#beating up his nephews? whatever

[starryeyedjanai]

bad boys do it better

rated: teen | @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: modern au tags: dating apps, innuendo, bad flirting read on ao3

✿

Eddie finally opens Tinder after downloading it in a fit of desperation.

He's tried everything but these stupid apps—bars and clubs and pottery classes and rock climbing—trying to find someone he can connect with.

But he's mostly found guys that string him along with whispered sweet nothings and half-promises they don't intend to follow through on.

So he makes his profile and then promptly fumbles and drops his phone because— no fucking way.

There's no way this is real life.

There's no fucking way the first guy to pop up is Steve fucking Harrington, his unfortunate and longest lasting crush in high school.

He picks up his phone and sees Steve's face staring back at him, unassuming, a bright, cheery smile on his face.

Steve, 28 2 miles away "Hope you like bad boys because I have it on dvd and vhs" Interests: baseball, basketball, live music, movies

He taps to get to the next photo and lets out a shaky breath—the shorts of what can only be his Halloween costume are so short, exposing hairy thighs that Eddie wants to sink his teeth into.

The next photo is a snapchat picture of him grinning wide, cradling what might be the world's ugliest dog, the text across the screen reading my nephew is so handsome 🤩🤩🤩.

The last is an obligatory shirtless mirror pic, not showing off washboard abs, but the soft, toned skin of his stomach.

He closes the app, sets his phone down, and breathes through his nose.

This can't be real, right? In what world would Steve be the first person in a sea of profiles in San Francisco of all places?

Eddie expected him to chase after Nancy Wheeler when she went to Boston, but he didn't stick around long enough in Hawkins to find out if they ever rekindled their will-they-won't-they relationship.

Maybe he's just visiting. Maybe he found his match and just forgot to delete Tinder. Because there's just no way Eddie has this kind of luck.

He opens up Instagram and searches for Steve and finds him right away because they're probably still Facebook friends.

He scrolls through his profile and deflates a little, because all of the pictures on Tinder are from his Instagram. Which means it's probably much more likely that someone is catfishing using Steve's pictures.

Because the Steve from high school wasn't into men. And he's hot enough for someone to use his pictures to scam people or whatever.

He opens up Tinder again and his thumb is swiping right before he thinks about what he's doing.

It's a match!

Okay, now he knows it's a catfish. Or maybe it's a bot.

There's no world in which Steve Harrington would swipe right on him in the twenty minutes it's been since he created his account.

He types a message to "Steve" saying so are you a bot or just a catfish?

He doesn't get a response right away, so he clicks out of the messages, looking at profiles of what are hopefully actual people he can connect with.

His phone buzzes when the message from Steve comes in.

Hi3 Eddiems, cl!ck th3 linkin my proffile to . achat I am waitin9

He rolls his eyes and goes back to perusing profiles. It's not like he thought it was really Ste-

His phone pings with another message and he clicks back into the chat immediately.

That was a joke. There's not even a link in my profile

Eddie's heart beats a little faster, his fingers typing out a response.

So a catfish then?

Why do you think I'm a catfish?????

Because I know the guy in those pictures and there's no way hes into men. That guy was a jock extraordinaire in high school and very straight

You're awfully judgey for someone who was so anti-conformity in high school. Whos to say I haven't changed?

Or like, learned new things about myself?

Eddie's breath stutters in his throat.

Also you didn't really know me since we never talked.

Okay, I mean. It's pretty easy to guess that I was counterculture in high school by looking at me. So I'm still on the fence about the catfish thing

How about we meet up then? So you can see me in all my nearing-30 glory

And watch bad boys on dvd and vhs with you?

Dude, I am not inviting you to my house on the first date

That's a third date kind of thing

Oh yeah? Is it a back-to-back feature? We start with the vhs then move to dvd?

He can't believe he's entertaining this. A catfish wouldn't offer to meet up unless they thought Eddie wouldn't call their bluff. He kind of wants to see where this is going.

No see, we start with the dvd playing in the living room and then when we inevitably start being bad boys🥵 in the middle of the movie, we can pick it back up on vhs in my room later

To be clear, we stop the movie, right? I'm not sure bad boys has a soundtrack meant for the kind of activities we'd be doing

Oh for sure. I'd even put on my "let's get it on" playlist. As a treat.

Eddie can't help but grin. Even if this guy is a catfish, this is maybe the most fun he's had talking to someone in a long time.

Are you serious about meeting up?

Uh yeah, I can't have you thinking I'm a catfish forever

What's your favorite brewery?

Cellarmaker

Wanna do tomorrow afternoon at like 2 when it's not busy?

That sounds perfect

He isn't sure if it's really Steve or if he's going to be met with someone else or stood up, but at least he'll get to drown his sorrows if it doesn't work out.

Well—he's unsure until he gets the 'stharrington started following you' notification on Instagram a few minutes later.

He screams into his pillow so loud his neighbor thumps on the wall.

[drgnmnts]

knuckles bruised (like violets) │ jacaerys velaryon x targaryen!OC

Title: knuckles bruised (like violets)

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Targaryen!OC (Daenys Targaryen, daughter of Viserys I Targaryen and Alicent Hightower)

Summary: There is no war so hateful to the gods as a war between kin, especially for those caught in between, longing only for peace as they're met with fire and blood.

_______________________________________________

Chapter 4 - Belonging

📢A/N: JACE HAS CURLY HAIR. LET'S FORGET THAT WIG EVER EXISTED, OKAY? IMAGINE THIS JACE WITH CURLY HAIR. I WOULD GO TO WAR FOR THOSE CURLS. 📢

Word count: 3.4k

SIX YEARS LATER

“Limbās, Silverwing.” 

Slower. 

The powerful beat of the she-dragon’s wings came to a stop as she let her enormous body glide steadily through the clouds, her iridescent scales glistening like precious jewels in the sun’s embrace. 

As she circled around Bronzegate, right above Storm’s End, Daenys could descry King’s Landing on the other side of the Kingswood. 

Despite Rhaenyra giving her full agency to visit the capital whenever she so desired, the truth was that Daenys had only flown back to see her family three times in the time she had spent living at Dragonstone. 

The first time had been a couple of months after her departure, upon receiving a letter from her mother in which the queen told her she missed her. When she arrived, Alicent had stared at her in confusion, as if she hadn’t expected her daughter to interpret her words as an invitation. 

The second time had been for Aegon and Helaena’s wedding, but she was back at Dragonstone before the bedding ceremony. 

The third time was a year later, when Helaena had given birth to Jahaerys and Jahaera, and it had pained Daenys terribly to say goodbye to her dear niece and nephew. 

After that, she had never returned.

Across the expanse of trees, Vhagar’s silhouette stood out, too big to be kept in the Dragonpit with the others. Daenys had encountered Aemond several times throughout the years, both siblings finding the coast of Tarth their preferred place to rest after a long ride. They had never spoken to each other, perhaps out of fear of not knowing what to say, or perhaps (and this Daenys would never admit out loud) because Aemond had grown up to become quite an intimidating young man, and Daenys wasn’t sure whether he would be up for a conversation or a shared meal. She didn’t really know him anymore, and a big part of that was her fault.

As she ordered Silverwing to head back to Dragonstone, the dragon’s sinuous movements beneath Daenys so familiar and a testament to its formidable strength, Daenys wondered if her brothers ever thought of her. She knew Helaena did, as the sisters often sent letters to each other to keep in touch and share whatever news they may have, but she hadn’t heard from the boys in years, not even from Daeron. 

“Lantā mēre,” she commanded after a few hours in complete silence as Silverwing approached the Dragonmont and, as her rider requested, the dragon descended gently. 

Daenys was sore after such a long ride, though this kind of pain she was happy to endure.

“We imagined you in Essos already,” welcomed her Daemon, covered in ash and dirt as a result of one of his expeditions to the volcanic tunnels searching for eggs.

“I am ten-and-seven, Uncle. How come you still worry about me as if I were a child?” she asked, smiling at him as she let the dragonkeepers tend to Silverwing.

“When did I say I was worried?” he wondered, feigning confusion, as he properly greeted his niece with a side hug. His other arm was occupied with a satchel, where she assumed he had placed Syrax’s eggs.

“How many?” she asked, pointing at the leather bag.

“Three,” he said, clearly overjoyed by the new addition to the Dragonmont collection. “We would have more if you let Silverwing rest for a bit, being able to coil with Vermax would have her producing eggs in no time.”

Daenys let out a small laugh. “You ask too much of me, Uncle,” she replied. “Speaking of Vermax, where is Jace?”

______________________________

After a quick bath and a change of clothes, Daenys followed Daemon's indications about Jace's whereabouts. His High Valyrian lessons always took place in the Great Hall, where he practiced with old texts and the invaluable help of Maester Gerardys.

"Vezhof, Maestur. Iā iāhor naejot ābrot ñuha lentys' tresys isse hāedrys," she said as she walked down the stairs. You may leave, Maester. I wish to instruct my sister's son this morning.

“Certainly, Princess.”

As Maester Gerardys left the room, Jace stood in his place, hands joined at his back, waiting for his aunt to take the maester’s place next to him. Daenys could feel his warm gaze on her, but she didn’t meet his eye; instead, she scanned the page they had been practicing with and continued the lesson where the maester had left it.

“Aegon mazverdagon lēkia rȳ ondoso lentor bē skoros,” she read.

Jace repeated the sentence a few times, and tried his luck at the translation:

“Aegon… built a small wooden fort… atop the hill”.

“Sȳrī jorrāelagon, ñuha dārilaros,” Daenys said. Well done, my prince.  “Dāria voktys belmonda zūgusy issa nāpār lēkia.”

This one took a bit longer. It was a difficult text but she knew Jacaerys was eager to become fluent, which made this kind of practice necessary.

“The city expanded… fast?” he tried. He used to be ashamed of speaking High Valyrian in front of her, too embarrassed of his struggles when it clearly rolled so easily off her tongue, but he enjoyed her lessons way too much to miss them due to his own self-consciousness.

“Rapidly,” she corrected. “Zūgusy issa nāpār lēkia, under his descendants. It’s a tricky one.”

“Not for you, it seems,” he said, not an ounce of bitterness in his tone. 

Daenys beamed at him and shrugged. “I guess growing up with Aemond being as competitive as I am had its perks. It motivated me to become better than him at everything.”

Jace nodded, chuckling at the memory of Daenys as a girl, all those times she would demand a rematch with tears in her eyes everytime she lost at something, tireless. 

“Come on, one more,” she urged. “Ñuha jorrāelagon gevie issa bē sȳndesse.” A small smile tugged at her lips, and Jace grinned to himself as he approached her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“My betrothed looks… lovely this morning,” he replied, earning himself a pleased hum from Daenys, thus letting him know that he was, in fact, correct.

“Perfect,” Daenys said, placing the palms of her hands on his chest.

Neither of them could remember when their friendship had turned into something more, as the idea of marriage slowly shifted from a burden to something they both awaited with indescribable excitement. 

Perhaps it had been a consequence of the hours they spent flying together on Vermax and Silverwing, or their walks along the coast of Dragonstone, sharing memories and secrets. Perhaps it had been Jace’s efforts to make her feel included and welcomed from the moment she set foot on Dragonstone all those years ago, despite her initial reluctance to get close to him and his family. Or maybe it had been the tenderness she exuded every time she spoke to Joffrey, or how easily she made Luke laugh, or the way Jace’s heartbeat quickened every time she met his gaze.

Jace brushed his nose against hers. “We can go for a walk later,” he offered.

“Or a ride,” she said, and the two of them smiled at her eagerness to be on dragonback again after having spent so long flying over the bay.

“A ride, then,” he agreed.

Daenys’ hands slid up his chest and shoulders until they reached his face, where she gently stroked his cheeks with her thumbs. Too absorbed in gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes, neither of them noticed that someone else had entered the room.

“Is this how you expect to become fluent at High Valyrian?” Princess Rhaenyra asked as she made her way down the stairs. Her tone was of amusement and there was no intention of admonishment in her face, but her presence made the young couple separate immediately.

“Mother,” Jace greeted her bowing his head, partly to salute her, and partly to hide the bright red that now tinted his cheeks.

“My princess,” said Daenys, curtsying accordingly, equally embarrassed.

Rhaenyra walked up to them, her hands softly caressing her pregnant belly, which was now starting to round as she was almost halfway through her pregnancy.

“Maester Gerardys said I would find you here. I should've known you would be much more invested in your lessons with such a beautiful teacher.”

Jace smiled timidly, still unable to look at his mother. Amused, she continued.

“Perhaps you’d like to show me how the instruction is going?” she requested as she took a seat at the table, tired from the pregnancy. 

Daenys quickly returned to the text, ignoring the pink in her cheeks. It took her a moment to find the right page.

“Dāria Āeksio daor lēkia Aegonforto,” she read.

Jace sighed. “Daria…”

“Dāria,” Rhaenyra corrected, watching her son intently.

“Dāria Āeksio daor… The Red Keep changed the Aegonfort.”

“Replaced,” the two women said at the same time, the occurrence making them chuckle. 

Not wanting to make her son suffer any longer, Rhaenyra gestured for Daenys to close the book; there was no need for the lesson to continue. 

“It pleases me that you two have found it in you to enjoy each other’s company so much,” she began, “but you have to be careful. We do not need rumors starting to spread around about the princess’ virtue.”

At the mere mention of his betrothed’s reputation being affected in any way by his lack of care, Jace’s expression changed into a serious one.

“Of course, Mother. I would never allow such a thing.”

“It won’t happen again, Princess. I promise,” added Daenys, fully aware of how terrible it would be if such slander was thrown her way.

Rhaenyra nodded, pleased with their attitude, while she caressed her belly. As she stood, both Jace and Daenys straightened their backs again, showcasing the respect they felt for the princess. Rhaenyra approached them, and placed her motherly hands on each of their cheeks.

“A raven arrived today from Driftmark,” she began, and both Jace and Daenys’ brows furrowed with worry almost simultaneously. “Baela wrote to Daemon to let us know that Vaemond Velaryon is attempting to challenge Luke’s claim to the Driftwood Throne.”

“But Lord Corlys already named Luke his heir, and Father agreed,” Daenys protested.

“Lord Corlys might not survive his injuries. We cannot count on him,” Rhaenyra said simply.

“What about Princess Rhaenys?” wondered Jace.

Rhaenyra sighed. “Let us hope she chooses to support us.”

“So we’re going to King’s Landing?” the young princess further asked.

“On the morrow,” Rhaenyra confirmed, and Daenys’ expression changed despite how much she was trying to hide her emotions. “Luke is upset, as you can imagine,” she added, speaking to Jace. “He needs his brother.”

Jace nodded, understanding, and gave Daenys a look of apology: their ride would need to wait. 

After her son had left the room, Rhaenyra sat down again.

"I know that face," she said to Daenys. 

Ever since welcoming her into her family, Rhaenyra had earned herself the role of mentor and confidante in Daenys’ life. She had taken the time to explain the politics of the realm to her, the importance of legacy, and the strength that Daenys would need to cultivate if she were to become queen consort one day. With time, the pair had found it in them to slowly build a bridge over the chasm that had once separated them.  

Daenys sat across from her, and that perspective made them look like two different versions of the same person.

“How bad is it?” she asked. 

Rhaenyra took a moment to answer as she stroked her belly.

“By putting into question Luke’s legitimacy, he’s also questioning Jace’s and my own claim to the Throne.”

Daenys lowered her gaze, worried. “Why now?” she asked.

“What did your mother say the last time she wrote to you? That Father was getting weaker and weaker by the day, could barely move or speak without overexerting himself,” she said, raising her brows slightly.

“So you think this is their doing? The queen and the Hand’s?” Daenys asked. My mother and my grandsire.

“Not entirely, but they are definitely supporting Vaemond’s claims.”

Daenys buried her face in her hands. She was tired. Exhausted. The fact that after so many years the matter was still being questioned despite King Viserys’ blessing for Luke to inherit the Driftwood Throne was senseless.

“There is something I wanted to talk to you about. Or ask of you, to be precise,” said Rhaenyra after a moment of silence. 

When Daenys nodded, encouraging her to speak, Rhaenyra reached over the table and grabbed her hand.

“I need you to promise me that you will stay strong while we’re at King’s Landing. That you won’t falter when they spill their honey in your ear,” she said. Daenys’ brow furrowed, feeling confused and slightly insulted.

“Have I not proven my loyalty to you time and time again?” she asked.

“Of course,” Rhaenyra replied immediately. “Yes, always. But right now, the Red Keep is a venomous place. I wouldn’t want you to be put in a situation where you have to choose sides.”

“But I have chosen a side,” Daenys said, defensive. “Every single day, by not escaping, I am choosing a side. It is your cause that I believe in, your son the one I want to see sitting on the Driftwood Throne when the time comes.”

Rhaenyra let out a breath. When she spoke again, her eyes were honest.

“You are very important to me, Daenys. Not only as a sister but as an ally. Your support means a lot to this family and I fear that, by exposing you to them, I might be pushing you away from us.”

As she always did when she was stressed or worried, a habit she had unknowingly picked up from her mother, Daenys began nervously picking at her fingers. Rhaenyra noticed and held her hand again, making her stop.

“You took me in six years ago,” she began, “a girl you barely knew, who had been mean to your children, who had... taken part in the narrative that was told about them at court. I didn't make it easy for you at first, and yet you treated me as if you were my— as if I was your daughter. You offered me a seat at your table, a chair next to you by the hearth, a place in your council. Do you really think me so ungrateful?”

Rhaenyra lowered her gaze, ashamed for having even considered the possibility of betrayal, but also pleased with Daenys' contained outrage: it meant she truly cared.

“No. No, of course not.”

The tension between them eased as they shared a moment of silent solidarity, but the weight of the impending trip to King’s Landing still loomed over them.

Finally, Rhaenyra spoke again, her voice steady. “You should get some rest. There’s much to be done before we leave.”

_____________________

That night, as she sat at her desk with only the hearth and a single candle illuminating her chamber, Daenys decided to write to Helaena.

My dearest Helaena,

It has saddened me deeply to learn that Vaemond Velaryon means to call into question Lucerys’ legitimacy. I might err on the side of innocence, but I had hoped this matter was already settled. Perhaps this instance will finally put an end to such nonsense. 

Despite this, I look forward to seeing you again, and your children. They must be so grown now… I will make sure to bring presents for them so they can remember their aunt. 

We will arrive at King’s Landing within the week, as we must sail since  Rhaenyra and Daemon want Father to meet little Aegon and little Viserys.

I do hope we can have a peaceful time together.

Your sister, who loves you,

Daenys

As she rolled the piece of parchment, the wax for the three-headed dragon seal already melted and ready to use, Ser Lorent knocked on her door.

“Forgive me, Princess. Prince Jacaerys requests a word,” he announced. 

“Of course. Send him in.” It wasn’t uncommon for Jace to visit Daenys in her quarters, and Rhaenyra allowed it, so long as the door remained open.

Unlike Daenys, who was already clad in her sleeping clothes, a beautiful crimson robe covering her nightgown, Jace was still wearing his normal clothes, save for the cape. Once he was inside, she stood.

“How’s Luke?” she asked.

Jace made a face, shrugging. “Terrified, honestly. You know how he feels about this matter,” he explained.

Daenys hummed, cutting the distance between them. As soon as she was in front of him, Jace wrapped her in his arms.

After a few seconds of comfortable silence, drowning in each other’s familiar scents, with Jace’s face buried in her neck and her hands in his curls, Daenys spoke. “I don’t want to go,” she confessed, and she sounded just like she had all those years before, except this time it was the opposite situation. She had been holding her feelings in all day but now, in Jace’s arms, she felt safe enough to let them out.

“I know,” he murmured back. “I’m not too excited about it either.”

When Daenys spoke again, she was crying.

“Am I horrible?”

As soon as he heard her broken voice Jace broke the embrace, only to gently grab her face as his brow furrowed in worry.

“No! Of course not, why do you think that?”

He caught a tear with his thumb as it slid down her cheek.

“I don’t know, I— I haven’t seen them in years, and when the opportunity arises I would rather just not go. And I’m worried about Luke, and I don’t want your mother to get upset, and—.”

“Shh…” Jace soothed her gently, noticing the way her anxiety was starting to escalate. He put his forehead against hers, and Daenys closed her eyes. Outside, Ser Lorent peeked discreetly, just to check in on them. “Listen to me. Whatever Vaemond Velaryon has to say, it will be to no avail. My mother will defend Luke and put an end to all of this once and for all. And… I know it is difficult for you to see everybody again, but you will not be alone this time, hm? I will be with you. We will all be with you.”

Daenys had spent her entire life trying to feel like she belonged. Somewhere. Anywhere. Neither from here, nor from there. Always adjusting, fitting in, packing up, looking for a spot.

For many years, the only moment she was able to achieve that feeling was when riding Silverwing, hence her passion for spending her days on dragonback. Whenever she rode her dragon, she felt like a part of her that was never good enough for anyone was restored: bad daughter, bad sister, bad princess, good dragonrider. And so, she had decided that her place in the world was on her dragon’s back.

Jace had changed her mind.

He wasn’t just kind, or gentle, or good. He knew her; really knew her. And every new part of her she showed him, no matter how ugly, or embarrassing, or despicable, he embraced it. Loved it. 

Daenys belonged on her dragon’s back, but she also belonged in Jace’s arms.

I love you, she thought.

“You are too good,” she said instead, still sniffling but much calmer.

Jace smiled before softly kissing her forehead. “And you worry too much. It isn’t so bad, actually. I think I’ll find enjoyment in showing off my betrothed around the court.”

This made Daenys smile, a beautiful shade of pink bringing her cheeks to life. “I’m sure all the girls will bat their eyelashes at you as soon as they see you,” she said. “And the women.”

Jace chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Let them. They can bat their eyelashes all they want. Besides, they’ll be too busy being envious of how beautiful you are.”

Daenys shook her head, but her beaming smile and the way she couldn’t hold Jace’s gaze for a second showed how much she loved his flattery. 

She kissed his cheek, and Ser Lorent cleared his throat outside.

Jace sighed.

“I must go. I’ll come for you in the morning.”

“Sleep well,” she said as he softly kissed her hand.

Jace smiled at her once more before finally walking out the door, leaving her alone again in her chamber.

As she settled into bed, trying to find sleep quickly, she didn’t think of Vaemond Velaryon, her mother’s frown, or the politics of the realm. Instead, the only thing on her mind was kind brown eyes and the smell of leather and salt water.

_______________________________________________

If you liked this, let me know in any way! 💕

Also, thank you so much for all your kind comments! If I'm missing someone who wants to be added to the tag list, let me know!

Series Taglist: @void21, @burningwitchobject, @hellish-idiot, @inf4ntdeath, @klutzylaena, @swimmjacket , @helo1281917 , @cat-winter

[thehauntedetheral]

Yandere Boyfriend Jealous of Reader's Nephew

Requests are open !

• You and your yan boyfriend have been in a relationship for quite some time that you are now the ✨unofficial married couple ✨ (Yan bf has proposed many times but you have rejected it because you were to focused on career and pushed wedding ideas for later)

• Your elder sister and her husband has gone to a 2 days weekend trip leaving your 2 years old nephew to you and yan for babysitting.

• You love kids and were having blast with your nephew. After all you are his favourite aunt but your Yan bf is sulking in the corner due to lack of attention you are giving to him. Sometimes you wonder who is a toddler, your nephew or your boyfriend?

• your nephew was sitting in your lap and you both were watching The lion King when your bf sat beside you on couch and took the toddler from your lap to his thinking " I am jealous. This dude is spending too much time with my girl". You looked at him with a confused look while he just gave you a sheepish smile saying "just bonding with my future nephew". Hehe.

• You were saying things like "you are so cute my cutie pie, my sunshine and attacking your nephew with kisses while the toddler just laughs joyously. Meanwhile your boyfriend watching this sighs thinking "I am more cute and good looking than him and yet she is attacking him with kisses instead of me? Such a shame to my handsome face. ( This man is more delusional than all the teenage girls)

• You excused yourself to the bathroom while telling your boyfriend to keep a eye on the toddler. Next thing you know Yan bf has begun a Serious talk with your nephew.

"Listen man, I know she is beautiful and the best. But she is MY WOMAN!! And no. She loves me more!!! Even more than you. I came in her life before. You came later. You can't just take all her time. Just wait a little kiddo because one day I will become your uncle. And you will be the ring bearer in our wedding."

• Desperately waits for this weekend to get over and waiting for your sister to take him back.

• Finally your sister and her husband comes back and take their child while Yan bf finally feels happy you on the other hand are a bit sad.

"Don't worry darling, we will visit him soon" your boyfriend says trying to cheer you up when no way in hell he wants to meet him again atleast for a few months.

"Don't act all innocent. I know you have been sulking and jealous all the weekend. I can't believe you were jealous of a 2 year old that too my own nephew" you said smiling a bit thinking how funny is this.

"Well what can I say I just get jealous of whatever or whoever caughts your attention" he said feeling a bit embarassed that he got caught. He thought he hid his jealousy well. But seems like he can't hide anything from you.

"Hey (y/bf/n). Let's get married and have a baby of our own" you said smiling.

"Is that finally a yes, y/n?" He said while his heart skipping beats and his palms getting covered with sweat for your answer after so many rejections from you.

"Yes. I am damn serious. Spending time with you two as a family has made me realise how badly I want a family of my own. I was too focused on my career neglecting you and our future life. I am sorry." You said with all seriousness.

Yan bf only smiles like a crazy and kisses you passionately. He holds your waist spinning you doing a princess twirl making you giggle. He is the happiest man on earth today! Maybe his nephew is not that bad after all he thought. And yes it's official now your nephew is definitely gonna be the ring bearer in your wedding.

Want part 2 for wedding with nephew as ring bearer and yan boyfriend stressing out about thinking you might back out of wedding last minute? If yes please Let me know through comments.

Requests are open!!

For more yandere Reading:

[wynnyfryd]

There’s a dead rat on the doorstep.

Steve’s running late for school and his hair is limp and lifeless because his hair dryer shorted out the shitty circuit in their shitty shoebox of a trailer, and now there’s a dead rat turning to sludge on his front porch. If you can call the rickety steps leading up to the flimsy front door a porch.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters — spares himself one brief moment of panic to remember the last time he started seeing dead rats around town, reminds himself that it’s over it’s over it’s over, that this is probably a housewarming gift from one of the stray cats in the park — then he shouts into the house, “Ma, stay inside!”

“Everything okay over there?”

Their neighbor gives him a wary look as he shuts the door of his truck. Must have just gotten home from a night shift, by the looks of it; Steve can see the bags under his eyes from all the way over here.

“Yes, Sir, all good. Just, uh— got a little surprise on the…”

Steve glances down at his feet, scrubs a hand through his limp hair. There’s a dark puddle spreading beneath the matted, mangled fur. Its neck is snapped in half.

Steve’s gonna hurl.

“Ah,” is all he says as he approaches their yard, spots the gore oozing over the first rung of the stairs. “That’ll be Misty’s doing. She’s harmless, really, just likes to leave treats.”

His eyes rake over Steve’s pale face, the white-knuckle grip on his backpack strap, and he gives Steve a pat on the shoulder. Warm, reassuring; smelling faintly of sweat and menthol. “Listen, kid,” he says, nodding at his own trailer, “do me a favor and make sure my nephew gets his ass to school, would you? I’ll take care of this for you.”

Great, Steve thinks. More babysitting.

Whatever. What’s one more little shithead to wrangle? Beats getting blood under his fingernails. His stomach rolls at the thought. “Sure thing, Mr…?”

“Munson. But you can call me Wayne.”

“Sure thing, Wayne.”

He rushes down the steps, grateful to put distance between himself and the fresh horror that’s gonna live behind his eyelids for the next month, and he doesn’t even register the name until it’s already too late. The neighbor’s door bursts open before Steve can even get a proper knock going, and oh. God.

“What the fuck?”

Steve’s standing chest to chest with Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson, and the freak looks pissed about it.

…Well, shit.

part 2

[multi-fandom-imagine]

I just had a small idea of Fords kids getting bullied and Stan’s girls beat up said bullies and so a parent teacher conference is called and Stan is just so proud

A/n: As he should 👏👏

Getting a call about your children was one of your worst nightmares though the moment you stepped foot into the school to see Stanford and his spouse arguing with some teacher, you barley had a chance to say something before the principle was ushering you into and Stan into the room where your twins were sitting, fat tears rolling down their little cheeks.

"Why the hell are my little girls cryin?"

Stan did not hide back his distain from the principle that sat across from him as you quickly wiped the tears from their cheeks.

"Mr.Pines please calm down."

"Calm down? You call us down here sayin how my girls are in trouble. I come into see my brother arguing with some teacher and now I see my babies cryin."

"Your daughters broke the tooth of a male student."

Tensing, you stood up narrowing your eyes as you held your daughters protectively to your chest. "I know what boy you're talking about....he's the same one that were harassing my nieces and nephews."

Gritting his teeth, Stan dug his nails into his palm only to take one of his daughters into his arm as she rushed to him.

"It's true daddy! He and is friends corned them! They said all horrible stuff! We told the teacher and the principal. They didn't do nothin so we gotta protect em daddy! They're little! They can't protect themselves! So we did."

Rubbing his daughters back, you held your other daughter close. "You knew....you people knew they were being bullied....how many times do we have to come down here before something happens."

"We."

Shaking your head you shrugged your purse over your shoulders. "I'm pulling my daughters out and I will be making sure the school board knows about this!"

Not giving them a chance to react, you and Stan stormed out of the room. Ford, his children and spouse long gone. "I hope Stanford won't blame himself."

"He probably will...but uh let's get you two home alright." Stan cleared out his throat buckling the twins in their car seats.

"You're not mad daddy?!"

"Mad?! Ha nah! I'm proud of you two...you stuck up for your family when no one else would...so what happened?"

Stan gave his girls a grin as they returned his smile on their faces. "I punched him! Like you taught me!"

"And I bit him daddy!"

"Ha that's my girls."

Rolling your eyes, a small smile formed on your face as you glanced back at the twins, your lips parted unsure how to explain it to him. "Just tell me and daddy next time okay."

"Okay mommy."

"Now how about we get some ice cream"

"Yay!!"

Placing his hand on your knee, he gave it a soft squeeze as his voice dipped. "Ya know...that was really sexy of you. That whole protective ma'ma bear thing."

Rolling your eyes, you couldn't hide the smile on your face as you playfully gave his cheek a pat. "Eye's on the road Pines."

"Whatever ya say Princess."

[blondiebabes]

My Dear Nephew

*Requested* sub!Jaecerys x Dom!Reader. reader is older than Jaecerys. repeated as with Deamon and Rhaenyra. jaces aunt takes him to the silk streets and takes away his virginity in a brothel. this was originally gonna be longer but i lost motivation. lmk if you guys want a pt 2

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You sipped your wine reveling at the effect you had on your dear nephew. He was stuttering while trying to talk to his cousin, Baela, your hand running up and down his thigh becoming increasing brave.

You had clocked his infatuation with you as soon as you reunited after his time on Dragon Stone. The first you saw of him after his arrival entailed you approaching him and him unable to meet your eyes settling for glancing between his hands and your bosom. Then you decided you would do whatever it took to make him yours. He was too sweet and innocent for you to allow him to roam free. You're his aunt it's your job to keep him safe, and you intend to keep your title as a loving aunt.

Your hand had just reached to skim over the top of his bulge when your brother, Aegon, had pushed Jacaerys too far. Jace shot up, your hand falling down, pushed back his chair and started to charge his uncle. You rolled your eyes and finished your goblet of wine slammed it back on the table, stood and walk out. You walked until you met the door of you chambers.

As you stepped in you headed straight to the bath for a much needed soak. As you lay in the bath, the water near scalding, you thought more about your nephew, and his relationship with his cousin Baela. You felt the curl of jealousy deep in your body at the memory of Jace desiring her company instead of yours.

Stepping up and out of bath you decided to do something about it before you lost him to her. You dismissed your maids and guards, donning peaseant clothes you went throught the hall until you found the painting of Aegon the Conqueror. You grasped the right side of the frame pulles and it swung open like a door.

You quickly stepped through the hole, closed the painting, and made your way through the tunnels. You had memorized the tunnels long ago because you and your brother Aegon loved to explore them as children. After seven turns you reached the painting you were searching for. Steading your beating heart you took a breath and slowly cracked the painting. You saw Jace sitting in his bead looking at the ceiling, he was alone in his room.

Smiling you fully pushed open the secret door and stepped inside.

"Aunt what are you doing here? Jace asked sitting up and looking around the room alarmed by you rentrence.

"Do I need a reason to spend time with my precious nephew?" You asked stalking closer to him like a wolf on the prowl.

Sensing his lack of words you spoke. "Well I have a reason anyway, we need to talk about your crush on me." You closed the space between you two and took a seat next to him. Jace began to deny your words so you placed a hand over his mouth and continued. "Theres no use in denying it, it is plain to see. I came here to say I feel the same. And I intend to do something out our feelings." You removed your hand from his face.

"Do what?" Jace asked looking suprised and embaressed at once. "Do you trust me?" You ask putting your hand on his upper thigh, just as it had been during dinner. "Um, yes." Jace mumbled looking at your hand.

"Perfect." You said jumping up. you handed him a set of peaseant clothes and instructed him to put them on. He started to question you but stopped after you sent him a look. He emerged from behind his closet no longer looking the the Prince, but a common person.

You dragged him through the secret tunnels and the two of you emerged outside the castle. You guided him throyugh flea bottom to the brothel your brother Aegon spoke fondly of. While walking Jace seemed to try and look everywhere at once. it was obvious he had never been on the streets of kings landing before.

"So Jace. have you ever fucked a girl before?" You question trying to sound calm as to not startle him.

He stopped walking immediately. "What no. Of course not, it is unbecoming of a prince." He replied turning to look at you. "Have you?" He asked suprised and possibly scared of the answer. "No I have not fucked a girl." You reply with a teasing smile. You grab him hand and continue to drag him through the crowded dirty streets. When you reached your destination you took a moment to ensure that your telltale hair was hidden beneath your hood.

You opened the door to the brothel and pulled Jace in. Immediately you two were both hit with a wave of the scent of perfume and the sound of moans. A quick look at Jace told you he had never witnessed anything like this before. You allowed him a moment to collect himself before guiding him to a somewhat secluded corner in the communal area. You placed him with his back aginst the wall and you infront somewhat hiding him from view.

"Well, what do you think of my surprise." You ask putting your mouth to his ear and nibbling on it. Jace jerks and it causes his bulge to press into your stomach. You cup his dick with you hands accepting his low moan as an answer. You place his hands on your body, one on you waist, the other you guide under your shirt up to you breast. Jace looks at you in wonder while rolling your nipple inbetween his fingers. You slide your hand in his pants while he's distraced and pull his cock up so it tucks inbetween his waistband and stomach. Jace lets his head fall back aginst the wall as you take his weeping tip into your fingers. You rub his slit with your thumb, while getting on your knees infront of him. He looks at you with wide eyes after realizing what your about to do. You look up at him throught you eye lashes and pull his pants down to his ankles.

His dick slaps you in the cheek and you grab it with a smile keeping eye contact. You put you lips on it and swirl your tongue around the tip. You watch his eyes roll back in his head and the two of you are in you rown world until you hear a whistle directed at you and Jace. Jace seemingly remembering where the two fo you are goes ridgid and pulls your mouth off his dick. You stand up while jace is hurridly fixing his pants.

"Ignore them Jace, they are just here for a show." You whisper in his ear positioning yourself so Jace cant see the man who was making noises at the two of you.

"Well I dont want to be a show for them." Jace replies angrly. An idea hits you and you pull a hesitant jace back to the entrance of the brothel. You approach a working girl and toss her a couple gold coins in exchange for her best private room. She leads you and Jace there, and leaves without a word.

You let jace confirm that the room is empty and away from prying ears and eyes.

You walk to the bed in the center of the room and begin to take your boots and hood off. Jace stands there watching you, he moves towards you after you beckon him.

@antohfbjuh

[mystic-writings]

sneak out | jess mariano

PAIRING — jess mariano x fem!gilmore!reader SUMMARY — minutes into your mother’s dinner party, jess suggests you sneak out through your bedroom window - and you can’t help but agree WARNINGS — fluff, jess and reader being ‘troubled’ teens, a bit of angst, reader venting WORD COUNT — 2,322 NOTES — the idea of lorelai having a teen that was just like her is so appealing to me idk why - also would you believe me if i told you i listened to yung gravy while writing the majority of this fic

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You weren’t sure which was worse - the dinner your mother was hosting, or the idea that you now had to put up with a whole night of Luke’s strange nephew, whom you’d never met before.

Of course, you loved your family to pieces, and you loved Sookie and Jackson; hell, sometimes you looked at Luke as more of a father than you did your actual dad, but having everyone together for what you knew would be at least a three course meal, under one roof, with Luke’s mysterious nephew from New York, just felt draining.

So, to preserve what little social battery you had left for the day, you decided to spend the time between school and dinner in your room upstairs with a good book and a cd playing from the player that sat on your dresser at a low volume. You had to change the cd twice, first from one of your mothers Bangles cds to a Smiths one, but just as you were enjoying the beginning of David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust album (and nearly finishing up your book), did you hear the clanging of pots and pans from downstairs, as well as Sookie and Jackson’s lighthearted bickering.

You managed to bury yourself back into your book, one leg crossed loosely over the other outstretched one as you half-sat, half-laid on your bed, being mindful of your shoes so as to not get any dirt on your covers.

From downstairs, Jess was wandering around the Gilmore home as everyone else did whatever they were doing in the kitchen, internally monologuing and half-mocking their decor. He’d met Rory already, and she seemed like a nice enough girl. Enjoyed books. But he had yet to meet the third and final Gilmore girl, who so far had only been mentioned. However, as Jess scanned the various photographs on the mantle, he could hear the faint guitar of Suffragette City emanating from somewhere upstairs.

After peeking down the hallway to make sure no one was watching, Jess smirked and snuck up the stairs, into what was surely off-limits territory for someone like him. Still, he took the stairs two at a time and stealthily, managing to avoid all the places that would creak in a house like this one, despite never stepping foot inside beforehand. He followed the music down the hall, past some more paintings and pictures, to another bedroom. The door was open, and he was able to take a look inside. Posters covered most of the wall, leaving little space to show off the paint beneath them. Bookshelves occupied the wall right beside the door, and similarly to Rory’s room, they looked stuffed to the brim with books.

On the bed, facing him, was the person he assumed to be the final Gilmore girl - Rory’s twin sister. He watched intently, scanning every feature of your focused face as you scanned the final pages of the book you were reading. How your brow furrowed, eyes locked on the ink before you. The way the foot that hung off the edge of the bed was moving to the beat of the song.

Once Jess had decided that he’d been watching you long enough to constitute stalking, and how that was probably extremely creepy, he nudged the door open with a creak and stepped inside, clearing his throat and pulling his lips into a slight smirk. “Hey there, Ziggy.”

At first, you thought that your mother was finally calling you down to dinner, until you heard the unusually male - and entirely unfamiliar - voice come from the body in your doorway. Tucking a receipt into your book to mark your place, you glared over at the boy standing in your room with his hands behind his back, smugness rolling off of him in waves as he admired your room.

“You’re Jess, aren’t you.” Your flat tone seemed to amuse him.

“How nice, you already know my name. I’m flattered.”

You watched him as he walked around your room, over to the window where your desk was, trying to figure him out as he peeled back your curtains. “It’s impossible to not know someone’s name in this town, even someone who’s only been here for 28 hours.”

He chuckled. “Nice one, Ziggy. Now tell me, why aren’t you downstairs with the rest of the freakshow? I mean, they are your family, after all, aren’t they?”

You pretended to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. “Sorry to break it to you, Mariano, but I’ve been banned from the freakshow. Apparently having apathy toward any sort of Gilmore humour is forbidden, and they’ve locked me away forever.”

“Aw, so sorry to hear that.” Jess mocked, placing a hand over his heart with an exaggerated pout. “I can’t believe they shunned such a ray of sunshine.” He smirked at your rolled eyes. “No, really, you must be a real treat at parties.”

“Quit it, Mariano. Is there a reason you came up here or did you just want to cause enough trouble to get kicked out of our beloved Stars Hollow? Because if so, you came to the right girl.”

Jess’ brow quirked. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you heaved a dramatic sigh, slipping off your bed to walk over to Jess. “But it’s like… 9pm on a Wednesday. In Stars Hollow. Even if I wanted to cause trouble, and I don’t, because I did enough of that at school today, there’s nothing to do. Everyone’s asleep, and I’m pretty sure our 24-hour mini-mart closed like, half an hour ago.”

Now it was Jess’ turn to roll his eyes. “Your sister said that already. Is there seriously nothing to do here?”

“Nope.” You shrugged, just as a thought came to mind. “Well… there is one thing…” Jess’ eyebrows raised at the prospect of having something fun to do, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s not anything revolutionary, you know.”

“Still, give me something, anything, to get us out of here, Ziggy. I’m begging you. I’m being suffocated by the stale air of suburban life.”

You nodded, tapping your fingers on your thigh. “Fine, I’ll tell you. But you gotta do one thing for me.”

“What is it? I’ll do anything, I swear.”

“Stop calling me Ziggy.” You said. “It’s a stupid nickname, and although I admire the fact that you listen to David Bowie enough to come up with a nickname like that one, I hate it. Call me by my actual name.”

“Well I would, if I knew it.”

“My mother never told you my name?” You asked with a raised brow. “She never shuts up about me and Rory, I’m surprised you never caught it.”

“Apparently, I didn’t. It seems she likes talking about Rory more.” Jess shrugged. “At least, around me she does.” He barely caught the slight sag of your shoulders, the drop in your demeanour, before you picked it back up and smiled.

“Well, Jess. I’m Y/n. Y/n Gilmore.” After a pause, you looked around and snagged a sweater from the chair in the corner of your room. “Now, if you’ll follow me, let’s go have as much fun as we’re able to in Stars Hollow at night.”

Jess waited impatiently behind you as you unlatched the window by your desk and pushed it up, slipping through and holding it open for him. As he clamoured out, you grabbed the rock underneath the window and placed it on the windowsill, lowering the window so you’d still be able to get back in later.

You could still hear the tail end of the album playing as Jess looked around.

“How are we supposed to get down?”

“The trellis, obviously.” You said, carefully making your way across the porch’s roof to the trellis right next to the kitchen window. “Just don’t make much noise, this thing is right next to the kitchen’s window and if we get caught we’re screwed. Follow my lead, and run when you hit the ground, got it?”

“Got it.”

Scaling down the trellis was basically second nature to you, but you made sure to look up every once in a while to make sure Jess was doing okay. He seemed to be, which comforted you somehow. You waited at the bottom for him, making sure to stay out of view of the window to the kitchen and the edge of the porch, which were on either side of the trellis, and could possibly get both you and Jess grounded.

When he landed, he looked at you, and a dish clattered in the kitchen. You both snapped to the window, then back to each other. On instinct, you took his hand and ran toward the woods.

“Where the hell are we going?!” Jess whisper-shouted.

“Relax!” You whisper-shouted back, slowing to a stop as soon as you were hidden in the tree line. “We’re not going into the woods, dumbass. What do you think would’ve happened if we waltzed out in the open in front of the living room window?”

Jess only sighed and nodded, letting go of your hand. He let you lead him through the trees, keeping the light of the house close to you, walking around the garage and past all the cars, waiting until Babette’s house was out of sight until you stepped back onto the road.

The walk was calm and quiet, crickets and the breeze occupying you instead of chatter. After a while, when you were beginning to reach the town centre, Jess spoke up. “So, what now?”

You shrugged. “Not sure. Usually I head to the lake, bring a book, or a cd player and some headphones. I don’t normally bring people with me, you know?”

Jess nodded, lips slightly pursed. The walk continued through the town, passing by shop after shop, all of them closed for the night. You had to admit, you weren’t used to taking walks like these, out in the open. Normally you’d find whichever path kept you out of the possible sight of the townspeople, a habit you developed after Taylor snitched on you to your mother after he caught you walking to the lake by the Inn when you were 12. Still, it was nice, and even if you were caught, you somehow didn’t seem to mind it.

As the buildings were fading again and you knew you were approaching the lake, you checked your watch. 9:27pm. You sighed, and Jess looked at you. Dropping your arm, you shook your head. “Almost 9:30. They definitely have to know something’s up at home. Probably sending out a search party by now.” You told him, before shrugging. “Or, you know, miraculously, they forgot we existed and are eating Sookie’s delicious no-allergen, fourteen course meal as we speak.”

Jess scoffed. “Yeah, right. Luke might not care that much, but Lorelai? She seems like the world’s most protective parent.”

“She is.” You confirmed, sitting on your usual bench, eyes following Jess as he sat next to you. “Trust me, I love her to death, but it gets annoying sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, at least you have a protective mom.” Jess’ hands gripped the edge of the bench, his body hunched forward, making him look small, ready to run at a moment’s notice. “Mine decided I wasn’t worth the effort. Shipped me off to this… circus show without so much as a ‘sayonara, kid.’ You’re lucky.”

You frowned. Everyone knew within the hour of him arriving in Stars Hollow that Jess was a troubled kid, but even troubled kids deserved parents that cared. He was right, though, you were lucky. It just didn’t feel like it.

“I know I’m lucky, Jess, but it’s not all rainbows for me, you know.”

“Oh yeah? How?” He scoffed. “You have the perfect life, Y/n. A mom that cares, a great twin sister - hell, even Luke sings your praises.”

“Luke sings?”

Jess rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“It’s not like that all the time, Jess.” You sighed. “My ‘great’ twin sister is, apparently, so great that she has all eyes on her at all times. My grandparents are always so proud of her for being so smart and planning this amazing, expensive, studious future - they’re planning on funding it, too, from the sounds of things. I just want to live, you know?” You kicked a rock with your shoe, avoiding Jess’ concerned gaze.

“And my mother seems more concerned about her wellbeing than mine, closer to her than to me. But somehow she wonders why I’m the troubled one. I mean, I act out, I barely go to that stupid prep school because it’s so suffocating, and I got an eyebrow piercing without permission instead of taking a calculus test last month, which I’m just getting out of that punishment. Everyone’s so focused on Rory and how seemingly great she is, I don’t even remember the last time I was appreciated for anything. And don’t even get me started on my dad.”

“Sounds like these freaks don’t know a good person when they see one.” Jess told you. “You seem chill. Adventurous, too. But just because you aren’t appreciated doesn’t mean you aren’t good enough.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “You too, Jess.” The world quieted around you for a moment, stars shining off the rippling waters of the lake. “But we don’t need to be good enough for them. Just good enough for us.”

He smiled, nodding once at you. Again, you appreciated the silence with him, watching the water or the sky. It wouldn’t be long until Luke and your mother found you both, you with your head on his shoulder and one knee bent to your chest, laughing quietly at a joke he told as you continued to get to know one another. But that was later. For now, you simply sat and watched the water, wishing the moment could last for the rest of your lives.

permanent taglist: @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @mazerunnerrose @theboldandthebootyful @miraclesoflove @queen-asteria04 @heliads

jess mariano taglist: open!

taglist form is in my navigation!

[iamgonnagetyouback]

𝟷.𝟽𝚔 || 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐓

♡ ︎ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Romeo and Juliet had nothing on you and Jess Mariano.

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: None

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: Jess Mariano x reader

The small bell above the diner door jingled, signaling your arrival at Luke’s Diner. As you stepped inside, you caught sight of Jess Mariano slouched in his usual booth, a dog-eared book in his hands. His dark eyes flicked up just briefly from the pages before returning to whatever literary masterpiece he was engrossed in.

You and Jess had a thing. Well, not officially. Not that anyone was thrilled about the prospect of it becoming official, except maybe you. You were supposed to be the sweet, well-liked girl in town—the one who got along with everyone, including Rory Gilmore, who always threw daggers your way every time you were caught within a ten-foot radius of Jess.

Lorelai wasn’t any better. She’d never been particularly subtle, and her dramatic sighs whenever she spotted you two talking were enough to fill a whole novel themselves. And Luke? Well, Luke had his usual I’m going to throttle my nephew expression on his face.

It wasn’t like Jess was helping to ease anyone’s concerns, either. If anything, he seemed to enjoy the chaos. He lived for the thrill of rebellion, the undercurrent of defiance. And you? Well, you were getting a kick out of it, too.

You slid into the booth opposite him, the vinyl squeaking under your jeans as you gave him a once-over. “Hey, Romeo,” you said, leaning forward. “What tragic tale of doomed love are we reading today?”

Jess’s lips quirked up, his eyes still on the page. “Wuthering Heights,” he said dryly. “You know, to set the mood for our inevitable downfall.”

You grinned. “How fitting. Are we at the part where Heathcliff wrecks everything?”

Jess finally looked up, his gaze meeting yours. “Depends. Have you made up your mind to ruin my life yet?”

“Who says you’re not the one ruining mine?” you teased back, earning yourself a full smirk from him. His hand casually turned the page of the book, but his attention was clearly focused on you now.

Before either of you could continue, the door opened again, and in strolled Rory and Lorelai. Instinctively, you straightened, feeling the weight of their disapproval from across the room. They exchanged knowing looks, whispering between themselves, and Lorelai’s exasperated sigh wasn’t even the least bit subtle.

Jess rolled his eyes, leaning back in the booth. “Well, if it isn’t the Montagues.”

You chuckled softly under your breath. “Ignore them.”

“Hard to, when they’re so invested in our tragic demise.”

“Tragic?” You arched an eyebrow at him. “A bit melodramatic, don’t you think?”

He shrugged, his smirk growing. “Just quoting the classics. We are in a small town where everyone has an opinion, and they all seem to hate me. Shakespeare would’ve had a field day with this.”

“Oh, totally. You as Romeo, me as Juliet, and the entire town as the bloodthirsty Capulets.”

Jess’s gaze darkened slightly, his tone playful but serious beneath it. “You know how that ends, right? Double suicide, lots of crying, poetic last words.”

“Relax,” you said, laughing softly. “No one’s drinking poison or stabbing themselves here. We’re more of a modern adaptation. Happy endings.”

“If you say so, Cherry,” Jess said, leaning forward slightly, his voice a low murmur. The nickname slipped off his tongue with a casual ease that made your heart skip a beat. It had started as a joke, something to poke fun at your fondness for cherry-flavored candies. Now, it felt like a secret only the two of you shared, a reminder that he saw you differently from how everyone else did.

You smiled at him, leaning your chin on your hand. “I do say so, Romeo.”

“Speaking of star-crossed lovers,” he continued, “you planning on telling the entire town about us?”

“What about us?” you grinned, glancing around. “Besides, they’ve already made up their minds.”

“Of course they have,” Jess said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s Stars Hollow. They hate me.”

“Not everyone hates you.”

“Really?” He gave you a sceptical look. “Name one person.”

“Michel doesn’t hate you,” you said, leaning back with a satisfied grin.

“Michel doesn’t care about anyone.”

“Exactly.” You smirked. “I talk to him about you all the time.”

Jess’s eyes lit up with intrigue. “You talk about me to Michel?”

“In French,” you replied nonchalantly, picking at the edge of your napkin. “It’s our little secret. So, even if the whole town thinks you’re the worst, Michel remains blissfully indifferent.”

“Lucky me,” Jess muttered, though his eyes gleamed with amusement. “So, what do you tell him? How much you adore me? How I’m your Romeo, destined to sweep you off your feet?”

You shrugged, playing coy. “Maybe.”

“I knew it,” he said with a grin, leaning in closer. “You’ve got it bad for me, don’t you?”

Before you could respond, Luke approached the table, wiping his hands on his apron and glaring down at Jess. “You bothering her?”

“Not at all,” Jess said smoothly, leaning back. “We’re just discussing the great literary works.”

“Right,” Luke deadpanned, clearly not buying it. “Well, whatever you’re discussing, don’t get any ideas.”

Jess raised his hands in mock surrender. “No ideas here, Uncle Luke. Just harmless banter.”

Luke shot you a look that said I know exactly what’s going on before walking away, mumbling something about young people and bad influences.

You turned back to Jess, who was watching you with that infuriatingly smug expression.

“You know,” you said, picking up the book in front of him and flipping through the pages. “For all your talk of tragedy, I think we’re more of a comedy.”

“Comedy?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’re sure about that?”

“Absolutely,” you nodded, meeting his gaze. “Everyone’s making a fuss, we’re keeping secrets, and at the end of the day, it all works out.”

“Is that so?” Jess tilted his head, his voice dropping slightly. “What makes you so sure?”

“Because,” you said, your smile softening as you looked at him, “no one dies in our story.”

Jess looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable before he finally chuckled softly, his defences melting ever so slightly. “Alright, Cherry. If you say so.”

“I do.” You leaned forward, mirroring his earlier movement. “Now, where were we?”

Jess smirked. “Oh, I think you know.”

Stars Hollow had never been one for keeping secrets. Gossip moved faster than a Gilmore Girl with coffee, and somehow, before you'd even realized it, everyone knew that something was going on between you and Jess Mariano. Well, everyone except you and Jess, apparently.

You leaned against the counter at the Dragonfly Inn, flipping through the latest book you had been unable to put down, your mind still half in the world of fictional characters and tragic romances. Michel was at his desk, typing with exaggerated annoyance.

“Il est agaçant (He is annoying),” you said in a hushed tone, eyes still glued to your book.

Michel barely looked up. “I assume you’re talking about the delinquent,” he replied, his accent as sharp as ever.

You sighed, a smile tugging at your lips. “Yes, of course. Who else?”

“I don’t get it,” you had said to Michel one afternoon as you sat at the reception desk. “Why is everyone so against him? They don’t even know him.”

Michel had waved a hand, unimpressed. “Parce qu’ils sont tous idiots." (Because they are all idiots.)

The bell above the door chimed, and you looked up to see Jess walk in, his usual smirk firmly in place.

“Hey, Cherry,” Jess greeted you, leaning against the counter casually.

You raised an eyebrow, fighting the smile that threatened to break free. “Mon cher Roméo (My dear Romeo),” you replied playfully.

Jess chuckled, glancing around the empty lobby. “Don’t tell me Lorelai or Rory have been by to lecture you again?”

“Oh, they have,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Apparently, I’m making a huge mistake.”

Jess shrugged, not offended but rather amused by the whole town’s reaction to him. “What can I say? I’m Stars Hollow’s favorite villain.”

“Maybe it’s time for a redemption arc,” you teased, pushing the book you were reading across the counter towards him.

He picked it up, scanning the title with mild interest. “Pride and Prejudice? Not exactly light reading.”

“Well, I have to keep up with someone,” you shot back, raising an eyebrow. “You know, the town’s resident bad boy with impeccable taste in literature.”

Jess smirked. “Impeccable, huh? High praise, Juliet.”

You rolled your eyes. “I just don’t get why everyone’s so obsessed with what we’re doing. It’s not like we’re… I don’t know.”

“In love?” Jess finished for you, his tone playful but carrying a hint of something more.

Your heart skipped a beat. “Yeah, that.”

Jess’s gaze softened for a moment, and the teasing smirk fell from his lips, replaced by something more serious. “Maybe they’re just jealous they’re not living in their own Shakespearean tragedy,” he said, his voice lower now.

You scoffed, trying to brush off the intensity of the moment. “A tragedy? Please. You and I both know we’re way too smart to fall into that trap.”

He leaned closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “Is that what you think, Cherry? That we’re too smart to end up like Romeo and Juliet?”

The reference wasn’t lost on you. It never was. Jess had this way of weaving literature into every conversation, turning something mundane into something more. And you knew what he was doing, teasing you, pushing boundaries.

You bit your lip, leaning in just a fraction closer. “I mean, I do prefer happy endings.”

Jess’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, and then he leaned back, the playful smirk returning to his lips. “Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Before you could say anything else, the door swung open again, and Lorelai walked in, her eyes immediately narrowing when she saw Jess.

“Oh, great,” she muttered. “Romeo and Juliet. How fitting.”

You groaned inwardly. “Lorelai…”

But she wasn’t listening. She marched over, standing between you and Jess, arms crossed. “Jess, don’t you have a book to brood over somewhere else? Preferably far away?”

Jess just raised his eyebrows, completely unfazed. “Nice to see you too, Lorelai.”

“Yeah, well, the feeling isn’t mutual,” Lorelai shot back, turning to you. “Seriously, you need to be careful with him.”

Jess glanced at you, and for a moment, there was something unspoken in his eyes—something that made your heart race. You knew he wasn’t going to push back against Lorelai, not right now. Instead, he gave you one last lingering look before turning to leave.

“See you later, Cherry,” he said softly, as he walked out the door.

Lorelai groaned once he was gone, turning back to you. “I really don’t get it. What do you see in him?”

You didn’t answer right away, your mind still on the way Jess had looked at you, the way your heart had skipped a beat when he called you Juliet. Maybe you were falling for him. And maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t such a bad thing.

“Je ne sais pas, (I don't know)” you muttered under your breath, catching Michel’s amused smirk from behind the desk.

But deep down, you knew.

Romeo and Juliet had nothing on you and Jess Mariano.

[wormdebut]

Nightmares

CW: nightmares, sleep paralysis, hurt/comfort

——

When Steve has nightmares, they’re loud. He wakes up thrashing, screaming and clawing to fight against veiny fuckers, and nasty demon bats. Often wakes up yelling thinking he’s still pulling hell creatures off his friends, chosen family. Dustin, Robin, Eddie.

Eddie had almost stayed down there. Steve had to carry his near-lifeless body out. But they had heard something, a whisper of a heartbeat.

It was enough.

Steve had refused to leave Eddie’s hospital room. He made sure Robin and Nancy were posted by Max’s. One of them would come back and report, let Steve know her heart was still beating. Steve had felt Eddie’s heart beat, as weak as was, and he needed to stay near him, to make sure it kept beating. He needed to make sure it kept getting stronger.

He still had his nightmares. Always does, always will. They were awful in that hospital room.

He and the girls hadn’t made it in time. No heartbeat. He and the girls hadn’t made it in time. Dustin was gone too. He and the girls hadn’t made it in time. There were too many bats, they get Robin and Nancy too.

Steve still wakes up screaming and clawing. Fighting. The nurses stopped coming in to check, eventually.

Eddie stayed asleep. Stuck in the coma. Steve stayed with Eddie. Eddie’s uncle—Wayne—doesn’t know. Can’t. Not yet.

Hopper had shown up. Like he had risen from the dead. Steve cried in his arms, in the silence of Eddie’s hospital room. The only sounds, beeping of machines and Steve’s broken sobs. Hopper saying “You did good, kid. Everyone’s safe.”

Everyone wasn’t safe. Max and Eddie were still sleeping.

Max wakes up. Eddie doesn’t. Steve still wakes up screaming and thrashing.

The doctors say it should be any day now.

The last time Steve wakes up, screaming in the stupid fucking hospital, Eddie’s awake.

Steve had basically thrown himself out of his chair, screaming at dead things that had fangs and claws, had woken up when he hit linoleum. He had shaken himself off, as he had done every time previous, flicked his eyes over to Eddies hospital bed, and was met with wide brown eyes.

“Oh my god, Eddie.”

The second time Steve cries in that stupid fucking room, draped over the end of a shitty hospital bed, Eddie and Steve keep that secret between them.

——

When Eddie has nightmares, they’re all consuming. He had told Steve once, it wasn’t the nightmares that scared him the most. It was waking up frozen in whatever room he had fallen asleep in. Locked in his own body.

Steve couldn’t process that. He can’t imagine not being able to fight. He isn’t sure he would ever wake up if he couldn’t thrash his way out of those dark spaces. He admires Eddie’s strength, his vulnerability.

Eddie had come home with Steve when they had released him from the hospital. He’d been confused, but Steve had insisted—had the extra room.

Eddie had been staying in the guest room, but that only lasted a week. He had kept coming to Steve when he woke up screaming. Comforting him. Eddie had told Steve that he had heard Steve thrashing and fighting, screaming that stupid hospital room from hell, long before he had opened his eyes.

“I figured I was still in that frozen place, the sleep paralysis, but I couldn’t open my eyes.” Eddie had told him, as he wiped at Steve’s wet cheeks. Steve had apologized, face red with embarrassment, and Eddie had told him to never apologize for feeling. It was the first night Eddie stayed with Steve.

Wayne knows now, knows his nephew is alive, breathing. He knows something happened that he can’t be fully privy to—he’d have to know basics since the shady fucking government shoves money at them like it was candy, put the Munsons in an apartment, cleared Eddie’s name. Wayne knows that those of them involved in ‘whatever it was’ cope better together. He doesn’t push Eddie to come to the apartment, he knows he at Steve’s.

Steve think Wayne knows about them—which it’s new to Steve and Eddie as it is, but Wayne definitely knows. Steve doesn’t think he disapproves though. He’s seen the soft smile Wayne’s had as he watched Steve run his hand through his nephews hair, watched them watch each other. Wayne is an observant man.

But he’s not a man of many words. He only ever tells Steve, “Thank you for saving our boy.”

——

They watch each other sleep.

When Steve falls asleep curled up in Eddie’s side, he feels strong arms tighten around him like a cocoon. Feels safe. It doesn’t stop the nightmares though. Doesn’t stop the screaming, but when he does tear himself away from certain death Eddie is right there.

“It’s okay, Stevie. It’s over, we won. It’s okay baby.” He whispers, pressing kisses into Steve’s hair. Steve cries. He’s always fucking crying now, but Eddie doesn’t care. He holds him through it, until he can breathe again.

Eddie has a habit of falling asleep on Steve’s chest. Told Steve he likes to hear his heart. It makes Steve blush like a fucking idiot, but that beside the point, he falls asleep listening to Steve’s heart and Steve falls just a little bit further in love with this man, every time.

Steve watches as Eddie sleeps. He feels it when Eddie’s limbs lock up, thinks this is part of the ‘freeze’. He listens to the whimpers Eddie lets out, feels powerless to it. Runs his fingers through hair and whispers that he’s here, he’s right here and Eddie’s safe. He does it every time, and watches as Eddie pulls himself out of the paralysis, watches as Eddie’s eyes snap open and he heaves in a deep watery breath, buries his head in Steve’s chest and cries. Steve just does holds him tighter, lets Eddie cry and lets Eddie find his steady breaths, again.

It gets a little easier. They actually start to fall asleep together, instead of letting the other rest. They still struggle through most nights, but they do it together. Kiss away each other’s tears and fears of what they went through.

When Steve has nightmares, they’re loud.

When Eddie has nightmares, they’re all consuming.

But they have each other, and they get through it, together, every time.

[fictioonbanger]

plug connnie with a secret [not so] breeding kink !

warnings; breeding, smut, mention of pregnancy and birth, pet names/mama, precious, beautiful etc.

plug!connie who’s heart beats faster at the sight of you catering to a young child. the way they would be visibly upset before you came along to sooth and help them out. the way they cling to you after because of how sweet you were to them. connie just couldn’t get enough of the sight, especially when he’d bring you around his younger cousins and nieces and nephews. they absolutely adored you, anytime connie was around without they’d beg him to get you or at least call you if you were too busy. connie wouldn’t technically call it a “breeding kink” but he wouldn’t necessarily say no if anyone asked if he had one. he just fawned and daydreamed of the thought of you walking around full of his baby. the baby you both made together that you were growing, he needed it deeply.

plug!connie who wouldn’t mind having a kid or two himself, just not now of course. he was into much shit and it was one already having you while he’s in the mix of stuff. he couldn’t imagine bringing a child into both your lives while unprepared. sometimes connie thinks he could do it though, start a family with you. pamper you and keep you safe while you carried y’all’s beautiful baby. he swore sometimes he was ready for it, and you’d laugh it off and agree. of course connie would have another deep thinking into it and never bring it up again. you honestly couldn’t care though, it was up to connie from your position. you wouldn’t mind having his baby of course, even now or later. connie just wanted the best for you both so you listened to him and he listened to you. Occasionally both your families would bring it up only to be dismissed with a laugh and “it’s a little early still.” which was the answer you both gave since it was the truth.

plug!connie who says it’s “too early” but fucks you like he wants you pregnant now. balls deep into you while in missionary, holding your hand and breathing over your body. he was slowly thrusting into you making sure you were full of his cum. “nnf- fuck! connie your t-too deep!” you clawed at his chest and looked up at him with wet lashes. connie loved seeing you like this, fitting him and taking his cum babbling over his dick. “you look so pretty baby.. g-nna fill u up. real good yeah?” connie spoke through pants and grunts trying to maintain his eyes on your body. looking down at where y’all were connected didn’t help that he wasn’t trying to cum fast, the sight was a beauty. he whimpered seeing it and buckled his hips faster, it’s like it turned something in him on. he was gripping at the pillow on the side of you and starring into your lazy half lidded eyes. “i- wanna make you a mama y/n..have you full of my babies.” he whimpered out in your ear as his hips sped up faster, you nodded and wrapped your legs around his waist. wrapping you arms around his neck and pulling him into a affection hug. this only made him deeper inside of you and made you a moaning mess, connie loved when you used him for your own pleasure. he really just wanted to make you happy.

plug!connie who fucked you so good that night it wasn’t no way you weren’t pregnant. he had you overstimulated under him and he was himself. connie kept himself all pent up just for this moment to fuck it into you. “cum in..p-please.” you babbled out to connie and it only made him snap his hips at the sound of your whining. “whatever y-you want baby, don’t whine. fill you up real good.” expect connie did want you to whine for him. connie loved when you whined, it didn’t matter if you did or not you could always get your way with him. he gave a full deep thrust and ropes of cum shot inside of you. “f-fuck.” connie mumbled out as he slowly thrusted his cum into you, making sure it didn’t spill out one bit. you came with him clenching down and making a bigger mess under you both. this just made connie want to clean you up more. falling to his knees and starting already on your clit again, pushing both your cum back inside you with his index and middle finger. he placed soft wet kisses on your thighs as he worked on your clit. connie knew you were gonna end up pregnant the way he fucked you full, and you knew it too. even then when you took the test and the two red lines stood it startled you a bit, more than you connie was jumping with joy. picking you up off the floor and swinging you around placing kisses on your face. he really couldn’t wait for the family with you and would put anything aside to do it. which is what he did right after he came in you anyway, telling his dealer he’d b on the low for awhile because he had real business to handle. of course he wouldn’t tell anyone about his newly pregnant (soon to be) wife.

plug!connie who was excited and giddy to tell all friends and family about your growing baby. them all having the same loving reaction, especially when they all found out it would be a boy. you knew it was a great choice with connie, he took everyday for 9 months to prepare for the moment you’d birth you guys baby. connie couldn’t keep his hands off you before of course but when you had gotten rounder he was on you 24/7. rubbing and cupping your belly for you when the weight got too much and exhausting. rubbing your feet and massaging you at any given time of day, even in public. he talked to your baby almost every night and it not every then a kiss at most. connie’s cousins and nieces and nephews couldn’t stay away from you either. giddy themselves hearing you were having a baby they were by your side whenever. connie who stood in the emergency room right next to your bed as you were going into labor. he rubbed at your cheeks and reassured you constantly throughout the whole way. “you’re doing so well precious, our baby boy ‘smost here mama” he rubbed at the side of your face leaning so you could touch as you pushed. connie who was dumbfounded when he was asked if he wanted to cut the umbilical cord. hurriedly with a nodding yes and clip of scissors connie’s whole word changed, it was so much all to process but he loved every moment and so did you. the sight seeing his eyes light up at the glimpse of your newborn baby. his precious face when he held him and watched as he coo’d and cried. quickly turning his attention towards you to make sure you were okay and bringing the baby to your chest. you held him and almost died at the sight of how tiny he was, your baby fever was definitely still rushing and now that you had a mini you and connie things would be different.

[oh-stars]

Boring

Love is wanting to tell someone every little detail of your day and wanting to hear about theirs.

a @steddielovemonth prompt | 1309 words | CW: N/A | Rating: G

--

Steve isn’t exciting. He knows this, he’s always known this. It’s why he hides behind fake smiles and follows the same beat as the rest of his peers rather than finding his own path like Eddie. He follows the local teams because that’s what everyone else did; he listens to pop music because that’s what’s played at parties and the first thing he hears when he turns on the radio; he wears boring clothes because his mom buys it for him and he actually likes how they look on him. 

It’s not something he put a lot of thought into until he started hanging out with Dustin and his friends, only growing when Robin came into his life and then it became this glaringly obvious problem when Eddie took an interest in him as a friend. Steve likes the mainstream, everyday boring shit that makes him blend into his peers, and fully fade to the background when he’s around his wonderfully eccentric new family. 

And now that he and Eddie are more than friends, Steve feels even more inadequate. 

His date ideas are cheesy and stereotypical. His ambitions in life start and stop at having a family in the future (which has changed since he was a kid – now he doesn’t equate having a family to a wife and 2.5 kids, but rather a cozy little life with his partner, maybe a few pets, and any nieces or nephews the party gives him. As long as he has Robin in his life and a partner, be it a wife or husband, who actually loves him, he’ll be content). Steve doesn’t have any passions he can turn into a career, and the few he did have, it’s far fetched or his body couldn’t keep up anymore even if he had the chance. 

Then there’s Eddie who shines so brightly and takes up so much space with every ounce of his personality. He has so many hobbies that could become actual careers, too many choices for him to pick from that there have been plenty of nights where he’s stayed up and talked Steve in circles over his choices. He has such strong opinions about everything, could rant for days about the lint he found in the dryer if he needed to. Nancy always says he’d be a great Phillip-buster, whatever that is, because he can just keep going without losing steam. 

He’s incredible and Steve is decidedly not. 

It’s something he ponders on his way home, nodding along to the Springsteen song playing on the radio as he heads for the trailer. It’s been a great day, one of Steve’s better ones lately, and he’s itching to revel in its many wonders with Eddie when he gets home. Nothing exciting happened, just a lot of little, wonderful moments that feel perfect to Steve. 

But they’re boring. He knows that. 

When he was a kid, he used to hear his grandparents talk about the most mundane things. His grandmother would fill his grandpa in on all the gossip she gathered from their neighbor or the way the price of milk went up at Bradley Big Buy. She’d have serious conversations with him about whether they should switch grocery stores or if going to one of the farms directly for their produce was a better idea. And in turn, he’d complain about the squeaky wheel on the mail cart at work or would go into detail about how lovely the lunch she packed him was, complimenting the sandwich like it was made of gold. 

They were the perfect couple in Steve’s eyes. He’s always wanted what they have. But his grandparents were so similar, they shared interests in ways that Steve and Eddie don’t. On paper, Steve and Eddie should clash and he knows opposites attract and all, but it doesn’t mean you want a life with them. 

So he holds in his excitement about his day. He’s just happy to have Eddie to come home to at all, that he’s allowed to just walk into the trailer and be a part of Eddie’s life. 

He parks next to Eddie’s van and pockets his keys. 

Eddie’s waiting for him by the door, perched on the dining chair. “Thought you’d be coming home soon,” Eddie says with a grin as he pops up. He loops his arms around Steve’s neck and kisses him, so sweet and soft. Another addition to Steve’s perfect day. 

Steve can’t keep the smile off his face. “I missed you,” he says, even though it’s probably too much, too sappy for Eddie. 

Instead of wrinkling his nose and making a snide comment, Eddie’s arms tighten around him as he beams, eyes crinkling with how wide his smile is. “I missed you too.” Another kiss, this one a little longer and deeper before Eddie’s pulling away with a peck. “C’mon. I’ve been losing my mind being here all by myself,” he laments, hanging from Steve a little. 

“Where are we going?” Steve asks as Eddie straightens up to drag Steve to the couch. He gets pushed onto one side as Eddie takes the other, sitting cross-legged and sideways so he can stare directly at Steve. 

“Okay,” Eddie says seriously, “tell me everything.” 

“What?” 

Eddie nudges Steve’s knee. “About your day. I want the…” His brow furrows as he looks up at the ceiling, eyes glazing over as he thinks. “What’s the sports thing I’m thinking of? With the scripts?” 

Steve cocks his head to the side. “A play?” 

“Yes!” Eddie snaps his fingers and bounces a little. “I want the play-by-play.” 

“Are you sure?” Steve asks, quiet despite the way his heart is picking up. “It was just a day at Family Video. It’s not like I’m a doctor or something more exciting.” 

Eddie leans forward and cups his hands over Steve’s face. “Everything you do is exciting to me, baby. I like seeing the world through your eyes. So yes, tell me everything,” he says, leaning forward with each word as he squishes Steve’s cheeks. He ends it with another peck, then two more like he can’t help himself. 

Steve laughs, but twists his body to mirror Eddie’s. “It’s been a great day,” he admits, eyes drawn to the loose thread on Eddie’s cushion. “Robin brought me coffee from that new shop on Main and her dad dropped off donuts for us on his way to work. Then Mrs. Peterson came in and she wasn’t a demonic she-beast from the underworld and was actually lovely for once,” Steve says. 

“Mrs. Peterson?” Eddie gasps. “The same woman who yelled at me for almost two hours for biking through her yard as a kid?” 

“The very one,” Steve says. “I think Rob and I were both too stunned to speak for a good thirty minutes after.” 

Eddie shakes his head, eyes bright with genuine interest – almost like he’s mystified. “See, this is the shit I wouldn’t believe if it came from anyone else but you.”

“What’s that mean?” Steve asks, softer but not harsh like he thought it would sound. Not that he wants to – he just knows how he comes off sometimes. 

“You,” Eddie says, poking Steve’s chest, “are special. You always bring the best out of people, man. Including grouchy old ladies who sold their souls to the devil for fresh gardenias in their flowerbeds.” 

Steve laughs and tilts forward so he’s practically in Eddie’s lap. They shift quietly so Steve’s laying on Eddie fully, arms wrapped around his middle. “You make it sound like I’ve got something exciting to say. It’s just boring shit.” 

“That’s where you’re wrong. You, Steve Harrington, are so far from boring,” Eddie whispers against his ear. 

And deep down, Steve thinks he may actually believe him. 

Steve lifts his head to kiss Eddie’s cheek. “Your turn. Tell me something about your day.” 

--

Thank you @lady-lostmind for betaing!

Ao3 Link

[shadowdaddies]

Hii

Idk if your request is open but if it is then can i request for nessian with a reader thats illyrian? And that she constantly has something sassy or retorts back if someone teases her the slightest bit?

Hope you have a good day!!💗💗 love your works btw

Hi! Thank you so much, this was fun and different for me to write. Hope you have a good day, honey!💜

Banter

poly!Nessian x Reader

After an especially hard day of training, you were giddy for family dinner. Bursting through the front door of the River House, you spotted your nephew, Nyx, and ran towards him with open arms. He yelled out, “Auntie Y/N!” giggling as you scooped him up, twirling him around in a big hug. 

With a teasing smirk, you look to Nyx, the little boy already knowing what to do. “Race you to the dining room?” you asked. With a fierce nod, the toddler turned - in position to run. “3...2...1...GO!” you yelled, setting off down the hall, lagging slightly to let Nyx barely pull out the win. “Good job, buddy! That was close, though. I think I could beat you next time,” you said with a wink as the two of you took your seats.

Cassian set down the bottle of wine, taking his own glass in hand as he cocked an eyebrow at you. “I don’t know love, I was watching the start of that race and you seemed a little quick off the mark there.” Whipping your head towards your mate, you fired back, “well you would know about that, wouldn’t you?”

Azriel nearly spit out his drink, Nesta sheepishly sinking into her seat next to you as Cassian gave her a pointed glare. “What? Of course she told me,” you said, reaching over to hold Nesta’s hand. Feyre gave you a warning glare as she loaded Nyx’s plate with food. You shrugged, waving her off. “Oh, he doesn’t know what we’re talking about.”

Rhys leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “Do you know what we’re talking about? We’ve been discussing important court matters, but it seems you’ve been too busy verbally sparring with your mates to take notice.” Toasting your glass in Rhys’s direction, you smirked at him. “Perfect then, you know your secrets are safe with me since I don’t listen to what you say anyway.”

Mor and Cassian laughed with you as Amren rolled her eyes. Rhys continued, “well, it pertains to you as we’re going to be visiting Ironcrest.” With a sigh, you leaned back in your chair, the remnants of wings on your shoulders anxiously twitching at the mention of your former home. It was time to be serious. “What do you need from me, Rhys?” 

Cassian interrupted, sensing your nerves and eager to protect his mate. He played it off jokingly, flexing his muscles dramatically on display for you as he countered Rhys. “I’m sure I can take care of whoever is causing problems over at Ironcrest.” You bit back your smile, scoffing before lobbing back at your mate, “feed your own ego, I’m busy here,” and nodded to Rhys to continue - meanwhile sending love and thanks down the bond to Cassian, squeezing Nesta’s hand under the table for comfort.

Rhys explained the plan, everyone at the table groaning when he announced you would all be leaving for the camps before dawn tomorrow. “Well, I’m off to bed then,” Cassian announced as he stood up from the table. You swirled the wine in your glass. “Be sure to check underneath for Bryaxis,” you said with a wink. Cassian’s face turned red as you and Nesta giggled. She leaned in, whispering in your ear, “come on love, let’s go with him.” You nodded, pressing a kiss to her cheek as you joined Cassian, the three of you heading to bed.

“Are you nervous for tomorrow?” Cassian asked when you reached your room. You shook your head, climbing into bed in between your mates. “No, I’m really not.” And you meant it. Despite how much you loved to tease them, you knew Cassian and Nesta would be there for you, to love and protect you despite whatever tomorrow may bring.

[flowerandblood]

The Price of Dignity

[ dark academia • Aemond x rich • female ]

[ warnings: angst, violence, class inequalities ]

[ description: Aemond worked his whole life to get into the best university in the country. The class inequality he sees there strikes him, and the target of his hatred is a female classmate from his year, a rich girl from a wealthy family. However, it turns out that what was obvious to him is not so simple and he has to face the consequences of his own decisions. A lot of angst, bitchy, violent, mean Aemond. ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He very quickly came to terms with the fact that life is not fair. He understood this when he watched his mother, worried, choosing between buying him a new sweatshirt and buying him a new textbook for school, between paying the heating bills and a new bed so they wouldn't all have to fit into one with an old, yellow mattress.

They didn't starve, they didn't walk around dirty, their mother made sure they looked like decent people, however, they were always lacking things, always had too little money for something.

Although his mother worked two jobs at school, she didn't earn as much as his friend's mother, who bought her T-shirts with Disney cartoon characters, had a whole pencil case of glitter pens and expensive chocolate croissants for her second breakfast.

He envied her and one day, when she wasn't looking, he stole her pensieve and threw it in the rubbish. She cried all day because of this, the pencil case was eventually found, however, she didn't want it anymore because it stank.

The next day she came to school with a new pencil case, even prettier.

From then on he decided that whatever he did would not change anything, so he chose not to worry about it and to stay away from such people. He was repulsed by their feeling that they could look down on him, that they were proud to have new, fashionable things, as if there was any merit in it.

They just got it and he didn't.

Something that could not be bought was intelligence, and he did not lack it.

Therefore, he decided to concentrate on his studies, spending whole days in the school library, borrowing thick, worn-out books to take home, having no money to buy new ones in the bookshop. He set himself the goal of getting into a degree in classical literature at the best, most prestigious university in the country by virtue of his academic results, to win a scholarship.

His mother was horrified by the idea, having no clue how she would help him pay for his stay in the capital, where everything was several times more expensive than in their city.

Not wanting to burden her more, to her despair, after high school classes he would go to work for a friend who ran a car repair shop, working as his helper, every paycheck saved up for his plan.

He felt like he was obsessed with it and did not accept the possibility that he might not succeed.

When applying for a scholarship, in addition to a written essay of at least a hundred pages about his favourite author, he had to appear in person for an interview.

Specially for this occasion, he bought himself an expensive shirt, smart trousers and a suit jacket for the first time and, dressed like this, went there with a beating heart.

The professors sitting in front of him seemed tired and weary of their work, sipping tea from beautiful, surely very expensive, porcelain cups. He looked at them trying to hide the disgust on his face, listening to their questions, which turned out to be trivially easy.

He saw how he was arousing their interest more and more with every minute with his attitude, they started asking him about his life, where he came from.

He sold them the heart-wrenching story of his childhood, the tale of his accident involving his nephew, through which he lost his eye, and then his slow road to the top, presenting himself as a young boy with dreams who had worked so hard for his success.

To his surprise it worked, and after a week he received a letter confirming that he had been awarded a scholarship and a place on his dream faculty.

He cried like a baby reading it several times, glad that no one was home at the time, feeling that he had finally managed to win something for himself in his life.

His mother burst with pride when she found out, while at the same time fearing how he would cope in this group, full of aristocrats and children of rich parents who could afford to simply buy them a place there.

He figured he would destroy them all, show them for who they really were.

He felt within himself some great need for revenge and atonement, although he did not know quite how he was supposed to express it.

He spotted his perfect target at the first meeting of his year with the professor who was to be their mentor during their stay at the University.

Despite the fact that they were all sitting in the same elegant uniforms with the intricate gold crest of their university, he saw that she was holding the latest model of phone in her hands, a beautiful gold ring with a sapphire on her middle finger and an old, expensive watch, surely inherited from some very wealthy and famous great-grandfather.

It came to his ears very quickly that her surname, Howard, was due to her grandfather on her father's side, the baron who had been given that title, which her family had boasted of ever since, living in their mansion in a village near the capital.

He looked at her and thought only of the fact that she was a fucking nepotistic, spoilt brat who never had to earn anything, who was taking the place of someone who really deserved it.

He very quickly caught a good rapport with a boy similar to himself, also from a small town from a working-class family, Criston. Like him, he owed his place to his education and scholarship, although he was not as harsh as he was in his assessment of their new friend.

"Oh, come on. Just concentrate on being content that you're here." He said one evening as they prepared for their first classes together. They were sitting in large, comfortable armchairs by the fireplace in the university's huge library filled with old, oak bookcases reaching the ceiling, filled to the brim with thick, dusty tomes.

He instantly fell in love with the place and only dreamed of spending whole evenings there, imagining how other students, writers and poets sat in his place. He hummed at his words, turning the page of the book he had just read, a history of ancient Greek literature.

"I'm concentrating on this, but when I look at her, I just feel sick. She's only here so her daddy baron can show off his daughter at the University. I have no respect for her and don't think she deserves any. The fact that she is here is a joke and one big misunderstanding." He muttered lowly, Criston sighed heavily, shaking his head, not having the strength to argue with him.

They both flinched when they heard someone's quiet footsteps, the figure of Howard appeared from among the bookcases with several books clutched to her chest and headed immediately for her entrance, her face pale, her lips clenched.

He swallowed loudly, feeling the cold sweat on his back at the thought that she had heard it all, and although he thought it was good for her that he had told the truth out loud, a sense of shame overcame him anyway.

Criston threw him a confused, horrified look and he lowered his gaze and grunted, letting out a loud breath, returning to his reading, recognising that the words of someone like him were meaningless to her anyway.

The next day was their first class with Professor Morris, in which they were to study Greek literature of the Classical, Hellenistic and Empire eras. Their professor, a short, smiling old man with big glasses, spoke with enthusiasm and energy surprisingly high for his age, introducing them to the subject and telling them what they would be working on first.

He said they would start with something simple, a collection of myths that, although passed down through generations and written down very late in history, were a source of inspiration that still stirred the minds of young artists and writers today.

He began with a question about who the Greek gods were in Greek mythology, Howard's hand shot up before he could think of anything.

"As far as the Olympian gods are concerned, they were imagined as humans, or rather the inhabitants of Hellada with the difference that they were immortal by drinking ambrosia and had various powers." She said quickly, their professor nodding at her words.

"That is true, Miss Howard. Why were they imagined as human beings and not, like the Christian God, as a superior, infallible entity?"

Howard's hand shot up again and he pressed his lips together, looking at her impatiently.

Stupid bitch.

"Because they were supposed to be the answer to what was happening around the living population, they were not the determinant of moral values, like the Christian God, but more like guardians whose care had to be constantly sought.

They loved and hated like ordinary people, they were eager for revenge, murder and rape, so they did not represent a pattern of behaviour, but rather depicted the unpredictability of nature and events in human life." She said without stammering, and he let out a loud breath, impatient.

She was doing this on purpose.

She wanted to prove him wrong.

He spent whole evenings reading and preparing for class and in the days that followed, he began to overtake her, watching with satisfaction as she turned to him over her shoulder with furrowed brows, impatient when it was him that their professor allowed to speak and not her.

They were at war.

He saw that she had her two friends with whom she went everywhere, naive girls from good homes who clung to her to wallow in her luxuries.

He felt like laughing at this sight.

He had the feeling that it was getting worse by the week, they were throwing hateful glances at each other in the corridors and shunning each other in the common rooms and the library, not wanting to bump into each other by accident.

He knew she was doing this to prove him wrong, to make herself feel the best again rather than because she was interested in literature.

After the first exams they both had very similar scores, but he felt a sense of pride when he saw on the posted list that he had scored one point more than her, a grimace of satisfaction showed on his face as he glanced in her direction indulgently.

Even though she had second place right after him she turned and walked towards the women's dormitory, clearly frustrated, making him feel better for the day.

And that's when he appeared.

Ronald Collins, a blushing man with slight curves, looking as if he was living in some sort of dreamy state had been introduced to them in class with their tutor and it appeared that he would be joining them mid-year.

No one understood how he managed to achieve this, he didn't look like a wealthy man, he smiled at everyone as if he were a priest at a sermon, with tenderness and care, as if he lived in a completely different reality. He and Criston would sometimes see him sitting on the cloisters with a notebook in his hand, gesticulating and talking to himself as if he were some inspired 19th century poet.

"What the fuck is his problem?" He muttered to Cole, recognising that this man was out of his mind.

In their first class together, however, he proved to them that he was something far more dangerous.

"Shakespeare. Romeo and Juliet. Trash and kitsch, or sincere, sudden, fiery true love? There are different thoughts about this world-famous work today. What is your opinion?"

He and Howard automatically raised their hand, but Collins preceded them. The professor allowed him to speak first and, to everyone's surprise, he stood up, looking around the room.

"Pontius Pilate asked Christ - what is truth? But I ask you - what is love?! Is there only one kind of love? When we truly love, can we be so desperate as to reach for the finality, for death itself?" He asked, stretching his hand out in front of him, sweeping it in a semi-circle as if he was showing something, a few people couldn't stand it and laughed under their breath, Howard turned to him over her shoulder, looking at him with big eyes in disbelief, and he looked at her feeling that he looked exactly like her.

What the fuck was that supposed to be?

He bullshitted his way through the next five minutes until their professor decided he'd had enough.

However, what horrified him the most was the results of his first exam, which he saw on a list posted for all students outside the room.

100/100 points Mr Collins 94/100 points Mr Targaryen 94/100 points Miss Howard

What?

"What?!" He heard a familiar voice beside him, Howard stepped closer to the glass as if she couldn't believe her eyes.

She threw him a quick, helpless look as if she wanted him to tell her what had just happened here, but he himself had no idea how that was possible.

How could this fucking moron get such a good score?

"Ah, my sweet rivals!" They heard a voice behind them and turned around, Collins was looking contentedly at his score from over their shoulders, blushing, smiling and dreamy as usual, he could see from so close up that despite his young age he was slowly starting to go bald.

"Miss Howard and Mr Targaryen, the age-old battle between the aristocracy and the working class. So dramatic, solemn, full of contradictions. Love - hate - or perhaps cold calculation? Like Athena and Arachne, like Aphrodite and Persephone, like Achilles and Hector!" He said grabbing Howard's arm and she shook her head, completely surprised, not believing that he dared to say such things out loud.

"− Achilles and Hector didn't −" She began, but he interrupted her, looking up, as if suddenly dazzled.

"− no − Romeo and Juliet − separated lovers − they don't even know yet that tragedy awaits them, that they will not be given the chance to be reunited − but nevertheless this feeling, this will to fight will always prevail." He said worriedly and shook her, as if he wanted to make her realise how serious his prophetic words were, and then he left, wishing them a good day.

They stood horrified, he saw her look at her arms, as if she might have been contaminated by him just a moment ago.

"− oh God −" She muttered, lowering her hands without strength. "− he's an idiot −"

Their war was put on hold as they were forced to turn their gazes to a new enemy, more dangerous and more unpredictable, turning their joint lectures into a nightmare, for some reason having perfect scores on all their exams.

How was it possible that he was always a few points short and he passed everything with the highest score?

He decided to hide in the library as usual, tired and frustrated, and clenched his eyes when he saw that in his armchair, hidden between a few bookcases so that he couldn't be seen from a distance, sat Howard, reading a book even though it was his favourite place and she knew it perfectly well.

"Get the fuck out." He said to her straight out, towering over her with an angry look. She furrowed her brow and pressed her lips together.

"No. That moron is still after me, and he won't find me here. I was here first." She said angrily and turned the page with a quick, theatrical gesture.

He leaned over her resting his hands on either side of her body on the armrests of her armchair, looking at her face from so close that the tips of their noses were almost touching.

"Get. The fuck. Out." He hissed low.

"Fuck. No." She hissed parroting his tone, he grabbed her hard by her arm, trying to pull her out of there, but she immediately lifted her leg and kicked him in the stomach.

He bent down and growled, grabbing her ankle.

"You little spoiled bitch." He snorted, pulling her so that she just fell off the armchair, ignoring the fact that it made her skirt roll up and he could almost see her panties. "You think if your daddy pays for your studies, you're allowed everything?"

In response, he was hit on the head with the book she had just been reading, grabbed his forehead and shouted in pain, closing his eyes.

"Fuck off! I'm studying here as hard as you are!" She snarled furiously, wanting to throw the other book at him, but he grabbed her arms and blocked her movements. They were both panting loudly fighting each other, she tried to hit him with her knee, but he pinned her down with his body.

"Yeah? Oh what a poor girl. She studies as hard as I do. She never had to earn anything, she didn't have to work for long fucking hours after school, studying late to earn a living here, she didn't have to write a 100-page essay to get here, beg the university authorities to give her a scholarship." He hissed out looking at her with hatred, not letting her get away, feeling that he was just pouring out everything he had felt over the years, all the loathing he had for her and people like her.

She stopped fighting him and pressed her lips together, her eyebrows at the same time furrowed in a grimace of pain and sadness, her lower lip began to tremble at his words, her eyes turned red and glazed over from tears.

"Oh, are you going to cry? Are you going to fucking cry now? The poor rich little girl is going to cry because she heard a few words of truth?" He asked in a mocking, sweet voice as if he was speaking to a small child who still doesn't understand much and needs to be explained slowly.

"Fuck off." She exhaled with difficulty, already with less certainty, trying to push him away but to no avail, his hands clenched tighter on her shoulders, her body pressed against the armchair so that she was unable to make any movement, her cheeks red with exertion.

"You're not so snarky anymore? Well, please tell me, how did you earn your place here? Let me guess, you told your daddy - daddy, I would like to study here - will you pay my tuition fees? Hm? Is that how it was? I know, you worked so terribly hard for it." He sneered, arching his eyebrows in a gesture as if he really felt sorry for her, and she burst out crying, looking up at him from below, breathing hard.

"− I wanted to study here because I'm interested in literature, and my dad helped me − what the fuck is your problem? −" She mumbled out almost choking, and he clenched his jaw, his nostrils moving restlessly in rage.

"− my problem is that you've taken the place of someone who's worked all their life for it − some poor boy or girl who didn't have your father's money − the university authorities prefer your money to their knowledge −"

"− then why don't you go and yell at the rector for it? − won't you go to the dean and name some person to take my place, tell them that they are only after my money? − I'll tell you why − thanks to my father's money you can be here for free − thanks to my father's money you'll be able to do your PhD and do your research −" She laughed desperately through her tears, looking at him in disbelief, seeing him turn pale, his lower lip trembling in rage.

"− you didn't know? − you thought our country was paying for your place here, your uniform, your room? − no − but you're right about one thing − you've earned this place harder than I have −" She said emotionlessly, looking at him with a blank stare, and he felt unable to get a word out, his throat tightened, he felt like he was about to vomit, humiliation and rage spreading through his body.

"− you don't know anything about me − you've been insulting me ever since you got here, even though I'm the one you feel sorry for, you're the one carrying yourself like a king, looking down on everyone − and I thought that maybe things would get better, that maybe we'd even become friends − you're a mere brutal boor who thinks he can take it out on whoever he wants −" She hissed, pushing him away from her, he stepped back, turning his head away, not looking at her as she picked up her book from the floor and moved ahead, disappearing around the corner.

He slid his back down the bookcase and sat on the floor, burying his face in his hands, feeling that he was trembling all over.

You're a mere brutal boor who thinks he can take it out on whoever he wants.

_____

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[fairvstairs]

ANDREIL WITH KIDS!

So I've seen a lot of people say that Neil and Andrew wouldn't be good with kids/wouldn't like them but I think that it's much more complicated than that.

Of course I don't view them as the types to see kids and go "OMG so cute I want to hug them" but I also don't think they would hate them on sight. I have spent my life basically surrounded by children and let me tell you, some of them? They are really little shits. But after all, they are just tiny people, you are gonna find some assholes.

Kids are so much more complicated than people make them out to be and it really pisses me off. They are learning how to be in this world so they basically copy the behavior they see in the people around them, good or bad. They want attention, they want to have fun, they want to be loved, they want to explore and, most importantly, children want to trust.

("I was seven, I believed him.")

They don't understand 'stranger danger' or why someone would want to hurt someone else and some of them manage to become amazing human beings even if they didn't have a good role model.

So I think that if Andrew ever stumbled upon a kid crying his eyes out because he misses his mommy he wouldn't be annoyed. A child feels safe with his parent. What's wrong with that? And Neil looking at a child play, run, laugh, be happy, wondering when all that joy was beat out of him.

And the other foxes' kids? Children with parents that weren't supposed to make it but fought hard as hell to maintain their place in the world when everybody kept trying to steal it from them?

The Foxes know Neil and Andrew, they learn how to behave around them when everybody thinks they are just rude (they still have bad days) and their kids learn too. Especially because I don't think any of them are gonna be strict parents so the little ones understand that when they say "no" they really mean it.

The first years are hard, they do nothing but eat, sleep, cry their lungs out, poop, throw up on everybody and drool while making sounds that Matt swears he understands ("It's their way of communicating!"). Neil doesn't really like being around them, not since a random kid got scared after looking at his face, but his nieces and nephews (don't argue with me on this) grow used to him pretty quickly and really like the texture of his skin, because of the scars. Andrew treats them slightly better than he would any other adult: he doesn't talk much around them but he's always aware of every move they make. He picks them up when no one else is around and plays make-believe with them, he spoils them with sweets ("Andrew! Now he's never gonna go to sleep." "That seems like a you problem.") and often insults their parents.

Things get easier over the years and, before you know it, Neil and Andrew are the go-to for every problem the kids, now teenagers, have. It goes from "Uncle Andrew do you want to help me pick a dress for the prom?" to "I think my friend is in a really dangerous situation at home, what should I do?". The kids slowly become their own people but the foxes never stop protecting them. Every single one of them makes sure that all the kids get to have what they didn't.

I don't think Andrew and Neil would ever have kids of their own but they are bound to retire someday. Maybe Andrew starts to work in child services and maybe Neil becomes a little league coach, it doesn't really matter to them what they do as long as they give these children second chances. Second, third, fourth, whatever, as long as they get at least one more than what anyone else wanted to give them.

-

Not trying to push a "yay kids!" agenda on you but I'm just tired of people hating children for being children. The foxes would be very disappointed.

(If you already saw this, no you didn't)

[feyhunter78]

the way your jon snow fic has the most VICOUS hold on me. like i love it so much you have no idea. please please add me to that tag list! also whens the next part coming out i beg to know.

I can do that, and I'll do ya one better and drop the next chapter right here!!!!!

Chapter Eleven - Another marriage, and now a few moons later Queen Margaery has settled into her throne and it is time to celebrate her nameday with yet another feast, this time in Highgarden.

Ch 12

When your Uncle Jamie—really your only uncle now, as your Uncle Robert is long dead—slips back inside your aunt’s solar, he seems different, withdrawn, and pensive. You blame it on the death of his eldest child, wishing to not worry about whatever he and Jon spoke of. Though you know he is not so broken up about Joffrey’s death, he never truly liked the boy.

Your aunt is calm now, only a few stray tears and sniffles, Tommen curled in her lap. Your grandsire sitting in a chair his back ramrod straight, your father standing by your side as you lean against the table, your eyes on the large windows overlooking the Keep.

“We must uncover the assassins and hold a proper funeral for the king.” Your aunt says, her arms wrapped tightly around Tommen.

“We must write to Myrcella first; she needs to know of Joffrey’s death from us, not strangers.” You argue.

“No, we must secure the safety of all members of the royal family.” Your uncle says, his arms folded across his chest.

Your grandsire sighs. “You are all wrong, first we must arrange for Lady Margaery to marry Tommen and place Tommen on the throne, we cannot waste time, every second he does not sit on the Iron Throne more schemes to take it from him are hatched.”

“He is barely half her age.” Cersei protests.

You look at your father, this must be part of the plan, though you do not understand how, it must be. Besides, Tommen is a sweet boy, he will not harm her, nor will Margaery harm him.

“Grandsire is right, we cannot allow the Tyrells to slip from our fingers.” You say, earning a look of approval from your grandsire, one you so rarely get.

So now you stand in the crowd once more, dressed less lavishly than you were for Joffrey’s wedding, watching as Tommen and Margaery say their vows. The affair is duller, quieter, Margaery of course looks beautiful, but you cannot find it in yourself to be joyous. Your father has not explained how this is part of the plan. The wedding has happened, the vows were said, how is she to marry Robb while Tommen still lives? Perhaps an annulment? It would make sense; Tommen is far too young; no bedding will happen until he is of age. But it does not make sense in terms of succession.

You wring your hands, trying to piece together some way Robb can take the throne while Tommen still lives. Then the ceremony is over, the feasting and dancing commences, and Tommen seems…happy. That is truly all you want for him, happiness, but there is a cloud hanging over you that you cannot shake.

As you disperse with the rest of the crowd, a tall, dark-haired, olive-skinned man steps into your view, his fine clothing colorful and cut in a distinct fashion.

“Lady y/n, may I have this dance?” Lord Oberyn Martell extends his hand, and you take it, giving him a gracious smile.

Myrcella has written of Oberyn, of his quick wit, of the way he dotes on his daughters, how he cares greatly for nieces and nephews, and though he still holds her at a distance he is not unkind to her. Despite all that she still warns you to be wary of him, that he earned the name Red Viper for a reason.

The song is familiar, the steps easy, and you fall in line with the other dancers, gliding and turning on beat, the melodious strings accompanied by clear toned woodwinds invoking the image of young lovers enjoying a spring day.

“Your cousin speaks highly of you.” Lord Oberyn says, his words far more accented than Jon’s, but still clear as day.

“I do miss her.” You twirl then return within his arm’s reach.

“Trystane takes good care of her I can assure you; I have never seen a young man more smitten than him” There is a look on his face, one of mischief, and he gracefully inclines his head towards Jon. “Though your White Wolf could put up a fair fight.”

“He is devoted, as a sworn sword should be.” You say nonchalantly, before attempting to turn the conversation back to Myrcella.

Oberyn stops you, dipping you low, a devilish smile on his handsome face directed towards someone you cannot see, though you imagine it is Jon. “If that is the case, then perhaps, I shall take your aunt up on her offer of further betrothals in Dorne.”

You stumble, catching the Dornish prince’s foot with the edge of your heel. “My apologies, My Lord.”

“No harm done; I expected such a reaction.”

“I think it would be best to speak with my father, not my aunt, if you wish to marry me to one of your nephews or cousins.” You say primly, curtsying to him once the dance has finished.

He presses your hand to his lips. “And if I wished to marry you myself? Would I still need to speak with your father.”

Your face burns and you snatch your hand away. “You have daughters younger than me, Prince Oberyn, and I do not think their mother would take kindly to another woman attempting to take her place. Nor would I want to. I mean no offense, but I cannot enter a marriage where I must share my husband, especially not when the other woman has had him first.”

He laughs, the sound warm, banishing the tension from the air around you, lifting the weight from your shoulders. It reminds you a little of how Jon laughs, the comfort it brings. Is this how all Dornish men laugh? If so, you can understand why Lyanna and Myrcella did not find it hard to fall for their own Dornish lovers.

“She would not, but she will appreciate your words.” He takes your hand gently, kissing it once more, then releasing you.

You give him a smile and gracefully take the arm of your next partner, then the next one then the next one, until finally Jon is able to steal you away, leading you back to your father.

“I have just turned down Oberyn Martell’s proposal, Father, I wished to let you know.” You say, a weary smile on your face as you slump in the chair next to him.

“Oh, did you? How bold these Dornish are, asking a girl for her hand without first consulting with her father.” Your father says, a ghost of a grin on his lips.

Jon stiffens from his place behind you.

“I reminded him he has daughters younger than me. Also, that I would not share my husband, it is too…unsavory for me, though of course I did not phrase it so.”

Your father snorts. “You told the Red Viper that you will not play the whore in your own marriage?”

You can hear Jon shifting his weight, and he hates when others use what he deems foul language in your presence. Though, you always remind him that Theon had given you quite the course in how to speak as a proper sailor does.

“No, I said I would not like to take the place of another woman.” You take a cube of cheese from his plate and pop it in your mouth. “Though perhaps I should have said lions are far too possessive to ever share their mates.” You catch sight of Jon in your peripheral and flash him a teasing smile.

He clears his throat and looks away, his arms clasped behind his back.

Jon has been oddly distant since the night of Joffrey’s death, and you fear it has more to do with whatever your uncle said to him than the death of the so-called king.

“Do you not think I spoke right, Ser Jon?” You ask, unable to resist drawing him into the conversation, though you know he would rather not participate.

“I think it is dishonorable to take more than one wife, or to have a mistress. It sullies not only the marital bed, but the house itself.” He says, his posture stiff, his words stilted.

You frown and your father shrugs before handing you another cheese cube.

The Roseroad toward Highgarden is well-kept, guards and small towns scattered along the winding road, the countryside lush and brimming with life. The air is cleaner here, sweet smelling compared to the unwashed filth that permeates the air of King’s Landing, and you are once again thankful that no one allowed your Aunt Cersei to take her gargantuan wheelhouse on this trip.

You are divided into smaller groups, within smaller wheelhouses, with windows that allow air to flow through. Your aunt is in one with her ladies, your father, uncle, and Tommen ride their horses alongside the guards, while you and Margaery were able to snag a wheelhouse to yourselves. Margaery claims she needs the extra space to prepare for her nameday festivities, and no one could deny their queen.

“We are a few hours out from my home, I cannot wait to show you the grounds, they are especially beautiful this time of year.” Margaery says, looking out the window, her face lit with a radiant smile.

It has been a few moons since her wedding to Tommen, and you have grown closer to the older girl, you and she are in fact Tommen’s favorite people and in turn spend much time together with or without him.

“I have heard tales, but I am sure words cannot compare.” You say, joining her at the window as she points out places she used to ride to with her brothers.

After a while of you two quietly enjoying the countryside, Margaery clears her throat delicately.  “Speaking of words.” She draws back from the window and pulls the curtain closed. “Have you heard anything from our dear redheaded friend?”

You scoot closer to her, lowering your voice to a whisper. “She writes to say that all is well, her home has fallen back into routine and regrets she is unable to attend the celebrations but holds out hope she will see us soon.”

“And what about…” Robb, she means Robb, she wishes to know if he thinks of her.

You reach into your satchel and dig out a letter, “I had been hoping to save it as a nameday present, but I guess I could give it to you now.”

After her and Tommen’s wedding your father roped you into secreting letters between Margaery and Robb, the seals were Hawthorne coming in, and Lannister going out. In truth, it made you feel part of a romantic story, playing the kind maid that helps the young lovers sneak away to be together.

Margaery rips open the letter and devours it, a soft smile on her face, her hand coming to cover her lips as her eyes begin to water.

“What, what did he say?” You ask, suddenly alarmed by the tears in your friend’s eyes.

She hands the letter to you, “he—he is so sweet.”

My dearest Lady Margaery,

I cannot tell you how delighted I still am each time your letters arrive, though I must admit my joy is dimmed by the continued reminder that you are wed to another. That I cannot speak freely of my affections for you. I know it is in name only, and that I should not be envious of a child no more than eight nearly nine namedays, but I am. To think that I, a man grown, is envious of a child for the mere fact that he is allowed to hold your hand. That he is allowed to call your name, to dance with you, it is shameful, but I would bear this shame and many others for you. There will come a day soon that we will be united, that I will take your hand and let all the realm know that you are not only my queen, but my heart’s desire.

I shall not drag on with sentiment lest I embarrass myself, so I will get to the meat of this letter. Sansa informed me it is to be your nameday soon, and that you will be traveling to Highgarden to celebrate. Part of me wished to set out for Highgarden the moment she said so, surely, I would be able to disguise myself well enough, but Sansa squashed that scheme quite quickly. Nevertheless, I am hopeful that Lady y/n will be able to present you with my gift. And if it is not too forward, I would ask that you wear it during the celebrations, and know that I am with you, that you carry my heart in your hands.

I have had your latest portrait replicated, made smaller, and set within a locket so that I might carry it around wherever I go. Theon teases me quite mercilessly about it, but I care not. While we are parted, I wish to do all I can to keep your visage beside me. The curve of your smile, the light in your eyes, and the soft blush that adorns your cheeks, they give me strength, and I will draw on them until we meet, and I no longer need drawn or painted images.

The Gods smiled upon the realm the day you were born, and I swear to you, when we are finally together, I will spend every moment I can making up for our time apart, especially your namedays.

-          Ever yours, Robb

“This is quite sweet; he has a way with words I would not expect.” You say, handing her the letter back.

“Why would he not? Even the way Jon spoke to you when he helped you into the wheelhouse was full of passion.” She bristles, holding the letter close to her chest.

You need only call for me, I will not be far. Perhaps have Ghost stay with you, it would ease my mind. He had said, before trying to force a very resistant Ghost into the wheelhouse. You thanked him but told him to let Ghost run free, knowing the direwolf would grow bored on the long journey.

You reach out and squeeze her hand. “I meant no offense, it is only that Jon has spent much time here, and Robb has not. I imagined they would speak differently, but it seems there is a hidden romantic streak in House Stark.”

She smiles, a pretty blush decorating her face, then she smooths out her expression and holds out her hand with the air of a queen. “My gift please?”

“Of course, My Queen.” You say, bowing your head ridiculously far as you hand her the small velvet bag.

She pulls the drawstrings open, gasping as she carefully pulls out the gift. It is a necklace made of gold and citrine, arranged in an elegant yet sturdy way, the gems draping down, the gold perfect and glowing against Margaery’s skin. “It is as he has described Grey Wind’s eyes.”

“Is there anything else?” You ask curiously, smiling as she holds it up to her chest once more.

She digs in the bag and finds a golden ring, engraved with the letters M and R in curling script, hidden within the rose emblem.

You hold out your hand for it, and she gives it to you. You fiddle with the edge of it until it pops open. Inside reveals a small, detailed portrait of a bright blue eye. “I wondered if he would go through with it.”

“Is that his?” Margaery asks, tracing the edges of the ring longingly.

“From what I remember it is, and Tommen also has blue eyes, so if anyone discovers it, they will be none the wiser.

She carefully replaces the gifts in their bag, and you feel a pang of sadness. You cannot imagine what she must feel like, married to a child, in love with a man she must keep secret, unable to even pretend they are merely friends, unable to freely send him letters.

A knock on the wheelhouse door pulls you from your thoughts. “My Queen, My Lady, we have nearly arrived.”

Highgarden is beyond beautiful, set upon a hill overlooking the Mander, built with clean white stone, and narrow towers that seem to scrape the clouds. Rows and rows of briar hedges, fields of flowers, and works of art tastefully scattered about the halls and grounds, complete the fairy tale look of the Tyrell’s castle, and you cannot wait to see more.

“And you must see the Three Singers, our Godswood is known throughout the realm for its beauty.” Margaery says, as the wheelhouse finally grinds to a halt and the door is pulled open.

“Sister,” Loras says, holding out his hand to her. “Welcome home.”

Margaery takes his hand, gracefully exiting the wheelhouse, her excitement radiating from her like rays of the sun. Then Loras goes to help you, but Jon’s hand is already there.

“My Lady, the Dowager Queen requires a word with you.” Jon says, his face unreadable, his eyes never lingering on you for too long.

“Thank you, Ser Jon, I will go to her once we have settled into our chambers.”

You sit and wait for your aunt, fiddling with your sleeves, birdsong, and the sound of harps playing floats in through the open window.

She sweeps in, head held high, and closes the window, plunging the room into dead quiet. “I know your father has been lenient with you since your poor mother died, but as your aunt, the only motherly figure in your life, I can no longer stand by and watch you waste away your future.”

“Beg pardon?”

She takes your hands, her expression soft, caring, one you have not seen since you were a little girl. “Y/N, we must find you a husband, a good man, who will provide for you, for your children.”

“Father said—”

“I know your father has filled your head with stories of freedom, and true love, but that is for children, and you have not been a child for some time now.” She takes the seat across from you, her ruby gown looking harsh and garish among the soft colors and fabrics of the guest chamber she has been given.

“You are right, I am no longer a child.” You agree, trying to give her an answer that betrays nothing of true value.

She brushes your cheek with her knuckles, her eyes looking for something, in your own. “Your mother was a great beauty, with a kind heart, far too kind. I do not want you making the same mistake she did. Not that you are a mistake, my darling girl, you are the only worthwhile thing that has ever come from my brother, but your mother did not examine her prospects wisely enough.”

“I do not have any prospects.” You tell her, torn between feeling comforted and wounded by her words.

“At tomorrow night’s feast there will be many lords from all across the realm, and you will dance with them, you will talk and flatter, and laugh at their jests even if they are not humorous.”

“But if I dance with so many, how will I know who is good?”

She gives you a smile and smooths down your hair. “Allow me to take care of that, I want you to enjoy yourself, and show the realm how delightful you are.”

“I will try.” You say, giving her a weak smile, hoping she believes it is born of nerves and not a complete lack of interest.

“You will do more than try, you will succeed.”

TL: @mostclevermiss, @solacestyles, @2valentines, @sharknutz, @idohknow, @bdudette, @pluraldoggo, @legolastheleafyelf, @faerie-film

[wolfjackle-creates]

Bring Me Home Arc 2 Part 20: FINAL

So guess what I realized this morning. Today, November 13, 2023 is the one year anniversary of me posting my first DPxDC fic to tumblr. It was the original fill for this very fic. (Which you can find here.)

So I decided I just had to finish this arc and get it posted. This year has been amazing and so much fun. I've become a much better writer and joined a community that has brought me so much joy. I'm glad to be here and I'm glad so many of you like to read what I'm sharing.

I noticed I got a few new readers over the past week or so, so welcome to all of you! Hope you enjoy this early update!

In personal news, my nephew was born and he's adorable and I'll be meeting him tomorrow! (As soon as I'm done posting this, I'm off to make food for his mom.)

Story Summary: Tim and Danny are both neglected by parents who care more about their work than their families. They deal with this by spending too much time online and find each other playing MMORPGs. They keep up their friendship as Tim becomes Robin and Danny becomes Phantom and don't bother keeping secrets from each other.

Arc 1

Arc 2: Part 1, Previous

Word Count: 1.2k

-----

In the end, it ended up taking several hours for Danny, Sam, and Tucker to escape their families and converge on the park. In that time, Tim had called Bruce to let him know he’d be back in Gotham by tomorrow and finished most of his homework.

While he worked, Wulf and Bart were having an animated conversation in Esperanto.

Tim was pretty sure Wulf would be bringing Bart to the Ghost Zone for a tour sometime and started making plans to learn Esperanto himself and bribe Bart to get in on them.

Cassie was helping Conner sort through some of the music Sam had given him. Tim was jealous as he solved more banal trig questions. Why did school have to be so boring? He tapped his pencil on the paper in time to the beat of whatever music Conner had playing.

Tucker was the first to arrive. “Danny and Sam not here yet?” he asked as he plopped down next to Bart and Wulf.

“Nope. Haven’t heard from them, either,” said Tim. He opened his phone notifications again just to be sure, but there was nothing new.

Tucker shrugged and pulled out a stick of jerkey to munch on. “Not surprising. The Fentons will be all overprotective after the mayor was kidnapped by a ghost on live TV. And Sam’s parents are just as bad. Only they smother rather than check the weaponry.” He turned to greet Wulf in Esperanto.

An email came through on Tim’s phone and he groaned. “Our evening interview was canceled. No one wants to hear us try to defend Phantom anymore.”

Cassie cursed. “Course not. Bet the paper won’t publish our editorials either.”

Conner looked over, confused. “Won’t they? Clark works for the Daily Planet. They publish stuff like that all the time.”

Tim didn’t look up from his math as he answered, “That’s the difference between a big, Pulitzer winning publication and a small-town op-ed.”

Tucker sighed. “Well maybe someone will remember your interviews from this morning in a positive light.”

Bart rolled his eyes. “Come on, we can’t change it. So let’s move forward. Next step, make friends with more ghosts! Wulf says there’s a bunch of cool people in the Realms.”

“Realms?” asked Tim.

“It’s what he says the Ghost Zone is actually called. The Infinite Realms.”

“Huh. I’ll have to check JL databases, see if they have any information on them.”

Tucker asked something in Esperanto and Bart burst out laughing as Wulf looked on in confusion.

With Bart’s help, though, he rephrased until Wulf was able to reply. And then the three kept to Esperanto. Tim really had to find time to learn it.

Sam was the next to arrive. She grinned and sat down next to Conner. “How you liking the music?”

Conner grinned and showed her the sheets where he ranked the bands so far based on which songs he’d listened to. She then took over the speakers and searched for specific tracks to try and change his mind about some of the bands he liked the least.

Tim let his eyes close as his friends’ voices washed over him.

After some indeterminate time where he dozed between sleeping and awareness, a foot nudged his hip. Tim grumbled out what was supposed to be a, “What?” but was too mumbled to really be understood.

“Come on, Secrets. You can do better than that.”

Tim cracked an eye open to see Danny grinning down at him. He pushed himself up slightly and blinked heavily in the sunlight.

“Finally got away from your parents?” asked Tim.

Danny collapsed on the ground next to him. “Ugh, don’t remind me. They’re freaking out over everything that’s happened the last few days. Jazz and I are basically going to be on lock down until they feel confident the ghosts are gone.”

“Did you have to sneak out to get here?” asked Cassie.

Danny shook his head. “No, I told them I was going to find you guys to make sure you were all safe. You’re welcome to come back to ours tonight, by the way. Mom and Dad basically insisted on it.”

“What do you guys think?” asked Tim. “Spend one more night here at Danny’s and head out in the morning?”

Cassie sighed. “My mom’s already freaking out that I’ve been gone longer than planned. I should get back tonight.”

“I’ll stay,” offered Conner. “I’m your ride home, anyway.”

“Why don’t you come to my place, Conner,” offered Sam. “Your nails need a fresh coat after fighting today. And I need teach you about the different brands of makeup and what to look for in terms of cost, quality, and ethicality. Plus I can get you more music.”

Tim laughed when Conner looked to him. “Go for it. Have fun.”

Conner grinned. “Then yeah, let’s do it!”

Bart shrugged. “Wulf is going to go back to the Realms soon. I’ll head out after. Wally and Linda want me over for a family dinner tonight.”

“Well, looks like that’s it, then,” sighed Danny. “Been fun having other heroes around.”

Tim nudged his shoulder. “Join the Young Justice. You could join us and we'd help out whenever you wanted. Get you around people who actually appreciate what you do for them.”

But Danny was already shaking his head. “I have to stay here. And now Amity trusts heroes even less. I want to improve that, not make it worse.”

“Even if you don’t join,” declared Conner. “You’re not getting rid of us now.”

Bart nodded his agreement. “Yep. We’re gonna be stopping by all the time. You’re in the group chat.”

“Exactly,” agreed Tim. “And we’ll figure out ways to help you. Starting with how to minimize property damage. That seems to be the big thing people focus on. You can make shields, right? How big can you make them and how much power do they take?”

Danny smiled wryly. “Can’t say I’ve really tested it.”

Tim laughed. “Well, I know one thing we’re doing tonight. We’re going to go back to Nasty Burger—” Tim looked around at the whole group “—all of us. Then Cassie and Bart are going to go home. Danny and I, at least, are going to take a nap. Then we’re gonna test the current limits to Danny’s powers.”

Danny bumped their shoulders together. “You know, this is just like gaming with you all those years.”

“Yeah, well, it’s best to be thorough.”

“We’ve measured, like, his top speed and stuff,” said Tucker, pulling out a PDA. “Want to see what we’ve got so far?”

“Absolutely.” Tim took the device and looked through it. “You’ve a decent amount of information here. Maybe instead of taking a nap, I’ll help you organize it and come up with a testing plan.”

Conner flew over to him and pulled the PDA out of his hand. “Not after pulling an all-nighter you won’t. We’re going to get some food, then the two of you are going to sleep for at least four hours.”

“I’ll set Jazz on you, too,” threatened Sam. “Don’t think I won’t.”

Tim pouted as the device was given back to Tucker. And grumbled more when Conner picked him up and threw him over his shoulder.

“Come on, food time.”

“I am going to put kryptonite in your phone,” threatened Tim.

“Bingo!” shouted Cassie.

Danny laughed as he stood. “Does this mean I can join the next round?”

Tim scowled. “Traitors, all of you.”

-----

Next

And that's the end of this Arc! Arc 3 will pick up where the original fill did. (Only this time, Tim won't be the only DC character there to help Danny.)

I'd say something like I can't believe it's only been a year, but so much has happened to me in the last twelve months that it feels like a lifetime ago, to be honest. But it's been a good year and I'm glad this community has been part of it.

Please follow the subscription post if you want updates for when I start transferring this arc to AO3 or begin posting Arc 3.