” The stinging pain of Patton’s hand hitting his face stopped him in his tracks. Tears leaked down as Logan raised his hand to his cheek.

Logan looked at Patton with wide eyes, “y-yo-” The blunt end of a punch struck his face, Logan could only stand in shock as he felt his lip start to leak crimson, “Patton stop!”

The so-called father pushed his hand against Logan’s neck, keeping him in place even while Logan clawed at his hand and own throat, attempting to pry Patton off. His nails dug into his flesh, small warm droplets of blood pricking out of the skin as Patton tightened his hold.

“You, Lo-Lo-Bear, need to learn when to shut up~” Logan was sure that his neck was going to be bruised, all he could do was wheeze a suffocated breath in response. Patton applied his sugar-sweet smile once more, looking into Logan’s eyes with a twisted fascination.

Logan attempted to speak, he knew that he couldn’t. But words were his weapon. Without his voice he was helpless, and he refused to give in to the father figure’s torment. Patton had always been particularly touchy, touching them when it wasn’t necessary. Hands grazing over their shoulders or swiping things from their hand to look it over. Patton had also always been particularly violent. Pushing them against walls over little things and whispering threats. It didn’t make these situations any less terrifying though. And this was the first time Patton had taken it this far.

Logan’s hands were covered in blood. His blood. Gore covered his fingers and Patton’s hand, a few small beads hitting the floor; as well as Patton’s cartoon-themed sneakers. Long thin scratches ran up and down his neck, his nails had thick pieces of skin underneath the nails.

Patton raised an eyebrow at the side’s attempt to pry him off, he huffed a breath and let go of Logan’s neck.

Logic fell against the wall, hands immediately wrapping around the sluggish bleeding at his neck, Logan breathed in short ragged breaths eyes wide and staring at the floor. Breathing in the sweet addiction of oxygen.

Patton smiled, eyes skewed shut while the side on the floor held himself tightly. “There! Didn’t you learn your lesson kiddo?” Patton waited a second or two for Logan to respond, his breathing calm and steady as he swirled the crimson liquid on his hand. “Right kiddo?” Patton bore his cold eyes onto the crumbled side, he barely waited a second before seizing Logan’s wrist and pulling him to his feet.

The cyan side held Logan by his tie, right in front of the staircase. Logan could barely process anything before the side in front of him smiled, locking his eyes. And then, he let go and pushed Logan down the steps.

Logan fell, hitting almost every stair on his way down. He could feel his blood vessels burst as his arms scraped on the wooden railing, splinters indenting into his flesh. His head spun when it hit the stairs, glasses flying off. Logan could barely tell what was happening to him as he hit his head repeatedly, he knew that he heard a crunch from his left arm and right leg when he hit the bottom landing.

Logan laid on his face, breathing hard and rapidly. His mind was fogged over, no coherent thought could pass through as the ringing sound that suddenly plagued his mind filled his senses. He couldn’t hear his father figure climb down the steps, taking care to step over the blood spatters that covered them.

Patton poked Logan in the ribs with his shoe, giggling when the side groaned in pain. “You really should be more careful kiddo! Stairs can be pretty dangerous you know!” The cyan side took one last look at his victim before pulling Logan’s book from his pocket.

Patton opened the book to its center point, before grabbing each side of the novel and ripping it in half. Pages floated down like butterfly wings, gracefully falling as they surrounded the broken side in bitter mockery of the book. Patton threw what was remaining of the book onto Logan, his demeanor just as peppy and upbeat as ever, even while covered in another’s blood.

“You really need to be more careful with your possessions, Logic, such a tragedy, you know I love a good book.” Patton walked back up the staircase to his bedroom, while Welcome to the Black Parade blasted from Virgil’s speakers, Logan barely responded to the father figments door slamming.

Logan had no idea of how long he let his blood stain the carpet, but his mind grew even fuzzier as the room grew black. He allowed the sweet bliss of sleep to cloud his function telling him to stay awake. He closed his eyes, only to have someone shake him.

“-GAN! LOGAN WAKE UP!” The panicked voice of the deceitful side flooded his head, he tried to force his eyes open; muscles spasming. “There we go! Come on starlight! Stay awake! Remus is coming back with the medkit! Just stay with me!” Logan followed his voice, the smoothness and composed attitude of the yellow side was gone. Logan hated seeing the silver-tongued side like that.

“I-I see you have a copy of The Dangerous Art of Blending In! It’s such a good book right! I l-ove how the author wrote Henry! Don’t you? Come on Logan, stay awake!” Logan looked into the terrified side’s eyes. The enchanting yellow and brown eyes kept his focus even if they were clouded in fear, he wondered why he never noticed the flecks of green surrounding the slivered pupil before.

“I GOT THE MEDKIT!” The horse voice of Remus broke his concentration on the pretty eyes, why did everyone call Janus a monster anyway? Was it the scales? Logan could only wonder as the two dark sides hastily applied the first aid. Voices scared and rushed as they faded into the background, Logan could only focus on how Remus’ mustache was perfectly curled into its position, even when it was soaked in tears. Tears? Why were they crying? Patton said that they were monsters, and monsters don’t cry. Then again, monsters don’t help people either… 

Logan watched the two sides dig into the kit as fast as they could. Janus even removed his gloves.

Logan gazed at them tiredly, mouth lightly sagged open, “There we go! I think we can move him now Jan!” “Good! Let’s get him out of here before Patton comes back, I think he did this…”

Logan could feel his body raising to meet the ruffles of Remus’ tunic. The small teeth that embellished the ends of the fasteners rubbed against his shoulder. He didn’t have the energy to make any noise as the two sides took him back to their side.

He doubted he would ever return to the picture-perfect family he once belonged to ever again. He had his actual family, ready to help him through everything.

Janus bought him a new copy of his book too.

#Sanders sides #bad things happen bingo #deceit sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #thomas sanders #ts logan #ts janus #ts remus #ts patton #unsympathetic sides #unsympathetic patton #U!Patton #sympathetic janus #sympathetic remus #Logan angst #logan sanders angst #My writing #tw blood #tw gore #tw choking #Tw pinning #tw scratches #Ask to tag #tw abuse #tw bold text #janus sanders

[walkerwords]

“Half A Man” Daryl Dixon x F!Reader

GIF CREDIT: http://gph.is/2yFFwpT

Request: from @thanossexual​ Hi can I request "Half A Man" by Dean Lewis songfic Shane x Reader (but if you don't feel like writing for Shane, I'd be totally satisfied with reading a Daryl x Reader)! Thank you goddess ❤️

Word Count: 3033

Warning: None

Song I Wrote To: “Half A Man” by Dean Lewis

Note: Sorry for the delay on this one! I hope I did this justice! Thank you for the request!

----------

I was wrong to say I loved her

I was wrong to think I'm right

But when I told her it was over

My darling I had lied

The thick woods of Virginia were like navigating a labyrinth.

With all the overgrowth, the once familiar woods were starting to look like a whole other world. You had gotten used to trekking through the deep woods, but when you were distracted, it was never easy. The Walkers were also not ideal, especially this far from the roads that lead to each community. 

When you had left your lonely home in Alexandria that morning, you hadn’t told anyone where you were going. However, the look on Rosita’s face as she watched you exit the gate from her spot on watch, told you she knew exactly where your head was at. 

I've been running from my demons

Afraid to look behind

It had been two years since Rick had sacrificed himself on the bridge. It had also been two years since Daryl Dixon left to be alone in the woods in hopes of finding his brother. You had been supportive at first and you still were, but every time you woke up alone in the bed the two of you once shared, your heart ached.

I've been running from myself

Afraid of what I'd find

You had met Daryl the day he and his brother had entered the camp at the quarry. You were best friends with Glenn and had followed him after the world had turned for the worse. Glenn was wary of the Dixons, but you had got on with them almost immediately, dodging Merle’s annoying comments with a laugh and connecting with the quieter brother whenever you got the chance.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to grow closer and by the time the group had found the Greene farm, you and Daryl were nearly inseparable. The romantic relationship didn’t start until after you had reunited after the horrors of Terminus and from then on, you made a promise to him that no matter where you were, you would always find each other. 

But how am I supposed to love you

When I don't love who I am?

And how can I give you all of me

When I'm only half a man?

Then, the war with the Saviors had happened and Daryl had been taken. It was obvious to everyone in your family that he was pulling away. You understood and you didn’t. You hadn’t been the one locked in the Sanctuary and tortured. You did, however, understand what it felt like to lose a brother. When Negan had brutally murdered Glenn in front of you as you tried to keep Maggie from collapsing, it felt as if someone had torn out your heart. 

Cause I'm a sinking ship that's burning

So let go of my hand

Oh, how can I give you all of me

When I'm only half a man?

It became clear to you after everything that had happened with the Saviors and then with Rick, that you and Daryl were never going to be the way you once were. However, that didn’t make you stop loving him. He lived in your mind and no matter what you were doing or who you were with, you were always thinking about the man you loved. Which is how you found yourself stumbling over roots and rocks to find him in his wooded getaway.

And now I'm stuck in this hotel room

By cold neon light

You made it to the river as Carol had suggested and followed it down. It didn’t take long to hear the groans of Walkers which you had anticipated. Following the sounds of death, you finally found them as they were tangled in some sort of wired contraption. It also didn’t take you long to recognize it as Daryl’s work.

He had been the one to teach you and the rest of the group about how to make the larger snares for the Walkers. They worked perfectly for when you were all on the road after Terminus and before Alexandria. You dispatched the rotting creatures quickly, your knife sliding into their skulls with ease. You pulled the corpses from their traps and made sure the snares were reset before continuing on. 

I've been waiting for an answer

But it don't come tonight

A cold breeze rustled the trees causing you to shiver slightly. It would be winter soon and you couldn’t stop thinking about him all alone out here in the snow. Hell, you didn’t even like the thought of Negan alone in the cold cell either. You had been guilty over the past couple of years giving him extra blankets and such without Michonne’s knowledge. You figured Gabriel knew it was you, but he had never said anything. It wasn’t until last year that Judith started helping you. Regardless of what he had done, you didn’t wish the man to freeze to death. 

After walking for a bit longer, you finally smelled the burning of wood, a familiar scent after all these years. You could see his makeshift camp from your spot in the trees. When he had left initially you knew he was running from his demons by living out here, but you had never expected for it to go on this long. 

Stepping out of the tree line, you were met with the tip of a crossbow bolt. You stared wide eyed at it as you tried to keep your breathing steady.

“(Y/N)?” Daryl gasped as he quickly lowered his bow. “Dammit, I could’ve killed ya!”

“Yeah, let’s not do that,” you said, blinking quickly. He tossed his weapon down and turned away from you. You drank in the sight of him. He was still Daryl, but his hair was longer, mangy, and he had a few new scars on his face and hands. Your hands ached to reach out and push his hair off his face to see those beautiful blue eyes of his, but you remained where you were. “Daryl,” you began, but he shook his head. 

“Go away,” he muttered.

“No,” you countered, stepping further into his camp. “I’ve given you space, Daryl, but I am done avoiding this.” 

“Leave! Go back to Alexandria,” he snapped, kicking out at a stack of firewood. He was still keeping his back turned to you. 

“Dammit Daryl!” you swore going over to him. “Would you just look at me please?” It took him a second, but eventually he turned and faced you. After another moment, he finally looked at you, his eyes finding yours. “Aren’t you even a bit happy to see me?” you asked. 

Daryl sighed and shook the hair from his face. “Of course, I am,” he said quietly, “but I can’t do this right now.” 

“Right,” you said. “I thought you were done pushin’ people away.”

“I thought I was too,” Daryl admitted. You could still see the hurt in his eyes, almost as if Rick was haunting him through and through.

“It’s been two years,” you whispered. “Please, Daryl, come home.” Daryl shook his head as he pushed away from you. Keeping your distance, you watched as he paced, his boots digging into the soft earth. 

“I can’t face ‘em,” he said. “I can’t face...her.” He looked at you with sadness and you knew who he meant. 

“Michonne doesn’t blame you,” you promised. 

“I blame myself! I shouldn’t have let him go lead that horde by himself! I ain’t meant to be here. It should’ve been me by his side,” Daryl said and you ignored the pang in your chest.

“What about Judith, huh? Or RJ?” you tried. 

“Don’t,” he warned, pointing his finger at you, but you didn’t back down. 

“They look up to. Judith, especially, and then you go and disappear on her after she’s lost her father? And what about Aaron? Or hell, have you even been to see Carol?” you hadn’t realized you were yelling until he had flinched at the volume. You quickly stopped and controlled yourself. “I know you go to Hilltop for supplies.” The last time you had visited and Enid had mentioned Daryl, you were hurt, but had tried to brush it off the best you could. 

“Ya don’t get it,” he said. 

“Then explain it to me,” you pleaded, “because I can’t keep waking up every mornin’ and wonderin’ where you are or if you’re even still alive.”

And every bottle I had stolen

Lay shattered on the floor

What's broken can't be whole, anymore

“I’m broken, (Y/N),” he said with a shrug.

“That’s bullshit,” you countered quickly. 

“Is it?” he asked, stepping closer to you. 

“Fractured,” you reminded him, “but never broken. Don’t you remember that?” He paused as the memory flew across his mind. It was something you had said to him after the day at the farm when Sophia had come out of Herschel’s barn. Daryl had said that Carol had broken, but you assured him that she wasn’t. She was fractured, but she was never broken. It was something that you both continued to say throughout your time together. Especially after Merle and Beth died. At one point, it had offered him comfort and you only hoped that it did now. 

“You remember my sister?” you continued. He looked away from you, but you pushed on. “She saved us when those Walkers overwhelmed the prison. She died protecting Beth and Carl and you helped me through it then and every loss afterwards. Why won’t you let me help you? Why won’t you let me in anymore?”

But how am I supposed to love you

When I don't love who I am

“I’m not the same, I ain’t right,” he said. 

“People change, Daryl. You don’t think I get that? I’m not the same person I was five years ago let alone when all of this shit started. It took me a while to adjust to the new normal and fight for the future, but you helped me to do it. Not my sister, you. You are my person.” Daryl was shaking his head again. 

And how can I give you all of me

When I'm only half a man

“I don’t wanna drag ya down,” he said. You slowly reached out to take his hand and when he didn’t pull away, you gripped it in yours. 

“Who says that’ll happen? I know my limits, Daryl,” you told him. “You can’t tell me you’re happy out here,” you said softly.

“Of course not!” he yelled and snatched his hand back. Your palm stung from the absence of his touch. “Dammit, (Y/N)! I hate it, but this my life. Ya think I don’t feel bad about what I did to ya? Leavin’ ya like that? Yer always in my head woman!” 

Cause I'm a sinking ship that's burning

So let go of my hand

Oh, how can I give you all of me

When I'm only half a man?

His declaration shot through you and all you wanted to do was take him in your arms, but there was still that solid wall between the two of you. One that you weren’t sure how to break through. “Daryl,” you tried, but he kept going. 

“Everywhere I go, I’m lookin’ for ya. No matter what I’m doin’. Ya wanna know why I go to Hilltop? I go because Jesus told me he looks out for ya! Ya say yer always wonderin’ if I’m still alive? Well so am I.” 

“Then come home,” you said again. 

“I can’t,” he said with pleading eyes, begging you to understand. “I ain’t...whole without him.” Daryl fell to his knees and you joined him on the ground as he hung his head.

You didn’t know what to say. You never wanted him to feel like this. Rick Grimes was the one person who never turned his back on Daryl. Probably the first person to ever treat him as an equal in his life. Even before the two of you were together, you knew that you would never have the bond the two brothers had. It was something too special to replicate. “I can’t fix myself,” he said. “How am I suppose to love ya?”

“There’s nothing to fix,” you told him, carefully. “It was never hard for us, Daryl. Don’t you remember when you went lookin’ for Beth? That was the first time you kissed me as we said goodbye. You told me that there was no guarantee we’d see each other again, but I knew you would come back. Then after Negan took you,” his eyes fell closed at the memory, “I knew you’d come back to me then too. That is how much faith I have in us. You can leave me for a decade and I will still love you.”

And no one can ever hurt me

Like I've hurt myself

“Don’t ya get it?” he asked, but his tone was much softer now. “How can I give ya all of me when I ain’t even myself anymore? It’s all too much pain,” he laughed bitterly. “And now? Nobody else can hurt me when I’ve screwed myself up.” 

“Not true,” you disagreed, “You’re hurtin’ yourself, D.” You reached up and take his face in your hands. He visibly relaxed at your touch and you nearly cried as he leaned into your palms. You leaned forward and rested your forehead against his as the tears flowed from your eyes. 

'Cause I'm made out of stone

And I'm beyond help

Don't give your heart to me

“Please,” he whispered, “please don’t love me.”

“I do,” you said through your tears.

“No.”

“I never stopped, Daryl Dixon.” He pulled back from you, taking your wrists and removing your hands from his face. 

“Everyone around me dies,” he said. “Merle, Beth, Glenn, Carl! Now Rick! Who’s next? Judith? Aaron? You?”

“None of it was your fault, Daryl,” you said.

“It is, I shoulda done more,” he said. His hair fell into his face and you reached out to smooth it away. 

“You’re not God, Daryl. You’re just one man. A man that I, and many others, love. Why can’t you see that?” Daryl shook his head, trying to lean away, but you placed your hands on his shoulders, holding him in place. 

But how am I supposed to love you

When I don't love who I am?

And how can I give you all of me

When I'm only half a man?

“I’m not enough for ya.” 

“That is not up for you to decide,” you said plainly. 

“(Y/N)...”

“No, just listen to me. I don’t blame you for anything. Beth was not your fault; Merle was not your fault; and Rick was definitely not your fault. What he did, he did to protect all of us. To make sure that Carl’s dream was fulfilled. Rick wanted us to be a new kind of world and so he did what he had to make sure we could still be that, that we could build something special. I don’t know what he would think if he saw how separated we all are now, but I do know that he wouldn’t want you to be out here alone chasing ghosts.

“On our first night in Alexandria, do you know what he said to me?” Daryl shook his head. “Rick told me that he would do anything to make sure you saw a happy ending. I am not about to let him down, are you?” A tear flowed down his cheek and you caught it with your thumb. “You’re not lost, Daryl, and I am not leaving here until you get that through that thick skull of yours.” 

Daryl broke down in front of you then, keeling over. You caught him as he leaned into you. His arms snaked around you and you held him. “I miss him so much,” he whispered and your heart broke at the words. Holding him tighter, you ran your hands down his back, trying to rub some warmth back into his soul. 

The fire crackled next to you as Daryl Dixon lay in your arms. When you had decided to go looking for him that morning, you had never imagined that this is the man you would find. “I miss him too,” you whispered. Daryl clutched at your back and you were reminded of the last time you had hugged him like this. It was when you were reunited at Hilltop after he had escaped the Sanctuary. You missed holding him like this and you never wanted to let go. 

'Cause I'm a sinking ship that's burning

So let go of my hand

“I haven’t found his body,” Daryl said. 

“I know and I am not saying we give up, but God, I need you,” you admitted. Daryl sat up at your words and hope entered his eyes. 

“It ain’t gonna be easy,” he said and then trailed his hand up your neck, holding it gently. 

“I know,” you said, your own hand covering his. 

“I can’t face Michonne,” he said again. 

“We’ll talk to her together,” you promised. Daryl let out a breath and then leaned in to kiss you. Your lips met his and you melted. It was the best hello you could have ever asked for. “I love you,” you said as you broke the kiss. 

“I love you too. Never stopped and never will.”

 “No matter what, Daryl, if you think you’re a sinkin’ ship, then honey, I ain’t ever letting go of your hand.” Daryl swiped at his own tears as he pulled you back into another kiss. You knew that the two of you had a long road ahead of you, but you were willing to take every step as long as he was by your side. Even if he thought he was only half the man he once was, to you, he was the only thing that made you feel whole. 

So let go of my hand

And how can I give you all of me

When I'm only half a man?

TAGS: @thanossexual​ @felicisimor​ @yes-sir-hotchner​

#walkerwords #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #reader insert #reader #twd #twd imagine #twd imagines #The Walking Dead #twd season 9

[firstofficerwiggles]

Tumblr Writer Q&A

Thanks so much for the tag @grogusmum ! Let's get comfy and do this thing!

1) How many complete fics/one-shots do you have that you have not published (yet)? None. As soon as I do the final read through I publish.

2) How many WIPS do you have right now? I have 3. Two are open series (Grogu's Teacher and The Royal Diaries) and one is the first chapter of a fic I have been dying to write ever since last summer.

3) Do you take writing requests or write original ideas, or both? My true fics have been original ideas and one collaboration that came from a conversation with another writer (@imabeautifulbutterfly ). I have also received several fantastic asks from my bestie @boomtowngirl that resulted in some great drabbles. I would gladly take requests but no one has sent one in.

4) If you do take requests, how many do you currently have? None

5) How many fandoms do you write for? Just Star Wars, although I have been toying with the idea of a Star Wars and Star Trek crossover.

6) Are there any fandoms you wrote for in the past that you no longer write for? Nope

7) Do you write for ships, reader inserts or other? I mostly do reader inserts and I have one fic with OCs.

8) Niche fandoms/characters you write for? Not really, I suppose within the greater Star Wars fandom the one fic I have for Paz Vizla is niche since we really don't know much about him.

9) Do you read fics as well as write them? Absolutely!

10) What is your favorite genre to write for? Romance, fluff, romantic smut

11) What is your favorite trope (to read/write)? To read my favorite trope is "Oh no there's only one bed" even though it’s completely predictable, I love it.

To write, my favorite is mutual pining/not realizing the love is requited. Although I do not have much patience for a long slow burn and my characters tend to get together fairly quick. (Look I blame Mulder and Scully from the X-Files for that because those two dragged it out for frickin' ever and my heart cannot do that to my characters.)

12) What do you do to get motivated to write? I'm really motivated all the time to write, I have many ideas, but I just don't get as much time to write as I wish I did.

13) Is there a trope/genre you like to read, but not write? Occasionally I read angst but I don't think I'll ever write it. I've also stumbled into the a/b/o fics recently and I've been intrigued but I don't think I'll ever write one.

14) Any characters/fandoms you want to write for that are never requested? I don't get requests but I would really like to write for Obi-Wan. I have a feeling the new series might spark something.

15) How long have you been writing fan fiction? Since December 2020

16) Did you read fan fiction before you started writing? So much fanfic, I've been reading it for years, but it was always ships and OCs. It wasn't until I discovered reader inserts in 2020 that I felt that I found what I wanted to write.

17) Do you only post on Tumblr, or any other sites as well? I post on Tumblr and AO3

18) What do you personally consider the word counts of "Drabble", "One shots" and "fics"? Drabbles are under 1000 words, one shots are stand alone fics with only one chapter. I consider it all fic.

19) Which do you prefer to write more? HC, drabbles, oneshots/fics, multi chapter stories, other? Multi chapter stories are my favorites. I have a lot to say 😂

20) Are there any stories you have discontinued? If so, why? I have a fic with Wrecker that I thought about continuing but haven't yet. I think it's because I'm torn because I want to make it spicy, but Wrecker’s such an innocent soul that I'm not sure I can do it.

21) What is one of your main "pet-peeves" as a writer on Tumblr? Seeing people receive anon hate. I don't understand being mean to someone who's creating something out of love for their favorite characters. If you don't like what someone has written just ignore it and stop reading.

22) Do you write a particular time of day? Anytime I can get the time to write. My job is pretty demanding so I write whenever I can.

23) Do you listen to music, ambiance/noise, etc to write or do you need silence? I prefer silence so I can focus.

24) Do you outline your fics at all before writing? Yes, extensively. I'm an academic and some writing habits just stick with you.

25) Do you post your writing as soon as you finish it, or do you schedule it to come out at a specific time/day? I publish as soon as I think it's ready.

This was fun and I'm excited to hear from other writers! No pressure though: @imabeautifulbutterfly @writeforfandoms @moonstrider9904 @thefact0rygirl @mandosmistress or anyone else who wants to answer

#about the writer #writing q&a

[ljf613]

OOOOOHHHHHH, IT'S SISTER THEN?? THIS IS GETTING A LOT MORE INTERESTING EACH DAY!! Expect a lenghty review here when the new story drops, then!! And it will surprise you but i've already read all of your recs, i consider symbolism like a classic toko fanfic and i really enjoyed the sequel one shot that author did back in the day... About "A Simple Request", well it's not your typical arranged marriage trop but it's more like Iroh playing matchmaker and arranging their marriage kind of story (1)

I really enjoyed because i've always believed that if you make Toph and Zuko spend time together, they are gonna fall in love for each other at some point... So, that's why Arranged Marriage is a perfect trope for them, because it forces them to spend time to know together and to know each other in a deeply way. The other way is Uncle Iroh, but it works more like friends to lovers kind of story and slowburn.  But regardless of if they’re in love when they get engaged, it still could be seen as an arranged marriage because of the political implications of their union. I mean, the Fire Lord marrying an Earth Kingdom's noble screams politics and rebuilding the trust between their nations.  So, at the end of the day their relationship is beneficial to everybody, not only themselves. And it's a good topic to treat in fiction, like in this fanfiction called  (Is there a line I’m missing?)  If you don't want to go the Lin/Tenzin route, i'm all for it because it's very sad thinking about it and i love angst but i prefer the "life is not easy" type of angst you're going for in these series than romantic angst... like in my point of view, there are more heartbreaking and painful things than a broken relationship, i'm not trying to dismiss someone experiencing a heartbreak because it's also painful, but to me, if i'm very honest, losing a loved one is the worst hearbreak you could ever experience...  Death is a really hard topic to deal with and you never get over it, truly, you only learn to live with it but like i said that's my approach to life... but i think whatever you is gonna be amazing because i love your writing and the way you've outlined this so far, so i can't wait for you to surprise us with more!! 

-WonderBabe. 

I did not say it was a sister, either! I refuse to reveal any identifying information about my OC lavababies until they crop up in my fics, so you shall have to wait and see! 

And, wow, you’ve read all of them? Noice! Symbolism is definitely a classic (I should reread that one, it’s been a while), but I think my favorites are A Tale of Earth and Fire, @pigeonchest’s not supposed to come home (major inspiration for we all want love/we all want honor!), and @this-acuteneurosis’s Third Time’s the Charm.  There’s one other currently updating arranged marriage Toko fic I haven’t had the chance to add to the list yet: @lone-star-ranger’s How to Scam Your Way into Marriage, which he wrote for the @avatar-rare-pair-ship-challenge​ and was kind enough to gift to me. (Thanks again, Lone Star!) 

I did read A Simple Request, and I realized pretty quickly that it wasn’t actually an arranged marriage story, but I was not disappointed-- a 15k word Toko fic I haven’t read yet is still a Toko fic I haven’t read yet. I strongly recommend it to anyone interested in this ship-- the writer had a really good handle on Zuko and Toph’s character dynamic, especially considering that this one was written before season 3 aired (in other words, before the two of them had ever actually interacted with each other on screen). (TW for Iroh death.)  

Arranged marriage is one of my favorite tropes in general, and it works really well with Toph and Zuko-- I’ll go into this in depth some other time, but suffice it to say that, politically speaking, Zuko’s best marriage option would be a minor Earth Kingdom noble, preferably one stubborn and thick-skinned enough to be able to handle the intrigues of the Fire Nation royal court, and Toph checks all of those boxes.  (Did you forget to include the title of a fic you were trying to recommend?) 

As for Lin and Tenzin I feel like I read their relationship pre-canon very differently from how most of the LOK fandom seems to.  The story I put together while watching the show was not one of childhood sweethearts who were dating for nearly two decades before Pema swept in and broke them apart.  No, my interpretation was that they were a pair of childhood friends who, upon entering their thirties and and realizing that they were still single, decided that they may as well try out a relationship-- which failed miserably and ended in disaster.  In short, I don’t think that they dated for more than a few months, a year or two at most, and Lin is less upset about Tenzin “breaking her heart” than she is about how he broke up with her. (Maybe with some added bitterness that Tenzin, who she always considered to be “in the same boat” as she was, was able to find someone to settle down with while she wasn’t.) 

Back to my writing; I’m a lot more comfortable working with that “life isn’t always easy” angst you’re talking about than your standard romantic angst plotlines.  Broken romantic entaglements are hard, sure, but you can always find stories about those. I prefer stories about the struggles relationships experience that actually require effort to work through. 

As always, it was really nice to hear from you, WonderBabe! 

(PS: Do you have an AO3 account?)

#avatar the last airbender #avatar legend of korra #thoughts #toko #toph x zuko #otp: that's how i show affection #arranged marriage #zuko and toph #lavababies #fic rec #zuko #toph beifong #we all want love #we all want honor #tenzin and lin #tenzin #lin beifong #real love takes work #wonderbabe