#it feels too good to be true it feels like a dream n i'm scared i'm gonna wake up

[yndrgrl]

your boyfriend, katsuki bakugo, loves you dearly, but you're scared you'll never be deserving of him

cute lil dabble. lowkey songfic. fem! reader. angst to comfort. fluff. established relationship. any au. overthinking! reader.

warnings: there are none :D

a/n: picture a "too sweet" by hozier girl x "i wanna be yours" by arctic monkeys boy relationship !

-

katsuki is always characterized as hostile yet calculating, a man who knows exactly what he wants. he's destined to be the top of the food chain, everyone knows it. he's powerful man with a deadly gorgeous face, his fangirls would describe.

& in comes you. plain old you.

you honestly have no idea what katsuki sees in you. like, if you're digging deep in yourself, maybe he likes your for your dark, crude sense of humor that always seems to make him belly laugh.

it's said that he's an early bird. he's awake before you every single day, asleep & sound by 8:30-- on the weekends, he'll push it to 10:00. before you've said your first words of the day, he's already made his side of the bed, made & ate breakfast, put away the laundry, & is off to his morning run after his morning workout. his good habits he's developed early in life has benefited him in every way.

he never procrastinated on chores, his paper work is flawless, & you could learn a thing or two from his time management skills. he's always making time for spontaneous dates you wanna go on, festivals you wanna visit, & he makes sure that the pantry is stacked with your favorite snacks. any of your interests are his interests, even if he doesn't fully understand it.

when it comes to katsuki, you ought to wonder if he ever wants to experience something different from his strict, repetitive lifestyle. you sometimes feel stupid for wanting more out; you want to travel somewhere far away, you want to go out clubbing with a bunch of strangers, you want to move to the country side & live in a cottage. katsuki always reels in your dreams, encouraging you but also reminding you that you need to stay consistent to achieve them. you're jealous with how fast he can accept reality.

"babe? you listening?" katsuki questioned, snapping you out of your thoughts. you blinked a couple of times then nodded almost-too enthusiastically. he let out a little chuckle & stroked your cheek with his thumb. "what're you thinking about?"

"nothing, i'm sorry," you sighed with your hands in your lap. you both were on the couch, doing your own thing. he was on his phone, & you were supposed to be doing some work on your laptop, but you found yourself spacing out again.

"don't apologize. i'm just curious about what's going on in that pretty, little head of yours," he told you before he took your hand & pressed his lips against your knuckles. you thought to yourself, i'm not good enough for this man.

you debated whether or not to tell the truth. on one side, he has been your devoted boyfriend for years now, but on the other, he could just be asking out of curtesy. like, what if he actually does not care at all- "(y/n)? talk to me. i know you have something you wanna say," katsuki commented, scooting closer to you. he set the pillow that you placed your laptop on the coffee table so he could get your undivided attention. he caressed your thigh to help ground you.

you stayed silent for a moment, & he waited patiently. you swallowed, your eyes darted from his piercing red ones to the floor to his hands. finally, you said, "you're too sweet for me." he laughed & laughed, & you couldn't help but crack a smile. "what? what's so funny?" you pouted.

"sorry for laughing, princess. it's just no one ever calls me sweet. like, ever," admitted katsuki as he settled down from his fit of laughter. what he said was true though, he didn't have a problem with it. he was not sweet at all, he was rough around the edges & egotistical with the skills to back him up. he only ever thinks about himself & you. "but what makes you say that, hm?"

"well, for one, you always treat me out & take me anywhere i want. we never go where you wanna go," you pointed out, jabbing your finger in his toned chest playfully.

"that doesn't make me sweet. i have the money, & i don't fuckin' care about where we go to eat."

you chose to ignore him, rolling your eyes at him because that was his excuse every time. "two, you're literally in the prime of your life, & you choose to go to sleep at 8:30? how do you sleep so well?"

"(y/n), what is this really about?" he questioned. katsuki brushed your hair away from your face, tucking the silky strands behind your ear. "& don't lie to me, i know you."

"ugh, fineee," you groaned as you threw your head back. maybe it was for comedic effect, or to gather your thoughts & regulate the tears that started to well in your eyes. "do you think i'm like, worthy of you?"

"worthy of me?"

"yeah, do you think i'm good enough for you?" you rephrased, pulling your hands away from him to rub your upper arm. it's embarrassing to admit something, it's scary too. what if, once you point it out, he'll agree & leave you?

"'course i do! i'm the best around & i got the best fuckin' girl, why are you thinking this shit?" katsuki exclaimed, his passion that you wish you had seeping through to his tone. a moment of thick silence followed, you took a deep breath. you suck at emotions.

"you're too good for me, okay! you're so much stronger than everyone, & if that wasn't enough, you're insanely smart! i'm just... here. average at best. people praise you like the morning after an eternity of darkness. you're the rain after a heatwave. everything works out for you, & i'm just the one holding you back from even better things-"

"babe, you're not holding me back or whatever. you've never held me back," he stated like it was a fact, but you felt as though he was just saying that to calm you down. it angered you, & you were ashamed that you were angry because it wasn't even directed at him, it was directed at the fact you felt unworthy.

"no, you don't get it! i aim low because it's realistic for me, i can't afford to aim for anything else because i'm destined to fail. you, on the other hand... you have so much potential. don't you get embarrassed about having a girlfriend like me?"

"no." he answered so quickly, like it was rehearsed, like he knew what you were going to say. "i've never felt embarrassed of you ever. you're so fuckin' dense, you know that?"

you paused just to stare at him. katsuki sure had a way with comforting people. even after years of being a hero, he never learned how to traditionally comfort people. tough love, everyone would call it. but with you, he forced himself to be tender because you deserve treatment no one else gets from him.

there were so many things he wanted to say to you. don't you realize what you do for him? god, katsuki would go mad living without you now that he knows what life is like with you, his missing rib. the two of you are meant to be, you're two sides of the same coin. so what if he's as bright as the morning? you were his darling night, the very universe was visible through your eyes.

"you must be dense if you really thing you're just average. would i go for an average girl?"

"i mean-"

"no, the answer is no. you're deserving of love, my love. everything you've accomplished, everything you've overcome, you're just diminishing it because what? you think you're dumb or something? you- you..." you're the reason my world goes round, you are so talented, he was so desperate to shout these praises at you.

he was never one for romantic gestures through words. if he did, he would've been the best damn poet in the game. "i am yours."

it was such a simple sentence, yet it shook you to the core. you stared into his lively, crimson eyes. the look he gave you in return made your breath hitch; he was so deeply devoted to you, as deep as the pacific ocean.

you leaned in, capturing him in a kiss. tears rolled down your cheeks, your despair melting away. you felt like the two of you were kids again, sharing your first kiss. how could you doubt a man who so clearly, who so desperately, loves every bit of you.

[2hightocare]

INFATUATED!

“In a world of boys, he’s a gentleman.” — mini series ❦︎

Synopsis: The feeling of finding a person who makes your tummy do cartwheels everyday, no matter what the situation is.

Pairings: nonidol!jungkook x fem!reader

Warnings: super cute duper fluff, jk being the epitome of every girls dream man. Argument, oc crying, Jungkook wasting money on oc, banter, cussing, flirting. Js super cute cliché shit…

a/n: they’re my babies… they’re so ‘tear in my heart’ coded but after this I might be inactive. I have a paper due in three weeks 10 pages long so…. Plus in my free time I’m working on a series that I will drop the teaser and aesthetic maybe later or tmr🤍🤍🤍 enjoy!! Kithes.

Falling in love with Jungkook was so easy that it scared you. He did everything right, and whenever there was something wrong, he would do anything in his power to make it right. You thought it was too good to be true, and he would just disappear into angel dust if you blinked too fast.

“How do you feel?” Your boyfriend moves your hair out of your face, kissing your forehead in the process. “Warm.” You talk about the fever you have. The covers that were wrapped tightly around you are shredded from you. “Hey!” You pout, shaking from how cold you feel even though the air is off and it’s not cold. “You’re not going to get better, baby.” He pouts back at you, holding the covers tightly on his chest as you try to fight back for it.

“I'm freezing,” you whine, your eyelids fluttering shut as his palm touches your face.

“You’re burning, baby,” he lets you know while sighing.

You had gotten sick yesterday, which had started with a sore throat. You had thought when you would have woken up today it would’ve been gone; spoiler: it got worse.

Jungkook makes his way to his kitchen, opening up the gray cabinet in front of him. He pulls out the tray filled with medicine his mom gave him whenever he moved out around four years ago. He pops open the pill container, taking two small white round pills out before grabbing a water bottle and making his way to you, who’s curled up on his couch.

Jungkook feels like shit whenever he can’t do anything to make you feel better. It didn’t matter what it was; he would do anything in his power to make you feel better. Seeing you sick, your face red from how hot you are, your eyes closed, and curled up from how cold you felt had him thinking that if he could take away your sickness and be sick instead, Jungkook would choose that option in an instant.

He hands you the pills and the water bottle and watches you take them one by one. He remembers when you gawked at him when he took 4 pills at once and learned that you have a fear of the pill going down the wrong tube.

He also remembers that you prefer pills and injections instead of just medicine syrup. Which baffled him, to say the least; how could someone prefer an injection instead of just strawberry-flavored syrup? He laughed at you, which you just shrugged because it was the truth; you preferred to get poked by a needle than just drinking something.

“That’s actually crazy.” Jungkook throws his head backwards as a laugh rips out of his chest. “It’s nasty. I don’t care what flavor it is. I would literally throw it up.” You scrunch your nose, remembering the taste of the medicines your parents literally shoved down your throat so you could get better.

“Don’t get me started on how anything medicine strawberry flavored gives me PTSD till this day.” You shiver from the thought, which has your boyfriend laughing at you.

“I can’t breathe,” you say, your voice scratchy from your sore throat as you breathe from your mouth. “I should’ve enjoyed breathing when I could,” you joke, watching your boyfriend's eyes twinkle. They had a small glimmer to them, making you wonder how that could possibly happen and why you haven't seen it before with anyone else.

Jungkook had no clue how he ended up here… with a girl he met in a chemistry class that accidentally dropped sulfuric acid all over the floor alongside the beaker smashing into tiny pieces. He watched how your eyes widened as a small piece of your hair dropped beautifully in front of your face out of the low ponytail. You had tied it with a blue latex glove as a hair tie since you didn’t have one after no one in class had one to let you borrow.

That was two years ago; now here he was taking care of you as you struggled to breathe from your congested nose.

“Can I get my blanket back?” You pout at him, which he only shook his head with a chuckle.

….

“Get whatever you want,” Jungkook gave your ass a little tap as you entered the makeup store, your eyes widening from excitement. “Don’t say stuff like that,” you give him a look, which has him tilting your face up with his hand.

“Why, baby?” He chuckles, pecking your pouted lips.

“Because it makes me feel things, duh,” you whisper into his lips. He smiles into your mouth. His lip piercing sends cold shocks through your body that has you playfully shoving him away, remembering where you guys are.

“Get whatever you want, and then we can go to the bookstore,” Jungkook picks up the black and white striped little Sephora bag before pointing in front of you to walk.

You giggled as you started looking for the things that have been sitting in your phone cart for a while now. Jungkook follows behind you, stopping whenever you stop to look at the shelves for something before you drop the product in the basket in your boyfriend's hand.

“That’s really cute,” Jungkook mentions the lipstick tester you have in your hand. “You should get it,” he says, tilting his head at you, watching you open the lid being met with a reddish-dark color.

“Don’t you think it’s too dark?” You look up at your smiling boyfriend.

“What?” You giggle as you stare back at him. “You look beautiful,” he says casually, reaching for your beanie and pulling it down a bit more, fixing it. “You literally want me to die right now,” you joke. “Baby!” Jungkook laughs at the tone of voice you used.

“You can’t keep saying things like that without expecting me to literally melt away,” you lean your body onto him while he wraps his strong hands around your much smaller frame as you look up to him.

“I just say whatever is in my mind at the moment, princess,” he explains, giving your waist a small squeeze, making you squirm as the feeling made you ticklish. “Ah!” You laugh as his fingers dig into your rib cage, tickling you.

You push him away as he tries to continue to tickle your tummy. “Stop!” You laugh, trying to get away as far as you can from him.

Jungkook stops when he sees two girls around your guy's age pass beside you both with judging eyes. “Someone’s mad...” Jungkook whispers into your head as you just shake your head with a laugh.

“Let’s leave, I got everything,” you giggle, intertwining your fingers with him, making your way to the line.

When you guys finally get to the line, you are met with a pretty blonde girl, her dimples carved into her skin when she smiles up at you both. “Hi, is that all?” The girl said, you take notice of her name tag.

“Yes, that's all, thank you,” you smile back. “Find everything you wanted?” Genesis asks, as she starts scanning the products. “Yeah, thanks,” you say, playing with the strings of your hoodie as you see the price rise with each scan.

“Card or cash?” Genesis says, as she points to the credit card reader.

“Card,” Jungkook says before you could reply. He pulls out his black card from the back of the phone case, before scanning it through the white card reader without looking at the price. The machine makes a small sound, “here you go, have a wonderful day!” The girl says ripping the receipt before putting it into the white and black bag, handing it to you.

“Thank you, baby,” you say as you walk out the door of the store, Jungkook smiles at you before shrugging. “The least I could do, princess,” he gives your hand three small squeezes, which feels like he’s squeezing your heart as well. “It was expensive as fuck,” you pout at him. “How much?” He asks, “a thousand.” You cringe, scrunching your nose up at realizing the astonishing price. “That’s it?” Jungkook raises an eyebrow before reaching to the passenger side of his car.

“What! You’re crazy,” you say, giving him a slight swat. You watch as the side of his lips quirk up, making you mirror his actions.

“I love you,” you pout, as he leans into his car. “And I love you so much more,” he says, pulling you into him from your waist.

You tipped toe to reach for his lips, his lips mold with yours perfectly as you both were pieces of a puzzle. “How do you want the kiss?” He asks, giving your waist a squeeze. “What is this, a drive-thru? I get to ask what type of kiss I want,” you giggle, letting your forehead drop onto his chest which rumbles with a laugh.

“You get to ask whatever you want from me,” Jungkook rubs your back softly on top of your thick hoodie. “Oh shit,” your eyes widened as you saw the small print of your makeup on his black shirt when you raised your head upwards. “What?” He looks down to his shirt where you’re rubbing your fingers on the dirty print.

“I just ruined your shirt, baby, ahh!” You freak, which has Jungkook laughing while trying to reassure you that it’s fine and he’ll just wash it when he gets home.

As much as you guys had moments like this, you guys had your disagreements. They weren’t as bad where they ended in screaming matches or end up not talking for days, you guys usually make up the same day before going to bed. Jungkook loathed going to bed whenever you two fought; he felt compelled to make things right before even considering sleep.

“Why are you making me feel bad?” You say, your voice cracking, which echoes the fractures in Jungkook's heart. “I’m not, baby. It’s just... I can’t do anything about it,” Jungkook tries to reason with you.

“She was literally all over you, and you didn’t stop it,” you feel your eyes start to water before staring down at your converse.

“She’s my mom's best friend's daughter; I can’t just tell her to fuck off, y/n. I backed off. I can’t control what she does,” Jungkook raises his voice, a tear falling down your cheek as he addresses you by your first name, a departure from his usual endearments, which feels like a knife to your chest.

“Okay, then,” you nod, tears starting to cascade down, smudging your makeup in the process.

Jungkook's throat tightens; he feels like he can't breathe, feeling like shit. He watches you wipe your tears, small sniffles escaping your mouth. “I’m going to go,” you sniffle, turning your back to him and reaching for your bag.

“No, don't leave, let’s talk this out,” Jungkook implores, turning you around to face him. He reaches for your cheeks, wiping away the tears that continue to fall down your puffy cheeks. “You’re hurting me,” you say, with a sniffle.

“I know. I’m fucking sorry, baby,” he feels his heart racing, wanting to die for making you feel bad for caring about him.

“Why didn’t you push her away or say something? You made me look fucking stupid, Jungkook,” you cry, recalling the pang of feeling as Kailey flirted with him in front of his family, and he did nothing to stop it, leaving you feeling small and insignificant.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he kisses away your tears, trying to soothe the ache in your heart. “I promise I’ll shove her off whenever I see her, and if I have the chance to avoid her, I will,” he whispers into your cheek with each kiss he leaves on your face.

“Promise?” You whisper, finally meeting his worried eyes.

“Promise, baby,” he whispers back, holding eye contact with your red, puffy eyes.

“I hate making you cry; please forgive me,” Jungkook pulls you into him, hugging you tightly as if afraid you'll slip away. “I forgive you, just don’t do it ever again,” you sniffle into his chest, feeling the throb in your heart melt away.

“I love you,” he says, swaying you both in the middle of his living room.

“I love you,” you sniffle.

….

"But the Maze Runner is so good," you literally whine at your boyfriend, who is in the middle of changing his shirt.

"Yeah, but not as good as Spiderman," he says, poking his head out the shirt hole with a grin.

"Okay, true, but the Maze Runner is just as good; you need to read the book to understand," you mumble, trying to separate a piece of hair from your mouth as you curl another strand with your wand.

"You just have a huge crush on Dylan O’Brian, let’s be honest," your boyfriend chuckles, sending you a look through the mirror, to which you just roll your eyes back at him, acknowledging a) that he was right. b) he was literally right.

“Says the boy who had a crush on Fluttershy when we watched My Little Pony,” you say, giving him a 'don’t try me' look. His jaw falls before giving your hair a tiny soft pull.

"You said you wouldn’t bring it up," he laughs before shaking his head with a chuckle. "Well..." you just shrug.

“Fluttershy reminds me of you,” Jungkook stands behind you, his fingers playing with your freshly curled hair. “Until you act like a brat,” he tugs on your hair, making your head snap backwards, where he leaves a big fat smooch on your lips.

“Okay, princess, let’s go,” he says before unplugging the curling wand wire, grabbing your bag and coat, before holding your hand and leading you outside.

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

I wish I knew if any of it really means anythin. He doesn't love me n probably never will, that much I do know, but what about all the rest? The way he looks at me, bundles me up in his coat when I get too anxious n restless to sleep, the way he holds me n tells me he's gonna take care of me, does it mean anythin at all? If it's all an act then for what?

Is there a difference in the way someone cares for or is attached to a person or a pet or a toy he prefers over all the others? How can I tell the difference?

[teabringer-fics]

ocean of tears | aegon x f!reader

summary: modern au. alicent hightower calls you in the middle of the night to inform of you two things: viserys targaryen, her husband and the ceo of your company, is dead... and your employment is now contingent upon tracking down her oldest son, aegon, and dragging him back to hq before daybreak. later, a conversation in the dark turns into a possible lifeline for westeros's reluctant heir.

word count: 11k | read on ao3 (honestly recommended bc of the insane word count but you do you boo)

tags: corporate setting, angst, extended treasure hunt, grief, a bit of viserys bashing, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, a lot of plot, depiction of anxiety, boss/employee relationship, it's very long (i feel like i'm rattling off prescription medication side-effects when i do these)

a/n: i'm back on tumblr bitches! do all that good commenting jazz if you even make it to the end of this whopper pls 🫠🫶

This is gonna be torture/before it’s sublime…

You wake to the sound of a distant and yet insistent melody, distorted at first by the confusion of interrupted sleep. It takes your eyes a few moments to adjust to the pitch-dark, and by the time you’ve successfully fished your phone out from amongst the tangle of sheets the din has died, leaving you in a cold sweat, startled, imagining your parents in a fatal car crash, your sister, studying at Oldtown, gone missing in one of those bizarre, yet commonplace turns that lands her at the center of a true-crime podcast.

You tap the screen just to be blinded—”motherfuck” or something along those lines escaping your mouth—and are still squinting through the glare when it comes alive in your hand.

Alicent Hightower

Mobile

You slide to answer and raise the phone to your ear.

“M-Ms. Hightower?” Shaky and stupid even to your own ears. You glance briefly at the time display on the upper-left corner: 2:56 AM. At the other end, Ms. Hightower’s voice is posing a question which you fail to understand and, still reeling from the relief of knowing that this late-night, early-morning phone call has nothing to do with your family, you plug your other ear and ask, “Sorry, what?”

“Aegon! Where is Aegon?” Ms. Hightower demands. You tamp down the urge to repeat “what?”, although on the inside your thoughts are written in large capitals: WHAT??? The hour is ungodly, she’s scared you half to death, and how in seven hells are you supposed to know where her son is—you hold the phone in front of your face again, as if this will elucidate matters or else trigger your body into waking from its bizarre dream—at 2:58 on a random Tuesday?

Digging deep for whatever scraps of professionalism exist inside you at this time of night, you clear your throat and say, “Aegon? I’m sorry, Ms. Hightower, I have no idea. Has something happened?” The thought of Aegon Targaryen, uncontrollable playboy partier and heir to the largest fortune in Westeros, meeting a tragic end in a nightclub restroom, or wrapped around a traffic pole after five drinks too many, doesn't elicit the same panic response as thoughts of your sister’s hypothetical kidnapping. But you do register a sensation like a stone falling in the pit of your gut. It lingers at Ms. Hightower’s continued silence.

Is she crying? You strain your ears. There are no sniffles, no choked sobs that would indicate a mother’s frantic grief. Only a maddening stillness that makes your skin prickle and your heart beat, pounding, at the center of your throat.

Then it ends.

“Viserys is dead.”

You would think this three-word, straight-forward pronouncement would illuminate the perplexing state of affairs that led to Alicent Hightower calling you almost at the witching hour to ask about her son, but instead the silence widens in your head, an emptiness like a sudden fall replacing the weight of suspense, and it takes all your faculties to say, “Ma’am, I am so, so sorry for your loss. When did it happen?”

You might as well have not spoken at all.

“You are to tell no one, do you understand? Consider yourself bound by the NDA you signed upon your employment. No one is to know about this, not before we have a plan in place and certainly not before the markets open. This could be catastrophic if we don’t manage to get ahead of it.”

“I understand.”

“I am counting on your discretion.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you repeat.

You are buzzing with adrenaline, still sweat-damp and nervous but locked into Work Mode. Viserys is dead. So it finally happened. The man has been threatening to kick the bucket for years now—mostly in private, but of late hiding it had proven nigh on impossible. The papers speculated, blogs ran the gamut of gossip, and now the day has come, under cover of darkness, with his shrewd widow at the helm.

Her voice comes clear, urgent, utterly in command. “I know it’s late, but I need you to track down Aegon. He’s not answering any of our calls. I thought you might have better luck, being his personal assistant. I've sent Aemond and the Cargylls out to look, but so far no luck. This is important—probably the most important thing you have ever been asked to do. Aegon needs to show his face here before Rhaenyra does. His grandfather and I are doing our best to keep things afloat, but once news of this reaches—”

“Rhaenyra doesn’t know that her father has died?” you ask without thinking, your tone openly aghast.

Again, the silence.

“Rhaenyra,” Alicent replies, her accent sharp enough to cut glass, “will be informed in due course but this is about more than just her. The company cannot fall to ruin. I will not let my husband’s legacy be destroyed in a single night. For better or for worse, Aegon must claim his inheritance or we run the risk of hemorrhaging shareholders. Rhaenyra made her choice—she made it the moment she threw her lot in with Daemon. The time to act is now, before they make their return from Dragonstone.”

In the background, you hear the sound of a door being opened and closed, letting in muffled voices from a different room. Whoever the newcomer is, Ms. Hightower orders them to wait. “Listen,” she goes on, “I know it’s ugly, it’s bloody and it feels underhanded. But she’s left us no choice. Tell me now if you don’t have the stomach for it. If you refuse I’ll consider it your resignation effective immediately.”

Well, that’s no choice at all, is it? You like having a roof over your head, food on the table (not that you make it to your own table very often these days). Rent prices in King’s Landing are exorbitant. You need this job. You don't want to fail.

“I’ll find him, ma’am. I promise.”

“Good girl. I knew we could count on you. Bring him here when it’s done.”

The line goes dead, your phone dark.

Shit. Why did you promise? If Aegon’s own bodyguard can't find him, his own brother, there’s no telling where he might be. And to stake your whole livelihood on it? Seven hells…

“Shit, shit, shit,” you say aloud, taking five seconds for self-pity before flinging yourself out of bed and putting on the first thing you can find, probably your discarded work clothes from the day before. You yank your hair into a disheveled knot, propping your phone on the dresser so you can call Aegon on speaker, vibrating with anxiety as the dial tone rings once, twice, six times, before going straight to voicemail. Of course… of course it couldn’t be that simple. You try again, hunting for your car keys—damn the mess—and when he doesn’t answer, you yell at your phone, “Siri, call Aemond Targaryen!”

The call connects. Surely, Alicent’s most responsible, Type-A progeny will have the courtesy to make himself available to you in your hour of need.

“Come on, come on…” you mutter, letting out a triumphant “aha!” as your fingers close behind a keychain fallen between the cushions of your ratty old loveseat.

No dice. Once more, you are met with a canned voicemail prompt.

Beeeeep.

“Aemond, for fuck’s sake, answer my fucking call! I’ve spoken to your mother… Call me back as soon as you get this. Bye.” With that you swipe your purse from the minuscule kitchen counter and race out the door, pushing impatiently at the lift buttons, tapping your foot all the way down to garage level, racing to your car so fast that you knock the wind out of you when the door fails to unlock on the first try. You take a breath—pull it together—, point the fob at the driver’s side door, and wait as patiently as you can until the telltale double-beep of the mechanism letting you in.

The engine starts. You tear out of the underground car park and emerge onto a King’s Landing lit by artificial lights, active and just a little bit seedy. You pass shuttered coffee shops, bougie restaurants, convenience stores, residential buildings with spotless terraces and “For Lease” banners hanging out front, all as you white-knuckle the steering wheel. Viserys is dead… Viserys is dead… shareholders… market opens… Rhaenyra…

What a mess.

Your nerves are already frayed, which is why (understandably, you think) when the center console lights up and a ringtone blares from the too-loud car speakers, your foot slams down so hard on the brakes that it makes your head whip before a yellow light. “Mother save!” you curse—and then, seeing that Aemond has deigned to call you back: “Thank the Seven!”

“I can’t talk for long.” His smooth, chilling voice makes you shudder as it envelops you, and you reach to turn down the dial so that, at a more reasonable volume, he can ask, “Have you found him yet?”

What am I, a magician? You roll your eyes, trying very hard, and perhaps failing, to rein in the sarcasm when you say, “Um, no. I just wanted to touch base with you. Where have you looked?”

“His city flat. All his usual Flea Bottom haunts. The Street of Silk. I even talked to those worthless idiot-goons he calls friends.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay, well… that’s strange.”

“No shit.”

The light changes. You drive forward, headlights pointed towards Flea Bottom anyway, because never in a million years would you think to find Aegon anywhere else.

You sigh. “Never mind, I guess I’ll figure something out. Where are you?”

“On my way back to HQ. If Aegon doesn't wish to be found, then Stranger take him. Someone has to steer the ship and be there for Mother.”

“Right. Well, d’you know if—”

“I have to go. Call me when you’ve found him.”

Call Ended

You blink at the screen. Did Aemond Targaryen just hang up on you? Seriously?

Cold bastard…

In the three years you’ve spent working for the company, your feelings for Aemond have never coalesced. Some days, you prefer his company to that of his elder brother, especially when deadlines are tight and Aegon is, predictably, nowhere to be found. But there’s no denying that he sets you on edge, his brilliance and ambition matched only by his ruthlessness. If anything, he reminds you of a pristine besuited robot you could never hope to understand. For all that he holds you in something like regard, puts up with you because of your usefulness and because Alicent, in her own strange, imperious way, likes you, and you suppose that not up-and-quitting when faced with Aegon’s shenanigans affords you a few points in his esteem, at the end of the day, you’re one of the staff. Ceremony is for family. Hence, the abrupt hangup.

Annoyed, you try calling your errant charge again. “Please leave a message after the…” “Aegon, you little shit, I am not getting fired because you decided to get shit-faced in some seedy hole in the wall as a toxic grief response—answer your fucking phone!” Never mind. Too strong. Wrong tone. You press the command to re-record, putting on your best phone voice, aiming for gentle, kindly, reassuring. “Aegon, it’s me again… It’s fine if you don't want to talk but at least shoot me a text so I know that you’re still, you know, alive. Your mother is worried sick and Aemond—” Basically told you to go to hell and fuck yourself sideways. “—has been trying to get in touch. Please, just… send me a smoke signal… telegram… note-via-carrier-pigeon?” You blow out a breath, press End on the steering wheel, and note the time: 3:37 AM.

The thought that Aegon may have done something irremediably stupid returns. It’s not like you’re friends, exactly—not even remotely. You’re his assistant, a job which, shortly after you acquired it, you realized nobody else wanted. It’s thankless, literally; irregular, at times demeaning, at others boring to the point of tears, chaotic, unpredictable… But you’ve gotten used to the routine. You know Aegon’s moods. You’re used to him, and you’d like to think that, by now, he’s used to you. It’s not an ideal job by any means, but you get by and if, say, he got hit by a taxi cab after stumbling drunkenly into the street, you think you might actually feel kind of awful about it.

You call him again.

Still nothing.

Up ahead a familiar building looms, brick-lined, discreet. You feel ridiculous sidling up to the door and knocking in a pattern of tap - taptap - tap - tap. The door opens a smidge and a voluptuous, curly-haired redhead peeks out, her big green eyes blinking out into the dark. “I need to speak to Sylvi,” you say without preamble. Her face folds into a scowl.

“Well, I need a million quid and a stud with half a brain and a massive cock, luv. Patrons only.”

“I’ve been sent by the Hightowers,” you quickly say, shoving your foot in the door to stop it closing. “Just tell her that I’m looking for Aegon.”

She rolls her eyes, clicks her tongue at your request. Though she shuts the door in your face and you hear her footsteps receding, you hope that the overt name-drop will make her cooperate. Impatiently, you tap your foot in the street, watching a few people pass you by on the footpath. Nothing to see here, folks… I’m standing in front of a brothel but not of my own free will.

The door opens. “He isn’t here,” Ruby declares, crossing her arms in front of her—quite frankly—perfect breasts. Whenever you’ve had to pick up Aegon from his latest bender with the ladies of the night, you’ve moved through the vestibule feeling like an absolute troll. Sylvi must be paying her girls their weight in gold if looks are anything to go by. Perhaps it’s time to consider a change in profession…

“Really? Did she tell you that?” you ask, crossing your arms skeptically in front of your own less endowed chest.

“I’m telling you he isn’t here,” Ruby huffs. Fleetingly, you wonder whether Aegon’s ever slept with her, if he likes them bold and Botticelli-like, or if his tastes run elsewhere.

Nope. You throw the mental image of Aegon fucking anyone out of your mind. You are a modern woman, damn it—you don’t get flustered at the thought of good honest sex work… or sex… or your random, uncontrollable boss having it with Venus-looking women with perfect tits.

You clear your throat. “You wouldn't by any chance be lying to me about that, would you?”

“His brother was already here—tall one… delicious… lot more intimidating than you.”

“Cheers, but also, how dare?” (Upon further reflection, Ruby might be exactly the kind of girl Aegon would favor. They’re both equally annoying.)

“Listen, I’ll tell you the same thing I told ‘im: your guy isn’t here. Maybe he’s at some other cathouse in the neighborhood but I hardly doubt it. The madam doesn’t like being stepped out on, if you know what I mean. She’d have the arse-hair off any establishment that tried poachin’ her clientele.” She leans back, seemingly proud of having strung this rebuttal together.

You sigh. Back to square one.

“Thanks for the help anyway.”

“Nuh-uh!” Ruby holds out her hand, the sash of her elegant robe loosening, revealing an expanse of gleaming rosy-pink skin and the curve of her left breast. You wish you’d bothered to at least run a brush through your hair. “What, d’you I work for charity? I’m paid for my time, luv.”

“Clearly, I’m not having a good one!” you protest.

Ruby just stands there, wagging her palm in your direction until you reach inside your jacket and pull out your purse. This had better count as a business expense, you think, pulling out a fifty- and then a hundred-stag note.

“Is that all?” Ruby asks.

“Gods, are you serious?”

“I get paid twenty-five moons for a basic experience.”

“What experience?” you demand. “Freezing your arse off in the cold for no reason? I don’t recall getting off!”

Her eyes narrow. “Want to make it a full dragon?”

You zip your mouth shut and part with the notes.

“Ta!” Ruby sings, waving at you with a girlish grin and once again shutting the door in your face.

Aegon, when I find you… Grumbling, you reenter your car and call him again, but you know better than to expect a reply. Making a U-turn, you take a side road and drive parallel to the Street of Silk, looking for the favored watering hole of Aegon’s “worthless idiot-goons,” as Aemond so colorfully put it. His cronies may have helped him hide from his brother until the danger of discovery had passed; if that’s the case, you think you might strangle them all on sight.

“Well, if it isn't my Girl Friday!” The Honourable Leon Estermont crows when he sees you coming. “Fancy a line?” Next to him, Martyn Reyne is wiping his nose and throwing back what’s left of a dangerously pink drink. All around you, the club is a flashing hub of darkness interrupted by neon lights, the music thumping.

You knew enough to head straight for the VIP section located on the upper floor, and from this platform—if you even bothered to look—you could see a mass of bodies writhing down below. The air smells of smoke, alcohol… sweat, even sex. The idiot-goons are reclined on a tufted leather sofa, which disturbs you—you don't want to know what kinds of activities have gone on up here. You’ve never been invited. The most you’ve experienced is hauling a stumbling Aegon into a waiting car driven by one of the Cargyll twins.

Once, but only once, he almost threw up on you.

You prefer the brothel, if you're being honest. At least there, transactions are straightforward, the workers plain. You don't know if these two would bother pissing on Aegon if he were on fire. The thought makes you angry. You shoot Leon the fakest of smiles.

“Not for me, thanks, I like my neurons just the way they are. Also, I am not remotely your anything. When was the last time you saw Aegon?”

“Aegs?” Leon pipes up, nearly shouting to be heard over the noise. “What, is he missing or something? Those freaky bearded twins came ‘round earlier, asking the same thing. Bores, the pair of them.”

The song shifts from a techno beat to something raunchy, with a lower bass. It makes your bones vibrate, your head pound. Leon bends over the chrome table to snort more of Father-knows-what, then leans his head back, moaning, eyeing you up and down in a way that makes you want to hose yourself down with disinfectant. “Come on, Friday, take a load off! You’re off the clock.”

“Actually, I’m not.”

He laughs. “Aren’t you? That’s the problem with you lot—you don't know how to loosen up. And instead of figuring it out, you like blaming the rest of us for knowing the right way to live.”

The rest of us. You lot. The haves and have-nots.

Incredulous, you blow out a breath. “There is so much wrong with that sentence, but something tells me it would be pointless to even start. Last—time—you saw—Aegon—when?” You snap your fingers in front of his face, all pretense at civility abandoned. You want to hit him over the head with an ashtray.

“Sheesh! I don’t know! Two days ago, maybe? A day ago? Yesterday?” On his left, Martyn’s legs are splayed, mouth half-open. He’s drooling onto his own chest, probably snoring beneath the sound of obnoxious music. Leon doesn't notice at all.

“Fucking useless…”

“Hey!”

You stomp down the spiral staircase, feeling like you've wasted—you take out your phone: 4:50 AM—more than an hour of your life in a pointless search. Your eyes prickle with frustration. Now is not the time to give in to the panic-driven water works.

Brusquely, you go to your recent calls and tap Aegon Targaryen (14). Fourteen… the number is insanity. The man’s father is dead, what could he possibly be doing?

“Aegon, seriously…” you grouse into the phone, wiping your nose, too tired to hide the edge in your voice, the exhaustion, the anger, the—fine, you’ll admit it—worry. “Now I'm starting to think you might actually be lying in a ditch somewhere. I’ve looked everywhere, no one has heard from you… listen, forget about your mum, forget about everything just… pick up my call, you absolute fucking twat—”

“I could have you fired for that.”

“Aegon!” His name is a gasp. You don’t know whether to laugh or get on your hands and knees, kiss the floor and thank the Seven. “Aegon—where… what’ve you—wait.” Your eyes narrow into resentful slits. “Were you screening my calls the entire time, you blockheaded douchebag! Tell me where you are!”

“Phone died.”

“Well, clearly it’s made a miraculous recovery!” you scoff. “Tell me where you are, I’ll come get you.”

“’m at yours.”

“Come again?”

“Yours.” Either his voice is slurred or the reception in the area is shit. “‘m at your flat.”

“You’re out in the hallway?”

“No, I’m inside your flat,” he responds, and has the audacity to sound impatient at being made to repeat himself. “Fucking tiny, by the way.”

You stop in your tracks, having handed the valet a tip you can’t afford after your stand-off with Ruby. “And how, pray tell, did you manage to get inside my fucking flat?”

Aegon either fails to notice or doesn’t care that your voice is pitched menacingly low. “You keep a spare under the mat. Fucking mental of you, by the way. Is getting potentially kidnapped a secret kink of yours?”

“YOU USED MY KEY?”

“No.” You picture the exact movement of his shoulders, that little uncaring shrug that has, on more than one occasion, made you picture him getting pecked at by an army of ravening birds. “I had a copy made ages ago.”

“You Targaryens have no sense of personal property! Gods!” you exclaim, ignoring the side-eye you got from the valet, reentering your car and buckling your seat belt. You start the engine, feeling like you’re going out of your mind. The phone is pressed between your ear and shoulder as you sputter, “That is so… so incredibly wrong! You do know that, right? You do know that’s what’s fucking mental? You can't just make a copy of my keys and keep them to use whenever you fucking please! Just—ugh! Just stay there, you weirdo, and don’t go anywhere! I’m five minutes away.” Lies. You’re more like twenty, but you don’t want him to think he has a wide enough window to make an escape.

After violating what probably amounts to a half-dozen traffic laws and speeding all the way back to your building, you feel marginally calmer, except for the residual stress and the thought that maybe, just maybe, you’ll enter your flat to find Aegon vanished once more into thin air, your job gone along with him. You retrace your steps, taking the lift to the sixth floor, holding your breath as you try the latch and find it unlocked—so much for the judgments he made about your inadequate sense of safety.

In your absence, he parted the drapes just enough to see by, and in the meager light coming in from public street lamps posted across the way, you make out a shape bent over the dining table, unnaturally hunched, its head almost hanging over the edge.

Though the door shuts with a metallic clang that sounds like a gunshot in the deep quiet, not even this makes him stir, and but for the steady rise and fall of his back you would think him unresponsive, passed out like his feckless friend Martyn back at that infernal club. You round the table. Aegon shifts just enough to look at you and you can tell that his eyes are heavy-lidded, bleary. But alert. Conscious.

You let out a breath and feel your shoulders sag in relief.

“You look like shit,” you say to him. “Are you wasted?”

“Unfortunately, not anymore.” He makes a rolling gesture with his free hand, one of his eyebrows quirking in typical Aegon fashion. “Stone-cold sober me… well, maybe not that first bit.”

“Mhm. I’ll make you a coffee.”

At the machine, you take a moment to close your eyes and listen to the water steam and bubble before it begins to drip into a generic white mug, one you hardly ever use, being rarely at home. You had thought that once you’d seen Aegon in person—made sure he was all right, your job not halfway over a cliff as Alicent had implied—you might feel better, like everything was resolved, or at the very least no longer your problem. But all you do is feel confronted with a wreckage you’re not sure you’re equipped to handle.

You’ve seen Aegon drunk out of his mind before, bloodshot-eyed, raving-mad, slurring his words, stumbling, laughing maniacally, starting brawls that one or both of the Cargylls had to finish. But this… Dejected, broken. How do you deal with this? And then, even though you’re trying to be understanding, you can’t help the surge of anger that makes you turn around and stomp over to his side of the table. How could he be so selfish? To leave his family in the lurch, add to their troubles, add to yours?

You brace your hands on your hips. “What on earth possessed you, by the way? You disappeared! Do you have any idea—? No… Where have you—? Wait. You do know your father is—?”

“Defunct? Departed? Without ghost?”

Had he reacted more violently, you might've been inclined to pick a fight. Instead, Aegon’s droll resignation makes you feel like a world-class prick who just picked on an orphan.

You deflate, arms falling immediately down to your sides. “I’m sorry.”

Aegon snorts. “I’m not. Just wish he'd had the fucking decency to leave a will.”

“There’s no will?”

“Why do you think everyone’s going out of their fucking minds? It’s Mum’s word against Nyra’s. I say let her have it. Whole thing’s cursed anyway.” He sits up with a groan, puts his elbows on the table, rubs his hands from his eyes all the way to the pale tangle of his hair—Viserys’s eyes, Viserys’s hair.

What sort of a billionaire doesn’t leave a written will? The man had two wives, a conniving brother, five adult children, not to mention an international conglomerate with hundreds of employees and scores of attorneys looking out for its wellbeing—he had to know that being ill-prepared would've caused this kind of clusterfuck.

Carefully, you lower yourself into the other chair, watching your boss like a skittish animal you’re afraid of scaring off. “Aegon… where were you tonight? Not even your friends seemed to know about your father or where you had run off to.” He keeps silent. The machine lets out three ill-timed beeps and you rush to the counter to take the mug by its handle and set it down in front of him. “Here, drink this. You need to sober up.”

“What for?”

“Your mum wants you back at HQ.”

He shakes his head, crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Forget it! I’m not fucking going.”

“Fine. Just drink your coffee.” Just drink your coffee, dear, you might have said, sounding, even to your own ears, like a child’s mother. He narrows his eyes.

“She sent you to manage me.”

“I’m your assistant, Aegon! What do you think I’ve been doing the last few years?”

“I don’t know, making copies?”

“Oh, go fuck yourself!” The profusion of air that leaves his nostrils can’t be called a real laugh, but it’s close enough given the circumstances. You smile.

You watch him blow over the rim of his cup before he takes a sip, the motion childlike, almost delicate. You sit down and track the subtle movements of his lips in the shadows, his throat working as he swallows. In that moment, nothing is as important to you as the simple repetition of him lifting the cup and setting it down, over and over, until you’re sure he’s had at least half of what you gave him.

He seems lucid, sits straighter than when you first walked through the door, and you’re thinking now might be a good time to coax him into your car when he breaks the silence.

“He even had to die in the most useless way.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t tell me what I do and don't mean!” His fist pounds the table. One second he is glaring daggers at you, the next, he begins to cry—curled in on himself, shoulders heaving violently, his body wracked by sobs that suck all the air out of the room with a grief so vast you feel you’re drowning in it, flailing as you try to pull him back towards safer shores.

“Aeg…”

He tugs his arm away. Helpless, you try again, closing your hand around the delicate wrist, reaching for something, anything, to make the outpouring stop.

But nothing can make it stop. He cries until the tears peter out and he whimpers, clasping your hand, not so much for comfort but as an anchor. His hold is brutal, unyielding, and then gradually it loosens until the clamor subsides. Embarrassed, he lets you go and wipes his eyes with the heels of his palms.

He picks at his fingernails when he’s anxious. You can't see them in the dark, but it’s a habit of his you know by heart.

You ask the question because you want to take his mind off his father, because you’re curious and you feel like the answer is important somehow—to you, and to him. “What were you doing tonight, before you took my call?”

He freezes. His hands drop and he folds them almost primly on the surface of your faux-wood dining table, avoiding your gaze in such a fashion that you think, if the lights were on, you would find him blushing as well as stammering. He mumbles an unintelligible response.

“What?”

“I was at the Sept!”

“Of Baelor?” You lean forward as if this will help you picture Aegon Targaryen, of all people, resorting to a place of worship during a time of need. “You were in a sept? Willingly? And you didn’t burst into flames?”

“Fuck you,” he laughs, another breathy thing but stronger this time.

“I’m glad I didn’t wager any coin on your whereabouts or I’d be bankrupt right now.” Especially after Ruby. You tuck that story away for a later time, hoping it brings some much needed levity after the funeral or in the near future. There won’t be much humor, you know, in the days to come. “Why the Sept? I know your mother attends services but I didn’t think…”

“For the quiet?” he replies. “And I figured no one would come looking for me there.”

“Well, you thought right.”

“I have my moments… not that he ever thought so.”

“Aegon.”

He waves you away. “I’m not looking for sympathy.”

“Well, I think you're bloody entitled to it—if not now, when?”

He doesn’t reply. He finishes his coffee. The sound the mug makes when it rolls between his hands sounds like a marble, repetitive, ominous. “It was always Rhaenyra… He wanted Rhaenyra—are we all just supposed to forget that? Pretend it never happened? The last twenty years of my life—”

“Like I said, you don't have to go.”

“Is that what my mother told you?”

“No.”

“I thought not.” His bitterness, and the truth lying behind it, that Viserys loved his eldest daughter best and treated her half-siblings like less than a footnote in his life, hits you with a wave of restlessness. He’s right; there’s no use telling him otherwise, and nothing Alicent does now can wipe away the resentments of the past. It was always Rhaenyra.

It was always Rhaenyra.

You get up from your chair and rush to the sink to fill a clean glass with water. “Here,” you say, setting it down in front of him like it should cure all of his ills.

“You’re being fussy,” he complains.

“I’m being assistant-y.”

“You’re treating me like a basket case.”

“Well… you haven’t always been the steadiest bulb in the box, have you?”

You mean it as a joke, but Aegon doesn't take it that way. He slides the glass over and stares into the depths, his expression hangdog, miserable. “You’re right… I’m sorry.”

“That’s not what I—”

“No, I’m a nightmare to work for. I know it, my mother knows it… No one wants me at the helm—let Aemond fight our sister for it, if it’s that important to him.”

“Your mother will say you’re the firstborn son, the natural head of the family.” He scoffs. “There was a time—” A time when he took interest, when he had just graduated from university and sought actual responsibility from his father only to be made redundant at every turn. Let the more experienced men handle it. Keep quiet and watch. Your input isn’t necessary. You’re more of a family representative, anyway. Gradually, he had lost interest, lost confidence. If no one cared, why shouldn't he get blackout drunk during work hours? Show up weary and hungover to important business meetings? Say the wrong thing and blow up tenuous relationships cultivated over decades?

Aegon must be thinking the same thing. “It doesn't matter anymore,” he says. “Nothing—” Nothing matters anymore.

“Aegon…”

“Would you choose me?”

You feel your stomach drop.

“If you were on the board, one of the shareholders… do you think I could do it? Would you choose me over Rhaenyra?”

“I—” Your face heats, your mouth goes dry. You want the floor to open up and drop you in the basement, hide out on the next boat to Pentos. Of all the things he could have said, you would take anything, literally anything, over this. “I—”

“You can't even say it.”

“You’ve stopped trying, Aegon! Maybe if you did… maybe if you applied yourself. You have your mother in your corner, your grandfather, Aemond, people at the company who would take your side. If you wanted it—”

“Bullshit.” He snatches his coat from the back of his chair, stands fast enough that you actually believe him about not being wasted. All you can do is chase after him, grab his arm when he's halfway to the door, just to the side of your cramped, unused kitchen.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“I didn't come here so you could lie to my face! Me or Rhaenyra?” he spits through the gritted teeth.

This is do or die, you know—either you tell the truth and risk hurting him or shatter years’ worth of trust in a second. Even if Alicent pats you on the back and says “job well done,” Aegon will never want you again. He’ll drive you away, make your life miserable if he has to, anything to get you out of his sight.

Your throat is clenched almost to closing when you say, “Rhaenyra… I would… I would choose Rhaenyra. But that doesn’t mean—”

“What? That I’m not useless? That my father didn’t find me a disappointment up to the bitter end?” He turns away, and you can see his jaw clench, the shadow of stubble around his cheeks. “Are you close with your parents?”

You nod.

“Then you don't know. You never will, and there’s no use trying. Tell my mother you couldn't find me.”

No use. You tug on his arm, but he is determined to get to the door and manages to open it a crack before you push it closed, squeeze your body around him to act, irrationally, like a human shield between him and the exit. “Don’t go,” you plead. “I’ll tell her whatever you want, but don't go. Don’t go out there like this.”

You know exactly what he’ll do if he leaves the building: he may have given his vices a mostly wide berth when he first got the news of Viserys’s death, but now, raw with grief and anger and Alicent’s heavy expectations, he’s liable to find the closest bar and drink himself under the table and into oblivion. To call the dealers Aemond threatened six months ago if they ever sold to his brother again. To go off the deep end… for good this time.

Aegon frowns. “Why do you even care what happens to me?”

“Because.”

The word hangs in the air, inadequate. If you tried to explain the feeling, he might call it pity, and perhaps that's what it is: three years' worth of annoyance, resentment, frustration, concern, three years of watching him walk into the office with black eyes or reeking of booze from his latest bender, of watching him and his—admittedly—disgusting friends squandering their fortunes on women, drugs, and self-indulgent purchases. As a man, Aegon has proven himself to be crass, irresponsible, petulant, entitled, completely unreliable. But you have also, on certain rare occasions, seen the set of his face when he thinks no one else is watching.

The fear. The exhaustion. The way his hands shake beneath glass tables. The desire to please, and the ignorance as to how.

The truth is, when he’s not being an absolute tosser, you do see him as something fragile, to be pitied. If you said that out loud, he would hate you and probably fire you on the spot. And it might be for the best, you think. What do I want with this insanity?

But standing there between him and the door, his gaze boring into yours, the faint smell of alcohol, cigarettes, and coffee on his breath, you know that you do care what becomes of him. Even if he fired you—even if Alicent fired you—even if you quit—you would still dread the coming of a day when you would pick up your phone and find a news alert: Aegon II Targaryen, Son of Viserys, Dead at 25 or 26 or 30. It’s as if, in this moment, having been forced to look at him—to really look at him, not just as an unwilling charge, a fully grown man-child you’re forced to contend with every day to make your living—you can see his life unfurling, past, present, and future… ignominious, burdened, without purpose.

How can he stand it? A mere glimpse of it leaves you breathless. Exhausted from a night of fraught nerves and virtually no sleep, you feel your heart kick in your chest like a frenzied horse. How can he stand it? How can any of them? Who would want to be a Targaryen?

“Hey, hey, what's wrong? What’s wrong?” Aegon asks more insistently. He puts his hands on your elbows, lowers you to sit—for lack of a better alternative—in front of the door when your knees weaken and your body sags. “Hey, listen to me, you’re alright, you’ve just got to breathe… Breathe…”

Frantically, you shake your head. I can’t.

“Don’t be a fucking idiot. If you couldn't breathe, you’d be passed out right now. In and out… look at me…” He takes a breath. “In… out…”

It takes a few minutes, but the feeling subsides, leaving you trembly and more than a little embarrassed.

“What in gods’ name is wrong with you?” Aegon asks, stroking his hands up and down your arms.

“Long day?”

He rolls his eyes. “Tell me about it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be stupid, I give people panic attacks all the time.”

You let out a watery laugh.

Aegon shakes his head at you. “I won’t let her fire you, if that's what you're so worked up about.”

“That’s not…”

“You’re not my keeper. She should never have called you in the first place. This isn't your mess to clean up, you’re meant to take messages and go on coffee runs and… keep track of paperclips—”

“Stop trying to make me laugh.”

“Why? It’s been your cheap ploy all night. That, and fussing like a mother hen.”

You sigh. This isn't at all how the night was supposed to go. You were meant to be the helpful one, the adult, the one one in control, the one who could be relied upon. But you're not in control. Not of yourself, certainly not of Aegon. If anything, he’s the one sitting next to you on the floor acting sanely, not having a secondhand existential crisis like a world-class fool. (Aegon, to his credit, had the good sense to lose his shit in the privacy of a sept, without any witnesses.)

“Listen,” you begin, “what I said before…”

“Forget it.”

You don't want to forget it. You want to tell him “You tricked me into saying something I didn't want to say”, something you can't take back, something which, while technically not a lie, obscures a more important truth—what that truth is feels too broad and frightening and, worst of all, pointless, for words. And yet you want him to know. Too many people have failed to bother. The last thing you want is to be added to that list.

“I meant what I said… about Rhaenyra. But for the record, and for whatever minuscule thing it might be worth, I wish that I didn't.… I really, really fucking wish that I didn't.” His hand on your face takes you by surprise, his fingers sweeping against your right cheek.

“What are these for?” He blots your tears away, ones you didn't know you had shed. His voice is hushed and disapproving. Without thinking about it, not even once, you pull him towards you by the back of the neck and crash his mouth into yours. Clumsy and graceless, it is less a kiss than a desperate exchange of air.

Stupid, stupid… Something at the back of your head is conscious enough to ring the alarm, but it is Aegon and not warning bells that is most immediate, solid and real and here. The heat of his mouth. The sound of his breathing. The staggering hesitation of his tongue when it brushes against yours.

Immediately, as if barraged by warning bells of his own, he pushes you away. “I don’t want your fucking charity.” His words are snarled, dangerous. He is a wounded animal and you should let him be. But you can’t. The seeing—you wish you didn’t know him so well, not now, on this night and in this moment. You wish you could shove your knowledge into a box of indifference and leave him to his fate, to face his mother, his brother, and his half-sister, his father’s ghost alone, but you can’t. A fierce possessiveness buzzes through your veins alongside the shock and stress and fear.

You feel tied to him somehow.

Perhaps it's naive to want to save him. The Targaryens are a dying breed, a glorious capstone creature just before its inevitable extinction. Rhaenyra will never go quietly—in the end, they will eat each other alive, if not this morning, then some other day, and a different house will rise in their place. They always do.

There will be other billionaires, other jobs, other men.

But at present, the most important thing to you, more important than your job or your reputation or your morals or basic common sense, is to make Aegon Targaryen believe you… to throw him a rope and feel him take it. And you know—because by now you think you’ve learned the major ins-and-outs of him, the dark passageways, narrow roads, the winding alleys no one dares to travail—that the only way to do that is to hurt him. “You are… an idiot,” you hear yourself say.

His face freezes, only his eyes giving the injury away.

“You’re right, maybe no one at the company except for your own mother wants you at the helm. You’re late to everything. You don’t give a fuck about anything of any weight. You’re a fucking embarrassment around waiters, and half the time a complete dick to Aemond… although, granted, he’s a complete dick to you as well and has a stick up his arse that'll probably never come out without surgical intervention. Your friends are clowns—I mean it, fucking nincompoops with shit for brains. You are borderline actually an alcoholic, and sometimes it feels like you haven't bothered yourself to open a book in the whole of your existence. You have everything, stuff people would kill for, and you appreciate none of it. But I get it… You think I can’t ever hope to understand because I love my sister and my parents call me every week and send me nameday cars, but I do. I’d be like that too, maybe, if I had Viserys for a father. Maybe you’re right… maybe the company is cursed and the best thing you could do for yourself right now is take the next flight out to Lys or Dorne or literally anywhere on the fucking planet and forget about it—forget about your name, your family, the company, all of it. I can take you,” you say. “My car is downstairs, I can drive you to the airport, I can make up a story and throw your mother off the scent if you really want me to. But I also think you’re tired of being this person… You’re a shitty liar, Aegon Targaryen. Maybe the top seat isn't for you, but you're looking for an excuse to stop being the guy who lands on trending pages for being an eternal fool. CEO won’t do that for you… your mother can’t do that for you… gods know that getting high off whatever backstreet shite Reyne and Estermont procure definitely won’t do that for you…”

“Let me guess,” he quips, “only you can.”

“Ha! No, that’s—this is—that is not what this is. What, are you crazy? I’m not your shrink, and anyway, it's not like I’m being paid a small fortune every week to exorcize whatever the hell’s wrong with you and your privileged-yet-unbelievably-fucked-up family. All I’m saying is… work your shit out, Targaryen. Fucking communicate! Don’t let your father, of all people, have the last word on who you want to be, especially if you feel like he did fuck-all to deserve it!”

“Are you finished?”

“Done. That’s my two-cents. So you can stop your whingeing about pity and charity and all of that nonsense. Only one of us has their bed in the same room as their dining table, and only one of us was pulled out of sleep by your terrifying mother who whacked me over the head with an NDA before I was even fully conscious.”

“That sounds like her.”

“She hasn’t even told Rhaenyra that your father is dead.”

“…that sounds like my grandfather.”

You sigh. “I didn’t kiss you out of charity, you numpty. I—I just wanted to. I just really wanted to… I still do.”

“I’m no good for you.”

“Probably not.”

“You’ll end up hating me… you’ll quit.”

You let out a mock gasp. “No one to guard your paperclips? How will you cope?”

“I don’t know,” he says, dead serious. “Not anymore.”

There is no humor in the set of his face. He is all grim, all self-despisal, all—could you be imagining it?—thwarted longing. You are beyond the facetiousness he uses as a shield. He wants you. You can see it in his eyes, in the labor of his breathing, in the way he leans ever so slightly towards you and then leans back. I’m no good for you. You’ve decided you don’t care.

“Aegon, kiss me,” you whisper into the dark.

He’s on you before you’ve finished, kissing you desperately, with tongue this time, the slow wet drag pulling a moan from you which you have neither the time nor the presence of mind to regret before he’s kissing down your jaw, your neck. You feel his teeth scrape against the soft hollow behind your ear and you climb into his lap, ungainly, perhaps, but it matters not when you settle to find him hardening beneath you.

He groans into your shoulder, hooks his thumb inside the open collar of your button-up top to part the material and suck at your clavicle, while his other hand, on your hip, guides you to rub against the seam of his trousers. It occurs to you that he must not realize the way he’s writhing beneath you; if anything, he seems only half-aware as he rambles, underneath his breath, “Need you… gods, I need you…”, before ravaging your tongue again.

Impatiently you undo your shirt buttons. Aegon’s hand moves over your breast, first over your bra, then directly over your naked flesh when you fling it aside, along with your top, to land who-know-where. Your nipples pebble underneath his thumbs. You roll your hips. The placket of his trousers catches you directly and you groan, arching your back, bearing down on him so that a breathy, rumbling laugh escapes his throat.

Aegon’s laugh feels better than his tongue in your mouth, than his hands on your breasts, than the ridge of him growing long and hard beneath you. Oh no… you shouldn't like to hear him laugh.

“Should we get off the hallway floor, d’you think?” Only you can hear the nerves behind his humorous inflection, the wobble in his voice that tells you a part of him is expecting this to be the end, the moment you give in to regret or common sense and send him on his way, push him out the door and never speak to him again. He avoids your gaze, trains his eyes somewhere around the vicinity of your collarbones and he looks, in the faint light coming through your half-parted curtains, like a little boy bracing for the worst.

You pull his head up to your level, kiss him slow and deep, rock your hips, relish in the tightening of his hand around your waist. “Yes,” you say into his open mouth. You feel him relax, feel the exhale of relief that moves from his body into yours before he kisses you with renewed vigor.

He anchors his hands on your lower back, then throws you off balance, lowering your body onto the chilly tiles and laving down your neck to the valley between your breasts, slotting his knee against you—by chance, you think at first. Then his movements become deliberate, impossible to deny. His hands are all over you, running up your sides, pressing along the dip and rise of your hipbones. Your heart pounds beneath his lips. “This isn’t how we get off the hallway floor,” you protest.

“But your bed is so far away!”

“Not so long ago, you were calling my flat tiny,” you remind him, with no little store of resentfulness.

He grins—“I guess it’s all a matter of perspective”—and lets you turn away so you can press your palms against the floor and push yourself into a standing position.

Aegon stays on the floor, splayed, smiling up at you until you offer him a hand. He lets you lead him to bed, where your sheets are rumpled, the duvet fallen on the floor. Neither of you cares enough to notice. After laying you down, he takes the time to unbutton your slacks, take off your shoes, slip your trousers down your legs, pausing only to drop a kiss at the curve of your ankle, the side of your knee, the inner portion of your thighs. When the mattress dips beneath you, you know that he is kneeling at the foot of the bed. You feel two of his fingers going down your slit, over the gusset. Your breath comes in shallow pants. You aren’t ready, but there’s enough for it to dampen the tips of his fingers and make them slide through.

Your mouth parts, hungry, expectant. For a moment, your eyes lock, and you have enough wherewithal to freak out about the fact that he—Aegon, your boss, Alicent Hightower’s son—is looking at you with a fuck-me gaze and that you, despite all common sense, are pressing your clothed cunt against his hand and whimpering—actually whimpering—for him to touch you.

Between you the tension stretches, and then breaks. Aegon dips his head and puts his mouth on you, the heat of his tongue following the same path as his fingers. It glides and it flicks and it tastes you hard enough to make you throw your head back against a pillow, but it doesn’t make contact with your heated skin. You buck your hips against his face, pull at his hair, and he lets out a moan which, if you aren’t mistaken, is laced with a deep, buoyant laugh. He’s enjoying this… The thought makes your muscles clench and pulls a long, fluttery gasp from you. And then, only then, does he bare you fully.

The night air and his warm breath hit you in a way that has you squirming, halfway up the finish line before you feel his lips close around your swollen peak, suckling and laving, gathering your considerable moisture on his tongue only to spit it back out onto your naked cunt.

His fingers move through the mess, gently probing, rubbing circles against you one minute before he turns his wrist and enters you. You moan, feeling two of his fingers stretching you out. In truth, you can’t remember the last time you were fucked, probably around the same time you started working for the Targaryens, and now that the floodgates have opened you don’t know what to do, how to behave. As his fingers work you and he nuzzles his face against the top of your mound, his stubbled cheek rubs against your clit in a way that makes your breath catch and your toes curl, and all you can think is more—not just his cock inside you, but more… more of him… You want him to have you any way he wants.

You clamp your eyes shut and try not to think about the implications of that.

His fingers make an audible sound when they move inside you now. Between squelching and moans and the rumbling in his throat, the room beginning to acquire the heady smell of sex, you’re getting close, so close, to coming undone on his mouth. “Just a little more,” he hear him say to himself, “just a little more…” He brushes against something that makes your eyes roll, your neck tense, your legs spasm around his shoulders. You clutch the sheets and feel the silence that overtakes your body as the knot of pleasure breaks and you hang—back arched, tense—suspended over something that snaps and leaves you boneless, powerless, at his mercy when he withdraws to throw off his clothes and kiss his way up your chest, slipping his tongue in your mouth and notching his hips against yours.

You feel him hard against your tender core. He slides against you, deliberate, slow. You whimper and try to squirm away from him, but he nuzzles the side of your face and strokes your hair, makes calming sounds like the ones he would make for a nervy horse. He doesn’t rush things. Only holds you and touches you where you’ll allow, only occasionally bucking his length against your inner thigh. Slowly, the sensitivity subsides and you kiss him in earnest, restless and eager, moving your hand down to hold him, first loosely and then as tightly as he seems to like. His lips part. His breaths are ragged as he moves over you and thrusts his cock into your hand, the head damp, the length of him pulsing hotly in your palm. You think about stopping, pushing him onto his back, swallowing him down as far as he’ll go. But he stops you.

“Tell me this isn’t just because my father died.”

“It’s not,” you say, your hand going still.

“Swear it.”

Your first thought is What a ridiculous thing to say, but it isn’t ridiculous, not to Aegon. So much of his life has been defined by his father, by what Viserys did or failed to do, and if he won’t have the old ghost here, in the bedroom with you, well, it’s not such an unreasonable thing to ask.

“I swear it,” you say, holding one half of his face and staring levelly into his eyes.

He nods. “I think you might be the only person in the world who doesn’t think that I’m a fucking joke.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Aegon, can we stop bloody talking about your father? Fuck him! He didn’t know you.” Not like I do, is what you want to say, but too soon, too soon. You kiss him to stop the words from falling out. “I want you… I want you. Is that really so hard to believe?” You take his hand and let it delve between your slit again, to feel how wet you are, how ready. To feel the needy moan you push into his mouth… the way you angle your hips until his tip is nestled, just so, at your entrance. “Do you want me to swear upon the Seven?” you ask him, tightening your walls so he can feel you squeezing around his leaking cockhead, inviting him in. “I’ll do it if you want me to… Mother, Father, Maiden, Smith—”

Aegon puts his hand over your mouth. “Shut up or you’ll remind me of my mother.”

You begin to laugh, a bubbling, ecstatic thing which he knocks right out of you when he pushes in to the hilt. You gasp, only vaguely aware that you never asked him to wear a condom, but he feels so good, too good to stop now. He hitches one of your legs and snaps his cock into you, increasing the pace. You moan at the length of him, the breadth of him, the way his fingers dig into your flesh, the sound of his stones hitting the back of your thighs, rhythmically, over and over again.

His eyes are shut, his teeth clenched, you feel him trembling above you, torn between taking and delaying his own relief. Always something to prove. Annoyingly, he is dampening the moans in his throat just as you want to hear him—gods forbid you think less of him. “Aegon… it’s okay,” you speak into the curve of his neck. You kiss his shoulders, tighten your thighs around his hips, bear up on his length.

From his lips pours a sound of mingled pleasure and distress. He is trying so hard not to finish, but can no longer keep up with the measured thrusts he first started with. His pace falters, he grinds against you, fucks you deep into the mattress in a way that, had he lasted longer, might have drawn from you another peak. But it doesn't matter. You feel his body start to shudder and you want it, want him to cum, want him to come undone, want him to cum inside you—what are you thinking?—want him to feel good, want him to feel so good… Not even with a gun to your head can you later recall everything you said to him in those crucial seconds before he spilled inside you with a deep, audible groan.

You remain that way for an unmeasured length of time, arms wrapped around each other, sweat cooling, breath coming slowly back to baseline. Then, with a kiss to your cheek that is sweet and almost chaste, he parts from you. You wince at the loss, the mess pooling between your thighs, and for a moment you fear that this is it—Aegon will walk out the door like he’s done to so many others. Goodbye. Thanks for the good time. Instead, he rests his head on your shoulder, tentative, an uneasy dog craving affection but not wanting to get in the way. You kiss the top of his head, let him doze. Even when he shifts away from you to lie on his stomach and bury his face in a pillow, he keeps his arm thrown across your middle.

The gesture is oddly moving. You think about it until you wake, just a little after 7:00 and see that the sun is newly risen in the sky. For a few minutes you match your inhales to Aegon’s, his exhales, the brief pauses in between. You’ve never felt closer to him than now, and with that comes a feeling like he’s yours somehow. Yours…

He wakes on his own, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He turns his head to squint against the daylight, and though you’re trying to be chill and sophisticated about it, you hold your breath and wonder what his reaction to you will be.

“Seven hells,” he curses, burrowing face-first into his pillow. “Did we only sleep for two hours?” We. The little word calms you, even as he drags his body to sit at the edge of the bed.

Without overthinking it, you wrap your arms around his chest and kiss the side of his neck. He sighs, caresses your arms and holds loosely to your wrists. Soft as you can, you ask, “What’ll you do?”, and press your cheek against his thin, pale shoulder.

“I’m going to see my mother. I’ve kept her waiting, and I can’t just hide from her like some pathetic—” You squeeze him and he breaks off. “I need to speak with her. After that…”

“Whatever comes after that comes after that.”

“Wow… you’re a regular portrait of wisdom.”

“Hey! You came here, remember!”

“That, I certainly did.” From the smirk you see spreading across his face, you can tell he isn’t referring to the simple act of having walked to your flat.

Your face heats. “Idiot.” You say it without bite and it comes out fonder than you meant it to. He smiles. “Do you want me to take you?”

“I can manage.”

“I know… but you don't have to.”

“Fine.” The word is vulnerable. Immediately he has to clear his throat, stand, and begin to dress. You do the same.

You should really have considered having a shower, especially after the long night and the hasty sex (the sex… a part of you still can't believe it happened except for the dull ache between your thighs and the way you keep stealing glances at Aegon, remembering his hands on you, clinging, seeking, sorrowful) but there is no time. The markets open at 9:00. Alicent will want to speak with him before then, draft a last-minute press release, calm the shareholders, the board. As it is, you and Aegon are walking a thin line. You settle for picking a clean black dress out of your closet, and are in the process of trying to fix your hair when you feel him coming up behind you, his hands gentle on your back as he zips you up.

The gesture is so simple, so earnest, that it breaks down every pretense and you have to admit to yourself that, even if you’d had the time, you don’t want to wash him off or have this quiet moment you’ve shared come to an end.

In the car, he sits with his head propped against the passenger window, deep in thought, fiddling with his hands, and especially with the signet ring that depicts his family crest.

Try as you might, you can't read his thoughts and you don't want to pressure him by asking what he plans to do. He could very well be on his way to starting a war between his family, or he could end it—walk away, probably earning the resentment of Aemond and his mother. Either way, there isn't a right choice to be made, only one he thinks he can live with.

Once out of the car, he takes your hand and doesn't let it go, not in the lift up to the lobby, not when you swipe your keycard for the executive floor and the doors open to a hushed, semi-lit chaos. He doesn’t speak. He keeps his head bowed, wary, observant, but he is calmer somehow—you can tell that he’s decided.

Together, you walk around a small handful of department heads speaking into phones. Their assistants cross the floor, exchanging fretful looks while clutching file folders, tablets, cups of coffee. Along the far wall, glass-encased offices are mostly empty except for Conference Room 1, where Alicent Hightower stands at the head of a table at which are seated her father and the head legal counsel, the company’s financial officer, a few of their allies on the board. Aemond, too, is there, immaculate even at a distance. He is the first to spot them; his lips purse, even as his one visible eye remains defiant.

“See you on the other side?” Aegon asks, finally letting go of your hand. You tug his fingers before he can pull the conference room door and he turns to you, waiting, watching you rack your brain for the right thing to say. “Don’t worry, it’ll be all right” and its many variations seem like the veriest wrong, platitudes, lies.

“You can handle it,” you tell him at last, “whatever it is.”

Aegon appears doubtful at first, then he exhales. His face settles, his shoulders square. He has a look about him you've never seen before… Perhaps he and Aemond have more in common than either of them think. Perhaps he is more like his mother than he believes.

He strides through the door and everyone turns to look at him, the heir apparent or the prodigal son. You leave him to it, thinking, To war, then, or whatever it may be.

[churipu]

96 + 98 , gojo satoru

featuring. gojo satoru x reader

warnings. cursing, school! au, uses of the word 'pretty' to describe the readers' appearance // 2.9k words

note. i absolutely love the academic rivals to lovers trope, so here's a try on this trope. and i'm so glad requests are coming in :') i'll be getting to them after this one shot <;33

synopsis. gojo and you have never gotten along, maybe it's the fact he's the epitome of perfection. he has a pretty face and a pretty brain, who wouldn't like that? so you made it your job to try and beat him at that brain game of his, which never ends well. until you find yourself 2 points higher than him, with his help. oh, boy.

gojo satoru was everywhere. and by everywhere — i mean everywhere.

it was no longer surprising that everyone in school knows him, whether by his name or personally knowing him. it's a surprise if someone doesn't know him, really.

he has a pretty face, and a pretty brain. who wouldn't like that? he's got girls and guys fawning and bowing down to him like their life depended on it, but really, is that all to him? a pretty face and brain?

unfortunately, not.

just to top it off, like a cherry on top. his friendly and light demeanor has earned a lot of respect from people all around, even ones who were outside of school — and that shit, pisses you off. he's the epitome of perfection that it pisses you off, how does one look like they have no flaws?

you used to think that you were it. people call you smart and how they envy your intelligence. but ever since gojo satoru beats you at the one thing you solely thing you excel in (you think): your brain. you had a personal feud with him; which you were currently losing in, by the way.

pretty was never an adjective that sits well with you. you never thought you were a pretty person. back during middle school, you tried hard, constantly trying to make yourself pretty for the sake of others to like you. but at the end of the day, it's you sitting down in front of the mirror doubting yourself whether this was really you or a person you made for other people to look at.

so you settled down for the one thing you were good at: studying.

"fuck you, gojo." you muttered out, clutching your test paper with a big fat and raging red '92' on it along with a 'nice job!' under it, and the fact that it has a smiley face beside it gave you the ick. you just wanted to pour gasoline on it and set the paper on fire.

"just because i beat you in a calculus test? c'mon y/n, instead of that — why don't we just study together?" he swayed, holding out his paper that had a big '100' on it.

ever since you made it your job to try beating him with your grades, you've never find the pleasure in studying anymore. it felt like a chore, it felt like a chore to beat gojo satoru; and when it doesn't happen, you just kind of drown in failure.

and it fucking sucks.

constantly forcing yourself to study just for the sake of beating him even by a point or two, it didn't feel nice. but the thought of him winning yet again made you a little scared.

a 92 for a calculus test would be a dream come true to other people. it would be yours too if gojo satoru hadn't appear in your life, but reality check, he's here and he's just so good at it that it angers you.

people often called you "ungrateful" or a "try hard", honestly, at this point — you can't really help but to think the same. anyone would want to get a 90 in a calculus test, or any other test. but to you, it felt like defeat.

you won't be satisfied until you beat him.

beat gojo satoru.

"study togeth— are you fucking serious?" you spat out at him angrily, crossing your arms.

gojo leans on the stair railing and hums softly, "yes. one hundred percent serious, wanna do it?" he shot you the sweetest smile.

a smile that would send any other person to the moon and back, but the sight honestly just pisses you off. the anger you felt from him beating you in the most recent calculus test was already too much to bear, and like adding salt to the wound, he hits you with a "why don't we just study together?"

"go to hell." you muttered, walking away.

"hey!" the male calls out to you, as much as you didn't want to stop — you did, glancing back at him, brows furrowed, "we have a statistics test next week, maybe it's your time to shine."

his voice was teasing, and he said that with a big toothy grin. god, you just wanted to run over there and bash his face in, plastering a scowl on your face, you shoved out your tongue and walked away. gojo laughs loudly as you walked away.

the dreaded statistics test came, and for some reason — you were more nervous than usual. maybe it was the fact gojo was taunting you about it the other day? or was it the fact he was sitting right next to you, occasionally stealing glances at you with those striking deep-set blue eyes of his.

you'd be lying if you said the male wasn't attractive. but even the thought of yourself thinking about such makes you angry. honestly, everything about him makes you angry.

you look to the side and the male was leaning his head down, his cheek on his left arm as he scribbled on his answer sheet. noticing your gaze on him, he gives you a big smile, the crinkles at the corner of his eyes deepening.

upon that, your face contorted into one of disgust and your eyes averted back towards your answer sheet, which somehow looks...empty. it wasn't that you didn't know the answers to it, there was doubt in you, would you be able to finally beat him? what if you lost again?

but as time was ticking, you pushed those thoughts away and wrote down your answers. confidently. as your teacher commanded for everyone to collect their answer sheets, it was no surprise that the male sitting beside you was the first one to stand. trotting over to the teacher's table and collecting his work, he strides back towards his seat, shooting you a (mocking) wink.

a few minutes later, you stood up to collect your own answer sheet. students often wanted time to go in a rush during average lessons, but tests? they hoped time had slow down even just by a few seconds. it was dreadful, groans and aggravated sighs were heaved out as the bell rang, signifying the end of the test.

"so, how did you do?" gojo questions, standing undoubtedly close to you. too close to your liking, but you brushed that part off.

"why does it matter to you?" you uttered back, annoyed.

"woah, shit. somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed today," you sighed out exasperatedly, standing up to make your way to the school's cafeteria. one of the most atrocious place you could ever walk into — if you hadn't woke up half an hour later this morning, maybe you wouldn't on your way there right now.

but it is what it is.

"why're you following me?"

gojo groans out, "dream on. i'm going to the cafeteria to eat and hang out with my friends, not to follow you," he mumbles out, his hands shoved deep inside his pocket, "why're you always so angry with me? who hurt you?"

"you."

gojo was silent, he looks at you with a surprised look, "wait, really? remind me of what i did again because i don't have any records of picking fights with you...?" confusion.

you casted a disdainful look towards the male, prompting to stay silent to his nonchalant question-answer. gojo didn't pry on, the confusion still written all over his face, but he walked by your side slowly, matching your steps.

"i'm sure you're gonna beat me in statistics." he suddenly prompted, grinning brightly, "i didn't have time to study."

you groan out in annoyance, typical template of words people use when they know damn well they're going to ace the test. his words were answered with complete silence from you as you slipped inside the cafeteria, walking towards a section to buy yourself a meal.

and gojo, like he said — didn't follow you and parted ways right after you both enter the rowdy place.

"so, what's your score?" gojo whistles, leaning back on his chair as he holds onto a paper, looking at it intently.

you clutched onto the statistics test you did last week, blinking hesitantly, "ninety-eight." your reply was short, but at least it answered him.

a few seconds passed by and doubt started surging in you, maybe he had landed yet another perfect mark? maybe he's one point higher? maybe he's thinking of words to make fun of you with. so many thoughts at this point that you felt your head hurt.

"congratulations."

"yeah, yeah i— congratulations?" you turn towards the male, who was holding out his paper with the number '96' on it.

it took you a few seconds to digest the whole scenario. you actually beating him by two points? it might not seem a lot to other people, but to you? two points felt like you'd just won a competition first place with a gold medal.

the corner of your lips twitched upwards, "i did it."

gojo shrugs his shoulders sheepishly, he didn't seem too affected by your score, "guess you did. congrats."

the whole thing felt a little too good to be true, you tried doing anything to wake up from this dream. pinching yourself, smacking yourself, but nothing happened — this is real life.

and you finally beat gojo satoru in a brain game.

"oh my god, okay — i am freaking out a bit." you tell him, a small smile plastered on your face. in that moment, you wanted to just scream, shout, and let all your euphoria out.

"hold your horses, we still have economics next week." he chuckles, shaking his head.

but you were too ecstatic to hinder his words, standing up, you ran out of the class with sporadic steps. you jumped down a few steps of stairs and approached a vending machine giddily, inserting a bill and pressing on a big can of pop.

opening it with a slight 'pop!' you chugged down on the contents happily, walking all around the school property with a big smile that brought people into a state of wonder. asking themselves to why you could be this happy.

finding yourself on the rooftop, you inhaled sharply. letting the summer breeze caress your face lightly, you sat down around the corner of the staircase, scrolling through your phone happily. even to commemorate the day — you'd mark it in your phone's calendar, naming the day "the day i finally beat gojo satoru's brain power!"

hugging the device, elated. you look up towards the blue sky, was this it? was everything you sacrificed just for today? could you finally study without the burden of beating him in the future?

you hear the door to the rooftop open with a loud slam, flinching a bit. startled at how loud it was, and to your dismay, it was the deep, agonizing laugh of gojo satoru that made you freeze on your spot.

"y/n got higher in statistics? woah." you recognized that voice as geto suguru, one of gojo's closest friend besides shoko ieiri, "what did you do?"

at the mention of your name and last week's statistic test, your ears perked up a bit. gojo's deep chuckles resounds and he cleared his throat, "i could've beat them if i wanted to."

you bit the inner of your cheek silently, "could've? why didn't you?"

"i felt bad for them."

that was it. those three words were all it took to dissipate the ecstasy you felt for a short while. turns out it was all a fluke? you blinked in confusion, does that mean you beating him was all a planned thing he made?

"what do y'mean feel bad?"

"i don't know suguru, they look like they're trying so hard," gojo mumbles out lightly. even if there were no signs of mockery in his voice, still, you felt as if this was an unfair win for you (not that there was a win-lose from the beginning, you just made it up along the way).

the disappointment seeped in, and you felt a sense of languor washing over you. he was just letting you win, standing up slowly, you brushed your outfit — making your presence known to the two friends.

"you're a fucking prick, you know that?"

gojo looks back at you, his eyes widening the slightest bit, obviously not expecting you to be here, "how long have you been listening to us?" he asks you softly, exhaling slowly as if he had been holding a deep breath.

"it doesn't matter how long i've been listening to you, fuck you."

gojo's face fell as you began leaving the rooftop, he contemplated on chasing after you, but stopped himself from doing so. assuming you wouldn't be in the right mind to be talking to him right now.

or ever.

which was proven by the constant game of cat-and-mouse, he and you were doing.

"y/n, can we talk—" you brushed past him like he didn't matter, and gojo swore he felt his heart break a little when you walk by him, not even sparing a glance. but he didn't chase after you.

for the next couple of weeks, the male has been nothing but desperate. trying to reach out to you both online and offline, but much to his dismay, none of them had the feedback he needed to hear. and it fucking broke him.

"y/n, can we please talk about this?" he asks you as you took a seat on your assigned seat like the usual, but you didn't give him the attention, "please don't ignore me, talk to me."

he sounded so desperate. at this point, it was like the male was at school for you and you only. he just needed to talk to you about everything, get things straight, and live life like the usual. fighting about grades, teasing you about it, even if you return it with simple insults or the language of sarcasm.

he just needed that y/n back.

as you stood up, this time gojo chases after you, grabbing your wrist as you slipped away from the door, "talk to me, please," he mutters out lowly, his grasp so gentle.

you furrowed your brows and pulled your wrist away before turning away, walking further from where he stood.

"why won't you talk to me?" he asks you out, his voice echoing throughout the hallway of the third floor, "why won't you let me explain what i really meant by what i said that day? why won't you give me a chance to talk about it? why won't you talk to me?"

it irked you. he succeeded in stopping your walk, making you glance back at him in annoyance, "i didn't mean it in a way i didn't trust that you could beat me in the test," he said, standing in the same spot, the creases in between his brows deepening and a big frown latched on his lips.

"i see you everyday, ruining yourself to try and beat me. i can't fucking stand it y/n— you're killing yourself slowly. and i don't like that," he tells you, "i didn't even know why this was a competition in the first place, you're a smart person, why do you have to validate that by trying to beat my grades?"

you clenched your fists in annoyance. annoyed that he was somehow right on point. yet again, he was right.

gojo looks at you, waiting for an answer. his eyes profusely blinking as if he was holding back tears, which wasn't the point. you spared him an odd look, trying to walk away yet again. but the male was ready to hold you in your place, gripping your arm.

"why are you doing this to yourself?" he asks you.

"doing what?" you finally answered him.

"this. everything."

i look him dead in the eyes, "because i fucking hate the fact that you're beating me in the only one thing i'm good at. i don't fucking know gojo, the fact that i'm actually not that good at the one thing i assumed i'm good at is pissing me off — you're pissing me off!"

"y/n, what the fuck are you talking about?"

you pulled your arm away, "look at you. you're attractive and you're smart — i don't think i'm attractive, so i just try to be smart, but i'm apparently not doing a fucking good job at it too."

gojo heaves out a sigh, "so you think i'm attractive and smart?"

you look at him in disbelief, "how is that important right now?"

"it is important. the person i like thinks i'm attractive and smart," he tells you.

"okay, so what if i find you attractive and smart— did you just say you like me, gojo? what the fuck?" you asked him, very surprised and he sent you a charming smile.

"how is that important right now?" he questions back, grabbing your hand, giving it a light squeeze, "what matters is that you're not going to ignore me again, because frankly speaking, i fucking hate it when you're ignoring the fuck out of me y/n. i don't care if you insult or talk shit about me, just don't ignore me."

i look at him, mouth slightly agape, "can we talk about the 'the person i like' part, please?" you posed a question, still in disbelief.

"no. that's not important."

"yes it is important, gojo."

"so when it comes to my feelings to you, it's suddenly important? can we talk about your feelings to me after then?" you shook your head and walked away after that sole question, "that's a bit unfair don't you think? and why the hell are you walking away? come back!"

© CHURIPU 2023 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE !

[yan-lorkai]

Hi Lorkai! I really like your work! I hope I'm not breaking any rules, but could I request something?

So, Malleus hatched from an egg, right? I was thinking about a dragon egg magically appearing in his bed while he sleeps. When he sees it, he knows it's his and his darling's baby. Like, the egg manifests because he loves his darling VERY MUCH.

What do you think he would do next? Would he tell his darling about their baby, or keep it a secret? Would he use the egg to baby-trap his darling?

If you're uncomfortable writing this request, feel free to ignore it! It's alright, I understand. Have a great day!"

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Hiii darling (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ~, thanks for your gentle words. Wrote a little drabble and some hcs for you, hope you like it and have a good day /night too!

It was almost like a dream coming true, albeit a bit too early. Malleus was still courting his beloved, slowly expressing his interest through his gestures and words, but he loved his beloved so much that his feelings simply gave life to a whole new being. And as soon as he wakes up in the morning, his eyes water when he sees the egg, when he holds it and feels life pulsing inside. Malleus doesn't usually cry but he cries a waterfall while he holds his unborn child. He is just that happy.

His and his darling's child. Your child. He already imagine they would look. Would they look more like you or more like him? Would they smile so sweetly like you? Would they be sassy and funny like you? Gods, he already wished to meet them. Alas, dragon faes take a while to hatch.

Thunder rolls across the dark skies as a sea of ​​feelings passes through him. And while he holds the egg against his chest, Malleus sets out to find you and tell you the news. He knows where you are, he can feel it and in a shower of green fireflies he appears in front of you. Eyes still shining with tears and a light blush over his face.

"Meet our child." He says softly. Softer than anything he's ever said, so happy that he hands you the egg to hold while he explains to you how dragon fae are conceived.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Now, how Malleus act depends on how you react to the news. He could be a doting boyfriend (and someday in the future a husband) to you and an amazing father for the child. If you are happy with the news, he's going to be delighted, already planning your marriage and life in his mind, discussing names for your child and the color palette for their room. Overall the next days he's spending each and every minute by your side.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Though the moment the child is born, all of you are going home. A school is no place for a baby to grow up, if you still want to pursue your education then Malleus is going to hire the best professors to give you private lessons in the castle. And also to help you adapt to fae society if you are human.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ But if you are to reject him or deny being the other parent, Malleus will not take this lightly. The child is yours, no amount of denying will work. You may just be scared but this is no excuse to sprout lies, a new life was born for his love for you and dragon fae needs love from both parents to exist, or so he says. He'll guilt trip into becoming the other parent and to stay with him. He didn't have his parents growing up and he was so so lonely, his child will have both parents present, even if he has to use his magic on you for you to cooperate.

[mariclerc]

Iclawnic couple | cl16

Summary: your dream of dressing up as a Monster High character with your bestie comes true.

Warnings: none. mixed feelings and a bunch of fluff.

a/n: I've had this idea for a while, I hope you like it!! let me know if you want another part!

You and Charles have been best friends for as long as you can remember, you've been there for each other through thick and thin and you've gone to every event possible with him. And even his exes felt quite jealous that you were his friend, and you don't blame them, since between you and him there is a certain closeness and chemistry that everyone notices... Everyone except you two, of course.

So now you find yourself getting ready to go to a costume party with Charles wearing complementary Frankie Stein and Jackson Jekyll costumes, you are very excited because you have always wanted to dress up as a Monster High character and he has always loved the idea, so here you are... Frantically searching for the monster boots you had bought specifically for that costume.

“Charles! Have you seen my boots? You know, the monster ones! The ones with the big ass platform.” you say a little panicked, since you can't find your boots.

Charles, dressed in his Jackson Jekyll costume, but with a mischievous glint in his eyes, emerges from the living room to the bedroom.

“Oh my god, Frankie Stein please, calm down. We have all night, and I'm pretty sure those boots are eating their way out of the closet.” he says with a smirk on his face.

You glare at him playfully. “Haha, very funny. You know how important this is to me, this is my childhood dream!” you say and you stomp your foot, a cute and exaggerated gesture.

Charles chuckled. “I know, I know, my little monster. You're going to be the scariest Frankie Stein ever.” he walks over to you and helps you search for the boots, they were hiding behind a big box.

“You're the best!” you say softly.

There's a brief moment of silence, a charged atmosphere.

Then, Charles breaks the silence. “So, ready to scare some people tonight, eh?” he smiles as he look at you finishing getting ready.

“Oh, you bet! Especially those stupid costumes people come up with.” you say while grinning, you finish fixing some details of your costume.

He whistle. “Damn girl, you're going to kill everyone tonight!” he grins. “Although it doesn't matter if you go and eat their brains.”

You look at him, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “Oh, shut up you dumbass.” you say trying to play it cool.

You two laugh and leave the apartment to go to the party and see what the night has in store for you.

***

A crowded, noisy room filled with people in costumes, the music is blasting through the walls. You and Charles, in your costumes, are surrounded by a sea of people.

“You look so amazing!” he whispers in your ear.

Your heart skips a beat, you try to hide your blush. “Thank you charlie! You don't look too bad yourself, Jackson.” you say whispering back.

You two laugh while you approach a group of people in which there were several of the drivers and their girlfriends.

“Whoa guys, you two look so sick! Definitely the best costume of the night!” says Daniel raising his glass.

Logan's girlfriend nods. “Yeah, you two nailed it!” she says and you smile at her. “I like your Frankie costume, it looks so freaking good!”

Charles puts his hand on your waist, instinctively, as if his hand belonged there.

You smiled again. “Thanks! We've been planning this for ages!” you giggled. “It was like a dream for us.”

You feel a rush of emotions... His touch, the compliments, the attention. It's overwhelming, but in a good way.

“Yeah, it’s been a long time coming.” he says grinning.

You glance at him, your eyes meeting his. There's a silent understanding between you two, a connection that’s always been there but feels much stronger now.

Lewis speaks up. “Seriously, you two look good together.” he says and your cheeks flush again. Charles squeezes your waist gently.

“We’ve known each other forever.” says Charles smiling while you nod, unable to form words.

The conversation continues, but your mind is racing. You can’t stop thinking about the way Charles is looking at you, the way his hand feels on your waist.

The night wears on, filled with laughter, dancing, and more compliments. Every touch, every glance between you two is electric and, somehow, it feels right.

Suddenly, you start to feel a little bit overwhelmed by the amount of people dancing around you, you carefully signal to Charles, he was having a drink but was a little distracted.

“Charlie! I feel like I can't breathe!” you say while you fan yourself with your hands, your eyes wide with a mixture of excitement and overwhelm.

He smiles softly. “It's okay princess, we better go to a quieter place, okay?” he says and you nod.

He takes a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch your arm. You shiver slightly at his touch and you started walking through the sea of people until you reached a quieter place... That is, the kitchen.

A beat of silence passes between you. Charles’s eyes hold yours, a deep intensity in his gaze as you get to the desolated kitchen.

“It's just... It was a lot of people and I was getting so anxious.” you say softly as you get a glass of water. “And, well, you look... really good tonight.” you say in a whisper.

Charles smiled. “You look incredible too.” he says softly.

His hand slides down your arm to your hand, intertwining your fingers, you feel a surge of electricity between you two.

“I've wanted to be Frankie Stein since I was a kid.” you say smiling while you look down at your costume, a comforting familiarity washing over you.

He chuckled. “I know honey, and you're perfect.” he pulls you closer, until you’re almost touching, the scent of his cologne fills your senses.

“Thank you Charlie.” you say in a whisper.

Your heart pounds in your chest, you can feel the warmth of his breath on your face.

He takes a deep breath. “I’ve known you for what feels like forever, we’ve been through everything together... And I’ve always been there for you, haven’t I?” he says seriously.

You nod, your eyes locked on his.

“But there’s something more I want to be for you... Something more I want to give you.” his voice is low, filled with a vulnerability you’ve never heard before.

“What is it, Charles?” you ask him softly with a trembling voice.

“I’ve cared about you for as long as I can remember, but it’s more than that now. It’s something... bigger growing inside of me.” he says while looking you straight in the eyes, his hand moves to cup your face, his thumb gently brushing your lower lip.

You swallow hard. “Charles...” you say in a soft whisper, you can feel your heart racing.

He leans closer. “I'm in love with you.” his breath is warm on your lips. You close your eyes, feeling a mix of fear and exhilaration.

Slowly, you lean in and press your lips to his in a soft, gentle kiss. It’s a brief moment, but it feels like forever, as if it was destined to be this way for a very long time.

You pull away slightly, looking into his green eyes. He smiles, a mixture of relief and joy on his face.

“I love you too.” you say in a whisper while smiling and he smiled again, showing off his dimples.

***

Now you returned to Charles' apartment, you stand in front of the bathroom mirror, the harsh fluorescent light revealing the remnants of your Frankie makeup. A small, tired smile plays on your lips as you gently remove the false eyelashes.

“I can't believe we actually pulled that off.” you say muttering to yourself, you glance at your reflection, the Frankie Stein look slowly fading and a sense of peace washes over you.

Charles emerges from the bedroom, a lazy smile on his face, he holds one of his t-shirts and places it on the sink. “You look beautiful, even without the monster stuff.”

You blush, turning to face him. There’s a comfortable silence between you as you continue to remove your makeup.

“Well, you don't look too bad yourself, Jackson.” you giggle.

He laughs, a husky deep sound. “Oh, You don't know how grateful I am that you're here.”

He wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. The warmth of his body against yours sends a shiver down your spine.

You turned to face him. “Me too, it feels... Right, being with you.” you look into his eyes, your heart pounding. There’s an undeniable connection between you two.

Charles leans in, his breath warm on your skin. You close your eyes, anticipating his kiss.

Suddenly, a wave of self-consciousness washes over you. You're still in the costume, a little bit vulnerable and exposed, you pull away slightly.

You laughed nervously. “I should probably... get changed.” you turn back to the mirror, your cheeks flushed.

Charles smiles. “Oh, of course, princess, just let me close my eyes.” he said and covered his eyes, you giggled as you took off your costume and put on the shirt he had left in the sink.

“Now you can open your eyes dummy.” you say giggling. “Oh god, you're such a dork... but a cute one.”

Suddenly you start to feel a little tired and sleepy, the exhaustion of the day begins to take its toll on you, Charles notices this and carries you in his arms.

“Hey, put me down, silly!” you say to him, he laughs.

“Never baby!” he starts walking towards the room.

He lays you down on his bed and you lie in his big arms, your head resting on his chest.

“God, I’m so tired.” you say, letting out a yawn. “Wearing those boots was painful, I looked cute, but my feet hurt.”

“Well, you did have a pretty long day chérie.” he says while smirking. “And those boots looked painful, honey, I'm not going to lie to you.” he giggled (darling)

He kisses the top of your head and you giggled.

“Yeah, but it was worth it.” you smile sleepily while you snuggle closer to him, feeling safe and content.

“The prettiest Frankie Stein I've ever seen.” he whispers.

“And you are the most athletic and silliest Jackson I have ever seen.” you say while and you both laugh softly.

“Oh, my little monster.” he says while he tickles your side.

“Charles, please! Stop it!” you laugh breathlessly.

He continues to tickle you until you're giggling uncontrollably. “Alright, alright baby. I’ll stop.” He says huffing with a smile on his face.

He pulls you closer, holding you tightly. You close your eyes, feeling a wave of warmth wash over you.

“Oh, I love you, Charlie!” you say sleepily.

“I love you too, y/n.” he says while smiling. “My pretty girl.”

You fall silent, your breathing becomes slow. Charles strokes your hair gently, his touch soothing and comforting.

A few minutes later, you feel him shift. He carefully moves you to the pillow, tucking you in.

“Sleep well, my little monster.” he whispers.

“Sweet dreams Jackson.” you muttered.

You drift off to sleep, the sound of Charles' heartbeat a comforting rhythm in your ears, giving you calm by sleeping next to him, something you had done before at sleepovers, but now it has a much stronger meaning. All of this was meant to happen, it's like it was written somewhere, but it doesn't bother you at all.

[yo-yo-yeonkai]

AND THEY WERE ROOMATES - KANG TAEHYUN - NSFW

Taehyun x AFAB!reader

Genre: smut

Warning list: Roomates!Taehyun, dom!taehyun, sub!Reader, fingering, degrading (bad girl, dumb, slut, whore), praise (good girl), use of rules, talk of punishment, deprived of the dick she deserves, use of "sir', not proof read yet,

Word count: 1,255

Summary: You only put on your roommates shirt (to tease him) and you were only minding your business (you were definitely showing your body off) and he got cocky and claimed you were doing it purposefully (you 100% were, you needed him)

A/N: Early post for Taehyun’s birthday because I’m too busy to post on the day. Happy birthday Taehyun!!!

"You sit around in my shirt all day, panties out, nipples hard, and expect me not to stare, doll?" Taehyun scoffed, easing closer and closer to you.

The situation you were currently in had only ever been a fleeting dream, a thought that would stain your mind a dirty red, you had never thought it would actually come true.

Currently, you were sandwiched between your sofa and Taehyun. This, of course, was entirely your intention when you put on his shirt, no trousers... but his words and actions still had your mind going blank and shivers racking through your body. When you'd imagined how this may go, you'd never expected Taehyun to be so dominant, or frustrated by just a top.

His hand teasingly ran up your leg, fingers barely grazing your skin, almost like a tickle. You were so sensitive, shaking for him already pathetic. Sparks igniting your skin with want, need.

"it's so baggy, but even then it doesn't cover you properly. Every time you bend over I see your perfect ass." He pauses, running his hand further and further up your soft leg, only just reaching you knee. He was taking his precious time with you, making you wait.

"It hangs off your shoulder you know...I think you'd look better all marked up for me" he finishes, hand reaching the plush of your thigh and squeezing. Not gently like you'd expected, no, he dug his fingers into your skin, he wanted to FEEL you.

You couldn’t think of much but him, but you knew this was strange, even for a flirty Taehyun. He'd rendered you essentially useless with his stupid touches, and sultry words. "Tae, what are you doing?" You whispered, lacking confidence to raise your voice at him when he was so very close to your body. Scared your voice might break and he’ll know how desperate you are for him.

He leant over you, pushing you further into the sofa. "What's it look like I’m gonna do doll... I'm gonna fuck you~" he chuckles. Your thighs act subconsciously and squeeze together, encasing his hand in the soft plush of your thighs. A sigh escaped him as he spoke, "oh? And that's exactly what you want isn't it? Such a bad girl" He draws closer, expectedly.

He was looking for an answer, but you didn't have one, you were wordless, such a dumb fucking slut. He had you wrapped around his finger, but you just couldn't figure out how to comply.

He tuts, pushing his hand higher up your legs until he reaches your clothed cunt, panties wet with arousal. "Answer me slut~" He ordered, seemingly unsurprised by how soaked you were. He just knew you've been walking around the flat all day just thinking about him fucking you, such a naughty little thing-

You chocked on your words, but you got them out like he wanted, "y-yes... I was hoping the s-shirt would catch your attention" you admitted, looking away from him in embarrassment.

He grabs your face roughly and forces you to look at him, his eyes were a deep black, no twinkle like normal. He was hungry, and you would be his meal.

“it's rude to look away from someone whilst they are speaking to you. You really have no manners, huh? First you tease me with this fucking shirt, next you can't even answer me, then you look away from me whilst I'm talking. I'm gonna have to teach you some manners huh? Teach you how to be a good girl?" He pushes his fingers past the brink of your panties, the tips of his fingers instantly coated in the pool of desire between your legs. A gasp instantly slipped from your lips when he circled your clit. "Not gonna answer me slut?" He groaned, eyes darker than you'd ever seen them.

"I'll be a good girl! Fuck me!" You whine, grinding down onto his hand. He leans back so he's sat in between your legs, gripping your hip to hold you in place "first lesson, stay still. I'll fuck you how I want, you’ll take it how I give it… understood slut?".

"Understood" you whimper, nodding pathetically as he begins to sped up. He hums in approval "if you break a rule I'll have to punish you, do you understand that?" He asks once again. You nod at him, once again but quickly remember you need to respond "yes Tae" you whine.

He hums in thought before quickening his pace with his fingers, brutally fucking you dumb. He leans back over you, hand resting next to your head to hold himself up as he whispers in your ear "from now on its yes sir, you got that whore?".

You whine at the sound of his demand and moan "yes s-sir". His lips quirk up so sinfully, god he loved the sound of you calling him sir. He couldn't take the distance anymore, he finally closed the space between your lips as he kisses you. Each move was calculated, mastered like a skill.

His tongue slipped into your mouth as you moaned, seizing the chance to further take control of you, to use you like a puppet. Your tongues twirled together, until he quickly pulled back and bit your lip. Droll slipping from the corner of your mouth and lips swollen from kisses, you whimper "s-sir, please- wan' your cock" you beg. You were utterly pathetic, utterly adorable, perfect... absolutely perfect.

He tuts at you "is this not enough for you doll? Do you need more? Do I not make you feel good enough?" He asked, but it was all a trap, questions to make you trip up so he could punish you. He begged you'd slip up and break a rule so he could have you laid over his lap begging for him to stop as he spanks your pretty ass. He needed that.

"Feel s' good- I just need you" you whine, hands coming up from gripping the sofa to touch his abs, gently running your fingers down till you reach his joggers.

He tuts at your action, using his spare hand to grip both of yours, restraining your movement. A sly smirk spreads across his face, he'd finally caught you doing something else wrong, but technically it wasn’t a rule, so he can’t punish you yet. But he’ll make it a rule. You’ll do it again and he'll punish you, for your own benefit of course. 

"next rule, don't touch me, unless I give you permission. It's a privilege you have to earn by being good for me~" he teases, bringing your hands up to his face and licking your wrist teasingly.

"Sir, please, I need you" you begged once again, trying not to wriggle as he begins to finger fuck you again. "You don't get my cock till you follow all the rules. D'ya understand that whore?" He tuts, and suddenly the realisation dawns upon you, it sounds like you won't be getting his cock at all today.

You nod at him "okay, I'll be good, so good" and by that point you sound so dumb and needy for his cock that he's almost willing to give it to you, but he'll stay strong. He needs to teach you a lesson first. Bad girls who tease him don't get what they want, even if it's what he also happens to want. He wanted to fuck you stupid, drill you into the sofa, but not now, maybe later tonight-

[graphedpaper]

Renter Problems

yandere!celebrity x gn!reader

Synopsis: You're trying to find a place near your university to stay, and you've managed to find a mansion owned by a celebrity to live in. His name is Jacob, and you've known him since middle school, living in the same city as him. He's blown up as the new, hot celebrity thanks to the movie he's starred in, though, while you're just struggling to pass by. But he's been acting strange, and you're determined to .move out Details: Physical and verbal abuse, drugging, manipulation, gender neutral reader

Living with this man was hard. His constant need for your attention and approval, his strange comments, his overall eccentric way of living. At first, living in a celebrity mansion for a cheap price had seemed like a dream, but instead, it'd turned into a burden.

You sit up on the bed, leaning your back on the headboard and look out the floor to ceiling length window to see the sun slowly setting. You want to find a stable, normal place to stay in soon as possible.

You had posted an ad online so renters could contact you if their spot became available. You felt more secure with that back up in mind. You suppose thinking so much about Jacob attracted him because you suddenly hear a knock at your door.

"You there?" He asks, opening the door without waiting for a response.

"What's the point of knocking if you can't wait for a response?" You ask.

"It's my house, that's my door." He responds with a straight face.

"Sure..." You respond, not having the energy to argue.

"Anyways!" He claps his hand and points and you. "Want to watch my new movie with me? Pretty good if I say so myself."

You shift uncomfortably, bringing your knees to your chest. He's a bit closer to you now.

"Um, sorry Jacob but I feel a bit tired."

Jacob's smile drops. "What, you don't want to spend any time with me?"

"Huh?" You almost laugh out loud. "Do roommates have to spend time with each other? I'm paying my share of the rent, right? Do I have to be friends with you?"

Yikes. Was that a little mean of you?

Jacob would say yes, that was really, really mean of you. He was just trying to be nice.

Jacob sits at the end of your bed and you look at him confused.

"Y/n... ...Tell me the truth. Do you-" He stares at his lap. "Do you still hate me for what I've done to you when we were younger? Could you ever forgive me?"

You're stunned that he's asking for your forgiveness, but another part of you is hesitant to accept his apology, as you go through the multiple events where he'd picked on you at school. Small things, like name calling and throwing paper balls at your back.

"Oh! Um- well..." Your words falter. You have a grudge against him, but nothing so big that you would bring it up to discuss.

Jacob forces tears to form in his eyes and looks up at you. His glossy, brown eyes, all sad and red. It's fake, but you don't know that.

"Y/n the truth is I've always loved you. I admired you so much but I was too embarrassed to say my true feelings to you. Because I was scared of being rejected." Your stomach turns and you feel bad.

"I- aw.." You try to say something to comfort him but you can't form words.

You crawl to the end of the bed and you hug him. His big arms wrap around you as well and it feels more like he's cradling you rather than you embracing him. Your small form is engulfed in his arms and you start to feel calm. Jacob feels pretty good right now too.

"Jacob, don't cry, I'm sorry." You whisper to him. Sorry for what, you didn't fucking know.

"You hate me, right?"

"No! I don't!" You assure.

He gazes into your eyes. "Do you like me?" He softly asks you, not breaking eye contact.

You're speechless right now.

You part your lips and you're about to toss out some words about you and him having potential to be friends, but you're interrupted.

By Jacob pressing his own lips on your slightly open mouth. He moves his right hand to the back of your head supporting you and kisses you harder, pulling you in.

You gasp and push him off, jumping up on your feet.

"Shit! What was that!?" You exclaim. You stare at him, shocked by what just happened. You feel hot and dizzy.

Jacob looks at you. "Sorry." He mutters and leaves, locking your door on his way out.

You're left to be on your own, stewing in confusion.

It's not a matter of want now, but a need to move out immediately. Like the universe is helping you, you get a notification on your laptop about an available renter who's willing to rent out a cheap basement near your university.

You're leaving, tomorrow.

-----

You've woken up this morning feeling determined and energized. You've contacted the renter and you were supposed to move in next week but you begged her to let you move in tomorrow, and you've taken up on packing. 

Thankfully, Jacob is gone again, doing his celebrity work, whatever that could entail. 

You haven't seen him once since yesterday, when he confessed his love to you, then kissed you. You hadn't wanted to be kissed, or at least you think so.

On paper, maybe you should have enjoyed it. Jacob is attractive. He has loose waves and a pretty face. It felt bad, and gross, but it had also felt good, the kiss. Yet, you didn't think you could be in a relationship like that. With him. 

Who knows where that kiss could have gone. It may have escalated...

You cross your legs and squeeze your thighs thinking of the possibilities. You feel warm.

You should have hated the kiss. You did, but maybe not enough. Did you like Jacob? Oh my god. No, he was a total creep, and he hadn't even asked to kiss you.

He was only thinking of his own needs again, being selfish, just as he always had been with his inflated ego.

You've almost finished packing and it's early afternoon. You stretch yourself onto the bed and doze off.

-----

"Y/n? Are you home?" Jacob calls up. 

"Yeah, I'm here." You call down. 

"Come down, I brought dinner." 

You walk down the stairs and Jacob is in awe of your beauty. You have a glow. It's not the lighting, you're just a natural beauty, you're special. 

"Really? What'd you get?" You ask. Should you tell him the news that you're moving out after or during dinner? After, you decide. 

"I just got some Italian food." 

You smile at him. "Nice, I love pasta." 

"There's more to Italian food than pasta," He begins.  

You raise your eyebrows. "So no pasta?"

He grins. "Of course pasta." 

You're glad things are back to normal, because delivering the news will be easier now. Jacob unpacks everything and you smell the warm food, margherita pizza, pasta... 

You bring to the table 2 plates. 

As the 2 of you sit down, you stare at the plate most of time and eat ravenously. You've been so hungry all day, this is a blessing. 

Jacob tells you about the new interview he did, and how he had to sign "a 1000 autographs" 

Dinner is soon finished and Jacob brings out a bottle of wine. "Let's have a drink on the sofa." He suggests. You hesitate. "It's fine, everyone drinks Y/n, don't be so prudish" You relax on the sofa and taste the wine in your glass. It's fine, but you would really prefer anything else.

Jacob turns on the t.v. He sighs. "I've been lonely recently to an empty house, I'm glad you're here with me now." 

Aw man, why'd he have to say that? You freeze and the sentence you've been building up to saying gets stuck. You feel warm and fuzzy because of the wine. Your eyes feel kind of heavy too. 

"Speaking of- speaking of empty houses, I hate to say this Jacob, but I am leaving... ...tomorrow." You tell him, looking past him. 

Jacob stares at you with sharp eyes with that sentence. 

"What do you mean. When will you be back?" He asks, suddenly, and harshly, grabbing your wrist. 

"Jacob, I'm moving out." You say, trying to remain gentle. You notice the strange look on his face, it's not anger or sadness, or maybe it is? You're not sure. "I mean, I'll visit! Dinner at your place sometimes?" You add, trying to appease him.

He tightens the grip on your wrist. 

"Ow! Jacob, stop, it hurts! My wrist hurts!" You shout. You try to twist it out of his hand but it hurts more doing that. He doesn't let go. His eyes darken. 

"What, is it because of this kiss yesterday? You know, I'm sorry, but you wanted it too. I could tell." He asks, staring directly at your own eyes, unmoving. 

"Huh? Jacob you're ridiculous. I didn't want it, and yeah, one of the factors is the kiss. Also what you just said to me. Let go." 

"Don't go, stay." He tells you. 

"I've already made all the plans. I'm moving tomorrow. You probably didn't notice but I'm done packing." You retort back, trying to move away. 

Jacob slaps you in the face. The sting leaves you paralyzed in fear. "I said, don't go!" He shouts. He lets go your wrist and you notice immediately the numbness and redness on your wrist. 

You break down in tears and you start to scream for help. A neighbour, someone, anybody, to hear this and call the police.

But the alcohol blurs and softens your actions, like a terrible dream. Your arms feel weak. And that's when you realize that Jacob didn't have any wine himself. Had he meant for you to become intoxicated by yourself?

"Shut up!" Jacob barks at you and pulls you by your hair. "I confess my feelings toward you and you choose the coward's way and leave? Instead of working on this relationship?" 

"Stop!" You sob. Jacob stuffs a kitchen towel in your mouth and holds it their to stop your screaming. He then wraps it with a ripped plastic bag to secure.

You gag and almost throw up with the sudden intrusion of a foreign object in your mouth.

Holding your wrists with one hand he searches for something else. 

Jacob squats to your level and brings out a needle with a strange liquid already prepared inside. Your eyes widen and and your muffled screams do nothing to help your case.

"I didn't want to use it this early, but you're trying to leave. Leave us." He explains. 

"It'll hurt by the way. It's supposed to make you fall asleep. I think the alcohol is not supposed to be taken with this, but you escalated the situation so there's no helping it. I didn't want to do this. I wanted to have some fucking damn food with you. You're the one who's robbing me of choices and making me into a monster." 

Even in your panic you notice him rambling.

He's frantic and crazed, like a desperate maniac, sweat beads and wide pupils. 

He grabs your upper arm and quickly injects the strange liquid into your body.

 It hurts. 

All your muscles seize up and it feels like you're being ripped to shreds. Your body slowly goes limp and you feel yourself falling into a deep darkness. 

[badasgirlfriend]

hey! hope you’re having a good day, could I request bada x reader, they’re both competing in swf2 but it’s a secret relationship? thanks!

Loving In Secret | Bada Lee Imagine

pairings: bada lee x fem! reader

a/n: SORRY for making mina evil, just bc i made her like that in this imagine doesn't mean she's evil irl. Also Y/N dances Badas choreo when she battles against Mina

Y/N was holding Bada's hand as they were watching their teams group evaluation. Bada had told her she had nothing to worry about but she still cared, despite trying to put up a tough front.

"I told you not to worry," Bada reassured. "There's nothing to be scared of."

"Yeah, I know." Y/N smiled back nervously, squeezing Bada's hand. "I'm just a bit worried about what they'll say about the girls."

Y/N and Bada have been dating for three years, a secret known only to their team. The team frequently teased the pair, even referring to them as their parents.

While Y/N and Bada wouldn't admit it to anyone, they were secretly terrified of the reactions they would receive if they made their relationship public. The team was their safe space, but the outside world was full of judgements and potential consequences. Despite their love, they weren't sure if it was a risk they could take.

Y/N was now more energized and focused as the video playing of the other teams talking about them began. "Who's the most successful there? Bada and Y/N" Y/N rolled her eyes when she saw Mina talking

"Bada is taking over the choreography world," Lia Kim said making Y/N squeeze Bada's hand, her smile growing wider.

"Why don't we get closer" Bada suggested, now that the girls were offering up their harsh criticism. Y/N and her members followed along, stopping near her.

"Bada and Y/N are more popular than their own talent"

"Y/N is just a pretty face nothing more. When you see her dance you don't get excited"

"When you look at her students they just look like Bada's copycats." a member of Mannequin said

Y/N let out a chuckle, she was starting to become really frustrated, everything they said wasn't true. They felt threatened by her members since they are young and talented, of course they're up for criticism but not this harsh

Then Mina showed up once more and Y/N knew that she was gonna talk about her again. "Y/N may profess to be a dancer, but in reality, she's just a little poser, someone who tries too hard to be cool and trendy without having the true skills or experience to back it up. Honestly if it wasn't for her pretty face and-" Mina paused, holding her fingers up and gently brushing them together, indicating money in a gesture. "No agency would accept her. She's BEBEs downfall,"

Y/N knew that she and Mina had a history of disagreements. Although Mina had started it, that didn't mean she had to downgrade and not credit the girl about her hard work over the years. While it was true that her family was wealthy, it didn't mean that her success came simply from her privileged background. She had put in the time and effort to make her dreams a reality.

Y/N disliked Mina for sure, but she would never speak of her in such a condescending and harsh manner. The words Mina used went beyond criticism

Before she could say anything, Bada beat her to it. The tall girl let out a chilly laugh, her sharp gaze drawing everyone's attention. Y/N looked at her girlfriend, her tongue pressed against her cheek as she stared at the TV. Her arms were resting on her head and her expression was bland and emotionless.

"I didn't like that." Bada said, her tone cold, she returned to her seat, her body language stiff and her eyes filled with cold fury. Y/N was well aware of her mood, knowing that her girlfriend was extremely angry. She could feel the tension build in the air, and she was certain that Bada was not about to forgive and forget the matter. If anything, it seemed like she was about to unleash a storm.

"Calm down, you know what she said wasn't true, it was just meant to get under your skin." The younger girl, Cheche, said to the couple as they sat down.

Bada could not calm down. Not when someone spoke to Y/N in that way. She didn't mind if people said whatever they wanted to her, it didn't bother her at all. But when they talked about Y/N, that's when her temper flared. She was protective of her girlfriend and would always stand up for her against any kind of disrespect or unfair treatment. Y/N was her main priority, and it didn't matter what anyone else thought. Bada was not about to let anyone step on her or Y/N in any way, shape or form. As for Mina Young she her team will have it coming

A large text appeared on the screen, stating "NO RESPECT." It stayed there for a few seconds, drawing the attention of the whole room. Y/N's eyes widened as she saw that she had received five NO RESPECTs, and she couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

"Cute" Y/N said showing her her girlfriend the stickers she got, Bada looked at her and smiled, hugging her sideways.

After Tsubakill, Mannequin and Wolf'lo's evaluation video was over, it was now Deep n Daps' turn. Y/N and Bada both sat up straight, eagerly awaiting for them. The tension was thick in the air, and everyones eyes were on the duo

Yells could be heard coming from the green team as they entered the large studio, their voices echoing off the walls. Mina felt someone's eyes on her while they were walking downstairs. She looked over at the BEBE team and was startled to see the hostile glare from Y/N and Bada. The tension was thick, and Mina felt her heart rate quicken as she felt a chill run down her spine.

She gulped and broke eye contact, making Y/N scoff and shake her head. But Bada was still glaring at Mina until her team sat down, and the evaluation for Deep n Daps finally began.

After every team was done, the staff informed the girls that they could now go change for their upcoming No Respect battle.

Y/N entered the changing room, she wore her white low rise sweatpants, which made her figure pop. A baby blue scoop back bra emphasized her features and added a touch of style. She grabbed her Bebe jersey with her name on the back, but Bada grabbed her making her flinch.

"You scared me"

"You get scared easily baby" "Bada chuckled and said,

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes and pouted her lips. Bada gave her signature smile and kissed her softly, drawing her close as she caressed her cheek.

"Here," Bada offered, passing her jersey over "Wear mine and I'll wear yours" Y/N sighed, about to say no, when Bada interrupted. "No one will mistake us for a couple. Best friends exchange clothes all the time," Bada explained, her words making perfect sense.

"But it's not just any jersey, Bada. It has your name on it," Y/N protested.

Bada groaned, her forehead meeting Y/N's. "Come on," she pleaded.

"Bada-"

Bada cut her off, kissing her tenderly. Y/N melted into the kiss, giving in to the moment. Their eyes were closed, their minds focused solely on the feeling of their mouths meeting.

Their kiss was stopped, as they were interrupted by a sudden knock at the door. 'Keep it PG, bitches,' Tatter's voice rang out, followed by the light laughter of the other girls.

"Here," Y/N gave her jersey to Bada "We need to get going if we don't want to be late," she adds.

She then promptly pulls the jersey over her head, her shoulders slipping into the fabric, the the jersey falling down past her hips and to her thighs.

˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊

"LETS GO BADA LEE!" Y/N cheered, full of energy as it is her girlfriend's turn to dance. Redy picking Bada as her no respect dancer was a big mistake, but nonetheless Y/N loved the confidence

Y/N laughed as Bada came really close to Redy, mocking her for her height, she didn't even look at her she just looked above her head. She was really glad she was tall, almost as Bada, so her girlfriend couldn't tease Y/N about her height

Y/N's eyes remained fixed on Bada's body, her gaze never wavering from the dancer. She saw Bada dance a hundred times and it still left her speechless "SEXY!," Y/N exclaimed, she shook Tatters's shoulder, trying to contain her excitement.

As Bada's dance ended, everyone were on the edge of their seats, waiting eagerly to see which card the judges would display. The BEBE team erupted with joy and excitement, jumping up and down as all three judges turned over BEBE's card. Y/N quickly embraced Bada, her arms tightly wrapped around her girlfriend

After an hour of everyone battling each other, Y/N went up against Redlic and Mimi, she won both battles securing more wins for BEBE

"Y/N of BEBE, please pick your No Respect Dancer" the host Kang Daniel called out her name making her smirk as her eyes immediately met with Minas

As Y/N stood up, her friends cheered loudly for her and began patting her shoulder

"The dancer I don't respect is Mina Myoung from Deep N Dap," Y/N immediately stated, not wasting any time to think about the decision.

A collective "Ooh" could be heard as Mina slowly rose to her feet. She wouldn't admit it but she was anxious about this battle, already knowing she will loose

As Mina stood in front of Y/N, she brought the microphone to her lips. "You talk too much, Mina," she stated confidently, turning over the mic to Tatter. Bada cheered loudly in support of her girlfriend. Even those from other teams, who had developed a growing dislike towards the Deep N Dap leader, joined in the celebration.

"Truth hurts Y/N," Mina's voice cracked, a subtle but clear sign of her anger. "This battle will prove what I said," she continued, her words filled with determination and confidence.

Y/N chuckled as she witnessed Mina's annoyance. She then offered a mocking curtsy in anticipation of the upcoming battle.

"Y/N of BEBE will attack first, then Mina of Deep N Dap. Are you guys ready?" Kang Daniel announced, building suspense for the upcoming battle.

While waiting for her song to begin, Y/N began a small warmup, stretching and testing her body's agility, Bada playfully smacked her ass, which earned her a playful glare from Y/N.

As the song "Money" by Cardi B began to play, Y/N took her position, her smirk becoming even more prominent. With that, she began moving, making gestures that were reminiscent of handling money. Mina noticed this and scoffed in disbelief, knowing that Y/N had chosen this song because of what she said about her buying her career.

She was mocking her and everyone seemed to pick up because they started laughing and cheering which only pushed Mina to the edge

Y/N approached with a confident step, and as she came closer, she bit the end of the jersey and lifted it, exposing her stomach. She then gave Mina a disgusted look and went back to her spot

"FUCK YEAH!" Bada screeched, throwing the banner into the air with enthusiasm and excitement, unable to sit still for a single second as she watched Y/N's performance, her attitude and her movements driving her crazy. Every moment of her dance was filled with passion, energy and style, completely owning the stage and commanding everyone's attention. Her girlfriend, Bada, was just one of many witnesses who were blown away by her performance.

The song ended, and Y/N, after blowing a kiss at Mina, turned away, clearly satisfied with her dance.

"SWITCH!" Daniel said and the song changed Mina got into her position, ready to give it her all in hopes of matching the incredible performance that Y/N had just put on.

Mina began to dance, crawling and rolling along the floor, and Y/N was not surprised. This seemed to be the only move that Mina knew how to do. As Y/N turned to her friends, she couldn't help but laugh, but when she saw that they were not laughing, but instead looking panicked, she grew confused.

"MOVE," they all shouted, but it was too late. Mina's feet hit Y/N straight in the nose, making her yelp in surprise and pain. She stumbled back, clutching her nose as she tried to control the flood of emotions coursing through her.

Mina got up immediately and made her way over to Y/N. She didn't mean to hurt her, that hadn't been her intention. She was only trying to do a move with a handstand that she'd managed to execute a few weeks ago, but something went wrong and it didn't go as she'd planned. Her concern for Y/N outweighed all other fears, "Are you alright?" She was genuinely concerned, having never wanted to cause the girl any harm, especially while they were both competing. "Im so sorry I didn't mean to hurt you Im really-"

Mina didn't get a chance to finish her sentence as Bada and the other members pushed her away. Bada almost lost her shit when she spotted the blood pouring from Y/N's nose. She grabbed her head and moved her hand, wincing at the sight of the girl's bloody nose.

"It hurts," Y/N said through clenched teeth, a few tears escaping despite her best efforts, the pain was becoming too much for her to control. Her competitors gathered around, a look of concern on their faces as they watched her struggle.

"Is she alright?"

"What happened?"

"That kick was nasty, her nose is probably broken"

Even the judges stood up, trying to see if she was alright.

"Paramedics are on the way Bada you go with her," Kang Daniel told the tall girl and she nodded, her hands still shaking. She grabbed Y/N's arms, but the girl refused to move.

"No, I need to see who won," Y/N said with determination, and Bada looked at her dumbfounded.

The judges were left shocked and speechless, yet they decided to continue with the show.

"So we're just gonna ignore what happened at the end and focus on the rest?" Monika stated, and the other two nodded in agreement. Y/N stared at the judges, feeling anxious yet hopeful for the win. When she saw the blue cards raised, she immediately threw herself into Bada's arms, holding her tightly in a hug.

Mina clapped, her eyes clouded with tears. She turned to Y/N and gave a deep bow. "You deserved that, and I'm really sorry I didn't mean to hurt you."

Y/N offered Mina a small smile and said, "Good work." She knew that Mina hadn't intended to kick her, but that wouldn't change the fact that she had said unpleasant things about her earlier and she wasn't going to forgive her

Bada still glared at the leader, grabbing Y/N's hands and moving backstage where the paramedics were already in place. The two of them sat down on chairs, as the paramedics worked on checking Y/N's nose. Bada was still holding Y/N's hand tightly

"You're gonna break my hand," Y/N managed to say, cracking a smile

"Shut up, you don't know how worried I am," Bada muttered.

"At least I won," Y/N teased the older girl, drawing a groan from her.

"Y/N, it's not the time to joke, you're hurt," Bada chided her girlfriend, now in a more caring tone.

"Good news," the paramedic told them. "It's not broken, but I'll be placing some cottons just in case she bleeds again, which is normal after a hard kick."

"Thank you," Y/N and Bada thanked the paramedic as he exited the room. As Y/N leaned on Bada's shoulder, she cursed when she accidentally hit her nose.

"Yah, do you want to bleed again?" Bada scolded her.

"Sorry," Y/N laughed. "I was too excited to hug you." She placed her hands on her waist, still smiling despite the pain.

"Idiot," Bada chuckled, placing a kiss on top of her head. They stayed like that for a few minutes until Y/N spoke breaking the silence

"Baby?"

"Yeah?" Bada looked at her girlfriend who was already looking at her

"Would you still love me if I was a member of Deep n' DAP?" Y/N smirked as Bada's smile faltered. Y/N knew that Bada absolutely hated the rival team, and she was having fun teasing her because of it.

Bada let out a frustrated sigh as she heard her lover's words "No"

"Hey," Y/N smacked Bada's shoulder lightly, causing her to laugh in response.

"I was kidding, of course I would," Bada said with a hint of playfulness. "I'd make you change teams."

"Hm, that wouldn't be hard, you're very convincing," Y/N agreed

Bada pecked Y/N's lips, being careful to not hit her nose. "You did really good today," she told her, "I'm proud of you. I love you."

"I love you more," Y/N replied, blushing, and she leaned her head on Bada's shoulder. She felt safe and comforted with Bada, she was one of the only people who could bring out this side of her, and Y/n loved it.

[the-dawn-star]

Hi, can you please write a scenario where a teen reader escaped from yandere platonic Mikaelsons family after discovering they are vampires that kills people accidentally? Thanks a lot.

A/N: I changed the idea a bit, hope you don't mind. Thanks for the request! Now, to bit more depressing topics: I have been feeling awful lately and I'm sorry that the update pace has been a lot slower. Let's hope I can fix that at some point.

-S

+500ish words.

TW/CW: Reader throws up, Kol kills people.

This couldn’t be real! This isn’t real, it’s all just a really bad realistic dream!  

You had walked to the house after a day of school. Your day had actually been pretty good, and your last class had been canceled. You had been excited to get home, to relax, but your plan didn’t go as well as you had thought.  

You had walked in to see blood, so much blood.  

And the bodies, all the bodies on the floor in pools of blood.  

And Kol..., someone that you had trusted for so long. Kol who had another dead corpse on his shoulder.  

And Rebekah sitting in an old armchair without a care in the world. Like this was normal.  

You were close to throwing up and you covered your mouth with your hand, scared of making a sound and having the siblings hear your presence.  

You could barely hear their bickering. It felt like their voices came from far away. The blood, the bodies, all of it was too overwhelming.  

You pressed your back against the wall, frozen in your place. You couldn’t stop yourself from throwing up all the day’s food to the floor.  

No sounds could reach you, no you must have been heard.  

“Oh, angel, what are you doing here? I thought you had another class! Are you okay? Are you feeling sick? Have you eaten anything spoiled or something?”  

Rebekah’s questions might have been comforting if not for the fact that there was a pile of bodies in the other room.  

Tears pricked in your eyes, and you pulled as far away from Rebekah’s touch as possible. It was too much... 

~~~ 

The rest of the afternoon went in a haze. You yelled and screamed and fought, terrified of the siblings.  

But at the end you lost the fight, tired while Kol held you in his arms you fell asleep exhausted.  

~~~ 

Waking up back in your bed was like heaven came true from a nightmarish day. It all had been just a dream... 

You took a deep breath only to be brought back to reality by the fact that your eyes were itchy and your throat dry. The moment of happiness was crushed in a second.  

You jumped off of your bed and ran to the door. It was locked from the outside... 

You wanted to scream, to curse the whole family and their stupid corpse pile.  

But before you could start any of it the door unlocked, and Elijah came in.  

“Elijah, what the hell is going on?” You asked, backing all the way to the bed.  

“My siblings aren’t very well versed in hiding their nature, I must apologize for what you saw.” 

The warm Elijah was nowhere in sight, the Elijah who had practically worked as a father figure for you.  

“Elijah please, I don’t understand what’s going on,” Your words sounded more like a plea, but you couldn’t help it.  

Elijah walked closer to me giving my forehead a gentle kiss.  

“Do not worry, in a few days the vervain is out of your system, and everything will go back to normal...”

[witchthewriter]

𝑫𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒏 𝑫𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 | 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝟑

⤷ gender neutral, Valyrian blood (dragon rider), and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: I kinda personified this group of dragons more than I have with the others...

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐑

・You're actually apart of the royal family, your siblings already having bonded with either eggs from their crib or great beasts already living

・It felt embarrassing being the only one without a mount. It was true that not everyone in your family were dragonriders, but you didn't want to be anything but a dragonrider.

・You had heard stories of untrained dragons and with great bravery or stupidity, you went to find one

・Sheep Stealer and Grey Ghost have always stayed out of each other's ways. Not knowing what kind of dragon the other is (especially when the other wild dragon was a CANNIBAL)

・So neither Sheepstealer nor Grey Ghost stay in the Dragonpit

・With you, Sheepstealer is a lot more soft. It took time to build up that trust and reliance on one another.

・But once he realised that you weren't going to hurt or leave him, then the bond became one of the deepest ever seen

・When you're dreaming, it's as if you're in Sheep's head. Not controlling him, but seeing things from his eyes.

・And you can feel each other's emotions (like all dragon riders and their dragons) but it feels a lot deeper

・His favourite song would absolutely Sweet Carolina by Lana Del Rey. It would actually make him cry.

𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐘 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓

・Doesn't like to share food (not that you'd eat his food? Never once have you tried to either. But every time he's eating, he you're near - he frowns and grunts)

・He was just used to being independent and fighting for his food.

・It took a long time for him to warm up to you. Not liking human interactions

・Knows many, many good secret hide outs... you love hiding in them with him. You aren't a people person either

・Once bit a handler... on the butt. It sounds comedic, but there was blood everywhere and holes in the man's buttcheek.

・Your father had to spend a lot of money for the man to be healed.

・(Grey Ghost wasn't chastised, your father too thought it hilarious)

・No one is allowed near Ghost except for you, I'm talking even existing near him.

・He likes his personal space

・Ghost actually got a bit of colour once you spent more time flying. He turned a beautiful silver instead of a dull grey and had a bit of a glimmer to his scales

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐗

・A pyromaniac; likes to hear the command 'Dracarys' (it's the fastest one he responds to)

・Likes hitting you with his tail and when you turn around to look at him, he's obviously looking somewhere else - but his lil dragon laugh gives him away

・But you got used to it and remember to duck everytime your back is towards him

・Is very competitive, especially against Arrax, who is the closest in age to him

・Crushing on Morning; likes her pretty pink scales. You know this because he rolls in anything pink (especially pink flowers)

・Would love country music unironically.

・Gives Dennis the Menace vibes but he is acutely aware of the trouble he causes. Loves chaos.

・Likes to gently bite your shoulder when your attention isn't on him

・IS afraid of cats. Pretends he's not but once when he was a baby dragon, your pet kitten swiped at him and from then on he was terrified...

・Vermax loves being called a "beautiful boy," "handsome man," etc but DO NOT DO IT IN FRONT OF ANYONE, HE WILL GET EMBARRASSED.

𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐗

・Bit shy for a dragon, still courageous and honorable. But prefers to be away from ... everyone

・Does like Tyraxes though; they seem to have similar souls. Some say they could've come from the same clutch of eggs

・Definitely a Libra or Pisces.

・For a long time he was scared of getting into trouble. But you've been working on it ... constantly reminding him he's a goddamn dragon.

・When Arrax is happy, he makes a trilling noise and the red scales/flaps on his neck and head shimmy

・Vermax has made fun of him for it but Moondancer growled at Vermax (therefore he never made fun of him ever again)

・LoVES LAYING HIS HEAD IN YOUR LAP. A very affectionate dragon, loves pets, being brushed down, having his wings gently touched.

・It's safe to say his love language is physical touch

・It took some time for him to be a confident flyer. But once he took off, he never looked back.

𝐓𝐘𝐑𝐀𝐗𝐄𝐒

・A good boi, a very good boi. Does as he's told because his trust in you is unwavering

・When you look into his eyes, they almost seem ... human. They're a beautiful blue/green colour and seem to stare into your very soul

・You realised that at a young age, and swore to treat him exactly how you'd like to be treated

・Has youngest sibling energy (but the kind where the parents have a bunch of older children and for some reason have a baby in their 50s by accident)

・So technically youngest but basically grew up as an only child vibes

・...Loves baths. Like proper baths. You would bathe him as a little dragon. A tradition you and your mother started (because you, yourself hated bathing. So poor Tyraxes was subjected to it as well)

・Now that he's grown ... well ... the blacksmith had heavy pockets and no extra time on his hands for quite a while

・When the bath tub arrived just on the outskirts of the dragonpit, Tyraxes' tail wouldn't stop thumping. He knew exactly what it was for

𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆

・Aquarius asf

・Always pliant when it comes to be saddled up. Very good girl, you trained her yourself (or you were there for the majority of it)

・From a young age you found yourself talking to her as if she could understand you perfectly well. And now you still do it;

・She gives huffs and chuffs in response, smoke coming out of her nose when she heavily disagrees with something

・Knows about Vermax's crush on her but expects a lot of romantic gestures.

・She's also an Aquarius so they're pretty difficult to shack up with; their independence is highly important to them.

・Like a dog with bad experiences with men, Morning can sense when a person is trustworthy or not

・If they aren't ... SCORCHED. If they are ... UNSCORCHED.

・Literally takes it upon herself to administer justice

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑

・Quite calm in stressful situations

・Definitely more than you - not trying to be shady to you but Moondancer seems to know exactly what to do in like ... every situation?

・Nuzzles you with her nose

・Does adore when you clean her horns, I mean they're PEARLESCENT! (or chrome, however you want to see it)

・Absolutely adores music and will fly you to towns that are having festivals. (She's learned from experience that she can only fly over the top of the crowd and sit from afar...there have been some messy incidents in the past)

・Seems calm but is VERY overprotective of you. Will let you handle arguments until she can feel your heart racing and then she jumps in

・Likes adventure but not dangerous adventure. More so like finding pretty fields or lovely waterfalls.

[bokutooooo]

Dream Ride

warnings: strong language! flirting? age gap!! (LEGAL)

"Hey Neela, who's this red neck?" I laugh and Neela rolls her eyes. "This is Sean he just moved here try to be nice." "Hey nice to meet you y/n" he puts out his hand "Hey, have you showed him around yet?". "Yeah I showed him around a bit, you coming tonight?" "I think so my car finally ready, i'm so excited to show it off."

Neela and I are getting ready at my house. "Soooo going to make a move yet? I mean you guys eye fuck each other all the timeeee, you've had a crush on him for years." I laugh "He's turning thirty In like 3 years" "so what? I think you should make a move, It's likely he feels the same". It's true me and Han do flirt a lot but it never went anywhere, plus he is way older than me. "yeah yeah, just keep getting ready missy"..

We pull into the the race centre In my newly improved Nissan Skyline GT-R, of course it isn't just a boring plain car It's pink and white with a glossy finish don't even get me started on the interior. "this car Is so hot, I love it" I smile, proud of what I did "I know right! it's so perfect". I park In a spot near Twinkie's Hulk themed car, makes me grin every time I see it. Neela's already talking to Sean as I'm speaking with Twinkie "I see you're already best friends with red neck huh?" "yeah, seems chill, thought maybe he'd like to come with me tonight. He's seems really into cars." I look over my shoulder at Neela and Sean "You know DK's going to get mad right? Just look, already glaring at him." twinkie looks over, DK already on the move, eyes widen he's quick to rush over. I'm quick to follow behind him "Hey hey hey DK how's going I see you met Sean" I look over at Neela who looks a bit worried. Neela and DK have been dating? for awhile, I mean I don't know if I'd call it dating but best friends with benefits? DK has always been possessive over Neela but sometimes it's a bit much. "Who's this gaijin?!" Neela steps In front but Twinkie is quick to speak up "DK he's here with us, we don't want any problems just here to race. "really? can he drift." I swallow, Sean is probably so confused. "I can race, wanna race?" Twinkie and I look at each other wondering if we just heard the same thing. Now don't get me wrong DK doesn't scare me just I know damn well he's an amazing racer and going up against him Is kind of dumb, especially If you're Sean and have never seen DK race before. DK chuckles "alright gaijin sure, but uh whatcha gonna race with? that?" he looks over at the Hulk car. "He can use mine, see what the kid's got."

I recognize that voice so fast I don't even need to turn around to see who it is. "Really Han? gonna let this kid race with your car? .. alright I won't stop you, I can add it to my collection." he smirks he knows he'll win.

Me and Neela are listening to Twinkie lecture Sean about his stupid decision "Do you even know what DK stands for?" Twinkie crosses his arms waiting for a reply. "No? Donkey Kong?" I laugh and shake my head "It means DRIFT KING Sean, basically Twinkie's telling you that you're going to get you're ass kicked." I smile and watch Sean's face "Maybe I'll win? you never know" "the chances of you winning red neck are slim to none, than you'll have to pay back Han". I lean back against my car, "What about me?" I turn to see Han shoving his mouth full with chips. I smile seeing him shoveling food in his face he's always eating "just explaining what's going to happen after he loses" "hey have some faith in him, maybe he'll win".

"keyword Han. MAYBE, I just feel bad for you sucks you're gonna lose another car." He just laughs and looks at Sean "just try, you'll still owe me though."

"alright let's go! chop chop!!" Han hands his keys over to Sean to his 2006 Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution IX. "Han man this car is too nice for this."

Han shrugs "Y/n lets go up a level" Neela tugs at my arm "alright good luck Sean, see you at the finish line.. if you ever make it..." I giggle walking towards the elevator. "wait up!" twinkie and Han jogging towards us.

The elevator Is filled with the talking of Neela and Twinkie, the two of them stand close to the door while me and Han are In the back. I watch as Han leans down, "Hey y/n how have you been? it's been a minute since we last talk, missed you" he whispers it so Nel and Twinkie can't hear. "Just been working on Kai, finished her a couple days ago. I'll show you after if we go back to the garage." He's teasing me..I know he is, and I'm enjoying every second of it. "Sure, forgot you name them. I know you've been working on her for awhile, congrats." I smile and the doors open, we step out into the crowd of people. Music's blasting and people are shoving their tongues down each others throat, dancing/gridding. "Do you guys really think he'll win this" i ask looking at Neela and Han "probably not but why not give it a shot"

"Okay!! Let's get this started!!!" a girl steps up between the two cars who keep revving their engines while glaring at one another. "READY?" she looks at the two cars "SET.." the room goes silent for maybe 3 seconds. "GOO!!" and off! both cars race off around the building, twists and turns and all you can hear is screeching noise of the tires. There're quick to go up another level and people rush to get up there. "Come on!" Neela grabs my hand as we run.. or at least try to In our heels.

Once we reach upstairs everyone waits patiently to see who will reach the finish line first. And whoosh! DK stops perfectly, I sigh but already knew what the outcome would be. a minute later Sean screeches In and stops. People are cheering and surrounding DK as I walk towards the scratched up, dented car. Han, Twinkie and Neela are already talking to Sean "You own me a car red." Twinkie's laughing and Neela's talking with Sean. "So that didn't really go to plan huh?"

"Yeah guess not, but I'll just practice till I know for sure I can beat him" I just chuckle at his remark "Han, maybe you can teach him how to drift, a couple of lessons wouldn't hurt." Han turns to me and smirks "maybe you should baby" I glance at him, cheeks reddening at the nickname "why because I drift better than you?" I raise an eyebrow at him with a cocky grin on my face. "whatever you say"

"I wish you'd just race me already! I've been waiting so long" I groan, he smiles "maybe later" he shrugs "you always say thattt!" walking to his car "meet me at the garage, think there's a party going on." I turn back to Sean Twinkie and Neela.

"you guys up for it?"

-----------

Might make another part^!

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Being best friends with jennifer check and one day she suggests you practice kissing on each other "just for fun" until you slowly realize you're falling in love 💓💓

this is the kind of Jen content we need more of honestly 💖

Practice Makes Perfect (Jennifer Check x reader)

Warnings: (almost) friends to lovers, kissing (duh), swearing/salty language, slightly suggestive, could be seen as coersion as reader isn't entirely sure to kissing at first

Jennifer had invited you over to her house for what was supposed to be a study session, but it ended up being more of a hang out than anything else. The two of you were lounging on her bed, Ayesha Erotica playing faintly on her MP3 player in the background.

You were just about to ask if she could change the music to something less vulgar when she dropped a major bomb on you.

"We should kiss," she suggested in a way that was much too casual for your liking as she filed her pristine nails, not even bothering to look up. "You know, for practice. In case either of us meets someone and we need to know how."

You choked on the soda you were drinking, which led to a good two or three minute coughing fit before you were finally able to respond. "What?" You asked incredulously, a look of shock evident on your face.

"I said," she began with an eye roll, speaking slow and condescendingly. "We. Should. Kiss. What's the matter, scared you might like it?" She taunted with a smirk.

You scoffed at her question as if it was the most ridiculous thing in the world. Truth be told, you were a little afraid of liking it, but more than that you were worried about her making fun of you for being inexperienced.

"No, that's not it. I just- I wouldn't want to ruin your lipgloss, is all." A lame excuse, even by your standards, and one that she could surely see through, but it was better than nothing.

It was now her turn to scoff at you. "Oh, please. Don't be such a pussy." She moved over to where you were sitting on the bed, reaching her arms out to wrap around your neck before you could stop her.

"Wha- you-" You tried to speak, but your words got caught in your throat. It didn't help that the close proximity was making it damn near impossible for you to think straight.

"Are you telling me that you don't want to kiss me at all? Not even in the slightest?" She asked in a tone full of false offense and hurt, sticking her bottom lip out as she pouted at you.

"N- No, that's not- that's not what I'm saying, Jen..." your voice trailed off as she leaned in close, the scent of her perfume filling your nostrils.

"Then kiss me." She said in an uncharacteristically soft tone, doing her best to look as innocent as possible. "Please?"

Your resolve weakened and you finally nodded your head before closing the distance between you and pressing your lips to hers. She tasted like her strawberry lipgloss and felt like a dream come true.

She pulled you down on top of her on the bed as you kissed, but you barely noticed. Until you heard her let out a soft moan, that is.

You quickly shot back up, feeling your face grow warm as you realized what just happened. Jennifer merely giggled as she looked up at you from where she was still laying down, her legs spread slightly.

"Oh, come on. Don't leave me hanging," she teased as you shuffled away from her, going to sit on the opposite end of the bed. She sat up and slowly crawled over to you, smirking before giving you another kiss.

"We should do this more often," she murmured suggestively, her lips still close to yours. "After all, practice makes perfect."

You didn't say anything in response, instead choosing just to kiss her again. After all, what do you say to your best friend when you realize you might be falling in love with her after one stupid kiss?

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated <3

Main masterlist | Jennifer's Body masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: @missmewts @iloveentrapta @ghot-girl @taecube @corn3liiia @gilmore-angel @your-next-daydream @alexxavicry @noisy-dumb-piece-of-shit @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous (if you were crossed out it means I couldn't tag you for some reason)

[bccky]

Souls Intertwined By Fate

Part 2

Pairing:  Dean Winchester X Reader

Summary: As soulmates, you can feel the exact intensity of pain as your other half when they get hurt. So what happens when your soulmate literally goes to hell?

Words: 1061

Warnings: descriptions of death, mention of suicide, angst, full discretion is adviced

A/N: revamped fic of my own. It's been almost an year since I posted the first part, I'm extremely sorry for the long pause hehe // Dividers by @firefly-graphics // hope you like this one Xx

⇤ PART 1

Supernatural Masterlist • Main Masterlist

Souls Intertwined By Fate Masterlist

GIF by saucynewf

A shiver runs down your spine as you stand behind the Roadhouse, and you can't tell if it's because of the cold biting air or the green eyes that are trying to cloud your mind. 

There aren't many things that can scare you now, but now that you have found your soulmate, even thinking about him gives you shivers - and not the good kind.

"Thank you," You whisper to Jo as she sneaks a few bottles of the strongest rum through the backdoor. Your only objective now is to avoid Ellen and whoever that guy was. 

You don't want to know his name... It will make this all too real. 

"You owe me a big one." Jo says and you nod, wanting to cut your time here as short as possible.

Her questioning glances every few seconds are enough for you to know that she's just waiting for an opening to ask why you are suddenly stocking up on your favorite bottles of alcohol, and you're not ready to tell her why.

Realizing you forgot to bring your car to the back, you sigh, bidding farewell to Jo with a hug. 

You almost start running once she closes the door towards your car that you parked in the front, stashing your bag in the car, as you start the ignition. 

You're ready to step on the accelerator and be away from your soulmate, the person who's going to be your doom. You can't help but peek at the bar as you pass by and you're sure you see the dirty blond hair that is going to haunt your dreams from now on. 

The bottles Jo smuggled are just so that you can lay off from visiting the Road House as much as you can. 

It's no secret that whoever drops by the bar is sure to become a regular thanks to Ellen's hospitality, connections and knowledge of the supernatural, that is, unless anyone gives her a reason to clear off. 

The fear makes you drive as far as possible from the only people who you now call your family in search of hunts, but that doesn't mean you can run from what you have named as 'the Soulmates Curse'. 

You end up at a diner in a small town with a supposed haunted cabin in the nearby woods, taking a breath of relief as you see an empty seat by the window.

You put down all the resources you have on the table for the current case you're working on, using it as a distraction. 

But as you’re settling, a high pitched giggle catches your attention. There’s a family in the park near the diner which you can see clearly from your seat.

You get a weird feeling in your heart, a sense of longing for what you once had. The parents laze around on a picnic blanket, happily watching the children who are running around and playing with each other.

You wonder if you’ll ever get to live and love like that again.

“Hey,” a deep voice pulls you out of your chain of thoughts, and you look up to see a man with dark, gelled-back hair, a stubble gracing his genial smile, "You okay?" 

Not gonna lie, you feel like a high school girl starting to fall for the cute guy in class, your insides warm as your body feels flush.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” You say to yourself, although you know that it isn't true, it's the only way to convince your mind that you're doing the right thing by saving yourself from the inevitable heartbreak.  

“I’m Chris, your server for the evening. What can I get you?”

Chris’ deep brown eyes make you want to forget everything, and for some reason, it makes you feel like you’re cheating on your non-existent relationship.

 “Just a cheeseburger and fries, Chris. Thanks.”

“I’ll be right back.” He winks at you with another one of his charming smiles, and you almost melt.

Your mind is in overdrive now.

The happy family directly in your sights are confusing your one-track mind, making you want that kind of contentment in your life as well.

As Chris brings your order to your table, you can’t help but ask, “The town is quite charming, huh?”

He laughs, “Yep, just a small, peaceful town. Except for Old Neil’s Cabin, it’s a nice place to live. And if you don’t believe in ghost stories, we don’t have many problems here.”

And with that, your yearning mind starts planning out an ordinary life in this town, hoping that your soulmate will have a peaceful death and since you won’t be attached to him, you won't feel much when the inevitable happens.

If you get rid of the ghost, then you can see yourself getting old here, preferably with a handsome man like Chris, and have a little family.

Back at the Harvelle’s Roadhouse, Dean Winchester takes a sip of his beer and sighs, tapping on the wooden bar, deep in thought.

Sam is talking about something or the other with Jo, not paying mind to Dean, who honestly doesn’t care. He is too occupied with the girl from last night who has been making his heart skip a beat every few minutes as little things around him keep reminding him of you.

Dean smiles to himself as a warmth spreads in his heart, hopeful that you are having a good time, whoever, and wherever you are.

“What’s up with him?” Jo asks Sam softly, not wanting to rob him out of whatever was cheering him on.

“No one ever knows with him.” Sam shrugs, throwing an amusing smile at his brother, not that he noticed. “He has been a little hush since yesterday.”

“Jo,” Dean speaks out of the blue, bursting the bubble he had built around him.

“Yeah?” She replies, in anticipation of knowing what his next words will be, curious about what he had been contemplating all this while.

“Do you know a girl around our age in the hunting business?”

“To be quite frank, there are a lot. I can’t just tell who you’re talking about just from that.”

Dean takes the last drink out of his glass before turning towards Jo, giving her a serious look.  “She was here yesterday.”

“Oh, you mean Y/N?” 

And with that, Dean’s life takes a different turn again.

Part 3

I’d love to hear what you think of it! Please like, reblog and comment to let me know Xx

I wanna get back into writing again, can you send in any requests or something? Thanks in advance :)

Wanna read more of my works? Check out the masterlist linked at the top!

I'm not tagging anyone this time because it has been so long since I last posted this series, or anything to be honest, so please let me know if you wanna be tagged in the next parts (let me know in the reblogs)!

[luna-naoffcial]

His Fallen Angel

—PART ONE

Lucifer Morningstar x Fallen! Angel! Reader.

-----------------------PART TWO || PART THREE || PART FOUR

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

(Y/n) (L/n)

Some know her being the most kindest, purest Seraphim angel out there. Making sure every angel were happy and healthy. (Y/n) befriended everyone and pretty much everyone treated her with the same amount of kindness, she showed them. Some may call this a blessing from God himself while others would call it a curse.. Why you may ask? Well there was one angel who she had best friend and would say she's the most closest with.. Lucifer Morningstar.

You see Angels were beings that worshipped good and shielded all from evil. Lucifer was one of these angels. From an outsiders point of view, you may think he's as pure as any other angel which he was from (Y/n)'s eyes. But Lucifer was a dreamer with fantastical ideas for all of creation. When she had befriend him, she was intrigued by everything he had shown her and curious about what would become of them. From then on, they were inseparable with each other, sharing Lucifer's ideas to everyone, hoping they would be curious just as much as she was but sadly he was seen as a troublemaker by the elders of Heaven, for they felt his way of thinking was dangerous to not only to their order of their world but to (Y/n) too.

They had told (Y/n) to not associate with Lucifer's way of thinking. But that didn't stop her from talking with Lucifer "Lucifer I'm sure they'll come around, trust" (Y/n) said, walking beside him "I-I don't know (Y/n).. I mean you heard them.. they think the way I think is dangerous.." She looked to her sadden friend before pulling him to a hug, trying her best to lift his spirts up

"Cheer up. I know for sure one day, your dreams will come true, whether it's you who makes them come true or others who you share it with" Lucifer looked to his friend before wrapping his arms around her, in a comforting way, before letting her go and nodding to her. They had known each other for a quite some time and he was grateful for her being by his side, even she's the only one who believes his way of thinking wasn't a bad thing.

Though he was a bit confused with her. Spending the amount of time they were with spending, he couldn't help but see her somewhat differently but he couldn't understand why. The same thing was happening with (Y/n), the way she was close with Lucifer, both physically and mentally, made her question what she was feeling. She wanted to ask him but was too scared that it would change their relationship and asking anyone would result in others telling her to stop interacting him. As time as past, the two angels watched as the other angels begin to expand the universe in their own ways. From the dust of the Earth, they had created Adam and Lilith. Now for (Y/n), she seemed to be curious about these two watched over them in curiosity. From what she'd seen, Adam didn't seem to be a good person to or for Lilith so she understood why she wouldn't accept him as an equal.

One day, Lucifer had join (Y/n) to see over the two first of mankind and was intrigued, not by both of them but one in particular. Lilith. From then on, Lucifer was drawn by Lilith's fierce independence, her rebellious actions and she mind of creative and dream like ideas Like him

They had watched her fled into the Garden of Eden, upset by the resent events that happened to her with Adam. Lucifer had gone after her, along with (Y/n), trying to reason with him to not attract too much attention to himself or he'll be in trouble, while also being concerned with the women. Lucifer had reassured her that everything was fine and only wanted to talk with her. But that one "talk" had turn into something more for the two rebellious dreamers and the two had fallen deeply in love. Overtime, (Y/n) noticed her friend wasn't spending as much time with her as they would. It was only then she realized what was going on.

One moment in particular made realize what she had been feeling this whole time and knowing that she might've been too late. One day, she was looking for Lucifer as they had planned to spend some time with each other but wasn't anywhere in Heaven so the last place she went looking was in the Garden of Eden. But she heard voices and crying from a far. She tiptoed quietly until she saw Lilith crying by the river and sooner or later found Lucifer beside her "Please no more tears.. Your face is too precious for that..."

Hearing this made (Y/n) feel somewhat upset. Maybe because it was directed towards Lilith and not her. "It's not sadness, Lucifer" "Is it Adam?" Lilith then would go on about how her and Adam were both equivalent humans but there was an unfairness towards her. Having to follow him and him only, Adam not caring about her at all. And yet Lucifer was nothing like that towards herself. "God is really unjust" She says with a sadden look in her eyes

"Right you are" Lucifer said as he gently grabbed Lilith wrist, guiding her towards his face "Lilith, if there's someone out there who cares about more than Adam... Who loves you more than he ever could..." The two started getting closer to each other, their lips inches away from each other before Lucifer spoke again as he grabbed the back of her head gently and connected their lips "That's who should be with.. God is indeed unjust"

(Y/n) couldn't watch anymore as she turn around to leave but she hadn't noticed she stepped on a branch. The two lovers had stopped before turning to what the noise was. Lucifer had gotten up and made sure Lilith was safe. He shouted to whatever made the noise and to his  surprise it was just his best friend. "(Y/n)! Holy, you gave us a scare" "S-sorry! I didn't mean to bother you" "You didn't bother us at all (Y/n)" Lilith said, walking up to them both as she held Lucifer's hand. He blushed at the touched before speaking up again.

"So what brings you out here?" (Y/n) had looked between the two. As much as she wanted to let Lucifer know they had made pans for today, she didn't want to separate them. Not after that moment they had...

Lilith looked at her with concern before putting the pieces together. Before she could speak up, (Y/n) had quickly interrupted as she knew Lilith had noticed something "Nothing! J-just wanted to know if you both were safe! T-that's all" she said quickly The two, confused but didn't think

much of it, thanked her for their concern. But Lilith had felt she just ruin something for (Y/n). "Well! I should leave you two lovebirds be and had back!"

"You sure? You can stay if you'd like—" "No! That's okay! I don't wanna make you two feel like you can't be yourselves! I'll see you both later!" (Y/ n) said, flying off quickly before the two could speak again. The two looked at her in worry. Lucifer knew her better then anyone and he could tell something was on her mind. He just hoped nothing bad had happened.

******

As (Y/n) had finally reached back up as she breathed heavily. She couldn't see them at all.. not like that. At that moment, she realized what she had been feeling this whole time and yet now she's too late

"Oh my Luci... I wished I could've said it sooner" she said, walking by a group of musicians

(Y/n):

♫ I sense there's something in the wind. That feels like tragedy's at hand ♪ She sang as she spun around, continuing to walk ahead ♪ And though I'd like to stand by him. Can't shake this feeling that I have.. The worst is just around the bend. And does he notice my feelings for him ♫ She leans against a streetlight pole looking towards the sky ♪ And will he see how much he means to me.. I think it's not to be.. What will become of my dear friends. Where will his actions lead us then ♫ ♫ Although I'd like to join the crowd. In their enthusiastic cloud ♪ She continues to walk ahead, thinking about how much him and Lilith had so much in common and how much they complete each other ♫ Try as I may, it doesn't last. And ever end up together.. No, I will we think not, it's never to become.. ♪ She finally made it home and went towards her room before lying on her bed. ♪ For I am not the one ♫

(✿⁠)

Don't get her wrong, she was happy for him but at the same time, she was feeling something else that wasn't the same feeling from way before mankind was even created. It was almost like angry, discomfort and sadness whenever she would see them together but she put those feelings aside, not wanting them to hurt the relationship they already had. As the two dreamers grew closer, the two had the idea of sharing the magic of free will with humanity. The two went to talk their dear friend with what she thought about it. At first, (Y/ n) wanted to tell them that she was against it but then she thought back to Lucifer and his dreams.

She wanted nothing more then for them to come true so she went along with it and joined them on offering the fruit of knowledge to Adam's new bride Eve, who gladly accepted. But what they didn't know that this gift came with a curse... With this single act of disobedience, evil finally found its way into the Earth. With it, a new realm of darkness and sin. And the order Heaven worked to maintain was shattered. Heaven was outraged with what they had done to the order they had worked hard to create and blamed Lucifer for dragging (Y/n) into it. But (Y/n) refused for Heaven to blame Lucifer and only have the two be punished.

"If they are to be casted away into the dark pit of what has become of this order then cast me away too! Lucifer had nothing with me joining him! I joined of my own free will!" (Y/n) yelled towards the elder angels. The Elders were shocked as one of their purest and obedient angels were going against them and admitting she was still in contact with him. Lucifer refused for his best friend to punish as he tried to reason with her to not punish for all the things he had done. "(Y/n)! Don't throw away everything for me!" He reasoned, but all she did was take his hand and hers and gave him a smile, a smile which he made him realize she was the first angel to take interest in what he wanted to accomplish.

And sooner enough, as punishment for their reckless act, Heaven cast the three into the dark pit he had created, never allowing him to see the good that came from humanity, only the cruel and the wicked. Ashamed, Lucifer lost his will to dream. But Lilith thrived, empowering demonkind with her voice and her songs. And as the numbers of Hell grew, so did its power.

Threatened by this, Heaven made a truly heartless decision. That every year, they would send down, an army to ensure Hell and its sinners could never rise against them. But Lilith's hope remained. And her dream was passed down to their precious daughter, the Princess of Hell. But you must be wondering, what happened between Lucifer and (Y/n)? Well their relationship was still maintained as normal but after the Queen of Hell, Wife of Lucifer and Mother of Charlie, had disappeared, things weren't the same between the two and another was brought into the dark pit of Hell...

Note: I don't really know if guys like this, but I hope you will (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

Tags: @n0tmentallystable