#I know they have the same frame as the other tall men but still!

[creamecream]

Kaveh and Alhaitham have a big Kaeya and Diluc vibe

I live for the familial distaste and disgust in this game for some reason.

[sleepiercreature]

I'm once again thinking about the Adventurer's Bible entry on kobolds and the accompanying comic

Kabru speaks kobold and he still says that it's best to assume communication is impossible despite him knowing their language. But from the previous page kobolds are probably hostile to other races because kobolds are captured and sold as slaves. So kobolds being "cruel and aggressive as a rule" likely comes from how kobolds (justifiably!) act hostile towards tall-men if tall-men have been known to kidnap them and sell them into slavery where they "meet unfortunate ends." Kabru could be conflating this with all kobolds being inherently aggressive because he has been shown to be very "human centric" and I could see it being hard for him to put himself in the shoes of a demi-human (piled on top of his entire childhood being trauma probably doesn't help either).

But then Ryoko Kui adds Laios and Falin talking about "mountain people" at the bottom of the comic, who are human but from their perspective they fit into the same stereotypes Kabru brings up about kobolds. They are saying something ignorant and bigoted here about an entire society of human people and we as the readers can easily see that since they're talking about humans, not demi-humans.

A lesser writer would have stopped at just the top half of the comic and called it a day. By pairing Kabru's dialogue on kobolds with Laios's and Falin's dialogue on "mountain people" Ryoko Kui frames Kabru's own thoughts as more likely to be based on his own lived experiences and the society he grew up in and not as blanket fact.

[mv1simp]

Haunted ♥️ Part 1 of 2

Alpha!Max Verstappen x Reader (Omegaverse AU)

it’s where we go, it’s what you see (I know if i’m onto you, you must be onto me)

As Mercedes’ rookie female driver, you garner a lot of media attention, even more when you reveal you haven’t presented. You don’t care about true mates or presenting - all you wanted was the championship. You’d be a lot closer to it, if it wasn’t for the dominating Alpha Max Verstappen. But after your late presentation, you two realize there’s a lot more to your bond than competition.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, size kink, primal themes, dom!Max, Sub!Reader, enemies to lovers. WC: 5.4k

Triumphantly holding the trophy up in your hands, you beam at the sea of black and white fans who scream their approval. Winning your second race after having fought your way throughout the season as the new Mercedes driver was an unforgettable feeling - sealing in that it was your talent, not luck that got you the first. And no one had given you a harder time and held up your long overdue win than the reigning world champion - Max Verstappen. Turning to your right, you reward him with a smirk as your national anthem finally plays instead of the Dutch one.

He doesn’t hide his frustrated glare at you from his P2 podium that instinctively makes you want to sprint away and hide in your safe garage behind Toto. You’re a bit annoyed he’s still taller than you, even though you’re on the highest step. One of the downsides of being 5 foot compared to Max’s tall 6 foot frame - but that hasn’t stopped you from finally taking the win from him and proving how deserving of your seat you are, you remind yourself.

As the first female driver in decades, you’d sent shock waves through the paddock when Mercedes had pulled you out of the F4 pool and straight into their seat after the loss of their golden boy, Lewis Hamilton, to Ferrari. What had been even more shocking was the fact that you were an Unpresented female in a sport that was almost exclusively dominated by Alpha males.

Like the majority of premier athletes, most of the drivers had presented from a very young age as Alphas. Unsurprising - given the traits of ruthless competitiveness, aggression and passion that came naturally to Alphas. And out of all this group of already highly dominating drivers, Max Verstappen was the alpha, well known for his perfect instincts, the ultimate apex predator. His early career was famous because of how, at 17, his intimidating aura had been enough to make grown men racing on the same track give way to the younger alpha. This automatic submission Max was able to elicit from others was one of the many, many benefits that came with being an Alpha in society - especially for one such a powerful as Max.

So when you - who was not an Alpha, or even a Beta, but rather an Unpresented - showed up to the paddock for your first ever race and then ended up somehow going wheel to wheel with the reigning world champion by Lap 20, jaws dropped and headlines were rapidly printed. Presenting as an Alpha was rare, an Omega even rarer - with the majority of the population being Beta. However a small population also remained Unpresented, spending their whole lives without any sign they belonged to any gender. Essentially, you were like a scentless Beta - but just several rungs below on the social ladder as Alpha commands had minimal effect on you. It could be worse, you had mused when started racing - you could have been born an Omega.

Omegas were a rare breed and highly sought after. With their attributes of being sweetly nurturing and natural carers - they made the perfect match for protective Alphas. Of course, as the world had historically always been ruled by Alphas, in turn Omegas had been stereotyped as the soft, submissive, delicate ones who needed to be closely guarded in society’s eyes.

So it had been suprising to you that there were not one, but two Omega drivers on the paddock this year. Yuki Tsunoda made sense, you supposed, with his slight frame and pretty features giving him away. But he certainly swore so aggressively up and down the track he’d have the commentators asking if maybe he had been assigned the wrong group. Alex Albon had been much more surprising with his very Alpha-like build - but given his quietly confident aura and gentle nature compared to the other drivers who were always aggressively arguing, it made sense looking back. And it had been even more surprising when he announced he’d found his true mate and Alpha, his girlfriend Lily.

Really, you were grateful you didn’t have the drama that came with being assigned a presentation. Even if it meant you would never have a true mate, you could live with it if you could have a shot at being world champion. But goddamn Max Verstappen, with his intense gaze and powerful aura that even you would feel tickling the back of your neck, across the paddock, would keep getting in your way. Your first P1 though, 2 months ago in Japan, you hadn’t let him win and successfully defended him off. It was the only advantage of being Unpresented - unlike the other Alphas and Omegas on the track, you were the least affected by his suffocating presence and used that to your advantage when pulling dangerous manoeuvres that vexed the Dutch driver to no end.

And he’d certainly let you know it after your first win - after a neutral indifference to you when you approached him on your first day to greet him, unlike the majority of the drivers who’d curiously flocked to the first female one. But after you took P1 from him, he claimed angrily, with dirty fucking moves, what was that overtake on the 2nd corner- you’d formed an instant dislike of him. Just because you didn’t bend to his will like everyone else?! Just because you’d won using the same move - you pointed out to him furiously - that he’d used to overtake you on the last race?

The pair of you had become quick rivals, butting heads more and more as each race went on and providing lots of great content for the media which ate it up. Sometimes Max would confuse you into thinking you were friends - occasionally murmuring helpful advice as you watched the post race highlights in the cooldown room, or shutting down sexist questions you’re repeatedly asked in the driver interviews. You’d think this was the warm, caring Max that you’d heard existed off the grid. But then you two would have some racing incident or the other and he’d be back to the fire breathing lion he usually was.

That first P1 in Japan had been bittersweet to you - because after your argument with Max, when you’d gone back to your hotel to admire your new trophy, you’d started to becoming increasingly unwell for a few days and had high fevers. You hadn’t even realised what was going on until your Beta coach banged on the door demanding to be let in, before saying you were finally presenting, 5 years late, as an Omega.

You’d been shocked and upset, of course, leading to a very traumatic first heat in a foreign country where although the desire and lust hadn’t been intense, the longing for an Alpha to comfort and protect you as you cried and whined has been so overwhelming. You had never wanted to feel anything like that again, so disempowered - so you had sworn your manager to secrecy and after a very private meeting with you, your teammate George Russell, your managers and a very concerned Toto Wolff - you’d tearfully told them what had happened. You’d expected to be dropped from the team, but they had taken one look at your distress and instantly calmed you down. Mercedes will most certainly not be dropping their very promising rookie, who had just taken P1 at her 4th ever F1 race, Toto had reassured you firmly, exuding calm confidence as he handed you a tissue. George’s large hand rubbed warm circles on your back and within a few minutes you’re laughing at jokes the two tall Alphas made to cheer you up, unable to resist the urge to protect the small Omega in front of them and using their scents to soothe you.

Regardless of how understanding your team principal had been, the fact was it would be terrible PR for you to publically present as an Omega female and risk the loss of sponsors. Given that the first heat after the presentation was notorious for being especially painful in an effort to attract a fated mate from the very start, Toto had guided you to a discreet specialist doctor to ensure the world continued to believe you were Unpresented. You’re relieved, hating the idea of being stereotyped as something delicate and pretty to be protected when you were anything but. You literally drove like a suicidal madwoman at 300km/hr for a career! So you’d promptly been started on high strength suppressors to avoid any issues with a first heat happening in the middle of a race weekend, and a couple sprays of sweet perfume later no one would be any the wiser if they picked up on any residual Omega scent that the suppressors couldn’t block.

So here you were now, celebrating your second win in Barcelona with a few of the drivers and friends at a 3 story club downtown. Although you’d been enjoying drinking and laughing with your friends, you’d been unable to stop the shivers that ran down your bare spine from your rival’s intense gaze, still simmering with anger, across the dancefloor where he was talking to Lando. You hated the way that you still felt so affected by him, by his scent that always seemed to drift over to you, always smelling more and more heady each time you saw him. And the urge to submit to him was just stupid and desperate, you thought, rolling your eyes and taking another shot. It turns out your “slutty inner omega whore” as you had not-so-fondly dubbed her, seemed more interested in having a strong Alpha’s dick inside her, instead of hating said Alpha for trying to run her off the track. Multiple times.

And tonight, the suppressants were clearly not doing their job because you couldn’t control the way you squeezed your thighs together, panties suddenly damp with the thought of an alpha like Max keeping his eyes on you - instead of the girls who had been throwing themselves at him the second he’s entered the club. You tell your inner slut who delighted in this attention to get it together, because the attention was likely murderous rage from the competitive Dutch champion at losing a race. Forcing yourself to ignore the prickles down your spine, you take another shot instead and head back to the dance floor.

Many, many drunk dances with your girlfriends later, you found yourself safely dropped off at the hotel. Pressing the button, you waited patiently for it to come down, fanning your face because you felt strangely hot in the night chill despite having left the club. And then you feel it - that heady, dominating aura that makes you want to fall to your knees. Spinning around, you see Max standing there, dressed in a rare outfit of a fitted white tee and tight pants, accentuating his broad shoulders and thick thighs. Fuck, you had forgotten Redbull was staying in the same hotel as your team this weekend.

He smirks at you, asking if you’d had a good night celebrating, because it’ll be the last win he’ll let you have this year, Princess. You despised the nickname he’s given you over the Redbull radio one race, and how it had stuck in the media too - the pretty little Mercedes princess. You give him an unimpressed glare and tell him to fuck off, Verstappen as you get in the elevator, staying right by the front with your back purposely to him. As the doors close, you can’t help but notice through the reflective wall how Max’s dark gaze unabashedly wanders down your body, enjoying the sight of your curvy, petite form dressed in a backless halter satin minidress and stiletto heels that accentuated your thick ass. Forbidden delight curls in your abdomen from the thought of an alpha as strong as Max finding you desirable. A deeper part of you - one that you would never admit to anyone - can’t deny that you desperately wanted Max to want you, having always idolised him before you joined F1. That when you’d picked out this dress you wondered if Max was going to be out tonight, if he’d see you in this outfit…and find you pretty.

And you’d never, ever admit that recently you woke up with damp thighs and lingers of a dream of being underneath a dominating blonde Alpha, his voice deep and accented as he whispered for you to take it all for me, prinses…

Again, you promptly tell your inner slut to close her mental legs - just in time as the elevator opens before both your floors to let in a large group heading to the upstairs bar.

They’re a drunk, rowdy bunch of businessmen and you’re in no mood to be felt up - and you find yourself moving beside the protective aura of Max. You scowl at how you couldn’t seem to control yourself around the taller man then find yourself surprised when he moves to cover you from their curious gazes. His wide shoulders block out their view of how enticing you look as he crowds you into one corner, his back to them. You nervously make sure you don’t stare anywhere else but straight ahead at his toned chest, your heart beating at 200bpm as the desire that’s pulsing through you being this close to him. Especially when he’s decided to look so fucking hot tonight, that intoxicating deep scent making you light headed, like luxurious velvet running down your skin, like burnt amber, smoky and woody from the embers of a winter's night fire. That wicked inner omega of yours can’t stop purring at how your scandalous choice of dress gives Max a generous view down your cleavage.

The elevator comes to a stop with a sharp jolt on the businessmen’s floor, startling you out of your thoughts and you find you’ve placed a manicured hand on Max’s toned abs to steady yourself. And as soon as you touch him - the first time you’ve ever laid hands on him, you realise later - electricity crackles in between you both. His scent becomes all the much headier to you - as if all the same flavours had suddenly become 10 times amplified. It makes you whimper and again, your body betrays you with the fresh wetness that suddenly drenches your panties.

The change in the air is instant, tension clearly palpable as you nervously peek under Max’s arm and realise the group of businessmen aren’t leaving the lift - and instead all their eyes are turned in your direction with lustful gazes. You shiver but don’t hesitate to glare at them as you tell them to get out. They don’t move, looking entranced at you, when a low, threatening rumble from Max’s chest makes it very clear that you are not to be messed with - unless they wanted to go against the strongest Alpha in a 100 mile radius. Slightly tilting his head to look back at the group, Max’s narrowed eyes and threatening aura makes them run off with their figurative tail between their legs.

The elevator closed with neat ding, moving back up, and suddenly you realised you were in a very compromising position with your rival - who had definitely noticed the very Omega-like addictive, sweet smell you were giving off as a supposed “Unpresented” female.

Verstappen- you say anxiously, frantically thinking of what to say to convince him to keep your secret. But all thoughts are cut off when Max unexpectedly leans down and buries his face into your neck, making you gasp. Your hands grab his shoulders to push him away, to ask what the fuck he thought he was doing. But the words don’t even make it out of your mouth because your head is spinning from his lips now pressing kisses against your delicate collarbones. Somehow, you’re finding yourself winding your fingers in his blonde locks, which were just as soft as they looked.

By the time the elevator reaches your floor, you’re almost falling to the ground from the sensation but Max easily supports your weight against him. He’s guiding you out of the lift and trapping you against the nearest wall - and following immediately with his hard body pressed right up against your soft one. You’re whining that he needs to stop, what is he doing, you’re in a hallway for anyone to see, but he cuts you off again with his husky voice as he breathes out that this scent, your scent, princess…fuck, I’d thought it was perfume or something but it’s all you, isn’t it? I can’t get enough of how intoxicating you are.

Tilting your head back with his strong hands, he bends down to the opposite side now and shuts up your half hearted protests by licking a line straight up the column of your throat. Oh my god, your inner omega was having the time of her life right now. Max, you murmur weakly, and he sharply inhales as your gazes meet. The dark hunger in his eyes is clear when he tells you to say that again.

And when you sweetly call his name again, he’s kissing you, still leaning against the wall in the dimly lit hallway, and you automatically moan into the passionate kiss because it feels so good, so right as his lips moved against yours with a gentleness you hadn’t expected.

But when the lift dings, signalling another arrival to your floor, Max turns to look with narrowed eyes at the potential threat and you’re reminded of how wrong wrong wrong this is and how you’d lose all your sponsors if the media found out about this scandal. So you use his second of distraction to use your small frame and slip under his arms, hastily swiping your card and slamming the door behind you when you enter.

Heart beating, you lean back against the door as your replay what just happened over and over, your hands running over your tingling lips where Max’s - your rival - has just been a second ago. Across the other side, Max leans against your door just the same. He’d let you escape his hold - for now - but he wouldn’t next time, because he knew what it meant to smell a scent so divine it made him want to destroy anything that so much as glanced in your direction. That made him lose all inhibition and pin you against a wall as he desperately resisted the urge to bury his fangs in you right there. You were his fated mate, he thinks with relief, pure joy and warmth spreading across him with the idea of having you as his mate. The one who he’d not thought he’d find at age 26 after meeting countless women. And yet here you’d been the whole time, right in front of him, the only driver who drove him so wild on the track. He'd never thought about why the pretty little Unpresented driver was able to generate such strong responses from his Alpha unusually quickly. With a backwards glance to your room where you safely hid, Max wandered away, contemplating how he was going to claim his Omega who hated him.

Meanwhile, the kiss has sent you into an absolute flurry of panic, trying to come up with ways of convincing your rival to keep your secret, having no idea why he suddenly found your scent irresistible. Your half baked plans came to an end when Max texted you the next day to meet him in the hotel lobby to talk. No fucking way, you texted back furiously, so you can get me alone and kiss me again without my permission?

You’d flown back to Monaco an hour later, ignoring Max’s replies. Clearly, he seemed as troubled by this…situation as you were, and judging by the fact you hadn’t woken up to headlines about you secretly being an Omega, it seems Max was keeping your secret - for now, at least. And you were terribly confused by how good his kiss had made you feel, even though you were furious with how he’d done it without asking, as if you belonged to him.

So you decide to ignore Max for the whole week, but when he shows up at your apartment door unexpectedly, you couldn’t hold him off. We need to talk, he’d said tersely, and that’s how you found yourself on the apartment rooftop - surprised that Max hadn’t barged his way into your apartment. In fact, he stood well away from you, leaning against the railing and looking out towards the setting Monaco sun over the pristine Mediterranean waters as you watched his back uncertainly. Just when you were going to ask him what he wanted, he began telling you the story of how his Alpha father, Jos, had claimed his Omega mother, Sophie before she had been ready. You tilted your head, confused. You were very familiar with that particular media scandal - where Jos had deliberately performed the claiming, the ancient ritualistic tradition of an Alpha marking an Omega as theirs - in the peak of Sophie’s career, and had illegally used their mating bond to manipulate her into early retirement and focus on the family instead. It left a bitter taste in your mouth, of how no court or laws could protect an Omega fully from the abuse of a controlling Alpha.

I- I know about your parent’s story, it was quite…anyways, why are you bringing it up now? Max didn’t answer your question, turning around instead to face you. You felt that same fluttering beating of your heart as his intense blue gaze locked in on your doe eyed brown one. After she was able to get the divorce, he continued, she finally found her true mate. And she told me about the difference she’d felt, in how my father and her mate had treated her, how one had made her into the wife he wanted and the other had protected her as she chose to life she wanted for herself.

You’re truly confused now about why he’s still on this topic, and tell him that you’d even spoken with his mother when you began racing about her advice as a female on the track, and you’d expressed your sympathies for how hard it must have been to have her career tarnished so early by an abusive Alpha. Being her son was one of the few things you actually respected about him. Thinking he was foreshadowing what he was going to ask of you, your scent became sour with anger. So, out with it, Verstappen, you demanded, what’s your blackmail plan, I know you know about me being an Omega, are you going to make me promise not to try for P1 because you can forget it-

Max cut you off then, stepping forward and making you tilt your head back to look up at him. You wanted to step back so desperately, knowing what happened last time he was so close - but that inner omega vixen of yours was far too satisfied with the reassuring, soft spicy scent Max was now gently emitting. You hadn’t even known he was capable of anything other than the intense scent he used to dominate on the track.

No, schat, Max says softly. I’m not going to tell anyone anything you don’t want shared. Or use it against you. I wanted to tell you my parents story…to show you my father is the kind of Alpha I don’t want to become. I don’t want anyone to go through what my mother did. You can literally feel your body relaxing from his reassuring words, with the way he had called you darling in Dutch for the first time, from his soft look and scent. And it pisses you off to no end, that he can use his biology to make you feel like this - you’d had no idea the effect from an Alpha could be this strong on you. You realize you’ve involuntarily said that out loud when he tells you it isn’t normal for you to react this intensely to an Alpha, but it’s because it’s him that you’re reacting to. At your perplexed look, he’s reminded that your parents are both Betas and you had very limited knowledge of presentations, compared to his own family which were exclusively Alpha-Omega mates for generations.

Because…because we’re rivals? You ask, those sweet doe eyes of yours blinking up at him and making the urge to protect you bloom deep in his chest. Unfortunately for his inner alpha, he was about to cause you a lot of distress with his next words.

Because - Max swallowed, because, schat, we’re true mates. I’m your Alpha, if you’ll have me.

The distress that comes off you is instant and makes Max want to jump off the balcony railing, if it means ending your despair. You’re stammering out your shock, confusion, and then just straight denial at his claim, insisting it can’t be true - but he watches you with an apologetic expression, only speaking after a long time once you’ve let out all your conflicting emotions. He softly explains why it was true, that you might not know because your own parents weren’t a true match but what happened in the elevator, the reaction to each other’s scents - it was the first step to prime you two for the claiming.

He can see the colour drain from your face, flushed caramel skin now going pale as your distress turns to pure rage, steeped with fear - of him, Max realises. So that's why you're pretending to be so nice, isn't it? you question hotly, so that I say yes to your claiming just for you to use it order me to leave racing? And you'll act like its so different to your parents-

Max can't bear this foreign pain in his chest any longer, each furious word from you twisting a knife into his heart. His inner alpha is screaming at him to comfort and console you, so he does just that by stepping forward again and taking your small form into his large arms, forming a secure hold around you. Your annoyed shriek is muffled against his toned chest, but after a few seconds you calm down once he says, sounding so unusually desperate, he will never do the claiming until you ask him too, even if that's well after your racing career finishes. You pause, hearing the genuine sincerity in his words, and somehow deep within you a sense tells you that Max is telling the truth. As his warm, large hands soothingly rub circles on your back, you find yourself closing your eyes and lean into him, your french manicured hands pressing against his firm muscles and hearing his strong heartbeat through his chest.

You stay like that for a long time, slowly processing everything he's told you, until the sunset disappears over the Monaco horizon and the bright city lights emerge. At some point his arms have wrapped around your soft waist, one hand firmly on your hip and the other cradling your head against him, softly stroking your dark curls. If anyone had told you a month ago that you'd find yourself in this position with goddamn Max Verstappen you'd have laughed them off the track. But here you are, your inner omega purring with satisfaction at the secure embrace of your strong Alpha. You find yourself returning his comforting embrace by tentatively moving your small palms up over his pecs and across his ridiculously broad shoulders, looping around his wide neck. You hear Max's breathing hitch as he feels your shy touch, and then he’s hit with your delicious scent as your new position exposes your neck. It's the same as in the lift - so sweet, like exotic Indian jasmine on a hot summer night, like burnt sticky vanilla in the stroopwafels he adored as a kid, on the rare days he was allowed to go to the park instead of karting. But this time, your scent is even more inviting as your desire for him is stronger, and he doesn't fight his instincts and buries his face into your delicate neck again. He inhales deeply and leaves you gasping when he starts leaving lazy, soft kisses in the hollow of your throat. This time, you can't bring yourself to pull away, your fingers gently threading into his hair as you tentatively call out V-Verstappen, this is-

That's not my name, prinses he rumbles lowly, Dutch accent slipping through as he continues moving up your neck, leaving hickeys with flicks of his tongue and gentle, teasing nips of his sharp fangs - teasing, but not puncturing your tantalising caramel skin. And when you sweetly moan Max for him, looking up at him with those wide brown doe eyes, heady with desire, and a pretty red flush across your full cheeks, he meets your plush lips with his own. There's no hesitation this time, your fingers tangling into his messy blonde locks as you kiss deeply. His large hands running across your body make you feel like you're on fire. And when he grabs a hold of your thick ass, squeezing it like he owned it and and pulling you even closer to him, you're gasping and moaning sweetly into his mouth. He doesn't hesitate to slide inside your parted lips, completely dominating the kiss as he easily takes control over your tongue despite your efforts to battle against his.

Max, this is so wrong you say breathlessly, eyes fluttering closed in pleasure as his large thigh parts yours, your skirt sliding up as thick muscles come into contact with your aching core. You're certain he's going to be able to feel the wetness rapidly pooling between your own legs. Then why does it feel so right, prinses? He cockily responds, squeezing your ass greedily again and moaning himself when you start grinding against his leg, your wetness dripping past your soaked panties and ruining his pants. Fuck, he was never going to take these off, so he would always have the intoxicating scent of how sweet you smelled when you were so desperate for him, hmm?

The harsh ringing of your phone you'd set on a nearby table startles you. Max ignores it, flexing his thighs up against you to tempt your self control again as your inner Omega begs you to let the Alpha - your Alpha - claim you right here, right now, for all the world to see. But through the haze you see your boss's face flash on the screen and suddenly you're reminded of what's at stake. Snapping to your senses, you stumble away from Max's strong hold, making him growl in annoyance as he reluctantly releases you from his arms. This is why I didn't want to talk, you hiss at him, but he can tell from your scent you’re more conflicted than angry. Because you- you cutely flush, -we can't control ourselves for more than 5 minutes without something like this happening. You gesture to the space between you two as he watches you inquisitively, taking in every small movement with a tilt of his head like he was a lion stalking a deer. Stay away from me from now on, Verstappen you say with a scowl on your pretty face, pointing right at him, his sharp blue eyes not missing the slight tremor that gives away how affected you feel by him. I need to focus on winning this championship and not your…slutty Alpha seduction techniques.

He lets you go, smirking as you practically sprint away down the stairs to avoid any further temptation, enjoying the view of your generous ass from behind. Using his thumb to brush the dampness you left on his pants, he licks it away, chest lowly rumbling in approval as he confirms you’ll taste just as sweet as you looked, as you smelled. Next time, he promises his disgruntled inner Alpha.

After all, it was only a matter of time before he claimed you - it was a question of when, not if. The dark, controlling parts of him wanted to lay his claim on you right now, knowing that you desired him and would be unable to resist if he wanted to have his way with you. But you’d be so much sweeter, more pliable, more eager for him if he waited until you came begging.

He’d have his fun in the meantime.

[vivalabunbun]

Sweet Sweet Nothings

Summary: The sweet lull of normalcy in an unconventional marriage

Word Count: 7K

Tags: Alhaitham x Fem! Reader, Fluff, this is just pure fluff, Smut, NFSW, MDNI, Omegaverse AU, A/B/O relationships, Modern AU, Alpha! Alhaitham, Beta! Reader, breeding, biting, established relationship, TW: Very vague mentions of gender dysphoria (of your secondary gender), TW: pregnancy and birth, Protective! Alhaitham, Jealous! Alhaitham

Authors Note: This isn’t much of a story, think of it as a collection of sweet nothings and domestic life with Alhaitham and the Sumeru cast after this. I just felt like I had to give them fluff after that slow burn. Enjoy!

Teal-orange eyes snapped towards the ticking clock on his oak desk, the time read 5 pm. Alhaitham’s duties were over for the day, now he had more pressing matters to attend to. Swift hands gathered up the papers scattered across the dark wood, stacking them into a neat pile before his body pushed against his plush seat. The golden glint of the ring on his finger only spurred him on to quickly exit his office. 

“Hey! Alhaitham are you leaving work now? Great, how about we grab some drinks with-”

“No. I’m busy.” He bluntly dismissed his blond senior. 

A firm hand snatched up his blazer that had been thrown across the back of his seat, the other flicked off the desk lamp. 

“Oi! Your senior is inviting you to a-”

“If you have a request you need approved then please leave it on my desk, I’ll look over it once I return back to the office on Monday.” Alhaitham skirted past the blond’s still frame at the doorway, paying no mind to the disgruntled scrunch on Kaveh’s face. His mind was focused on more pressing matters. 

–

“And then the brat just WALKS past me as if I were some dust on the ground! Could you believe that?” Kaveh thumps his glass back onto the tavern table, a small splash of wine lapped over the side. 

Tighnari took another big swig from this glass, his ears weren’t drunk enough to handle the tumultuous complaining of the blond. Cyno was only half-heartedly listening, ruby eyes trained on the brand-new deck of cards he had spent the week building in his hands. 

Yes, it is just a typical Friday afternoon. Colleagues gathered at Lambad’s Tavern, congregating at an outdoor table and enjoying the nice wine and early Spring air. Although more often than not, there would only be three seats filled instead of four. 

“Just what is so important that they trifle over common courtesy? In the world of job opportunities, networking and connections are a critical part of getting higher up the chain. Just how did that shrewd man get that promotion?” Kaveh’s face already had the tall tale signs of a drunken glow. 

“Well, it’s not really that out of character for him. People have always found his actions grating, but his efficiency at his work can’t be denied.” Tighnari rested his head on his hand. 

“There’s been a change in the head secretary lately.” Cyno asserted, eyes now trained somewhere else. 

“Oh? How so? He’s the same old crude man.” Kaveh dismissed. 

Cyno motioned with his eyes at a sight just behind the two other men. Two confused heads turned to follow his gaze. Nearly choking on their drinks at the scene they were now witnessing. 

There stood Alhaitham’s towering figure walking hand in hand with yours, bags filled with books and miscellaneous trinkets carried in his other. What made the men uncomfortable was the uncanny softness dawned on the stoic secretary’s face, as his teal eyes focused on you. 

His Beta wife was pressing her body against his arm as she spoke close to his ear, pointing at random stalls and vendors. Alhaitham leaned down to hear you through the chattering crowd, making sure to maneuver your bodies through the bustling streets. 

The three men didn’t know what to make of the scene in front of them as the couple walked out of sight, still holding each other close. Kaveh wonders if the wine being served today was stronger than usual. However, the three unwed men now got their answer to Alhaitham’s sudden full schedule. 

The table of bachelors called for more wine. Maybe to cleanse their palette of the sour taste of jealousy. 

–

“Have you seen Alhaitham today? I’ve been trying to hand him this paperwork since Friday.” Kaveh approached the head lawyer at the water cooler, the weekend was now over and it was now Monday, and the secretary was nowhere to be seen. 

“Hm? The head secretary applied to use his paid vacation time off. It was approved last Friday.” Cyno took a sip from the paper cup. 

“Huh?” The papers fluttered out of the architect’s slack hands, jaw agape. 

His junior truly was trying to annoy him to death. That conniving bastard Alhaitham. 

Fontaine was very different from Sumeru, with different types of foods, shops, and culture. It was quite exciting the first week of your late honeymoon to duck into every shop along the city streets. You discovered that your husband was fluent in the language, anything you pointed at he would translate for you without hesitation. However, the wonder of sightseeing faded within just a few days, like the true homebodies you were, there was a silent agreement to spend the rest of the time in the grand honeymoon suite. 

The hotel Alhaitham booked was the most luxurious one Fontaine had to offer. You will have to blame this decision on the generous amount of financial freedom granted by a pharmaceutical payout. It was only fair in Alhaitham’s mind, you worked very hard during the rut brought on by faulty inhibitors. Hard work should be rewarded, so he decides you should be indulged with the best room service, fancy baths, and thousand-count silk sheets. 

How you spent your time in the suite was really no different than how you would spend it in Sumeru. Alhaitham was laying down on the silk sheets, back slightly propped up by down feather-filled pillows, unwinding with a book in his hand. 

“Ah…Ah!... Ah… Making your wife do all the work while on vacation? You’re such a terrible husband, Haitham.” You stilled your hips, hands propping yourself up along his toned body. 

“Mm? You were really enjoying yourself, I didn’t want to interrupt.” There was a teasing tilt in his voice, teal eyes never looking away from the sentences printed as his other hand rubbed circles into your hip. 

From this angle he reached deeper than usual, making you feel so much fuller. Your walls were clenching down, trembling with pleasure from the stretch and thick tip poking that one spongey spot. A while ago you had abandoned your book in favor of bouncing up and down on your husband’s lap. It was your late honeymoon, after all, there was almost five years' worth of time to make up for. 

You knew your husband was just teasing you, but your lips couldn’t stop a pout from forming. You shifted a bit more on top of his god-like physique, pressing his tip deeper against that sweet little spot deep inside. Wandering hands made their way to grope at his plush pectorals followed by your pouting face, eyes trained on the book your husband was so engrossed by. 

“Hmph…” A displeased huff left your lips, it was absolutely adorable to him. 

“Is something the matter?” The corner of his lip was upturned just the slightest bit. 

“It’s our honeymoon and yet my husband is already having an affair with a book.” You playfully sulked into his chest. 

“My, I never knew my wife was the jealous type.” Finally, he snapped the book closed, playful eyes gazing into yours. 

“I guess you learned something new then.” You gently confiscated the book from his hand, placing it farther away on the large bed. 

Alhaitham gave a hum of acknowledgment, both hands now firmly seizing the sides of your waist. Steadying your body before following it up with a solid snap of his hips. You pressed your face harder against his chest, muffling the moan that was suddenly forced out of you. 

“Isn’t this what you wanted? Why are you so quiet now?” His hips set a rhythm, slow and deep. 

His thick length dragged along your slick walls in all the right ways, you could feel every inch outlined inside you. Each roll of his hips gently lifted your body up before accompanying it back down. Your mouth fell open, breathing out soft moans against his warm skin. The smell of lust hung heavy in the air of the spacious room. But you wanted more, this slow lovemaking couldn’t satisfy the greed deep within. 

“Mmm… More…” 

“More?” His pace escalates just the slightest bit. 

The sloppy sounds of your connecting bodies were louder now, with each in and out of your slick cunt like purrs of pleasure. He was hitting that spot that brings shooting pleasure throughout your nerves. Still, maybe it's because your expectations have been set a bit high from your first taste, but your greed wanted more. 

“More~” You breathed out, face now pressed into the crook of his neck. 

“Mmm, I think I know what my lovely wife wants.” A hand supports the back of your head, smoothing out the hair. 

Swiftly you got turned under him, his board frame now looming above, that handsome smirk on his face. He rested your head gently on the dawn pillows, as your arms wrapped around his neck pulling him down closer to you. The combination of his weight on top of you and how heavy he felt inside your sobbing cunt sent shivers up your spine. Yes, this is what you wanted. 

Leaving the crook of his neck, your lips chased after his. Alhaitham couldn’t help but let out a small huff, you were quite needy today. His lips captured yours in a deep kiss, shallowing all your noises. He shall spoil you, it was your honeymoon after all. 

In this position, he had much better footing and grasp on your waist. Meaning the strength and pace of his hips slamming into yours increased to the rhythm you desired. Moans were flowing out like water from your mouth, eyes teary with lust. The claps of your bodies echo through the room, he would pull out to the tip then slam back in. Just the way you liked it. 

Teal eyes observed your loose face, the rolling back of your eyes signaling that the knot was about to come undone. But before he lets you reach cloud nine, you have to answer a question that he’s been pondering. 

“Would you rather have consistent pleasure spread evenly throughout the year… or four days of nonstop, mind-melting pleasure then nothing for the rest?” Alhaitham asked right up against your ear, making your skin bristle. 

You felt his hips roll back to their slow methodical pace. Oh, he wasn’t going to let you taste sweet release until you paid the toll of his curiosity. Really, your husband can be so mean sometimes. You let out a small whine, trying to roll your hips into his but his firm hold prevented such action. 

“Answer the question, sweetheart.” Alhaitham continued to egg you on, clearly enjoying your displeased whines. 

“Why can’t I have both?” You muttered close to his own ears, tightening your embrace around him to offset the embarrassment creeping up on you. 

At your response his hips stilled, stoic teal eyes gazing at you as you looked away. You didn’t see the smirk that returned to his features. 

“Goodness, my wife is insatiable.” He dragged his length out fully. 

Before you could even let out another whine at the loss, he returned it fully inside of you. Filling out your unexpecting walls again pounding against that spongey patch, making your back arch up and toes curl. 

“AH!” Your body was pressed impossibly close to his. 

“I wonder if I should keep you at home, confined to the bedroom for your sake.” His hot breath ghosted over your ear. 

He was pistoning in and out now, fat tip abusing your sweet spot just the way you wanted it. Your walls were clenching around his girth just like how your arms were holding onto him to ground your sanity. The searing white flashes of pleasure were shooting up through your nerves, the edge was approaching fast. The filthy fantasy Alhaitham was painting in your mind only served to quicken the process. 

“All you have to do is be a good wife, and welcome me home with open legs. How about that?” Alhaitham pressed sweet kisses against your neck, a far cry from the filth that was leaving his tongue. 

You felt his teeth brush against the side of your neck before they clamped down. That was what unraveled the knot inside you. Your ankles hooked together as your hips pushed closer to his. Back arching almost painfully, bodying trembling and eyes rolling back. Alhaitham let out a small hiss at the tightness of your walls contracting. He wasn’t going to last long if you continued to be this impossibly tight. 

He could tell from the way your eyes were still seeing the back of your head you were still in the midst of your orgasm. This meant that Alhaitham was free to chase after his own release now. So he does. His length continues to pound against your quivering walls, pushing through the tight clenches. The extra gush of slick helped to accelerate his movements further. Sloppy slapping of skin against skin, he could feel that his tip was probably red and swollen from his calculated delayed release. 

Pressing his pulsing tip right up against your cervix, the tension inside him finally snapped. Flooding your walls with thick, warm release. Your body instantly responded, walls beginning to twitch and convulse more, trying to milk every last drop. Alhaitham panted against your neck, sucking on the soft skin from time to time as he held your body close. 

“Mmm… Don’t mark up my neck. I brought all these pretty dresses to wear and now I can’t wear anything but turtle necks.” Your fingers tussled through his messy ash locks. It seems like you’ve returned from cloud nine.

“You can just wear them in the room.” He pressed another kiss to your neck. 

Before you could voice your complaints your husband buries your face into the crook of his neck, a silent invitation. Who were you to reject? The sensation of your teeth clamping down onto his smooth skin, leaving deep indentations seems to appease his primal urges noted by the low growl that rumbles in his chest. 

“Would you like to take a bath, habibti?” Gentle finger caressed your face. 

You hummed in confirmation, nuzzling into his touch more. The calm, sweet lull of intimacy washed over the room. Passion satisfied, for now at least. 

“You smell.” Dehya scrunched up her nose. 

You gave a deadpan stare at your Alpha friend beside you. You recently returned from your trip to Fontaine, meeting up with your friends to show them the gifts you had brought back. 

The weather wasn’t that hot today so you definitely weren’t sweating, and your outfit was also fresh from the clothesline. You even took a quick shower before you went to the agreed-upon cafe. You brought your arm up to your nose for a quick sniff, nothing smelled particularly off. 

“I smell normal.” You raised an eyebrow at her. 

“No, you smell like you just rolled around in the forest.” She retorted. 

Now you were confused, glancing at Candace and Nilou. Wait, why does it look like the two were trying to hold back their laughter? What is going on? You just wanted to give them their souvenirs. 

“What Dehya is trying to say is… it seems like you’ve gotten closer to your husband.” Candace rested her elbows on the table as she leaned in. 

Oh. They meant that. A scarlet flush instantly engulfed your cheeks, a silent admission of the truth. All at once you saw the gleam in your friends’ eyes, and they started hounding you for the details. 

The tea served at the cafe was always brewed to perfection and the leaves were of the highest quality. However, your friends were much more interested in the new development of your marriage. 

–

You were drained. You loved your friends, you really do. But spilling the tame details of the budding romance between you and your husband with burning cheeks sure depleted your battery. In a way, they deserved to know, supporting you for over five years throughout the murkier times. 

At the moment, you were curled up on the couch against your husband’s chest. Fingers fiddling with the ring that matched yours resting on his finger, as his attention was trained on the book in his other hand. It wasn’t time for your ritual quiet reading session, so you felt it was appropriate to quietly enjoy some skinship. Alhaitham didn’t seem to mind. 

“Haitham.” You began. 

“Mm?”

“What is your scent like?” You continued to fiddle with his wedding ring. 

“According to your friends, a tree.” His deep voice replied, never once looking up. 

“Mmm.” Your lips pressed into a line, still toying with the gold band. 

You had that look on your face, Alhaitham notes. Demons don’t disappear so easily, even at the start of a new chapter, they will continue to cling to your shadow. If he could, Alhaitham would strangle those devils with his own bare hands. But he couldn’t. So instead, he shall always be there to pull you out from the ice-cold water back to the warm shore. 

He flips the book over, placing it faced down on the arm of the couch. His full attention was now on you as he tenderly grasped your hand, pulling you closer. He pressed his nose against your neck, senses searching through the thick layer of opulent woodiness. 

The faint sweet hints of padisarah pudding mixed with the bath products and laundry detergent you shared were guarded by that layer. The scent that he recognizes as yours, the scent he shares with you. 

“I smell like you. That is the only scent I will recognize as mine.” His teal eyes peered up at you. 

You were silent for a moment, hand halting but still grasping the ring. 

“Pfft. Have you been reading my old novels again?” You couldn’t suppress the small laugh and smile. 

“Did you want me to?” 

“No.” 

You intertwined your fingers with his, rings clinking together, a physical show of a bond. 

Alhaitham rested his head in the crook of your neck, continuing to breathe in your essence. The scent of you always seems to lull him into a drowsy state of comfort. Yet, it wasn’t heavy nor did it cloud his thoughts, so he could always think clearly of you. Yes, this is the scent he adores. 

“Have you been doing something to make my Alpha and Omega coworkers avoid me?” 

“...” 

“What a weird Alpha you are.” You rubbed your cheek against your husband's resting face. 

You’ve been sluggish lately, Alhaitham observed. More often than not, he found himself carrying your sleeping frame back to bed after you fell asleep curled up on the sofa. Book in your limp hands. Your alarm would also be ringing longer than usual, you used to be able to turn it off by the first ring so as to not disturb him from his slumber. You knew he was a light sleeper. 

As he took a bite of the dinner you had just cooked he notes the blander taste. It was your usual style to throw in as many spices as you pleased. It was the start of flu season, and Alhaitham noted the cough that’s been going around in his office. However, he had a different hypothesis he wanted to share with you tonight. He watched as you chewed then shallowed. 

“Habibti, have you taken a pregnancy test lately?” His voice was calm, tone stable. 

Your fork clattered against your plate as you stared at him starstruck, eyes wide and mouth agape. This was why he waited, it wouldn’t be good to have food go down the wrong pipe. He maintained a neutral expression, staring into your eyes to read the emotions that were running rampant behind them. 

“N-no… but…” A furrow formed between your brow as you brought a hand up your mouth. A habit of yours when you were deep in thought. 

The two of you were careful. Pills are taken at specific times. Morning after teas were always in stock around the house, either he brews it for you right after a moment of passion or you would drink it in the morning. However, Alhaitham wasn’t startled. He understands that even with birth control there was always a risk. 

Dinner was swiftly finished, dishes piled in the sink for later, there were more pressing matters to attend to. You were currently in the bathroom with the pregnancy test he had picked up on his way home from work. Alhaitham was leaning his back on the wall beside the bathroom door. He was trying to calculate when you last had your time of the month, or when exactly you began to behave differently. 

The singing hinges of the bathroom door pulled him out of his thoughts. You had that look on your face again. Alhaitham didn’t even need to look at the test in your hands to know the results, two red lines. From how frozen your stance was in the door frame, he already knew what thoughts were running through your mind. 

Children were never planned nor discussed, at the beginning the two of you were much more focused on your careers and enjoying your free time. That is to say, you greatly enjoyed the double income and no kids life. However, there was now a fork in the road. The hands holding the test were now trembling. Alhaitham quickly brought you into a tender embrace, to silence the wild thoughts before they begin to torment you. 

“Whatever your decision may be, I will support it unconditionally. Take your time.” Rubbing a small circle into your back. 

You were silent but your arms wrapped around his torso, resting your head against his shoulder. Quiet reading time was a bit more quiet than usual tonight. 

–

It was now a Saturday night, Alhaitham had already situated himself on his spot on the couch. There was already a book in his hands, but he didn’t open it, he was waiting for you. You usually didn’t take this long in the shower, he was beginning to wonder if he should go knock on the door. But there was no need, soon the soft thumps of your steps were heard coming down the hall. 

Contrary to the usual, you make a b-line straight into his lap, curling up against his board frame. He didn’t say anything, supporting you with an arm and holding you closer. 

“I want to keep the baby.” You spoke softly against his neck. 

Alhaitham closed his eyes, mind going deep into thought. There was more than enough money saved up to support a child. Sumeru has free good quality health care, a great daycare program, and the best education system. The nation offers a generous tax deduction for families with children. There were enough rooms in the house that one could be turned into a nursery, it would be troublesome to have to babyproof everything and rearrange the furniture. 

Ah, the two of you will have to sacrifice your free time and sleep to take care of a needy newborn. However… He opened his eyes. 

“Then we should start making preparations for our new addition.” 

If it’s with you, Alhaitham is more than willing to sacrifice those luxuries and needs. 

Alhaitham had to be more observant, the changes to your body and hormones made it so you were much more sensitive to your surroundings. Foods that were too strong in scent had to be dialed back or not cooked in the house. He also took care to clear the floor of any stacks of books lest your foot knocks into them. 

The worst part of it was probably how the pregnancy was disrupting your sleep. Your body needs it, yet the growing bump and overactive hormones made it hard for you to find a position that welcomed the sweet embrace of sleep. Often tossing and turning, Alhaitham would  place a pillow under your belly which seemed to help a bit. 

Then came morning sickness, Alhaitham is adamant that your child be thankful for all the suffering you were enduring to give life to them. 

The ashen-haired Alpha had been extra careful with his inhibitors as well, making sure each dose was measured to the line and constantly checking the dates printed on the bottles. Still, the clawing of his instincts only grew stronger as his teal eyes observe your bump growing day by day. You were working so hard to carry the child, he needed to do something to make you relax and comfortable. 

–

Currently, your bed has been buried under a mountain of quilts and plush pillows. You had your hands on your hips as your eyes surveyed the messy state of the bed you had just made a few hours earlier. You folded and pack those quilts away weeks ago, why were they back out? 

“Haitham, why can’t I see our own bed?”

“There’s no cause for concern. Your body must be tired, go take a rest.” A gentle large hand rested on your lower back, encouraging you towards the heavenly pile. 

That sentiment from seven years ago still rings true to this day. Your husband is weird. Still, there was a small smile on your face, what a silly sweet weirdo he is. The soft wafts of fresh linen encapsulated your senses, layers upon layers of fabric cushioning your achy joints and growing belly. Gentle fingers combed their way through your hair, making your eyelids grow heavy. 

Were these inherited instincts or learned gestures from old light novels? Oh well, the answer is irrelevant. 

One Saturday afternoon you were rudely awakened by the maddening repetition of thumping. You were now well into your second trimester, the bump on your belly growing steadily day by day, which only meant your sleep schedule only got worse. All your senses have been going into overdrive lately, every bump in the night making your eyes snap open. You groggily rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, begrudgingly rousing your sluggish body from the haven of pillows and blankets. 

By this point, you and Alhaitham had announced to friends and family about your pregnancy, there were many tears of excitement shed that day. Followed by a steady stream of boxes and gifts placed into your or your husband's hands. These items ranged from teas to help with morning sickness to long loose maternity gowns. 

At first, you raised an eyebrow at the shapeless dresses your mother had gifted to you. Stating that they made you look like a lost ghost. However, now with your baby bump, the soft loose fabric felt divine against your sensitive skin. Carefully, pushing off the mattress you took your time gaining your balance. Moving has become troublesome because of your now shifted center of gravity.

Steadying yourself with a hand on the hallway wall you waddled toward the source of the commotion. As you grew closer to the room across the guest room, an extra space that was utilized as a small side library the barrage of noises stung your ears more. You felt irritation creeping up on you. 

Grasping your hand on the door frame you peered inside to see a head of blonde hair. Oh. It’s Kaveh. That explains the noise. 

You quietly observed the back of the unaware man as he continued to hammer furniture together. Your husband had told you earlier in the week that Kaveh would be coming over to help set up the nursery. He mentioned something about the blond having to pay off an old debt. 

Oh well, it saves you and Alhaitham the trouble of rearranging the furniture. 

“Ugh, that bastard has not changed a single bit. Who would choose such an ugly bassinet? His poor child will be welcomed into the world surrounded by ugly furniture.” 

Your lips pressed into a firm line. You had chosen the bassinet when out shopping with your husband. You bought it with your own money too. You thought it was quite cute… It’s cute, right? You waddled off to find your husband. 

“Alhaitham…” Tighnri stood just to the left of the glass door of the small cafe, your favorite cafe. 

Your husband was exiting the door, a small chime from the bell hanging above his head announcing his departure. A brown take-out bag, that contained the padisarah pudding you have been craving for the fourth time this week, clutched firmly in his hand. Alhaitham greeted his fellow colleague with a nod of acknowledgment. 

“I know your wife is pregnant. However, food should be in moderation. Especially sweets. You should know that during pregnancy the change in hormones makes it harder for the body to control its levels of-”

The ashen-haired man raised one hand, signaling for the other to halt their lecture. 

“I acknowledge your expertise and advice. However, time is precious and to save both of ours, I invite you to take this debate up with my wife. To warn you beforehand, you will lose.” 

Tighnari let out a huff of exasperation, steps heading in the direction of your shared home with Alhaitham. Surely you were more reasonable than your Alpha husband at the moment. Tighnari knew it was in their primal instincts to pamper their mates, caving into any demand no matter how unreasonable or troublesome. 

The head secretary has always been a rather level-headed individual in his eyes, sometimes to a fault, so it must just be his instincts influencing his actions. Tignari even heard from a certain blond that the ashen-haired man had given him the deadliest glare because the architect had critiqued your taste in home decor. 

“It’s normal for people to have cravings during their pregnancies, and for the most part, it’s harmless. However, there is a whole misconception about the saying ‘eating for two’. In truth, you only need about an extra glass of milk and an extra pita pocket a day. You are feeding a small-”

Alhaitham stared ahead at the path in front of him, doing his best to tune out the ramblings of the shorter man walking beside him. He had one purpose, and that was to deliver your padisarah pudding to you. 

–

Tighnari was now walking in the direction of his own home, spirit shaking a bit. Like always, Alhaitham’s prediction was flawless. He lost. The defiant blank gaze you gave him at the doorway of your house was enough to make the ebony-haired Alpha stop his clearly unsolicited advice. In the end, you got your pudding.

“That is all I have to report. Now that you have this knowledge, I trust that you will be able to decide if this proposition is fair or not. Here are the files for you to look through.” The ivory-haired Alpha placed the stack of papers on the smooth desk. 

“Understood. Thank you for the report, Cyno.” Alhaitham gathered the paperwork into his hands, beginning to skim through the contents. 

His teal-orange eyes soon left the crisp papers, peering at his colleague with an inquisitive glance. It wasn’t like the head lawyer to remain in his office after he finished delivering his information. 

“Is there any more you would like to discuss?” 

“Yes, I have prepared a gift for your child.” Cyno reached into his blazer pocket. 

Alhaitham hid his sigh. Your home was already littered with so many gifts and baby items, it was troublesome keeping the floors clear of any potential tripping hazards. You were now in your third trimester, slow steps more focused on your balance and the ache in your lower back than paying attention to the floor. 

Your husband wonders if he should have waited until he applied for maternity leave to tell his closest colleagues about your pregnancy. 

“Here.” Cyno handed him an engraved box.

Was this a TCG card case? Alhaitham’s unreadable eyes shifted between the case and the head lawyer’s eager eyes. Really, he should’ve expected this, he is already well aware of the tan Alpha’s obsession with the card game. 

“Thank you.” Your husband took the gift from the awaiting hand. 

“I custom-made the deck to be as beginner friendly as possible. Even still, these cards are staples in the game so this deck will be solid regardless of the changing meta. I made sure to have every card laminated as young children don’t know restraint. The box is also custom-made, it is made from solid wood but any sharp edges have been rounded out.”

“You didn’t have to go through so much unnecessary trouble.” Alhaitham wishes that Cyno didn’t. 

“Since most gifts have been either for your wife or for the child, I have prepared a gift for you as well.” Cyno reached into his inner coat pocket. 

This was unexpected. Your husband observed the tan man pull out a small journal. Stationary? You had already gifted Alhaitham a lifetime supply, but they were for only very important situations. So this could be a welcomed addition.

“I wrote down some of my best jokes for you to tell.” 

Nevermind. Alhaitham didn’t even want to reach for the small notebook. Cyno places it on top of the desk. 

“It’s unnecessary.” 

“It will help pass the time while entertaining your child. Your wife has been pregnant for a while now, it must feel like an maternity.” 

“...”

“Did you not get it? It’s because ‘maternity’ sounds like ‘eternity’ and-”

“I am very busy, head lawyer. Please excuse yourself from my office.”  

 Alhaitham was aware of the concept of ‘pregnancy glow’ from the anatomical journals he read some time ago. However, seeing it in person was much different from what the book had described. Another example of how learning purely from books is not enough. 

You were radiant, features softer and skin glowing. The aura around you has also been much gentler, likely attributed to your constant drowsiness and lack of stress from work as you were now on maternity leave. More often than not, Alhaitham finds it hard to keep his hands off of you.

 Resting an open hand on your round belly, feeling the subtle shifts of your child as he reads. Hugging you from behind as you cook, it’s to support the baby he reasons. He offers his chest as a pillow whenever sleep calls for you regardless if it was on the couch, you needed your rest.

However, there’s a caveat: others can’t seem to keep their hands off you either. 

“Oh! What a strong kick! I think they have real potential for dance.” Nilou exclaimed as she felt your belly. 

“Haha, what a meddlesome kid already. Kicking your poor mommy.” Dehya also had one hand resting a top. 

“It’s uncomfortable, yes, but it’s a good sign that they’re healthy and strong.” You let out a small sigh. 

“Here, have another pillow to support you” Candace placed the soft cushion behind your back, relieving some of the pressure. 

“Thank you, Candace. Even though I’m going to become a mother soon, it seems you’ll always be the mom of our group.” You giggled, giving your friends a wide smile. 

“Oh, you flatter me too much.” Candace chuckled, joining the rest in feeling your round bump. 

Alhaitham sat in your usual spot on the adjacent sofa, trying to read his book. However, his teal eyes couldn’t help but peer over at the hands that were plastered all over your belly. Although his gaze remained neutral, his lips were slightly pressed into a line. Their hands didn’t need to linger for that long he surmises. 

–

“Have a safe trip back!” You bid your friends goodbye, it was nice to have visitors when you couldn’t leave the house easily. 

Alhaitham closes the front door after their figures disappeared into the distance, offering his muscular arm to support you. You gladly accepted, as your feet and joints sang with relief as pressure was shifted off of them. Slowly strolling down the hall back to the living room. 

Alhaitham presses a soft kiss against your temple, a clever diversion from his true intentions. He couldn’t help the frown that formed on his lips or the scrunch of his nose. Your friends had drenched you in their scent, overpowering your subtle fragrance. Tsk, this is why others should keep their hands to themselves. 

“Let's take a shower. Of course, I’ll assist you.” 

“Mm? Haitham, it’s pretty early. We haven’t even had dinner.” 

“I’ll help you wash your hair as well.” 

“Haitham-”

“I’ll massage your shoulders and feet afterward.” 

“... Fine… remember to use the lotion as well.” 

“Of course.” 

There was no reason to be nervous even as your due date grew closer and closer. A room at the Bimarstan has already been reserved. He had already prepared a hospital bag with extra clothes, blankets, and toiletries. Alhaitham also packed some books in there was well. However, as you began to count down the days, it’s hard not to notice the anticipation in the air. You were very much ready to meet your child and to finally not be pregnant anymore. 

“Do you think the child will be more like you or me?” You turned to face your husband as he lay in bed. 

“It doesn’t matter. As long as they’re healthy.” Alhaitham tucks a quilt from the nest up to your chin. 

“Oh? I think that if our child looks like you but has my personality, they’d be quite popular.” You pondered out loud. 

“Mm.” Alhaitham pulls you closer to him from behind, resting his chin atop your head. 

“Then if they resemble you, it's best that they have my personality. Lest our peaceful lives will be disrupted by a constant stream of suitors at the door.” He entertains your musing. 

Your soft giggle jingles through the air as you stroked your belly, his hands soon join yours. A comfortable silence encapsulated the two of you, his soft caresses lulling your heavy lids closed. This was the sweet calm lull of normalcy, and you both were satisfied. 

Alhaitham had closed his eyes, only for them to snap open with the sudden jolt of your body. Did the baby kick again? They sure are disruptive, he can already feel the long sleepless nights to come. However, there were still a few days to stock up on as much rest as possible. 

“Haitham, I think my water broke.” 

Nevermind. 

–

 You were holding onto his hand with an iron-clad grip, crushing his fingers together. However, he knew this was barely scratching the surface of the discomfort you were currently experiencing. If he could, Alhaitham would bare all your pain himself. 

However, he couldn’t so he’ll sit beside you in the Bimarstan, brushing the hair out of your sweat-socked face and whispering sweet nothings to encourage your efforts. You’ve been in labor now for about four hours. Alhaitham has decided that the first thing your child learns to write will be a thank you letter addressed to you. 

You were trying to keep your breathing as stable as possible, practicing the technique the midwife taught you. Put the pain of the contractions always broke your streak, making you have to start from the beginning to try and steady your breath. The midwives and doctors were encouraging you to push as hard as you could. You already were, but you took a deep breath and then held onto it. Giving it your all. 

--

“WWAAHHHHH!” 

A loud, piercing, yet beautiful cry echoed off the walls. 

“It's a boy!” The doctors announced. 

--

“He’s got quite the set of lungs.” You giggled, tears still pooling at the corners of your eyes. Cradling your newborn. 

Alhaitham only let out a gentle hum, resting his head on your shoulder as he gazes at his son. Eyes as soft as the little one’s plump cheeks. It was quite a riveting experience, how can one fall in love with a little stranger so quickly? 

“No more full nights rest for us when we return home, huh.” You rested your head on top of his ashen hair, smiling as you continued to stare at your little bundle. 

Your husband lets out a soft mixture of a hum and a chuckle. He’s already prepared himself to sacrifice sleep in order to nurture this little bond created between the two of you. 

To your surprise and his great delight, your child sleeps through the nights well. A little too well. You had been released from the Bimarstan just a few days ago, the doctors all said your child was healthy. However, you couldn’t help but stare at him as if you were in a trance. 

“Come to bed, your body needs the rest to heal.” His warm touch grasped the sides of your shoulders, as Alhaitham pressed his face into your neck. Trying to lure you back. 

“Yes, I know but… just a little while longer.” You reached a hand up to tussle through his soft locks. 

Your eyes never stopped observing the small ups and downs of your little bundle of joy as he slept. Well, the face he made earlier when you had woken him up for his regular feedings sure wasn’t one of joy. He’s just like his father, grumpy when disturbed from the sweet embrace of sleep. But he needed to feed every three hours if he was to grow up healthily. 

“He’s quite a lot like you. A deep sleeper.”

“Oh? I think he’s quite like you, Haitham. You should’ve seen the mean mug he gave me.”

“I never scowl at you.”

“Yes, but you’re grumpy when woken up.”

“Hmph.” Your husband buries his face deeper into your nape. Teal eyes never breaking their gaze from the child you’ve gifted him. 

The air was quiet, yet warm and sweet. It was well past your preferred bedtime, but strangely not a single muscle felt tired as two pairs of eyes continued to study the small moments of his chest. 

“Should we head to bed now, Haitham?”

“Mm, perhaps a few more minutes wouldn’t make a drastic difference.” 

Fin~

[billskeis]

Hello!

I wanted to ask if it's possible that you write double smut with bill and tom? Like, they share her? At the same time, of course 😏

Thank you.

ᡣ𐭩 the kaulitz twin’s after-party “party”

“hey y/n! glad you could make it!” bill exclaimed as the two of you exchanged kisses on each side of the cheek, “thank you guys for inviting me!! ‘nd congrats on the awards, i’m so proud of you guys, hi tom!” you reach out an arm to hug the older twin, his arm wrapped around your waist lingering tightly, and longer than expected.

a smirk frames his face, “lookin’ good tonight,” you playfully spin around in your dress as you blush at his flirts, “oh you, you know i had to; couldn’t show down for my two best friends!”

and that’s what you guys would call it. best friends. you were there when tokio hotel weren’t tokio hotel. devilish, black question mark. since the beginning of time, you supported the four on their rockstar journey whilst also venturing yours. being one of the top soloists right now, tokio hotel and you were a hit! however, what comes with being so close with the twins, comes unwarranted feelings.

the twins eyed you up and down, and eyes just had to linger a little longer than they should’ve to where you’d noticed. cheeks flushed. you stood there in a little tight number, standing tall with your red black pumps.

adjusting themselves, bill clears his throat whilst tom adjusts his t-shirt collar, is it getting hot in here? you can’t help but look down at your heels, feeling small between the kaulitz twins that tower each one of your sides.

“so uh, y/n, you.. busy after this?” tom asks, your eyes widen at the sudden question. what could they possibly want to do after their after party? you were hoping to just go home and rest, considering your busy schedule that consumed most of your social life, but staying up a little later couldn’t hurt right? you take a swig of your alcoholic beverage as you smile, “nope! wanna do something?”

mischievous. as one would call it, the look on their faces. you, oblivious, were not aware of their intentions behind such a question. maybe you weren’t smarter than you looked, or perhaps you were. but you definitely didn’t have any social cues when it came to men. tom wrapped an arm around your waist yet again, you let it rest there. it’s a friendly gesture, to protect you from other men of course!

that was half true.

“let’s go to ours, we have better drinks there,” bill suggests.

that was a total lie.

“but what about the after party?” you cocked your head to the side in genuine curiosity. why would the twins leave their own party that they hosted for their band? odd, you thought, but because it wasn’t your party to begin with and you were JUST a guest, there was no point in further questioning it.

“don’t worry about it, georg and gustav are handling it, see?” as tom points towards the crowd to find double g gyrating with one another and some fans.

you laugh, not realizing that the two of them now have you enclosed even closer between them. as tom’s arm still remains, bill’s hand adorns your shoulder.

“shall we?” he asks.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

“i—um—fuck! we.. shouldn’t be doing t-this..” saying that aloud sounds stupid, because how could anybody believe you while you slam your hips down onto tom’s lap, bill’s lips attached to your neck as he paints your neck with various shades of blue, reds and purple.

tom groans as your silky walls clench down on his length, tip hitting your g spot as you wince out in pleasure, “relax baby, paparazzi didn’t follow us back so you have nothing to worry about,” bill unlatches his mouth from your neck, a string of saliva remaining as he giggles looking at the state he’s left your upper body in.

“perfect,” a pleased hum emits from bill as he frees his hard-on from his boxers, whining as the cold air hits his throbbing and needy member.

with a shudder, bill guides one of your hands to the head of his tip, smearing the pre all over the sensitive mushroom head as you work your way up and down his cock.

“oh fuck, just like that..” bill placing his hand over yours in an aid to jerk him off as he would himself, kissing atop of your mouth as his tongue piercing glides over your oral cavity, feeling every nook and cranny of your mouth that has you gasping for more. with a lack of attention, tom pouts as you prioritize bill over him. tilting his pelvis, tom jerks his hips into yours, abusing your walls at a new angle that ends up deepening your kiss with bill, squeezing the head of his cock, “mmphh!”

“tom. be nice.”

“she can handle it, right y/n? you can handle this dick..” tom says with a low chuckle.

melting into the kiss, both you and bill ellicit sweet little cries to one another, “i did it ‘cause i wanted more attention, schatz,” you hear from behind you. as you break the kiss between you and bill turning your head to face the figure you rode, that looks at you with puppy dog eyes.

your cunt is already sensitive, it’s been about two hours since you’ve guys began, well, this. you really wondered how you got yourself into such a mess. maybe it was the way that tom’s little movements on you had your knees buckling, or the way that bill’s smile warmed your heart. you think to yourself, you’re just friends. juuuust friends.

friends don’t do the things you’re doing.

while getting off of tom’s lap, you position yourself onto bill’s, cunt already leaking onto his member and wasting no time and sliding down on his length. bill grips balls of sheets into his fists as he restrains himself from taking you all for himself, “oh gott, y-y/n,” his mouth hanging low as he lets out a strained sob from how sensitive he is. you’re warm, and still tight, and bill can’t help but feel as though he’s in heaven.

tom is still and watches with wide eyes as he soon realizes your mouth engulfs his dick, tongue swirling over his tip as you messily spit and drool saliva all over his cock, “damn.. you little minx, didn’t think ya’d be into this,” holding your hair into a makeshift ponytail with his hand, using his opposite to pet the top of your head, bobbing up and down.

bill hands hold each side of your ass as he guides your hips up and down his cock, biting his lip as he gasps from how greedily your pussy swallows his cock, “such a slut huh? like the way we take you at the same time.. one cock wasn’t enough, you needed two?” be nice, he said. fucking hypocrite. his dirty words are mean, but have an inverse impact on you as your cunt tightens around him along with a moan vibrating in your throat, tom curses, “oh fuck ‘m not gonna last long..”

tom does everything in his power to hold himself from fucking his hips into your mouth, but it also isn’t helpful considering the fact that bill’s thrusts from behind pushes tom further down your throat. “shitshitshit, bill.. ya close?” “m-mmhm..”

like a pig roasted on a spit, like the slut you truly are, holes fucked by your two best friends, your hips and mouth stutter to escape both ends.

“gonna cum sweet girl?” tom asks as he cups your cheek with one hand, thumb swiping over the tears that spill from the ongoing pleasure that surges through your body. both twins are close as well, eager to finish as there’s an unrelenting tempo to bill’s thrusts and tom hastily working his hands on your head in guiding your mouth, fully savouring his taste.

“coming..!”

one quick thrust all at once, you slightly gag on tom and tense your body as the three of you came simultaneously, shaky and trembling. cum paints your insides from opposite ends, filling you to the brim as electricity jolts from the inside out. as bill and tom empty their loads, they finally let out, you’ve managed to swallow all of tom’s, but bill’s seeps from between your legs.

quickly, bill shoves his fingers into your cunt, leaving them there as you wail, ‘b-bill!’ overstimulated, he scoffs jokingly, letting out a quick ‘what?’ as he then removes his fingers admiring his cream-pie.

laying flat on the bed, your body slightly twitches from the lingering pleasure. tom reaches out to hand you a water-bottle as bill uses a warm washcloth to clean you up. thanking the two, both join you in the king-sized bed for a long needed cuddle session.

now let’s just say, the media has found a new scoop on their new hit rockstars.

but you’ll deal with that tomorrow morning!

guys am losinggg my mind i miss my moots i missed my passion for writing i miss thriving :c lmk if i suck i’ll do better

interact if ur still active , pls </3 pls comment and talk 2 me i wanna be more engaging

[steddieas-shegoes]

“Steve! We have to go!”

“I’m coming!” He yelled back to Robin, still searching through his closet for the pants he planned for their night out. “Where the hell are they?”

He was throwing things out of the way, not caring where they landed.

That was a problem for future Steve.

Current Steve needed to look as hot as possible.

His dry spell would be over tonight. He wasn’t leaving the bar until it was.

“Steve!”

“Robin! Where are the jeans?”

“What jeans?”

“The jeans! The ones that you told me to wear!”

“Didn’t you wear them yesterday?”

“No! I saved them!”

But Steve looked over at his laundry basket where his shirt was hanging over and the pair of jeans he was looking for peeked through.

He did wear them yesterday.

Fuck.

Okay, back up options.

The dark jeans that actually probably belonged to someone else and didn’t fit his thighs right? No, he needed to show off his thighs.

The light jeans he hadn’t worn in at least a year because there was a questionable stain that wouldn’t come out? Well, it would be dark in the bar, but no. He’d know about it.

The jeans he wore earlier that weren’t special but also weren’t bad? How would that help him get laid? No.

So he looked back the jeans in his hamper, ignoring Robin’s angry yelling from outside his door.

“Found them! Two minutes!”

He put on the jeans, hoping they didn’t smell or have any stains on them.

He ignored Robin as he threw on his coat that was hanging on the back of the couch and ignored the dull headache blossoming across his temples.

He opened the door and started to leave.

“You coming?” He asked over his shoulder, laughing when Robin smacked his arm as she passed by him.

“Don’t act like you’re waiting on me. I’ve been waiting on you for 30 minutes!”

They barely spoke on the way to the bar, Robin already sensing his headache and probably hoping the silence would make it better before the night got started.

She was amazing.

Steve couldn’t live without her.

But hopefully, they’d both find someone tonight. They needed it.

— — — —

Steve wasn’t having any luck. In fact, he’d never had worse luck.

His head was pounding at this point, music much louder than usual, more people crowded around his usual spot. The three men and one woman he’d danced with so far were fun, but not really his type. He’d been a little upset about seemingly wasting his time, but swallowed down the bitter feeling when he saw Robin dancing with the same girl for three songs, huge smile on her face.

At least one of them was getting something from tonight.

He stood at the far corner of the bar, trying to be out of the way as best he could. He needed to have some water, but he knew the bartender wouldn’t be pleased about getting pulled away from actual paying customers. He would wait for a lull and then get his attention.

It was a new guy, or at least one who didn’t normally work the shifts Steve was here. He was pretty.

There was no other way to describe him; long, curly hair, tattoos everywhere, wide Bambi eyes, tall and thin frame that still held hidden muscle. Steve’s dream, really.

Too bad his vision was getting blurry from the headache.

He had to reevaluate his plan and get water now before he went into full migraine territory. He couldn’t pull Robin away from her night just because he had to get home safely with a debilitating migraine.

He started trying to wave to the bartender anytime he looked over towards Steve’s end of the bar, but it didn’t work.

He tried yelling over the crowd and music, but it ended up making his head throb worse.

He finally managed to throw a napkin at him when he was standing a few feet away.

Not his finest moment, but he’d apologize when he had water.

The bartender looked over at him with raised brows.

“Need something?”

Steve couldn’t help the shame he felt about literally everything happening at that moment.

“Water please?”

The bartender nodded once and grabbed a cup to fill with ice and water. Steve felt some of his muscles relax knowing that he was going to be able to hydrate a little.

When he placed it in front of Steve, he slid a small cup of lemons with it.

“Squeeze a little in there. Helps with headaches.”

Steve knew he was looking at Eddie like the sun shone out of his ass. It would be embarrassing if he wasn’t so dreadfully miserable from the almost-migraine.

“Thanks.” Then he realized how shitty he must look if the bartender knew what was going on from just looking at him. “Wait. How’d you know?”

“My uncle gets them bad. He always gets pale and his eyes get bloodshot when one’s coming. You looked in the mirror lately?”

Steve shook his head, then winced at the way it made his head pound.

“You here with someone?”

“Yeah. She’s dancing.”

“Need me to have an announcement made for her?”

“No, let me drink this first.”

The bartender nodded, but Steve noticed he kept checking on him between serving other drinks to people.

Steve used more lemon than he probably should have, but he had a whole cup of it, and it couldn’t hurt to use more.

He rested his head against the wall next to him, wincing at the excessive vibrations from the music.

Normally, he loved that their hole in the wall bar got loud and fun once a week. Tonight, he wished he could be surrounded by silence.

He knew he was getting worse, but he didn’t want to bother Robin, who was still dancing with the same girl. She’d probably go home with her as long as Steve didn’t interrupt.

He felt a hand on his forehead, slowly brushing sweaty hair away. He tried opening his eyes, but even the small amount of light seeping through his eyelids was too much.

“Hey, I’m Eddie. I’m the bartender. My relief just walked in so I’m gonna help you to the back, okay?”

Steve could barely nod, the pain in his head throbbing down his jaw and neck. He reached his hand towards the voice and managed to make contact with Eddie. Hopefully, Eddie understood he was not gonna be able to do anything helpful at this point.

He felt an arm around his waist, guiding him away from the bar, but Steve still didn’t want to try opening his eyes. He had to trust Eddie.

He should’ve stayed home. He knew the dull pain he felt earlier would turn into worse, but he was so stuck on getting in bed with someone, he came anyway.

Eddie was walking slowly, keeping a firm grip on Steve so he wouldn’t jostle him around too much. Maybe if Steve weren’t getting his brain attacked by hammers and knives, he’d be trying to get Eddie in bed.

That thought came and went though as he realized how pitiful it was that a grown man couldn’t even walk himself home because he had a migraine.

Eddie would probably tell this incredibly embarrassing story to everyone here and laugh about it for weeks.

Steve was in and out of it for the next few minutes, unable to really focus on anything around him besides the warm hand on his hip. Despite being sweaty enough to wring water from his shirt, he still felt cold, shivers occasionally wracking his body.

This was a really bad one.

He was so stupid for being stuck in a bar for this.

His brain registered a door closing, then a fan turning on. It wasn’t completely silent, but the outside noise was a small echo in his brain compared to the banging it had been previously.

“Gonna set you on the couch in the corner and get some ice.”

Steve didn’t acknowledge him, but he let out the most ridiculous whimper when Eddie set him down on the couch, slowly laying him back so his whole body was flat. He heard the door open and close, but was so focused on how nice the air from the fan felt, he didn’t hear the door open and close when Eddie came back in.

“Alright, gonna put this on your head. Where’s it hurt?”

“Everywhere.”

Eddie sighed, but placed the bag of ice on his forehead to start.

“Get these often?”

Steve appreciated his very low voice, knowing that anything at a regular volume would probably be too much in this quiet room.

“Mhm.”

“I grabbed you more water too. Think you can have a sip?”

“Mm. No.”

He heard Eddie laughing quietly, but he couldn’t smile back at him.

“You live close?”

“Mhm. Mile.”

“I live closer.”

“Hm?”

“Welcome to my humble abode. I own the bar, work at the bar, and live at the bar. Technically this is the staff office, but upstairs is my bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom. If you think you can handle the stairs, you can sleep in my bed and I’ll take the couch. I’ll let your friend know you’re here too if you give me a name.”

“Steve.”

“Your friend’s name is Steve?”

“No. Mine.”

“Okay, what’s your friend’s name, Steve?”

“Robin.”

He tried opening his eyes so he could see his surroundings, but they were so heavy. Leave it to Steve to end up suffering with the worst migraine he’s had all year at a bar with a hot bartender taking care of him and he can’t even open his eyes to fully appreciate it.

He distantly heard the door again, but must’ve fallen asleep for a bit because the next thing he knew, he felt hands on his face.

“You’re sure he can stay here?”

“Robs?”

“Steve. You idiot. You should’ve told me it was getting worse.”

She was whispering, but she was angry with him and he knew she would be yelling if she was a worse friend.

“Sorry.”

“Eddie’s gonna handle it. I’m gonna take Chrissy home. You call me as soon as you’re up, got it? I’ll send the cops here to break down the doors if I don’t hear by lunch time tomorrow.”

“Got it.”

He was gonna forget, but hopefully Eddie would remind him.

When he had bad migraines, he pretty much forget everything he did or said. None of the doctors could explain it. He’d had scans done, and there were no signs of memory diseases, so it was just a part of the trauma from multiple concussions.

He could hear Robin telling Eddie the same thing. If he could make his face work, he’d probably smile.

He drifted again, but he could hear Robin still talking to Eddie as he did.

The next time he was fully aware, he was in a bed. The bed was huge, and there were so many pillows around him, it felt like a fort.

Two blankets were on top of him, one so soft he couldn’t help rubbing his cheek against it. He was surrounded by a cozy, light cologne smell.

He was also fully clothed.

His jeans were itchy, and he suddenly felt claustrophobic as he realized the sun was up and he was alone in a stranger’s bed.

He sat up and looked around.

The room itself wasn’t that big, the bed taking up most of the space. The door was closed, but he could hear someone moving around outside of it. He looked to the right to see a door that must lead to a bathroom.

He quickly got out of the bed, shoving his shoes on and grabbing his wallet off the table. He opened the door and saw the back of a man with long, curly hair.

The bartender.

Eddie.

Eddie had taken care of him during his migraine. His migraine that he should’ve known was coming and stayed the hell home.

He was an idiot.

When Eddie turned around, he felt his heart stop.

God, he was pretty.

Like, Steve might have to change up the nights he comes to the bar just to get a glimpse of this beautiful man.

“Hey. Feeling better? Must be since you’re standing without support.”

Steve blushed. He’d never been in this position before, and he had no idea what the proper etiquette is for thanking someone for taking care of you when you’re unable to even move or talk.

“Uh. Yeah, much better. Um.” Steve awkwardly stood by the counter while Eddie continued mixing coffee in a mug. “Thanks for. All that.”

Eddie was laughing. In another circumstance, Steve may have found it cute, maybe been proud of himself for making a hot guy laugh.

But he was dealing with a migraine hangover, which usually left him grumpy.

Eddie must’ve noticed because he stopped laughing abruptly.

His head tilted to the side as he looked Steve up and down.

“You know, Robin called four times already this morning to check on you. You should probably call her and let her know I didn’t murder you and hide the body already.”

“Okay. Yeah. I.” He felt around in his pockets and couldn’t feel his phone. Shit.

“Over there. Charging.” Eddie said as he pointed towards the table by his front door.

“Thanks.”

Steve walked over to his phone to see 33 missed calls from Robin.

He called her back immediately, not wanting her to actually show up with a SWAT team.

“Thank god! Steve, I told you to call by lunch. I was just about to call Hop.”

“You’re the one who left me here.”

“Yes, assuming you’d wake up early enough that I wouldn’t assume you’ve been murdered!”

“What time is it?”

“Almost 3:00, Steve!”

“Fuck. Okay. I’m leaving now.”

Eddie cleared his throat and nodded at the counter, which now had a plate of fried eggs, toast, bacon, and sausage on it.

“Okay I’m eating, then I’m leaving.”

“You better text me. I’ll show up with Hop!”

“Robin. Jesus.” Steve felt a bit lightheaded. “I am literally at the bar. You know where I am and who I’m with. Chill.”

“You were incapacitated.”

���And now I’m not. I can escape if I have to.”

“You’re not as strong as you think you are!”

He hung up before she kept going. She would stay on the phone for hours if he let her, and he wasn’t in the mood.

He made his way to the counter and sat down, smiling at the steaming food.

“You didn’t have to cook all this. Especially this late in the afternoon. You probably have to head down to the bar.”

“Nah. I own the place. I just work there to keep myself busy. I’m all yours until you’re good to go home.”

Steve didn’t have much of a response for that, his brain still firing on the bare minimum. Migraine hangovers were worse than actual hangovers.

He ate a few bites silently, then looked up to see Eddie setting a cup of tea in front of him.

“What’s this?”

“Technically, sleepy time tea. But it works really well for headaches.”

“Oh. Thanks. It won’t like, make me fall asleep?”

Eddie laughed and Steve decided he was happy to hear it now.

“No. It has relaxing properties to it, but it doesn’t actually make you drowsy.”

Steve took a few small sips and smiled.

“It’s good.”

“My uncle says I make the best.” Eddie leaned over the counter with a smile. “So, you thought going to a bar was a good idea with a headache? On our DJ night?”

“It wasn’t that bad when I left. Thought I’d be okay.”

“Mhm. So you get these a lot?”

“Well. I mean I do get migraines a lot. But that one was one of the worst I’ve had in a while. I can usually still talk and walk enough to get to my own bed.”

“Do you remember everything?”

Steve knew he had a lot of blank spots in his memory from last night. If Eddie wasn’t such a nice guy, he’d probably be more worried about it.

“No. I have memory problems when I get them.”

“Ah. Well that’s okay. I got you into bed pretty easily. You only woke up twice. Once to use the bathroom, which you managed to do alone. The second time you were crying about having to sleep alone? I couldn’t understand all of it, but that seemed to be the gist.”

“Oh.” Steve sighed. “That’s super embarrassing. Guess I’ll never come back here. Maybe never leave my house again.”

Eddie smirked. “I dunno. I think maybe I could fix the sleeping alone thing. You know, when you’re not incapacitated from a migraine.”

“You’re serious?”

Eddie nodded.

“You saw me like that and would actually want to be around me again?”

“I was hoping for more than around you. Maybe on you? In you? Next to you? All of those sound good.”

Steve choked on his next bite.

“Uh.”

He took a sip of the tea to help clear his throat, ignoring the way Eddie was moving around the counter.

“You know, Robin kept me on the phone for about an hour earlier, telling me all about how you’re the best guy she’s ever known and she’s a lesbian for a reason so that means a lot. Said you guys come here once a week because it’s the best place to find decent people, not just anyone. Said you’ve both had a bit of a dry spell.”

“She’s exaggerating.”

“Oh, so it hasn’t been eight months since you’ve taken someone home?”

“No.”

Eddie’s eyebrows raised in a challenge.

“It’s been ten.”

“My bar hasn’t been good to you, I guess.”

“Up until last night, I guess not. But I still prefer it over the clubs.”

“Until last night?”

“Yeah. The guy who owns the place kind of rescued me and let me sleep in his really comfy bed. He probably deserves something for that.”

“Oh? What does he deserve?”

“Well, I’d offer a blowjob, but I’m out of practice and might disappoint.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

“But maybe he’d be okay with a real date?”

“When would this date be?”

“Maybe tonight?”

“Hm. He has to check the bar schedule, make sure no one needs coverage.”

“He can text me later to confirm.”

“I sure hope you’re giving me your number to do that.”

Steve laughed and held his hand out. Eddie placed his phone in his hand and waited for him to type his name and number in his contacts.

When Steve handed it back, their hands grazed each other. Eddie wrapped his fingers around Steve’s wrist, squeezing for a moment.

“Dinner here? Maybe 8?”

“I thought you had to check the schedule.”

“Nah, just needed your number. I make the schedule, I know it like the back of my hand.”

Steve shook his head.

“Can’t start a relationship on lies.”

“Oh, a relationship? You move quick don’t you.”

Steve did. He knew he did. It’s why he’d never been able to keep anyone around. He moved like he was ready for marriage on the first date, and usually people didn’t like that.

He looked down at his lap, already prepared to lose Eddie’s interest.

But he felt a hand on his cheek, slowly guiding him to look up.

“Dinner here at 8?”

“Uh. Yeah. Please.”

Eddie smirked at him before he placed a soft kiss on his lips.

“Just be yourself, Steve. I like you just fine. And I’ve already seen you at your worst and your crazy best friend. It’s all uphill from here.” Eddie pulled away and moved back to start cleaning dishes from his cooking. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll end up married by the end of the year.”

“Now you’re making fun of me.”

“Am I?”

Eddie looked over his shoulder, serious look on his face.

“Are you?”

“No. Stranger things have happened.”

[solurae]

four eyes (more to love underneath the frames) : prologue

nerd!miguel o’hara is the talk of the town and i wanna put my own spin on it :D sooo expect a little bit of everything hehe :DDD - HAHA AS I WAS WRITING THIS I REALISED I GOT TOO INVESTED SETTING THE SCENE SO I MIGHT MAKE THIS A SERIES! i’ll just say this is a prologue hooray

IF YOU WOULD LIKE A SERIES PLS INTERACT!!! FEEL FREE TO ASK TOO TO SHARE YOUR MIGGY THOUGHTS AND I WILL HAPPILY INDULGE US BOTH :3

a distinct pair of black, rectangular glasses were adjusted by miguel’s middle finger before it glided across the pages of notes he wrote from the lecture for his genetics class. a class that you both happen to share, but neither of you knew that yet.

miguel o’hara - a man so deep in his books that he might as well be the dean of the dean’s list - payed no heed to anyone or anything that could hinder his focus. the furrowing of brows indicated further analysis rather than the annoyance towards second year business majors. no, he wasn’t the annoying, stuck-up person who would ask more questions than give answers. he thinks they’re wasting their time anyway. he was always the last person to leave the lecture theatre. miguel would be huddled by the professor, covering the whiteboard with punnett squares or outlining control variables for the next lab.

he was only person in your genetics class that had a real chance of passing the course, the scowls of your peers and your friends could attest to that.

you wouldn’t say you were on the same boat as everyone though, your friends were always nagging you to help them but you couldn’t even figure out how you understood some of the content. this specific course was an integral part of your degree and the best chance of impressing the school, you had to give it your all.

you would be lying if genetic sequences and chromosomes weren’t the only things you had memorised. you loved the hue of brown locks that would shine from the tall windows of the theatre, the curls which your eyes would follow forever if he happened to sit in front of you. the pout of his lips as he’d scratch his hair in response to a lab practical that didn’t make sense, only for him to make sense of it hours later.

his eyes were red. it was his most defining feature, and a key factor to why - to your advantage, if you really think about it - people steer clear of o’hara. as much as it increases your chances of befriending him, let alone being with him, your classmates and other students weren’t so quiet about their dislike for the irish-mexican spectacle.

he’s so quiet. too quiet.

he looks like a freak! look at his eyes, bro. what is he some fucking vampire or something?

no wonder he’s on the dean’s list because he isn’t on anyone else’s for sure.

god he’s just so…

weird.

miguel was extremely fit, which was what confused a lot of people when they found out he wasn’t a copy-paste jock that still thinks they’re in highschool like most men of his stature were. his build put them to shame regardless. after being bombarded by women and men of every cohort - only for miguel to ignore them or coldly decline - word spread like wildfire and soon enough people were disappointed that the former heart-throb of first and second year turned out to be a major loser. some people would go out of their way to show how much they don’t like him, and these are people miguel’s never even spoken to. they would “crash” into him walking across campus, try and trip him over and even go as far as sitting on the other side of the room if it wasn’t so clear already.

but he didn’t mind. he was always at the library, the lab or the cafeteria closest to the lab anyway. it bothered you to see him alone and quiet unless he had a question or an answer, you genuinely wanted to be friends with him.

but as the story goes, it’s always these type of men that have a part of themselves they keep under wraps. you just know that there’s more to his brooding and stoic nature, the carnelian shades of his eyes lured you closer as opposed to keeping you away.

you decided to do honours for two reasons: a better resume and the fact that miguel unsurprisingly decided to do it too. you had a thesis in your head and you had all year to test it out.

miguel o’hara was more than just some nerd and you were gonna need more than glasses to prove it.

🩷 — PART ONE!

[vodika-vibes]

Just because I know how much you love, Jango.

Can I request a Jango and whatever you wish. Write away... love oo

Let Her Be Mine

Summary: When Jango Fett was 14 years old, his people were slaughtered and he was sold into slavery. His cell mate on the slave ship was a small girl, younger than him, though she had been a slave for much longer. Jango’s biggest regret is not acting before she was sold. And then he runs into her again...and this time he’s not letting go.

Pairing: Jango Fett x F!Reader

Word Count: 4134

Warnings: Slavery

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: Okay, this is a labor of love that took me days to write. A big thanks to @daimyosprincess for helping me with a sentence that was far too wordy. And thank you for giving me such an open ended ask, lol. I kind of just ran with it.

Jango remembers the first time he met her with surprising clarity. He remembers the feel of chains around his wrists, the heavy slave collar wrapped around his neck, and the scent of unwashed people and fear all around him.

And he remembers her.

She was younger than him by a couple of years, though she looked much younger. The rags that she was wearing, designed for men much larger than her, hung on her small frame like a dress. And razor thin scars crisscrossed her body like some kind of twisted tattoo.

She didn’t have a name, she told him with a small smile. A peaceful smile, as though she had accepted her lot in life and was okay with it.

Jango named her Sen’ika.

A little bird in a little cage.

The slavers shoved him into the same cage as her, claiming that they were both so small that they could share. In truth, he didn’t mind. She deserved to be protected, and surely even he couldn’t kark that up.

His Sen’ika became his reason for surviving. He learned to bite his tongue when the slavers came through, learned to take the beatings from men who beat down on people smaller than them just to make themselves feel important. He learned the importance of listening, rather than just reacting.

And when things were so bad that he couldn’t handle it, his Sen’ika would take his hand and curl against his side, and tell him that tomorrow will be better because it couldn’t possibly be worse.

She was always right.

And on nights when the darkness of despair blotted out all the light, when even his Sen’ika struggled to cradle that fragile flower of hope, Jango would tell her what freedom tasted like.

He’d weave the most amazing stories of the planets that they’d visit and the people that they’d meet and the places that they’d see—

It helped. It gave him something to cling to, and it bolstered her waning spirits. And she would flash him the tiniest of smiles, and Jango would feel ten feet tall.

He couldn’t be that terrible of a person if someone as kind as his Sen’ika smiled at him like that.

And then the auction happened.

And then his Sen’ika was sold. Ripped from from his arms and clapped with heavy chains that weighed her down, as though she was a threat.

They clipped her wings so that she might never fly free.

And the last time he saw his Sen’ika, was when she was being forced into the back of a van with the other children that her new owner purchased.

Jango remained a slave for ten years. Ten long, dragging, years.

Ten years where he never stopped hoping that he might see his Sen’ika again.

Ten years where he clung to life just on the off chance that his Sen’ika might still be out there.

And when Jango escaped, he did so in the bloodiest way possible, slaughtering anyone who might have tried to stop him. And a part of him was glad that his Sen’ika wasn’t on board, because she deserved more than this.

It’s been several years since then, and Jango is now pushing thirty.

He’s a rather prolific Bounty Hunter, having elected to stay away from Mandalore in the hopes of finally tracking down his Sen’ika. If nothing else, all evidence points to her still being alive...even if he can’t find her.

And that’s when he’s approached by the Jedi.

Now, Jango Fett has no love for the Jedi, with very good reasons. Jedi and Mandalorians mix about as well as oil and water on a good day, and the last time Jango saw a Jedi he was leading the slaughter of the True Mandalorians.

So Jango is less than thrilled at the arrival of the Jedi.

Somehow he’s even less thrilled when the Jedi inform him that they are reaching out to him on behalf of the Senate. But his ship needs some work and credits are credits, so he agrees to listen to them while mentally tacking several additional zeros to the end of the number that he usually charges for a job.

“I am sure that you are aware of the uprising in the outer rim.” The Jedi begins, “The Senate has been trying to reach out to the person who is currently leading the Pirates, to come to an agreement.”

“And?” Jango asks, bored out of his mind.

“And the Jedi they sent to negotiate were told to leave and not come back.”

Jango chokes back a laugh with great difficulty, “I fail to see how this is my problem.”

“We would like you to go and speak with them on our behalf.” The Jedi replies, “We think that they might be more receptive to someone more like me.”

“You mean you think I might be able to make contact because I’m closer to pirate than I am to cop.” Jango says with a sharp smile.

“I...didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” He’s quiet for a moment, “Yeah, alright. I’ll take the job. I want half my fee up front.” In truth, he was going to reach out to these pirates anyway, they’re known for freeing slaves, and he’s hoping that they’ll have a good clue as to finding his Sen’ika.

The Jedi inhales sharply, and Jango arches a brow. “Problem?”

“This is...quite a lot.” The Jedi replies calmly.

“I’m very good at what I do. But, if you’re not interested-”

“No! No! The fee is fine,” The long haired Jedi hastens to reassure, “And you’re quite sure that you’ll be able to get them to talk?”

“I’m sure I can get them to hear me out. Anything else is on them.”

“That will have to be good enough, I suppose.” The Jedi muses thoughtfully, “Oh. Where are my manners. My name is Qui-Gon Jinn. It’s a pleasure to be working with you.”

Jango blinks once. Twice. A third time.

“I beg your kriffing pardon?”

“Oh yes, did I not mention? I will be joining you on this.”

“You did not.” Jango says through clenched teeth, “You did say that the Pirates kicked the last Jedi out.”

“Well, yes. They did.” He smiles politely and Jango wants to punch him in the face. “But you can’t speak for the Republic. So I need to be there.”

Jango grinds his teeth in annoyance, “Do you have a ship, Qui-Gon Jinn.”

“I do, in fact.” The other man says brightly. “I wouldn’t dream of trespassing on your ship, Mister Fett.”

Well, that’s something, at least.

“Fine. We’ll be leaving as soon as the credits are transferred to my account.” Jango says as he stands, “Pleasure doing business with the Republic.” And then he sweeps out of the dingy little bar to head back to his ship.

So much for him plans to search for his Sen’ika.

Whatever, the Jedi won’t be with him the whole time. Odds are he won’t even be allowed to land on Tatooine, which means he’ll be able to talk to them without being interrupted.

At least. He hopes so. If this Jedi ruins his one chance of getting usable data on where his Sen’ika is...Jango might actually kill him.

He makes the long trek back to his ship, he wasn’t kidding about leaving as soon as he got his payment. Though he fully expects the payment to take a few days. Since this is the government that he’s working with.

So, when he gets the initial credit transfer less than an hour later, Jango is genuinely surprised. Though, as he thinks more about it, he really shouldn’t be. The Republic is so eager to get ahead of this, that they’re willing to hire him, of all people, to help them deal with it.

“So,” He murmurs to the empty ship, “This is what a desperate Republic looks like.”

Three weeks later, Jango lands his ship in his assigned landing bay on Tatooine. He’s aware, vaguely, of the Jedi landing his ship only a few landing pads away, and he sighs.

He was kind of hoping that the Jedi would be barred from landing at all.

Jango pays the fee needed to keep his ship secured on this pad, and heads out of the spaceport, though he’s very quickly joined by the older man.

“Ah, Tatooine,” Qui-Gon says as he looks around at the city. “Have you ever been here before?”

“More than you, probably.” Jango replies, his eyes narrowing as people glance at them and whispers start spreading through the market. They’re not whispering about him, he’s been here many times and he’s never gotten this reaction before.

He glances at the man standing next to him.

The man clad in, obvious, Jedi robes.

And he sighs. So much for the more stealthy approach he was hoping for.

“Are you the representative from the Republic?” A woman, shorter than him and carrying an infant on her back, asks as she approaches the pair of men. She looks older than she actually is, if Jango had to guess.

“I am,” Qui-Gon said, “My name is Qui-Gon Ji-”

“I don’t care.” The woman interrupts, “You are a Jedi, yes? Your kind was told never to return to Tatooine.”

“This is true,” Qui-Gon flounders, “But my companion here is not authorized to speak for the Republic-”

“Then perhaps one of the Senators should have gotten out of their plush offices and come here themselves,” She interrupts again, and then she frowns, “Were it up to me, you’d be back on your ship and off my planet. But it isn’t.”

“You are to be our guide then?”

“I will guide you to the taxi stand and no further.” The woman says, “I have my own business I must attend to.”

The Jedi next to you, seeming unable to keep his mouth shut, just has to speak again. “Forgive me, but are you a slave for the new leader of Tatooine?”

The woman stiffens in offense, and Jango presses his hand against his helmet and shakes his head.

“Were you anyone else, and not a guest of our new Imperator-” She takes a deep breath and stalks away, “Follow, and stay close.”

The woman leads the men through the winding street of Mos Espa, until she stops by a taxi droid. She speaks to the droid and then stalks away, back to the market.

“Hm…” Jango sighs as Qui-Gon gazes after the woman thoughtfully, “Her child is very force sensitive.”

“If you think you can convince her to give him to you-” Jango says, sounding bored out of his mind.

“Ah...no. I think she might shoot me if I try.”

“Pity.”

“That she’d shoot me? Yes, I agree-”

“-that you won’t ask.” Jango interrupts, “Seeing you get shot would make this a slightly more interesting trip.”

Qui-Gon actually looks surprised at his words, hopefully it’ll keep him from talking overly much on the trip to the palace. Thought, Jango wouldn’t put money on it. The Jedi seems to like the sound of his own voice overly much.

And, true to his prediction, the older man started chatting with the Droid as soon as the speeder started moving. Not that the Droid was the chattiest of drivers. He’s a driver, not a tour guide after all.

Jabba the Hutt’s palace, ah no, it’s the Imperator’s palace now, looks just as it had the last time he was here. Worn down from age, with antenna sitting on the roof. The windows are open, though the heavy metal shutters are drawn low, to keep the twin suns from heating the building over much.

There are some difference too, though.

Jango’s fairly certain that those are solar panels attached on the sun facing side of the building. And it almost looks as though someone is trying to cultivate a cacti garden off to the side of the path.

That or the Imperator thinks that death by cacti is an appropriate punishment for interlopers.

Much to Jango’s surprise, they’re invited inside immediately, by a young twi’lek boy dressed much nicer than any twi’lek would have ever been allowed to dress while Jabba was in charge.

“You wait here.” The boy orders imperiously, before he turns and runs down the hall.

If the outside of the palace looks the same, the inside couldn’t be more different if they replaced the entire building. The formerly dimmed halls are well lit, and the walls, formerly covered in blood and other...unsavory...things, are now covered in tasteful tapestries.

Probably items that Jabba received as tribute over the years, Jango thinks with an amused smile as he steps away from the door and onto the new looking plush carpet that covers the hallway.

“I admit,” Qui-Gon murmurs, “This is not what I was expecting from someone called Imperator.”

“What, were you expecting slaves lining the halls or something?”

“...in a manner of speaking, yes.”

Jango takes a moment to remove his helmet, now that the twin suns aren’t beating down on him, “Are you karking stupid? These people free slaves. There aren’t any slaves on Tatooine anymore.”

“That...the reports the Jedi were given-” He’s cut off as a different child, this one a little Chiss girl, runs up. “Oh, hello.”

“The Imperator will see you in the throne room. He expects you both to keep your weapons sheathed while you are guests in our home.”

“Of course,” Jango agrees, “We wouldn’t dream of threatening the Lord of this place.”

The little girl nods, and focuses her attention on Qui-Gon, “This message is for you, Master Jedi.”

“I’m listening.”

“The Imperator is not happy that the Republic have ignored his wishes for no Jedi to trespass on his home, however, in the spirit of cooperation, he is willing to hear out what you have to say.”

“That is very magnanimous of the Imperator.”

“Yes,” The child agrees, “It is. Follow me please.”

The little girl leads them through the winding halls of the palace, and Jango takes the time to take in all of the changes. New coats of paint, flowers growing in pots, little mouse droids designed to travel the halls trailing perfume after them-

Jango much prefers this version, over the Jabba’s version of the same palace, which always smelled like blood and bile, even through his helmet.

The child stops in front of the throne room and pushes open the door, “Imperator, the Mando and the Jedi are here.” And then she moves to the side to let the two men into the room.

The Imperator is a Tholothian male, dressed in pirates armor. And, if Jango had to guess, he would easily be the same height as him, if not a little taller, though even with the armor, he’s much less broad and much more wiry.

Jango wouldn’t want to have to fight him hand to hand, that’s for sure. Which he knows that he’d win, it’d be a hard fought fight.

“Jango Fett,” The Imperator speaks with a crisp Coruscanti accent, which is rather jarring when compared to his more roguish appearance, “It’s always a pleasure to host a man of your caliber.”

Jango nods, once. Accepting the compliment for what it is.

“Master Jinn,” The Imperator’s voice goes cold, “Your presence is much less welcome in my home.”

“Yes, the Jedi apologizes for being unable to adhere to your request-”

“It was not a request, Master Jinn.” The Imperator interrupts, and the room descends into a, slightly awkward, silence before their host claps his hands together, “Now, I am willing to hear you out, however, not today.”

“Is there a reason that we can’t start negotiations today?” Qui-Gon asks.

“Yes. I don’t want to.”

And, well, that’s that.

“I have taken the liberty of preparing rooms for the both of you in my palace. Though, you will not be staying in the same part of the palace, I’m afraid.” The Imperator says, and he genuinely sounds grieved. Or he would if it wasn’t for the gleam in his eyes.

“You honor us,” Qui-Gon says politely.

“Indeed, I do. Master Jinn, you will be staying in the lower levels, it’s a bit cooler but also noisier. Jango, I have a room set up for you upstairs.”

“Thank you,” Jango replies.

The Imperator nods once, and there’s a look of mirth on his face before he waves his hand and the two children from earlier run into the room, “Please show our guests to their rooms.”

Jango falls into step behind the little twi’lek boy, who keeps glancing at him and giggling like he knows a secret. He’s not bothered, he remembers being a child, after all.

He’s also in a much better mood since he doesn’t have to spend anymore time with Qui-Gon Jinn.

“Have you heard a good joke, ad’ika?” Jango asks as the little boy glances at him and giggles again.

The child clamps his hands over his mouth and shakes his head, “We gotta surprise.” He whispers.

“A surprise? For me?”

“Uh-huh. But,” He leans in and lowers his voice, “It’s a secret! So-so...come on!”

The boy almost sprints up the stairs, though Jango follows at a more sedate pace, and he trails behind the boy until they stop in front of a door. There are plants sitting in planters on each side of the door.

“Here!” The boy presses a scrap of flimsy into his hand, “Here’s the door code!” And then he sprints off, giggling as he does so.

Well, Jango thinks to himself as he glances at the numbers on the scrap and starts keying them in, this is either the most obvious trap I’ve ever walked into, or it’s actually a surprise.

The door slides open and Jango steps into the room. And the first thing he notices is all of the green.

There are plants on every open surface. All sorts of plants from all over the galaxy.

The second thing he notices is that the vanity in the corner is covered in woman’s hair care products, and slowly his eyebrows raise. Surely the Imperator wouldn’t have given him a room that already belongs to someone, right.

Finally, he notices her. Dressed in loose, comfortable clothes, and kneeling next to a small table covered in succulents. And, at first he’s slightly bemused that he was shoved into another person’s room, and then he looks again.

And he realizes that he recognizes her.

He clears his throat, and she turns her head slightly, before she favors him with the warmest smile. “Jango.”

His helmet falls from his fingers, “Sen’ika.”

She stands, and she’s still so small and still so thin, and her skin is still covered in razor thin scars, “You remember me!”

“Of course. I never stopped looking for you.” Jango steps closer to her and reaches out, though he stops shy of actually touching her. Sen’ika doesn’t have any such qualms, as she takes his hand in both of hers and presses it against her cheek.

“I knew you wouldn’t.” She replies as she rubs her cheek against his gloved hand, “I knew that you’d find me eventually.”

Jango releases a shuddering breath and steps even closer into her space, before ripping his glove off and pressing his bare hand against her cheek, “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“That’s okay. I forgive you.”

Jango takes a moment to tug off his other glove and presses his hand back against her cheek, “Just look at you,” He breathes out, “You’ve grown up.”

She presses her hands over his, and there are tears in her eyes, “So have you. You’re not that scrawny kid anymore.”

“Scrawny?” Jango asks with a laugh.

“Scrawny.” She agrees. Her smile doesn’t waver when she releases his hands and reaches out to cup his cheek, “How have you been?”

“Lonely.” Jango admits, “It’s been...a very lonely galaxy without you with me.” This is the first time he’s admitted it, though he could never lie to his Sen’ika. “How about you?”

She leans her head into his touch, “Lonely. The Imperator he’s...great. But he’s not really a friend. And his people don’t like me much.”

“How could they not like you?”

She shrugs, “They say I have stars in my eyes. That I’m not meant for…” She gestures vaguely to the room, “This.”

He laughs softly, “And what are you meant for, then?”

“Well,” She averts her gaze for a moment, “You once promised me that you’d show me the galaxy.”

Jango stares at her, surprised.

“If that offer is still open-” She adds, hesitantly.

“You’d leave this? To wander through the stars with me?”

“It sounds...romantic, when you put it like that.” She says softly, wistfully.

“You think so?”

Her smile is small, “Wandering through the stars with the man I’ve loved since he was a boy? Sounds like a fairy tale.”

“Love, huh?”

Her smile doesn’t waver, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. After all, I fell in love with a little girl who kept hope alive when I had none left.”

She looks surprised, “Oh. Really?”

“Really.” Slowly he leans in and presses his forehead against hers, “We don’t have to rush, we can take things slow. Especially since we’re going to be together from here on out.”

“Together, I like that.”

“Me too.” Jango closes his eyes and tries to draw her in closer, “As soon as I’m done with my job here, we can get you settled on my ship and then we can go wherever we want.”

“What’s your job here?” His Sen’ika asks as she lightly traces his face with gentle fingers.

“I was hired by the Republic to help open a Dialogue between them and the Imperator.” Jango replies.

“It won’t work.” Her answer is immediate.

“Yeah, I don’t think it will either. But credits are credits.”

She shakes her head, “The Imperator has a thing about the Republic and their weak stance on slavery.”

“I don’t blame him.”

She’s quiet for a very long moment, and then she sighs, “Jango. As soon as his army is large enough he intends to go to war with the Republic. You shouldn’t get involved.”

Jango pulls back and stares at her, “I see.” He scans her face for a moment, and then sighs, “Well, I did get half of the money up front, and there’s no love lost between me and the Republic.”

“Jango?”

“Pack what you need, Sen’ika. We’re leaving before we get any more involved in this.”

Her smile is almost blinding, “Give me a few minutes.”

He watches her dart around the room, shoving clothes and other items into her bag, and then she’s back by his side, “Okay, I’m ready. I’ll leave the plants to the kids.”

“Do we need to tell the Imperator that you’re leaving?”

“He knew that I would be going with you the moment you arrived on planet, Jango.” She says breathlessly, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “No one is going to stop us.”

True to her words, not a single soul stopped them as they head through the palace and back to the taxi stand. And no one stopped them as they headed back to the spaceport. And no one stopped them when he started up his ship and flew through the pre-flight checks.

And no one stopped them as they left Tatooine’s atmosphere for greener pastures.

As they sit high in orbit over the desert planet, Jango watches his Sen’ika watch the stars around them, and a small smile crosses his lips. “So,” He starts, turning in his chair to allow her to sit on his lap, “Where do you want to go?”

“Um...someplace new.” Sen’ika replies as she lightly sits on his lap, her gaze locked on the open space outside his ship.

Jango chuckles, “Someplace new it is.” He lightly taps her chin, pulling her attention off of the openness of space and onto him. He flashes a small, mischievous, little smile and tugs her in to press his lips against hers in a quick, and very chaste kiss.

When he pulls away, she looks flustered and has her fingers pressed against her lips, “Was that okay?” He asks.

Shyly, she meets his gaze, and then she nods. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s perfect.”

“Good,” He wraps a secure arm around her waist, and then focuses his attention on his computer, “Someplace new….hm...I know. I have just the place.”

Six months later, The Imperator declares war on the Republic, aided by a growing number of formerly Republic Planets who were jaded by the inaction of the government they supported for so long.

But that’s a different story.

As for Jango Fett and his Sen’ika, they write themselves out of the story, content to wander the galaxy, so long as they can wander together.

[slitheringghost]

Could you expand on the James was implied to be abusive?

So, to clarify, everything in this meta isn’t necessarily my interpretation. Some of it is, but some is in fact the opposite of my own interpretation (esp. re: Snape). But I’m going for a Doylist lens for once and trying to unweave what JKR was trying to do. This isn't normally how I analyze the text - but it's helpful to know so people can develop a more informed version of their interpretations.

I think JKR intended Jily as, at best, a dysfunctional marriage where they weren’t truly in love, and at worst, an abusive one. I’ve seen speculations that JKR based James on her abusive ex-husband - I’m not sure where that comes from or is true, it might be entirely made up, but I’m mentioning it here.

1.0 In Photographs

Photographs are regularly used in canon to show family estrangement and rejection, and in this section I'll demonstrate how they're used for the same purpose with James and Lily.

To start off, we see James and Lily in the Mirror of Erised, standing next to each other - but remember what the inscription on the frame means (I show not your face but your heart's desire), and what Dumbledore says:

[...] he noticed that she was crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her.

“It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. [...] However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible." (PS)

What we'll realize via a close analysis is that the image of James and Lily in the Mirror of Erised standing next to each other is exactly what Dumbledore says - it’s only Harry’s heart’s desire, it isn’t the truth. That Dumbledore’s words about the Mirror not being real isn’t just about James and Lily being dead, but the hidden meaning is that it also refers to James and Lily’s marriage.

Next, we get James and Lily's wedding photo, and in that photo James and Lily are standing arm-in-arm, according to Harry's POV Lily looks "alight with happiness", and Lily's also standing next to Sirius. So temporarily, in that snapshot, the image in the Mirror of Erised seems like it's still the truth.

But then we get to the Order photo in OoTP, the book Harry's meant to shed his idealization of his father:

“That’s Dumbledore’s brother, Aberforth, only time I ever met him, strange bloke... That’s Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally... Sirius, when he still had short hair... and... there you go, thought that would interest you!” Harry’s heart turned over. His mother and father were beaming up at him, sitting on either side of a small, watery-eyed man Harry recognized at once as Wormtail: He was the one who had betrayed their whereabouts to Voldemort and so helped bring about their deaths. (OoTP)

Most notably, James and Lily aren't next to each other, because Wormtail sits between them.

Note that Dumbledore is also standing apart from Elphias Doge and Aberforth, hinting at the way he keeps emotional distance from his friends with the former and family estrangement in the latter, and Remus is similarly standing apart from his friends - and just as important is where Lily is standing. Also note that the other married couple, Alice and Frank, are implied to be standing next to each other.

This is our first clue that what Harry sees in the Mirror of Erised and in the wedding photo is at least a partial lie.

Then, in DH, Lily sends Sirius a picture of herself and Harry - with her husband out of frame, to the point that Harry initially can’t even tell for sure it’s James in that photo:

A black-haired baby was zooming in and out of the picture on a tiny broom, roaring with laughter, and a pair of legs that must have belonged to James was chasing after him […] (DH) Then he ripped in two the photograph he was also holding, so that he kept the part from which Lily laughed, throwing the portion showing James and Harry back onto the floor, under the chest of drawers (DH)

Very like the following quotes and examples:

Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-colored bonnets — but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a carousel at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. The room held no sign at all that another boy lived in the house, too. (PS) He couldn’t remember his parents at all. His aunt and uncle never spoke about them, and of course he was forbidden to ask questions. There were no photographs of them in the house. (PS) A photograph of the Weasley family stood beside the in-tray. Harry noticed that Percy appeared to have walked out of it. (OoTP) The china, which bore the Black crest and motto, was all thrown unceremoniously into a sack by Sirius, and the same fate met a set of old photographs in tarnished silver frames, all of whose occupants squealed shrilly as the glass covering them smashed. he had also managed to retrieve the silver-framed family photographs that Sirius had thrown away over the summer. Their glass might be shattered, but still the little black-and-white people inside them peered haughtily up at him, including — he felt a little jolt in his stomach — the dark, heavy-lidded woman whose trial he had witnessed in Dumbledore’s Pensieve: Bellatrix Lestrange. By the looks of it, hers was Kreacher’s favorite photograph; he had placed it to the fore of all the others (OoTP) The old man’s eyes traveled to the painting of the girl over the mantelpiece. It was, now Harry looked around properly, the only picture in the room. There was no photograph of Albus Dumbledore, nor of anyone else. (DH)

As displayed above, OoTP in particular introduces many estrangements: Percy's from his family, Sirius's from his family, Aberforth making his first appearance and hinting at his conflict with his brother, and of course the continuous emphasis on Petunia's estrangement from Lily, and all of these are emphasized via photographs... as is Jily's estrangement.

The comparison to the Dumbledores is probably the most apt - Aberforth and Albus both talk of Ariana very lovingly while being estranged from each other, similar to how Lily talks of Harry in her letter while there being minimal references to her relationship with James by itself.

Additionally, right before Harry reaches Lily's letter and the photograph with her and Harry, he views the photo of the Marauders on Sirius's bedroom wall and muses on the group's specific dynamics, and then thinks “or was it simply because Harry knew how it had been, that he saw these things in the picture?”

But the thing is, Harry can't see the truth in the picture Lily sends Sirius, that it's a sign of an broken marriage with James - because he doesn't know how it had been with Lily, will never know, and accepting that is meant to be part of his acceptance of death. (Worth noting that JKR wrote HP while her own mother was dying/after her death).

To summarize, Jily get farther and farther away from each other in these snapshots - they go from first standing next to each other, to standing apart in the Order photo, to not standing together again in the photograph Lily sends to Sirius - because James isn't in the photo at all.

Of course, the evidence here is circumstantial - I'm not going to make a judgment on i.e. Sirius and James's closeness by them not standing together in that or the wedding photo (Sirius and Lily standing together in both on the other hand…).

But since James and Lily are explicitly stated as standing next to each other in the Mirror of Erised, and the narrative goes out of its way to point out they aren't standing beside each other in that photograph in the same book you get stuff like "Lily loathed James and maybe James forced her to marry him", I assume it's significant, especially given the Mirror of Erised explicitly comes up several times in OoTP itself:

A great black dragon was rearing in front of him… His father and mother were waving at him out of an enchanted mirror (OoTP) He remembered seeing his dead parents in the Mirror of Erised four years ago. He was going to be able to talk to Sirius again, right now, he knew it — (OoTP)

2.0 Lily as The Golden Snitch

A very, very important point is that James doodling Lily’s initials with the Snitch was never meant to be romantic - because the hidden, true meaning of this is that Lily is represented by the Snitch and James playing with the Snitch represents James and Lily’s relationship:

Harry stared at Wormtail for a moment, then back at James, who was now doodling on a bit of scrap parchment. He had drawn a Snitch and was now tracing the letters L. E. What did they stand for? “Me too,” said James. He put his hand in his pocket and took out a struggling Golden Snitch. “Where’d you get that?” “Nicked it,” said James casually. He started playing with the Snitch, allowing it to fly as much as a foot away and seizing it again; his reflexes were excellent. Wormtail watched him in awe. [...] James was still playing with the Snitch, letting it zoom farther and farther away, almost escaping but always grabbed at the last second. Wormtail was watching him with his mouth open. Every time James made a particularly difficult catch, Wormtail gasped and applauded. After five minutes of this, Harry wondered why James didn’t tell Wormtail to get a grip on himself, but James seemed to be enjoying the attention. Harry noticed his father had a habit of rumpling up his hair as though to make sure it did not get too tidy, and also that he kept looking over at the girls by the water’s edge. “Put that away, will you?” said Sirius finally, as James made a fine catch and Wormtail let out a cheer. “Before Wormtail wets himself from excitement.” Wormtail turned slightly pink but James grinned. “If it bothers you,” he said, stuffing the Snitch back in his pocket. (OoTP)

Lily is the one James “nicked” aka stole, the one struggling against him, the one trying to escape but being grabbed at the last second by James AKA James finally managing to go out with Lily 7th year AKA James making a “particularly difficult catch”.

Lily as symbolized by the Golden Snitch is a really important part of canon that encompasses the whole text, not just SWM, and I promise I have a lot more evidence on that thread, but I'm writing a separate meta regarding that. (For now note that - Lily is the Snitch and Harry is the Seeker, because Lily’s playing hide-and-seek with him throughout the narrative and Harry has to seek her. Try doing Ctrl+ F + Snitch in OoTP and DH and see if you can spot patterns/hidden allusions to Lily).

3.0 My Analysis on SWM

(This section is most directly my personal thoughts)

It starts off with James attacking Snape specifically to get her attention, or at least, that's one of the reasons (“Snape lay panting on the ground. James and Sirius advanced on him, wands up, James glancing over his shoulder at the girls at the water’s edge as he went”). This is already a red flag. To clarify, in the context of the war and the atmosphere at Hogwarts, imo James attacking Snape even when Lily happens to be nearby isn't the issue, but doing something he knows upsets her specifically to get her attention is.

Second, he asks her out publicly, in front of a literal crowd. This is another red flag. This also goes back to him the imagery of him showing off with the Snitch - a.k.a showing off with Lily, liking the attention of others when he tries to "catch" her.

And the biggest red flag - blackmailing her with "I'll stop hurting Snape if you go out with me".

Now, I will say that it's questionable whether he 100% meant it or if it was a spur of the moment thing. I say this because when she says no, in a pretty dramatic and cutting way no less, he doesn't seem upset specifically by that. He just sort of moves on. (What he is upset by and his reaction to it, I'll get to in a bit). That said, if Lily had actually said yes, and they had had sex, that would've been rape.

Whether James asked her out repeatedly / harassed her, idk, I think it could go either way, from Sirius's words and SWM overall it is at least clear James making his interest in her known in showy and obnoxious ways even if he didn't directly ask her out before, despite her making her disinterest in him known just as much. But the way he asked her out in this scene is bad enough, even if it was just once.

Then James continues to call after her despite her speech making it clear she’s very infuriated and very not into him.

Then James doesn’t get why she’s upset at his behavior and goes “what is it with her” (putting the blame on her for her reaction) and then is so enraged by her rejection that he escalates his attack on Snape. This does not have great implications for what he’d do to Lily at other times when she similarly does something he doesn’t like.

As for Lily’s reaction in the scene, I think every word frankly speaks for itself regarding how much she dislikes James.

Lily compares going out with James to dating an animal at the bottom of the lake - this evokes the idea that dating James is equivalent to “drowning in despair”.

Also see how affectionately she talks about Harry's flight vs. the words about James (and this is a particularly sick burn towards James given Lily has been able to fly unsupported since she was 9 years old and Snape can probably fly unsupported by then too - Lily truly does NOT like this man).

“Messing up your hair because you think it looks cool to look like you’ve just got off your broomstick, showing off with that stupid Snitch, walking down corridors and hexing anyone who annoys you just because you can — I’m surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that fat head on it. You make me SICK.” (OoTP) Thank you thank you, for Harry’s birthday present! It was his favorite by far. One year old and already zooming along on a toy broomstick, he looked so pleased with himself, I’m enclosing a picture so you can see. You know it only rises about two feet off the ground, but he nearly killed the cat and he smashed a horrible vase Petunia sent me for Christmas (DH)

“She turned on her heel and hurried away.” - Lily is hurrying away from James, she’s running away from him, she’s the Snitch trying to escape from him.

4.0 Harry's reflections

Harry muses on the Marauders' attack on Snape, and then we have these paragraphs right after it:

Harry reminded himself that Lily had intervened; his mother had been decent, yet the memory of the look on her face as she had shouted at James disturbed him quite as much as anything else. She had clearly loathed James and Harry simply could not understand how they could have ended up married. Once or twice he even wondered whether James had forced her into it... (OoTP)

To reiterate - Harry was just as disturbed by James’s treatment of Lily and Lily’s loathing of him as he was by the extreme violence towards Snape in that scene. The text clearly puts those things on the same level and on par with each other here.

And to reiterate again, JKR… literally had Harry wonder if James FORCED Lily to marry him. There was zero reason for JKR to include this if Jily was ever meant to be read positively. This isn't a "cute hate to love" type of framing, JKR clearly framed Jily as disturbing. The idea of James potentially forcing her, Lily literally saying she wouldn't go out with him if it was a choice between him and the Squid - the language here is consistently of force, of lack of choice.

Then Harry's misery about the violence towards Snape is again linked to his misery about James and Lily:

For nearly five years the thought of his father had been a source of comfort, of inspiration. Whenever someone had told him he was like James he had glowed with pride inside. And now... now he felt cold and miserable at the thought of him. (OoTP) “How come she married him?” Harry asked miserably. “She hated him!” (OoTP)

The descriptions of the struggling Golden Snitch a.k.a. Lily trying to escape from James is also likened to Snape struggling to escape from the Marauders' attack on him:

He put his hand in his pocket and took out a struggling Golden Snitch. Snape was trying to get up, but the jinx was still operating on him; he was struggling, as though bound by invisible ropes. “There you go,” he said, as Snape struggled to his feet again, “you’re lucky Evans was here, Snivellus —” (OoTP)

And another hint JKR might've put in is James greeting them both similarly ("All right, Snivellus?" and "All right, Evans?"). Now, regarding Harry's conversation with Sirius and Remus:

“If we were sometimes arrogant little berks, you mean,” said Sirius. Lupin smiled. "He kept messing up his hair,” said Harry in a pained voice. Sirius and Lupin laughed. “I’d forgotten he used to do that,” said Sirius affectionately. “Was he playing with the Snitch?” said Lupin eagerly. “Yeah,” said Harry, watching uncomprehendingly as Sirius and Lupin beamed reminiscently. “Well... I thought he was a bit of an idiot.” “Of course he was a bit of an idiot!” said Sirius bracingly. “We were all idiots! Well — not Moony so much,” he said fairly (OoTP)

Notice the language here when they talk about James in the memory - Sirius and Remus are smiling, they’re laughing, they’re affectionate, they're speaking of him eagerly, they’re beaming reminiscently - even at the stuff that i.e. Sirius was annoyed by in the actual memory (James showing off with the Snitch, etc). You can even feel the affection in Sirius going "we were all idiots <3”.

But then we get to the topic of James and Lily, and that totally and completely ends:

“And,” said Harry doggedly, determined to say everything that was on his mind now he was here, “he kept looking over at the girls by the lake, hoping they were watching him!” “Oh, well, he always made a fool of himself whenever Lily was around,” said Sirius, shrugging. “He couldn’t stop himself showing off whenever he got near her.” “How come she married him?” Harry asked miserably. “She hated him!” “Nah, she didn’t,” said Sirius. “She started going out with him in seventh year,” said Lupin. “Once James had deflated his head a bit,” said Sirius. “And stopped hexing people just for the fun of it,” said Lupin. (OoTP)

They are not effusive at all. Sirius in fact sounds just as unimpressed and critical of James as he sounded in the actual memory. (“Bad luck, Prongs”, “Reading between the lines, I’d say she thinks you’re a bit conceited, mate”, the double meaning of Sirius telling James to put the Snitch away).

Sirius emphasizes James showing off for Lily and trying to get her attention and "making a fool of himself" (again, not positive wording), and it’s only when Harry brings up Lily seeming to hate him that Lily’s feelings are addressed at all, and all Sirius says is “nah she didn’t hate him”, never saying she liked or loved him and painting it as very one-sided.

This text uses the word “love” very, very intentionally - and it’s never once used for Lily’s feelings towards James (or even vice versa, frankly).

And in this conversation, the emphasis here quickly goes to the fact that James broke his promise to Lily (sort of evoking a broken wedding vow, etc):

“You think you’re funny,” she said coldly. “But you’re just an arrogant, bullying toerag, Potter. Leave him alone.” “I will if you go out with me, Evans,” said James quickly. “Go on... Go out with me, and I’ll never lay a wand on old Snivelly again.” (OoTP) “Even Snape?” said Harry. “Well,” said Lupin slowly, “Snape was a special case. I mean, he never lost an opportunity to curse James, so you couldn’t really expect James to take that lying down, could you?” “And my mum was okay with that?” “She didn’t know too much about it, to tell you the truth,” said Sirius. “I mean, James didn’t take Snape on dates with her and jinx him in front of her, did he?” (OoTP)

Again the language here, it's clearly making an intentional reference to James's "promise/agreement" to never attack Snape if Lily goes out on a date with him.

This is likened to Voldemort's broken promise to Lily - Lily says "Leave him alone" three times before James says "I will if you go out with me", just as Lily offers her own life for Harry's three times (take me, kill me instead, I'll do anything) and says Not Harry seven times and Voldemort seals the agreement by taking Lily’s life, and then “breaks that promise” whenever he tries to kill Harry (Voldemort's broken promise to Lily is brought up many times specifically in OoTP in coded language, part of why the parallel seems intentional, but I’ll get to that in other metas).

To clarify, I don’t think James did anything wrong there - certainly by 7th year Snape would’ve been a marked Death Eater who already murdered people, I’m just pointing out what the text is trying to do here.

5.0 Some comparisons

5.1 Wearing masks with each other

It's emphasized that Sirius is the one James stops showing off for, not Lily, and that James's hair is different and voice is different when he speaks to Lily - basically, that James is wearing a mask with Lily:

Harry had the distinct impression that Sirius was the only one for whom James would have stopped showing off. “Leave him ALONE!” James and Sirius looked around. James’s free hand jumped to his hair again. “All right, Evans?” said James, and the tone of his voice was suddenly pleasant, deeper, more mature. (OoTP)

Again, none of this is positive framing for Jily. In comparison, in the Prince's Tale we have Snape taking off his long coat and is comfortable wearing his mother's clothes in front of Lily. In other words, unlike James who puts on a mask with her, Snape is taking the mask off with Lily.

And as James wears a mask with Lily, Lily wears a mask with him, because in the death scene memory, her face is covered by her long hair while she speaks to James, vs. the Lily from the Resurrection Stone who pushes her hair back to look at Harry.

This is Lily setting the terms of who is and isn't allowed to see her - because similarly, she's letting Sirius see her face (I'm enclosing a picture so you can see - the picture which not only includes Harry but also Lily herself laughing), she's repeatedly described as smiling at Snape, and of course she's letting Harry see her face, yet with James, we have these passages:

“Evans!” James shouted after her, “Hey, EVANS!” But she didn’t look back. (OoTP) his mother had been decent, yet the memory of the look on her face as she had shouted at James disturbed him quite as much as anything else (OoTP) A door opened and the mother entered, saying words he could not hear, her long dark-red hair falling over her face. Now the father scooped up the son and handed him to the mother. (DH)

In direct contrast to:

Harry heard Snape let out a tiny groan. Lily took off the hat, handed it back to Professor McGonagall, then hurried toward the cheering Gryffindors, but as she went she glanced back at Snape, and there was a sad little smile on her face. (DH) “Your mother’s coming…” he said quietly. “She wants to see you… it will be all right… hold on…” (GoF) One year old and already zooming along on a toy broomstick, he looked so pleased with himself, I’m enclosing a picture so you can see. (DH) but we've had to pack away all the ornaments and make sure we don't take our eyes off him when he gets going. (DH) Lily’s smile was widest of all. She pushed her long hair back as she drew close to him, and her green eyes, so like his, searched his face hungrily, as though she would never be able to look at him enough. (DH)

This is especially notable given the obvious significance of Lily's eyes and Lily's gaze as a "window to her soul" and most reflective of her true emotions.

This is echoed in the only true James and Lily emphasis in The Prince’s Tale being that of James not paying attention to Lily:

One of the boys sharing the compartment, who had shown no interest at all in Lily or Snape until that point, looked around at the word, and Harry, whose attention had been focused entirely on the two beside the window, saw his father (DH)

Again, James is 11, this is totally understandable and in fact it’d be weird if he was interested in Lily since he was 11, but I’m just pointing out how the language around James and Lily is consistently negative.

5.2 The Bloody Baron

“She sent a man who had long loved me, though I spurned his advances, to find me. She knew that he would not rest until he had done so." Harry waited. She drew a deep breath and threw back her head. “He tracked me to the forest where I was hiding. When I refused to return with him, he became violent. The Baron was always a hot-tempered man. Furious at my refusal, jealous of my freedom, he stabbed me.” (DH) “What is it with her?” said James, trying and failing to look as though this was a throwaway question of no real importance to him. “Reading between the lines, I’d say she thinks you’re a bit conceited, mate,” said Sirius. “Right,” said James, who looked furious now, “right —” There was another flash of light, and Snape was once again hanging upside down in the air. “Who wants to see me take off Snivelly’s pants?” (OoTP)

A note on patronuses and extracanon statements

I'm aware JKR has said Lily was attracted to James in SWM in extracanon, and has framed Jily's patronuses positively in relation to each other. However, these statements was years after the books were published - and it's clear JKR often changes her opinions about her characters and dynamics very often i.e. the way she framed Ron and Sirius in the early books vs the later books, so it's likely something similar happened with Jily in the other direction.

In the actual books, the doe patronus is only ever shown and discussed to emphasize Snape and Lily’s bond, it’s never discussed in relation to James and Lily. The stag patronus is firmly about Harry’s connection with his father.

As for the argument that Lily noticing James showing off with the Snitch signifies she’s into him - if some boy is constantly trying to get your attention and being obnoxious about it, you’d be hyper aware of his presence regardless if you were attracted to him. Snape is also hyper aware of the Marauders, Sirius was likewise watching Snape, etc. There is, of course the blush in her conversation with Snape - I'll get to that in a separate meta.

This is another meta about Jily as potentially abusive, I don’t agree with all of it but it’s worth reading.

[chainsawmanicure]

Getting Pizza With the Scarecrow

hey guys. this is a fanfic i had started writing a few months ago about TNBA jon. idk why but i really feel like posting on tumblr dot com and getting some sweet notes. so hear it is.

Trigger warning: talk of food, mention of eating a lot of food (mentioned pizza eating competition), just food stuff mainly, mention of stalking

summary: u go to get pizza, but ur situationship decided to tag along

It was afternoon in Augusta, Georgia, and you were so hungry you could hardly press the gas pedal. Pangs of hunger shot through your quivering frame like bullets through a gun range. As you zoomed down the street, you noticed a sign up ahead: Mellow Mushroom. "oh Thank god," you thought to yourself, "something other than mcdongles...." for your stomach yearned for nourishment, though not from the likes of such an establishment as McDongles. Ough

     Pulling into the parking lot, you felt a strange coldness envelop you. You turned around to see if there was anyone else in the car. Sure enough, in the back seat sat Jonathan Crane... The Scarecrow. your old friend from college. He was tall, so tall you wondered how he'd managed to hide himself in your brand new 2024 Nissan Leaf (I googled compact cars). However he'd managed to, for some reason now he decided to show himself. His face was mangled beyond recognition. You couldn't tell exactly if it was his face or a mask, but his mouth opened and closed along with his words and his big white teeth shone clearly in a permanent  grimace. He was wearing the same wide brim hat, tattered jacket, noose, and tight pants as he usually did, and next to him his big stick laid across the seat.

"Jonathan." you greeted, not too surprised at his appearance. You'd suspected he'd been following you for some time now. At home, you'd noticed patterns of unfamiliar wet bootprints on the floor, and missing items from your trinket box, refrigerator, and massive pile of dirty clothes which had built up in the middle of the bedroom.

     In college, he had displayed an interest in you, often getting a little too close to you and staring at you from across the lecture hall. He'd always had weird ways of showing his interest in you, and expressions of friendship. Well, you weren't really friends. Not anymore, at least...

     Too tired and hungry to properly address him or ask him how he got in your car, you stepped out and started towards the restaurant. You soon heard the car door slam and felt Jonathan's presence behind you once more.

"Hungry?" he asked, stepping beside you as you pushed open the door of the establishment.

"Believe it or not, yes. I think someone's been taking all my soup and bread, and I've had nothing to eat at home." you shot him a mildly accusatory glance after saying this.

Jonathan didn't respond immediately. He knew you were aware of his visits to your apartment. He'd intended it to be that way... a reminder he still cared. A reminder he still remembered.

Jonathan: "Maybe someone wants to know where you buy such lovely soup and bread."

You sighed. "Costco. Now are you seriously going into this joint with me? I'm gonna be arrested for being in kahoots with the Scarecrow."

Jonathan: "Calm yourself. We're in Augusta, Georgia. To these people, I'm just an ordinary freak."

     The person at the table like when you walk in and theyre like ok follow me you know? They smiled politely through fearful eyes up at you and your companion before quickly scuffling away, leading you to an empty table.

The joint was fairly empty, save for three individual men and a young couple sharing a peach iced tea. Jonathan pointed at the couple.

"Perhaps they should've gone to Steak and Shake. They have milkshakes there, better for romantic sharing."

"Shut up, Jonathan. Shut up right now," you replied.

     The host scampered away after leading you to your table, and you were left waiting for the waiter with a set of menus before the two of you.

You sat on one side of the booth, and Jonathan sat across the table from you. You were surprised he hadn't sat next to you and squeezed you against the little wall thing dividing this booth from the one on the other side. That seemed like something he would do, but not today apparently. In fact, other than infiltrating your brand new Nissan Leaf, he had been acting rather civil. Civil, of course, as opposed to the clingy curious and weary endangered animal behavior he had exhibited so many years past.

     You watched as he surveyed the menu, holding it delicately in his big long grey hands. You didn't remember those hands being so grey and so... scary. Even harmlessly holding a pizza menu, they seemed as though they meant to instead hold your throat, to squeeze and squeeze until the lights went out. And by lights going out, I mean like, you die.

     He'd positioned his big stick at the back corner of the booth, and it had fallen so it poked against your shoe under the table. He set the menu down after a moment and spoke in that unearthly rasp of his, "I think I'll get a slice of the Kosmic Karma, and a peach iced tea, like the one those two lovebirds are sharing," he pointed once more to the young couple, who had now finished their first tea and gotten a refill.

"Well, I just want cheese," you said. "I think I'll get a whole pie. I'll take the rest home."

Jonathan chuckled, though with his raspy hush it sounded more like a weak cough.

"Take the rest home..." he repeated humorously, "what makes you think you won't devour the whole thing now?"

     And with that old familiar clingy freak swagger he possessed, he leaned forward and held your chin gently with his big long fingers.

"I think we both know how much of an animal you can be," he teased, though his expression contained zero percent of the flirtation his voice tried to sell. (if that makes like literally any sense at all)

     You swatted his hand away. "That was a long time ago." You hadn't eaten a whole pizza in one sitting since the pizza eating contest of sophomore year... None of your friends were able to attend it, but Jon was there. Oh, yes he was... watching intently with his curious and vaguely frightened eyes as you wolfed down eight slices of sausage pizza in under 7 minutes. He had seen a side of you no one else had really witnessed... seen your wrath, your gluttony, your pride, your... lust.

In the nowtimes, he sat before you, hands flat on the table, beady white pupils boring down into your own normal black ones. His demeanor was cold. He knew you were pushing him away, trying to forget what you two had shared all those fateful years ago. You didn't want to remember, but with him sitting before you, wearing his new sexy skin, you had no choice.

     The waiter arrived and shot the scarecrow a sideways glance before clearing her throat. "Hello, thank you for joining us today. May I ask what you two would like to drink?"

You looked at Jon, but he gestured for you to speak first. "I'll have Dr. Pepper, please." The waiter nodded and turned to Jonathan.

"I'll have the peach iced tea," he didn't shift his gaze from yours for a second, "with two straws."

[justmeinadaze]

I'm In Control Part 7 (Steddie X You)

A/N: I bare you your crack for the weekend. Snort your serotonin slowly please lol <3

Warnings: Daddy Steve and Sir Eddie and all that that implies (I regret nothing). She really pushes them this time so some degrading from the guys, slapping, and a bit of the rough stuff. All three talk about their traumas. Y/N talks about her religious trauma a bit more. May be triggering if you grew up in a household or town like that. My bio mom liked to pretend she did she I heard a lot of this same stuff myself.

Word Count: 3276

Boys,

Went to work. 

See you later :) 

-Y/N

“Should we be worried?”, you place your head in your hands as you look at TJ who’s casually lounging on one of your couches.

“I don’t think so but it’s something to be cautious of. You may want to call your clients down here and just bring them up to speed.”

“Well, I told them I was going to see them at their shoot tonight but if I know them, they are probably on their way down here anyway.”

“I haven’t seen bullshit like this since the early nineties—” 

A small knock on your door interrupts him as it slowly opens. “Hey, sorry. We aren’t interrupting anything, are we?”, Steve cautiously pokes his head through. 

You smirk at your boss who chuckles. “You’re amazing. No boys. I actually wanted to speak with you. Come in.”

“Why do you sit on top of your desk like that when you have a thousand chairs?”, Eddie asks as he leans against the edge of it next to you.

“Makes me feel tall. Also Mr. Munson, I’m not sure if you saw but the sign on the door says it’s my office so I can do whatever I want.” He scrunches his nose at your playful tone. 

Steve steals your desk chair, gliding closer to you and TJ. “What’s going on?”

“Apparently, the cops raided a set the other night.”, TJ sighs as you press play on your tv. He gestures towards it as he continues. “Our wonderful city officials are trying to look good so they are cracking down ‘drugs’ and ‘prostitution’.” 

“But…none of that is happening.”, Eddie folds his arms as he watches the screen. 

“Not with any of my people and sets I work with. You guys know if you see any of that kind of shit, you let me or Y/N know.”

Steve lets out a heavy sigh as he leans back in his chair. You reach for the stress ball on your desk and throw it at his shoulder. 

“Don’t worry. You’re safe with me.”, you flash him a comforting smile. 

“We just want you guys to be aware. It really shouldn’t be a problem especially on Luke’s set. His studio is so big I don’t think they would even dare try it.” He glances at the three of you before clearing his throat. 

“Since everyone is here…”

“My other client isn’t here.”, you interject.

“Yeah, but I know where he is. I keep losing you three.” TJ stands, trying to make himself more authoritative. “Where were you guys yesterday?”

“Audition.”

He turned to face you. “All day? Really?”

“Oh. I’m sorry. Auditionsssss.” You make sure to put obnoxious emphasis on the S. 

Your boss narrows his eyes at you as both men try to contain their smiles. 

“You, young lady, are lucky I like you.”, he points his finger sternly. “From now on if I call you answer. If we have an event or party EVERYONE must remain there until I dismiss you. Understood?”

You faux salute him. “Yes, sir.”

“Gentlemen?” They affirm with mumbled yeahs. “Good. Now that all that is out of the way, I’m going to go back to my office and eat my delicious lunch in peace. Don’t bother me.”

He grins, jokingly pushing your shoulder as he leaves you office. 

Your eyes shift between them, Eddie’s head was down towards his sneakers as Steve was still looking at the TV.

“Wow. Well, don’t get shy on me now.”

“Are you ok?”, Eddie was the first to speak. “I…I didn’t hurt you or anything, right?”

“Eddie…”

“Steve was right. We weren’t in the right frame of mind. I definitely wasn’t.”

“Eddie, it’s okay. I’m ok.” You wrap your arm around his shoulder, pulling him in front of you so you could hug him from behind. “You didn’t hurt me. Not physically anyway…” His chest rose and fell as he sighed. 

Your eyes flicked to Steve who was watching you both. “I’m sorry I smacked you.”

His nose scrunched as he shrugged. “I deserved it.”

“Oh, okay. Well, fuck you then.” You and Steve smirked at each other. 

“I’m sorry for being an asshole.” He slides his chair closer to the both of you. 

“I know we said we would talk later but I feel like I should at least get this out now. I’m not sorry for what I said in the parking lot…or back at the house. I’m still extremely angry you didn’t talk to me. I understand why you didn’t, agent and client and all that but… it just hurts that you guys don’t trust me.”

“We trust you.”

“Daddy and Sir, trust me. Steve and Eddie don’t.”

##################

“Cut! Steve! Do we have a problem?”

“No! No… no fucking problem.”

“Ok, well, you can’t do anything with it soft, son.”

You and Eddie look at each other from your spot behind the camera as you sigh and reassuringly pat his arm. 

“Mr. Harrington!”, you beckon him gently with your finger. 

“Y/N, get his mind right or else—”

“Or else what?”, you cut the director off as you grab Steve’s hand. “Jason, if you want him to use his dick you need to get off his and relax, okay? We’re a bit overamped with everything going on.”

You tug the man into a corner behind the set where no one else could hear or see you. 

“Talk to me, babe.”

“I don’t know…I just…can’t focus.”, he sighs as he runs his fingers frustratingly through his hair. 

“Steve, look at me.” You slide your hand down his chest to the outside of the boxers they had him wearing, rubbing your hand below his waist. “When you go back out there, don’t focus on the cameras or the director. Don’t focus on yesterday…”

His shoulders deflated as he exhaled. “Hey no. Focus on me, Daddy.” Steve’s eyebrow raised coyly as he softly smiled. You felt his cock gradually begin to harden against your palm. “If it helps just pretend she’s me.”

“Mmm… but she’s not you.”

“I know. That’s the magic of acting.”, you giggle as he grins, running his tongue his lips. You lean closer to his chest as his head falls on to your shoulder. “Everything’s going to be alright, Steve. I promise.”

His lips find yours for a moment before you pull away. “You ready?”

He nods, going around you with a more determined stride as he heads back to the set. 

##################

Eddie throws their keys on the counter as the three of you head into their house.

Your eyes scan their exhausted looking frames. “Do you guys want to crash and we can talk tomorrow?”

“No. We should get this out of the way now.”

“Wow. Thanks Steve. That makes me feel special.”, you scowl at him.

“Honestly, I… I don’t know why we are doing this. We can’t have a romantic relationship. It would be hidden and only we would know about.”

“Okay. So why does the whole world have to fucking know?”

“Because you would be ours.”, Eddie interjects as he leans his back against their couch. 

“Ohhhh, I see. So you don’t trust me enough to tell other men to fuck off so you need to parade me around so they KNOW to stay away.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“That is seriously hilarious to me. You know that you two literally fuck people every single day and it doesn’t bother me?”

Steve slyly chuckles under his breath. “Yeah, but what if we were at a club or event and some random girl just climbed on my lap or started making out with Munson here. How would that make you feel?”

“In that scenario that would piss me off but I would…I would hope if we were in a relationship, you would tell that girl to respect your boundaries and get off your lap. I would trust you. God, Steve, why are you like this?”

When he doesn’t answer, you sigh in frustration as you step away. “Okay…” You bite your lip as you pace between them with your hands on your hips. “Okay. I have an idea. I want to talk to Daddy and Sir.”

They glance at each other, completely confused. “They trust me. Maybe they can help you say what you need to say.”

“No.”

You pout your lips, allowing your body to slowly push you into that headspace to get them where they need to be. “Please, Daddy.”

Steve’s face twitches slightly at your tone. “I said no.” 

You saunter back over to him, untangling his arms in front of his chest as you glide your hands up his body. “Pleeeeeease. Steven is afraid to open up to me and I need to know why.”

When his eyes met yours, you knew he was there. Daddy was ready to play. 

Steve reached for your throat, gripping it tightly in his huge hand. “I told you not to call me that AND I said no. Geez, Eddie. She never listens.”

He released his hold on you, shoving you backwards into a broad chest. “Probably never been disciplined properly.” You quickly turn around to see Eddie glaring down at you with his beautiful brown eyes. Since you three had begun your dynamic, you had learned little details about their body language and tone. Eddie’s voice told you that Sir hadn’t completely come out yet. 

“Oh, but Mr. Munson. I have.”, your hands reach up to cup his cheeks. “I came from an aggressive religious upbringing, remember? They were way more strict than you could ever be especially since you can’t seem to take charge without Daddy’s help.”

His strong hands shot up, gripping your wrists, and aggressively pulling them off his face. “I don’t need his help or permission to handle brats like you.” There he is.

“I don’t think I’m the one that needs handling.”

Eddie pushes himself off the couch, staring down at you as he bumps you with his chest. “I know you do.”

“How do you know that, Eddie?” You try to maintain your confident tone but it shakes as he bumps you again, walking you backward towards the bedroom. 

“Well, for one, you can’t seem to remember who you’re talking to.” He turns to Steve who has been steadily following behind. “Stupid little girl wants to know more but can’t even follow simple instructions.” His hand grabs you jaw, holding you still.

“Who am I?”

“Sir.”

Eddie shoves you back hard against the doorframe, making you wince. “Louder.”

“Sir!”

“Good girl. Hopefully you’ll remember it this time.” You stumble onto the floor as he pushes you into the room. They both come in and sit on the edge of the bed, stepping over you as they do. 

“Why…don’t you…trust me?”

Steve grins as he beckons you over with his finger. You obey, crawling to his lap on your knees. His fingers gently trace along your cheek down to your lips. 

“Because you are a whore.”

Your chest caves in as you exhale, searching his eyes for an explanation.

“Aw, Eddie. I don’t think that was the answer she was expecting.”, he says with a voice dripping with mocking. “You think you’re the first woman we’ve done this with? Where are they now, honey? They aren’t here. They. Leave. They always do.”

You saw pain flash quickly through his eyes and disappear just as fast. 

“Girls like you use us and then when you’re done, you’re gone.”

“You…haven’t known me for…for very long. Why do you think I would hurt you like that?”

“Like he said,” Eddie looked down at you with contempt. “You all do. Everyone in our lives leave. Anytime my mom fucked up in some way, she would blame it on me and my dad would beat my ass. When he got arrested…it’s like she saw no further use for me. There was no one to shield her from so she dumped me on my uncle’s doorstep and ran.”

Your heart ached for him as he hung his head. Your hand started to reach for his knee but you stopped, allowing it to hover. “Can I touch you?” Eddie didn’t verbally answer, instead placing his palm over yours and guiding it to his leg. 

You glanced back at Steve who was now glaring into the void. “Daddy?” He subtly shakes his head. “Talk to me, baby. Please. Help me understand.”

“Haven’t I given you enough?!”, he snaps. Your nose scrunches as you glare at him. 

You chuckle sarcastically as a light bulb suddenly goes off in your head. “Oh, I get it. Is that why you prefer Daddy? Was Mr. Harrington not so nice to Steven?”

Both sets of eyes abruptly look at you as you rise to your feet. You can tell just by Eddie’s look alone you’re very close to the target. Steve slowly stands well, his eyes penetrating yours. 

“Color, Princess?” Your eyes never left Steve’s but you could see in your peripherals and by the sound of his voice that Eddie knew the real game was about to get started. 

“Green, Sir.”

“You remember what you have to say for us to stop, right?”

“Yes, Sir.”

As soon as the words left your mouth, Steve’s hand connected with your face causing you to take a few steps backwards. 

“Why do you keep pushing, little girl?”

“Because I want to understand!”

He slapped you again, this time a bit harder than before. “Why?!”

“Why do you fight it so hard, Steve?!”

As he went to hit you, you ducked down and shoved his chest. Eddie intervened, grabbing your upper arms and holding them behind your back. Steve slid off his belt and handed it to the boy behind you who used it to tie your wrists together. 

He tossed you to the bed on your stomach, pulling your pants and panties down your legs. You heard clothes being removed behind you before Steve climbed on top of you. You yelped as he smacked your ass, pressing your face into the mattress as he sheathed himself inside of you. 

He gave you no warning or time to adjust as he began roughly thrusting into you. The man laid his full weight on top of you, pushing himself deeper into you as he continued his assault on your pussy. 

“Got nothing to say now huh, little one? Had plenty to say earlier when you were mouthing off. You still seem to think you have some control over us but you don’t, you fucking slut. You never will so stop making demands and stop pushing.”

“Then why do you have feelings for me?”

“Because I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Is that what he told you?” You whimpered as he thrust into your harder. “Your—mmm—you’re not an idiot—mmm-- for caring. You deserve to…fuck… to be cared for the way you do for other people.”

Steve pulled out of you and flipped you around, lifting your legs around his waist as he entered you again. 

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“How did you know you could trust Eddie?”

His brown eyes shifted towards his friend before looking back at you. You craned your neck to kiss his lips and he allowed it. His head fell beside yours as he pumped his hips harder against yours. 

“I care about you to, Daddy. I like you a lot. Both of you.” You gently kissed the shell of his ear as his hips sputtered and he came inside of you, his body trembling above you. 

“Fuck. Baby…I…”

“It’s ok, Daddy. It’s ok.”

“I can take care of her, buddy. Come here, sweetheart.” Steve rolled out of the way as Eddie lifted you onto his lap and leaned his back against the headboard. He reaches behind you untying the belt and tossing it to the floor.

You straddle his waist, taking his cock in your hand and gradually began sliding yourself down onto him. You both groan at the feeling as your head falls to his forehead. Eddie notices that your hands remain on your thighs as you start grinding and bouncing your hips. 

His own palms glide down your arms, grabbing your wrists and placing your arms over his shoulders. He leans in to kiss your lips.

“You can touch me, pretty girl. It’s alright.”

Eddie giving you more control drove you wild as your pussy tightened around him. 

“Fucking hell. Come on, baby. Make yourself cum.” His fingers dug into your waist as he guided you, moving you faster against him. 

“Can I…please, Sir…” When he nodded his head, you completely let go; tossing your head back as you came.

His arms wrapped around you as he lifted himself up onto his knees, thrusting into you as you clung your yourself to him. Eddie loved the way your body fit perfectly against him. If he had his way, he would never let you go. He grunted into your neck and you both moaned when you felt him cum inside you. 

He expected you to let him go but when you didn’t, he sat back down on the mattress, running his hands through your hair and down your back. 

“My dad was never around. Actually, neither of my parents were.” You climbed off the metalhead’s lap to turn and look at Steve who was staring into the void again. “My father was a cheating dick head who always made sure to remind me I was never good enough.”

You watched him as he got up, disappearing into the bathroom and coming back with a rag. Eddie motioned for you to sit in front of him and you did, opening your legs so the other boy could take care of you. 

“I know that feeling.” When Steve’s eyes meet yours, you deliver him a tender smile. “Religious family, remember. My brother and I were always reminded how terrible we were and not just from our parents but the church and the town. My mom and dad didn’t even see me off when I moved here. They said California is a state of sin.” You roll your eyes as you sigh. 

“I imagine they don’t know what you do?”, Steve asked as he threw the rag haphazardly into the bathroom doorway. 

“Pfft, God no. They’d lose their minds. Kidnap me and probably take me back home.”, you laugh. 

“We wouldn’t let that happen.”, Eddie grinned as he rested his head on your shoulder.

“Do you really think I’m a whore?” You felt the arms around you stiffen. 

“No.” Steve’s voice was so low you could barely hear him. 

“Um, louder, Daddy. I can’t hear you.” You playfully tilt your ear towards him and a smile spread across his face. 

“I said no, beautiful.” You grin as you lean back against Eddie’s chest. “I think, like Eds said yesterday, we’re jaded. It’s…easier to lump you in with the other girls we’ve been with because—”

“We like you so much it will hurt less when you leave.”, the other man finishes. 

“When I leave… Gentlemen, I don’t plan on going anywhere any time soon. I get it though. I really do. You’ve been hurt by so many people… but I promise not just as your agent or your friend or… you’re safe with me. There’s no rush. We don’t even have to put a label on it. Let’s just see what happens.”

“I can do that.” Eddie tenderly kisses your shoulder.

“Me to.” Steve reaches out to move a strand of hair out of your face. 

“Good. Now, can we eat because I’m fucking starving.”

#################

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[notyour-valentine]

Dragon's Blood II ~ Aemond Targaryen x Rhaenyras!daughter

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All my writing is produced by an adult and created with an adult audience in mind (18/21+). You are responsible for your own media consumption. I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Summary: Once in King's Landing, she has a score to settle with Prince Aegon and Aemond has a toast to make( ~ 1x09)

Note: Loosely connected to this moonboard of mine. There will be a Part IV

Warning: sword fighting, mention of blood and injuries, smut, mention of war and death. Expect canon conforming tone and language. (18/21+)

Wordcount: 5539 words

Part I ~ Part II ~ Part III ~ Part IV

Part II

Previously

She did not share Jace’s or Luke’s memory from those bygone days and so she did not join them as they ran around the courtyard in excitement, retracing the sights of their old adventures.

Instead, her eyes were focussed on something else, or rather someone else. At least, until the sun darkened when his tall frame let shadow fall over her. 

“Where’s Syraxes?”, he asked as he leaned against the wall beside her. 

He smelled of sweat and leather, and a little bit of dragon. It was a scent she was all too familiar with.

“We came on ships.”, she explained, unable to hide her disapproval. 

Her confession made his eyebrow rise. 

“Preparing for your wifely duties?”, Aemond wanted to know. 

That again, she thought as she fought the desire to roll her eyes. 

“Daemon is still negotiating.”

“For which price to whore you out?”, he asked under his breath. 

If he had meant it to sting, he shouldn’t have struck with a dulled blade. 

“The fate of a Princess.”, she retorted. It was hardly anything new to her, nor was she oblivious to the duty her position required.

His hand found her waist as she tried to move away, holding her back. 

“There is an armoury room,”, he mused, his lips coming dangerously close to her ear. “It’s deserted this time of day.”

She hummed softly before turning to meet his piercing gaze. 

“I’m afraid, it will remain that way a little while longer.”

With that, she twisted out of his arm and reached for a practice sword, swishing it through the air to check the balance and weight. 

“You want to spar?”, Aemond asked curiously, crossing his arms over his chest. "Here?"

“Oh indeed.”, she said with a smirk, taking a few steps back before turning her back to him, pointing her sword at someone else. 

“Uncle!”, she called out to Aegon, who had only just arrived, offering her brightest smile. 

“Would you do me the honour?”

Usually the laughter from the men at arms, the knights and squires would have set her blood to boil but now it only ever made her smirk.

The more, the merrier. After all, why put on a show if there was no one to watch?

“You?”, Aegon asked, laughing squires at his back. 

“What are you doing?”, Aemond hissed. 

She let him hold her practice blade as she reached into her pocket to fish out a ribbon to toe her hair back. 

“Funny thing, Aemond.”, she told him, “one of your serving girls asked my mother’s maid if they have to fear Prince Jacaerys the same way they have to fear Prince Aegon.”

She turned to face him to be able to see his every reaction. 

He gave her nothing. No confusion. No surprise.

So she knew all she had to know. 

Tasting venom on her tongue, she nodded before taking the sword from him and facing Aegon with the sweetest of smiles. 

He had been joking with his men, she knew, and strode towards her with nothing but confidence, looking her up and down. 

“You want me to teach you about swordplay?”, he asked, “Well, who could say no to that? I am an expert in that regard."

More laughter rang out, and out of the corner of her eye she could see Jace flush with anger. 

Don’t worry, she thought, we’ll be the ones laughing soon. 

He took his own practice sword and positioned himself. 

“The key,”, he began, explaining loudly, “is not to give away when you will strike.”

The emphasis he put on his hip as well as how low he held his sword made a mockery of the practice yard, earning roaring laughter from his men.

“Like this?”, she asked, leaping towards him. 

He brought his blade up just in time to deflect her strike to his shoulder, but the unanticipated force sent him stumbling back. 

This time, she let him catch his balance. 

“You are a good teacher, Uncle.”, she mused as she stepped back, smiling. “Why don’t you attack? I hear you’re quite good at it.”

His lip twitched as he tried to strike. 

She blocked it with ease, ducked away and struck the back of his leg, forcing him to take a knee. 

Lucerys’ laughter rang out through the yard, cutting through the stunned silence. 

She had her back turned to Aegon, but in the shiny armour of Ser Harrold she could see his every movement, and even the flashing anger in his eyes. 

He ran at her, sword in hand, while Jace cried out to warn her. Now it was her that took a knee, making him strike air. Since he had passed her, it was all to easy for the flat of her blade to crack over his backside, making him crash to the floor. 

Lucerys howled, while the rest of the courtyard was reduced to shocked gasps and murmurs. 

Aegon scrambled back up again and charged. She jumped away and grabbed his arm, twisting it and pushing him away. 

Even more enraged, he came at her again, she blocked, parried and struck, her sword cracking against his hip with such force the onlookers groaned in sympathetic suffering. 

His face was as red as his backside promised to be as he charged at her again,, but an angry fighter was never a good one. 

Three more strikes did she block while she made sure to strike his hips and thighs at any given chance. Which was every chance. 

Aemond really hadn't lied when he told her he was a poor swordsman.

Another blow sent him to the ground again, as she, after a clinch, rammed her elbow into him and pushed him off with ease. 

“Enough!”, a voice cut through the yard. 

She saw Ser Criston Cole soldiering towards her, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her back. 

“I had thought you had a master at arms on Dragonstone, not a racketeer who never heard of honour to teach you the art of fighting!”, he snarled, his face mere inches from hers. 

His grip tightened until he cut off her blood flow, but she only ever met his gaze. 

“They teach fighting. In battle, there is little art to it. You ought to know that, Ser Criston.”

From the corner of her eye, she could see her brother’s bemused faces. 

The knight looked down at her with nothing but blatant disgust.

“It is unseemly for a woman to spar!”, he snarled. 

“I am not just a woman, Ser.”, she reminded him with the sweetest smile as she reached out to pluck a piece of dust from his beard. “I am a dragon. Those measly rules don’t apply to me.”

His fingers closed around her wrist as if her mere touch burned him and brought it down with such force, she feared he might break it. 

“Oh they do, girl!”, he snarled through clenched teeth. “And I will make you will subject yourself to them!”

The disrespect made her laugh in shock. 

“Ah you will make me?”, she hissed. “Would you like to try at where your Princeling had failed?”

“A woman has no place on the sparring yard.”, he snarled and pushed her away. 

Oh I’ll show you your place.

She was twisting her wrist to free itself from the pain as she closed her fingers around the practice sword a second time. 

Only this time another, gentler hand closed around hers. 

“Don’t.”, Jacaerys whispered. “He’s not worth it.”

Lucerys ran at them with wide, sparkling eyes. 

“You destroyed him!”, he insisted. “How did you know to do that?”

“Yes, how?”, Jace asked, suspicion in his eyes. 

“Practice.”, she said, making a point of not searching for Aemond who had watched their every move.

“As much as I enjoyed that, now we will look like fools compared to you.”, Luke said with a sigh.

“Aegon won’t be able to pick up another sword today. I wonder if he will even be able to sit. And Aemond won’t spar you.”, she insisted. “Train with Ser Harrold.”

She sent them off with a slight shove and put her own practice sword down. 

“Won’t I?”, mused a word from the shadows. 

“No you won’t.”, she said sharply, earning an amused hum.

“Aemond, they are just boys.”

“Jacaerys is your elder.”, he reminded her. 

“They can't match you with the blade.”, she said. "You know that."

"And you knew Aegon was no match for you and yet you sought to humiliate him in turn."

She huffed as she met his gaze, wondering if it was a hint of anger or a flash of pride she saw in it.

"He deserved it."

~

There was something soothing about watching the steam rise from the bathtub.

The maids had warned her that it might be too hot, but what was mere heat for a dragon like her? 

Either her bath water had to be scalding or icy cold like the salty sea on the shores of Dragonstone. 

And so she had asked the serving girls to keep preparing hot water. By the time they had carried it to her rooms to add to her bath in intervals to prevent a drop in heat. 

So it was no surprise when she heard the door open and close again. 

Only then, she didn’t hear any further steps and so she turned, water splashing as she moved. 

Aemond was leaning against the door, a slight smirk on his lips as his gaze travelled from her surprised face to her chest. 

Rolling her eyes she settled back down again, letting the water come up to her collarbone. 

“You’re not supposed to be here.”, she remarked dryly. 

“Well you are in my home.”, he argued.

She could hear his heels drop to the cold ground one by one as he made his way over to her. 

“If they saw you, you’d cause a scandal.”, she sneered, but she knew he wouldn’t care about that, so she added a little extra just to rile him up. “What would your poor mother think? And your darling High Septon? Since you’ve practically turned this place into a sept, would fucking me here make it even more sinful than it already is?”

He hummed as he sat down on the edge of the tub, letting his hand trail through the water. 

“No one saw me.”, he simply said, not giving her the anger she wanted. “There are a thousand secret passageways in the Red Keep.”

“Thank Aegon.”, she mused, and the hundreds of architects, workmen and builders whom he fed to Balerion once they were done. 

She leaned forward and inhaled, smelling soap and clean clothes. 

“You’ve already bathed.”, she remarked. 

“Would you rather I come to you reeking of the sparring yard?”, he asked. 

She didn’t respond directly, but he still smirked.

“You could have joined me. In warm water for once.”

Aemond hummed the way only he could hum, as he began to undo his buttons. 

She bit her lip to keep herself from smiling. 

Occupied with her own thoughts, she took her eyes off him (and because she didn’t want him getting too full of himself) and so was caught unaware when he grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her forward until she crashed into his leg, but he only ever dragged her up further until her lips were inches from his. 

It left her startled and breathless and she had to clutch his thigh for support as not to fall. 

“I should cut it all off.”, he sneered almost angrily. 

His breath was as hot on her lips as the steam of the water was, but she was focussed on the fire in his gaze. 

“I’ll cut it off before I let some grubby Essosi fingers touch it.”

It made her laugh and although his grip still kept her head in place, she traced her fingers up the inside of his thigh. 

“Do that,”, she warned him under her breath, “and I will cut something off that won’t grow back.”

He inhaled sharply as she began to stroke him through his trousers, knowing they were growing tighter by the second. 

His grip on her hair loosened slightly and she moved down in the tub, resting her head against his knee while her hand kept moving up and down on the wrong side of his trousers. 

“Besides,”, she mused, batting her eyelashes at him. “No one would miss it more than you.”

He'd pull it, clutch it, bury his face in it, wrap it around his hand and hold her close, only to then brush it out and braid it for her with more patience than she ever had.

With that, she moved away, leaning against the back of the tub feeling pleased at the sight of her handiwork. 

Aemond inhaled sharply, as if weighing his options. 

His pride or her body. 

He gave her a glare as if she had insulted him and stood, but his hands moved to the laces of his trousers and she knew she had won. 

~

Aemond had made her so late that her hair was still wet by the time they had dressed her, in a black gown bejewelled with rubies to match those decorating her hair. 

She looked beautiful, yes, like a proper princess, or a prized cow, both at court and at dinner. 

By now, King Viserys had become a stranger to her, but when he smiled at her, she smiled back. She loved him for her mother’s sake. 

But nothing made her smile more than seeing Aegon’s limp. 

Jace proved every bit the King he would one day become as he responded with nothing but courtesy, to them, and then when Aegon thought to bother Baela, a far better man when he asked Helaena to dance. 

Aegon drank and drank, unable to lift his gaze, while Aemond watched them like a hawk. 

“I know a place from where you’d get an even closer look at my brother.”, she teased, making him glare at her. 

“Or are you too afraid we’ll embarrass you in this kind of spar too?”, she asked, nodding to Aegon. 

Without another word, he got up, pushing his chair back with a screech as he grabbed her hand. 

“If you want something,”, he hissed into her ear as they took their positions not far away from Jace and Helaena, “ask!”

But where would be the fun in that?, she thought.

The song they played, a  four-step, which meant that it could be danced by two couples as well as one. It was Helaena that initiated it. They stood across from each other, moving to one side, then the other, a step forward, two steps back. 

Then it was time for the men to release them as Helaena and her met in the centre, their palms touching as they circled around each other. 

She was beaming from ear to ear, as her skirts swirled with their turn for the other direction.With that, they returned to their respective partners, stopping in front of them.

“She seems to enjoy herself.”, she told Aemond. 

“She likes to dance.”, was the only reply she got as their hands touched in the space between them. 

“So here we are.”, she mused as he spun her under his arm before dropping his hands to her waist and lifting her up at the same time Jace lifted Helaena. “Us two, the only spinsters.”

He glanced down at her. 

“Until you are sold off.”, he snarled. 

“For the high price of a fleet and prosperous trade. I can live with that.”, she insisted. Either she’d marry Jace, or she’d be married off for the security of Jace’s kingdom. 

“Dragons are worth more than ships.”, he reminded her as they swayed from side to side again. 

“But worth more than peace?”, she asked, so close she could smell him, his rough, calloused hand holding her own and his lips - Suddenly her throat felt thick and she glanced down. “Let’s not talk of things we cannot change.”

“You’re not married yet.”, he reminded her as his hands went to her waist once more. 

“Do you plan on stealing me away?”, she asked just as she took her place at his side, ready to approach Jace and Helaena once more. 

“Can’t steal something that already belongs to you.”, he argued, not minding that they were so close both of their siblings could hear. 

Her answer had to wait until they stepped back once more.

“I don’t belong to you. Or anyone, but if it were up to me-”

“Uncle!”

Lucerys voice cut through the music as he stood, his eyes locked on Aemond. 

“They’ve brought something for you.”

She followed his pointed finger to the tray that had just been brought in and her heart sank. 

“Aemond!”, she hissed under her breath but he left her standing as he strode towards the desk. 

His eyes meeting Luke’s, he seemed to consider for a moment, before taking his goblet in his hand, but when he spoke up, his voice was calm. 

Yet she knew better than to trust it. 

“A final tribute-”, he said, his gaze locked on Luke. “To my nephews.”

The music stopped completely to let him speak, as he made sure to look at each in turn.”

“Jace, Luke and Joffrey - each of them handsome, wise…”

He lingered, as they all held their breaths, as if he savoured the taste. 

“Strong.”

“Aemond!”, his mother hissed, but she inhaled sharply, feeling her hands clench into fists but he ignored them both. 

“Let us drain our cups,”, he announced loudly, “to these three Strong boys!”

Aegon was only too eager to lift his, but her head snapped around as she heard Jace’s voice crack like a whip.

“I dare you to say that again!”, he demanded, squaring up to Aemond without a trace of fear or intimidation in his eyes. 

“Why? Twas only a compliment!”, the taller man insisted with a smirk.

How she wanted to strike it right off his face. 

“Do you not consider yourself Strong?”

Jace beat her too it, his fist colliding with his jaw and snapping his head around. She was already halfway there when out of the corner of her eye she saw Aegon grab Luke by the back of the neck and slam his face into the table.

In the blink of an eye, she felt a fistful of his icy blond hair in her grasp and tore him away, spinning him around and burying her knee in his stomach.

“Pick on someone your own size!”, she snarled at him as he groaned in pain, more than happy to continue what she had begun in the sparring yard. 

“Enough!”, she heard someone cry as she saw Jace fall back, Aemond towering over him, his goblet still in hand. 

His mother grabbed his sleeve. 

“Why would you say that? In front of these people?”, she insisted. 

In front of me.

She missed the first part of his response as Daemon grabbed her by the back of the dress like a cat picking up an unruly kitten, pulling her before the guards could. 

He pushed her away from Aegon without much effort, shoving her in the space between Luce and Jace. 

“Although my nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs!”, Aemond finished, making Jace’s cheeks flush in anger as he was ready to lunge at him once more. 

“Ah!”, Daemon said, his finger raised, stopping him before he could reach Aemong. 

He was first staring at Jace, then her, and finally Luke.

They understood but he made sure, staring them down until they had all taken a step back, his finger still raised before he turned. 

“Go to your quarters!”, her mother ordered, “all of you! Now.”

She looked to Jace, who only began to turn when Rhaena, holding Baela’s arm in one hand and Joff’s hand in the other. 

Her still waited at the door, seeing first the girls and Joff out, the Luke, who glared over his shoulder and finally her. 

She could feel his silent rage, burning to match her own. 

They shared that, the anger, the desire to fight, to fight him if need be.

But he did not share her betrayal. 

There were yet marks on her body he had made, the grip on her hips, the mark of his kisses. And now the sweet sting of passion felt like bite marks from a venomous snake and it was from them, that she could feel the poison seeping into her with every step. 

It made her want to scream, to claw at them, to cut every memory from him out of her mind and body, to burn it away with Syraxes’ fire or to drown it in the Narrow Sea. 

Fire, blood and the salty water would wash her clean of him. 

And yet her anger was drowned in her pain, in the piercing ache she felt in her chest with every breath she took.

Jace's hand found the small of her back as he inhaled sharply.

"And to think Mother was considering to give you to him.", he whispered, his voice so low only she could hear.

~

Jace, Luke and her had received a scolding from their mother until their ears rang. 

Today of all days. 

It was to make peace. Why did you have to fight? 

But it was disappointment more than anger. 

They should have stood above it, their ambivalence would have made him look the fool and now they had given him just what he wanted. 

If only her mother knew the truth of the words she had spoken. 

In her mind, they were both toying with each other in equal measure, but what if she had been dancing to his tune along? What if she was lost on this path he had led her on?

You gave him just what he wanted. 

She had done so, over and over again. Here, on Dragonstone, on their little island. 

So her defeat was a heavier to carry as she made her way back to her bedroom, sending away the serving girls and staring into the darkness of the room, illuminated only by a crackling fire. 

The girls hadn’t gotten to lighting the candles yet. 

For how long she just stood there, she did not know, but she spun as soon as she sensed movement from the darkness, pulling out the dagger that was hidden in her sleeve.

“You can put the blade away.”, said the last voice she wanted to hear. “It’s only me.”

“Only reason to keep it drawn!”, she snarled. “Get out!”

He stepped out from the darkness, his hands at his sides and said her name as if he hoped it were a spell he could enchant her with.

“I said get out!”

“I know you’re angry-”

She grabbed one of those idiotic seven pointed candle sticks and flung it at him with full force, candle and all. 

He ducked and it crashed to the floor behind him and Aemond turned to see whether it had shattered or not.

So he barely saw the second candlestick coming in time. 

Cursing under his breath, he crossed the distance between them and grabbed her wrist before she could hurl a third in his direction.

Pushing her up against the wall, he twisted both candle and knife from her hands, kicking them away, as he said her name once more. 

“Get out!”, she snarled, trying to kick him, but he stood so close she couldn’t gather momentum. 

“I need to talk to you.”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

She turned her head away until her cheek was pressed to the cold stone to be away from him. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”, he admitted, taking a step back.

She almost laughed at him.

“You knew exactly what you were doing!”, she snapped, using her newly reached freedom of movement to slap him. 

He let her.

But once his head was facing her again, he seemed unmoved. 

“Lucerys -”

“Lucerys is a boy!”, she snapped, not letting him finish. “It has been years, Aemond. Let it go!”

He always had such a keen memory when it came to that joke, except the fact that it had been his own brother who had had the idea. 

Aemond scoffed and shook his head. 

“You always take his side.”, he spat as if stating a crime she had committed. 

“Of course I do. He is my brother. My little brother!”

She could see his jaw muscles working in silent rage and shook her head in disbelief. 

How could he ask for loyalty now? After what he had done? After Aegon had attacked him? A man twice his size?

“One minute you wish to steal me away from marriage, the next you call me a bastard-”

His hand grabbed her arm, stopping her pacing. 

“I didn’t call anyone anything!”, he reminded her, as if a technicality would absolve him. 

She faced him headon, glaring at him with nothing but rage and disgust in her eyes and her voice trembled with suppressed anger. 

“If they are bastards,”, she hissed through clenched teeth, “So am I.”

Aemond swallowed hard as he weighed his words. Still, he refused to relent.

“You are not a thief.”, he argued. 

“A thief?”, she demanded to know, his words only ever stoking her rage. “And pray tell, how are Jacaerys and Lucerys thieves? They are my mother’s sons!”

“They aren’t trueborn!”, Aemond argued. “You know it too, I know you do!”

She had bit back a chuckle while he had acted so prim and proper at the dinner, praying, but it wasn’t funny anymore. 

Someone must’ve had a better aim with those stupid seven-pointed star candleholders than I did. 

“They won’t inherit the Iron Throne because of Laenor Velaryon.”, she reminded him. “They inherit it because of my mother. Your future Queen!”

Aemond chuckled, shaking his head and making her want to strike him.

Mocking her brothers and now insulting her mother?

She felt like she would explode with rage, when she heard the door handle click. 

Giving Aemond a shove, half in the hope that he would fall, hit his head or break his arm, she rushed towards the door before it could fully open. 

She imagined the guards, some servants, her mother, Daemon or Jace - but it was neither and so she fell to her knees.

 “Aegon!”, she gasped, all traces of anger disappearing as she saw the tears on his cheeks. 

“Sweetling, what’s wrong?”

He was in his nightclothes, clutching the blanket in his hand. 

Instead of responding, he buried his face in her lap and sobbed. 

“Oh my love!”, she whispered as she reached for him and lifted him up, her hand on the back of his head as she began to walk back and forth with him in her arms, as his tears began to soak her dress. 

With one glance, she made sure that Aemond was hidden from view, before sitting down on the edge of her bed and placing him in her lap. 

He only ever let go of her reluctantly and she began to wipe his tears away as his fingers grabbed her dress for good measure. 

“What happened?”, she asked. 

His lip began to tremble. 

“I couldn’t find anyone.”, he whimpered, unable to meet her eyes. “You were all gone! All of you!”

With that, he flung himself at her again, his head hitting her chest at full force. 

“Sweetling, we were at the feast. You know that.”

“You were gone!”, he insisted. “I was looking for you and you were gone. You were all gone and you left me alone!”

She held him until his sobs had turned to hiccups and whimpers before trying to meet his eyes again. 

“Come now, Aegon!”, she asked softly, “look at me now.”

He tried to avoid her eyes and so she lifted him off her lap and crouched down in front of him, looking up at his violent eyes as she cupped his face. 

“It’s alright.”, she assured him, her thumb stroking over his damp face. 

“It’s not.”, he argued. “I want to go home.”

“We’re going home!”, she promised. “

“Now?”

There was such hope in his voice, it hurt her to shatter it. 

“Not now, no. But tomorrow. Just one more sleep.”

He sniffled before laying down on the blanket. 

“Can I stay with you?”

She smiled softly as she ran her hand over his hair. So soft. So pale.

“You can’t.”, she said softly. “I’ll take you back to your nursery.”

“I don’t like it there! The walls…they are wrong. They’re scary.”, he confessed. 

For a moment she considered, but then she lifted him up in her arms. 

“I know, Aegon.”, she promised. “And that’s alright. Everyone is scared sometimes.”

“Everyone?”

She nodded.

“But you can be brave too, can’t you? My little dragon.”

That made his lip twitch into the hint of a smile. 

“And besides, you’ve got Viserys with you. Even you are a bit scared, you two can be brave together.”

She leaned her forehead against his.

“I promise.”

“I’ll be braver with you!”, Aegon argued, his hand clinging to her dress once more. 

She kissed the top of his head as she opened the door once more, carrying him back to the nursery.

It was nearly half an hour before he was settled, only falling asleep after she had sung him a Valyrian hymn, and she returned to her chambers.

Aemond was sitting just where she had placed Aegon to sooth him. 

“You’re good with him.”, he said softly. 

“He is my little brother.”, she said, too exhausted to fight.

Nothing was as draining as watching her little brother’s sorrow. 

“Yes, I know.”, he said defeat in his voice.

 He stretched out his hand and lifted his eyes, both violet and blue, in a silent plea as he stretched out his hand.

“I’m sorry.”, he said. 

She hesitated for three heartbeats before swallowing hard and crossing the room. 

Leaving his hand where it hung, she stopped to stand right between his legs and cupped his face, letting her thumb brush over the scar on his cheek. 

“Do you want to hear the truth, Aemond?”, she asked, though why she did not know. 

Perhaps the hour was too late or too early, perhaps Aegon’s tears had softened her resolve, perhaps the blow he had dealt her at dinner made her bleed out to the point of delusion. 

Perhaps she was just too tired or perhaps this game they played had gotten too complicated for her. 

Perhaps she was ready to end it, even if it meant losing. 

He looked almost frightened.

“If there is a choice, or even the hope of a choice, I would always choose you.”, she confessed, letting her thumb trace down to his lips.

Jace, Luke, Baela and Rhaena would hate her for saying that, and she could only guess what her mother and Daemon would think. 

His hand found her waist as he leaned his head against her chest, holding her tight. 

She allowed him, and let her hand find the back of his head as it had found Aegon’s earlier, stroking over it.

It would have been easy to stay like that, to hold him and let him hold her, to melt into his arms, his embrace, his body, to have his lips coax away the pain they had dealt her earlier. 

No, she reminded herself, not just her, but Jace and Luke and Joff, and her mother too. 

“But when it comes to my brothers, there is no choice.”

End

~

Part III

Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear what you think!

Tagging a few people who I think might be interested in the sequel:

@sanzyfavbitch @luthientinu @unnamedm @janelongxox @crazylokonugget @sarcasticsweetlara @anditsmywholeheart @tinydramatist @sleepy0nez @words-way-of-life @redpool @c-chann

[lactosa2]

Omen, i have no other bitch in mind

cc: Drabble, soft, non relatonship but still romantic in my way.

ARE WE OKAY THEN?

Omen lately have been distant, well, he is always distant, but now was even more distant that he usually is, so you tough that might you did something wrong, that you said or did something and now he was piss and no talking.

Is not like this, but in some way you liked to suffer, it showed you that you are not crazy or a atenttion seaker when you feel or say that you are in a bad mental space, still, you felt a need. A strange and toxic need of always being worst, always being paranoid and living whit that fear that something gonna mess up all the rigths decitions you have made, deep down, you wanted to be in a bad place, being manipulated, being assaulted, discriminated, all because when you were you had a excuse to at least being sad, having the rigth for rotting in bed for days and not being called lazy, showing other people that you are not crazy, that you ARE vulnerable

That was one of the main reason Omen and you got so well, even at the first meet, he wasn´t polite, caring, or something that made you feel conected whit him, but you could see his pain, his suffering, is not a kink shit, only that as same as you, he didn´t see you as a lack of person, he only saw you as a anoyying one, and that was enough, and more because for you he was anoying to.

You had two faces, 1: want to show how bad and miserable your life actually is, because being honest, it is! - 2: Want to be seeing as a person, not as one you have to feel sorry, so so sorry that you give it atention in case that poor little and vulnerable things is thinking on suicide. People was rude whit it, how dare you to be sad? and of you dare to not let them wash their sins by trying to help you in not a solidary way? how????

Whit thinking that everyone around you feel sorry for you, you started to close, ignore and cut ties whit people and just acepting help from yourself, that little voice in the back of your mind that told you that eating less wasn´t going to make you pretty and loved, the voice that told you that you actually deserved being alive, the little voice that told you that not everyone have to cares about others, and that´s not selfish. Conciencia, that how others called it if you live in a place where you speak spanish, you tried but didn´t find logic on it, end of all, you didn´t thinked that much about racional things, and most important, you didn´t know.

Strange feeling between sadness and rage, but you feel it, yes, why? idc, and you didn´t either.

2:45 A.M

Talking whit Omen was relaxing, talking whit someone more mess up than you is terapeutic, making you feel like you can be worst and youre not, one of the last things you can say you are proud about. He wasn´t gently, polite, loving, he didn´t even care when in a mission someone shot you, and that was made him so special. Not because you liked men that are cold heart and a dicks whit everyone, i hope that you had a present father figure on your childhood. but ignoring that. He treated you as a person, as everyone else, and that is... good, actually pretty good, he is not sweet whit you, but he is not sweet, he is not! is not special to you because your not! and that tough it was better than a orgams itself, making you feel as a person. and for that reason he was in your place for more than 3 moths.

You were siting on the chair of the balcony since one hour aprox, smoking a cigarrete, even if the hole protocol told you it was bad for you, you are not better than the 77% of people that smokes arround the world.

you felt his hand hitting softly the back of your head, laughting in a low voice you moved the head to see Omen, his hand on the chair frame, his figure tall and kind of impresive.- "So you don´t hate me? no more?" you asked whit a frow, letting the cigarrete burn itselft, you have something more adictive to concentrate on. "Who said that?" he asked while walking away from you (:c) and siting on the other chair besides you. "Me" he giggled whit a voice that make him look like a smoker since his -9 years, you giggled at his laught and kicked softly his feet,-" Hey, im talking serious.." his head shaked sighly at your words, "Nothing, just thinking" he said whit his arms crossed

you laid both of your legs on his lap, looking at him whit head moved a little to the side, in doubt. "I don´t bothers me that you are here.." you whispered, since he was here it feels easy to live, even if he isn´t much of talking. -"I don´t want you to feel alone, i know you do, but i care, i really really really care."- you tried to convice him, your words going out in a soft loving purr, he better to buy the enchant. One of his hand touched your leg caressing it whit his tumb, "I know you do... i wouldn´t be here if you didn´t." his words were low, his head looking at the deep dark sky.

"So you don´t hate me?" you said whit a teasing fake smile, smoking whit a eyebrown raised and your legs rubbing in his lap.- "How could i?"

[leviathxn]

“Too Distracting”

Okay so I’m writing this on my iPad first with a keyboard so the formatting might be weird and everything but I’m gonna go back and fix it on my phone and stuff too. But backstory for this, if you’ve gotten Spider-Man memes and couple stuff then you probably know about the Silk-Spider and Spider-Man. If you don’t, in short they both got bitten by the same exact spider and now whenever they’re with each other they have the primal instinct to mate, meaning there is a major sexual attraction and tension between the two. So here we gooo. (Also I’m gonna be writing a Dads best friend AU with Miguel of course so be ready for that!)

Miguel O’ Hara x Spidey!Fem!Reader

Warnings : Smut! Breeding Kink, Begging, Creampie, Size Kink, Fangs, Age play (Miguel is 30 in this short, the reader is 18!), It won’t fit, praise (on both ends). Masturbation (mentioned)

Summary : You and Miguel were bit by the same spider in the same universe. (I know he wasn’t originally bit by a spider but just for our pleasure!)

I had joined the Spider-Society only a few months after I became a Spider-Man. I had known about Miguel for the longest time, but afraid of getting in his way, I watched from afar. I was sure he already knew of my existence but I didn’t see a point in introducing myself. He was way ahead in his Spider-Man career by the time I became one. He was built for seemingly an older man. I was just freshly 18, but I knew what my body felt whenever I looked at Miguel. It wanted to be with him, on top of him, to have him. But I knew that was nothing but a fantasy that occured at the moment.

That was until I realized just how much I would be seeing Miguel around the HQ. When I first formally met him in base we both tensed up at each other’s presence. God was he a gorgeous man. His perfectly sculpted face and body, lined tightly against his suit. I clenched my thighs together as he slowly descended, his red eyes quickly analyzing me, a flash of lust glazed his eyes when our eyes met. What was he was feeling? I wondered if he felt the same as I did, the unnatural connection I felt to him. After that encounter I saw him everywhere. We would always make eye contact, closer than we ever were before but still so far apart. My body could feel when he was close, every glance I met. I’m sure his body reacted the same way. I’m sure he could smell the desire pouring out of my body, my heat becoming wet every time I heard him speak.

But again this was nothing but presence alone. I didn’t actually have to interact or be within 6 feet of him. That was until almost every mission I went on, he was there. It confused me. Some of them were small and easy, maybe only needing 2 spider men. Luckily there was always at least a 3rd Spider-Person, meaning me and Miguel were never alone. Again, we haven’t spoken directly to each other, both of us so focused on the missions that everything went perfectly fine, no need to communicate. The other people on the missions with us were confused, although we thought we were hiding it, they saw us pretty much ignoring each other and the air felt thick between us.

Until finally, we were put on a mission alone. It was simple, capture the anomaly terrorizing earth-823 and leave. We met up in HQ, as Miguel opened the portal to the world. We were still both quiet, our body’s urges becoming hard to suppress. Before we left I looked at him, noticing our size difference. He was huge, in every aspect. His broud shoulders could easily trap me beneath him, his tall frame leaving you barely at eye level with his chest. My body trembled, wanting nothing more than to be one with him. I would be so small on top of him, struggling to take in all of him.

“I-“, I tried to talk but he made eye contact with me and I felt my body grow weak.

“Don’t.” He growled out, stepping into the portal. I tried to collect myself, before stepping into the portal behind him.

We landed in a very grassy and deserted version of New York. Miguel and I looked around confused. Afraid to speak, I continued to look around, despite my body begging to take Miguel. He jumped off the building beginning to swing and search. He sent me a message on my watch ‘we’ll split up, send your location if you find something’. I sighed happily, I would be able to focus. Although I was a bit nervous to be completely alone, I started to swing in the opposite direction. I kept my eyes open, about 30 minutes have passed and neither of us had found anything. I checked my watch and tried calling Miguel. The phone rang until he finally picked up.

“I’m guessing you haven’t found anything either?” He grumbled, sounding annoyed.

“No... should we meet up and go back? I haven’t seen anybody here... and I mean no one”. He sighed and agreed. He said when we met up he would contact Lyla, not wanting to leave if the anomaly was still here. I waited patiently for him, sitting down on the ledge of the original building. The sun was setting and although it was eerily quiet and empty, it was relaxing. I heard him land on the building, talking with Lyla.

“So the anomaly left when we got here? Why didn’t you tell us that in the first place!” He shouted at her, she shrugged and said they ended up catching it in a different universe.

“How about instead of being angry you use this alone time to you’re advantage? You’re with the girl you’ve been stalking ever since she got here-“ He quickly disabled Lyla, flustered. I felt the heat rise to my face after hearing that. I didn’t know what to think. Sure I watched him from afar but if he had watched me through screens that means he saw all of me... when I had touched myself thinking about him. My body tightened. Thinking about him watching me set my body on fire. I turned around to see him standing there. He stared at the ground, arms crossed.

“I- uhm.... What she said... was it true?” He grunted, looking at me. He nodded his head and took a seat next to me. Miguel knew what he was doing by being so close to me.

“I don’t know why you make me this way... but whenever you’re in the room with me I felt like... Fuck you’re too young for me to be telling you about this”. Miguel had a scan done on him and I, knowing long before that we were bit by the same spider. This led him to watch me constantly, seeing me fuck myself in my room, moaning out his name as I used whatever toy or pillow to please myself. The thought of it made him sick of himself, knowing that he touched himself to your masturbation, cumming whenever you did. He went to stand up but I grabbed his arm, I looked up at him pleadingly.

“You watched me right? I deserve to know... you saw what I did to myself right?” His face flushed and he looked away. He sighed and sat back down. He hesitated, the image of me in the various positions, pushing a toy into myself. He always said to himself how he would be able to hit every spot, not the flimsy toys. He sighed before looking back at me.

“I’ve been wanting to fuck you since the day you came into HQ”. He grabbed my waist and easily pulled me onto his laps, my back to the beautiful sunset. I yelped as his grip tightened. He picked me up so effortlessly, as if I was nothing but a feather. “And I know you’ve clearly felt the same”. My pussy throbbed as I wrapped my arms around his neck, bringing my lips to his ear.

“I’ve wanted more than just you”. One of his hands moved to grab my face and force me to look at him. He pulled me into a deep kiss, sliding his tongue past my lips and fighting. I moaned into the kiss as I brought my hands up to his hair and curled my fingers through his locks. I ground my hips into his, arching my back to press all of my self into him. My legs straddled his as one of his hands moved from my waist to my wrist. He pushed a few buttons on my wrist watch and disabled my suit, leaving me in my undergarments. He broke our kiss and disabled his suit as well. As his fangs grazed over my collarbone I marveled at his size through his boxers. “I-it won’t fit.” He chuckled, kissing my shoulder.

“We’ll make it fit, mi amor”. I swallowed until he sunk his fangs into my shoulder. I moaned out at the feeling. I didn’t even feel the blood leave my body, I felt my heat tighten and clench on air. Although I was worried about the size that doesn’t mean I didn’t want it at all. His hands went to rip my bra off, not caring about the clasp or straps, he sliced them with his claws, letting it fly off. I whined as I liked that bra. He chuckled as he removed his fangs. Finally he moved his hands to cusp my breasts. He latched onto my right boob, his fingers toying with the other. My mounds were sensitive to his touch. I panted and continued to grind into him. “So young and perky querida... so full of milk for a baby”

“M-Miguel please don’t make me wait any longer, please put a baby in me~”. He moved us onto the building floor so I wasn’t hanging over the edge. He laid me on my back and continued to play with my breasts.

“You can wait mi amor”. I whined again as his lips went lower and closer to my hear. He grabbed my underwear at the seam and ripped it off of me. The cold air finally hit all of my nude body and I shivered. I put my hands on his shoulder, wanting to hold onto something. He kissed my hips and brought himself up. He slid two of his fingers into my mouth. I sucked on them and slid my tongue around them. “Such a pretty mouth hmm? I’ll figure out what it does another time.” He chuckled and his coated fingers slid to my heat. He teased me a bit, sliding his fingers up and down my entrance before plunging then in. I moaned and clenched around his fingers. My body shook as he pumped me with his fingers, before adding a third. Just from his fingers I felt stuffed as my body trembled. He continued to play with my breast, overstimulating me.

He watched my expression as he kissed my breast again. “I have to prep you... you’re taking in my fingers so well. So needy for my cum”. I panted and moaned at his words, a ray of curses and yesses leaving my mouth. I bucked my hips into his fingers, wanting him to feel my walls. He started to curl his fingers, pressing into the nerves inside of me. I bit my my lip, trying to suppress some of my moans. He moved his other hand to my face, opening my mouth. “Don’t hide those moans. No one but me will hear them, I promise you that”.

I felt a knot in my lower stomach, “Miguel please- I’m gonna cum”. I grunted out, he kept his pace as he felt my body convulse around his fingers.

“Go on.. cum on my fingers.” My body trembled as my fluids poured out of my body as I moaned out, arching my back. Miguel chuckled watching me pant. I already looked so pleased to him, he couldn’t wait to be inside of me, how I would look fucked and cock crazed. As I came down from my high, Miguel positioned his tip at my entrance and kissed my lips before sliding in. I was already so wet that he slid in with relative ease. We both grunted as he stretched out every bit of me. I could almost hear m body strain as his girth pushed into me. I felt the drool fall out of my mouth as he bottomed out. I felt so full as he put his hand on my back. He helped me arch by keeping his hand and applying pressure on my back, then pressed his other hand on my stomach. I felt him more than before as he applied pressure with his hands. (I heard from many people that this felt really good for women but idk)

He started to pull out, before quickly slamming back into me. As he pumped into me I felt his balls slap into my ass, hitting hard enough to leave bruises. I chanted praises and curses as he continued to slam into me. Every part of my body had been begging for this, needing this for so long and I finally had it. Finally having him fuck me and slut me out. “Please, please, please Miguel~ please keep going!” I moaned out, wanting him to pour all of himself into me.

“Can’t wait to fill you up... so round and plump with my baby”. He moved his hand and rubbed my clit with his thumb. “Does it make you feel good knowing only an older man like me can fuck you like this? I needed someone like you to fuck, so young and fertile, so ready for my baby”. His cock hit deep, hitting my G-spot over and over again

“Yes Miguel please~. You feel so good... you’re so good! Please put a baby in me~” He grunted as he stuffed his face into the crook of my neck, he bit down again, muffling his grunts as he continued to fuck me. My body shook under him as my eyes rolled into the back of my head. I saw stars and my body convulsed around his cock. The knot in my stomach formed again as he continued to pound into me mercilessly.

“Cum (Y/N), cum all over my cock, hmm? You’ve wanted it for so long”. I threw my head back as I orgasmed. After a few more pump Miguel finished too. His hot seed coating my walls. I choked out, feeling the stinky substance fill me up. As he pulled out of me he used his finger to cover up the hole, preventing any cum from leaking out. “Don’t want it to go to waste, right?” I nodded my head and he chuckled. He stared at my face, drool pooling out of my mouth and I still try to recover, panting with half lidded eyes. He felt himself twitch again.

He grabbed my watch and reactivated my suit. With the suit on it was visible that I wasn’t wearing a bra but luckily Miguel would be carrying me. He put on his boxers and reactivated his suit. He picked me up bridal style and opened a portal to Nuevo York, HQ. But before he stepped through the portal he made sure it would teleport him home and not HQ. He chuckled, ‘why give her that long of a break’ he said to himself. I looked up at him confused on why he laughed. “Rest now querida, we’re doing this again when I get you in my bed”.

ANYWAYS GUYS, excuse my weird language in this, I genuinely haven’t written smut in so long so I was trying to pace it but I didn’t know how to word it without being weird. I hope you guys enjoyed and let me know if I should write more smut, I will be writing the Dad’s best friend trope tomorrow after work because I’ve already written 2 today and I’m a little burnt lol. There’s probably gonna be two parts to it but I don’t really know how to link it and put it in the part one for people to find, and I also don’t want people forgetting about it so if somebody can help me out with that it would be greatly appreciated! Anyways have a good night (or day) everybody!

[lgg5989]

One beer universe request the dagger squad gets invited to bob n readers hometown for a holiday and they meet the rest of bobs family and get to know the shy WSO more from stories and pictures from his childhood and teenage years.

OMG dear, I am sorry this took so long! I think I finally got it to a place I like it though. :D

I hope you enjoy and to everyone in the US have a great and safe Thanksgiving!!

Bob was nervous to say the least. The team hadn’t been approved leave over Thanksgiving, and many of their families couldn’t travel to San Diego because of other commitments or a lack of funds to get there. So, being the small town boy he was, Bob invited them all over for a meal. 

You had been running around the house like crazy, picking up clothes, organizing the bookshelves, and cooking the meal. He had been tasked with keeping Eddie and Katie occupied so that they couldn’t destroy the clean home you had created.

While the other families couldn’t join their aviator for the holiday, Bob’s dad had booked his ticket in advance, having made the plans to join them for Thanksgiving a few months prior. While you put the finishing touches on the house and meal, he took the kids to the airport to pick up one Arthur Floyd. 

Bob stood with Katie on his shoulders and Eddie’s hand in his at the baggage claim. His head swiveled to watch for his father, a man who was tall and thin like himself, the same gold framed glasses he had kept from the seventies, and his usual tan jacket a staple for the aging Floyd.

At the same time he heard someone call out, “Bobby,” Eddie’s hand was pulled from Bob’s and there was a cry of, “Pops!” 

Bob watched on with a smile on his face as Eddie raced towards his dad, the older man picked him up in a tight hug. 

“Edward-o, my boy, how are you?” he asked, one arm holding Eddie against his side and the other pulling a suitcase along behind him. With Eddie now occupied with another adult, Bob reached up and took Katie down from his shoulders, she was missing her nap and promptly tucked her face into his neck, her little eyes fluttering closed. 

“We’ll be in the car soon baby girl,” Bob whispered to her, rubbing her back with the hand not holding her to him. 

When his dad made it to him, he pulled Bob into a hug, “Hey pops,” Bob greeted, trying to keep from jostling Katie too much. 

“Hey Bobby,” his dad answered, “How’s Y/n?” 

“Good, she’s at the house. We invited the team over tonight, since they couldn’t go home,” he explained as he took the handle of his dad’s suitcase, rolling it towards the loading zone where he parked the car. 

The ride home was uneventful, the two men talked quietly, catching up while Eddie and Katie slept. When they got to the house, Bob was surprised to find that there were already a few cars parked on one side of his driveway. 

When they came inside, they found Phoenix, Payback, Fanboy, Coyote, and Hangman, some seated and some standing in the kitchen, talking with you as you finished cooking a few dishes. As they entered the living room, stripping off their jackets, the group turned to see the newcomers. 

“Hey guys, this is my dad, Arthur or Arty for short,” Bob introduced, “Dad, this is Coyote, Phoenix, Payback, Fanboy, and Hangman.” 

“Good to meet you all,” Arty said, rubbing his hands together, “I’m going to bet that those aren’t your Christian names.” 

Everyone let out a laugh, “No definitely not,” Phoenix said, extending her hand to the older man, she smiled, “I’m Natasha.” 

“Ah you’re Bobby’s pilot then!” he said, “So good to finally meet you dear.” 

“Thank you sir,” she said, a wide smile coming over her face. 

“Oh don’t bother with the sirs, I believe all of you outrank me, if anything I should be calling you ma’am,” Arty said before making his way into the kitchen and pulling you into a tight hug. 

“Hi Arty, I’m so glad that you could make it,” You greeted him, sinking into the warm embrace of your father-in-law. 

“You look good dear. I’m just sorry your momma still hasn’t come around,” he said quietly into your ear.

You gave him a sad smile, “That’s alright, just as long as you promise to come for Christmas.” 

“Like you could keep me from my grandbabies!” he said playfully as Eddie appeared at his side. 

You let out a laugh, “I would never even dream of it!” 

From your spot in the kitchen, you listened as the pilots talked to Arty. The man was a Navy veteran, which they had all picked up on. He had been drafted into Vietnam at only twenty-one. They might all outrank him, but they listened aptly to his stories. Eddie was content to sit on his pop’s lap, a toy jet in his hand.

As Arty started to delve into more personal stories, you felt Bob come up behind you, “Need any help honey?” 

“No, I’m all good,” you said, smiling as Arty began to regale the group with stories of Bob’s childhood. He told them about the time Bob had defended a little girl from bullies when he was eight, how he had won the science fair when he was ten, and how at fifteen, he had been made kicker of the varsity football team. You knew without a doubt that Bob was his father’s pride and joy. With the pair of them losing his mother so early in his life, all they had was each other. 

“I swear, I had never been more proud than to see him out on that field,” Arty said, “Until he joined the Navy of course.” 

At that moment, the timer you had set on your phone went off. You turned the blaring sound off before pulling open the oven and checking the temperature of the turkey. It was just at 165°F, perfectly cooked. Slipping on your oven mitts, you pulled it out of the hot oven and set it on top of the stove. 

Surveying your kitchen, you ensured that every dish was accounted for, before turning back to the living room, which was now alive with more chatter. 

“Alright y’all, dinner’s ready!” you called, moving aside as the group of aviators got quiet and began to file into the small kitchen. Everyone stopped, turning to look at you. 

“What?” you asked, confused as to why they were all looking at you, “Do I have something on my face?” 

Phoenix shook her head, “No, you just cooked us this delicious meal, you deserve to go through the line first.” 

You stood still, watching as she offered the plate she held in her hand out to you, “Oh, that’s not necessary. You all are guests here, I can wait. Besides I need to get the kids’ plates and-”

Suddenly, there were a pair of hands wrapping around your waist, “I’ll get it honey,” Bob said, his voice low in your ear, “Get a plate, enjoy our company.” With that, he placed a kiss just below your ear. 

You shuffled forwards, grabbing a plate and filling it, watching as the rest of the pilots, followed up by Bob and Arty did the same. The dining table you had was not large enough for everyone, so you all found seats through the house, some positioned themselves at the kitchen table, coffee table, while others were just eating with the plate on their lap. 

Eddie climbed up into the empty seat next to you, Arty setting a plate down in front of him, “Be good for your momma buddy, I’m going to go get some food too,” he said before giving you a pat on the shoulder and making his way back to the kitchen. 

Once dinner had been eaten, and the pilots had insisted on cleaning up, you were changing Katie into some clean clothes when you heard Arty say, “Oh, I love this one!” 

Glancing over, you noticed that he was pulling a thick, leather bound book off the shelf, opening it to the first page. You recognized it immediately, and smiled widely at the book. 

Arty cracked it open while he took a seat on the couch. The rest of the aviators slowly joined him once their duty in the kitchen was done. He began telling more stories of Bob, showing them all of his baby pictures, the sports he played, the last photo they had as a family, the first prom Bob took you to, the photo of him walking across the stage at his high school graduation, one of Eddie’s first ultrasound print out, and one from the day you eloped. 

Everyone’s faces changed with each story, but it made your heart warm that Bob’s coworkers were getting a better understanding of him little by little.You knew that your husband wasn’t the loudest person anywhere you went, and he often kept his personal life to himself. 

By the time you were ready to serve dessert, Bob’s ears were pink from the attention being on him, deciding it was time to step in before Arty talked about Bob all night, you stepped back into the living room. 

“Dessert’s in the kitchen when y’all want it!” you said, a smile on your face, “Does anyone want me to turn on the game?” 

“Could you turn on the Cowboys game?” Jake asked, causing the rest of the group to let out a collective groan, Rooster’s louder than the rest. 

You rolled your eyes at their antics before picking up the TV remote and putting the game on. This spawned more stories from Arty about Bob’s high school position and how he had been, sadly, cut from the Navy team during his time at the Academy. 

With that comment, Javy turned to Bob, “I didn’t know you played for the Navy football team.” 

Bob nodded, sipping his beer, “Yeah, just for a bit, I had to commit to my family,” he said, a smile on his face, “It’s hard to do that when you’re on the road all the time.” 

It was at that moment that the Cowboys scored a touchdown, and Jake, having been half listening to the conversation, launched himself off the couch and cheered loudly. Payback, who had nodded off in the corner of the sectional, jerked awake at the other man’s yelling and shot him a glare, you and Phoenix shared a look before both bursting out into laughter at the interaction. 

As the squadron started to trickle out of your house, you sent them all off with leftover plates in hand. Once everyone left for the night, save Arty, who was staying in the guest room, you made your way into the bedroom. 

You were rubbing in your face lotion, leaning close to see yourself in the mirror. Bob let out a laugh when he stuck his head into the bathroom and you jumped when he appeared in the mirror. 

“Hey,” he said quietly. 

You gave him a wide smile, “Hello love.”

Bob came up behind you, his hands wrapping around your waist to hold you to him, “You don’t think the guys will see me differently do you?”

“What do you mean?” you asked, confused as to what they would see different about your Bobby. 

He snuggled his face into the crook of your neck before speaking quietly, “Just about the pictures Dad showed them.” 

“No honey, I think if anything, they understand why you are the quiet wallflower I love,” you reassured him, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. 

You felt more than saw him smile into your neck, “Are you ready for bed?” he asked. 

“I think so, my feet are killing me,” you answered in an overexaggerated voice, slouching your shoulders to really get the point across. 

Bob laughed, his face still pressed tightly against you, “You are so dramatic.” 

You hummed, “But that’s why you love me.”

As you both climbed into bed, settling beneath the covers, you laid your head on Bob’s chest, listening to his deep breathing. Just as sleep started to take you, you heard him whisper, “Thank you, for everything you do.” 

The last thing you remembered as the world faded into peaceful dreams was mumbling out a quiet, “I love you.” 

[tangledbea]

Okay for some reason this won't leave my mind, and if anyone could help me on this quest, it would be Bex!

If I am correct, Rapunzel is 5'1 and Eugene is 6'1, canonically. He's a whole foot taller, right? So with this knowledge, seeing them stand next to each other you can roughly gage what a foot height difference would look like between characters.

Now I want to turn the attention to gold ol' Lance. Anytime he is next to Eugene the difference in their height seems very similar, or perhaps JUST smaller, than Eugene and Rapunzel's. Does this mean this dude is around 7 foot 😭

I know it can be hard as there's not many shots where they are simply standing completely up right next to each other, (this goes for all the characters.) I also appreciate that it's animation, and for many reasons sometimes the height differences are going to look less, or more drastic than in other shots. (I guess it's similar to live action where sometimes it has to fluctuate in order to fit a certain shot etc? Like when smaller actors have to stand on ramps of boards!)

Just something that I found interesting! I'm guessing whatever his height is, it would be extremely similar to King Frederick's, now that I think about it 🤔 Oh, God, wait, the Stabbingtons!? Hang on, they must be even taller than Lance. Surely? Now I'm even more intrigued!

Okay, so I think you're working yourself into a tizzy here. XD

Firstly, yes, you're correct about Rapunzel and Eugene's canonical heights. However, the movie's height comparisons are visually more accurate than the series'. Remember that the series art style is stylized to be Rapunzel's journal, and she exaggerates things to a large extent. And even then, as you mentioned, they're both animated, and proportions are exaggerated. Also, there's framing. Height differences are often fudged in order to make a shot look better.

That being said, in the movie, Eugene and Frederic are about the same height, and we only get to see that for a moment.

Frederic is still a little taller, because his head is bowed here while Eugene is standing tall. But that would put him at, what, 6'3" at the tallest?

That's a huge difference to their comparative heights in the series.

Rapunzel tends to paint people's height based on more than just their literal height. She also puts how they make her feel into it. I mean...

Eugene looks so short compared to the other men because he's her biggest comfort. He's cozy. Her dad's imposing. He's the king! He makes the rules! He keeps her inside the kingdom! Lance has a huge personality and is just full of life! The Stabbingtons, Wreck Marauder, and The Baron are all large and intimidating in the worst way.

However, when you look at the movie, the camera is constantly switching between a low angle to look up at the Stabbingtons, and a high angle to look down at Eugene when they're all standing together.

In most shots, it looks like the top of Eugene's head hits about the bottom of their lower lip. However, in that last shot, we can see that the top of Eugene's head doesn't even reach their shoulders. It's that whole fudging thing. I think it's safe to say that the Stabbingtons are meant to be about 7' tall, give or take. Lance is probably about the same height as Frederic, and The Baron is probably about the same height as the Stabbingtons.

Anyway, that's my two cents.