#and if you bring +2 or anyone without informing them there could be no enough seats

[polypromptsmybeloved]

Ot3 Prompt #18

Person A gets invited to a wedding and wants to bring both of their partners, however it says "+1" on the card. Now Person B and C are arguing because they want to be nice and let the other go insead of themself.

Bonus Points if A just calls their friend and explains the suituation and brings both of their partners anyway.

[muchosbesitos]

falling behind part 2

pairing: college miguel o’hara x spanish speaking fem reader (translation provided 🫡)

warnings: oral (f and m receiving), fingering (p and anal 🫣), some angst (?), and implied cheating (not from reader)

author’s note: so while i was gonna make this fluffy and cute, frank ocean made me cry so here’s this 🤗 (if you sent a request, i’ll be working on those 👩🏻‍🍳)

word count: 4.1k

falling behind part one

You looked up at Miguel dumbfounded as he finished speaking, unsure if you'd heard him correctly. You'd spent the last weeks using Miguel as your fantasy when you buried your fingers to the hilt in your wet cunt and imagining him snapping to the realization that he wanted you, but you weren't expecting him to go right out and say he wanted you. You'd conformed to the idea of not being able to experience being in love soon that you didn't know what to do with this information. So, you decided to jump to the next possible conclusion which was that he didn't want anyone else to clutter their space in the apartment.

"If you're worried about me bringing them back home, you don't have to. I'll keep my dating life outside of the apartment," you assured him, his brows furrowed as he looked down at you. He brought his hand up to your chin, holding your gaze as a storm brewed behind his eyes. He was telling you so much with that look but not nearly enough to satisfy your desires. "You're not understanding me. I don't want you to see anyone else because I've developed a liking towards you. I want to be more than friends with you," he told you, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as he spoke.

The idea that he wanted you in the same way that you wanted him didn't process in your mind just yet so you blurted out, "Like best friends?"

Miguel let out a laugh as you spoke, his eyes crinkling up with amusement. "You're so smart when it comes to school and so clueless when it comes to feelings, chaparra. I don't want to be just your best friend. I want us to start going on real dates and be able to kiss without the reassurance that it's only because we're in public," he told you, his eyes holding that same intensity as before. You were about to tell him about everything that could go wrong between the two of you, that it wouldn't work because you two were roommates, but he held your hand with the one that wasn't on your cheek like he knew the internal turmoil you were going through.

"We don't have to jump in and go into a relationship, we can take it slow. Tell me that you didn't enjoy those dates we had and I'll leave it alone," he spoke to you softly, not making any sudden movements like you were a frightened kitten. The truth was, you didn't admit it to yourself how much you liked those dates because of the lingering reminder that it was all just a façade, an act. You greatly appreciated the fact that he was willing to take things slow just for you, a stark comparison of his hot and cold relationship with Dana. "Okay, we can take things slow," you told him, his face breaking out into a smile as you did.

Which is how you found yourself getting ready with Miguel for a quinceañera that your aunts were hosting. You were surprised that they still wanted anything to do with you after what happened with the last party, but you figured it was probably your mom's doing since she'd been the one to send you the invitation. While you weren't exactly too eager to go, you couldn't turn down the opportunity of getting leftovers to bring back. Miguel was zipping up your dress from behind, struggling a bit with the zipper given the size comparison with his hands. He finished up a couple seconds later before he retreated back to his room and you could hear some shuffling around in there. You didn't pay too much attention to it as you put a headband on, pushing your hair away from your face before you started with your makeup.

Miguel came back into your room and tapped your shoulder before you had the chance to get started. "Hey Miguel, what's up?" You asked him, not noticing the box he was holding in his hands. He gestured towards the box and you grabbed it from him, opening it slowly. The box contained a couple high-end makeup products along with a couple of brushes and a step by step tutorial book. You looked up at him, completely bewildered that he remembered how much you struggled with your makeup last time. "Before you worry about the cost or anything, I'm getting promoted at Alchemax soon to an actual job. and I went off with the shades you had right now, but if there's anything that you don't like, i can give you the receipt so you can exchange it," he told you, his hands moving along as he talked like he was nervous you wouldn't like it.

You got up from the chair you were sitting at and wrapped your arms tightly around him, thankful that he'd even taken the effort to go to these lengths. "You didn't have to do that, thank you," you whispered as he returned the embrace, his hand rubbing small circles on your back. "Well, we can't have you crying over your eyeliner again," he remarked, giving you a small kiss on the cheek before he left the room, presumably to get dressed. You felt like a giddy little kid as you took out the products from the box, noticing the little details that Miguel had put towards making this. Not only had he adorned the box with some cute little hearts, he'd also made sure that the shades matched and that they were good for your skin type.

You followed the steps from the book he’d gotten you, and found that it was surprisingly easy to follow along. "How do I look?" You asked Miguel, and his eyes widened as he saw you come out your room. "You look gorgeous. I mean, that word's not really powerful to really bask in what you look like, but you fried all the vocabulary in my brain," he rambled and you let out a laugh as you walked over to him. "Well, you look pretty handsome too," you remarked given that he'd taken some effort into cleaning up, putting on a black button down shirt and dress pants. He extended his hand and led you out the apartment to his car, rushing to open the door before your fingertips even had a chance to touch the handle.

"So I basically know everything about you, but one thing I don't know about you is your favorite song," he spoke up in the middle of the ride, completely taking you by surprise. You didn't play that much music around him since he was always in control of the aux, not that you minded. You grabbed the aux cord that was dangling from his fingers and scrolled through your playlist, trying to find the song. You instantly found it and soon, the atmosphere was filled with the music playing. His hand was tracing small circles on your thigh as he drove, maneuvering the wheel with one hand. Once the song ended, he turned to look at you with a small smile. "Should let you have the aux more often, that was pretty good."

You wanted the ground to swallow you as soon as you walked into the party hall, the stares of your aunts practically turning into daggers. "Wow, they really don't like me, huh?" Miguel whispered in your ear and you couldn't help but let out a small laugh as you held his hand. "I don't know, they're probably staring at you because you're a respectful handsome man," you teased, stopping in your tracks when your mom came up to you. "¡Mija!" she exclaimed, holding you tightly for a hug. "Hola mami, ¿cómo estás?" you greeted her, trying to hide how uncomfortable you really were here. (hi mommy, how are you) She went to go talk to Miguel after greeting you and you were left alone to deal with your aunts.

You stayed quiet for a couple seconds as you worked out the best way to apologize to them, their stares practically daring you to say something. "Yo sé que la manera en que lo dijo no estaba bien y les falto al respeto, pero es que ustedes lo unico que hacen es juzgarme por todo," you told them as you set down your glass of Coke, watching their gazes soften up a bit at the realization. (i know that the way he said it was wrong and he was disrespectful, but all you guys do is judge me for everything) "No te queríamos hacer sentir mal, mija. Ya entedemos que todo es a su debido tiempo, y lo sentimos que te molestabamos tanto por lo de no tener novio," one of your aunts spoke up and the other ones quickly nodded along, pursing their lips together. (we didn't want to make you feel bad. we understand that everything is at it's time, and we're sorry for bothering you so much about not having a boyfriend) You nodded and noticed that their gazes quickly went behind you, their faces souring a bit.  "Les quería dar una disculpa por faltarles al respeto. No era mi lugar," Miguel spoke up behind you and you could tell that you aunts appreciated that he put his pride aside. (i wanted to apologize to you all for disrespecting you. it wasn't my place)

The tensions in the air dissipated as soon as your aunts got some alcohol in their system, practically giggling over every word that Miguel was telling them. Miguel got along quite well with your family and you saw a glimpse of something that'd he been missing. He didn't have the best relationship with his family, only his brother, so you got a chance to see him get involved with yours. The quinceañera had even asked him to dance with her, pulling you to the side after and whispering, "Damn girl, he's hot!"

"Think they like you more than they like me," you told him once you two got in the car and his eyes crinkled up again as he laughed. "I think the damas were staring at me the whole time. Too bad I only have eyes for you, chula," he whispered, kissing your cheek as he pulled out of the parking spot. The drive back home was mostly quiet but you couldn't help but feel a sense of joy that things with your family had been resolved and that they ended up liking Miguel.

Your relationship after that continued to grow strong and it felt like a breath of fresh air when you compared it to your past experiences. While you had some experience talking with men in this generation, you were afraid to get too committed to them after what your friends had divulged with you. Miguel was the opposite of everything that they'd described, he was kind and patient, he treated you with respect, and most importantly he never made you second guess his feelings towards you.

A couple of months pass by and soon enough it was time for you to study for your finals, since physics wasn't exactly your strongest subject. You came back home after two hours with your tutor, slumping on the couch as you turned on some random Hallmark movie that was playing. You were starting to drift off when you heard the door open and Miguel call out, "Hey, are you ready for our date tonight? I just need a couple minutes to get dressed!"

With the amount of velocity equations that were running through your head, you had forgotten about the date night that you and Miguel had planned out. You got up from the couch, looking at him apologetically since you were still in your pajamas. "Sorry, I just got back from tutoring and i forgot about our date. I can go and change if you still wanna go though," you told him, rubbing the side of your neck awkwardly. You were pretty sure the exhaustion on your face was evident since he said, "How about we cancel that and just stay home? Just us, takeout, and whatever corny Hallmark movie you're watching." "I'd like that, thank you."

Miguel changed into his pajamas after and went to sit down with you on the sofa, slowly drawing circles on your thigh as you leaned your head against his shoulder. He'd only gotten up to receive the takeout and get some plates for the two of you, setting them down on the coffee table. "Thank you, I know this isn't what you had planned for us today," you told him and he looked up from what he was doing. "Hey, don't worry about it. I get that you're tired," he responded, going back to sitting down on the couch with you.

After the two of you had finished eating, Miguel turned to look at you, his hand still drawing lazy circles on your thigh. "How was your tutoring?" he asked, setting down his cup of Coke on the table. "It was good, my brain's all fried from all these variables though," you muttered, rubbing your temples as you tried to relax. You'd been stressing out over your physics final over the last few days, but you'd been careful not to let that seep in too much in your relationship. He got on his knees in front of you, resting his head against your thigh as he looked at you. "How about I help you de-stress?"

Your fingers wound up in his hair as his tongue slurped and sucked your pussy, collecting all the juices that had leaked out. The thoughts of your exam began to drift away, replaced by the euphoria you felt at having Miguel eat you out like this. He planted his hands on your thighs and spread you out like you were his meal, his mouth solely working to provide you with the pleasure that you desperately needed. He looked up at you as his tongue went into your weeping hole, using it to fuck your pussy and you couldn't help but let out desperate moans. "Mmph, right there!" You moaned out, your hips thrusting against his mouth eagerly.

His mouth connected itself to your clit and his thumb gently probed at your puckered hole while his index finger went inside of your pussy. You had him everywhere and it was starting to feel like it was too much, yet somehow not enough. Your walls engulfed his finger as he thrust inside your pussy, curling to hit your g-spot despite how much you were clenching up against him. He thrust the two fingers at the same pace, slowly opening you up to him so as to not cause you any discomfort. His mouth pulled at your clit gently before he went to drawing small circles with his tongue. "Too much, Miguel!" You cried out, your fingers tightly wound up in his hair. You'd never been filled up like this before and you felt an orgasm building up rather quickly.

Your whines came to a crescendo as you came, your fingers practically digging into Miguel’s roots. He pulled both fingers out, careful not to hurt you as he did. You took a moment to catch your breath, glancing over to see that Miguel’s cock was tenting up in those sweatpants that he'd chosen to wear. You got down on your knees, looking up at him as you took off his pants. "Tell me what to do, okay?" You asked him, given the fact that the only experience you had was from reading smut. He nodded, lifting up his legs so you'd slide the pants out easier.

Your eyes widened as you took in the sheer size of his cock, quickly realizing why Dana often yelled when Miguel had her over. You wrapped your mouth around his cock, struggling to just take the head in and you looked up at him for some kind of reassurance that you were doing it okay. "You're taking it so well for me, beautiful. Keep your tongue on the tip, that's the sensitive part," he spoke softly to you despite the fact that his eyes were glossed over in complete lust. You nodded and focused on just swirling your tongue around his tip, occasionally running it against the slit as his hands wound up on the back of your head. “Yeah, that’s it. Good girl, baby.”

You hollowed your cheeks and you were able to take more of his cock in your mouth, your hands working at the base. You tightened up the grip, matching the tightness that your mouth was providing as you stroked him. He let out soft moans as you did, his hips bucking into you by accident. You gagged as you struggled to keep him that far in your mouth, tears forming in your eyes but you didn't want to give up. You started to bob your head up and down, sucking on the sides like you'd seen some women in porn do, and swirling your tongue around the tip once more.

Miguel’s grip on your hair intensified as you started to play with his balls, gently squeezing and pulling them in your hand while the other one focused on stroking him. "You were made for this cock, mi reina. Keep going, i'm about to cum," he spoke, his voice breaking at the last part as he let out a moan. He came with a guttural grunt, his cum filling your mouth up. You looked up at him innocently as you swallowed the somewhat salty cum and he couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. You looked so pretty with tears in your eyes and your tongue coated white with his cum.

You weren't sure if it was the night you spent with Miguel or if your studying had paid off, but you found that the physics final wasn't as hard as you were making out to be. You walked out of your lecture hall, excited to go back home and see Miguel before he had to go to class that you almost missed the person tapping your shoulder. You turned around to face them, your eyes immediately brightening up as you realized that it was Miguel.

"What are you doing here, baby?" You asked him, his hand instinctively finding yours as he held it. "I came here to take you out for coffee, you've been working pretty hard and I'm sure it's paid off," he responded, starting the walk to the local coffee shop near campus. "Y'know, you don't have to do all these things," you told him, though you felt your love for him grow more and more with every single one of these gestures. "Well, no one has to do things but I want to show you how much I really appreciate you."

The two of you sat at a booth at the coffee shop, mainly just talking about your physics final and he was relieved to find out that you didn't find it too difficult. "Have you heard back from the job at Alchemax?" You asked him, taking a sip from your drink. "I haven't, they're still interviewing some candidates but I'm hoping that I'll get the job. Either way, the man's job I'm supposed to be getting hasn't retired just yet," he responded, a relaxed tone to his voice as he spoke. "I’m sure you'll get it, they'd be stupid not to hire you," you reassured him and he let out a small smile.

The two of you spent most of the afternoon at the coffee shop before he had to head back to campus for his classes. He was about to walk out of the door with you when someone stopped him, tapping his shoulder. You both turned around to see Dana standing there with a cheeky grin on her face. "Sorry to bother you two, but I just had something really important to discuss with Miguel. Alone," she told the two of you and he turned to look at you, his brows slightly furrowed. You nodded and he walked away with her, mouthing 'help me' as he did. You let out a small little giggle before you folded your arms, feeling a bit insecure now that they were talking.

You wanted to go and eavesdrop on their conversation but quickly decided against it. You didn't want to project your own insecurities onto the relationship and you figured that he needed a bit of privacy. You couldn't help but feel nervous though as the conversation went on, noticing that Dana was giggling after she finished speaking. Miguel came back with a sullen look on his face, walking next to you. "Hey, is everything okay?" you asked him once you were far from the coffee shop and he nodded, bending down to kiss your cheek before he headed to class.

You'd gotten invited to a end of the year party and you were looking forward to going mostly because of the free booze and a chance to finally release some much needed steam. You looked up at Miguel as he got back home from your spot on the couch, giving him a small smile. "How'd class go?" You asked him and he shrugged, retreating to his room. You couldn't help but feel like maybe you'd done something wrong, but you realized that he'd been acting that way since he left the coffee shop. You decided to leave the subject alone since you didn't want to intrude on his conversation with Dana.

You finished up getting ready for the party a couple hours later and you decided to knock on Miguel’s door to see if he wanted to join you. He opened the door, looking down at you with his brows furrowed. "What do you want?" he asked, rather coldly and you couldn't help but frown a bit at his tone. "I just wanted to know if you wanted to come to the party with me," you told him, keeping your gaze on him as you spoke. "I can't. I'm actually going out tonight with some of my friends, so don't wait up for me," he told you before shutting the door in your face.

You tried to loosen up at the party but your mind kept going back to the way that Miguel had acted towards you, like you didn't matter. Even when you were just friends, he didn't treat you that way ever. You ended up just taking a couple shots of tequila before calling a night, heading back to an empty apartment. Even though he'd told you not to wait up for him, a part of you couldn't resist and you settled on the sofa with a romance novel.

You were half asleep when you heard the door click, Miguel coming in to see you laying down on the couch. "I thought I told you not to wait up for me," he told you, letting out a small scoff. You frowned when you smelled some woman's perfume lingering on his clothes, but you decided to not say anything. He'd never given you a reason to make you think that he was being unfaithful to you, so you just trusted that it was one of the friends that he was out with. "Sorry, I was just hoping that maybe we could have a talk," you told him, playing with your fingers as you spoke. "I'm kinda tired right now, can we do that later? Thanks," he responded, leaving you completely disappointed in the living room as he walked away.

A couple days later, you decided to get some takeout since you knew that you and Miguel were fairly busy lately. You hoped that you could be able to have a conversation with Miguel before he shut you out again, but those thoughts were quickly darkened when you heard moaning coming out of Miguel’s room. You figured that he was just watching porn since two hadn't gone all the way yet, but you realized that the song you'd shown him in the car was playing in the background. "OH MIGUEL!" You heard a feminine voice squeal and you almost dropped the fork you were holding.

Dana's moans bled through the walls as you sat in your bed, struggling to grasp the situation, that your best friend and the man you'd trusted to be your first boyfriend had just betrayed you like that. You were replaying the events from your relationship, trying to figure out what you'd done wrong or what you could've done better before getting up. You wiped away the tears out of your eyes as your favorite song faintly played in the background, Dana's moans drowning out the music. Bile built up in the back of your throat as you got up from the bed, the smell of the takeout now making you nauseous. You walked over to Miguel’s room and knocked on the door, unable to take this any longer and waited for a response.

@ayamaiis @innercreationflower

[macabr3-barbi3]

Nothing I Can't Handle- Chapter 2 [Alastor/Reader]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54337009/chapters/139143145

Chapter 1!

Tags: Reader-Insert, Alastor in Rut, Non Sex-Repulsed Alastor, Rough Sex, Possessive Sex, blood kink? maybe if you squint, Biting

Round 2! Who doesn't love a nice chase through the bayou?

Comments and feedback fuel my lifeforce- let me know what you think! 💕

Chapter 1 🦌 Chapter 3

When Alastor’s rut comes around the second time, you’re ready.

The first one had been… an experience. Not a bad one by any means- while sore you were thoroughly sated, Alastor having been very particular about making sure that you came just as many times as he did, if not more. By the end of the three day period you had been holed up in his room you were covered in a thin layer of sweat and various bodily fluids, the last day having been the most exhaustive. Your throat was sore from the constant noises coming from you; a headache from the dehydration of not getting enough water between rounds, though Alastor had done his best to remember to conjure a glass here and there; a variety of cuts and bruises littering your skin, a collage of delicious depravity. When Alastor had finally allowed you to leave your room, the rut having passed, you pressed on the bruises occasionally to give yourself a reminder of the time you had shared.

He acted like nothing had changed- he wasn’t actively avoiding you like he had been in the days leading up to the rut, but he just… treated you like everyone else. Which was fine. Good, even! There was no reason for anyone to suspect anything between the two of you when he did the same things to do that he did to Charlie or Vaggie. Popping up when you least expected him to, leaning into your personal space, resting an elbow on your shoulder or head when he had the angle to do so.

You weren’t foolish enough to expect that he would want to date you or anything like that- it was just a transaction to him, a way to get what he needed by giving you something that you wanted, even if you hadn’t figured out what that was yet. A physical need that had to be fulfilled or he would go back to that snarling tower of a demon that stalked the hotel and made everyone cower.

Still, when he approached you one day months after the first one to inform you that the rut would be coming again soon, you prepared yourself. 

You chug water whenever you can, and make sure to eat regular meals in the days leading up to it, squirreling away whatever little snacks you could stash in your room without luring out the bugs that Nifty liked to chase- Alastor’s powers seemed to draw the line at conjuring food, so when he could tear himself from your side he would journey to the kitchen and bring you small samplings of leftovers. 

You spend your evenings trying to convince Alastor to have more meat when he joins the group at dinner, to make sure he could keep his strength up as well. He raises an eyebrow at you but does as requested. 

When the night comes around, Alastor finds you in the lobby and asks you in a hushed tone to meet him at his room when you retire for the evening, and your heart rate spikes in your chest when you agree. When he vanishes you sprint to your room, collecting the assortment of nuts and snack cakes and pretzels and candy that you had amassed into a bag before you make your way to his room. At this you were nervous- you’d never been inside before, the last time having been sequestered into your own bedroom. You hoped he wouldn’t mind your bringing something to eat along. 

When the door swung open Alastor raised an eyebrow at the bag on your shoulder. “I hope that’s not a change of clothes,” he says as he guides you into the room with a sweep of his arm. “Because you won’t be needing them.” His tone is not salacious or flirty- a statement of fact rather than a come-on.

You place it on the table by the door as you start pulling items from it. “It’s not. I noticed, last time, that you don’t seem to be able to conjure food- I thought this might make things a little easier on both of us. If I have something to snack on I won’t drop dead of hunger and you don’t have to leave so often.”

His eye twitches as he watches you, and you second guess yourself. “I can- I can get rid of them if you want, take them back to my room-“

“Not necessary,” he says, and waves a hand; the assortment of snacks reappears on the stand next to the bed across the room. “I apologize for the pause. The part of my brain currently being overtaken by the rut did not appreciate the idea that there was something I could not successfully obtain for my… partner.”

“Oh,” you say, and realize with a blush that that sounds stupid. “Well, either way, we should be set for this time! I’ve been making sure to drink lots of water so I won’t get dehydrated, there’s some bottles in the bag as well…” You run through the various things that you had been doing to prepare for this week, and over the course of your tirade Alastor’s smile seems more and more strained. You finally stop your mouth from moving and just watch him as he watches you. “I… guess I maybe did too much, huh?”

“Not at all, dear,” he says like he’s on autopilot, and he lifts your hand to his lips to place a kiss to the back of it. “I am just… shocked, I suppose, that you’ve done so much to prepare and make this easier for the both of us when you’ve still not decided what you want for your end of the bargain.”

 “Right,” you say, face flaming as you make your way past him and to the bed. You perch yourself on the edge of it. “I’ve been thinking about it, I promise!”

You totally haven’t been thinking about it. You were perfectly content to just continue helping Alastor with his ruts- to be so close to him regularly was enough for the time being. The orgasms were a huuuge plus.

He watches you with his eyes narrowed before he sighs. “If you say so, dear- do let me know when you’ve decided. In the meantime, I do have some final tasks to complete before I’m prepared to be incapacitated with you. I hadn’t expected you to meet me so soon.” He eyes you sitting on the edge of his bed and hums. “Though I must say I’m rather pleased to have you in my own territory this time, as it were. You’re free to use my space as you please while you wait for my return.” With a faint buzz of static he’s gone, and you’re left in the comfortable warmth of Alastor’s room.

You lean back into the pillows, relishing in the soft sheets beneath your skin. They were red- of course- and you let yourself spread your hands across them. They smelled of Alastor, like the woods and spices and rain on the streets when you were alive. 

Speaking of Alastor’s scent, he said he was glad to have you in his area this time, and you think about when he made the initial proposition and said that he could smell other things on you- maybe it was the deer part of him wanting to make sure that you smelled like him this time, made him feel like you were properly… ‘mated.’ The thought makes you blush, but you don’t think you’re wrong.

You catch sight of the bathroom door across the room. He had said you had free reign while he was out- while you waited you could take a shower, rid yourself of the scents of the hotel, and perhaps that would put Alastor more at ease when he came back. You make your way into the generously sized room, turn the water as hot as you can get it, and wash the day off yourself.

When you come back into the main room Alastor is waiting there, and his eyes widen at the sight of you in what you assumed to be his bathrobe that you had found on the back of the door. “You’ve certainly made yourself at home, darling,” he comments, but his eyes are roving over your form from head to toe, pausing at the black A emblazoned now over your heart.

“I, uh. I thought maybe you would prefer it if I didn’t stink of the hotel when you got back,” you say. “You mentioned that last time, and with the comment about being in your territory this time I just figured, you know. A clean slate was best.” You shrug your shoulders, the silk of the robe sliding off on one side from how oversized it was on you. “Fuck-”

“Allow me.” Alastor is in front of you then, and despite the split-second thought that he would simply slide the robe off your entirely- he had said that you wouldn’t be needing clothing- he simply rights it on your frame, taking a moment to admire the A. He leans down and buries his nose in the space between your chin and shoulder, inhaling deeply. “The robe, while perhaps unintended, is a nice touch. Not only do you not smell of the hotel or its inhabitants, but you smell like me. Like mine.” He runs a hand down your arm and allows a clawed finger to drag the silk up your wrist.

“Yours,” you agree, and at his sharp intake of breath against your neck you add, “for the week! Whatever you need me to be, I will. Um. Be that. For the week.”

“Perfect,” he says, and your brain oozes with the warmth of the praise. “I actually do have a request of you this time beyond just allowing me to… have you.”

“Sure, what is it?”

You’re once again struck by your possible stupidity when it comes to this demon- blindly agreeing to the things he proposes before you really understand what comes with it. He could ask to tie you down, or if he could use his magic in some way to be involved in the proceedings. He could ask to bite you, to really chomp down like he had last time but tear flesh away instead of simply releasing you- though you do think you might draw the line there.

He eyes you through lowered lids for a moment before he steps to the side of you and gestures to the swamp that he’s got materialized in his room- it had been there since he moved in, if you went by what Vaggie said. “If you are not opposed, I would like you to run,” he says simply, reaching out to tighten the sash of the robe around your waist.

You glance into the darkness of the night that awaits at the border between there and here- where Hotel meets bayou, where reality meets… whatever that was. It had to be some kind of deer thing. “Got it. Is there a point to that? I’ll do it,” you assure him, hands raised to show that you weren’t trying to argue the point. “I’m just curious.”

He hums a bit. “Yes, I’d think so. As satisfying as it is that you so easily submit to me, the restless buck in me wishes for more of a courting, so to speak. In nature a doe will dance around the buck, out of reach for several days before allowing herself to be mated.” He flashes you a tense smile. “I think a refreshing chase through the bayou will satisfy that craving quite nicely.”

“I see.” You look back into the swamp- it’s dark, but the stars are providing a decent amount of light and there seems to be a clear path through the trees to some extent, plenty of space for you to make some distance if he gave you a head start. Were you supposed to circle back here, to the bedroom? You could tell he was a little nervous about the request, but it didn’t seem all that bad. “So that’s it- I run and you chase me?”

“Haha! What little faith you have in me, dear- you run, and I will catch you.”

His tone makes you shiver. “R-right.” You swallow hard and hold your hands into tight fists at your side. “And- what happens when you catch me?”

Alastor pats you on the head like you’ve seen him to do Charlie. “You’re a smart gal,” he says with a chuckle. “I’m sure you can figure it out during your head start- we may as well start now since you’re agreeable to the idea.” He glances at his watch before starting to remove his overcoat and roll his sleeves up to the elbow. “It’s not a terribly large area, so I believe ten seconds should be sufficient!”

“W- now? Ten seconds?”

His smile is almost bored despite the burning intent in his eyes. “Well, it’s only nine now.”

You know better than to stall any longer, and you bolt-  perhaps some small blessing of magic he’s concocted, but there are no sharp sticks or rocks under your bare feet as you take off into the night, straight down the path you had noticed in the trees earlier. You stay mindful of any roots that may trip you as you run, your legs aching, heart beating faster than it ever has before, living or dead.

And yet- the thrill is exhilarating. You don’t think Alastor would actually harm you in any real way, bruises and scrapes from the last rut aside that you’re sure you’ll get a repeat of. But you could see why part of him wanted this. Craved it. A reward is better when you’ve earned it, when you’ve really worked for it.

And by the sounds of crashing trees and snapping branches that followed in your wake a few seconds later, he was certainly working for it.

You reach a clearing in the trees and turn to make a sharp right, sure that he was thinking you would continue straight on. As you do though you catch sight of the sky between the treetops- thousands of blinking stars with wisps of clouds shot throughout the deep, endless blue. It’s almost enough to make you stop and stare, take a moment to really appreciate what Alastor was capable of with this creation alone. It was breathtaking. 

A whisper of movement reminds you that you aren’t alone in this astonishing dimension, and you sidestep just in time to avoid the grasp of Alastor’s claws as he reaches for you.

He looks feral - antlers extended and catching on the low hanging branches of the trees nearby, his eyes dark and crazed as he watches you take a couple steps back. “Come now, darling,” he says, and there’s red dripping from either side of his mouth. “There’s no use in that. I’ve found you.”

“Thought you said you wanted to catch me,” you snark before you can implement your brain-to-mouth filter. The adrenaline is coursing in your veins, keeping you light on your feet. “Not play hide and seek.” 

Alastor laughs at you, the sound echoing through the wilderness. “How cheeky!” He stalks towards you, a pace forward for every one of yours backwards. “Rest assured, I will catch you, dear.”

You offer him your own smile, dancing backwards with every lurch. You know he could catch you easily, knew that he was just taunting you, toying with you. But God, if it wasn’t fun, even as dangerous as it was to mess with someone as powerful as Alastor. “That’s big talk for someone who still doesn’t have his hands on me yet.” You turn, to book it back into the trees in the opposite direction, knowing that you won’t get far.

You stumble. The cliche of it isn’t lost on you as you go down to your knees, and notice one of Alastor’s shadow tentacles slipping away from roughly ankle level.

You still try to escape, to draw it out just that little bit longer, twisting to one side as Alastor rushes you. All that does is get you facing upwards, the robe falling off your shoulders to drape across your collarbones before he has you pinned with a hand to each wrist. 

“Well well, what do we have here?” He asks with his eyes lowered, pupils dilated as he takes you in. “It would seem that I’ve caught you.”

“You cheated,” you say breathlessly, as he slots himself between your legs, bringing your thighs up to rest on either side of his hips. “I could have kept going if you played fair.”

“Oh, I’m well aware,” he agrees, and then he’s trailing his lips down your neck, kissing at your shoulders and throat before he pulls the robe off of you to pool beneath your body. “You gave quite the effort- I was surprised to see you get so far with your head start. I have no doubt you could have kept the chase going a while longer.” He sighs, like the idea of not having that now was disappointing. “Another time, perhaps.” With that he releases your hands and digs his claws into your hips and grinds against you, the drag of his clothed erection against your bare sex sending sparks up your spine.

His eyes are closed, head thrown back as he groans in pleasure. His antlers, like last time, are extended to the sides, unrestrained with the openness of the space. He doesn’t seem to be as lost in it this time, perhaps because you were with him at the beginning of the rut and keeping the worst of it at bay before he had the chance to get animalistic and frustrated.

It's almost better, in a way. The last time had been fun- so much fun, you had zero complaints that you hadn’t already addressed with the supply of snacks and water sitting by the bed currently- but Alastor seems calmer in his need this time. Still at the mercy of his biology but less frantic with it, even with the chase that had led to the two of you here on the forest floor, sky full of stars above you. You would agree to nearly anything he asked of you to make things easier on him if needed.

He leans down over you, still grinding his hips while running his teeth along whatever he can reach of your body. He’s perfectly positioned for you to grab hold of his antlers again so you do so, relishing in the full body shiver that courses through him at the sensation. Using one hand to keep your lower halves pinned together, the other slides deliciously along your back to twist into your hair, pulling your mouth to his with a groan that vibrates through your being. 

It would almost be unfair how aroused you were if you didn’t know that Alastor was in the same state, the drag of his length against you combined with the adrenaline of the chase leaving you slick and needy. “Mine, mine, mine,” he’s mumbling against your lips, tongue darting out with every repetition to brush along yours.

You let one of your hands slide down between your bodies like it had last time, let your trembling fingers circle the base of him and moan into his mouth at the feeling of him, hard and hot under your touch. He jerks back from you, his eyes frantic and panting through his slack jaw. “Darling, please, I can’t- can’t think if you-”

“Please,”  you whine, and he flexes in your hand. “Please, Alastor, fuck-” You release your grip and roll your hips into his. “Don’t think- whatever you need, take it.”

He clenches his eyes shut, bringing his knees forward so he can rest your lower body on his thighs so he can free up the hand holding you to him. He pulls his hips back far enough to slide a finger through your wetness and into the tight clench of your body, the evidence of your arousal and how ready you are for him tearing a harsh moan from his throat. “You astonish me,” he says, and the praise winds itself around the synapses firing off in your brain as he brings his fingers to his mouth, long tongue twisting around the digits to taste you. “Delicious- you’re so lovely, I want everything .” The visual of it- this powerful demon, on his knees in the dirt with you, licking your arousal off his fingers like some delectable treat as he fights to maintain his composure, his manners- sends a pulse of want through your entire being, and not having him inside of you is no longer an option.

When he lines himself up to thrust into you you beat him to the punch, pushing your hips forward to meet him halfway, and then all the way as the move allows him to slide in to the hilt. A choked off whimper escapes you, body shivering with the force of his rutting into you. He’s hitting that sweet spot inside of you, the head of his cock slamming it with every thrust, and you want to cry from the pleasure of it. 

“Perfect,” he whispers, his lips still close enough to your ear that you can hear the sweet nothings that tumble from his tongue. “My mate, so sweet, so- fuck -” He falters for a moment, his hips stuttering hard into you before he comes back to himself and resumes his steady rhythm, the push and pull of his body into yours driving you to insanity. When his eyes open they are black, the little red dials of his pupils ticking steadily in time with his thrusts. His antlers are growing still, their size staggering, the dark jagged lines of them breaking up your view of the stars when you can manage to tear your eyes away from Alastor’s face. “ Mine . Say it. Tell me.” His smile is desperate, expression dazed and full of need. “You take me so well; fucking say it, I need to hear you-”

“Yours,” you cry out, your thighs tensing with the force of your rising orgasm. “Fuck, Alastor, please, yours-”

Arms wrapped possessively around you he leans back, pulling you with him to an upright position. He's still sat on his knees in the dirt, the sounds coming from where you’re joined loud and lewd in the relative silence of the bayou. He keeps you clutched to his frame, claws digging delicious lines into the canvas of your back. “Fuck,” he’s gasping into the space between you, railing harder into your body as he loses his pace, hands coming down to hold your hips stationary and fuck into you from below. “Fuck, darling, mine - ” A wrecked groan of your name is the only warning you have before he stills as far inside your warmth as he can get himself, the move dragging him against that spot inside that sends you right over the edge with him.

He doesn’t bite down as hard this time but he still sinks his teeth into your shoulder, the sharp pain of it giving an edge to your release as you shake in Alastor’s arms, a sound like a wounded animal coming from you and seeming almost at home in the darkness of the trees.

Like last time, when he removes his teeth from your skin he laps at the blood that spills from the wound. You release your grip on his antlers at last and your arms drape over his shoulders, letting your head drop forward to rest on them. He sighs contentedly into your skin, the air making your new bitemark sting. The buzzing and rustling of creatures in the trees has resumed now that you and Alastor have finished, and stands slowly to place you on your feet, pulling out of the heat of your body in the same move. Your legs are shaky but stay underneath you at least, and he watches you with narrowed eyes after tucking himself back into his slacks.

Something about his gaze on you makes you nervous, now that his mind is temporarily clear of the frantic need from his rut. You crouch down to grab the discarded silk robe, now smeared with dirt and littered with leaves and sticks from the ground. “This m-might be ruined now,” you say quietly, still a little off kilter from the force of your orgasm. You hold it out to him, and while his jaw tightens a bit he still gives you a smile.

“Not an issue, my dear,” he assures you as he plucks it from your fingers. With a wave of his hand it’s as good as new, and he gestures to you to turn so he can place it back on your shoulders, helping to ease it over your arms and tightening the sash around your waist like he had before the chase. “I rather think it suits you- for the duration of my rut, at the very least.”

You blush. “I’ll make sure to throw it on every time,” you say with a chuckle, testing the strength of your legs with a couple steps. “I think I can manage to walk this time, but I might need a little-”

“Of course.” He holds his arm out for you to grasp, the picture of a gentlemen despite the chase and rough fucking he had just given you. “I would transport us back but I’m afraid I’ve expended much of my energy in chasing you out here.” He watches you from the corner of his eyes, and part of you thinks that he just finds it satisfying to see your knees weak because of him.

You glance back at the clearing as you walk away, and you can see the glow of the stars and moon where it cuts through the trees. “That was a really pretty spot,” you tell him, and his eyebrows raise. “Seriously- that whole area is just gorgeous. Is it a deer thing? Or something from, you know. Up there?” You point skyward, hoping he’ll understand that you mean from when he was alive without having to explicitly state it. 

His smile turns wistful. “A bit of both, I suppose,” he admits. “I’ve always found myself a bit more at peace among nature than anywhere else. The cacophony of living creatures, the cover of darkness for more illicit activities. It’s always brought me comfort.”

“Gives you some space for the more cervine activities too, huh? Like a nice chase through the trees.” You nudge him with your hip as the normal side of his room comes into view. “I really did make some good distance!”

Alastor smirks down at you. “You seem like you had a grand time running from me, darling. Perhaps we repeat the experiment- see how long you can evade me next time before I catch you.”

“If you can catch me without cheating I’m game,” you say, and yelp in surprise when he swipes an arm under your legs to carry you the way he had last time, depositing you onto the bed. You’re enveloped in his scent again he he lowers himself down to you, tongue trailing between the folds of the robe and descending, and before Alastor ensures that you’re so mindless with pleasure that you can’t sass him, you have the faint thought that you really should start thinking about what you want out of this deal before he asks again.

You can’t have him knowing that you’re content to keep going just like this, splayed in his bed with a sky full of stars just out of reach.

[fandom-alley]

Rekindling at the Spa

18+

Summary: Spencer has an evening at the spa as per his doctors orders, and meets up with a girl he met at Penelope's over a year ago. This time he convinces himself not to leave without getting her phone number, but he ends up getting a little bit more.

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Reader

Category: Fluff, smut (like hardly though)

Warnings: 18+, kissing, making out, semi-public (no ones around) grinding, coming untouched/in pants

Word Count: 3.7k

a/n: inspired by my recent trip to the spa where i realized just how single i am. this is my first time writing something spicier than making out, so it's not a lot and just at the end, go easy on me lol

Also on AO3

The last thing Spencer Reid wanted to do was spend his evening at the hydrotherapy spa. Germs from the water of hot tubs could make you sick if consumed, and so could the vapour that comes off the water. Not to mention the possibility of a rash due to the chemicals used. But it was his doctor's orders. Apparently his own doctoral status was not good enough to sway them to let him come back to work early and skip this step. 

There were many steps he had to complete as part of his recovery process; resting his injured leg, physical therapy, changes to his diet, therapy for his mental health. And the dreaded ‘spa relaxation’.

Now, most doctors probably wouldn’t prescribe a day at the spa as something to do as part of recovery, but Spencer’s doctor knew him well. He knew that throughout the last month, even though Spencer had completed most of his steps, he wasn’t relaxing through any of it. And his doctor was correct. Spencer’s brain had been working double time, reading twice the amount of books he usually did in a day while he was immobile elevating his injured leg. Reading up on new techniques for profiling and offering tips to the BAU when they worked a local case.

His doctor could tell that his inability to relax his brain, therefore relaxing his body, was the last step in holding him back from complete recovery.

So here he was, entering a Nordic hydrotherapy spa, where he was not allowed to bring in any cell phones, tablets, or hold loud conversations with anyone. And while it was acceptable to bring books in to read, Spencer didn’t want to risk dropping one in the water and ruining it. So he was about to be forced to put his self meditation techniques to use. 

After changing into his swim shorts, putting on the complimentary robe and locking away his belongings, Spencer stepped out of the main building into the frigid evening air. He breathed in the scent of salt, chlorine, and eucalyptus from the nearby steam room. Hidden speakers in the plant beds around the property played out relaxing spa style music. Spencer had to admit, despite his reservations regarding germs, he already did feel quite relaxed.

The steam coming off the hot pools seemed to blanket the grounds in silence. It wasn’t that busy, but Spencer spotted a few people relaxing in the pools and walking in-between sections of the spa grounds. 

Upon his check in tonight, the kind lady at the front desk informed him how to use the spa for maximum relaxation and hydrotherapy benefits. She recommended he sit in a hot pool for 10 to 15 minutes, take a plunge in the cold pool for at least 15 seconds or as long as he could handle, and then relax in a sauna, steam room, or relaxation room before continuing the process a few times.

The property was large, with 4 different hot pools, 3 different cold plunge pools, 2 rooms for wood burning saunas, the eucalyptus steam room, and multiple chairs dotting the ground surrounding fireplaces where you could sit and relax. Without putting too much thought to it, Spencer hung up his robe near the closest hot pool and stepped into the burning water. 

The change in temperature stung his cold toes as they started to warm up. The water was only up to his waist as he waded through past a few couples sitting to the sides. He made his way to the back of the pool where it was blissfully empty and took a seat. Since he was so tall sitting on the built in seats along the edge of the pool, the water only went up to mid chest. But the rest of his exposed skin felt refreshed with the cool air blowing over him. A good contrast to the hot water covering the rest of his body.

Spencer leaned his head back and closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to shut his brain off. It worked for a few minutes, before he heard a couple a few feet over whispering sweet nothings to each other. It just made Spencer start thinking about his own lacklustre love life.

With his job in the BAU there wasn't that much opportunity and time for a relationship. Sure, some of his co-workers had figured it out. Like JJ and Will for instance. Spencer had seen how difficult it was for Morgan to hold down a relationship with their crazy work hours as well.

He hadn't really put that much effort into a relationship, though. Part of the reason was that he just didn't have the time. Some of the cases kept them away from home for weeks at a time. Sometimes to the point where he really didn't know how his friends and co-workers were able to keep it up. He was the type of guy who wanted to get to know someone, be around them lots in the early stages, and that was just too hard with work.

Spencer jolted out of his daydream when someone splashed into the seat next to him.

"Is this seat taken?" The voice belonged to a pretty girl, who if he had to guess was maybe just a few years younger than him. She looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't seem to place where he recognized her from. "You're Dr. Spencer Reid, right?" She asked.

"Yes, that's me," he replied with a furrowed brow, wracking his brain on why her big brown eyes looked like they knew him as well.

Thankfully she caught on to his confusion. "I'm y/n. Penelope's friend from book club. We met a year ago at her place when she had a viewing party for the season finale of Love Is Blind. I almost didn't go because I really don't watch reality TV, but I had just moved to the area and I wanted to try and make some friends."

Spencer remembered her now. Back then at the party she had her hair down in unruly curls and it was the colour of fire engine red. Now her hair was tied back to stay out of the water and it was the colour of midnight black. He wasn't one to forget a face, or forget much of anything really. But something about a dramatic change in hair colour and style had the Clark Kent effect on him. Maybe it was because he was in a pretty decent state of relaxation.

"I remember you," he said, nodding his head in recognition. "I also didn't want to go to that party but Penelope is hard to say no to."

Y/n laughed, "Yes she is, isn't she. It's good though. Because of her persistence I was able to make a few friends that night. And on multiple other nights as well. Penelope frequently tries to set me up on dates." She was talking pretty quietly as per spa rules, and it would have been hard to hear if she hadn't sat close and leaned in while she talked. Normally Spencer would have backed away, but something about her presence was soothing. Or maybe that was just the water jets from the pool shooting into his back.

"So what brings you to the spa tonight?" Spencer asked her. He might have met her back then at the party, but they hadn't said many words to each other. He remembered being slightly intimidated by her fiery hair and bubbly personality and after their initial introduction he snuck away with his glass of juice to browse Pen's book collection.

"Actually, it was a birthday gift from Penelope!" Y/n smiled.

"Oh, happy birthday." Spencer smiled back at her. Why was he intimidated back then, he thought to himself. She was so beautiful and so nice, and so far fairly easy to talk to, it seemed.

"Thank you. But it's actually not until next month. Penelope just told me this was the only night she could get a reservation and that when my actual birthday happened she would buy me a cake," y/n laughed. 

Spencer pursed his lips in confusion. When he booked his reservation on his doctor's orders, there looked to have been multiple available times from now until the end of the year. The only day that was sold out was Thanksgiving weekend.

"When did she give you the gift with the reservation in it?" He asked y/n, with a hint of scepticism in his voice.

"About 3 days ago I think it was," she answered. About 3 days ago is when Spencer called up Penelope to rant to her about being forced to go to this spa. Was it possible Pen had given Y/n the gift as an excuse to try and set them up? Back at the party he had gotten the vibe when she introduced them that she wanted them to become friends. But Spencer had never gotten her number or email, and figured it just wasn't meant to be. Although how could it be, when he actively avoided her most of that night.

"What a coincidence that we're both here on the same night," Spencer told her.

"I know, right? I wasn't completely sure that you were you when I saw you sitting over here. But you're a hard one to forget, Dr. Reid," y/n said. Was that a blush he saw forming on her cheeks, or was she just getting too warm from the water.

"You can just call me Spencer. I really don't make anyone use doctor unless we're at work," he chuckled.

"Will do, Spencer. I hope you don't mind that I came over to sit with you. I can leave if you want the relaxation of being alone." She started to slide away from her seat slowly, giving him the opportunity to tell her she didn't need to leave. Which is exactly what he did.

"I don't mind. It's kind of nice to have company. I didn't realize how many people went to the spa with their partners," he told her. 

"Well, perfect. We can experience this spa together then. So how come you didn't come here with your partner?" Y/n asked slyly. Spencer could feel his face heat up with the attention turned to himself.

"No partner. I actually had to come here by doctor's orders. I got shot in the leg last month, and as the last part of recovery my doctor wanted me to relax more and figured what better way to force me to relax than to send me to the spa.”

“Oh my gosh. I’m tempted to ask if you’re okay, but it seems like you are, since you’re sitting here. I had no idea your job could lead to such violence,” Y/n exclaimed. 

“Every day is something different. They usually keep me off the field working from the office or police stations, but even then you never know what could happen,” Spencer explained.

“Wow. Okay, sorry. This is supposed to be relaxing and here I am bringing up work talk. What do you say we take a plunge into the cold?” Y/n asked with a grin.

This was probably the experience at the spa he was least likely to enjoy, but he followed her out of the water and next door to the cold pool. It was completely empty and Spencer was not surprised. Y/n grabbed his hand, sending a shock through his body, as they stood at the top of the stairs to the pool.

“It’s pretty likely that one of us is going to wimp out once our feet hit the water. So if need be, we have to drag the other person in, okay?” She said as she looked up at him. His voice got caught in his throat as he looked down at her and all he could do was nod in agreement. 

With a deep breath in, together they stepped onto the first step. It was so cold Spencer felt like his toes would fall off in a second. However he didn’t even get a second thought to think about stepping back out before y/n fell forward into the water, pulling him with her. He had to grab onto her hips for stability so he didn’t end up falling on top of her in the 3 feet of water. 

“It’s so cold,” Y/n gasped out.

It might have been 15 seconds, it might have been 5 minutes, but Spencer felt lost in time as he held Y/n in his arms in the freezing cold water. He didn’t even feel that cold in the places where Y/n’s skin touched his. Slowly, as if held down by some invisible force, he removed his hands from her hips and grabbed her hand this time to help her out of the water.

Feeling a new burst of energy from the cold shock, Spencer helped Y/n into her robe before putting on his, then wordlessly grabbed her hand and led her to one of the saunas. Inside, they were met with a blast of heat as Spencer guided Y/n to the back bench. Every seat in the sauna faced a wall made of glass that overlooked a small lake with a fountain cascading in the middle. As he relaxed into his seat, Y/n decided to lay out on the bench beside him and use his thigh as a head rest. 

Neither of them said a word as they gazed out the window, watching the birds fly by and the ducks swim in the lake. 

Spencer thought back to the night of Penelope’s party. After he had pushed himself to the wall to avoid interacting with people, he did end up watching from afar as Y/n made her way around talking to all the guests. He might have initially felt intimidated, but he was also fascinated with her. He’d seen a lot of different people with his job, and he’d seen people with colourfully dyed hair before as well, but something about her red curls just drew in his eyes and he couldn’t take them back.

She was beautiful, enchanting even, and he wanted to get her phone number. But then he had thought back to their last case. Where they had been gone for 16 days in a row. He had watched JJ as she video called Will and her kids any chance they got. Watched Hotch take numerous phone calls from his son. Even Morgan escaped for private chats with Savannah. He wasn’t sure if that was something he would be able to handle. So eventually he said goodnight to Penelope, left the party, and left any thoughts he had about Y/n behind as well.

Now that Penelope had schemingly gotten her back into his life, he was determined to make sure he got her number before leaving again. 

Spencer and Y/n enjoyed the spa amenities for another couple hours, cycling through the recommended steps while chatting quietly or relaxing in silence. Despite not doing much, they started to feel tired from the heated pools and saunas before eventually agreeing to meet outside in the parking lot after they got changed so they could say a proper goodbye.

Spencer rushed through changing, not wanting to take too long in case Y/n decided she didn’t want to stay, and made it outside in record time. He stood off to the side at the parking lot entrance, waiting for her with his heart racing. It took her a little bit longer, but eventually he saw her walking down the path. 

Her hair was down now, damp and a little frizzy from her curls trying to poke through. Wearing a simple black zip up sweater and black leggings, she looked cozy but also like she was about to rob a bank. She smiled at him when she reached his spot, taking his hand in hers to lead him to where she parked. The lot had almost emptied, leaving mostly staff vehicles and the last few remaining spa guests wanting to get every minute out of their visit as they could. Even with the empty lot, Y/n led Spencer to her car, a little black Honda, parked alone in the corner lit up only by the bright moon in the sky. 

“Thanks for letting me hang out with you tonight, Spencer,” Y/n told him when they stopped beside her car. She didn’t move to unlock it, opting instead to stand there with her hand still clasped in his.

“Of course. It was really lovely to see you again, Y/n,” said Spencer. Okay, he thought to himself, now is the time to do it. Bite the bullet and ask for her number. “Would you, maybe, be willing to exchange numbers and we can plan to go out for coffee some time soon?”

Y/n broke into a smile. “I would love that,” she said before reciting her number. She knew he would remember it, if Penelope’s constant chatter about how amazing Spencer’s memory is was to be true. 

“Awesome. So, I guess I’ll talk to you later?” Spencer moved to head back to his own vehicle but was stopped by a hand placed on the centre of his chest.

“Yeah. Or,” said Y/n, “Maybe we could do this?”

Before he could ask what ‘this’ was, she used the hand on his chest to push him back against the door of her car. Then she leaned in, rising up onto her toes to try and match his height, and placed her lips on his. It was quick, but enough to leave Spencer breathless, before she pulled away the slightest bit to look into his eyes.

“Is this okay?” she asked, and when he mumbled out a yes, nodding his head, she wasted no time going back in.

Their lips crashed together in an instant, almost too eager to finally be getting what they’ve both been craving all night. Y/n removed her hand from his chest to bring both of them into his hair, feeling the damp curls and giving them a little tug. Spencer brought his arms around her waist tightly, bringing her in closer to help relieve the strain of standing on her toes. 

He couldn’t believe this was happening, and in a parking lot. But he wouldn’t change a thing. Y/n’s hands made their way down to the back of his neck, before she brought them to his jaw. He let out a groan when she pulled on his bottom lip with her teeth, before their tongues collided with one another.  

Spencer brought his hands down even further, to grip the soft area at the back of her thigh just underneath her butt. He used his new grip to pull her up higher, spinning them around so that it was her back pressed against the car this time. She wrapped her legs around him to hold on as Spencer moved one of his hands up to her face, running his fingers along her jaw before finally pushing her hair back away from her neck. He broke away from her mouth to trail kisses along her neck, stopping to suck or nip at areas that drew a soft moan from her lips. He made his way down to her chest, where she had left part of the sweater unzipped. 

When he pulled back on the sweater he stopped with a groan, breathing deeply as he held her closer and grew tighter in his pants. Where he was expecting to see some sort of lace bra, instead he was met with nothing. She wasn’t wearing anything under the sweater. Hungrily, he opened her sweater more and he attached himself to the soft swell of her breast. Kissing, sucking, and gently biting. 

Without even realizing it, they started to move against each other. Spencer rolled his hips against hers, seeking that friction but focusing his attention on the skin between his lips. 

“Oh, fuck.” Y/n threw her head back in a moan as Spencer finally attached his mouth to the hard nub that was waiting for attention. He swirled his tongue around as he sucked on the sensitive area. “That feels so good.” she groaned. She brought her hands up to tangle them in his hair and hold him in place, only letting him move when he wanted to show her other side some love as well. 

It was difficult to move much against the car, but Spencer was hitting her in all the right places. Y/n could feel a familiar welcomed pressure building in her core and she gripped her legs tighter around him.

“Spencer,” y/n breathed out. “I’m close.”

He lifted his head enough to look at her. Her head back and eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. “Yeah?” he asked and she nodded her head while trying to move her hips faster against his. 

Spencer ground into her with a new purpose now. Paying more attention to the moves from his hips, he went back to sucking on her breast. This time he brought his hand to palm the other one. Squeezing and feeling the fullness of it in his hand. He rolled and pinched her nipple between his fingers at the same time as he gently grazed his teeth over the other one. It was enough to send Y/n over the edge, with Spencer right behind her. 

Spencer’s thrusts grew short until eventually they stopped as they came down from their high. He brought her in for another kiss, lazily moving his lips against hers while they got their breathing under control. Finally, Y/n unwrapped her legs from around him and he let her go.

“Holy shit. I can’t believe we just did that,” she said with a suddenly shy smile and glanced up at him. He looked down at her like he was seeing an angel. 

“Yeah,” he breathed out. He gripped the edges of her sweater and zipped it up tight to her neck. “What do you say we skip the coffee and go right back to my place?”

“I like the way you think. Lead the way.”

Click here for chapter 2! Available on AO3 only because it's basically smut and I was too nervous to post it on Tumblr lol

Thank you for reading, liking, or rebloging! <3

[jealousjersey]

₊࿔*:･୧”too sweet”₊˚࿔*:･୧

pairing // mike schmidt x gn!reader fluff

mentions // purely fluff just some nice and sweet content, pet names, reader is overwhelmed and stressed with everything and mike uplifts you, y/n isn’t mentioned, reader in college, reader and mike are in a situationship, mentions of being cheated on by past shitty gender unspecified partner

1.4k wc

tags // mike schmidt x reader fluff, purely fluff fic, pet names, slight angst

authors note // yes this is inspired by too sweet by hozier i’ve played it 18 times today (still listening to it) also per request (ty anon) fluff

school is kicking your ass. the lectures are too long and not informative at all, although you’ve had exams all week, they never seem to contain the information you’re supposedly learning.

you don’t even live on campus so you constantly feel like you’re missing out on important events and information. it’s truly exhausting.

that is until you get home, you’ve been in a situationship with this security guard worker, mike. you’ve talked and had dates, even had sex a few times but it doesn’t suffice you. you were made to be a lover, but right now you’re just a piece of ass. you want mike to love you, well, right now it feels more than a need. you want to finally receive the love that you give.

once your classes are done, you leave campus. taking the subway back to your apartment, luckily you don’t live too far, but not close enough to walk. and instead of wasting gas on driving to and from school, so why not take the safer option and just take the train?

as you arrive at your apartment, you finally get to lay down on your bed. you feel a tear fall from your eyes but you’re not sure why. today wasn’t too bad…but your body’s reaction is telling you different. you check the time and wait-

it’s the 2 year anniversary of your ex cheating on you, well atleast it’s the anniversary of the day you found out. you check the date and you get flashbacks, flashbacks to you coming to surprise them at their house for your 1 year together.

you arrive with tickets to some indie concert in hand. but instead you were practically hit in the face with realization as you saw her. she looked…perfect. you still wonder how they ended up with her. but let’s face it, you knew there was signs. but you chose to ignore them.

as of now, you’re laying face down on your bed, basically crying at this point. your breath hitches as you just lay there, helpless. until suddenly

knock knock

“hey? anyone here?�� you hear a familiar voice enter your house. it’s mike schmidt, the man you’ve been talking to for a few months. wait a second-

“how did you get in?” you question. you thought you locked the door but apparently not.

“oh, the door was halfway open. wanted to check to see if you were being robbed” he says as he gets a good look at you “shit are you okay?” he asks worried, staring at your puffy face, your swollen eyes as tears leak from them.

his worry makes you feel better. you’ve waited on somebody to actually care about how you were, not just ask without remorse in their eyes. but mike actually cares, and it feels good. it feels like he gives you a little sliver of comfort.

“yeah, i’m fine…schools kicking my ass and-” you cut yourself off, he’s just a fling, why does he get to know your personal problems? but something inside you just tells you to come clean. “2 years ago today i went through hell with my ex. he cheated and things went…down from there you could say.” you open up, not wanting to share anything that could bring back more deep memories- maybe mentioning the abuse would be too far.

“oh baby, i’m sorry. you need me here with you? i can get take out and we can watch one of your weird cartoons” he says. you chuckle. does he mean anime? you don’t even watch it that much, maybe he’s basing his suspicions on the death slayer poster in your room that you got because it looked cool. i mean, you only watched a episode or two. it might make you a poser but it looks good in your room so what’s the harm?

“yeah, take out sounds great. and we can just watch a movie or something.” you smile at his request, your eyes still puffy. mike notices this and sits next to you on your bed, bringing a hand to your cheek as he gently brushes a thumb over your eye bags, taking in the darkness.

“i’m gonna be right back, you want take out chinese food?” he asks with a smile as he presses a kiss onto your cheek. you slightly nod.

“gotta use your words baby” he teases you. “yes, chinese food is perfect” you smile “amazing, i’ll be back in 30. don’t fall asleep” he says as he points a finger in your direction and smiles softly

30 minutes pass, you just stay in your bed until he arrives, he walks in without knocking. “baby, i’m here” he yells, arms full with bags of chinese food. god, how much did he get?

you silently laugh to yourself at the site: mike with both hands carrying giant take out bags that say “thank you” with a smile face, his keys on his mouth and his pinky closing the door. it’s…really funny to be honest.

you snap out of your daze and run to help him, taking the bags out his hands and placing them on your kitchen island. you see him huff out a short breath, taking the keys out of his mouth and hanging them on the key holder.

you place a short kiss on his lips “thank you love” you say. a blush creeps onto his face. he wonders why he’s feeling so intense at your small gesture, i mean it’s not like you two are official….

you two get cuddled up on the couch together. he always said your couch is weird, two seats with a middle compartment in the center, dividing the chairs. he says it’s not ideal for cuddling but you make it work, the chairs aren’t small per say, but you can both fit on k it with ease, kicking up the leg so you can both lay comfortably.

you put on some movie that was recommended through the roku app. it doesn’t matter what movie it was, it just matters that you had mike with you.

soon enough he’s yawning, the mint aroma coming from his mouth isn’t bad. it’s kinda nice. before he could close his mouth fully you kiss him gently, wanting more of that mint taste. he returns the kiss, using the same pace you started.

as you let go, you ask the dreaded question. “do you want to be with me? romantically?” he stops and freezes before speaking. “honey, you’re too good for me- i..i’m not the best person. you’re full of love, i don’t want you to waste it on me, you’re too sweet for me.” he says. you look confused, you know you want to love him. why isn’t he accepting?

“but i want to be with you. i want to love you, and if im being honest i think i kind of already do.” you say after a moment.

“you…really?” he looks confused, almost baffled by your statement. do you really want to love him? like fully and truly?

“god yes mike, I try not to call but there’s some days that i really, really want to. i want to hear your voice, i want to hear you laugh. hell, i even want to smell your cologne. but i stop myself because i know you want something casual.” you blurt out.

“who said i wanted casual? baby i was waiting for you to say that. i think ive been in love with you since we first started talking. it sounds cheesy i know, but i really do.” he responds, making your heart flutter for a moment as you blink, suddenly feeling his breath against your ear.

“i only want you” he whispers, putting emphasis on only. immediately you blush more than ever in his presence. “really?” you can’t help but whisper back. is this really happening? are you about to have a boyfriend?

“really. you are the only person i ever want to be with. promise” he says as he puts his pinky out, asking for yours. sealing it with a pinky promise. he knows you’re serious about those so him doing this for you means a lot.

“you’re the only person i want to be with mike, has been that way since i think i first spoke to you. were so dumb” you laugh.

“yeah but we’re dumb together” he chuckles back as he holds you closer to him.

“so….are we dating or what?” you ask, popping your lips after “so”.

“let me ask you” he fixes his messy hair and uses a takeout napkin as a tie around his neck. “would you like to date me” he says sincerely, still a hint of laughing under his voice.

“fuck it, sure” you laugh as you bury yourself into his neck.

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

darilaros (princess) │ Chapter 7: Gone

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 (COMPLETE!)

Synopsis: As the second daughter of King Viserys, you experience firsthand what it means to belong to the House of the Dragon. Your sister prepares for her wedding to Laenor Velaryon.

Hello! this one took a while, so am sorry, lol! My cat got attacked, which I hope is at least SOME excuse. This is another 8000+ word chapter, so yay! This covers the Episode 5 stuff, which is fairly self-explanatory. Thank you to my boobear @ewanmitchellcrumbs for coming back to me and beta-ing this thingo!

TRIGGERS: Episode 5 shenanigans. Nothing much else, really.

These are the things you have learned—

One: Uncle took ’Nyra somewhere at night.

Two: that ‘somewhere’ was terribly improper, a place that not even a maid would go if she wanted to be seen as respectable.

Three: he was caught kissing her and doing things with her, even when there were lots of people in the room at the same time.

Four: he left her there, and it was only because of Ser Harwin that your sister made it home safely.

Five: Uncle asked Papa if ’Nyra could be his wife, and Papa said ‘no’.

These are not things you tell others that you know. Septa will likely strike you with her switch if she hears you repeating any of it. If anyone finds out what you have managed to find out, they will start minding their words more carefully around you. That is not what you want.

Because you are small and quiet, it is very simple for you to collect secrets. For example, Lord Bar Emmon’s lady wife has been dallying with a knight from House Massey. Lord Rosby is in debt to bankers in Essos for borrowing large sums for gambling. Lord Darklyn has a bastard son that no one knows about. You overhear little things here and there, spot details that others might miss, and you learn, tucking information away inside your mind just in case. You make sure that these secrets are proper ones, too—from the hands and mouths of those they are about.

After the accident that gave you a small scar on your arm, Papa made it a rule that you must come visit him each day so that he can keep an eye on you. This is how you had heard ’Nyra and Papa talking in his chambers.

“…have exposed yourself. Now, we must both suffer the consequences.”

“Were I born a man, I could bed whomever I wanted. I could father a dozen bastards, and no one in your court would blink an eye…”

“…an end. You will wed Ser Laenor Velaryon, and you will do so without protest… You are my political headache!”

“… my duty as heir… you must first do yours as King.”

You had waited for a beat, then knocked, hoping that the look on your face was innocent enough that they did not think you had heard. It worked—you had been let in and conversation had turned away from things-you-are-not-allowed-to-know to things-you-are-allowed-to-know. After that, it was not so difficult to piece together what must have happened from the rumours flying around the court.

Now, you understand why ’Nyra and Uncle were sharing all those long looks. Why they would stand so close to each other. Why they would jump apart whenever you came. They are in love, or maybe they just want each other in the way grown-ups sometimes do, the way that means they wish to put their parts together and make babies. Whatever the reason, whatever they feel, it had been enough for Uncle to ask Papa directly; enough to be exiled for.

You keep Uncle Daemon’s letter—‘I will be back soon’—to yourself. If you tell Papa, he will just make it impossible for Uncle to return.

If Uncle marries ’Nyra, will they go to live on Dragonstone? you wonder. Will they have many babies together? Will they bring me if I ask very, very nicely? You would like it best with them, you are sure of it.

Thoughts of what life might be like with Uncle and ’Nyra entertain you on the days you are made to wait for ’Nyra and Papa to return from Driftmark, which is where Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys and Laenor live. Even though your sister wants Uncle, she has agreed to marry Laenor. You don’t know what to think. You hardly remember Laenor. It doesn’t matter, you decide. Uncle will stop it from happening.

Lord Lyonel has gone with them as the new Hand of the King. It was not hard to find out that Lord Otto had his spies follow your sister out of the Keep and report back to him, or that he had then gone straight to Papa to tell of what Uncle and ’Nyra did. Your sister often says that Alicent seduced Papa to become Queen and give him half-Hightower children so that they would inherit what rightfully belonged to her, and that Lord Otto made her do it. She has been telling Papa that for a while now. It seems he has finally listened, for Lord Otto has been made to go back to his family seat even though his daughter is Queen and he has princes and a princess for grandchildren. He has gone too far in spying on ’Nyra.

This all means that, even though Uncle is no longer here, Alicent still wishes to keep an eye on you. She does not have many friends in the Keep now that her father has left, and it has made her nervous. You are only seven summers old, but you understand the way of things well enough—you understand that she wants to be your friend now that she’s realised she is alone.

I’ve been alone this whole time, other than for ’Nyra, you think. It is an unkind thought, so you push it down and tell yourself that it really isn’t Alicent’s fault that she forgot all about you with three babies to take care of.

Septa Marlow takes you to the nursery each morning as always so that you can see the Queen and your brothers and sister. In truth, you quite like this arrangement—because they are so little, it gives you the chance to play with them, to pretend not to be so grown-up for a while. Or, rather, you play with Helaena. Aegon is at a stage where he likes to throw things, so you mostly avoid him. Helaena is a quiet companion, so playing with her mostly means passing her toys and watching her arrange them in neat little piles that make no sense to you but seem to give her a great deal of joy.

“Here, ’El,” you say, passing her the next item. She stops her normal routine when she sees what you have for her. “This is Marya, and this”—you take the other doll out from the makeshift wrappings you devised when still within your own chambers—“is Hana.”

Helaena babbles to herself as her pudgy fingers twist through the brown hairs sprouting atop the wooden doll’s head, surprisingly gentle for one as young as she is. She beams, a gummy spreading of lips that makes the corners of her eyes crinkle, and pats Marya’s wooden face.

“Dolly,” she whispers. “Marya?”

You nod. “Yes, it’s a dolly. Her name is Marya.”

Sometimes, you find that you need to repeat things to her. She often poses questions like this, as though she is unsure if she has heard you right, as though she wants approval. You wonder if you did that at her age.

“That is very kind of you, darling.”

You look up. From her seat by the window, Alicent surveys you and your sister with a small smile. Aemond sleeps on in her arms, seeming to care little for playtime. Is he not too old for that? you think. She can barely fit him in the cradle of her arm, but you suppose that Alicent has always been quite small-bodied.

You smile at her words. She has taken to calling you ‘darling’ as of late. You know not why. Still, it brings a flush of warmth tingling through your blood. “I thought she might like them,” you say.

It makes sense; your dolls were only laying there, doing nothing at all, and Aegon keeps breaking your little sister’s toys. Because she is so quiet, you sometimes wonder if her nurses just don’t realise that she is there and that she needs just as much to play with as her older brother. Your dolls are rather sturdy. They were made for you when you were three summers, so they ought to withstand anything he can subject them to.

It is as though your thoughts summon his attention to you.

“I want them, Mama!” Aegon cries, pointing in your direction. It takes you a moment to realise that he is not pointing at you, but at the dolls in yours and Helaena’s laps. “I want!”

“They are for Helaena, Aegon,” Alicent says, but it is no use. Aegon takes a deep breath, and you brace yourself as the scream pierces through the quiet of the room, quickly followed by the squawk and sobbing of Aemond.

Gwenys stands from her place beside Aegon and lifts him into her arms, trying her best to hush him. There is little point—now that he has it in his mind that he is being denied something he wants, there will be no dissuading him until he is spent from crying too much. As usual, she heads for the door, taking with her the low sounds of her soothing voice drowned out by the wails of your brother.

Alicent has not moved at all, aside from swaying Aemond gently and patting his back. She rarely ever tends to Aegon. There are times when she looks at him as though he is a complete stranger, as though she did not make him and carry him and birth him. You sometimes catch yourself feeling sorry for him, for the fact that his mama so clearly loves his younger brother more than she loves him. In some ways, you and Aegon are very alike—Papa loves ’Nyra more than he loves you. He loves ’Nyra more than he loves any of his other children, but that is because she is the heir and that means she is the most important. It is one of those facts that belongs in the drawer in your mind labelled ‘the way things are’.

Still, Aegon does not do any of the right actions that would get Alicent or Papa to love him more. He throws things and breaks things and yells and runs, and sometimes he will say the nastiest words like ‘I hate you’ to everyone when he is in one of his moods. At least you try. You use your manners and follow instructions and keep quiet and calm, which Septa says is what makes a lady respectable. Perhaps that is why Alicent is calling you ‘darling’ now.

“Dolly?” Helaena whispers again.

She is staring at Hana, so you prop the doll in her lap beside Marya. Your sister clutches them to her, burying her face in their hair so gently that it makes your chest feel tight and a lump grow in your throat.

You watch Helaena hug the dolls that used to be yours but now are hers, ignoring the little voice in your head that reminds you of the one you didn’t bring, the one you have kept all to yourself even though you’ve no need for it now. Of Alysanne, the doll with silver hair and purple eyes, no longer tucked away in a chest but resting beneath your pillow, hidden from the sight of all but you.

It seems like barely any time passes between the return of Papa and ’Nyra and the beginning of the wedding celebrations. Of course, that is not true, for there are days upon days of preparations—ravens to send out and replies to be received, journeys to be made to the capital and rooms to be cleared of dust to house the visitors, banners to be erected and decorations to be installed—that sweep seemingly all of King’s Landing into a frenzy. Not even you are free of it. Thankfully, your only role is to stand up straight with your arms out as the seamstresses pin and hem your dress for the event.

“What do you think, Princess?” Lina, the head seamstress, asks. You don’t know if she is speaking to you or to ’Nyra, who looks on with a smile.

“Lovely,” ’Nyra says, answering your unspoken question. She steps forward to brush light fingers against the neckline of the gown. It tickles. “Silver ribbons for the hair, I think. Could a belt be fashioned in the same colour?”

“Of course, Princess,” the seamstress is saying, but your attention has drifted to the guard that stands watch at the door.

Ser Criston has been strange as of late. Though he is usually always more quiet than not, there is something very unhappy about the way he surveys those in the room now. He is ’Nyra’s sworn shield, and yet his eyes seem to slide right past her, almost like he wants to pretend that she doesn’t exist. What surprises you the most is that ’Nyra notices—she gives him fleeting looks every so often, especially when he is fixed and still—but does nothing about it. She is not one to let an insult lie.

You have always liked Ser Criston. Before, when you were allowed to go about more freely, he would let you sit by him and talk while ’Nyra was busy pestering the minstrels to play more songs about Nymeria.

Your sister claps as the final note rings. “Again,” she demands.

Samwell sighs, flexes his fingers, and readies himself to play once more. As he plucks the strings of his mandolin, he lets his voice carry the melody forth.

“She fled with her ships and her people,

Her heart broken for those who had died.

But if they remained, they would perish

Under the dragon’s eye,

Under the dragon’s eye.

A hundred fell to the sea’s cruel sweep,

A hundred more to the Summer Isles’s tide.

The Queen lost many souls fleeing from

Under the dragon’s eye,

Under the dragon’s eye…”

You turn away from your sister and glance to the side, to where Ser Criston is sitting next to you on the bench. “You’re Dornish, Ser Criston. Are you not?”

It is what all the ladies at court say—even Ser Harrold has said so. It certainly makes sense, for the knight’s colouring looks the same as Nymeria’s in all the illustrations of her you have seen.

Ser Criston smiles at your question. “Not exactly. I… my father is Lord Dondarrion’s steward.”

“Oh.” You frown, thinking hard. “He’s from… the Stormlands?”

“Yes, Princess. Well done,” he says. You beam at the praise. Ser Criston turns to listen to Samwell’s song for a moment, the tale of Nymeria floating faintly through the air and carrying a great sadness with it.

You wait for him to continue. When nothing comes forth, you try again. “Why does everyone say that you are Dornish, Ser? You should tell them they are wrong.”

He laughs, a quiet sound. “They aren’t. My mother—she was Dornish.”

You have learned much about the difference between ‘was’ and ‘is’. ‘Is’ is for people who are living, who breathe and think and talk and laugh, like you; but ‘was’ is for those who are no longer here. Who have died and left the living to mourn them.

“What House was she from?” You keep your voice gentle. You don’t wish to make him sad.

Ser Criston shakes his head. “She was lowborn. A member of the commonfolk. My father encountered her on an incursion into Dornish territory. He fell in love with her at first sight, or so he’s always said.”

“That sounds nice.” You have never seen or heard him be so free with telling someone about himself before. Even now, after serving in the Kingsguard for as long as you can think of, this is the first you have learned of who he is beyond his ability to use a sword. “What was she like? Your Mama?”

At that, he says nothing. You sit and listen to the music, to the tale of a queen who is forced to begin again in an unknown land. You wonder if Ser Criston sometimes feels as strange in King’s Landing as Nymeria did in Dorne all those hundreds of years ago.

“I cannot recall my mother well, Princess,” he finally says. You just barely stop yourself from startling at the sound of him. He stares out at the grass, at nothing, appearing for all the world like he is unspeakably lonely. “She passed on when I was… very young. I know she was beautiful; I remember dark eyes”—like his, you think—“and the shape of her smile. At least, I think I do.”

He looks angry, or perhaps upset. It is hard to tell. You are not surprised, though, for men are often angry when they are made to think of sad things. There is little you can do to change his mood, but you still let your palm come to rest on his arm, patting it softly. He peers over at you. His face softens. You and he take shelter from the sun in silence, looking out as the final refrain of the minstrel’s song flows through the Godswood.

“… Th’ Dornish have yet to bow or to break

Under the dragon’s eye,

Under the dragon’s eye.”

You know what it is like to long for someone you cannot recall. You understand. In brief moments, Ser Criston has been a creature with a spirit much like yours. But he always disappears within himself and the Kingsguard returns, ready to do his duty no matter what. He is another of those that your sister sometimes strays a little too close to, so perhaps he is upset that she is in love with Uncle Daemon and not him. That would be very scandalous, you think, suddenly feeling rather sorry for him.

“… Well? Do you like it?”

You startle. Everyone is staring in your direction, so you shake such thoughts from your mind and glance over at yourself in the mirror. The dress itself is a shade of pale purple that gleams from the silver threads woven into the fabric; the collar is beaded with pearls and tiny diamonds; the bodice decorated with flowers and vines in dark purple and grey thread the colour of steel. It is far more elegant than anything you have worn before. You look like a real grown-up lady in it.

All you can do is nod, your eyes shining bright with excitement. Even though you will be wearing it to the feast for ’Nyra’s wedding to Laenor—to someone who is not Uncle—you are filled with a sudden impatience for the eve to come sooner.

The screech and roar of unfamiliar dragons drifts in from the distance, their dark shadows in the sky a balance with those of the Velaryon ships upon the water. The banners have been raised; the Great Hall prepared; the food made ready. Those who live within the Keep’s walls, including you, linger around the room in wait of the guests that come from all corners of the Realm.

You kick your feet beneath your chair as lords and ladies file into the hall, the booming voice of Ser Harrold announcing them each in turn.

“House Redwyne with their lord, Oren Redwyne!”

“House Hayford with their lord, Mathis Hayford!”

The arrivals become of greater importance the longer the festivities continue. Soon, the incoming nobles are declared with all sorts of titles after their House and name. “House Lannister with their lord, Jason Lannister, Lord Paramount of the West, and Master of Casterly Rock!” Ser Harrold calls out.

You do your best to avoid notice as Lord Jason walks down the steps, surrounded by people in different shades of red and gold to match his House. He makes his way forward, up, up, up the dais to stand before Papa and ’Nyra. Neither look very pleased by his presence, though he doesn’t seem to realise this.

“Congratulations, Your Grace,” he says, smiling as though he is an old friend of them both. “You have made a fine match for the Princess.”

Papa does not reply, just stares with his mouth frozen in an upturn. It forces ’Nyra to speak. “Thank you, Lord Jason. I could think of no better man than Ser Laenor.”

Uncle. Uncle. What about Uncle? you think, but you do not say it aloud.

Lord Jason makes a soft noise. You cannot tell if he agrees or if he is still upset that she refused him. “Well. If this is only the welcome feast, I admit I cannot imagine what you might have planned for the wedding.”

“My daughter is the future queen.” Papa looks at your sister with a great deal of love. She turns toward him, a glow of happiness on her cheeks. “I wanted this to be a wedding for the histories.” You wonder if your own wedding will be one for the histories someday, or if Papa only intends for his heir to have such treatment.

 “Where is the Queen?” Lord Jason asks, glancing around. “I had hoped to pay my respects.”

It is a question you yourself had been thinking of. Alicent is not one to be late to important gatherings. It is very unseemly for a lady to do so. If she were still under Septa’s care, she would probably be scolded most terribly for it.

Papa pauses for a moment. “I understand the Queen is still readying herself for the celebrations.”

“This is why men wage war,” Lord Jason says with his chin tilted high. “Because women would never be ready for the battle in time.”

He laughs at his own words, though he is the only one. It is not a very good jest, for you can think of at least three ladies from history—Visenya, Rhaenys, Nymeria—who had waged war and done well at it. Papa and ’Nyra do not seem to find it funny either, for they merely look at him like he is stupid.

“Your presence is always such a pleasure, Lord Jason.” Your sister tries to be polite, but you can hear the bother in her tone.

The smile disappears from Lord Jason’s face. He bends at the waist in a short bow. “Princess. Your Grace.”

As he rises, his eyes flick to you. It is like he has only just spotted you here, two seats down from the King. He looks you up and down as though you are a prize horse. The curve of his lips as he does so is very off-putting. “Good evening, Princess,” he says to you.

Papa clears his throat loudly before you can respond. His hand is clenched tight around his cup, causing one of the scabs to crack slightly. A thin film of blood spreads slowly across the knuckle. It all serves to startle Lord Jason, who quickly averts his gaze and slinks back down the steps to where his brother sits.

The next group to greet Papa and ’Nyra begins their approach, only to be interrupted by another man. He cuts in front of them all. You do not recognise him. “Your Grace. Princess Rhaenyra. Congratulations are in order.” After he says this, he turns to you. “And my greetings to you, Princess.”

It is the first time someone has addressed you so far without making you uncomfortable, so you cannot help the warmth that spreads through you. “Hello, Ser.” It is as good a guess as any. You hope you have not erred.

Papa’s smile is much more real. “We are very honoured to have you as a guest, Ser Gerold.” His expression changes, dims, his brow twitching. “I must say,” he adds, wiping the back of his hand on the kerchief resting by his plate, “I was most distressed to hear of the Lady Rhea’s tragic passing. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Rhea? Uncle has a wife named Rhea, you think with a frown. You notice Papa’s kerchief is streaked with red.

“Lady Rhea was a unique character,” Ser Gerold says. “Her kind… is not soon to be seen again.”

’Nyra surveys him with kind eyes. “If there is anything the crown might do to aid House Royce…”

It is Uncle’s wife who has died is the thought that crosses your mind as the drums begin to beat, signalling the arrival of someone very important. The guests that were lining up to pay respects separate to either side of the hall as the doors open and Ser Harrold cries, “Lord Corlys of House Velaryon, Lord of the Tides, Master of Driftmark.” At that, the Velaryons make their way into the hall in a sea of glittering black and gold. There are more of them than you ever thought possible—far more than your own House has. “And his lady wife, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen; and their son and heir, Ser Laenor Velaryon, the future king consort.”

Everyone claps as they walk toward the dais. Papa and ’Nyra stand and you follow—those who had been sitting do the same, rising to their feet in welcome of your Valyrian kinsmen. Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys bow and curtsey before you, Laenor stepping forward to do the same. ’Nyra leaves her seat to move around the table, and you are surprised to see her grinning at Laenor as he comes to meet her. She takes his hands; he kisses hers, and the applause begins anew.

As Laenor takes his seat beside ’Nyra—as Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys take theirs beside him, and the audience moves to find their own seats—someone comes in unannounced.

Uncle.

The room goes very quiet, and then the murmuring starts. Papa’s face is like thunder as Uncle Daemon strolls down the walkway with a smile and comes to a halt before him, as though daring him to make a fuss of his return. For a moment, you wonder if he will have the guards throw Uncle from the Keep.

Papa gestures to an attendant, who brings another chair to the end of the table. He will let him stay, then, you think. But Uncle does not sit in it. Instead, he looks at Lord Lyonel next to you, his brow raised.

“Well?” he asks. Lord Lyonel says nothing. Uncle scoffs. “Move. I would sit by my niece, Lord Hand.”

“My Prince—” The Hand of the King stops at the sight of Uncle’s barely concealed glare, a threat all on its own. He clears his throat and rises, the chair skidding back with a squeak as he steps aside. Uncle settles in the empty seat, shoulders hunching in that way he gets when he is trying to show everyone how carefree he is. He glances down at you and winks.

Papa turns from his brother to those gathered in the hall. “Be welcome, as we join together in celebration. Tonight is only its beginning…”

“Āmāzī,” you whisper, only just loud enough for Uncle Daemon to hear. You have come back.

He leans into your space to whisper his reply. “Kīvio sētetan, gōnton daor?” I made a promise, did I not?

You nod, thrilled. He remembered. He kept his promise. Your hand finds his below the table, hidden from view. He is warm as he always is, like fire, and he squeezes tight even as his expression shows a picture of boredom. Though he lets go quickly, the warmth remains.

“With House Targaryen and…” Papa suddenly falls quiet, staring out at the end of the hall. Everyone’s eyes, including yours, turns to follow his line of sight.

Alicent stands alone in the entry. That is not the strange part, of course—but what she is wearing is unlike anything you have seen her in before. Her gown is a shade of emerald, off the shoulder, a deep cut in the neckline exposing an indecent amount of flesh for a respectable noblewoman. It is beautiful, but alarming, for the oddity of it is matched by the almost angry look she wears as she silently approaches, people rising in turn when she passes.

She stops to greet ’Nyra. “Congratulations, stepdaughter. What a blessing this is for you.”

It is cold, completely different from the way she normally speaks to your sister. It seems ’Nyra notices, for she cannot come up with a response before Alicent is kissing Papa on his cheek, taking her place like nothing is out of the ordinary.

“Please be seated,” Papa says with a cough. The hall echoes with the sound of shuffling. “Where was I? Oh, yes.”

He grunts. This time, he lets his voice carry to fill the room. “With House Targaryen and House Velaryon united, I hope to herald in a second Age of Dragons in Westeros.” The guests applaud. “And after tonight’s small affair”—everyone laughs—“seven days of tournament and feasting.”

More clapping. “At the end of it all…” He is starting to sound out of breath, which is worrying. He has been unwell as of late. “At the end of it all, a royal wedding… between my daughter, my heir… your future Queen… and Ser Laenor Velaryon, the heir to Driftmark.”

Papa sinks to his chair like he has just run up and down every step in the Keep, and you can see his chest rising and falling like he is trying to find air. The sound of it is drowned out by the music that begins to play. ’Nyra and Laenor leave their seats to perform the first dance, impossibly graceful in their movements. They look rather lovely together, you cannot help but think. Still, it is not he she should be dancing with. Glancing over at Uncle, you see he appears to be thinking much the same thing. You are unsure if it is a petty sort of amusement playing along the corner of his mouth or a snarl threatening to reveal itself as he watches your sister with a man who is not him.

The dance comes to a close and everyone claps, followed by a rush of lords and ladies rising to join ’Nyra and Laenor on the floor. Alicent stands. You observe her making her way to the Hightowers at one of the lower tables. You stay in your seat.

“Pōnte imazumbilā?” Uncle asks, jerking his chin toward those dancing in the middle of the room. Will you join them?

“Mirtys drējī rhēdiō daor,” you say with a twist to your mouth. I don’t really know anyone. In truth, you would like to go and dance, but you dislike the idea of doing so with a stranger. Or worse, with someone who looks at you like Lord Jason did.

Uncle grunts. “Konir drives qubys issa.” That’s a poor reason.

You feel your cheeks heat with your embarrassment. It is not very brave of you, you know. “Usōven, kepus,” you say with a small voice. I am sorry, Uncle. A sting prickles behind your eyes.

“Aōma lilinna.” He gazes down with a softness he uses only for you. I will dance with you.

“Really?”

Uncle Daemon shrugs. “Lo jaelā, darilaros.” If you like, Princess. His head turns to face the gathering dancers again. You know, though, that he is really looking at ’Nyra, smiling and beautiful in her white gown. “Yn ēlī, mirros gaomagon ajorrāelan.” But first, I have something to do.

You wonder what he intends. Will he take Laenor to the side, ask him to run away and leave ’Nyra a woman without a betrothed once more? Will he grab hold of her and force her to the High Septon’s rooms, make him wed them before anyone can stop him? Will he declare his love for all to hear, give Papa no choice but to do away with the Velaryon match? Each thought, wilder and wilder, circles through your mind. Whatever he means to do, it will surely be worthy of a great deal of court gossip.

But then, a voice interrupts. “In the Vale, men are made to answer for their crimes. Even Targaryens.” Ser Gerold takes one step, then two up the dais.

Uncle remains unimpressed. “Who are you?”

“Ser Gerold Royce of Runestone.”

“And?”

You can see the clench of the man’s jaw. Uncle is being horribly rude. “I am cousin to your late lady wife.”

“Ah, yes,” Uncle says. “Terrible thing. I'm positively bereft. Such a tragic accident.” You want to sink to the ground, to hide away from this conversation. It goes against everything Septa has taught you about courtesy.

“You know better than anyone,” Ser Gerold says, “it was no accident.”

You glance between Uncle and Ser Gerold, worry churning your belly to sickness. The salted flavour of roasted boar turns sour in your mouth. What does he mean? you think.

Then, there is a faint brush of fingertips against your arm. You startle, peering to your left. Papa is leaning across Alicent’s seat. Though he has just touched you, he is staring across at Uncle and Ser Gerold. His eyes slide to you, and he nods to the dancers.

Go, he mouths. Your lips part with your rising protest, but he frowns hard at you. Now, he mouths again.

Scurrying from your chair, you crane your neck to find someone to take company with. There are not many options—’Nyra is busy dancing, though now with Ser Harwin, Lord Lyonel’s son, and Alicent is still speaking with her kin. Everyone else is a stranger to you. For a moment, you wonder if anyone would notice should you sneak to the doors and make your way back to your own chambers.

“Hello.”

Laenor Velaryon has broken away from the throng. Standing beside you, he looks every bit as lavish as a man about to be wed ought to be. His coat is richly embroidered in black and gold; the pendants upon his gold chain glimmer. There is so much detail to his attire that you do not know where to look. He is smiling down at you, his face gentle.

“Hello,” you say, wary.

“It has been quite a while since last we met, hasn’t it?” There is a way about him that makes me feel as though he’s an old friend, you muse. His expression is open, his arms relaxed at his sides. “You were rather a great deal smaller.”

“I am seven summers now.”

“And I am eighteen. Strange, how time changes us.” He folds his hands before him. “Would you care to dance?” he asks.

You shake your head, though a part of you wants to accept. He is very easy to be around, you are finding. Perhaps he is not so bad a choice after all. “I am waiting for my uncle.”

“Ah.” Silence reigns briefly. Then, he bends closer to your height, his pointed finger directed out to the crowd. “However… I do believe he’s occupied, Princess.”

You stare out onto the floor and watch as Uncle makes his way from Laena Velaryon, shifting between bodies like a snake slithers in grass, straight toward your sister. You watch him murmur something indistinct to Ser Harwin—he takes the man’s place—he swarms up against her, and the pair seem intensely concentrated on their conversation. They are barely dancing, swaying together in a vague rhythm to the music.

“Wonder what that’s about,” Laenor says.

You think you might know, but you say nothing. It is hard enough to keep the threat of jealousy from rising like poison at the sight of Uncle with ’Nyra—with her and not you. He promised you a dance.

Laenor sighs. “Look,” he says. You glance up. “I get the feeling you are not exactly pleased by this match. No”—he waves off your protest with a laugh—“it’s alright. I cannot say I was very happy, either. At first. But your sister… she’s quite the woman. I’ll be… content with her, I think. I just hope I can offer her the same.” He lightly places his hand on your shoulder, firmer when he realises you do not plan to shake him off. “I trust that you’ll set me right, should I behave in a manner less than what she deserves.”

He is painfully earnest as he looks at you, like he truly does intend to seek your guidance. You cannot say that of many people. At the very least, he is good at pretending you are important enough to need a high opinion from. It is more than you expected.

“I will,” you say.

It is too quiet, and you think he probably hasn’t heard you over the noise. But he smiles, pats your arm, and disappears back into the mass of people. You feel oddly thrilled by his kindness.

Now that you are alone once more, your eyes drift back to where you had seen Uncle and ’Nyra, near to the middle of the dancers. You spy two shocks of silver, bright against all the darker heads of hair—you see Uncle take ’Nyra’s face in his hand—he leans in—

He pulls away.

What is he doing? you think, frowning. Uncle is stepping back—’Nyra reaches out, though for nothing—he’s stalking off—

You don’t even realise you have followed him, that you have sidled along the edge of the wall to the door and slipped behind the guards, out of notice, until you are facing the looming dimness of the passages outside the Great Hall.

Behind you, someone screams. Then another. Another. More yelling. The door closes and the noise disappears, as if it never was.

You did not realise just how many guards had not been in attendance at the feast until now. They jog seemingly in pace, the crash of armour too loud, echoing as they rush toward the room you have just left behind. Perhaps they have been drawn by the sounds that had taken your attention also.

It forces you to seek a hiding place. You dart into the nearest alcove, and though it is not covered, you pray that it is too dark for anyone to take notice. Thankfully, it works. Your Papa’s men thunder rumble past with nary a look your way.

A creak from the door. A faint thudding, and whispers, and a gruff voice sounds out, clearer than the rest. “Something to cover it with… for the body… and fetch the High Septon to… wedding will take place when he arrives…”

“Now?”

“Yes, now! So, go and…” A wail, and then it is quiet again.

A manservant hurries his pace, footfalls ringing in the near-silence as he takes the steps up and up and up. You watch him disappear from view, surely having gone to carry out the order given to him. To fetch the High Septon, withdrawn into his own rooms somewhere far, far from your own, awaiting the day he is called to perform the ceremony. Tonight’s ceremony.

Tonight? The wedding is tonight? There was to be seven days before ’Nyra was married to Laenor! That is what Papa said earlier… is it not?

It takes a moment for you to remember how you have come to be here, so caught up are you in your whirling thoughts. A part of you wishes to return, to make sure that Papa and ’Nyra and Alicent are safe. ’Nyra is a Princess, you remind yourself. Alicent is the Queen, and Papa is King. Everybody will want to keep them protected. Besides, there is little you could do that the guards could not. You are only a little girl.

Then, it strikes you. Your purpose. Uncle. Where has Uncle gone?

You peer out, and immediately snap back into shadow. The hall is not empty as you had assumed, though it was perhaps silly of you to think otherwise. It is always full of life and activity. There are guards stationed by the stairs, by each archway projecting a further passageway, branching out from the main corridor; two or three messengers await, milling nervously opposite the doors you had just exited from; maids and servants walk by, uncaring of the chaos within, busying about with their duties as normal. Any one of these people could see you and know in an instant who you are. Your hair—your dress—it is all too easy to identify. And if they see you, know you, they will pass you off to a waiting guard, who will ensure you are returned to your rooms, to Septa Marlow.

How will you discover where Uncle is then?

You wait, hoping that the bevy of bodies will thin with each passing minute. As you wait, you listen to passing snippets of conversation from those who walk by. Then, you hear it. Uncle’s name is like a clanging bell out of the mouth of a nearby maid. Your ears strain to catch the rest. “… for Prince Daemon’s belongings to be… King’s Landing tonight… waiting in the courtya…”

“Yes, ma’am…”

Footsteps. Your mind races. No, no, no… Not again. Not now. Not so soon.

Belongings. Tonight. Waiting in the courtyard. You may be young, but you are no fool. Those words, in that order—it can really, truly only mean one thing.

It means that Uncle is leaving.

You wait. You wait through the fractured exchanges drifting to your shoddy hiding place, the morsels of what life must be like for those who live and work in the Keep. You wait through the spilling of people into the hall, the nobles who had witnessed whatever it is that had been hidden from you. You wait through their bewildered conversation—“a Kingsguard!” and “such a terrible omen!” and “what a ghastly sight!” being some of the choice fragments you can hear—and through their slow scattering back to whichever lodgings they had managed to secure themselves. You wait through the barking orders of the Kingsguard to “find the Princess!”—it seems all have finally realised you are no longer in the room—the thud of their boots easy to detects as they grow fainter, fainter, fainter.

Finally… quiet.

Well, not entirely. The doors are open once more, and you can just barely hear voices within, the sound of something heavy being dragged out. Grunting, as with some great effort. None of these are important. What is important is that finally, finally, the way is clear enough to steal out of the alcove and just across to the staircase, to sidle out of the hall and down the corridor. You thank whatever gods had favoured you that something shocking or maybe even horrid had occurred and given you a free path to the courtyard.

Your mind immediately rebels. What a terribly wicked thing to be glad for. If you had spoken it aloud—if Septa had heard you—you know you would pay the price for such sin.

When you arrive, the sight that awaits you is one you had hoped against hope you would not be greeted by. Even though you had heard the proof, the crushing weight of disappointment still feels heavy in your chest.

“Where are you going?” you ask, standing on the steps that lead to sand, to dust. To Uncle.

There he is—tightening the bridle on Varlet’s muzzle, reins in hand. Dark Sister is at his hip again. He must have fetched it from his rooms before commanding the servants to pack up his things, to send them along who knows where.

“Fu—” He cuts himself off, spinning to face you. A bad word, you presume. You see his face relax as his eyes scan you, recognising you even in dim torchlight. “Go back inside, sweetling,” Uncle says.

You cannot help the rush of tears that prickle behind your eyes. “You—Uncle Daemon, you cannot leave now!” You cast around for some reason, any reason you can find that might persuade him. “The—’Nyra is going to be married in the Great Hall soon. You have to be there. You said you would dance with me.”

This makes him release the reins, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, his eyes like slits beneath the steel shelf of his brow. The horse nickers cautiously behind him, toeing at the ground. After a moment where he does nothing but stand, silent and still, he moves, taking large strides toward you. Up, up, up the steps he goes, and then he is crouching before you.

“Talītsos”—little niece, he says, and as he speaks, his fingers reach out to swipe loose hair back behind your ear—“the King has asked me to leave. I must do as he says, correct?”

When have you ever cared what Papa says? you want to tell him. What about ‘Nyra? You are leaving her behind.

What about me?

Instead, what comes from your mouth is this: “When—when will you be back?” Your lower lip begins to shake. One of the tears falls, even though you tried so hard to keep them from doing so.

His thumb brushes it away. You can still feel the sting of it in the cool night air, though his skin leaves a trail of heat over your cheek. “I’m afraid… I’m not coming back.”

His face is unbearably soft as he says this, but it does not banish the shock, the dread that rises. You feel ill. You feel ill. Bile burns in the back of your throat.

“But… you promised,” you say. You wonder if you look as lost as you sound.

Uncle smiles, though it is weak. “I know. If I had a choice, you know I’d stay.”

You cannot count the number of people who might hear such a thing and take it for a falsehood. He is a rake; a villain; a rogue. He lies, steals, cheats. He is mad, he is cruel, he is the very worst thing that has happened to House Targaryen since your great-great-great-uncle.

But you know he means it. You know.

“Will I ever see you again?” you ask, close to a whisper. Any louder and you’ll burst into sobs, and that will surely bring the guards—you can hear them faintly calling your name—right to you.

Uncle takes your hand. His eyes are bright, sad. “Kostilus,” he says slowly—perhaps—using the language of Old Valyria the way he does whenever he wants to voice something fond, something gentle and warm. “Kostilus daor. Jēda ivestrilus.” Perhaps not. Time will tell.

That is not good enough. That is not nearly good enough—but what can you or he do? If Papa has decreed that Uncle must leave, then he must, for he is the King. There is nothing to be done. Nothing at all.

Before you even realise it, you’ve thrown your arms around him, burrowing as close as you can get. He smells the same—of salt and smoke and love love love. “Aōma ozmijīnna, kepus.” I will miss you, Uncle.

Instead of replying, he just hugs you tight, so tight that your ribs ache and you think you can feel his pulse against your skin, even through so many layers of fabric and leather. You can barely breathe from the force of it. It doesn’t matter. You try to carve out a space in your mind for the memory of this moment, this single point in time where he is here and you are loved and the rest is trivial.

But, like all good things, it comes to an end. He pulls away. He stares at you, almost as though he means to say something. He doesn’t. He cups your cheek, and then he stands. He walks back to Varlet. He mounts his horse.

The grief of it bursts from you like an almighty cannon, wrenching with heaving, painful gulps. It surges with loud, ringing sobs, your nose stoppered up so wholly that you cannot breathe, so much so that it blocks out all sound, all feeling. You do not hear any last words. You do not hear the gate open. You do not hear the striking of hooves on the ground as Uncle Daemon rides away, getting smaller, past the gate, out of reach, going, going…

Gone.

It will not be long before the guards are drawn to you by the sound of your tears. It will not be long before they march you back inside. It will not be long before you must sidestep a crumpled Targaryen banner in the entry of the Great Hall, before you are brought into the grasp of Papa and ’Nyra, before you are made to listen to their panicked reproaching.

“Don’t ever run off like that again!” Papa will cry out, grabbing you by the shoulders with unsteady, shaking hands. He will loom over you, an expression battling between relief and anger playing out over his grey face. “We thought… we thought…”

“It does not matter what we thought, Father,” ’Nyra will say, lips tipped up in a smile despite her wet eyes and dishevelled hair. “All that matters is that she’s safe.”You will wonder why she appears so untidy, but there will be no time to ask.

As the High Septon performs the ceremony, as ’Nyra and Laenor repeat their vows in stunned, shaking voices, you will stand beside Alicent, in front of Papa. And, after your sister kisses her new husband on the cheek, Papa will collapse to the ground, knocking you lightly on the way. Alicent and ’Nyra and Lord Lyonel and Lord Corlys will crouch to his aid, booming voices clamouring for the guards to fetch help. Papa will be taken out of the hall on a pallet, speedily dispatched to his chambers for tending to by the maesters. Everyone will rush about, fretful beyond measure for the King’s health, while you are overlooked once more.

You will find yourself staring at the discarded banner of your House, the red of the dragon darker, deeper, like blood. You will feel a twisting in your belly at the sight. You will return to your rooms where it is dark, where you are alone, and you will ready yourself for sleep with no joy for the day that is to greet you when next you wake.

All of this will happen.But right now—here, on the steps leading to the courtyard which leads to the city which leads to a world far, far out of reach—you will watch the gate, wondering if Uncle will change his mind, waiting for him to come back.

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[enigma2meagain]

RESTRICT Act: The TikTok Ban is a Smokescreen for PATRIOT ACT 2.0. EDIT: KOSA and EARN IT Act are also back.

EDIT: So now we not only have RESTRICT to worry about, but we also have the EARN IT Act and the Kids Online Safety Act to deal with.

See here for my previous post on it. Fuck Blumenthal and Blackburn for trying to bring back two pro-censorship bills on top of the RESTRICT Act.

And Evan provides some insight on it.

EDIT: SO it turns out that Meta IS partly behind this, but it’s also due to Silicon Valley AND the government wanting more power and control. More information in the links provided below.

EDIT: List of Sponsors has been removed for easier reading. You can still find the list in the Link to the bill itself.

EDIT: Meta-related information apparently incorrect. Updated for accuracy.

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Here is a link to the bill:

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This RESTRICT Act is EXTREMELY authoritarian and violating privacy and the 1st Amendment. It’s being disguised as being about banning TikTok, but it’s VASTLY overreaching and basically gives far too much power to the government.

How bad is this bill? Bad enough that pretty much every side of the political spectrum opposes this bill once they took a closer look at it beyond the TikTok smokescreen.

The following points were articulated succinctly by tumblr user @logan-galbraith (used with permission):

This act, while saying it's to insure American's personal information will be safe from foreign powers, it goes much deeper than that.

It will give the United States Government the power to remove and ban ANY online service they deem "a security risk" while making it so they do not need just cause and do not need to clarify or release a public statement.

It allows them the power to gather American's data without our knowledge or consent and even force us to submit documentation for anything they wish.

It protects the government from scrutiny on this, and if you try to speak about it and inform people on what it ACTUALLY allows, they can claim it to be false information and charge you.

It prevents you from using a VPN as it's seen as a breach of information security, thus they can charge you. (Uncertain on accuracy. Crossed out until more concrete information is revealed)

Failure to abide by these "guidelines" can lead to a fine up to ONE MILLION DOLLARS and/or 20 YEARS in prison.

And above all it does NOTHING to prevent AMERICAN companies from collecting and selling your data.

It doesn't matter what political party you're on, because BOTH parties in office want this. This is not about sides. This is about the ENTIRE government stripping our rights away so they can keep lining their own pockets.

And that’s what the TikTok ban really is; a smokescreen for Congress to grab more power. This is the PATRIOT ACT VERSION 2. This has BIPARTISAN support and approval from the Biden Administration.

The scary part is that this bill is being approved under THIS administration...and it’s STILL incredibly bad.

What would end up happening if an openly fascist leader were brought into power? All of sudden, ANYONE and ANYTHING could become a target or considered an adversary under the flimsiest of pretenses.

What should YOU do?

Well, the same thing as past horribly invasive bills like EARN IT and KOSA; we make a LOT of noise, and get the word out.

While there has been increasing amounts of negative press and opposition on this bill, it’s hard to tell how much this has really slowed thing down. As such, getting the word out on how bad this bill is CRUCIAL. Make it EXTREMELY CLEAR that the TikTok ban is just a smokescreen, and that this is nakedly authoritarian and dangerously unconstitutional.

And PLEASE call your Senators.

Find your 2 senators numbers here.

Fax them, email them.

Tell them they MUST oppose this bill. Calmly make it clear to them that if they support this bill, then you will vote for someone else who doesn’t go along with this blatant act of authoritarian intent. CONTACT any major human rights and cybersecurity related organizations and let them know about this bill. Get this out to any local news groups that you can.

There’s some petitions by groups like ACLU: https://go.peoplepower.org/letter/tiktok-ban

They are betting on people being blissfully ignorant of this, that it’s “Just about a Silly App”, so they will not expect you to contact them about this. They are trying to weasel this through in order to give themselves more power, and we won’t be able to do anything about it without the risk of being jailed or censored.

Here’s a part of a rough script if you need one. Add in more based on what is relevant:

"Just to make you aware I do not support the TikTok ban and I do not support the Restrict Act. If this bill is passed I will not support any official who supports that bill. Instead, I will be spending all my time and energy supporting your opponents in the primaries."

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A list of links/citations:

Truthout Article 4/02/2023: Restrict Act Critics Call the Far-Reaching “TikTok Ban” Bill a “Patriot Act 2.0”

Dailydot Article 3/10/2023: “The RESTRICT Act isn’t about banning TikTok—it’s designed to force a sale”

Lawfareblog.com 3/23/2023: “Two New Bills on TikTok and Beyond: The DATA Act and RESTRICT Act”

Reuters Article 3/28/2023: “If TikTok is banned, brace for epic First Amendment fight”

VICE Article 3/29/2023: The 'Insanely Broad' RESTRICT Act Could Ban Much More Than Just TikTok

Reason Article 3/31/2023: The RESTRICT Act Would Restrict a Lot More Than TikTok

ArsTechnica Article 3/31/2023: Meta can’t buy TikTok, so it hired GOP operatives to run a smear campaign

https://twitter.com/evan_greer/status/1642721929013362688?s=46&t=9ilK5pqP73XDblTtTbb4Qg

https://twitter.com/Imani_Barbarin/status/1640527908790837250?t=nTf7qCAcXB1s1RE-fb2Cwg&s=19

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[kimis-gloves]

Runnin' Home To You - read on ao3

The winter break. The time of year that either leaves people longing for more, or an appreciated break from the world of cars and speed. For Charles leclerc it's a different situation. During this time of year, he's apart from everything he loves, everyone he loves. The way he grabs onto charles when they share a podium, the looks they share while they achieve one of their few moments alone. Charles can't see his life in racing without Max Verstappen being there with him. From the early years of karting, Charles knew he loved max. His entire mind and way of thinking revolves around max. The way he races, the way he does not find any genuine attraction to anyone other than max. It's almost as if he's been poisoned and rotted by his fellow dutchman. 

After Abu Dhabi, Charles found himself not wanting to leave Max's side because he knew that once he did, it would be one of if not the last time he saw Max before the next season's testing. His heart ached everytime he had to spend time away from max. He wondered if Max ever felt the same way, he doubted that as he watched Max walk over to his new girlfriend, one that came upon somewhat suddenly. He watched as they hugged each other tightly, embracing the other's presence as Max exclaimed with joy after winning his fourth world drivers championship. When Max leans in to kiss her, Charles can't bear to watch as it just hurts too much to see the man he's loved for his entire life, act so affectionately to someone that isn't him. 

That was what Charles thought would be the last time he saw Max that year. He spent most of his winter break attempting to take his mind off of the fact that he is so in love with the boy who was sent from the stars. He spent nights laying in bed, deeply wishing Max was there with him. To laugh with and to hold, to stare into his oceans of eyes and tell him how right from the start, he was the light in the dark. 

But alas he can't. He lay there in his cold, empty bed and continued to wish. It's a colder & rainy night, not cold enough to snow. He listens to the droplets of rain rattle against his windows, as he turns over to face the moonlit & rain scattered window, he hears a loud, but stern knock at his apartment door. 

“What the-”

knock, knock, knock

2:37AM

After quickly checking his phone, Charles drags himsout of his bed, throwing on the nearest joggers and whatever loose tee he can get his hands on. As he's making his way towards his front door, hes wondering who on earth could be at his door at this hour, surely nobody import-

“Max?!”

“Charles.. May I please come in?”

“Oh, of course here..”

As Charles is making wax for Max, he's left utterly speechless as to why Max Verstappen is at his door, dripping wet with monacan rain, asking to be let in. surely there's no logical reason for this. 

“Max.. why are you here”

“Shit- charles im sorry, i knew it would be a mistake coming here.”

“No, talk to me.”

Charles brings them both over to the sofa, he offers max a drink but he abruptly declines

“So max, are you going to tell me why you've shown up at my doorstep, at 3 in the morning and soaking wet?”

“She left me, charles.”

‘Oh. I'm sorry to hear that, but it doesn't really explain why you're here like this.”

“Something in me just really needed to see you, I tried calling Daniel for a word of advice but nothing and nobody is helping. I guess I just- really needed to be with you for this. You understand, right?”

Charles is at a loss for words. THE max verstappen.. needed him?? He didn't know how to respond or how to feel about this information, all he could do was sit there and stare at his beloved, not noticing his gaze moving to the freckle on Max’s light pink lip. 

“Charles?”

“Uh- yes max. I get how you feel. Sometimes you just can't help but only want one specific person at times.”

“Yeah”

The two men sit there in silence, thoughts racing through minds. Max worries that he's making Charles uncomfortable so he's urged by his mind to get up and leave. He really doesn't want to, but he doesn't want to make his situation worse by ruining things with the person he genuinely loved. The person that was the root of his breakup with his now ex girlfriend.  

 - 40 minutes before -

“You only talk about charles!! Charles did this, Charles said that. Charles talked about these things and that person charles charles charles!! I’M supposed to be your girlfriend, not charles. I've had enough of being put second to somebody you're supposed to be rivals with. It's going to be either me or Charles, Max.”

Max did not respond to her, instead he walked out the door and walked straight to charles apartment where he knew charles would lie awake at that hour. 

Ever since Max was a young boy, he knew he had some types of feelings for charles. He didn't care about winning against the other racers, he only enjoyed racing against charles. Seeing the way Charles would be left frustrated after knowing Max is the only one he couldn't take on. He enjoyed the rush he got from teasing Charles of the win, knowing he would come out on top every single time. 

When Max met Kelly, he thought he had found it all, but soon he started to feel as if there was something missing. He felt empty. When he realized it was because of these feelings for Charles, he tried so desperately to ignore them but the more he tried the more he couldn't keep his mind, or his eyes off of charles. He thought Charles was the most beautiful thing to have ever existed. Charles was everything to max and max was everything to charles, but neither of the which knew of the others “secret”

—

“I think i should leave, im sorry charles”

“What? Why?’

“This was wrong. Enjoy your night.”

“Max”

Max turns towards the door aiming to leave but charles quickly follows and grabs max by the back of his shoulder

“Max.”

Brushing off Charles's hand, he stands there, slightly hovering over charles.

“Please stay” he says, looking up into the madness of max's eyes.

And that was all max needed to feel sure that coming here was, in fact, not a mistake. 

[penny00dreadful]

Inspired by this conversation from Campaign 2 - Episode 85 of Critical Role

Robin slammed their drinks down on the table and fell into the booth next to Steve. The loud music, the crush of bodies up on the dance floor and the low light would be enough to keep their conversation mostly private no matter how loud they got.

“Alright.” She slid over a poisonous looking shot and turned to him. “Dish the dish, bish!”

Steve wrinkled his nose but knocked the shot back anyway. Maybe it was a sign of how much he’d already drank or maybe it was a sign of just how unhinged his teenage years had been but it went down much easier than he thought it would. He needed to get a solid buzz going anyway, Chrissy and Eddie would be arriving soon and he didn’t think he’d be able to get through a whole night of watching Eddie flirt with strangers again without something strong in his blood.

“I might have a similar problem.”

Robin looked at him confused. “Wait, you’re into Chrissy too?”

Steve was scandalised. “No!”

“Gross!”

“No!”

“You were a jock, she was a cheerleader, oh my god this is too hetero for me to be even having this conversation-”

“No, not Chrissy!” Steve shouted in fond frustration, cutting her off.

“Oh,” she said, immediately deflating from her outburst and shooting right back around to thirsty for information, “who?”

He stared at her for a moment, grimacing, trying to figure out how he would delicately reveal his crushing and all consuming infatuation.

Her eyes widened the longer he stared.

“Me?!” She shrieked.

“No!” He shrieked right back, appalled.

“Oh, it’s me!” Robin threw her hands into her hair and turned fully to face him. “This is your way of telling me! Oh my god, Steve, we’ve been through this-”

“Shut up! Shut up!” He shouted, thudding his head against their table before turning his head to look at her, lowering his volume and whisper shouting. “It’s- it’s Eddie!”

She definitely hadn’t heard him but had clearly understood the way his lips formed around the name and her eyes nearly popped out of her head.

“Wait, what?!” Her whole body went reeling. “I’m sorry, what?!” She grabbed him by the scruff like a misbehaving cat and hauled him back upright.

Steve slumped under her hold and shrugged. “It's just kind of, I don't know. It's just a crush, I just don't know what to do with it.”

“Wait, what?!” Robin repeated, glancing up and staring across the dance floor where Chrissy had appeared near the bar, scanning for them. “Three more!” Robin shouted at her, throwing a hand up with three fingers lifted when their eyes met. “Three more rounds!”

“Each!” Steve called. He didn’t know what Chrissy saw in their faces, maybe it was desperation or just the possibility of juicy gossip but even though she couldn’t have heard them so far away, she grinned and nodded, turning back to the bar.

Steve rounded on Robin, bringing their faces close together and poking her in the chest. “If you fucking tell anybody-”

Robin was completely unphased. “Of course I’m not gonna tell anyone! You know- look at this face!” She said, bringing Steve’s finger up to rest on her nose and doing a terrible job of biting down on her grin.

“You tell everybody everything!”

His soulmate had the worst poker face he’d ever seen.

“I’m cool.”

“You are gonna let it slip.”

“No! Of course not!”

Steve slouched in his seat with a petulant fake pout. “I shouldn’t have told you.”

“Wait, what about him?” She nudged at his shoulder. “For me…” Robin looked out across the bar again where Chrissy was lining up their drinks on a tray. “It’s her cute little nose and her thighs-”

“Are you talking about Chrissy again?”

“Yesyesyes.” She replied with an air of ‘keep up’ “its her sweetness and kindness and unflappably positive outlook. But she could also get mean if she has to-” Robin didn’t seem to be entirely aware that the woman she was watching slowly make their way over to them was not just a figment of her fantasies but was actually here and would soon be involved in the conversation.

He wasn’t too worried about Chrissy finding out about his crush, she probably already knew if the looks she’d been giving him the past few weeks were anything to go by.

“What is it about him?”

Steve dragged his eyes away from Chrissy and back to Robin, twirling his empty shot glass on the table, contemplating.  “He's fun, he makes me laugh, I like his ridiculous… everything. I think he's complicated and layered.” He glanced up as Chrissy set the tray down. “I don't know.”

“That’s cool.” Robin said, her voice uncharacteristically soft amongst the loudness.

“I’m not gonna act on it or anything!” Steve’s eyes bounced between the two girls. Chrissy seemed to pick up on what was happening immediately, sitting with her elbows on the table, leaning in while Robin stared at him disbelievingly, like he’d just said the most ridiculous thing imaginable.

“I wouldn’t have thought he'd be your type.” She said, giving him clemency and changing the thread of the conversation.

“I don’t think… he thinks… that I’m his type…” Steve replied with a crease in his brow, all the male pronouns in that sentence were confusing the shit out of him. 

“So you’re telling me you’re not serious about this? That’s it’s just a crush, that this is not a thing-”

“Yeah, of course!” He exclaimed, not even believing himself and from the looks of it the two girls, they didn’t believe him either.

“Because what if… all he does is go on about how his love life is hopeless. What if he doesn’t even know what he likes?” Robin waggled her eyebrows at him, clearly insinuating that he should pursue.

Steve snorted, reaching for one of the multiple shots Chrissy set down. “I’ve had that fantasy.” He tried to make a light joke out of it but it was all too real in his own head. The amount of times he’d thought about introducing Eddie to all the shit he liked to have done to him in the bedroom and all the things he liked to do in return was downright obsessive.

He knocked his shot back at the same time the two girls did. The drink was definitely getting to him and Robin wasn’t far behind. They were entering Stage 4 Drunk.

Whimsy.

“He could be lost,” Robin squished his cheeks in between her hands, “he could be at sea right now, and you could be the anchor that brings him home.”

Steve nodded. “I could be the flame in the darkness.”

Chrissy was looking endlessly entertained. “I don't think that's how anchors work. Anchor brings you to the bottom, if I recall. Be the anchor that brings him to the bottom.”

But Robin just looked at her like she was agreeing with everything they said, barrelling forward. “What if he's lost because he doesn't know that you're what he's looking for? He thinks he likes-” she waved her arm out to the bodies on the dance floor.

Steve nodded. “I could be his beacon…” he downed the shot, the sharp tangle of alcohol shocking the whimsy out of him. “I need to stop saying these things.” He shook his head. “No, these aren’t any of these things anyway so like… it’s just this- I’m already-”

“It could totally be a possibility.” Robin yanked on his arm.

“It’s not a possibility-”

“But maybe it is.” She insisted with a look in her eye that he did not like.

“No.”

“Don’t worry.” She ran a hand clumsily through his hair, leaning in conspiratorially. “I’ll do some work.”

“nO!” Steve screamed helplessly while Chrissy cackled. “NO!”

But Robin was already nodding to herself. “I’ll find something I can do here.”

“No, Robin! Confiding! This was an exercise in confiding!”

She grinned at him like she was in on some big secret, darting two fingers between their eyes while Steve stared despondent. “I see what you’re getting at.”

“It's very black and white, it's just don't tell the secrets.” He tried to impress upon her, grabbing her hand which was still moving between them. “It's not that I'm getting at anything, it's just that this stays between us.” He glanced over at Chrissy who was looking wildly entertained. “This is our girl thing, okay?”

“Hey, but no matter what, we're not letting this break up the three of us.” Robin used her free hand to draw a circle around the three of them.

“No, absolutely not. We’re ride or die. It's not going to change anything.”

“No.” Robin nodded, seemingly satisfied but Steve still felt like his sanity was still in danger.

“Don't let it change anything.” He pleaded.

“It won't.” She grinned, all misplaced confidence and see-through casual exterior. “I will behave the same.”

“You’re already not.” He insisted, looking at her wide ‘I have a secret’ smile.

“Cool as a cucumber.”

“Oh my god.” Steve grabbed two more shots off the tray, knocking one back but the second was plucked from his grip.

Eddie wedged himself into the tiny amount of space beside Steve, his stolen shot disappearing down his throat.

“What are we talking about? Buckley’s got her ‘I have a secret’ smile on.”

Robin was staring at Eddie wide eyes with a huge grin on her face and if she thought she was being subtle she was fucking delusional. 

Shit.

Steve knew from past experience she was about five minutes away from accidentally outing his big stupid fuck off crush so he had to deal with this himself.

He shoved Eddie out of the booth, calling a quick “Going out for a smoke!” over his shoulder and dragging him by the hand towards the back.

Steve wasn’t sure how long they stayed gone, but after two cigarettes each and something wild and intense in the bathroom afterwards, he found he didn’t really care.

[sinner-sunflower]

P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 12/?

STORY 1, PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 13, PART 14, PART 14.5, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22, PART 23

If you guys see any changes when re-reading a chapter, means that I'm just proofreading and editing it haha

I proofread after I post something. Anyone interested in being a beta reader/proofreader?

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

Lucifer is anxious.

After his no more than 10 minute nap was interrupted by the arrival of Belphegor, they were the only 2 in the room. The Sin of Sloth all but ordered that no one enters Lucifer's quarters until she is has looked him over and deemed fine and safe.

He didn't even get to see Charlie but Belphegor in doctor mode is someone he doesn't want to be difficult with.

He could hear the rest of the Sins beyond the door, probably pushing each other to try and sneak a peak or hear something. It reminds him of the time when the Sins first came into existence and acted like clingy children to him and Lilith.

With all the experience he had with them, he still managed to fuck up with Charlie.

Belphegor: -head?

Oh, Bel was talking.

Lucifer: Hmm?

She purses her lips at his inattentiveness and type something on her tablet. This can't be good.

Belphegor: I asked how is your head?

Lucifer: Still attached to me.

Bel gave him a deadpan look.

Belphegor: Very funny.

Lucifer: I am a clown.

Belphegor: Do not let Mammon hear you say that, he might include you as one of his trademark jesters.

Bel fired a few more standard questions and despite her doubts, he was honestly feeling fine. His body and mind is just craving sleep right now but he's in not any sort of pain. Plus, it's not like Bel can cure his problem no matter how good she and her meds are.

Belphegor: Charlie mentioned stuff came out of you? Like dark smoke?

Lucifer: You have to take her word for it because I have no idea what was happening. I was basically asleep the whole time. You should check on her too though. She looks worse than I did.

Belphegor: Yes. Maybe next time, inform one of us of your whereabouts so that the princess doesn't have a mental breakdown when she finds you near dead.

Lucifer: Yeah yeah. But I was only there for a nap. Honest! You know how these Heaven trips are always so tiring, Bel.

Belphegor: Which brings me to my next question, how long have you been coming and going into Heaven?

Lucifer: Uhhh I don't know what you're talking about.

Belphegor: Don't think I did not get that slip of tongue. You said trips.

Lucifer: Did I? I meant trip. Cos this is the first time I've come back there. Yep.

Belphegor: You are supposed to be the father of lies yet you cannot even make up a good enough excuse when the situation calls for it.

Lucifer: Ouch.

Belphegor: So, how long have you been making your secret Heavenly trips without us knowing…… Your Majesty.

Ahhh ever so respectful, even when she's scolding him.

Lucifer: It looks like you already had your suspicions even before I fucked it up.

Belphegor: Opening a portal to a place that is obviously not the entrance to Heaven, having a key to open said portal to a private quarters, not one message above for a permission. It's not rocket science.

Lucifer: Jeez. I didn't even know you were watching that intently.

Belphegor: What servant would I be if I did not keep an eye on my King.

Lucifer: Ain't a good servant supposed to follow their King with no questions asked? This is feeling a lot like an interrogation.

Belphegor: You are correct. And you have mine and the Sins' unyielding loyalty. But.. it does appear like you've forgotten a simple detail.

Lucifer: Oh yeah? And what's that?

Belphegor: You are our big brother. We value you as our family, not simply as royalty.

Lucifer doesn't know what to say to that. Instead he opts to steer the subject.

Lucifer: Do the others know?

Belphegor: I do not think so. And I have half a mind to let them loose on you but.. no. I have a very good inkling you don't want anyone to know of your endeavours.

Lucifer: Just don't tell them. Not yet.

He know Bel won't but he still wants to ask anyway.

Belphegor: Very well. But you are not answering my question. How. Long?

Lucifer can't help but gulp. There's really no getting out of this one. He's a bit glad it's Bel and not anyone else. If there's anyone of the Sins who knows how to keep something to themselves, it's the Sin of Sloth.

Thankfully, she's also too focused on the fact that he's having secret meetings in Heaven than what happened back at the palace.

Lucifer: ….More or less 5000 years ago. It was Michael who reached out first. No one else knows except my siblings up there.

Belphegor: Not even the head Seraphim?

Lucifer: As far as Sera is concerned, I am still banned from setting foot beyond the pearly gates.

Belphegor: Why would the Archangel Michael take that risk then? If found out, would that not affect his standing in Heaven?

Lucifer: At first it was just to stay up to date. He said that he didn't fully trust the council but I think that's just an excuse to have me alone with no one hovering. It's not frequent enough that anyone in Heaven will be able to sense me. But I stopped going when the extermination was proposed.

He took Bel's silence as a cue to continue.

Lucifer: Long before the Fall, Michael and I promised never to lie to each other. And during those secret meetings, I still thought that. I told him everything. But he never told me about the extermination so I guess it was just me upholding that promise. I'm such a fool.

He buries his face in his hands because the he really is a fool. Michael wasn't the only one pretending everything was okay; that anything barely changed. Lucifer hopes that Belphegor doesn't take his secrecy the wrong way.

He just wanted to be the little brother again.

Belphegor: You are a fool.

He can't help but shot Belphegor a pitying look but she puts up a hand before he could say something.

Belphegor: But so was I when I kept that secret that almost destroyed all of Hell. So was Satan for antagonizing the Son of God on Earth which consequently made them think it was you. So was Asmodeus for making his crystals and allowing illegal travels on the human world. So was Mammon when he tried to sue you for the first time and sent you to one of your self-isolation punishments. So was Leviathan for picking a fight with Lilith when you were already in distress. So was Beelzebub for almost letting you drink yourself to death. And so was Lilith for leaving.

The Sin of Sloth moves in front of him so their knees are touching. Bel had never been a touchy person. Much like Alastor, small gestures of touch are her way of shouting her love for you.

He'll forever be honored to be on the receiving end of those kinds of affection because he knows that those gifts given only to people who they think they deserve.

Belphegor: We're fools and we must learn from it. Was it not you who gave humanity the gift of knowledge? Who gave us life? Who gave us free will? So now you have the free will to choose if you'll remain one.

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

I don't know why but I love writing Belphegor so much. It's the way she talks that is just easy to keep writing.

Anyway, continuation of this is tomorrow!

I only wanted a Bel and Luci chapter again, you'll see the rest of the Sins and Charlie again tomorrow!

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated!

[ramspatula]

IRON SPIDER| Tony Stark Daughter! Reader

This is the first chapter of my Tony Stark daughter| reader book. If you can’t tell. Reader is going to get bit by a radioactive spider at some point.

You are now part of the MCU! Congrats!

Next part

2001, 3 days after (Y/b/d)

"JARVIS, these lights are practically blinding me."

"Turning down the exposure, sir."

"I don't know why we have these lights on so bright!"

"I believe your condition may influence you to believe the lights are brighter than they are."

"Just say I'm hungover, I won't disable you over it."

"I wish I could say the same for the lights."

"Well I didn't want such bright lights." Tony groaned, keeping his eyes shut and resting an arm them.

"Mr Stark, your lawyer is here to see you." Pepper announced from the doorway. Tony's face scrunched in confusion, he didn't have a meeting with his lawyer or any of his attorneys for at least a week.

"Am I in trouble?" He asked.

"You should go find out." Pepper said, sternly.

"Are you going to spank me if I am?" Tony smirked and Pepper's face didn't change.

"Your lawyer is waiting on the couch and Obadiah wants to have dinner next week when he gets back, is that all Mr Stark?"

"Yeah, I'll go see what he wants." Tony nodded and swiftly moved out the room.

★・・・・・・★

"James! What brings you to my home? I break something? Someone? Vandalism? I sell something to the wrong people? Get someone pregnant? Noise complaint-"

"Mr Stark, please sit down. This needs to be dealt with in a timely manner." James told him before placing down in front of him an open folder. The folder contained an empty birth certificate and a picture of a newborn baby girl in a hospital crib.

"What is this?" Tony questioned.

"2 days ago, a woman was rushed the hospital as she was in labour and delivered this baby. She gave the hospital no name and no medical information except a contact number and told them to ask for the father of this baby, Anthony Stark." James started and placed before Tony a warn business card that said:

'Call me, Tony ~

P.s the room is payed for and there's a car waiting to take you wherever you want to go outside.'

There was a number at the bottom of the card which was for Happy's work cell. It was no doubt Tony's handwriting but Tony had slept with lots of people and none of them had a kid yet. This wasn't his kid.

"So what does she want? We're speaking if the kid is mine, 50/50 custody? Millions in child support? You know your silence is really nerving me." Tony asked.

"Im sorry, Mr Stark but you haven't heard all the context just yet." James clarified before continuing, "Last night, this woman left the hospital without this baby and no intentions of taking her along. That leaves two options, you claim that this isn't your child and she gets put into the system or your can get a paternity test and decide from there." Tony stared blankly for a couple minutes at the images in front of him.

"Mr Stark, I understand this a difficult situation-"

"She looks like my dad. Right before he died when he became an actual old man only he didn't look as peaceful as she does." Tony found himself smiling, babies has a tendency to make anyone smile.

"Have you thought over your options?" James asked and Tony shook his head.

"If this kid comes with me then there's a high chance she'll become fucked up but the system only produces messed up kids anyway. I think it's better if I'm the one who fucks her up, at least she'll know a sense of stability." Tony closed the folder. "Bring her here, I'll do the paternity test and you guys can be here to see the results. I'm assuming the mother gave up all her rights?" Tony questioned and James nodded, perplexed.

"If you are the father then all the rights for the child will be granted to you but if you aren't she will be put into the system." James told him and he nodded.

"Are we finished?"

"I just need to call the hospital to let them know." James said before standing up and when he was far enough away. Tony threw himself back into the couch and sighed, his hangover felt worse then before.

"JARVIS, what does a baby need and how does a single father give a baby what it needs?" Tony called out.

"Placing an order for baby formula, diapers, clothes and books involving caring for a newborn."

"You're the best."

★・・・・・・★

A newborn mainly only slept, cried, ate, peed, shit and slept again but they're so small. Holding one in your arms made you more aware of your surroundings, more afraid to move even slightly, your thoughts will become so filled with anxiety of things that could happen to them that you feel yourself begin to work up. At least, that's what Tony found out. There were at least 10 people in the room with him, including the baby. Everyone's attention was focused on the two very similar DNA strands shown on the holo-screen.

"Congratulations, Mr Stark. You are a father." Jarvis' voice rung out through the lab and Tony felt a small, overwhelmed, smile rise to his face.

"Well, that settles it. Where's the birth certificate?" Tony asked and Pepper's face dropped in shock.

"You're keeping her, Mr Stark?" She asked and Tony only smiled harder.

"She's my daughter, I'm not abandoning her." He announced picking the newborn up out the temporary crib and nestling her in one arm and turning her around to face the DNA strands. Her eyes weren't open but it didn't deter him.

"You see that? You're my daughter, those are half my genetics. If you're anything like me, you'll understand what that means by the time you're 4." He smiled as Pepper held the birth certificate towards him and a pen. He signed his name and then paused looking at the section where the baby's name would go.

"Leave the room for a bit. I want some time with my baby."

"Mr Stark-"

"Go!" The room soon dispersed and Tony sighed looking down at the little girl.

"What should I name you?" Tony asked but the baby only moved a little hand towards him before silently opening her eyes slightly to look up at him. Her vision wasn't great and wouldn't be for awhile but it still felt as if she was looking directly at him.

"My mother's name was Maria. Maria Stark? Name you after her? She'd like that. No she wouldn't. She’d want you to have your own name okay. Angel? You look like one. Angel Stark? I can't do that to my kid. Uhm... Lets see... (Y/n)? That's cute. I like that. (Y/n) Stark? That's good, nice... (Y/n) Maria Stark? Mom would've liked that. She would've liked you. You might've been able to make your grandad smile. Granted that's if he knew how to do that. My Dad wasn't that loving. He wasn't very nice to be honest but I won't be like that. Although, I do like to drink too so I hope you don't mind. I won't do it often or in front of you! I think I can make this work, being a Dad and a CEO and a inventor. I think my playboy career might take some damage though but that is a sacrifice I'm willing to make as I've seen what it has given me. No offence. (Y/n) Maria Stark." Tony said as he wrote her name on the certificate and smiled.

"You really are about to change my life, you know that?" He whispered and in response all he could hear was the almost silent breaths of a newborn baby.

★・・・・・・★

"Tony! What's this business I hear about you having a baby? You want maternity leave? What are you a woman? Get a nanny and let's get to work!" The voice of Obadiah Stane rang through the living room of the Miami mansion and said man was greeted with shushing.

"I have been awake every 3 hours last night! To feed, rock and cuddle that baby! You will not wake her during my hours of peace, it takes me longer to get her back down than it does to reassemble an engine." Tony's hair was everywhere, his t-shirt has a spot of baby sick on and there was a distressed looking baby cloth thrown over his shoulder.

"You look like shit."

"You don't look much better. How was New York?"

"You've got a baby in the next room and you're asking me about New York?"

"Okay let's settle this. Yes I have a baby. Her name is (Y/n) Maria Stark and she was born on (Y/b/d) at 7lbs. Now tell me why you're here because I could be taking a nap right now- you know I'm supposed to sleep when she does?" Tony told him making his way over the kitchen where his new sterilising invention had sterilised 6 of his new baby bottles and 2 pacifiers.

"No I don't -going into the baby business now?" Obadiah asked, staring at all the new baby inventions.

"I think we should because being a parent is hard."

"You've been a parent for like 3 days Tony."

"A week and half."

"What?"

"She was born 2 weeks ago and I got her 3 days after she was born." Tony told him, grabbing the coffee that Obadiah had brought him and taking a sip.

"You're really keeping her?" Obadiah questioned and Tony scrunched his face.

"Yeah, she's my kid." Tony answered.

"You do realise what a big responsibility this is? No more playboy parties. You can't bring her gambling and partying! Unless you're getting a nanny which I think you should. No one can raise a kid like a woman." Obadiah told him and Tony stared at him with a blank face.

"Just for that, I'm going to prove you wrong." Tony jabbed him in the chest. Before Obadiah could respond Jarvis' voice sounded through the room.

"Miss Stark is awake and hungry."

"You want to meet her?" Tony asked as he prepped a bottle, a little cry could be heard and Obadiah frowned.

"She doesn't sound happy I'm here." He commented and Tony shrugged.

"Be back in a sec." With that Tony left the room and came back with a small figure resting against his chest in a pink sleep suit.

"This is her?" Obadiah asked in shock. He didn't know what he expected but it wasn't to see Tony so comfortable with such responsibility in his arms.

"You think I've got some random baby laying around? Yes it's her, she's hungry. Can't you tell?" Tony asked, gesturing to the way the baby was mouthing. "Want to hold her whilst I sort this bottle out?" He asked and Obadiah looked wary.

"Tony I-"

"Good. Support her head- don't look so awkward. There you go! Now don't move." Obadiah had never looked so stiff. He stood, unmoving, as Tony made his way to the still cooling bottle.

"You know, there's a reason I never had kids." Obadiah commented to which Tony ignored and tested the temperature of the bottle on his wrist.

"Sorry honey, still too hot." He said and Obadiah began to absentmindedly rock a little, the baby was looking up at him with big, judging, eyes.

"She looks like you."

"I thought she looked like Dad."

"Yeah well, I still find it hard to separate you and Howard. Look- she's even got that look you give me!" Obadiah commented and Tony chuckled.

"What look?" He asked.

"Like I don't mean shit." Obadiah told him and he genuinely laughed.

★・・・・・・★

The door to the lab opened quietly. A lone rocking chair could be seen by a desk, a holo-screen was placed in front of the rocking chair where two figures were seated. Colonel James Rhodes made his way towards the chair and paused a few feet away.

"So the rumours are true? Tony Stark settled down." Rhodey said and a quiet chuckle could be heard.

"I didn't settle down, I just had a baby." Tony told him with a smile and from the new position Rhodey could see the little girl.

"God she looks like you. Where's the mother?" Rhodey questioned and Tony shook his head.

"Gone. I have no clue where. I haven't had the time to look into it." Tony told him and looked down at his kid.

"How old is she?"

"1 month. Didn't expect you to be away for so long. What they have you do? Flood out some terrorists?" Tony asked and Rhodey chuckled.

"Nothing as interesting as that or this. She's so small?" Rhodey leaned more towards the baby.

"Do you want to hold her?" Tony asked and Rhodey smiled.

"Really?" He asked, giddy.

"Yeah, come on. Be careful she's asleep. She likes to be against your chest." Tony told him as he helped Rhodey adjust the baby onto his chest.

"I got it- oh she's so small. What's her name?" Rhodey asked and Tony sat back down on the rocking chair.

"(Y/n) Maria Stark." He announced and Rhodey smiled.

"Like your Mom?" He asked and Tony nodded. "That's nice. I didn't think you'd be the sentimental type, Tony." Rhodey commented and Tony smiled.

"Well my Mom meant the world to me and now so does she so it's only fitting." Tony shrugged and Rhodey nodded in approval.

"I can't believe you had a kid." Rhodey shook his head in disbelief and Tony rolled his eyes.

"You do know you're an Uncle now." Tony told him and Rhodey's face dropped, Tony just laughed.

★・・・・・・★

"Todays top story: Tony Stark, Inventor, Millionaire, CEO OF STARK INDUSTRIES and infamous playboy has announced that he has had a child"

"New Stark heir announced: (Y/n) Maria Stark."

"Tony Stark has welcomed a daughter into the world, (Y/n) Maria Stark. The 6 month old..."

"Infamous Playboy is now a single father? Tony Stark has been revealed to have a baby daughter."

"Are we about to see a new Stark generation? More about the announcement of Tony Stark's new parenthood."

"Tony Stark has had a daughter, (Y/n) Maria Stark was born on..."

"No, I didn't know you were going to announce the existence of my infant daughter to the whole world!... No that is not your decision-....I don't care! You had no right to announce my daughter's birth without my approval! At the very least you could've told me you were going to announce her!... I know you announced it. The company doesn't make public announcements like that on its own... I am not going to let my daughter be free publicity for the company!... Obadiah, I don't care what benefit it has for investors to see me as more. What? Domestic. I don't care.... I'm done talking to you. Bye." Just as Tony hung up a cry was sounded through his bedroom.

"Yes honey, I know, I'm upset too." The little 6 month old stared up at him with big watery eyes from where she was sat on the bed next to him.

★・・・・・・★

"JARVIS? Are you recording?"

"Of course sir."

"Come to Daddy. Come on, you can do it!" The 8 month old stared at him for a moment. She was in the position to crawl and had tried numerous times before. "Come on, (Y/n). You've got this, sweetheart- Yeah! That's it!" Tony clapped as the baby crawled slightly towards a toy in front of her and laughed when she saw her father be so ecstatic. She moved to sitting down and clapping with him.

"Da!" She had been saying for the past 2 months. She didn't associate the word with Tony yet but he reacted all the same. Overjoyed and happy. From that moment she crawled she never stopped until she found her father's toolbox. (Y/n) didn't have a clue what any of the tools did but it was a sign to Tony that she was going to have the same brilliant mind that he did. She was a Stark, through and through.

★・・・・・・★

Tony still had to go into work sometimes. No matter how much he hated going to his office nowadays it was still obligation and there's only so much of Pepper's nagging he can take. However, that being said he was still Tony Stark so he was going to bend the rules. That's how he ended up walking into multiple important meetings with a baby on his hip. Sometimes it was meetings with government officials or international ambassadors for militaries that were interested in his technology. It was safe to say they were surprised at the appearance of the baby or at least weren't expecting her.

"Tony, you know you can't bring her here."

"Who says? It's my company, she doesn't effect my work. In fact she helps, she knows what a screwdriver is-"

"Screwdriver"

"-See? My little helper. She's talking a lot now. You should come by more often, you're missing out." Tony pointed at Obadiah as (Y/n) made work of trying to climb over his shoulder to see above the chair they were sitting on. She likes the big glass window behind them.

"Jesus Tony, you sound like a woman." Obadiah chided and Tony chuckled pulling his daughter down and sitting her on the desk where she immediately took offence to some decoration Pepper had put on the desk and kicked it off with a groan.

"I never liked that one either. Thanks, honey. And to answer you, I don't give two shits."

"Shit." (Y/n) repeated with a cross face and both men chuckled.

"You're not telling her off for that?" Obadiah asked.

"No she doesn't know what it means plus I say it too much to kick out my vocab so I'm letting it stay in hers too."

"People are going to criticise you for this."

"The world is cruel to a single father, Obadiah. At least I'm rich." Tony said

"Rich." (Y/n) repeated.

"She already knows she's worth more than me." Obadiah commented and Tony chuckled.

"I've been trying to get her to say millionaire but it's not quite there yet sounds like 'milloner'." Tony told Obadiah who smirked.

"You're close to being a billionaire, Tony. I think this next deal may make that happen." Obadiah told him, placing a folder down in front of him.

"Maybe." Tony agreed and Obadiah picked up at toy on the floor and handed it towards (Y/n).

"I believe this is yours, little missy." He told her and she only frowned and looked upset and he only got an answer when Tony looked up from the file.

"She doesn't like to be handed stuff- just leave it there, if she wants it she'll take it." Tony told him before going back to reading the file.

"The apple really doesn't fall far from the tree, huh?" Obadiah murmured.

[beautifulpersonpeach]

BPP hi!

I know you said you'd rather not talk about this MHJ-Hybe case again but I'd kindly like to ask for an exception - can you please clarify a summary of the situation from a good OT7 ARMY on twitter?

https://x.com/BlueeDenise/status/1784923466371575819

Especially the conclusion of this ARMY that "So the "slave contract" narrative spread with tears by her is technically false, she just wanted more money indeed"

Thank you.

*

Ask 2:

BPP hi! I'm the anon that just asked if you can clarify the tweet from the Blue Denise page. I guess I'm just worried that MHJ is the biggest threat to BTS and I never saw this coming. k-netz are mocking BTS and ARMYs now since her press conference and it's organized just like HYBE said it would be. It's hard to think she's not secretly behind this after plotting with witchcraft to bring down BTS.

***

Sigh.

Your link. But I'll also paste it here to spare everyone a click.

So in short before all this; 1. HYBE gave her 20% shares 2. Bang PD our lover boy lent her MONEY so she could buy the shares (for a lower value as reported) 3. She then, didnt think it enough ofc, and asked for her share value to be increased to 30x, instead of 13x 4. Meaning her 18% shares would be worth 196M$ instead of the origianl 72M$ 5. Also requested for the clause, where 4.5% of her shares would be bound to her contract, to be changed. Again called it a "slave" contract as she'd require the approval of HYBE to sell --> which is also a common practice for shares to be not sold to competing companies and to bind her to a contract preventing her from carrying company information to rival companies 6. HYBE agreed to change the clause, and would treat the 4.5% as "put option", saying HYBE would buy back the shares if she wanted to dispose of them. That way her contract too would end if she wished to 7. But HYBE didnt agree to OVER-VALUE her existing shares 8. 2 didnt agree -->So the "slave contract" narrative spread with tears by her is technically false, she just wanted more money indeed

*

It's tempting to tear this apart in finspeak, but clearly this isn't the audience for that, so I'll just say it this way -

I've not seen the contract, I don't have information beyond what HYBE has leaked and what Min Heejin said in her press conference. Based on that information:

In March 2023, HYBE offered MHJ a 20% stake in ADOR at a 'low' valuation relative to market prices. Of that 20% it appears she negotiated a transfer of 2% to the two other key management executives on ADOR's board (1% each), leaving her with 18%. Her shareholder contract with HYBE expires in November 2026.

Her contract states that she can divest her 18% shares at a sales multiple of 13x LFY OCFPS, based on recent prices this could amount to ~100 bln KRW - a price that HYBE considers to be more than generous. ~13.5% of her shares can be exercised as a put option starting roughly 3 years after her tenure begins at ADOR, which means it would be from Q4 2024.

HYBE however also included two clauses in the contract which amount to a 'poison pill', that Min Heejin appears to have discovered after the fact.

These include:

4.5% of these shares cannot be sold to HYBE without their approval. This clause doesn't expire in November 2026 when her shareholder agreement ends.

So long as she holds those shares, she is subject to a non-compete and non-solicitation clause that bans her from working in any capacity anywhere in the world.

Usually, non-competes are tied to preferred shares, rather than common shares, but even then, the non-compete clauses are usually termed with a set date to expire. However, if Min Heejin is to be believed, it appears HYBE has structured her agreement such that they can refuse to give her 'permission' to sell the shares, indefinitely banning her from being able to work for anyone else for the rest of her life.

Based on MHJ's comments, it also appears that after the meteoric success of NewJeans in 2022 through 2023, Bang PD tried looking for ways to have more creative and managerial control over NewJeans, which only led to more clashes between him and Min Heejin.

With increasing clashes between herself and HYBE upper management, she appears to have tried to counter the 'poison pill' in two ways:

Negotiate to raise the sales multiple on the put options to make it harder for HYBE to take any extraordinary measures. HYBE says she wanted to raise it from 13x to 30x, implying a price increase of 170 bln KRW.

Negotiate to separate the non-compete clause from the permission clause.

This means, if HYBE knows that they'll have to pay her at least 100 bln KRW and as much as 270 bln KRW (i.e. 13x to 30x LFY OCFPS) if she chooses to exercise her options at any time, it makes them less likely to overstep. Music labels are typically valued on an NPS or EBITDA basis, but the latter can be used as a proxy for OCFPS. Some of the biggest labels usually trade between 15x to 25x EBITDA, but some years it's higher depending on the LFY profit and projected cashflows. Given NewJeans is already the 2nd most highly valued IP in Korea 2 years into their career under MHJ's management, it's easy to see how their value could justify a 30x valuation in the right market and with the right arguments. It's the perfect insurance against HYBE to prevent them from working to gain more creative control over NewJeans.

So, it's in MHJ's best interest to continue working to negotiate with HYBE rather than try to break away from them, given the 'poison pill'. Regardless of everything listed in the so-called 'HYBE's sins' document made by Shin Donghoon (VP L), no option or strategy listed there could actually free her from the ramifications of that poison pill clause. And I believe she knows that, which is why she said HYBE's implication that she'd actually try to execute it is beyond insane.

Based on the current HYBE contract, if an executive/director is prematurely dismissed due to "a fault of their own making", then HYBE doesn't have to honour their agreement. They don't even have to pay her the initial ~100 bln KRW, if they can justify dismissing her 'based on a fault of her own'.

Meaning, the only party that stands to benefit from MHJ supposedly acting on the 'revealed plan' to try to break away from HYBE... is HYBE.

*

Still -

HYBE knows that their legal basis for a premature dismissal is tenuous at best because Min Heejin has grounds to contest both her contract and her dismissal in court. They know if they were to do this the right way and keep everything above board, because this is Korea they will likely win in the end, but the case would stretch out likely for months during which they will suffer reputational damage and it would cost money. Min Heejin will bear similar losses, but HYBE clearly has more to lose in the short-term.

So they went for a gutter-fight. Preemptively launch an audit 'based on a tip-off' and at the same time unleash a barrage of mediaplay articles with clinically incendiary material like saying 'MHJ thinks BTS copied her'. To assure shareholders, HYBE launched a group that is similar enough to NewJeans to appeal to a similar market, debuted the group just before NewJeans began their slate of 2024 comebacks, and launched their attack on Min Heejin also before NewJeans began their comebacks - damaging their earnings potential given HYBE has inflamed k-pop stans with proof that MHJ is indeed a witch out to get their faves. This way, NewJeans loses appeal as fandoms turn against them, MHJ loses credibility as a manager and a creative, and in all the noise HYBE can pressure her to agree to a premature dismissal.

Cue everything that's happened since then.

This dispute is really about control and ego. And it's personal.

*

BTS is envied in Korea by a lot of chronically online people (which is synonymous with them being hated), and ARMYs are despised by the vast majority of k-pop stans both in Korea and internationally. The initial claims of payola for HYBE groups started from a blind from an assumed HYBE employee who attacked Min Heejin for being entitled and that all NewJeans' accomplishments were gained through support from HYBE. K-pop stans in classic fashion, misread it and took "support" to mean "payola" and that if a HYBE employee had confirmed HYBE did payola for NewJeans, then of course they'd do it for other HYBE groups. An Exol posted screenshots saying HYBE was the reason EXO didn't win awards in 2017 and that they did payola for BTS. ARMYs, in typical tit-for-tat fashion, created their own screenshots manipulating parts of Min Heejin's comments to claim the reverse for Big 3 groups. Those screenshots made it over to the k-side which showed ARMYs to be a group of unintelligent manipulative assholes who are foot soldiers for Bang PD, further increasing sympathy for Min Heejin. As it usually is with hate campaigns in k-pop, in all the noise people take advantage, and given what we've seen over the last 10 years, there's no shortage of people desperate to take advantage when it comes to anything related to BTS.

This hate campaign would've happened regardless of whether it was Min Heejin involved or not. But positioning MHJ as the culprit, serves HYBE's purposes in this particular case, regardless of whether it's true or not, and I'm sure all the parties involved know this.

MHJ is not the biggest threat to BTS, their fandom is. ARMYs are the biggest threat to BTS - the fandom is BTS's biggest strength and weakness.

From the very beginning of this scandal, I've said this looks and smells like one thing and one thing only to me. K-pop stans are ridiculously easy to manipulate because the fact is, most of these people have no idea what they're talking about. But there's nobody more invested, more quick to outrage and indignation, more obsessed, than a typical k-pop stan. So in short, this is a circus of idiots.

That Blue Denise account is an idiot. In my opinion.

[damagedintellect]

Trafalgar Law x reader

💌 Fake it till you make it: Chapter 13  💌  

Summary:  To avoid an arranged marriage set up by Doflamingo, Law needs to bring home a girlfriend during the Christmas break and you just so happen to be a theatre major in the same dorm at One Piece University. What could possibly go wrong?  

Tropes: College AU, Fake Dating, Idiots in love

Chapter Navigation: [1]  [2]  [3]  [4]  [5]  [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12][You are here]

💌 Word count: 3,792 💌 <= Previous Chapter | Next Chapter =>

Sabo had been pacing back and forth going over the information he got from Ivankov like a crazy person. He's barely gotten any sleep over the past few days and Koala was starting to worry but continued to fill his mug with straight black coffee. He was unraveling Joker at the seams but he couldn’t use any of the information he had to arrest Doflamingo, yet. It was all technically still a hunch because he had no solid evidence. An extremely lucky guess on the true identity of “Joker” that would hold no weight in the court of law. He needed something, anything to tie up the loose ends to form a proper case. Law’s first disappearance, the engagement, Corazon’s shooting, (Y/N)’s threat, everything was suspicious and he had a feeling it wasn’t all a coincidence. He needed to catch him in the act and he knew just how to do it. 

Before everyone was preparing to leave for the wedding, he talked to Dragon about what he’s compiled. He had a bad feeling that something was going to happen at the wedding, to his friends and to his brother. Surprisingly Dragon didn’t try to stop him from going on this little stakeout. Although in turn he had to go alone. He had gotten there before anyone else to find the perfect spot to be inconspicuous and watched as both guests and family members arrived. 

That’s why he was sitting outside of the Charlotte family villa at this ungodly hour. He had been drifting in and out of sleep when he heard the faint sound of a car starting. That immediately caught his attention as he scrambled to wake up enough to investigate the sudden noise. He couldn’t see through the tinted windows and he didn’t want to give himself away by getting too close to the action. His best bet was to simply, not lose sight of the car without raising suspicion. When Doflamingo rolled up the day prior Sabo had the foresight to jot down his license plate and send them to Koala. They were fake. If he lost sight of this car now there would be little to no way to trance it back to Doflamingo. Sabo grit his teeth when they finally got to their destination. It was the chapel where the wedding was taking place.

He needed to get closer, he couldn't see shit from where he was. As soon as the vehicle was out of the line of sight Sabo made his move. By the time he had a good vantage point someone was already unloading the car. They were moving a rather large rug around the back of the chapel. The first thing glaringly obvious was that the man wasn’t Doflamingo. Their face was obscured with a hat and glasses but judging by the build and the overall look of the glasses Sabo would guess it was Vergo. Of all the Donquixote’s, Vergo was seemingly the only one to stay out of the public eye. There were only maybe a handful of events the man attended, so it begs the question, why was he moving a rug at this hour. Sabo didn’t have enough time to make it back to his car as the other vehicle headed back in the direction of the villa. He supposed this would be fine for now if anything he knew Sanji had an extra invite. He was going to get to the bottom of this.

—

Pudding had a hard time getting to sleep after her beach walk with Sanji. It was a big day after all but the tossing and turning wasn't doing her any good. If anything it was just knotting up her hair. She had slept for a few hours and she did plan on getting up early. She wondered if anyone was awake right now. If she had to guess, judging by the time on the clock she knew of one other person that would be getting up right about now. She put on some slippers and a robe and walked to (Y/N)’s room. She knocked lightly but when she heard no movement from the other side she decided to peek in. (Y/N) was nowhere to be seen. Her bed looked like she had been here a moment ago but left for some reason. Each of the guest rooms had a bathroom attached so she couldn’t have gone wandering around for that. There was a half full bottle of water on the night stand as well so that's not it either. The only other place Pudding could think of was to check Law’s room but (Y/N) wouldn’t be that stupid would she? Not when Doflamingo was in close proximity. That would also be too tacky and make Pudding gag if that was the case but it was worth a shot. Although the room Law was staying in was on the other side of the manor for a reason. It was bad luck for the bride and groom to see each other before the wedding. She frowned.

In the end Pudding decided it wasn’t worth it and tried to go back to bed but as the rest of the estate woke up with high spirits there was still no sign of her maid of honor. It was weird considering no one else batted an eye at the disappearance. When she questioned Monet and Baby 5 about it neither of them had a clue where (Y/N) could have gone or why she would have left. Monet only offered that maybe she couldn’t stand seeing her ex get married. She then left to handle the tasks that (Y/N) should have been taking care of, if she was still here. Contacting the florists, the stylists, caterers, and making sure everything was running smoothly. From the looks of it, Law’s sisters were managing it all just fine. Almost as if it was rehearsed. Pudding swallowed harshly, thinking about the possibility that this was a part of Doflamingo’s plan all along. Of course this would be the outcome now that she started viewing (Y/N) as a friend. Had this been a few weeks ago she would have scoffed and brushed it off but now that she cared, her level of concern was worrying. She had to let someone know.

—

When Law read the group message he nearly threw his phone across the room. (Y/N) had been missing in action. All of her stuff was left untouched in her guest room, which suggests she didn’t leave on her own account. She had to have been taken. Law raked his hands through his hair. This was all his fault. He was a fool for believing that Doflamingo would just let things run their course and now she was nowhere to be found. Law knows the kind of power the blonde has and it terrifies him. The incoming messages were scrolling too fast for his eyes to follow and his mind was going a mile a minute. He couldn’t even hear Shachi or Penguin trying to talk him down as they tried to reassure him that the strawhats had a plan. His spiraling accelerated as he thought about Corazon’s condition, so much so that he didn’t even hear Bepo’s apology before he felt the other’s hand connect with his cheek. Being backhanded finally snapped him out of his stupor as Bepo shook him violently, well violently for Bepo.

“It’s not over yet! If you give up now then Doffy wins!” 

Law sat dumbfounded as Bepo’s words sunk into his thick skull. He needed to get it together otherwise Doflamingo would get away with it. He still had a role to play in all of this and if anything he believed in Luffy. Not to mention, criminal investigation was Sabo’s field of interest. He needed to maintain an air that none of this was affecting him. Law couldn’t give Doflamingo the satisfaction no matter how much it hurt. He took a deep breath to steel his nerves. Law was determined to end this if not for his sake then for everyone else’s. If he were to fall here, he would at least take the old man with him. His eyes filled with a fiery determination as his groomsmen regained their confident smiles and handed him his discarded phone. They were nakama and they could do this together. He wasn’t alone anymore.

—

The moment Sanji was messaged he added Pudding to the group chat and when Luffy read the message, he called Sabo immediately. Naturally Sabo didn't tell anyone he was going undercover so when he picked up the call to a screaming Luffy, he tailed it as fast as he could to the Vinsmoke estate. It shocked everyone that Sabo was even in the area but they knew that the blonde had a knack for knowing when he was needed. 

"Let me get this straight, (Y/N) is missing?" Sabo repeated in disbelief thinking back to what he witnessed earlier that morning. "When did Pudding notice her disappearance? Did anyone get in contact with her after the rehearsal dinner?" He was trying to pinpoint a time frame to work with. 

"The last time any of us had contact was at the rehearsal dinner. Pudding found her room empty at around five-ish."

That means no one's seen her all night. Sabo had watched everyone arrive back at the villa but he doesn't recall anyone leaving other than that car. Which could only mean that it wasn’t a rug that "Vergo" was smuggling. At least that was his guess; the only way to confirm his suspicion was to scout out the chapel to find the rug in question but that still wouldn’t solve anything, unless.

"With luck she's probably being kept at the chapel. I saw a car transporting a rug there at around three-forty. That is unless she's still at the manor." Sabo sighed. The first 48 hours of a missing person case were the most crucial in finding the person. This complicates things with how they were going to dissolve the wedding at the same time. They’d have to split up into teams and hopefully not get caught. 

Sanji shook his head "Pudding said she had her older brother search the place. She said Katakuri wouldn't lie to her." At least they had a lead but still. The event would be crawling with people, sanctioned reporters and who knows what the security will be like. Sabo didn’t like this one bit, it was like he and Doflamingo were playing chess. They were already in check with Law being pinned down and (Y/N) being taken was like losing their queen but they weren’t down for the count yet. After all, any pawn can become a queen.

“So here’s the plan.”

—

Pudding and the girls were already getting their hair and make up done by the stylist when she stopped looking at her phone. She didn’t stay in the groupchat long enough to hear the full plan but she got the gist and she knew how to play her part. She’d just have to act natural and hope that things went smoothly on everyone else’s end. Pudding watched Monet and Baby 5 closely. She didn’t feel the need to observe Sugar as harshly since she seemed to constantly be in her own little world. That and she had the least amount of contact with Doflamingo all morning. Speaking of the toymaker, he was currently outside the room having a conversation with Big Mom. Pudding was getting her makeup done first, that way by the time the photographer arrived they could get some lovely "Final Moment" shots of her getting her hair done. Pudding thought it was all pointless but this wasn’t about her and after overhearing the conversation just outside the door, it never was. She was just a convenient pawn for her mother to utilize after Lola ran away. She sees that now. Pudding peered at the clock, there was only so much time left, she might as well enjoy the peace while it lasted.

It wasn’t long until the guests were allowed to arrive at the venue. Pudding had arranged for Katakuri to be the one to greet the Vinesmoke’s. While Sanji’s brothers, Nami, and Robin handled the pleasantries, Reiju and Zoro would be lookouts, Katakuri would help Sabo with the investigation and Luffy and Sanji were to act as decoys for their venture. Making sure that all eyes would be on Luffy wasn’t that hard. He often found himself at the center of most commotions. Luffy wanted to take Doflamingo head on but he seemed to be making his rounds in front of the media and Sanji wouldn’t allow it. The last thing they needed was for all of them to get kicked out before anyone could accomplish their mission. They had roughly 30 minutes before the ceremony began, for now they would buy Sabo time. Although Sanji agreed that it would be foolish to take him on, he wanted to beat the shit out of Doflamingo too. All of this family business nonsense had been something he had dealt with personally as a kid and he was sick of it. He might not be close friends with Law but he could emphasize with the surgeon.

“Curly brow, you got company” Zoro’s dumb nickname for the cook could be heard through the earpiece he was wearing. Everyone but Luffy had one. He wouldn't listen to it anyhow so why bother giving it to him. Sanji glanced around his peripherals to locate their target. Once he found Doffy he grabbed Luffy by the arm, suspiciously made a show of whispering into Luffy’s ear, and made their way down a corridor hoping that Doflamingo would take the bait.

“Doflamingo’s all yours. Make sure Luffy doesn’t do anything too stupid. The rest of us will move on to phase two.” This time it was Reiju’s voice checking in. The rest of the group would be mingling with Doflamingo’s executives, keeping them pinned for as long as possible. Having Doflamingo isolated was ideal but there were still no eyes on Vergo. Which wasn’t that surprising given his track record but with luck if they found Vergo they would also find (Y/N). Hopefully.

___

Sabo was getting impatient with how long it took to move about the chapel. In his opinion Katakuri was being too thorough, taking the time to make sure the coast was clear before waving Sabo over. It's not like they had seen anyone in the past few minutes. He understands that it’s better to air on the side of caution but they needed to check every room that currently wasn’t being used for the ceremony. They weren’t having much luck and they were running out of time. That's when they came across a room that had a sign on it. It just read “Not an Exit” which was strange and felt out of place. Sabo jiggled the handle. It was locked. He pressed his ear against the door but all that accomplished was making his ear cold. There weren’t many rooms left for them to check but they'd have to make their way upstairs next. Looking down the other side of the hallway was a window that casted light down the way they just came. If this sign had been on this door for a while the ink should have faded on the paper yet it looks freshly printed like it was just hung recently. Sure they could have hung it for the event but how many people were they expecting to be wandering around this far into the chapel. Sometimes the most difficult things to find are hidden in plain sight.

Sabo hummed, turning to Katakuri “Does anyone have keys to these doors?”

“I could get a staff member to open the door but we don’t have much time left.”

Sabo bit his thumb. It would be too difficult to carry the body/rug combo up the stairs in the amount of time he lost sight of Vergo for. This was the only suspicious door they didn’t get to check and it was relatively close to the back entrance. This had to be it or else they were in trouble. If he was wrong here, then all their efforts would grind to a halt. It was a tough call and they would be down to the wire regardless of their decision. If they were going to do something they had to act now Katakuri was also the one walking Pudding down the aisle. It was now or never and waiting for the faculty key made Sabo tap his foot out of distress but in the back of his mind he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was on the right track.

Once they got the door open everything happened in a flash of still images. In the simple broom closet (Y/N) was on the floor bound by duct tape. Their back was facing Vergo who was slumped in a chair facing the door. The scene burned itself inside of Sabo’s head as he made swift work with (Y/N)’s restraints leaving Katakuri to immobilize Vergo. His reactions were lagged ever so slightly suggesting the man was half asleep, giving them a fortunate attack of opportunity that kept the struggle to a minimum. Although Sabo would still have his work cut out for him when drafting up the police reports. His top priority at the moment was making sure (Y/N)’s abscond would go unnoticed by Doflamingo. Taking her into protective custody now would prove to be difficult without help, incidentally Pudding of all people already had a contingency plan in mind.

—

Law paced back and forth as the time counted down. He would be the one left completely in the dark. Bepo and the others had tried to calm him down but it didn’t do much to calm his nerves. Luckily Doflamingo hasn’t come to check on him yet. Actually now that he thought about it, no one has tried to check on him at all. The surgeon is aware that he’s always been the family's volatile misfit but he figured that someone would be sent to keep an eye on him to make sure he didn’t attempt any last minute shenanigans. That could only mean that everything was going according to plan, right? That he had nothing to worry about, right? As one of the staff members ushered him out of the room, the ceremony began. For the first time in months he genuinely believed that things would be different this time. Leaving the walk down the aisle was the last thing on his mind.

The music faded up softly as Pudding stood beside her brother and as she joined him at the altar her expression was difficult to interpret but Law was notoriously deficient in the art of reading people. 

“Dearly beloved and honored guests,” the officiate addressed the room “We are gathered together here to join Trafalgar D. Water Law and Charlotte Pudding in the union of marriage. This contract is not to be entered into lightly, but thoughtfully and seriously, and with a deep realization of its obligations and responsibilities.”

He paused briefly and Law had expected him to say the famous “Speak now or forever hold your peace.” quote that is featured in nearly every movie involving a wedding but the man said no such thing. 

Gesturing to Law he continued “Do you, Law, take Pudding, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part."

He could feel the sweat drop down the side of his face. Taking a glance at the guests made him swallow hard. He couldn’t locate any of the strawhats and (Y/N) was still missing in action but so was Doflamingo. It was the end of the line and there was no getting out of this. Law had no faith and no hope left to spare as the words fell softly from his lips.

“I do…” 

He lost. Everyone gave it their all and even Luffy couldn’t perform a miracle to save him from this fate. He took a shaky breath looking at Pudding. Law was so frantically absorbed in his own self preservation that he hadn’t even acknowledged Pudding's almost uncharacteristic expression. He was surprised to see something almost human in her eyes as she looked in awe at him. It puzzled him greatly as the ceremony continued. Did he miss something? 

"And do you, Pudding, take Law, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part."

Pudding debated what to say. When she walked into the building she already knew what her answer was going to be but she stood there in disbelief at Law's actions. God she wanted what they had so bad and maybe one day she could. She leaned in to whisper to Law "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I finally understand what (Y/N) sees in you and you better treat her right or I'll kick your ass" this just made Law more confused but before he could ask what she was on about Pudding slipped a small paper in his hand and stepped forward to face the audience.

"I apologize for my actions today and I understand how this will reflect on my family but I can not continue this union." Pudding bows as she continues "I take full responsibility for the repercussions since I am the one at fault. I can not marry today because I am in love with someone else and it would be unfair to Law and a mockery of this establishment to wed someone in this way." 

Law watched the room fall into chaos as Pudding stormed back down the aisle with a fierce unshakable confidence ignoring reporters and family members. While everyone was preoccupied with Pudding Law read the note. His sisters took up the task of pushing back the crowd that was trying to come up to the altar to question Law. Bepo, Shachi and Penguin surrounded him, noticing the paper in his hands.

"Well? What are you waiting for captain?"

"Go find her already!"

"We've got this covered."

They waved him off while they distracted some reporters who were trying to get Law’s input as he slipped through the back doors. He couldn't help the grin that plastered itself across his face as he bolted down the corridor.

___

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[3xen]

under the gentle sky; i. r                                                               when you see a fellow classmate—in dire need of help, it’s only a natural instinct to assist them in any way.

n. as you read, my writing gets worse. possible pt.2 (?)

c. strangers to lovers, rainy day au, “soccer” is portrayed as “football”, profanity, reader & rin are hs students

raindrops pitter and patter across the brick tiles of the sidewalk—water flooding the streets of kamakura. the sole of his shoes, drenched, as the result of the sudden downpour. his hair soaked—almost as if he stepped right out of his bath. rin knew better. when the murky clouds begin to conceal the once mellow sky, it should have clicked in his mind—an umbrella would be of great use in this kind of weather.

his mother informed him of the weather that morning. but even so, he was reluctant to bring proper protection. the traveling distance from his home wasn’t far. he wasn’t going to be stopping anywhere on the way home—an umbrella was not necessary.

but here he was; jogging—surveying the area to find a place for shelter. rin mentally cursed the weather gods—if he caught any sort of cold from this weather, he’d be furious. just the thought of skipping football practice was a no-no.

after a few more moments of jogging, his eyes darted directly to a bus shelter—just at the corner of an intersection. he neared closer—finally having the chance to take a relieved breath as he sat seated on the metal bench. he slicked his hair back—away from his line of vision. he wondered, how could he get home now?

he could always resort to calling his mother—no. he couldn't do that, that's totally disrespecting his mother. sae? no. he shook his head—maybe the storm would cool down after a while. once the storm passed, he would leave.

“fuck.” he sat in silence for six solid minutes. the rain, in fact, spared no mercy for him today. the rain hadn’t stopped, even till now.

suddenly, rin hears a few light footsteps from beside him. he doesn’t pay any mind to them—ignoring their presence as a whole. but, the shoes look so familiar. his eyes scan the figure from the bottom of their feet till he can see their face—where he can clearly make out the identity of the person.

you wring out the water from your hair, almost like a shirt. you, too, don’t pay any mind to him—until you notice his lingering gaze. immediately, you can easily identify who it is. that football genius.

he looks away—shoving his fists down his pockets. you had never seen the football genius so powerless. itoshi rin? forgetting to bring an umbrella? something as simple as that?

you bask in the silence for a few more seconds—really not knowing what to say. i mean, did he even wanna hear anything at all? he was a quiet individual and didn’t seem like the type of person to tolerate others. it was already difficult enough to even approach him without some sort of unease.

“did you forget your umbrella?” his ears perk up at the sudden question. though his eyes are mainly focused on the somber road before him—you know he’s listening.

“yeah.”

“well,”

“you can have mine.” you continue, offering him your umbrella with a gesture of your hand. he turns—giving a short, quick glance to your offering, then back up to you. he looks displeased, but nonetheless, takes the umbrella.

his expression is visibly questioning your antics but he can’t urge himself to ask. it’s foreign—the kind gesture of yours. it caused a spiral in his head.

it was the first time—anyone witnessed his venerability. he let himself fall victim at your hands. it was shameful—rin never allowed hospitality from outsiders.

rin’s eyes flickered over to you as you begin to rise from your seat—all he could think was, oh. you weren’t gonna head home in the rain were you? it’d be pretty shitty of him to take something that you would desperately need in weather like this.

you pointed to the approaching bus—his eyes followed the direction of your finger and finally he understood what you meant. he felt somewhat relaxed—reassured that you giving up your umbrella was for good purpose.

he remained seated on the cold bench—watching your soaked figure enter the vehicle. you gave a brief, respectful bow to the bus driver and hurriedly went to find an available seat.

rin walked in silence that night—his thoughts in a daze. it was such a small, simple act. and it had him in shackles just like that. the reminder of your gesture quickly became the only topic on his mind for the remaining night.

© 3xen

[fandoms-in-law]

How I'll Play

Summary: Steve's grandmother sends him an investment and big collection of gifts for his 21st. Small thing is, She thinks he's her Granddaughter.

Authors Notes: Playing with the idea I had yesterday over Steve liking Sylvanian Families and only playing D&D with them, Thanks to @frostfairysteve for the information on when they came out. (also for the fact I know those 2 D&D races XD)

Continued in Come Play With Us

/\/\

Steve family are all rich and all distant. He remembered once as a child a family reunion being arranged and being scared of all the strangers there. Apparently his father had 3 brothers all older and all with their own families, but also his grandparents had invited second cousins and cousins once removed and for whatever reason everyone had made time for it.

Looking back at the event now, Steve was pretty sure the main reason everyone turned up was that they were hopeful this could be a chance to increase the inheritance they could get from his grandparents. He doubted that would have been effective for anyone and is relatively sure that except for occasional cards on holidays and birthdays still considered most of his relatives as strangers.

It did encourage him not to have too much fun when taking himself to a city for a weekend away, simply because he didn't want to accidentally seduce a relative into a one night stand without knowing it. The joys of things that teach safe sex for the strangest reasons.

He didn't usually think about his family beyond that. They were just people who shared in his gene pool, just like the parents he barely saw any more.

Except his Grandmother seemed to challenge that when his twenty-first birthday came bringing a delivery with a note from her.

'Dear Steven,

I cannot recall why your mother decided on such a name for such a charming girl as you were at the family reunion so many years ago, but for all my grandchildren I've brought investments in a company as well as a large collection of the things they make as they turn 21.

For you, and your fascination with figurines and dolls that I remember, I chose to invest in Sylvanian Families. They're almost as adorable as you were when young.

A very happy birthday to you and remember to manage your investments wisely.

Your Grandmother,

Antoinette Harrington

He had to read the note 3 times before bursting into laughter. He knew his family was distant, but apparently they're distant enough to have changed his gender in their memories, although he does recall for a short time enjoying dolls before his father dictated otherwise and forbid him from them.

It had only been recently, and only around Robin, that he'd began allowing himself to be curious over typically feminine things beyond his hair since that time, but it was flattering to think that somehow he'd acted feminine enough the only time he'd met his grandparents that he was remembered as such.

“Steve? You remember we said we'd go shopping together for birthday looks for tonight, right?” Robin asked, letting herself in since he was laughing enough he hadn't heard her knocks. Steve had tried to insist he could pick her up, but according to her, he shouldn't be driving everyone around on his birthday, so she got Eddie to agree to play chauffeur for the day.

“Read this and tell me I'm not imagining things, Robbie. Please tell me I didn't misread that. Also I need to see just what is in these packages before I go anywhere.” Steve grinned over at her, waving at Eddie as he leant around the door.

Eddie came over too, leaning over Robin's shoulder as she read since Steve hurried into the kitchen for scissors to open the parcels.

There were 4 big parcels but as he got the boxes open only 2 of them had big items in them, what appeared to be dolls houses and furniture. The rest were filled with solid dolls, slightly velveted of every kind of animal he could think of, all in families, or separate babies that matched one of the family groups and dressed in adorable slightly old fashioned looking outfits.

“You're her granddaughter now. I'm sorry Stevie, but for a gift this big and the investment that was also in the envelope behind this is big, you have to be female from now on.” Robin teased, snickering herself and sitting on the floor beside him to see everything he was pulling out.

Steve shrugged a little. “You tell me what dress size I should get and I'll be the belle of the ball for the party Joyce is insisting on throwing.”

“How long ago was this reunion? Any you're happy about that?” Eddie asked, visibly stunned, but not annoyed or any reaction that left Steve concerned.

“Thrilled. Robbie and I have been trying make-up looks and I was already wondering if I should try a skirt tonight. This seems like a sign that I definitely should.” Steve grinned up, answering the second question first. “And I honestly don't know. I think I was maybe five, possibly younger. Definitely wasn't allowed dolls for too long before my father banned them.”

Eddie shook his head, coming to sit beside him too finally, “Cool, I'll kill the boys characters in the next session if anyone says anything about that. If you do get a dress, that is.”

Steve's grin gentled to a smile, before a thought struck him at the allusion to D&D. He'd seen their figurines before, had let them host Hellfire at his home a few times now, enough even Eddie's bandmates were beginning to relax and suddenly thought he wouldn't might playing in a similar way with these cute guys. “Hey, you can get animals walking and talking in D&D, right?”

For a moment Robin and Eddie blinked at him, then Robin started cackling. “I bet even if they don't Eddie is about to figure out how to, Stevie! Hell, I'm joining in too.”

Eddie blinked at her too before slowly nodding, “Normally called other things, like Procyons and Avalis but yes, there are bipedal intelligent animals in D&D.”

“Tell the party to start making characters like that to play and help me and Bobbin to do so if you want me to play a campaign. I'll only play if these are the figurines used for everyone.” Steve decided, “And look, you even have sets for places we can go to make the mapping even more exciting.” He gestured to the buildings, and some shop sets that he'd pulled out of the packages but hadn't opened unlike a few of the families that had caught his eye.

“Fucking Hell, Yes! I can do that! Can I stay here to plan the campaign too, check what I've got to work with?” Eddie's smile grew slowly but was soon almost wider than they'd seen it before.

Steve nodded, “Definitely. And this just means we're all more excited for getting back from the shopping trip I was promised. I'll go get ready to head out.”

As he walked away Robin started to calm down but one look at the pout Eddie had over being told he couldn't jump straight into planning set her off laughing uncontrollably all over again.

[anasweetlywrites]

“ The Project ” Part 2 Tony Stark x Female!Reader

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► ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ◄

Warnings :

Due to the fact that I've been keeping myself busy to stop overthinking the situation which btw still haven't changed so I'm still (or close to ) crying every time I'm thinking about I forgot to work on another part until I checked Tumblr

so far just a few people checked the first part which it's logical anyway considering I haven't been here in so long and I start posting again with an angst but I'll give my best to give this story a better ending no matter how the real life situation will get solved

I think I'll turn this in a mini series idk yet

Two p.o.vs

Angst…yes,again angst…

A little more fluff than in the first one

Surprise : Tony wants to build a helmet with the reader , little affection between them

Alcohol consumption (Tony and his whiskey lol)

Cussing

I think you can say this is a slow burn?

Feedback it's appreciated~

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Words without warnings : 1390

Tony p.o.v

“I let her leave upset like that…I'm sure just a simple text won't make her come back to the lab already but! At least she will know I actually consider her feelings despite the fact that I lashed out and acted like an asshole.” I mumbled out loud and started playing with the glass of whiskey in my hand , absently watching the ice cubes rolling in the alcohol.

It was already late but I didn't mind just taking some time off and starting thinking about…well… Everyone was busy requesting , she was only busy with observing.

More than that, it seemed that they sent a bunch of kids unsupervised in my building requesting money,drinks they wouldn't be able to afford with all their economies or details that they wouldn't comprehend and write down or even be able to spell on paper.

I sigh deeply and rub my forehead with my free hand while gazing at the sunset after I take another small sip from my glass.

She seemed particularly interested when I was working on the helmet. Maybe she'll want to build one with me tomorrow or fix the one I was working on. That will show her , I actually care about her presence here…

Why do I care about her presence? I can have literally anyone in the world in my lab! If I think about it…no. I only want her to finish this stupid project since she's more competent than the others. Yeah , because she's competent and that's it.

“Sir , do you want me to inform the-”

“No, she's fine. She'll come back…” I replied a little too quickly to the A.I. “I need another glass of whiskey before I get some sleep…”

Reader p.o.v

I couldn't bring myself to leave his text on seen. It wasn't something I would do so after around an hour of overthinking I managed to write a neutral response.

Y/N : It's fine. See you tomorrow, Mr. Stark.

Tony : See you tomorrow, Y/N Y/F/N.

I sighed deeply thinking that at least I can still finish this project. I fell asleep late but my alarm woke me up early enough…

“Fuck this feeling…” I cursed pretty loud realizing I still feel awful but I had to keep going, “Only for the sake of this project…now I talk like a parrot when I'm alone in this bedroom…” I facepalmed and started my morning routine.

Once , I entered the lab I made sure to put my phone on silent and I found my eyes fixed on Tony.He wasn't facing me but I knew the A.I already informed him I was coming and the lab's doors were loud enough.

The dark green shirt he was wearing, tight enough to simply show how perfect he could look even from behind. The short shelves were also an advantage as I could let my gaze slowly move from his shoulder blades to his arms and finally to his hands which were only holding a helmet.

“Good morning…” I whispered softly and turned on the camera in video mode.

As I allowed myself to admire his features including his deep brown doe-like eyes which were almost absently staring at the helmet and his hair was a little more stayed than usual, I found myself taking small steps towards him until I could capture the moment with my camera.

“Morning, y/n. Would you like to try working on the helmet with me?” Tony turned around in his chair with his usual grin but his eyes betrayed his tone and lips.

“Yeah,I would like that. Thank you…but how am I supposed to film the process too?” I chuckled softly and pointed to the camera I was still holding.

“Leave that to me.Besides the whole building it's filmed all the time and I have top security.”

“Right. Sorry!” I let out another small chuckle and turned off my camera.

“Have a seat!” Tony stood up quickly and let me sit on his chair then bent slightly on his knee in front of me holding the helmet “So what got you so interested in this metallic piece?”

I sat down a little awkwardly then unconsciously clench my thighs when he moved on his knees then closer. I opened my mouth to say something then closed it again.

“Come on…I won't be upset.” He tried to make the conversation keep going but at the same time he seemed more patient than usual. Or at least he was trying…

“It's stupid but I always wondered why you would pick it so simple when… forgive me for saying this… but you're always trying to show off!”

Tony froze for a few seconds then bursted into laughing “I wasn't expecting that! Alright, we can change the design for this one then.”

“We? You mean-”

“Duh!” Tony rolled his eyes and left his left hand on my knee then kept holding the helmet with his right hand as he got closer to me “This could be your helmet. So how do you want to change it?”

It was weird but I felt more comfortable than I expected. “How about…and I swear you'll laugh again…How about you add some stars? Like a little constellation on the side of the eyes and they can lit up like with some leds when it's night? And you can turn them off in case you have to hide? And and and how about here around the corner of the eyes to place some half moons and even sunshine but like in a minimalist way too to fit the thing you made first…and I'm thinking about something here , on the forehead too.” I started getting too excited and talked a lot faster forgetting the extra respectful things I used to do.

When I was done explaining, I found my free hand gently running through his hair and I quickly moved it away , “Sorry ! I didn't realize and-”

“It's fine,you can keep going. You have gentle hands…and creative ideas. We can work on that design but I want you to try to make it with the A.I or on paper first.” He said barely above a whisper and looked up at me, his eyes had a kind of soft plea and I gently held his chin as I replied “I've seen you enough times to try to work with the A.I but I know I need to use both hands.” I chuckled softly and gently let my thumb move on his jawline then moved my hand away.

“Whatever you like sweetheart, it's your helmet…” Tony said softly then his attitude suddenly changed when I moved my hand away as he stood up abruptly.

“Did I upset you again-” I gulped down and froze for a few seconds.

“Not really. I was thinking about…something… start working on the helmet. I'll be back.” Tony said in his usual tone , smirking then started getting lost in thoughts again as he left the lab.

“Stark,on the phone obviously…what the fuck?!”

I heard his annoyed voice as the lab doors were closing behind him while he answered his phone. I don't know who could annoy him but for sure this time at least it wasn't me…or was it? I'll just…

“A. I, can you please show me a standard plain helmet plan then show me a plain square to create the design we'll later see how we can fit on the standard helmet?”

“Sure.”

I started working on the little constellations and stars , the light yellow mixed with a shimmer purple in fine thin strokes would look so elegant and pretty…

Tony p.o.v

I could swear the world was more than 80% filled with idiots today but y/n wasn't included. I had to fix more shit for like two more hours and when I returned she was still drawing and adding details to the not so plain version of the helmet…

She wasn't facing me and I kept my gaze on her, thinking about how earlier one of the hands she was using to create,was in my hair then on my chin…

I shook my head quickly…I shouldn't think about that. Why would she really even be here for any other reason than this stupid project anyway?