#i will reply to our other thread too!!

[mad-hunts]

@divingdownthehole

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as barton was left to his own devices in the kitchen, it only then just occurred to him how the seven-fold bistro had a tv in the side of their lobby. and that could potentially be very bad if they weren't talking about the latest humdrum gossip in relation to bruce wayne or something — so, he would have to find a way to not appear suspicious and also, turn it off if they were talking about the death of the two guards already. barton sighed to himself as he pushed a chunk of the chicken on his plate to the side. he really had his work cut out for him here, didn't he?

of course, there might be a chance that jervis could handle it, he thought. but the last time he had handled something, he'd done it by sticking pins into someone. barton suddenly found himself standing up as if he was startled by the very thought of something like that happening to ravi. he had to create some sort of plan, for he couldn't just bust out of those doors, even if nothing was going on on that television. he tapped on the cold steel of the table below him with his sharpened nails as he contemplated what to do. maybe he could just stick by the almost saloon style doors of them for a bit and listen in on what exactly was going on out there.

just as ravi and jervis had made it to the front of the restaurant, his feet were carrying him to push his entire body flush against the doors, but with not enough pressure to actually open them. he thought he could hear jervis's voice now, but it was very distorted by the wall between him and the rest of the bistro. so he would have to get closer to the outside if he actually wanted to hear anything. while barton was now stressing, ravi honestly couldn't have looked more relaxed, as any friend of barton's was a friend of his. ( except they weren't really friends at all... but i digress. ) he smiled slightly whenever he heard him mention the soup out of approval, ❝ ooh... good choice. i love our mulligatawny soup, but it usually has rice in it, rather than on the side. but i could always request that our chefs put it there instead if you want. ❞

he shrugged nonchalantly and nodded, knowing that the kitchen would be more than willing to do something like that for jervis. ravi could feel his ears perk up and barton's ears did the same exact thing as a breaking news alert popped up on the tv. alright, well, he was not going to be waiting inside the kitchen any longer for something to happen — that was for sure — and so he opened up one of the doors in such a way that it wouldn't attract much attention. barton seemed to materialize out of quite literally nowhere, at least from ravi's point of view, before he was grabbing him by the opposite shoulder a little aggressively but not too much.

barton had played this off as him trying to playfully scare the other but what he was really aiming to do was turn the tv off. and that's exactly what he managed to do with the remote below the counter while ravi was too busy with being shocked, but then laughing in response to barton's 'cheeky' behavior as he spoke to him in between laughs and pushed him away from him, before punching his arm. ❝ oh, my god. you scared me! you jerk, why did you do that? don't tell me that this is you still being bitter that i beat you last time we sparred or something. ❞ ravi was still laughing, so he obviously didn't mean anything that he said in a malicious way as barton himself tried to catch onto the other's wrist before he punched him, but failed.

barton chuckled a few times before nursing the spot where ravi punched him with his arm. he made himself look guilty, only after winking at jervis whenever the other party wasn't looking, as if to say ' you're welcome ' and said, ❝ ahh, you caught me. but scaring you totally satisfied my need for revenge after you beat me. so, at least there's kind of a positive side to all of this. and just to keep you in the loop, jervis, me and ravi sometimes spar together because we're both boxers, ❞ barton gestured to the other man with one hand while ravi came down from his laughter. he made a playful ' shoo ' gesture towards barton, then. ❝ hey. me and your friend, who is also my friend now, by the way, were having a rather rousing conversation about his interest in the mulligatawny soup before you came along. so if you wouldn't mind... ❞

ravi left barton to fill in the lines of what else he was going to say before the blonde raised his hands in feigned surrender and sat down across a few seats away from them behind the counter. ravi laughed, making a ' come hither ' gesture towards himself, ❝ i was just joking, barton. you don't have to sit so far away. but anyway, i'll put in your order for the soup, if there are no objections? ❞ barton moved silently closer to ravi in particular, setting down his curry in front of him. he seemed oddly a bit protective of ravi based on the look he gave jervis.

it was one that said ' you better continue being nice to him or i'll kill you. ' and trust me, barton would do it, too.

[freddiekolbeck]

setting: friday 13th party at pike house

it was all getting a bit too much, and so the natural escape was to find a bathroom. "shit-" of all the people to run into... "sorry man, didn't realise you were-"

@jessehart

[frozcnhearts]

cont. from x - @petitexmagician

To find what he looked for was out of reach for many more years probably. So all Aether could do, was to force a warm smile about her words, to hide the pain it caused deep inside his heart.

Another year in this world had passed by in such quick manner - another year, without his sister close by. “I once heard that, whenever people feel lonely they look at the sky.”, he spoke, amber eyes going from Zola to the stars above the court of Fontaine, but it was unseen because of all the fireworks. However, he still could feel their watch upon everything underneath them and oh, how he longed to be connected with them again as well.

“Because there might be another person, looking at it right now as well. I always hope, that it's my sister who looks at it too.”.

It was a heart-warming thought and the blonde, sitting in the grass of the wilderness outside the city walls, wished it was true. “Every year I watch the new year in a different nation. Every year it’s without her.”.

[salfxsher]

@kleinstar​  PIXIE PERFECT TREASURE HUNT

Sal was knelt down, petting the teacup pig that had been assigned to him. “Hehe, so cute. You’re gonna find all the truffles. Aren’t you? Aren’t you?” He coo’d, then looked up at Eiden; smiling behind his prosthetic.

“You know, if we fail at this we’ll be temporarily turned into foxes. So like...no pressure but....some pressure.” He raised his hand and made a pinching gesture with his fingers. “Just a bit.”

[sunsage]

@sxnburst cont. from here

His brow furrows in worry at Sun's refusal of food - it has never happened before. Not that he could blame the kid, his own appetite has been shot ever since they met in the mists, but refusing to eat isn't going to improve anyone's mood either.

"C'mon, kid, just a couple bites. To make me feel better." He nudges a sandwich into Sun's hands. If there is anything left after that, he can finish it.

It's not too surprising that she is what's haunting Sun's thoughts, still it is irritating. Just when he though he wouldn't have to worry about her anymore...

"Try to not overthink anything she said, kiddo. She's- or was, I guess - really good at getting into people's heads to make them doubt themselves." He leans back, humming softly. All that said, this isn't a weird question for Sun to ask, context aside.

"That staff used to be mine. I have... lost it for a while and about a year ago back home I passed it onto MK, my successor. It belongs to him now." He glances sideways at Sun. "The staff that you insist to be Bentley's no doubt belongs to you. That's why I wanted to touch it."

[fearbend]

IN   A   RARE   SHOW   OF   MERCY,   she   holds   off   from   reducing   the   unfortunate   soul   before   her   to   cinders,   bringing   his   existence   to   an   end,   right   then   and   there.   it   would   be   rather   amusing,   she   supposes,   to   take   him   up   on   his   offer   by   making   an   object   lesson,   one   he   won’t   soon   forget.   but   why   stop   there?   she’s   never   had   qualms   about   hurting   people,   let   alone   someone   so   snivelling   and   pathetic,   undeserving   of   her   time         low   hanging   fruit   in   every   sense   of   the   word.   no,   there   will   be   no   allowances,   especially   not   for   daring   to   suggest   that   her   firebending   mastery   is   anything   other   than   absolute   or   even   worthy   of   comparison.   being   infinitely   superior,   she   will   come   out   unscathed,   winning   by   a   landslide,   as   she   always   does,   of   course.   they   don’t   call   her   a   prodigy   for   nothing,   after   all.   and   what   of   her   opponent?   he’s   bound   to   lose,   like   all   those   before   him   have   been,   just   another   hapless   victim   who   never   stood   a   chance.   if   he’s   lucky,   he’ll   get   away   with   only   a   singed   ego   and   the   crushing   weight   of   humiliation.

❝   confident   in   your   chances,   are   you?   well,   you   shouldn’t   be   ❜❜   this   is   the   part   where   she   smiles,   a   little   too   sharply,   too   coldly,   the   first   warning   shots   hidden   under   the   guise   of   sincerity.   azula   knows   half   the   fun   is   just   establishing   the   playing   field,   watching   underlings   squirm,   eyes   widened   in   terror   of   what   she   might   do   next   and   relishing   every   second   of   it.   ❝   lucky   for   you,   i’ve   already   warmed   up   for   today   and   easy   victories   aren’t   really   my   style   ❜❜   with   this,   she   turns   her   attention   to   her   perfectly   manicured   nails,   an   action   so   casual   one   might   think   it   was   borne   of   boredom   rather   than   careful   consideration.   in   fact,   its   sole   purpose   is   to   drag   out   the   anxieties   that   have   no   doubt   been   rising   from   the   moment   she   started   speaking         this   truly   was   a   breeze.

@badboysupr​   |   continued   from   here

[hacvek]

✨ highrocks Follow

when you're talking to a cute she-cat and then she mews to you she's from thunderclan :/ I even gave you a vole that i caught myself.

sunnyleaf1-deactivated-79-11m-2d

why does this have over 30 notes???????? this is literally anti-thunderclan bigotry and NO ONE is talking about it???????????

sunnyleaf1-deactivated-79-11m-2d

#i know this is a 'haha funny' post #but the hermemewtics of this post as intended depend on a clannist division of cats into Self and Other #and casting the 'Other' as something 'less than' #without which the punchline of 'she was from thunderclan' is meaningless #so idk! i don't find it really funny! #ramblings #swifty shut up

really good tags (via @swiftfoot-thoughts)

hope-will-save-us-deactivated-79-11m-26d

the next post down on @sunnyleaf1's blog is literally a 8K word fic where they are captured and forcefully turned into a kittypet

shrewpics-deactivated-79-11m-20d

THEIR URL IS LITERALLY THEIR CLAN NAME TOO

anticats-antics-deactivated-79-11m-23d

Can we not shame cats for their interests???

hope-will-save-us-deactivated-79-11m-26d

i'm not explaining to you why wanting to be a kittypet is bad lol

🙇‍♀️ twoleggirlbaculum Follow

did anyone save the fic?

riverclansstrongersoldier77-deactivated-79-1

Why isn't anyone talking about the fact that OP is the one who bit my ear off in the Battle of High Rock

riverclansstrongestsoldier77-deactivated-79-1

Now OP is sending their followers to harass me on anon for calling them out

🦁 riverclansstrongestsoldier77 mewed: I'm from shadowclan and I was taught that High Rock is rightfully our territory. So actually YOU were the aggressors in this scenario. Go choke on nightshade you fish-eating pondscum.

✨ highrocks Follow

you forgot to turn on anon

🙀 clan-cats-heritage-posts Follow

clan cat heritage post

✨ highrocks Follow

this post isn't even a moon old

🙊 sendmepawpics Follow

this thread just gets worse with every reply. so glad everyone deactivated lmao

✨ highrocks Follow

hi

[novaursa]

A Dragon's Claim

- Summary: Daemon returns from his exile during the celebrations of Rhaenyra’s and Leanor’s wedding, with only one thing in mind: to claim you.

- Paring: niece!reader/Daemon Targaryen

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is younger sister of Rhaenyra and is bonded with Grey Ghost. These events happen before and lead to The Blood of the Dragon. The list of all my works in chronological order is on my blog, pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mature 16+ (there is no adult content in this one)

- Word count: 4 538

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The air in the great hall is thick with tension and mirth as lords and ladies gather beneath the towering pillars of the Red Keep. The glow of a thousand candles casts a golden hue over the faces of the realm’s most powerful, yet the flickering light cannot reach the shadows where whispers thrive.

You sit at the high table, a smile frozen on your lips as you watch Rhaenyra and Laenor share a dance, their steps polished but strained. Your elder sister’s gown is woven with gold and red thread, a stark contrast to Laenor’s pale silks. The match is political, a necessity, and everyone knows it. But the feast continues on, with music and wine flowing freely to disguise the uneasy undercurrents.

Your father, King Viserys, is content for now, raising his cup with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You know how deeply he misses your mother, and how hard he’s tried to keep the family together since her death. Beside him, Queen Alicent's gaze flickers between you and your siblings, always watchful, as if measuring the distance between you all.

Yet the evening shifts suddenly when a presence enters the hall, one that sends a murmur rippling through the gathered guests. Heads turn, voices hush. You feel the change in the air before you even see him.

Daemon.

Your Uncle strides in as if the years and the disgrace of his exile mean nothing. His long silver hair is swept back, and his black leather doublet clings to him like shadow. The greenish glow of dragon glass at his throat only sharpens the edges of his smile. He's dressed in dark finery, as if mourning—and you recall, with a bitter twist in your gut, that Lady Rhea Royce has just died. A hunting accident, they say. But few believe it was an accident at all.

Your breath catches as his violet eyes sweep across the hall before landing on you. There's a dangerous glint there, something raw and unsettling, something that reminds you why you’ve kept him at arm’s length all these years. You feel it like a caress, lingering too long, too close.

He moves with purpose, winding through the throng of courtiers until he’s at your side. Your fingers tighten around your goblet as he dips into an elegant bow, just deep enough to mock propriety. The room buzzes with speculation, but Daemon pays it no mind. His attention is wholly on you.

"Little Niece," he purrs, voice smooth as silk, yet laced with something darker. "It’s been too long."

You tilt your head, eyes narrowing as you regard him. "Not long enough," you reply, keeping your tone cool, distant.

He laughs—a low, rich sound that curls in your stomach, unsettling in its familiarity. "Such sharp words. You wound me, Y/N."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, instead taking a sip from your cup. "What do you want, Uncle? Surely you did not come all this way just to attend a wedding."

"Why would I not?" He shifts closer, the scent of leather, smoke, and something distinctly Daemon filling the air around you. "After all, it’s a family affair. And I’ve missed our little talks."

You can feel the heat of his gaze, the way it lingers on your face before dipping lower, as if taking you in inch by inch. It’s almost predatory. You’ve seen how other women melt under that stare, but it’s never had that effect on you. If anything, it’s only ever put you on edge.

"Missed?" you echo with a scoff. "You were banished, or did you forget?"

Daemon’s smile doesn’t falter, but it sharpens. "Exile is a state of mind, Niece. It changes nothing of who I am—or what I want."

Your jaw tightens. He’s always been this way—playing at power, testing limits. When you were younger, you found it thrilling, the way he flirted with danger, the way he seemed to live without consequence. But now, all you see is a man who’s always hungered for more than what is his.

"And what is it that you want now, Daemon?" you ask, holding his gaze. You don’t flinch, even when his smile widens.

His voice drops, low and intimate, a whisper meant for your ears alone. "The same thing I’ve always wanted. You."

The words are a knife, sharp and precise. They cut through the haze of laughter and music that surrounds you. You know what he’s asking, what he’s offering—and you also know you’d be a fool to accept.

You set down your goblet with deliberate care, your expression hardening. "You’re wasting your time. Whatever game you’re playing, find another piece for it."

His amusement doesn’t fade, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes—something darker, more frustrated. For a moment, the mask slips, and you see the hunger beneath, the yearning he’s kept at bay since you last rejected him.

"You think you’re above this, above me," he murmurs, his voice laced with challenge. "But we’re more alike than you care to admit, Y/N. Fire runs in our veins, and it will burn until we claim what’s ours."

You feel a shiver crawl up your spine, but you refuse to let it show. "Perhaps," you say coolly, standing from your seat and stepping back, putting distance between you. "But that fire will not consume me. Not for you. Not ever."

His gaze follows you as you move away, back into the crowd where the music drowns out the tension of your exchange. You feel his eyes on you, a burning brand that lingers even when you force yourself to focus on the dancing couples and the revelry. But Daemon Targaryen is not so easily dismissed.

You know this won’t be the last time he tries. He’s always been relentless in his pursuits. But you’ve held him off before—and you’ll do it again, no matter how many times he attempts to draw you into his web.

Yet in the depths of your mind, a small voice wonders how long you can keep resisting before the fire spreads.

The hall is alive with music and movement, swirling skirts and polished boots creating a dance of color and grace. You find yourself swept into the rhythm, partnered with Lord Tyland Lannister—a golden lion of the Westerlands, resplendent in his crimson and gold. He’s handsome enough, with a confident smile and courteous manners, but he lacks the edge of danger that seems to follow Targaryens like a shadow. 

Still, you laugh politely as he makes some jest about the boisterous nature of the court. Tyland is careful, measured in his charm, his hand respectfully placed at your waist as you twirl together across the floor. Yet your mind is only half on the conversation, aware that a pair of intense violet eyes is tracking your every move.

Daemon watches from where he leans against a pillar, his posture deceptively relaxed. He appears disinterested to those who don’t know him well, one hand holding a goblet of wine, the other idly tapping against his leg. But beneath that mask of ease is a tightly coiled tension, a hungry beast waiting for the right moment to strike. His gaze is riveted to you, sharp and possessive, a wolf studying its prey from afar.

Beside him, King Viserys attempts to draw his brother into conversation, oblivious to Daemon’s distraction. 

“It’s good to see you back, brother,” Viserys begins, his tone amiable as he turns to face Daemon. “We’ve missed you here. It’s been far too long since the family was whole.”

Daemon barely acknowledges the words, his focus entirely elsewhere. His eyes flick over the way you laugh at something Tyland says, the way your lips curve in amusement. A flicker of annoyance passes through him, a subtle tightening of his jaw. He’s always despised the Lannisters—their arrogance, their ambition, their sense of entitlement. And seeing you in Tyland’s arms only fuels the simmering irritation.

Viserys, oblivious to his brother’s dark thoughts, continues, raising his goblet to Daemon. “Rhaenyra is happy tonight, isn’t she? It’s a good match for her, one that will strengthen the realm. Laenor is—”

“A distraction,” Daemon mutters, cutting him off, his tone sharp enough to draw Viserys’ attention.

Viserys frowns, looking at him more closely. “What’s on your mind, Daemon? You’ve barely said a word since you arrived. If it’s about Rhea—”

Daemon lets out a dry chuckle, finally turning his gaze to Viserys, but it’s laced with disdain. “Rhea is long dead, brother. Her bones are cold and buried. Let us not pretend we mourn her now.”

Viserys shifts uncomfortably, clearly unsure of how to respond. “Still, it’s no easy thing to lose a wife, even one you didn’t—”

Daemon cuts him off again, this time with a flick of his hand. “Enough, Viserys. I didn’t come here to talk about the past.”

“What did you come here for, then?” Viserys asks, voice softening as he tries to reach out to his brother. “We can put things right between us. There’s no need for more distance. We’re family—”

Daemon’s gaze snaps back to you, watching as you spin gracefully in Tyland’s arms, your dress swirling around you like flames licking at the air. His lips curve into a faint, humorless smile. “Family…” he repeats, the word bitter on his tongue. “Yes, it’s always about family.”

He doesn’t bother hiding the way his eyes track your every movement. Viserys follows his line of sight, finally understanding where Daemon’s attention lies. He clears his throat, his expression hardening. “Y/N is not for you, Daemon. She’s my daughter, and I’ll not have her tangled in whatever schemes you’re plotting.”

Daemon’s smile widens, but there’s no warmth in it. “Schemes? You wound me, brother. I only have your daughter’s best interests at heart.”

“Do you?” Viserys’ voice takes on a warning edge. “You’ve already caused enough trouble tonight with your sudden appearance. If you truly care for her, you’ll leave her be.”

But Daemon doesn’t answer. His thoughts are locked elsewhere, watching how you move with such effortless grace, the way your eyes spark with life as you dance, seemingly carefree. He knows you’re aware of his presence, can sense it in the way you avoid looking in his direction, how you keep Tyland between you and the shadows where Daemon lurks. It’s a clever tactic—one that both frustrates and excites him.

“She’s stubborn,” he murmurs, almost to himself, as his eyes narrow. “But that’s what makes the chase worthwhile.”

Viserys stiffens, his grip tightening around his cup. “I’m warning you, Daemon. You’ll not drag her into your games. If you truly have any regard for her, you’ll stop this.”

Daemon turns to face his brother fully now, his expression unreadable, but his tone is laced with cold mockery. “And what if she doesn’t want your protection, Viserys? What if she wants something… else?”

“That’s enough.” The king’s voice is steel now, but it wavers slightly, betraying the deep undercurrent of worry. “I won’t allow it. You’ll stay away from her.”

Daemon holds his brother’s gaze for a long, tense moment before he breaks into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Of course, brother. I live to serve.”

But as Viserys takes his words at face value and turns away, relief evident in his posture, Daemon’s eyes drift back to you. A storm brews within them, filled with unresolved hunger and an unyielding determination. He watches as you end the dance with a gracious curtsy, Lord Tyland offering a courtly bow in return, and his fingers curl tighter around his goblet.

You may think you’ve pushed him away, that you’ve built walls high enough to keep him out. But Daemon Targaryen has never been one to accept defeat—not when there’s something he desires as fiercely as he desires you.

No, the game is far from over. If anything, it’s only just begun. And as you catch his gaze from across the hall, your eyes locking for the briefest of moments before you look away, you feel it too—the inevitability of the fire that threatens to consume you both.

For now, you dance with Lannisters and play your part as the dutiful daughter. But Daemon’s patience, like all things about him, is dangerous. And sooner or later, he knows, you’ll find yourself face-to-face with the truth neither of you can deny—no matter how much you might try to resist it.

The music softens, allowing the hum of conversation to fill the hall. You’re surrounded by a cluster of courtiers, each eager to share a word or a compliment with the princess of the realm. They shower you with flowery flattery, and you respond with practiced grace, a polite smile that never quite reaches your eyes. 

You’re keenly aware of Daemon lurking at the edge of your periphery, a shadow just waiting to slip into the light. He’s watching, waiting for an opening—and when your father becomes occupied by the arrival of Lord Beesbury, Daemon seizes his chance.

The courtiers around you stiffen as Daemon approaches, the atmosphere shifting subtly as they sense the tension that follows him. He cuts through the crowd with the grace of a dragon circling its prey, a dark smile curling on his lips as he stops just beside you. The air crackles with his presence, drawing every eye in the circle toward him.

“Y/N,” he says smoothly, his voice warm honey over cold steel. “I hope you’re not allowing these dullards to bore you.” There’s an undercurrent of possessiveness in the way he says your name, a familiar, disconcerting tone that sends a shiver down your spine.

You keep your expression composed, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing any discomfort. The eyes of the court are upon you, watching for any reaction, any hint of scandal. You cannot afford to make a scene—not tonight, not at Rhaenyra’s wedding. So you take a slow breath and incline your head, allowing him to join the conversation if only to avoid drawing unwanted attention.

“Uncle,” you greet him, your tone carefully neutral. “I find the company quite agreeable, actually.”

A flicker of amusement dances in his eyes as he takes a step closer, deliberately brushing the edge of your skirts with his boot. “Do you? Well, perhaps it’s simply my own poor luck that I’ve yet to find anyone in this hall nearly as fascinating as you.”

The compliment is a blade, sharp and glittering with intent. The courtiers exchange nervous glances, unsure of where to place themselves in this verbal dance between the two of you. They sense the tension, the unspoken challenge in Daemon’s words, but they dare not intervene. Instead, they hang back, listening closely while pretending otherwise.

You give a tight smile, deflecting his advance with ease. “How fortunate for you, then, to have found me amidst so many ‘dullards,’ as you so kindly put it.”

He laughs, a low, throaty sound that sends gooseflesh prickling across your skin. “Indeed. But then, I’ve always known where to find the rarest of treasures.”

His eyes lock onto yours, the weight of his gaze heavy with suggestion. You feel the noose of his presence tightening around you, making it harder to keep up the pretense of polite conversation. Every word he speaks is laced with a deeper meaning, a challenge you’re unwilling to meet, yet can’t entirely ignore.

One of the courtiers, a nervous young man from House Florent, clears his throat and tries to steer the conversation back to safer waters. “Princess Y/N, Lord Daemon, I heard the finest fabrics for tonight’s event were imported directly from Qarth. Perhaps you’d care to share your thoughts on—”

Daemon silences him with a glance, his attention never fully leaving you. “I think the princess and I have far more interesting matters to discuss, don’t we, Niece?” He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, just loud enough for the others to hear the edge in it. “Or perhaps you’d prefer we step outside, where we might speak more privately?”

You stiffen slightly at his audacity, feeling your control slipping under the intensity of his advance. But you refuse to let him see how he rattles you. “That won’t be necessary,” you reply, your voice steady despite the tightness in your chest. “We’re perfectly fine where we are.”

Daemon’s smile widens, but it’s not the charming smile of a courtier. It’s something darker, edged with hunger and frustration. He’s testing your boundaries, trying to see how far he can push before you break. And you know that refusing him outright, especially in public, might only embolden him further.

He takes another step closer, his arm brushing against yours as he speaks in a tone meant for your ears alone. “You’ve always been so careful, Y/N. So proper, so well-behaved. But there’s fire in you—I’ve seen it. You can pretend all you like, but you can’t deny what’s in our blood, what we’re meant for.”

You force yourself to meet his gaze, your heart thudding in your chest. “You mistake me, Daemon. Whatever you think we share, you’re wrong. I am not like you.”

“Not yet, perhaps,” he murmurs, his lips barely moving as his breath ghosts across your ear. “But you will be, in time. The fire consumes us all eventually. Why fight what you can’t escape?”

Before you can answer, one of the other courtiers—a lady from House Frey—interjects with a forced laugh, clearly sensing the rising tension. “Lord Daemon, you speak of fire as though it’s something to be embraced. But surely even dragons know better than to be burned alive.”

Daemon doesn’t bother responding to her, his gaze still locked on you. “Perhaps some of us would rather burn than live half-alive.”

The weight of his words lingers in the air, a challenge wrapped in seduction. You can feel the eyes of everyone around you, waiting to see how you’ll respond. Every nerve in your body screams at you to walk away, to extricate yourself from this perilous game he’s playing, but the chains of decorum hold you in place.

“Not everyone fears the flame,” you reply, your voice a delicate balance between defiance and diplomacy. “But not everyone is foolish enough to be consumed by it either.”

For a moment, Daemon’s expression softens, a flicker of admiration passing through his eyes. He’s always liked your spirit, the way you push back when others would cower. It’s one of the reasons he’s so drawn to you—you’re a challenge, not easily won. But that only makes him more determined.

He steps back slightly, giving you room to breathe, though his presence still lingers like smoke in the air. “We shall see, Niece,” he says, his tone softer now, but no less intense. “We shall see.”

The conversation shifts awkwardly back to safer topics as the courtiers nervously chatter to fill the silence, but the damage is done. The undercurrents of tension remain, swirling just beneath the surface, unseen by most but keenly felt by you.

You make your excuses and step away from the circle, moving toward the safety of the crowd. But you can feel Daemon’s eyes on you, tracking your every movement, a predator biding its time.

You take a deep breath, willing yourself to focus on the revelry, the laughter, the music. But no matter how hard you try, you can’t shake the feeling that tonight was only the beginning. Daemon has set his sights on you once more, and though you’ve pushed him away before, you know this time he’s more determined than ever.

The fire is closing in, and you’re not sure how much longer you can keep it at bay.

The days in King’s Landing have grown longer, shadows stretching thin as the sun’s heat begins to wane with autumn’s approach. It has been weeks since the feast, since Daemon first rekindled his pursuit of you, and those weeks have been filled with nothing but frustration. You’ve become as elusive as a wisp of smoke, always slipping from his grasp just when he thinks he’s closed the distance.

He’s been searching for you throughout the Red Keep, stalking through the corridors like a restless lion. Servants avert their eyes when he passes, knowing better than to cross him when his temper is barely leashed. He checks the gardens where you sometimes take afternoon strolls, the library where you immerse yourself in history, even the secluded balcony where you once sat to watch the sun dip beneath the horizon. But you’re nowhere to be found.

His patience, already thin, frays with each passing moment. Where are you?

Eventually, he strides into the inner courtyard, his boots striking the cobblestones with purpose. He spots Rhaenyra, her golden hair spilling like liquid sunlight as she leans casually against a column. She’s watching a pair of knights spar in the yard, but when she catches sight of Daemon, she lifts a brow in amusement.

“Uncle,” she greets, her tone warm but laced with curiosity. “You seem troubled. Should I be concerned for my safety?”

Daemon barely slows his approach, his eyes narrowed and searching. “Where is she, Rhaenyra?”

Rhaenyra’s smirk widens, enjoying the tension radiating from him. She has always seen through him, understood the games he plays. But right now, her amusement only fuels his growing irritation.

“She?” she asks, feigning ignorance. “You’ll have to be more specific, Uncle. There are quite a few women within the Keep.”

“Don’t play coy with me,” he snaps, his voice a low growl. “You know who I mean. Where is Y/N?”

Rhaenyra’s amusement falters slightly as she studies him more closely. She sees the fire in his eyes, the barely contained storm that brews beneath his calm exterior. She knows Daemon well enough to recognize when he’s truly agitated.

“And why would you assume I’d know her whereabouts?” she asks, though her tone is more measured now, less teasing. “She doesn’t confide everything in me.”

Daemon steps closer, his frustration bleeding into impatience. “She’s your sister. You know where she’s gone. Stop wasting time and tell me.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze flickers with something unreadable before she sighs, realizing he won’t relent. “You’re relentless, aren’t you?” She shakes her head as if in disbelief, then lowers her voice conspiratorially. “Fine. I’ll tell you, but only because it’ll keep you from stalking around the Keep like a shadowed ghost.”

She pauses, savoring the way Daemon’s impatience makes him lean in closer. “She’s gone to ride Grey Ghost.”

Daemon’s reaction is instant. The blood drains from his face as his eyes sharpen, and without another word, he turns on his heel, already planning his next move. The mention of the dragon’s name—Grey Ghost, the elusive and wild creature—ignites something dangerous within him.

Rhaenyra watches with a slight frown, sensing his sudden intensity. “Daemon—wait. She knows what she’s doing; she’s always had a bond with that dragon—”

But he’s not listening. His mind is racing, the image of you alone on the back of such a wild, unpredictable creature flashing before his eyes. Grey Ghost is no docile mount like Syrax or Caraxes. The dragon is known for being elusive, rarely seen and even more rarely approached. For you to go after such a beast alone—Daemon feels a surge of possessive protectiveness he can’t tamp down.

He strides swiftly toward the stables, barking orders at the stablehands to ready his horse. The urgency in his tone leaves no room for argument. “Saddle it quickly!” he snaps, every muscle tense with the need to move, to reach the Dragonpit before it’s too late.

In the back of his mind, he knows he’s not only worried about your safety. This chase, this pursuit, has become something more to him—an obsession, a need to prove that you can’t slip away from him, not when he’s decided you’re his. And riding Grey Ghost? That’s an act of defiance, a clear signal that you’re not afraid to dance on the edge of danger.

He mounts his horse in one smooth motion and urges the animal into a gallop. The wind rushes past him as he rides through the streets of King’s Landing, his mind singularly focused on getting to the Dragonpit. He doesn’t care who watches or what whispers will follow in the wake of his urgency. Let them talk; let them wonder. All that matters is reaching you.

By the time he arrives at the Dragonpit, he’s barely winded, though his blood roars in his veins like wildfire. The keepers bow hastily as he storms past them, heading straight for the chamber where Caraxes, his own dragon, resides. The Blood Wyrm growls low as Daemon approaches, sensing the tension in his rider.

Daemon doesn’t waste a moment, clambering onto Caraxes’ back with practiced ease. The bond between dragon and rider is instinctual, and with a sharp command, Caraxes unfurls his wings and takes to the skies with a powerful beat. They soar upward, climbing higher into the heavens as Daemon scans the horizon, searching for the faint silhouette of a dragon in flight.

He knows the general area where Grey Ghost roams—often among the mist-shrouded cliffs near the coast, far from the reach of men. If you’ve truly gone there alone, then you’ve either misjudged your own courage or you’re challenging him in your own quiet, stubborn way.

Either way, he intends to catch you.

The thrill of the chase pulses through him, his heart racing as Caraxes cuts through the clouds, flying faster and faster toward where he hopes to find you. There’s a primal satisfaction in the pursuit, the idea of tracking you down, claiming what he believes should be his. He imagines what you’ll say when he catches you, what you’ll do—if you’ll continue to resist, or if you’ll finally realize there’s no escaping the inevitable.

As they fly over the rugged cliffs, he finally spots a shadow moving below—grey scales glinting in the fading light. There you are, astride Grey Ghost, your figure small but unmistakable. The sight sends a surge of possessive relief through him. You’re safe, unharmed, but you’ve ventured too far for his liking.

He urges Caraxes lower, drawing closer until the two dragons are flying side by side, their wings slicing through the air in tandem. The sound of Caraxes’ approach makes you turn, your eyes widening as you realize who’s followed you. Even from a distance, Daemon can see the defiance in your gaze, the way you straighten your back and tighten your grip on the reins.

You’re not pleased to see him. But that’s too bad.

Daemon grins, his eyes flashing with determination as he closes the distance, ready to confront you, to remind you that running—or flying—won’t keep him at bay. He’s always known where to find you, and now that he’s caught up, he has no intention of letting you slip away again.

The chase may be thrilling, but Daemon Targaryen has never been content to chase forever. At some point, even the most elusive prey must be caught. And when he finally corners you in the sky, he’ll make sure you know exactly what it means to be his.

[sophrosynesworld]

Pancakes and Extra Bacon

Can we imagine a cozy morning with Bakugo for a moment?

I wake up slowly, feeling the warmth of the early morning sun streaming through the curtains. The first thing I notice is the steady rise and fall of Katsuki's chest beneath my cheek. I snuggle closer, savoring the rare moment of peace. Katsuki's never been the soundest sleeper, but sometimes, he's able to relax.

His arm tightens around me slightly, and I look up to see him blinking sleepily, his eyes half-open.

"Morning," I whisper, smiling.

"Morning," he mumbles back, his voice rough. Katsuki stretches, his muscles flexing with each movement, and I can’t help but admire him. His blond hair is tousled, sticking out in every direction, and he looks so adorably different from his usual self.

"You sleep okay?" I ask, tracing a finger along his chest.

"Yeah," he says, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Better with you here."

I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks and bury my face in his shoulder to hide it. Katsuki isn’t one for grand declarations of affection, so moments like these are precious.

"What about you?" he asks, his hand moving to gently stroke my hair.

"Best sleep I’ve had in ages," I reply honestly. "You make a pretty good pillow."

He chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that makes my heart skip a beat. "Don’t get used to it. I’ve got hero work later today."

I sigh, the reality of our lives seeping back in. "I know. But we have this morning, right?"

"Yeah," he says softly, pulling me even closer. "We have this morning."

We lie there in comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying the warmth and closeness. Eventually, Katsuki speaks up again. "You got any plans today?"

I shake my head. "Just a few errands. Maybe a coffee date with Ochaco later. What about you? Other than saving the world, of course."

He smirks. "Just the usual patrol. Might swing by the gym afterward. You know, gotta keep these babies in shape." He flexes his arm, and I laugh, swatting him playfully.

"Show-off," I tease.

"Damn right," he says, grinning. "But seriously, if you need anything, just let me know, okay?"

"I will," I promise. "You always take such good care of me, Katsuki."

His expression softens, and he cups my face in his hand. "Because you mean everything to me, you idiot. I gotta make sure you're safe and happy."

My heart melts at his words. "I love you," I say, feeling the words swell in my chest.

"I love you too," he replies, his voice tender and sincere. "

He leans in slowly, his eyes locked onto mine, and I feel a familiar flutter in my stomach. Our kiss is soft and tender, his hand cradles the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair.

I respond in kind, deepening the kiss, savoring the warmth and the taste of him.

"Come on," Katsuki pulls away, sitting up and stretching again. "Let’s make some breakfast. I’m starving."

I laugh, following him out of bed. "Alright, what do you feel like eating?"

He thinks for a moment. "How about pancakes? With extra bacon."

"Pancakes and bacon it is," I say, heading to the kitchen with him. As we start cooking, I can’t help but feel grateful for these simple, cozy mornings.

"Just admit it, you're secretly addicted to my pancakes."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Addicted? I don’t think so. I just tolerate them because I like you."

He smirks, flipping a pancake expertly. "Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that. But we both know you can’t resist my cooking."

"Oh please," I shoot back, rolling my eyes. "I only pretend to like them because you look so proud of yourself when you cook."

"Is that so?" he asks, arching an eyebrow. "Then why do you always ask for seconds?"

"To make you feel good about yourself," I reply with a grin. "You know, I gotta boost that fragile ego of yours."

He laughs, a genuine, hearty laugh that fills the kitchen. "Fragile ego, huh? Keep talking like that, and you'll be making your own breakfast."

"Promises, promises," I tease, sticking out my tongue. "you'd miss me too much."

"Yeah, yeah," he says, shaking his head but still smiling. "You’re lucky I love you, brat."

"And you’re lucky I love you back.”

We finish making breakfast together, the playful banter continuing as we move around the kitchen. It’s in these moments, filled with laughter and lighthearted teasing, that I feel the happiest. No matter how hectic our lives get, we always find time for each other, and that makes everything worth it.

[vampyrris]

first kiss.

“it’s so chilly outside. nice.” you sighed, perched on the windowsill of levi’s office.

“tch, only you would say that. it’s fucking freezing.”

you pouted and closed the window. “how does no one else get hot? i don’t even wear pants when i go to sleep because i get so hot.”

levi scoffed. “you have too much energy, always bouncing on your feet. wouldn’t be surprised to learn if you slept naked.”

you pursed your lips as your gaze lingered on his tense figure still hunched over his report. “i have considered it, but i’d be scandalizing my roomies.”

“i’ve heard them complain multiple times how if you could walk naked in the hallways, you would.”

you giggled and shrugged, walking over to him. “i mean, that’s a little presumptuous.” you leaned in, draping your arms over his shoulders and resting your chin atop his head. “would you stop going over that? you’ve checked yours and mine literally all evening. we should turn them in before erwin chews our ass out.”

he tched under his breath again. “have to make sure i noted every little detail.”

with a dramatic sigh, you covered his eyes with your hands, blocking his vision. “wrap. it. up. we have to go for supper in a bit.”

seizing ahold of your wrists, levi tilted his head back against the chair. he removed your hands from his eyes and drew you towards him.

caught off guard, an involuntary yelp escaped your lips, your body jolting with surprise at the unexpected closeness to him.

his steel-gray eyes bore into yours, flickering with unnamed emotion.

“don’t test me.”

a strand of your hair came loose, falling onto levi’s face thanks to you being literally inclined above him.

“test you? captain, you have me at the flirtiest position one could only imagine being in.” you replied, wiggling your brows at him, even as your heart fluttered in your chest.

his unwavering eyes didn’t leave your face.

he loosened his grip on your wrist and brought his hand to your face. then slowly, he neatly tucked the strand of hair behind your ear.

you let out a small breath. your eyes flitted to his mouth without warning, only to find them slightly parted, and wet.

“levi..” you whispered.

you felt his hand reach behind your head, and slowly pull you down.

he stopped just when your lips were a breath apart from his.

his eyes shone with an emotion you couldn’t quite put your finger on—but you had a feeling yours shone the same.

you closed the distance, pressing your lips against his soft, pillowy ones.

neither of you moved, locked in the position with your mouths molded against each other. then slowly, you began moving your lips, sucking in his plump bottom lip and licking at it. you swallowed levi’s soft gasp, as he opened up and your tongues found their way to each other.

his fingers tightened at the roots of your hair as he pulled you closer, eliciting a small noise from you.

keeping your mouths connected, you carefully maneuvered around him and gracefully sat on his lap. a shared sigh of relief escaped the both of you. his hands came up to cup your face as he slanted his mouth over yours, the obscene sounds of you sucking and kissing each other the only thing breaking the silence in his vacant office.

and as if on cue, a sharp double-knock sounded, followed by the creaking noise of a handle turning and..

“dinner ti—oh shit! oh shit!” hange’s voice bellowed before the loud slam of the door shutting close.

levi broke the kiss, his glossy lips parted as he panted. his cheeks were in a deep flush. you couldn’t help the small giggle that left your mouth at his embarrassed state.

a delicate thread of your mingled saliva hung between your mouths, and levi’s blush deepened when he noticed.

“we just scandalized hange.” he said softly, a small smile playing on his kiss-swollen lips.

you let out another laugh. “we did. and i..don’t feel too guilty about it,” you bit your own swollen lip, looking at him shyly.

his brows scrunched together as he let out a pained groan. “don’t look at me like that, we really have to go.”

you nodded your agreement as you looked away, your throat drying up from the indecent thoughts that threatened to flood your brain. you felt his hand falling from your face to your waist, squeezing your side.

“we should go, and turn those godforsaken reports in before dinner.” you said, making to get off of him. your cheeks heated as you realized how quickly you had resonated to just sitting on his lap to your convenience when you were kissing him.

your lips tingled. you could still taste him in your mouth.

shaking your head, you rid yourself of such thoughts. you were already halfway off his lap, when levi dragged you down with no warning, and you flopped back onto his thighs with a quiet gasp.

you looked at him questioningly.

his eyes were glassy, as they fell to your lips. “can we do that one more time before we go?”

[apomaro-mellow]

Every Baby Needs a Daddy 10

Part 9

EDDIE MUNSON'S NEW HOT PIECE?

The lead guitarist of acclaimed band Corroded Coffin is never far from a pretty face. What's the scoop on the newest one hanging off his arm? While their latest album Darkest Knights is climbing the charts is it possible that he's climbing into the sheets with a mystery man?

Steve scrolled through the article, expecting to find some highly invasive information from a sneaky journalist. But most of the writing was just telling readers who Eddie was and a couple of people he had publicly dated in the past. Probably because it was a mainstream publication and they didn't expect their usual viewers to know anything about a metal band.

The picture they used was of when they got to the venue the night of the concert. Eddie had walked Steve in with an arm around his waist. He went in search for any other information or reactions to this news. He wasn't an idiot. Fans could get pretty possessive over their idols. He was ever thankful that he wasn't very active online. At least not to the point where people could easily find and harass him.

Steve had always cautioned against reading too many comments on things. Online communities could quickly turn negative. But he had to see what they were saying about him and Eddie if he had any chance of defense.

Twitter was full of people giving their two cents either in their own posts or under other articles that were all saying the same thing. #CorrodedCoffin and Eddie Munson were both trending.

Quite a few weren't happy at the idea of Eddie shacking up with someone they had never seen before. Add to that the changed tour schedule and they were extra upset.

ro @ alittleunsteady i can't believe a random omega is taking care of eddie he's probably some money hungry whore

Right out the gate with that one. But Steve supposed it made sense from the outside, what with him being a nobody in the industry. And he was definitely benefitting off Eddie's money.

Star @ estrellamy who’s that wannabe? He even looks like a poser, look at his outfit, no way that’s real.

B @ bipanicroom replied: he's cute and I totally get Eddie wanting him for his rut but he definitely doesn't look the part for a long term omega I mean look at that polo shirt, our metal alpha needs some grunge

Okay, Steve laughed a little at those because, well, he stuck out next to Eddie. He'd mentioned perhaps changing his look to blend in with the crowd and Eddie had immediately vetoed it.

"Those bright ass jeans are like a lighthouse to this weary vessel", he had said. To which, Steve reminded him you're supposed to steer away from lighthouses.

"Whatcha laughin' at?", Eddie asked as he came back into the bedroom, carrying a tray of food.

Steve contemplated telling him about the cat being out of the bag, but it wasn't like they were keeping it a secret. It was just...something they didn't need to announce. He sat up, letting the blanket pool at his hips. They could keep the outside world outside just a little longer.

"Just some memes", then he took a deep breath as Eddie opened the curtain of their den. "Smells good."

Eddie put the tray across Steve's lap. "Pesto grilled cheese. With sun dried tomatoes."

"Fuck, that sounds good." Steve's stomach growled in agreement.

He and Eddie ate in bed, thankfully only getting a minimal amount of crumbs on it and cuddled. Eddie was the big spoon while Steve looked at some more comments. There were a few in a thread trying to figure out who he was and what his deal was. It seemed for as many as there were decrying Steve's fashion sense and how he was probably a gold digger, even twice as many were either in support or neutral.

He went to one of Eddie's fan pages which had a good amount of followers for their thoughts.

stream cc's darkestknights @ yourlove Omg y’all are so dumb, he is a literal rockstar why are you guys asking for explanations? That could be his boyfriend or just some rando, as long as I get good music who cares? Get a life atp really💀

Maple @ maplehazelnusse replied: right??? calm down he wasn't get with you either way

Steve felt Eddie's teeth grazing his skin, not even really sinking in, just squeezing lightly across his shoulders. He put his phone under the pillow, deciding that it all could well and truly wait. Eddie needed his full attention right now, even if he wasn't outright whining for it anymore.

While they spent another day wrapped up in each other, the media was having its usual field day. Eddie's unexpected rut would have made news on its own with it disrupting a tour. But add to it an omega that most of the world had never seen and it was a whole circus.

There were plenty who had actual concern over Eddie because sudden hormonal changes weren't fun. A youtuber posted a video summarizing the events of the past couple of days and under their video was an entire conversation regarding this.

@ thegenericcookie 2 days ago shout out to eddie Munson repping all of us off cycle bitches I had to postpone SUBMITTING MY THESIS because a stupid rut was 10 days early for no goddamn reason😞

@ fastimesatfasttimes 2 days ago OMG same! Its so embarrassing like "yo prof i gotta take of and go fuck myself for a week" >.<

@ grapesofyass 3 days ago is now a gud time to mention some places give rut leave but not heat leave?

Of course, when things of this nature came up, many voiced their opinions of the relationship, simply unable to help themselves. Especially since neither party were at all forthcoming about it. Photos surfacing of the two of them at the club and the sushi restaurant added fuel to the fire.

Sappy @ crazytipper67 eddie munson seen with RaNdoM OmeGA like we havent seen him all over his new bf for nearly a month now 😒 🥱 let not forget Eddie doesnt need to explain shit to us fr

GareBear @ garethsstressball like for real not to be a stalker but anyone whos been payin attention knows these two have been goin out a while

tigger @ corrodedcoughin12 he literally took him on tour i wouldn't be surprised if eddie was like actually courting him old fashioned style hes that type

mya @ amerikanscy Since when has Eddie been one to keep an Omega for this long? I bet as soon as his rut is over he'll just move on to the next like he always does. Who cares if he's been seen with Eddie more than once--if they were really anything to each other then they wouldn't be hiding it.

kas @ neveroncelostbutfound I mean, go off ig 🫤 jeff is not taken tho, right? RIGHT?

helix @ judyjetsuuuun replied: bestie.... image.jpeg

Attached was a very clear photo of Steve dancing with Jeff the night of the club and the resurgence of those pictures sparked all new conversations as Steve was seen dancing with everyone except Eddie.

jill @ jeffsnumbuh1 i just think its funny how when i posted pics of jeff that nite they got a lukewarm response but when the same pics show up with the guy i cropped out (out of respect for his privacy) somehow those got hundreds of shares

Everyone online was having a time. But for some, it was an unfortunate time. As was the case for those that Steve had known back home. Dustin was only a few years younger than Steve. He was pretty much an adult now. But it didn't make it any easier to see a section of the internet thirsting after his old babysitter. Some comments were tame and some were not.

countess @ dollarsandstars omg yay eddie's in love, boo its not me but yay him

estrella @ starsnstripes4never daddy? Sorry. Daddy? Sorry. Daddy? Sorry.

bips @eddiemunsons2ndhusband EDDIE MUNSON IS TAKEN IM SOBBING HIS OMEGA IS SO PRETTY THO

Mark @ marklyblakemore Are we going to get news about a baby Munson soon🫣

fangs @ dusterjacketsarecool can you guys not? the dude literally drove me to middle school and made me go to sleep AT curfew when he watched me

When Dustin left that comment, he had a split second where he wondered if he should delete it. There weren't a ton of pictures of him online but the internet was full of super sleuths who would be able to dig up a lot on Steve if they were able to find a connection and get his name. Dustin hadn't even known he and Eddie were a thing until the tabloids picked it up.

But when replies came, they all shared a similar sentiment. 'Lying for clout is still lying'. Most didn't believe he knew Eddie's new arm candy in real life. And maybe it was better that way. But still, he could talk to the rest of the gang about it because holy shit Steve was dating a celebrity. The texting in their group chat (the one without their older siblings because they didn't want any lectures) had been going crazy since the news broke.

Dustin: How long until we can start posting embarrassing photos of Steve for maximum impact?

Lucas: We gotta wait until they publish his name

Mike: You think Eddie's really gonna announce theyre dating?

Dustin: Only if he's gonna make an honest man out of Steve

Will: But what if it's just a fling? Did Steve tell anyone about this?

Max: Betcha he told robin

El: I'm going to post the one from when he took us to Comic Con.

Lucas: That's not an embarrassing pic

Will: Yeah it was objectively awesome

El: I know. That is why I want to post it :)

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

Eddie could tell when he himself was done with his rut. He wasn't filled with an all consuming need to impregnate Steve. The thought was still attractive, but he could allot some brain power to other things now. Like the madhouse surrounding his love life that was going on. Eddie had never really announced it when he was dating. Then again, the last couple of times it had been with fellow famous people.

Media outlets knew them well and were able to craft their stories easily. He got asked about them during interviews but most of it was public knowledge already. This was the first time since making it big that he'd been seen with someone like Steve. The next time he made an appearance he was going to be asked about him. And there was no way he could just say 'he's my sugar baby, we fuck and then I buy him things'. Even if that was true on paper, it wasn't how Eddie really felt.

Steve was sitting on the couch, gazing intensely on his phone and Eddie was sure it was some discourse about him but when he ventured to look over his shoulder has saw that he was watching a stop motion lego video.

"Interesting entertainment?", he asked, coming around to sit next to him.

"They just make it so smooth, I don't understand", Steve said in awe.

"I was wondering if we could talk about the-", Eddie cleared his throat, "about the, you know, what people are saying."

"Yeah sure", Steve paused the video and put his phone down.

"So, we're gonna move the tour soon", Eddie started. "And at some point, like in the next week, I'll probably be expected to make some kind of statement."

Steve nodded, eyes full of sincerity and understanding and Eddie couldn't take that pointed at him. He shot up and began pacing around.

"Okay, here was the deal. You're my sugar baby, right?"

"Right", Steve answered with another nod.

"But like, and correct me if I'm wrong, we don't really do the things people normally do in this sort of relationship."

"It's not that we don't do them", Steve watched Eddie move back and forth like a caged animal. "We don't-you don't treat me like a sugar baby."

Eddie froze. "Have I been doing this wrong?"

Steve shook his head. "Eddie you've been fine, great even." He stood up and grabbed Eddie's hands. "I couldn't have asked for anyone better. 'Cause like, from what I've seen, a more, let's say experienced sugar daddy would have just assumed I'd assist with a rut. You assumed I wouldn't."

"I couldn't just put that on you. I know what I'm like during a rut", Eddie looked away sheepishly. "But you can't pin this aaaallll on me sweetheart. You haven't been acting very sugar babyish."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Like you're the expert?"

"I've seen a couple! I know that they're very keen on pointing to whatever catches their fancy and saying 'daddy buy me this'. And I know you have good taste in things. You could also stand to drape yourself over me much more in public. I'm frankly appalled that too many of my fans don't see you as someone important."

Steve blushed at all Eddie was describing and tried to hide behind his hands but since Eddie had them, he kept him from doing so.

"That sounds like...a lot. Are you okay with me being a lot?"

"You're asking a musician that?", Eddie raised a brow.

"I mean like, when I get really...involved with someone", Steve was avoiding the word 'dating', "I can get clingy, and like, really hungry for attention."

"Baby, I just spent a week with my face attached to your pussy. Which, for the record, I would have done even I wasn't under hormonal persuasion." Eddie kissed his knuckles and then breathed in deep. Steve still carried so much of him, even after a shower, and would for a while. In about a week, his scent wouldn't cling to him the way it was now, but for a moment, he could imagine Steve was wholly his.

"When I go out in front of cameras, I..." He wanted to tell them Steve was his omega, that he was officially courting and if the fates saw fit, would make him his mate.

"What?"

"What should I tell them?", Eddie asked.

Steve thought about what people already thought was going on. The world already assumed they were fucking. They didn't really announce that. The only real question was how permanent Steve was. Was he a fling or an actual boyfriend?

"What do you want me to be?", Steve asked in return.

Eddie's heart thumped in his chest. The false answer hung from his lips, ready to go. To keep them in this limbo for as long as he could. But that was no guarantee either. Besides, Eddie really wanted to make a proper den for Steve to make a proper nest. He wanted to take Steve back to his actual home. He wanted to meet this enigmatic Robin.

"I want you to be mine. And I wanna tell the world about it." Eddie knew that was the right response from the way Steve lit up.

Corroded Coffin ☑️@corrodedcoffinitsafishyall

The official Twitter of Corroded Coffin. Stream our new album Darkest Knights. And to the owner of the corrodedcoffinofficial handle, come outside we just wanna talk

corrodedcoffinband.com

150 Following 529k Followers

5 minutes ago Changed the password account again bc some knot-heads never heard of PR - Grant

8 minutes ago Btw his name is Steve and he's my sweetheart

10 minutes ago Post-rut clarity call that seein with my third eye

Eddie Munson ☑️ @ edmunsoncc

This is where I go when they kick me off the band account :(

1 minute ago they took my Stevie D:<

2 minutes ago They can take away my account privileges but they cant take away my Stevie

And the world knows his name! And the tour continues! What will happen as they travel down the east coast!? Stay tuned!

Part 11

Tag Team CLOSED

@awkotaco24 @lingeringmirth @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @tartarusknight @velocitytimes2 @mrsjellymunson @trashcanniballecter @paintsplatteredandimperfect @a-little-unsteddie  @sllooney  @starman-jpg  @oxidantdreamboat  @xxbottlecapx   @newtstabber @tiny-enthusiast  @desidrarry-wolfstarshipper @y4r3luv @hello-fellow-nerds  @anonymousbandgirl @alyelf @potato-of-the-lord  @beckkthewreck  @croatoan-like-its-hot @pluto-pepsi @abstractnaturaldisaster @ellietheasexylibrarian @eyesofshinigami @dragonmama76 @greatwerewolfbeliever @chaosgremlinmunson @blackpanzy @millseyes-world @batxsignalsx @lilpomelito @goosesister @libraryofgage @aresthelostboy @royjaimie4eva @silenzioperso @she-collects-smut @lost-wondering-souls @eddielives1986 @marklee-blackmore

[tofupixel]

i'm just not sure your argument on art plagiarism really holds up at all, is the thing. at what point does an art style become plagiarism? is it when the art style is directly inspired by a certain other art style, or when the art looks like another art style? because those are two completely seperate things. i know multiple artists, including myself, who are inspired by multiple other artists, yet our works look nothing alike. on another note, two artists can have similar or even identical styles and yet know nothing about each other, so is it plagiarism at that point? are they plagiarizing each other? who is plagiarizing who, the person who had the art style first? at what point is it "original" enough to call it your own without any credit to multiple other people? at what point does a composition become plagiarism?

i feel like you're undermining the ways in which drawing and writing are separate avenues of art, and also misunderstanding what plagiarism in writing even is, as a whole. i would appreciate a more concise explanation as to what your full thoughts on this are, though.

i don't know if you're intentionally misunderstanding my point or if you just didn't read it. look at my replies in the thread to get the full picture.

if we use the most basic definition of plagiarism, none of the pointless examples you gave would fall under it, quite obviously. nobody is talking about that. let's put our thinking caps on here

i'm not talking about two people who have similar styles completely by chance. literally nobody is arguing that that is plagiarism.

i'm not talking about people who are inspired by multiple people and borrow from each of them and make it their own. literally nobody is arguing that that is plagiarism.

i'm not talking about master studies. literally nobody is arguing that that is plagiarism

i gave an example of someone whose work was eerily similar, and they EVEN ADMITTED that they were inspired. they apologized and agreed to do better in the future, but still people were running defense for them. that's what the post is about!

but if your work exists in a grey area, yes some people may raise some eyebrows, it will happen. and it should! people should be allowed to ask when things are a little bit too close, without people saying "ummm well nothing is original anyway"

i'm talking about actual, blatant plagiarism. i don't know why you're playing defense for thieves, but maybe because you feel the call is coming from inside the house? i'll turn off anon and you can reply again and we'll all judge for ourselves.

[moonselune]

Hello. May I get an Astarion x Tav story? Tav was secretly creating a blanket for Astarion by themselves, but he sees them working on it. Instead of immediately revealing that it's for him, they have him help make it until it's finished. 💕

Awwwwwwwwwww I love this xx

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion x gn!reader : Sewn

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You had been secretly working on a special gift for Astarion—a finely crafted blanket. Each night, after everyone else had fallen asleep, and you were Astarion was out on his nightly hunt, you would take out the materials you had gathered from the day and quietly work on your project. The blanket was a tapestry of your shared adventures, each patch representing a memory or a place you had visited together. You were determined to finish it without him knowing, eager to surprise him with a gift that carried so much meaning. The gods knew he deserved it.

One evening, while you were diligently sewing a particularly intricate pattern, Astarion flounced into your tent, complaining that there was nothing good out in the woods to eat, eyelashes batting and a persuasive pout on his lips, intending to ask you for a little nibble.

“It's a travesty, truly I'm going to starve - Oh darling! What are you working on?” Astarion asked, his voice smooth and curious as he walked over to you.

You quickly tried to hide the blanket under your clothes you had laid out for tomorrow, but it was too late. His beady eyes had already latched on to it.

“Oh, just a little project. Nothing special,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

Astarion raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at his lips. “A little project, you say? It looks rather intricate for something trivial.”

Caught, you sighed and decided to take a different approach. “Alright, you caught me. It’s a blanket, and I could use some help with it. Care to join?”

His curiosity piqued, Astarion sat down beside you. “A blanket? How intriguing. What’s the occasion?”

You smiled mysteriously, not ready to reveal the full truth. “Let’s just say it’s for someone very special.”

Astarion’s eyes sparkled with interest as he took a seat next to you, and you handed him some thread and fabric. "Alright then, gods knows you need by help your thread work is positively backwards- ."

"-You don't have to help, me Astarion," You playfully chided him and he huffed settling down, not wanting to get kicked out of your tent. You smiled and the two of you worked in tandem, a bit of gossip shared between you.

As the days went by, Astarion grew more invested in the 'project'. You both spent hours working side by side, sharing the trials and tribulations of the day with each other. The blanket gradually took shape, and you had to admit that perhaps Astarion was a better sewer than you.

One evening, as the fire crackled and the blanket was nearly complete, Astarion paused, looking at the almost-finished product. “You know, this blanket is quite beautiful. Whoever it’s for is very fortunate indeed.”

You smiled, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness. “Very fortunate indeed, in face look here, Astarion," Taking a deep breath, you laid the blanket out in front of him. “This blanket is for you, Astarion. Every patch, every stitch, it’s all to remind you of our journey together.”

Astarion’s eyes widened in surprise, then softened with an emotion you rarely saw—vulnerability. “For me?” he whispered, his voice almost trembling.

“Yes,” you said, taking his hands in yours. “I wanted to give you something that shows how much you mean to me. How much our time together has meant.”

For a moment, Astarion was silent, his eyes tracing the patterns and symbols on the blanket. Then, a slow smile spread across his face. “You crafty minx,” he murmured, pulling you into a gentle embrace. “You’ve managed to surprise me, and darling, that’s no easy feat.”

You laughed, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Like it?” Astarion shook his head, his eyes shining with affection. “I love it. And I love you, my dear.”

Little short wholesome piece for y'all, hope you all enjoyed it - Seluney xox

[tinydefector]

TFP Shockwave with a pet human who he's come to be rather affectionate with absent mindedly and has become more interactive with them outside of experiments even. One day human goes missing / isn't in usual spot and Shockwave is trying to figure out wtf is going on but then a con makes a cruel joke (anyone of choosing I thought arachnid or starscream) that they fell out of their cage and got caught underfoot whoopsies . how does Shockwave react before the human comes out from their hiding spot where they were resting??? O_O

Out of Reach

Shockwave x human

Warning: none

Word count: 1k

Shockwave masterlist

_________________________

Shockwave grew increasingly troubled as his thorough search of the lab turned up no sign of his human companion. They were always precisely where he expected upon his arrival, yet this cycle they were nowhere to be found. A nagging unease arose within the Decepticon scientist, though he remained outwardly calm as he searched.

Shockwave diligently swept across the laboratory once more, searching for any trace or clue that could indicate the human's whereabouts or condition. This simply made no logical sense. They had never hidden from him, something must have happened. Had something interfered with the lab's systems without triggering alerts? No breaches were indicated. Shockwave did not appreciate unexplained variables in his work.The sooner this small mystery was solved, the better.

Arachnid watches with a smirk on her lips as Shockwave walks through the halls checking different areas and in hopes that his little companion was just hiding. "Missing something Shockwave?" She inquires with a raised optic brow, not looking rather interested.

Shockwave paused in his meticulous vent searches to regard the inquisitive Arachnid. She took far too much pleasure in others' losses, however minor.

"My human subject is absent from their Enclosure without explanation," he stated flatly. No sense indulging her obvious gloating. "Their whereabouts remain unknown." Her smirk only widened. "And you thought you had everything so neatly ordered. Surprises happen, even to our beloved scientist." Her tone held thinly veiled mockery. "Perhaps a fleshling has more spirit than you gave it credit for."

Shockwave disregarded her taunting for now. "If you possess any data that could aid my investigation, speak. Else your presence here serves no purpose." His patience for games was nonexistent. She lets out a huff as she turns away. "Last I saw them Starscream was rambling about discarding the little pest, I would much rather have added them to my collection, but no use once they are squished" she replies amusement flicking in her optics. It makes Shockwave's spark go cold at the thought.

Starscream, interfering in his work yet again... but to harm the human? It made no sense. "Elaborate. What precisely did Starscream say?" Starscream's actions often lacked reason, but there had to be a thread of logic here. The thought of harm coming to his research subject was. displeasing.

His optic narrowed on Arachnid, another smile graced her lips. "If my memory serves correctly, starscream stepped on them when he was in your laboratory last, and decided it was easier to discard them before they made a mess with all their bloo " she teases. She was going to see just how far Shockwave was willing to go for the little flesh bag.

Something akin to anger flashed through Shockwave's circuits at Arachnid's vague 'memory' and obvious game. Starscream would pay dearly for damaging laboratory property and disrupting critical research. His optic burned into hers. "Show me. Now."

Starscream looks up from his data pad when the sound of Shockwave's shadow forms over him. Arachnid gives him a little wave before stalking off, leaving Shockwave with him. "What can I do for you, Shockwave, as you can see I am rather busy" he states, wings flickering in annoyance at being interrupted.

"You will explain the human's current status and your role in their disappearance, Starscream," he stated calmly. Too calmly, given the swirling calculations within his processor. "Arachnid insinuated you were involved with deactivating them."

Starscream shifted uneasily under that baleful optical lens. “How dare you accuse me!” he snarls as his optics glare at the scientist. Shockwave cut him off. "The human. Where is it? I will have answers, one way or another. Do not test me further, Starscream."

"You babbling Moron I haven't been anywhere near your Lab nor near that disgusting little creature you adore!I'm Sure Arachnid would just love to add them to her collection of prizes and is using this time to hunt them" Starscream snarls out wings flickering even more as Shockwave threatens him.

The moment those words leave Starscream, Shockwave turned on a heel strut and departed, optic aglow with sheer anger. When Shockwave stalks back into his laboratory Arachnid isn't paying attention as she looks through the vents eager to try and find the human before Shockwave's return.A faint whirring was Shockwave's only warning before his blaster cannon trained directly on Arachnid's backstrut. "Cease your prowling immediately, My companion is off limits as is instructed by Lord Megatron" he commanded, weapon charged and ready.

She froze at the sound of his calm yet irrefutable voice. “Such a shame, yet you still have found your precious little pet, perhaps they have finally abandoned you” she sneers back at him. His optic narrowed to a slit. He took a measured step forward. "The human. Where have you hidden or disposed of them, Arachnid?" A hiss escaped her in mingled frustration and wary respect. Lying to Shockwave was never wise. Slowly, delicately, she extracted herself away from the vent. "I have no idea."

Movement catches Shockwave optics from over on his bench, it makes both Decepticons helms snap to the moment. "What time is it?" the little human asked while rubbing their eyes as they pulled the large cloth around their body. walking out of the unoccupied crate that originally held Shockwave's energon cube rations. Arachnid snarls as she pushes Shockwave off before stalking out of the lab. "What was that about?" They mumble tiredly.

Shockwave's cannon whirred down as he took in the dishevelled yet apparently unharmed human, "It is roughly mid-cycle," he replied calmly, his servo moving across their frame taking in their appearance making sure they are not injured. all traces of anger leave his processes.

"You appear undamaged. How did you get to be within the energon container? Arachnid led me to believe you'd been.harmed." he questioned, Relief pulsed through his lines, though he showed no outward emotion.

"I fell asleep in there last night while you were working, sorry I didn't mean to cause any issues" they state as he lifts them up. Shockwave processed this new information and he cursed himself for not checking the crate. "You have nothing for which to apologise for " he replied calmly, holding the human against his chassis. “I ask that you alert me as to your wear about before recharge for your own safety” he states before setting down with them in his servos.

______________

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[hmslusitania]

15 for timkon if you'd like! (“This is a lot, even for you.”)

“Oh boy,” Kon says, hesitating in the entryway to the microcave Tim’s claimed. When Steph and Cass had called him about it, he’d thought they were exaggerating. In Kon’s defence, Tim’s been on more than a few somewhat unhinged murderboard investigations in his life, and the girls’ claim that this is actually, truly, the most unsettling one he’s done, that he’s locked himself in a microcave and they’re not sure he’s been eating — and are absolutely sure he hasn’t been sleeping — had felt melodramatic in the way only Gothamites can get.

In reality, he thinks they might’ve undersold it.

“Uh, hey, buddy, whatcha doin’?” Kon asks, hovering over the piles of office document boxes that — jesus fuck, is that a LexCorp logo?

He finds Tim in the centre of the microcave next to the aforementioned murderboard, and then he kinda wishes he hadn’t. The focal image in the centre of Tim’s web of red yarn and blue yarn and green yarn and something that looks like yellow caution tape that’s been twisted into thread is… Kon.

Tim is hunched in gargoyle posture next to the murderboard, chewing on the wrong end of a pen while he stares at the board with eyes so far past unfocused and surrounded by such dark bags that Kon’s kinda a little surprised Tim hasn’t like… toppled over and passed out.

At the sound of Kon’s voice, Tim spins on the balls of his feet and hurls the pen from between his teeth at him. Kon rebuffs it with his TTK and when the pen clatters to some scattered manila folders on the cave floor, Tim frowns.

“You’re… real?” Tim asks, lifting an eyebrow to inspect him. When he talks, Kon can see the dark spot of ink on his tongue that really can’t be pleasant to taste.

“Please tell me you haven’t been hallucinating,” Kon requests, and immediately regrets it because he’s really not sure he wants the answer to that.

“Um, n—just like the squiggles in the corners of your eyes when you’re sleep dep—why are you here?” Tim asks.

“Well, this is, uh, kind of a lot, even for you?” Kon replies, and hovers closer to the one working electronic in the microcave besides the flickering overhead light: the coffee pot. There’s nothing but tarry sludge at the bottom of the pot which is definitely contributing to the acrid scent of the cave, alongside Tim’s general state of being.

“Oh,” Tim says, looking back at the murderboard and then to Kon again. He seems to finally register that the subject of his investigation is now in his personal space, because his eyes go wide in addition to glassy. “Oh.”

“Any chance you’ll tell me why I’m the subject of this, uh…” Kon trails off, gesturing at the murderboard. Tim doesn’t write his tacked-on notes in any sort of way Kon can read. It’s not actually shorthand, not the official version of it, but probably some hybrid system Tim’s developed on his own. Whether or not it’s legible to other Bats is anyone’s guess.

“Um,” Tim says, and falls off the balls of his feet to land hard on his ass on the desk where he’s been perched. Based on the way he rubs absently at his knees and rolls his ankles around, Kon gets the impression he’d been crouched like that for way too long. “You’ve been, uh, exhibiting some… uncharacteristic behaviours? For about ten months now, give or take.”

Kon blinks. “I have?”

“Yeah, your sense of humour’s shifted, because you keep finding me funnier than other people in our group,” Tim says. He reaches for the pen he’d had in his mouth, like he means to use it as a pointer stick, and remembers at the last second that he’d thrown it at Kon to test his realness. Kon picks it up and offers it to him. Tim thanks him with a distracted, dazed expression, and then points it at the red lines. “And, um, you’ve been agreeing with me more? So, like, I know you haven’t been replaced by Match this time, because that was all about him trying to argue with me and divide our team. Also, you keep looking at me more when you think I’m not looking, I had to run through so many hours of security tapes.”

Tim points to some pretty damning screen grabs of security footage from the Young Justice HQ that kind of make Kon want to die of embarrassment.

It kind of sucks that Tim is so smart that he’s noticed all of this, but has also completely failed to put it together.

“So, what’s your conclusion, detective?” Kon asks.

“I don’t… know,” Tim huffs, and rubs the heel of his hand into one of his eyes like it’s about to give up on him and he needs to fight it into submission. “And I can’t think of what happened ten months ago that would’ve started a change in behaviour or—”

“Can I give you a hint?” Kon asks, swallowing down the nerves it immediately gives him, just to offer.

Tim blinks. “Wait, you’re aware of the change in behaviour?”

“Yeah, Tim,” Kon says, only keeping himself from laughing at the consternation on Tim’s face by the skin of his teeth.

Tim looks between him and the murderboard, a deep frown on his face. “So what happened ten months ago?”

“Well, eleven months ago, you told us you’re bi,” Kon says. He folds his arms across his chest and tucks his hands under his biceps to keep Tim from noticing them shake with nerves. Not that Tim’s really in a state to notice anything at this point. “And it took me about a month to do some soul searching and figure out that I am, too?”

The furrow between Tim’s eyes gets just a little deeper, like he can’t make the math problem add up. “But… if that’s it, then why are you looking at me like…”

He trails off, staring at the board for an excruciating enough length of time that Kon seriously considers just flying away and hoping Tim’s so out of it that he won’t actually remember this conversation.

“Wait, you like me?” Tim asks, face fever-bright when he looks away from the board to stare at Kon instead.

“Only kind of, like, a lot?” Kon replies, balling his hands into fists under his arms.

“Oh,” Tim says, and finally, to Kon’s relief, his face smooths out into a smile. “Cool.”

And, mystery solved, he immediately loses power to all systems, and slumps into a deep sleep. When he starts to topple forward off the desk like a marionette with the strings cut, Kon swoops forward to catch him. There’s probably a bed somewhere in this microcave, but if there is, it’s completely buried by Tim’s boxes of files, and Kon doesn’t want to dig. He cradles Tim in his arms and carries him out of the cave into the uncharacteristically pleasant Gotham evening, and when Tim burrows closer into his chest and murmurs, “like you too,” Kon can only smile.

[jsprnt]

Americano PT. 10 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: wrote this in between study breaks, I’m totally spent 😭😭

W/C: 3.523

part nine

"So, uh- do you have any allergies?"

I mutter awkwardly, standing in the middle of the kitchen, eyes on Jude as he sits across from me at the kitchen island.

He folds his arms across his chest, raising his head to look over at me.

"Are you planning something?" He eyes me suspiciously, causing a tired sigh to leave my mouth.

"Shut up- answer the question.." I raise my wooden spoon, threatening him.

"No, I don't have any allergies. Is that good enough?" He replies, Brum accent making him sound even more defensive.

"Ungrateful ass.." I mutter, turning around and starting to work on breakfast.

I had slept horribly after last night’s events. I'd reckon- maybe, six hours in total. It was our day off- thankfully, but that didn't mean that I trusted Jude to rummage through my house on his own while I rotted away in bed.

My dad had called earlier, wanting to explain the situation to me clearly without leaving any important details out.

Apparently, last night Jude's place was broken into again. This time, he was at home to actually witness it happen. I'm not sure what transpired between the intruder and Jude. Since, my dad had told me it would be too invasive for me to know.

From what I knew, it was the same person as last time- or how many damn times this had happened. This case had been keeping my dad busy for months now, and it only found a way to piss me off even more.

Either Jude had the shittiest security, or- did he even have security?

"Can't believe I'm cooking for you.." I mutter, hearing the drag of his house slippers against the floor as he walks up to me.

"What are you making?"

I move away, so he doesn't touch me, giving him a side eye as I crack four eggs in a pan.

"Eggs.." I say, moving back when oil splashes up.

"Can you cook?" He asks, eyes moving in between the stove and my face.

"Kind of.." I say, hesitating with my reply.

I knew how to cook the basics. Say, your pastas and soups. Though, I like to think I'm improving every time auntie Carmen comes over to show me how to cook another delicious meal.

"How do you like your eggs?" I ask, raising my head to look up at him. He has a confused expression on his face and his gaze is fixed on me.

Fuck, did that sound wrong?

"More runny or cooked?" I ask, grimacing to myself as I sprinkle salt and pepper into the pan.

"You've cooked it- enough.."

"Oh, okay.." I mentally curse at how stupid I sound, looking away from him.

I quickly plate it up for him, not forgetting the avocado and barely toasted pieces of bread.

Well, too bad for him.

We eat our breakfast without speaking to each other. I can only hear the crunch of my bread and clatter of the cutlery against the plates.

I look up at him when I've cleared my plate, wiping crumbs from the corners of my mouth.

"How long are you staying?"

"Are you trying to kick me out already?"

I give him a look, raising my brows as if to tell him he already knows my answer.

"I don't know- depends on the situation.." He says, rubbing his hands against his gray sweatpants.

I sigh, rubbing my temples in irritation.

"Where's your mom anyway?" I ask, remembering that they literally lived together.

"I made her go back to England for my brother’s games. She's always spending more time with me- felt bad for the lad.." He answers, looking away.

"Last night?" I ask, raising my voice in surprise.

"No, during international break. I wasn't playing remember.."

"Oh- that's good, I guess.." I trail off, realizing we're going to be home alone for a while.

Silence falls in between us, and I begin picking at the loose threads of my old pajama top. It was old, but so comfy to sleep in.

"Okay, uh- let's clean up, and I'll give you a quick tour of the place." I jump up from my seat, grabbing my plate off the table, and walk over to the sink.

I look back when he doesn't get up. I raise a brow, sending him a questioning look.

"What are you doing? Clean up.." I say, waving him over. I watch him grab his plate and cutlery- a comical sight that had me struggling to keep my composure.

He places the plate in front of me, looking at me like he's expecting me to do something.

I step back, folding my arms.

Woah, he looked clueless.

"Do you even know how to do- like the dishes or laundry?" I ask, eyeing him up and down.

"Not really.."

"You're what? Twenty and don't know how to do your own laundry?" I pull a horrified face.

"Do you think it's okay to freeload?" I question, immediately grabbing his wrist to drag him upstairs to the laundry room.

Did he think this was a five-star hotel or something?

"I can't believe I have to drive you there. Why don't you have a license?" I whine, walking into the bathroom and seeing him fix his hair. The array of skincare, haircare and bodycare all on the counter in front of him.

Why did I think that he only used a block of soap and aftershave?

He turns away from the mirror, taking a step closer to me as I passive aggressively grab my toothbrush.

"Why wouldn't you want to drive me?" He questions, his voice full of mockery.

I wet my toothbrush and the blob of toothpaste, starting to brush my teeth as I look up at him.

"Do you know how crazy it looks for a staff member to arrive with a player in her car?"

I mumble, probably half audible, as I spit foam into the sink.

He grimaces at me, and I watch him take a step away from me via the mirror.

"Oh, you're dramatic.." I mumble, running the brush over my teeth again.

"Everyone thinks we're together anyway- does it even matter at this point?"

I freeze, turning to him with white foam dripping down the corner of my mouth.

"That's even worse.." I shake my head, giving him a once-over before starting to rinse my mouth.

"Pre-match meal is at...?" I question, waiting for him to finish the sentence while I dry my hands and mouth.

"Half past two." He replies, making me nod.

"Okay- give me an hour.." I say, quickly running to my room to change and get ready.

It was match day against Granada. Thankfully, after this we got some more days off.

We had to get to the training center early, mainly due the fact that I had become Jude’s private driver.

When my father told me I had to drive him around, I almost fell to my knees in sheer despair, not believing the torture I had to go through.

I didn’t even get anything in return, well, maybe I’d bug my dad for another pretty handbag- or two.

Pre-match meals are usually about three to four hours before the match. Normally, I could arrive very late and still manage to snatch a nice plate, but because of Jude - that wasn't possible today, and probably until he’s moved out of my place.

y/n's only half-way through her 'getting ready' playlist when she hears multiple loud knocks on her bedroom door.

"What?! Stop banging on my door! You don't even pay rent!" She shouts over the music, watching the door handle twist.

She turns away from her vanity mirror, makeup brush in her hand, as she sees Jude walk into her room.

"Who invited you in?" She questions, gasping when he goes to sit on her nicely made bed, wrinkling the fabric.

"Me, you’re taking so-” He begins, but he's immediately cut off when she shouts.

"Wait- shut up.."

She says, turning away to sing along with the song currently playing from her phone.

"We do the things but we know it's wrong

All on my skin, you all in my palm

I sent you a envelope, came with a poem

You possess venom that came with a charm

You get the good out me when I perform

I know the bad in you, that's what I want

And you a baddie, you turnin' me on."

Seems like she forgets he's even in her room, singing along to the Future verse while she dots a good amount of blush on the apples of her cheek.

He sighs loudly, continuing to stare at her from behind. She doesn’t notice at all, now way too invested into getting ready while listening to her favorite songs.

Jude runs a frustrated hand over his face, taking in the way she sings along with the all-too-familiar-sounding song lyrics, hoping she can hurry up soon.

"Do I have to take you home too?" I ask, getting up from the comfy chair I'm in. Following Jude towards the dressing room. Relieved after a 2-0 win against Granada.

The sound of his cleats hitting the floor is loud, and I stop right at the entrance of the dressing room when he stops in his tracks.

"I can call a taxi, probably.."

I search his face for any annoyance or anger, but don't see anything like it. Instead, in a strangely familiar way- his eyes are wide and expressive. He looks more unsure and uncomfortable than I've ever seen him.

"It's fine- we're going to the same house anyway.." I whisper, dismissing his words with a wave. 

"I have to go back to the training center though.. Can you stand tagging along with me?" I question, raising my brows in anticipation.

"Yeah, I'll just get freshened up really quick.." He says, stepping inside and closing the door since he was the last player to enter.

After saying bye to everyone, I sneakily walk up to my car. Almost jumping out of my skin when I see Jude already standing at the passenger door.

"What are you- get in.." I sigh, unlocking the door and stepping in.

The ride over to the training center is awkward and quiet, to say the least. I'm not in the mood to look through my playlist- and I'm sure he isn't either, by the way he's busy scrolling on his phone.

I park my car in my designated spot in the staff parking lot, looking over at him.

"Do you want to stay in the car?" I ask, unbuckling my seatbelt, and glancing at him.

"No, I'll come with you.." He replies, stepping out of the passenger’s seat and following me inside.

"I need to leave this bag here.." I inform, locking the car as the both of us walk inside the center.

He doesn't reply, not that it's necessary.

I walk up to the office, still hearing Jude walk right behind me.

"You're following me like a lost puppy.." I mutter, unlocking the door of the room I'm supposed to leave the equipment in.

"Okay, damn, I'll be downstairs.." He sneers, turning away and leaving immediately.

I shrug to myself when he leaves, finishing my business before going down as well.

I shove my keys into my bag, swinging it on my shoulder, then go looking around for Jude.

I enter the meeting room he and other players would hang out in, but don't see him. Stepping out, I look up from the door, walking in and out of the other meeting rooms.

"Where the fuck are you?" I mutter, reaching for my phone to call him, only to remember that I don't even have his phone number.

"Looking for something?"

I almost scream out loud when I hear a deep voice behind me. I turn, trying to not look like the person scared the crap out of me.

Oh, the creepy coworker. How fun.

"No, just dropped off some equipment upstairs.." I quickly say, rubbing my hand against my jeans.

I watch his eyes flicker to the keycard around my neck, which I forgot to take off.

"Coming from Bernabéu, y/n?"

Why did he know my name?

"Yeah, busy day.."

He stares at me, not saying anything else. I mentally hype myself up to say something, maybe to learn more about him.

"What's your name? We've seen each other around, but I don't know your name.” I say, shifting nervously as his blue eyes peer into mine.

"Andrés, fitness department. I'm new.." He says, sticking out a ghostly hand for me to shake.

"Right, nice to meet you. I would introduce myself too, but you seem to know already. How come?" His grip is tight, so I tighten it even more.

Give me a rough handshake, and I’ll break your hand out of pettiness.

"Everyone here knows you.." He replies, there is a harsh, but breathiness to his voice and it causes chills to run down my spine.

I clear my throat, realizing he still hasn't let go of my hand.

"Because of my father, yeah.." I fake a chuckle, trying to pull my hand back.

"No, not because of mister l/n.." My breath hitches audibly at his tone, and I try to snatch my hand back even more forcefully.

He doesn't even flinch, continuing to stare down at me.

"y/n, here you are.." I hear a familiar voice say, breaking out of this weird fucking trance.

My head snaps up, my eyes going wide, when I see Jude stepping out of the meeting room I had not checked out yet.

I use the opportunity to snatch my hand away from Andrés, rubbing my hand to fix my blood flow.

I watch Jude give him a look, death stare imminent when he walks up to us.

"Andrés? What are you doing here, it's late." He says, for some reason, slower than I have ever heard him speak.

"Work, busy.." He answers, trying to speak English with a broken Spanish accent.

Oh, he didn't speak English?

I watch a strange interaction between them, a jumble of Spanish and English. I try my best to understand, but it seems like both men throw in some gibberish too.

Finally, when they're done with their simlish, I'm grabbed by my hand, dragged away by Jude.

"What the hell is his problem?" I exclaim, still feeling my hand ache from the pressure.

"He's been fuckin' weird, don’t like him..” He mutters, walking ahead of me while still dragging me along.

I struggle to catch up with his long strides, his warm palm pressing into mine as he looks back at me.

"You okay?" He questions, stopping abruptly, causing me to smash my face against his arm.

"Ow- not anymore.." I mutter, rubbing my nose in agony with my free hand.

"Oh- shit, sorry.." He spits, his hand still on mine. I remove my hand from my face, raising my chin to look up at him.

"Am I bleeding?" A dramatic question, but you never knew with his rock-hard, muscular- arms..

I blink up at him, feeling his hand come up to my chin. He pinches my face, making me move my head.

"No, no blood- I think.." He breathes out, eyes roaming around my face to check for any blood.

I make sudden, close eye contact with him. His brown eyes catching mine, breath fanning my face.

We stare at each other for a moment. His hand still clearly on mine while he cups my face to look at me.

I realize the position we're in and step back. I eye our intertwined hands, looking back up at him as if to tell him to let go.

He clears his throat, dropping my hand like it's hot, and stepping back.

I decide to pretend I don't give a fuck. Ignoring the drumming of my heart, and grab my car key out of my bag.

"Get in.."

"Smash.." I say, maybe for the 10th time this hour.

"Oh my days, can you stop saying that?" Jude exclaims, a bewildered expression on his face as he looks over at me.

"Can't, it's Michael B. Jordan, and you want me to sit still?" I ask, earning a grunt from him.

"You're unbelievable.."

I ignore him, continuing to drool over the screen while I shove popcorn into my mouth.

"What are you going to do? You're off for four days.." I ask, sprawled out on the couch, in front of the TV.

"I have physical therapy every day, can't leave the city.." He complains, sitting on the couch across from me.

"Oh, how inconvenient- wait, who's driving you?.."

"Don't you worry, I've got someone driving me.." He sneers, folding his arms.

I roll my eyes, going back to watch the movie on the screen.

A hot man could make a boring movie so incredibly interesting.

"I'm not home tomorrow. Will you survive being home alone for the rest of your day?" I question, flickering my eyes back to him.

"Where are you going?"

"Taking my last exam, library helps me focus better.." I stuff another handful of popcorn into my mouth.

"Last one?"

"Yeah, I need to go revise a little." I sit up, pausing the movie, and getting up from the couch.

"Have it.." I shove the bowl of popcorn into his hands, walking up the stairs to my room. Ready for this exam to be over already.

“What the fuck was that.." I whisper to myself, hitting my head on my steering wheel repeatedly. I had long driven home from the library, not caring to step out of the car, parked in the driveway.

I had studied hours on end, but when I was presented with the questions, my brain practically short circuited, causing me to blank out so much information I needed to know.

I'm on the verge of tears at this point. Normally, after the last exam of the semester, I'd be jumping from joy, but the way this exam had gone- I wanted to cry buckets of tears.

I sniffle, wiping my nose with my sleeve. Not caring about the foundation stain left on it, and grab my bag from the backseat. I get out of my car, unlocking the front door of my house quickly.

I expect the house to be quiet, but instead I hear loud music. Old 80s songs, solely about love. Music only I knew auntie Carmen loved listening to while cooking.

I drop my bag at the front door, blinking repeatedly to hide the tears in my eyes. I shrug my jacket off, the December cold had come in full force. Though, to me, nothing was worse than winter in London anyway.

"Harina, say it, young man.." I hear auntie Carmen say in Spanish, a voice following behind her.

"Harina? Harina.." A broken accented voice says. I raise my brows, my tears and worries in the back of my mind now.

Curiosity takes over, and I immediately walk towards the kitchen, where the noises are coming from.

I'm greeted by the sight of auntie Carmen and Jude standing next to each other. Both wearing aprons as they are kneading dough on the kitchen island. Flour sprinkled on the marble as I hear Jude repeat random Spanish words, often getting corrected by my auntie.

She didn't even speak a lick of English. How did they even communicate?

I clear my throat, taking their attention away from the slabs of dough on the counter.

"Oh- you're home.." She smiles warmly at me, beckoning me over with a flour-covered hand.

"What's this?" I ask, stepping closer and speaking in Spanish.

"We're making pizza from scratch, sweetie." She says, giving me a kiss on my cheek.

"With him?" I point to Jude, watching him pound the dough with unnecessary aggression.

"What do you mean? Jude is so good at this, look at him go..” She smiles, saying his name with the utmost affection. He looks up confused, but I ignore him further.

What the hell did he do to make her like him already?

"Your boyfriend is a better cook than you already..”

I pull a horrified face, eyes going wide as my arms fall to my sides. I glance at Jude, noticing that he hadn’t even flinched at the words.

Thankfully, his Spanish classes weren’t so advanced yet…

I lean in close to her, whispering, well whisper-shouting.

“He’s not my boyfriend..” I say, pulling a face. I watch the corners of her eyes crinkle as she smiles.

“I know, I’m just joking. Your dad called me about this entire situation already..”

“Why would you say that, then?”

“He’s handsome, isn’t he..” She says out loud, making me facepalm.

First, he steals my dad’s time, then my house, and now my auntie?

I look at him, watching him knead the dough, a smirk forming on his face.

I want to strangle him right here and now..

It’s only been a couple days, and this was too much for me already.