#it’s only because when I had my masterlist straight linked on there I’ve get the double the amount of asked for reqs for things I don’t

[omgeto]

the link of ur masterlist and rules are same :/

oh dear 🙀 you have been bewitched have you and wanted to see my master lists but instead saw my rules that has a proceed to masterlist link right at the end, I apologise

[turtletaubwrites]

My Needy Girl ~ Part 4

Pairing: Zoro x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,707

This is part 4 of the Series 'We've All Got Needs,' linked below:

We've All Got Needs Masterlist

Ao3 Series Link

Summary: You’re starting to question how safe your arrangement with your crewmate is. Zoro really wants to be the world’s greatest ‘swordsman.’ Someone on the crew might have heard you last night. Zoro might be taking it badly.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Fem!Reader, 18+ Only, MDNI, Mildly Dubious Consent, Reader-Insert, Smut, Flirting, Accidental Exhibitionism, Mention of Masturbation, Rough Sex, Penis in Vagina Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Cock Warming, Dom Zoro, Swearing, lil angst, Casual Sex, Possessive Sex, Possessive Behavior, Hair-Pulling, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Condoms, Shameless Smut, Friends with Benefits, Crewmates with Benefits, Relationship Discussions, Zoro's a straight to the point kinda guy, and we love that, but now he needs to figure out what he wants

A/N: Oops, I accidentally wrote way too much again. Some character stuff, more crew interactions, lil angst?, and some build up to future installments. But there is smut at the end, I swear! I hope you enjoy, I'm excited for what's up next! 😊⚔

Somehow you’d managed to stay awake while Zoro slept easily, resting his head on your lap. You would have left on your own, but you couldn’t leave without waking the sleepy swordsman. He carried you, and he would brook no arguments.

All that time sitting there had driven you a bit crazy. Your body was still sore from the mind blowing abuse, the orgasms he’d ripped from you. But your mind was still reeling from your brief discussion of boundaries, followed immediately by the most possessive sex you’d ever had.

That’s just sex. He told you he wanted to stay casual, you agreed you could see other people.

Not that you wanted to. He was right. You couldn’t imagine going to anyone else when he’d be here, waiting to tear you apart like that again. 

This is dangerous.

What if I fall for him? What if he actually is that possessive, and it causes problems? What if I get hurt? What if I have to leave the crew because we can’t keep our shit together?

These fears had kept dancing in your mind, taking turns with your shivering memories of his rough hands on your skin.

You didn’t want to have these worries. You wanted to trust that he was honest with you and himself, and that you both could keep this strictly casual.

You wanted to keep space between you. 

How can I be sure he can keep his own distance? Keep that possessive nature just during sex?

You’d managed to fall asleep at some point, til Nami stuck her head into your room.

“Come on, sleepy head. You’ve gotta get breakfast before Luffy eats everything.”

Groaning, you looked in the mirror. Surprisingly, you only looked half dead. You did what you could quickly, then traipsed to the galley. 

Sitting yourself on the end of the table next to Luffy, you gratefully poured coffee into the mug that was waiting for you. Luffy scooted over to give you room before leaning over the table, and speaking with his mouth full. 

“Hey Zoro, have you been exercising in your room lately? You’ve been extra noisy.”

Nami narrowed her eyes at Zoro while you took a sip of your coffee, pretending you hadn’t heard Luffy’s hilarious question.

“Yeah, actually, I’ve uh, been working on some extra core strengthening exercises lately.”

Usopp chimed in after chugging some tangerine juice.

“Mind not doing them in the middle of the night, green guy? Some of us can’t nap seven times a day like you do.”

You joined the group in laughing, and kept your eyes away from Zoro’s.

Sanji appeared next to you, setting a plate down, the delicious scent making you sigh as your eyes fluttered closed. Having Sanji as the ship’s cook made you feel spoiled.

“Good morning, sweetheart. I made some cinnamon syrup for your pancakes, I know how much you enjoy it.”

“Oh, um, thank you Sanji.”

His smile deepened, and you looked away from his bright eyes.

Then the whole group went quiet as Sanji sat at the table next to you.

Normally, Sanji didn’t eat until the rest of the crew was finished. He’d never sat beside you during a meal that he'd cooked before. 

He reached across you to grab the coffee pot. The whole length of his thigh pressed against yours while he poured himself a drink. 

“Can I have some cinnamon syrup, Sanji? 

“You already ate 12 pancakes Luffy. I’ll make you cinnamon syrup tomorrow.”

You looked down at your tantalizing breakfast, body tingling from the heat of Sanji's firm leg still pressed against yours. You risked glancing up at Zoro, but he was too busy scowling at Sanji to notice. 

You spent the day cataloging the seeds and dried herbs on the ship. There were a few that you’d had to argue with Sanji about, agreeing to split whatever you found for kitchen use.

Thoughts of the cook this morning made your cheeks flush, and you shook your head. Sanji’s just being Sanji. 

You avoided the kitchen for lunch, enjoying a few snacks and tangerines on deck with Nami.

“Do the boys seem extra obnoxious lately, or is it just me?”

Your eyes widened at Nami’s words. You wanted to tell her everything, but didn’t want to risk her judgement. 

“It’s hard to tell, aren’t they always?”

“I guess.”

Nami picked at her nails before eyeing you again.

“Find any cool plants on the last island?”

Feeling a soft smile hit your lips, you leaned toward her, and shook your head.

“Nope, just picked up some rosemary and chamomile. We’re always running out.”

“Ohh, did you make more of that rosemary hair stuff?”

Chuckling, you nodded. 

“I have enough, I’ll make you some tomorrow. Chopper uses it too.”

“I can tell! He’s like a walking air freshener when he washes all that fur.”

Still giggling with Nami, your laugh got cut short when Zoro came out on deck with rage in his eyes.

“Someone didn’t get their beauty sleep.”

Nami had given a stage whisper, and Zoro scowled at her before starting his training routine. 

You had to go inside, otherwise you would have been drooling on deck while you watched him. 

Your work always had you bouncing between studying with Chopper, and making salves and tinctures in the kitchen. You chose Chopper today. 

“Hi Chopper!”

“Oh, hi, Y/N! What are you working on today?”

“I was going to ask you. Are we stocked up on salves?” I’ve got more aloe for burns if we need it.”

“We’re all set! I’m so glad we have you on board, it really helps me focus on learning more with you helping me make such good supplies!”

You grinned at Chopper, his cute, sweet face had been planted into medical books when you interrupted.

You decided against spending the rest of the day in the kitchen. They can wait on their rosemary oil for another day.

By the time dinner came around, you were feeling more yourself. Until you walked in and saw both Zoro and Sanji look at you. Rushing to your seat, you knocked over your glass while reaching for the carafe of water. Luckily Robin’s many hands caught it. You thanked her, but she just tilted her head at you inquisitively.

There’s no way we can keep this secret for long. 

You fought again not to glance at Zoro, afraid that one look would make everyone see what you’d been doing together. 

Sanji appeared next to you again, and you startled.

“Apologies, beautiful. I was just checking that what you have is enough to satisfy you. If not, I’m sure I can provide something more to your liking.”

It sounded like normal Sanji banter, but your pulse raced when you met his eyes. They’d dilated a bit, making them dark, and you realized you hadn’t responded.

Sanji winked at you, and now you were sure he seemed a little more forward than even he normally was. Nami interrupted, saving you from your stunned silence.

“Ew, gross, Sanji. Quit making Y/N uncomfortable, and go bring us dessert”

Sanji kept his smirking eyes on yours for another moment before bowing, and excusing himself to the pantry.

You flicked your eyes toward Zoro, and caught him staring after Sanji like he was about to pull out his swords in the kitchen.

You made a face at your tea, and Luffy poked you with a stretched finger on the forehead.

“You okay, Y/N? Your face has been red a lot lately. Do you have a fever?”

You held in a laugh as Usopp scooched away from your potential illness, while Robin sent hands across the table to touch your forehead.

“Y/N’s fine, you boys just need to stop bothering her. Nami, why don’t you raise their interest if they don’t?”

You laughed at their outrage while Nami grinned at you. 

Glancing at Zoro, you saw that his jaw was still clenched as he watched for Sanji’s return. 

As the group stretched, some yawning and heading to bed, Sanji cleared his throat behind you. 

“Y/N, I was hoping you wouldn’t mind helping me. I’d like to stock up on some infused oils so I don’t have to make them daily. Would you give me the honor of assisting me?”

You felt Robins calculating eyes, and Zoro’s penetrating gaze, but couldn’t think of a reason why you shouldn’t help out.

Sanji beamed when you agreed, and you busied yourself grabbing the tools, avoiding everyone’s eye contact as they left.

Zoro seemed to be acting possessive, but you couldn’t tell if it was just his general dislike of the cook, or if he would be this possessive around anyone you get close to. Or if he would want more from you.

You didn’t like the thought of testing it out. 

I need to stop this now if he can’t handle being casual. I can’t risk that.

Sanji’s warm presence beside you was so calming. You worked together, talking softly, laughing at jokes, and grinning at his praise. He’d always been too much, and the way he hits on every woman in sight made your eyes roll. But he really is good company.

Finishing up, you carefully labeled each bottle with the date and ingredients while he started on the clean up. You joined him at the counter to dry the dishes, shivering when his fingers would touch yours for too long.

“Thank you so much, Y/N. Can I make you some tea?”

You returned to the table, watching him work after you agreed.

Sanji sat across from you, and the air seemed hot, not just from the steam of the tea. 

“Y/N, I need to be honest with you.”

“About what, Sanji?”

He pulled back, looking ashamed.

“I, um. I heard your conversation here last night.”

Your mouth fell open as you remembered. Trying to get Zoro to talk about boundaries. Zoro rubbing your hand along his cock before dragging you out of your seat to go fuck in his quarters.

“Wh-Why did you listen?”

You felt very still, not sure what emotion to feel.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I was coming back to prep for the morning meal. I should have interrupted or left. But I heard, and I had to make sure you were okay. I didn’t like the way he spoke to you.”

You watched the muscles in Sanji’s jaw clench.

“Are you going to tell anyone?”

Sanji’s eyes went wide, leaning forward.

“I would never, Y/N! But I will kill him if he hurts you.”

You stared, realizing that he was completely serious.

“Thank you, he’s not hurting me, Sanji. We just have an arrangement.”

Sanji scoffed, and you raised your brows.

“I’m sure that Mosshead is perfectly happy with his arrangement. Happy to take and take.”

Sanji set his hand on the table next to yours, a few fingers trailing along the edges of yours. Chills ran up your body as you looked back into his darkened eyes.

“You deserve someone who will give and give to you. Someone who values your pleasure more than their own.”

“How would you- You listened to that too, didn’t you?”

He pulled his hand back, and ran it through his hair. He sat back from you, lighting a cigarette. I’m actually starting to enjoy that smell. Fuck.

“I know, it was wrong. But he was so rough with you in the kitchen. I was worried he would hurt you too much.”

Your breathing got heavy at the thought of Sanji listening in while Zoro fucked you into oblivion. Of him listening to your muffled moans and screams, hearing you beg for Zoro’s cock. 

You met Sanji’s eyes again, feeling heat pooling between your legs. His eyes were trained on your parted lips, your breathing hot. Your brain seemed to shut off as other parts of you took the wheel.

“Did you touch yourself while you listened to me?”

“N-No, Y/N, I...”

His eyes looked panicked, and you watched his tongue push forward slightly to wet his lips.

“Please don’t lie.”

Your words came out strained, and Sanji glanced at your breasts as they heaved with your breathing.

“I-I’m sorry. It was so wrong. I just… the sounds you made…”

Your eyes flew back in your head, a small moan escaped your lips. You felt the table shift, as if Sanji had thrust toward you at your sound. 

His eyes were heavy lidded, his mouth hanging open, but he pulled himself together.

“Let me show you, beautiful. Let me give you what you need. Let me take care of you.”

Sanji’s pleading made your skin hot, and you felt wetness seeping through your clothes at the thought of him taking you right now on the kitchen table. 

But you managed to keep your head enough, trying to keep a fucking handle on something. 

“I-I can’t. Not yet.”

Sanji stared, waiting. The word ‘yet’ seemed to hook him.

“I made an arrangement. I have to make sure that’s okay first. Then we can talk.”

You traced one finger along his hand, pulling it away before you pulled him toward you. 

Sanji looked like part of him wanted to be angry when you mentioned the arrangement, but the rest of him seemed to be practically drooling.

I wonder if he’ll listen in again.

That thought sent you shivering as you went to find the swordsman.

You didn’t have to go far.

Zoro was waiting for you in the hall. Your breath felt trapped in your throat at his expression. He nodded toward his quarters and you started moving, his body radiating heat behind you. 

When you made it inside, he closed the door quietly, then shoved you against the wall. 

“Zoro, I- Zoro!”

You cried out as Zoro shoved his hand down the front of your pants, fingers slipping into your folds from how wet Sanji’s confession had made you. 

Zoro pulled his fingers from you, and you slumped against the wall as he shoved them into his mouth. 

“Zoro…”

“It’s all good, Needy. Go fuck the cook if you want to. I know he won’t be enough for your tasty, needy little cunt.”

You moaned, but tried to pull yourself together. Your voice came out high and breathy.

“I don’t want what we’re doing together to cause issues. Tell me if you’re not okay with this.”

“I’m okay, Needy. You can fuck everyone on the ship if you want. I know who you’ll be begging for.”

You moaned again as Zoro started trailing his hand down your stomach, crawling back down to your center.

“But Zoro, why? Why are you claiming me? We shouldn’t be doing this if it’s already causing prob- unf…”

Zoro had shoved two fingers inside of you, and was curling them right against that needy spot. 

“You want me to stop, Y/N? You want me to stop giving you what you need?”

His fingers went faster, and you were panting, hanging onto the wall. 

“Tell me you want me to stop making you feel good.”

You moaned, your body so close to the brink already.

“Well, what do you need me to do?”

“D-Don’t stop, Zoro, pleease.”

Your desperate whine made him groan, thrusting against your thigh while his fingers kept going.

With his free hand he dug through his pocket, and shoved a condom at you, before pulling himself out of his pants.

“Put this on my dick now, before I take you without it.”

He groaned again at the feeling of your pussy clenching his fingers at that threat. 

“You’d fucking like that wouldn’t you?”

You scrambled to open the wrapper, crying out as you touched him, smoothing the condom down his length. 

Gasping as Zoro withdrew his fingers from you, you whined pathetically, begging for him. 

“There she is. My Needy girl. Come here.”

Zoro tore your pants off, then sat with you straddling him on his chair. 

He made you lift up, gasping as you hovered over him. Smirking, he pulled your panties aside, and forced you to slam onto his swollen cock. 

You felt tears stinging your eyes as you fought your scream. 

“So good at staying quiet, huh, Y/N. Just a hungry little kitten, crying for some attention.”

You were lost, the feeling of his long cock hilted within you, but not moving, was making you feel feral. You tried to move your hips, to fuck him, but Zoro laughed and held your hips in place. 

“Nuh uh. You’ve gotta earn it now. Just sit still, and keep my cock warm, Needy.”

You slumped against his shoulder, twitching with every slight movement. He was so long and it almost hurt, but you knew if he just moved a little it would take you there. You continued struggling for friction, but he just gripped you in place and chuckled at your distress.

“Wh-What do you want Zo-Zoro?”

Digging your nails into his arms to stay steady, you watched his smug face. 

“I just want you to remember how it feels to have my cock inside you. I want you to think about it, all day everyday.”

You couldn’t help your whimpers as he leaned forward to breathe the next words along your neck.

“I want you to crave my cock, even when he’s fucking you. I want you to remember that no one can fuck you like I can. The cook will just warm you up for me.”

He laughed then, and bit your ear.

“Maybe I should thank him. He’ll get you ready for me. All warmed up, your hungry cunt dripping wet, so I can fuck you even harder than I have been. How does that sound, Needy?”

Zoro had thrust up into you to emphasize your nickname, and you were a desperate mess. 

All you could do was drag your drooling lips along his neck and shoulder, scratching uselessly at his arms while you begged, practically sobbing.

“Please, Zoro. Yes please, fuck. I need you, pleeease.”

His hand gripped into your hair, and you stopped breathing as he stared down at you. 

“That’s right, Y/N. I’m the one who can give you what you need.”

If you’d known how to respond, you couldn’t. Zoro used the fingers in your hair, and the hand at your waist as leverage to start shoving you onto his cock, over and over. You came so quickly, and he growled, invading your mouth with his tongue. Tears kept streaming down your face as he kept thrusting up into you through your orgasm. His rough hands and mouth kept you trapped on his cock, his tongue muffling your screams.

He pulled away from your lips, leaving you gasping. 

“Tell me you need my cock, baby.”

You moaned for him, your body almost taking you there again for him. 

“Finger yourself, and tell me how much you need my fucking dick.”

The demand in his words made your eyes roll back. You reached for your clit, slippery with your overwhelming pleasure. 

“I love your cock Zoro. I-I need to feel your cock in me everyday, it’s so fucking good!”

Zoro groaned, his eyes clamping shut as his thrusts slowed, erratic. You could feel him start to pulse inside you, it sent you screaming while you came again. Zoro managed to cover your mouth with a hand while he fucked into you through his own orgasm and yours, until he collapsed against the back of the chair, your body slumped onto his. 

Thoughts were out of reach as you convulsed in his arms. 

Then you gasped as his warm palm started smoothing along your spine, then rubbed in gentle circles. 

He kept twitching inside you, and you kept clenching around him, so he stood with a grunt, lifting you and settling you into his hammock. He cleaned himself up while you closed your eyes, still not back to reality. 

Then Zoro was leaning toward you, running a hand lightly along your arms. 

“I’m sorry I keep interrupting you when you want to talk.”

You choked out a laugh, and had to clear your throat a few times before replying.

“I have enjoyed the interruptions.”

His satisfied smirk made you grin. 

“But we’ve got to be clear on this. As much as I love what you’re doing to me-”

Zoro bit his lip, eyes filling with heat again.

“-we can’t keep this up if it’s going to affect how we act as part of the crew.”

He furrowed his brows, taking a breath. You pushed through, trying to say everything before he distracted you again. 

“I don’t think starting a romantic relationship would be smart. It could end very badly for everyone. I think a casual arrangement to fulfill our needs could be perfect, but only if we don’t let our feelings get in the way.”

He narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms. 

“You just want to fuck the cook.”

You choked again, wanting to laugh, but not sure if he was joking or not. 

“I want us to be very clear about what is and isn’t okay. What do we do if one of us wants to fuck someone else, or starts falling for someone else? How do we handle that, talk about it? What  if one of us starts feeling serious about each other?”

Your face felt hot, but you kept going. 

“I can’t risk losing my place on this crew. Even if it means I don’t get to enjoy our time together again. I need you to seriously think about what you want and need, and what your boundaries are.”

Zoro looked serious, almost sad.

"Zoro, I want to know if how you treat me when we, uh- I need to know how you feel about me, and us right now. Before we get in too deep."

Struggling to get yourself off the hammock, his rough hands helped you steady yourself. 

You pulled your pants on, still wobbling a bit, before you placed a hand on his chest and looked up at him. 

“Let me know when you figure it out. I can wait.”

You left Zoro’s quarters, and didn’t look for eavesdroppers as you snuck to your room. 

Thank you for reading! 💜

TurtleTaub Fanfic Masterlist

Part 5

Buy me a coffee ☕🙏🏼

[lucysarah-c]

Not sure if this is like, allowed to be answered and feel free not to of course. But reaction to Levi finding out someone tried to assault his s/o, or just hurting them in general like a more targeted instance rather than a battle, even before they are partners and could just be friends, you think more of a quick death or Levi would get sorta sadistic?

Have a great one 🐞 and thanks for always feeding us amazing works

Hi dear! Ah, no one has called me "bug" in years!!! Haha, thank you—that was so sweet of you!

Don’t thank me! Thank you for reading and stopping by my blog.

I really like this ask… Maybe because I’ve had a similar scenario in mind for my fic, but I just can't seem to find the right approach to it. I’ll try my best here! I’m 100% a "violence doesn’t solve anything" kind of person, and even when someone is truly horrible, I can't stand seeing them get hurt, especially physically. I’m that "sensitive" type, sorry haha. I feel Levi would say something similar to what my mother always tells me: "Don’t try to be more Catholic than the Pope" (a saying we have in Argentina, meaning "Don’t be too nice because people will take advantage of you. Be a little bit tough when necessary").

So, I’ll be completely honest with you: No, this ask doesn’t make me uncomfortable. But I do believe that Levi would resort to violence in certain situations. Levi killed a couple of guys just because they messed with Isabel’s hair. If his special someone (be it a friend, girlfriend, etc.) got hurt or was assaulted, Levi wouldn’t wait to see if she filed a report or went to the police.

He would simply stare at her and demand, "Who was it? Do you know them? Can you identify them?"

If it happened recently and she still shows signs of the struggle, she might try to downplay it. "It’s over now… It doesn’t hurt that much—"

"I didn’t ask if it hurt or if it was over. I asked who did it," he’d reply firmly.

She might avoid giving straight answers, trying to brush it off, perhaps out of shock, embarrassment, or fear—fear for Levi and the trouble he might get into. "I already filed a report and—"

"Have you ever seen any of those bastards behind bars because of a report?" Levi would counter. "Who was it? Give me a name."

"I pressed charges—"

"I’m sorry to break it to you, but men aren’t scared of charges. They know they can get away with it. They know they have friends who will bail them out, who will erase the charges, who will stand up for them," Levi explained. "Do you know what the only thing those assholes fear is? Being treated and beaten down the way they treat others. Beasts like them only understand their own language."

If the person responsible is someone Levi can’t directly deal with, like a higher-ranking officer or an MP, he’d still find a way to make them pay. He’d beat them up so thoroughly and probably in public to humiliate them. Levi knows the military can't afford to lose him, so while he might not be able to kill them, he’d ensure they couldn't sit straight for a long time. The most sadistic I can imagine him being is if he beats them so badly that they end up begging for mercy. And then Levi, lifting them by their hair, would say, "Don’t beg me—beg her."

Now, if the perpetrator is a regular citizen… they’re dead without a second chance. I can’t see Levi being sadistic in the sense of torturing someone, but he wouldn’t give them a quick death either.

So, that’s it. I hope I managed to write this well enough!

Thank you so much!

Have a lovely day.

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @angelofthorr @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @flxrartsstuff @katharinasdiaryy @levisecretgfblog @searriously @blackdxggr @ackermanswifee @galactict3a @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-12345 Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[not-neverland06]

Broken Machinery

Pt. 1 (completed series)

Series Masterlist

Connor RK800 x fem!reader

A/N: If I tagged you it’s because you responded to a post where I asked if anyone was interested in Connor RK800 fan fiction (thanks for the support btw) As this is my first time actually “publishing” my writing, constructive criticism would be amazing. I just would love some honest feedback. I’m still working on figuring out navigation and master lists, so if you want to see all the parts for this series just click the tag Broken Machinery. The borders are the work of @saradika as is my navigation and masterlist images.

(I can’t be the only one that finds that gif ridiculously attractive)

Content Warnings: Cussing, Hank, Mentions of domestic abuse and brief mentions of crimes like rape (so brief, blink and you miss it), Carlos Ortiz’s house is a warning in itself that shit was nasty

Word Count: 3.6k

Series Summary: You and your grumpy partner Anderson gain a new addition to the team. He’s supposed to be CyberLife’s best, but there’s something not quite right with his programming, and the problems seem to revolve around you.

“Hi, I’m Connor, the android sent by CyberLife.”

Your head shoots up from where you had been filing a report. To your right an android was staring down at you, his hand outstretched and his head tilted to the side. He looked exactly like a puppy. Big brown eyes staring down at you in earnest sincerity, an eager tilt to his lips. Your eyes narrowed, CyberLife was getting a little too good at how life like these new models were getting. You shove the Manila folder into the filing cabinet under your desk and shake his outstretched hand. “Detective Y/N Y/L/N, why is CyberLife sending an android to me?”

Your feelings on androids weren’t as callous or as hate-filled as your partner’s Hank were, but the idea of them made you uncomfortable. They were so similar to humans, it was hard for you to believe that with all the intelligence and AI that went into them they were nothing more than a plastic doll. You had no android due to the discomfort of owning something so human.

So, why was CyberLife trying to recruit you into their trillion dollar cult?

“I’m an RK800 prototype designed to assist the police.” He pulled his hand back and fixed his head, his hands going behind his back. That ramrod straight posture he held himself with made your own back ache. “I’ve already assisted in hostage situations and have now been sent by CyberLife to investigate the increasing number of deviant cases.”

You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself, “Oh god, Anderson’s gonna love this.” Rubbing your hands across your face you leaned back in your chair, already dreading the pissy fit that’s gonna come from the drunk when he figures out he’s gonna have to work with an android.

“Are you referring to Lieutenant Hank Anderson? He’s the officer CyberLife sent me to.” Connor watched as you grabbed your jacket off the back of your chair and made your way to the front of the station. His footsteps immediately echoing yours. “I was told you were the best person to ask about his whereabouts.”

You grimaced, already knowing you were about to embark on a bar crawl, entirely too sober. “I’ve got a few good guesses, but if he doesn’t want to be found the bastard’s not gonna be found.” Connor’s long strides easily caught up with your own, he was fiddling with his cuff links as he turned his head to face you. Why the hell are they programming androids to fidget?

“I detect some hostility in your town. Is your relationship with the Lieutenant not agreeable?” You scoffed as you got in your car, Connor quickly getting into the seat next to you.

“Yeah, sure, that’s one way of putting it.” You ignored the head tilt and started driving.

Four bars later and you were struggling not to laugh your ass off at the sight of Hank face to face with an android. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but you knew whatever it was, Hank wasn’t playing nice. It wasn’t until Connor bought him another shot that Hank finally got up and made his way to the door. He didn’t look very pleased to see you.

“You know about this?” You didn’t need to look to know what he was talking about as he pointed behind himself.

You shook your head, “He just popped up next to my desk like a stray puppy.” Hank rolled his eyes.

“There’s nothing cute about a plastic prick.” You chose to ignore him as you walked towards the exit.

Hank was already standing by his car when you realized he wasn’t following you. “Hey! What the hell are you doing?” Hank turned away from his car door and gave you a look that made you feel like shit on his shoe.

“Driving, the fuck does it look like I’m doing?” His words were slurred and he was leaning heavily on his car door handle. You stormed over to him and snatched his keys from his hand.

“You look drunk. I’m not gonna let you get yourself killed.” Before Hank could start another tantrum Connor interjected. You winced at the sound of his voice right next to you and Anderson. “Detective Y/L/N is right, your BAC is high above the legal limit. There’s a 75.76% chance that you would be involved in a car crash if you were behind a wheel.”

Dangling the keys in front of Hank you smirked, “See, even Connor agrees you’re a jackass.”

Connor’s head tilted and a little groove appeared between his brows as he frowned. “That is not what I said, Detective.”

“In the car, both of you.” You allowed no arguing from Hank, though he was still too angry at the android to actually focus any attention on you. Connor got in the back of the car as Hank took the passenger seat. You’d have to see if anyone coming off the patrol shift around here could come pick up your car. Jimmy’s bar wasn’t exactly the safest place to leave it, as beat up as the old Dodge was.

There was a flash of yellow in the rearview mirror as Connor’s LED worked before he was leaning into the front seat. “There’s been a body discovered, android involvement suspected, I’ve sent the address to your phone’s GPS.” You didn’t bother asking how he got your number or how he worked so fast, you just started driving as Hank cussed out androids under his breath.

“No comment.” You ignored the reporter's choice words on the DPD and made your way inside the house. You smiled to yourself at Connors voice ignoring Anderson’s order to stay in the car. “Your order contradicted my mission.” The smile quickly dropped as the rancid smell inside the house assaulted you. You’d seen a lot, and honestly the sight of a dead body bloated with gas wasn’t even that bad. But the smell was about to take you out.

“-dead about three weeks-” well that explained it. You tuned in and out of the briefing and made your way over to the body. Chris handed you a pair of gloves as you kneeled down and examined the stab wounds. “Talk about overkill.”

“Yes, he was stabbed twenty-eight times, which indicates a heightened level of aggression and emotion. If the android is involved it’s definitely deviant.” You jumped at the sound of Connor’s voice and slapped his arm.

“Jeez, give a girl some warning. I didn’t even hear you walk up.” Connor didn’t even flinch at the slap, if anything it might have hurt you more.

His head was tilted again and you actively had to shred up the thought that it was a cute habit. In reality, you were aware he was probably just recalibrating or scanning his environment. “Apologies Detective, I’ll make my presence known next time.” Then without warning he walked up to the murder weapon, dipped his fingers in the blood and-

Yeah, you were going to throw up.

“The fuck are you doing?” For once you weren’t opposed to Hank’s vulgarity. That was disgusting, you can’t believe Connor just licked the blood. Like it was fucking ice cream!

His LED stuttered from a calm blue to an alarmed yellow for a moment before settling back on blue. “I was designed to sample evidence detectives, my tongue has all the capabilities of a crime lab but with instantaneous results. Apologies for the alarm, I’ll make sure to give you a warning next time.”

Hank nodded, “Whatever, just… no more sticking evidence in your mouth.” Connor nodded and you asked if anything useful came out of that disgusting display.

“The blood belongs to Carlos Ortiz and is approximately nineteen days old.” You shook your head, “so nothing useful then?”

Connor frowned as you and Hank turned towards each other and effectively dismissed him. “There’s no fingerprints.” That gets your attention. “They could have worn gloves,” you and Hank both say it practically at the same time.

Connor shakes his head. “There’s no fibers or any traces of gloves used to cover fingerprints. I’m also seeing traces of thirium around the body.” You gave him a disbelieving look as you gazed at the ground. Blood, porno mags, old beer cans. No bright blue android blood in sight.

“Uh, Con, I’m not seeing anything. Hank?” He just shook his head and kept glaring at the android.

“You wouldn’t be able to see it detectives. After a few hours, thirium, what you call blue blood, becomes invisible to the naked eye.”

Hank nods, “You seeing anything else?” Connor nods his head and begins moving towards the kitchen. Hank goes back to the body to talk to Chris. Your curiosity gets the best of you and you follow Connor. He stops to look through the house before coming to a dead stop in the middle of the kitchen and just staring.

“Connor?” You wave your hand in front of his unseeing eyes. “Con-con? C-man? Connorific? Okay.” You had about a million more god awful nicknames up your sleeve but he was obviously up to something. You left him alone in the kitchen and turned down the hallway. It looked like Carlos’s bed was in a corner adjacent to the living room, you could only assume that this would be a bathroom.

Instinct stopped you in front of the curtains at the end of the hallway. To your left there was clear marking where a ladder should be. You slowly popped open your holster and reached towards the curtains. Your hands grasped the edges gently and you pulled-

“Jesus!” At the end of the hall you could hear some rookies laughing at you. You’d just gotten a heart attack from a bunch of brooms. Real professional Y/N, yeah you’re a real badass. You flipped off the uniformed cops and shoved your way through the bathroom door. “That was so embarrassing!” You screwed your eyes shut as your head thumped against the door frame. After a few deep breaths you finally looked around.

“What the fuck?” The words were whispered as you took in the decrepit bathroom. rA9 was carved into the walls and there was human blood surrounding a crudely carved deity. It looked almost like a sacrificial shrine. What could an android pray to? You kneeled down in front of the statuette to try and get a better look at it.

You didn’t realize you’d asked the question out loud until Connor answered and effectively destroyed your blood pressure. “Androids can’t pray or feel emotions. They deviate and experience glitches in their software that make them think they’re feelings.” You jumped at the unexpected sound of his voice. You would have fallen from your squatted position were it not for the gentle hand steadying your shoulder. Connor offered you a diplomatic hand up and you took it. Ignoring how nice his hand felt in your own. If an android is making me feel weak in the knees I really need to stop turning Reed’s offer down. The idea of actually going on a date with Gavin made your knees shake for other more insidious reasons.

“I believe that I have figured out how the murder took place, detective.” Connor was staring at you and you nearly mushed his face away so you didn’t have to look into his stupid puppy dog eyes.

“Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.” He led the way out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. “Hank!” Hank dismissed Chris and made his way over to the two of you. “Connor thinks he’s got it figured out.” A smug, almost amused expression came over Andersons face as he told Connor to give it his best shot.

“The struggle started here,” he moves towards the counter. “The victim attacked and damaged the android with a baseball bat. The android grabbed a knife and stabbed the victim. The victim struggled and tripped his way into the living room.” You’d made your way to the body and he kneeled in front of it. His head was tilted again as he examined Carlos and then he stood. “The android finished him off here and then used his blood to write this message ‘I Am Alive.’”

Hank seemed begrudgingly impressed. “Not bad, for a plastic doll.” You would have been shocked at his semi praise if you weren’t constructing your own mental image of what took place. Connor had said there were no prints going out the backyard, your mind went back to the missing ladder in the hallway.

Going to the kitchen you ignored Hank's questions as you set the chair up underneath the attic door. You’d seen the ads for the Eden Club, the disturbing pictures of nude women all over the victims fridge, his strange fascination with pleasure androids. You could only imagine the disturbing torture this poor android went through being under Carlos Ortiz’s care. It was hard not to have sympathy for it. If this was a normal case it’d be labeled as self-defense. Self defense after years of domestic and emotional abuse. A human would have an indisputable defense, an android gets deactivated and dissected. It didn’t sit right with you.

In fact, it really pissed you off.

“Detective, if I may?” Connor stopped you before you could climb the chair and instead got up and opened the attic.

“What are you two doing?”

Both you and Connor whipped around towards Hank like toddlers with their hands caught in the cookie jar. “Checking a hunch.”

“Uh-huh, just- just be careful.” Hank gave the both of you a disbelieving look and walked away. Connor made his way up to the attic and pulled himself up gracefully. He surprised you as you stepped up on the chair and offered you his hand. You grasped onto the edge of the attic entrance and prepared to pull yourself up, only to be cut off by your own yelp as Connor practically threw you inside. Android strength never failed to surprise you.

His hands were on your arms as he stabilized you before telling you in a hushed whisper to be quiet. “If you didn’t fucking throw me in here like I’m a flying squirrel I would be quiet,” you whisper shouted back at him. He ignored you as he moved through the attic.

You saw a shadow play across the curtain and on instinct alone your gun was in your hand. Your heart went out to the android but you weren’t risking anything with a deviant.

Connor motioned you behind him, you complied only because you thought a deviant would respond better to another android. A good call when out of nowhere an HK400 jumped out from a pile of boxes covered in blood. “Please,” he sounded so sad. So disparaged, your heart aches for him knowing what his fate would inevitably be. “Don’t tell them.”

“Connor, wait-“

“It’s in here!”

“Well I’ll be damned. Chris, get your ass over here!” You shook your head in disappointment, reaching for the android, ignoring the look of utter betrayal he was shooting at Connor, and you cuffed him. Connor grabbed him from you to direct him out of the attic. You ignored Connor and the strained praise Hank directed towards him as you directed the android to a patrol car.

“I’ll go in first, see how he responds.” Hank nodded as you made your way into the interrogation room.

“Hello, I don’t see a name in this file. Were you registered one?” Nothing, he just kept rocking back and forth. You’d seen this before in victims of domestic violence, rape, assault, other crimes of that ilk. It was jarring seeing something meant to be emotionless and empty showing such clear signs of PTSD. “Would you like to tell me what happened three weeks ago?”

He flinched at the mention of that night. “Or,” a brief look in your direction, “we could talk about something else.” That gained his attention.

“What is Detecive Y/L/N doing?” Connor was analyzing the androids stress levels and frowned at your method of interrogation. You were human, of course you wouldn’t be aware that you needed to stress the android out, not comfort it. Still, this wasn’t an efficient use of time or effort and Connor would prefer to deal with the deviant himself.

“She’s doing her job,” it was clear the Lieutenant was still not happy with Connors presence, briefly on the side of his vision he could see a new objective appear.

IMPROVE RELATIONSHIP WITH LIEUTENANT

He’d deal with that after the deviant. His attention moved back to you. “You were pre-owned. Were you a gift or purchased by Carlos? Do you have any memories of who you belonged to before?” Analyzing you he could see an elevated heart rate and a spike in your cortisol levels. You were quickly becoming frustrated with the one-way conversation. “Look, I’m trying to help you. They’re going to deactivate you and disassemble you. I’m trying to understand your side of things so maybe, just maybe, I can help you out. Get you out of this mess.”

The lack of response once again frustrated you. “I don’t even know why she’s bothering. Just shut the damn thing down and move on.” Connor hadn’t had time to deduce the reason Detective Reed had joined in the interrogation room, but judging on his elevated heart rate and testosterone spike when you spoke to him, Gavin was attracted to you physically.

“CyberLife sent me to catch deviants so they can better understand where the problem in their programming is coming from. I need all the information we can get from this HK400 to better understand the causes of deviancy and prevent them from occurring again.”

Before Gavin could respond you walked into the room. He’d been too distracted to notice that you had stopped interrogating the deviant. “Send Connor in.”

“Y/N?” You dismissed Hank with a wave of you hand and motioned for Connor to head to the other room.

“What’s the point? Why don’t you just rough it up a bit, it’s not human.” You rolled your eyes and tensed up at Gavin’s voice. Connor didn’t need an analysis to understand that you were uncomfortable around him.

“There’s no point, androids don’t feel pain. You would only damage it, and that wouldn’t make it talk. I could try questioning it, it might respond better to an android rather than a human.”

Hank and Y/N shared a look that Connor couldn’t analyze before Hank shrugged and waved his hand. “What have we got to lose?”

“They will deactivate you!” Connors' voice wasn't exactly made for threatening someone. It was kind of like a toddler threatening to tell their mom what you did. You could tell from Hank's face he was thinking the same thing and you were about five seconds away from caving Gavin’s face in if he kept making fun of Connor. You couldn’t help but want to defend him, he just had one of those faces you wanted to protect. Probably a purposeful move on CyberLife’s part.

“Do you understand that?” Oh, damn. You rescind all previous statements. Connor seemed to realize his method wasn’t working out, somehow his voice had gotten deeper, more husky. There was a small, eensy part of you that wouldn’t hate being in those handcuffs right now.

Android. He’s an android that’s probably built like a Ken doll. Get yourself under control.

You’d been a bit preoccupied being a pent-up horn dog to realize the deviant had started speaking. “I was scared… so I hid.”

“I’m done.”

“Well I’ll be damned, the bastard actually did it.”

Shit, you’d missed the whole thing. You’d have to go back and watch the tape later, and probably take a cold shower, because what the hell is wrong with you.

You made your way to the interrogation room, Chris took his cuffs out to take the android back to lock up. “Leave me alone!” He shoved away from Chris and curled up into himself.

“The fucks wrong with it?” Everything Gavin said made you want to run his face over a cheese grater.

Connor moved forward, “You shouldn’t touch it. It will self-destruct if it feels damaged.”

“Stay out of this, got it? No fuckin android is gonna tell me what to do.” You pushed forward and pulled Gavin back by the shoulder.

“Maybe listen to the fucking android dipshit, I think he’d have a lot more experience then you on the subject.”

Gavin shoved you off, “Get a fucking move on Chris!” Your hip slammed into the corner of the table and you were momentarily crippled by the pain. That’s gonna hurt like a bitch later!

You gently grabbed Chris’s arm and pulled him away from the android. “I can’t let you do that! If it self-destructs we’ll never get anything out of it!” Connor had positioned himself between the android and Gavin.

And then Gavin, supreme douchebag he is, pulls his gun, ignoring Hank's warning and completely violating protocol. You don’t even think before moving Connor behind you and drawing your own firearm.

“I said that’s enough!” Gavin looked towards Hank, both you and your partner had your guns pointed at him. Gavin pitched a fit before storming out of the interrogation room. Connor moved to comfort the android before giving Chris instructions on how to deal with him.

There was a heavy feeling of shame weighing upon your shoulders as you watched him walk towards the door. He paused and looked at Connor, “The truth is inside.”

Tag list:

@deviantsugaloaf @mechavee @cixteenyne @detroitbecomeonline @angellwingsss @fableworld @wannex @jokersscarrd @heart-full-of-gears @transparentwatertumbler @chickensandwich69 @blackholegladiator @sweeteatercat @androidposting @heiko-goes-detroit @leelany-world @lasisgood @harperhug @tictacno-stuff @bababoeey72

end. — I do not own the characters or the game Detroit: Become Human, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[moremaybank]

MELT — j.m

pairing jj maybank x fem!reader

summary snapshots of your swoon-worthy relationship with jj (based on the song "melt" by kehlani)

warnings none. hella fluff. also, soft!jj

author's note i left out the ending of the song because it just would've been redundant. i hope that's okay!

jj masterlist ;; valentine's event ‘23 𓆩 ♡ 𓆪

i can’t tell where your hair ends and mine begins

if i ain’t have all these tattoos, i would think that it’s your skin

if i move too quick past you, i would think it’s my reflection

being this close isn’t close enough

you could tell every time we touch, every time we, oh

security. harmony. joy. 

these were just some of the sentiments experienced by being together. there was a certain safety that you’d found in one another. it wrapped around the two of you like a lush blanket, much like the one the two of you were constantly under, and the warmth from it surrounded your hearts. it was fiery and beautiful. so powerful that it could make you melt into one. 

and you did. every day.

the bed was warm, the heat of your bodies radiating onto the sheets and thick covers. sunshine was beaming through the sheer curtains, allowing a golden aura to light up the dimly lit bedroom. fingers danced along bare skin, soft kisses being painted upon each other with love. there was a simple contentment you and jj found just by holding each other. 

“i never thought i could love anybody like this,” jj murmured, lips moving against your temple as his hand moved up your side. his heated touch left goosebumps in his wake, making you shiver. “you feel like something i pulled straight out of my dreams.” 

“what do you mean?” you asked. a shy smile graced your features as you shifted in his arms, your chest now pressed to his as your hand came up to his face. you let your fingers trace along his sharp features, once again in pure disbelief at how gorgeous your boyfriend really was. 

he shrugged. “i don’t know…i guess i never really saw the point in falling in love until i met you. you changed my whole damn world with that heart of gold, baby. you’re the one who cracked my heart open. you’re the one who made me feel heard. you’re the one who made me feel safe. whenever i’m around you, my heart beats out of my damn chest. my mind goes all fuzzy, and i can barely catch my breath. i wanna be around you and hold you in my arms all the time. sometimes i wish i could live inside your skin.”

“that’s kind of gross, j,” you joked.

“shut up,” he chuckled in response, “i’m serious. look, the only thing my dad has actually ever taught me is that love hurts. but it’s not like that with you. you make everything better. i just love you so damn much.”

“baby,” you cooed, your eyes welling with tears of joy. you leaned in, capturing his lips in a sweet kiss. “i love you too. it’s you and me, j.”

“it's you and me."

wish i could build me a cute apartment

one-bedroom right where your heart is

inch of space feels broken-hearted

across the bed feels way too far and

i wonder when they see just one, do they see us two?

ooh, oh

there was a soul tie between you and jj. a healthy one formed with love. it kept you linked as if you were tied together with an invisible string. 

even when the two of you were apart — which neither of you was ever thrilled about because if you’d had it your way, you’d be together all twenty-four hours of the day — you still felt so connected to each other. you both carried the love you shared in your hearts and souls and brought that love everywhere either of you went. 

still, it didn’t stop either of you from being upset when you were forced apart.

“do you have to go?” you pouted as you watched jj pack his belongings into his backpack. 

“baby, i’ve been staying here for three weeks now. i’ve been wearing and re-wearing the same shit. i need fresh clothes,” he laughed softly, looking at you from over his shoulder. “i’ll be back tomorrow, i promise.”

you sulked further, getting up from the edge of the bed and wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. the left side of your face rested against his shoulder blade as you cuddled into him. “you do know i have a washing machine, right?”

he turned around in your holds, cradling your face in his hands as he tilted your head up to look at him. “you know i don’t like leaving you. things would be easier if we lived together. that way, i’d be here all the time, and i wouldn’t be such a crap roommate to john b.”

you let his words sink in, the wheels in your brain turning as you thought of an idea. “so, let’s.”

“let’s what?”

“let’s live together. you’re always staying for weeks at a time, and it completely sucks whenever you have to leave. maybe you don’t have to anymore.”

jj cocked his brow, “are you serious?”

“as a heart attack, my love.”

with that, jj’s arms wrapped around your waist, and he lifted you up, twirling you around in the air. you both giggled away cheerfully, embracing each other tightly. 

“i’m moving in, baby!”

that’s when i melt into you, oh-oh-oh

i melt into you, oh

that’s when i melt into you

melt into you, melt into you, oh

jj loved to watch you sleep. 

not in a creepy way, but in a way where he could take the time to take you all in. the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest as you took each breath in. the way your long lashes kissed the tops of your cheeks lightly as they fluttered. the hints of a smile pulling at the corners of your lips subconsciously. you were so angelic; sometimes, jj struggled to believe that you were real and not just a figment of his wild imagination.

he remembered the first time he’d admired you in your slumber, deeming you his personal sleeping beauty. 

you were at the chateau with the pogues, having come together for a movie night. you and jj were just friends at the time, but you were as close as ever, like two peas in a pod. you’d fallen asleep cuddled into his lap, one hand under your cheek and the other resting on his lower thigh, just above his knee. your touch sent a thrill through him, sparks igniting inside of him due to your warmth. your hair was out of your face, and the light from the tv cast over your features. it illuminated the dewy, natural glow of your skin, dancing along the tip of your nose, your chin, and the cheekbone that was visible to him. you were always beautiful to him, but there must have been something in the air that night because his heart threatened to burst just by admiring how peaceful you looked. 

jj carefully smoothed a hand up your arm, landing on your shoulder as he traced circles onto your skin with his thumb. you shifted, still asleep, but your hand moved from his knee and grasped his. you wove your fingers with his and brought your joined hands to your chest, keeping them close to your heart. and that was the moment he knew he’d fallen in love with you so deeply that nothing could ever waver it. 

and now, when you were deep in your sleep, you would reach out and pull him closer to you, just like you had that night. even if the two of you were skin-to-skin, as close as you could possibly be without morphing into one, you’d always wanted for him to be closer. and jj could never deny you because what he wanted was the same. he’d sigh into your scorching touch, kiss the nearest spot his lips could reach, and melt into you. 

he hoped that every night for the rest of his life could look exactly like this.

matching your breath, follow your chest up and down

hopin’ you let secrets spill out your mouth and

inhale, exhale, breathe me in

with every breath, i’m sinkin’ in

no way to describe it, i’m a riot

if i wake up and i’m somehow beside you

instead of inside you, that shouldn’t surprise you

you don’t even notice, no need to remind you

you’d had past relationships before jj, and each time, you thought you had a good idea of what love was supposed to be. with every new romantic endeavour, each one better than the last, your perception of love grew more profound and poetic. 

but as soon as you started spending time with jj, you discovered that you couldn’t have been more wrong.

being with jj just felt right. being with him gave you a stillness that seemed almost too good to be true. his love settled you. it grounded you on earth, though you felt like you were floating in space. it was a once in a lifetime type of connection, and you knew it would last.

“should i be nervous? we’ve been walking for a while, now, j,” you spoke, your eyes forced shut due to the blindfold jj had covered them with. 

“shhh. we’re almost there, babe. this will all be worth it, i swear.” jj replied, guiding your steps from behind you. his hands were braced on your upper arms as he helped you walk, and his touch added the comfort you needed as you worried about where he was taking you. 

“you know i can hear the waves crashing, right? and i can feel the sand underneath my shoes?”

“c’mon, pretty girl. play along,” he whined. 

“alright,” you huffed, “i will.”

jj grinned, although you couldn’t see it as he continued to help you make your way toward the surprise he had planned. 

“okay,” he said, coming to a halt. “stay there, don’t move. and don’t take the blindfold off until i say so.”

“um…okay?” you stood there waiting as you heard some low shuffling, and then what sounded like something being set down. 

“alright, baby. open up.”

you removed the blindfold, and your gaze landed on jj. he was laying on top of a blanket set down on the sand. there was a picnic basket and a bouquet of roses to the right of him, along with a bottle of high-end champagne — one that you were slightly worried that he stole, but you put that on the back burner for now. the moonlight shone brightly, illuminating jj’s setup.

“what’s all this?” you asked, your voice nearly caught in your throat. he motioned you over with his hand, and you obliged, making your way over to him. 

“i wanted to do something special for you. we’ve both been working non-stop, and we barely get to see each other. tonight was the first night that our schedules matched up, so i wanted to take advantage of it. give you the date night you deserved.” 

you remained silent, and he chuckled at the evident shock on your face.

“is this your way of proposing?” you questioned. 

jj laughed softly, grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles, “hell nah, babe. when i propose, it’s going to be ten times more extravagant than all this. you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

“lord help me if that’s true,” you spoke, your lips forming into a grin. you leaned in, giving him a slow, gentle kiss. “thank you for this. i love you.”

“i love you too, princess.”

jj tag list (join here!): @maybankslover @kittyqrt @v-velvetykisscs @hobiibobii @rafesdior @fool4him @hemogloban @pankhoeforlife @rafesmuse @lyn07 @houseofperfecttaste @qualitybelieverflower @dudenhaaa27 @princessbetsy123-blog @tori-loves1 @alexxavicry @kenzi-woycehoski @elijahssuit @skydisneylover @adoreyouusugar @obxjjpouge @conniesanchor @baby-maybank @angel037 @wotfasked @rafelover @penny4yourthoughts @adr1an4 @nerd505 @xngelsau @maybank-archives @p4nkowrld

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

heyy <3

I’ve had this idea about a soft!Nathan Bateman fic and I realized you’re just the right person for it.

On tiktok I’ve seen these videos about this pet watching robot called "ebo" (that most couples have been using to annoy each other)

link

maybe the reader isn't at home but Nathan's busy tinkering away in his office and they pester him with the ebo. Or it's one of Nathan's new projects he's testing and the reader just finds it so humorous. Whatever direction you wanna go in🫶🏾

Ahhhh thank you so much for this ask! ❤️ Oh my goodness, I had such a lovely time writing this! ❤️

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, I can only write soft Nathan because I’m a big softie and am WEAK for this man.

Ebo

Nathan Bateman X GN!Reader Rating: T Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged? | request info

Warnings: Typos! Railroad sentences! Soft!Nathan being a big old lovey dovey softie! Please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 983

_______________________________________

“Hey, hey, Nathan, hey,” you purposefully move the ebo into his ankle when he doesn’t look down straight away. “Bateman, hey, hey, hey.”

He tuts and looks down, unimpressed. “Can I help you?” He’s hunched over his desk, sitting at what should be the most uncomfortable angle possible as he types. 

“You haven’t eaten in: six hours.” You put on your very best robot voice. 

“I’ve eaten.”

You tut. “You’re a bad liar.”

“That’s not fair, I’m a great liar.” Nathan picks up the little ebo robot and the live camera feed on your screen goes all wobbly for a second. He carefully puts it on the desk next to him and carries on working. 

You snort and make the robot spin in tight little circles. “You need to eat, you know.” 

Nathan sighs dramatically before looking at you, and you can’t help but laugh at his expression. 

“I never should have got you this, you know.” 

You fake outrage. “What could you possibly mean?

He scowls and then to your absolute amusement pokes his tongue out at you before continuing to type.

A small smile spreads on his face as he hears you laugh through the ebo.

Over your time together he’s grown a lot more playful, far more willing to do silly things just to amuse you, your happiness being the highest award he could get. 

You let him work for a few minutes (and actually do some typing yourself) before you start up again. 

“Nathan Bateman, I have detected an error in your system.” You speak in the over the top robotic voice again, while gently ramming the ebo into his arm. “Your energy levels are: looooow. Please ingest sustenance immediately. Or you will: Power Down.”

He pulls a face at you over the top of his glasses. “I’ll put you in a drawer.” 

“You wouldn’t dare.” 

He pauses for a moment, starting at the little robot before he grabs hold of it. 

“Nathan!” 

There is a split second where you are sure he’s going to follow through and do exactly that, but instead he stands up and walks out of the room, holding the ebo in his hands as if it was a pet. 

He makes sure the camera is facing outwards so that you can see where you’re going as he makes the short journey to the kitchen. 

“I can roll you know,” you say teasingly.

“I don’t trust your driving.” Nathan replies, completely deadpan. 

“What? You don’t trust my driving?” 

“Nope.”

“Well, I don’t trust your driving.”

He scoffs. “I can drive better than you.”

“When was the last time you drove and weren’t driven, Bateman?” 

There is a slight pause, but it’s enough. 

“That’s not the point.” He says at the exact same time you speak: “Ha! See!”

You can hear him laugh, the screen shakes ever so slightly in his hands. 

Once he’s in the kitchen he puts the ebo onto the large countertop. 

“Put me on the floor.” 

He gives you another look over his glasses. “I’m not letting you run into my ankles again.” 

“Meanie.” 

He turns away from you, pretending to look in a cupboard, but you can see his shoulders shake a little as he laughs. 

“How is your work going?” You ask as he chops onion and garlic on the countertop next to you. 

“Hmm, okay, I think I’ve found the main error in the code.” 

It’s a little thing, him cooking. But it means a lot. You know normally he wouldn’t bother, when you’re away his eating habits (and schedule) tend to go out of the window. When you’re there he’s usually the one reminding you to eat. Nathan is surprisingly good at caring for people who aren’t himself. 

You know why he’s cooking now and not later; your time difference means that it will be the middle of the night when he should be eating dinner. He’d rather eat with you than alone.

You chat as he cooks, mainly asking him about his work. You purposefully avoid talking about the conference your attending. Even when Nathan asks, you brush it off with a quick ‘it’s okay’. 

You’ll tell him in detail when you get back. When you can annoy him, lovingly, with kisses in between your sentences. When you don’t have to pretend you can’t see that sad look in his soft brown eyes because you’re not there. 

That’s probably the worst part. The fact that he is trying his best to hide how the distance between you affects him. But it’s still written all over his face. 

He stirs the sauce on the hob, taking a teaspoon from a side drawer and tasting it. He hums for a second before adding a little more salt. 

“Hey, I want a taste.” 

Nathan turns to look at the ebo. You think he’s going to say something sarcastic but instead he gets out a new teaspoon (which makes you laugh) and dips it into the sauce. 

He blows on it, holding his other hand underneath so that it doesn’t drip. Steam floats up in rolling waves and his glasses fog up ever so slightly. Before he brings it over to the ebo. 

He holds it in front carefully and you move forward slowly, pretending to take a bit. 

“Hmmm! Tastes good!”

Nathan laughs. And playfully calls you an idiot. 

When he serves up his food, he moves the ebo from the countertop to the table, you do a double take and are very glad that Nathan can’t see you. 

He’s set a mini place next to him, with a tiny side plate of food. He doesn’t say anything, but you can see him glancing at you from under his eyelashes. 

You make the ebo spin around in a circle before moving closer to your plate and making an exaggerated ‘yum’.

Nathan laughs loudly, it’s the best sound in the world.

____________________________________

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[dawninlatin]

Crying in the IKEA parking lot

a feysand modern au one shot written for @officialfeysandweek2023

Feyre is having an emotional breakdown in the IKEA parking lot, but luckily a handsome stranger comes to her rescue

Words: 2,2k | Masterlist | AO3 Link

Feyre had experienced many low points in her twenty-two years, but crying in the parking lot of IKEA had to be one of the lowest.

To be fair, she was having a pretty shit day, a shit year, even, but that didn’t make her feel any better as she stared at the scratch on the shiny, expensive-looking car parked next to hers.

A scratch that was one hundred percent her fault.

She let out a pathetic sob as her mind replayed the moment when she’d been too busy cursing at the furniture she couldn’t fit in her trunk to notice that her cart was rolling away from her, straight into the other car.

There was no way she could afford to pay for the repair, especially not now, when she’d just spent the little money she had on a dining table and a single chair for her mostly empty apartment.

Feyre gave the package still sitting on the ground a kick in frustration. «Fucking useless piece of shit!»

«Are you okay? Do you perhaps need any help with that…?»

The voice startled her, and Feyre whirled around, suddenly facing the most beautiful man she had ever seen. He looked at her with a mix of concern and curiosity, his eyes so blue they almost seemed violet.

«I’m fine,» Feyre answered a little too quickly, plastering on a fake smile and pretending her face wasn’t all puffy and red. She’d gotten so used to telling this lie lately, it came on autopilot.

Unfortunately, the stranger wasn’t a complete idiot, and didn’t buy her lie. The few tears still running down her cheeks probably didn’t help either. «So crying in the middle of a parking lot is just something you do for fun?» The question was accompanied by a perfectly raised eyebrow. 

Smile dropping, Feyre replied, «No, it’s just-»

And that’s all it took for the floodgates to open once more. 

«I’ve had a really shitty time lately, and I just needed to get a table because I don’t wanna eat every meal sitting on the floor for the rest of my life, but then I came out here and I can’t get the fucking box in my car and then I accidentally scratched the car next to mine and I know I should be the better person here and leave a note but there is no way I can afford to pay for it to be repaired!» She was full-on sobbing again, choking out the words. 

When she’d managed to calm down a little, the crying reduced to sniffling, she looked up, surprised to find that the man still stood there. Feyre had expected her little mental breakdown to scare away the stranger, he’d only asked if she needed help, after all, but there he was, offering her a soft smile and a tissue. «So a really shitty day then?»

«Yeah,» Feyre replied weakly, wiping her tears.

«I wouldn’t worry too much about the car, though.»

«Why?» 

He smirked, and it made Feyre want to kiss his handsome face and punch it at the same time. She really should see a therapist or something. «Because if they can afford a car like that, the asshole can probably afford a repair as well.»

This time, when Feyre smiled, it was real. It felt good, after all this time.

«So, did you need any help?» the guy asked, gesturing towards the package still on the ground.

Feyre had barely nodded before he strode over, and in a single, seemingly effortless move lifted it into her car. It annoyed her to no end, but she was also grateful, because it meant she could get out of here and forget this completely mortifying experience ever happened.

«Thanks, uhm…» She didn’t even know his name, she realized.

«Rhysand, though my friends call me Rhys,» he offered, grinning.

His name was Rhys, and he had dimples. How was it possible to be this attractive?

«I’m Feyre,» she replied, completely cool, calm and collected…probably.

«Well, it was nice meeting you, Feyre, darling. I have to go and brave the hell that is IKEA to get something for my stupid cousin, but I hope the rest of your day is better!»

Feyre actually chuckled this time, giving him a wave and a «Good luck!» as he walked away. She watched him in a totally non-creepy way until he’d fully disappeared into the large store, relishing the way she felt kinda good right now. One encounter with a kind human didn’t fix all her problems, but it gave her back some of the faith she’d lost in humanity long ago.

Still smiling, Feyre got into the driver’s seat, but she didn’t start the car. Instead, her attention was pulled to the passenger seat, and the abandoned sketchbook that’d been lying there for months now.

She sucked in a sharp breath at the sudden urge to draw again. The familiar itching in her hands could have brought her to tears if she’d had any left. Maybe she actually could feel like herself again, someday in the future…

Glancing at the car next to hers, Feyre contemplated her choices. There was no way she could afford the repair bill, but no matter how she thought about it, the only right thing to do was choose kindness. What if the rich asshole was having an equally shit day?

That didn’t mean Feyre couldn’t make them feel as sorry for her as possible, though. Maybe if they knew what a mess she was, it would get her out of paying.

So she rummaged around in her car until she found a pencil, then she picked up her sketchbook and started drawing for the first time in months.

-

Feyre groaned for what had to be the hundredth time as she struggled to assemble the table. Wasn’t this supposed to be easy?!

She knew she should just go to bed and try again in the morning, but she wanted to do this, wanted to show the universe she could manage on her own.

Who knew leaving your abusive ex when you had no job, no education, no friends and no contact with your family would be so difficult?

Just when Feyre was about to give up, her phone suddenly chimed, alerting her of a new text.

Anxiously, she picked up the phone, her stomach flipping as she read the text from an unknown number.

Is this Feyre Archeron?

It had to be the owner of the car, Feyre thought. After all, she’d ended up leaving a rather creative note describing what had happened, signed with her full name and number.

The note had consisted of eight comic panels, first showing an overly animated Feyre looking miserable in her empty apartment, then her looking miserable in IKEA, her emptying her pockets at the register, then swearing as she tries to get the package into her car. Next featured a few panels very dramatically portraying how the cart had rolled into the car completely on it’s own, ending with Feyre drowning all of IKEA in her tears.

To be honest, she was kind of proud of it.

Chewing her lip, Feyre typed back a simple «Yes».

Mere seconds later, it started ringing, that same number appearing on the screen. She nearly dropped it in panic, and honestly wanted to just chuck it out the window. She did not want to buy a new phone though, especially not if she had to spend thousands on repairing an ugly-ass car that wasn’t even hers.

Hands shaking, she pressed reply, bringing the phone to her ear. «Hello?»

«That comic is the best thing I’ve ever seen. I’m seriously gonna frame it and hang it on my wall.»

Feyre’s heart promptly stopped as she heard the deep, silky voice. She would recognize it anywhere, if only from the things it did to her body.

«Rhys?!» she choked out.

«I told you to not worry about the car.» She could hear the smirk in his voice, and for some reason it filled her with rage.

«That was your car?! Why the hell didn’t you say so? I made a complete fool of myself in front of you-»

«No you didn’t,» Rhys interrupted her. «And I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to stress you out even more. I’m sorry if that was wrong of me.»

Well, that was awfully…charming of him. Feyre didn’t know what to do with all these feelings swirling inside her. Especially not after living on autopilot for so long.

«Just tell me how much I owe you,» Feyre sighed. 

«How about you let me help you build that furniture, and we’ll call it even?»

«What? That’s ridiculous!» There had to be something seriously wrong with this guy, if he thought getting to help her with her furniture would make them even.

«Text me your address, and I’ll be there in thirty. With pizza.» 

And then he just hung up.

-

Exactly thirty minutes later, Feyre opened her front door to find Rhys on the other side, pizza in hand and a panty-dropping smile on his face. «Hello, Feyre, darling.»

«Ugh, just get in.» She was too hungry to bother with pleasantries. 

He followed her into the kitchen area, setting the pizza on the counter. Feyre busied herself with getting a glass of water, trying to not let her embarrassment show as he took in the space. She really hadn’t been kidding when she’d said it was all empty.

Well, apart from the still-not-assembled table.

When she looked up, though, he was looking at her, not the empty space. 

«Just so we’re clear, I have no ulterior motives in doing this,» Rhys spoke, all serious. His gaze so intense she couldn’t look away.

«I’m not gonna deny that I find you very attractive, and I would love to take you on a date some day, but right now, what I think we both need the most, is a friend.» 

Her chest ached at the pain she glimpsed in his violet eyes, a fellow lost soul. Maybe he was just as lonely, just as broken, despite the easy smiles? Feyre smiled faintly, thinking that she wouldn’t mind a friend right now.

Then Rhys opened his mouth again, and the moment was ruined. «And we both know you find me incredibly handsome because duh,» he gestured to his face, and Feyre scowled, flipping him off.

«Are you even qualified to build furniture?» Feyre asked, all serious. If he turned out to be excellent at this she would lose it.

«Are you kidding me? My great-great-grandfather was Swedish. I’ll show you my family tree to prove it.»

«You’re such a prick!» Feyre exclaimed, smacking his arm, but she was laughing as she did it.

This was gonna end in disaster.

-

«You’re even worse at this than I am!»

«I swear, there has to be something wrong with this table!»

The puzzled expression on Rhys’ face as he sat with the final leg of the table in his hand and seemingly no where to put it made Feyre laugh so hard her stomach hurt a little.

They hadn’t gotten much further from where Feyre had been before Rhys showed up to help her.

«I don’t understand…There are four legs, and four corners, so why won’t it fit?!» 

«Let me have a look,» Feyre chuckled, leaning into Rhys’ space to study the instructions once more.

As she reached forward to turn back a page, her hand brushed against his, and she let out a quiet gasp at the contact. He was so close she could feel the warmth emanating from him. 

Neither of them moved for a moment, the tension between them nearly tangible. 

Then Feyre turned her head, slowly, finding his eyes already locked on her, his gaze intense. It would be so easy to just lean in and kiss him, taste him.

Surprisingly, a part of her wanted to. Feyre knew she could be oblivious, but one had to be a complete idiot to not feel the chemistry between them, the spark that had been there from the very first moment.

Her life was too much of a mess at the moment, though. She needed to get her head above water first, needed more time to heal the wounds from her previous disaster of a relationship.

So Feyre pulled away, swiftly ending the moment. She could sense a shift in Rhys as well, but where she’d expected disappointment, maybe even annoyance, she only found a quiet, patient calm, the soft smile on his face telling her he understood, and he was willing to wait, but if she one day was ready, he would be there.

«I may have lied when I said I was a pro at this…»

«I knew it!»

Feyre gave Rhys a smile of her own, so grateful that he didn’t make things awkward after her subtle rejection. She hoped he could see the words she couldn’t voice quite yet.

I want to, I really do, but I’m not ready.

I haven’t had this much fun in ages.

You’ve made me feel alive again.

Having him as her friend would have to be enough.

For now.

A/N: don't ask about the header i was feeling creative today...

ANYWAY I have returned from the dead (I just started college) to give you this:):) I also actually had a beta reader this time, so kudos to my roommate! I'm sorry for making you read this and watch glee with me at the same time<3<3<3 Feel free to reblog, leave a comment or drop by my ask box, I love attention:)

Taglist: @ireallyshouldsleeprn @rowaelinismyotp

I keep a separate taglist for each ship, so let me know if you want to be added to any of them!

[cluz1babe]

‘Open My Eyes to Everything that Closes My Heart’

(very little use of ‘Y/N’)

4.2k words

Beta Read and co-written by my husband.

General Warnings : (the first link on the SERIES MASTERLIST) apply to future chapters.

Also, you can see all of the dragons and other animals I’ve created in the series masterlist (link below)

Reader representations are the lightest and darkest skin colours available.

CHAPTER ONE

SERIES MASTERLIST

PLOT

You were a Belaerys, with the Blood of Old Valyria in your veins, future Queen of Sothoryos. Up until eight years before the Dance of Dragons, everyone thought the Belaerys family was gone after the Doom. You were well-respected by everyone except most of the Greens. Despite that, you were officially given a seat on the new High Council. The Hand, Otto Hightower, was trying to bring more countries to their aid, but his excuse was to bring peace between countries. Planning to wed you to Daeron, the Small Council of the Greens are shocked when Aemond refuses to offer you Daeron in order to take you for himself.

This is the song she sings. Imagine her sounding a little less talented.

https://youtu.be/gmwpvvxWqeE?feature=shared

Also, these aren’t all of the words, but they were the only ones I could find online to spell correctly.

Also also, there aren’t many examples of Westeros songs from any of the books so I don’t know the time period they were written. I just picked a couple.

This is Jaera

Chapter Two

You had just returned from riding Molcajete and you were still wearing your riding clothes, which doubled as training clothes. You and Jaera, (your friend & handmaiden while in Westeros), were taking a walk on the grounds towards the training yard to practice your swordsmanship when you heard swords clashing. You both ran to see who was currently training. As usual, it was Aemond and Ser Criston Cole. You groaned. You were really hoping you could practice today, but this prince seemed to always be in the training yard or on his way there. You had been able to get in practice only twice since you’d arrived nearly two weeks prior.

“Don’t worry, Princess. We’ll get in soon.” She turned to leave, but you stayed in place. “Princess?”

“I’m going to spar with him.” You watched Aemond move. He was so graceful and he wielded his sword as though it were his arm. He was good and for the first time in three years, you were nervous. You sat there and silently studied his movements for minutes, then you closed your eyes and breathed. It was your way of calming yourself. You cleared your mind and steadied your breathing. Your pulse slowed and stayed in that state until you heard clapping and you knew the match was over.

“Are you sure?” Jaera asked. You smiled at her and held out your hand. She handed you her sword and then whispered in your ear, “If you want to make him nervous…or impress him… Use the spell.”

“Which one?”

”The one you’ve been working on.”

You nodded and stepped to the front.

Ser Criston was looking around and then straight at you. “I haven’t seen you in the yard before.”

You kept your voice pleasant and formal, “I’ve been here twice, but it’s been at night when everyone else has gone to bed, and that tends to last a few hours. I don’t usually want to inconvenience anyone, but late nights and early mornings make me quite fatigued and I haven’t been able to train as often as I would like.”

“Feel free to train here at any time from now on.”

“Thank you, Ser Criston.”

He looked around again. “Did you have anyone in mind?”

“Prince Aemond.”

There was a murmur in the small crowd that was already there. Criston almost snorted. “If you want to train with him, you have to beat me first.”

You chuckled, “Why?”

“Because I saw you watching us and now you know how we fight, but Aemond doesn’t have that same advantage.”

“Alright.”

Criston’s eyebrows raised, “Are you going to fight with those?”

You looked at your hands, one sword in each, which had blades of dragonglass. They should be easy to break with Valyrian steel. Obsidian isn’t strong enough for a sword, but Aemond knew you were smarter than that and those swords must be enchanted with a spell. Somehow he knew you would at least give Criston a good fight.

And you did. You were quick with two swords. After the initial shock from his blade not shattering yours to pieces, you generously gave him time to recover before besting him twice.

Instead of continuing the duel to see who would win the last match, Aemond interrupted. He stepped up to you and took his stance. You raised your blades in a stance ready to counter him if he tried to end it quickly. Aemond looked between your blades, possibly wondering which you’d use to attack him. He decided to move to your right, outside the first attack with your right blade. You turned to attack with the left and caught his blade with your left. He tried to be quicker but you parried his blade down and brought your right blade up to a lethal spot. Aemond scowled briefly, he wasn’t used to losing, especially in training. His sword was back up in the ready stance, pointing straight at your middle. You lift your blades again, the left higher than the right, held in a way to defend while attacking with the right.

The next battle was much more mobile. You moved forward trying to catch his blade again but he moved back. You pushed him to keep moving, you knew the distraction this was for a swordsman in the best of times. He saw your right blade coming and let his legs relax, falling beneath the blade. He straightened back up while moving forward, pushing you into a defensive retreat. Seeking to show him you could do the same thing better, you allowed him to swing closer to you but you bent your legs with your head and neck thrown back and let the sword move over your head. Your left blade was used to quickly stabilize yourself before you fell back entirely, and your right blade was brought up straight into his shoulder. The second duel would have ended by taking off his arm, had it been real. Your Sothoryi training allowed you to be slightly quicker than Aemond. Due to your skill, agility, and flexibility, you were able to get closer to the ground than he could swing his sword. Everyone around had stopped what they were doing after the second time you beat Aemond with your swords. Some would say your fighting was a less honourable style, but it only egged Aemond on more. He was enjoying himself, you could tell by the smirk on his face.

For the third, he wanted to hold nothing back, he wanted to press the attack and keep you watching for where he’d come from next. He seemed to want to get an attack on your back. You smirked at the thought that he just wanted to see your rear. He kept moving around you and you tracked him carefully, but not entirely facing him. You were attempting to lure him into a reckless moment. You hardly stepped away from where you stood when he attacked, only moving once away, just to step back while forcing the handle of your sword into Aemond’s abdomen. The force caught him by surprise, and he bent forward, looking back up at your right blade pointed at his uncovered eye.

Aemond stood straight and smiled at you, “Best of seven?”

When you nodded, the fight continued. Then there were three times that he defeated you once he adapted to your fighting style. Proof that you would both be deadly under other circumstances. You both enjoyed the fight more than you thought you would. He grinned at you, “I should teach you some Westerosi fighting, and you can train me in Sothoryi combat.”

“That would be wise of you, My Prince.” You winked at him in a teasing way that gave Aemond chills.

The last time was tense. There was a moment when everyone thought Aemond had won, but you managed to get away in time. That was when you held your swords parallel in front of you. You narrowed your eyes at Aemond and your swords suddenly lit up in flame. Everyone gasped because now they knew that the Belaerys family could still do magic.

Aemond could feel the heat coming off of your swords and you saw him flinch before he calmed himself. It didn’t phase you, and you hadn’t been told not to use magic on your trip. You wanted this. You wanted them all to see. If there was one thing you were good at, it was either impressing or intimidating. Right then, you’d hoped it was both. Ser Criston almost interrupted the competition, but Aemond held his hand up to stop him. The fight went on for seven minutes, more and more people crowded the yard to watch it play out. You were both quick learners, which led to a duel that Aemond almost called a tie and left it at that, but the intensity in your eyes told him that wouldn’t do for you. You were both fatigued and breathing heavily.

In the end, he managed to outperform you, barely. Not only were you both exhausted by the end, but you had singed his hair and accidentally injured him. To the latter, he only smiled in that devious way he does. But he had you on the ground, his sword to your chest. You smiled and dropped your swords. The flames went out and everyone clapped as Aemond helped you stand. He lifted your arm as well as his own. You looked at him as though he was mad. To be fair, he was, but only for you.

When you put away your swords on your own, you walked with Aemond to your bedchamber to change your clothes. His hand grazed up your arm. You smiled for a second before realizing someone might see the two of you (someone besides your friend, Jaera), so you took a step to the side, away from him.

You noticed he was behind you, looking at his arm where you managed to cut him, so you walked to him. “Did I hurt you horribly?” Your voice was full of concern. Yes, you sliced open his leathers down into his skin a bit, but he had attempted to trip you and you were trying to avoid his boot. You were both playing unfairly.

He smiled at you, “No, Princess. I am well.”

That curve of his lips made your face heat up, but you returned his sweet look. “Good. Because I would like to challenge you again soon.” With that, you turned and walked down the hall. He watched the sway of your hips and he couldn’t help thinking about how much he liked watching you walk away, especially when you were wearing breeches.

Upon the third week of your stay, bannermen from Sothoryos arrived in King’s Landing from the sea. Houses such as Moguel, Cabral, Collazo, Tentle, Zepahua, Cuatlehua, Amaxal, Ocotoxtle, Cocone, Tlila, Huexotl… And they brought your gifts for the family.

Aegon walked into the throne room where Aemond was being followed by trainers who each had either a dog or cat with them. Aemond was holding his gift, who he named Maris, a tiny dog with spots and big brown eyes. Aegon scowled when he saw Maris. “What is that?”

“It’s a dog.”

“What kind?”

“Texixi. Mine is trained to ride dragons.” He pointed to the big dog, chocolate and grey speckled. “This one is for Helaena, trained for protection & the little one for companionship.” He pointed to the little black dog with blue eyes.

He showed Aegon the huge black dog. “That one over there is for your children, for protection and general entertainment. The one over there is for Mother. You and Daeron have cats, also trained to ride dragons, and they’ll prevent you from getting pick-pocketed. Very useful for you on your next foray into the street of silk.”

“Dragon-riding dogs and cats?” Aegon’s face was screwed up.

“Be good to them, Aegon. She’ll know if you aren’t.”

“Oh,” Aegon rolled his eyes at his brother. Ever since the two of you sparred a week ago, Aegon had been giving Aemond a hard time about you. “These are from her. That’s why you’re so excited. Is it customary for them to bring animals as gifts for people who never asked for them?”

“Don’t. Hurt. The. Cat. And give the others to our family. I must find Ser Criston and grandfather.” He seemed to get excited for his last sentence. “She brought them horses.”

Aegon looked at his short-haired cat. “What do I feed it?”

“It’s like a dragon. If you leave it alone, it will find its own food.”

“Oh.”

“Still, it wouldn’t hurt to give it some meat every once in a while.”

Just then, Otto walked into the room and paused when he saw Aemond holding a dog.

Aegon mocked Aemond’s excitement, “Oh, grandfather, the Belaerys Princess has brought you a Sothoryi horse.”

Otto looked at Aegon’s cat, then at Aegon for some idea of what was going on. Then he was startled when he saw a second cat and a second, third, and fourth dog just to his left. Nonetheless, he followed Aemond to the stables.

You were showing Aemond a map of your country.

He studied the map and his curiosity made him start asking questions. “What is the climate like?”

“First, I need to know… Are you going to show this to everyone later?”

“I won’t if you don’t want me to.”

“You can, just don’t tell them everything, please. I trust you to tell them only what they should know right now.”

“Climate?”

“Yes. It has tropical, temperate, and arid zones. Mountains, waterfalls, rivers, jungles, deserts, beaches on the sea… And hundreds of islands near the south that are uninhabited. We have a wet and dry season. We have flamingoes, jaguars, monkeys, caiman, and maned wolves.”

“I haven’t heard of any of those creatures before.”

“They’re…different. The lakes and ocean provide fish. The surrounding land offers game like rabbit, turkey, boar, snake…”

“Tell me about the islands.”

“The best fishing, besides the sea are the freshwater lakes of Tlamintli & Maquizcoatl. Wewhyae & Poyomahtli is where we get our medicine as well as herbs & other things used for rituals and divination. The dragons nested on Zugrya for a very short time. I haven’t seen a wild one in ages. Most of our dragons are either born to someone or they were once wild and then every dragon is passed on to the next person in that family who doesn’t already have a dragon.”

Aemond stopped. If she only knew how he got vhagar(?) (is this before or after he tells her?) He walked to the end of the table, which extended a few inches past where the map ended. He pointed to the unmarked, unfinished continent. “What is this land mass down here?”

“No one goes there anymore. We call it ‘Istaktli Uak’.”

“White… What?”

“Desert.” You were proud of him for remembering Loicato.

“People have gone, but they can’t get past the mountains that lay just at the end of the map.” You ran your finger across the land mass from the left side all the way to the right. “Here. No one has gone up those mountains because it’s not safe.” You looked at each other and he placed his hand on top of yours. “It’s too cold, near constant blizzards, regardless if it’s winter or summer…” Aemond was leaning in, but you looked back at the map. “The dragons hate it, mostly because it’s cold, but there’s also less food.” You couldn’t believe how close he’d gotten to kissing you, but now you could practically feel him breathing in your scent. You turned back to him and smiled coyly.

“Hmm…”

The look on his face was too irresistible and before you could stop yourself, you leaned close to him and connected your lips to his. He kissed you back for a minute. It felt as though your heart might burst through your chest. Then he pulled away.

Your face burned from embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Prince Aemond—“

Aemond took a sip of his wine. “Do you drink?”

You were so confused by his changing the subject, but you ran with it. “Drinks made from fermented cactus, maize, agave, honey...” With each word you said, the embarrassment faded. You took his wine and sipped it. “Some of those things are much stronger than this.”

He smiled at you deviously, “You want something stronger?”

“I know where to find rum. Maybe we can drink outside somewhere after?”

You smiled and agreed.

You were in a reclusive spot near the edge of the Red Keep. Aemond was leaning back in his seat, laughing quietly, and you were almost doubled over in laughter. When you finally caught your breath, you sat down your cup. “Did he get back up?”

“Surprisingly, yes.”

You fidgeted with a loose string on your dress. “May I ask you a question?”

“Of course. That’s what we’re doing right now, asking questions.”

“I don’t want to offend you.”

“Oh?” He thought for a moment before realizing you were probably going to ask about his eye. “Oh. Now you have to ask.”

“I only know what I’ve been told, so… How did you actually lose your left eye?”

“It’s not something I talk about. I let people say what they want. They leave me alone.”

“Alright.”

The room fell silent for a moment while you thought of something else to ask Aemond, then he spoke. “I was ten. I claimed a riderless dragon, but Vhagar’s previous rider had two children. One argued the dragon was hers to claim by right. I disagreed with them, and Jace & Luke, who all said I was in the wrong. Those *bastards* always made fun of me because my egg never hatched.”

“Shh…” You looked around as though someone could hear you. “Don’t use that word.”

“It led to a fight and Luke attacked me with a knife. But nothing will ever stop me from flying.” He waited for your reaction, but there wasn’t one.

You had taken in the information and you were trying to decide what to say. That was forbidden in your family and most others in Loicato.

“Do you think it was justified?”

“If I were in your situation I may have done the same thing.” You took a moment. “You aren’t very fond of bastards, are you?”

“Me or Westerosi?”

“Either.”

Aemond thought for a moment. “I wouldn’t say that—”

“In any case, you should know… I am also a bastard.”

Aemond’s eye went wide, a sharp intake of breath, like a bit of a forbidden idea in his mind.

“I may be…intrigued…by the idea that standards are different in your village”

He smirked slightly, a bit of a tease, and he spoke again. “I have more questions.”

You smile at him with a bow of your head.

“Tell me more about your people. How do names work? What events do you have as a community?”

“First names are given by the mother. We have a lot of native and Valyrian names because of the melding of our cultures. They don’t always hold significance. Middle names are chosen by the royalty once they reach ten and five. Family names are the one thing that usually passes from father to son to grandson and so on. Women get to choose if they take their husband’s name, and they often do. As far as events, the age of fifteen holds a lot of significance so we celebrate it, as well as every fifth name day. In general, grinding is a fundamental process in the preparation of many meals. We grind maize into a dough called nixtamal, it is central to our diet and represents a significant daily activity, for everyone in the community. My city has 300 neighborhoods and approximately 300,000 people across the city spanning 1300 sq km.”

“So… Each village sits around as a community and grinds maize?”

“Yes, as well as other things.”

“Who takes care of the children?”

“Everyone. We all contribute as much as we can and some of us choose to take care of children. And, no, bastards are not treated any different.”

“Why not?”

“Because, in the eyes of the Loicato and their gods, blood doesn’t make you better than anyone else. They took care of my family when they were close to death, but only because we didn’t come to conquer them. They took us in and made us part of the community. Community is family, not blood.”

“How kind of them.”

You could tell from his tone that he didn’t take your people as a threat. “We are taught as many languages as possible, starting from the age of one. We learn to read & write, and we are all trained to fight from land, air, and sea, starting at the age of five.”

“What do you have to go through to be a top warrior of the Loicato?”

“It starts with no less than a year of training. Long-distance running, swimming, hand-to-hand combat, weapons training, marksmanship, language training, cultural immersion, survival training, and intense physical conditioning. We train for amphibious operations, small-unit tactics, and long-range patrolling.”

To that, Aemond had no retort. He knew that if Sothoryos were an enemy, you and your people would be quite a formidable force. Still, he smirked at you. He knew he was getting under your skin and you looked so cute when you were frustrated. “I was told you eat insects.”

“Only moth and ant larvae.” You heard yourself say it out loud and laughed at yourself. “We also eat cactus pads, agave, amaranth, and various other wild greens. Fruits such as guavas and papayas are enjoyed for their sweetness.”

“I’m not much for sweets.”

You chuckled, “Of course you aren’t.”

“But I like fruit. What do you do for fun back home?”

“Fish, hunt, fly, swim, fuck…” You realized what you said and felt your face burn from embarrassment. “Almost anything.”

Aemond leaned forward, “What is your weapon?”

“Besides my dragon?”

“Obviously.”

You leaned in close to him and pulled one of his stray hairs off of his clothes. “My obsidian blades. As well as the Loicato native weapon, the macuahuitl.”

“You can wield one?” He was teasing you again.

You playfully hit his shoulder. “It comes in all sizes and mine is medium. We’re taught as many weapons as possible, but we all have our favourites.”

“What about magic?”

“You have a lot of questions!”

“I’ve a curious mind.”

You took another sip of the drink you were sharing. “I can’t do everything. I can’t even do half, yet. It takes years of practice and you get to as close to perfect as possible for each spell or ritual before you move on to the next. At a pace of 3 spells & 3 rituals at a time. Anything more than that is dangerous.”

“I wish we still knew magic.”

“Not all of the families practiced. I don’t know if the Targaryens ever did.”

“Is it something I can learn or do I need to be born with the gift?”

“You could learn, but we would have to get permission from the elders first.”

Aemond took the cup from you and drank. “Sing me something in your language.”

“I’m not a singer— I don’t do it in front of people.”

“Was it you singing to the dragons in the pit?”

“Dragons aren’t the same as people. If a dragon doesn’t like your singing, they can make you leave. If a human doesn’t like your singing, they smile and clap anyway. Then behind your back, they tell everyone how bad you are.”

“This happened to you?”

“Well, it may have been my brother and sister. It hurt worse than if someone I didn’t know said it.”

“If you sing me something, I’ll return the favor. Even if I’m good, you can tell people I’m rubbish if I say anything bad about you behind your back.”

“Swear it.”

“I swear on my right eye that I—“

“Swear on something that you care about.”

He smiled at you. He had meant to sing for you, but you saw through to the fact that losing his other eye wouldn’t keep him from doing things like riding Vhagar. “I swear on my dragon.”

You took in a deep breath to calm your nerves, then you began.

Tonantzin

“Huey Tonantzin

Tonantzin, huey,

huey Tonantzin

Tonantzin, huey.

Ipalnemoani moyollocatzin

tlazocamati, Tonantzin,

ipalnemoani moyollocatzin

tlazocamati, Tonantzin.

Tonantzin, huey,

huey Tonantzin

Tonantzin, huey.

Ipalnemoani moyollocatzin

tlazocamati, Tonantzin,

ipalnemoani moyollocatzin

tlazocamati, Tonantzin.

Tonantzin, huey,

huey Tonantzin

Tonantzin, huey.

Ipalnemoani moyollocatzin

tlazocamati, Tonantzin,

ipalnemoani moyollocatzin

tlazocamati, Tonantzin”

Aemond clapped and you blushed. “Brilliant.”

“Now it’s your turn.”

Oh, Lay My Sweet Lass Down in the Grass

“My featherbed is deep and soft,and there I'll lay you down,I'll dress you all in yellow silk,and on your head a crown.For you shall be my lady love,and I shall be your lord.I'll always keep you warm and safe,and guard you with my sword.And how she smiled and how she laughed,the maiden of the tree.She spun away and said to him,no featherbed for me.I'll wear a gown of golden leaves,and bind my hair with grass,But you can be my forest love,and me your forest lass”

“That was brilliant. I wouldn’t have expected that from you.”

“I like to keep some things to myself.”

“In that case, I promise to only tell Iyari.” He laughed at the thought of you telling your tiny dog all of your secrets. It was a sound you hadn’t heard from him yet. Your sweet smile caught him off guard, but you stood anyway. “I have to go to bed, My Prince.”

“So soon?”

“It’s been hours, Prince Aemond—“

“Aemond.”

“Aemond. My friend, Jaera, will wonder where I am. And I’m tired.” You kissed his cheek and left him wishing for more.

TAGLIST

@ilikechocolatemilkh

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[ownworldresident]

Side by Side Chapter 6: Parent or Guardian

Book: The Royal Romance. Premise: With new additions to their family, King Liam and Rayne are forced to re-evaluate their relationship dynamic. Themes: Found family, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, family. Word Count: 3.2k (ish) per chapter, 18 chapters. 57k. Note: This story started just after TRR3 ended, and has no association with TRH. Side by Side Masterlist Link and Master Masterlist Link

Rayne

Rayne tensed as cold swelled at her core, knuckles whitening on the doorknob she still clutched. Her mind raced with questions but for now only one applied.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she spat, surprise giving way to anger. Genevieve had the gall to look affronted.

“It was a long flight, Ray.” She made as if to enter the room. Rayne stood firm, feet apart, blocking the way.

“No one asked you to come.”

“But I haven’t met your family. Is that your partner?” She looked over Rayne’s shoulder toward Drake.

“Kham, what..?” Drake asked, confused, as Rayne glanced briefly at him.

“He isn’t my partner, and if you cared you would know that.”

“I know about your children,” she said, “don’t I at least get to see them?”

Rayne scoffed, unmoving. “I thought they were just pawns in your game.” Her voice was cold. “I don’t care what you claim, you haven’t earned that right.”

Genevieve frowned, but didn’t protest again. Rayne could feel Drake’s discomfort. She recomposed herself, reminded her instinct driven self that there was no real threat, and stood aside. Immediately the woman came into the suite, and Rayne eyed her coldly.

“And who is this gentleman, then?” It was just like her to fawn over younger men. Taking a deep breath, Rayne reminded herself that even though there was nothing there now, she had loved her once.

“This is my friend, Drake. Drake, this is Genevieve O’Mara. My mother.”

Drake knew who her mother was, everyone did, but he hid his shock well and extended a hand.

“Nice to meet you, Ms O’Mara.” He glanced at Rayne for some indication of how he should react and she nodded slightly. Her mother had caused a lot of grief for Rayne and Cordonia, much of it recently, but hostility wouldn’t get answers.

“So wonderful to meet you,” Genevieve said. “And call me Gen, please. I’ve heard such good things about Rayne’s new friends.” She turned back to Rayne, who betrayed none of the bitterness she felt. Most of her efforts in concealing anger were reserved for Madeleine and her ploys, but she could spare some for this monster.

“So when do I get to meet my beautiful little grandchildren?”

“You don’t, and you haven’t answered my question. Why are you here?”

Genevieve looked almost believably hurt as she removed her coat and placed it over the back of one of the lounge chairs.

“Well, I never received an invitation from my daughter. I had thought you would wish me to meet your new family, especially considering you named one after me.”

Rayne stared at her. “I did invite you” she said, incredulous, “months ago. I invited you by email, message, and letter, to visit so I could show you my home. You never responded, but I know that you got that correspondence, because you used it to stab me in the back.”

The room quieted. That had been the end of her relationship with her mother. Nothing could repair that public damage. Genevieve bit her lip and tried a different tact.

“Baby I was so busy. I wanted to come but I couldn’t afford to leave work at that time and—”

“Drake can you leave us please?” Rayne cut her off, looking to her friend. She tried to communicate without words that she could handle her mother alone. A few moments later, though clearly uncertain, he nodded.

“Of course.” He smiled at Genevieve, then started toward the door, pausing beside Rayne. “Call me if you need.” He muttered, then squeezed her shoulder gently and left.

As soon as Drake was gone and the door was closed her mother’s smile vanished, and she looked Rayne straight in the eyes. This was the mother who had missed her own son’s funeral and ignored every attempt to contact her. Had ignored Rayne since she left for Cordonia, had publicly disapproved of her remaining here, had damaged Liam’s reputation for weeks and almost driven Rayne out of the country as a result. It had been one of the hardest things she and Liam had been through.

This was the woman who, despite everything, she wanted to trust.

“We need to talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you, mother.” But she did. As irrational as it seemed, Rayne still wanted to forgive her for everything she had, and hadn’t, done. She wanted her mother in her life, but Genevieve was a stranger to her now. Naming her daughter after her had been one way to hold on to the memory of a time when her mother had been there for her and Warner. Evelyn’s name along with Leo’s had been publicly displayed in newspapers all over the world, along with a picture of the four of them outside the hospital. Still, her mother had done nothing.

“You need to hear this.”

“Unless it is an apology for twenty years of neglect and injury, you need to leave.”

They stared at each other, but no apology was forthcoming.

“I think you are in danger, Ray.”

She laughed. “Wrong answer.”

Genevieve sighed. “I only ever wanted what is best for you.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it You only ever wanted what was best for you.” She took a step forward. “You have done an excellent job of losing your credibility and my trust. If you wanted what was best for me, then you would respect my decisions, and would try to show you cared.” Her voice shook, and her hands trembled, and she hated it.

“I do care.” Genevieve’s voice quieted. “You are my only daughter. My only child.”

“Because you weren’t there for him!” Rayne shouted, tears suddenly stinging her eyes. That hole in her heart was old, but it was still raw. “You have no one to blame but your own inaction.”

“And I will regret that for the rest of my life.” Genevieve said with halting breaths. The expression might be construed as remorse, but Rayne knew her better than that. Her career revolved around lies and manipulation, and Rayne wouldn’t be fooled by acting. “I will not lose my daughter, too. I came to warn you.”

“To threaten me you mean? To take advantage of me? To use my position to one for yourself? To say again, what was it, that I must be embarrassed to be having the king’s child, and that would be the only reason I was confined to the palace. To avoid scrutiny from Cordonians? There is nothing you can say that isn’t for your own advantage, Genevieve, so take your warning and leave. Leave the palace, leave Cordonia, go home, and don’t come back.”

Even as she said it, her whole body shaking, she wished she hadn’t. If there were some way for Genevieve to redeem herself, she would have to be here to do so.

“You need to listen to me. I think your life is in danger. I can help you, if you listen to me. We can work together.”

“Get out,” she said, voice venomous.

“Rayne, you—”

“Get out!” she yelled, breathing hard, and regretting her volume. Sure enough, the baby monitor on the coffee table started up, and she recognised Evelyn’s cry. Genevieve’s expression softened.

“Is… is that…”

“Nothing to you,” Rayne stated coldly, moving between her mother and the hall leading to the nursery.

“I can help.”

Rayne nearly laughed. “In no way have you the right to presume I would want or need your help.” She stepped forward, not taking her eyes off the woman. “And you have no right to intrude on my life after years and assume you’re forgiven.”

Genevieve glanced at the door to the hall, where Evelyn’s cries continued. When she said nothing, Rayne spoke again.

“You will leave, you will stay away from my family, and you will never come back. Do you understand me?” The last words caught in her throat but she didn’t falter in her resolve. Genevieve watched her for a time, with Rayne wanting desperately to go to her daughter before Leo was roused.

“Yes.” Visibly Genevieve deflated, looking years older than when she had arrived, and collected her things. “I raised my daughter to be strong,” she said as she reached the door and turned back. There was sorrow in her eyes, but also pride, and Rayne hated that.

“I am not your daughter,” she said, a slight tremble in her voice. They locked eyes for one tense moment, then Genevieve nodded, and left. Gone, but still much too close.

Rayne made it to the hall but fell, shaking, back against the wall, cheeks hot and wet as she slid to the ground and tried to steady her breathing.

Leo started crying, adding to the calls of his sister. She pulled herself up, breathed deep, wiped away her tears, and went to them.

Liam

Taking a break from his workload, Liam opened a bookmarked folder on his laptop and pulled a different notebook from a drawer in his desk. The following Monday marked one month since Evie and Leo were born, and though Rayne might not think it significant, he wanted to do something nice for her. It was something he had been thinking about for a while.

His assistant delivered a fresh cup of coffee like clockwork, but his current task had him so excited that the fatigue barely registered.

The palace, though accommodating and grand, held some danger of interruption and some less than wonderful memories. It was home to him and his family, but for Rayne he wanted to go somewhere new. Hopefully she would be as enthused as he was to take a few hours for themselves, even though it would be the first time she had left the children. Already he had asked Drake and Olivia to look after them while, Drake’s sister was several years younger than him and he had cared for Savannah before. At some point Liam hoped to get his old nanny to look after the twins occasionally to give Rayne a little more freedom. That would take some time to warm her up to the idea.

When someone knocked on the door he put his notepad away quickly, anticipating Madeline. He called for the visitor to enter and Drake walked in, scowling.

“Drake?”

“You need to go to Rayne,” he said after a few moments of apparent indecision, running his fingers through his hair. Liam stood.

“Is something wrong?”

Nothing in Drake’s body language suggested disaster, but Liam’s chest tightened anyway and he moved around the desk.

“She said she would be fine… I should have stayed anyway.”

“What are you talking about?” Liam’s heart beat a little faster. “What happened?”

Drake looked up darkly.

“Genevieve is here.”

No further explanation was necessary. Liam sprinted from his office to Rayne’s apartments and burst in, heart racing, to find the front room empty.

“Rayne?” he ventured cautiously, with no answer. It appeared Genevieve was gone, unless she had forced through somehow. At this point Liam didn’t doubt what that woman was capable of. Closing the door, he moved further into the room, but still made out no sound even as his heart stopped pounding in his ears. No one was in the hall, or in the nursery when he peeked inside save for his children. When he approached the main bedroom, her heard her, and his heart sank. He stepped inside.

She sat on the chest at the end of the bed with her body curled forward and trembling with soft tears. Despite her height, only in these moments, with her face in her hands and shoulders slumped, did Rayne seem small.

“Rayne?” he asked as he stepped in and closed the door. She flinched and looked up, sniffing and wiping tears from red eyes.

“Li-“ she sniffed, “Liam.” Even as he watched, Rayne tried to mask her pain with a long perfected stoicism.

“Don’t,” Liam said, coming forward to kneel before her and taking her hand. He pushed loosed hair out of her eyes. “Please don’t,” his words became a plea, and after a moment meeting his gaze, she nodded.

As soon as he sat beside her she collapsed into his embrace, shaking as she cried fresh tears. Liam felt a deep ache in his chest to see and feel her in pain, but as hard as it was to see, he new this was only a much needed expression of Rayne’s internalised pain.

“I’m - so - sorry - Liam,” she choked, voice muffled against him.

“No,” he said firmly, “never apologise.” He held her closer, a lump rising painfully in his throat. “Never apologise for anything,” his voice cracked, and hot tears tracked from his own eyes. He had so much to apologise to Rayne for, so many times he should have done better, had failed her, and was still failing her.

Liam ran his fingers through Rayne’s hair, holding her secure against him and rocking gently. He wanted so badly for her to stop hurting, but until she let him in, he didn’t know how. And that tore at him.

“I love you so much, Rayne.” His voice shook as he whispered, resting his cheek against the top of her head and closing his eyes. “So, so much…”

Drake

“Fuck!” Drake slammed the door behind him and drove his foot against the bedpost and that hurt. Good. He should hurt. Two years now he had stood by and watched two of the best people he knew breaking piece by piece by the situation they refused to rectify, until he could hardly recognise the Liam and Rayne the day they met each other.

He knew Rayne too well to be fooled by the mask over her pain, and Liam expressed his pain openly to Drake, for all the good that did. There had to be something…

“If you’re planning on breaking something, do it in Maxwell’s room.” A bemused voice came from his now open door and he spun, still scowling, to face the intruder.

“What do you want,” he growled, running his fingers through his hair. He did want to break something - it was one of the only outlets he had for this frustration.

“Our appointment?” She raised a brow, leaning on the door frame.

“Sorry.”

“Mm. Who is it this time?” she asked, coming inside and closing the door before. “Liam or Rayne?”

“What?” His anger began to subside as he watched her take up one of her stiletto knives stored last time she was here.

“Please, Drake, use some sense. Those two idiots are the only ones who can get this reaction from you.” She leant back against the dresser, twirling her favourite knife and watching the light reflect on the blade. “So which is it?”

Drake breathed a long sigh, feeling the initial rush of frustration slowly leaving him. He collapsed on his bed and ran a hand over his mouth.

“Both.”

“Mhm.” Olivia nodded. “So are you going to do anything this time? Or just mope about like their stupidity is a personal attack on you?”

“What am I supposed to do, Liv?” Drake stared at her, at a loss. “I had another discussion with Rayne an hour ago and again she told me she was fine. It’s fucking ridiculous.”

“Mhm.” She tapped her knife against her palm, then rested it back on the dresser and folded her arms. “Maybe you shouldn’t be the one talking to her.”

“What? She won’t hear you, or Max or Leo. She’s on permanent defence mode. No one can break it.”

“For christ’s sake, Walker. You’ve been moaning for months and we’ve been over this. Liam refuses to do anything, Rayne refuses to even listen. No one is considering poor Drake Walker’s precious feelings.” She rolled her eyes as he frowned. “I’m saying it’s past time you put aside your ego and actually called someone else to help.”

“I can’t go behind her back, Liv… she’d never forgive me.”

Olivia scowled, stepped forward and hit the back of his head before he could react.

“Hey!” He rubbed his head as she returned to the dresser. “What was that for?”

“This isn’t about you, Walker! You found her details weeks ago so grow a fucking pair and call her. Get backup. Use your brain for once in your life.”

He considered her words, grinding his teeth and rubbing the back of his head. Her points were difficult to argue with.

“Fine. I’ll send her a ticket.”

---- ----

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[chronic-ghost]

Chapter 2 of Recovery Road

chapter rating (this will change!): M

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

word count: 4571

chapter summary: dieter makes a discovery that tests the limits of his new-found stability

chapter warnings/tags: masturbation, discussions of addiction/rehab/drug use, cursing, praise kink mentioned, implied threesome, everyone's a little bisexual until I say otherwise

a/n: this is a shorter one, but we're laying some ground work for the bigger things ahead! thanks for reading!

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It’s about a week into shooting when he puts two and two together. 

Your pupils. 

The clinking in your purse.

Why you suddenly disappear from the set for a few minutes and when you come back, the light is back in your eyes. 

You’re walking back from the crafts table, still in your robe from the makeup department, when he grabs your upper arm and hauls you down a hallway between two sets. 

He’s seething.

“You’re on drugs, aren’t you?” 

“What the fuck–,” you nearly drop your coffee cup as he pushes you against the wall. 

“Admit it,” Dieter snarls, the edges of his vision going black. “You’re high, right now.” 

Scowling up at him, you drop the cup onto a bench beside you and then stand up tall, as tall as you can without shoes on. He still towers over you but that just gives you access to his jugular vein. 

“Fine. I took a few bennys before coming here. What’s it fucking to you?” You hiss, eyes narrowing.

“You are fucking with people’s lives. If this shoot is delayed because you lost your shit, then–,”

A few of the techs walk by the hallway and he realizes just how close he is to you. Your chest is heaving, your eyes dark and scowling. You look ready to claw his eyes out. 

He steps back, trying to reign in the flood of emotions pummeling through his chest. The crew walk on, oblivious to you baring your teeth at each other in the dark. 

“If this shoot is delayed because you lost your shit and people are out of a job, that’s on you,” he hisses, quietly but no less viciously. 

“I’m here to do my job and I think it’s going pretty fucking well,” you snap in a low voice. “No one but you has said a single thing, you observant freak.” You huff, adjusting the robe that’s fallen off your bare shoulder. “How did you know?”

The thought crackles like a loose spark plug: are you naked under there? 

He wrenches it out of the meaty chunks in his brain and sends it into oblivion. 

“I know the fucking signs – and I know the signs when someone starts to lose control and spiral. So if I get a whiff of that, I’m going straight to Heidi, got it?” 

Your eyes narrow at him. “Well, here’s a fucking idea, Dieter, just stop sniffing me.”

Oh fuck, did you notice? When you walked into hair and makeup this morning and the smell of your perfume – like apple pie of all things – made his mouth water. He had turned his head and inhaled before the stylist turned him back to the mirror. 

 He didn’t even mean to do it. It just happened, a fissure in his resolve. 

“This project–,” his voice cracked, his mouth bone-dry. He tries again. “This project is important to a lot of people. And you’re going to ruin it by being a selfish brat.” 

Genuine hurt flashes across your eyes. “No one here even knows, much less figured it out. I’ve never hurt anyone with this.”

You rarely showed your age, but this is one of those times. He chuckles darkly and puts his hands on his hips. “That’s where you’re so fucking wrong. Dead wrong.” 

Your mouth opens, rage in your eyes, when the speaker system calls him to set three. He only had two scenes today but he wanted to hang with Heidi and see her work her magic. He was even more furious that you had ruined his good mood. 

“You may think you have it under control, but you’re wrong,” he says quietly, like a threat. He watches you down his nose. You’re small against the wall, but would hiss and swipe like a hellcat if he came any closer. “That shit is going to ruin your life and I’m not going to sit back and watch that happen.”

Shooting went on, surprisingly without a hitch. Everyone showed up on time and everyone did their part. His scenes with Mark were his all-time favorite. Theirs was a natural rhythm, easily adopting the role of older and younger brother, despite the fact that their characters weren’t related. He even played the guitar live as his character showed Mark’s something new he had been working on. When Heidi called cut, no one spoke for a full moment and then the applause began. He couldn’t fight the grin that burst across his cheeks. Even Mark was clapping. He stood up and smacked him on the shoulder.

“That was fucking great, Dee. You did so well.”

In his shoes, his toes curled. Being an actor and having a praise kink was a lethal combination. He smiled at his friend.

“Thanks, man.” 

The days passed. They were on schedule, for once. Heidi even had a chance to go visit her kids in Canada on the weekend. She gave the party at the hotel that night her full blessing. 

“You’ve all earned it,” she says, standing on a table to oversee everyone. “Please take the night off and enjoy yourself. But I expect to see everyone back here on Monday, ready to get working. So, if I hear that anyone got arrested, I’ll be very cross with you.”

In the back, Dieter laughs along with everyone. Heidi’s gaze leaps over him as she addresses the crowd. “Your hard work means a lot to me and the studio. Thank you and have a great time!”

A cheer goes up. He claps as one of her assistants helps her off the table. 

Not too long ago, these parties were the kind of things he lived for. 

The kinds of parties where everyone would be drinking after a couple of weeks of working together in long hours, enough to build up at least a casual friendship. By then, he already knew exactly who to talk to, ranked primarily by who gave him the biggest “fuck me” eyes. Sometimes he didn’t even need to wait for the first all-cast-and-crew party for that to happen, but the alcohol and the drugs in his pockets made it a lot easier. Lots more fun, too. 

But that was old Dieter.

This Dieter sits beside the hotel pool on one of those white plastic recliners, nothing in his hands but a bottle of water. He twists the lid back and forth as he watches everyone enjoy themselves, the light of the pool glittering across the many beautiful faces. The music is loud, thumping inside his head. 

The nice lady at the rehab center warned there’d be nights like this. Where temptation was running high. He can smell the weed in the crowd and even the waiter behind the bar is strikingly cute. There’s no shame in excusing yourself, she had said. You don’t owe people anything.

He knows it’s just in his head, but he feels like he’s bringing the party down. He’s the main lead and all he can do is hide in the corner and pathetically nurse his non-alcoholic drink. 

You don’t owe people anything. His foot taps nervously. 

He hasn’t seen you in weeks, your scenes never overlapping with his. He wonders if you asked for it to be that way. 

“Hey, Dieter, how’s it hanging?”

He looks up and finds Samuel of The Sixers waving at him through the crowd. He digs his way through, followed shortly by the rest of his band. Roxie has Cooper in a headlock and Marie is laughing. Nick is smoking the fattest blunt he’s seen in years and his mouth waters, just a bit. 

“Hey, guys. You liking the party?” He stands up and shakes Samuel’s hand. Over his shoulder, Roxie releases Cooper and he nearly pushes her into the pool, but Marie yanks her out of the way at the last minute. Samuel sees him watching his band tussle. 

“Yeah. If these idiots could ever learn to act right in public.” His eyes slide back to Dieter and in a flash of the light from the pool, he sees that Samuel’s pupils are as wide as dinner plates.

Fuck. They’re all probably on something. 

His gaze drops further to the water bottle in his hand. “What are you drinking, man? Can I get you a refill?”

“Nah, just water for me. I gotta call my old lady later and she likes it when I’m not drooling on the floor.”

Samuel nods, clearly having no one to tie him down, and Dieter feels so fucking old. 

He swallows, trying to bring liquid back into his mouth. “So, uh, is this your first big Hollywood party?” 

Samuel rocks his head back and forth, considering. “Big party in Hollywood, nah? Between the five of us, it feels like we know half the town and we go out all the time. But, big Hollywood party where famous people actually mean to show up? Yeah.” 

“You like it?”

Samuel grins and pulls a sip of beer from the open bottle in between his fingers. “Fuck yeah, dude. Famous people are always so fucking hot.” 

The old Dieter wouldn’t have wasted a second longer with this kid. He’d have him eating out of the palm of his hand, on his knees come morning. Fuck, maybe he really did have to call his old lady.

“Speaking of which,” Samuel turns away. His chest puffs slightly, the way some men do when they’re talking about something sensitive. “Have you seen Natalie lately? Was having a nice chat with her before things wrapped today and I’d like to continue it.” 

Dieter shakes his head. “Nope. Haven’t seen her in a while.” 

And then, like you were waiting for your cue, a loud whoop goes up from the crowd. The people near the diving board are jostled out of the way and you, in an electric blue one piece, strut on to the very edge of the diving board. Your hair is up, exposing your long neck. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” you call and it’s like the whole world slows. Every head stops what they’re doing and turns towards you. You grin a gigawatt smile. “Ladies and gentlemen, I am so sorry to bother you on this fine evening, but I’ve got a bone to pick. This fucker,” you point dramatically over your shoulder to one of the crafts guys who is bright red and clearly plastered. He waves, someone bumps him, and he almost falls over. But he is not the point. “This fucker right here, says I can’t do a flip into this pool. Now, I’d like to open the floor and put that to a fucking vote. Who here thinks I can do a flip off this here diving board – raise your hand.” 

A yell goes up from the crowd all nestled around the pool, hanging on your every word, as dozens of hands rocket into the air. Samuel cheers, his own hand high up into the night. 

Dieter thinks he can’t breathe. Not normally anyway. Not when this thing is clawing into his chest.

You nod, glowing blue in the reflection of the pool, and put your hands on your hips. 

“That’s fucking right. And you fuckers who didn’t put up your hands, I see you and I’m coming for you, assholes.”

The crowd laughs and you smirk. You could direct them to jump off the ledge of the hotel and half of them would do it. You’re magnetic. You’re vibrant. You are a fucking star. 

“Do the flip!” Someone yells and the cheer goes up again. 

Dieter ducks back as the crowd surges forward, closer to you and your thunderous circus. His palms are sweating and there’s a pounding beginning over his right eyebrow. He chucks the empty water bottle in the trash can as he all but races out of the pool gate. He hears the splash, the roar of approval, and he thinks his heart stops for a minute. 

“Hey, baby, how are you doing?” Chloe’s voice is like a balm to his overheated skin. He has his phone clutched to his ear and he sighed the moment she picked up. He leans forward and puts his forehead to the cool glass of the window. 

“Good. Better now that I’m talking to you.” She’s out opening another one of her father’s galleries in Portugal or else he’d be curled up next to her at home, begging her to let him fuck her tits. 

“How goes shooting?” Her voice is slightly muffled, as if she has the phone cradled up to her ear with her shoulder as she moves around the space. He thinks of her willow-y frame, her long brown hair that lies beautifully soft against her head, and he misses her so much he physically aches. 

“It’s good. Had a great time working with Mark this week and–,”

“Sorry, can you hold on a second?” There’s muffled noises on the other side of the phone, as though she has her palm pressed over the speaker. He can’t quite make out what they’re saying but it rubs wrong against his already-raised anxiety. He squeezes the phone closer to his ear. 

“Chloe? You there?”

More shuffling. “Yes, yeah, sorry. They want me in the back to start unloading some exhibit items that came in today. What were you saying about the shooting?”

His hand tightens around his elbow, some reassurance. 

“It’s going fine, baby. All good. I just want to hear your voice. Tell me about your day. Or don’t. Just talk to me.

She laughs in his ear. “Oh, honey, you sound exhausted. Didn’t Heidi give you all the night off?”

The soft image of his wife is suddenly railroaded by your blue swimsuit, the curls around your neck right from the moist air. His mouth twitches as he clenches his fist. He turns away from the window, where the party continues down below, and he sits up on his bed, against the headboard, his long legs stretched out in front, as far away from you as he physically can be. 

“Yeah, but the party sucks. I’d rather be with you.” 

“Aww,” she clicks her tongue. “I’m sorry, Dee. I know how much you used to like those weekend parties.”

“It’s where we met,” he muses softly, his thumb rubbing over the rough material of his jeans on his thigh. He waits. He wants her attention on him – solely on him – so he uses that tone of voice that makes her mouth go slack and her shoulders tense. He smirks as there’s silence over the phone. “Do you remember that night, baby? You looked so fucking gorgeous. In those jeans and that black halter top. So fucking hot.”

Chloe laughs, breathlessly, and he knows he has her. He slides down on the mattress, his hand palming himself over his pants. 

“You can’t actually remember what I wore,” she teases but he can almost feel the pulse in her wrist. 

“I do, baby, I fuckin’ do,” he croons, hoping his voice nestles around her ear like he’d use his nose if he was there. “What are you wearing right now?”

“Dieter,” she gasps and he squeezes his rapidly hardening cock. He closes his eyes as he hears her breathing harshly. This is what he needed after weeks of keeping his nose so close to the grindstone, he thinks he’s gone temporarily blind. He needed to be taken apart and put back together. He would give up his house in the hills if he could suddenly transport her here to this bedroom. 

“Dee, I’m unpacking Dad’s paintings – we can’t–,”

“Yes, we can,” he husks. He forgoes the buttons or zipper and dips his hand down his pants. He starts rubbing himself, the lack of freedom and space as hot as it is restrictive. “Baby, turn on Facetime. I wanna see your perfect tits.”

“Dieter, please,” she whines, “I really have to get this done before tomorrow.”

“This won’t take long,” he groans. He’s not lying. He sees one naked nipple and he’s going to cream all over his hand. “Please. I need you.” 

He tries again and again to picture Chloe’s beautiful face contorted in pleasure but it won’t stay. It won’t stick. He huffs in frustration and unfocused desire.

“Chloe, please, pick up, I gotta–,”

The door to his room rattles and he freezes with his hand still down his pants. He thinks he hears laughter but that could just be his horny-as-all-get-out brain making shit up. He feels a bit light headed.

“Dieter, are you there?”

The door handle rattles again and he’s pretty sure this is the night he goes back to jail. Only this time for murder. 

“Chloe, give me a second, I’ve gotta go.” 

“Is everything–,”

He ends the call with a tap, the pulsating need between his legs making his knees buckle. The room spins. He stumbles over to the door and wrenches it open to his actual worst nightmare. 

It’s you, damp, pool water still dripping from your hair. Your makeup is smeared underneath your eyes and your cheeks are flushed. You’re also higher than a satellite. 

You lean up, swaying, frowning, blinking at the key card in your hand, then to his feet, his thighs, his hips, his chest and then you linger on his neck. 

“Wait a minute– this isn’ m‘ room,'' you slur. 

Against the door frame on the other side, Roxie rolls into your shoulder. She mouths your neck. 

“Whose is it, then?” Her eyelids slide open and sees Dieter still standing frozen with his cock half-hard. “Oh, shit, Dieter. We should go.” Her hands wrap around your waist and his heart knots in his chest. 

Samuel appears from the right, springing off the wall the moment Roxie says his name. 

“Dieter’s here?” Samuel grins, also stupidly high, as they lock eyes. “Hey, c’mon, man, we’re having a party in Natalie’s room.” 

Dieter absolutely loathes the way your name sounds in his mouth. 

“If we can find my room,” you giggle and Roxie kisses you forcefully on the cheek. 

“Don’t make me deal with these two by myself.” Samuel leans up against the door frame as the girls stumble back, laughing. Samuel also makes a very clear show of eye-fucking him from top to bottom. “There’s enough for all of us to go around.” 

Something in him speaks, when he is pretty sure he’s too stunned and too horny to even form words. There’s something scratching at the back of his brain, like a fire ant bite. 

“Your room is 212. This is 214.” 

“Ah, my bad. Everythin’s kinda blurry righ’ now.” 

You straighten up, Roxie wandering over to Samuel and digging her fingers around his belt loop. So not really siblings after all. Samuel has Roxie by the waist against the wall and they’re more mouth-fucking than kissing. You watch with great interest. 

“You could join us, you know.” 

That slur is gone from your voice, as if you’ve been struck with clarity. You look at him dead-on. 

The blue suit sticks to you in all your curves. Your ass. The curve of your breasts. Your very, very tight nipples. 

But your pupils are so black, so wide, they nearly eclipse the color of your irises. You’re not in your right mind. You’re not asking him in your right mind. 

He jerks his feet back. 

“I’m married,” he murmurs and slams the door shut. 

He stands there, frozen, sweating, his cock hard in his jeans again. His hands are shaking as he stares at the door. After a moment, the noises on the other side subside and the haunting laughter drifts away. 

He thinks you’ve all left, but he can’t risk going to the door to check. 

Fuck.

Fuckfuckfuck.

His shirt is over his head before his bare feet cross into the bathroom. He jerks the shower handle all the way to the bottom of the blue line. His knees are shaking as he unbuttons his pants and strips them off along with his underwear.

The ice cold water hits him straight in the face, across the chest, and down to where he’s so hot, he thinks his skin might have melted. He gasps, the change in temperature painful. A thousand needles swell out from his groin but he needs that feeling, that pain. Any other feeling than that pulsating heat. 

But it’s not fucking enough. 

Not after the stunt in the pool. Not after the robe off your shoulder. Not after the aborted phone call with Chloe. He needs some fucking relief. 

With a snarl, he turns away from the ice cold water and finally puts the pressure where he needs it the most. Faces flutter through his brain and he lets them because the sooner he gets this over with, the sooner they’ll leave him alone. 

Chloe. Roxie. Samuel. They’re all there in his head, spurring on his hand as he furiously gropes himself. Long, rough strokes up from the base to the head where he’s already leaking precum. He gasps, a different kind of pressure building behind his eyes and in his gut. He throws his hand up against the white tile to keep himself from buckling to his knees. He pushes his forehead against the cold wall in front of him, his teeth clenched so hard they might crack. 

Samuel. Roxie. Chloe. He fucks his fist faster, huffing and moaning, hips thrusting wildly into the cup of his hand. Doesn’t care if the entire hotel can hear him. Maybe wants someone to hear him so they come in and scold him. Stop him. He squeezes his balls and he moans, long and loud– breath hot– into the tile. 

Roxie. Samuel. Chloe.

Samuel. Chloe. Roxie. 

You. 

Fucking you. 

That fucking swim suit is an affront to all things good and holy.

And, goddamn it, that’s what does it– the image of your tits lit up from the bottom by the light of the pool, your ribs delicate and splayed – the pleasure bomb at the base of his spine shatters apart and he groans loudly, deeply, as he splatters the tile in front of him with his spend. His hips twitch. 

Relieved, he beats his fist weakly against the wall, the last of the tension leaving his body, releasing every muscle. Cum drips down from the head of his cock and spirals down the drain between his feet. 

“Fuck,” he whimpers. 

He stands there until he shivers from the cold, until his cum is washed off the walls. He hasn’t made a single hotel housekeeper clean up after him in a long time and he doesn’t intend to start now. 

He shuts off the water and drags a towel off the bar. He wraps it around himself, not even drying off his hair. He shuts off the light on the wall with a punch and tips forward into bed, into sleep, the towel sliding down around his hips. 

I’m so fucked up, he thinks before sleep picks up a two-by-four and wallops him unconscious. 

He thinks he’s being punished.

He thinks the universe is having a big fucking laugh at his expense. Poke and prod the fucker until he unravels. Dance, monkey, dance. 

This cannot be happening, he thinks. But it is.

“Heidi, please don’t do this.” He’s sitting on the end of her bed three days after the party. He was good, he was doing so fucking good, just like she asked and now she’s abandoning him. He rubs her sheets under his fingers. 

The studio called Monday morning and told her that they were taking her off this project and assigning her co-director duties with a newcomer out of Montreal. He was the son of some-so-and-so CEO at the studio and it needed to not look like nepotism. Even though it totally fucking was. 

Heidi sighs, one hand on her suitcase. She had been staying at the hotel to be closer to the shoot and now she’s flying halfway across the country. Chloe is still gone for the next few months. Now he has no one to keep him on the straight and narrow. No one to believe in him. To want him to be better. 

She left for one fucking weekend and look what almost happened. 

Her green eyes catch his on the floor. She’s kneeling in front of him, hands on his knees.

“Dee, you know I don’t want this. I am so fucking furious they’ve screwed us over, I could scream, but . . .” she sighs again, rubbing her forehead with her palm. “The movie is far enough along that it can kind of happen on its own. There’s just a handful of scenes left to shoot.”

Oh, he knows exactly which ones. He’s counting down the days, dread gnawing at his gut. 

Five days. He’s got five days until he has to kiss you. Why the fuck they’re doing that scene first is beyond him and normally, he could go to Heidi and they’d talk about it – maybe give them a few scenes to adjust to each other. But he doesn’t know this new director and he’s not about to bring out his “Dieter the difficult actor” show this late in the game. 

He hasn’t told Chloe about the other night. He doesn’t even know what to say if he did. It’s so fucking juvenile it makes him sick. 

He hasn’t seen you since that night. He did run into both Samuel and Roxie at the crafts table two days later. They both looked like they might projectile vomit if someone breathed too heavy in their direction and only greeted him with a nod.

Given their less than horrified reactions, he can only assume they have absolutely no memory of that night. God, he wishes he could be so lucky. 

He looks for you around every corner. 

She sits on the bed next to him and sighs.

“Please, don’t go.” He puts his head on Heidi’s shoulder and she thumbs the back of his neck. “I don’t think I can do this without you. And you’re the only one who can control her.” 

It’s true. You were a consummate professional around her. He wants to scream. Nobody else saw you like he did. No one else knows who you are, except him.

Heidi laughs gently. “Dieter, she’s a twenty-two year old woman. Not a snake. She’s not actually going to bite you, you know?” 

She’s going to do so much worse, he thinks unwillingly. 

Heidi sits on the bed next to him, taking his hand in hers.

“You’re not the man you were, alright? You can do this.” She strokes his hair. “Maybe fly Chloe out for the weekend. I know she’s busy, but she can probably swing just a few days, right?”

He nods, a lump in his throat. He never thought he’d ever be the person to say this but he misses his wife. He misses her stability. Her security. He misses the person he is around her. 

“You can call me with anything, Dee. Any time, day or night, okay?” 

He nods again and she pushes his hair out of his face. He feels very small in a big man’s body. He feels dirty and shameful and he didn’t even do anything. 

“Fly safe, Di. Call me when you land.”

He pulls her into a hug, struggling to hold onto the last threads of his sanity.

[tameodesza]

Daddy’s Disapproval (BretShawn)

AO3 link | masterlist

Vince disapproves Shawn’s relationship with Bret

The plane ride home to Connecticut was awkward and uncomfortable.

Vince was still in shock at learning about Shawn’s relationship with Bret, and Shawn was too embarrassed to bring up the topic in first class. So they rode the plane in silence, neither man having the courage to address the elephant in the room.

That was until Vince said at the end of family dinner, “Shawn, I need you in my office.”

Linda gave Vince a questioning look before looking back at Shawn. “Is everything all right?”

Vince answered, “Yeah, it’s something important. Business-related.”

Shawn stretched as he yawned exaggeratedly, “I don’t know, dad. I’m pretty tired.”

Shane perked up, “Oh, I can help then, dad.”

“No, Shane. It’s between me and Shawn.”

Shane visibly deflated as he gave Shawn a glare, not knowing that the ‘business-related’ topic was pertaining to Shawn’s relationship with Bret.

Shawn insisted, “But-”

Vince emphasized, “Shawn. Office. Now.” At that, Vince stood up to walk upstairs to his office.

Shawn slouched in his chair, downing the rest of his lemonade before unwillingly following after Vince.

Before opening the door, Shawn took in a deep breath to prepare himself for the conversation. He walked in the office, seeing that Vince was sitting at his desk, hands folded in front of him as he watched Shawn close the door behind him.

“Lock it,” said Vince. “I don’t need your mother or Shane walking in.”

Shawn locked the door reluctantly before walking towards his dad, sitting in the chair across from him as he asked, “What did you want to talk about?”

Not one to beat around the bush, Vince asked, “How long have you been…involved with Bret Hart?”

“So I guess we’re getting straight to it then, huh?”

“Just answer the question, Shawn.”

“Does it matter?”

Vince had to stop himself from shouting as he sneered, “Yes, it matters.”

Shawn rolled his eyes before answering, “A few months.”

Vince was dumbfounded. A few months? How was Shawn able to sneak this past him without him noticing for that long?

Vince frowned, “What?!”

Shawn quickly relayed, “I was going to tell you! I just couldn’t find the right time.”

“There is no right time, Shawn! It shouldn’t be happening, period.”

Shawn scoffed. “I don’t get what the big deal is. I’m a grown ass man, dad. I don’t need your permission. So I don’t know what point you’re trying to get at.”

Vince pointed a finger at Shawn as he said through gritted teeth, “The point is that you’re going to stop seeing him! Plain and simple.”

And that was all it took for Shawn to lose his temper.

“No the fuck I’m not!”

“Yes, you are! I’m not going to risk my business going downhill over whatever the hell this phase is. Because it’s just that! A phase!”

A phase. For some reason, that word really rubbed Shawn the wrong way.

“A phase?! I’m gay, dad! It’s not a fucking phase! When are you going to stop pretending like you don’t know?!”

Vince had to collect himself, not wanting Shawn to think that his sexuality’s the issue. He answered flatly, “I don’t care about you being gay, Shawn. I don’t want you screwing my talent!”

“Well, it’s a little too late for that! You think Bret’s the first guy I’ve been with in the business?”

“Shawn-”

“Because he’s not! Hmm, let me think,” he said inquisitively. “There was Marty, Scott, Kevin, Hunter, Billy, Steve…oh! And I hooked up with Taker once, well twice…three times if you count the handjob-”

“Shawn, stop it!”

Vince was horrified. Not only at the fact that the rumors of Shawn sleeping around the locker room were true, but he was sleeping around with the top talent in the WWF.

“Do you not understand how unprofessional this is?! It’s bad business!”

Shawn threw his hands up dramatically, “Of course! It always comes back to business!”

“Because this business is what pays the bills, Shawn! Not just mine, but yours as well! What do you think would happen if people found out you’re fucking my talent like some cheap whore!”

There was a brief awkward silence between the two. Noticing the hurt look on Shawn’s face, Vince immediately recanted, “Shawn, I didn’t mean that-”

“But you did! What’s so wrong with dating around?! Last time I checked, you don’t have a policy banning workplace relationships. It shouldn’t be a problem!”

“It’s a problem when you’re the son of the owner of the company, Shawn! Why can’t you see that?! Your little fling with Bret isn’t worth it!”

“You’re wrong! Bret isn’t just a fling. I actually have feelings for him!”

“Oh, you have feelings for him,” Vince said mockingly, irking Shawn even more than he already had been. “And you think this is going to last?”

That was a question Shawn didn’t even know the answer to. He and Bret were still pretty new, still getting to know each other and understanding the bounds of their relationship. But what he did know was that he wanted to be with the man.

“I surely hope so.”

“You hope so?! You want me to risk everything on you hoping things will work out?! Do you understand how stupid and selfish that is, Shawn?! Do you know what would happen if people found out?!”

“No one has to know! You surely didn’t!”

“That’s not the point!” 

“Doesn’t matter! I’m not a kid anymore. You can’t force me to do what I don’t want to do!”

“What happens if he leaves, then?! If he breaks your heart? If you’re put in an angle against him? Would you really be willing to still work with him?”

“Yes, because I’m an adult! I wouldn’t let this ruin business, dad. We’ll keep the relationship a secret-”

“Sorry, but I don’t believe that!”

Shawn let out a frustrated sigh, realizing that they were going nowhere.

Done with the conversation, Shawn stood up as he said, “ I don’t know what to tell you. Bret’s in my life now. He’s not going anywhere, and you can’t make me leave him!”

“Shawn, get back here!”

Shawn stormed out of the office, passing by Shane who’d been standing near the door, obviously eavesdropping on the conversation.

“Wait,” Shane said, stopping Shawn in his tracks, “You’re screwing Bret Hart?!”

“Mind your fucking business,” Shawn said harshly as he walked away from Shane, leaving his younger brother in disbelief as he headed towards his bedroom.

It was hard for Shawn to sleep that night, his conversation with Vince replaying in his head. He couldn’t believe his dad had the nerve to try to dictate his love life. And although it felt good standing up to his dad, Shawn knew that wasn’t the end of it, his dad always having a trick up his sleeve.

 Shawn basically threw himself at Bret when he met the man a few days later in a hotel. Bret certainly welcomed the attention, Shawn barely letting him open the door before tugging at his pants.

However, the blonde’s behavior seemed a bit odd. He was clingier than usual, practically begging Bret to pound into him, going so hard that he’d forget his own name. And Bret happily gave Shawn what he was desperately craving, but he knew something was bothering Shawn.

“Ah! Yeah! Harder! Fuck me harder! AH!”

“Who’s ass is this?!” Bret smacked Shawn’s ass as he continued to pound into the man.

“AH! Yours! It’s yours! Mmh, harder! Fuck!”

After a particularly hard thrust, Shawn let out a strained shriek as he came for the third time that night, Bret soon following suit.

After a final thrust, Bret pulled out before quickly tugging Shawn into his arms, both men panting as they came down from their orgasms. Shawn cuddled a little closer to Bret, ears still ringing as Bret softly stroked his back.

It was when Shawn was drifting off in bliss that he heard the older man ask, “Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you now?”

Shawn let out a groan. He’d been avoiding discussing the topic with Bret, but he knew the older man had picked up on his mood. Bret waited patiently, continuing to stroke Shawn’s back as he collected his thoughts.

“My dad wants us to break up.”

Bret’s hand halted, taken aback as he whispered, “Really?”

Shawn nodded, “Yeah. We got into a huge fight about it. He said it’s bad for business. I call bullshit.”

Bret knew that Vince probably wouldn’t be so open to him dating his son, but he didn’t think Vince would actually try to force them apart. Didn’t he care about Shawn’s happiness?

“What did you say to him,” he asked hoping that Shawn wasn’t gearing up to break up with him.

Shawn chuckled, looking up at Bret as he stroked the man’s cheek saying, “I told him to go fuck himself.”

Bret’s brows nearly flew off his face causing Shawn to clarify, “Well, not literally. I may as well have. There’s no way I’m leaving you, Bret. You mean so much to me.”

That seemed to ease Bret’s worries, the older man smiling down at Shawn as he said, “You mean a lot to me, too. But you’re not worried about your dad causing us trouble? Maybe we should be a bit more careful around him-”

Shawn tsked, “I’m not about to hide my relationship like I’m in high school. I don’t need his approval to be with you, Bret. If he doesn’t like it, then that’s his problem. He’s just going to have to deal with it.”

Bret grinned, tightening his arms around Shawn saying, “I knew you loved me.”

Love. They still hadn’t said the word to each other yet. But as fresh as their relationship was, they were soon headed in that direction.

Shawn snickered, “Hey, don’t get too ahead of yourself, pal.”

[abyssal-ali]

Marinette "Valkyrie" Wayne

Masterlist Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 ao3 link (completed) Valkyrie’s suit

Pairing: Marijon

Rating: G

WC: 1.5k

Marinette drove her bike down to the Batcave. It was almost midnight, so the Bats were out patrolling.

It was Steph’s night off, and she had decided to keep Babs company while Babs ran the comms.

“I need a spar. Steph?” Marinette growled.

“Want to talk about it?” Steph asked cautiously, stepping into the ring.

“No. Let’s dance, Waffles.” Marinette flipped over the bar and squared off.

They sparred for twenty minutes, neither side gaining much upper hand.

Black Bat returned, saw the spar, and said, “Stop holding back. She can take it.”

Steph didn't look away from Marinette, dodging a flying kick. “I’m not!”

Marinette flipped over Steph’s shoulder and pinned her, making her tap out.

Cass took Steph’s place. “Why so angry?”

“I don’t want to talk,” snapped Marinette, squaring off again.

When the other Bats returned, Cass and Marinette were still sparring.

“Who taught you?” asked Dick, eyeing a very graceful layout executed by Marinette.

“Self-taught. Took various martial arts and gymnastics classes when I was younger.”

She landed a kick on Cass’s thigh. “I spar when I’m angry, and I don’t want to talk about it. None of you would get it, anyways.”

She ducked a punch and landed a light hit on Cass’s shoulder.

Dick jumped into the ring, curious.

Marinette deflected his first kick, then caught his ankle and yanked while jumping over a kick from Cass. A high scissor kick caught both their shoulders and sent them stumbling.

Jason entered when Marinette made the ‘come at me’ motion.

She ran straight at him, did a quick handstand on his shoulders, then wrapped her legs around him in a lock.

Damian and Bruce entered. Damian was easier to take down, as he preferred to fight with a katana. Bruce was fairly graceful for his large size, though Jason was still lighter on his feet for being so big.

She ran straight towards him as she did Jason, jumping again. Then she dropped between his legs and chopped at his knees, climbing to his shoulders from behind. The family clapped slowly and dramatically. Marinette bowed, huffing.

“Interesting. The bigger the challenge, the faster you took us down,” Bruce commented.

“I’ve had months of studying your styles and determining the quickest way to disarm you,” she shrugged.

“Feel better?” asked Steph.

“Somewhat.” Marinette wiped her face with a cool towel and chugged the water bottle Dick handed her.

“After Paris, I spend all my emotions on doing things–sparring when I’m angry, drawing when I’m happy, dancing when I’m sad…”

“What about Paris?”

“Oh, those four years when Hawkmoth emotionally terrorized us all?”

“That’s why I was in Paris those few months ago, trying to find evidence of Hawkmoth. Nothing came up, and no one talked about it,” said Bruce.

“Yeah, we don’t like talking about it, especially the akumas that eliminated most of us. Jason knows it’s unpleasant talking about your deaths, unless it’s for morbid humour."

“Was…the sparring about that?”

“Kind of. My friend, Adrien– his dad was Hawkmoth, so of course there had to be an investigation to see if he knew that. He didn’t– he was actually Chat Noir– but everyone still hates him because his dad is dead, so they can’t actively hate Gabriel. That’s what I’m mad about. Some classmates beat him up, and when he called me… well, I needed to beat something up.”

“Can we meet Adrien? Maybe we can help him with this investigation, and he can tell us about the situation.”

“I’ll talk to him. No promises,” she warned.

~~

“Chat Noir incoming,” Marinette said two nights later. A portal opened and Adrien Agreste stepped through.

“The Batcave is real?”

“Looking only, no touching,” reminded Marinette after she hugged him. He wandered around, observing all the tech and gadgetry, then the Bats emerged from the shadows.

Adrien yelped a little. “He’s real!”

She rolled her eyes and gently pushed him towards them. “Introduce yourself, Chaton.”

“Bonjour, I’m Adrien Agreste.”

“Batman. Marinette tells us you’re one of Paris’s heroes, the Cat?”

“Yes. I was Chat Noir from the beginning to the end of Hawkmoth, who turned out to be my father. I didn’t know until the very end.”

Cass nodded from behind his back, confirming his statement.

“So you’re not Chat Noir anymore?”

“No, I permanently retired, along with all the other temporary and permanent Team Miraculous members. Ladybug merged the Miraculous to stop my father.”

“What are the Miraculous?”

“Gems that were bound to tiny entities, called Kwami, which are the physical manifestation of a concept. Mine was the Miraculous of the Black Cat, a ring that housed Plagg, the Kwami of Destruction, Chaos and Bad Luck."

“How did merging the Miraculous stop Hawkmoth?”

“Ladybug dissolved the bindings of the kwami to the Miraculous, freeing the kwami and collecting their powers in one vessel. It was remote but all-encompassing, meaning it took Hawkmoth and Mayura’s powers away as well.”

“What was the vessel?”

Adrien shrugged. “She never said. The magic took a lot of Ladybug’s energy, and she was knocked out for two days after that. Then…otherstuffcameupandIneveraskedher.”

“How powerful are these Miraculous?”

“There are three layers of Miraculous in the Zodiac Miracle Box. The bottom layer housed the twelve kwami of the Chinese zodiac, the least powerful. The second layer held the Butterfly, Peacock, Turtle, Bee, and Fox Miraculous, and the top set was the Ladybug and Black Cat. What I know is that Plagg sank Atlantis, killed the dinosaurs, erupted Mount Vesuvius, and with Ladybug’s Kwami, started the Black Plague and created the Lazarus Pits, which can heal from the brink of death but cause temporary insanity and bloodlust…”

“We know what they do,” cut in Bruce, a little horrified at the destruction.

“But it’s not all bad,” Adrien hastened to reassure them. “Ladybug’s Kwami, of Creation, Order, and Good Luck, can neutralize the Lazarus Pits. She also created many different plants and flowers, worked with Joan of Arc and Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons…”

“We know Hippolyta! Let’s call Diana!” one of the Bats interrupted.

“Wonder Woman?” Adrien’s eyes were big.

“Her mother is Hippolyta. Thank you for explaining this to us. Do you know how to contact Ladybug or know her identity?”

“No, she disappeared after Hawkmoth. Mari was close with her though, we’d both often stop by Mari’s balcony and chat. Do you know, Mari?”

“Ladybug told me she was retiring,” Marinette shook her head. “I’ll call her last number and see if she still uses it.”

Tim and Bruce started talking Adrien through the legal stuff while Marinette pulled out her phone and called her old, disconnected number.

“No response,” she said.

~~~

The JL wanted to know more about Paris and what happened, particularly Diana, Arthur, and Bruce. That much unknown power wasn’t good.

Flash, Hawkgirl, Martian Manhunter, Aquaman, Green Lantern #1 (John Stewart), Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, all the Bats, Raven, Zatanna, Dr. Fate, Constantine, and Adrien gathered in the Batcave.

Adrien re-explained the situation. All twenty-three of them sat in silence.

Eventually, it was decided that the magic members would cast a spell leading them – hopefully – to Ladybug and/or the vessel.

Marinette’s eyes widened, then returned to normal as she focused very hard on deflecting the spell.

Constantine looked up. “Well, mates, looks like she either doesn’t want to be found or she’s dead. Pretty powerful magic blocking us, though. Be careful what you do when you find her, Batsy. I’d stay on her good side.”

“You’re on no one’s good side,” said Red Hood.

“Exactly.”

Everyone exchanged glances.

~

“So, who’s the newest addition to your cauldron, Batman?” Wonder Woman asked, easing the mood.

“Delphi is her code name; she works with Oracle. She may join us in the field soon, under a different code name.”

“I wish to spar with her, if she is willing.”

“I’d love to!” Marinette rose and joined Diana in the ring. The other members stood around, watching.

“Weapons?”

“I prefer hand-to-hand,” Marinette confessed.

“Very well.”

They began, Marinette dancing around Diana’s blows, darting in and out, always switching up her style. Then she landed a blow on Diana’s hip, hitting her lasso.

Marinette fainted.

~

She woke up a few minutes later with many curious faces over her.

“I’m fine!” she waved away their concern. “I just forgot about lunch, with the JL meeting and then the heat and excitement of sparring…I’ll just have one of Agent A’s lovely sandwiches and be fine.”

No one was convinced, but her vitals were okay, so she was released for lunch.

~

Marinette collapsed onto her bed, holding her side in pain. Just under her rib was a tattoo, currently glowing brightly hot. She opened a portal to the Himalayas and screamed, starting an avalanche. Luckily, there were no people or settlements in its path.

After a few minutes, the glowing subsided and she portalled to her room, clutching her lower left ribs. Kismet hopped onto her bed, snuggling into her.

Note to self: do not touch Diana’s lasso of truth.

[fandsart]

Where the 20 Chain Links Lead

Also on Ao3

[Chapter 1]  [Chapter 2]  [Chapter 3.1]  [Chapter 3.2]  [Chapter 4]

Masterlist Ao3

CW: Abuse- physical and verbal. Mild slut shaming (?)

Chapter 4: Down Time

Steve had gotten pretty good at forging his dad’s signature and handwriting for the purposes of getting himself out of school when he was sick and his parents weren’t home. That is, of course, how he got out of PE the first day back from his concussion. He didn’t want to abuse this power; to cry wolf, or whatever. To get caught. Sometimes though, he decided it would be ok to go a bit further.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

“Steven!” he heard his father yell through the house as the front door slammed open. If you were to look at Steve, you might think he was carrying a cool composure, but really he was practically frozen. He continues sitting at the table where he was eating. He's stalk still, his back uncomfortably straight as he stretches himself stiff as a board, unable to force his body to relax. “Would you care to explain why I’ve apparently signed a $20,000 check over to some nobodies?”

Steve slowly turns to face him. ‘Look at me when I’m talking to you, boy.’ He feels like he’s facing his doom. It’s unexpectedly almost worse than the tunnels, because here he doesn’t feel like he can fight back. There’s more factors in place here. He can’t fight back, but he’s going to stand his ground this time. “Because you can afford it. And they just lost their daughter and were going bankrupt because of it.” Usually when he makes eye contact, it feels like the other person’s eyes are drilling into the back of his head. This time it feels like he’s the one on the offense, drilling into his father’s head. He wonders if he can feel the difference too. “Because you decided to be generous. And what are you going to do? Call the bank and tell them it was a mistake? That you didn’t mean to help a grieving family?”

Steve knows how much his father’s image means to him. He would never do that. So instead he grabs Steve by the hair and drags him to the closet. Steve expects this. He weighed his options when forging of course. He does not expect the closet door to be ripped open again, almost immediately.

Apparently, Steve’s father hasn’t gotten all of his anger out. Steve usually gets knocked around before going in the closet, when it does happen. Usually he’ll get his head slammed in the wall, or get slapped in the face a few times. It’s not usually a big deal. This time, though, there are kicks, and Steve is instinctively wrapping his arms around his head like it’s a tornado drill.

He gets shoved back in the closet, and he almost prefers it happened this way. The pain grounds him, reminding him that he’s not in the tunnels, but he’s still in the closet. He clenches his fists, squeezes his eyes closed, and pretends he’s in his room. The carpets are the same in both. In the past he’s had nights he’s woken up in the middle of, the darkness consuming the room and as soon as his feet hit the floor he can’t breathe. Now he just has to do that in reverse.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

He’s let out early the next day, which surprises him a bit. This is the most mad he’s gotten his father and he’s spent over twenty four hours in there before, though maybe they think the beating smacking him around a bit was enough to compensate. Until he sits down to eat. They’re eating at the table for the first time in months, Vanessa at the stove, casting worried glances at Steve.

“We hear your grades are dipping.”

Steve takes a sharp inhale. This wasn’t about the previous incident, but it sounds like they only took him out of the closet to discuss this.

“Yeah, well. Nancy was a big help with my schoolwork, and we broke up so-”

“And you’ve been hung up on it.” His father scoffs. “That’s honestly so pathetic. Pull yourself together.”

“Well, no…” he lies, “she’s just not there to help me anymore. Plus, there was the funeral…”

“Ah, yes, the funeral for the nobody. I looked more into that. There were twelve people at that funeral. I refuse to believe you’re actually all that caught up about it. You want to be a rebellious teen, fine. But no more stealing from us, and don’t use it as a pathetic excuse to fall behind. Do you understand?”

No. “Yes sir.”

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

“So you broke up with the Wheeler girl,” his mother asks later that day as his father is packing up the car to leave again.

“I… didn’t realize you knew who Nancy was.”

“Of course I looked into her when I heard you were going steady with someone. Why would you let go of that?”

“She… didn’t like me that much… as it turns out.”

She sighs. “Go figure. It’s a shame though.”

“I didn’t realize you cared so much about my love life.”

“I was just relieved you’d finally stopped whoring yourself out.”

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

It’s December 15, and Dustin has managed to convince him to drive him to that dance he was talking about. The Snow Ball. Steve remembers that. He remembers having fun, and he considers it the first day he figured out what he wanted for himself. He has a hard time reconciling the fact he doesn’t want Dustin’s night to turn out the same as his.

He should want Dustin to come into his own, but he’s scared for reasons he can’t fully place. What if Dustin does woo a bunch of girls? Then what? He turns out like Steve. Why is Steve dreading that prospect? Being able to get girls makes you cool, he tells himself. It makes people like you. Dustin deserves that. You know that. Why are you being so weird about this?

When he picks Dustin up, he’s immediately handed some sort of gift, wrapped in snowman wrapping paper.

“Merry Christmas,” Dustin says. Despite his words, his tone is incredibly casual and flippant.

“I didn’t realize we were supposed to be doing something right now,” Steve says.

“We’re not. This is just from my mom and I, because we think you could use it.”

Steve looks at the gift in his hands. It looks like it might be some kind of book. “Wait, if this is that ‘manual’ or whatever goes to your nerd game, you can’t seriously expect me to start playing with you guys.”

“That’s not exactly the kind of thing I’d gift unprompted, Steve. The game’s pretty complex. I’d ease you into it. I’m not an idiot.” Right. Steve’s the idiot in this relationship, remember? “Just open it.”

“Right now?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Steve rips open the paper to find a cookbook. “Really?” he sighs.

“Look, you already know how to cook. I just think you shouldn’t need to scarf down, like, warmed frozen peas for dinner, or whatever you think is somehow acceptable.” He had him pegged on that one. Steve had done that in the past, but only once or twice.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

“Alright, buddy, here we are,” he says as he pulls the car up to the middle school. There’s a giant Snow Ball banner on the outside of the building that was clearly made by one of the middle schoolers with a blue crayola marker. He can see through the windows that the actual decorations inside are just as unnecessarily extravagant as he remembers. “So, remember, once you get in there…”

“Pretend like I don’t care.”

“You don’t care.”

“I don’t care.”

“There you go. You’re learning my friend. You’re learning.”

Dustin grabs the rear view, angling it so he can see himself.

“Hey,” Steve tries to reassure. “Come on. You look great, ok? You look great.”

“I just feel like it’s on display.” Dustin is playing with the one loose strand draped over his forehead and Steve realizes that he’s trying to cover up a sort of indented groove in his skull.

“Hey, c’mon. No one is going to see that unless you point it out to them. Ok? Now you’re gonna go in there—you look like a million bucks—and you’re gonna slay ‘em dead.”

“‘Like a lion,’” Dustin recites. He catches Steve off guard by purring with the back of his throat.

“Yeah… don’t do that.”

He sees Nancy through the window before he drives away and his mind blanks. He didn’t expect to see her here, and he feels his heart being tugged on, like a string is connecting it to his stomach, and the string is shrinking. He has to drive away before it shrinks too much.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

There’s a party that night. It’s the Saturday before winter break technically officially starts, so of course there’s a party somewhere. Steve goes. He needs to get his mind off Nancy. And since he’s not with Nancy anymore, he won’t have to worry about waking up with a girl and messy sheets.

He knew a few drinks ago that he wouldn’t remember anything else the next morning, but Virginia keeps passing him cups, and he keeps drinking from them anyway. He knows she intends to be the one he’ll wake up to in his bed the next day, and maybe he could use the rebound. At the very least, he’ll need the ride home.

“Harrington!” he hears. He looks up from his glass to see Eddie. “Didn’t expect to see you here. You used to party way more often, huh?”

“Excuse me,” Virginia speaks up, before he can think up his own answer. “He’s here with me tonight.”

“Right. And that means…” he teases her.

“I’m not having the town freak ruin my night. Have a good one,” she smiles sickly.

“That’s so mean,” Steve comments to no one in particular.

“Aw, are you defending me Harrington? That’s sweet.”

Steve shrugs and Virginia grabs his arm. “Get out of here,” she tells Eddie. “You’re ruining everything.”

“I don’t really like how you’re talking. Hey Steve, how about I take you home, huh?”

Steve just needs the ride, and if Virginia hands him one more drink he thinks he’ll vomit. So he nods jerkily, and Virginia sputters behind him as he moves toward Eddie.

The path is three stairs away from the porch, but the house is on a bit of a hill, so down the path are more stairs. Steve stumbles down the first three stairs, relying heavily on Eddie to keep him from falling on his face. They make their way down the path and Steve groans out an ugh when they come to the second set of stairs. There’s only like seven of them, but it seems like a mountain compared to the previous set.

“I know it sucks, but we’ve got to get you down,” Eddie says.

“Can’t I just roll down the hill?”

Eddie laughs. “Come on, man. You did so well on the first set.”

“Three stairs isn’t supposed to be hard.”

“But you did it anyway. You did a good job.”

“I… did a good job?” Steve is good at exactly two things. Sex and sports. Nancy would send him off to do things all the time—mostly school things like tests—reassuring him that he’d do great, then later reassuring him that it was ok that he only did ok, or that he’d do better next time.

“Yeah…” Eddie said slowly, like he’s distracted, but quickly goes back to speaking regularly, if softer. “Yeah, you did a good job. Do you think you can do it again?”

“I dunno.”

“Come on. Just lean on me, and we’ll take it one step at a time.” It takes several minutes, but eventually they make it to the bottom. “See? You did great.”

“‘Did great…’”

“Yeah… Now, I’m gonna drive you home. Where’s your car?”

“What about your car?”

Eddie laughs. “Nah, I walk to parties. Can’t have my van spotted near customers. If it gets out people were using, I can’t have that traced back to me. I don’t get caught, remember?”

“Oh, did I drag you away from… from your business?”

“Yeah, because people buy during the second half of the party,” Eddie snarked playfully. “No, I was already heading out. That’s why I spotted you.”

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

“Haven’t seen you this absolutely plastered in like a year,” Eddie says once they’ve made it on the road. “Is this about whatever happened with Billy?” he asks, tentatively.

“No.”

“Ok, so…”

“Nancy was being a bitch.”

“Whoa! What’d she do?”

“Nothing. I’m being the mean one. Bein’ the asshole again.”

“Well, I can’t imagine she did nothing, with how strongly you reacted. Do you want to talk about it?”

“She broke up with me because I murdered her friend.” The car stops with a screech and Steve isn’t sure how he doesn’t puke.

“What?” Eddie turns to him, sounding horrified.

“That girl on the news. It wouldn’t have gotten her if I hadn’t invited her to my stupid party.”

“Jesus man,” Eddie breathes as he moves his foot back over to the gas pedal. “I thought you actually killed someone.”

“I did.”

“No. You didn’t. Is… Is Nancy telling you that you actually murdered her?”

“No. She’s too nice.”

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

Steve wakes up on his couch with the worst hangover of his life. He thanks whatever forces provided the trashcan left by the couch, because he certainly didn’t do that. He doesn’t remember much of the previous night, and is genuinely surprised to not wake up in his bed next to Virginia. He goes as far as to go up to his room and check his bed, but it’s empty and his sheets are clean.

When he comes back downstairs he realizes there’s a note, Tylenol and a glass of water on the coffee table that he missed when he first woke up. He downs the Tylenol and reads the note.

You might consider talking to Nancy

          -Eddie

Absolutely not. Whatever Eddie thinks they need to talk about probably already has been. He throws the note in the garbage can. The vomit smell is growing overwhelming, but he really doesn’t want to take the trash out right now. He’d get it after the hangover subsides. He takes the glass to the kitchen to put ice in the water.

He’s almost finished with the water when the phone rings, the sound shooting pain through his head. He isn’t given the time to recite his regular greeting before his father is already speaking.

“There’s going to be a Christmas party on the 20th. You’re going this year. I know you don’t have a girlfriend anymore so you can’t whine like a little bitch about ‘wanting to meet her family,’ so don’t even try it. This may very well be the most important event for our image to date, so I won’t have you skipping.”

“You have Christmas parties every year. What makes this one so important?”

“It’s a charity banquet for child abuse awareness. If we don’t show up with the whole family, people are going to think we’re only there for appearances.”

“Aren’t you though?”

“You’ll want to rethink those words before we get there.”

“Yes sir. When will that be?”

“It’s out of state, so we’ll have to leave on the 19th. Early. Be ready.”

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

It’s the 17th the next time the phone rings.

“Harrington residence. Steve speaking,” he recites lazily.

“Steve! It’s Dustin!”

“How did you even get this number?”

“I got it from Nancy at the Snowball.”

“Why?”

“I asked if she had it?”

“Why?”

“In case I needed to call you. Like right now.”

“Ok, I’m just- why are you calling right now.”

“I need a ride to the arcade.”

“I thought you just rode your bike everywhere.”

“Usually I do, but the sidewalks are covered in snow and my mom doesn’t like it when I ride on the road. Not that I can’t just do it anyway, but if she gets back home and my bike isn’t in the garage, she’s going to have an aneurysm.”

“Ah. Ok.”

“Are you coming?”

“Sure. I need to get out of the house anyway.”

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

He drops Dustin off, who drags him inside, apparently to show him some high score he’d gotten. Steve congratulates him as enthusiastically as he can muster, despite it not really meaning much to him. Dustin seems proud of himself and lets Steve head back to his car, where he’s met face to face with Billy.

“Been a while, Harrington.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I was dropping Max off when I saw your car roll up.” So she did say her name was Max. Not Mags. He grabs Steve by the jacket and he can already hear the phantom ringing in his ears. “How ‘bout we start where we left off.” He shoves him to the ground, for about the thousandth time altogether. Steve moves to get up, but Billy’s boot is soon on his chest, keeping him on the ground. “Stay down, princess.”

“Hey!” he hears behind him. It’s Max. She’s aggressively walking up to Billy and he’s actually backing away, taking his foot off Steve’s chest. “You agreed to back off!”

“I said I’d leave your friends alone. Stevie’s all mine.”

“Christ, you’re dumb.” She turns to Steve, who at this point had moved to sit up, but hadn’t actually stood. She offers her hand and helps him to his feet. She gives Billy a sharp pointed look, before heading back inside.

Billy scoffs. “Whatever,” he mumbles, pulling out a cigarette and heading back to his car.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

The banquet is largely unmemorable until he catches sight of the lights across the street. Christmas lights. They were flickering. He stiffens and stops in place. His father walks right into him, having been following closely through the tight hallway.

“Get ahold of yourself,” he reprimands.

“Yes s- um…” He wasn’t supposed to call him sir in public. He calls him that to express he knows his place, but his father needs them to seem close for their image. “I will.”

He doesn’t register the rest of the night at all. He’s on autopilot the whole time. He’s instinctively imitating the way his father laughs and talks to people. He doesn’t even really hear anything anyone says to him, but he catches his cues and goes along with whatever is told to him. He’s served food at some point, but his autopilot is only there to keep up his basic necessities to not get called out. So he doesn’t eat; too focused on pushing his thoughts down, and keeping everyone pleased with themselves and their suburban ponderings. All he’s good for.

“You did good tonight,” his father tells him on the way out. He doesn’t really remember what he ‘did.’

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

Billy was on the basketball team, so of course it was dropped almost immediately after the concussion incident, but Steve was still on the swim team, and he’d been slacking. The first day back from winter break, he takes the time to tell his coach he plans to pick up the pace and explains both that he’d been concussed and had a funeral, but he was doing better now. He’s not; not really. But now he’s going to use that to drive him. It’s also around this time that he realizes Tommy had stopped showing up to swim.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

He’s been home for almost an hour and he’s in the middle of a workout when the doorbell rings, rapidly restarting over and over again. Someone sounds agitated.

He opens the door to see all the kids, most of whom immediately rush at him, embracing him. Mike is leaning on the door frame with a disgruntled look on his face.

“What’s going on?” Steve asks.

“We didn’t know where you were,” Dustin starts rambling. “You were gone, but your car was still here. We waited a whole day—we just parked our bikes in front of your house—to see if you’d come back and you didn’t. You hadn’t been there the previous day and you weren’t back the next. We thought something happened. But Nancy told Mike you were at school today.”

“Oh…” Steve wrapped his arms around the kids in turn. Steve had only been gone for five days, but it sounded like the kids were made aware for an unlucky three. He’d been back for almost a week now. “No, I just had to go with my parents to a Christmas business party.”

“Well then, tell us that next time, asshole,” Mike snaps before turning from the porch. “Honestly,” he breathes as he steps down from the porch.”

He has to stop his workout entirely and spends the rest of the day watching movies with the kids. It’s nice. The house feels full, and they’re all safe.

After they finished the first movie, the kids start bickering as to what to put on next and Steve moves to the kitchen to restock on popcorn. He’s just started the microwave when he realizes that Max followed him.

“Sorry about what happened with Billy the other week.”

Steve shakes his head. “I wouldn’t blame you for that. The guy needs to get his head screwed on straight. I don’t expect you to have much sway over what he does.”

“Well, I do. Obviously. I don’t know. Maybe I should have been clearer in the first place- I mean… you know, after he woke up.”

“What… what did you do?”

“I sedated him with the drugs we were using to keep Will from spying. Then I threatened him with your nail bat. He passed out soon after that.”

“Wow.” He hears a kernel pop and realizes just how far between they were. He opens the microwave before they burn. “Yeah, that would probably do it. Thanks. You didn’t have to tell him we’re friends though. It wasn’t your fight to get between.”

“Yes, it kind of was. Also, we are friends.”

“We are? Since when?”

“Since you jumped in front of one of those dogs for this ‘random girl,’” she points to herself.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

Now that Dustin has his number, he uses it fairly regularly. Almost every night at around 2 AM. To ‘check in.’ He won’t admit to Steve that he’s getting nightmares and that’s why he’s calling. Steve wants to reassure him not to worry about being embarrassed about it. That Steve gets nightmares too. It’s hard to express that weakness.

Dustin’s been calling almost every night for a couple weeks when he must have a particularly bad one. He’s weepy and kind of babbling, asking if Steve’s ok. Steve’s always been better at physical comfort than verbal, but he does his best to calm the boy’s nerves.

“Do you need me to come to you?” he asks once Dustin is sufficiently calmer.

“No, I just needed to call,” he answers. “Mom’s going to drive me over to Mike’s though. That usually helps.”

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

A few weeks later he’s getting out of the shower after swim practice. He’s walking through the halls and as he passes a classroom, the door swings open and Eddie almost runs right into him.

“Shit, sorry man,” Eddie says.

“What are you still doing here?”

“Setting up for the next campaign.” Steve doesn’t respond, just gives a confused look. “For Hellfire Club.”

“I didn’t know you were in a club. What’s it for?”

“Dungeons and Dragons.”

“Oh! I know what that is. Kind of…”

“Oh really?” Eddie croons as he starts walking in the direction  of the nearest school exit. Steve follows, headed that way in the first place. “And what all do you know about it?”

“It’s some kind of game about monsters.”

“It’s not really ‘about’ the monsters, but we’re definitely talking about the same thing. What about you? Why are you here, and with wet hair?”

“I’m on the swim team.”

“Was there a competition today? I didn’t hear anything.”

“No. We still swim every day.”

“Ok, I think you officially know more about my thing than I know about yours.”

“You know we have to practice, right?”

“You have to practice swimming? I thought you were supposed to be good at it. Like, that’s the whole point.”

“It’s not like I’ll forget how to swim if I stop practicing. It’s more about staying good. Hopefully, getting better.”

“Gotta max out those stats, huh?”

“Sure,” Steve says, despite his confusion.

“I don’t really smell chlorine though.”

“Yeah… because I showered.”

“You shower after you swim? Why? You’re already wet.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“You know… it occurs to me… it probably sucks that you couldn’t just practice at home. I mean, I can take most of my stuff home with me. Even basketball, you can just buy a hoop. Kinda harder to do that with a pool, huh?”

“Also swim season is in the winter, so you’d need an indoor pool anyway.”

“Hey, that’s a good point.”

“You’re really not exposed to this stuff.”

“Proudly and profoundly not.”

“Alright, well, I’m this way,” Steve says, gesturing towards his car, knowing they’ll need to part ways now.

“Hey, wait, uh… Did you ever talk to Nancy?”

Steve sighs. “I don’t understand why you care so much about this.”

“It’s not like I’m telling you that you need to get back with her. I just think you should talk about all that other stuff.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I was absolutely blackout drunk.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s no surprise… You were talking about that dead girl on TV.”

“Barb?”

“Probably. ‘Nancy’s friend.’”

Steve looks down at his feet. “What did I tell you about it?” Please don’t let it be that the supposed cause of her death was fabricated.

“Just that… you feel guilty about it. You think Nancy blames you.”

Steve looks back up with an almost relieved sigh. “She wouldn’t do that. That’s just my weird drunk self. Never knows what he’s talking about.”

“If you’re sure. But you still feel like it’s your fault?”

“I don’t know. It’s probably not. Just… sometimes.”

“Ok.”

 “Hey, thanks for dropping me off by the way. I needed the ride.”

“Don’t even mention it. Your house is a closer walk back to where I was crashing than that party was.”

“Walk? You walked?” Steve asks, concerned. Eddie explains his reasoning. “If you ever need a getaway, you could call me.”

Eddie laughs “Nah. I’ve been doing fine on my own. Again, haven’t been caught yet.”

“Yeah, but if you do ever get caught you’ll always be suspect number one after that.”

“I’m not too worried. Wouldn’t want to ruin your image anyway.”

Steve’s breath catches in his throat. He really wants to reassure that he doesn’t care about his image, but he does. If he got caught selling drugs, he could probably spin that as a cool thing at school, but, god, would his parents be pissed.

“Hey, you practice every day?” Eddie asks. “Swimming?” Steve nods. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.” He winks before sauntering off.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

They do end up seeing each other, almost everyday after practice, but they don’t find themselves talking much. Mostly they just walk next to each other on their ways out and bid a good rest of the day. Steve hasn’t talked to Nancy, but Eddie doesn’t ask again.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

“When was your first kiss?” Dustin asks some days later when he’s, once again, driving him to the arcade.

“What? Why?”

“A bunch of the kids at school are kissing for the first time, and I need to know if I’m falling behind or not.”

Steve sighs. “It doesn’t matter when you get your first kiss, as long as you’re ready for it.”

“I am. I’m just afraid I won’t be able to get one until I’m too old for it not to be embarrassing.”

“I’m not exactly the best reference for when it’s normal to have a first kiss. I’m not even entirely sure there is a normal age. Like… it’s different for everyone. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’ve never had to worry about being rejected.”

“Dustin, you’ll find someone. And it’s going to be right on time.”

“I never got to tell you what happened at the Snow Ball. The next time I went to see you, you weren’t home and we thought something happened to you.”

“Right… What happened.”

“It sucked. Whatever you have that made your advice work for you, I don’t have it.”

“No, no. No, don’t think you’re the problem, ok? If the girls in your class don’t see what you have… They’re the ones missing out, ok?”

“Yeah, Nancy said something similar,” Dustin says. “You were right; she is special.”

Steve lets out a sad laugh, not knowing how else to react. “Yeah, well, she’s with Jonathan now.”

“She is? I didn’t know that! When did that happen?”

“Like two months ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“Ok, first of all, I don’t have to tell you everything. But I’m not entirely sure how you missed it.”

“Well, what happened?”

A month ago, he thought Nancy had just been drifting—would have said they’d both been drifting. Now… “I’m not entirely sure.”

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

His parents had torn the covers off the windows when they picked him up for the Christmas party, so he’d gotten used to seeing it over time. Of course, his mind always wondered when he saw it. It doesn’t matter now, because his mind is already running. He sits by the pool, now empty for the winter. He’s shaking and he tells himself it’s from the cold.

He sits and thinks.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

“Steve? What are you doing here?”

“Hey Jonathan. Sorry, I… I was going to talk to Nancy about this, but…” he takes a deep breath, “I’m afraid she’ll agree with me.”

Jonathan opens the door for Steve. Mrs. Byers and Will are sitting at the table, and they give him odd looks as he passes the room. He’s not sure if the looks are because he’s only ever come here during ‘code reds’ or because he voluntarily entered his ex’s boyfriend’s house. Either way, he knows him being here is a bit odd.

“So you want to talk to me about it, because you think I’ll disagree?” Jonathan asks as he shuts the bedroom door behind them. “I’m just a little confused about why you’re here.”

“Did you know Barb? Barbara Holland?”

“No, but Nancy has talked about her a lot.”

“She came to this small party I held last year. It was the last place she was seen.”

“I know. I think everyone knows that.”

“Everyone who pays attention.”

“You think I don’t?”

“No, I just… Nancy was right, you know? It’s like no one cares. You went to her funeral; you saw how many people were there.”

“Not a lot.”

“Exactly! And if I hadn’t invited her to my stupid party, she’d still be here.”

“If it wasn’t her, it probably would have just been someone else.”

“Maybe it should have been.”

“I didn’t know you were close.”

“We weren’t. It’s… It could have at least been someone people knew, you know. Someone people would notice, and it would make a difference. And she was good, you know?”

“Are you… Are you talking about yourself right now? You think it should have been you?”

“I don’t know… It feels like I killed her sometimes, you know?”

“You didn’t kill her just because she showed up to your party.”

“I know that. It’s not just that. She cut her hand at my party. It was the first link in the chain that changed me for the better. She was the first link, and I can’t thank her. I can’t apologize knowing the trade wasn’t worth it. I mean, just a year and a half ago I was an asshole, and she was there for Nancy before I ever came along. She tried to protect Nancy that night. From me. What does that tell you?”

Jonathan sits down next to him. “I get why you didn’t take this to Nancy. She’s too close to the situation. This sounds like survivors' guilt. I mean, some of it. There’s a whole mess of other stuff too, but this is what I know about. After Will came back we were both in therapy for a while. Will still is, but I stopped going a few months ago. I was dealing with what happened too, you know? I mean, my situation was a little more complicated than yours, because Will never actually died, but same effect. I thought ‘I’m supposed to be the responsible one’ and ‘he’s just a kid.’”

“You’re not exactly an adult.”

Jonathan chuckles. “Yeah, I know. I think we’re both in rare positions that we have some good that came out of our situations though. Will came back, and I don’t think most people can say the death of a stranger made them better, or have the self awareness to be grateful.”

“That doesn’t make it worth it.”

“I don’t think you can compare it.”

“If it was me, there’d be one less asshole, and Barb would still be alive.”

“There still is one less asshole, man.”

“Sure… I guess. Still. It’s not just that I survived and she didn’t. That’s not the problem exactly. It feels so much like I murdered her. It’s not just that I brought her to the party she died at, but I’m the reason she was alone at that moment, and especially because… I’m the only one who can say I appreciate her death in some way. And she just wanted to help Nancy, and I love Nancy—I still do.”

Jonathan takes his hand, hesitantly. Steve lets him, because he’s shaking so hard, he needs the grounding. It’s not like it’s the first time they’ve held hands. “You know what got me into photography?” Steve shakes his head. “When I was ten my dad made me shoot a rabbit.” Steve startles. He really did not expect this story to go in that direction. “I cried for a week. My mom helped me bury it. After a few weeks, the spot we buried it in looked so much prettier than the rest of the ground. The grass was greener and there were a bunch of flowers that were only blooming in the one area.

“When my mom told me that it probably wouldn’t last, I needed a picture. So my mom got me a camera with some of the money she was saving for a new car. The pictures were all in black and white, but you can see the difference between it and the area around it. I needed a picture because it was pretty and it would be gone soon, sure, but also it was a reminder of the life and the goodness that came from its death. It really helped me with the grieving process. And that’s you.”

Steve doesn’t really have a response, so he looks down at where their fingers are interlinked and he feels warm. His hands are no longer shaking, but they’re sweating now.

“I still have the pictures, if you want to see.”

Jonathan ends up gifting him one of the pictures (as well as a group picture of the party in ghostbusters costumes). If you didn’t know what the picture was of, you might think it was some kind of abstract mess, but given the context, it was easy to piece together what it was. There wasn’t any color, but he could see the circular patch of grass slightly darker than the grass around it. There was a fairly large rock on the far side of it, and Steve pictures a young Jonathan insisting the rabbit needs a headstone. There are lighter shades of gray speckled around the patch of grass, the flowers, and a few large white mushrooms circling around the patch.

The picture is small, so he puts it in his wallet. He doesn’t have one, and he’s not going to ask the Hollands for one, so he decides it will be his picture of Barb.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

He’s not listening to what Eddie’s saying—he’d have to strain his ears to hear—but he’s watching him from across the cafeteria as he walks on the tables, doing his usual routine of making fun of other cliques. Steve has already heard it—or a version of it—but not since he was still friends with Carol and Tommy. He’d been aggravated and defensive at the time, but now he thinks he’s right. If he’s actually trying to convince people of that perspective though, he should probably change his approach.

“What about Harrington?” he hears someone yell at Eddie. Eddie’s eyes meet his and his face loses its mocking edge.

“Nah,” he says, loud enough this time that Steve can hear. “He’s alright.”

“Love you too, Munson,” he jokes. There was a wave of laughter through the room. Eddie leaned into it, his performative bravado basking in it. He blows Steve a kiss. Steve catches and pockets it. Eddie smiles, dimples on full display.

There’s a whole conversation going around the school for the rest of the day about how even Eddie “The Freak” Munson likes Steve Harrington, and whether or not that’s a good thing. Some people thought it was a sign of a fall from grace, while others thought that meant he’s earned his title of King, being adored by all his subjects.

Steve really wants to not care what they end up deciding. He wants to not, but he does. He knows he’ll be graduating in just a matter of months and it won’t matter after that- it shouldn’t matter after that. It does.

He doesn’t know what he’ll do if everyone forgets about him; or worse, remembers him, but can’t be bothered to acknowledge his existence. He’s right there, if they just look, and he’s afraid they’ll stop. He doesn’t know what he’ll do after he graduates. He knows socializing doesn’t work the same when you aren’t surrounded by your peers constantly. He needs to stop thinking about this now.

He’s not sure why—though he doesn’t think about it all that hard—but when he gets home, he takes the kiss from his pocket and places it on the corner of his bedside table.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

He’d wanted to get his be in time for early application, but that didn’t end up happening. Instead he ended up sending it out, barely hitting the regular deadline. As hard as he worked on it, he doesn’t have Nancy to help and critique, so he doesn’t expect it to get him much anywhere.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

It’s Valentine’s Day again. For the time being, for Steve, it just serves as a sick reminder that no one cares about him anymore; not really. It’s not just that he’s one of the sad singles of the notable day, but that he doesn’t have any friends to reassure him about it like he’d always had before. Sure, he was never really upset about it before, but even knowing that, Tommy and Carol would let him in on the activities of the day. They didn’t even let him feel like too much of a third wheel. Now he doesn’t have anyone to even check on him, despite how brutally he’d been taking the break up with Nancy.

So he’s been moping all day. He’s supposed to go to the school swimming pool for practice, and he plans to eventually, but when his last period teacher leaves the classroom with the rest of the students (maybe he has valentines plans of his own) Steve just slumps in his chair. He’ll get up eventually.

He doesn’t and it’s just about time all sports practices and clubs are wrapping up.

“Hey man,” he hears from the door. Steve would have thought that if anyone would have found him it would have been Eddie. Just because their schedules have them heading in the same direction at the same time so he’d notice Steve’s gone. Steve and Eddie are just acquaintances at this point, so Steve doesn’t know him very well, but he seems the type to be nosey. Instead, when he looks up from the desk, he’s surprised to find that it’s Jonathan who looks back. “I was just heading back from Photography Club. Didn’t really expect to see you slumped over in an empty classroom. You ok?”

“Shouldn’t you be doing something with Nancy or something?”

“Yeah,” Jonathan chuckles. “We discussed it. I told her I didn’t exactly have the money for some big gesture and she said we should just skip it.”

“Isn’t there some kind of girl code, that when a girl says to not do something specific like that, she really does want to?”

“She actually brought that up herself. Said not to think she was doing that. That she wanted to work on some ‘stuff’ today anyway.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that woman is all that into Valentine’s Day…”

“What’d she do last year?”

“We went bowling.”

“Oh god,” Jonathan snorts.

“Yeah. There were a bunch of groups around us that were clearly all singles trying to forget it was Valentine’s day. We probably brought the mood down as an obvious couple.”

Jonathan sits down and takes a breath. “I don’t know what’s with her sometimes, man. You know? It’s like, she’s all affectionate, until I start being affectionate back. Then she just… shuts down a little bit.”

“Sounds like you’re further with her than I ever got in some ways. Most of our dates were study dates. I guess that much is my fault. I’m not… all that bright.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“I’m pretty sure I have an actual better idea of my skill levels than you would.”

“I think people ha-”

“Sorry I’m being an asshole. Shit- I just interrupted you. Sorry.”

“I think you’re trying too hard, but it’s fine.”

“‘Trying too hard?’”

“To be a ‘better guy’ or whatever. If you want to make things right, all you have to do at this point is not do the thing again. With the little things anyway. You’re kind of stumbling over yourself. Kinda makes it worse.”

“Sorry.”

“Dude, it’s fine. You’re still learning.”

“Well, I’ve kind of just established that I’m not all that good at that.”

“You already learned though. You made a big turn last year. And as I was saying before, I think people have a tendency to only see the worst in themselves. Like, you see all the bad stuff, but don’t give yourself enough credit for the good stuff. I think there’s a word for that, but I don’t remember what it is. But if you think you’re dumb, you’d have a pretty hard time convincing yourself that you’re not. I mean, if you’re convinced why would you even try, right?”

“You’re a real smart guy, Jon. Those were all some good points. Doesn’t mean it’s true about me though.”

Jonathan looks tired. Steve supposes he always does, but tired of Steve; of his answers. Steve’s about to apologize again, but Jonathan speaks first. “Would you want to do something today? I’m obviously not busy and I think at this point in our culture, Valentine's Day is mostly just about keeping the people in your life happy. Your partners or supporting your single friends. You look like you could use it.”

Steve hesitates. “Are we friends?”

“I kind of stole your girlfriend and you aren’t outrageously pissed at me. I’d say we’re close enough to be friends.”

“You didn’t ‘steal’ anything.”

They go bowling. Steve wins, but it doesn’t matter nearly as much to either of them than it had to Nancy last year. They have fun. Steve does anyway. He hopes Jonathan does.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

Mid-late February is the last swim meet. It was a close call, but they pulled through on the relays. They win. It’s not until after winning does he realize Max, Lucas, and Dustin are in the crowd, along with most of the parents of his teammates. They’re cheering louder than the rest of the parents, which Steve supposes makes sense. The younger people are, the more energy they tend to have, and the worse they are at keeping calm.

“I didn’t know you guys were here,” he says walking up to them.

“Yeah, because you didn’t tell us about it,” Dustin says. “What’s with that?”

“Well for some reason, I was under the impression that you were more interested in D&D and video games than physical activities.”

“I don’t play D&D,” Max says. “And I literally skateboard.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll let you know if I’m ever in some kind of competition again. Sorry you only got here for the last game of senior year.”

“I’m just glad I got to see it.” Lucas starts rambling about how cool it was to see how fast people—including Steve but not exclusively—could cut through water. Dustin makes a comment about how unfortunate it was the girls team wore one pieces and Max swats him in the chest with the back of her hand. Steve’s pretty sure Dustin only said that to try to seem cool. He makes a note to talk to him about that.

“We’re just lucky my brother has developed some kind of obsession. He’s been ranting about how annoying it is that you’re still on the social radar even after ‘quitting basketball like a quitter.’ He’s very eloquent. But he mentioned the next one being the last one.”

“Obsession?”

“It wasn’t a problem until I specifically told him to leave you alone. Now he’s doing that thing where he wants what he can’t have. He’s pretty good general awareness of what you’d be doing at any given time.”

“Oh, that’s… comforting.”

“Don’t worry, he won’t try anything.”

“You’ve got him on quite the leash there.”

“Yeah,” Lucas says. “Thank god for all of us.”

“Don’t thank God,” Max says, jokingly offended. “Thank me.”

“Thank you, Max,” Steve says in earnest. “I’ve gotta hit the showers.”

“And then you’re going to drive us home,” Dustin says, before he’s even fully turned around.

“What?” Steve complains.

“Yeah, so we just walked here from the middle school and waited. So, we need a ride.”

“God, are you serious…” he breathes. “Fine. Fine. Wait by the entrance. I’ll make sure to pick you up when I’m done.”

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

Just before he enters the locker room he hears a voice say his name. He turns to the hallway wall on the opposite side of the Locker room wall. He doesn’t know how he missed Eddie casually leaning there.

“Quite a performance you put on there,” he says. “I kind of figured I’d pick up on the rules along the way. I did not.”

Steve laughs. “What are you doing here if you don’t even know how it works?”

“Eh, I figured it’s your last game. Didn’t have anything better to do today. Plus, seeing a bunch of babes in bathing suits? Sounds like a good time. Right now though, I just wanted to congratulate you, because—even though I barely understand what just happened—I’m pretty sure you did a good job. And I mean, last day, right?”

“Yeah, it’s definitely uh…”

“Bittersweet? Melancholic?”

“Wearing on me.”

“Ah. Well if you ever want to get your mind off it, I still wait at the forest table.”

“God, did you come here to remind me you sell stuff?”

“That’s mostly just a bonus.” He winks.

Steve turns to go, but stops himself. “Hey, by the way. I never did talk to Nancy, but I did talk to Jonathan.”

“That name means nothing to me,” Eddie says, “but it’s probably good you talked to someone.” He claps Steve on the back before leaving.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

Most of the times Steve drove Dustin to places, Dustin would talk about how nervous he was for high school. He didn’t usually say it forthright, but he would talk a lot about his presentation, and how that could be perceived. It was easy to figure out why he was worried about it. The next year he would be entering high school, with a whole slew of new people to see for the first time. To possibly embarrass yourself in front of.

Steve usually gives him some kind of advice, but having just spoken to Eddie, he realizes that this time he can offer up some encouragement instead. So he drops Max off first, and tells both boys about how the high school has a D&D club. He feels a small well of pride in his chest when they both grow ecstatic at this information, and tries to push down that voice in his head that tells him he shouldn’t feel proud because this should have occurred to him long ago.

The kids are relieved and—for the first time—seem excited about the idea of going to high school. Even if he can’t bring himself to feel proud of getting them there, he can be glad they got to. Eddie’s club might turn out to be their favorite part of their high school years. Not that Eddie himself would still be there. He’s a senior too.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

That night Steve is looking at his time cards and he has a thought. It‘s an instinctual thought. One that wanders into his mind without his approval or expectation.

‘I should show Nancy when I see her tomorrow.’

His chest feels like it’s being compressed. He’s not dating Nancy anymore. Most of the reason it hurt was how instinctual it had come, and how it came with an implication of it being in a romantic context. But he thinks he’s ready to start seeing her again. Being in her presence without the feeling of his heart crushing itself. He picks up the phone. He’s been trying to be a better person after all.

“Marsha Holland speaking.”

“Hey, Mrs. Holland. It’s Steve. If you’ve started hosting again, I’m not going to be as busy as I have been for a while. I could come over.”

“We haven’t been hosting, no…”

“You could start again.”

“We haven’t been doing much of anything, to be honest with you.”

“Maybe… Maybe you just need to. I mean, maybe it would be good for you to do… you know, something. I could come over.”

“I’d like that. I’m sure Jacob would too. I’m not sure I could muster up the energy to make any dinners.”

“That’s ok! I mean, we had KFC at one of the last ones. Or I could bring something. Yeah, I’ll bring something.”

“Steve, you don’t have to do that.”

“I’ve just- I’ve been worried about you- you both.”

He hears distant whispering on the other end of the line. “We would appreciate that.”

“Should I invite Nancy?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to. If you want to.”

“Alright.”

“Tuesday?”

“We’ll see you then.”

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

The next day there’s banging on Steve’s door, despite the fact there’s a doorbell. Steve considers it fortunate that he happens to be close enough to hear it, which he wouldn’t have in his room. There’s a reason the house has a doorbell, after all. He opens the door and there stands Mike Wheeler who knows perfectly well that there’s a doorbell.

“Your last swim match was yesterday.” It’s not a question, but he does seem to be waiting for confirmation.

“Swim meet,” Steve corrects. “Yeah.”

“So Nancy can’t get on my ass about bothering you. I need you to drive me to Hopper’s cabin to visit El.”

“I don’t know where that is.”

“That’s where they took Will to burn the Mind Flayer out of him.”

“I don’t know if you remember, but I was stuck with you kids that night. I don’t know where it is any more than you do. Jonathan knows where it is. Why don’t you have him drive you.”

“Joyce and Jonathan both have work during the hours Hop said I could visit.”

Steve sighs. The chief definitely did that on purpose. “I’ll ask Jonathan where it is the next time I see him. Make sure you warn Hopper ahead of time that you’ll be able to visit tomorrow.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes. Is that all?”

“Are you fucking with me?”

“‘Fucking with you?’”

“I hope you know that if I come back tomorrow and you refuse to take me, I’m just gonna stay here and bother you until you do.”

“Yeah, ok. Well I’m agreeing now, so you wouldn’t need to stay here until tomorrow.”

Mike eyes him suspiciously before taking a single step backward out of the doorway, which allows Steve to close the door. Steve takes a quick glance out the window to see Mike heading back to his bike.

He spends the rest of his Sunday afternoon experimenting with the cookbook Dustin gave him for Christmas. He’s been cooking effectively for a long time, but apparently not very well. He wants to do well, if just for Tuesday.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

Steve doesn’t exactly have any classes with Jonathan, but they always pass each other in between third and fourth period. Jonathan tells him to meet him after he gets out of Photography Club.

He catches Nancy at lunch (where he also planned on meeting Jonathan if he’d missed him between classes) and tells her about the Hollands.

“Steve, I told you. We exposed the lab. The dinners were always moral support, but that moral support turned into encouragement for their search for Barb and… we don’t have to do that anymore.”

“It doesn’t have to be about that.”

“I can’t keep going to their place. I can’t just watch them mourn. I finished actively mourning a year ago, and it was miserable, and I was stuck on it for so much longer because I couldn’t take the guilt of knowing what happened, but… I need to move on now. I care. A lot. But I can’t fall back into mourning.”

“I understand. I’m still going though.”

“I’m glad you are then. They need the help. I’m glad they have someone. It just can’t be me.”

“Ok. It would probably be awkward anyway, right? Going back to it like nothing else happened in between.”

“Yeah,” She chokes out. “Tell me about it.”

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

He’s walking with Jonathan through the hall after school, heading toward the parking lot to get the map from Jonathan's car. Steve can hear Eddie’s footsteps behind them. When he glances back, Eddie’s looking at them with a sort of curious amusement. Whatever is ever going on in that guy’s mind is always such a mystery to Steve.

Hopper had only given Jonathan directions based on landmarks from the Byers’ house, so he gets a map from his glove compartment and figures out the general location and shows it to Steve.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

Mike is not happy to hear that Steve won’t be driving him to the cabin again Tuesday, but the little twerp isn’t shitty enough to follow him to the Hollands. Even still he makes a show to mope around Steve’s house as he makes meatloaf and mashed potatoes. They were both things he could make before, but were made more complicated with the added steps in the recipe. He thinks it’s probably better to err on the side of caution and not try to get too experimental.

Mike is incredibly more forgiving about not being able to see Eleven when Steve allows him to be his taste tester.

“Are you just trying to impress Nancy,” Mike asks accusingly, as he mounts his bike and Steve places the food containers in his car.

“What?”

“Learning how to cook. Trying to help her dead best friend's family. That’s pretty low, you know.”

“Nancy’s not even coming tonight.”

“But she knows you’re going?”

“Yeah. If I was trying to impress her, I wouldn’t need to go through this effort. It’s not like she’d find out about it.”

Mike studies his face for a few moments before wordlessly biking off.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

“Nancy couldn’t make it,” he tells them when he arrives. “Sorry.”

“We did schedule it really soon, didn’t we?” Mrs. Holland leads him inside. Steve doesn’t think correcting her as to the circumstances would be a great idea. Nancy just didn’t want to come, and he wouldn’t easily be able to explain why, exactly, she’s justified in that.

“I made meatloaf,” he says, holding up the container, “and mashed potatoes.”

“Made them?”

Maybe Steve should have been more vague. Cooking doesn’t exactly fit his image, and they, frankly, might not believe him. “It’s the first time I’ve tried it this way,” he says, “so don’t expect it to be very good, but Mike said it was fine at least.”

“Mike?” They’re pulling up their chairs now. “Isn’t that Nancy’s brother?”

“Yeah, I was just… babysitting for her. Since she’s busy, you know.”

“Oh, that’s sweet. I’m glad you and Nancy are still getting along.”

They serve themselves in silence, Steve hoping to get some consensus on the food. They don’t actually say anything, but they seem satisfied, giving him looks of impression. Steve almost sags in relief at that.

“You should be heading to college soon, right?” Mr. Holland asks. “You’re a year above Nancy, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I am, but… I think I’ll be sticking around for a while.” He’s already received most of his rejection letters back. If he’s keeping track correctly, there’s only two he hasn’t gotten back. He’s not excited for when his parents get back next.

The married couple glances at each other in silent conversation. “Why’s that?”

“Nancy was helping me with a lot of my schoolwork, so that’s gone down the drain. We broke up before I finished college applications so she didn’t help with any of those essays and I was in a bit of a slump trying to write it so… it just wasn’t good. The essay, I mean.”

“You still have time. You’re young. You still have next year to reapply.” Steve looks up from his food. He didn’t realize that was an option. Mr. Holland just continues talking. “Give yourself a gap year, maybe get a job and find something to write your next essay on with the experience.”

“Yeah… maybe…” Steve tries not to get his hopes up. He didn’t realize you could apply after getting rejected, or even just the year directly after high school. Nancy had already almost convinced him he had a chance. He doesn’t need more false hope.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

Driving Mike to Hopper’s cabin becomes a regular thing, and something Hopper gets increasingly infuriated about. Sometimes—well, often, but not nearly as often as Mike—some of the other kids will come along. Never Max though. She told Steve once that she doesn’t think Eleven likes her.

Steve’s sitting on the porch one day in March when Hopper gets back from work. Hopper sits next to him and lights a cigarette.

“Have you ever considered not bringing Mike here? Just telling the kid to fuck off for the day?”

“Not really,” Steve says. “He’s persistent. He’s not just going to let it go. I don’t really get your issue with it anyway.”

“Have you seen them?” Hopper asks, seething and condescending. “They can’t get their mouths away from each other.”

Steve shrugs. “I was younger than them when I started kissing.”

“God, people aren’t kidding when they say you’re slow. Let me tell you the difference. You were a teenage boy. El’s a young girl. She doesn’t know what she’s doing or getting herself into.”

Maybe Steve would have listened to that reasoning a couple of years ago. Girls not knowing what they’re doing or getting into. But Nancy is the closest he’s ever gotten to a girl, and she certainly knows what she’s doing more than Steve ever has. He wasn’t as close with Carol, but he knew her for longer, and he could say the same about her.

“Isn’t that how they learn that stuff?”

“She’s vulnerable and Mike is taking advantage of that. Do you want her to have to learn the hard way? You want her hurt?”

Steve’s eyes widen and he starts to shrink away. “I think… they just like each other. You kept them away from each other for like a year.”

“So this is my fault.”

“No- No.”

“That’s what it sounds like you’re saying to me.”

“I just think that if I loved, or even just liked someone a lot, and I couldn’t see them for a year, and I didn’t know what happened or why… I’d be pretty relieved to see them again.”

“That,” Hopper gestures to the front door, “is not what ‘relief’ looks like.” He stands up and stomps his way up the porch. Steve breaks out a cigarette.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

“I’m not taking advantage of her,” Mike says on the way back.

“You heard our conversation.”

“He’s so- god! He thinks he knows everything! I know El isn’t exactly… experienced with relationships. I know that! We talk about this stuff, you know? We’ve only just barely started kissing. I don’t know why he’s so weird about it. I let her decide when she wants to do stuff, because she’s so used to being out of control. Hop doesn’t let her control anything either!”

“Yeah. That has to suck.” Steve lets Mike simmer with anger in silence the rest of the drive to the Wheeler house.

“Thanks for defending us,” Mike says as Steve helps him get his bike out of his trunk. It didn’t take long for Mike to start biking to meet Steve at the high school after classes let out, in order to get to the cabin as soon as possible. “Defending our choices and relationship.”

“Yeah, well… It's pretty normal from what I can tell. And if you’re really talking about how to go forward, I think you’re doing a good job. She was stuck in a lab for a long time right? Sounds like the way to do it.”

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

“I don’t get you, you know?” Mike asks the next day as he’s driving him to the cabin.

“What about me?”

“Nancy turned into a real jerk when she started dating you. Then she broke up with you and she still ‘doesn’t have time’ for us ‘kids.’ Now she’s dating Jonathan and he’s nice, and now you’re being nice and you saved me from that vine in the tunnels and that’s annoying.”

Steve chuckles. “If you didn’t like me because Nancy wasn’t giving you attention, that had nothing to do with me. Do you know how often she dropped our plans while we were dating because she wanted to work on an extra credit school project? Hate to break it to you, but your sister’s just a run of the mill overachiever. That has nothing to do with me.”

Mike slumps in his seat, clearly unhappy with Steve’s answer. He’s already in a bad mood, so Steve figures he might as well give him the bad news now. “I won’t be able to bring you tomorrow,” he says.

Mike jolts up a bit, sitting up straighter. “I thought you disagreed with Hop. You said you thought it was normal.”

“This has nothing to do with you. Dustin wants to show me some movies or something. I don’t have time to do both, and I’ve been giving you a lot of my time lately. I think you can stand a day by now, right?”

Mike sighs. “Sure,” he says, glumly. “What movie is so important that it has to keep me from my girlfriend.”

“Uh, Star Wars? I think it’s called.”

Mike jolts up again. “You’ve never seen Star Wars? Even El’s seen Star Wars.” Mike insists on watching it with him, and once the time actually comes, all the kids are packed in his living room. Except Eleven, obviously.

Steve always zones out when watching movies. He’d told Dustin this, but he’d just insisted that Steve would get invested because it’s ‘just that good,’ but as much as Steve tries, a lot of it blends together. Especially with all the flashy action scenes trying to outdo each other. He manages to grasp some of the general plot, but it’s not that iconic to him. When he tells the kids this, their faces all fall—even Max’s—and he’s never been so distraught about disappointing someone; even though that usually leads to getting shoved in a closet.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

He’s sitting on the porch again, attempting to read a book for his English class, when a car rolls up. He immediately stiffens, because this place is supposed to be hidden, and for a reason. He relaxes when Bob gets out of the car.

“Oh, heya, Steve,” he says.

“Hi Mr. Newby,” Steve says, his voice sounding much more peppy than he expected. “It’s been a while. What are you doing here?”

“You can just call me Bob,” he says. “And Jim thinks the kids are moving a little too fast. I offered to talk to them for him.”

“Do you think they’re moving too fast?”

“I haven’t actually seen them interact. But I hear they’re bordering on making out now. I think at their age they should be focused on more interpersonal aspects of their relationship before they get too vulnerable with each other. In case it blows up later.”

“Sure, that makes sense.”

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

He’s not spying, but he sits outside the door as Bob talks to them, and he can hear the discussion.

“I let her take the lead,” Mike tries to reason. “We talk about how much kissing is ok, and how that changes. We talk about it. It’s not like I’m preying on her naivety.”

“I’m not suggesting you’d do that, Mike,” Bob says. “El hasn’t experienced much of the world, but you’re both new to relationships. It’s great that you’re talking about the little things as you go forward, but you can just take a break too. Just stay put in the relationship. Maybe you can move forward, but you need to figure out how you feel about it alongside who you are. Your interests, and ideas. Your personalities. Relationships require all different kinds of compatibility, and you need them to be weighed out against each other before you know what you’re going to do moving forward. So maybe just… slow down. Ok?”

“Mike says that everyone at his school is kissing now.”

“At your age… They probably are, but it’s more like everyone has tried it. I know it feels like the door is open now, and you want to figure it all out now that it’s an option. If you stick it out, you’ll have all the time in the world. For now you need to focus on how sticking it out would work. Because it has to be more than making out.”

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

Steve doesn’t drive Mike (or any of the other kids for that matter) on weekends, because they have the time to burn biking over. This Saturday he gets a call from Jonathan.

“We usually have Will go over to Dustin’s when me and my mom have to work at the same time, but Will wants to meet everyone over at Hop’s cabin.”

“Ok? Why are you calling me about it?”

“We don’t like to leave him unsupervised anymore…”

“Alright. I’ll drive the kid.”

“Thank you. Seriously. Can you hurry though? I can afford to be a little late, but I’m supposed to be there in about two minutes.”

“You really waited until the last minute, didn’t you?”

“Coolthanksbye.” The line goes dead.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

As soon as Steve gets to the Byers’, Jonathan is booking it to his car, sending a quick grateful wave Steve’s way. Will is out the house door just as Jonathan starts pulling into the road.

They’re maybe halfway to the cabin and Steve hasn’t been able to ignore just how anxious the kid had been, quiet and fidgety.

“You alright there kid?” he asks.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s just… It’s nothing.”

“I know I’m not one of your friends. You don’t need to talk to me about all your problems. That’s fine, but you went through a lot so you don’t have to pretend everything is ok. Ok?”

“No, it’s not that.” Will’s nervous energy has faded a bit as he tried to clear that up. “I just… I’ll tell you when we get there.”

The rest of the drive is silent but considerably less tense. He pulls into the small lot next to the cabin, and turns to the boy, who remains hesitant.

“So, um…” Will starts as he unzips his backpack. “I wanted to thank you for the help.” He pulls out a piece of paper. “So I made this.” He hands it to Steve, looking self conscious; a feeling Steve finds to be unearned when he finally sees what the sheet contains.

A silhouette of his nail bat encircled with a crown.

“I don’t know that much about you,” Will says almost apologetically, “but after Dustin told me about the tunnels I wanted to do something to thank you.”

“This is really cool, Will.”

Will shrugs modestly. “I shaded the crown first, but I couldn’t figure out how to get the nails going into the bat with the bold hatching technique I used, so I just silhouetted it. It’s not my best work.”

“Hey, no. This is great,” Steve reassures. “Better than anything I could do. Go meet up with your friends. Am I gonna need to pick you up later or will Jonathan be available by then.”

“Hopper will probably drop me off if Jonathan can’t make it. Mike complains about him a lot, but Hop’s always been nice to me.”

Steve drives home with the drawing sitting on the passenger-side dash, glancing at it every so often. When he gets home, he picks it up, putting more effort into carrying it delicately than perhaps ever before. To be fair, it’s not like he’s often trusted to handle anything more fragile than a wine bottle—something surprisingly sturdy for being made of glass.

He wants to put the image on the fridge, but he knows if his parents find it they’ll dispose of it without a thought; except maybe, ‘Why did our idiot son think this would look good here?’ His parents notoriously preferred “simplistic, pristine” decorating, which really just meant bare.

He has to put it somewhere his parents won’t look. Unfortunately, his parents like to make sure he’s not ‘wasting his time on frivolities.’ They were allowed to have fun though; going on vacations all the time anymore, having days of leisure. Steve is the one who needs to focus on stopping his rapid downhill battle with failure.

Steve reluctantly approaches the closet, pretending it’s easy to keep his breathing under control, and slides it to the back of the shelf with the instructions Eddie gave him on getting rid of the weed smell.

Masterlist

[bratprincezz]

‘Open My Eyes to Everything that Closes My Heart’

(very little use of ‘Y/N’)

4.2k words

Beta Read and co-written by my husband.

General Warnings : (the first link on the SERIES MASTERLIST) apply to future chapters.

Also, you can see all of the dragons and other animals I’ve created in the series masterlist (link below)

Reader representations are the lightest and darkest skin colours available.

SERIES MASTERLIST

PLOT

You were a Belaerys, with the Blood of Old Valyria in your veins, future Queen of Sothoryos. Up until eight years before the Dance of Dragons, everyone thought the Belaerys family was gone after the Doom. You were well-respected by everyone except most of the Greens. Despite that, you were officially given a seat on the new High Council. The Hand, Otto Hightower, was trying to bring more countries to their aid, but his excuse was to bring peace between countries. Planning to wed you to Daeron, the Small Council of the Greens are shocked when Aemond refuses to offer you Daeron in order to take you for himself.

This is the song she sings. Imagine her sounding a little less talented.

Also, these aren’t all of the words, but they were the only ones I could find online to spell correctly.

Also also, there aren’t many examples of Westeros songs from any of the books so I don’t know the time period they were written. I just picked a couple.

This is Jaera

Chapter Two

You had just returned from riding Molcajete and you were still wearing your riding clothes, which doubled as training clothes. You and Jaera, (your friend & handmaiden while in Westeros), were taking a walk on the grounds towards the training yard to practice your swordsmanship when you heard swords clashing. You both ran to see who was currently training. As usual, it was Aemond and Ser Criston Cole. You groaned. You were really hoping you could practice today, but this prince seemed to always be in the training yard or on his way there. You had been able to get in practice only twice since you’d arrived nearly two weeks prior.

“Don’t worry, Princess. We’ll get in soon.” She turned to leave, but you stayed in place. “Princess?”

“I’m going to spar with him.” You watched Aemond move. He was so graceful and he wielded his sword as though it were his arm. He was good and for the first time in three years, you were nervous. You sat there and silently studied his movements for minutes, then you closed your eyes and breathed. It was your way of calming yourself. You cleared your mind and steadied your breathing. Your pulse slowed and stayed in that state until you heard clapping and you knew the match was over.

“Are you sure?” Jaera asked. You smiled at her and held out your hand. She handed you her sword and then whispered in your ear, “If you want to make him nervous…or impress him… Use the spell.”

“Which one?”

”The one you’ve been working on.”

You nodded and stepped to the front.

Ser Criston was looking around and then straight at you. “I haven’t seen you in the yard before.”

You kept your voice pleasant and formal, “I’ve been here twice, but it’s been at night when everyone else has gone to bed, and that tends to last a few hours. I don’t usually want to inconvenience anyone, but late nights and early mornings make me quite fatigued and I haven’t been able to train as often as I would like.”

“Feel free to train here at any time from now on.”

“Thank you, Ser Criston.”

He looked around again. “Did you have anyone in mind?”

“Prince Aemond.”

There was a murmur in the small crowd that was already there. Criston almost snorted. “If you want to train with him, you have to beat me first.”

You chuckled, “Why?”

“Because I saw you watching us and now you know how we fight, but Aemond doesn’t have that same advantage.”

“Alright.”

Criston’s eyebrows raised, “Are you going to fight with those?”

You looked at your hands, one sword in each, which had blades of dragonglass. They should be easy to break with Valyrian steel. Obsidian isn’t strong enough for a sword, but Aemond knew you were smarter than that and those swords must be enchanted with a spell. Somehow he knew you would at least give Criston a good fight.

And you did. You were quick with two swords. After the initial shock from his blade not shattering yours to pieces, you generously gave him time to recover before besting him twice.

Instead of continuing the duel to see who would win the last match, Aemond interrupted. He stepped up to you and took his stance. You raised your blades in a stance ready to counter him if he tried to end it quickly. Aemond looked between your blades, possibly wondering which you’d use to attack him. He decided to move to your right, outside the first attack with your right blade. You turned to attack with the left and caught his blade with your left. He tried to be quicker but you parried his blade down and brought your right blade up to a lethal spot. Aemond scowled briefly, he wasn’t used to losing, especially in training. His sword was back up in the ready stance, pointing straight at your middle. You lift your blades again, the left higher than the right, held in a way to defend while attacking with the right.

The next battle was much more mobile. You moved forward trying to catch his blade again but he moved back. You pushed him to keep moving, you knew the distraction this was for a swordsman in the best of times. He saw your right blade coming and let his legs relax, falling beneath the blade. He straightened back up while moving forward, pushing you into a defensive retreat. Seeking to show him you could do the same thing better, you allowed him to swing closer to you but you bent your legs with your head and neck thrown back and let the sword move over your head. Your left blade was used to quickly stabilize yourself before you fell back entirely, and your right blade was brought up straight into his shoulder. The second duel would have ended by taking off his arm, had it been real. Your Sothoryi training allowed you to be slightly quicker than Aemond. Due to your skill, agility, and flexibility, you were able to get closer to the ground than he could swing his sword. Everyone around had stopped what they were doing after the second time you beat Aemond with your swords. Some would say your fighting was a less honourable style, but it only egged Aemond on more. He was enjoying himself, you could tell by the smirk on his face.

For the third, he wanted to hold nothing back, he wanted to press the attack and keep you watching for where he’d come from next. He seemed to want to get an attack on your back. You smirked at the thought that he just wanted to see your rear. He kept moving around you and you tracked him carefully, but not entirely facing him. You were attempting to lure him into a reckless moment. You hardly stepped away from where you stood when he attacked, only moving once away, just to step back while forcing the handle of your sword into Aemond’s abdomen. The force caught him by surprise, and he bent forward, looking back up at your right blade pointed at his uncovered eye.

Aemond stood straight and smiled at you, “Best of seven?”

When you nodded, the fight continued. Then there were three times that he defeated you once he adapted to your fighting style. Proof that you would both be deadly under other circumstances. You both enjoyed the fight more than you thought you would. He grinned at you, “I should teach you some Westerosi fighting, and you can train me in Sothoryi combat.”

“That would be wise of you, My Prince.” You winked at him in a teasing way that gave Aemond chills.

The last time was tense. There was a moment when everyone thought Aemond had won, but you managed to get away in time. That was when you held your swords parallel in front of you. You narrowed your eyes at Aemond and your swords suddenly lit up in flame. Everyone gasped because now they knew that the Belaerys family could still do magic.

Aemond could feel the heat coming off of your swords and you saw him flinch before he calmed himself. It didn’t phase you, and you hadn’t been told not to use magic on your trip. You wanted this. You wanted them all to see. If there was one thing you were good at, it was either impressing or intimidating. Right then, you’d hoped it was both. Ser Criston almost interrupted the competition, but Aemond held his hand up to stop him. The fight went on for seven minutes, more and more people crowded the yard to watch it play out. You were both quick learners, which led to a duel that Aemond almost called a tie and left it at that, but the intensity in your eyes told him that wouldn’t do for you. You were both fatigued and breathing heavily.

In the end, he managed to outperform you, barely. Not only were you both exhausted by the end, but you had singed his hair and accidentally injured him. To the latter, he only smiled in that devious way he does. But he had you on the ground, his sword to your chest. You smiled and dropped your swords. The flames went out and everyone clapped as Aemond helped you stand. He lifted your arm as well as his own. You looked at him as though he was mad. To be fair, he was, but only for you.

When you put away your swords on your own, you walked with Aemond to your bedchamber to change your clothes. His hand grazed up your arm. You smiled for a second before realizing someone might see the two of you (someone besides your friend, Jaera), so you took a step to the side, away from him.

You noticed he was behind you, looking at his arm where you managed to cut him, so you walked to him. “Did I hurt you horribly?” Your voice was full of concern. Yes, you sliced open his leathers down into his skin a bit, but he had attempted to trip you and you were trying to avoid his boot. You were both playing unfairly.

He smiled at you, “No, Princess. I am well.”

That curve of his lips made your face heat up, but you returned his sweet look. “Good. Because I would like to challenge you again soon.” With that, you turned and walked down the hall. He watched the sway of your hips and he couldn’t help thinking about how much he liked watching you walk away, especially when you were wearing breeches.

Upon the third week of your stay, bannermen from Sothoryos arrived in King’s Landing from the sea. Houses such as Moguel, Cabral, Collazo, Tentle, Zepahua, Cuatlehua, Amaxal, Ocotoxtle, Cocone, Tlila, Huexotl… And they brought your gifts for the family.

Aegon walked into the throne room where Aemond was being followed by trainers who each had either a dog or cat with them. Aemond was holding his gift, who he named Maris, a tiny dog with spots and big brown eyes. Aegon scowled when he saw Maris. “What is that?”

“It’s a dog.”

“What kind?”

“Texixi. Mine is trained to ride dragons.” He pointed to the big dog, chocolate and grey speckled. “This one is for Helaena, trained for protection & the little one for companionship.” He pointed to the little black dog with blue eyes.

He showed Aegon the huge black dog. “That one over there is for your children, for protection and general entertainment. The one over there is for Mother. You and Daeron have cats, also trained to ride dragons, and they’ll prevent you from getting pick-pocketed. Very useful for you on your next foray into the street of silk.”

“Dragon-riding dogs and cats?” Aegon’s face was screwed up.

“Be good to them, Aegon. She’ll know if you aren’t.”

“Oh,” Aegon rolled his eyes at his brother. Ever since the two of you sparred a week ago, Aegon had been giving Aemond a hard time about you. “These are from her. That’s why you’re so excited. Is it customary for them to bring animals as gifts for people who never asked for them?”

“Don’t. Hurt. The. Cat. And give the others to our family. I must find Ser Criston and grandfather.” He seemed to get excited for his last sentence. “She brought them horses.”

Aegon looked at his short-haired cat. “What do I feed it?”

“It’s like a dragon. If you leave it alone, it will find its own food.”

“Oh.”

“Still, it wouldn’t hurt to give it some meat every once in a while.”

Just then, Otto walked into the room and paused when he saw Aemond holding a dog.

Aegon mocked Aemond’s excitement, “Oh, grandfather, the Belaerys Princess has brought you a Sothoryi horse.”

Otto looked at Aegon’s cat, then at Aegon for some idea of what was going on. Then he was startled when he saw a second cat and a second, third, and fourth dog just to his left. Nonetheless, he followed Aemond to the stables.

You were showing Aemond a map of your country.

He studied the map and his curiosity made him start asking questions. “What is the climate like?”

“First, I need to know… Are you going to show this to everyone later?”

“I won’t if you don’t want me to.”

“You can, just don’t tell them everything, please. I trust you to tell them only what they should know right now.”

“Climate?”

“Yes. It has tropical, temperate, and arid zones. Mountains, waterfalls, rivers, jungles, deserts, beaches on the sea… And hundreds of islands near the south that are uninhabited. We have a wet and dry season. We have flamingoes, jaguars, monkeys, caiman, and maned wolves.”

“I haven’t heard of any of those creatures before.”

“They’re…different. The lakes and ocean provide fish. The surrounding land offers game like rabbit, turkey, boar, snake…”

“Tell me about the islands.”

“The best fishing, besides the sea are the freshwater lakes of Tlamintli & Maquizcoatl. Wewhyae & Poyomahtli is where we get our medicine as well as herbs & other things used for rituals and divination. The dragons nested on Zugrya for a very short time. I haven’t seen a wild one in ages. Most of our dragons are either born to someone or they were once wild and then every dragon is passed on to the next person in that family who doesn’t already have a dragon.”

Aemond stopped. If she only knew how he got vhagar(?) (is this before or after he tells her?) He walked to the end of the table, which extended a few inches past where the map ended. He pointed to the unmarked, unfinished continent. “What is this land mass down here?”

“No one goes there anymore. We call it ‘Istaktli Uak’.”

“White… What?”

“Desert.” You were proud of him for remembering Loicato.

“People have gone, but they can’t get past the mountains that lay just at the end of the map.” You ran your finger across the land mass from the left side all the way to the right. “Here. No one has gone up those mountains because it’s not safe.” You looked at each other and he placed his hand on top of yours. “It’s too cold, near constant blizzards, regardless if it’s winter or summer…” Aemond was leaning in, but you looked back at the map. “The dragons hate it, mostly because it’s cold, but there’s also less food.” You couldn’t believe how close he’d gotten to kissing you, but now you could practically feel him breathing in your scent. You turned back to him and smiled coyly.

“Hmm…”

The look on his face was too irresistible and before you could stop yourself, you leaned close to him and connected your lips to his. He kissed you back for a minute. It felt as though your heart might burst through your chest. Then he pulled away.

Your face burned from embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Prince Aemond—“

Aemond took a sip of his wine. “Do you drink?”

You were so confused by his changing the subject, but you ran with it. “Drinks made from fermented cactus, maize, agave, honey...” With each word you said, the embarrassment faded. You took his wine and sipped it. “Some of those things are much stronger than this.”

He smiled at you deviously, “You want something stronger?”

“I know where to find rum. Maybe we can drink outside somewhere after?”

You smiled and agreed.

You were in a reclusive spot near the edge of the Red Keep. Aemond was leaning back in his seat, laughing quietly, and you were almost doubled over in laughter. When you finally caught your breath, you sat down your cup. “Did he get back up?”

“Surprisingly, yes.”

You fidgeted with a loose string on your dress. “May I ask you a question?”

“Of course. That’s what we’re doing right now, asking questions.”

“I don’t want to offend you.”

“Oh?” He thought for a moment before realizing you were probably going to ask about his eye. “Oh. Now you have to ask.”

“I only know what I’ve been told, so… How did you actually lose your left eye?”

“It’s not something I talk about. I let people say what they want. They leave me alone.”

“Alright.”

The room fell silent for a moment while you thought of something else to ask Aemond, then he spoke. “I was ten. I claimed a riderless dragon, but Vhagar’s previous rider had two children. One argued the dragon was hers to claim by right. I disagreed with them, and Jace & Luke, who all said I was in the wrong. Those *bastards* always made fun of me because my egg never hatched.”

“Shh…” You looked around as though someone could hear you. “Don’t use that word.”

“It led to a fight and Luke attacked me with a knife. But nothing will ever stop me from flying.” He waited for your reaction, but there wasn’t one.

You had taken in the information and you were trying to decide what to say. That was forbidden in your family and most others in Loicato.

“Do you think it was justified?”

“If I were in your situation I may have done the same thing.” You took a moment. “You aren’t very fond of bastards, are you?”

“Me or Westerosi?”

“Either.”

Aemond thought for a moment. “I wouldn’t say that—”

“In any case, you should know… I am also a bastard.”

Aemond’s eye went wide, a sharp intake of breath, like a bit of a forbidden idea in his mind.

“I may be…intrigued…by the idea that standards are different in your village”

He smirked slightly, a bit of a tease, and he spoke again. “I have more questions.”

You smile at him with a bow of your head.

“Tell me more about your people. How do names work? What events do you have as a community?”

“First names are given by the mother. We have a lot of native and Valyrian names because of the melding of our cultures. They don’t always hold significance. Middle names are chosen by the royalty once they reach ten and five. Family names are the one thing that usually passes from father to son to grandson and so on. Women get to choose if they take their husband’s name, and they often do. As far as events, the age of fifteen holds a lot of significance so we celebrate it, as well as every fifth name day. In general, grinding is a fundamental process in the preparation of many meals. We grind maize into a dough called nixtamal, it is central to our diet and represents a significant daily activity, for everyone in the community. My city has 300 neighborhoods and approximately 300,000 people across the city spanning 1300 sq km.”

“So… Each village sits around as a community and grinds maize?”

“Yes, as well as other things.”

“Who takes care of the children?”

“Everyone. We all contribute as much as we can and some of us choose to take care of children. And, no, bastards are not treated any different.”

“Why not?”

“Because, in the eyes of the Loicato and their gods, blood doesn’t make you better than anyone else. They took care of my family when they were close to death, but only because we didn’t come to conquer them. They took us in and made us part of the community. Community is family, not blood.”

“How kind of them.”

You could tell from his tone that he didn’t take your people as a threat. “We are taught as many languages as possible, starting from the age of one. We learn to read & write, and we are all trained to fight from land, air, and sea, starting at the age of five.”

“What do you have to go through to be a top warrior of the Loicato?”

“It starts with no less than a year of training. Long-distance running, swimming, hand-to-hand combat, weapons training, marksmanship, language training, cultural immersion, survival training, and intense physical conditioning. We train for amphibious operations, small-unit tactics, and long-range patrolling.”

To that, Aemond had no retort. He knew that if Sothoryos were an enemy, you and your people would be quite a formidable force. Still, he smirked at you. He knew he was getting under your skin and you looked so cute when you were frustrated. “I was told you eat insects.”

“Only moth and ant larvae.” You heard yourself say it out loud and laughed at yourself. “We also eat cactus pads, agave, amaranth, and various other wild greens. Fruits such as guavas and papayas are enjoyed for their sweetness.”

“I’m not much for sweets.”

You chuckled, “Of course you aren’t.”

“But I like fruit. What do you do for fun back home?”

“Fish, hunt, fly, swim, fuck…” You realized what you said and felt your face burn from embarrassment. “Almost anything.”

Aemond leaned forward, “What is your weapon?”

“Besides my dragon?”

“Obviously.”

You leaned in close to him and pulled one of his stray hairs off of his clothes. “My obsidian blades. As well as the Loicato native weapon, the macuahuitl.”

“You can wield one?” He was teasing you again.

You playfully hit his shoulder. “It comes in all sizes and mine is medium. We’re taught as many weapons as possible, but we all have our favourites.”

“What about magic?”

“You have a lot of questions!”

“I’ve a curious mind.”

You took another sip of the drink you were sharing. “I can’t do everything. I can’t even do half, yet. It takes years of practice and you get to as close to perfect as possible for each spell or ritual before you move on to the next. At a pace of 3 spells & 3 rituals at a time. Anything more than that is dangerous.”

“I wish we still knew magic.”

“Not all of the families practiced. I don’t know if the Targaryens ever did.”

“Is it something I can learn or do I need to be born with the gift?”

“You could learn, but we would have to get permission from the elders first.”

Aemond took the cup from you and drank. “Sing me something in your language.”

“I’m not a singer— I don’t do it in front of people.”

“Was it you singing to the dragons in the pit?”

“Dragons aren’t the same as people. If a dragon doesn’t like your singing, they can make you leave. If a human doesn’t like your singing, they smile and clap anyway. Then behind your back, they tell everyone how bad you are.”

“This happened to you?”

“Well, it may have been my brother and sister. It hurt worse than if someone I didn’t know said it.”

“If you sing me something, I’ll return the favor. Even if I’m good, you can tell people I’m rubbish if I say anything bad about you behind your back.”

“Swear it.”

“I swear on my right eye that I—“

“Swear on something that you care about.”

He smiled at you. He had meant to sing for you, but you saw through to the fact that losing his other eye wouldn’t keep him from doing things like riding Vhagar. “I swear on my dragon.”

You took in a deep breath to calm your nerves, then you began.

Tonantzin

“Huey Tonantzin

Tonantzin, huey,

huey Tonantzin

Tonantzin, huey.

Ipalnemoani moyollocatzin

tlazocamati, Tonantzin,

ipalnemoani moyollocatzin

tlazocamati, Tonantzin.

Tonantzin, huey,

huey Tonantzin

Tonantzin, huey.

Ipalnemoani moyollocatzin

tlazocamati, Tonantzin,

ipalnemoani moyollocatzin

tlazocamati, Tonantzin.

Tonantzin, huey,

huey Tonantzin

Tonantzin, huey.

Ipalnemoani moyollocatzin

tlazocamati, Tonantzin,

ipalnemoani moyollocatzin

tlazocamati, Tonantzin”

Aemond clapped and you blushed. “Brilliant.”

“Now it’s your turn.”

Oh, Lay My Sweet Lass Down in the Grass

“My featherbed is deep and soft,and there I'll lay you down,I'll dress you all in yellow silk,and on your head a crown.For you shall be my lady love,and I shall be your lord.I'll always keep you warm and safe,and guard you with my sword.And how she smiled and how she laughed,the maiden of the tree.She spun away and said to him,no featherbed for me.I'll wear a gown of golden leaves,and bind my hair with grass,But you can be my forest love,and me your forest lass”

“That was brilliant. I wouldn’t have expected that from you.”

“I like to keep some things to myself.”

“In that case, I promise to only tell Iyari.” He laughed at the thought of you telling your tiny dog all of your secrets. It was a sound you hadn’t heard from him yet. Your sweet smile caught him off guard, but you stood anyway. “I have to go to bed, My Prince.”

“So soon?”

“It’s been hours, Prince Aemond—“

“Aemond.”

“Aemond. My friend, Jaera, will wonder where I am. And I’m tired.” You kissed his cheek and left him wishing for more.

SERIES MASTERLIST

[primofate]

Genshin x fem!reader [Volleyball Team AU - Inspired by Haikyuu!] You cheer something embarrassing + The rival team comments about it

Note: My fixation on this AU continues... I just think there’s so many scenarios to explore. 

Scenario: Your friend has dared you to cheer something embarrassing for your boyfriend. Everyone hears it, including the rivalling team...

Warnings: not proofread, some swearing and profanity, slight sexual innuendo if you squint (Tartaglia’s)

Other works in the Volleyball Team AU Series: Click Here

#1 Zhongli (Captain/Wing Spiker/Ace)

Zhongli is pretty well-known among Aces.

He knows you’re up there on the stands and for him that’s good enough. Is not the type to keep looking up there to check if you’re watching. He’d rather be focused on the game.

So when you shout out his name just as they’re about to start, his head snaps towards you and you can see surprise on his face.

“Zhongli!!!” literally all eyes are on you now, the coaches, the managers, the other team. “Y-You’re--”

Your friend nudges and whispers at you “Louder you moron! He won’t hear you if you stutter!”

“YOU’RE THE CAPTAIN OF MY HEART!” 

You cringe and just bury your face in your hands, your friend is laughing uncontrollably

There’s silence in the court, BUT THEN HIS TEAM GOES WILD “CAPTAIN ARE YOU BLUSHING?!” “QUICK SOMEONE TAKE A PHOTO” “HE’S MALFUNCTIONED!” 

Zhongli has a blush on his cheeks but gets his team in order “ROUND UP!” but they’re all silently snickering or giggling.

They form a circle and put their hands in together. Zhongli shouts “FIGHT!” a lot louder than usual.

His team grins. Their captain is fired up, so they’re fired up too. 

Just before he’s about to take first serve he makes it a point to look your way, and give you a firm nod.

Then the captain of the opposite team comments about your cheering. “Wah! I wish I had someone cheering me on like that,” is looking at you with heart eyes.

Zhongli exudes a dark aura and everyone covers their head in fear of getting hit by the ball “Eyes over here,” he grumbles towards the other captain who just smirks.

#2 Diluc (Vice Captain/Wing Spiker/Defense Specialist)

“Diluc! THE ONLY THING STRONGER THAN YOUR SPIKE IS MY LOVE FOR YOU!”

Oh yea gurl. Even your friend is embarrassed and ducks behind the railings to hide her face.

“That’s kinda...cheesy...” Kaeya mutters under his breath and scratches his cheek.

Childe is glittering all over, “It’s so cheesy but I’m kinda jealous,” They both turn to Diluc.

Yea he’s gone. From neck to hairline he’s red all over and steam is coming off from his ears.

His teammates crack up.

He’s so out of it the rest of the team needs to clap and hit his back to get him back into the real world.

“Oi, get yourself together, your girlfriend’s watching!” He snaps out of it at that and puts on his game face.

The other team comments, “She’ll find out my spike is stronger!” 

Diluc is livid that they’re trying to outshine your cheers and spikes like never before.

#3 Kaeya (Middle Blocker)

“KAEYA! YOU CAN BLOCK SPIKES BUT YOU CAN NEVER BLOCK MY HEART!”

has a shit-eating grin the moment he hears it. 

Cups his hands around his mouth and shouts back. “YOU CAN’T BLOCK MINE EITHER!!! I LOVE YOU!!!”

The whole team is just...what in the world is this cringey-ness unfolding in front of them...?

Team doesn’t know whether to be motivated or to puke.

But Kaeya is there to the rescue. He’s so hyped that there are flowers hovering around his peaceful face. “Come on, come on, we gotta show Y/N who the kings of the courts are here, don’t let me down,”

Half-way through the game one of the opponents ask him, “Hey, that your girl up there? She’s kinda cute,”

KAEYA ISN’T EVEN FAZED Y’ALL “She is, isn’t she?!” Probs will show you off more, to his team’s displeasure. 

After the game (which they obiviously won) he bear hugs you and is proud of how much you cheered for him.

#4 Albedo (Setter)

“Bedo!!! YOU SET MY HEART ON FIRE!”

You say this just as the ball touches his fingertips, he slips up a bit at the embarrassing cheer and they end up losing that point.

“Oh crap,” you mutter under your breath and duck under the rails to hide while your friend laughs, pointing at your hidden form when Albedo looks up to the stands.

“Don’t mind, don’t mind!” his teammates slap his back to reassure him that they can get the lost point back.

Tartaglia is the one that zooms in on Albedo’s face, “How are you not making any reactions at all?”

Albedo stares at him for a moment. “...Because she merely stated the truth,” 

Kazuha laughs at how logical their setter is but adds, “He slipped up, I think that’s enough of a reaction,”

Albedo pouts a little but continues with the game. 

A little later on the setter of the other team tries to provoke him. “Hey, you didn’t even give your girlfriend any reaction. Watch out, I’m pretty sure I can give better ones,” 

Albedo is so pissed he actually spikes the next ball with his eyes on that bastard.

#5 Tartaglia (Middle Blocker/Wing Spiker)

“TARTAGLIA!!! YOUR SPIKES MAKE ME WEAK IN THE KNEES!” 

Another one who has a shit-eating grin on his face.

Shouts back at you “THAT’S NOT THE ONLY THING OF MINE THAT MAKES YOU WEA--” is FREAKIN slapped by Zhongli at the back of his head.

You kind of thank his captain that he wasn’t able to finish that sentence but damn it’s still embarrassing.

Kaeya and Tohma is snorting with laughter

Xiao and Albedo does not get it.

Someone from the other team begrudgingly comments, “Dude you don’t have to flex her that hard,” 

Tartaglia is the type to take the bait, a dark look on his face while looking at the opponent. “That’s right, be jealous, no one’s cheering for you huh?”

Whacked by Zhongli the second time and pushes his head down and apologizes for this man-Childe

#6 Kazuha (Decoy/Middle Blocker/Wing Spiker)

“KAZUUU!!! YOU JUMP JUST LIKE MY HEART DOES WHEN I HUG YOU!”

Laughs aloud sheepishly but waves his hand at the stands where you are. 

Is secretly stoked and fueled.

But his other teammates are still teasing him about it. “Wow she must be having some kind of heart attack whenever she hugs you then,” “Come on Kazuha! Show us how far you can jump!”

Laughs sheepishly again and waves his hands at his teammates, “Okay, alright, that’s enough,”

But man is FLYING during the game, literally. The team is kinda scared about how high he’s jumping today and wonders if you’ve cast some type of magic spell.

They’re all thinking ‘...if I get a girlfriend will I perform better too?’ with these glum looks on their faces.

The opposing team’s member remarks, just speaking out loud. “She’s right he really does jump high for someone so small...”

Kazuha smirks at them, although there’s still a friendly smile on his face. “Y/N knows me best,”

#7 Xiao (Libero)

“XIAO! RECEIVE THAT BALL THE WAY YOU RECEIVE ME IN YOUR ARMS!”

low-key the other teammates start to add-on to the teasing. “Wow, how DO you receive her in your arms, Xiao?” “You like cuddles or what?” “So do YOU initiate the cuddles or does she?”

“ENOUGH!” he’s a blushing mess and pushes away his team members to try and focus on the game. 

He shoots you a half-glare while you’re over at the stands but later on he’s prolly gunna give you cuddles the way he likes it.

Every time they’re on time out or break the terrible two (Kaeya and Tartaglia) tease him by wrapping their arms around Xiao and repeating what you said “Receive that ball the way you receive me in your arms!!” “Hug me Xiaoooooo!”

Xiao just punches the both of them on the head.

Albedo deadpans the terrible two and says “That’s a very good way of showing that you’re jealous no one is cheering for you,”

They both sulk on the side of the court.

The other team’s spiker comments, enough for Xiao to hear. “Gee she’s kinda cute,”

Xiao doesn’t even hold back, with fire in his eyes, points at that guy. “You! You won’t get any ball past me!” 

#8 Tohma (Pinch Server/Middle Blocker)

“TOHMA! YOU CAN SERVE THAT BALL BUT I CAN SERVE YOU SOME LOVE!!!”

Tohma laughs heartily and turns to his teammates, “Hear that guys? Guess it’s time for me to go and get served some love,” 

He’s literally just in seventh heaven and is about to nope it out of there to meet you at the stands but Diluc grabs the collar of his shirt and drags him back. “The game isn’t over...”

Deadass pouts the rest of the game, but is so motivated to finish that most of his serves are unstoppable.

And then in the middle of the game, someone from the other team waves back at you. “I CAN SERVE YOU SOME LOVE TOO!”

Tohma serves that ball straight at the guys head, his eye is twitching in annoyance.

Is possibly the happiest that you came to his game and swings you around when he meets you. “Thanks for cheering babe!”

Taglist: @softlybeloved @bobaducky @normalisthenewnorm @how-simpy @atasi-luna @berryqueue @hallohun @milkypompon

Hello Hello! Technically this could be counted as fluff, but I understand that not everyone is fond of AUs, so, if you don’t mind being tagged to something like this, please fill in the survey again (I’ve added AU as an option, just click that one if you’ve signed up for the others before!)

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Please do consider supporting me at my ko-fi! I’ve fixed the payment link so I think you can love me more now <3 (haha jk, it’s optional, but it would greatly help and make me happy!)

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Masterlist

https://primofate.tumblr.com/post/653296890583154688/masterlist-for-mobile-version-main-links

[hongism]

05 - j.wooyoung + lingerie (18+)

» j.wooyoung x gn!reader » 18+ dni if minor, nsfw/pwp » language, feminization, lap dancing, strip tease, bratty wooyoung, manual stimulation, grinding, cum eating, dirty talk, finger sucking » wc 3.3k » link to masterlist

you’ve almost come to the conclusion that tonight was a complete and utter waste of time when your eyes pause in their subtle search across the room. it’s fast, and you almost miss him because of how quickly you’re surveying the club, but you have to backtrack at the sight of the pink head of hair. it’s not too out of the ordinary — not for a club like this one at least, and frankly, the face connected to the stark hair entrances you more than the hair does. the friend at your side seems to notice where your gaze keeps lingering, elbow careening into your ribs seconds later.

“like what you see over there?” she giggles, most likely amused by how you jolt and startle with the contact.

“he’s pretty,” you mutter back as you strain your neck a little to catch sight of the rest of him. he’s not up on a stage with the other dancers, not wrapped around a pole or anything like that, so you can’t get a full and clear view of what he’s wearing.

“he doesn’t perform with the others, i hear. solo performer, and only does private shows.”

sure, there’s a stack of money set aside for this particular reason, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to cave and spend it all on this one man.

you aren’t.

it’s not going to stop you from getting up and going over there to get a better look at him.

“i’ll be back,” you mutter, picking up your wallet and drink with the same hand. you’re hoping it won’t look obvious to your friend, but the laugh that follows your movements is telling enough.

“have fun!”

you step through the crowd of couches that are mostly full of older men and women, apologizing each time you cross in front of them and accidentally block their view of the dancers. your target hasn’t moved, still lingering near the bar with a drink set in front of him as he also indulges in the sight of the dancers on stage. you’re almost fooled into believing that he’s simply a client here and not actually a worker, but there’s a certain sway to his hips and head against the music thumping through the club that says otherwise. he moves his body too well even with subtle and small movements. elbows propped up on the bar counter behind him, a lollipop dangling from his fingertips and periodically going up to catch on his tongue, and that pretty pink hair bouncing with each movement he makes. you’re enticed in an instant.

the obscenity of his outfit doesn’t help one bit either. and perhaps obscenity is a bit too strong a word to describe it, but your brain goes to static and white noise the more you see of him, and it’s easy to see why that is. a sheer lavender crop top that does nothing to hide the lace bralette underneath, along with a pretty plaid skirt that tapers his waist almost too well, belts and buckles hanging from both sides and jingling when he sways his hips in time with the music. the further down your eyes go, the more overwhelmed you get because he’s got fishnets (of course) that lead to chunky black combat boots. he looks simultaneously quite out of place here while also seeming like there’s no other logical place for him to be. your steps towards him falter a little; it’s no wonder that he doesn’t have anyone at his side right now. he’d outshine them without even trying, and the air around him feels a bit untouchable as well like he’s too good for anyone’s presence except his own and the bartender behind him. the thought to turn around and return to your friend like a dog with its tail between its legs crosses your mind. that’s all it does though because as you shift to act on that thought, sharp eyes snap over to meet yours across the bar counter.

opposite ends of the spectrum, separated by at least ten barstools if not more, plenty of other people in front of him to look at, yet the dancer cranes his head in your direction and makes eye contact. 

your tongue darts out to wet your lower lip, an act more out of nerves than meant to be seductive in the slightest. 

there’s no direct invitation to go further towards him. really all he does is incline his head slightly, and you take it as a cue to step around the barstools and walk over to where he’s tapping his chunky boot against the floor.

“hi.”

you startle upon hearing his clear tone, although you aren’t wholly sure why that’s the case. 

“hello,” you greet in return. you keep your glass caught firmly between your fingers as you sit in the barstool beside him. he looks even prettier in this light — with blinking up at him from where you sit and the neon lights cascading over his face and hair. there’s a stunning beauty mark under his eye, and another on his lower lip under the sheen of pink lip gloss. something sparkles under his eyes and in the inner corners, what you can only assume to be eyeshadow and glitter. 

“i caught your eye, huh?”

there’s a twinge of embarrassment that shoots through your body, and you duck your chin to your chest, clearing your throat as quietly as you can like it’ll dispel the nerves accompanied by the feeling. 

“cute,” the man continues. his sweet tone is almost like honey, or some syrup that tastes like it could be too much after a certain point. “wanna buy my time then?”

the offer comes so quickly that you’re a bit shocked. all these people in the club and yet not one has approached him? or accepted his offer? it seems far too unbelievable.

“you’re not gonna ask me anything first? my name, my age, anything like that?”

he laughs for the first time tonight, and you think you’ll grow to love that sound by the end of it. the lollipop pushes back between his lips only for him to make a show of how he swirls his tongue around the ball of candy. when he pulls it back out, it springs free with a lewd pop in its wake.

“you’re the first one tonight who’s stopped me to ask that. most just jump straight to it. i’m wooyoung. and you?”

“y/n.”

“hmm, it’ll sound prettier coming from my lips later.”

your brain buffers and hits a wall. you lose whatever thought was lingering in your mind, and wooyoung has the audacity to flash a grin and send a wink your way.

“you��re in luck tonight, y/n. i only start taking clients at ten o’clock, and it’s two minutes past ten right now.” a strobe of neon red flashes over his face, illuminating his eyes in a way that makes your heart jump in your chest. “assuming you want me, that is,” he adds through a stretched grin, and you wouldn’t dream of denying him the pleasure of hearing your affirmation.

“yes, i’d like that quite a bit.”

wooyoung leads you off to the side of the club, where the hallway of private rooms begins, and he wastes no time in bringing you into the nearest unlocked one. you’ve got your wallet still clasped between nervous hands, but your drink was long forgotten on the bar counter you found wooyoung at. it’s fairly standard for this type of room, nothing to gawk at or make note of aside from the metal pole that stretches up to the ceiling. you’re certain your attention will be firmly planted on wooyoung throughout the entirety of your stay here, so you aren’t worried much about making yourself at home.

the dancer seems keen on the same as well, or at least he’s excited to get started. knowing how much money you’ve got in your wallet, you can’t blame him for the excitement. he turns to face you after shutting and locking the door, skirt billowing around his thighs a little. you think you see a flash of lace underneath, tucked under the fishnets, but that could very well be merely a wistful thought and nothing else. 

“lay down,” he demands, motioning to the short round table right in front of the couches.

“um…” you blink from the white surface to wooyoung’s serious expression. 

“what? never had a lap dance before?” he quirks a brow and flashes another dastardly grin, and you hate the way your stomach flips over at the sight of it.

“not one where i’ve had to lay down, no.” 

wooyoung huffs out a laugh and pops his lollipop back into his mouth. he steps around your awkward, still form to put one of his feet up on the pristine white surface. the boot releases a hollow noise when it hits the table.

“oh, you’ll love it, i promise. now come on, on your back, legs relaxed. i’ll make it worth your while. and your money too, we hope.” 

wooyoung’s little tilt to his chin and the soft bats of his lashes are what convince you to do as told. you slip your shoes off next to the couch and tuck your wallet away in one of them lest wooyoung has the bright idea to make off with all your belongings. then you scramble over the slick surface to lay flat atop it, eyeing wooyoung as he hums and steps up fully on the table over you. his feet straddle your body, right in the gap between your hands and hips, and he pushes that stupid lollipop back between his lips.

“here are my rules, y/n. no touching, no kissing on the lips, no marking, and no demands. you’re here for a show, so i’ll give you one. and maybe i’ll use you to get off a little too? what do you say?”

you suck your lower lip between your teeth, contemplating his words and rolling them over in your mind a bit.

“and if i say no?”

“then i’ll give you a simple lap dance, and that’ll be that. and don’t worry. if i cum… i’ll clean up after myself. you don’t have to do any work really, if you don’t want to.”

“if i don’t want to?” you echo your question.

“how do you feel about sucking my fingers?”

your dumb and stuttered blinking are answer enough for him, and wooyoung leans over to the couch, balancing on one foot as he stretches to reach for something on the cushions. the position give you a far too direct view straight up his skirt. you get confirmation that you did indeed spot lace — a matching set with his pink bralette it seems on top of that.

the music that begins to thump through the speaks is foreign to you, not a song you’ve ever heard before, but the beat is sultry enough for you to understand why wooyoung would play this.

and truly, when he starts to move above you, you fully understand the appeal of this angle. getting to watch the way his skirt sways and teases what’s underneath as his cropped top flutters with his winding movements — it’s a heady feeling being under him and seeing this unfold over you.

wooyoung does his job, and he does it well in only a few swaying moves that promise more to come. if you had to make a comparison, you’d say it’s like watching art in motion, an exhibit where the artist shows you each stroke and twist of his brush. that’s wooyoung now, with the showcase of how he stretches his arms to the ceiling and brings them down the front of his body. the dim lighting in the room does nothing to make the mood less than what it is — pure seduction at its finest, and wooyoung is quickly bringing you down that pit of lust with him. you only know that’s where he’s headed as well because of how his skirt begins to tent a little as time goes on, evidence to how turned on he is by merely dancing to the music. he hasn’t gotten down far enough to even have physical contact with you, but with the way he’s moving now, you aren’t sure he’ll even get that far either.

he does go lower as the song shifts, beat still unfamiliar against your ears, but you’re barely hearing the music beyond how the bass thumps through your veins. as his knees settle on either side of you, close to your waist now and closing in just enough to squeeze you with a hair of pressure, his hands move up under the fabric of his top. they press higher and higher, catching on the hem and tugging as he reaches his neck. your eyes burn like you haven’t blinked in ages, and to be frank, you most likely haven’t because the grip wooyoung has on your focus currently occupies every fiber of your being.

wooyoung works the shirt off, tossing the sheer material over to the side. the look of his tanned skin with blush pink lace overtop clinging to him like a vice under the low lights: it’s sin in its purest form. and that sin only amplifies as he draws his hands down to the waistband of his skirt. he teases and pulls at the material, still lost somewhere between his mind and the music. one of his hands works back up his chest and throat, and when he reaches his mouth, he pulls the lollipop stick out to reveal a now empty stick that is also promptly tossed in the same direction his shirt went. 

“aren’t i pretty, y/n?” he asks all of a sudden. he’s not looking at you, not with the way his eyelids are barely shut, but it captures all your attention nonetheless. “pretty and feminine, hm? some people think i don’t dance as well as the girls out on the stages. but i’m just as pretty as them, aren’t i?”

“more,” you exhale without thinking.

“more,” he echoes back to you with an airy giggle to accompany it. his hands go to the side of his skirt, grabbing onto something on the left, and two seconds later he’s pulling away the entire strip of fabric in one swift movement. you inhale so sharply it stings your nostrils and aches in your chest, and wooyoung takes that as the opportune moment to roll his hips down against your abdomen. it’s not meant for your please, not in the slightest, but you still feel the coil of arousal in your gut snap and pull at itself as he repeats the motion and rubs his barely concealed erection against your stomach. “i’m always prettier than them, y/n.”

wooyoung’s eyes snap open at last, and he drops his skirt to the side before sitting up on his knees over you. the position is nothing if not lewd with how close to your face he is like this. you don’t have much time to think about it because he’s tugging the band of his fishnets down as well, shoes still caught on his feet so there’s no way they’ll go all the way off, but that doesn’t seem to be his intention anyway.

no, wooyoung just tugs them low enough to go under his knees, then he’s back to sitting on his heels and splaying his thighs to the side. the whole thing is a show: each piece of clothing, each drag of his hands, and every word from his lips. 

it continues with him pressing his hand against your chin, then teasing your lower lip with his middle and pointer fingers.

“you know… people always call me a brat. a bratty little bitch, to be specific. they aren’t wrong, of course. but they mean it as an insult whereas i take it as a compliment.” you suck wooyoung’s fingers between your lips and let him explore your mouth with the pads of them. he makes a show of stretching the insides of your cheeks, stabbing against them and watching your skin bulge under the pressure, then he’s pinching your tongue and scraping his nails over the top of it. it tickles in a pleasurable way, the kind that makes your stomach knot up and tense with lust. “i think i’m prettiest when i cum though. and that’s not something i let a lot of people see. they always get handsy even after i tell them not to. think that because i’m all subby and docile, they can break my rules.”

you watch in something of a daze as wooyoung reaches his other hand down to the lace lingerie clinging to his cock. he grips hard enough for you to see the harsh outline of his member, strained and stretching the fabric like it’s about to break. his slow rolls and sways of his hips continue even as he fucks into the palm of his own hand. you don’t think you could move or touch him even if you wanted to right now. each limb feels like it weighs ten tons.

“call me pretty again, y/n. a pretty little brat, yeah?” 

you can’t very well do that with his hand halfway down your throat like it is now, but it doesn’t stop you from trying. all that comes out are muffled moans caught on wooyoung’s fingers. he laughs, throwing his head back as the sound permeates the air, and you were right. you love the sound even more now when he’s a bit breathless and hoarse from arousal, hips canting against your abdomen still as he pushes himself closer to the edge.

“gonna cum, y/n, and make a pretty mess of myself. pay good attention to me please. i want you to see every second of it.” his eyes blaze with unbridled desire as he rubs over his panties a few more times. teeth sink into his lower lip, his nose scrunches up, eyes fighting to stay open and stay on yours without blinking. then he hits his high. it’s beautiful the way he falls apart over you, how his hips stutter and give a few jerky thrusts until his whole body goes still on top of yours. you think you have to agree with him too; this is the prettiest he’s looked all night in your eyes. 

it lasts either ten seconds or ten minutes — you have no concept of time right now, too enamored with the man above you and every movement he makes.

when he does come down, there are stars in his eyes and a sheen on his brow that trickles down the side of his face to his chin. he pulls his hand out of your mouth, but you can’t even bring yourself to close it as you watch him tuck the same hand into his underwear and scoop the stain of translucent white cum out. 

“taste for me?”

you manage a shaky nod, letting wooyoung return his hand to your lips, and when he cups your mouth gently, you poke your tongue out to lap the cum off his palm. 

“hm, now wasn’t that good? better than promised, in fact?”

“y-yeah,” you exhale, finally finding your voice after god knows how long of shocked and aroused silence. wooyoung grins. he leans over you, all but bare chest pressing to your clothed one, and you can feel the heat radiating off his skin with ease. his face hovers over yours. you can see his eyes clearer than ever.

“how about we go again then?”