#love it besides the fact I have to figure a bunch of shit out since 4 years worth of stuff is now Not On My Computer

[skidthelid]

Heh. Whatever. Go shitty Mind doodle

[fireinmoonshot]

death wish love | tyler owens x fem!reader

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader Summary: As members of rival storm chasing groups, you and Tyler Owens have hated each other since the start – well, you were supposed to. Little do you know, Tyler has been head over heels for you for months, and it's only when he nearly loses you that he realises he's done with pretending to hate you. Warnings: Descriptions of injuries, mentions of blood, tornadoes (of course), Tyler is actually painfully obvious with his crush but thinks he's not at all. Word Count: 6.7k (I don't know how that happened) A/N: I had this idea for a fic a few days ago and when I was listening to the Twisters soundtrack as I wrote, I realised that the song Death Wish Love fits it perfectly. I did not intend for this to be so long, but it somehow just happened. It's probably one of the longest things I've written on this blog, so I hope anyone that reads it really enjoys it. I had so much fun writing it and playing around in the Twisters universe! I will definitely be writing more for Tyler.

One of these days, Tyler Owens was going to get his shit together and ask you out. There were, however, several things in the way. The most pressing being the fact that your storm chasing groups were rivals and had been for years.

The fact that you hated his guts would be the second. 

He was unaware that you didn’t hate him quite as much as you made out to, though. It was just that you had a reputation to uphold. Being the unofficial leader of The Thunder Team, your friends and fellow storm chasers all expected you to dislike the Tornado Wranglers just as much as they did.

And you had – in the start. 

You were just beginning your PhD, fairly fresh in the world of storm chasing and the rivalry between your teams had been there from the very beginning. To your team, the Tornado Wranglers were nothing more than a bunch of stupid kids who didn’t even have the correct knowledge to be chasing these tornadoes.

To you, they had slowly become something of a wonder. You didn’t think it was necessary to have a PhD or education under your belt in order to storm chase. As long as you loved it, that was enough. And you never doubted the love that the Tornado Wranglers had for it. 

But still, the rivalry continued. It was always a competition. Who could get to the tornado first? Who could get closer? Who had better instincts when it came to choosing which one to chase? Who could get more attention on social media with their photos and videos?

The Tornado Wranglers had an advantage on that one.

That never stopped your team trying, though. Which is exactly what they’re doing as you walk towards them from where you’ve just parked your car. They’re all crowded around the van in the motel parking lot. Robbie, one of your closest friends, is filming Ally talking about something, probably regarding the EF1 tornado you’d chased today. 

You stop far enough away that you aren’t going to end up in the background of the video, and that’s when Tyler Owens sidles up beside you, arms crossed over his chest.

“Not interested in going viral?”

You glance up at him and notice he’s already looking at you with a cocky grin on his irritatingly handsome face. “No, figured I’d leave that to you and your team. Shoot any fireworks up a tornado today? I didn’t see you out there.”

“I didn’t realise you were looking.” 

There’s something strange in his tone of voice, but when you look at him again, there’s nothing in his face to give away the reason. 

“I wasn’t,” you huff. “It’s just that I see your giant red truck everywhere when I’m trying to get good photos of the tornadoes and it’s quite obvious when you’re not there.” 

Tyler smiles to himself. “Why don’t you come chasing with us one day, then? My truck won’t end up in your photos if you’re taking photos from inside it.”

You laugh. “That is the last thing I would want to do.” A lie. You’ve thought about it several times in the past.

“Sure, sure. You keep telling yourself that and one day you might actually believe it.”

You narrow your eyes at him but make no move to walk away from him. Your team are still filming and you’d rather stay away until they’re finished, even if it means standing with Tyler Owens until they are. 

“You guys gonna stop by the rodeo tomorrow night?” Tyler breaks the silence. 

You shrug your shoulders. “Depends on how tomorrow goes. You?”

He nods. “Yeah, we probably will, even if tomorrow doesn’t go to plan. You know my team. We love a night out.”

The weather tomorrow was predicted to be a good one for storm chasers – thunderstorms with heavy rain and likely a tornado as well, if the conditions were good enough. You were all hoping that they were. 

“My guys are less likely to go if they know your team is going, you know?” You look at Tyler, noticing the way that he’s watching your team, who are now laughing at something that Ally had said for the video. “We are still rivals.” 

“Did you think I needed a reminder?” He chuckles.

“Why? Am I being too nice to you?”

Tyler grins, one of those ones that makes you feel a little funny in your stomach. Like butterflies – but you don’t get butterflies from people you dislike. 

“Oh, darlin', you’re always a delight.”

You roll your eyes. “Want me to get you a shovel so you can start digging yourself a hole?” 

He holds up his hands in mock surrender and laughs. “Sorry, sorry,” he grins. “You wanna grab one for yourself so you can help me? I’d love the company.”

You open your mouth to reply about how much you’d love to help just as you catch Robbie’s eye. He’s quick to call out your name, beckoning you over, and you have no choice but to listen to him and leave Tyler. You’ve already stood here talking to him long enough and the last thing you want is your team thinking that you’re colluding with the Tornado Wranglers. 

“Gotta go,” you nod your head towards your group. “Good luck tomorrow.”

Tyler bids you good luck as well and watches as you head over towards your group, all of them eyeing him as you reach them. He tips his hat at Robbie, who is watching him with judging eyes, and turns on his heel, heading back to his own team to get a well needed beer.

—

When Tyler gets back to his team, he realises that they were all watching him. They all give him questioning looks as he grabs a beer out of the cooler. 

“What? I got something on my face?”

“Yeah, it sure is written all over your face,” Boone says.

Tyler frowns. “What is?”

“Oh, don’t try and lie to us, Ty,” Dani adds.

He shakes his head and takes a seat on one of the fold up chairs beside his truck. He’s smart enough to see what they’re getting at – the way he’d been there talking with you for so long. His friends are smart too. But hopefully not smart enough to see through the facade Tyler puts up to try and convince them that he still dislikes you. 

“Her, Ty? Really? She’s from the Thunder Team.” Boone stares Tyler down.

Tyler has no choice. “Okay, no,” he sighs and takes a long swig of his beer. “We were just talking, and I was just messing around with her.” He was also trying to get the courage to ask you to the rodeo, just the two of you, but he’d chickened out at the last second. “She definitely still hates us, judging by her reaction.”

Truth is, Tyler Owens has been harbouring a secret crush on you for the better part of a year now. It had snuck up on him. He’d hated you at first, thought you were just another stuck up storm chasing student, especially when he found out you were studying for your PhD. But after spending so much time around you, something had changed and all of a sudden, you had a hold over him that you didn’t even realise you had. 

It drives Tyler insane. 

The way he feels when he looks at you is definitely not the way he should be feeling about anyone, letalone the leader of a rival storm chasing team. But here he is. 

The passion he’d seen in your eyes when you’d been chasing storms. The way you talked about them in your captions on social media when you posted photos you’d taken. Even the way you made time to learn more about them through school while being on the road so often.

He was well aware that he was supposed to hate you. And yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to do it anymore.

“You sure that’s all it was?” 

“A hundred percent, Boone.”

He’s thankful when the conversation moves away from you and the Thunder Team. It lets him sit in his own thoughts for a few minutes until he’ll undoubtedly be brought back into the conversation for one reason or another. 

He’s unable to stop his eyes from drifting over to you and your team. You’ve taken a seat on the back of a truck, watching safely from behind the camera as Robbie films Ally again. He tries hard not to smile at the look on your face as you watch your friends, laughing along with the others. The last thing he needs right now is for one of his team to catch him grinning at you like an idiot, especially after convincing them that there’s nothing going on.  

He realises, then, that he’s already in way too deep.

—

The last thing you expect when you wake up the next morning is to find out that your team made a bet with the Tornado Wranglers when you had gone to bed. 

It’d been raining for most of the night, the ground covered in mud and puddles. The sky was dark and you could just feel that the conditions were perfect for a tornado. You had a good feeling that today would be the day.

Until you learnt about the bet.

“I knew I shouldn’t have left you guys alone.”

Robbie laughs, nearly choking on the piece of bacon he’d been eating. You’ve all come to a nearby diner to fuel up on both food and gas for your cars before what was supposed to be a long day of storm chasing. You have a feeling that it won’t be now that the bet exists.

“Okay, technically it was their fault,” Ally offers.

“Explain.”

“So, we’d had a few drinks, and they had clearly also been drinking, and Harry and I were heading over to the bathrooms to clean up before going to bed – because dental hygiene is important!” Ally begins, forgetting all about her half eaten plate of food. “We were almost there when they called out to us – I forget their names. The blond guy and the one with the mustache, the cute one. Anyway, they suggested a bet. Whoever could hold their liquor the best gets to choose which direction the other team chases in today.”

You stare at Ally. “And you said yes.”

She winces, and then shovels a fork full of eggs into her mouth, nodding so she doesn’t have to give you a proper answer. 

Your team is usually quite well behaved. But even the best of people could get taken advantage of, and you’ve seen it many times first hand with the Tornado Wranglers.  They can hold their liquor very well and wake up the next day with very little consequences from doing so. You’re honestly surprised Ally is even functioning. Harry, on the other hand, you haven’t seen all morning. Unsurprisingly, your team had obviously lost.

“Which direction are we going, then?”

“That’s the catch,” Robbie interjects. “They choose for us before we go. They get to look at the radar first and decide which way is going to be best. And naturally, they’re going to send us in the direction far away from the best chance.” 

You groan and let your head fall into your hands, beginning to ponder your options. You can either deal with the bet and get sent in the entirely wrong direction, or…

Without a second thought, you’re pushing yourself up from the table and heading towards the door of the diner.

“Where are you going!?” Robbie calls after you.

“I’m going to fix this mess!” 

—

Tyler greets you with a smile that is way too cheerful for both the time of the morning that it is and the situation.

“To what do I owe the pleasure on this fine morning, darlin'?” He asks, leaning up against his truck. He’s holding a coffee in one hand. Good to know he’s human. You’re not surprised that he doesn’t look hungover at all. The man practically resembles a God. 

“Wouldn’t call it a pleasure, honey,” you sigh, deciding to use a nickname just like he always uses for you. You cross your arms over your chest as you stop in front of him. “This bet you made with my team last night. I want it called off.”

Tyler’s breath catches in his throat at the sound of the word honey coming out of your mouth, directed at him. He clears his throat, trying to ignore the way it feels to hear you calling him that. “No can do, I’m afraid. We Tornado Wranglers don’t back down on bets.” 

You narrow your eyes at him. “I’m asking nicely.”

“I think you can ask a little nicer. Maybe throw a please in there,” he says. “You know it wouldn’t look good for your team, though, right? Half the other teams know about the bet.”

For a few moments, you simply just stare at him, hoping he’ll budge. He doesn’t. He stands there staring at you, too, leaning against his truck in an effortlessly attractive way, smiling at you in that same way he always does. It’s like he reserves this specific smile just for you. 

You take a step towards him, testing the waters, and notice the way his breath hitches this time at your close proximity. Did he dislike you that much that you getting this close to him set him on edge? Or was it something else?

“Nothing can change your mind?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I already told you. We don’t back down on our bets.”

“Tyler.” It’s a rare occasion where you call him by his first name, but you figure it can’t hurt to try it. You can see his eyes soften a little at the sound of it. “If you do this, you’re going to send us right off the trail and ruin our chase.”

“Who said I’d send you in the wrong direction?” 

��I’m smarter than you give me credit for.”

“I don’t know, darlin'. I give you a fair bit of credit for being a genius,” he took a sip of his coffee. “You’re the one with the PhD. I didn’t study that much.”

Something about hearing those words sets off that feeling inside your stomach again. You push it down. “I don’t have my PhD yet.”

“No,” Tyler shakes his head. “But you’re close, aren’t you? That’s more than most people around here can say regarding their education on these things.” He points a finger towards the sky, which is rapidly darkening. 

You sigh. He’s right about that. You are close to finishing your PhD, and not many of the other storm chasers around you could say the same. 

“Just tell me which direction we’re going in, Owens.”

He looks at you for a moment. “I’ll give you a choice,” he says, and for a moment hope sparks in your chest that you’ll get to choose your direction – until he continues speaking. “I’ll let this bet go if you make another one with me.”

“What sort of bet?” You cross your arms over your chest.

“Not regarding our teams. Just you and me.”

You’re about to respond when you hear the sound of the van, playing music rather loudly – Harry’s choice – pulling into the motel parking lot behind you. You sigh and turn around to look at them, irritated that this is the second time in less than 24 hours that they’ve interrupted you and Tyler. 

“No luck?” Ally calls out from the passenger seat. 

Behind them, Robbie pulls up in his truck. 

You shake your head and turn back around to face Tyler. There’s no time to make another bet with him now that your team is here and they’re all ready to go. 

“East or west, Owens?”

Tyler turns around and looks at the sky around you. You figure he’s already done his research on the conditions in every direction and that he’s just messing with you, pretending to decide on the spot. Any good storm chaser would have been watching the radars all morning – which you had been, before you found out about the bet. 

“East.” He says, turning back around to face you. “There are two possible formations, so let’s see which one develops. Or, you can ditch your team and come join us for the day. My passenger seat practically has your name on it, darlin’.” 

A small part of you finds yourself wanting to say yes to him. To tell him that you’d love nothing more than to get in his truck and see what a day with the Tornado Wranglers is like. But the reasonable part of you wins out. 

“You’re going to regret making this bet with my team, Owens,” you take a step back from him, giving him his space again. 

“I gave you the choice of another option, but you didn’t take it.”

You ignore him and turn around, heading towards the passenger side of Robbie’s truck – your usual spot when storm chasing. Tyler laughs at your reaction and then gets into his own truck before pressing his hand to the horn, making you jump at the sound, obviously using it to call his team from inside. You shoot him a look over your shoulder and in return, he sends a wink your way.

“May the best team win,” Tyler flashes a grin.

“Oh, we will!”

—

As much as Tyler hates to admit it, he had sent you in the wrong direction. There were two possible formations, that was true. But it looked very clear that the one to the east wasn’t actually going to develop into anything, and he was sure you would’ve figured that out once you got on the road and actually checked the conditions yourself.

He hates disappointing you. He saw the look on your face as you tried to convince him to call off the bet, the way you wanted to make sure today was a good one for your team. But it isn’t entirely out of competition that he sent you in the wrong direction.

Subconsciously, he did it to try and keep you safe.

If you’re out of the way of the tornado, then it’s a weight off of Tyler’s chest. He wouldn’t admit that to his team, but it felt good to think about himself. That you’d be safe. Besides, he had tried to get you out of it by making another bet with you, but he knew that you wouldn’t humour him the second he saw your team arrive. 

He presses his foot down on the accelerator, watching the clouds ahead of them. Something is going to form. He knows it. He just hopes it’s a good one, something worth chasing. 

In the passenger seat, Boone is keeping a good eye on the clouds to the east. He’s filming as well, live streaming as usual. 

“You were right, Ty,” Boone says, pointing the camera out the window towards the east. “That one’s gonna give us nothing. It’s already disappearing.”

Tyler lets out a breath of relief. You’re out of harms way and even though he knows you’d be annoyed at him if you ever found out, he can’t seem to find it in himself to feel bad about the fact. He had felt bad about the bet when you’d been talking to him, but now he realises that keeping the bet was a good idea.

“This one’s gonna be a good one, I can feel it,” he says, eyeing the clouds above them. 

Then, it happens – the tornado forms right in front of them. It’s already huge, bigger than any tornado Tyler has seen in the past few months.

Boone whoops in the seat beside him, moving the camera to film the tornado through the windshield. 

“Just look at that beauty!” He exclaims. 

Tyler can’t keep the smile off of his face as they drive closer to it. He stops the car once they get close enough, anchoring it to the ground as usual, watching as it gets closer and closer to the truck. 

“Oh, this is gonna be fun,” Tyler yells, straight to the camera that Boone is holding in his face. “Let’s do this!”

It’s only a split second later that his heart drops to his stomach. He watches as the tornado, once coming right towards them, veers off course. It’s heading east. And it’s growing in size. 

He looks out of the passenger window and in the distance, he can see your truck. It’s white, so bright under the dark sky. You’re going to be right in its path.

He sent you in the wrong direction to try and get you out of harms way, and instead he’s sent you in the exact direction the tornado is heading. There’s no way you can get out of its path in time. 

Tyler suddenly feels like he can barely breathe.

“Turn the camera off, Boone,” he commands, and then he’s removing the anchors from the ground and pressing his foot down onto the accelerator before he can even really think about it, even though there’s no way he can reach you in time with how quickly the tornado is moving towards you.

Boone, thankfully, listens, ending the stream, putting the camera down and picking up the radio to try and reach you. He’s realised what’s happening. Tyler tries to ignore the panic he feels when there’s no answer.

He can’t lose you like this. Not now. Not when he never really even had you. Not when you didn’t even know the way he felt about you. He’d been an asshole, a fool, making that bet. If he hadn’t, none of this would have happened.

“Please be okay, please be okay.” He mutters it under his breath like it’s a mantra. He doesn’t care what Boone thinks. If he says it enough, maybe he can make it come true.

—

You’ve seen tornadoes before. You’ve been close to them before. But you’ve never had one quite this size coming straight at you. You hadn’t expected this. 

When Tyler sent you east, Robbie had checked the radar and noticed that the cells out here were much less likely to form a tornado compared to the ones west. You’d gone anyway, figuring you’d try your chances, leaving Ally, Harry and the rest of your team a little further back, trying to get as close as you could before you realised your tornado was going to amount to nothing at all.

You and Robbie had been watching the tornado forming west of you, wishing you had been able to chase that one rather than do what the Tornado Wranglers told you. 

And then, it changed course.

“Get out of the car! We need to run!” Robbie undoes his seatbelt as he speaks and it doesn’t take you long to follow suit, undoing your own and jumping out of the truck.

He takes off at a run ahead of you just as the rain begins.

Your heart is beating faster in your chest than you think it ever has before. Your legs burn at the pace you’re running, your feet sinking into and skidding through the muddy paddock thanks to the heavy rain last night and the rain growing even heavier now. It slows you down, but your adrenaline pushes you faster. You can’t stop, not now. Not when there’s a possible EF4 on your tail, getting closer to you with every breath you take.

You make a mistake, then, deciding to look back at it. 

The sight of it only makes you run faster, but when you turn back, fear strikes through your system as you realise you can’t see Robbie anymore. 

The wind isn’t strong enough to have pulled him back into it, not when he was running ahead of you, but you can’t help but think of the worst possible scenario as your gaze narrows in on a gully just ahead of you. Maybe he made it there before you and now he’s just waiting.

The wind from the tornado picks up trees and branches and other debris, sending things spinning through the air. You feel something slice across your leg and cry out at the sudden pain, but there’s no time to inspect the damage as you slide down the small hill into the gully, the mud going everywhere as you hit the bottom. 

You don’t even have time to scan for Robbie as you press yourself down onto the ground of the gully, covering your head with your hands and pressing your face into the ground. You try to ignore the feeling of the mud and dirt on your skin, the throbbing pain in your leg, the rain pelting down on your back, soaking you to the bone, and try to keep breathing steadily despite being out of breath from the run and the adrenaline. 

You can’t panic now. If you panic now, you’re dead. 

The tornado gets closer and you can hear it. Hear the wind rushing through the air, hear the sound of trees being ripped out of the ground. Hear the crashing sound of the truck being picked up and thrown by it. 

Everything is okay,  you tell yourself, like a mantra. Everything is going to be okay. Because if you tell yourself enough, maybe it will come true.

—

By the time Tyler gets to the place where your truck had been, the tornado is gone and so is your truck. He barely even has time to put his own truck into park before he’s jumping out of it and calling your name. 

Boone is quick to follow him.

Tyler’s eyes narrow in on something in the distance – the remnants of your truck. It’s sitting upside down, the cab crushed in and all the glass broken. Even some of the wheels are missing. His heart almost stops.

No, you would have been smart enough to get out. You wouldn’t have stayed in the truck. He knows that. He believes that. It was one of the first things any storm chaser learnt – never stay in your car, it’s better to take your chances outside of it.

He stops in the middle of the field and takes a long, deep breath to try and calm himself down when he hears the sound of someone yelling out.

“Hey, I need some help over here!”

It’s a male voice, not belonging to you, which is the first sign that makes Tyler realise something is wrong. He recognises Robbie immediately, even though he’s drenched in rain and covered in mud and blood.

Boone runs off towards him and Tyler follows.

“Where is she?” He cuts in as Boone begins asking Robbie where he’s been hurt. “Were you with her? Where is she?” 

He knows he’s being a little irrational. He should be kinder, especially when he’s the reason Robbie was even in this tornado in the first place, but his mind is narrowed in on you, on making sure you’re okay. He’s never been more terrified that he’s lost you in his life.

“I don’t know,” Robbie shakes his head. “She was behind me, and then I jumped down into this little dam and she never came in after me.” 

Tyler doesn’t let him say anything else before he takes off running. He knows Boone can handle Robbie. His only concern is finding you. He calls out your name again and again and again, willing you to respond to just one of them.

He only hears silence.

—

The second you wake up, you push yourself up, getting your face out of the mud and opening your eyes, trying to adjust them to the sudden brightness now that the tornado has disappeared. 

You’re vaguely aware of the sound of someone calling out your name, but it sounds fuzzy, far away. Your head is spinning and you’re pretty sure you could be imagining it.

You put a hand up to the side of your face, feeling the sticky sensation of blood on your hands. Something must have hit your head and knocked you out during the tornado. You can only remember something hitting your leg as you’d slid down into the gully. How long have you been lying here? Minutes? Hours? Days, even?

Looking around, you can see the devastation caused by the tornado. There are trees and branches everywhere, and with the rain, it’s made it even muddier – and probably impossible to climb out of, especially with your injuries. You finally allow yourself to inspect your leg, noticing a deep cut across your shin, ripping your jeans. Your leg starts to throb as you finally allow yourself to recognise the pain. 

With a deep breath, you try and push yourself to your feet. It’s slippery down here thanks to all the mud and rain, and you manage to stand for just a second before your leg buckles and sends you crashing back down. At least it’s a fairly soft landing.

You curse under your breath just as you hear movement above you. Your eyes flicker towards the direction of the sound, and when you see Tyler Owens appear at the edge of the gully just to the right of you, you nearly feel like you could cry.

“Tyler!” You manage to call out to him, though your voice is weak.

His head spins towards your voice, eyes widening as he sees you. You must look like a mess, covered in all the blood and dirt, but you knows he doesn’t care. Especially with the way he slides down into the gully and stumbles towards you, getting covered in mud himself in the process.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He falls to his knees in front of you, his hands moving to cup your cheeks and move your head from side to side. He’s quick to check the wound on your head where the blood is coming from. “You’re okay, darlin’, it doesn’t look too deep.”

You can see the panic in his eyes as he scans you, scans your whole body looking for injuries. You can also tell from the look on his face when he looks at your shin that your injury there is worrisome. 

“It’s my fault,” Tyler shakes his head, refusing to move his hands from your cheeks. It’s as if you’ll fade away if he lets go. “I shouldn’t have told you to go east. I was just trying to get you out of the way of the tornado cause I felt that yours wasn’t gonna develop, but then ours changed course and it was heading straight towards you and I couldn’t get here fast enough and god, the idea of losing you, of never seeing you again, of never asking–”

“Tyler!” 

He stops talking, having not even realised that he had let the situation get the better of him and had been rambling on. When he meets your eyes, you’re shocked to see that there are tears in his. 

“You never call me by my first name.”

“I didn’t think I’d be able to get your attention if I didn’t.”

Your reach up and take one of his hands off of your face and weave your fingers between his. You don’t really know what you’re doing, exactly, but all you know is you need to comfort him. That and you’re shaking like a leaf and the feeling of holding his hand is like an anchor to the world. A reminder that you’re alive. 

“I’m still here, Tyler. I’m all right.”

“You’re not,” he shakes his head. “You’re hurt, and it’s because of me–”

You take him by surprise as you reach up and place your own hand on his cheek. It’s only when you touch his face that you remember your hand is covered in blood and mud, but when you try and take it away, Tyler places his hand over the top of it. His eyes flutter closed and he lets out a long breath that feels to you that it’s something like relief.

The two of you stay there like that for what feels like an eternity but is really just a few minutes, soaking in the feeling of each others skin and coming to terms with the realisation that you’re alive. 

“It’s not your fault, Tyler,” you mutter softly. “You couldn’t have known that tornado was going to change course and head straight for us. Just because that bet ended up landing us in the path of a probable EF4 doesn’t mean you’re the one to blame for it. I don’t blame you.”

He blinks his eyes open and stares at yours for a moment. 

“Now, what were you saying about asking me something?” You try to change the subject.

There’s a look of something in Tyler’s eyes that you can’t quite place, but it drops off of his face instantly at your words and he lets out an awkward laugh. “I don’t think now’s the right time, darlin’,” he says. “Some other time, when you’re not bleeding and injured. We need to get you out of here and to a hospital.”

You shake your head, ignoring the fact that the movement makes you a little dizzy. “I could have just died and I would have never known what it is you wanted to ask me. So I want to know what it is right now.” You’re surprised at how strong your voice sounds, even though you don’t feel strong at all right now.

Tyler sighs and you can see by the look on his face that he’s giving in to you. “I was trying to get the courage to ask you out, was trying last night actually but I chickened out. You can be quite intimidating sometimes, you know that?”

For a moment, you just stare at Tyler. 

“I thought I was the one who hit my head. Did you hit yours too?”

He lets out a soft laugh. “Something like that.”

“You need another reminder that we’re supposed to hate each other?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I think I’ve had enough reminders to last me a lifetime. But I’m done with pretending to hate you. With trying to convince my team that I dislike you so much. I know they know the truth. It doesn’t matter, even though you can’t stand me.” 

You meet Tyler’s eyes and in them, you can see that he’s telling the truth. He doesn’t hate you, nor dislike you, nor anything similar. With the way he’s looking at you, the way he was calling your name, the way he panicked so much when he thought you were seriously hurt… he really was trying to ask you out. Just the thought of it makes that feeling rise in your stomach again, and for the first time you recognise the feeling for what it truly is – butterflies. You don’t get butterflies from people you hate.

“I don’t hate you, Tyler.”

You can see the surprise flash across his eyes.

“You don’t hate me?”

“You annoy the hell out of me and you drive me insane sometimes. But no. You fascinate me, and you make me laugh, and even though every member of my team hates you and your stupid red truck, I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to be in the passenger seat with you, driving head first into a tornado, and I nearly said yes when you asked me earlier.”

Tyler chuckles. “My truck is not stupid.”

“Does your passenger seat really have my name on it?”

“Embroidered it myself.”

You laugh, then, a real, full laugh, and Tyler can’t help but laugh as well at the absurdity of the situation. You’ve just survived a devastating tornado, you’re injured in more ways than one, Tyler Owens has just told you he likes you and you’ve come to the realisation that you like the fact that he does. And maybe, you like him a little bit too.

“We’re not gonna make it to that rodeo tonight, are we?” You ask, once the laughs subside.

Tyler shakes his head. “Rain check for the next one?”

“That’s how you’re asking me out?”

He doesn’t get a chance to reply before you both hear your names being called and look up just as Boone and Robbie appear at the top of the gully. Tyler turns around to look at them. They look relieved to have found you both, and you feel just as relieved to see that Robbie is alive and well, only a little battered just like you are. Even if you’re a little disappointed that your moment with Tyler was interrupted. It seems that happens more often than not lately.

“Is she okay?” Boone asks Tyler.

He nods. “Yeah, but she’s injured. We’re gonna need a hand out of here.”

“We got you,” Boone says.

—

“So, when are you asking me out properly, Owens?” You ask.

It’s been a week since the tornado and a week since you found out that Tyler Owens had been wanting to ask you out for months. Boone had stayed true to his word that day, using a rope and Tyler’s truck to pull you both up out of the gully.

Tyler had barely left your side since – even in the truck ride to the hospital. He usually hated letting anyone drive his truck other than himself, but that day he’d thrown the keys to Boone so he didn’t have to take any of his attention off of you. He’d stayed with you in the hospital as well, even when the rest of your team turned up to check on you and Robbie.

You were surprised at how quickly your teams had dropped their rivalry after the tornado. They’d clearly seen the way you and Tyler acted around each other, how things had changed after the tornado, even though both of you refused to give them details on what had happened when Tyler had found you in the gully. 

It was something both of you were glad for.

“You can’t just ask me that,” Tyler says, kicking his legs up on the desk in the small motel room. Luckily, he’d taken off his muddy boots when he’d come inside to check on you. He had insisted you go back home to recover from your leg injury, but you’d refused. 

“I can’t?” You ask from your spot on the bed, resting your leg up on some pillows. It had luckily not been too bad of an injury, just a reasonably deep cut that needed stitching and wrapping. You still had to be careful not to rip the stitches, which meant no storm chasing and only resting for the time being. 

Tyler nods. “You made me admit the truth to you while we were both covered in mud and blood in the bottom of a wet, muddy gully. I’m not going to ask you out while you’re sitting on a motel room bed with an injured leg and stitches in your forehead. I’m classier than that.”

You snort. “You, classy?”

“From time to time,” he shrugs a shoulder.

You jokingly roll your eyes at him. “I’ll believe it when I see it. You know, you never actually explained what the other bet you wanted to make with me that day was. Was that something to do with asking me out as well?”

Tyler’s face broke out into a grin. “Maybe.”

“Of course,” you can’t help but laugh at the silly look on his face. “Are you at least going to ask me before I get swept up in another tornado?”

“Darlin’,” Tyler stands up and crosses the room until he’s standing right beside you. One of his hands reaches down and picks up yours, weaving his fingers in-between yours. “If you get swept up in a tornado, I’m going to be right beside you. I’m gonna be beside you for as long as you let me. For as long as I get. As long as I get, okay?”

He repeats it like a mantra. Because if he says it enough, he’s certain it will come true.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

I have request for Spencer Reid x Plus size fem!reader. Maybe her and Spencer are good friends and she gets stood up on a date or her date leaves after seeing her and Spencer swoops in and love confession.

p.s I love you work. <3

ೇ diamond eyes ― spencer reid .ᐟ

pairing .ᐟ spencer reid x plus size!reader

summary | admitting that you got stood up on a date would be like admitting defeat, too bad spencer's too good of a best friend to let you go through this alone, even if he was the last person you wanted to see.

warnings | best friends to lovers, getting stood up on dates, a red flag named chris (sorry to all the chris' out there), mutual pining, requited love, love confessions, and implied dates!

wordcount | 1457

۶ৎ a/n .ᐟ | OH, MY GOODNESS IT'S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I'VE WRITTEN AN ACTUAL ONESHOT. i got hit with a random bout of inspiration out of nowhere and i have a bunch of fanfics that already have banners made but they're unwritten and rotting in my drafts so i'm trying to clean them out first. thank you for this and i hope you enjoy some best friend!spencer reid!!

— links .ᐟ masterlist | ao3

Leave it up to you to be stood up on a date you didn’t even want to go on.

You weren't even looking for anything serious with someone, you just needed a distraction, you needed anything that would help you move on from him. It wasn’t Spencer’s fault that you were in love with him – well, it actually kind of is – but that’s beside the point.

There was no way you could continue to sit there and allow yourself to wallow in self-pity over the fact that your feelings for your longtime best friend weren’t reciprocated. You were a grown woman for God’s sakes! And as a grown woman, it was up to you to make grown up decisions. One phone call to Derek was all it took for you to get hooked up with some dude that he knew.

“He’s a good guy,” He said.

Yeah, right. Good guy your ass.

Not only did you look stupid, but you were left stranded in a sports bar surrounded by a bunch of strangers – no, scratch that! Almost all of the patrons in this bar tonight were men, it was football season. You were practically asking to get murdered! What kind of FBI agent would you be if you allowed yourself to be murdered over the fact that some guy’s team lost.

With a sigh, you gazed at your chat between Chris and you. You had sent him a text thirty minutes ago asking where he was when he was ten minutes late, but even that message had been left unread.

The only reason why you were still here was because you were oh so painfully embarrassed, and you hoped that others around you couldn’t tell that there was supposed to be a second person joining you at your very barren booth that you had somehow managed to score.

Now that you think about it, how in the hell had you allowed this man to talk you into going to a sports bar instead of oh, I don’t know, a restraunt with a calm, and comfortable atmosphere?

Maybe it was the fact that the only person’s face you could see in your mind as you discussed where you were going to go together was Spencer’s. As ashamed as you were to admit, you mostly imagined a disappointed look on his face when he realized you were going out with someone else, but even you knew that was damn near impossible.

It wasn’t your failed date that was the shit show – even though it is a close second – it was you that was the main attraction. How could you have allowed yourself to be this childish? You weren’t in high school anymore, and you hadn’t been in some years, but old habits die hard, you guess?

It didn’t have to be common knowledge to tell that your romantic life when you were in school was very, very sad. You often found yourself alone on most weekends, ample amount of time to study right under your fingertips. You figured that when you had gotten older things would have gotten better but… nope.

You didn’t know who to call.

Would you call Derek and blame him? No, he couldn’t have known, but you could totally get him to beat Chris’ ass. The thought of your favorite and very muscular chocolate thunder roughing the piece of shit up helped to easy your nerves, badly enough. There was just one person you couldn’t bring yourself to call, and that was Spencer.

Calling Spencer meant that you were giving up, that you were waving the white flag, that you were still in love with him and no number of blind dates, good or bad, could change that.

You bit the inside of your cheek in thought, at least you had dressed up in something comfortable.

“Can I sit here?” You heard someone ask over the bustling noise of the bar.

“Honestly, you can just have the thi–” You spoke without looking up, but when you did, your words died in your throat.

There Spencer stood in his full glory; tall, lanky, nerdy, and extremely uncomfortable, but nonetheless, he slid into the sticky seat across from you with an awkward smile.

“Spence? What are you doing here?” You asked in shock, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I uh- Morgan called me. He said that Chris told him to tell you something came up, but I uh- I figured that wasn’t true.” He explained sympathetically. You scoffed, your body slouching along with the noise. “Yeah, no shit.” Your words were bitter and harsh, which caused you to squeeze your eyes shut.

“Fuck, Spence. I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to talk to you like that, I’m just… frustrated.”

He reached out his hand, albeit reluctantly seeing as though the table was in the same state as the seat, maybe even a bit worse. You looked down at it then at him before relenting, your full hand slipping into his lithe one perfectly, as if it belonged there.

The fact that this felt so right made your stomach twist sickeningly, fingerings twitching in desperation to pull away. You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced yourself to stay. You did not have the mental compacity to dig yourself out of another hole.

“No, it’s okay. I understand.” He reassured, his thumb caressing the back of your knuckles gently. “I came as soon as he called,” He then looked around, “Especially after he told me where you were.” You laughed a bit at his concern, your body feeling lighter as it finally straightened.

A soft grin graced your features.

“Thank you, Spence. Really. I know how uncomfortable these kinds of places make you. I just- I really thought tonight was going to go differently.” I thought that things between us were going to go differently, is what you really meant.

“I’m sorry, I know you liked him.”

You grimaced at the word ‘liked.’

“I think ‘liked’ would be the last word I would use to describe how I feel for Chris.”

It was his turn for his eyebrows to furrow. “What do you mean.”

You huffed. “What I meant was that I didn’t even want to go on this stupid fucking date anyways, but I had too… I had too…” You allowed your words to trail off when you had caught yourself about to admit something you had fought years to keep under wraps.

“You had to what?”

Goddamn him and his never-ending curiosity.

“Just leave it alone, please?” You pleaded. You looked up at him from beneath your eyelashes, your gaze soft and vulnerable. “Okay.”

A silence – what was an equivalent to silence – settled over the both of you. The air was thick with unspoken words and feelings, an invisible line was drawn that the two of you were too scared to cross.

“I would’ve never stood you up, you know.” Spencer piped up quietly, his grip that had gone limp in yours tightening. “What?” Your breath hitched. “And I would’ve taken you to someplace nicer than this.” His voice was shaky and forceful, as if he was forcing himself speak in fear that if he didn’t, he wouldn’t say anything at all.

“What are you saying?” You were breathless, the butterflies that fluttered around in your gut making you nauseous. Hope bloomed at a dangerous rate in your chest.

“What I’m saying is that if I were to take you out on a date, it would be a lot better than this.” He had finally gotten the courage to raise his gaze instead of focusing on where your hands were interlaced. “I would take you anywhere you wanted to go, then I would try my best to make it memorable for you because I…” He gulped. “Because I love you.”

Your ears were ringing. There was sweat beginning to form on your hairline.

“You’re being serious?” The question sounded more like a plea. “Because if you’re saying this because you feel bad, I-” He cut you off. “I don’t feel bad.” He lowered his head to where yours was in an attempt to connect your gazes deeper.

“I really do love you. I- I have for a long time.” Spencer confessed.

You breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank God.” You said through a wobbly smile. His smile matched yours. You could feel the fact that both of your hands were extremely clammy with nerves, but none of you could find it within yourself to care.

“Can I cash in that date now?”

“Now?” He asked incredulously, lifting his free arm to check the time on his wrist. “It’s pretty late.”

You gave his hand a squeeze.

“I’m pretty sure we can figure that out.”

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon @hallecarey1 @zippertwat @alixwriter

[lilspooky-doll]

True Happiness — pt. 2

pairing — Aegon II Targaryen x Handmaid! Reader

summary — All Prince Aegon wanted growing up with the parents he had was to experience true happiness; not happiness from drinking, not happiness from inflicting insults against others but real happiness you can only experience with someone you feel deeply for. Even at a very early age, he believed he was going to end up drunk and worse than his absentee father until she came along to clean up the pieces.

themes — canon targcest, fluff, aegon is a soft boi, language, blood descriptions, eventual smut (p in v, slight choking, breeding kink, oral (f receiving), not the best descriptions of smut), possessive! aegon, alicent using others to fix her problems, brief child abuse, brat! aegon, au! aegon (he's not a shithead), au! house of the dragon, female! reader, happy ending (for aegon at least), mentions of pregnancy, children (warning enough for that), aemond x heleana,

author’s note — here’s pt. 2 for you all! i will warn you that this is my first time writing any kind of spicy scene/smut so please be gentle with me on any criticisms. this is the end but i have some small imagines & headcanons planned out for this universe. i have a bunch of wholesome shit for this universe to make up for the fact that i have plans for a dark!fic for aegon. anyways, enjoy!

Ever since the incident in the Godswood, it seemed that the Targaryen prince and his handmaid were closer than ever. Before, there were times when one would see the maid going about her chores or see her chatting with Heleana when Aegon would drag her to the courtyard to relax between lessons with them. Now, everyone could see the prince following his maid everywhere. Whenever she was in the room, one could see his eyes drift away from his task at hand to watch her figure move away from him.

Every free moment he had, they were always together and some have seen him give delicate kisses on her maid when they parted ways or she would give a peck on the Targaryen’s blushing cheek. To the gossiping few — those few consisted of virtually everyone within the castle walls — there were talks that the young prince was in love with his handmaiden and that he was stopping the Queen from betrothing him to his dear sister in the odd way Targaryens tend to do. They were rumors but it appeared that all rumors pertaining to the eldest prince rang true.

Yes, the young couple were in love in a way where it was pure and not tainted by the impurities that lived around them. Yes, the prince has fought tooth and nail with the Queen over the betrothal to the point that Alicent saw an ugly side of her son making her immediately change the betrothal from him to her second son, Aemond. It frightened the Queen how determined Aegon was to remain free from that particular duty of his and how fervent he was in making sure Aemond and Heleana were the ones to be betrothed to each other.

Somehow, during their arguments, he was even able to negotiate for his maid to be removed from the servant quarters and be moved into the room adjoined to his chambers. In all of their scuffling, Alicent didn’t even realize she had agreed to his terms until she witnessed that victorious smirk on his pale face. It terrified her as that smirk resembled her father’s when the plan he worked out was going the way he desired for it. She felt a terrible ache in his stomach like it was a deep foreboding sense that something was going to go wrong whether that was in the present or in the distant future. But, she only hoped that everything would go the way her father planned and that Aegon’s obsession with his maid would die out as an innate curiosity.

Within a day of the Queen’s agreement, the prince had — politely — asked the servants to help his dear maid bring her things out of the quarters and into the room beside his. It all worked out spectacularly seeing as his room wasn’t like the apartment that Rhaenyra used to have when she lived in the castle but it still had an attached room that gave both of them easy access to see one another.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The days were lonely for the young couple as the royal family departed to Driftmark for the funeral services of Laena Velaryon. Aegon, of course, had to follow his family as part of their duties to wish the dragonrider a safe return to the sea while she had to stay at the Red Keep on the orders of the Queen to attend to more than just Aegon’s chambers. She had been ordered to maintain all three of the Targaryen children’s chambers whilst they were away and to remain occupied if her tasks were completed.

When the order was given, the prince was agitated — more of anger than anything else — as his mother wanted them to be apart. Aegon wouldn’t admit it but he was scared to be away from his love. This would be the first time they would be apart for days and he was worried something would happen while he was gone. Indeed, he was angered and worried but she became the levelheaded one as she reassured him that all will not disappear while he was away from their chambers. It was simply a short trip to pay his respects not long before having to go on a journey back to King’s Landing.

For the teen of three and ten, this trip was turning out to be a disaster. Just a mere hour ago, he witnessed his mother and his elder sister fight over their children. The Velaryon children attacked the second Targaryen son of Viserys and he paid the price of losing an eye in exchange for claiming Vhagar for himself. Of course, during the war of words between the women, Aemond accused Aegon of being the one to tell him of his nephews being bastards. This had stunned him as he had stopped picking on his brother for not having a dragon and quietly tried to support him without him noticing the little things Aegon did for him. So being accused of this and being smacked for it angered something deep inside of him feeling the burning flames flicker within.

It was a petty thing for his dear brother to do but for his mother to just take his word and punish him for it, that was the simmering coals that Aemond’s flames fluttered upon. Aegon hadn’t felt this kind of anger since that fateful day his lovely maid had been assigned to him and he wasn’t going to allow this to be brushed aside. No, he was going to make things go his way for once and remove himself from the equation in this game.

An abrupt knock disturbed him from his sulking in his guest chambers. Taking a second, he called for the person to enter and in came his mother, still flustered from going after Rhaenyra and their ongoing battle that seems to have been around since before he was born. Making her way into his chambers, Alicent smooths out the front part of the skirt of her green dress before locking her sights onto the hunched teen on his bed whose hands were occupied by a chalice.

“What brings you here, mother?” Aegon snarked out unwillingly to look in her direction, his cheek blazen red with a bold handprint.

A soft huff escaped the Queen at the hostility her eldest son was openly displaying. “There is no reason for you to spread such rumors about your nephews. Your brother has lost his eye because he has spilled the lies you have fed him.” Alicent paused, taking a calming breath before continuing on, “Why must you do things like this, Aegon? Why must you instigate already very fragile situations?”

A bark of laughter exuded from the prince after he sipped from his chalice. “Instigate? You believe me to have instigated this all? It’s a mere rumor that doesn’t hold much merit considering there are many people in our line with dark hair much like Rhaenyra’s children. It’s a stupid thing to believe and Aemond was the one to weaponize this, not me! Is it so hard to believe that your precious son could have some faults?”

His vision grew red with pent up rage at the accusations laid against him and obviously, the bit of ale he decided to indulge himself this one time wasn’t helping him in keeping a clear head. If anything, it worsened the loathsome feeling that made the flames burn brighter in his chest. Distracted by the rage deep within, Aegon didn’t notice that his mother had been making her way closer until he could see the edge of the dark skirts shimmering green in the low light fall in front of his booted feet.

Looking up from the stone floors and towards Hightower's face, Aegon could see the boiling anger in her eyes and the pink of her face took over the usual tone it held. Seeing such a quiet reaction from his mother shouldn’t have warranted the sick feeling of victory in him but, oh did it feel good to see her composure fall in such a tense situation. It was a bit scary to see the always calm Queen attack his half-sister but in a setting like this moment, it was a good feeling seeing as she always had everyone else lose themselves first.

“Do you understand how delicate this all is? Your grandsire believes you should be the one to inherit the throne and you’re doing what?” Alicent snatches the chalice from the loose grip Aegon had on it and sniffed the contents of it. “Drinking? In a time like this?! Every time a situation arises and it all goes wrong, you can’t help yourself to the nearest barrel of ale. You are a drunk and I would not be shocked if you turned into your father — absent from everything!”

Red seeped further into his vision as he bolted up glaring at her intensely. “I am NOTHING like him! I have done my duties and I have no desire to rip the throne from Rhaenyra. I am the furthest thing from a drunk but of course, when I decide to indulge myself once in a while, it makes me a drunkard! I will not be badgered by you when I have done more in these past three years than the last ten I had been alive before her!”

Enraged by him standing up to her, Alicent did what she knows best when it comes to her son; smacking him in hopes of rattling him enough to bring him back to sense. The hit decorated the same cheek as before marking it further. Two smacks in the span of a few hours was enough to cause bruising later on and make it known to everyone how Alicent felt about the incident on Driftmark.

“You will correct yourself,” ordered Alicent, making her way out of the chambers. “We leave in the morning and shall be back to King’s Landing within the day.”

A click of the door closing snapped him out of his trance allowing himself to fall back onto his bed. He curled himself up into a ball clutching onto the extra pillow desperately wishing for some comfort from her — a hug, a hand playing with his hair, just something comforting. Tears began to escape from their keep running down his nose and splashing onto the plush downy of the pillow.

All he wanted was to be home with her.

━━━━

It has been a long day preparing for the royal family to return from Lady Laena’s funeral. Every maid and servant has been rushing to make sure everything was where it needed to be and that every detail was perfect. She had been busy attending to the chambers of the King and Queen’s children, cleaning every surface, tidying up and making sure all of their clothes were clean in their respective places.

All of the insects, alive and preserved, were well kept in Princess Heleana’s room. Each living one was fed and the preserved ones were dusted making sure they did not leave their places. Books and writing utensils were organized and neatly put away in the desk occupying Prince Aemond’s chambers. All extra studying materials were stacked nicely on the polished wood surface. Nothing had to be done for Aegon’s room seeing as she was in his room everyday. Living in his apartment made it easier to keep it all tidy and it made it more exciting to finish her day off by seeing his smiling face.

Smiling to herself, she tidies her prince’s bed once more making sure her lovely little note sat neatly upon the pillow she knew he always placed his head on every night. Working diligently, she didn’t quite hear the opening of the chamber doors but she most definitely heard it slam, the sound rattling most of everything in the room. Shocked by the sound, she whipped her body around facing the creator of the sound who stood shakily against the closed door.

“Oh my, Aegon. How I’ve missed you,” she gushed making her way over to him.

Slowly, she realized something was amiss; his hair waterfalled over his face and he stood pressed up against the door shaking. She closed in on him gently wrapping her hands around his biceps and hoping to meet his eyes again.

“What’s happened? Please look at me, Aegon,” she fretted, worrying that something had happened to him and she couldn’t have been more right in that suspicion.

Taking a moment, he huffed out a breath before lifting his head and effectively moving his silvery white strands away from the disgusting mark tainting his face. A gasp left her lips as she agonizingly looked at the bruise in its dark state of purples and blues. Just the sound of her gasping made the barely held sobs break through their damaged dam unleashing a torrent of horrendously breathtaking cries and rivers of tears making their journey down his face.

“Oh Gods. Please talk to me. Tell me what has happened while you were away,” she pressed using her hands that were already on his arms to guide him to his bed.

She sat him gracefully atop of the blankets and quickly placed herself beside him on the bed. With her dress tucked under her knees, she kneeled, pulling his head into the crook of her neck. Using that as an invitation, Aegon tangled his arms around her body squeezing, relishing in the comfort he so desired since the night before.

Between hiccups, the broken teen muttered, “Aemond was attacked and lost an eye. Mother blames me for it since he partially provoked Rhaenyra’s children. She slapped me. Twice in the span of a few hours.” Taking a moment to catch his breath again, he started up once more, “She called me a drunk for having one cup of ale and said I was going to be like my father.”

Admitting out loud what had happened to him unleashed another torrent of sobs. He was unable to stop himself because after all, he was a broken boy made by the adults in his life. His father was never present in his life, always prioritizing his eldest child over the rest. His mother resented him for being the child first born out of an act that stole the rest of her girlhood. In some ways, he reminded her of herself being pressured by those around them to perform duties that they feel they are not fit for. His grandsire is the second son who’s more ambitious than most, lusting for his own flesh and blood to sit upon the Iron Throne even though the title will never be theirs rightfully. Broken and beaten, Aegon allowed for years of anguish to ripple down the neck of his dearest love soaking the shoulder and neckline of her plain dress.

Brushing his long strands away from his streaked face, she whispered to him, “You are nothing like your father. He may be the King but you will never be like him. You desire for more than what everyone expects of you and you want to be there for the loved ones in your life.” She chuckled to herself about her next statement. “I’m afraid if your mother thinks you're a drunk for having an ale every once in a while, I wonder what she thinks Prince Daemon is seeing, he's the most self indulgent out of your family.”

Laughing at her words, Aegon began to feel the tears lessen and the deep seated sadness lift into something much lighter.

“Obviously, it’s too scandalous for her to say. Mayhaps she believes if she just says what he is, she would be committing a sin on words alone,” Aegon laughed out, taking a second to remove the streaks of wetness off his cheeks being mindful of the swelling on the one side.

Relishing in the moment, the both of them started scooting up the bed making their way to lay down on his bed. Face to face, hand in hand, the young couple gazed into each other’s eyes with their heads resting upon the white downy pillows. This was another moment where they wanted the world to stop around them as they just lived in it never wanting it to stop.

Crinkling of paper sounded under the prince’s head, he lifted his head just enough to snatch the note and bring it into his view. Questioning, he raised a pale eyebrow at her smiling face and all she did in response was gesture for him to read it. Opening the note, Aegon recognized her distinctive handwriting and read the note to himself:

In lavender fields, I feel your touch. Every moment you’re gone, I lay in their softness and gaze to the sun. For the sun, I see your smile. I miss you as you miss I and I am as close to you as you are to me.

I’m in the night sky shining brightly as the moon with the stars around me. I’m the dragon’s breath you touch every time you enter Godswood.

Avy jorrāelan, ñuha vēzos.

Shocked to see the Valyrian at the end of the note, Aegon gripped her arm and dragged her into his embrace squeezing her tightly. She wrapped her arms around him again to the best of her ability and cherished the feeling of being in his arms.

For hours, they laid there in each other’s embrace slowly drifting into a deep sleep — one of the most peaceful sleeps they both have had in ages. Face to face, smile mirroring smile, an image of pure content and bliss.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Time had started to pass Westeros by. Everything was changing and no one knew whether that change was good or bad. All of the Targaryen children grew older and grew more into themselves; Heleana was a woman of ethereal proportions who desired for her insects even with her duties now as a mother to twins, Aemond was the perfect prince who excelled in his studies and with his swords just as much as he excelled at being a doting father and husband to his sister-wife and their children, Daeron was stuck in Oldtown but he never let it get to him that he was missing out on everything with his family and Aegon did his duties as possible heir to the throne with his hair now much shorter and his love stronger than ever before.

At eight and ten, he was now older than his half-sister, Rhaenyra was when she married Ser Laenor and out of all of his siblings — excluding Daeron who is the scholar of them all — he is the only one unwed making his so-called claim to the throne weaker than before. Of course, he was hoping to rectify that problem sooner than anyone was really expecting. He’s been planning this for a while after gaining inspiration from the marriage between Rhaenyra and his uncle Daemon.

The traditions of Old Valyria have always interested him considering that his mother has been pushing for them all to practice the Faith of the Seven. It felt like he couldn’t participate in those traditions and in the Old Gods even though he is of Targaryen blood so, hearing of the marriage between his sister and uncle, it burned the flame in his chest hotter than ever before. A tradition he desperately wanted to follow as a way of taking his love and making her his in every aspect and living the way a Targaryen should, not caged by the rules of others.

Everything has been planned and set in place for at least two moons and he couldn’t have been more thankful for those who were privy to it all on keeping hush-hush about his plans. Tonight was the night he had chosen for this special occasion and he timed it all perfectly so that by the time they came back from Dragonstone, no one would have noticed that they were gone for the entire night. Granted, Aegon wanted more time to appreciate his soon to be bride after their ceremony but timing was of the essence and he wasn’t having anyone stop him from doing what he wished.

He was marrying her tonight and he was determined to ravish her in every physical way possible as well.

━━━━

It was nerve wracking seeing how he’s grown and changed over the years. Alicent could feel the nervous energy consume her as she gazed down at the training yard intently watching her sons do a light training session for the day. She was always so proud of her second son and she always doted on him as he grew up but seeing Aegon so changed from how he behaved as a child until now.

Before she assigned her as his handmaid, Alicent would envision how she thought her eldest would turn out and every time, those images reaped of horrible outcomes to how he would be as an adult. Now, she could visibly see the difference to how she thought he would be to how he actually is. He was longer a spoiled child who needed the attention of those around him, he was a man who she could see ladies of the court desiring for him to be theirs. A gentleman who was patient and reserved, lovely to those lesser than him and he even does what he can to make his siblings happy in their lives.

She knew that these changes were because of the handmaid but she didn’t want to admit that fact. Admitting it would mean that they were far closer than any prince and maid should be, far closer that rumors of an intimacy that should only be between a married couple seem true in some sense. Those rumors frightened her to her core as she had shredded through the skin around all of her nails in knowing that news. Those rumors are what sparked the urgency in her and her father to arrange for a betrothal and hopefully, quick marriage between Aegon and a lady of high standing.

Doing a quick betrothal and marriage aren’t ideal but seeing how lovely Aegon is even towards women not in his family made that worry — worry that he would have ended up rotten like most men in her life — fade away. She had run this by her son briefly a few days prior and shockingly, there was no fight in him unlike when he fought for Heleana and Aemond to be wed. The lack of a battle had a trickle of suspicion shiver down her spine as she hoped he was genuine in the idea of being betrothed to a noble woman. Being married to one of the many eligible women throughout Westeros would better help Aegon stake his claim as a real heir to the Iron Throne.

Hoping all of the work she is indulging her father in would be fruitful and she won’t have him breathing harder down her neck. The pressure could be placed on someone else for once. All they needed to do was get this done quickly and swiftly.

━━━━━━━━

Painted in shades of orange and red, the sun had begun to hide behind the calming waves of the bay. The burning light of the setting sun lit up the chamber room in the same shades as the sky and dozens of candles accompanied the fading light. Soft whispers filled the cool air and a pattern of light footsteps danced around in the background. 

Bathing themselves in the setting sun, the couple embraced in a slow dance seeming to move to a rhythm only they know of. A glow radiated off of them as they smiled at one another enjoying the quiet moment together. Anyone who peaked in on the situation would think that they were a pair of gods painted in their ethereal gleam who have graced their presence amongst the land of mortals. It was a beautiful sight that not even the most skilled painters could replicate this moment of beauty and it was a moment that could only be lived in current time. 

Even though they were the only ones in the room, they never spoke over a soft whisper, keeping their conversation strictly to their ears only. 

“Jaelan ao naejot sagon ñuhon isse ābrar se isse morghon,” Aegon muttered, tightening his grip on her waist and bringing his lips closer to her ear. I want you to be mine in life and in death. 

A soft, quick laugh expelled from her lips at her lover’s statement. “Iā dīnilūks rȳ īlva would dōrī sagon approved, ñuha vēzos.” A marriage between us would never be approved, my sun. Lighthearted, her words were but there was an err of truth to it. “Kesan va moriot sagon aōhon sesīr skori iksā naejot gūrogon iā riña hae aōha ābrazȳrys .” I will always be yours even when you are to take a maiden as your wife. 

Taking the moment as she let it sink in for her prince, she further embraced him in a sweet kiss. Nothing more, nothing less. A delicate coupling in light of a very serious conversation that needed to be had between the couple. 

Snaking his hand out of hers, he wrapped it around the base of her skull pushing her petal lips harder against his. Deepening the kiss, they both began to feel their bodies warm under the intensity of their kissing and it lit a deep desire for more. Wanting more but also wanting to continue their conversation, Aegon tightened his grip on her neck and tugged her lips away from his. A slight string of saliva was all that connected them as it slowly fell away. 

A smirk etched itself into the lines of his face as he gazed down at the dazed, flushed look of hers. “Kesi dīnagon, ñuha hūra.  Nyke kȳvanon naejot mazverdagon ao ñuhon tonight va Zaldrīzesdōron,” We will marry, my moon. I plan to make you mine tonight on Dragonstone, he paused pulling her body even closer to his, relishing in the small gasp she breathed out. “Īlva dīnilūks kessa sagon gaomagon isse se ways hen uēpa Valyria se pār, eminna ao.” Our marriage will be done in the ways of Old Valyria and then, I will have you.

Shocked by his confession, she snapped herself out of her lust-fueled fog and stared him down with her head still tipped backwards. The realization that Aegon had organized for this all to happen on such short notice was startling. She, of course, wanted to be his wife in a way that it hurt from how much she wished for it but, it sounded absolutely ludicrous for them to be wed behind the backs of everyone on the Council and the monarchs. 

“Are you serious, Aegon? Tonight?” She sputtered out trying to catch her bearings. “How?”

Smiling down at her anxious form, Aegon placed a soft peck on her forehead before looking deep into her starry eyes. Those eyes that he’s gazed into for eight long years, the eyes of the woman he is determined to make his in every way possible; in mind, body and soul.

“A small bag has been packed and set upon Sunfyre who will be ready to fly an hour after the sun has set. Ser Arryk Cargyll has already been sworn to secrecy as I have prepared him to act as if we have taken an early night in our chambers.” He brushed a stray hair that had fallen out of its braid away from her flustered face. “Do not worry. Everything has been set up on Dragonstone as well. When we arrive, we dress in the marital robes, perform the ceremony and then I shall finally ravish you, my love.”

A moment passed as she processed the details that Aegon quietly muttered to her in secrecy. Knowing that very soon, they could be finally wed and be free to love one another caused a warmth to boil in her belly. It was exciting and so dangerous to do something as daring as this but she didn’t care considering that she could be with the man she has loved for all of these long years.

“Sȳrī, īlon kessa jiōragon jemēla hēnkirī se sagon va īlva ñuhoso.” Well, we shall get ourselves together and be on our way. A smirk that mirrored the one on the prince’s face stretched across her beautiful face as they plotted their way to a marriage that insulted the King and the Queen.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The cool night air felt chilly when one was soaring through the dusting of clouds that littered the sky but, on the small sandy beaches of Dragonstone, the air was the perfect temperature for such a momentous night. For her first long trip on Sunfyre, it was rather lovely and the landing at the freehold was a bit rougher than landing at the Dragon Pit in King’s Landing causing her to tighten her grip on Aegon’s waist when she was jostled. 

Seeing the castle here for the first time was breathtaking and knowing that they would be wed on such a beautiful island made it even more spectacular. The exhilaration of all this was beginning to make her jittery as Aegon helped her down from the saddle on Sunfyre after retrieving everything else they had brought with them.

Once on the ground, he clutched onto their small bag and intertwined their fingers before making their way up the unmarked path to the castle. Taking in the scenery made all of this so real to Aegon and he couldn’t have been more happy being here with her and finally putting his long awaited plans into place. He took his sweet time guiding her through the sand and rocks making their way to the entrance where he knew the help he employed would be waiting for them.

As she trekked with the help of Aegon’s hand, she huffed out, “I know you’ve planned all of this but, who did you get to help us with the ceremony? Find the priest to wed us?”

Pulling her up through the final layer of rocks before a smooth pathway, he chuckled at her exasperation and her worry that something would possibly fall through. He understood where she was coming from in the state of her worry but he just wanted her to enjoy this night to the fullest without nitpicking the details. 

“Well, I had the help from someone who was much more knowledgeable on the ways of Old Valyria and they were the ones to set up everything – the robes, the priest, the dragonglass and the goblet we are to use.”

Just as Aegon stated that to satiate her curiosity, the path revealed the entrance of the freehold where out of the faint glow coming from within came the heir to the throne, Princess Rhaenyra in a gown clothed in the infamous Targaryen red and black waiting with her hands clutched gently in front of her.

“It’s good to see you, Aegon after receiving your letters for so long,” Rhaenyra smiled at the embraced couple making their way closer to the princess. “Everything has been set up and I’ll have you both escorted to get ready separately before we do the ceremony.”

“I’m glad we are seeing each other under better circumstances this time, sister. I also appreciate all the help you have provided.” Bringing her closer, he gestured to her. “This is the one I have told you so much about.  Ñuha hūra se qēlossās.” My moon and stars.

Stunned by meeting Rhaenyra in such a setting, she dropped to a low curtsy before popping herself back up to meet the motherly smile of the woman across from her. “I’m pleased to meet you, Your Grace. I had no idea that Aegon had enlisted your help in our marriage,” she blurted out.

“Please, call me Rhaenyra. After all, by the time the sun breaks through the darkness, we will be family. Come along now. We should get this ceremony started as swiftly as we can.” Rhaenyra stepped aside for the couple to make their way into the castle and guided them to their chambers to ready themselves.

Rhaenyra followed behind the young couple as she allowed for the servants to escort them all to where they needed to be for the night. Being behind them, she noticed how delicately Aegon held his lover and how he seemed so soft towards her – the gentle kiss on her forehead, the arm wrapped around her waist to pull her close to his form, the faint whispers he would speak to her. It was a young love that has blossomed and has been deeply cared for all these years like Aegon has told her in his letters he sent her these past few moons. This was a love that would never rot away; it would grow bolder with time.

The princess was shocked to find how desperate her half-brother was to marry –and marry a handmaid at that – considering she was to believe he was growing up rotten and spoiled by the treasures of life. The last time they had seen each other was the night that Vhagar was claimed and Aemond lost his eye to Lucerys’ hand. Alicent made it out to be that Aegon was who planted such awful rumors in his brother’s head but she could see that he was the far opposite of those accusations. She could see he was kind and sweet; everything that a maiden wished for their future husband to be. He so dearly loved his handmaiden that he was willing to wed her without the approval of the King and Rhaenyra would see that wish through for him.

━━━━

Amongst the thorny hedges and towering pine trees in Aegon’s Garden, a small gathering sat in the center of it all as they breathed in the sanctity of the ceremony. In robes of blood red faded into mute beige, the couple stood joined hand in hand as the priest spoke the vows in Valyrian. Around them, the witnesses to this marriage watched with varying expressions; Rhaenyra had a soft smile of familial affection, Daemon was woefully neutral and rightfully curious to this dramatic change in his nephew’s character, Jacaerys seemed uninterested but supportive considering how urgent his mother had dragged him and Lucerys was much of the same expression as his elder brother. 

Even with the small gathering of witnesses, all Aegon and his bride could focus on was one another seemingly able to communicate through subtle eye gestures and the occasional eyebrow movement. This was an all-consuming moment in time and they were doing all they could to soak it up for this was going to be a night they will always want to remember. 

For those not truly focused on the ceremony, time dragged on watching the couple stand there with the priest droning on behind them. But, it was anything but boring for those invested in what was transpiring. Even with Aegon and his bride more focused on what was happening between them than what the priest was saying, they were thrilled for such an opportunity and of course, appreciative of the efforts that Aegon’s elder sister went through to make this happen. They would obviously say their thanks when this all came to an end and Rhaenyra didn’t need their words to know how thankful they were. 

The heir knew their thanks and did not need it for she could see the true love and devotion the couple have for one another. Even with the differences in status, it was a love that many only heard of and very rarely seen in person; this was heartful and full of emotion. She would not need their thanks as she felt it was her duty to make this happen before the council went into uproar over a request for this union. All she would ask of them was to continue to grow into their love and have it continuously blossom — of course she would jokingly request for a future child be named after her. Everyone’s focus began to leak from their minds and were back onto the couple. 

Through the guidance of the priest, it was time for the finale of the ceremony; the binding of their souls. With a steady hand, Aegon was the first to retrieve the small blade of dragonglass from their officiant making his way to his bride. As the blade closed in on her bottom lip, he stopped, looking up at her for her consent which was given to him with a happy jolt of a nod. Carefully, he pressed and sliced a thin line through the center of her bottom lip where blood immediately began to dribble to the surface. Exchanging the blade into her empty, awaiting hand, she too repeated the same process of waiting for his consent and slicing through his plump, bottom lip. The little bit of crimson that pooled on his lip contrasted beautifully against his pale skin and made her eager for the end of this to come. 

Without hesitation, they each dip a single finger into the welling of blood upon their lips and take turns in marking their foreheads to signify the continuation of the Targaryen bloodline — even though the bride was not of the Targaryen line. One last time with the dragonglass, their left hands are cut, causing more blood to pool outside of their bodies; none of that was a concern in the grand scheme of this event for obvious reasons. With clasped hands mixing their blood, the vital fluid rapidly flowed due to the pressure of the two hands and as the witnesses watched as it flowed, a chalice was given to them, each taking their turn at sipping from it. 

Upon the final words, they join in a kiss riddled with the mixing of their blood and saliva as they bathe in the glory of being now newlyweds. They are as it is said, 'one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.’ The beginning of forever for them.

━━━━

They couldn’t get to their guest chambers fast enough with how desperate they were to consummate their marriage. Frantic hands gripping each other’s robes and lips in a vicious battle against one another. 

Distracted by the joining of their mouths, it was difficult trying to remove the marital robes and the simple underclothes that lay beneath. Hands continued to tangle with the fabric and get trapped by the desperation and need lit aflame in the couple. Without stopping their sloppy kissing, they figured out that one would start to work on the other’s clothes while the other didn’t try to multitask with them; it was a mess if they both did the same thing at the same time but oh were they ready to pounce. As effectively as they could, layers upon layers of fabric fell from their bodies creating a puddle of clothes to accumulate on the floor, each of them stepping out of their shoes and out of the pile as they made their way to the bed in the center of the chamber. 

Skin to skin flush against one another and as gentle as he could, he sprawled her out on top of the covers displaying her in all of her glowing beauty out of breath and flushed from their kissing. For a moment, Aegon kneeled a single leg between hers and gazed down taking in the feast of flesh that was waiting to be devoured. A solitary “breathtaking” broke through the sounds of heavy breathing and shifting fabric. Leaning himself over her, collectively trapping her between his arms, he gives a long peck on his swollen lips before he starts his journey down her body, sprinkling open-mouth kisses along the way. Each kiss burned hotter than the last the closer her prince became towards where she wanted him most. 

Soft breaths against the wet kisses sent shivers down her spine and decorated her skin in goosebumps leaving him feeling victorious in her reaction. More small kisses were placed down her inner thighs and back before Aegon blew a cold breath over the kisses again reaping the same reaction. A whine escaped her lips urging him to stop teasing her and to finally make his way where she was desperate for him to be. One last breath blew over her soaking slit causing her to jolt before he decided to finally end his torment and devour her.  

Shock was the expression written on her face and electricity flowed through her body at the attention her love was giving her body. It was an odd sensation but oh was it so deliciously satisfying. The feeling of his wet tongue stroking her and drawing her clit into his mouth was like nothing she’s ever felt before but, she wanted more and more. With a shaky hand, she threaded his silky, white hair in between her fingers and gripped tightly eliciting a moan that vibrated against her adding more stimulation onto the devouring Aegon was doing to her. Breathy moans and sloppy, wet sounds were all that could be heard and it was even more erotic listening to while being overwhelmed by the tongue slipping its way into her. 

More and more pleasurable shockwaves rode through her system as Aegon eagerly continued to feast upon the slick dripping from her. The slurping and the moans vibrated through him made the heat in her belly rise higher than the previous second. The heat and the waves began to burn closer together causing her to grip his hair tighter and arch her back to get her even closer to his face. At this point, she was riding his face with every swift thrust of her hips moving on the blanket top. 

The waves began to crash closer and closer with his grip on her thighs tight, almost bruising the soft flesh. She panted out her moans, struggling to catch her breath with the pleasure burning through her and the thin cord deep within threatening to snap under the sucking and licking. As she looked through her lashes down between her legs, her eyes locked with the dark, hooded eyes peering back up at her. His intense, lavender eyes made her even warmer and had her focused on the sloppy, wet sounds being made by him. 

All she needed was just something —anything— to push her over the edge and snap that cord deep within. As if he could read her mind, Aegon brought two of his fingers up to collect some of her slick before slowly and gently inserting them within. The slight intrusion was a bit strange but oh was the curling of his fingers and the gentle thrust of his hand just absolutely fucking perfect. Her moans went up a few octaves as she tried to desperately chase the high she could feel building more and more. 

It was all so electrifying and all it took was him sucking on her sensitive clit and the right amount of pressure from his curled fingers for the orgasm to hit full force where stars exploded within her vision. A tingling sensation exuded from her limbs and her belly’s flame was stoked to be hotter than ever making her want more from her new husband. 

Pushing himself up off the bed, the prince held a sly smirk on his face and from his lips, her arousal glistened in the lowlight of their chambers. Prowling his way up her shaky form, Aegon left feathery-light touches across her flesh reaping more chills to rake through her. 

“ You’re such a good girl for me, my love. Just riding my face as I devour you whole,” he whispered out looking down upon her flushed face like a predator about to pounce on its prey. “Why don’t you keep those pretty legs open for me and allow me to ravish you some more?”

Almost as if it was a command she couldn’t ignore, her legs spread a bit wider allowing for his body to be accommodated better between them. His words and his deep stare made her writhe with wanting more pleasure to be drawn out by him. 

“Aegon, please… Give me more. I want all of you.” A faint whimper followed her words making the smirk grow deeper into his face as he leaned in to feel her breath on his face.

Stealing her air, Aegon pressed their lips together in a deep, all-consuming kiss desiring for her to taste herself upon him. Hse found it even more arousing being able to taste herself on his lips and she was all the more determined to devour him as he is to devour her. Distracted by them making out, he slowly caressed his hands down her shaky body and took himself into one of his hands, stroking it against her, collecting her slick upon his head. 

With enough preparation, he slowly began to push himself into her. The sudden intrusion caused her to gasp against his mouth as he whispered small words of encouragement. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation feeling him bare within her but the stretch was a tad bit uncomfortable. Aegon continued to slowly push his way further and further in as he whispered and placed tiny kisses upon her face. 

“Eman ao, ñuha hūra.  Bē konīr,” softly, he spoke as he controlled his desire to just fully push in and relish himself in the feeling of how she was squeezing him tightly.  I have you, my moon. Almost there. 

With one final press, their hips were flush against one another and deep moans exuding from the both of them. Aegon nuzzled his head into her neck taking deep breaths to control himself and she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck carding one of her hands deeply into his silky locks. Allowing only their deep breathing to fill the quiet air around them, they let themselves have a bit of time to adjust to this new, all-consuming sensation before Aegon started to slowly move his hips so as to not cause any discomfort from starting off too quickly.

Soft moans left her lips as he started to move his hips faster and faster. Her skin was lit aflame, the lust was overwhelming and needed to have more of him. She shifted her hips to meet his thrusts and she laid a small trail of open kisses onto his shoulder with his groaning filled her ears. Aegon pushed himself up from her soft neck taking one of hands to grip her hip tightly while the other took her hands from his hair and trapped them above her head pushing her chest out further. 

“Tolī, kostilus. Tepagon nyke tolī,” breathlessly, she moaned out urging Aegon on, causing him to grip her hip tighter almost to the point of bruising her supple flesh. The slight twinge of pain from the grip felt so delicious with the feeling of his cock filling her and rutting into her.  More, please. Give me more.

Smirking at her desperation, he moved the hand that captured her wrists making its way down to wrap his hand gently around her throat, not to squeeze but just to make it known to her that he could at any point tighten his grip there. The feeling of his hand on her throat made her smirk back up at him as more pleasure ripped through her form. He kept at a brutal pace rutting into her and they both began to feel their pleasure peak making them desperate to finish. Shifting their bodies slightly, Aegon started to rub her clit relishing in the sensation of her tightening around him.

“Oh, sweetling. I’m so close. Give me one more before I breed your tight little cunt,” he rasped out rubbing his fingers faster against her and keeping up with his furious pace.

With the smacking of their skin, it overpowered the sounds of their gasping breaths and pleasurable moans. She could feel the shockwaves coming back more viciously than before ripping its way through her body and her limbs tingling. Closer and closer to their peak, the louder their moans became. The hot air made their skin flush red and stick with sweat to one another. 

His pace grew inconsistent as he neared his finish and he could feel her squeeze him impossibly more. The shockwaves kept crashing over her faster with a knot growing tighter within her belly. Soon enough, the waves mellowed out as the knot snapped causing her to orgasm yet again under his attention. The squeezing of her cunt made his head spin making him come much sooner than he intended to. His warmth filled her, causing her to exude one last raspy moan into the ear of her new husband when he slumped his exasperated body on top of hers.

Large smiles stretching across the planes of their faces were filled with happiness and a great deal of breathlessness. They both were content with the events of the day and especially the events that had just happened a few moments prior. This was probably the happiest day of their lives and the feeling of having each other in every way possible – mind, body, and soul – was a feeling that could never be replicated the same way ever again. 

Breaking their moment of reprieve, Aegon removed his body weight off of her looking down at her as she was still trying to catch her breath. Grabbing one of her hands, he placed a soft kiss onto the palm of it before locking his eyes with her again.

“Iksan daor olvie gaomagon lēda ao, ñuha jorrāelagon.” He wrapped his arms around her, taking her by surprise as she let out a squeal. He was planning on having her as much as he possibly could that night before they had to leave back to the Red Keep. I am not quite done with you, my love.

━━━━━━━━

“What do you mean, ‘You can not take a bride’? It is your duty to do so and there is nothing standing in your way to having your choice of the most eligible women in the Seven Kingdoms!” exclaimed Alicent who was moments away from utterly losing her shit — to put it nicely —with her smirking son. 

“I shall give you one guess, Mother as to why I can’t take a bride,” the eldest prince paused for effect before he continued on. “And I’m afraid there is no way for it to be stopped since it has already been done.”

Narrowing her eyes on his form, she thought over what he said and what it all meant. Picking at the skin of her thumbnail, she quickly pondered the ominous riddle she was told. Why did she need to guess on this matter? There’s absolutely no reason for him to keep refusing to court a noble lady unless… 

“You imbecile! You fucked your handmaid, didn’t you! And I would be wrong to assume she’s pregnant with your spawn? I can’t believe that you’ve done something like this, Aegon! You are to be placed on the throne  by the hand of your grandsire and you let some lowly whore seduce you into ruining your chance at having the throne, a noble wife and legitimate children. THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE!” Alicent ranted and raved as her face became red with the lack of air she was breathing in. 

Aegon was actually taking great joy in watching his mother absolutely lose every fragment of sanity that hasn’t been frayed by anxiety and the pressures of his grandsire whispering into her ear. It was almost comical how red she was becoming but what wasn’t amusing about what was happening was the complete slander she was talking about. Granted, yes, he did lovingly fuck his handmaid. Yes, there was a small inkling that he hoped she was impregnated by him even so soon after their marriage; if not, well, they’ll have plenty of time to ‘practice’. But, he will not have his mother or anyone for that matter, speak so horrendously about her whether it was behind his back or to his face. 

A deep chuckle broke Alicent’s tirade as her vision focused in on Aegon pushing himself off from the ledge he made himself comfortable on and made his way prowling towards her in her solar. The echoes of the steps and the dark look in his eyes made Alicent believe that she was not the apex here, she was the prey who has been ceaselessly baiting the predator into ripping her apart. 

“Yes, I did fuck my handmaid but, only after I had made her mine in the ways of Old Valyria. It’s quite the insult to the monarchs of our family and it brings me great joy watching you all lose your shit over my marriage. No, I do not believe my bride to be with a babe and I so wish for her to be rather soon. So, I will not be taking some pompous bitch to be my wife in name only to satisfy your need to adhere to Grandsire’s desires and my handmaid will be my wife in every sense of the word and duty. She has been my closest companion and dearest love for eight long years and she will stay that way until we both lay to rest eternally. Have I made myself clear, Alicent?” 

With every step he took during his monologue, Alicent felt smaller and smaller inching closer to her chaise until the back of her legs hit it causing her to drop down. His eyes never left her face and his words were like flames licking her skin and the last words spoken were like ice burning away at the scorched flesh. 

Tears formed on her waterline but they lingered there, never falling from their place. In all of her years, she has never been made to feel so much like the small prey caught while on a hunting expedition. Seeing how well he’s grown over the years, the Queen never expected something so dark to come over her eldest child; it was something that terrified her more than her father and his deceptive ways. Exhaling a shaky breath, all she could do was nod up at her son who continued to glare down at her waiting for a response. 

With her nod, the dark look slowly faded into an expression of neutrality seemingly content with it. Aegon started to back away, turning himself around to head out of his mother’s solar. His steps rang victorious in the quiet air and his body language screamed the same tune yet his face revealed none of it. 

Making his last step to the door, he turned and faced her again with his hand on the doorknob. Rolling his shoulders and clearing his throat, he spoke once more, “I never meant to be truly hostile to you but, I will not have any slander upon her name. Once you truly see that she is nothing like you have perceived her to be, I would be more than happy for the three of us to spend more time together and have her welcomed into the family regardless of her status.”

Taking that as his cue, a small whisper of ‘I love you’ left his lips as he closed the door behind him leaving his mother to take in his words and the situation they had been put in. Those little words were, hopefully, enough for her to put things aside and be more open to her son being so in love with a maid from their castle even though it just about ruins everything her father has been working towards.

━━━━━━━━

The days seemed to be numbered for the King as his ailing body continued to weaken beyond the ability to heal and it was becoming glaringly obvious that the Hand’s plans to usurp the throne were finally within view. The grand scheme of it all was coming together quite nicely and the pawns all seemed to be placed right where they needed to be. The only pieces in this game that had to be utterly compliant and in their perfect place was the eldest son of King Viserys, Aegon the Elder.

Otto Hightower was always a man reaching for what was far beyond his means and determined to get what he desired no matter the cost to others around him. He was set on the King dying very soon unexpectedly and his supposed heir to be left in the dark so he could crown his daughter’s son as the next era of Targaryens upon the Iron Throne. Sure, he would desire for him to be the one on the throne but a child of his child would work just as well; he just needed to rally his grandson and his filthy choices to be completely on board. 

He knew that if he was able to work the conversation the right way, he wouldn’t even need to talk to Aegon — she would just inform him and believe that it was all her idea. If it was her idea, it could be easy later on to blame any of the outcome of usurping the throne on her and all evidence of her and those things will be forever erased. Truthfully, Otto thinks that this is his best plan to date; it was almost like killing two birds with one stone and him being left unscathed as always. 

On such an eventful day, the first thing on his list of devious dues to accomplish was to find that filthy handmaid of his grandson and speak to her about ‘family’ matters. It was quite easy to find her on sunny days like this one; her and the prince had a pretty predictable schedule and have had a predictable one for quite some time. 

In the seclusion of the royal garden, his eldest grandson’s brood took their midday break and hid away from the prying eyes of the council and guards. Everyday, a small picnic was held by the handmaid after she finished her morning routine of chores considering that she still worked under the guise of being the personal handmaid to Prince Aegon even with the evidence of them being much more than employer and employee. 

It was the same image everyday; the maid sitting on the blanket watching as two small children either ate their fill or played with one another amongst the many flowers and greenery. In his eyes, Otto was sickened by the display of ignorance and the so-called “love” that was constantly masking the faces of these people. If Aegon had just set his sights on some easy noblewoman, he would be fine with bastards being born but this is a servant for Gods’ sake! It’s almost as bad as the earlier stories of the King’s brother being a repeat customer to the brothels in the Streets of Silk. 

Making his way through the gardens, the Hand found the small family’s hideaway with the children gone briefly and the maid just sitting upon the blanket laid on the grass. Absolutely perfect; right where he needed her to be. 

The sounds of his steps disturbed the soft peacefulness and the maid whipped her attention away from the rustling of flowers towards the intruder. Alarmed to find the King’s Hand, she bolted up off the ground and immediately curtsied for the man. 

With a small wave of his hand, he dismissed her out of her curtsy and began to speak in his usual arrogant way. “I have been in search of you for quite some time. A few of the other servants informed me that you would be here this afternoon.”

She was taken back briefly by Hightower’s statement at the fact he was looking for her of all people. 

“Well, I am happy to be of service to you, my Lord. What is it you will be needing to discuss?” Her voice was strong, unwavering in his presence unlike many of the other working maids. Overconfident for her status. 

“Well, the Queen and I know how close you are to the Prince and we were curious to know of how the Prince would react to being heir if the chance ever were to arise,” spoke Otto dignified, watching to see if any emotions ran across her face; none did. If anything, her face was wiped clean as a fresh slate and it was impossible for the man to find any insecurity to prey on to push forward his agenda. 

A moment passed during their staring match waiting for the other to break their mask and reveal everything. She knew a day like this would come; she wasn’t an idiot who allowed just anyone to prey upon her emotions. It was only a matter of time before she knew her husband’s grandsire would try to openly play his game; a game that she and Aegon have been planning to possibly ruin since their marriage four years ago. Now was the time to work this conversation into her favor. 

She forced a rather fake cough from her throat before she proceeded to respond to the Hand. “The possibility of the Prince becoming the Heir to the Iron Throne is not something that someone like I, would discuss as a topic with his Grace. One would think that since he is the King’s first son, that he would be optimistic about being King but, of course, I do believe that this is a matter that you should be personally discussing with him, my Lord, not with his maid. I’m sure he will greatly appreciate being approached by you about this.”

Otto heard her words as a challenge but her face and body language revealed a neutral playing field. He was hoping she was going to be much more vulnerable considering she would be in an intimate setting with those heathens that he is somehow related to. Overall, her reaction was proving to be a stark contrast to what he wanted but he could work with the fighting words that she had initiated; he had to make this work if he wanted to be successful. 

“You are very brave to speak that way to a man of status like I am. It makes you very lucky that I don’t find a reason to punish you for your tongue lashing –” 

“If you deem those words as a lashing, my Lord, then what I could say freely would be a massacre upon you,” she snarled, very quickly changing her neutrality into a look of thinly veiled anger.

“What makes you believe that you could just speak like that? There is only one thing I need you to do to make everything fall into place and you will agree to my terms, you whore!” Otto’s face grew red with his anger and he wore it very clearly on his aging face. “You will tell my grandson that he will be taking the throne when the King dies whether he wants to or not! I will not have you jeopardize everything I have done to make sure my family gets what they are owed!”

Every word was punctuated by the rough stomps encroaching on the safe space that the maid had made in the tranquil garden. Every step was like a knife slashing at delicate curtains to reveal the truth behind the fabric and it was revealing a woman determined to protect the sanctity of her family’s safety. Overall, this one sided argument was going to end disastrously for one of the two adults.

Toe to toe at each other’s neck, the opposing forces glared down the other showing the opposite ends of anger; the man had his wrath shown full force as there was no way for him to conceal it and the woman’s rage was under the tight grips of a mask with the only evidence being in the way the stars in her eyes burned like the sun. The silence was deafening between the two and all that played softly in the background was the gentle sway of the garden greenery as small bodies playfully explored through them.

Breaking the silence, she kept her eyes locked onto the Hand’s as she squared herself against his imposing form. “Only this one time will I be a brute in my words and only this once will I speak out of turn. I will not be telling Aegon to do anything that you wish for him to do. He will make that decision on his own without any outside influence and we both know of the little game you have been setting up. We are not pawns in the game for the Iron Throne. You have made yourself out to be this figure who knows the secrets of everyone you wish to manipulate and I’m sorry to tell you, my Lord, but I’m afraid you don’t know everything there is.”

Her words were like her snatching Otto’s attacking knife and burying it deep within his chest. There could be no possible way for this peasant to have secrets that he doesn’t know and this knowledge was going to bother him until he could find out what it was they were hiding from his eyes. The perturbed look on his face was enough for her to feel victorious in this small battle – a battle she felt she needed to fight considering he ruined her afternoon with her children. 

“A last few remarks before you scamper away with your tail tucked between your legs, my children will not be considered bastards by the likes of you and will forever be legally seen as the heirs of Aegon,” she spat at him as he slowly began to sulk his way back to his hermit hole. “And in your search into our secrets, you won’t know the answer until it’s far too late. Let that truth sink into your bones as it keeps you awake at night.”

The urgency of his leaving was met with the more calming presence of two young children – both with large smiles and matching appearances. Their white blonde hair glowed in the high sun illuminating small halos around their heads with eyes of shades of lavender and periwinkle. The eldest child was a boy of four name days and anyone who didn’t know better would think Aegon was turned back into a small child again. He was every bit identical to his father and such a sweet little boy to his younger sister. The youngest also has the traditional Targaryen features as does her brother but there were glimpses of her mother in her face. Aegon swore he could see the same stars in his little girl’s eyes; the same stars that burned in her mother’s. Each of these little ones resembled the very best parts of their parents regardless of the unsavory opinions other adults had about their existence.

“Muña! Muña!” the little voice from the boy burst out as the two ran towards their kneeling mother and jumped into her outstretched arms the second they were within reach. A bright smile replaced the burning glare she had earlier as she held tightly the giggling children. 

“Oh, my darlings! What have you brought for me today?” She looked down to see a small bushel of varying flowers where some still had their roots attached and dirt falling from them.

“Alysanne jiōraton rūkluni syt ao se Kepa!” exclaimed him as the little girl pushed the bundle into her mother’s hands after she released them from her comforting arms. Alysanne got flowers for you and Father. 

“Why, thank you! And thank you for helping her, Baelon,” she chuckled, giving kisses onto her children’s heads before she fully stood up and dusted herself off. “How about we pack up our picnic and go find Kepa to show him the beautiful flowers you both got. Does that sound good?”

Her words were answered in small cheers and hurrying footsteps rushing to shove the blanket and other belongings from their picnic back into the basket. Their rushing was adorable and warmed her heart as she could see how much her children loved their father and being with him. A few moments more and she joined in on their packing. 

Once they were done, she picked up the basket and shifted it to balance on her hip so she could grab the tiny, open hand of her daughter, Alysanne and have Baelon grab the other open hand placing the girl of two name days between them. The peaceful familial image glowed in the sunlight as they made their way through the garden and into the castle searching for where Aegon was at that day.

━━━━

“I received a rather pleasant visit from your grandsire earlier today,” she remarked after she closed the doors that led to the small chambers of their young children connected to their main apartment.

It took a moment for the relaxed prince sitting at his desk to process what his lovely wife said filling the air and once it clicked, his head snapped towards her form almost giving himself whiplash at the words floating. 

“Grandsire? Otto of all people visited you this afternoon?” he questioned her, shaking his head and rubbing a hand down his face before he proceeded again. “I don’t mean to question your words, my love but everyone knows that the Hightower fuck doesn’t do ‘casual’ visits with anyone unless he has an ulterior motive.”

Moving his chair out from under the desk, she placed herself into her husband’s lap and laid her head upon his shoulder resting it into his neck. He wrapped one of his arms around her waist and the other softly began to brush against the exposed skin of her arms. In the comfort of each other, they let themselves brew on the situation before they decided to speak again on it.

“I’m going to be right to assume that the reason Otto sought you out today was to discuss the succession of the throne?” Aegon whispered making sure his voice wouldn’t be heard by anyone other than the two of them.

“And you are right to assume that. He threatened to have you take the throne regardless if you had any desire for it,” she breathed out for a moment. “I don’t take too kindly to him threatening our family and insinuating our children be bastards when they were born out of love. It lit a fire within me seeing him so furious with your choices but it’s up to you what we shall do, ñuha vēzos.”

Processing everything was cumbersome and was invoking an ache in his head that would take ages to be relieved. There was so much that needed to be done and so much to be decided on. Aegon knew the basis of Otto’s goals for him to usurp the throne the moment that the King had been greeted by the Stranger but after reconnecting with Rhaenyra years ago, he had no ambitions about taking her rightful throne from her. She was named heir long before he was born and she was more fitting of the throne than he ever would be. He would be content with his life if he just stayed as Prince Aegon, Second of his Name, husband to his gorgeous handmaid and father to his beautiful children, Baelon and Alysanne. There is no need for something more when he already has everything he could possibly need right at that moment.

He breathed a deep sigh and moved to rest his head upon hers. “I know that Otto won’t stop until he gets what he wants. I am not going to jeopardize the lives of our children to play into his foolish game.”

“Well, I believe now would be the time to implement our plan before Otto’s people dig their claws into us,” she said sadly before she moved herself to stand up in between Aegon’s spread legs. “Everything shall be ready by this time tomorrow evening and we find our way to the checkpoint.”

━━━━━━━━

The deep secret that Otto had searched relentlessly about Aegon and his maid revealed itself the day of the King’s passing – three days after the literary battle in the castle garden. After the small chat that happened that night, Aegon proceeded the next day as if nothing was out of the ordinary while the maid and their children were busy packing the clothes and the few precious belongings they have obtained over the years. The basis of what they were planning consisted of themselves and very few bags strapped to the back of Sunfyre to escape from the reach of the Hightower bastard into the safety of the maid’s family who had been preparing for the day that they would possibly be homing with them.

By the very next night, Aegon had used the secret passageways throughout the day to deliver their belongings to the Dragon Pit where Sunfyre had been anxiously awaiting to spread his wings for a long journey. When the guards were changing out, the adults, each with a child in hand, made their way through the silent castle and as swiftly as they could, they made their way to Rhaenys’ Hill. In their infinite amount of time they used to plan this escape, they knew by the time anyone would come looking for them, the family would be out of King’s Landing and down by the Sea of Dorne hidden away. 

They had every little detail etched out and there was no way that anything could possibly go wrong. Once the family and its hatchlings had reached the maid’s family homestead near the Dornish marshes, Sunfyre was ordered to fly away to the Dragon Pit – not to arouse any suspicions – or head to Dragonstone with the dragons that reside there freely. The family would then live as if they had always been there and Aegon would assume himself under a nickname with his Targaryen hair hidden as a dark, muddy brown; the child’s hair would also be dyed the same color. After enough time hidden away, the few who had to dye their hair could either keep dying it or allow for the dye to fade away back to their beautiful silvery blonde.

Everything was in place and it was working out fantastically.

━━━━━━━━

With Aegon missing and Otto having Aemond to assume his place on the Iron Throne, it caused a slight uproar by the people. Many would never want a woman to sit upon the throne and rule the Seven Kingdoms but the Greens lost many of their supporters when Prince Aemond was going to rule instead of Prince Aegon. Why would people support the second son as he has no real claim to the throne unlike the first born or the first son? 

Even with the few who didn’t support a woman ruling, Rhaenyra had more of a claim than her second half-brother. The small council gathering following the death had convinced the Queen that Rhaenyra would kill her siblings in cold blood as a way to assert herself in her rightful place after being named heir years prior. Of course, for a woman riddled with anxiety and paranoia, she agreed once again to her father’s nefarious plans even though there was an inkling of doubt deep within her chest. Prince Aemond then usurped the throne the days following the King’s passing thus starting the Dance of the Dragons. 

While civil war broke out, Aegon lived happily with his growing family in the marshes spending his days working tirelessly with the family he married into and it was everything he could dream of. He thought he was happy living within the Red Keep with their secret little family but freely being able to love his children and his wife made life so much more worth living. It was everything and more being who he wanted to be without the pressures of being a royal.

Though there was distance between him and his birth family, Aegon still loved them all and wished things would work out after hearing the news of what transpired since he left. Frequently, he wrote to Rhaenyra to quietly show his support as a way of paying her back for helping him years prior but he also wrote to Aemond, telling him in detail that Otto should not have played with Targaryen fire and that he should not listen to his ideas unless he is wishing to die by his hand. It hurt him seeing so much turmoil again after the night Aemond claimed Vhagar and his wife could see it deeply bothered him when they would break for the day.

Corresponding between the warring sides of the Greens and the Blacks, Aegon did the only thing he could think of without getting himself killed – offer refuge for his nephews and niece so they would be spared from the carnage that could outbreak. Without hesitation, Helaena sent her children to the safety of the marshes before the cruelty of war could take them from this plane of life. As if they were on the same wavelength, Rhaenyra sent her youngest children to stay until further notice with the oldest being sent periodically. As payment for acting as a refuge and caring for all the children, eggs of Syrax were sent as Rhaenyra believed every Targaryen child was deserving of an egg to hatch or a dragon to claim.

It all was painful to watch as that messed up family was being ripped apart but, how could he not be grateful for finally experiencing something so pure after so long?

His little family that he created, the relationships that he has made with his birth family and the one he married into and the dragons that he bonded to and raised. That all made this life meaningful and brought him true happiness.

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[redhoodinternaldialectical]

3. What are your top three most commonly used tags on AO3?

10. Is there a character or ship you'd love to write for, but haven't yet?

and 31. What fic meant the most to you to write?

-mel 💜

A wild @melodyatlas appears :3 !

Oooh let's see...

3.

S&M, Humor, Fluff <- yeah that tracks!

The only reason "crack taken seriously" isn't on there is bc I decided that the coke was being taken too seriously to be labeled coke in the first place lol, but 99% of my stuff starts with a goofy non-sense premise that I proceed to take way too fucking seriously heheh

10.

If we're counting stuff that I've only kinda outlined and never published, then JaySteph, I've been wanting to write a specific story for them called Four and Twenty Blackbirds for a while now - but like since I have written some of that out I'm not sure I should count it, yaknow?

Other than that, though, idk, I might like to write a Boostle fic! That is really the pairing that got me into writing and comics as a whole, so like, idk it'd be nice to revisit that and give something back someday

31.

Falling Into the Night (not to be confused by the three other AO3 works sharing the same title lol)

Holy shit did this fic genuinely change my life. Like, writing it down and sharing bits of it is basically the reason I have a good relationship with my Father and the capacity to process my own feelings??

It's also finished, even though it isn't done, and I deleted what little I published off of AO3 years ago.

The plot is far from complete, I never got further than a certain point with it, and I lost my favorite scene of Jason walking through shoulder high grass in the wind up to the hill to visit a mausoleum to speak to himself and the stone - but it's still done. It did what it needed to do, and I'm done processing what it was written to process. It's not done for all intents and purposes, but for my own it is.

It's also possibly the world's most spectacularly bizarre soulmate AU???

Honestly, some of the scenes in it are still powerful and delightfully invocative even on their own - and, ya'know what, go ahead and have the first couple scenes and maybe I'll end up reposting the rest of the damn thing too sooner or later

Warnings for body horror that was written by a profoundly unwell teenager who had read basically zero comics other than nu52 Red Hood and the Outlaws lmao

A baby, swaddled in something blue. They would have been cute except for the fact that instead of eyes some one seemed to have drilled tiny holes out of their skull. Each one was slightly larger than their little eye sockets should have been. Jason thought that filling the holes with darkness would have been a mercy. As it was, he could see every bit of skull and viscera that lined the rough cut-outs. They didn’t bleed much either and that was horrible too. He wouldn’t be able to articulate why it bothered him so much until he was years older but it all seemed so much more real without the excess that would have accompanied a Halloween decoration or horror movie.

He knew in the very pit of his soul that the baby was watching him. It seemed content, almost happy.

4-year-old Jason Todd woke up like a man being dragged behind a horse. He clutched, trembled, and cried until exhaustion brought him back to reluctant sleep. The baby writhed in silent laughter when he returned.

At 14 Jason was a proud, grade C-, delinquent hoodlum in an under-funded public school. He had all but begged Bruce to let him come here and not an upper crust private school. The way Jason saw it, schools weren't much more than brain washing, regardless of how rich they were. He’d either get taught to sit down and shut up in disgustingly sanitized white florescent halls, or he’d get taught to sit down and shut up in the comfort of a gutter where everyone knew what kind of scam they were in. Besides, he figured that if he could only barely get through a gala without committing arson, then spending every day with a bunch of snobs would drive him straight to supervillainy. So, during school he sat in desks and made them his by carving cool S marks and dicks into them. Then he went home and learned calculus, bio-chemistry, forensics, acrobatics, pyrotechnics, anatomy, and martial arts from Bruce and Dick at break neck speed.

He was currently in health class doing his level best to tune out a slide show about "Soul Mates, and how to find them!! :D ". The font was inevitably comic sans. The colour scheme was obviously supposed to evoke thoughts of joy, but accomplished that about as well as a hamburger made with moose-shit.

Jason absently mused, <em>"It's pink-on-yellow lies are hollow, and scorch the retinas of its audience."</em> He filed that line away with all the other cool lines he would never write because he absolutely refused to become some edgy emo loser who wrote angst poetry. It was bad enough that he lived with a guy who regularly got accused of being a vampire.

There were always rumors surrounding their strange little family, and to be honest, Bruce deliberately cultivated a sort of urban legend status. The latest version of the vampire rumor held that Batman was using his dark powers to summon fiendish and colourful Imps. It was an unfortunately reasonable conclusion, all things considered. The batclan knew better, of course, and so their hairbrained rumors were much more nuanced. Every member had long ago concluded that if <em>anyone</em> around the manor was a vampire, it was Alfred Pennyworth.

Batwoman had tasked Jason with gathering evidence of Alfred's ‘true nature’. He was pretty sure she didn't expect him to find anything, and it was just a way to hone his detective skills. Vampire hunting was way more fun than reading endless cold case files though, so he took it without complaining and resolved to give it his best effort lest someone decide he had too much idle time.

Speaking of that, he had heard Alfred and Batman talking the other day. Bruce had turned to him and said, "It feels like we've always been old." And then Alfred made that funny little hmph sound of gentlemanly displeasure and replied, "Speak for yourself, Sir. I've always been a youthful man at heart." It was still only circumstantial <em>but-</em>

"Jason!"

"Huh, what?"

"Jason, can you tell us what this presentation was all about?"

Jason rolled his eyes and replied completely deadpan, "Everybody meets their one true love in prissy little fairy tale dreams and if we ever look at anyone else The Devil will eat our slutty asses."

He took a <em>very</em> long smoke break on his way to the administrator's office.

Honestly, Jason already knew that thing slowly growing up in his dreams was his soulmate, and that stung more than he would ever admit. He wondered what having an abomination for an “other half” said about his half. Did it mean he was going to end up lovesick, addicted and dead like his mother? Did it mean he was going to end up a puppy kicking piece of shit like his father? Was he, deep down, just as horrifying as it was? He ended up chewing on these thoughts like a swollen tongue that grew more inflamed every time he bit it until it filled his mouth and every move he made scrapped painfully against it.

During a brief lull in his ruminations he realized that he’d absentmindedly bitten through the end of his cigarette. He spit it out, grimaced at the bitter taste, lit a fresh one, and kept on walking.

Soulmates are only supposed to meet in dreams when both of them are asleep, but that thing never seemed to dream. He was convinced by this point that it didn’t even exist outside his head. It just perched in the corner of his mind and watched and stared and looked with its empty gaping holes.

Eventually, his smoke break took him all the way back to the manor.

"Hey, how's it goin'?" Jason gave a wave to the butler as he strode across the hall.

"It’s a fine day, young Sir. I daresay you couldn't have picked better for your afternoon stroll. Though, I must ask after your reasons for taking it when you should have been in school."

"How do you do that?! " He was certain he had been out of sight of the manor while he waited for the bus to roll by.

"I am the caretaker of three generations of over dedicated, self-taught ninjas, Master Jason. I have had no choice but to out-match my wards. Now, enough stalling. What happened?"

"We had a stupid fuuh-uurducken presentation on soul mates and it was so useless. Like, the health teacher doesn’t even care and it just kept talking on and on about how perfect and <em>normal</em> you <em>have</em> to be. And it’s totally useless! Because it’s not like they’re saying anything we haven’t heard a million times before, and they’re getting most of it <em>wrong</em> too! Like they took a whole 30 fuggin minutes to do some nasty comparison about a girl being like a chewed piece of gum and how nasty they’d be and how a soulmate wouldn’t want their love being gum as though humans are fucking pieces of gum! And I know that frickin coach tells kids their dreams aren’t real if they don’t <em>perfectly</em> match what hers were like, and- and- I mean it’s screwed up and I told them so and obviously they sent me to the administrator’s office, ain’t <em>no way</em> I’m gonna talk to that bi-ugh!” He shook his head and shrugged in tight, closed off movements, “Whatever. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Am I grounded or not?”

Alfred put his hand on Jason's shoulder and gave him the gentlest look his titanium reinforced upper lip allowed for. "You have a wonderful moral passion young Sir. Foul language, undignified as it may be, does not change the fact that you were only standing up for what is right. Go get some rest, dinner will be ready in a few hours, and you'll need your strength for tonight's patrol."

"Thanks, Alfred."

"Of course, Master Jason."

As he flopped down onto the comfiest couch in the living room, black, guilty bile rose at the back of his throat. It felt wrong to be called ‘Master Jason’, same way his old neighbor Rosa had said ‘Sir’ to the man whose house she cleaned. Jason could still remember how that man had fired her when she got too sick to clean. Rosa had decided to just let the sickness take her rather than leave her daughter with nearly a million dollars in debt. He never learned what she was sick with, but he knows her daughter makes a half decent living working as a maid.

He wanted to hope that Bruce wouldn’t ever do that to Alfred. That Alfred means more to him than Rosa had to her employer. But as a dozen other suffering friends and family who worked serving others cascaded through his mind he found himself incapable of imagining a happy ending to Alfred’s life. Or his own for that matter.

It took far longer than Jason wanted for sleep to pour those thoughts out of his head.

He knew that sleep had finally overtaken him when, once again, Jason found himself in the dreamscape that held only him and his soulmate. The space held no indication that it was anything other than infinite empty void, but Jason knew, in the certainty of dreams, that it had a shifting, hidden geometry. One of the few constants was the distance between him and it.

That distance was measured in: three small steps, five seconds of sprinting, one scream, four bouts of being dragged by the ankle as his mind fought between the standing dream and lying body. Two more small steps.

Maybe that meant something? Maybe it was bullshit.

He stayed still, and just stared into the nothingness. Looking into absolute blackness was much easier than looking at it. He could tell it wasn't a baby anymore. It just wore a baby's swaddle and skin and fat, and the head didn't fit right anymore. It was like the skull just kept growing even though the rest of it had stopped.

The way this space screwed with his vision didn't help either. The problem was, Jason and it weren't illuminated, or even glowing. They were just perfectly visible; utterly without shadow. The subtle wrongness of that just made everything worse.

Suddenly, every fiber of his being tried to pull itself inwards at the disgusting sound of fingers being bent until they snapped. That wasn't supposed to happen, it wasn't supposed to move, WHOSE FINGERS-

He whipped his head around to face his 'other half'.

The eyeless baby wearer had managed to pull its tiny arms out of the swaddling and was now moving it’s fingers like a nefarious villain in a cartoon. It was still watching him. The little fingers crackled, bending right bending wrong *SNAP* bending right bending wrong *SNAP* out of sync and mesmerizing.

Jason screamed. It just seemed like the thing to do, really.

He watched, transfixed, as the fingers stopped, and its right hand reached over to the left fingers and tugged. The flesh slipped off smoothly, like a satin glove that was just a bit too big. There were no bones underneath. Only a loose structure of needles in almost the same shape one expects bones to be in.

Those needles looked so dainty. Pin, sewing, hypodermic, all moving with a grace that didn't fit. They were, of course, far, far too long to have fit in the little sleeves of its baby coat. With the very tips of the needles, it delicately pulled the flesh off its other arm. Same easy glide to remove. Same needle bones beneath.

For the first time since it had appeared Jason felt it's gaze shift off of him to look at it's new hands. The relief of regaining some small privacy washed through him while the disorientation of losing a life-long constant punched him in the gut. Under its gaze he had felt raw and exposed, scorched by its constant unceasing gaze. Now he thought that maybe that constant watching was all that had been keeping him upright and there was a gut-wrenching sensation of being dropped from an obscenely high cliff.

He hardly noticed that it had lowered its fingers down to the surface of the dreamscape until it started moving towards him. It definitely wasn't <em>walking</em> on its new fingers. It was more like the little baby body was a balloon bobbing on the end of needle covered strings. Rather than supporting its weight, the hands were tugging it along as they crawled across the floor.

As it began to explore the empty space anew, it seemed unable to decide whether it wanted to look at its novel and silvery limbs, or return to looking at Jason. This was obviously a time of wonder and excitement for it.

His last thought before waking up was, "It's like the world's most sick, fucked up chicken."

[spinningbuster98]

I must confess that, for the longest time, I did not have the best of times with Sotn.

You see for as much as people often say that this game is piss easy I used to actually have quite a bit of trouble back during my first few playthroughs. The Colosseum, Olrox, the Inverted Castle, the Clock Tower, I used to get my ass kicked quite a bit, which caused me to grow resentful towards the game.

As the years went by I gradually realised that it was mostly my fault. There was a time when RPGs were the bane of my existence, I could not get into their mechanics and Sotn's rpg mechanics were no different, moreso due to the fact that this is not a turn based rpgs but something more akin to an action rpg. I used to do some absolutely baffling mistakes. I kept forgetting what items I had in my inventory, like if I had specific armors or weapons that would be better for certain circumstances (like lightning armor to defend against the lightning attacks of Galamoth for example), I kept forgetting to use spells strategically, instead I kept trying to attack enemies with my regular weapons and sub weapons which made the Inverted Castle harder than necessary. This stuff frustrated me and when I get frustrated I play even worse

One example is my first experience against Beelzebub: I could not defeat this rotting bastard because I could not figure out how to reliably hit his head without getting pelted by his flies. I died a lot and ragequit

...then I realised I could dodge his flies by using the mist form, which I had but didn't think to use during combat encounters. And that there are a bunch of platforms in the room leading right beside Beelzebub's head. And that I could use spells like Soul Steal and Tetra Spirits to deal with him easily. Oh and that there's an Axe Subweapon right outside his room, ideal for hitting targets too high up to reach.

I, as a player, have always been shit with multiple choices. I'm the kind of player that, once he finds a solution to a problem, will keep using that solution without searching any better alternatives, and if I can't find a solution then I will keep hitting my head against that brick wall until it breaks. Sotn being a game that gives you a million different ways to approach things sort of...disoriented me you could say

But this is the reason why I've come to technically disagree with the idea that Sotn is an easy game. The game actually has several moments that can and will easily kill first time players. I'd say that Sotn is more easy to break than just plain easy

This game gives you so, SO many ways to break its difficulty in two if you have even a little sense of exploration (which is needed anyway to even progress through this game)

And I'm torn

On the one hand I technically prefer how future games will gradually attempt to better balance the difficulty, and I don't think I'd want another game that handles it like Sotn does

On the other hand however I love it when games reward my efforts by giving me overpowered tools. One of my favorite things in Classic Sonic games is abusing Super Sonic, which I love to do mainly because it's my reward for completing the games' Special Stages. You get to break the game because you were good enough to complete an extra challenge

Sotn is similar in this regard, since you usually have to either find its most game breaking tools...or they're just straight up secrets

You have to find the Holy Rod on your own if you want to break the first half of the game, you have to find Alucard's equipment in the Inverted Castle to get through that place more easily, you either have to find out on your own or look up on the Internet that you can use late game spells early on

And while most people claim that this game's difficulty is due to the developers being inexperienced with this new style...I think this was at least partly done on purpose

Do you think that putting stuff like the Crissaegrim or the Alucard Shield was an accident? Or stuff like this?

Remember: Sotn was purposefully made easier than the Classics to be more accessible, so I genuinely believe that most of this balancing was by design, in fact I think that Sotn is quite literally not properly designed to be chellenging.

Even if you go out of your way to not equip anything on Alucard to make him as weak as possible you'll find that the game just becomes frustrating, at least to me, as the enemy placement is often far too cluttered for you not to wear armor to mitigate most of the damage and bosses especially either barely try to attack you seriously (Cerberus) or their attacks barely follow any pattern and barely feel like you can reliably dodge their attacks without specific tactics. It just doesn't feel anywhere close to as deliberatly designed as the Classics in this regard, everything feels designed knowing that you're going to steamroll over everything using OP equipment

Sotn, to me, is the equivalent of a power fantasy: it's not about having a challenge, it's about doing short work of the opposition in spectacularily overpowered and flashy ways, because you're playing as the son of the Dark Lord himself and he does not fuck around (and of course Richter himself has his peculiarities though I'll probably mention him next time)

I'm personally a bit torn over how this impacts exploration: ideally you'd want to explore in a game to get more powerful in order to more easily handle challenges. But since Sotn gives you such over powered tools you can basically ignore most weapons and armors. Even stuff like Life and Heart ups can be mostly ignored, which makes exploration, partly useless

But at the same time, as I mentioned, it's through exploration that you gain some of these tools in the first place and I believe that, at its best, Sotn's exploration can actually be even better than Super Metroid's!

In that game, other than the plethora of item expansions and the mostly progression required upgrades the only truly unique stuff you can find completely on your own were beam upgrades

Here not only is it completely up to you to find the most broken weapons, stuff like the various extra powers for Alucard's transformations and the gravity boots feel more rewarding to find as they influence his movement in big ways and are generally more exciting that just having a different beam weapon

[butterscotch-goat]

🖊 lucy beacuse you loveeeee gingers

you're so right I do love gingers

OKAY I already talk about Lucy a lot so let's see what I can pull out of my ass crack today

Let's start from the beginning??? I guess??

SO originally Lucy was going to be this super mysterious character, mostly because I didn't have any ideas for him at the time. He was going to just go by "boss" and he had melty fractured wings and a halo to represent how badly he missed heaven. wowwwww so cool and edgy bett. anyway. Ended up decided that all fallen angels lost their halos and angels never had wings so that was all scrapped, and for a hot minute I just had this pathetic little guy. I've always seen interpretations of Satan as either super suave, attractive guys or big strong meanie pants or the occasional goat gremlin thing, so I thought having literal Satan as a sad little man wouod be funny. That part is still true, but he's not *literal Satan* anymore since "Dawn" isn't bible-compliant, Lucy was/is just the leader of the fallen angels.

About that "was/is," I feel like I never stressed enough how none of the demons really respect Lucy anymore. Like they don't outright dog on him really but everyone knows that he's a sopping wet cat of a demon. Everyones kinda just like "yeah our boss is a mess of tears and paperwork but like no one else wants to be boss so he can stay"

about his name! Lucy - he wanted to change his name after falling to separate himself from heaven but also to have a name that might cause fear among humans, so he looked to the names humans gave "him" (Satan) - he liked Lucifer, but didn't wanna just steal a name from humans because humans SUCK!!! so he shortened it to Lucy, not knowing that Lucy is a completely normal human name. No one's told him that Lucy is a completely normal name yet and no one plans to :)) he hates going to earth nowadays anyway so he probably won't find out

Currently, his job is making a MASSIVE PLAN for the ULTIMATE COLLAPSE OF HUMANITY!!!! very evil boom fireworks swords bkaw!!! Buuut since gene broke up with him in 1922 Lucy spends most of his time sleeping, crying, or generally being pretty sad. He still works on his PLAN!! because he has nothing else to do besides those previously mentioned activities, tho

I've mentioned this many a time before I think, but when Lucy was an angel (aka Abigail (that was his name when he was an angel)) he made underwater volcanoes, helped making clouds, and made a bunch of bigger, more vague stuff that was created before all the other angels were made. Abigail was the only angel for 100ish years as of typing this, so really not too long. In that time it was just him and Jod, Abigail kinda did whatever he wanted, making stuff and concepts and Jod being his buddy :D

Fun fact!! Y'know how Lucy has that split hair, one side ginger and really poofy and one side not? Well about that not side, I have no fuckign clue what is going on. Is it shaved? Maybe!! Is it dyed black? I dunno prolly??? I haven't thought about it!! I just color it in and give it vague texture!! Will I have to figure it out someday? Yeah but that's for laterrrrr

If he didn't hate humanity and refuse to partake in their ridiculous customs, Lucy would be drinking some form of energy drink 24/7. He doesnt sleep even without an energy drink and he's always on edge regardless but like it makes sense to me. He would chug a purple monster. this is important 2 me

his shoes give him 2 1/2 inches of extra height but he's still short as fukc

you may already know this but 536 AD was when Lucy was in his PRIME!! he ENJOYED going to earth because whenever he did he would just FUCK SHIT UP!! and made humanity sad n stuff!!! but then things started getting better for humans so it wasn't as fun anymore

Okay I've already talked a lot and will talk a lot in the future about this little idiot so that's all for now!!

[gimmethosedaddymilkers]

Your First Time with the Van Der Linde boys

Get ready for your first time, but, with some of the most notorious outlaws of the west >:3

This one was requested by @kieropal​

Don’t you worry! The chubby reader drabble requested by @mrsarthurmorgan7​ will be coming out later tonight too! 

Obviously this is a lil NSFW so under the cut and 18+!

Arthur Morgan

First things first Arthur because BArK 

Oh boy. 

Oh boy, oh boy. 

Poor, poor broken hearted and mentally ill Arthur.

When you tell him that you haven’t done the deed yet he isn’t at all upset that you haven’t done it, rather he’s upset you’ve decided you want him as your first. 

I mean.

He’s Arthur, of course he’s gonna sit here and tell you that he’s not good enough.

He’s gonna sit and go “You should be with someone better than me, especially for your first time. They’ll do better than I can, I don’t even know if I’ll please you.” 

But, after enough reassurance that you do in fact love him, and that his mannerisms alone are enough to get you hot and bothered he’s willing to give it a try, but don’t you DARE think that he’s not gonna ask you how you’re feeling through the whole thing. 

The BIG night comes around.

He’s a wreck

Sweating before he’s...well supposed to be sweating. 

Afraid that he’s gonna disappoint you, and I mean, it’s been a very long time since he’s done the hanky panky.

The good ol’ horizontal tango.

The devil’s dance

After Mary? He had a string of one night stands to try to forget her but they never went anywhere and after that-

it was almost a 10 year dry spell, besides his hand anyway.

He obviously doesn’t know how long he’ll actually last, and he’s not sure he remembers any of his techniques.

After you relax him, or rather work him up with an amazing makeout session, your hands all over him, he’s forgotten most of his issues.

It isn’t until he’s gotten your clothes off and you’re fully exposed to him that he panics again. 

You have to guide him, he’s too nervous to do it himself, so taking your hand you grab his wrist and gently place his hand on your breast. 

From there he feels like he has permission and goes kinda ham with the touching.

He’s so nervous and red in the face the whole time, making sure you like the way he’s doing things. 

When it gets to the nitty gritty he’s gentle as he possibly can be. 

He doesn’t want to hurt you, and he thinks that you’re exaggerating when you tell him how big he is but nonetheless he takes it into consideration and does his best to ease you into movement. 

While the two of you are basically cockwarming he’s doing nothing but offering you kisses, all over your face, your neck, whispering nothing but sweet things in your ear the whole time. 

When he does get things moving? 

Holy shit

You literally are blown away.

Not only is he fantastic with his mouth, but he knows EXACTLY how to fucking use his body. 

And with all the sound you make 

The whole camp is gonna know what happened and who had you, and that gives Arthur a MAJOR boost, and that nervousness dies a little and he’s driven on.

He pulls out obviously, especially with it being your first time, and when the two of you finish, (Him first to his embarrassment but he doesn’t leave you hanging by any means) he cleans you up and pulls you close

He asks a bunch of times if you liked it, but most of them are groggy. 

He’s half asleep the moment he gets settled, and he falls fully asleep with you running your fingers through his hair. 

Accurate representation of Kieran

Kieran this poor man.

If anyone has more anxiety than Arthur Morgan?

It’s him.

Look at him?

You think he’s a top?

NO 

he’s gotta figure out HOW to TOP

When you tell him 

“Hey, I love you, don’t freak out, but this will be my first time.” 

He absolutely does not listen to you and does in fact 

freak out

He asks you if you’re absolutely sure that you want him to be your first, or that you want to do it with him in general

and you tell him OF COURSE

and he’s like 99 percent sure that you’re lying to him, but he goes with it.

The whole week leading up to your night he nearly avoids you, just because if he imagines your faces and such he feels like a dirty man.

After you realize this you sit him down and have talk.

Telling him that what he feels is normal, and it’s especially normal to feel that way towards someone you’re with.

Then you explain to him that it actually flatters you that he’d think of you like that. 

From there he gets a little red in the face, and then

TheN 

things begin to get a little steamy.

You’d planned on going out of camp 

but things got a little heated, you started off comforting him, but somehow you ended up kissing him, and that kissing led to a little more kissing, and that led to a little more touching...

By the time the two of you are naked you’re completely unaware of how it happened. 

When its time for warm ups? 

He’s actually a lot more skilled than he lets on.

He’s a little slow, and way too nervous to do ANYTHING until you guide him and tell him that its okay a couple of times but...

He knows what he’s doing to an extent.

He needs guidance for sure, just like any guy, but somewhere along the line he learned a thing or two.

Now, when the main event comes up-

Wooo

he’s even more nervous, but coupled with that nervousness he’s got a hard on and one wins out over the other.

However.

He requests that you take the lead.

It’s your first time, and he wants you to be happy with the way things go, and for that to happen you need to dictate what goes on.

So 

He asks that you choose what to do

That and he’s a bottom of course

I’m kidding he tops sometimes, but for his first time with you he totally wants you to have all the control so it goes exactly how you’d like.

He’s very whiny throughout the whole thing.

Not in like a bad way, in a ‘he’s so horny for you it’s not funny and he just can’t not make that sound’ kind of way

With you riding him and his hands on your hips the night goes pretty smoothly.

He follows every order you give him fantastically. 

And when you two are finished he cleans you up as gently as he can, but then he’s hit with all of his insecurities that had disappeared in his throws of PASSION

He’ll ask over and over again if you’re alright, and call himself an idiot for not asking earlier. 

He feels so embarrassed that he did that and that he didn’t ask how you were feeling or that he didn’t make sure absolutely everything was okay.

But you reassure him that you had a great time and that you’d love to do it again with him later, but you’re half asleep and he doesn’t really believe you.

You pull him to your chest and make him lay his head on your collar bone and you just run your hand through his hair, and hold him close. 

He settles down a little then but will ask one more time if you’re sure you were okay and that it was good.

And again you tell him how much you enjoyed it and eventually the poor guy passes out in your arms.

IT”S ARTHUR’S BOYFRIEND

Oh Charles, the only man in camp who isn’t completely overcome with anxiety when he breaths.

Well besides Dutch, but that’s just because he’s cocky.

When you tell him it’s your first time, he’s not at all nervous.

He smiles at you and asks if you’re absolutely positive you want this, and that he’s the guy you want to be the one to take something so precious.

When you say yes that’s the end of the conversation. He’s asked you and you told him yes, unless you come to him and tell him otherwise he will go about his day with plans in his head for you. 

He will be very loving towards you leading up to it, which he usually is anyway, I mean, not in front of the gang, but in private. 

He’s always kind and he will mention to you that he will do his best to make the night a good one for you.

He’ll take you to the nicest hotel he can find for you. More than likely the one in Saint Denis. 

While the city itself is gross and horrible and he wished his didn’t have take you through there, but the hotel is good, and that’s where he’s gonna take you.

When the two of you get there and get to the room this man takes his time.

Of course before he even kisses you he does ask that you are absolutely sure that this is what you want. 

When you say yes all is a go.

He’s sweet and tender, and he goes slowly too, taking his time to kiss over your entire body and make sure that you know how he feels about you and what he loves about you. 

He gets you warmed up and excited easily, and you let him know that, you tell him exactly what he does that turns you on, and he makes a mental note of every single thing that you tell him.

He wants to go rough with you at a different time, but now is not that time.

When you finally start begging him to have him rather than all the foreplay he caves and does just what you ask.

He is slow here too, stretching you to accommodate because like Arthur he’s fairly big himself. 

When you do get used to him the two of you move in tandem and he moves at a good pace, slow but not too slow, and the night seems to last forever, but you do not mind in the SLIGHTESt.

When the two of you finish he wipes you clean, but not too clean, because he then takes you to the adjacent room and the two of you take a nice relaxing bath together

The only reason that you don’t fall asleep in there is because he’s there to wake you when he needs to. 

When you go to bed you fall asleep with his strong arms around your waist and you smile in your sleep, which he remembers for the rest of his life.

I am not a dutch girl but look at his lil leggys

Dutch is a different man, one of a different caliber. 

So when you tell him that you want him to be your first

he is 

EXCITED

he’s ecstatic

The idea that he is the one

HIM 

IT’s

HIM 

he gets to do it, he’s poppin the cherry, he gets to make you BUCK WILD

he loses it 

of course he promises that he’ll make it good and that he’ll be nice to you, but he is extremely excited to do this with you.

He does love you, really he does, he’s just a bit of a, well a chad to be real

He does in fact make sure that the night will be ABSOLUTELY perfect for you.

The best hotel, the theater, anything and everything high class, he even wears a suit.

And unlike Charles he isnt a gentleman, so when it comes time for business it’s bath first and then bed.

And the bath is where things get heated.

He starts with kissing you on the shoulders, on the neck, something innocent, but his hands are travelling lower than they should have, and by the time you realize it you’re far too excited to say no to him.

He tells you, you have to be quiet otherwise the two of you will be thrown out.

And he tells you that you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his life. 

He does a lot of sweet talking to you, working you up, using his fingers just the right way.

When you feel his hardness on your ass you take things into your own hands

uh

figuratively this time

and take it upon yourself to move and settle yourself onto him.

From there he takes the lead and you know you’re gonna have bruises on your hips from where he’d gripped you.

He ends the night with actually cleaning you off in the bath, you know, what it’s supposed to be used for, and then takes you to the bedroom where the two of you go for round two because Dutch is still hyped up on the fact that the only cock that’s ever been in you has been his.

Finally after round two you’re too tired and too bruised to go another round, but it’s a happy, hazy kind of tired and bruised.

He smokes a cigar and then before you know it he’s spooning you to sleep.

OKAY 

I really liked doing these y’all! 

Let me know if anyone would like some of the other men in camp 

idk why these ones specifically I just kinda

CHOSE

[heyidkyay]

Blueberry Muffin |

Okay, haven't posted anything much like this before but I've been sick, bored out of my mind, and have recently gotten reacquainted with my love for The 1975. So here's a cringy and crappy short fic for all my Matty Healy fans:) Just a forewarning, this hasn't been edited.

Summary: London, its many strangers, and a whole lot of guessing..?

Mentions: anxiety, food

--

Fuck.

Fuck-fuck-fucking-fuck.

The grit of my teeth had long since begun to hurt my jaw as I ground them together, but I paid it no mind and just continued to aimlessly tap away at my upper thigh. Questioning, once again, why I had forced myself into another one of these situations. Fucking London.

It wasn’t that I was some sort of recluse or anything like that, promise. It’s just that somedays my anxiety grew so intense it made me want to hide away from everything and anything. Even myself. 

But I’d had a somewhat decent nights sleep and woke up feeling alright, so I’d decided to venture out into the city to pick up some things I’d been putting off for a while now. December had come and gone, Christmas a bleary haze, and now that the January sales had finally died down, I figured that things might not be as hectic as they typically were so that I could just pop in and out. 

I really should’ve known better. 

London, even on the slowest of all days, was nothing if not polluted by people. And if there was one thing you could truly rely on, was that not a single one of them gave a shit about you. No, there was none of that Northern politeness here down south. And Central was the worst for it.

Still, it was home, and most days I liked the feeling of being nearly invisible. Because the city was also so incredibly easy to lose yourself in, you could blend seamlessly into the masses and nobody would be none the wiser. Yeah, there was a bump to the shoulder here, and the beep of an oncoming cab there. But no one remembered your face, or even the unhelpful apology that usually followed without a second glance.

Albeit saying that, here I was, stood on some random street corner, somewhere between Carnaby and Soho, outside a cafe or some other, struggling to resemble the simple act of appearing calm.

I was beyond ready to just head home, but knowing the underground like I did and the thought of having to sit within such a close proximity to a hundred other commuters was not something I felt like would help very much at this moment. So I’d ultimately decided to just head over to the nearest coffee shop and grab myself a brew. But yet, I was still stood here, agonising over the fact that to do exactly that, I would ultimately have to go inside and interact with even more people.

It seemed that my anxiety was winning the war this time around, because I just could not see myself doing it. So instead, I kept loitering, letting my eyes roam over the rest of the people that passed by me blissfully unaware. 

As mad as London was, it was also one of the best places to people-watch, there were thousands of people constantly bustling there way around and each of them wore some part of their story on their person. Whether it was a wine stained blouse, an exaggerated yawn, or a neon coloured mohawk peaking ten inches above an otherwise balding head.

So I found myself just idly watching as I took a moment to breathe, propping myself up against the nearest brick wall.

There were a bunch of school lads pissing about a little down the way, shoving and laughing amongst themselves whilst a couple of older women shook their heads in passing. I rolled my eyes and transferred my attention. I couldn’t help but chuckle under my breath at the grinning toddler who then blew past, a struggling parent staggering behind.

The wind today seemed gentle, although a tad bit cold, so I dragged the sleeves of my jumper down over my hands in an attempt to warm them slightly. It was then that a larger group caught my gaze. They had congregated just outside the tiny cafe I was stood beside, six or seven girls around my age, perhaps a little bit younger, all appeared to be clawing for the attention of some bloke they’d crowded around. I surveyed them a little in amusement- Oh, what most men would give, I thought with a soft snort.

I couldn’t see much of him, the man, just the top of his head really. A mass of dark curls. He appeared to be taking the sudden devotion in his stride though, talking back and forth animately, nodding along with enough enthusiasm that his hair sort of followed in a bounce of its own.

Another breeze hit then and as I shivered I wished that I’d remembered to grab my scarf on the way out this morning instead of just my headphones- which, were now almost completely dead. I was helplessly trying to save the last of their battery for the journey home, hoping they’d prove to be a welcomed distraction.

But when I glanced back up, I found that the group had dispersed somewhat. The girls were now wandering further away, all of them adorning huge smiles as their excited eyes kept trailing back over their shoulders. The guy though, had seemed to sort of vanish. Probably having slipped back into the oncoming traffic of people, I supposed. It was then that I silently scolded myself when I noticed I’d been rubbing the back of my thumb over my teeth again. It was an anxious tick of sorts, one that sometimes left my hands raw, and something my mum wholeheartedly hated. 

I smiled slightly at the reminder of her, she’d have started swatting as soon as I’d started up. 

Should probably give her a call later, now that I thought about it, maybe on the way home if I still felt like crap. That woman was godawful when it came to talking, could chat about absolutely anything at the best of times, but always knew how to best cheer me up.

“You alright?” Came a sudden voice, startling me from my tangent of thoughts.

I snapped my head over to where a man now stood about a foot away, leaning casually against the same wall, with a cigarette hanging from his lower lip. He seemed ready to light it from the way he was cradling a lighter just by his chin, but had paused once he’d taken note of my presence.

“Uh,” I stumbled, slightly taken aback. I’d not even realised he’d been stood there, nor was I prepared for an actual conversation. “Yeah, you?” I forced out on instinct, confused by the sudden exchange but not bewildered enough to not give that typical greeting its usual half-arsed reply.

The guy hummed as he lit his cigarette, taking a quick drag before he let it hang loosely between his fingertips. My brow furrowed, certain that this was the same bloke I’d just seen, the one who’d suddenly disappeared from his swarm of adoring fans.

“It’s just,” The man begun again, blowing remnants of smoke out the side of his mouth. “You seem a little jumpy, like you’re waiting for something to happen. Wanted to know what I was getting myself into, standing here beside you. Not plotting nothing, are you?”

I choked a little on my next laugh, a bit disbelieving. “And if I was?” I found myself asking before I could think better of it. 

As the guy shrugged, his lip curled enough to make his nose twitch. The picture of indifference. 

Then he turned to me with a shit-eating grin, “So go on then, who’re you stalking? An old flame, the one who got away… A maths teacher who gave you a crappy mark?”

I quirked a brow. 

“Um,” Unable to stop myself from blowing out a quiet chuckle, “None of the above?” Phrasing it like a question.

“How boring.” The guy dragged out, letting his head fall against the brick work, his curls cushioning its landing. He looked at me then, and I could sort of make out where his eyes were from behind the dark shades he was wearing.

I hummed, feigning offence. “That hurts, coming from you- the guy wearing sunglasses on a day without sun.”

His mouth twitched as he took another drag. “It’s London, love. There’s never any sun.”

I shook my head at him and looked away in attempt to hide my smile.

It was quiet for a few moments after that, but he was still stood there so I figured that that had been the end of our short interaction. My anxiety had dulled somewhat but I couldn’t help the way I’d begun to play with the zip of my jacket, eyes scanning the crowds as my mind found a soft rhythm in the metal’s sound. 

My attention differed when I heard him move again and glanced over to find him stumping out his fag beneath the heel of his boot. When he met my gaze he held it for a slow second before he said, “Wait here, yeah.”

He wandered off then, too quickly for me to question him or utter a reply to that strange demand, he’d just left me to watch him round the corner. 

And so I frowned, staring into the space he’d just occupied, before a huffy laugh slipped out and I found myself shaking my head once again.

Living in London, you met the oddest sorts. Someone asking for something or other as they passed you by, another nutter off their head offering up their life story as you waited for the bus to come. But I’d never really had an exchange like that.

Wait here. I mulled the words over.

With nothing better to do, and not really sensing any immediate danger headed my way, I decided to take perch on the cobbled curb of the side street I’d been lingering on. If I was going to wait, then I’d sit and do so. I couldn’t much be arsed to stand about any longer. My legs were already stiff from standing for ages trying to pluck up enough courage to head into that stupid coffee shop, and the wind had decided then to pick up. 

Besides, the guy hadn’t been half-bad to look at, I could see why the girls had grown quite attached. 

So it was there that the stranger found me when he returned, lips pursed as he rounded the corner. When he noticed me sat there though his smile widened and he manoeuvred himself quite quickly onto the curb beside me, easily enough that he didn’t upset the cardboard tray he held in one hand and the bag he had in the other.

“Thought you’d wandered off for a second there.” He commented, dropping the bag between his folded legs to pluck a drink from the tray. He then handed the warm cup to me and I seemed to take it on impulse. “Good that you hadn’t though, would’ve gone to waste otherwise.” He added as he gestured with his head towards the steaming cup I now cradled confusedly. He was rummaging around for the bag again before I could even work up the words to question what was happening. He tossed it towards me. “That too.”

“Um…” I said, eyes flitting between the drink, the bag, and the man himself. 

“A thanks wouldn’t go amiss.” I heard him say, and finally looked back up to find him wearing an amused but cocky smirk.

“What?”

He gestured at the cup again and I peered down, taking note of the logo which I then realised belonged to small cafe sat beside us.

“This is for me?”

He just stared blankly back at me.

“Why?” I finally questioned, coming to my senses.

“Why not?” He retorted smartly, already sipping at his own drink.

I blinked whilst I tucked a small strand of hair behind my ear, unsure.

“It’s not poisoned.”

With a unhelpful snort I said, “Sounds promising. What is it then?”

“Was gonna grab you a coffee- figure, everyone likes coffee.” He started with an animated shrug. “But you seemed a bit jittery already, so went with tea instead. Oh,” He stopped to pull a couple of tiny pots from his coat pocket and dumped them onto the road between us. “Milk.”

“And if I liked sugar?” I found myself teasing as I opened the plastic lid, pouring in a good amount of milk into the dark brew. I blew at the rim to watch the steam whirl into the air before I took a small sip, my eyes found his, still hidden behind those dark glasses he wore.

“Then I’d tell you to go fuck yourself.”

“Fair enough.” I chuckled, liking his bluntness, then held up the cup as I added, “Thank you, though- for this.”

He simply waved me off. As though it was no big deal.

I set the tea down on the pavement beside me for a moment to peer into the bag he’d tossed my way. I tried to bite back a pleased grin when I turned to him. “We’re sharing this, by the way.”

His forehead wrinkled from over his cup.

“Bossy, I like it.” Was what he came out with, before he dipped his chin slightly in discouragement. “But no, you’re all good. Have it.”

I shook my head at him. “Come on, we can split it.” I said, already pulling the sweet treat he’d purchased halfway out of the paper bag. 

He quirked a brow. “How? It’s a muffin, just keep it.”

“It’s blueberry though.”

The guy just looked back at me, lost but somewhat curious. “What the fuck does it being blueberry have to do with it?”

“Everything. Blueberry muffins are the best sort.” I shrugged as though the answer had been obvious, pulling at the cake’s top to split it horizontally through the middle. I handed him his half then shook the crumbs off of my jacket sleeve. “I’m taking the top part though, sorry.” I added, already tearing into the dome shaped top.

He adverted his gaze between myself and the cased muffin’s bottom a few times. Almost like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

I hummed in appreciation at the sweet flavour that coated my tongue before peering back over at him, he seemed to be watching me but I couldn’t be sure.

“What?” I question, feeling a tad self-conscious under his gaze.

“Blueberry. You’re claiming that blueberry is the best of all the muffin flavours. That’s astounding to be frank. I’m actually baffled. I mean, blueberry… Really?”

I merely grinned.

“Really.”

He shook his head, holding his tongue between his front teeth to keep from smiling too.

He kicked a leg out then, sitting his drink on the gravel road to take a taste of the soft treat. He seemed to mull the flavour over a bit before he finally grunted, “It’s alright.”

“Alright? Just alright?” I retorted, almost offended on the muffin’s behalf. “This-“ I held up my segment, “is almost perfect.”

One word seemed to catch his attention though, he cocked a brow. “Almost?”

I hummed, not bothering with a reply as I broke off another chunk and tossed it into my mouth.

His tongue danced over his lower lip and left the topic be. I took the moment to grab my tea again, appreciating the warmth of it in my palms. That’s when I caught the name sharpied onto its side.

I snorted, “What’s with Frankenstein?”

His eyebrows lifted up over the rim of his glasses as he turned to face me, but he seemed to make sense of what I’d meant when he caught me cradling the cup. He laughed but didn’t comment any further.

I couldn’t help my smile by this point, “Come on. What’s your real name then?”

He smirked. “Now where’s the fun in that?”

“Um, so I can thank you properly?” I suggested, but immediately wished I hadn’t.

“Properly, hm?” He parroted back, that cocky smile of his was back in full beam. “I can think of a hundred different ways you could thank me properly without even needing to know my name.”

His grin only grew wider when he saw the mostly disgusted look plastered on my face. I scoffed playfully.

“I might’ve just been stood on a street corner, but I can promise you now that that’s not happening.”

A sharp bark erupted from him, but it didn’t seem to garner any attention from anyone else, as though we’d created our own little bubble. “I like it. But we’ll see.”

I rolled my eyes but decided to move on. “You’re really not going to give me your name then?”

He acted as though he was mulling it over. “What do I get in return?” He asked with a small jerk of his chin, then seeing my unimpressed stare, he added, “I’m just messing about, darling. How about- you guess it.”

“You’re not being serious.” At his nod, I all but groaned, “How am I supposed to guess your name? Do you know how long we could be sat here?”

He shrugged a shoulder and went in for another bite of the blueberry muffin. “Don’t know, but you’re the one who’s guessing so I’d get started.”

I thinned my lips. “At least give me a clue then.”

He eyed me for a moment, then wiped at his mouth before he ultimately dipped his head. “Alright. But this is your only one, yeah?”

I thought about it briefly then nodded unhappily, it was probably the best offer I was going to get out of him. 

He grinned as though he’d won some sort of prize, but before I could snark back he was prattling away again. “Okay. It’s common, I’ll give you that. But that's all you’re getting.”

“Common.” I thought about it as I brought a knee up to my chest to rest my chin against. “So are we talking Bible sort of common, or just British?”

“Ah, ah, ah. That’s cheating. Only the one clue, remember.”

I exhaled huffily before chewing on the inside of my cheek. 

“Jack.” I guessed.

He shook his head.

“John?”

He snorted, “No.”

“James? Jacob!”

“Fuck me, what’s with all the J’s?”

“So it doesn’t start with a J.” I smiled triumphantly but my victory was rapidly swept away when he hit back with, “Never said that.”

Even with his denial, I switched it up a bit and took the time to carefully observe him. He definitely seemed like someone who owned his name. Meaning, that he wasn’t a Tom who looked a lot more like a Harry. 

Immediately I removed those two names from the mental list I was rapidly curating, deciding that they didn’t much suit him.

I was almost unaware of myself as I looked at him, taking in the small details he offered to the world. The hollow of his cheeks, the scruff on his chin, the wrinkles dotted around his mouth and hairline. I wished for a moment to see the colour of his eyes then, believing that they might share a few more of his secrets.

“Oli?” I tried, then instantly decided against it, “How about George?”

He shook his head again at the first, and laughed a little harder at the second. I chewed at my lip. 

“This is difficult.”

He hummed, obviously finding amusement in my struggle as he sipped at his drink again.

I tapped away at my knee before kicking my leg out in mild frustration, not thinking too hard about the way my boot had lightly nicked his extended leg.

“Um,” I drawled out in dwindling thought. “William, but you keep it short… So, Will?”

“Nope.” 

“Christopher?”

“Look, you’re close with the length.” He mentioned. 

I grinned at him in complete surprise and he grunted unhappily when the realisation hit him that he’d just offered me up another clue.

“Nicholas? I think you could be a Nick-” I paused, tilting my head one way, then another. “No wait, actually no.” I grimaced at the thought, then sighed. “I have zero clue here.”

“Ah, come on, love. You can’t give up just as you’re getting close.” He encouraged, I pulled a face at him, hating the fact that he was finding this whole charade entertaining.

“Just tell me.” I pleaded.

“Nah.”

“Come on. Why not?”

He shook his head, smiling all the while. “‘Cause.”

I narrowed my eyes.

Taking another aggressive bite out of my muffin, I let my gaze roam over his attire, taking in the dark oversized pilots jacket he had layered over a slightly longer linen shirt, which was a few shades lighter than that of his trousers. The trousers were crumpled from the way he’d chosen to sit but otherwise seemed to fit him well, a beige sort of colour that led straight into a pair of heavy black docs.

A few more names lingered on the tip of my tongue but ultimately I decided on, “Matthew.”

His face perked up upon hearing it and I was celebrating before he could even confirm it for me. 

“Fucking dragged that out.” He said with false fatigue, to which I swatted his arm for, but he leant away, chuckling all the while. 

When I relented he made a show out of repositioning himself- somewhat closer now than he had originally been, which I vaguely noticed but chose not to comment on. He rubbed at the tip of his nose briefly then, before he finally- finally- tugged off those godawful glasses he wore, making a home for them in his nest of curls.

I quietened down.

Brown. His eyes were brown. And they were bright and earnest and wrinkled by his smile.

I couldn’t not grin right back at him. 

“Matthew.” I practically declared, happy to have won. 

He shook his head in laughter, “Now, before you go getting ahead of yourself, it’s actually Matty.”

Hm, yeah, that sounded more like him. 

“Matty.” I couldn’t help but repeat, somewhat quieter than before.

We shared a look then that seemed to last a century and yet a second. I blinked. 

“Am I gonna have to guess yours now? Payback and all that.” Matty queried, and had somehow procured a pack of cigarettes in his hands. He lit one.  

“Oo, should I?” I ask, half tempted, and finished off the dregs of my muffin, wiping away what little remained. “Feel like we’d be here all day then.”

Matty offered up the lit cigarette. He’d already taken a slow drag, and I wasn’t much of a smoker, but it had honestly been a day, so I accepted, watching him as I inhaled.

“Is it something cool?” He quizzed, palms splayed out now across the pavement behind us as he relaxed further. I frowned at him, not catching what he meant. “Your name.” He chuckled.

“Oh, I dunno really. Bit uncool to say your name’s cool though, ain’t it?”

“Depends on whether your name’s actually cool or not.” Matty commented, and I couldn’t not laugh as he continued on, “If you’ve got a generic fucking name like- I don’t know- Andy, and think it’s proper cool then that’s just a bit sad. I mean, Andy. Really? How bland can you be? But you come out with something like Megatron, then…” He shrugged, “You’re sort of set for life. Kids will think your sick, and you’d be in there the second you mention it when you’re out trying to pull.”

“I fucking doubt that.”

“Ah, come on! You mean to tell me you wouldn’t shag a bloke called Ezekiel or some crap like that?” Matty demanded, seemingly in disbelief.

“Ezekiel- where the fuck have you just pulled that name from?” I couldn’t not ask.

“Hebrew, ain't it?” Matty brushed over, before continuing on with his argument. I just sat there and listened, chiming in here and there to wind him up further, but was mostly entertained by his take on the topic.

“Fuck!” He all but shouted with a strangled sort of laugh— in the time he’d been ranting, he’d already lit two more cigarettes and downed the last of his coffee. “Why’d you let me ramble on? I was meant to be getting your name!”

I smiled and moved to sit in a more comfortable position, crossing my legs. “You can talk for England, you. Not my fault you don’t know when to shut up.”

Matty didn’t seem to mind the jeering, he snorted as he sidled closer on the curb. “So go on, your name.” He prompted, brown eyes teasing and bright under the afternoon sun.

I rolled my own before letting them stray to the left, up and over to where people still seemed to be bustling past the side street, unaware of us, or just uncaring.

“Y/n.” I relented, turning my head back towards Matty.

He stared long and hard at me for a second, appearing to rest my name between the cusp of his teeth, right there on the tip of his tongue. And then he spoke, “Y/n. Suits you.” 

I quirked a brow, “Oh, yeah?”

Matty hummed with a smile. “Yeah. Reckon I could’ve guessed it easily.”

I couldn’t help the god awful snort I released as I shook my head in exasperation, hair brushing against the shoulders of my jacket as it fell forward. “You’re a twat.”

But he didn’t seem to mind it.

[otakugoddes]

"Better Suited" Megumi Fushiguro X Reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Featuring: Megumi Fushiguro

Warnings: Mentions of misogyny and sexism and the death of Toji Fushiguro/Zen'in; mild Profanity; the Zen'in Clan (they're a walking red flag and you know it, except Maki, she's a KING).

Type: Tooth-Rotting Fluff

Scenario: You've been pondering which last name suits Megumi, and he convinces you why its Fushiguro.

GN! Reader (You/your)

A/N: Latest JJK chapters have me fucked up, but I am so gonna write some Angst on it. Anyway, I wrote this self-indulgent piece because it was my birthday yesterday.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Fushiguro Or Zen’in? Zen’in or Fushiguro?” You pondered the two last names, writing both of them  on the blank notepad page in front of you, even though you were deep in thought--it was very easy to see which one you were biased towards. 

Megumi was your boyfriend and since he went currently by Fushiguro because of his dead father, you were definitely leaning towards his recent last name. 

The Zen’in clan were not a clan you would want to be associated with no matter what, they were a bunch of misogynistic, sexist, detestable bastards whose ideals and traditions ran deep in their prodigious bloodline--at least the men were. Females were not even a footnote to be considered anything other than the bearers of their heirs.

You suppose you were glad Megumi grew up away from the influence of the Zen’in clan, not that he would have turned out like any of them either way. 

“Megumi Fushiguro; Megumi Zen’in?” You chewed on the end of the pencil. 

Why was it so hard to figure out the obvious?

Well, despite being biased towards Megumi--you were also very fond and biased towards one of his aunts, Maki--who did have the last name with none of the privileges or loyalties to the title. 

Maki still kept her last name, a sort of proof to those bastards when one day she would become a great sorcerer without their influences, and you were inspired by that. You wouldn’t want their last name but you did consider the possibilities. 

While laying on your bed, you thought of how different Megumi was compared to them. They would never be as kind to you, regardless of your family lineage or cursed energy and technique.

“Megumi Zen’in and (Name) Zen’in. Megumi Fushiguro and (Name) Fushiguro,” the latter was said with a bit of a giggle in your tone, after you wrote the latter down--you couldn’t help but chuckle and kick your feet. 

“What are you doing? Reading something?” Megumi gave you an amused look. 

You rolled your eyes at him and patted the bed beside you, he took the hint and sat next to you with his legs swinging off the edge of the bed. 

“I was thinking about your last name. Even though you have two, I was considering which one better suited you. The answer is obvious but then I fucking got caught up trying to think about it again!” You explained and he looked at your notes. 

He sighed, “Well, I am a Zen’in in blood, but I don’t want shit to do with them. Thanks to my dad, I’m now Fushiguro. Simple as that!” He clearly did not understand your dilemma.

“That still doesn’t help me, dumbass!” 

“What do you mean?”

“Which one would suit you better?” 

“I thought you already said Fushiguro sounded better?”

Your back and forth made you groan aloud before tossing your book and pen next to you, the fact that you’d have to explain it to him was worse. 

He seemed to sense your disappointment for not resolving the issue, Megumi took your hand and lifted it to his lips, “I don’t care if I’m a Zen’in, if I had gone through with a life they lived I would never have met you, I don’t think I could live with that. Besides, you told you love me as Fushiguro and if that’s the case, fuck the Zen’in clan and my bloodline! And even if you love me as Zen’in, I’d still want you to be happy regardless.” He finished with a small kiss to the back of your hand and gazed down at you. 

Damn him. 

Why did he have to have such a way with words when helping you get over something?

You sighed and grinned, “Okay then, just so you know, the whole debate was because I was trying to figure out if Fushiguro or Zen’in would better suit me.”

He blushed and tensed up a bit, “W-what do you mean by that?!”

You shrugged and started doodling on your page, “I mean, you don’t care but you prefer Fushiguro and so do I, so I’ll gladly take Fushiguro as my last name,” you were being nonchalant but eyeing him from the corner of your eye, he was blushing very much after finally knowing what you were implying. 

“You mean it? You’d take Fushiguro as your last name when we get married?” He was excited now, you could hear it in his tone--you decided to tease him, “Whoa buster! We barely graduated yet, one hurdle at a time!”  You caught his deflated shoulders.

You nudged him, “Of course I would take Fushiguro as my last name, or you could take mine,” It was half a joke but he looked like he was extremely considering the latter, which shocked you a bit. 

Which lead to you turning over the page, Megumi took the pen and started doodling himself, you looked over to see but he shifted on the bed. You rolled over onto your back to watch him hover above you, his left hand sliding up your arm to intertwine your fingers. 

“Even though I would gladly take your last name, I always thought Fushiguro better suited you,” With those words he leaned down and claimed your lips before you could answer positively, when you stopped kissing him you read what he wrote on the paper. It read: (Name) Fushiguro, and had a circle drawn around it, you chuckled. 

How possessive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[erwinsvow]

𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟

for the 𝐝𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 collab <3

summary: you've always been fond of your step-brother, jean, despite how much he tries to avoid spending time with you. he finally reaches his breaking point when he sees you talking to eren, though.

warnings: step-cest, slight manipulation (reader), possessive behavior, teasing + edging, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), degradation, rough sex, creampie, jean is a good boy and reader is a fiend

author's note: i hope everyone likes this!!! i'm thinking about creating a step-cest series, let me know who should be next! tagging the lovely @yeagerslut & sending a big thank you for creating this collab! <3

Jean can never really peel his eyes away from you, no matter how hard he tries. At first it was subtle glances, like staring at the exposed skin of your supple thighs from his place beside his mom, when she was first introducing you and your father to him.

His first thought, besides the fact that it’ll be nice to have a sibling in the house with him every once in a while, is that your dress is incredibly short. So short that he wonders how you’re allowed to leave the house in something like that. If it was up to him, he wouldn’t let you, that’s for sure.

He quickly remembers that it’s not up to him, and that it’s not his place to be worrying about the length of your hem. Jean tries to suppress the strange, sudden burning feeling in his chest when he thinks about you wearing something as short as that when he has his friends over. No, that won’t be allowed.

He’ll have to tell someone about it, at some point, because he can’t stand the unusual jealousy he feels stirring at the idea of one of his friends looking at you while you’re wearing that.

His thoughts are cut short when his mother tells you two to get acquainted, while your dad and her head to the kitchen to prepare dinner. Jean almost doesn’t want them to leave, doesn’t want to be left alone with you and those legs and that dress, but he doesn’t have any say in the matter.

Your first words to your new step-brother are carefully calculated. In fact, you've been deciding everything carefully. The way you did your hair, the dress you’ve chosen that’s much too short for a family dinner but it’s not like someone can stop you, even the pink lip gloss you reapplied in the car before entering the house. Everything has its purpose, its place, with one goal in mind: see how long it takes for Jean to crack.

“I’m so excited to finally have a big brother, Jean!” you let out in a cheerful, chirpy voice that doesn’t match your insidious thoughts at all. You close the bridge separating you two with a few steps, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down into a hug.

It’s so sudden, so unforeseen that he stumbles a little, letting his tall figure be pulled by your efforts and arms wrapping around your waist for support. And before he knows it, the sweet smell of your perfume is invading all his senses and leaving him with nothing to think about except you.

He takes it all in, the lingering scent of shampoo in your hair, something fruity, he thinks off-hand, the feel of your soft skin on the back of his neck, your cheek against his, but especially the way your breasts feel against his chest.

He pulls away before you want him to, and you begrudgingly allow him to, recognizing what a challenge it’ll be. But you’re always up for a challenge.

The first few months pass by in the blink of an eye for you, and dragging on and on for him. Jean tries to avoid interactions with you since that first meeting, but it’s hard to when you’re living in the same house as him. Even harder when your bedroom is right next to his, his mother offering up his assistance to help you move boxes and get settled while she and her new husband go out to dinner.

It’s ridiculous, the way he flushes bright red when he opens boxes and suitcases filled with clothing he doesn’t want to look at, all short skirts and sun-dresses and delicate panties that he tries and fails not to stare at.

You keep your gaze away, knowing exactly which suitcase you had given him to unpack, while you organize books on the shelves of the room and sort knick-knacks.

“Won’t it be nice sharing a wall?” you comment, adjusting a frame on your nightstand and not meeting Jean’s eyes. “I think it’ll be fun to have you so close.”

Jean chokes on the water he was drinking, gasping for air and trying to process your words all at once, when you finally turn around and smile. A smile that he thinks should be illegal, given the way it’s innocence personified when you’re actually a little devil.

He leaves a little bit after that, calling out that he’s not hungry when you knock on his door for dinner, but you don’t miss the way he sounds breathless, or the panties missing from your drawers.

Every challenge gets easier, right?

It doesn’t take long for your behavior to get a little out of hand, especially when the two of you have so much alone time together. Your parents are gone all the time, frequenting dinner parties and double dates, and not coming back until late at night.

Jean tries his best to keep away. While he had once been the friend whose house was always available for sleepovers, movie nights, and the like, he was now keeping everyone away. Every time your parents’ car left the driveway, Jean followed suit, either hopping into Connie’s Jeep or walking the short distance to Sasha’s place and leaving you alone.

He was hoping no one would notice, but of course someone did, and of course that someone was Eren.

“We can’t do my place again,” Sasha says, absentmindedly reaching for the bag of chips which Connie yanks out of her reach. “My dad’s having people over.” A swat to the back of Connie’s head gets her back the snack quickly.

“How come we can’t do Jean’s place like usual?” Eren asks, reclining back in his seat and enjoying the panicked expression on Jean’s face. “There something wrong with that new sister of yours?” Jean chokes back a cough.

“No.”

“Does she always have friends over, or something?”

“No.”

“Then it’s settled,” Eren says, bringing his hands together. “Jean’s place it is.” Shit, Jean. Better come up with something quick.

“We- we can’t do my place!” he sputters out much too loudly, meeting the gaze of every person in the room.

“Any reason why, Jean-bo?” Eren asks.

“I- we- what if she’s not okay with having a bunch of loud-mouthed idiots sleeping over?” Shitty, but it’s the best he can think of when he’s so concerned with keeping everyone away from you.

If you behave like that with parents in the house, how are you gonna behave with his friends around? He doesn’t wanna take the chance to find out.

“How about you call and ask, dumb-ass?” Connie suggests, shoving his phone at him and waiting with a confused look. Jean lets out a defeated sigh, knowing how this phone call will go.

Your loud, chirpy “I’m perfectly fine with that, silly! I’ve been waiting to meet your friends..” can be heard through the phone and answers Eren’s question.

Jean searches for a reason, any reason really, to keep this sleepover from happening, but realizes that he’s failed miserably when all his friends appear, clad with pillows and overnight bags, on his front door. “So,” Eren begins, with a wolfish grin on his face that Jean wants to punch right off, “Where’s the sister? It’s only polite to say hi, right?”

As if you’d been waiting for the cue, you poke your head out from the living room, that very same innocent and sweet smile gracing your face.

“Hi,” you, stepping out to greet his friends in the foyer. “It’s so nice to meet you all.”

Jean immediately regrets the fact that he never had that conversation with you about the length of your dresses. It always sat in the back of his head somewhere, though it was incredibly easy to dismiss when you would come sit next to him on the couch, dress riding up frequently and exposing more skin that he somehow always found himself entranced by.

Today the dress of choice is yellow, and though it does, in fact, cover everything it needs to, it doesn’t leave much to the imagination either. Jean almost feels like a schoolboy again, blushing at exposed shoulders and thighs, but he can’t help it when you’re clinging right to his side as you greet his friends.

“I’m Eren-”

“Hi, I’m Connie-”

“Ignore these two, I’m Sasha-” All meet each other at once. You let out a laugh at your step-brother’s funny friends, glancing up to see his expression, but all you see are signs of anger. Your smile dims a little, but picks right back at up when you notice the way Eren looks at you, and the way Jean looks at Eren.

A plan is working itself into creation in your head before you can help it, deviousness taking a hold on you as you smile brightly in favor of Eren over Jean. Your step-brother’s been keeping his distance all this time, but you’re about ready to force his hand.

You don’t miss the way Jean’s jaw tightens, his hand clenching into a fist at his side as he guides the group to the living room. Your original plan changes quickly, following them into the space and taking your usual place on the couch as you scan the various video games laid out.

“Eren, will you sit with me?” you ask in a gentle tone, one that Jean is all too familiar with. “I don’t know this game, can I watch you play first?”

“Don’t you have work to do, or something?” Jean blurts out without thinking, his only thought centered around getting you out of the room and as far away as he can.

“What work? It’s summer,” you reply, watching your step-brother’s cheeks turn red.

You’re not helping matters for Jean, as he watches Eren sit where he usually does, teeth clenched so hard his jaw hurts. He doesn’t think he could get more angry, until he notices Eren’s hand move to your knee, squeezing quickly but lingering entirely too long. There must be steam coming out of Jean’s ears at this point, watching this interaction between you two.

“Yeah, Jean, she can stick around to watch. Anything for your little sister, right?” “I’m not that much younger than you guys, you know,” you reply with a laugh, adjusting your position on the sofa and purposefully lifting the skirt of your dress for a second before letting it settle. If someone were looking, which both Jean and Eren were, they’d catch a glimpse of black panties, and they both did.

Jean is seeing red now, standing up without realizing why, ready to yank Yeager away from you, when the doorbell rings again. It stops Jean in his tracks. “That must be Marco,” Sasha reminds, looking up from the games to glance at Jean with confusion. “Aren’t you gonna go get that?”

“Y-yeah. I’ll be right back.” Jean locks eyes with you as he leaves the room, and you dejectedly sigh, leaning away from Eren. It’s no fun to mess around with another guy if Jean’s not there to see.

He guides Marco into the living room, and you greet him with a quick smile before giving your full attention back to Eren.

The next few hours are fun for you, and unbearable for Jean. Every time he spared a glance to you, you were pouring over Eren, asking questions about the game and insisting on clarification, leaning in much too close and supporting yourself on his shoulder as he explained another trivial rule to you.

Jean didn’t like any of it, not the way you laughed sweetly and played with your hair while talking to Eren, not the way your legs were on display and Eren’s sleazy hands kept finding its way back to them, none of it. What he couldn’t stand, though, was how you didn’t shy away from his touch and found any and every way to keep it going.

He’s at his limit when you go to your bedroom after dinner to change into pajamas, knowing what to expect from your nightwear. If he’s lucky, you’ll pick a big t-shirt and shorts, but he’s seen first-hand the silky slips and cotton sets you prefer to sleep in.

Jean doesn’t think he can handle the look on Eren’s face if you come down the stairs wearing one of those, so he lets his anger do the thinking for a minute when the others are fighting over snacks and who gets the couch versus the floor.

Eren’s waiting near the bottom of the stairs, looking at something on his phone when Jean approaches and glances quickly to make sure you’re still in your room.

“You better knock it off, Yeager, I’m serious,” he says, trying to contain his anger and keep his voice down. His words come out in a low grumble that he barely recognizes, body stiff and trying his best to intimidate Eren. It doesn’t seem to be working. “Knock off what?” Eren questions nonchalantly, amused that his suspicions were proving to be correct. Looks like Jean had a little thing for his step-sister after all.

Jean’s eyes unwittingly flit to the top of the stairs again, before he forces his gaze back to Eren, but the quick gesture isn’t missed by his so-called friend.

“Oh, I see. You want me to stop being so buddy-buddy with your step-sister, huh? You better tell that to her first, you know. She’s been all over me since the minute I met her.”

The sly smirk playing on his lips only makes Jean want to cave his face in all the more.

“You better watch it, you son of a-” Eren clicks his tongue to interrupt Jean.

“Come on now, Jean, you can’t really expect me to stop. I mean, it’s not like she’s my sister, right?” Eren says, with a strange look in his eyes as though he was tempting Jean to blow his cover.

Eren walks away to rejoin everyone in the living room, leaving Jean seething by the stairs and you in your bedroom, pressed against the door and clinging onto every word.

All night you had known Jean was getting agitated by your constant flirting and touchiness with Eren, but he hadn’t been close to cracking, or so it seemed. The fact that he even confronted Eren had your heart pounding in your chest, wondering if tonight might finally be the chance you had been waiting for. You hear Jean’s heavy foot steps walk away, and you decide that it’s all or nothing, now.

You leave your room and close the door gently, dressed in a pink camisole and shorts that were sure to get Eren’s attention for long enough for Jean to finally crack.

Just as you began the descent down the stairs, you heard footsteps coming back and were greeted with Jean at the foot of the stairs.

The look in his eyes was something you hadn’t seen before, something entirely different from the reserved, hesitant Jean you had gotten so used to.

No, this Jean was someone else, a mix of want and desire and shame pooling in his pretty eyes, looking at you as though you were the prey he had finally cornered.

Before you know it, Jean is in your bedroom and your back is pressed against the door roughly as his lips stay on yours and refuse to pull away. His tongue is hot in your mouth, and his hands feel as though they’re burning your skin with the heat they are radiating, groping your ass and the soft skin of your back as he explores your body. All the things he’d wanted to do for these last few months, that he’d forced himself to repress, finally coming out.

You moan into Jean’s mouth at the sudden feel of his hands on your tits, grabbing blindly and pinching your nipple roughly and suddenly, causing the moan to turn into a loud squeal. Jean clasps his free hand over your mouth.

“Shh, now,” he begins, staring into your eyes and making your core heat up uncomfortably as you realize your little challenge was finally over. You feel the wetness between your legs growing, pussy throbbing just at seeing Jean be so dominant for once. “We don't want anyone to hear, do we?”

You shake your head quickly to answer his question, having completely forgotten about the multiple guests just a floor away. You expect Jean to pull away, to tell you that he’ll take care of you after they’re all gone, some other time, but he doesn’t.

He pulls his hand away and leads two fingers to your mouth, guiding them into your willing mouth, latching your lips around them and sucking while swirling your tongue, getting them wet as he wanted.

“You know how long I’ve wanted this? Huh? Since the day I met you, that’s how long. And you’re such a fucking tease all the time, you know how unbearable it's been?” Jean says in a deep voice, his eyes observing your mouth continuing its work. You moan around his fingers, wanting to speak but no words come out.

He pulls his fingers away and leads them straight to your throbbing pussy, running one up and down your slit teasingly as you hold back a loud moan.

“P-please, Jean, please do something, I- oh!” Jean shoves the two digits into your tight hole without any warning at all, causing your whole body to shake at the sudden fullness.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it, you dirty slut? You wanted your big brother to get fed up and fuck you senseless, didn’t you? Say it,” he orders, fingers pumping in and out and his hand grazing your clit with every motion, causing you to moan as your body tenses. You can hardly process his words because of the pleasure you’re feeling, but his other hand finding your throat brings you back quickly.

“Say it. I won’t ask again.”

“Y-yes, Jean, I-I wanted big brother to fuck me, oh, yes-” You lose your thoughts again as his pace increases, making you squeal again before you clamp your mouth shut to make sure no one hears you. Your stomach is tensing and you know you’re so, so close, one more touch from Jean would have your orgasm washing over you like lightening spreading through your body, when he suddenly stops.

You gasp loudly at the sudden emptiness, feeling your orgasm dissipate as you buck up and clamp down against nothing at all. Jean’s fingers are in his mouth, tasting your wetness as you try to catch your breath and protest against the way he’s teasing you, but your pleas are met by deaf ears.

“Jean,” you moan desperately, clinging to his shoulders, “please, please, let me cum, please-”

“No. Filthy sluts that mess around with their big brother’s friends don’t get to cum,” he says gruffly, as you whine again and try to release yourself from his tight grip. It’s useless since he has you caged in, firm hands on your waist dragging you to the bed and throwing you on top of the soft covers.

“Please, I promise I’ll be a good girl,” you plead, using your sweetest voice and big. teary eyes to win Jean over, but it’s still useless.

“I said no,” he repeats, hovering over you and his hands finding their way to the bottom of your camisole. He pulls the skimpy top off of you quickly, revealing your tits. Your nipples harden at the sudden cool air, and Jean’s fingers find them once again, pinching and teasing as you moan into your pillow, desperately bucking your hips up for contact between your legs, to no avail. His hot mouth finds your nipple, flicking with his tongue as his hand plays with the other, before he pulls away quickly.

You whine again at the loss of stimulation, before you see Jean pulling down the band of his grey sweatpants and leaning back against the headboard.

“Prove to me that you deserve big brother’s cock,” he says, revealing his hard dick as it snaps against his stomach. “With your mouth. Now.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You reposition yourself, ass in the air and head at Jean’s crotch as you stare at his pretty, pink cock with wide eyes. You’d expected him to be big, but not like this, though you don’t have time to dwell on it as he grips it firmly and taps the angry, pink tip against your lips.

You hang your tongue out, spit collecting and falling all over his length before you finally take as much as you can into your mouth, sucking and swirling as your hands move up and down the rest that you can’t take.

“Just like that-” Jean begins before breaking into a loud moan. You pop him out of your mouth and keep stroking with your hands as you whisper for him to shush.

“What happened to being quiet, and everyone downstairs will hear, and-” You’re interrupted as Jean grips his cock and shoves it back into your mouth, gagging suddenly at the unexpected movement.

Jean stares at your obedient mouth, following his instructions without any sign of the brat he was so used to. As you cup his balls in your hand, he feels them tighten and knows he’s not gonna last much longer like this. He guides your head away from his cock, admiring the drool and spit on your face and the glassy eyes he’s longed to see.

“Jean, I wanna-”

“I don’t care what you want, sweetheart,” he says, a false sweetness in his voice that’s making you feel dizzy. “You’re gonna ride me now, you got that?”

Jean’s hands are firmly set on your hips, positioning you just as he wants as you hover above his leaking cock. You grind down quickly, desperate for friction on your throbbing clit, before Jean stops your motions with the tight grip he has on you. “Are you gonna make me repeat myself?” he questions, in a tone that makes you positive that you don't want to make him angry. You shake your head immediately, taking his dick in your hand and lining it up with your wet hole, before slowly sinking down.

“Oh, god-!” you let out, before clasping a hand over your mouth. You had never felt quite so full before, the stretching burn making heat course through your whole body, as you bottom out and clench hard. “Come on, baby, you know how long you’ve been begging for this? Don’t get shy on me now,” Jean says, and you regain your senses slowly. You start moving, up and down, just like he wants and speeding up as you feel your cunt gush against Jean.

You’re sure to be making a mess, but you can hardly care when your brain feels so cloudy and distracted at how good Jean feels inside you, and you start the grinding movement again. Jean entertains you for a minute, before grabbing your hips even tighter, nearly at a bruising grip now, and snapping his own hips to thrust into you.

You’re blabbering now, utterly senseless as Jean fucks you mercilessly. You know you’re being loud, but you just don’t care, not when Jean is hitting that one spot inside you that has you seeing stars before you know it, your hands on his shoulders and holding on for life.

“Are you close, baby? Are you gonna cum all over your brother’s big cock?” Jean teases, feeling you clench down harder and knowing he won’t be able to hold on much longer either. “Yes, yes, yes! Jean! Oh, Jean-” you finally feel the tight coil in your stomach snap, unaware of your own movements and surroundings as you focus on the pleasure Jean’s giving you. You yell out, cumming so intensely and shaking on top of Jean, twitching once more when you hear Jean groan and feel hot ropes of cum inside you.

Your throat feels dry and scratchy, heart pounding as you come down from your high. You feel Jean’s grip, much softer now, lead you off of his cock and lay you next to him on the bed. It’s a mess, and you don’t know how you’ll clean up with everyone downstairs and surely they’ve noticed you’re both still gone-but you still don’t care.

All you care about is the sound of Jean’s heart beat from your position on his chest, and the way his hands feel on your skin as he holds you close to his warm body.

“So,” he starts off quietly, “was it how you’ve been imagining it all this time?” You’re not looking at him, but you know he’s smiling.

“Mmh,” you hum contentedly, “even better.” You feel his body rumble with a laugh, and his hand reaches to cup your face and lean into you for a kiss. Just as your lips meet, you hear a sharp knock at the door.

“Might wanna hurry up, you two,” Eren calls out from the other side of the door. “The others are getting suspicious.”

[starshipsofstarlord]

hii, i absolutely loved your “yes ma’am” jj one shot, just wanted to say that if you plan on writing more of that i would really really love to read it :) idk if you take requests but if you do feel free to interpret this as one i guess, even tho it’s not very specific 😭 sorry i’m not good at this but anyways i hope you have a very good day !!

baby boy

this can be read as a part two, or seperately from this

jj maybank x reader / masterlist

summary; the boy that you have intimate instructs with shows up at your door, after getting in an altercation with his father. you make him feel better, by proceeding to do more than patch him up / warnings; domestic abuse, jj’s dad is a piece of shit, mummy kink, smut, oral sex (male and female receiving), 69ing, titty sucking

“Let me make you feel good.” JJ was a state, he was bruised black and blue, the injuries having endured the soothing chill of ice to help reduce the pain. Though he still winced as he sat up straighter, staring at you. A frown caused discord to contribute to his features, as he became distracted by the other things he would wish to do to you.

It was a passion of his to be between your legs, delivering supple amounts of pleasure. Since the first time he had done such a deed with you, he was put on quite the tantrum if he wasn’t allowed to. A pout coursed the pursing of his lips, enforcing you to tut at his demeanour.

Though tonight, if you were sure he could handle such matters, you would go easy on him. Usually you took great pride in littering hand prints along his body, more specifically his ass, but for now he had enough bruises creating a discourse in his skin. You wished you had an eraser, so that you could remove all the endurances that he had survived, as well as to make his horrid father disappear entirely from the picture.

JJ deserved vastly better, and you were going to take care of him, as long as he consented of course. He needed to absorb the fact that life was not all pain, even for pogues, there were things to take pleasure in, such as the beauty of the collaboration of human bodies; it was a force of nature, endured through fusion of conspired cruelty.

Everyone knew of the circumstances that the blond managed to survive in, half the time, he spent the time of his slumber beneath his friend John B’s unstructured roof, or like now, under yours, a place that he felt safe, and secured in the setting.

Here, there was no need for him to be fearful, it was a shelter for him to fawn in, to feel free to bare the nasty inflammation of purple digress across his chest, and the split in his brow that would take a couple of weeks to completely heel.

The bruises, swollen like forbidden plums, etched out of his body, staring you in the face, though, it only served as a fatal reminder of his father’s subject to inflict pain. Though his anger and resented ways of parenting were induced by heroine, filtering his veins with a poisonous role as a boy’s father.

There was emotion surfing upon the tide of JJ’s azure eyes, brill by the pain that resonated within the waves, permitting rolls of sorrow to persevere out from his forlorn irises, sending signals of unmistakable endurance towards you, as though he were pleading to be comforted.

Briskly, he nodded his head, without words, saying that he was fine with the matter of you making him feel better; in fact, the desire of being held, and soothed, was rather intent, twisted with the feeling of being carved into a motion of forgetting the rash circumstances that had permitted him to be taken in, and nurtured by your soft hands.

His nose burrowed into your shoulder, nestling into the locks that cascaded down, the shallow breaths that he took granting him to breathe normally for a second. Each time that he shut his eyes, he pictured the scene; it was on the porch, mid morning. He was just about to creep in, and grab any supplies that he had left in his room.

But his father had been waiting for his late arrival, sitting on the chair with disappointment written all over his face. It was terrifying, and what with JJ being the way he was, he did not even attempt to bite back words, instead he allowed his mouth to run freely, resulting in the morbid beating, that had his bones aching.

The treatment was a regular occurrence, but this was cusping his mindset to be scathed, even when he was in your presence, cooped up in his safety net of your physical contact, the abusive actions flickering far behind his eyes, like a silent movie that had him keening out for something more optimistic in referral to his future.

As your had slid down his flushed skin, he gulped, almost moaning out at the tenderness that your hand attributed alongside his beaten flesh. He felt like he had endured a battle, and he was lucky to have gotten out alive. The remnants of the war were scattered about like a platter of marble, there were lines striking his exterior, creating a crack in his appearance, as though he were broken, and he sure as hell felt that way.

But you wouldn’t allow him to think like that; he was not broken. Instead he was tarnished, but there was still chance of having the certification to be repaired. And you would do anything to make JJ, your sweet boy, feel obscenely better. He deserved the world, yet with the brunt of it, he had been handed life on a stick, carrying his burdens around like a ploy.

It was the price all that were born on the cut paid, enforcing the image of the figure eight to appear like a paradise, with strong walls to hide behind, and grave teams of people that would willingly support them, whether they were neighbours, of friends, or coworkers, or anyone. And not to mention, they had the dough to hire lawyers and attorneys to respond with privilege in defence of their actions.

The lower your hand crept down, as though it were preying for something to attain a hardy grip on, the more erect JJ’s cock became. He could feel himself twitch in his boxers, for that was all that he was clothed in, the fragrance of your shampoo seeping through the breaching of his nostrils only aiding the ramifications of his pulsating length, that was growing by the second.

To adjourn his frustrations out, JJ knew that he was not supposed to wisp his fingers through your hair, and thus instead, he bunched up the sheets beside him that were stretched out like a layer of monotone and neutral land, lightly rutting his hips in an upwards motion, hoping, even mindlessly praying, that you would shift your attention to the prodding that was expedited from the inside of his underwear.

“Oh baby boy, it’s okay. I’m here, and I am going to take real good care of you.” You spoke as you noticed his crotch standing to attention, and him whimpering for the same eye drawing scenario. From your condemned statement, a slither of colour paved his face, mostly concentrated on his cheeks.

Your JJ was inherently blushing, the heat crawling over and under his flesh, as though he were embarrassed by how quickly he had gotten aroused. However, there was no need for him to be, and you assured him by pressing firm kisses along his jaw line, nipping lightly on the skin, and tugging with restraint upon it.

Slipping from his lips, a guttural groan fumbled out, purchasing a content smile to break out onto your face. The distraction was plentiful, more so as your hand cupped his bulge, gently stroking the top through the material with the pad of your thumb. It was a circuit of stimulation, erupting a course of pleasure through his veins.

“Don’t wanna- mummy.” He whined, making you cock your head in staged dominance, glancing down at him, as he pleasingly held his gaze upon you, with his jaw tipped up so that he could get the best perspective of your face.

“Don’t wanna what baby?” You lightly tease him, causing his heart to rapidly flutter as you continue to caress him through the red of his boxer shorts. There was a visible patch of precum on the crimson material, soaking through the layer, as he languidly rolled his hips, and to exhibit him further comfort, you leant down, tasting its sweet salted flavour in your tongue as you ran your tongue over the fabric.

Tugging at the rim of his underwear, you watched as his cock flipped out of the confines, bobbing up on the canvas of his stomach, with the layer of precum swiped over his tip, a little stretched down the ways of his length.

“I want to eat you, taste you.” He sniffled lightly, whining in a higher pitch, as he muffled his pleads into your neck. In turn to his nonchalant begging, you were coerced to rub your thighs together, unintentionally warming the slick that had gathered between them, it was hot to see his desperation.

“Mummy, please.” Light tears corrupted his eyes, he was on the edge of combusting from lack of getting what he wanted, and you didn’t have the heart, or lack of to deny him, especially after what had sourly happened to him, in the habit of his own family home.

As you went to peel his boxers all the way down his legs, about to untangle them from around his ankles, JJ urgently began to tug at your clothes. He could see that you had given into his wish, you were going to allow him to flick his hungry to please tongue over your slit, and he was eager to do so, as was quite obvious by the way he screwed the bottom of your shirt up in his hands, rolling the material in his fists.

“Patience baby boy.” From your soothing command, he calmed, and you threaded your hands through his hair, as a reward for his obliged cooling of behaviour. Slowly, as you leant your chest close to him, you remove your blouse, and from the soon proximity that you were in to JJ, he began to suck your tits through your bra.

A tut abandoned your mouth, and lightly with gentle might you pushed him back, to remove the last layer on your upper half, allowing him to return in his commencing of suckling on your nipples, as though he were a newborn, starved and inclined to feed. In the meantime of JJ salivating your nubs, you shifted out of your shorts, leaving you in nothing more than your panties.

His head ran down, his lips laddering down the steady rising slate of your stomach, down to between your thighs, his mouth succulently nipping over the thin layer of your panties, he remained there for a moment as you panted from the sensation, before rolling him over, and turning, so that whilst he feverishly tugged your panties to the side, you leant your head down, eyeing his cock.

Your hand trailed down to his appendage, swiftly tugging on his length, causing high pitched tones to emit from his busy lips, the vibrations muffled against your cunt, trying his utmost to devour your flow of juices. Enclosing your lips around his cock, you steadied your hips around the portrayal of his head, taking bit by bit further down your throat.

To add to his specifics of pleasure, you rolled his balls in the palms of your hand, rotating your fingers around the sack below his length, and thus you pulled you lips off from around him for a moment, to lick a line up the seam of it, before returning to deep throating his cock.

A few more bobs of your head had JJ finishing in your mouth, and for a minute, you rolled his seed around in his mouth as you thrusted yourself hips against his face, chasing your own high as you swallowed his.

“Wanna make mummy cum. Want to taste her sweet, sweet mummy juice.” Gripping onto his waist, you furiously rode his face, releasing a small, supple scream as you finished on his beautiful complexion. He toyed his tongue around your folds, soaking up every drop of your essence with his tongue.

With a heavy breath, you clambered off from him after cumming, a content smile prevailed on your face as you stretched your arm across to the bedside table, grasping up the packet of cleansing wipes, and retracted one from it, using them to wipe your juices off from his face, sweeping up the excess that was glossing his chin.

After disposing of the used wipes, you tucked JJ under the sheets, bringing him to lay against your chest, as you applied a kiss upon his forehead. His blue eyes fluttered closed, as he began to suck on your tits again, aiding him in having calm dreams, and forget about the troubles that had haunted him.

[wincore]

field day | jung sungchan

pairing: sungchan x fem!reader

synopsis: when you, as cheer captain, are best friends with the pride and joy of the soccer team, rumors are bound to fly around.

genre: high school au, soccer au, bff2l, fluff

words: 7.5k

warnings: language, jung “the risk i took was calculated but man am i bad at math” sungchan

request: sungchan + ball + “ everyone is looking at us. is that a good or a bad thing? ” (from the first option) ^__^

song recs: after school - weeekly / pleaser - wallows / some - bol4 / sweet talk - saint motel / love so sweet - cherry bullet

a/n: i tried recalling some hs memories for this and im hoping i wasnt the only one that went through the “shipped with a random dude” ordeal LOL. i haven’t written shorter fics in a while so i’m glad i got to. tq for requesting, lovepie <33

In high school, peer pressure tends to come in different forms. For you, it’s taken the shape of this.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” 

You look around your classmates, scanning each and every face chanting with glee like you’re a star player scoring the winning point. The tall figure shifts beside you, glancing at you like a blinking idiot. You’re not even on the losing team but it feels just as frustrating.

You glare at the boy beside you. The trouble is Jung Sungchan. The trouble has always been Jung Sungchan. 

“Come on!” Chenle calls with a teasing grin from the buzzing crowd. The little shit. It’s getting hotter with each minute you spend by the green soccer field and its dusty chalked lines, just at the tip of the bleachers. You didn’t even get enough time to breathe before you were surrounded, the soccer team pushing a stumbling Sungchan onto you. It’s too sunny for this today.

“The star soccer player gets a kiss from the lead cheerleader after a winning game! That’s the rule.” Chenle announces.

Sungchan looks at you and you turn to him, the both of you looking at each other like fish out of water. Even though you’ve clarified at least a hundred times that you’re just friends, your peers don’t seem to be satisfied. (“Famous last words,” they say.)

“No,” you say, firmly. 

“No,” Sungchan agrees, nodding his head wisely.

“Don’t copy me,” you say, smacking his chest, and a quiet ‘oof’ escapes his mouth.

The fact that you’ve been best friends since Sungchan offered you a light green crayon in elementary school just fuels the idea that you have to date. There’s this difference between elementary school kids teasing and high school kids teasing—it was so much easier back when boys were afraid of cooties from girls. It was innocent too. Now, it’s more of nudges and sly grins, teasing with unnecessary innuendo. (What else do you expect from teenagers experiencing puberty?) It doesn’t stop you from being best friends though. Sungchan still visits on Fridays to get on your mom’s nerves and help you with homework (or try to). You still have all the little trinkets he’s gifted you over the years and the lock to his phone is still your birthday. You’re best friends and strictly that. 

When you got into the same middle school though is when it started going downhill. Holding his hand was awkward, touching him in any way was awkward and god forbid you compliment him on something. The kids around you would run across the halls saying “(name) likes Sungchan!” or the other way around sometimes. Heathens, the lot of them. But at the very least, he wasn’t too fazed and you wonder how he could be that even-tempered. If it was just you feeling that way, then maybe you did like him more than he did you. 

You shake it off. 

Sungchan’s much more grown now and at least a foot taller since his awkward adolescent years; he looks handsomer too but you wouldn’t be caught dead saying it out loud. After all, it’s only going to spark another debate on the anonymous school forum. (“(name) finds Jung Sungchan attractive, they’re totally dating.” “I knew it. A boy and a girl can’t be friends, especially if they’re both good looking.”) If you’re being honest, you hate the rumours so much—it’s one of the reasons, apart from puberty, stopping you from being as close as before. However, you do understand that this is how the passage of time works. You’re not going to be spending all of your time with each other, yes, but you still regard him as important. Your life is too busy now, with exams and practice—and you’d think a busy bee would get some honey as reward.

Sungchan’s curls stick to his forehead, unruly after he wiped at them with a towel. The sunlight plays with his eyes when he looks at you intently and you shrug. The smell of sweat is starting to make you nauseous. You remember that you too need to take a shower.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you mumble.

“Not today?” He asks.

You shake your head. “The girls have a plan.”

It’s not just the sweat. Or the crowds. You don’t like being here at all. There’s one more problem with this place.

You hate soccer. 

And by hate, you mean you despise it. Like you’ll throw up at the sight of it. What’s so riveting about a bunch of smelly, sweaty guys excited about chasing a patterned ball? You’ve tried to understand it but every time your dad explains the rules, you find yourself zoning out of whatever alien language he speaks. 

Sungchan has been the closest to getting you to understand the game and even then, you refused to learn. It’s not like you’re society’s definition of girly—but you’re not a tomboy either. The school has granted you the “ice queen with a warm interior” stereotype so you’ll just go with that. To be honest, you’re just a little more awkward at open affection than your friends. (And Sungchan has the “friendly beagle” stereotype which you’ll agree is partly true. He’s more of a retriever though, with that size.) It’s just funny how you can never seem to know who you are but other people see so clearly.

You hurry up to the locker rooms and hope for a better evening than this afternoon.

-

The sky burns blue and you wipe the sweat off your brow once you step out of the changing room. Cooling off from your shower has gone to waste. Adjusting your school skirt, you take your usual strides to the school gates. 

Ryujin seems to be showing Yuna a very flamboyant dance move while the latter hypes her up. Ryujin is in her gym uniform because she has no care for her reputation apparently, but she makes it work. Yuna’s about to show her own move when she notices you and waves at you vigorously enough to make you jog towards her and stop embarrassing herself in front of the after school crowd. But then again, she’s too cute for that.

“We got bored waiting for you,” Yuna explains, voice hoarse from her cold. Poor thing wasn’t let into performing because of it. “Do you wanna see our cool new move? Ryujin came up with it!”

Ryujin rolls her eyes. “You’re trying to advertise me to (name) so she can recruit me into cheerleading, aren’t you?”

You smile and cross your arms, facing Yuna who’s been caught mid-act. She smiles sheepishly and pats your shoulder like she just said a funny joke.

“Actually…” You begin and Ryujin holds up her arms in a cross.

“No. Never. I’m already part of the hip-hop dance club.”

“I was going to say that I’ll join you instead.”

Yuna gasps in betrayal, big eyes widening, and Ryujin grins before sticking her tongue out and potentially ruining her image with that expression. She doesn’t care, however.

“Anyway, I can’t wait to get to college and join a dance club.” Ryujin looks at the two of you excitedly. “I keep getting snaps from Yeji and feel so jealous.”

Yuna pouts. “Don’t be so happy about leaving me.”

“Aw, is the baby afraid of not getting any more sisterly doting?” Ryujin teases and you laugh at the disgruntled expression on Yuna’s face. 

“Don’t worry,” Ryujin continues with a sly grin. “Taehyun’s here to keep you company for another year.”

Yuna turns red in the face, a high pitched complaint emitting from her throat. “I told you to keep quiet about that!”

“Oh, what’s this?” You wiggle your eyebrows. “We’re starting boy talk early today.”

Yuna huffs. “At least, mine’s just a crush. I don’t know what relationship status: complicated you have going on with Mr. Soccer Captain.”

You flush hotly. “There’s no relationship status to be complicated about! Seriously, why does everyone think we’re a thing?”

“You’re cheer captain and he’s soccer captain,” Ryujin answers logically. “Plus, you’re best friends.”

“You have a lot of sexual tension,” Yuna answers honestly.

You make a face, slipping your arms into theirs and pulling them along the sidewalk. You better get something to drink before the sky starts to turn purple from pink tinged blue. 

“Ooh, another desperate attempt from (name) to not get teased,” Ryujin leans back to whisper to Yuna.

You stop walking. “Wait. Where are we going?”

Yuna shakes her head. “I’ll lead the way.”

Skipping over the concrete sidewalk, you laugh at your friends and their stories (read: Ryujin gushing over Yeji’s college dance club and Yuna’s newfound crush on Taehyun). The blue sky has tinged orange by now but it’s the sort of colour that sits in between more significant timeframes, like night and evening. Passing by a city square, you eye the people with wonder. A girl in a pink skirt skateboards smoothly over the concrete, her boyfriend filming her with a loving smile. 

“We’re here!” Yuna announces.

You look around the large open plaza, with people of all ages and in different attires trying out skateboarding and rollerblading over the grey concrete. It’s been getting popular lately, with idol pop stars taking to it too but you never knew there was this big a community. There seems to be a few stalls renting out skateboards too. The wind caresses your hair, evening cool settling in nicely on your skin. The sky is purple but it’s lit up with the city buildings and street lamps flickering on. It’s not a bad day at all.

Someone catches your attention. A boy that sticks out like a sore thumb everywhere he goes. 

“Sungchan?!” 

Your eyes somehow always settle on his figure, tall and standing out in the crowd of teenagers. He clutches his blue bag, the one he’s had since third grade, close to his chest and looks more like a tourist in this place than a frequent visitor. He’s not the only one in school uniform now that you’re here.

“(name)!” 

You hate how you love the way his face lights up when he sees you. You’re not actually into him. It’s your friends brainwashing you.

“I was going to invite you,” Sungchan says, a sorry smile on his face. 

Ryujin and Yuna frown at each other but you can’t exactly ask the reason for it.

“Isn’t it great we had the same plans?” he beams at the three of you.

Yuna suppresses a smile and you wonder why. It’s not like your friends would know he’d be here—you’d know first as best friend.

"How did you guys come across this place?" He asks, eyes round with curiosity. 

"Somi's Tiktok," Yuna answers, smiling. "We thought she works here but if she really was, guys would be swarming this place."

Ryujin raises her eyebrows. "Speaking of which, I can clearly see why there are so many girls here."

Sungchan beams, turning to you for affirmation and when you don't give him any, he drops his grin to a more polite smile.

“I don’t work at the stalls though,” he answers. “I’ve just been here a few times.”

“You’re trying to learn, aren’t you?” Ryujin asks, raising an eyebrow.

He nods. However, you furrow your eyebrows at her. How does she know? Eyes widening, you realize it must be the school forum. You remember reading a post about a student wanting to learn skateboarding and the wording felt familiar but you didn’t think much. How they figured it out, you will never know.

“Oh! Oh, I think my nose is bleeding. Oh god.” Yuna sniffs vehemently, her finger at her nose. “I think I’m going to need Ryujin to get me to a clinic.” 

Linking her arm through Ryujin’s, Yuna makes an apologetic expression and runs off into a particularly crowded area.

You blink. The realization dawns. 

"They just left me," you tell him, exasperated. "How could they just leave me?"

He shrugs. "My team left me at a rival school's field once."

Great. Your last outing before midterms and your friends have abandoned you. If this is the case, you wonder why they complain about you spending so much time with Sungchan and allegedly ignoring them.

You regain a sense of your surroundings and turn to him. "Wait. They really left you?"

He nods diligently, eyes trained upwards as he tries to recall the memory. "I told you, didn’t I? On the plus side though, I made friends with the opposite team."

"That's so… cute."

Your cheeks heat up at saying it out loud. If Sungchan is affected by it in any way, he doesn't show it. Instead, he has his usual smile on. 

“Do you wanna try?” he asks. “Skateboarding. Or rollerblading but I personally don’t recommend that.”

He curls his lips, shaking his head slightly. You laugh. Of course this beanpole has trouble balancing on skates.

"I- I figured you'd be good at skateboarding. Since, you know, you're so balanced and all."

You raise an eyebrow. "You wanna add skateboarding to your resume or something?"

"Yeah, that and the ability to imitate dog sounds. Wanna see?"

"No, thanks. I’ll pray this weekend to cure your furry behaviour."

Before he can respond, you’re interrupted by a whirlwind of colours and excited calls. A few girls run up to the two of you, younger and probably in middle school, flocking to Sungchan like bees to honey. Never in your life have you felt so ignored as in this singular moment.

You blink, turning to Sungchan who looks like a rather helpless, flustered eye of the hurricane. The winds don't seem to be stopping any time soon.

You clear your throat trying to get their attention. 

"Wow, you brought your girlfriend?" One of the girls exclaims, sounding disappointed.

The other girls make similar whines of disappointment and you have half the heart to whack them over the head and tell them to focus on their academics instead of boys. 

"You're so lucky to have him as your boyfriend," a girl comments, round eyes brimming with jealousy. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you declare sharply.

Sungchan looks at you with his doe eyes, blinking cartoonishly. You nudge him with your elbow.

“Yeah!” He agrees, with far too much gusto to be believable. “I’m not (name)’s boyfriend. I have no idea why everyone keeps saying that.”

“Let’s go, babe,” you say, resisting the urge to stick your tongue out at the girls. They’re younger than you and you have high school dignity, you remind yourself.

Slipping your hand into his, you take a few long strides away from them before you realize what you said.

“I- I did- I didn’t mean to call you babe,” you sputter, pulling your hand from his to look at him with wide eyes. 

“It’s okay though?”

Sungchan raises an eyebrow and slips his hand back into yours, smiling. 

“I don’t mind the rumours, you know?” He says honestly but his smile feels all too teasing. “Maybe we should go out for real.”

You huff, separating yourself from him again. “Maybe you just love attention. Disgusting.”

You point an accusatory finger at him and he bites at it playfully.

“While you're here, wanna see a cool trick I learned?" He straightens only having to tilt his head to look at you.

"If it's you falling on your face, then yes."

"I mean, hey, I could totally do that. Done that several times actually."

You smile despite trying your hardest not to. You like this about him—that he’s easygoing enough to make you look at life less seriously. If it’s with him, you could quit everything that makes you unhappy and start everything you love. 

“So where is your skateboard?” you ask, walking side by side with him, who has finally learned to match your pace.

“It’s with one of my friends,” he answers, and points to a tall girl with long brown hair, wearing a pair of tomboyish shorts and T-shirt. Another girl with short hair and a bucket hat accompanies her, wearing a long hoodie and shorts, but she leaves before you reach them. They must be from a different school because you’ve never seen them before. The first thing that pops into your head is that they’d be good replacements for your cheerleading position if you were ever to leave. You shake your head. Now is not the time.

“That’s Jimin!” he introduces, and you wonder how he’s this way—how he makes friends so easily.

Jimin waves at Sungchan and then proceeds to ask if you’re his girlfriend with a big smile, like a script being followed everywhere you go.

She seems a little disappointed at the answer. “Well, I was going to suggest one of the couples skateboards.”

You flash her an awkward smile. 

“But those are pretty difficult! I’ve been here for a month and my idea of skateboarding is still sitting on it while Soeun pushes me around. That’s my friend, by the way.”

“Ah.” You nod. “This is my first time skateboarding, actually. The only ‘sport’ I’ve ever done is cheerleading.”

Jimin furrows her eyebrows before her eyes widen. “Wait a minute. You’re the cheerleader best friend that Sungchan wouldn’t shut up about!”

Sungchan flusters, in the subtle way he usually does, and waves his hands robotically trying to explain. “I was just saying- that- that you’d be good at skateboarding. Because of the cheerleading.”

A boxy grin accompanies his explanation. 

“Right.” Jimin covers her face and sends an obvious wink your way. “Anyway, you can have my skateboard for the day.”

She hands over a smooth black skateboard with white wheels, but on closer inspection you find that they’re light-up wheels instead. It’s oddly fitting for someone like Jimin even if you’ve known her the entirety of ten minutes. Sungchan is good at finding friends, rather. Soon enough, she runs off after making Sungchan promise he’ll deliver the skateboard home.

The trick Sungchan wanted to show you was a failed kickflip. At the very least, it made you laugh so hard you almost spit out the strawberry milk he’d bought you. Sipping his own banana milk, he sulked for a moment or two, telling you to try it out and see how difficult it is.

On the contrary, Sungchan was right. You are good at balancing on skateboards. But that’s where it ends. You don’t think you’ll be naturally good at kickflips, though being able to glide through the plaza while Sungchan runs after you with the drinks puts a big smile on your face. It’s the most fun you’ve had in a while.  

Accompanied by Sungchan’s panicked “oh no”s and “oh we messed up”s, the two of you try the couple skateboarding move too; no one’s watching you here. It’s fun to see him stress over a skateboard because frankly, you’ve never met anyone as easy-going as Sungchan. (“I’ll figure it out along the way,” he says when you ask if he’s studying for finals, and proceeds to get a decent enough score). Suddenly the wandering gap is closed again. You’re not going to worry about stupid rumours from now on. 

But for some reason, ‘you like him as a friend’ doesn’t sound right either. Despite having said it so many times, you might not believe in it. You shake off the thought. This evening, at least, you’re going to enjoy with Sungchan without thinking of teenage drama and hormones. 

"You still don't think you and Sungchan make the perfect pair?" Yuna pouts. 

You narrow your eyes. "I don't take opinions from traitors."

Chaeryoung leans back on her chair, and whispers to you asking if you’re okay. At least someone is concerned about you.

“It hurts to be left by my own friends but—”

“No, I meant, are you okay? Why aren’t you dating Sungchan already? You’re so cute together! And you’re best friends—Netflix writers literally daydream of this.”

You groan, throwing up your hands in defeat.

“And,” Yuna adds, knocking her chair closer. “Who’s really the traitor here? Us who ditched you with the love of your life—or you, who runs off every time she gets a call from her boyfriend?”

“Sungchan is not my boyfriend.” You cross your arms.

“She even shares her lunch with him more,” Ryujin complains from the side. “And they’re not even in the same class. Unlike me, by the way. Class 1 Shin Ryujin. Same class as you, (name).”

You slump, resting your forehead against the desk. At this point, you wish the teacher would walk in and start the class already. Unfortunately, lunch break isn’t over for another ten minutes and lady luck clearly isn’t smiling upon you. 

“Speak of the devil!” Ryujin announces monotonously, leaning against her desk.

Sungchan and a few of his friends from the soccer team wave at you and the girls from the classroom door. Noticing Taehyun, Yuna quickly fixes her hair and you would tease her if Sungchan hadn’t casually strolled up to your desk and sat down on the chair in front of you. Long legs barely contained in the space, he adjusts himself by resting his arm on the headrest and his chin upon it. It’s all normal. However, when he leans down to match your eye level, you hear the sudden pit-a-pat of your pulse in your ear. At this proximity, you can even see the mole on his lip that he’s pointed out before. The sunlight from the open windows is pulling golden strings over his eyelashes and his lips aren’t dry as a desert like you expected. You know he uses the watermelon flavoured lip balm. 

“Too close,” you croak. Embarrassed at your own voice, you rise sharply and glare at him.

“Is your heart fluttering?” Sungchan asks, smiling as he looks up at you.

You roll your eyes. 

You can hear Yuna’s giggling and before you can shoot her a glare, Sungchan calls. 

"Do you have any bandaids?" 

He points to a rough scratch at the base of his palm, fingers slender and less calloused than what you'd pictured. Then again, soccer players don't use their hands much, do they?

You blink. "You came all the way here for bandaids?"

"Well… I remembered you keep band-aids in your phone case. And the nurse hates me."

You giggle.

Yujin mouths from behind Sungchan, “He just wanted to see her.” 

You would feel flattered if you didn't know these people and their shenanigans. They'd do anything for some drama (and to get two innocent people into the dating trap).

“Why would I waste my cute band aids on you?” you mutter under your breath. “They’re limited edition, you know?”

No way are you sticking Ice Bear on your urban hazard of a best friend. A tall, cute, surprisingly polite hazard but he still annoys you nonetheless.

However, Sungchan's pleading smile has grown on you.

You reluctantly take the band-aid out of your clear phone case, the pink panda doll attached to it swaying with the movement. Proceeding, you take Sungchan's hand and lay it on your desk. With careful focus, you place the band-aid, admiring the size difference of your hands before snapping to reality.

Enough with the pink cloud of thoughts, you scold yourself.

When you look up, the proximity makes your heart skip a beat despite the logical part of you saying you shouldn't. Your faces are too close and this time, you don't even have the energy to croak it out.

"Thanks, (name)," Sungchan smiles at you. 

Right then, the sound of a chair sliding harshly against the floor makes the two of you jolt away from each other. All of your friends and his friends seem to be sporting Cheshire cat grins and you don't like it one bit. You don't like not being in on the gag.

"Anybody up for gaming after this? My treat." Chenle looks around. “Sungchan is banned from the arcade soccer game though.”

"'Ey," Sungchan complains.

"Hey, Jisung and Ryujin are banned from DDR too but that's because they almost broke the handles off last time."

The memory makes you smile. Sungchan was there too, and you don’t know why you’re only just recalling all the memories with him in it, carefully and in detail. Every one of them seems to have been amplified, the little interactions suddenly coming to mind. 

“(name)? You’re coming?”

You take one look at Sungchan and give up. Even if this is another childish ploy by your peers, you don't mind spending some more time at the arcade with infuriatingly addictive games. A tiny part of you is even willing to go along with them and see if it turns out the way they want it to.

“I’ll go,” you mumble, and the rest of the group cheers. 

“But I have cleaning duty today.”

The group groans. 

“Just get someone else to do it. Like a junior.”

“Isn’t that bullying?” You ask, frowning.

“Ask nicely. Anyone would be willing to do your bidding, (name).”

“Chenle, will you do it?” You give him a sickly sweet smile. “You’re class president after all.”

Chenle wrinkles his nose. “You’re getting stupider every day, (name).”

You sigh. “Fine. I’ll ask one of Yuna’s classmates then.”

“By the way,” Chenle announces. “Only twelfth graders are invited—”

A bunch of groans interrupt him. 

“Quit whining.” He crosses his arms, glaring at them. “What do you even have to worry about? We’re preparing for the exam of our lives. Oh, and Jisung is an exception.”

“We’re only two years apart,” Yuna mutters under her breath.

“Oh, and from class 5, only Sungchan is invited.”

Another round of complaints pass and Chenle breaks into laughter. “Just kidding.”

Your friends are and will always be an odd bunch. Sungchan has previously proved to be the weirdest (several times) and it makes him the most lovable too. But then again, you don’t have free space in your timetable to put in teenage crushes, much less falling for your best friend. What you do have time for this afternoon, however, is relaxing at the arcade. 

-

“Let’s go! I am so good at this. Think I’d impress your Steve Curry?” Ryujun gloats, after having scored three hoops in a row at the arcade basketball game.

“It’s Stephen Curry,” Chenle corrects. “And no, let’s focus here. Our goals are—”

He points to the two figures by the DDR machine, looking like a real couple. He’s been acting as damage control for the rumours and making sure you don’t drift apart because of it. They really don’t make guys like him anymore, Chenle sighs. He should get a friendship award or something.

“—those two.”

Really, Sungchan better be thanking him by the end of this. He’s never met anyone quite like Jung Sungchan, especially because Chenle cannot picture himself liking the same person since elementary school.

“Man, now I wish I had a girlfriend,” Chenle mutters.

Ryujin snorts. “Who’s going to date you?”

“You don’t have a boyfriend either,” Chenle reminds and gets a basketball to the shoulder.

“Why are you playing that when you don’t even know how to use it?” Your voice rings through to them.

“I said I’ll figure it out!” Sungchan reasons.

Chenle and Ryujin stare at the two of you blankly, as you bicker over a claw machine game and they share a look.

“Do they need our help?” Ryujin whispers.

Chenle shakes his head. “I think they’ll figure it out from here.”

Soon enough, you were laughing at Sungchan’s failed attempts and trying to outplay him. Your friends have already given you the shove. Chenle and Ryujin share a high five and that’s where the new story begins.

You finally know the thrill of a teenage crush. It makes you so damn infuriated that it had to be Jung Sungchan. 

Now every time he waves at you from the field or hands you a bottle of strawberry milk or explains the calc notes you missed or does the bare minimum, you need to deal with the quickening of your pulse and a few butterflies loose from their cage in your stomach. It doesn’t help that you’re almost always together.

The two of you currently sit by the school field, Sungchan tying his shoelaces while you cool off with the water bottle he offered you. Practice ended a while ago for you and the girls have receded into the air conditioned indoor gym. The indoor gym is apparently occupied by the gymnast club and you couldn’t be more disappointed that you didn’t join them instead. 

If anything, however, you’d rather leave this whole thing and focus on your academics. Hobbies shouldn’t be draining you—they should feel like skateboarding on a lilac evening with the wind in your hair.

With a friend you like very, very much.

“Sungchan,” you call quietly. 

“Hm?” 

When he looks up, you can’t hold in the urge to fix the hair out of his eyes. You’ve never been very physically affectionate so it might have come off strange. Sungchan looks at you quietly, stars in his eyes and you clear your throat.

“How long have you been playing soccer? It was before we met, right?”

He hums, eyes traveling up and then back to you when he remembers. “Since I was six. You were there at my first soccer match actually.”

“I was? Oh my god, was it the one you lost horribly and the whole team started crying?”

“Yes. Yes, it was.”

You giggle. “Six year old you would be so in awe now.”

Sungchan beams at that. 

“Who knows?” he smiles, looking into your eyes with firm determination. “Maybe I’ll be the next Son Heungmin.”

“Even I know who that is so… no.”

Sungchan pouts and you make a face in disgust. “Don’t act cute, it gives me hives.”

“Okay, maybe not Son Heungmin. I could definitely be the next Park Jisung—and I don’t mean him.”

Sungchan points to a boy passed out on the benches, his exhaustion typical of any high schooler while another boy sits beside him, fanning him with a bunch of assignment papers. Jisung and Chenle really are more entertaining than any game on this field. 

You turn to look at Sungchan, who’s moving his head around trying to catch their attention. When he finally does, he waves at them and gets big grins in response. He’s not all that bad, you think. In fact, he’s quite possibly the most amiable boy in senior year.

“Just be Jung Sungchan,” you mutter. “Not Son Heungmin or Park Jisung.”

Sungchan turns to you, smiling wide. “Advice taken.”

You scoff. “Whatever.”

Maybe it’s just you but Sungchan has been glancing at your lips very frequently today and mentally thank Chaeryoung for letting you borrow her lip tint. You didn’t know something so subtle could get you this giddy.

“Are you… going to give the CSAT?” You ask, glancing at him nervously. Part of you is sad you only developed your first high school crush in the very last semester. Or if it’s comforting, you could believe you’ve liked him all this time.

“Nah. Sports scholarship,” he says nonchalantly. “I was going to tell you but… I’ve been scouted already.”

You gasp. “That’s… great. Your future’s all settled.”

Sungchan seems to dislike the idea, lips pursing. “I don’t think anything’s settled except for the next step.”

You nod, somewhat understanding. 

“What about you?” He asks. “Any university in mind? SKY? I’ve seen you study extra hours at the library.”

You look away, not feeling ready for the conversation.

“I don’t know,” you say quietly. “I don’t know what I like and what I want. I don’t even like cheer anymore.”

Sungchan gazes at you wordlessly but it’s the most comfortable you’ve felt talking about this.

“Maybe I should quit,” you mumble.

You don’t want to commit to something you no longer have passion for. But then again, you’ve spent so much time on it that it’s hard to leave. 

“You should,” he responds, honest. 

You scoff, shaking yourself from that moment of vulnerability. “But why would I quit something I’m good at?”

“If you don’t like it. If it hurts to leave but isn’t any better when you stay, you should leave.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re quite the philosopher.”

“I’m smart, right?”

You smile. 

“Oy, you two!” Chenle calls, making his way to you two with Jisung trailing behind. “I don’t mean to interrupt your flirting but you got a spare water bottle?”

“Are you two going out now?” Jisung asks as a follow-up, and you feel a hot flush for some reason, unlike the previous times you’ve been asked this question.

“No,” you answer. You don’t mind the idea though now.

“Don’t lie,” Chenle complains. “I saw that picture of Sungchan teaching you how to kick a ball. You? And soccer? Something’s up.”

You throw up your hands in exasperation. “Seriously, who keeps up posting to the school page? And where do they get the time?”

"Two people with this much compatibility will always be a hot topic."

"We're not compatible," you retort quickly.

"Wait," Jisung says. "I know how to resolve this."

You raise an eyebrow.

"How do you have your cereal?" He asks, looking from you to Sungchan.

"Cereal first, obviously," you answer.

Sungchan looks up, finger below his chin as he thinks. "I drink the milk first, then eat the cereal and then breakdance to mix it all together."

You pinch your nose. "I swear I question your sanity all the time."

"Hah! That means you're thinking about me all the time."

You look away, rolling your eyes. He responds with an open-mouthed smile and finger guns.

"See?" Jisung grins. "Compatible."

The gruff voice of Coach Lee startles the four of you and Sungchan leaves with a sigh and a promise of meeting after practice. Jisung leaves with Sungchan and Chenle gives you one last teasing smirk before sitting down and going through the assignment papers he was using as a fan previously. You will never understand his miraculous ways of performing his presidential duties.

You don’t have a good feeling about the next match. The only reason you’re even sticking around anymore—as embarrassing as it—is to spend more time with Sungchan. Being with him puts you at ease, even if the school tries to wrap the two of you in a rope of uneasiness. This is your very last practice, for the next match is the final one of this year and then you’ll be back to spending even longer hours at the library with a stack of textbooks. It’s supposed to be a carefree age. At least, adults say that. Your high school life seems to be riddled with worries, and with that thought, you head into the air conditioned room to take a breather off your anxieties. 

Only one more match, you remind yourself. 

The pre-match buzz is driving you to the edge.

Your form is off, you can feel it already and Coach Kim isn’t as sunshine-as-rainbows as she usually is, courtesy to it being the last match of your life. She’ll never know though, how much you don’t want to do this. 

Sungchan waves at you as he usually does before a match, disappointing a third of his fangirls, but it helps you ease. One last time, (name).

Watching the crowd of people, parents and siblings and friends, all excited and talking makes you take a deep breath. You practiced but it wasn’t good enough. You can never do well at something you don’t like anymore. This time, you feel guilty for committing to things half-heartedly. You want to start that fresh new college chapter already, with all of this behind.

There’s ten minutes left. You go back to the empty hall outside the lockers only to pace. This isn’t helping.

“(name)!”

You turn around abruptly to find Sungchan’s tall figure, and you must be looking miserable because his smile falls.

He doesn’t even ask what’s wrong, only takes careful steps towards you. “Do you need water? Medicine?”

His hands hover over your shoulder but he doesn’t burden you with them. You put your face in your palms and sigh, sinking down to the floor in a crouch.

“I want to quit,” you whisper. Your voice comes off more brittle than you’d like, and you realize that Sungchan hasn’t seen you cry since seventh grade when you failed a math test. You didn’t tell him then but you appreciated him studying extra hours for math just to teach you.

“You don’t have to go out there if you don’t want to,” he says quietly, dropping to the floor beside you. “I’ll stay with you.”

You stare at him dumbfounded. “Don’t be ridiculous! They’ll lose without you—you’re the ace, Sungchan!”

“There will always be an ace,” he retorts. “Maybe Jisung will finally get to shine. Or anyone else. I don’t mind spending an hour with you alone.”

You feel a hot flush spread over your cheeks. Looking away to the side, you mumble an ‘alright’ and only glance from the corner of your eye to see him smiling. Jung Sungchan is the most unreasonable boy you’ve ever met. Perhaps it makes him somewhat loveable too.

“It’s your last match,” you whisper helplessly.

“I’ll join the college soccer club and get to play more matches.”

You sigh, giving in. If he’s so adamant, you think that perhaps there is something in you worth sacrificing his game over. It makes an oddly warm feeling bloom in your chest. Sungchan is so damn convincing with his words. You wonder if it’s really okay.

With shoulders touching, an awkward silence takes over in the next second. You turn to him and open your mouth, watch him do the same and close it at the same time he does.

“You know,” he begins, “I was kind of lying about not worrying because I get the feeling coach will evaporate me tomorrow but—I can handle it. Mostly.”

You stare at him with wide, worried eyes. “You don’t have to do this, Sungchan. I’m the one running away.”

You slouch, pulling your knees closer to your chest and burying your face in them. The urge to scream is boiling within you but you can’t get caught. Not now.

“Sometimes to run is the brave thing,” he responds, insightful. “If you’re not up for it, it’s better to quit early than to regret it in the long run.”

You don’t know if it’s the fact that he just quoted Taylor Swift or spoke like your old school counselor—but you find yourself laughing. He makes sense. Sungchan, in his weird, oddball ways, always makes sense. And in that same way, he feels like home.

“You’re so good to me,” you say, looking up at him and at a proximity you’ve never been before.

It’s his turn to fluster, though he doesn’t do so as visibly as you do. He clears his throat, shifting his eyes around before meeting yours. “I- This is bad timing but… I like you. I really do. Since third grade when you drew that birthday card for me. I have it in my bedside drawer, by the way.”

He looks away and makes a face, probably wondering why he said that out loud.

You press your lips tight to prevent the smile that tugs at them. He looks at you with a wobbly smile, trying his hardest to resume his usual dignity—but he’s just a boy, after all. 

“My type is dumb and pretty, though?” You tease, the smile escaping. “You said it yourself.”

He blinks. “Well, I am pretty but if you want me to be stu—”

You shake your head. “I like you too. You don’t have to act cute.”

He pauses, thinking. “I have never acted cute in my life ever. I was born cu—”

You hold his face between your thumb and forefinger. “You do that again and you die.”

He breaks into a smile. 

“I’ve never met someone quite like you,” you whisper, embarrassed of your own feelings bubbling up from the bottle you had kept them in.

He laughs, open-mouthed and pretty. 

“Actually, hey, I didn’t like you all this time from fifth. I liked you and then I didn’t like you and then I liked you again—”

“Okay, I get it.”

His shoulders relax and he smiles at you. You look up at the clock on the wall by the entrance to the field and bite your lip. You don’t love performing anymore but you know all the girls do, even the stand-bys. Jisung might not have to take over Sungchan’s position but you bet one of those tenth graders would love to take yours, the same way you did back then. They’ve practiced harder than you too and it’s only a matter of deserving.

You take a deep breath and get up, pulling up Sungchan by the hand. He raises an eyebrow, inquisitive eyes scanning over your face and you smile at him, strengthening your resolve. You should have done this way sooner.

-

Sungchan plays. You don’t let him sit it out with you. 

Halfway through, you cheer the hardest you ever have, plastic decorative gemstones stuck by your eyes borrowed from the other girls cheering. It’s much more fun, you think. You’ve never experienced soccer like this. You’d love to sit at stadiums and join in victory chants. There’s enough weight off your chest to yell your lungs out.

Sungchan scores a goal almost immediately after and sends a thumbs up over to you. You laugh. This is the best break you’ve ever taken from cheerleading. 

“Ooh, is this perhaps the (name) effect?” Chenle’s voice rings through the speakers and you feel yourself shrink slightly under the eyes. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see your homeroom teacher signal very angrily to the commentator box. You shake yourself off it. So what if everyone’s looking?

Sungchan places his hands on his hips, chest heaving and sends another signal to you before beelining for a straight goal. You whoop and the girl with a notebook beside you is visibly annoyed at this point but you don’t care. 

Without doubt, your school wins and you watch as Sungchan runs to his team, a big smile on his face. The second he’s done getting pet by the team, however, he rushes to the bleachers, skipping over the steps to you, panting when he stops. The risk he took was definitely not calculated. He holds up one finger while he heaves.

“My cheering worked best this time, it seems,” you say to him, laughing.

His face is flushed from the exertion but he laughs heartily. “You could be yelling profanity at me and it’d still encourage me.”

You shake your head at the cheesy line. He takes a step forward, well inside your space but you don’t mind. He leans in.

“Everyone is looking at us,” he says under his breath. “Is that a good or a bad thing?”

You look behind him to find the whole team, along with your girls sharing furtive glances and giggling at the sight of the two of you. A few of the junior girls slap each other’s arms, bouncing on the balls of their feet in excitement. You’re not a celebrity. But everyone wants to cheer things on once in a while, don’t they?

“Good,” you answer, before pulling him by the shirt into a chaste kiss. When you pull apart, Sungchan’s face is so struck with awe that you want to look away but instead you bite back an obvious smile. It’s about damn time, someone from the soccer team yells.

“Woah. I think I scored a goal either way,” he says, an offbeat smile on his face.

“Oh come on, we didn’t even get to chant ‘Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!’ yet—oh shit, the mic’s on.”

Chenle is definitely getting an earful from your teacher after this. The two of you wave at him at the box and end up laughing at him trying to hide behind the desk. 

As expected, the whole crowd surrounds the two of you in less than a minute’s worth of time, with several congratulations and “good score” offered to the two of you. The boys mess up Sungchan’s hair while the girls compliment you on how cute a couple you are. There’s also the question of when you started dating that pauses the buzz and makes everyone look to the two of you for an answer. Sungchan turns to you and you turn to him, and there’s no way you’ll tell half the school that your confession came in a private hallway outside the field—teenage imaginations run wild. 

Instead, you slip your hand into Sungchan’s and run down the bleachers and towards the exit, laughter spilling from your lips. There’s only one place you can think of going to spend a cool blue late afternoon with.

“Skate plaza?” He asks.

“Skate plaza,” you answer.

[athenamikaelson]

Worried

Kol Mikaelson x Daughter!Reader

Word Count- 1.5k

Warnings- Swearing, underage drinking, Kol being a little jerk

Request- i was wondering if you can write a kol x daughter!reader where the reader goes to a party and tries to sneak behind kols back but he finds out then also figures out she has a boyfriend!

“Dude, are you sure your dad won’t mind?” Lulu said from beside you.

“Ya. I mean mom’s on some witchy retreat and Dad’s losing his mind without her, so I just told him I’m hanging with a couple friends.” Lulu gave me a nervous stare.

“Don’t worry about it, ok. What’s wrong? You think he’s going to find out and then eat you?” She gives me a death stare as she rolls her eyes.

“Bro. You aren't human here.” I just laugh and nudge her shoulder.

“It’s going to be ok. Alright?” Lulu just nods her head, “Now let’s get to this party!”

Walking into the house I’m met with the overwhelming smell of weed and B.O. My eyes graze over the crowd of people in the living room dancing. Well, if you want to call it dancing, as it looks more like a bunch of pubescent teens groping each other.

“Hey guys!!!” I turn around to see Lulu’s girlfriend Molly. Her short black hair, and clothes are messed up, which I can guess is from the dancing she’s been doing all night. The party invite originally came from Molly. Lulu is the type to rather stay in and talk about the long term effects of teenage drinking, while her girlfriend is the type to be the one drinking. How they found each other is still a surprise and mystery to me. But I’ve never met a couple more made for each other. Other than my parents. Or Aunt Hayley and Uncle Elijah. Or Aunt Beks and Uncle Mar. Ok, and Aunt Keelin and Aunt Freya.

“Took you guys long enough to get here!,” I can smell the alcohol on Molly’s breath as she yells in our faces. “Come on, let's go get drinks!” Molly quickly grabs our hands and starts dragging us but I pull back.

“You guys go ahead, I’m going to go find Y/BF/N!” Molly just gives me a drunken thumbs up with her empty hand and a big smile. While Lulu mouths, “be careful.” Which I just return with a smirk. When am I ever not careful? I stood there a moment thinking and realized why she would get worried. I just shrug my shoulders to myself as I push past the kids around me trying to find my boyfriend.

“Y/N!” A voice sounds over the loud music behind me and I turn to see Y/BF/N. A large smile comes onto my face as I walk over to him. As I get to him he opens his arms and welcomes me into a large embrace.

“I didn’t think you were going to show.” He says as he lets me out of his arms and moves his hands down to the sides of waist.

“Well the way Lulu kept looking at me, I didn’t think I’d end up making it either.” I slightly laugh as I look over and see Molly dragging Lu to the dance floor, and I quite literally mean dragging. Lu looks like she’d rather be staked in the heart than be here. But we both know that as much as she hates parties, she loves Molly more.

“And what about your dad? Is he ok with this?” I just roll my eyes at the fact that even though he doesn’t know what my dad truly is he’s still terrified of him.

“Yes, he’s fine with it.” I told him. I’m about to ask him if he wants to grab a drink but seeing the way the smile on his face drops when he looks behind me, I quickly turn around to meet the dark brown of my father’s. And instantly my heart drops in my chest.

“No he’s not fine with it.” My dad says as he gives a death stare to Y/BF/N. I turn to see Y/BF/N practically shitting bricks. His hands were long gone from my waist.

“Um, hello Mr. Mikaelson. My names Y/BF/N. Y/N has told me a lot about you.” My dad's eyes trail up and down his body and I can practically see the smoke coming from his ears.

“Well isn’t that funny? Because I haven’t heard anything about you.” I go to interject but he stops me with a glare.

“Y/N, we’re leaving. Let’s go.” I wanted to refuse but by the way people are starting to stare. I think it’d be a better idea to get the pissed off Original away from a crowded room of people. I quickly apologize to Y/BF/N and follow my dad out the door.

As soon as we get to the end of the driveway I turn to my dad.

“What the hell was that dad?” I yell. My dad looks at me with an incredulous look.

“Are you kidding me, Y/N? First I find you missing from your friend's house and then Rebekah tells me that she helped you do your hair for some party! So I find a party full of drunk teenagers and find some hooligan grabbing my daughter!”

“That hooligan dad was my boyfriend! And you practically just scared the living shit out of him back there. And not even mentioning how embarrassing it is for my dad to come and pick me up from a party surrounded by all my friends!”

My dad just rolls his eyes as he walks to the driver’s side of the car.

“Get in.”

I just scoff as I start walking away.

“Where are you going Y/N?” My dad yells from behind me.

“I’ll walk home.” I hear the car door slam and wait for the car to start but am surprised when my father appears in front of me.

“So you’ll walk home in the dark. Where you could possibly get eaten. But, you won’t get in the car with your father?”

“Yes,” I walk around him and continue walking, “and also I’m a witch I can protect myself.”

I continue walking and don’t hear my father until I hear a huff and footsteps.

“Well, if you’re walking then so am I.”I just ignore him and keep walking.

Fifteen or so minutes have passed since we started walking and I haven’t said anything to my dad. Which I can tell is getting to him. I may be the daughter but he’s the child in this family. And when a child is ignored, they get bratty.

I watch as my dad picks up the stick in front of him and turns to me. I narrow my eyes as he points the stick at me.

“Listen here girly, I’m going to give you two choices. Either you answer me or I’ll use the stick.” I just roll my eyes at his behavior and keep walking.

I start to walk a few feet when I feel something hit my calf. I whip around and see my dad looking up to the sky with a sly smirk on his face. The stick is being held behind his back. I just shake my head and keep walking.

Maybe 20 seconds go by before I feel the stick poke itself on my back. The only difference when I turned around this time was that my father wasn’t hiding the fact that he was the one poking me. I looked me dead and in the eyes and took the stick and placed it only on my head. I just stare at him, I’m not going to give him the benefit of knowing he can make me laugh.

I just keep walking, which I notice gives my dad even more motivation to get me to break.

“Do you want to hear about the time your Uncle Nik got his ass kicked by a bunch of teenagers?” I just sigh and keep walking.

“Or how about the time your dad embarrassed his daughter in front of all her friends and pissed her off?” I just sigh.

“Ya I think I’ve heard that one before.” I say as I stop.

“Did you hear the part where your dad was really sorry and only did it because he was scared when he couldn’t find his daughter. And the thought that the person he loves the most in the entire world might be in danger makes him feel like he’s being daggered all over again.”

I turn to my dad to see him staring at me. I look at him sadly before wrapping my hands around him in a hug.

“I’m sorry dad.”

I feel his arms wrap around me tighter and he presses a kiss to my forehead.

“I’m sorry too, kid. I may be a thousand years old. But this parenting thing might be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

“I’m sorry Dad, for not telling you. I didn’t realize you would be so scared. I’m sorry that you have to worry about me.” My dad's eyebrows furrow as he looks at me.

“Hey, don’t ever apologize for that. I’m your dad, it’s my job to worry about you. And I wouldn’t change that for the world. I love being your dad. And I love you.” I hugged him again.

“I love you too dad. And if you wanted to, I’d really like to hear that story about Uncle Nik getting his ass kicked.”

@daylightmikaelson

[mischiefandspirits]

Bernard Figures It Out

Was reading through all the comments on @frostbittenbucky's post and all I could think of was that it was Bernard talking to Tim. Then I got to thinking...

"I've connected the two dots."

"You didn't connect shit."

"I've connected them."

Bernard figures out Tim's a superhero... sort of.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tim fidgetted nervously as he waited on the front porch of his boyfriend’s house. Bernard had sounded so serious when he’d called during Tim’s lunch to ask him to come over after work so they could talk about something.

Which Tim had done, after spending an entire board meeting just going over the past week trying to figure out what he’d done.

The only thing he could think of was that he’d ducked out halfway through their lunch date on Wednesday to give Duke some backup, but Bernard had seemed understanding when Tim explained there was an emergency at GRC Labs. It couldn’t have been a tipping point, either, since Tim had managed to only flake on three other dates over the past few months they’d been dating. Kate had been happy to cover for him as often as she could “out of queer solidarity” when she found out Tim was dating a boy for the first time and Tim had managed to trick Bruce into covering a few actual Wayne Enterprises emergencies for him when they came up.

There had to be a reason Bernard was breaking up with him, though. Had he missed something? He definitely wasn’t forgetting an important day. He was good with days and Tam was even better, so she would have reminded him on the off chance that he had forgotten.

What was he missing?

Bernard was smiling when he opened the door, but there was a nervous energy to it that had Tim’s stomach sinking. “Hey, Tim.”

“Hey.” Tim gave his own nervous smile then slipped inside.

They went into the living room and sat down on the couch.

Tim frowned when Bernard grabbed a manila folder off the coffee table. Crud, had he screwed up enough that Bernard had had to make a list? He knew he was new to dating a guy, but he hadn’t thought he’d done that bad. He’d really been trying, especially with how his and Stephanie’s relationship had fallen apart at the end. “What -”

“Just let me speak, Tim,” Bernard said, waiting for Tim’s nod. “Okay, so you know Clark Kent, right?”

Tim blinked as Bernard opened the folder to show a picture of Clark. It looked like one of the employee pictures from the Planet’s website, with his dorky “I’m just a humble country boy” smile and the golden globe from their roof photoshopped in as the background. “Uh, yeah? I think so. He works for the Daily Planet, right? I think he’s worked at a few of Bruce’s events. Not a lot of outside reporters are willing to come to Gotham.”

“Exactly!” Bernard said, snapping his fingers and pointing at Tim.

“What?”

He pulled out the picture to show the next page was an article titled, “DAILY PLANET REPORTER… BATMAN!?”

A wave of relief washed over Tim and he placed his face in his hands. “Were you up all night on the hero conspiracy boards again?”

“No. I mean, I found this on a board and was up all night thinking about it, but I found it reasonably early.”

“One in the morning isn’t reasonable, Bernard.”

“Says the guy who’s always wide awake when I call to infodump.”

“Touché.” Tim leaned against Bernard and gave him a smile. “So tell me, why is some reporter from Metropolis from all places Batman.”

“First of all, living in Metropolis is the perfect cover. Everyone assumes Batman would live in Gotham, no one would consider he could be from anywhere else. Metropolis is outside the GMA, but close enough that the commute is still possible.”

“But it’s Metropolis.”

“And who would think Gotham’s Dark Knight lives in the sunshine capital? Plus, I hear he disappears a lot on the job. There’s gotta be a reason for it!”

Tim made a note to let Clark know he needs to cut back on the disappearing act some since people are catching on.

“And have you seen the guy? He is swol AF, babe.”

“Please don’t call me babe while you’re talking about how hot another guy is.” Especially Tim’s honorary uncle.

“You know I prefer twinks.”

“BERNARD!”

“I’m just saying,” he continued, ignoring Tim’s shout. “The guy is definitely hiding something! Besides, Kent is an investigative reporter. He’s gotta know a lot about cases and the underground and detective work.”

Not as much as he likes people to think, but more than he likes people to know Superman does, Tim mused. “But what about the other vigilantes?”

“Well, Kent has a cousin…” Bernard flipped through a folder and pulled out a picture of Kara. It looked like a screenshot of her interviewing Lena for CatCo. “She’s obviously the latest Batgirl. Look at her hair. And the first Batgirl and the current Batwoman were obviously Lois Lane, the red hair is just a wig. Did you see how she kicked butt at that last event she went to? She’s not as subtle as Kent. That means their son is the latest Robin. He’s exactly the right size.”

Oh, Damian better not hear about this, Tim cackled internally. His youngest brother hated being reminded that Jon was the same height as him despite their two years age difference. Damian definitely took after Talia when it came to body type, no matter what he said.

“And Kent also has a brother.” This time he pulled out a picture of Kon. The clone must have been caught by a reporter out shopping with Ma since he was carrying some paper bags and glaring at whoever was behind the camera. “At least, he’s supposedly Kent’s brother, but he was a teenager when he first showed up with the Kents. A lot of people think he’s actually Kent’s son, that Kent got a girl pregnant when they were teenagers and something happened to the mom so Kent had to take him in. Now the Kents are trying to hide it by saying the two are brothers.”

That was… scarily accurate actually. Especially given Luthor and Clark were close friends at the time that Kon would have theoretically been born.

“And that beef would explain why the younger Kent brother went all crime lord on Gotham for a while before reconnecting with the family.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, Kent Jr.’s got the perfect build for Red Hood.”

Tim bit back a comment on how Kon was shorter than Jason by a good foot. Timothy Drake-Wayne should not know that. Add Jason to the list of people who can’t hear this theory.

“And then there’s this girl,” Bernard picked up a picture of Lois, Jon, and Natasha Irons walking down the street together. “No one’s sure exactly who she is, but she’s been spotted with the Kents a few times. I think the cover story is that she’s Jon’s babysitter.”

“And the actual story?”

“She’s Black Bat, obviously. That’s why she wears a mask that fully covers her face. She doesn’t want to stand out as the only African American Bat.”

“Isn’t Signal also Black?”

“Yeah, but he works in the daytime so he’s already a standout.”

“And who is Signal in this? And what about Nightwing and Red Robin?”

“Well, Nightwing’s just a Blüd who came to Gotham. He doesn’t count.”

Ouch. Sorry, Dick.

“And Red Robin is obviously an older Robin, the one who was Robin when we were kids. Kent wanted to keep him on, and I don’t blame him. As for Signal, he’s got the same backstory as all the other Robins Kent picked up, he just went the Signal route because he didn’t fit the usual Robin mold.”

“Because the female Robin fit the mold,” Tim snorted. Robin Mold, as if he and his brothers were even the same ethnicity. Or even had the same hair color. Jason dyes his hair, Dick’s is brown-black, Tim’s is pure black, and Damian’s is more a dark brown and it’s only getting lighter as he gets older.

“She didn’t, that’s the point. Kent tried to give breaking the Robin mold a chance by letting his cousin have a go at it, but he realized it just didn’t work so she went back to being Spoiler and he got a new Robin.”

Not touching that with a ten-foot pole. “Right, and where does he get the usual Robins? Please tell me you’re not back on the secret government orphanages theory.”

“No, no, no. Kent travels sometimes for his job, right? And a lot of the time he’s going to places that have been hit by disasters or major crimes. So he’ll take in some of the displaced children to train as his robins.”

Tim pressed his face back into his hands.

“You see it, right?”

Honestly, Tim was just wondering how his boyfriend could be so close, and yet so far off. “How would Kent even afford taking care of a bunch of secret -- possibly illegally acquired -- children without anyone noticing?”

“Simple. Bruce Wayne is funding him.”

“Bernard, I love you, but what the heck?” Tim blushed and looked up as he realized what he’d said, but Bernard didn’t seem to notice as he steamrolled ahead.

“It’d also explain how he can afford all the gear and how he’d be able to travel to Gotham or anywhere else Batman goes without anyone noticing. He probably has a secret Batplane or something.”

“Why would Bruce do that?”

“Because Wayne cares about Gotham, everyone knows that, and this way he can make sure someone’s taking care of the city without anyone putting two and two together.”

“And two plus two is?”

Bernard gave him a hard look. “I’m not stupid, Tim. Bruce Wayne is obviously Superman. His face is right there.”

Oh, the others are going to love this! Too bad I can’t tell Damian or Jason. Jason especially would have loved this. “Right. Bruce is Superman.”

“He is. Superman is known for being nice and Bruce Wayne’s basically all that’s keeping the city running at this point. That’s nice as hell.”

Oh my god.

“And Wayne does charity for the victims of cataclysms, doesn't he? I bet he first saves people from them as Superman and then builds them new homes for free.”

Oh my god! Why am I not recording this!?

“And the Wayne’s were rich enough to hide the fact they adopted an alien baby.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “If you’re about to tell me this is why Bruce’s parents got killed, you might want to stop while you’re ahead.”

“It’d make sense. There’re all sorts of unanswered questions about their deaths,” Bernard muttered under his breath, flipping through the folder. He pulled out another picture of Kara. This time she was in full Supergirl attire with a bus held overhead. “So if Wayne is Superman, then that’d mean your ex-girlfriend could be Supergirl. They look a lot alike and it’d explain how she got involved with you all.”

“Bernard, she has a human dad. You know, Cluemaster. The supervillain.”

“Yeah, her dad. But we don’t know anything about her mom!”

“Let me guess…”

Bernard pulled out a picture of Karen. She and Helena were suited up and talking to a group of cops, two goons held over each of Karen’s shoulders. “Her mom could be Power Girl! Some makeup and a wig and she could look just like Crystal Brown! And Damian Wayne is obviously the new Superboy! That’s why his background is such a mystery, right? He had to stay a secret until he could control his alien superpowers. That’s why he’s always so mean. It’s a cover since everyone knows Superboy is super sweet!”

Sure, when he’s not helping Damian pull pranks or using his adorable powers to put the blame on Kon and I. “No, Bernard. Damian and Steph are just very human hellspawn. And Bruce and Crystal are human too. I can’t believe you called me over here just to tell me you think Superman is both Batman’s sugar daddy and my adoptive dad.”

“Well, that’s not exactly why I called you over,” Bernard admitted, the nervous energy coming back. He grabbed Tim’s hands. “Tim -”

Tim’s stomach sank. “You are breaking up with me!”

“What? No! I don’t want to break up!”

“Why are you acting all nervous and serious then!?” Tim asked, pulling his hands away to throw them up in the air.

Bernard shook the folder. “Because I’m trying to tell you I figured out you’re Superboy!”

Tim’s brain blue-screened and his hands slowly dropped. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I know you’re Superboy. The older one, obviously. By the way, you and Damian really need to figure out separate names.”

Forget Jason and Damian, Kon can never find out about this. He’d never let me live it down. “Bernard, you called me a twink five minutes ago. Su-” Shoot, I can not risk getting Kon’s attention! “The older one might not be as big as Superman, but he’s not a twink.”

“Well, yeah, that’s the shapeshifting at work.”

“The what?”

“Obviously you Kryptonians can shapeshift. Why else would you look so much like humans?”

… Why do Kryptonians look so much like humans? Was there some - Wait, no! Break into the Fortress of Solitude for research later! Reassure your boyfriend that you’re not an alien now! “Bernard -”

“And that explains why your step-mom was so hot.”

“Gross.”

“She and your dad were actors hired by Luthor so you could have a normal life! But now Bruce has custody so he adopted you.”

“No.”

“That’s why you and your dad were so weird with each other when I met him.”

“We were weird because he’d just gotten out of a coma not long before to find that his wife was dead so he decided to actually be a dad for once in his life, but overcompensated and became a helicopter parent to a kid who was mostly on his own for his entire life!” Tim blurted out. “I am not an alien, Bernard!”

“Well, not technically since you were cloned from Superman on Earth.”

“Oh my god! You were just talking about Steph being Supergirl! Why would I date my dad’s cousin?”

Bernard blinked. “Supergirl and Superman are cousins?”

Right, Timothy Drake-Wayne wasn’t supposed to know that. “I thought they’d said something like that before, yeah. Are people seriously saying I’m Superboy on the internet?”

“NO! No, I swear I would have led with that if I thought your identity was compromised. A few people have mentioned Wayne and Damian, but not you or Steph or Jason.”

“Wh-Jason!? You think Jason was an alien too!”

“No, not exactly, but a few times when I’ve visited I swear I’ve seen a guy in the manor who looks like Jason. It’s just been out of the corner of my eye and he’s gone whenever I look so I’ve always thought it was just Dick or Bruce or some picture of Jason that my mind was playing tricks with, but it makes sense now that I know Wayne is Superman. He must have been able to heal Jason with alien tech, but couldn’t say anything because that would give away that he’s Superman.”

Damn it Jason! And damn it Bernard! I’m dating the smartest moron in the world! “Bruce did not bring Jason back with alien technology and none of us are aliens!”

“It’s okay, Tim. I won’t tell anyone.”

Tim grabbed Bernard by the jacket and pulled him into a kiss. When he started to feel lightheaded, he pulled back, “Could someone whose skin is as solid as stone kiss like that?”

Bernard blinked dazedly at him for a moment. “How do you know what Superboy’s skin feels like?”

Tim screamed internally. “He’s saved me from a kidnapping before.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I can get you the police report if you want.”

“Huh… And the others?”

“Not Supers. I can stab Damian the next time we’re at the manor if that’ll prove none of us are aliens.” He’d rather stab Jason, but that would probably only confirm to Bernard that Bruce used alien technology to bring him back.

“You probably shouldn’t stab your brother if he isn’t an alien.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “I won’t stab him anywhere deadly.”

“That’s not the point,” Bernard said slowly.

“He’ll be fine.”

“If you say so.”

“So do you believe I’m not an alien now?” Tim huffed, letting go of Bernard’s jacket.

The blond’s eyes dipped down to Tim’s lips. “If I say no, will you kiss me like that again?”

“You’re ridiculous,” Tim said, but he kissed him anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Okay, but I still say Clark Kent is definitely Batman.”

“Sure, Bernard.”

[fluffuwas]

Fuwa Mawata HCs

☁️ mawata uses she/they pronouns ☁️

🍰 she’s definitely aspec, probably greyromantic 🍰

🧸 they like fluffy things and have a collection of stuffed animals 🧸

🎀 she’s very chill to be around 🎀

💭 they were aizawa’s “favorite” student, as in they could probably get away with the most shit (they never really tried anything though) 💭

💙 she’s best friends with the girl with the dog quirk, her name is inukai waka and they met at ua 💙

🤍 their main friend group consists of all the people they were seen talking to when they said that aizawa expelling them all helped them grow 🤍

💗 she’s an easy person to talk to 💗

☁️ they like cloud gazing ☁️

🍰 she likes to bake but in terms of actual cooking she sucks 🍰

🧸 mawata’s class thinks that they’re a little weird for being the only one to say that being expelled did more good than harm for their futures as heroes (albeit mawata said this after the fact) 🧸

🎀 it’s difficult to scare her or catch her off guard; she’s also not afraid of things people are usually scared by like ghosts or bugs 🎀

💭 they’re an only child 💭

💙 her hair is naturally a white-grey color, she usually dyes it pink but in middle school she dyed it a shade of baby blue 💙

🤍 they have two cats 🤍

💗 as a hero, she gives off comforting vibes (like raggedy ann in the 1977 musical) 💗

☁️ even though they like their classmates, they honestly prefer being alone ☁️

🍰 she wants to learn how to do some sort of needlework 🍰

🧸 their grandparents live on a farm, mawata visits them once a year 🧸

🎀 she had a pet rabbit when she was younger but,, it ran away and froze to death 🎀

💭 they prefer plushie earrings as opposed to metallic ones 💭

💙 she likes taking bubble baths to de-stress 💙

🤍 they’re sensitive to certain textures, they especially dislike the texture of hairsprayed hair 🤍

💗 even though she’s the most accepting of aizawa’s expulsions, she’s still a little upset about the whole thing (it’s just not to the point of fear or anger) 💗

☁️ mawata would be known as the fluffy hero, but i can’t really decide on what hero name to give them ☁️

🍰 they’re aiming to be a rescue hero 🍰

🧸 she has quirkwizard’s cotton gin quirk 🧸

🎀 they’ve interned with best jeanist before since their quirks are kind of similar 🎀

💭 she had a slime phase before entering ua 💭

💙 besides their collection of stuffed animals, they’ve also made it their lifetime goal (besides being a hero) to own every pillow pet someday 💙

🤍 she loves sanrio and knows a bunch of fun facts about every sanrio character 🤍

💗 they always have candy and little sylvanian family figures in their pockets (they like seeing people’s reactions to them pulling out a little rabbit toy out of their jacket) 💗