#but alas no one 2 match with

[blaithnne]

@sketchbookweek Day 2 | Witchcraft & Wilderness

[ccchaoscompendium]

on one hand. loottta ideas 4 sk!llshipping art rn bc system things. on the other hand we r procrastinating on drawing them bc will people be Normal,

[polaraffect]

god. persona 5 royal. game of all time.

[blumineck]

hi! you're great I love your work! I've got a weirdly specific archery question and thought I'd send it to you in case you'd find it fun to have a crack at

say you're an expert archer originally from Vietnam sometime in the late bronze age. say you're a super duper expert archer because it turns out you're immortal, and so you do your archery across Eurasia through the first millennium BCE and the first millennium CE and into the age where gunpowder weapons are evolving into cannons. that's a long time to be alive and you do lots of hunting and fighting with all kinds of bows and shooting styles, especially war archery on horseback. then you're out of the picture for a while, let's say you're peacefully sleeping for a handful of centuries. (this is about Quynh from The Old Guard who alas was not peacefully sleeping)

all of a sudden you blink and you've gone from the era where firearms were just starting to develop and maybe with this new flintlock thing guns could eventually get good enough to rival a bow and arrows— bam, now you're in the 21st century. what kinds of modern archery tech would you be most excited to try out? what would you think of a compound bow? Olympic style archery? plastic fletching?? how about the modern reproductions of what are now considered historical bows and shooting styles? is there anything about 21st century archery that you'd want to rant about at length? other opinions about these newfangled takes on your trusty old bow and arrows you care to share?

This is a phenomenal question, and thank you for asking it! Here’s my 2 cents:

The thing about modern archery is that for the most part, modern bows are designed to make it easier to be accurate, to the stage that modern target accuracy is probably better than it’s ever been historically.

BUT, if we assume Quynh is capable of feats of archery that match the level of melee combat skill that e.g. Andy has, then she doesn’t NEED it to be easier to be accurate.

My guess is that someone like her would actually find most modern archery developments needlessly slow and awkward. Compound bows and Olympic recurves are NOT designed for instinctive, fast shooting, and would probably feel quite restrictive once she got over how easy they made accuracy.

BUT, I imagine she would be blown away by the range and arrow speed that modern bows can generate, and there are some recurves (and at least one compound bow), that have been designed to make use of the efficiency of modern materials and bow design, while still allowing traditional shooting styles, and those, THOSE are something an ancient immortal archer might fall in love with! (FWIW, my own go-to is a horsebow made with carbon-fibre limbs and a modern limb profile, and for impact energy it can match some traditional bows with a draw weight that’s 50% greater. The Oneida eagle compound could trump that).

So yeah, it might take her a bit, but once she gets her hands on the right equipment, she’d be (even more) TERRIFYING!

[sapphire-writes]

Playing with Fire

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader x Aegon II Targaryen

summary: You travel to the capital, as Prince Aegon intends to take a wife at the command of the King. Much to your surprise, more than one Targaryen prince catches your eye.

warnings: none for this part other than some sensual themes

word count: 4k

A/N: as Katherine Pierce once said, "it's okay to love them both😏"

masterlist

King Viserys announced a ball, to be held within the Red Keep, crafted for his eldest son Aegon to choose a bride. Maidens traveled from all corners of the seven kingdoms and beyond, to attend and vie for Prince Aegon’s affections. You were to be no exception, much to your displeasure. 

Your family had carted you off to the capital, though you put up quite a fight. You did not wish to marry yet, let alone marry Prince Aegon. You had heard nothing but promiscuous rumors about him from ladies returning from their times in the capital. 

Nearly all returned with a story about Prince Aegon; stealing to their rooms in the night or pulling them to darkened corridors only for them to leave with lips bruised from kissing and ruffled skirts. The prince was said to be quite lustful and gluttonous. 

You would listen, eyes wide, as they recalled their stories with blushing cheeks and girlish giggles. One lady even showed the lovebites Prince Aegon had adorned her neck with, pushing back her hair and revealing the purple bruises that had just begun to fade to a deep jade color. 

Prince Aegon was reminiscent of a wolf in your mind, or perhaps a dragon like that of his house sigil. An all-powerful creature who devoured whomever he desired. 

Alas, as the only daughter of your family, it was time for you to find a husband. A prince was too enticing of an offer for your family to keep you at home. You simply would have to avoid Prince Aegon and hope he would not take a liking to you. You figured it should be easy enough to do, he would surely be preoccupied with the dozens of ladies who had come for him.

Still, the night of the ball you found yourself clinging to the corners of the room. Your mother had traveled to the capital with you and was eager to present you to the dragon prince. She had a new gown tailored for you, the soft pink color of a rose from the Reach. Your hair was done in an elaborate style, with silver pins that shone like stars in the candlelight. You slouched into the crowd, spotting her looking for you. 

“Seven hells,” you murmured to yourself, ducking behind a servant carrying a tray of empty goblets. You can hear her voice above the music, calling your name. The serving girl gives you a startled look and you smile at her, apologetically.

You moved swiftly to avoid her, taking cover behind Cassandra Baratheon who is eagerly looking for Aegon. She glances down at you, blue eyes narrowing. She looks breathtakingly beautiful, clad in a sapphire-colored gown that matches her eyes, and makes her pale skin luminescent. Her dark hair is pulled back from her face, spilling down her back. Cassandra has come dressed the part of a princess. 

“What are you doing?” she asks, nose wrinkling. She waves the fan she holds, the fabric matching that of her gown. She barely acknowledges your presence, long neck craning over the crowd hunting for Prince Aegon. 

“Hiding,” you hiss, looking around nervously. Cassandra rolls her eyes folding her fan and whacking you with it on the arm. 

“Ouch!” you yelp, swatting at her. 

“Get away from me!” she scolds, “you shall make me look foolish!”

You make a face at the Baratheon, sticking out your tongue, before dashing to the opposite side of the room. You had briefly resided in Storm’s End when you were a child, as a ward to the Baratheons. Needless to say, you and Cassandra did not get along well. 

You heard your mother’s call once more and panicked, as the crowd began to part. Glancing to your left, you spotted a long table covered with food for grazing guests. The tablecloth was long and dusted against the floor. In your panic you dropped to your knees, and climbed under the table, fixing the tablecloth behind you. 

You exhaled a deep breath as you pushed yourself back, sitting completely under the table. You could hear the crowd around you, but you were hidden. Well, almost. In your haste your slipper had come off, and it lay sticking halfway out from under the table. 

Your eyes widened as you reached for it before it was pulled from your sight. Lifting the table cloth you stuck your head out to address the thief. 

Prince Aemond stood inspecting your slipper, brows furrowed in confusion. He looked very regal, in an outfit such a deep, rich green it almost appeared black. Gold trimmed the cuffs of his sleeves, and down the front of his shirt. You were admiring him until his violet eye met yours.

You had heard of the accident that happened to Aemond when he was a boy but you had never met him. A deep scar marred half his face before disappearing underneath an eyepatch and reappearing through his brow. Aemond’s face twisted in confusion as he looked down at you. 

“What are you doing, my lady?” he asked, voice stiff but polite. He spoke as though he could not be bothered by your foolishness. 

“Please, my prince,” you said in a hushed whisper, reaching for your shoe. Aemond did not move, still perplexed. You could hear your mother’s voice, as she chatted, followed by Cassandra Baratheon’s irritating call. 

“Why are you under- ooof!” 

Aemond was not someone who was easily surprised. But surprise him you did. Without thinking you slammed your hand into the hard muscles of his stomach, grabbing his shirt. The prince doubled over and you pulled him under the table with you. 

Aemond looked at you incredulously, shocked that he was overpowered by a maiden.

“I do apologize, my prince,” you said in earnest, hoping he would spare you his fury. You wore a desperate expression on your face, your eyes pleading. People had lost their hands entirely for putting them upon royalty, and you were rather fond of your extremities. You continue to stare at him, eyes wide, as you are crouched on your knees. 

Aemond had no idea who you were, other than some noble lady. His lips parted as he watched you, his hand still holding your slipper. Your eyes dropped to it. 

“May I have my shoe?” you asked, and Aemond jerked his head in a nod, but did not return your slipper. He felt very confused with the entirety of the situation. Aemond was not used to such tomfoolery. 

“My lady,” he began, “why are you hiding under a table?”

You wet your lips, eyes still nervous. You swallow before answering, still nervous that the prince may drag you by your hair to the nearest black cell. 

“I am hiding.”

“That is obvious,” he said, the corners of his mouth turning upwards, “from whom?”

“My mother,” you say, flinching as a shadow moves past, “she wishes to introduce me to Prince Aegon.”

Aemond hums, tucking a knee towards his chest and resting his arm atop it. He does not need further explanation. His eye roams over your form, over the dress you wear, and the layer of sweat that coats your forehead and throat from your antics. Your hairstyle is disheveled, several pins seem to be out of place, but the ones that remain sparkle in the light that sneaks through the tablecloth. 

You meet his eye and feel your cheeks turn red at his attention. He is devilishly handsome, with his silky, long silver hair and purple eye that seems to peer into your soul. The eyepatch and scar only make him seem more dangerous, causing your palms to sweat nervously. 

“I apologize, it was rather rude to involve you,” you tell him, glancing towards the floor.

Aemond chuckles, the sound coming from deep in his chest. You smile weakly at the sound, having not expected it. 

“This is the most interesting thing that has occurred all evening,” he assures you, “unless, of course, you count Lady Tyrell’s gown mishap.”

He watches your eyes widen and mouth open at his shared gossip. Aemond smiles, happy to have engaged you. He watches as the nervousness begins to fall from your face, and your shoulders relax. 

“What happened?” you ask, brows lifting in curiosity. 

“One of her sleeves caught on Lord Manderly’s broach, and tore,” he tells you, watching you cover your mouth to stifle your giggles. 

“Disasterous indeed,” you snicker and Aemond feels his lips tug into a smile. You laugh once more at the thought. A moment goes by, the pair of you sitting in silence. 

“You are free to leave my prince,” you tell him, “I do not mean to hold you, hostage.” 

“It is quite alight,” he says, earnestly, “I am enjoying the distraction.”

Aemond found this whole affair a slap in the face. Aegon was not interested in marriage, nor was he suited for it. He would rather indulge with any lady, servant, or whore he could get his hands on. 

Yet their father insisted on this spectacle for Aegon to take a wife. If he did fail to do so, Aemond knew the small council was plotting for Aegon to marry their sister Helaena. Aemond did not know which plan he hated more. 

A hand reached the edge of the tablecloth and your mother’s face became visible. Behind her stood a smirking Cassandra Baratheon. 

“Y/N,” your mother hissed, pulling you from under the table. Embarrassment was evident in her voice and you hung your head as she scolded you. 

“There, I told you Lady (Y/L/N),” Cassandra said, in a nasally voice. You scowled at her, as her face twisted in confusion as Aemond exited the table behind you. He stands holding his arms crossed behind his back. You did not realize how tall he was, he towers above you. 

“She behaves like a child,” Cassandra snaps, a shrewd smile on her lips. 

“You are a horrible cow, Cass,” you hiss at her, causing her to sneer. The look fades as she takes in Prince Aemond behind you and she bats her lashes, fanning herself. 

“Oh, my,” your mother said, looking towards Prince Aemond, “your grace.”

She begins to curtsey but Aemond waves her off.

“No need, my lady,” he told her, offering you both a smile, “I was just delighted by your daughter’s company.” Aemond holds your slipper out to show your mother. You glance towards the floor, your bare foot hidden under your skirts. 

“The lady simply lost her slipper, it rolled under the table you see,” he lies to your mother, who nods at his words. A starstruck expression is plastered on her face as she gazes up at the handsome prince. A dreamy smile plays on her mouth. 

You purse your lips, fighting a smile that threatened to appear. Aemond turned to you then, violet eye gleaming, as though acknowledging the secret he kept for you.  

“May I?” he asked, gesturing towards your foot. You nodded and he knelt before you. Aemond curled his hand around your ankle, lifting your foot from the floor and helping you inside your slipper. 

“There,” he said, looking up at you, “no harm done.”

You hear Cassandra scoff behind you, but your mother looks pleased. 

“Thank you, my prince,” you tell Aemond, as he stands. You feel fluttering in your stomach as he holds your gaze. Your ankle tingles where his hand has been.

“I do hope we run into each other again, during your stay in the capital,” he tells you.

“I should like that, very much, my prince.”

“Aemond,” he insists. 

“Aemond,” you say, enjoying the sound of his name on your tongue, with no titles attached. You smile tentatively as his name lingers in the space between you. 

Aemond bids your mother farewell and departs toward the other side of the room. Your mother locks her hand around your arm. 

“That is not the prince we came for,” she scolds, but you can tell Aemond still has her flustered. Her face is flushed, as though she is remembering her youth. She fans herself with a gloved hand. 

“You are blushing, mother,” you tease and she shoos you away, “where is Prince Aegon then?”

You glance around the room, and the only other silver-crowned head you spot is that of Princess Helaena who is engaged in a dance with her grandsire. Your mother instructed you earlier to befriend the princess, something she would surely remind you to do on the morrow as well. 

“You are too late,” Cassandra calls, fanning herself once more. You roll your eyes at her eavesdropping. Ever the nosy gossip, Cassandra is. 

“The prince has left for the night. I assume he found someone to entertain him,” Cassandra says, feigning that this does not bother her. You see through her though; Cassandra believes she is already married to Aegon in her mind. 

You flush at her words. Targaryens seem to have insatiable appetites. You bring your gaze back to your mother who frowns. 

“Do you hear how she talks of him?” you ask, “do you truly wish a man like that for me?”

Your mother scoffs at your concerns. 

“He would give you a dozen children then, several grandchildren for me,” she says, patting your arm. Your eyes widen in horror at the thought. Your mother has no qualms with you marrying a lecherous man, then. She sees your expression and gives you a look of a mother’s aggravation. 

“Do not look at me like that,” she tells you, “you need not be scared of the marriage bed.”

“Easy for you to say,” you tell her, sighing, “you are not a maiden.”

“I was once,” she says, tone hardening, “when the time is right, I shall tell you all you need know. It need not be frightening.” 

You remember the bruises on the lady’s neck and know your mother must be lying to you. How could they be born of something pleasurable? 

“May I go to bed, now that the prince is gone?” you ask and your mother sighs, before shaking her head. 

“I have been without your company all evening, you shall stay a while longer.”

You stay much longer than you intend, getting lost in gossip with your mother and other lords and ladies of court. You are even able to introduce yourself to Princess Helaena, who captures your attention with her latest fascination with an insect found on the islands of the Jade Sea. She had been reading about it, and her eyes lit up when talking about it.  

The hour is late when your mother leaves you to retire to the guest chambers you share. You linger behind to hear Lord Beesbury finish a tale. You find yourself wandering the Red Keep, searching for your chambers. 

You pass by several goldcloaks who murmur to you, politely. You yawn, as you turn a corner, walking down a corridor lit by recently revived torches. The servants of the Keep must have been told to refresh them with all the late running festivities. 

A noise catches your attention; the squeaking hinge of a door being opened followed by a giggle. The shape of a lady appears, her green dress sparkling in the light. She has red hair, and you recognize her but cannot recall her name. Your eyes widen as she smiles, hand outstretched behind her, holding onto someone. 

She pulls her partner towards her, and your eyes nearly pop out of your skull. The silver hair is unmistakable. His hair is shorter than his brother, though he wears a similar outfit to that of Aemond. His shirt is untucked and you notice the laces of the lady’s corset are loose, as though restrung in haste. Prince Aegon grins as he reaches to cup the lady’s cheeks, covering her lips in a passionate kiss. 

You stand frozen and unnoticed by the pair, entranced by their embrace. The lady makes a whimpering noise as Aegon’s hand slips down her throat, the other holding her waist against him. He removes his lips from hers, only to bring them to the side of her throat. Your lips part as you watch him kiss her neck as though it were her lips. The lady seems to enjoy this, tangling her hands in his short locks.

You are so hypnotized by Aegon’s actions, you don’t notice when the lady’s eyes open to a half-lidded stare. Her eyes widen as notices you observing them. The lady shrieks, pushing Aegon away from her. 

“What?” he grumbles, as the lady smoothes her skirt, fleeing the scene with a reddened face. Aegon watches as she rushes by you, his violet eyes meeting yours. 

Your eyes are wide, lips parted in shock, and you feel as though your feet are rooted to where you stand. Though your mind is telling you to run away, following the fleeing lady, you stare at the prince. Aegon stands shorter than his brother, his shoulders slouched in a carefree manner. His hair is wavy, the strands ending near his jaw. Like his brother, he is painfully handsome. A curse all Targaryens seem to bear. 

Aegon wets his lips, which are a shining feature of his face. Reddened and plumped from kissing, begging to be kissed again. It is as though the gods molded them for kissing and kissing alone. Aegon’s mouth opens, and his brows come together, as he takes a lazy step toward you. 

“I do not know you,” he says, his lips downturned into a pout. You swallow hard.

“I am Lady Y/N, my prince,” you tell him, clasping your hands in front of you, trying to stop them from fiddling nervously. 

“Lady Y/N,” he says your name slowly, as though tasting it. “I did not see you at the ball.”

“I was there, my prince,” you tell him, knowing your efforts of avoiding him were in vain, “it appears I did not make an impression.”

His lips turn into a smile, revealing a row of shiny white teeth. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip drawing your eyes toward his mouth.

“I should bid you goodnight, my prince,” you say urgently, turning to leave. 

“Wait!” he calls, a quickens his steps until coming to face you. 

His eyes narrow, a smile still playing on his face.

“How did I not see you?” he asks, “I always remember a pretty face.”

You feel your face flush. No matter how much he frightens you, flirtation with a prince is not something you are used to. 

“I do not know, my prince,” you tell him, flustered by his compliment. 

He sinks his teeth into his lower lip as though enjoying how you squirm beneath his gaze. 

“Come have a drink with me,” he offers, “and we can review your evening, and why we did not make each other’s acquaintance.”

Insatiable indeed. The prince was just with a maiden, and yet here he stands, planning his next course. He holds out a hand to you, a glimmer of mischief in his eye. You can picture the ladies who stood in your shoes before you, who said yes to him. Who indulged him in the pleasures of the known world. You could do so too if you so desired. His voice is inviting, a sensual caress. 

“May I speak freely, my prince?” you ask and he nods, curiously.

“I am quite frightened.”

Aegon’s head snaps back at that. 

“Frightened?” 

You nod. 

He takes a step back from you, hands held out in surrender. 

“There is no need to be frightened, my lady,” he tells you, “I wish you no harm, only the pleasure of your company.”

Your breath comes out shakily. 

“I do not wish you to bed me,” you tell him, rushing out the words, “I do not wish you to take my maidenhead.”

Aegon’s eyes go wide as saucers and he releases a laugh, before shushing you. 

“My lady, we are in a corridor,” he says, looking around as though you’ve made a foolish assumption. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish. 

“I have heard stories,” you tell him and he frowns, though there is amusement in his eyes. 

“Oh, you have?” 

“Yes,” you say, growing annoyed with him, “that you lure helpless maidens into your bed, OR any place that suits you.” You gesture to the corridor you stand in. A bed, a wall, probably on dragonback. It likely did not matter.

Aegon laughs again, a pink blush dusting his cheeks. No one has spoken to him of his reputation so directly before, outside of the members of his family. 

“How lustful of me,” he says, a grin stretching from ear to ear, “you paint me as such a wanton creature Lady Y/N.”

You raise your brows. Aegon stands before you, unashamed. It must be so easy for a prince, to be a man in this world. He is so relaxed with the conversation about his promiscuity. 

“You just had a lady in your company,” you accuse, “and now you look at me like that?”

“Like what?” he asks, leaning against the stone wall, as though the conversation was entirely natural to him. You laugh, breaking his gaze, before looking at him once more. He raises a brow, eyes still half lidded, intrigued. 

“As though you are a man starving, who has happened upon a feast,” you say, laughing at the ridiculousness of it gesturing to the space between you.  

Aegon gives you a once-over with his eyes before answering. A tingle rolls down your spine as his eyes take in every inch of you. You feel naked under his gaze. 

“Perhaps I am famished,” he tells you, and your entire body feels like it is on fire. He is very good at this, and you suddenly realize what makes women want to crawl into bed with him. If this is anything like what pleasure awaits the marriage bed, perhaps your mother was right. 

Aegon wets his lips when you do not answer, tilting his head against the wall, and exposing his neck to you. You watch the apple of his throat bob up and down and have a sudden urge to place a kiss on it. You roll your shoulders back, steadying yourself.

“Yes well,” you stutter, trying to find words, “perhaps there are leftovers from the feast.”

“Are you in the capital long?’ he asks suddenly changing the subject. You blink, the room suddenly seeming uncomfortably warm. 

“Yes, my prince, at least-”

“Good,” he interrupts, pushing off the wall and walking towards you. He comes to stand face to face with you, so close you can feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the sweet wine on his breath from the feast and something else; something rich and smoky that makes you want to bury your face in his chest and inhale. 

“I shall have that drink with you,” he says, eyes locked on yours until the final word he speaks. Only then does he drop his eyes to your parted lips, before bringing them back to your eyes. He flashes you a smile, before continuing his leave in the direction you came. 

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he calls and you turn, confused by his exit. There was something in the air between you that promised something more. The tension gnawing at you. Aegon has begun walking backward slowly, so he could face you, a smirk on his lips, as he takes in your expression. You feel your thoughts are not safe around him. 

“Goodnight, my prince,” you manage to choke out, head spinning from the interaction. 

“Aegon,” he insists.

“Aegon,” you repeat and he tilts his head back, as though enjoying hearing you speak his name. 

Then he turns on his heel and is gone. 

When you finally make it to your chambers, the sky has begun to lighten with the promise of imminent sunrise. You lay in bed, thoughts racing and heart pounding. Your dreams are restless, filled with dragon princes with silver hair and lavender eyes.

[narislvr]

── simp!abby drabble p.2 ₊˚ෆ

,, cws? none. pure fluff ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ ── 750 words.

,, abby x fem!reader ♡ / college au

ᝰ.ᐟ continuation of this post !! -> pt III

₊˚ෆsimp!abby who can't help but fall in love all over as you doze off in her arms.

──

abby's not the type to fall easily. whether it be from the fear of getting hurt or her own stubborn want to focus on building her career and herself, romance just hadn't been a critical necessity in her life. but in the rare chance she does, she falls hard.

she had convinced you to spend the night at her dorm room, her roommate had gone out for the night leaving the room to her disposal and what better way to end the night than to have you wrapped in her arms?

you had protested at first, not wanting to keep her from being well rested for the annoyingly early class she had the next morning.

but fuck, the way she looked at you with a pleading glint in her eyes followed by the gentle kiss to the corner of your lips as she promised this would only help her rest better, had you giving in with a defeated smile.

strong arms wrapped around your waist as she buried her face into the crook of your neck, breathing in the remnants of the soft vanilla scented body spray while you quietly spoke about something she wasn't entirely paying attention to.

not that she didn't want to pay attention.

she just couldn't.

how could she when the woman of her dreams was laying beside her? on her bed, back hitting her chest as you wore one of her old Bruce Springsteen t-shirts in order to not wrinkle the pretty top you had been wearing earlier. (in reality she just wanted to see you in her clothes, but she wouldn't admit it when you jokingly teased her about it.)

It just all seemed so surreal to her.

Like, how in the world had she gotten so lucky?

sure, she had always cringed at the "lesbians move fast" stereotype finding it rather silly and unsenseicle, but in that moment she completely understood why.

as your voice became nothing more than a sleepy mumble, abby couldn't help but imagine future mornings where you two would be in the same position in your shared bed, under the roof of your own house, a dog laying at the foot of your bed as she talked about her day, you humming in response as you turned to face your then wife, cutting off her ramble with a tired kiss.

was she getting ahead of herself? Oh definitely.

and yet she couldn't help but long for that future to come true.

she’d only known you for a little over five months, but she already knew she wanted matching stockings by the fireplace, stolen kisses under the first snow, the smell of morning coffee, your charming smile as you woke up beside her, and she hoped you wanted that too.

the thought of all that alone was enough to send her into a lulling sleep. the best she's had in a while honestly, and she'd use that the following morning with a playful "I told you so" as she poked fun at your earlier hesitancy of staying over.

──

"thought your first class was at seven, why the hell is your alarm on for five?" you groan, woken up by abbys morning alarm as you turn to face your equally tired and sheepish girlfriend.

"morning run, hon. It's a good way to start the day," abby would hum, placing a sleepy kiss to your forehead in apology.

there was no morning run that day however, as she instead decided to sleep in another hour and set another alarm to get ready for class later.

──

“text me when you get to your dorm, alright? I’ll let you know when i get back from my last class so we can have lunch together.”

“i will, don’t worry, abbs. see you later then?”

she would rather spend the day cuddled up in bed with you, but alas, she couldn’t be too greedy, so instead she nods. her hands come up to caress your cheeks gently, pressing yet another kiss to her forehead as she smiles down at you. she only pulls away as you tease her that she’s going to be late, and even then, it was begrudgingly.

as she leaves the building, she can’t help the dopey smile on her face as the cool winter air hits her skin.

god, you had her wrapped around her finger and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

[messylxve]

ignited spark | aaron hotchner x reader

part one

pt 2 pt3

content warning : angst, pining, first kiss, drunk aaron, haley, sad ending

You met Aaron when you were young. When the biggest worry in your world was the next pop quiz in your Criminal Law class. He was pretty, smart, charming, and had a killer smile to match. You were quiet, shy, but easily the smartest one in the class.

He had often found himself glancing at you from across the room during lectures, a soft smile gracing his features when he noticed the way you color coded your notes based on your highlighters. Yet, whenever you looked up at him, his gaze was oddly fully focused on the professor ahead of him.

“I might just be going crazy Macy,” you reassured your friend one day. Or maybe you were reassuring yourself. “It’s just a coincidence.”

“Orrr,” she grinned, walking alongside you. “This guy totally has the hots for you and you need to make a move.”

You snorted. “When pigs fl—,”

You never finished your sentence. Whatever you were going to say was clear out your mind by time your brain even process that you collided with someone, knocking your books and notes clean out your hand.

“I’m so sorry, that was completely my fault.”

You recognized his voice from the times he’d raise his hands in class and ask a question.

Words failed you as he kneeled down in front of you and pick up each of your things with upmost care. “I-.”

“Here. Again I’m so sorry.”

You sucked in a harsh breath as you grasped the books in your hands. “Thanks…”

“Always.” He flashed that smile at you and he was gone, walking away from you. Missing your moment. Missing the way he took one more glance back at you as he continued on his own path.

“Don’t tell me…” your friend started, amusement painting their voice. “Was that the mysterious man from your class?”

You cleared your throat, shoving away the embarrassment that creeped up your neck. “I’ll neither confirm nor deny that.”

You didn’t want to admit it but that interaction left you with a smile for the rest of the day.

The next time you interacted with Aaron, you were alone. Books surrounded you as you worked quietly in the library, head bopping softly to your music.

The last thing you expected was him, but alas he was there. You saw his shadow first, it draped itself over the book you copied notes from and blocked the light from shining over you.

“y/n right? You’re in my Criminal Law class.”

“How do you know my name?”

You didn’t mean to come off as so defensive, but you heart beat so fast in your chest, you couldn’t help but blurt out your words.

“Umm…your friend told me I could find you in here. I needed help with something for class.”

You had cleared a seat for him and gave him all the help you could give.

The friendship only ever bloomed from there.

An hour into the fourth study session, the two of you had completely forgotten the books, now broken into fits of giggles attempting to stay quiet in the library and failing. Horribly.

“God you make jokes like a dad would. Has anyone told you that?”

Aaron rolled his eyes, but his smile persisted. “I’ve heard it before. My girlfriend though compares it to an uncles humor ironically enough.”

You hoped it hadn’t been noticeable, but your smile eased up at the moment. Flickering away for a millisecond. “Girlfriend?”

“Yeah,” he smiled obliviously. “I didn’t tell you about her?”

You shook your head and pressed on a smile. “Not that I remember.”

You watched, disheartened as he flipped open his wallet and passed you a photo of him and a woman. She was wearing a gorgeous gown and he was dressed as a pirate for some reason.

She was painfully gorgeous.

“Her name’s Haley. We started dating in high school and it’s been great ever since.”

You studied the photo a little while longer, your mind reaching other places. In that moment, you could have been resentful or hateful. You could picked a fight and scoffed about him leading you on.

But you didn’t.

With a smile, you passed the picture back. “She’s cute. You guys are cute.”

Who are you to get angry over someone who isn’t yours?

The study sessions continued on as if nothing ever happened and soon enough, you convinced yourself that truly nothing ever happened. You two were now friends and that’s all you wanted.

It became a tradition then to meet every weekend at that table. Then one weekday turned into the weekend. Then the weekend turned into every other day. Soon enough, you guys were attached at the hip, finding time to eat lunch together, listening to lectures in class together, even sneaking into each others dorms after curfew for movie nights.

The two of you were easily best friends and per the rules of best friendship, you two shared nearly everything. Stories about the god awful roommate, awkward confrontations with professors, even stories of embarrassing slip ups made.

You two told each other almost everything. Which was why it was so weird to hear about his break up with Haley from his friend.

He had called you from Aaron’s phone, so you didn’t think twice about picking up the phone. But when you heard the loud music and starkly different voice, you knew something was wrong.

“y/n?”

“Mark? Where’s Aaron, is everything okay?”

“Aaron’s fine. Physically at least…look I need your help.”

You noted the slight slur over his words as he slowly began to panic.

“Anything.”

“Haley broke up with Aaron and he…well he didn’t take well to I suggested we go out for drinks since it’s spring break and so he could feel better, but when I turn around he downed like 7 shots and now he can barely stand and I didn’t think ahead and I’m drunk so I can’t take us home but he’s plastered so he can’t take him home either and I called my friend but they have the tiniest fucking clown car ever and he can’t fit so-,”

“Mark! Breathe. I can’t understand you.”

“Sorry…”

“Do you have a ride?”

“Yes.”

“Does Aaron need a ride?”

“No. I mean yes. Yes he needs a ride.”

“Where are you?”

There was silence for a moment. “Miller’s.”

“I’ll be there in 10.”

Aaron didn’t talk until he reached his empty dorm, putting more than half of his body weight on you.

“Haley broke things off.”

Your heart broke into a million pieces at the sight of his sad face. His eyes were wet, but not yet ready to release the tears the built and a pout fell upon his lips.

“I know.”

He had dragged you into bed with him, hugging you to his chest like a pillow as he sulked. You took the embrace hesitantly but welcomed it. Your arms wrapped around his waist and you kicked off your shoes, climbing into bed with him.

“I tried to tell her that I can be better. I can call her more, and visit her more, but…she didn’t want to hear it.”

You looked up at him sadly. “It’s not your fault…long distance just isn’t made for everyone.”

A silence spread over you two and you thought he’d fallen asleep.

“She said I’m in love with you…”he blurted out.

It was an awful feeling hearing those words. It felt as if a bomb had dropped into the abyss of your stomach, but it never went off. It simply sat there and weighed so heavily down on you. Tugging at the string of your heart and encapsulating your lungs in a chokehold.

“She said I’m in love with you and I don’t even know it.”

Saying it a second time only confirmed the dread inside of you was true.

“…what did you say?”

“Nothing. I didn’t know what to say.”

“Oh.”

You don’t know how long you sat there, frozen in place and frozen in mind. It felt like forever and nothing at all. It felt like you were dying.

“I need to leave,” you started abruptly. You untangled yourself from his arms and sheets and began to slip your shoes back on but a hold on your wrist stopped you.

“Kiss me.”

What?

You had to be dreaming.

Or maybe it was a nightmare.

“Aaron, I’m not going to—,”

“If you kiss me then I’ll know.” Determination shined in his eyes and he furrowed his brows down into a frown. “I’ll know if I’m in love you or if Haley is wrong.”

You didn’t know what to do. Your face felt numb and your heart. Oh your heart. It ached. Seeing such sadness painted on his face was the first blow, but his words…His words were like a hammer to porcelain.

So you laughed. If you could even call it that. It was more like you breathing out for the first time in minutes. “I’m not going to kiss you—.”

You didn’t think he’d get any closer but he did. He scoot down to the very edge of the bed and tugged you forward so that his legs laid on either side of you.

“Please.”

Your heart melted into nothing as he brushed his nose against yours. You could smell the alcohol on his breath as his lips whispered over yours but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

It was Aaron. How could you care about something like that?

It was a moment of desperation that surged your lips forward, pressing into his in a sloppy but arguably perfect kiss.

Your hands immediately rushed up to meet his hair, tugging and running your fingers through his gorgeous locks.

You dreamed of this moment since he approached you in the library asking for help, but none of your fantasies could live up to this.

His lips were unexpectedly soft and gentle as they moved down your jawline and to your neck. He left open mouthed kisses now, eliciting gasps from your mouth.

It was bliss for the first minute. 60 seconds of heaven as you basked in the glory of being loved by Aaron Hotchner.

But when those 60 seconds were up, you crashed down to Earth and realized what the hell you just did.

You pushed him away, fear shining in your eyes. Or was it tears.

“This was a mistake. I’m so sorry.”

He was drunk for christ sake. What was wrong with you?

You didn’t look back as you rushed out of him room, slamming the door behind you.

It took you two days to cook up the courage to talk to him again. He had left you so many missed calls and you felt terrible as you let it go to voicemail, but you couldn’t find it in you to talk to him yet.

The day you finally chose to talk to him, you were ready. You had a paper of what to say in case you lost your words. Macy said it read out more a confession and maybe it was, but you needed you speak your peace. You needed to know that everything was going to be okay.

You clutched the paper in you hand as you approached the elevator that would take you to his floor. Hesitantly, you reached to touch the button, but pulled back when the door opened on its own.

By some higher power, your dread grew even more when you saw the face on the other side of the door.

What are the odds you’d see Haley Brooks right as you were going to confess to her ex-boyfriend.

“Oh my god,” she gasped, immediately recognizing you. “You’re y/n! I can’t believe this!”

Haley immediately stepped out the elevator, a bright smile finding her lips.

“You’re…Haley.”

She was somehow even prettier in real life. It almost hurt.

“I just have to say…I’m so sorry for ever accusing you of anything. I was concerned and worried and paranoid cause to be honest, I haven’t spent this long away from Aaron.”

These words were supposed to be relieving. Why didn’t you feel relieved?

“What did he tell you?” It came out as a pathetic croak.

“He told me that he does love you, but not in the way I thought. That you’re his best friend in the highest regard and every time we were having a rough patch, you were there to make sure we were okay.”

Suddenly would remembered every time you gave him relationship advice. Every time you told him to cherish what he has, appreciate every moment he has with Haley because time was most important to a long distance relationship.

Were you really your own betrayer?

“You were there for him when I couldn’t be. And you made us both realize that we need to appreciate what we have, because it’s special and important.”

You did say that. Didn’t you?

You couldn’t remember the rest of Haley’s words. You didn’t want to remember the rest of her words. You don’t know how long it had been since she left, but when you finally came to your senses, you folded that note into your pocket and stepped away from the elevator.

You couldn’t bring yourself to see Aaron Hotchner ever again. So you didn’t.

part 2 out now!!

taglist: @mackannkees

[eclairsnme]

♡ POV: Being The Itoshi Brother’s Elder Sister ♡

Part 1 / Part 2

The brattiness continues (with a sprinkle of denseness)

tags: idol!you, crack comedy, reunion, familial love, sfw, somewhat of a brat (⁎⁍̴̛ᴗ⁍̴̛⁎)

notes: she thinks highly of herself, it’s almost as if she’s the reincarnation of Gojo Satoru.

oh, spoiler alert she's going to meet someone who also thinks very highly of himself. ^_−☆chu~

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔʕ⁎̯͡⁎ʔ༄ʕ⁎̯͡⁎ʔ༄

“Sae!”

The clacking of your high heels echoed throughout the airport as you chase your damn little brother.

What a sight out of a bad Netflix series, except it’s real life. But this is more like a horror movie for a celebrity like you. In your pristine clothes and all, chasing like a wild animal!

“Sae!” You huffed, trying to catch up with him.

Damn, that soccer player with his long legs.

What is a celebrity like me ME chasing a mere man down like that! -

That is exactly what your manager thought too, as he tries to keep up with you.

So, how did you exactly come to this point of peak desperation?

It all started last night when Sae relayed to you that he’s going back to Spain straight after the Japan U-20 match.

In all honesty, you didn’t really care all that much since an idol like you had better things to do (^-^)v.

Then it struck you. As a good sister… I should stop him!

Unlucky for you, being oblivious to all else except idol-related issues is your biggest flaw.

To put it simply, you were pretty dumb when it comes to relationships.

And that was the start of your plan to “stop” Sae from returning to Spain.

Lucky for you, Sae was smart. He halted his steps and said, “Sister, are you stupid?”

But his EQ wasn’t all that great.

“S-stupid?” You stuttered out at his bluntness.

“Yes.”

Sae looked around their surroundings noting that they had already caught the attention of some prying eyes.

Sigh

Sae continued, “Just go back home.”

“But,” you gave him your best puppy eyes. V✪ω✪V

But, indeed, he was unaffected by your usual antics.

“What business do you even have in Spain?”

“Well~ the business of being a good sister!”

A tangible silence ensues from the absurdity.

“Idiot.”

“Sae, is this how you see your sister? As an idiot, uncaring sister?” You asked him squarely still trying to put on your Oscar-worthy acting skills.

Alas, Sae did not respond to you but instead said, “I’ll let you know when I reach Spain.”

Sae entered his departure terminal leaving his pouty older sister.

Sighing, he looked back and gave you a little wave, after seeing you smile, he walked further in until you couldn’t see him.

Besides the two celebrities — a top idol and football prodigy — was their manager profusely bowing to each other to apologise for today's event.

Being a manager is not an easy job, especially when attending to the Itoshi siblings who do not have the best attitude.

Your manager turned to you, “Let’s get on with our schedule today shall we?”

“Did that act look like I was a very caring sister?”

Caught off guard by your question, Mr manager stuttered out a yes.

You let out a satisfied grin.

Job done !＼＼\\٩( 'ω' )و //／／

Mr manager sighed.

–

Inside the car, you asked Mr Manager what your schedule was for today.

“A commercial shoot for this up-and-coming game you will be promoting, a meeting with our sponsors and…”

And everything else that came out of his mouth just drowned out. You checked your phone and saw no reply from Rin.

I wonder how Rin is feeling after crying so much that day…

“Also, someone called our studio just now. It was a German man — I’m not sure what he said but he did mention your name specifically, and he addressed you by your real name.”

Your ears perked up.

“A German man who knows my real name?”

In your life, you only personally know one German man and his name is Kaiser something.

You met him a few years back in Germany. You thought he was an extremely unintelligent person as he kept speaking to you in German even though you didn’t understand a single word that exited his mouth.

You remembered he kept saying “Süße” (*sweetie) and he would always kiss the back of your hand, which you thought was a German thing.

What a culture shock it was, people in foreign countries sure do have a very different way of greeting people compared to in Japan.

“So did that man mention his name?” You turned to Mr manager.

“Michael Kaiser. He also left his personal phone number it seems.”

“Give me that number.” You held your hand out.

“D-do you even know this man? He could be a stalker!”

“Maybe~”

“Maybe?!” Mr Manager raised his voice, then he paused for a moment, “Hold on, that name Michael Kaiser sounds real familiar…”

As Mr manager wreck his head about that, you thought back about this Kaiser person.

Back when you were having your world tour in Germany, you had some free time to explore the streets of Germany. So you snuck out of your hotel room, it was all fun and games until you lost your way in a foreign country you have never visited before.

As a young girl, stuck in an unfamiliar country, unfamiliar street, and unfamiliar language, you could only cry.

That was when you met Kaiser.

Ah! How embarrassing it was to cry in the middle of nowhere now that you think about it! (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

So pathetic of me!

Both of you were pretty much strangers, you were surprised he remembered you and how he still managed to find you.

Oh! I really am a worldwide star! ↖(^ω^)↗

You giggled to yourself.

“Ah, I remember now!” Mr manager exclaimed, practically screaming into your ears.

You pushed Mr manager away and side-eyed him, “What is it?!”

“Michael Kaiser! He is a popular prodigy football player from Germany!”

Football player?

“Is being a football player a popular occupation these days?”

So this Kaiser person is a football player too? And a prodigy at that too? The world really has no shortage of prodigies huh?

Of all the football players you know, all of them are dubbed prodigies. That being said, you only know three football players — Sae, Rin and now, Kaiser.

“Mr manager, don’t tell me you are a football prodigy too?”

“Surely you jest, miss. I-if I was a prodigy,” he hesitated for a second then said in a hushed voice, “I wouldn’t be working for you.”

“What did you say?” You frowned at him.

“N-nothing!”

“As punishment for saying that, go call that Kaiser person and ask what business he has with me.”

“But I don’t speak German!”

“Go figure it out then!”

I shouldn’t have said that Mr manager berated himself.

“Oh, after my schedule, drive me to that restaurant I told you about,” you snickered, “I’m going on a ‘date’ with my youngest brother.”

—

“Did you wait long?”

You tapped your younger brother who seemed lost in thought.

“No… I just arrived too.”

He visibly looked disturbed by something and you knew exactly what it was.

“Are you still upset by your brother?”

Rin clenched his fist and swallowed down his frustration.

You placed your hand over his clenched fist and pacified him, “Don’t let it get to you alright? Sae is still going through puberty!”

A few days ago you booked (more like Mr manager booked) a private room in a fancy hotel restaurant, to treat Rin to something nice since you thought he looked pretty melancholic.

“Sister, puberty ends at the age of 16 for males.”

“Well, Sae will forever be a little boy to me! Anyways, order what you want! This sister of yours will be treating you so order up!”

You took a glimpse of the menu and salivate at the picture of the A5 Wagyu steak. Oh, how succulent and fatty it will be!

However, you reminded yourself that you have to watch your weight. As an idol, one cannot stress the importance of weight management.

You used all your 10 fingers to mentally count how much you’ve eaten today.

You grimly looked at the wagyu steak and fries and decided to go for a simple duck confit with a side of salad.

Rin glances toward you to see what you are ordering and saw you intensely glaring at the picture of a steak.

“I’ll get the duck confit with salad, what about you?” You close the menu bidding farewell to the steak.

“The wagyu steak for me,” Rin replied.

You signalled the waiter and placed the order.

After ordering, what followed was an air of silence and strong awkward energy.

After being an absent sister for god knows how many years, you’ve never really communicated much with this teenager Rin. You were only close to him when he was just a teeny tiny boy playing football with Sae. Even then, he was still closer to Sae.

Rin will only approach you whenever he was upset with Sae. He will then subsequently cry to you about his problems. Now he still cries to you as you recollect the day the U-20 match was over and Rin poured his heart out.

Not knowing how to proceed with this conversation or the lack thereof, you prompted him with a question, “Do you have a girlfriend?” (๑╹ω╹๑ )

Rin stared at you as if you were joking around, “I do not have time for that.”

“Is football the only thing on your mind?”

“Yes.”

“You are just like your brother.” You frowned at Rin and the other little one.

Rin’s resentment grew inside of him like a tumour as he is reminded of his brother.

Uh-Oh, I shouldn’t have said that.

You quickly tried to divert his attention.

“Ooohhhh look at this Rin! The photo for my photoshoot! Don’t I look absolutely gorgeous here?” You held up your phone and nervously giggled.

Rin eyed at your phone.

“It looks alright.”

“Just alright?”

Just like a game of ping pong, it’s your turn to seethe. In your list of top 100 things that annoy you, to have someone not acknowledge your beauty was number 97! It’s on the lowest scale because 9 out of 10 times, people will appreciate your beauty. The rest are just haters! _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):

Humph! I’ll let that slide just because you are Rin-Rin.

You tried to think of a topic and were reminded of something.

“So what’s the deal with Blue Lock? Are you doing well there?”

Rin summarised his full experience in Blue Lock and he didn’t forget to sprinkle in his hate for this boy called Isagi and of course your other little brother.

Your little brother really needs to get some therapy with all these astonishing degrees of anger and hatred.

Then the food came interrupting Rin’s heated tirade on how much he hated Isagi and Sae.

You both had a hearty dinner and Rin kept shoving beef steak onto your plate despite you saying no, so you had no choice but to eat it.

It was a very conflicting experience having to eat something you love yet having calorie restrictions.

The life of an idol sure is tough.

After finishing dinner, both of you left the restaurant. Before leaving the hotel, you excused yourself to the toilet.

The toilet was so far you could’ve just walked half a marathon, not to mention it was secluded at the very corner of the hotel.

You sighed, at least I think I burned some calories.

“Süße!”

“!!!” You felt someone’s hand snaking around your waist. ⊙▽⊙

Thinking it's some creepy stalker of yours, you reflexively swatted the hand away. But the person in question was firm.

Perfume wafted through your nose as he presses his body against yours.

You let out a soft squeak at the contact. (〃ω〃)

Finally making eye contact with the man, you realise it was someone you know.

“Kaiser?” He smiled like a Cheshire Cat as you mention his name.

“Meine Leibe,” he brought you to a warm embrace, to which you similarly return his hug.

German’s greetings sure involve lots of skin contact, you thought to yourself as you felt Kaiser’s heat radiating through you.

He finally released you from the hug.

You quickly took notice of the rose tattoo that seemed to go from his neck down to his left arm which he didn’t have before when you met him in Germany.

You pointed to his tattoo to somewhat question him since you didn’t speak a lick of German.

He lifted his left hand for you to have a better look. You held onto his hand to inspect the tattoo but he had a better idea. He pushed his hands against your lips.

A soft shriek escaped you.

Your lipstick was sure to have stuck onto his hand. And more importantly, you have to reapply your lipstick!

What is this man thinking! ಠ╭╮ಠ

While you quickly reached out to your purse for your lipstick, you saw Kaiser bring his left hand to his own lips staining his lips in the process from your peripheral.

When you finished reapplying your lipstick, Kaiser was intently watching you.

You instinctively tried to rub off your lipstick from his lips but he was faster to grab your wrist and pulled you closer to him, so close that you were just a few inches away from his lips.

What’s wrong with Germans and their love for skin contact? Is this normal in Germany?

“I’ve been wanting to meet you for so long, meine liebe,” Kaiser said in German.

You drew a big fat question mark in your head. ( •́ ⍨ •̀)

What did he just say? And why does he look like he’s going in for a kiss?

True enough, Kaiser brought his lips to your lips. He invited his tongue through your parted lips tasting you for the very first time. He allowed his hands to yet again snake around your waist pulling you closer to him as if you weren’t already stuck to him.

What is this? This is a German greeting too right? ╭( ๐ _๐)╮

His other hand found its way to your chin. He tilted your chin slightly up to deepen the kiss.

As much as dancing your tongue with an old German friend was exciting, you couldn’t help but realise you were still in public. What if someone saw you?

You place both hands on Kaiser’s chest, slightly pushing him away and breaking the kiss.

“What’s wrong, Liebling?” His hands are still on your waist, trying to pull you back to him.

“Sister?”

You quickly detach yourself from Kaiser catching a glimpse of Rin from the corner.

You noticed that he was blushing. Oh, he definitely saw all that.

(๑•́ ₃ •̀๑)

“Rin!” You exclaimed feeling like you were caught in the middle of some illegal act.

“Is that your boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend?”

That’s unbelievable, never in your whole life have you had a so-called “boyfriend”. What is Rin on to make him believe that?

“Then, why were you kiss-”

You promptly interrupted Rin from his imagination, “This is my friend, Kaiser!”

You pointed over to Kaiser, and he took the opportunity to catch your hand into his grip and ultimately hold your hand.

“-just a friend,” you tried explaining it to Rin. (ノಠ益ಠ)ノ彡┻━┻

Rin, however, looked over at his sister and the blonde-with-blue-streaks-haired man who is almost as tall as Sae, who was just a second ago kissing so intimately and now holding hands like a couple would behave.

Hard to believe they are not a couple; what kind of friends eat out each other's face.

Kaiser? Rin ruminates on that name.

Rin knows a Kaiser who looks just exactly like him.

“Michael Kaiser,” Rin carefully enunciates his name, which causes the man himself to grin at him.

“Rin-Rin, you know him?”

“Prodigy player and also a member of the New Generation World XI,” said Rin glaring at Kaiser. (⩺_⩹)

In response, Kaiser didn’t say a word but just responded with the usual smug grin.

“What? When did you learn German, Rin-Rin?”

“What’s your relationship with my sister?” Rin continued to question Kaiser.

Kaiser brought your hand to his lips and gave it a gentle peck, “what do you think, Itoshi Rin?”

“You know me?”

“The little brother of Japan's football prodigy, Itoshi Sae, and you who will always live in his shadows as a nobody.” Kaiser snickered at Rin.

Raw anger shot through him. He yet again clenched his hand into a tight fist, seething with anger. Every word from him stung him.

Unsure of where this conversation is leading, you stared in confusion. That was until you saw Rin sudden change in mood.

What had made the conversation turn so sour for Rin?

You were dumb but your EQ was not that severe to not see that Rin was somehow at the losing end of the conversation.

You let go of Kaiser’s hand and ran to your little brother.

“What’s wrong?”

You saw the dark, gravel look on him almost as if he was about to break someone’s joint.

Placing a hand over his back and patting him just as you did when he was younger, you guided him down the hotel’s hallway towards the exit.

“Let’s go home.”

“Meine leibe?”

He received no response from you, instead he only saw your retreating figure.

☆〜（ゝ。∂）the end (for now) ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

< you have reached the end! thank you for reading babes! (〃∀〃)ゞ I really appreciate all the love you are giving to this ongoing series! look forward to more spine-crawling fluff! ʅ（´◔౪◔）ʃ *evil laugh* the harem begins now>

Part 3

[zepskies]

Love Actually - Part 2

Paring: Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

Summary: You and Ben steel yourselves in order to meet your crazy family for Christmas dinner.

AN: Here’s the requested Part 2! It got too long, so I had to break it up lol. There will be a Part 3 after this (final part). I also tried really hard to find an image/gif that would match this chapter better, but alas, there are only so many pictures of this scruffy guy. (And none in a real suit. 😂)

Read Part 1

Remember, this story is set in the same world as “Break Me Down,” and set before “Checkerboard.” But this can be read as a stand-alone! Hope you enjoy…

Word Count: 4,800 Tags/Warnings: Tense situations, bit of angst, lots of sexy fluff

Part 2: "Season’s Greetings"

Ben checked his watch again. 

He’d lost count of how many times, how many minutes, how long he’d been waiting for you to come down the goddamn stairs so he could get this night over with. 

You’d been getting ready for this dinner with your family for four hours. How long did it take you to slap on some makeup and throw on a dress?

Finally, he heaved a sigh and got up from the couch, adjusting the watch on his wrist. He stayed by the foot of the stairs and called up to you.

“Hey. What’s taking so damn long?” he asked. His brows were furrowed, mouth set in an aggravated frown. “I already told you. I’m not planning on being at this thing all night. So if you don’t come down here in the next ten minutes, I swear to fucking Christ—” 

Ben stopped short, as he heard your footsteps at the top of the stairs. When he looked up with expectant, pursed lips, his face subtly froze. 

“What? What’re you gonna do?” you teased. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you grasped the guardrail and carefully made your way down the stairs. These heels were no joke. 

You had a black suede clutch tucked in your other hand, but Ben was drawn to the bright red of your dress. The color alone appealed to him. It called back a memory of a musty club, rich whiskey, and the dulcet tones of your voice.

But now, this dress was shorter. It also hugged your every curve and stopped just a few inches above the knee. He noticed a tantalizing little slit in the back, at the hem, leading his eyes down your sheer pantyhose and down to the tall, black heels.

His lips formed a teasing smile. “You sure you can walk in those?” 

But you could see the truth in his eyes; he liked what he saw. They raked back up your body, taking in the short sleeves, the slight plunge of the neckline, the red lipstick as bright as your dress, the soft sweep of eyeliner and dark lashes—and you hoped he noticed the way you’d painstakingly done your hair into soft, ‘40s style waves.

“Do I look shaky to you?” you countered.

Ben tilted his head slightly as he stared up at you. “Not one bit.”

He reached out for you on the last step of the stairs. You took his hand and gave him a grateful look, but your hand didn’t stop there. It grazed up the sleeve of his suit jacket as you took him in with a smile.

Not often one to don a simple black suit, Ben went with a charcoal gray against a crisp black undershirt. No tie though, leaving the first couple of buttons casually open. 

“Look at my man, all sharp and modern and sexy as hell,” you purred. He accepted the praise with a pleased quirk of his lips. 

Normally you wouldn’t try to feed his peacock-level pride too much. He knew he was a damn fine-looking man. However, you also knew he wasn’t totally into meeting the rest of your family tonight. You knew you needed to give him a (well earned) ego boost.

“Gotta match my girl,” said Ben. Though he fingered the ends of your softly curled hair with a more genuine glint to his smile. “Though you’ve gone a bit vintage.”

“Compromise.” You grinned, and you leaned up for a soft kiss. 

He met you there, even pressing his luck when his tongue begged entrance against your lips. You held his cheek and brushed your thumb there tenderly, but you soon broke away. 

“We’ve got somewhere to be,” you reminded him. Ben sighed through his nose, though his hands molded to your waist.  

“I didn’t realize you were that kinky,” he said. His voice was deep and suggestive. Your face started to heat up, even as your brows knitted with confusion.

“What?” you asked. 

“I know you’re not gonna make me wait all night to get a taste of this,” he said. And he leaned down to begin plying you with his heavy hands and his lips along your neck. “I gotta assume you want me to fuck you in your mom’s house.”

You uttered a shocked laugh. You batted his shoulder, even though it didn’t even make him blink. His lips curved as they grazed your neck. He inhaled under your ear, making a pleasant shudder run down your spine. He hummed in approval.

“Is that the perfume I got you?” he asked. 

“Mhmm,” you nodded. “I like it a lot. Makes me feel all warm and spicy.”

Ben chuckled into your neck. He did pull back eventually to thumb around the edge of one of your earrings—the second part of his Christmas gift to you. The white stone and silver filigree shone in the light. 

“They look good,” he remarked, giving you a charming smile. “Better on you than the catalogue girl.”

Now that was an image. Soldier Boy: browsing through a magazine of women’s jewelry. You smiled brightly at him. 

“Thank you, baby,” you replied. “They really are beautiful.”

Then you glanced down to find your gift to him on his wrist: a new silver Rolex. You turned his hand over to make sure that it fit him right.

“Not too tight, right? Not too loose.” you asked.

He shook his head. “Nah, it’s good.”

“Just good? Does it still need adjusting? We can go back to the store and have them fix it—”

“It’s perfect, sweetheart. Stop fussing,” he said. Your lips pursed as you looked up at him from the watch. 

“I just want to make sure you’re happy with it, that’s all,” you said. 

“I am,” he replied. But his smile, the hidden glint of something in his eyes, made you blush. Inside, you were warm and pleased.  

“All right, let’s go then,” you said. “I’ve got the rum cake, and the actual rum ready to go in the kitchen. And the presents are lined up by the door. Can you load those up in the car for me while I get the food?”

Ben obliged you, though he soon balked at the army of presents waiting for him by the door. When did you have time to get all of these? He didn’t remember you buying all this shit. 

Though he realized, this must’ve been how you filled your time after work, while he was gone for the past two weeks on that mission. 

As he loaded the gifts into the car, Ben reluctantly remembered that it had been…strange, to be away from you. For the past few months, you two had fallen into a rhythm. Waking up to each other, busy morning routines before work, sharing your evenings afterwards. 

You had also been making it your mission to find new things to do together. Like paintballing, of all things. Or comedy shows, new movies and restaurants, concerts, club nights with your friends. Though it was weird for him, sometimes, to go to a show without all the celebrity fanfare he used to get as Soldier Boy.    

Well, he was still Soldier Boy. He just wasn’t getting paid anywhere near the same as he used to. (But let’s face it, he didn’t need the damn money. He’d earned plenty in 40 years of fame and family inheritance.) 

People still knew his name, still worshiped him at times, but it wasn’t the same. He wasn’t part of Vought’s machine anymore. No one really told him what to do, but if he wanted this life—here, in upstate New York—he was forced to make efforts to color within the lines of the law (mostly). Hell, he actually worked for a living. Even if it was for the government.  

The point was, he was part of something. And it wasn’t totally shit, even if he was surrounded by morons on a daily basis…  

By the time you opened the passenger side door to interrupt his musings, Ben remembered to actually start the car. 

“You okay?” you asked as you clicked in your seatbelt. You were keeping a close eye on him tonight, trying to gauge his shifting moods. 

Ben hesitated, but when he glanced over at you, he reached over and thumbed at your chin, under those ruby red lips. It made you smile. 

“Yeah,” he replied. Though he let out a subtle breath as he faced the road and took the wheel of the car. Ever perceptive though, you sent him an assessing look. 

“You’re not nervous, are you?” you asked. His brows furrowed slightly.

“Why would I be?” he asked, his voice a bit sharp. Defensive, you interpreted. 

Instead of answering, you leaned over and laid a hand on his thigh.

“Look, my mom already likes you. Louisa’s going to come around,” you said. Your mouth edged into a smile, of sorts. “I just need you to stop me from killing my aunt with a ladle.” 

Ben snorted in response. “All right.”

When the two of you arrived at your mother’s house, she opened the door to her home and greeted your boyfriend like a long-lost son. 

“Oh, Ben! Come in, please,” she beckoned, grabbing his arm and guiding him inside. “You look so handsome, my goodness!” 

Ben couldn’t help offering a smile. It was infused with his usual charm. 

“Marie,” he greeted with a nod. You shook your head, despite your own smile. Ben liked attention—along with a bit of praise and fanfare went without saying. And you knew your mom wouldn’t be the only one to play into that tonight. 

“Hi, Mom,” you said pointedly, with a hand on your hip. Marie turned to you with a bright smile. 

“Oh! Honey, there you are. Merry Christmas!” She brought you in and hugged you tight. She then fairly gushed as she took in your dress and touched your hair. “Oh, you look so beautiful. I wish you’d come earlier though. I need you to help me and Trina. Come on.”

Marie glanced up at Ben again. “Oh, you too, hun! We can introduce you to everyone.”

Ben nodded. He followed your lead behind your mother, and you inwardly steeled yourself on the way to the kitchen. The familiar smells awaiting you brought you back to the better parts of your childhood. Ones that were filled with music, laughs, and good food.    

And if there was one redeeming quality about your Aunt Trina, it was that she could cook her ass off. Since your mom had always been more of the “boxed meal” variety cook, Trina always took over at Thanksgiving and Christmas, and just about every other family gathering. 

She was putting the ham in the oven while your sister sat at the kitchen table with your Grandpa George, peeling potatoes. The bigger table in the dining room was currently set up with appetizers and wine. 

But the sounds of chatter and pots and pans and cabinets closing—it all stopped when you and Ben entered the kitchen. You felt his hand at the small of your back, and whether he meant it to or not, that familiar touch stabilized you. 

Even Trina stopped giving Louisa directions on how to correctly peel and cut the potatoes for boiling. Her mouth opened when she took in the sight of Ben, from head to toe. 

“Good evening,” he said, if only to break the silence. 

But you knew the rest was up to you. You curled a hand around his solid arm and gave him a smile, before looking to your family. 

“Hey, guys. Merry Christmas!” you greeted. “This is my boyfriend, Ben.”

Trina squealed in excitement. She came over (with a wooden spoon in hand) to give you an enthusiastic hug and kiss. She held your arms and looked between you and Ben. 

“Your mom said you were dating a superhero, but I had no idea…” she twittered. “I mean…it’s Soldier Boy. He’s in my kitchen!” 

“It’s Mom’s kitchen, actually,” you muttered. Trina’s excitement dimmed slightly as she rolled her eyes at you.

“Ever the smart mouth,” she said, playfully whacking you in the ass with her spoon. 

Ben smirked. He certainly agreed with your aunt’s assessment. He turned to her to offer something in greeting, but before he could, Louisa’s voice cut in from across the room. 

“What should we call you? Ben, or Soldier Boy?” she asked dryly. 

You frowned, gave your sister a look. Meanwhile, Ben didn’t quite make it to a smile, but he was civil when he answered her. 

“Ben’s fine.”

You remained in the kitchen to help out, while Ben migrated to the living room with your grandfather. Ben grabbed a large glass of wine on his way there, along with a few mini quiche to tide him over until dinner. 

He then noticed an old woman sleeping on the leather recliner. 

“Who’s that?” he asked George. 

“Oh, that’s Great Aunt Sylvia,” George said. “She just took an oxy for her hip. She’ll be passed out ‘til dinner.”  

Ben blinked at the casual mention of oxycodone, but he wouldn’t mind a few of what Sylvia was having. Oxy gave him such a nice buzz. 

But instead, he and George sat on opposite ends of the couch while Sylvia snored away. 

For a moment, it was quiet, save for the soft crooning of Nat King Cole playing (and Sylvia). The music came from a small round speaker on the coffee table, Ben noticed. You’d told him about Alexa and Siri and all those techno bitches out there now, controlling people’s houses. He didn’t trust it. 

“You like baseball?” George asked as he turned on the TV. Ben nodded, and the other man put on a game. Mets versus the Cubs, three to one. The men were silent for a while as they watched the game. 

Unfortunately for Ben, that peace couldn’t last. 

“So,” George started. “You’re a supe, huh?”

Ben inclined his head, sipping at his wine. This was what he fucking hated. Small talk. 

“I remember you,” George said. “My wife and I liked that movie you made…King of Kings. With Charlton Heston. What a classic that guy was.”

Ben smiled. “He was a good time. Drank like a fucking fish.”

George raised a brow. “Did he? Well, we all need a glass every now and then.”

Ben nodded, taking a pointed sip of his wine. 

“Heston. One of the few celebrities I gave a shit about when he died,” George said with a shake of his head. “Wasn’t long before my wife’s passing.”

You’d told Ben a lot about your grandmother. When your parents got divorced, she’d insisted that you, your mom, and your sister live with her and George. She didn’t want to take any chances with your dad, who’d been more than unstable at the time in his drinking. 

Ben didn’t often pray. But he drank then with a silent toast, that good ole’ Jon was getting hot coals up the ass right about now. In hell.

Ben then considered your grandfather’s musings, realizing he hadn’t thought about his old pal Heston in a long time.  

“How’d he die?” Ben asked. George glanced over at him.

“Well, official case was pneumonia. But it wasn’t all that clear,” he said. “However, I think he had a flare up.”

“Of what?” Ben asked.

George gave him a wry look. “The fate that all men fear. Ass cancer.”

Ben raised a brow, his mouth twitching. He had a feeling he knew where your sense of humor came from. 

“You probably don’t have to worry about that,” George waved a dismissive hand. “You’re still young. Well, sort of…I mean, being superhuman and all that. I’m sure that comes in handy with the normal stuff, like the sniffles and whatnot…and hey! At least you won’t have to worry about your asshole fallin’ out.”

Ben actually smiled. Now he knew you were related to this man. 

In the kitchen, you were trying and failing to dodge a game of “Twenty Questions” with your aunt, while you and your sister finished cutting potatoes. All of the questions were predictably centered around Ben. Luckily, you had a plate of mini quiche, cheese, and salami between you and Louisa to keep you pacified. 

“Well, you’ve done well for yourself, I’ll give you that,” Trina said. “But why on God’s green Earth didn’t you tell us you were dating Soldier Boy? How the hell did you even meet him?”

Shit. There was more than one reason you hadn’t told the rest of your family yet, and this was partly it. How the hell were you supposed to explain this? 

Louisa shot you a knowing look, along with a raised brow. 

“Well, I was actually assigned to find him after he…went missing last year,” you said, keeping things purposefully vague. “We met and…things just kind of took off from there.”

Your mom and your sister didn’t even know all the details, but they knew this much. After Soldier Boy used his nuclear power to end Homelander, he’d escaped in the aftermath. 

You’d been working a year in Surveillance at Supe Affairs, but you’d been a private investigator by trade, previously working at your father’s firm. You’d even worked at Vought for a few years, before joining the S.A. 

You were then recruited by Grace Mallory to track down Soldier Boy, along with Butcher and his team. 

…And that’s where things got complicated. 

“But isn’t Soldier Boy the one who killed Homelander?” Trina asked. She stopped in her stirring of the cranberry sauce to look back at you. And you met her stare directly. 

“Yes. He was partnered with the CIA on that.” Sort of. You added, “Homelander wasn’t the hero you all thought you knew, remember? He was a raging psychopath.”

Trina huffed at that. 

“So was your father. And you still worked with him for years,” she remarked, even off-handedly as she went back to stirring.

Your entire body stilled. Inside, your temper was a lit fuse, preparing to ignite. You stuffed a mini quiche into your mouth to stop you from exploding. 

And your mom and your sister recognized the danger. Louisa frowned tightly and touched your arm. 

She had been too young to form a true relationship with your father by the time your parents were divorced, and your grandparents (and later you) hadn’t allowed Jon to interfere too much with Louisa's life. So Jon’s death, a mere seven months ago, hadn’t truly affected her as deeply as it had you. 

And that in itself was complicated. 

Marie paused in preparing the sweet potato casserole to give her sister a warning look. 

“Trina, that’s not fair,” said Marie. 

Your aunt shrugged. “It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

Slowly, you stood. You grabbed a hand towel and brushed the velvety remains of potato skin from your hands. You also took the plate of cheese cubes and salami with you. 

“Honey, she just means—” 

“I know what she meant, Mom,” you said. Your mother wasn’t confrontational. She would never tell her sister to shut the fuck up when she was being out of pocket. 

But you had no problem doing so. You walked over to Trina, who saw the look in your eye and actually relented, realizing that there was, in fact, a line, and she had crossed it. 

“Look, I’d like us to continue having a nice evening,” you told her. “Mention my father again, and it won’t be.” 

After a moment, Trina nodded. 

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have said that. Don’t mind me,” she said. But then, she smiled. “I’m really happy for you, sweetheart. You’ve got a superhero! Who knew you’d pull that one off, huh?”

Your flat smile remained. “Oh, yeah? How do you mean?” 

Trina faltered. Apparently, she hadn’t expected that. 

“Oh. Well, you know…”

“No. I really don’t. Can you clarify for me?” you asked, using the same even tone you employed with testy co-workers on the Surveillance team. 

Trina sighed. “Oh, honey. You’re a beautiful girl, but…”

“What?” you challenged. “Just say it.”

Behind Trina’s coil of dark hair piled on her head, Marie looked worried. Louisa was also on tenterhooks, gripping the kitchen table. She slowly got to her feet though, in case she needed to intervene. 

“Well, I wasn’t gonna say anything,” Trina said. She gestured to you, after grabbing a cheese cube off your plate. “But your hips, hun. I mean, I enjoy a snack. A bon bon. A chocolate eclair. The occasional croissant, but the weight don’t come off easier as you get older, does it?” 

You were officially burning like a tea kettle.  

“And with a man like that…” Trina fanned herself with the discarded, empty bag of cranberries. “Mother of God. He’s gotta be beating ‘em off with a fucking stick.” 

Your mom pursed her lips at the salty language, giving Trina a sharp glance (for multiple reasons). 

Trina noticed, but she only popped another piece of salami into her mouth. “Sorry, hun.” 

But then she turned back to you. 

“And have you talked about kids yet? That’ll be some serious weight gain.” 

You let out a sharp breath and raised your gaze heavenward, pleading for mercy. 

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered.  

“I’m just sayin’!” she said. “He might have forever, but you certainly don’t.” 

Now that one struck a nerve. Perhaps not the one she intended, but it cut deeply into you all the same. You and Ben had agreed to pin that conversation for now, but the fact was, he would continue to age much slower than you. 

At your steely glare, Trina again raised her hands. This time in placating defense. “I’m trying to help you, is all I’m saying.” 

You gripped the edge of the kitchen counter so tight you thought a manicured nail might break off. You’d reached the end of your tether. 

“I’ve been here for all of five minutes—” 

“Okay, you know what?” Louisa finally stepped in and grabbed your arm. “I need your help. Let’s find the red tablecloth so we can set the table.”

She led you out of the kitchen and into the hall, but you stopped short so fast that you skidded a bit in your heels. You took deep breaths and braced a hand against the wall.  

You turned to your sister. “Why doesn’t she attack you like that?” 

“Oh, believe me,” Louisa said, rolling her eyes. “I had my turn before you got here. I’ve been locked in with these clucking hens all morning.” 

A grin twitched at the corner of your lips. 

“My condolences,” you said. But then, you look at your sister a bit harder. “And you. What’s your problem, huh? How long are you going to give Ben a hard time?” 

It took her a moment, but Louisa eventually sighed. 

“I mean, Aunt Trina’s an asshole, but she kind of said it. He’s literally a century-years-old,” she said. “How do you not have a problem with that?” 

You crossed your arms, though you knew you didn’t have a good answer for that one. 

“Age is…relative.” You struggled against a wince. 

“He lived through the damn Dust Bowl,” Louisa deadpanned. “He’s fucking ancient.” 

You glared back at her. “Okay, enough. What’s your real problem, huh? I mean really.”

Louisa let out another sigh. Her hands went to her hips. You hadn’t had a chance to tell her, but she looked pretty tonight too in her black dress. It flared at the waist and reached her knees, and she’d paired it with some chunky red heels. She was a little taller than you normally, but not by much. As the older sister, you enjoyed finally being taller than her for once in your higher heels. 

Still, you were annoyed with her right now. You sensed she had something deeper against Ben, and it wasn’t all about his age. When she eventually answered, it just confirmed your suspicions. 

“He’s dangerous,” she said at last. “He’s so fucking dangerous.” 

That disheartened you. Your lips pressed, and you held onto your own arms a bit tighter. 

“Not to me,” you replied. Louisa’s frown deepened as her brows knitted together.

“Especially to you,” she said. “He kidnapped you.” 

You gave a wan smile. “Not technically.” 

That had been one of his subordinates, who’d taken you outside of Ben’s orders…

It was a long and complicated story, but basically, it had worked out for both of you in the end. 

Louisa gave you a more incredulous look. “He’s got an atomic bomb in his chest.” 

“He’s working on controlling it,” you insisted. “He’s gotten a lot better!” 

Louisa threw her hands upward in exasperation and turned to leave you in the hall. You stopped her with a hand on her arm. 

“Look, I get it,” you said, meeting her gaze directly. “You’re worried about me. But here’s the thing…you don’t have to do that. I’m the one who looks out for you, remember?” 

Once again, she frowned at you. “Why, just because you’re older?” 

You gave her a teasing smile. 

“Well, yeah.” Still, you grasped both of her arms, now crossed in front of her chest. “Lou, haven’t I always taken care of you?” 

“Okay, yeah,” she said. “But who takes care of you? Who makes sure you’re all right?” 

You gave her a patient, if knowing look. 

She grimaced. “Oh, don’t you say it.” 

“Honestly, Lou. He does take care of me…he makes me feel safe.” You bit your lip, and your eyes began to well up with the sting of tears, emotion rising in your throat. “I’ve never had that. Ever.” 

Your sister released a heavy sigh. “I know.” 

“Then can you actually try to get to know him? Please?” You rubbed her arms, pleading with your eyes. You wanted your family to like your boyfriend, but it was so much more than that. You didn’t want to have separate worlds. Everyone in this house was part of your family, and that now included Ben.

The longer she looked into your imploring eyes, Louisa’s grimace lightened, just a touch. “I’ll think about it.” 

You smiled then, warmly as you hugged your sister. You then kissed her on the cheek, leaving the bright red imprint of your lipstick.

When you went back into the kitchen, your better mood was ruined pretty quickly by watching your aunt run your mother around the kitchen with demands and instructions. You decided to jump into the fray, taking a large serving bowl out of Marie’s hands before it tipped over.

“How’s the ham doing?” you asked. 

“About half an hour or so, I think,” Trina said. “Maybe forty-five.”

“Okay, and what’s left?”

“Let’s get the desserts ready.”

While your help sorely relieved your mother, it was actually a terrible idea for your mental health. When you could take no more of Trina’s irritating, commanding voice in your ear, you had to take a breath (as well as down a full glass of wine). 

You wordlessly asked Louisa to tag in for you before you traveled into the living room. 

There you found Ben immersed in a baseball game with Grandpa George. Both men only looked up at you when you stood near the couch with crossed arms. Your nerves were on edge, your blood still just short of boiling, but you took pains to look pleasant.

“Who’s winning?” you asked.

Ben quirked a smile at the sight of you, while George gave his more freely.

“5 to 3. It’s close on the Mets,” he said. You realized then that you hadn’t even hugged your grandfather yet. 

“Oh my God, Grandpa! I’m so sorry,” you said with a frown. You went over to hug him. “Trina has me all out of whack.”

George chuckled and patted you warmly on the back. “Why do you think I’m out here?”

You sighed with a wry smile. You then turned to Great Aunt Sylvia, who was still passed out in the recliner. 

“Aunt Sylvia?” you tried. You went over to her and touched her arm. 

“Leave her be, hun,” George told you. “Only the smell of food’ll rouse that woman.” 

Your smile deepened. Then you turned to Ben, who’d been watching you with reserved interest. He’d never seen you with the rest of your family before.

You went to him on his side of the couch and asked, in a tone deceptively light, “How about a tour of the house? You haven’t even seen it all.”

He could admit, it was a fairly big house for just your mother, but he was more interested in the game. 

“I’m watching this,” he said, gesturing at the screen. However, when he saw the tight press of your lips, he knew something wasn’t right with you. You were trying to tell him something with your eyes, he just didn’t know what.

You leaned down, subtly grabbing his thigh.

“I need you,” you whispered in his ear. “Now.” 

The tone of your voice set his blood alight with new interest.

Ben’s resulting smirk was subtle, but edged. 

“A tour it is.” 

AN: Just when you thought you'd seen the last of my BMD cliffhangers. 😏

How'd you like Ben's introduction to his girlfriend's family? I also sincerely hope you don't have an "Aunt Trina" in your life. 🙄

Next Time:

He grabbed your arms and meant to kiss you, but you stopped him with your fingers against his lips. 

“Two rules: this lipstick doesn’t come off. And no. Ripping. The dress.”

Keep reading: PART 3

Soldier Boy Masterlist

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[tenjikyu]

𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 - 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤.

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ comedy, fluff and all things happy! reader and baji are twins and basically fight over chifuyu (who 100% has a fat crush on you)

❤︎ growing up, you and your twin brother keisuke shared almost everything.

❤︎ birthdays, bedrooms, toys and even friend groups! you and baji were inseparable and jumped at the chance to help eachother out when either of you needed it.

❤︎ so you’d never expect that the first thing they argued over would be a boy by the name of chifuyu matsuno.

❤︎ the day keisuke came home with the blonde in tow, you were out sick with a flu. you were peacefully chilling on the lounge, watching a movie when he barged in and asked his mother where the yakisoba was in the fridge.

❤︎ chifuyu had seen you around school already, despite it only being your first week there. you were popular almost instantly, girls and guys alike drawn to your eccentric aura and personality.

❤︎ chifuyu couldn’t deny the fact he wanted to get to know you better. he saw how you acted gently with the elderly and scolded any young kids tormenting others. he thought you were cool.

❤︎ so imagine his surprise when he saw you bundled up on the couch of his most respected.

❤︎ you FREAKED, to put it gently.

❤︎ you looked like total shit! you were nasally and in your stinky pjs that you had been sick in for the past 2 days! all the while in front of one of the most influential kids in the SCHOOL.

❤︎ chifuyu noticed your stiffened posture, and quickly offered you a gentle wave before going to follow keisuke.

❤︎ and from that day onward, blondie (your loving nickname for him) was a semi permanent addition to your household.

❤︎ he would come over almost everyday, greeting you and making conversation often. you would talk back, laugh and joke about baji together (well, it’s mostly you making fun of your brother, him throwing shit at you whilst chifuyu awkwardly giggles to himself).

❤︎ but, after almost 2 months of only really talking to him through your brother, you began to crave seeing him more often.

❤︎ why? you had no idea. all you knew is you started missing him more often, joking to keisuke about forcing him to stay the night in hopes he actually would.

❤︎ in the end though, he’d always return to his apartment a few floors down, insisting it’s no trouble making it back home.

❤︎ so, as any baji descendant would, you decided you’d take him by force.

❤︎ the weekend arrived, keisuke and chifuyu met up to go to the mall together, and once they made it you striked.

❤︎ you charged AND I MEAN CHARGED at chifuyu, scaring the SHIT outta the both of them, taking his hand and swiftly running away from your screaming brother. giggling loudly, you waved behind you in a mocking manner.

��H-HUH? (Y/N)?” chifuyu stammered out, holding onto your hand tightly and running with you despite not having a clue what was going on. you only laughed at him, making his cheeks flush ever so lightly

as the two of you continued, you could head the abrasive running behind the two of you.

“(Y/N) WHAT THE FUCK?? GIVE ME BACK MY VICE CAPTIN YOU SHITHEAD” you could hear baji screaming behind you two. in a fit, you yelled back:

“FUCK NO KEISUKE! MATSUNO IS MINE FOR THE DAY! LEARN TO SHARE ASSHOLE.” before laughing to yourself once more.

chifuyu flushed when you said he was yours for the day. he honestly didn’t expect you to be this intrested in hanging out with him. he honestly thought you only hung around him because your brother brought him everywhere.

alas, he keeps running with you, the both of you making quick turns before eventually taking refuge in a pet shop, watching keisuke run in the complete wrong direction.

❤︎ and so, as promised, you and chifuyu spent the entire day shopping around the massive mall. you went into store after store, trying on different outfits together before realising you’re both WAY to poor to afford the cute matching ¥11,000 shirts with a cool dragon design on it.

❤︎ you scoffed your faces with fast food in the massive food court, laughing and joking to eachother the entire time.

❤︎ you blabbed on about your childhood and growing up with your twin brother, talking about how much you really admired him and thought we was badass. chifuyu snickered before you promptly threatened him into not speaking a word of it all.

❤︎ of course, keisuke never gave up on finding you, so it was a massive game of cat and mouse around the mall before the both of you decided you’d had enough, heading back to the apartment complex.

❤︎ before you left, BECAUSE YOU AREN’T CRUEL, you let your brother catch up to the both of you, enduring his yelling the entire time home. he walked in front of the both of you, whining about the day you had ‘ruined’ for him and his partner, however you tuned him out completely.

❤︎ you only focused on how chifuyu hadn’t let your hand go the entire walk back to your units.

❤︎ making it back, the sun was finally falling. this time, you begged the boy into staying the night. of course, the blonde is a huge suck up to you and thus, the night ended with the three of you lying on keisuke’s bedroom floor, scoffing your faces and watching old VHS films.

❤︎ you fell asleep that night, leaning against his bed. you had keisuke on your left, his head on your shoulder as he snored loudly. chifuyu was on your right, his whole body against you with your arm wrapped around his schuldners, keeping him close to your chest.

❤︎ as you listened to the soft and noisy snores of your two most treasured people, you eventually succumbed to slumber of your own.

❤︎ maybe you can convince chifuyu to stay over once more, and maybe next time it could just be the two of you.

bonus:

❤︎ when the tree of you woke up, you found that keisuke had moved up to his bed at some point while you were OH MY GOD-

❤︎ face to face with the blonde (who wasn’t awake yet), you had him curled into your embrace with a blanket thrown over the top of you.

❤︎ yeah, waking up was pretty fuckin awkward.

[twistedwonderlandsimps]

Technomaniac!Yuu

I'm just here to mix-and-match different kinds of Yuus with different kinds of personalities to see what monstrosity I can make. That being said,,, Technomaniac!Yuu brainrot! 

So basically this Yuu belongs in the High Fantasy Yuuniverse on the human side and they’re absolutely obsessed with technology and becomes unhinged when creating stuff. 

Mayhaps their family ran a robot-related business or a machine-creating business and that’s where their obsession started. Maybe Yuu’s obsession further increased due to the fact that they were a human being in a world full of otherworldly creatures.

In a world of high fantasy, there’s bound to be differing opinions and speciesism can’t be avoided. 

Some creatures thought humans were inferior due to their short lifespans. That they were greedy and ignorant. Some humans were even prejudiced to their own kind. Others thought humans in a more positive light, the fact that they were versatile and determined when it comes to things.

So Yuu with no magic and no super powers strived to be the best in the only thing they knew they could fully control and wanted to prove to everyone that humans weren’t inferior, thus beginning their obsession.

This Yuu has this cute little drone hovering over them all the time because I said so. The drone’s very expressive and acts as a kind of assistant for Yuu. 

So anyway, the day of the entrance ceremony?

Forget Grim opening the coffin, Yuu just ordered the drone to laser through the lid and then kicked it open. 

Seeing this, Grim became startled but then soon after demanded their robe.

“Beep! Threat detected! Determining threat level, please wait… Threat level determined. Warning: Threat level 5, initiating self-defense protocol.” The drone hovering over Yuu’s shoulder turned to an alarming shade of red but before it could do anything, Yuu waved them off gently. “Stand down, A1.”

Yeah, the little drone’s called A1 meaning Assistant 1.

Thankfully, a battle between the force of fire and laser never happened since Yuu saw no reason to wear the ceremonial robe because they felt their clothes were much better and gave it to Grim but only on the condition that Grim become their second assistant.

Grim, too focused on acquiring the robe at all cost, didn’t notice Yuu’s condition.

Anyway, guess what Grim’s nickname is. Yeah, that’s right. It’s A2 for Assistant 2.

Let it be known Technomaniac!Yuu has no penchant for naming. All that’s in their brain is making technological stuff.

I just suddenly thought of Yuu having Doofenshmirtz penchant for naming, just slapping ‘-inator’ at the end of their creation’s names.

Can you imagine an overblot and Yuu just pulls out this strange device and introduces it like:

Yuu: “Behold! Marvel at my ‘Insta-Knockout SlumberBlaster 3000-inator!’ Riddle’s going to definitely go down with this in just one hit!” A1: “With only an approximate 63% chance of dealing concussion! A massive improvement from the previous trials!”  Ace: “Excuse me, only 63%? Wait— Previous trials? Yuu, who did you test it on for you to get that statistic? Yuu? Yuu, come back here! Who did you test it on?! Yuu!”

Another overblot scenario would be…

A1: “Beep! Threat detected! Determining threat level, please wait…” Someone: “W… Why do you need to determine his threat level??? He’s literally about to kill us???” Yuu: “No, no, let my child cook.” A1: “Threat level determined. Warning: Threat level 10. Suggesting course of action: Run.” Yuu: “Okay, now we run.”

Let’s not forget holograms!

Imagine Deuce seeing Yuu facing away from him in the distance so he runs over to them and tries to gain their attention. He tries to tap Yuu’s shoulder but their hand just goes over Yuu’s form, leaving a slight glitch-like effect where Deuce’s hand passes through.

Hologram Yuu looks over to Deuce and says:

“Alas, as I am not here, I disappear.”

Then throws out a peace sign before slowly fading away while still maintaining eye contact.

Now that I think about it, on the first day of their janitorial duties, Yuu was able to make a weird-looking cleaning device out of metal scraps and pieces they found in Ramshackle and it somehow worked.

Well, for the most part anyway. 

Having no windows technically meant nothing to clean so in a way Yuu was doing their job, yes?

Yeah, Yuu broke a few windows and may have contributed to the chandelier also breaking that day so Deuce ain’t the only one at fault for this.

Speaking of, Ace’s first meeting with Yuu.

When he was introducing the Statues of the Great Seven to Grim and Yuu, Yuu turned to him and asked in the most serious voice possible if Ace wanted the statues to be animated by turning it into animatronics.

Ace barely managed to stop Yuu from dismembering the statues.

Technomaniac Yuu at literally everything they can see: “I can make it better!”

Giving broken things to Technomaniac!Yuu to be fixed is a gamble. 

Oh, a toaster? Well, you either get a completely fixed toaster that’s a bit better with warming your bread than before or it turns into a charcoal-maker. There is no inbetween.

Your phone? Oops, might’ve accidentally turned the flashlight function into a flashbang, teehee.

Technomaniac!Yuu is basically the tech support of NRC.\

Or more like tech terror. Tech-rorr, get it? I’m so funny.

Speaking of NRC, Yuu got banned from going to Ignihyde dorm.

That’s because they got too excited seeing all the new devices and technology they haven’t seen before in the dorm and kind of dismantled almost everything to see how it worked.

Ooooo, now that I’m thinking of it, cybernetic body modifications!

Like, what if they got severely injured against one of the overblot boys? Lost a limb or two? Or maybe they already had cybernetic body modifications even before they arrived in Twisted Wonderland.

Imagine them having an arm kinda similar to the robot arm Princess Bubblegum gifted Finn with the various power tools/weapons functions. There’s probably a rocket launcher function around there somewhere.

 Rook tries to stalk Technomaniac!Yuu but it always ends up being a hologram. Why do you think Rook calls them Trickster?

Wait, can you imagine the dynamic between Technomaniac!Yuu and Malleus?

One’s so bad at technology while the other’s the complete opposite.

Yuu asks Malleus if he wants his phone to be upgraded and suddenly Malleus’ phone has a built-in taser, ultra hd 4k graphics camera and video resolution, live tamagotchi game synchronization and surveillance, 24/7 AI assistance, unlimited wifi, faster internet speed, ultra deluxe storage expansion, the strongest antivirus known to to mankind, and Malleus still doesn’t know how to use his phone.

Yuu learns Briar Valley has technomancy and they’re immediately putting that place as a vacation spot because hello? Combining magic and technology? Can you imagine all the things they could create with those two forces combined? They’d be unstoppable!

Also, the Magicam Monsters stand no chance against Technomaniac!Yuu.

The moment those suckers break into Ramshackle, Yuu would immediately interfere with their gadgets and kick them out if they’re feeling merciful.

If not, well, say hello to the most vengeful virus they’ve ever met in their lives. 

No matter what gadget they change into, the virus will always follow them everywhere in the cyberspace network and break their devices or cause them the most annoying inconveniences. 

Slow internet? You betcha! Wifi symbol on but internet not coming through? Why, it happens almost every other day! Apps failing to open at the most crucial time? Lmao, rofl.

Speaking of gadget, Cater probably asks Yuu to upgrade his phone so he can take better selfies.

Thankfully the upgrade was a success and nothing exploded.

Yuu: “Well, here’s your phone, Cater! New and improved with better camera quality, efficiency, and effectiveness! Also, I hope you don’t mind but I also added an app that I occasionally use called Therapy Bot. Free of charge!” Cater: “Thanks, Yuu! Wait—” Yuu, looking around and leaning in to whisper: “Between you and me, I think everyone in this school could really benefit from Therapy Bot.”

Technomaniac!Yuu the most unhinged yet one of the most sane Yuu variants out there.

[majeoeje]

Another glass.

Kamisato Ayato x Fem Reader

You're the greatest love i've ever had. I would never wish to be have an after.

You never thought your blossoming friendship could turn into a cold loveless marriage of convinience... but you could do nothing but accept it. Alas, you'd rather be stuck in this type of marriage with Ayato rather than anyone else.

Ayato was elegant, charming, responsible and of course undeniebly handsome. But those are not the qualities that mold the very foundations of your friendship. He has surprisingly a good sense of humor, cracking you up every chance he could. You supposed that sense of humor brings out the color in his eyes. How it could shine a different shade of blue. That sense of humor of course comes with a side of banter. Back on forth to get the conversation rolling is always good banter, you'd say without even realizing the now changing hues of the sky. And of course last but not least, his compliance. People misjudge him, and think that he is a man that is hard to convinced. But that is entirely untrue! Yes of course it can take you a good while when you ask something of him. But in the end he always says yes...every single time. You wondered if you always wondered if you're getting spoiled from his attention. And maybe that was undeniably true

It was something out of the light novels. Friendship that could last forever and perhaps save a marriage while at it. It was as if 2 treads of fate were intertwining together when you were with him. But you could feel his tread detangling itself from yours once you got married.

What happened?

What changed?

It's as if it he wasn't himself...

Truthfully, you weren't yourself now. The bounds of marriage had left you rather...dull or what you would describe as dusted.

So it wasn't entirely baffling to think Ayato would want to seek out another match. A match that doesn't have to be official, a match that would be exciting. A match that he could love.

"Let's go" someone whispered as Ayato smiled as he so ungracefully escaped the estate carefully, and it's literally through a window.

Though you didn't know how painful seeing it unfold before your very eyes.

As you closed it you catched a glimpse of Ayato through the now tiny gap. The sunlight does illuminate everything, but the moonlight had revealed just enough for you to see. He was with someone, hand held with a joy filled smile laced on the corner of his mouth, as he ran carelessly away from the estate. It was as if he knew no bounds, unlike the reality of your marriage.

Everything had changed.

You finally closed the window fully feeling the cold night air seeping in. The truth, in fact feeling much more colder

A good night rest was what you need, before the dreadful morning would came where you had to pretend to not know your own husband's affair.

You couldn't do it. You can't be selfish. Seeing his smile that night was something that worth more than a millions miles of golden yarn. And to take that away from him and interrogate him would be downright cruel. Because you and your husband were a lot of things, but one thing you weren't were vulnerable.

And so be your endless days of ignorance started.

Some people say that ignorance is bliss, but you would beg to differ. You were usually the type to harbor more secrets than you could tell. But this secret has put you on edge more than once.

Because your husband wasn't as slick as he thought he were. You would notice the dark circles under his eyes.

"Did you not get enough sleep Lord Kamisato?" You'd ask. Some part of you wanted to see him squirm in his seat trying to pull out excuses under his ass. But he doesn't even give you that pleasure, only opting to respond with something along the lines of

"Oh, it's nothing"

You wish to pry. You wanted to see the anguish in his face. You wanted some sort of reaction. Just anything to reconnect with him once more.. you needed him. That need has hung precariously over time, and you wished with your every being it wasn't like that

But you held yourself. Your anger, your frustrasion doesn't mean anything to vent or tell your concerns to anyone is out of the question even to Ayaka or Thoma. A wife should preserve her husband's name, not soil it. it's your own problem and you should deal with it alone.

It has been like that, for months. In fact you had stopped asking him about his suspicious behaviour, afraid your words would spill more than you could afford. And before you noticed it, you and your husband has stopped talking altogether.

The laughter that would fill every room you were with him were gone, the banter, the endless silly request... it had vanished as if you two were never friends

You never thought you'd feel alone when you're with him but here you are.

You sighed as you awoke to the harsh reality. It wasn't morning. But you had developed a habit in which you would wake up in the middle of the night and closed the window that Ayato would carelessly left open. Though tonight you didn't feel like going back to sleep. Walking your limp body to the kitchen in search of your escape. A bottle of sake.

If you can't let anyone know about your sorrows, you might as well wash it away with alcohol. At least the burn at the back of your throat wouldn't hurt you as badly as your cold hearted husband.

"Care to share?" An unexpected voice could be heard from the entrance of the kitchen, catching you off guard. Unfortunately you're already too drunk to safe face

"Ayato.. did i wake you up? *hic* im sorry.." your head was starting to blur, but you could tell that silver blue hair from a mile away.

He sat himself down beside you, pouring himself a cup.

"Your facade doesn't seem to falter even when you're drunk huh?" He says, resting his face on his palm, as he swirls his drink with another

Your head was filled with daze. But that sentence could sober you any time of the day

"You...y- you knew?" You stuttered, the alcohol was getting to you. So maybe not so much as sober you up, maybe just mess you up internally?

"I wasn't trying to hide it." He says, the look on his face felt pitiful to you. But you don't even care, feeling your patience ripping up at once

"I..i know, we agreed t-that we didn't have to be faithful to one another when we got married. But the least you could do was acknowledge me!? Why do you act so... so cold!?" you struggled to put your mind into words, not just because of the alcohol. But because you just weren't used to lashing out on him

It was a mutual agreement. But the idea of him running off with some other person aggravated you more than it should. Maybe it was for the fact that you felt alone. No matter how many times your parents or your friends visit, no matter how many times you go out just to escape. You always felt like there was something missing. You felt like your heart uncomplete. And you felt like the inevitable doom that is your loneliness was inescapeable

"Ayato why did you have to fall in love with someone else?.. why can't you just... be alone with me." You muttered, chugging the whole sake bottle

Why is it that you wanted that outcome so bad. It's as if you couldn't think of another happy ending than to be with him

He looked like he wanted to say something, but he only looked away, chugging down on his cup

"That was the first time you called me by my name again..."

"Stop changing the subject damn it." You held his hand, the first time you had in a while, while also getting a hold of his attention

He sighed, finally looking into your eyes

You never understood until now how you missed it.

"What did you expect?" He took a sip "For me to be with you forever?"

You didn't know why but that hurt you more than it should. Were you really that horrible to be with?

"I..i never thought you could despise me so."

You wanted to asked what did you do to ever deserve this but you honestly didn't want to know

"Oh..i wished i despise you."

What?

"I prayed every night so that you would do something atrocious. So that maybe... maybe i could find it in my heart to hate you."

"What are you saying-" you're honestly seconds away from blacking out right now, but you wanted more than anything to hear what he says

"I had already ended my useless pursuit. After months of just mediocrity i've found out the depressing fact that you had ruined it for me"

"Just get to the goddamn point!-" you say, desprete. Perhaps you had always been

"You ruined love for me..." he breathed out, the alcohol was getting to him. Words starting to spill uncontrollably, both from frustrasion and how drunk he was getting

"How am i supposed to love another after i had loved...you? How could i possibly desire someone else? after this? After you. I couldn't possibly recover.. i'm ruined. And you ruined me. And to have that kind of love not reciprocated isn't something i'm sure i know how to handle.."

Now how can you possibly respond to that? Your head, even when filled with booze could not loosen up after that kind of confession..

Ayato, being the insightful man he was, he noticed how your words seem to fail you right now

"I.. i apologize. I shouldn't had said that.. i don't ever want to inflict manipulation on you, no matter how you feel about me. I can handle it"

Well maybe he couldn't but he'll damn try. For you.

"Ayato..i-" before you knew it, dawn was upon you. You were starting to see him much more clearly, seeing the light reflected in his eyes, made you melt slightly.

Has he always been this...beautiful?

You absentmindedly try to reach for him, his hand catching yours, placing it on the sound of his drumming heart. In that moment, you couldn't help but kiss him, it was as if it was the only right thing to do.

It was just like in his dreams.. feeling your lips on his.... it was just right. It was something that was meant to be. There was something so desprete in your touch it's in the way you cling to him, his collar being pulled slightly melts him, while your other hand caressed the mole on the bottom of his lip. It was unintetionally suggestive he could hear the sound of his heart thumping on his ears. It felt like he could be swallowed whole by that sound alone.

It was more intoxicating than the sake that he had long abandoned, you were addicting.

Amidst his embarassement you were laughing once more perhaps the first time in a while...

Maybe too addicting

Cause he fell

The sound of a quiet thud from the tatami mat could be heard echoing through out the kitchen.

It wasn't like he fell off a chair, you were sitting on the floor. But he was embarassed beyond everything when he saw your face, trying to hold in the laughter

"Ayato- pfft-" it wasn't that funny really, but maybe the alcohol was still getting to you

"Not a word." He slurred, continuing to lay on the floor, shielding his face from your gaze. Before he started to tuned out the sound of your laughter

And he thought.. maybe it wasn't so bad that he fell..

..

.

As he try to regain his pride he could feel you laying down next to him, drawing his attention

"I'm hic wasted" you say, slurring

"Yeah..." his mind weren't exactly sober either

"Can we..stay here?" You wanted more than anything in this moment to be held by him

He only responded with a hum, and as if reading your mind he pulled you in holding you close

You dread the the potential headache that you would have in the morning, but nothing devastate you more than the possibility of forgetting this moment

[dlysthings]

Little crush pt.2

Here you can find pt.1

This is something i don't hink is that good, but i want tolearn how to write so hopefully its not that bad.

PLEASE LEAVE CONSTRUCTIVE CRITISM!

That evening Daryl couldn’t fall asleep. Shuffling around in his bed, tossing and turning. He was still thinking of the feeling of your hand on his. Your touch so gentle on his hand. Daryl was hopping you will touch him like that again, someday. Though that was only a dream. You didn’t mean too. Probably not even remembering. For you that was something normal. Nothing special. He wasn’t special.

He needed to understand that. Shouldn’t get his hopes up for nothing. And hopes for what? He was sure you will never look at him again. The smile and the squeeze of his hand was just out of gratuity. No other reason.

But he couldn’t help it, he longed to feel your touch again. The warmth of your skin against his. To affectionately brush your hand through his hair, moving a loose strand of his hair. And God, if you kissed him? He would be a goner. Your soft lips slotting against his and pouring pure affection.

But him? He didn’t know how to properly kiss. He would probably do something wrong and repel you. And the touches? How was he supposed to return them? No doubt his hand is gonna shake, his body buzzing with nerves.

Why is he even thinking about that? There was no way chance of this becoming a reality. Thinking about it was gonna make him feel even more miserable than he already was. No chance she will ever think of ya like that, ya idiot…

Eventually after many hours of tossing and turning, restless sleep found him. His dreams full of a lovely girl with a breath-taking smile and gorgeous eyes.

``````````````````````````````````

The next day Daryl was sitting in class, bored as usual. The teacher obviously didn’t know how to deal with the teenagers sitting in front of him. Just standing in front of the class, talking just loud enough for the person in front of him to hear. That’s why Daryl didn’t like school. Total loss of time. It’s not like he was learning anything.

However, that was the only place he could see you almost every day. And he needed that. You were the light that was keeping him in line. He didn’t want to get into trouble, just for you to know that whatever bad things you were thinking about him were true.

Today you were sitting next to him again, in a cute, light pink dress. A matching color bow was in your hair, making you look beautiful. Daryl looked at you again, but found you already looking at him. A small smile grazing your face. He looked away, crimson painting his cheeks. Why were you looking at him? Was he looking that bad?

He looked at himself. A white thank top, thin jeans from washing them so many times he couldn’t count, beat up shoes that were about ready to just fall apart and leave him barefoot. He looked like a joke next to you. You belonged with some well put guy, living in a nice neighborhood. Not some trailer park white trash like ya, dumbass.

Risking another glance at you, he saw your gaze on him again. With your warm smile and adoring eyes. That look made him feel warm from the inside out. Like someone lit a fire inside his core, the warmth going to every part of his body. He liked that. He wanted you to keep looking at him and at the same time to stop. He didn’t want you to know how much he was enjoying it and the traitorous color of hi cheeks was doing exactly that.

````````````

That evening Daryl was trying to write an essay for one of his classes. He didn’t like going to school, but wanted to graduate. That was the only way he could find a good job later in life.

Alas his head was empty. He didn’t know what to write, just mindlessly doodling something in his notebook. But it wasn’t mindless, he knew what he was writing. Silly combinations of your names together. He has heard of the girls in his school making combinations of a couple’s names together. It sounded silly, even childish, but for him it felt like something intimate.

It was useless. It’s not like you were together, but it filled a hole in his chest he didn’t know needed filling until he did. Every single one of his notebooks was filled with these. Every combination of your names together he could think of, written in his handwriting.

 He wondered how will they look like if written with your handwriting? Neat and cute? Or you also had a messy handwriting? Will he feel the same way he felt like when he heard his name come out of your mouth for the first time? So sweet. Till then he didn’t know his name could sound like that.

I hope she says it more. That was the last thing he thought before falling asleep with his notebook open on his chest, the combinations of your names on display.

AN: If you have an idea on how this can continue please coment it!

Taglist: @marvelcasey05

[froggyfics]

The Deadliest Poisons Are The Sweetest - 1 

The prince is looking for a new bride.

(09/15/23) Note: If you have read this chapter before this date, please note that I have combined chapters 1 and 2 together. This may seem confusing, but I have decided that as a creative approach, I would like the chapters to be longer.

Okay, this is my first series and let me tell you, it will be LOOOONNNG. I really hope that you will stick around to see it to its end, but I'm expecting at least a minimum of 8 chapters.

Since this is a series, I will not write down the theme (ex: angst, fluff, smut) at the beginning of the chapters like I normally do for my one-shots, just to keep the suspense.

Feedback is always appreciated. Feel free to message me privately or comment below to let me know what you think. Constructive criticism is always welcome!

Word Count: 3,490

The pads of your fingers just barely graze the canvas. The quality of the painting is unlike anything you had ever seen before. You look over every pore, committing all of it to memory. The background is a swirl of blacks and greys, nothing prominent at all. You soon begin to realize that the plain background was a conscious artistic choice made by the artist. The artist could have painted the secrets of the universe, the equation for immortality, or the cure for all manner of diseases in the background of his painting, but alas, it would have all been ignored in favor of the subject of the portrait. 

You trace the outline of his plush, jet-black hair. You wonder how it would feel in your hands as you swept his hair to the side. You stare into his striking green eyes, hoping that they’ll look directly at you rather than into space. His jawline is sharper than any sword, and it seems as though his cheekbones were created by ancient Grecian sculptures. He dons a green cloak that matches his eyes, and his black and green armor far exceeds the beauty of anything you own in your humble boudoir. 

“He really is quite handsome, is he not?”

You hum in response. There is truly nothing else to say. It is factually precise to say that he is handsome, but what good will it do to admit that? 

It is not like he will ever be yours. You will never be chosen as his bride. Therefore, it is a waste of time to fantasize about the beautiful man. This meeting is simply a formality from the ruling Al Ghul family to appease the aristocrat families. The purpose is to make it seem as though any maiden in the land has a chance to marry the dashing prince. 

Nonetheless, you know better. His portrait will be delivered to other families that hold more titles and wealth than you could ever imagine. He will marry someone closer to his own royal rank.

You finally look up after what seems like hours of admiring his portrait. You can sense your mother fretting behind you, twisting her skirt in a nervous tick. 

“Thank you for delivering the portrait of His Majesty safely,” you politely remarked. 

The messenger bows his head in response. Attempting to conclude this pointless meeting, you make an effort to pass the portrait back to the messenger. You glance at your mother and nod at her to encourage the dismissal of your guest. 

“Please send our regards to the royal family,” your mother begins. “We would be honored to give our daughter in marriage to the rightful heir to the throne. Do you not agree, my dear?”

Your mother glares at your father, who has thus far spoken minimally. “Oh, erm, yes, of course! It would be the greatest compliment upon our family name to have our daughter marry our Prince.”

The messenger nods his head in response. “I will send your pleasantries and marriage acceptance to the Al Ghul family as soon as I return to 'Eth Alth'eban. You are correct, in that it would be the mightiest achievement to have your daughter marry into the royal family.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” your father mutters, exhausted with the formalities that must be extended to his guest. He stands from his seat and marches to the door. “I shall accompany you to your horse.”

The messenger bows deeply towards you and your mother before following your father out the threshold. As soon as the door shuts, the two of you sigh in relief. Your mother ceases to fret, and immediately collapses on the lounger, covering her forehead with the back of hand. 

You giggle at her exasperation. “I simply do not understand why we had to sit through that humiliation. What was the purpose? T’was simply a waste of our time.”

Your mother shakes her head in response. “That, I do not know, my dear. I do hope feel quite awful for that poor messenger. His travels must be unnecessarily extended if he must visit every single aristocrat family home.”

“That is exactly what I thought!” you cried. “In this unbearable heat, too!” 

You could not fathom the reason why the messenger was sent to your house in the first place. You were the daughter of a modest earl with no ties to vast swathes of land or people. There were plenty of eligible ladies of higher standings in society that were of marriageable age that the prince could choose from. Your family was certainly not impoverished, but were nowhere near the status of the crown prince. It certainly seemed like a cruel joke. Not that you fell for it, but you were sure at least some of your peers would despondently fall in love with those jade-colored eyes from the portrait. 

The door swings open to mark your father’s return from seeing off the messenger. You glance out the window to see his horse galloping away from your home, eastbound, in the direction of Earl Smith’s home. You smile to yourself at the thought of the earl’s daughter, who you know to be a bit of a hopeless romantic, squealing in excitement at the thought of a marriage proposal from the royal family. Little does she know just how unfathomable the idea is.

Your father collapses onto his usual seat, groaning loudly. “Poor lad. Running around for no reason it seems.” He sighs deeply before slowly meeting your gaze. It is evident that he is deep in thought. He glances at your mother with a knowing look, who lowers her eyes shyly to her feet, before returning to his attention to you. 

“Father? Mother?” you nervously question. Their silent exchange makes you prickly, and you fidget in your seat. There is something they are surely keeping secret from you. 

“The messenger’s unexpected arrival has reminded us of an…issue that we face in this household.” 

“What? What is it, father?” you anxiously question. Your hands fiddle with your skirt in an attempt to distract your racing heart.

Your father leans forward in his seat. He opens his mouth to speak, but then promptly closes it. He grimaces before speaking again. “First and foremost, your mother and I must emphasize that you are our daughter, and we want what is only best for you.”

You shift uncomfortably while your mother continues to avoid your gaze.

“You are of a certain age, my dear. It is time we must find you a righteous husband. And soon, might I add. It is certainly proper for a girl – apologies, woman, your age to wed.”

Silence becomes the loudest sound in the room. The admission is simultaneously surprising, and not so surprising to you. You were not oblivious to the hints your parents have been divulging as of late. All the dinners you have attended, all the dinners that you have hosted, all the correspondence between your father and other men that has occurred, has led you to understand that your marriage was at the forefront of your parents’ minds. As much as you wanted to remain a free person under the guardianship of your father, you knew that your time of adulthood was fast approaching. 

You play with the strings of thread on your bodice. Your garment was long overdue for repairs, which must be your top priority if you want to attract the correct suitor. 

You frown internally. Just a few moments after the topic of marriage is brought up, and you already are thinking of appeasing a man. Is this what the rest of your life will look like? Constantly thinking about your appearance for the approval of your husband?

You look up to the concerned faces of your parents. Even your mother has stopped playing her game of avoidance and is silently pleading with you to be compliant. 

Is there an alternative? You grimace as you realize that all that can be done is to agree with their plans. This is simply the way your life was destined to play out. Just like with your sisters, aunts, cousins, and grandmothers, you were born to be passed from your father’s household to your husband’s. 

“I understand,” you slowly start, the words feeling like knives in your mouth. “I trust your instincts and know it is the time for me to seek a different sort of companionship.”

Your mother jumps up and squeals suddenly in excitement. The breath your father was holding immediately is released and the color rushes back to his face. The scene brings a solemn smile to your face. As their daughter, your parents’ happiness is also your happiness. How can you deny them this favor?

A loving kiss is placed upon your forehead by your mother. You examine that joy that is evident on her face. It is chiefly her duty to find you a husband, and you wonder who she will manage to scrounge up for you. 

“Perhaps in just a few months’ time you will enter the Al Ghul household as a princess,” she lovingly teases. 

A laugh bubbles out of your mouth and dissipates into the air. “Perhaps mother. Although, it is more likely I will step foot on the moon than marry the prince.”

The great chamber is a mess, but alas, it is a symbol of merriment. Piles of bones lay atop dirty dishes, picked apart by the ravenous guests. There was one point during dinner where various cheeses and loaves of bread were laid out to accompany the meat, but few pieces now remain. 

You pick up a half-eaten grape that was near the edge of table. It belonged to the pile of fruit that you hand-picked earlier that week. You sigh deeply, knowing that it will take much your evening and the following morning to tidy up. Your family’s estate operates on a skeleton crew, with a majority of your household staff being assigned to work the fields and kitchen, leaving a majority of the household chores to fall upon you and your mother. There was one point in time where your sisters would help divvy up the tasks, but alas, they have all married and are can only be concerned with their husbands’ estates, instead.

Your mother clasps her hands together in excitement. You look at her curiously, wondering if she has laid eyes on the same mess that you have. How can she be so excited in the presence of the utter mess that has been made?

“I think this has been nothing short of a success! The Earl would not stop stealing glances at you.” 

“Mother,” you sigh. “Earl Clinton stole glances at every woman with a heartbeat tonight. His affections were not limited to myself.”

“Oh hush, child! Do not be so sour.” Her face wrinkles at your negativity before sighing deeply. “My love,” she began. She grabs your hands softly and kisses them gently. “Earl Clinton may not be the most…moral or upstanding man.”

Her train of thought is interrupted by your scoff. Earl Clinton was a known womanizer and remained mentally the same age as an adolescent child, despite the fact that he was your mother’s age. She scowls before continuing.

“As I was saying,” she hisses, “he may not be the most virtuous husband, but he is an Earl. You would never have to do chores ever again. You would never have to worry about hardship again. Your children will have access to far better opportunities than your father and I could ever provide for you.”

You twist your hands away from her grip angrily. “There is more to life than being wealthy.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose before looking up again. “You are still a young maiden, so I will forgive you for your ignorance. While there certainly is more to life than simply wealth, you will one day understand that your status and wealth will absolutely affect your quality of life. Just look around you!” she exclaims. “Would you rather clean this filthy mess up yourself, or live a life where you can have someone else do it for you?”

Crossing your arms, you huff as you realize your mother made a logical point. She snickers at your obvious defeat. She cups your face lovingly with her hands and gazes deeply into your eyes. “You do not have to love your spouse. That is not the purpose of marriage. You just have to learn to live with one another in order to procreate the next generation. Besides, I admit your father and I have selfish reasons for entertaining the Earl’s marriage proposal.” She kisses your forehead tenderly and you close your eyes at the comfort that surrounds you. “His lands are only a few days journey away. We can visit one another often.”

You beam at the thought of being near your parents, but your smile dispels once a realization dawns upon you. 

“D – does this mean that Father is accepting the Earl’s proposal?”

Your mother nods her head slowly. “We plan on riding to the Earl’s estate within week to accept his proposal in person.”

The disappointment within you slips out of your body and makes its presence known on your face. Within a few months, your precious girlhood will end. Your life as you know it will cease to exist and never return. All that will exist is the life surrounding your future husband and children.

Sensing the solemn mood, your mother once again kisses your forehead. “Go, child,” she urges. “Think not of the mess made from tonight. Rest well.”

All you can do is nod your head and drag yourself to your room. As soon as your bedroom door closes behind you, you fling yourself onto your bed to curl into a fetal position. Your stomach coils and kinks in worry. There is something your subconscious is trying to tell you, but you do not have the wherewithal to understand exactly what. 

Closing your eyes, all you can dream about is the prison you are about to be trapped in. The prison of matrimony. 

“My Lady! Awake!”

Alice is shaking your rigid body with such force that your head lolls uncomfortably. 

“Alice! What is wrong?” you cry. Certainly, something terrible must have occurred for Alice to wake you in such a state.

She shakes her head violently. “You must come downstairs at once!” She turns towards your bedroom door without further explanation.

Crust that has formed during your sleep irritates your eyes. You sit at the edge of your bed, taking a moment to wipe it off. 

Alice huffs when she notices that you have not followed her, and turns around to grab your arm and yank you up.

“Alice!” you shout. She has never treated you with such ignominy before, making your heart flutter in anxiety.

She does not respond as she drags you out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Her grip on your arm only loosens when you reach the great chamber. 

It had been wiped clean, leaving behind no indication that there was even a dinner hosted there just the night prior. Your anxiety blooms when you see your mother, father, and the Al Ghul’s messenger standing around.

Your head tilts in confusion. You were not expecting to see the Al Ghul’s messenger ever again after he left with the prince’s portrait nearly a season prior. What could he possibly be doing here?

“Mother, Father, what has happened to make Alice wake me in such a fright?” you ask.

They respond with silence. Your mother’s face is a pale gray and your father’s remains stoic. 

“Someone! Please answer me!”

The messenger steps forward awkwardly. “I have a message from R’as Al Ghul, long may he live.”

Alice, your parents, and you echo the messenger’s sentiment. “Long may he live.”

The messenger clears his throat and opens a scroll. Your eyebrows furrow as you notice the waxy seal of House Al Ghul on its top perimeter. “I, the Demon’s Head, R’as Al Ghul, hereby authorize the union between Prince Damian, from House Al Ghul and House Wayne, the heir to 'Eth Alth'eban, and…”

You hear the messenger correctly state your name and your father’s, but you hold your breath in disbelief. Is this a dream? It must be. It has to be. A union…between you…and the Prince? There must be some sort of error. You are the daughter of a lowly baron. You would be considered extraordinarily lucky for you to marry an earl, let alone the heir to the realm.

“I command the urgent arrival of the heir’s future bride and her family to the capital. The wedding will take place soon after.”

You were not sure what else was said, as you stand dumbfounded. The messenger continued drawling, but you could not hear his voice. Vomit threatened to rise up from your stomach. 

“My love, are you alright?” you mother gently asks. She could sense the turmoil in your head as you shakily back away from everyone.

“Wh – what? How? W – why?”

Your mother shakes her head in response. “There is no time to think of these questions. We do not know, my dear. All we can do is prepare for your departure.” She steps closer to you and attempts to grab your hands, but you swat her away.

“Mother, no! Wh – what about Earl Clinton?” you urge. “Were we not just about to accept his marriage proposal? I mean, we already have made plans to journey to his estate and –,”

“Child,” your father interrupts. “The king has already demanded for your hand...”

“But,” you try to interrupt, but your father silences you with his raised hand.

“Plans change. We must learn to adapt if we must survive in this world. Alice, inform the stable to travel to my other children at once. I request their presence immediately.”

Alice nods her head and turns to exit. 

Your father turns to the messenger, who stands upright, waiting for his dismissal. “Thank you. You may tell King R’as that we prepare for our departure immediately.”

The messenger responds, “Yes, my Lord. I will return to the capital with your message at once. In the meantime, wait for the royal carriages to arrive. They shall arrive within a fortnight to take you to the capital.”

And with that, the messenger finally leaves. You and your parents are left to confront the sudden new reality.

“But, Mother,” you begin again. “What happened to living close to each other? The capital is so far from our home. I – I – I don’t know how often we would be able to see one another after the wedding.”

Your mother’s lips quiver and her eyes fill with tears. “Oh, my daughter!” 

She reaches towards you again and this time, you accept her. You both squeeze with all your strength, as if this is the last night you will ever see each other. The two of you share an embrace for what seems like hours, afraid to let go and succumb to the uncertainty of reality. 

Your mother finally breaks the embrace, but keeps one arm around you, while the other caresses your head. You lean into her comforting hand, relishing in her warmth.

“I understand you have many questions. I do, too. Unfortunately, we know just as much as you do about this situation.”

“But, Mother!” You escape her grasp to look clearly at her. “Is this not at all suspicious? I am the daughter of a baron! He is the prince, the heir to the throne! This type of union is unheard of!” 

“You are right, child,” your father says softly. “However, we cannot question the logic of the monarchy. Such a union is generally unheard of, but not impossible.” He scratches his bread in thought. “Many years ago, before your time, King R’as had several concubines. Perhaps…Prince Damian would like to continue that tradition.”

Your face wrinkles in disgust at that word. Concubine. You would rather be Earl Clinton’s wife than a concubine to the prince. The connotations behind the word upset you, but alas, it makes logical sense. 

“Tsk, I cannot fathom sharing a man, as some people do.”

“Daughter, being the concubine of a prince is a better fate than most people have. It may not hold the same respect or title as ‘wife’, but you will forever live in luxury if you learn to please the prince.”

“Ugh -,” your father grunts uncomfortably at the thought. Despite his indifferent attitude towards the situation, it saddens him to think that your fate exists outside of the respectable confines of marriage.

Your mother sharply looks at your father, silencing him. She returns to look at you and coos at your tear-stricken eyes. “Please forgive me, my child. I wish I had all the answers. I wish I could comfort your heart.”

[tiktaalic]

Do you think art is at all cognizant of the way Patrick feels about him? Like in all the jealously, especially later on, do you think he *knows* ?

I think he makes a practice of not taking Patrick seriously. Because. One. He thinks Patrick is shallow. He doesn’t think Patrick is a Serious Person he doesn’t think Patrick is capable of Serious Feelings. He treats Patrick’s sincerity as oh yeah man I bet. Sure. Art has a huge inferiority complex which turns into it’s so stupid that Patrick thinks he’s better than me because he’s not even a real person and EYE am. The other half of this is. I think he’s afraid of getting the wool pulled over his eyes by taking Patrick at face value. That he’s like. If I believe Patrick when he says [sincere thing] I’m gonna look like such a fucking idiot it’s going to be so embarrassing and humiliating when he goes. SIKE!

I don’t know if he’s ever put a ton of thought into it but I don’t think it would Shock him if someone verbalized that Patrick is into him. I think he would brush it off and minimize it ala yeah no shit Patrick lunges for anything with a pulse. I don’t think he’s ever had the thought Patrick Is In Love With me. And depending on when it was he would have different reactions to Patrick saying this. Like any point pre the end he’d be like oh fuck off you’re not in love with me you’re in love with peaking as a teenager and having someone trail after you who makes you look better. But AFTER. I think he would respond to this statement with an overwhelmed little oh my god. Not becuase he didn’t Know but because. Well it’s basically my childhood best friend is in love with me but my wife is going to divorce me if I don’t get better at tennis so idrc about that rn. And when they’re NOT all stressed it’s a fact that has time to land.

Art in particular gets very caught up in the versus of everything. When art teases Patrick Patrick is ALWAYS into it happy to play along or only give token resistance. When Patrick teases art. Art does the fallen angel stare. So for art to not hit back to sincere emotions of Patrick’s with something shitty and minimizing he has to feel equal, which is a rare space to inhabit because art is so competition brained. He feels lesser until he doesn’t at which point he feels greater, which also does not lend itself to listening to Patrick. The equal spaces are 1) the hotel room and 2) end of the new Rochelle match. THOSE are the circumstances in which he knows how patrick feels. Throuple movie

[songofsaraneth]

THE TANK! Four feet x 2 feet does not seem so big until suddenly it is in your living room and the box too. Now last summer in one of the reptile facebook groups I'm in, someone had posted a photo of their setup and asked if it might be too loud for the snake to be so close to their television. Someone else suggested she just get inside the tank and see for herself how loud it was. For some reason it did not occur to me to crawl into the first tank I bought Kazul (despite absolutely jumping into the box to see if I fit), so I was obsessed with trying it out once I got it. Also to just see what the room looks like from her point of view!! So anyway

It was pretty fun. And interesting to see my living room from that perspective!

I also let Kazul check it out before I assembled the whole deal and put in substrate to see what she thought of it all.

So, the reason I waited like 2 years to get a tank from this same guy (Boaphile) as her old tank despite the holdup was because he is the only one I know on the market making modular tanks. So I could attach this new segment right to the old one to make an 8ft long tank. You just unscrew some bolts holding a panel wall in place on each end, and then bolt the two halves together.

and then finally attached them! I wasn't sure if Kazul would go right in, or if she'd be cautious and take some time investigating all the new things. Sometimes she decides she doesn't trust new hides and it's 3 months before I see her ever go into them. But luckily I had an extra of her favorite hide box and was able to put that inside, and she went right in! It took until this week (so about 2 months) for her to hang out in the cork round but she did eventually try it out too :)

So that's that! I switched the bedding on her new side and I like it more, so now that I know she's fine with it, I'll change it out on the old side too. I do still want to get a fake rock background for the new side so they match but that's lower on the priority list right now.

Anyway here's some shots of her enjoying life :) I am still doing her little daily ritual of opening the door so she can stick her head out BUT alas she has learned You Can Just Leave, so, I have to keep a more stern eye on things or she tries to entangle herself with the plant or escape under the bookshelf.