#not even going to say which song inspired it. it's ridiculous.

[forgotten-daydreamer]

Still thinking about that yandere!Yamaguchi fic I drafted in 2020 and never finished...

[softspiderling]

est-ce que je t’aime? | j.v

summary:

“What does dear Jace have to say?”

“I do not like your tone,” you huffed, snatching the letter out of his hands. Daeron chuckled, his eyes gleaming.

“You could become my niece, if this continues.”

“Oh please,” you answered, not even entertaining the idea. “I am too low of a rank for him to even consider marrying me.”

OR; After having spent almost eight namedays in Oldtown, you longed for your return to King’s Landing, to see Jace again. When the day finally comes, you didn’t expect to be thrust in the middle of a war for the crown.

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x reader, platonic!daeron targaryen x reader

warnings: mention of death (Viserys), canonical violence (follows plot of the show up to Storm’s End), otherwise this part is pretty tame!

word count: 8,2k

author’s note: i do not know a single thing about daeron except for the tidbits we have learned in the show. the rest is made up (but imo my Daeron character analysis is pretty great finally my bachelor's in english has proven useful). this is gonna be a two parter! the first part is heavily reader x daeron/team green focused, while the second part will focus on reader’s and jace’s relationship. title is from GIMS' song est-ce que tu m'aimes which also inspired this fic... also @eldrith bc i fear i will be threatened with a gun if i dont... happy reading 🫶🏼

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“I have a letter from the Queen Alicent and and another one from the Prince Jacaerys Velaryon,” the messenger said, bowing as he stood at the door.

“Thank you Ser.”

Taking the letters, the messenger bowed to take his leave, and you handed Daeron the letter from his mother before settling into your chaise with Jace’s letter.

This was how you and Daeron received news from King’s Landing and Dragonstone. You hated how you had to wait so long to hear news, longing for the time all of you were at King’s Landing together, but you knew that things hadn’t been working out with Rhaenyra and her family nor with Alicent and her children.

You thought that was the main reason Daeron had been sent to Oldtown, to shield him from the tumultuous life at court and you along with him, despite that you had been Helaena’s lady in waiting.

Smiling at the contents of the letter, you tried to imagine Jace’s voice as he told you of Luke taking flight with Arrax for the first time, failing miserably. It had only been two years since you saw him last, but you knew how boys matured quickly in a short span of time, Daeron being the perfect example.

He had only come up to your shoulders when you first arrived in Oldtown, now, he was almost as tall as you.

“Helaena and Aegon were married,” Daeron suddenly said and your hands stilled, lowering Jace’s letter.

You glanced at him, noticing how small his voice sounded. Putting the letter away, you clasped Daeron’s arm, offering some comfort. You knew how hard it was for him to be away from his family and hearing about important news like that through letter just made the distance seem even greater.

“To whom?”

“To each other.”

“What?”

“Look,” Daeron said, handing you the letter his mother had sent him with the official sigil of the Targaryen house. You read through the letter, before sitting back with a surprised sigh.

“Helaena must be devastated,” you muttered, rubbing the side of your temples. You couldn’t imagine how alone Helaena must feel, to be married off to Aegon. He had always been a little crude; you doubted he had changed much.

“I cannot believe mother did not even deem it necessary to bring me home for their wedding,” Daeron said with a frown. “Am I even still her son?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you chastised him. “Your mother sent you away for your own good.”

Even as you said those words, you didn’t quite believe them yourself. It had been so long since Daeron has seen his family, you understood sending him away in the first place, but going for so long without a single visit?

With a sigh, Daeron brushed his silver hair back, angling towards Jace’s letter you had left on the table.

“What does dear Jace have to say?”

“I do not like your tone,” you huffed, snatching the letter out of his hands. Daeron chuckled, his eyes gleaming.

“You could become my niece, if this continues.”

“Oh please,” you answered, not even entertaining the idea. “I am too low of a rank for him to even consider marrying me.”

“So you have thought about marrying my nephew?”

You groaned and Daeron only cackled when you shoved him.

“Go sit and write to your mother,” you told him with a sniff of your nose and even though he grimaced at you, he sat down at the wooden desk, grabbing a roll of parchment. Even though Daeron was of much higher rank than you, he had adopted you as some sort of older sister ever since you two got to Oldtown, with you being the only familiar person from home that was still present in his life, apart from his uncles, of course.

It pained you, to see Daeron long for his family, who seemed to have discarded him so easily. You wondered when he would get to his family again as you reached for Jace’s letter to keep on reading;You wondered when you would get to see Jace again.

It was six more years before either of that would happen. However under much different circumstances than either of you had imagined.

“Urgent news from King’s Landing!” the messenger said, his breath short as he handed Lord Ormund a roll of parchment. You and Daeron glanced at each other; you were in the middle of breaking fast, the most important meal of the day in Oldtown; it must be incredible important news for the messenger to disrupt the meal like that. His face was stony as he read the contents of the letter, before his eyebrows raised in surprise. He lowered the letter, his eyes finding Daeron.

“Your father has passed. They are to crown your brother Aegon to be King. You are expected back in King’s Landing.” Lord Ormund’s eyes found you. “Both of you.”

It didn’t take long for Daeron and you get everything ready for your departure, you barely noticed most of your belongings being packed up, still reeling from the news. You couldn’t believe King Viserys had died. Of course you had known from the letters that Daeron had received from his mother that the king had taken quite ill, but still. And he named Aegon as his new heir? You couldn’t imagine Aegon, the boy who teased his brother endlessly to become King of the Seven Realms, but who were you to judge?

Your hand was itching to write to Jace, despite your last letter still being unanswered. You weren’t sure what had changed, but lately you felt like Jace’s letters had become scarce, every answer taking longer than the last. You weren’t quite bold enough to ask why in a letter, fearing a rejection, but maybe when you saw him, you could gauge his mood. You knew you were to see him at King Viserys’ funeral or the latest at Aegon’s coronation, you would see him sooner than your letter would take to get to him. Despite knowing that, your eyes caught on parchment and quill, so you took leave to Daeron’s chamber to distract yourself.

The door to his chambers stood open as you stepped in, the maids moving in a flurry as they packed his belongings, while Daeron was sitting on his bed, unmoving. Gingerly, you moved to sit behind him, but he barely acknowledged your presence, gazing out of the window.

“I’m sorry about your father’s passing,” you told him, nudging him with your shoulder.

“I have been living without a father for quite some time,” he replied wryly, glancing at you. “I suppose it will not feel any different.”

You reached for his hand, squeezing it, hoping to lend him comfort. “I know. But still, I wish he had been a better father to you.”

Daeron only snorted, shaking his head.

“Are you nervous to see your kin again?”

The young Prince let out a laugh, unwinding his hand from your grip to stand.

“Kin? I haven’t seen them in nearly ten years,” he scoffed, starting to pace. “Mother writes to me once in a moon, Helaena’s letters are more confusing than not, and Aegon and Aemond barely write to me on my name day. I have not seen them since my eighth name day.”

“They are still your kin, Daeron.”

“By blood, yes.”

“Is there any other way to be kin?”

You were humoring him, knowing he was frustrated and nervous to see his family but Daeron stopped in his tracks, looking at you.

“Yes. You.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise and he took his seat next to you again, cradling your hand in his.

“You came with me to Oldtown when you did not have to, gave me a sense of familiarity in this… Farce of a home, lent me comfort in a way my own blood failed to do,” he said quietly, squeezing your hand. “You are my sister in everything but blood.”

“Oh Daeron,” you sighed, pulling him into a hug and letting the younger boy - despite him arguing that he was long a man - find comfort in your arms. Ten and six, and the burden of feeling like you were abandoned by your family. You wished he did not have to feel this way, but you were powerless to change it.

“Swear to me you will not abandon me once we get back to King’s Landing,” Daeron said, pulling away to hold you at an arm’s length, his eyes searching yours.

“I swear it,” you told him, a smile on your face. “Swear to me you will not say any of this to your mother.”

Daeron let out a laugh at that, but you only shook your head, only half-jesting. You know Otto Hightower would fall right to his grave if he had heard Daeron call you his sister. You were high-born, yes, but in no way comparable to a Princess.

A knock sounded on the door, before a squire entered. “Everything has been prepared for your departure my Prince.”

“Very well, we will be right out,” Daeron answered with a nod.

The squire bowed, before leaving again and you squeezed Daeron’s hand, standing.

“I will go fetch my belongings, you go bid farewell to your uncles.”

Daeron nodded, taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders. “I will meet you outside the city walls.”

You touched his cheek gently before you departed. A knight and two maids followed you with bags of sustenance and personal belongings to the city walls, where a handful of dragonkeepers were eyeing the sky. Lifting your gaze, you saw Tessarion fly over the city in circles, a smile growing on your face, excited to be making the trip back to King’s Landing on dragonback.

You had always loved whenever Daeron took you out flying on Tessarion; deep within you wished to feel a bond as special as a dragonrider had with their dragon. You wondered if Jace would take you flying on Vermax, now that all of you were reconvening for the King’s funeral rite and Aegon’s coronation.

Tessarion let out a screech before coming to land on the small green meadow, and you knew Daeron must be close. Surely enough, you heard footsteps coming closer before Daeron stopped just next to you, knights accompanying him.

“Will you miss Oldtown?” You asked him, but Daeron only shook his head.

“Nothing keeping me here,” he answered, stepping forward to greet Tessarion as she landed, calming her as the knights and maids attached the satchels and bags to the saddle. You let out a deep breath, turning to look at Oldtown for one last time. While Daeron had been right, a part of you was sad to leave, as it had been the place you had called home for the last years.

“Are you sure this is King’s Landing?”

The journey to King’s Landing had been uneventful and quick, a half day’s journey only. When you had arrived, flying over the city, Daeron directed Tessarion into the dragon pit, where the dragonkeepers had been waiting. Maids had then taken you into the Red Keep, and you barely had any time to react as you looked at the adornments that decorated castle; countless dedications to the Seven. The busy Keep you had remembered had now been replaced with empty halls and dark walls.

Daeron glanced at you before looking around. “Surely mother’s doing.”

The maid led you into empty chambers, bowing to Daeron.

“The Queen Dowager will be with you shortly, my Prince.”

Daeron thanked her and she inclined her head at him before turning to you.

“My Lady, if you follow me.”

“Where are you taking her?” Daeron, his hand on your arm to stop you from leaving. The maid paused, glancing between the two of you.

“To her chambers, my Prince.”

“She will stay with me.”

“Daeron, you should see your mother by yourself, I can come see you after,” you assured him but Daeron merely shook his head, his grip on your arm tightening.

“I shall not meet my mother alone.”

“Daeron-“

“Please,” Daeron begged, his voice panicked and you sighed, giving in. Only then did Daeron release the grip on your arm.

The maid still paused but she then decided to retreat, but not without bowing to Daeron again. He started pacing in the room, picking up the small trinkets that littered the desk.

“They just put me in my old chambers thinking it will be like I never left.”

You raised your eyebrows, glancing around before you realized that Daeron was right - you were standing in his old chambers. They had replaced the furniture and added a bigger bed, but it was the same chambers he had stayed in when he was a little boy.

“They have always kept a place for you to return, is that not a good thing?”

Daeron looked at you with a frown when the doors suddenly opened and Alicent stepped in, in tow with Daeron’s siblings and his grandsire, Otto. Alicent beamed at the sight of her youngest son, though her smile wavered when she saw you, before turning her eyes back to Daeron, opening her arms.

“My boy.”

“Mother,” Daeron replied, his voice hesitant before he fell into her arms, hugging him tightly.

Your heart warmed at the sight and Daeron seemed to lose all of the fears he had been carrying - if only for a split second - as he laid in his mother’s arms. You were content to stay back, let Daeron get reacq with his family again, but you weren’t ignored for long, when someone threw their arms around you with so much momentum, it nearly knocked you off your feet.

“Oh Gods,” you laughed, a head of silver hair in your face. “Helaena.”

“I missed you,” the Princess whispered and you hugged her back just as tightly, sighing. She gave you one last squeeze, before Helaena pulled away to muster you, running her hands through the ends of your hair.

“You look well,” she said. “Very beautiful.”

You flushed at her kind words, lacing her hands with yours. “So are you, my Princess.”

Helaena smiled brightly at you. “You must meet Jahaera and Jahaerys.”

“There is time for that later,” Alicent decided, cutting in. Helaena’s smile dropped slightly and she fled to your side as her mother stepped to you. You bowed your head to greet her, but Alicent grabbed you by the shoulders before pulling you into a hug, surprising you.

“Thank you,” she said quietly in the privacy of the embrace. “Thank you for watching over Daeron when I was unable to.”

You wrapped your arms around Alicent. “Of course my Queen.”

She pulled away, straightening her dress and you caught a glimpse of Otto talking to Daeron before Aegon and Aemond stepped into your view.

“My Princes,” you said, bowing. “My condolences for your father.”

“Thank you,” Aemond said. “He was in great pain, The Stranger freed him.”

His voice was monotone, almost void of emotion and you wondered if any of them mourned their father. Aegon nodded, though he seemed more subdued.

“Are you excited to be King, my Prince?” you asked, hoping to change the topic.

He gave you a wry smile, opening his mouth but Aemond gave him a subtle jab in the side with his elbow.

“Uh, yes, of course, my Lady,” Aegon said, clearing his throat. “Now that we have all reconvened, the coronation cannot come soon enough. You are a much better guest than our nephews.”

That made you pause.

“Jace and Luke were here?” You asked, your forehead creasing.

“Yes. Lord Vaemond challenged Luke as heir for Driftmark and the trial was held at court. They left just shortly before father passed,” Aemond told you, his voice even. You hadn’t known that.

“When are they expected to return?”

Alicent exchanged looks with Otto, silent conversation passing between them and you glanced at Daeron, who seemed just as confused. Something was going on, something you weren’t aware of.

“They are not,” Alicent then said and your lips parted in surprise. “Rhaenyra is upset, rightfully so, that her father had chosen Aegon as his heir, so she decided to remain on Dragonstone.”

Your eyebrows furrowed but you decided not to press the matter, only nodding. The topic was quickly brushed off as Alicent wrapped her arm around Daeron, trying to draw him into conversation, asking about his interests. You only listened half-heartedly, your mind still spinning from the news.

“Do you not think all of this odd?” you asked, your voice low. “I know Rhaenyra is proud, but refusing to show up to the coronation or even pay respects to her late father?”

It was the day after your arrival in King’s Landing, the day of the coronation. The day was hectic, the Keep suddenly bustling with servants and maids getting everything ready; you had taken the advantage to sneak into Daeron’s room, something that had gotten much more difficult ever since you got back to King’s Landing.

“Maybe thing’s have changed,” Daeron replied, rubbing his temple. “We have been away for a while, we do not know of the things that have transpired.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but a knock on the door interrupted you, a maid coming to fetch you for the coronation was about to begin. As you walked to the carriage, you were arguing with yourself on the inside, knowing that you were privy of most details, thanks to Jace’s letters. You couldn’t believe Rhaenyra wouldn’t rush to King’s Landing to bid farewell to her father. There must be something else holding her back.

As you got to the Dragonpit where the coronation was held, you were surprised that it was over faster than you had imagined, almost like it was rushed. Then again, this was your first coronation so who were you to say this wasn’t how every coronation went? As Aegon raised his hand to the small folk, eliciting applause, you joined in. The applause ceded when a loud growl shook the entire building. Silence followed, before the floor gave away when a dragon emerged through the stone, countless people falling to their death, trampled by the the huge beast with Princess Rhaenys on top.

Meleys, you thought, stood before the family, and Alicent rushed towards Aegon to shield him, cries and pleads from the smallfolk surrounding you. Criston shielded Helaena, and you grasped Daron’s hand as he only stared at his cousin in shock.

With bated breath, everyone waited - to be burnt, eaten, you weren’t sure. But Meleys only let out a deafening roar, before flapping her wings, breaking through the doors to escape to freedom.

“What in the Seven Hells was that?” you muttered to Daeron. He gave you a shrug, squeezing your hand as he looked you over, making sure you were unharmed.

The small folk on the other hand were fighting to get out of the building, which seemed to be crumbling in on itself, and Criston began to usher everyone out.

You were the last to come down from the stairs, taking Daeron’s hand he was offering to you when a crunching sound from above made you lift your head, seeing a large part of the roof cave in, falling right down heading straight for you.

“Sister!”

Daeron gave a harsh tug of your arm, pulling you behind him, as the large slab of stone fell right in the place you were standing mere moments ago.

“Are you well?” He asked, his voice full of concern as he padded you down.

“I’m fine, Daeron.”

“Daeron.”

You both looked up when Alicent called for him, just to see that they were all staring at you, Otto seeming incredibly displeased as you realized what Daeron had just called you. Seven Hells, you thought, this was precisely what you had been trying to avoid.

“Do you even realize what sort of rumors would be spread if anyone had heard you refer to her as “sister”?!”

You were pacing in front of the study, voices muffled through the wooden door. After you had gotten back to the Keep, Helaena and Aegon had returned to their children, while Otto and Alicent had dragged Daeron into the study. Neither of them sounded particularly happy, their raised voices spilling out of the room. You were wringing your hands, something that you had been doing a lot since you got to King’s Landing. Not even three nights ago, you were in Oldtown wondering if you were ever to return to King’s Landing, now you were back and everything was happening so fast and you felt like you were missing a big part of the story. When did the King change his mind about his heir? Why wouldn’t Rhaenyra and Daemon return to King’s Landing following the King’s death? And why in the Seven Hells did Rhaenys break through the floor with Meleys like she was being held captive? You had so many questions, none of which you had answer to; deep in thoughts, you didn’t even notice someone approaching you.

“Eavesdropping, are we?”

Letting out a small gasp, you jumped to face Aemond, a hand on your chest as he eyed you, unimpressed.

“Gods, you scared me,” you said, shaking your head. “No, I am waiting on Daeron. Your mother and grandsire didn’t want me to come in.”

Clearly.

Aemond didn’t say anything else as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossing over his chest. You eyed him as he stood there, on guard. It was hard to gauge him; you felt like Aemond was waiting for you to make a mistake so he had a reason to get rid of you. You remembered the soft, warm boy he used to be when you first got to King’s Landing. You wondered when he had changed, if it was when Luke took his eye or before.

“I should have known Daeron would cling to you after you had gone to Oldtown with him,” he said, his voice slow. “What is it, that you are planning to do with him? Make him infatuated with you so you can insinuate yourself into our family?”

Your ears grew hot at his implication. How dare he abandon his brother for nearly all his life and accuse you of having improper thoughts?

“Daeron is like a brother to me,” you said, voice indignant. “I care about him and I mislike being accused of such a horrible things.”

“So you vow your loyalty to our family, to Aegon as King?”

The way Aemond phrased the question made it seem like you had a choice and you hesitated, the fight leaving you.

“Of course, he’s the rightful heir, is he not?”

Aemond only gave a nod, taking a step back. You narrowed your eyebrows at him, but the door opened and Daeron stepped out, his face in a scowl.

“What happened?” you asked, but he only gave a brief shake of his head. He inclined his head, and you followed him, a knight on your trail, while Aemond stayed behind. The two of you walked for a while, until you reached the gardens, the knight staying by the edge as you and Daeron took a seat on a bench. He still seemed agitated, so you placed your hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

“They accused me of impropriety,” Daeron muttered. “Said that I was opening our family up for vulnerabilities and rumors.”

“We’re not in Oldtown anymore, Daeron, everything you do here is looked upon,” you sighed.

“What is improper about calling you my sister? You have been by my side since my eighth name day,” he argued. “How can I call a woman my mother when I haven’t seen her since I was a boy? The strangers brothers and sister, when I barely recognize them?” Daeron hissed, his voice rising.

“I know you’re upset,” you said quietly, eyes darting around, not wanting him to get in even more trouble. “It’s hard for them to understand. They are not trying to hurt you.”

“Did they not try to hurt me when they cast me out of the family?”

You sighed, leaning your head on his shoulder, and Daeron let out a shaky breath, staring out in the distance.

“How is my brother faring?”

You shut the door to Daron’s chambers quietly to find Aemond waiting just in front. After you had spent the rest of the afternoon in the gardens, you had thought it best if Daeron laid down for a while before supper, hoping it would calm him.

“It’s hard for him to find his footing here. His life in Oldtown hasn’t been this… Restrictive. It will take him time to adjust.”

Aemond nodded, letting out a sigh.

“I was hoping he would accompany me,” he said. “But I do not think he sounds well enough to go.”

“Where are you going?”

“Storm’s End. To get Lord Borros to vow for my brother.”

What?

“Forgive me but who else would he be loyal to?”

Aemond turned around, looking at you in disdain.

“Rhaenyra. She might think she still has some claim on the throne.”

He paused, eyeing you carefully.

“You should come.”

“Me?”

Aemond’s eye swept over you once more and he nodded.

“Yes, it will look good to Lord Borros if someone outside of our family is there showing support to Aegon,” he insisted. “It will be a short flight on Vhagar.”

“Very well,” you said, a glance on Daron’s closed door, wondering if you should tell him that you would be gone, but it sounded like the trip to Storm’s End wouldn’t be long, so you decided against waking him. You could tell him after.

You followed Aemond to the dragonpit, where a maid laid a cloak around your shoulders as you watched Aemond mount Vhagar, the breath stocking in your throat at the size of his dragon. Vhagar was large and old, barely able to turn in the dragon pit without brushing the cave.

“Come,” Aemond said, offering his hand to you before pulling you into the saddle, instructing you to hold on tightly.

“Soves, Vhagar!”

With a loud growl, Vhagar stepped out of the dragon pit before taking to the skies, her enormous wings stretching out several feet. The ride on Vhagar was much smoother than every ride you had ever taken on Tessarion, and it wasn’t long before you reached Storm’s End, dark clouds following you. Vhagar landed in the courtyard, you and Aemond climbing off.

“Just in time,” the Baratheon knight said, watching the rain pour from the skies just as you stepped under the roof.

“I am Prince Aemond Targaryen, brother of King Aegon II,” Aemond said, fixing his doublet. “I am here to talk to Lord Borros.”

The knight lead him into the Round Hall, where Lord Borros sat on his seat, seemingly having expected Aemond, his four daughters standing idly next to him.

“Prince Aemond, what can I do for you?”

“Lord Borros, I am here to ask you to pledge loyalty to my brother, King Aegon II.”

“King Aegon, you say,” Lord Borros said, arrogance dripping from his voice. “And what do you offer me for my loyalty?”

You were taken aback by his words, but Aemond only smiled, his hands locked behind his back.

“Your four daughters… They are still unwed?”

A smile spread on Lord Borros’ face and he gestured to his four daughters with his arm.

“Indeed. Are you proposing a betrothal?”

Aemond inclined his head. “Not only am I free to marry, but my younger brother, Prince Daeron as well. His lady companion can attest to his formidable character.”

Your eyes widened at Aemond’s words and you glanced at him, anger welling up inside you. So this was why he had wanted you to come. Aemond paid you no mind and you exhaled deeply, turning to face Lord Borros again, putting up a faux smile.

“Excellent, excellent,” Lord Borros said, clapping his hands. “Let us discuss-“

“My Lord!” A knight called, striding into the hall with quick steps. “Another dragon has been sighted, headed straight to Storm’s End.”

“Ah, that must be my nephew,” Aemond replied easily, your heart skipping a beat. Were you finally going to see Jace again? Lord Borros gestured to the side, and Aemond placed his hand to your lower back to push you along; you fought your urge to slap his hand away from you, eyes darting over to the door.

The heavy rain was still pelting outside, nearly drowning out the sound of the steps as a young boy entered.

“Prince Lucerys Velaryon,” the knight announced. “Son of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen.”

Luke, you thought, looking at the young Prince, now old enough to be delivering messages. The last time you saw him, he was round faced, his dark locks curling around his angelic face. Seeing him lessened the fire in your chest, though you were still angry at this whole situation, and you threw Aemond a look. He didn’t seem like he was paying any attention anyhow, his focus on his nephew who came further into the hall.

Luke’s step faltered when he saw Aemond, before his eyes laid on you. You tried to give him a comforting smile, show him you were a friendly face in a crowd of hostiles, knowing Luke was about to be met with a rejection, but he quickly glanced away, facing Lord Borros.

“Lord Borros...” Luke started. “I brought you a message from my mother... the Queen.”

“Yet earlier this day, I received an envoy from the King,” Lord Borros drawled, his tone less warm. “Which is it? King, or Queen? The House of the Dragon does not seem to know who rules it.”

Lord Borros chuckled in amusement and you could tell Luke was nervous by the way he was shifting on his feet. Aemond seemed to enjoy all of it.

“What’s your mother’s message?”

Luke held out the parchment roll and the a knight fetched it, bringing it to Lord Borros, which he readily accepted, asking for the maester. As the maester quietly recounted the content of the message to Lord Borros, Luke glanced to you and Aemond numerous times, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. Your eyebrows creased, but the corners of Aemond’s mouth tugged up.

“Remind me of my father’s oath?” Lord Borros spoke, the message seemingly upsetting him greatly. “King Aegon at least came with an offer: My swords and banners for a marriage pact. If I do as your mother bids… Which one of my daughters will you wed, boy?”

Luke hesitated. You pressed your lips together; he had probably expected less of a hostile welcoming. Lord Borros only scoffed at Luke’s silence.

“Go home, pup,” he sneered. “Tell your mother that the Lord of Storm’s End is not some dog that she can whistle up at need to set against her foes.”

Luke inclined his head, disappointed at the rejection.

“I shall take your answer to the Queen; my Lord.”

Luke turned to leave, but Aemond stepped forward, calling out to him.

“Wait, my Lord Strong.”

You glanced at Aemond, letting out a soft breath, nerves pooling in your stomach. Luke turned, despite the blatant insult.

“Did you really think that you could just fly about the realm trying to steal my brother’s throne at no cost?”

Your hand reached out to grasp Aemond, but he slipped out of your grips as he stepped closer to his nephew.

“I will not fight you. I came as messenger, not a warrior.”

“A fight would be little challenge,” Aemond said. “No. I want you to put out your eye.”

He took off his eyepatch and you pressed your lips together, eyes darting between uncle and nephew, knowing this was about to escalate terribly.

“As payment for mine. One will serve,” Aemond added, throwing a dagger in Luke’s direction. “I would not blind you.”

Luke stared at Aemond in shock, his lips parted.

“Plan to make it a gift of it to my mother.”

Luke’s eyes dropped to the dagger on the floor, before he lifted his head. “No.”

“Then you are craven as well as a traitor.”

“Not here,” Lord Borros said, but no one paid him any attention.

“Give me your eye!” Aemond yelled, descending upon Luke, grabbing the dagger from the floor, while Luke stepped back, reaching for his sword. “Or I will take it, bastard.”

“Aemond!” you shouted, panic evident in your voice.

“Not in my hall!” Lord Borros cut in, his voice raised and Aemond stopped, turning back to look at him. “The boy came as an envoy. I’ll not have blood shed beneath my roof. Take Prince Lucerys back to his dragon. Now.”

Luke resheathed his sword, throwing one last look at you before he turned, hurrying out of the hall. Aemond let out a huff of frustration, throwing a dirty look at Lord Borros, exiting the hall without waiting for you.

“Aemond, wait,” you called after him, hurrying to keep up with his long strides. “You’re not thinking about following him on Vhagar in this horrible storm, are you?”

“He cannot get away with it, not again.”

Aemond’s voice was angry and you let out a breath, trying to keep a clear head.

“This is a thing from the past!” you reminded him. “Did you not gain a dragon from it?”

“You were not present when he took my eye!” Aemond hissed, taking a turn before you had reached the courtyard, just in time to see Luke on Arrax, flying out of Storm’s End. It was raining so heavily, you could barely see him, dark rain clouds swallowing Arrax and his rider easily.

Aemond was already walking towards Vhagar, the rain soaking, as you stayed put under the roof, hesitant.

“Are you coming, or staying?” Aemond shouted, climbing on top of Vhagar. You could feel the anger rolling off of him, something that Vhagar no doubtedly was feeling as well with the way she was growling and you wanted him to stay, calm down, but you knew it was no use, so you exhaled deeply, lowering your head.

“I am coming.”

You took his outstretched hand and he pulled you into the saddle behind him; you had barely settled in before Vhagar already leapt up in the sky.

The rain felt like small icy daggers in your face as you ascended higher and higher to the sky, easily catching up to the smaller dragon carrying Luke. Vhagar let out a roar, snapping her jaws at Arrax, as the smaller dragon breathed fire in your direction. It was clear that Arrax was no match for Vhagar.

“Aemond stop!”

Your voice barely carried over the rain, but Aemond disregarded you, his Vhagar as she darted to the left. You tightened your hold on Aemond, nerves coursing through you.

“What is it you’re trying to achieve, Aemond? You yelled, shaking him. “Are you trying to kill him?”

“That boy needs to learn how to fear me,” he only replied, tightening his reins on Vhagar, the distance between you and Arrax growing.

Aemond let out a frustrated growl, urging Vhagar to fly faster and you could feel the adrenaline rising as you almost caught up to Arrax again. You knew you were at a cross roads, and what would happen next would change everything, with Aemond consumed by his anger, and Vhagar following his emotions, someone was bound to get hurt. You had to do something. So as Vhagar descended upon Arrax, her jaws opening, you let go of Aemond, leaping off of Vhagar, almost immediately regretting it as Aemond yelled out your name, before you landed on Arrax, the wind being knocked out of your chest.

The young dragon let out a screech, dropping several feet down with the sudden added weight, just barely escaping Vhagar’s jaws.

“What are you doing?!” Luke screamed, the rain pelting against his face as he held onto his saddle tightly, Arrax roaring.

“Saving your life!”

You scrambled to find anything to hold onto, trying not to fall a gruesome death, your hands gripping onto Luke’s shoulders.

Vhagar’s shadow disappeared, but you knew her and Aemond were lurking inbetween the stormy clouds, you had to act fast. Your eyes were straining against the heavy rain, hand gripping into Luke’s shoulders.

“Do you trust me?”

“Not particularly, no!”

You grumbled, knowing his feelings were warranted, but this was not the time.

“We’re vulnerable. We need to find a spot to lay low, where Vhagar cannot come in.”

“Arrax is faster, I just need to get back home. It’s not that far!” Luke yelled back and you shook your head, even though he couldn’t even see you.

“That’s what Aemond is counting on! Please Luke, I know you don’t trust me, but I am trying to keep both of us alive.”

Luke groaned in frustration before tightening his reins on Arrax.

“Ilagon, Arrax!” Luke instructed. “Īlon jorrāelagon naejot jurnegon syt ruaragon.” Down, Arrax. We need to search for cover.

Arrax roared before you dropped several feet, flying by a range of mountains. You squinted your eyes trying to see anything in the rain, when you saw a cave several feet down.

The opening was small, too small for Vhagar to get in, but large enough for Arrax.

“Luke,” you said, squeezing his shoulder and pointing to the cave. “Down there.”

Luke nodded, leaning down to guide Arrax into the cave, and soon enough, the both of you were back on solid ground.

Arrax whined and Luke whispered to him gently, stroking his snout. “Lykiri, Arrax,” he said, leaning his head against his dragon’s. “Īlon jāhor jikagon lenton aderī, syt sir, ziry iksos daor ȳgha. Lykiri, issa valonqar.” Calm down, Arrax. We will go home soon, for now, it’s not safe. Calm down, my boy.

Arrax let out a soft whine, before curling in on himself, letting out a puff of smoke. With slumped shoulders, Luke sat down against the cave wall. You took off your cloak, laying it down so it could dry off before you sat down next to Luke, even as the boy avoided eye contact with you.

For a while, the two of you sat in silence with the occasional huff of Arrax, listening to the storm raging on outside. You hoped Aemond would cease his need for revenge soon. As a particularly loud thunder sounded, Luke jumped and you glanced at him, your heart aching.

“Are you well?”

Luke glanced over to you, trying to hide his tense shoulder by tightening his wet cloak around himself.

“No. But I’m unharmed,” he replied, his lips unmistakably shivering.

“It is better when you take off wet clothes, otherwise it might make you sick,” you said, leaning over to him to help unfasten his cloak, but Luke flinched away at your touch and your hands froze midair.

“I am sorry,” you said, breath bated. He must still be shaken, after seeing The Stranger right in the eyes. Luke let out a small breath, his fingers tightening in the fabric of his cloak.

“Did you know my uncle came to Storm’s End to kill me?” Luke asked, his voice small. “Did you come to make me lower my guards?”

“Forgive me?”

You knew their family affairs were difficult, strained from what had happened in the past, but you were stunned that he would expect this from Aemond, or you.

“I cannot speak of Aemond’s intentions,” you said truthfully. “Only of mine. I never wanted to harm you, and I did my best to keep you safe as soon as I realized that Aemond was too blinded by his need for revenge…”

Luke sniffed, wiping his cheeks and you moved to sit down in front of him.

“I’m only here to help you,” you assured him, holding your hands up in defense. “Arrax would turn me to ashes if I even touch you the wrong way, right?”

Arrax let out a soft growl at that and Luke gave you a small smile, nodding.

“Yes he would.”

“See, you’re in no danger,” you told him, your hand slowly reaching for his cloak, careful, as to not spook him. “Now take off your cloak and lay it down, it will dry off faster this way.”

Luke nodded, unfastening his cloak and laying it down next to yours before he took a seat beside you. Even though he had grown considerably in the years you had not seen him, he still was the little cheeky boy you remembered from before you had left King’s Landing.

“You have grown into a fine young Prince,” you told him. “I almost did not recognize you when you walked into Lord Borros’ hall.”

Luke quirked a smile at you, ducking his head. “I’m almost as tall as Jace now. He despises it.”

You grinned, pulling your legs close. You could imagine Jace just all too well, squinting at the mirror standing next to Luke.

“How is Jace?” you asked, your chest tight. You couldn’t believe how it was mere moon’s turns ago where you were exchanging letters, wondering why his replies seemed to become rarer.

Luke let out a small sigh, like it was a question that plagued him.

“Jace is… Angry. Ever since my uncle usurped the throne he has been trying to take action, fight for my mother’s claim.”

Your forehead creased.

Usurp?

“Pardon… Are you saying Aegon is not the rightful heir to King Viserys?”

Luke stared at you, mouth agape. “… Yes. He stole my mother’s inheritance.”

You only blinked at him, letting the news sink in as you leaned back against the wall, stumped.

“Now everything is falling into place… Why Aemond was questioning my loyalties, Rhaenys! Gods!” You covered your face with your hands, a gasp escaping your lips. “Daeron. I’ve left Daeron at King’s Landing without telling him that I’ve gone.”

You didn’t want to imagine what story Aemond has spun to make you a villain, to draw Daeron on his side.

“I’m sure all will be well,” Luke assured you, patting your hand consolingly. You only nodded, even though you were making up the worst scenarios in your head. Luke gave you a small smile, turning his hand when a yawn overtook him; Arrax had long curled up, his snores filling the cave.

“You should get some rest,” you told him, glancing over to the entrance of the cave where it was still pouring rain. “It might be a while before the rain ceases. I will wake you, when it is safe to leave.”

Luke semed hesitant, but then gave in, settling back against the wall, closing his eyes. As he slept, you noticed how he looked even younger, too young to be thrust into a war like this. Was this the fate that would meet Daeron, Helaena or even Joffrey? The thought unsettled you.

Time passed for a while, and it seemed like the clouds would never pass, but surely enough, the rain lessened, before stopping completely.

Gently, you shook Luke awake, feeling bad for waking him, but you knew he’d want to go home as soon as possible.

“Luke, the rain has stopped,” you told him, waiting for him to blink at you sleepily before you got to your feet, collecting your cloaks off of the ground. You handed Luke his cloak, fastening your own around your shoulders.

“It should be safe now. Aemond must be long gone.”

Luke nodded, glancing at Arrax and then back at you, hesitating, and you knew what he was thinking. You had been thinking it ever since you got to the cave.

“It is alright, Luke. Arrax is too small to carry us both all the way to Dragonstone. Go.”

You tried to be brave, giving Luke a smile but your voice was shaking, whether it was from fear or cold, you weren’t sure. You were a high born lady, you were in no way capable of fending for yourself. Luke leaving you here would mean a certain death, but he didn’t need to know that. Luke looked at you with big eyes, saying nothing before he walked over to Arrax, whispering to him as he stroked his dragon’s neck gently.

You let out a small breath, taking another look around the cave, resigning yourself to your fate when Luke called your name.

“Come, we need to leave before the weather turns again.”

“Luke, no,” you argued but Luke shook his head.

“You saved me. I am not leaving you behind. I would never forgive myself, and neither would Jace,” Luke said, and you let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head. “Arrax can carry us both, it is not much longer until Dragonstone.”

You ducked your head, a smile on your lips. Rhaenyra really raised amazing children.

“Very well.”

The two of you squeezed into the saddle on top of Arrax, who let out a small huff as he walked to the entrance of the cave.

“Mēre mōrī kipagon gō īlon issi lenton, issa valonquar,” Luke said to Arrax, gently caressing his neck. “Soves.” One more flight until we’re home, my boy.

Arrax leapt into the air, letting out a screech before stretching his wings, making his way home. As you flew through the skies, your eyes darted around constantly, looking for any sign of Vhagar, but it seemed like the coast was clear. Soon enough, you could see the outline of Dragonstone, and just in time; as you had noticed Arrax growing tired the more you lost on altitude.

“Īlon issi bē konīr, Arrax. Sepār mirrī tolī.” We are almost there, Arrax. Just a bit more.

Luke’s voice was gentle as he spoke to Arrax, despite his nerves. You nearly sighed in relief when Arrax flew towards the small opening to the dragon mount, and you thanked all the Gods when both you and Luke climbed off of Arrax onto solid ground again.

“Prince Lucerys!”

A knight came hurrying into the dragon pit, his eyes flickering to you before turning his attention back to Luke.

“Her Grace has been awaiting your arrival.”

Luke nodded, watching Arrax climb into the depths of the cave to get some much needed rest before he turned to the knight. “Take us to my mother.”

The knight bowed, leading you and Luke into the Keep, stopping in the doorway. Rhaenyra was pacing in front of the fire, her face worried. You hadn’t seen her for so long, but she looked almost exactly the same.

“Prince Lucerys, your Grace.”

Rhaenyra ceased her pacing, looking up and the relief was obvious on her face as she ran toward her son.

“Luke!”

“Mother!”

Rhaenyra threw her arms around her son, embracing him tightly and your breath stocked in your throat as you stayed back. You couldn’t believe how everything could have played out so differently if you had not intervened.

Rhaenyra pulled away, cupping Lucerys’ face with her hands.

“What happened?”

“Aemond and Vhagar were already at Storm’s End when I arrived. Lord Borros refused to stand by his oath… When I left Aemond followed me on Vhagar; if she hadn’t intervened…”

Lucerys paused and Rhaenyra glanced over to you; you, who had stayed behind to give them privacy.

You bowed your head, mostly out of respect but also because you had no idea what to do.

“You’re Helaena’s lady in waiting,” Rhaenyra said.

“I was. I have spent my last eight name days in Oldtown with Daeron.”

Rhaenyra gave you a small, grateful smile, but before either of you could continue your talks, shouts interrupted you.

“Mother! Luke!”

You turned around just to see Jace storming into the hall, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. Your heart stopped in your chest as you saw him again for the first time in so many years, relief washing over his face as he saw his brother stand with his mother unharmed. Then his eyes laid on you, and you gave him a shy smile. Jace only blinked at you, eyeing you from head to toe before his eyes widened; and for a second, you thought he’d be happy to see you. Instead, his forehead creased and his mouth curled downwards.

“What are you doing here?”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author’s note: omg the drama...what are we thinking??

[jjunieworld]

── a bed in your shape ⋆ 𓈒 ⊹ 🖼️ ˊ𓂃

read part two here ⇢ a life in your eyes ☆

pairing: huening kai x gn!reader

genre: angst, fluffy, childhood bestfriends to ???, slice of life, blonde!kai, kai is kinda an asshole (i'm sorry)

synopsis: for as long as you could remember, you’ve been in love with your bestfriend kai. the only problem is, he never loved you back. yet, you can’t stop imagining your life with him.

word count: 1.4k┊part two┊masterlist

author's note: happy easter to all those who celebrate! this drabble was heavily inspired by the song strawberry blond by mitski!! all feedback is appreciated and please reblog instead of just liking! yes, i know i use ‘blonde’ instead of ‘blond’… i just like the way the ‘e’ looks better lmaoo.. txt comeback tomorrow and i’m so excited!!! i hope you enjoyed this little drabble!! ♡

you knew what you were doing was going to lead to heartbreak, but at the moment you couldn’t care less. you and kai had planned a picnic in a nice field that the two of you had been visiting since you randomly found it as kids.

at the moment, you were listening to kai talk about this girl that he’s been going on about for months now. the wind was flowing smoothly over your skin from the open window, the spring breeze cooling you off. it was nearing summer now. “we have a date later today that i’m actually really nervous about,” kai spoke, his eyes briefly glancing at yours from the road. “i really really like her, y/n.”

you turned fully from the window to him. despite your heart fluttering at your name on his lips, you gave him a small grin as you said nothing. kai had pulled up to the field, which had saved you from answering anyway.

looking down to your hands in your lap as he parked, you tried to ignore the crushing weight of your heart. of course it wasn’t you he liked—how could you be so naive? this wasn’t some sort of fairytale. you still remember vividly overhearing kai’s conversation at the surprise birthday party you and your mutual friends had threw for him. “don’t be ridiculous,” he had said.

“i could never see them that way.”

you got out the car, looking over to see the top of kai’s blonde hair kiss the sunlight and turn golden. a smile formed on your face. as long as you had kai, that’s all that mattered to you. you didn’t need anything else—not this town, not this road, not this field. not even the sunshine, you’d much rather be clouded in darkness. just him.

grabbing the picnic basket and the blanket, you followed kai out to the field. the field was quite beautiful, the lush green grass was spread across the rolling hills with tiny multicolored flowers dotted about. it looked straight out of a painting that claude monet would’ve painted, and it belonged solely to the two of you.

jogging a little to catch up with kai’s long legs, a giggle slipped from your lips. kai looked at you with a small smile playing on his mouth, “what?” another giggle escaped you as he dodged out of the way of a bee, shaking his arm furiously as the bee tried to land onto his arm after. “they must think you’re a flower,” you replied.

you wouldn’t doubt it, he looked like a sunflower if you’ve ever seen one. blonde hair like honey and rosy cheeks as sweet as pie. kai chuckled, “why are they only going after me then? what about you?” he waved his hand in the air at you to insinuate you’re just as much of a flower as him. you shrugged, “must not be shining as brightly as you are.”

kai tilted his head at you and shook his head. he then wrapped an arm around your shoulder as you both continued your way to your spot in the field. “come on now, don’t say that! you shine just as bright as me, if not more. if anything, we shine brighter together!” you couldn’t disagree with that.

you laid the blanket out onto the grass and kicked your sandals off so you were barefoot, kai doing the same. you sat down onto the blanket and began taking out the wrapped food the two of you had prepared. the wind picked up just as kai went to lie down, flicking the blanket up. instead of laying on top of the blanket, he was now laying fully in the grass. either kai didn’t notice, or he didn’t care about the change.

“the clouds are so beautiful,” he breathed, tucking his arms behind his head. you placed the remaining food onto the blanket and scooted over slightly so you could lay down next to him. pointing, you grinned as you tried to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks, “look, that one looks like a duck!”

kai looked over to you and it made you realize how close the to of you were to each other. “a duck?” he asked incredulously, “that’s clearly a boat!” you returned his gaze with raised eyebrows. “a boat? maybe you should get a new prescription…” you shot back. kai playfully nudged you, causing the both of you to laugh.

you sat up and reached for the muffins you had bought. as you took a bite out of it, savoring the sweet flavor, kai spoke up. you turned to see that he was sitting up now, unwrapping a sandwich as he looked over the field. “i think she’ll really like it here,” he stated before taking a bite from the now unwrapped sandwich in his hand. raising an eyebrow, you lowered the half eaten muffin, “what do you mean? you’re bringing her here?”

“yeah, it’s breathtaking here,” kai shrugged as if what he just stated meant nothing. “she said she wanted something quiet but meaningful and this is absolutely perfect.” you abandoned your muffin in the empty space where it once sat in the container. he had your full attention now.

“but this is our spot,” you spoke slowly. it was as if you were trying to convince yourself that what you just heard come out his mouth somehow got twisted and you were trying to set the record straight. kai just nodded, adding nothing. so you did. “our spot—since we were kids, kai.”

kai nodded once more. “i know, y/n. what’s the issue here? it’s a field. we can find another field if you want to,” he furrowed his eyebrows at you and anger started to rise in you at the confusion in his voice. why didn’t he get it? even if you didn’t have any feelings for him, this was still your spot. your field—just the two of you. not the two of you and some girl.

“it’s not about finding another field. this field is suppose to be sacred—just for the two of us—and you want to bring some girl to our spot?” you practically seethed. desperately, you tried to control your tone, but the anger that had seeped through refused to be hidden. kai sat up straight and you knew you had made a mistake.

“it’s not just ‘some girl,’” kai said defensively. “she’s my girlfriend, and i can take her wherever i want to—even here. it’s just a stupid fucking field. it’s not even that special.” you opened your mouth to retort but all you could get out your mouth was a choked, “g-girlfriend?”

kai rolled his eyes at you, not hearing what you said, “save it, y/n. this is ridiculous.” he stood up from his spot in the grass and grabbed his shoes. kai began walking the path back to his car barefoot and you quickly stood to your feet. “you’re leaving me here? are you fucking serious right now, kai?” you shouted after him. kai continued, clearly ignoring you.

you watched as he got to his car and roughly flung the driver’s side door open. watched as he yanked his shoes back on and watched as he ripped out of the small gravel road and drove furiously away from you.

slumping to your knees, you let out a deep sigh. it looks like you’re walking home. you looked over to the spot in the grass where kai was just moments before. it was as if he didn’t even leave. the grass was still indented in the shape of him. your heart broke and your eyes watered as you reached over to softly touch the flattened grass.

packing up the food and the blanket, you tried your absolute hardest not to break completely. you knew this would all lead to heartbreak, and still—still you continued. foolish. you should’ve known better, maybe then all of this could have been avoided.

breathing out another sigh and looking over the field one last time, you began the walk back home. you were sure this was the last time you’ll ever be in this field again.

© jjunieworld - all rights reserved. please do not repost on any social media sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

permanent taglist: @jjunberry @gothgyuu @spooksh0wbabe @beargyuuzz @kittyhyuka @dani-is-tired @riaawr @nxzz-skz @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @rapmonie2047

part two┊masterlist┊request rules

[lust4life01]

Too Sweet - David Loki.

Inspired by the song ‘Too Sweet’ by Hozier because I’m obsessed with it!!

Disclaimer: I haven’t seen anyone do this yet but if it has been done please let me know!! ☺️

Pairing; David Loki x f/reader

Warnings!!: brief smut, oral f/recieving, angst-ish, colleagues, alcohol consumption, grumpy x sunshine, mention of crime/murder, knife mentioned, violence, etc.

Summary: David is profoundly attracted to his colleague but tries to stay away due to her sweet nature, which very much juxtaposes his. sulky nature. (key word- tries)

It can't be said I'm an early bird It's ten o'clock before I say a word Baby, I can never tell How do you sleep so well?

7:20 am , the clock read as you walked in. Coffees situated in hand as your pretty summer dress swayed softly.

“Hey Bill! Morning Sandra!” You greeted everyone in the morning with coffee and a smile, it’s was that time between spring and summer where everything was bright and made life feel worth living.

You fixed your eyes on Detective Loki, who had his nose buried amongst some case files and a frustrated grumpy look across his sharp features.

Taking out a black coffee from the holder you trailed over to him. You two weren’t exactly friends but you had a desperate need to be liked by him. Maybe it was because he was always so stern and earning yourself a smile would make you feel like a winner, or maybe it had something to do with the fact you were ridiculously attracted to him? Well, both things can be true simultaneously.

“Detective Loki, coffee?” You smiled down at him whilst extending the cup towards him in hopes he would accept your kind gesture.

Peeling his eyes away from his paper he met your gaze after you said his name.

“Oh, yes. Thank you.” He said in his monotone voice.

He grabbed the cup from your hands, lightly brushing over your fingers but snapped his head back to his paper in a matter of seconds.

There was nothing profoundly interesting on the paper but he didn’t want to engage with you. Just the thought of your company was overwhelming, never mind when you were handing him coffee and saying his name in such a sweet tone of voice. The smell of your perfume, your pretty summer dress and the sweetness that surrounds you would sweep him up in the blink of an eye. You were gorgeous, smart, likeable. You didn’t need to be getting involved with an older bitter man like him.

He did however wonder how you remained the way you are in a job like this. I mean how at seven in the moring are you considerate and nice? He imagined that you slept the way a princess would, other wise it would be a true mystery not even he could solve.

Smelling like a bonfire, lost in a haze?

The huge trees howled and peered down at you. Trapping you in as the screeches of crows was the only noise to be heard amongst the dismal scene.

You and Loki had been sent to a barren camp site out in the woods where two suspects had been reported as camping out. Realistically, you shouldn’t have been there, one because you quite literally weren’t suppose to be but had to be because Loki’s partner was off sick. And secondly, because most of your colleagues doubted your ability and thought infantilising you came from a place of concern rather than blatant misogyny.

Loki, however, didn’t want you there because the thought of just being alone with just you made him want to place his head in his palms. You had only exchanged a couple words as far as a sentence can go and you clearly liked to talk. He wasn’t so keen. He anticipated the awkwardness from the minute his supervisor had told you to go with him.

The crunching of leaves could be heard as the two of you stalked through the woods.

Loki spoke to you lowly as he kept his eyes on the tree line rather than you “These men are dangerous. You let me get them okay.”

You scoffed lightly which prompted him to turn his head to you, with his same expression he always had.

“Believe it or not, I am a fucking detective too. I have a gun strapped to my waist. I’m not an idiot”

Your sweet personality had been lost recently, which was most likely from the frustration of people assuming because you were nice you had to be weak too, and embarrassingly, because you still felt as though Loki was never going to crack. There was something about his cold nature that drew you in. You just wanted him to see you, which felt impossible.

You’re hostile attitude shocked Loki, it was quite attractive the way you stood your ground when he was so accustom to your soft spoken self. He raised his hands slightly as he apologised “Okay, sorry. You're right.”

You both continued to walk in silenced until you could see a campsite through the trees. There was a tent, a blazing bonfire, and some belongings scattered about. Loki protectively stood in front of you as you both spotted a man sat on a log, one which looked exactly like one of the two suspects.

Loki ran towards the man with his gun drawn and shouted “STAY FUCKING STILL!”

You followed behind quickly as Loki wrestled the man to the ground and cuffed him. Even if you were wrapped up in hostility you couldn't help but admit to yourslef that it was one of the hottest scenes you'd ever witnessed.

“Think you can run from me mother fucker.” Loki grunted as the man tried to wriggle his way out of the cuffs.

As Loki was taking care of the sicko criminal on the floor you heard movement from the tent. A man quickly appeared holding a knife but he tried to run from you rather than at you. You chased after him and trapped his foot, sending him flying to the floor, the knife flying from his hand and landing in a brush. Loki had noticed this and leapt up to come and help but you already cuffed the shouting man.

“YOU FUCKING BITCH! I’LL KILL YOU LIKE I KILLED THOSE OTHER WHORES!”

Back up had turned up shortly after to come and collect the two men. You stood by the bonfire and watched as the men were shoved into vans. A feeling of adrenaline consuming you as well as a deep sadness for the women who weren't saved from the foul men.

Loki slowly approached you scanning over your drained features as he stepped closer to you.

“Good job today (y,n).” It was blunt and pretty vague but honestly gaining validation from your older attractive colleague was rewarding and his presents dragged you from your depressing thoughts.

You smiled at him, your face illuminated by the orange flames as the sun started to set. He stared back at you whilst trying to decide if he should say what he wanted to. Fuck it.

“You look like you could use a drink. I’m gonna grab one, you wanna come?” He felt nervous, like he was twelve years old asking out the pretty popular girl to be his date to some cheesy dance. It was purley out of compassion and a need for a drinking buddy he told himself, not because he wanted to spend more of the day with you or anything.

The tiredness in your eyes remained but your lips did form into a smirk “I’d like that a lot, Loki.”

The smell of smoke from the bonfire filled the air before you, as he couldn’t help but stare at the reflection of the flames in your eyes, getting lost in your haze.

He snapped out of his admiration and suggested you guys take his car.

I think I'll take my whiskey neat

The sultry music that played in the background of the barren bar was drowned out by the sound of Loki's glass hitting the bar again, only the smell of whiskey left in the glass. After that day, Loki decided he needed a drink and had reluctantly invited you to come along which was his weird way of forming somewhat of a relationship with you. You absolutely did come along because the thought of the two men you and Loki had caught made you want to drink until a single thought couldn't grace your thoughts. And you felt comfortable with him. It wasn’t some sleazy type of invitation for drinks but more a mutual feeling of despair that could be lifting with the taste of alcohol.

Loki had order whiskey, neat of course, which made so much sense. You however had far one too many vodka and cherry cola’s.

At first Loki admired your ability to somewhat keep up with him, until he realised maybe that wasn’t the case, which he realised when you started to drunkenly cry about how you felt like your boss hated you and everone thought you were weak. Loki knew this was drunk nonsense because nobody could hate you, you‘re too sweet.

“Hey hey come on now, he doesn’t hate you. How could anybody hate you? And nobody thinks you're weak, especially not me.” He tried to calm your drunk ass down and started to think maybe asking you for a drink was not a good idea. That compassion he felt for you did scare him a little though.

He had tried to distance himself from you, but it seemed he couldn’t. Every assignment, there you were. It was impossible to remain distance or blunt around you. Even if he was admittedly a bit of a dick to everyone else he realised after being in your presence continuously that you were now almost friends? In a way?

Loki wasn’t drunk, sure he had drunk but he wasn’t drunk. He walked you to his car and helped you into the front seat. I mean what’s a detective without a little criminal activity, and he was still perfectly fine to drive. You on the other hand was not fine and there was no way Loki was letting you get into a cab on your own , not in this state.

Once driving you had gone quiet from your intoxicated rambling that had entertained Loki as he practically carried you to the car.

“Hey (y,n) what’s your address so I can take you home.”

There was no answer.

Loki peered over and you were sound asleep. Of course you were. He grabbed his phone from his pocket so he could call a colleague to find out where you lived but of course it had died.

He looked over at you and felt an odd feeling in his chest. He let out a huff and made a U turn.

My coffee black and my bed at three

He had helped you into his apartment and made a bed up on the couch for himself. But before that he had fixed you both some coffee in order to help you sober up a little. His was black o. He gave you some toast and your sweetened coffee as you thanked him mercilessly. He was glad you were at least conscious now.

“That’s already. Do you want me to take you home, or you can stay here? I’ll sleep on the couch.”

It was pretty late and he had felt an odd shift towards you from the hours before. Your vunreblity you inviited him to see had eradicated the strange tension you two seemed to possess previously. You felt comfortable with him, so he felt comfortable around you.

Despite your intoxicated state, you could recognise the serenity in his voice, probably being the nicest he’s ever spoken to anyone ever.

You shook your head slightly as you eyes fluttered “David you don’t have to do that, I’ll sleep on the couch. ”

The thought of another car ride did make you want to vomit, and you trusted Loki so there was no harm in staying.

The use of his first name threw him off a bit but he was insistent that you took the bed whilst also briefly apologising for his lack female comfortable clothing. He set out some briefs and a t shirt, that was nowhere close to fitting you, onto the bed.

You slipped them on a thanked him one more time before settling in to his bed. The alcohol in your system left a feeling of guilt upon your conscionous as the smell of him hit you from his pillows. However, after a couple minutes with your head touching his pillows you were fast asleep.

You're too sweet for me

The next morning had arrived and Loki started to get up for work, when he remembered you were sleeping soundly in his bed. He quietly got himself together and left you a note on the bedside table which read;

Gone to work, I’ll let them know you're sick. Help yourself to anything and the keys are on the kitchen counter.

Accompanied with the note was a glass of water and a some aspirin to help with the hangover. He stared down at your face, you looked so pretty. God you were too perfect, far too kind and compassionate to be with the likes of him. He covered the duvet over you before he left and made sure to take a final glance at you before leaving.

After waking up from a pleasant sleep to a not so pleasant headache, you were quickly snapped out of your self pity after realising you were in your colleagues bed. Your colleague who you had been trying to impress forever.

You shortly remembered why that was and the hangxiety demons grabbed ahold of you. You shoved your face into his pillows as you cursed yourself for getting in such a state. God, he probably thought you were ridiculous, a stupid child who couldn’t handle their alcohol. Great.

Then the panic of work hit you, fuck were you late? Where was Loki? What was the fucking time? Your eyes scanned for an indication when they laid upon his note. You let out a sigh of relief after reading that Loki was going to cover your ass. You took the pills, made his bed, changed back into your clothes and called yourself a cab home.

You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate

Once you had gotten home you left Loki a message to thank him for his kindness, not only through letting you stay at his house but also for covering your ass at home. The thought of inconveniencing others made you want to die.

Loki's kindness left you with this debilitating feeling in your chest, you two had becomes somewhat friends but the overwhelming attraction you felt to him only became magnified when he provided you with his security last night.

You felt absolutely disgusting with the hangxiety seeping through your soul, your clothes from yesterday, and the fact you hadn’t showered since yesterday morning.

The sound of the shower blasting accompanied with your favourite playlist playing made you feel calmer and cleaner already. You jumped into the shower and decided you had to see Loki. You had to thank him in person. Something about knowing you slept in his bed last night and you haven’t seen him since just didn’t feel right.

If you were seeing Loki, it had to be an everything shower. You had to look and feel perfect. As you massaged your sweet smelling shampoo into your scalp your mind imagined walking up to his door and kissing him. God, the thought made your heart ache and yearn for it to be reality, but you highly doubted he felt the same. I mean it was Loki.

Once every inch of your body smelt, felt and looked divine you admired yourself in the mirror. Your makeup looked stunning but not overbearing, your hair looked like you had just come out of a Victorian secret catalog and you smelt gorgeous.

You quickly checked your phone and saw Loki had replied, meaning he was probably home from work by now. You opened up the message which read;

‘Thats okay (y,n), no need to thank me. Did you get home alright?’

God why did he care so much? Why did it make you want him more, and why did he have to be a colleague? Without even replying to the text you rushed to your car and made your way over to his. Admittedly, you did have one of your friends from the IT department tell you where he lived a little while back. It wasn’t creep or stalking, you’re a detective okay? That makes it fine, I suppose.

Once you arrived and was stood outside his door your heart started to pound. You took a deep breath and gently knocked on his door.

The minutes in which it took him to open the door immediately made you want to run away. But you didn’t. You stayed and stared at the door.

Finally when it opened you saw Loki standing in the doorway, uniform still on and was that a smile plastered on his face?

“Oh hello (y,n).” He said sounding pleasantly shocked to see you. Then he subtly looked you up and down. Fuck you looked so pretty.

You stared for a minute, wide eyed. “Hey, so um-, I just like, wanted to say thanks. Again.” You could feel your cheeks blush from being so self aware.

You could feel his low brow stare as you talked, making you feel even more nervous. You had talked to criminals that had committed heinous crimes but somehow this was far more nerve racking.

He stepped a little closer to you, looking down. “You didn't need to say it again, I told you it’s my pleasure.”

Without saying anything you stood staring into his eyes.

“Well yeah, I just came by to express how thankful I really am.”

He smirked and then brushed a piece of hair behind your ear with his large hand, a small piece of his own hair falling as he leaned forward. God you were so sweet, but he could tell you weren’t here because of that.

Cupping your jaw he gently connected his lips to yours. You gasped quietly making Loki retreat instantly.

“Fuck. I’m sorry I-“

Before he had time to continue you smashed your lips together again, humming into the kiss. It became heated and as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, feeling as though he had reached heavens gate.

Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape

You tried to catch your breath as Loki's lips attacked yours mercilessly as you both made your way to his bedroom whilst crashing into every surface on the way.

The base of your back hit the wall as his hands started to undress you in between the hard kisses. “You’re so fucking pretty. Wanted you for so long.”

You could only moan in response as the feeling of his hands hugged your skin and his teeth grazed your neck.

Once he had gotten you in just your lingerie set, which he noticed immediately, he grabbed the backs of your thighs and you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Pulling his hair you whined as he carried you to the bedroom. You were so desperate for him, it was insane.

Placing you down on to the end of the bed, he stood before you. You immediately crawled to your knees, and reached for the hem of his long fitted black shirt. He smiled and reached his big hand around your back and un clasped your bra as his other hand stroked your hair. You bit your lip in anticipation as the shirt slipped over his head, leaving him shirtless with nothing but his work pants on in front you you. You admired his god like torso, covered in tattoos.

You whispered a quiet “fuck” and kissed down his snail trail.

Loki groaned as you reached closer down his torso and gripped your jaw, bending down and kissing you hard once again.

“Lie back for me princess.”

Immediately you did as you were told and Loki quickly followed on top of you. One hand firmly gripped your waist hard enough to bruise, whilst the other held your right wrist again the bed. He kissed your sweet collar bones and made his way down to your nipples. He licked and kissed them as your chest heaved.

“Loki, please. I need you to bad.”

An amused grin spread across his face as blood rushed to his already hard cock. He dipped two large fingers into your underwear and they were immediate soaked by your desperation.

“Not as innocent as you seem, are you baby? Mhm?” He hummed.

You shook your head as you tried to not cry out from your needy incoherent state.

He brought his fingers to your lips and you wrapped your swollen lips around them and moaned.

Seconds later he was tearing off your panties and connecting his wet tongue to your pulsating cunt as he praised you through your moans.

“Taste just as sweet as you seem though. Taste and look so fucking good for me baby.”

He sucked on your clit as if it were a divine exotic fruit, almost as sweet as a grape turned into a majestic wine falling from an enchanted waterfall.

You thread your fingers through his hair and whimpered hysterically “Loki! Fuck!”

You're too sweet for me

The summer breeze trailed in through the open window as your head rested upon Lokis bare chest. You both laid there as you played with his big tattooed fingers and he took in the smell of your shampoo that he so secretly loved.

You started to talk his ear off mercilessly and he simply just listened. Taking in all of your words as if they were the most important words to ever be spoken. He nodded and hummed as he admired you. Your skin glowing. He had to admit to himself your sweet charming personality had caught him in a choke hold. There was an element of purity and sunshine that you brought to his sulky self, he was well and truly fucked. You're too sweet.

(Ugh im so obsessed with this song and it is soooo David Loki.)

[sophsicle]

Sirius and Remus stare at one another. On either side of the room. Battlefields between them.

Maybe it's been years since they last saw one another.

Maybe it's been minutes.

You can never tell with them.

James watched his friends fall in love before any of them knew what that meant.

He watched them after, when, tragically, they did.

Sirius and Remus have never been able to get comfortable with their relationship. Have never relaxed in one another's beds.

He'll get bored of me, Sirius had said to James once. When the novelty wears off. Everyone does.

I'm too much trouble, Remus a few weeks later. I can't expect him to put up with this forever.

James never knew what to say when they got like that. It's not that Sirius and Remus didn't know that they were loved. Only that they both saw love as something flimsy and delicate and easily broken. As something they would one day lose between the sofa cushions. In the crack between the wall and the bed. In the back of a cab.

Remus coughs, clearing his throat. He looks old. And tired. Nothing like James remembers.

"Listen," Sirius, who looks worse somehow. "Dumbledore told me to lay low here but...you know I can...I can find somewhere else if...I don't want to put you out, is all."

James and Remus both scoff.

Idiot.

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course, you're staying here."

Sirius gives Remus a look, pouting in that way he does. And through the dirt and the years and the ragged clothes, James sees the boy he used to know. Used to wrap himself around until you couldn't tell them apart. Until you swore they wore one skin. Shared one beating heart.

"You don't owe me anything," Sirius says stubbornly.

Remus gives him an empty smile. "Don't worry. I know."

Sirius screws up his face. "I'm not staying if we're just gonna snap at one another the whole time. I -" he sighs, running a hand over his face. "I'm too tired to fight Moony."

The nickname makes Remus flinch. "Too tired to fight? Sirius Black? Never."

Sirius huffs. "That's notorious mass murderer Sirius Black to you, thank you very much."

There's a twinkle in Remus's eye. In Sirius's too.

Go on, James thinks. Go on, cross the Rubicon. Touch each other. Hold each other. I can't anymore. I can't. I can't take care of you anymore. Which breaks his heart. Breaks his heart more than almost everything else. I need you to do it for me. Please.

Remus motions down the hall. "Why don't you take a shower - or a bath - I'll get dinner started."

There's a small pause before Sirius eventually nods his head. The motion jerky. Awkward. "Yeah, alright."

Take care of each other.

For me.

Please.

Please. Please. Please.

"Sirius?" Remus calls to him before he disappears into the bathroom. Sirius turns around, arching his brow.

Please. Please. Please.

Remus hesitates for a moment before stepping forward, before closing the space between them. Sirius's eyes go wide but he doesn't say anything. Doesn't move. When Remus reaches him he holds out his hand, stopping before he touches the other man. The pair looking at one another and nowhere else.

"Can I?"

A rough sound comes out of Sirius's mouth, James thinks it might be a laugh. "Yes. God yes."

Remus is gentle, hand cradling Sirius's face, thumb swiping over his cheek. Sirius trembles, like even this is too much. Too tender. Too loving. After a few seconds Remus leans forward, placing a delicate kiss on Sirius's forehead.

"I've missed you," he murmurs against the other man's skin.

Sirius's eyes flutter closed as he sways into Remus. A second later the pair have their arms around one another. Clinging. Holding.

James smiles. Even if it's a little sad. A little scuffed. A little cracked. He smiles. Hoping they understand now. Hoping they see.

That this love has roots.

{inspired by this song }

[paradiseprincesss]

imperfect for you | jonathan crane

i saw the moodboard @mothhball made for jonathan cranes mornings, and i was like i must write a fluffy fic about this immediately! also this is inspired by imperfect for you by ariana grande because as an ari stan, i had to write something based off her songs and this fit perfect with this song.

summary: you and jonathan spend the morning together, and you're feeling a little anxious from the stressful week you've had - but not to worry, your psychiatrist boyfriend knows exactly how to calm you down and cheer you up.

warnings: reader has a shitty week lol, minor age gap, kissing, jon spoils the reader hehehehe just fluff really

word count: 1.3k

masterlist

it was a quiet sunday morning, the sunlight beamed through the window of you and jonathan's shared apartment, and you stirred softly, waking from your sleep. you softly opened your eyes as you quietly awoke from your slumber - but you felt the absence of arms wrapped around you.

turning around, you noticed that the other side of the bed was empty, and you glanced over to the sunshine that was starting to peek through the curtains covering your big window; it was peaceful, serene.

you could hear water running in the kitchen, and some dishes being moved around as well as what sounded like utensils. with a yawn, you reached over to the bedside table and unplugged your phone, scrolling through the notifications. after a few moments of looking through your phone and replying to a few unanswered messages from your friends, you toss the phone on the pillow beside you with a quiet little huff.

the week you had with truly a week sent from hell. nothing seemed to be going right for you - nothing! true story. it all started on monday when your alarm didn't go off, and you were embarrassingly late to your lecture, which your professor wasn't too happy about. after the last half hour of the lecture you managed to catch, you had to beg your professor to extend the deadline for an assignment you had forgotten to hand in over the previous weekend, god it was humiliating.

then tuesday rolled around, and it was like the universe was punishing you. as you were driving to the gym, the check engine light in your car flicked on.

so, wednesday came along...and you didn't have a car since it was getting serviced in the shop, and jonathan was at work but you had to get groceries. you didn't want to walk to the grocery store because you'd have to carry the heavy groceries all the way back to your apartment, so you spent a ridiculous amount of money on getting your groceries delivered.

thursday and friday came and went, nothing too crazy happened until the end of the day on friday. as you were on your way home from the mechanics, with your repaired car (were not going to talk about the financial damage that did), you received a notification on your phone that your grade was updated for the late project you handed in, and the grade was...well, it wasn't the best mark you received, let's just say that.

when it came to saturday, you spent the day napping and wallowing in self pity, because after the week you had - why wouldn't you? jonathan was unfortunately working on saturday, which was unusual but he occasionally worked an extra shift on saturday if he needed to work through any extra patient files, intake forms, prescriptions and such. after he was off work, you were already curled up in bed and fast asleep, so he quietly showered and got into bed with you.

and now, finally, were here - sunday morning.

"sweetheart?" jonathan's voice snapped you out of your mental reflection of the shit week you just had, and you quickly looked up to see your boyfriend leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom.

jonathan wasn't in his usual suit and tie - no, he was in his grey sweats (don't even get me started on what those did to you), and his black t-shirt, and his glasses.

"i called out your name because i thought i heard you and i thought you had woken up, but you didn't respond. i came in here to check on you - are you okay, sweetheart?" he asks softly, looking at you with an expression that was mixed with him being both concerned but smitten at you in your sleepy state, bedhead and all.

as soon as he finished his sentence, the tears started to fall. you didn't even notice them really, but as soon as he saw you start to cry, he was rushing to sit with you on the bed, wrapping his arms around you in hopes to comfort you. jonathan placed a chaste kiss on the top of your head and spoke softly to you.

"oh, sweetheart..." he takes his hand and tilts your chin up to look at your pretty face, and uses his thumb to wipe the tears streaming down your cheeks, "what's wrong?"

you choked back a sob as he asked you that, and you looked away, embarrassed. "i've just had such a shitty week, jon. i feel like such a failure." you mumble, feeling yourself get worked up emotionally.

"hey," he says gently, softly guiding you to look at him again, "deep breaths, my love, deep breaths. you are not a failure."

you look at him with a pouty expression and teary eyes, his words always had an effect on you. "i barely passed on my last assignment, and i just- i just feel like i fucked up. it's so stupid."

"i understand, i can't imagine how stressful that must be." he softly says to you, even though he can imagine how stressful that is, he studied to be a doctor after all - but to him, your feelings were always a top priority, he always wanted you to feel validated.

"and," you say, tears overflowing again, "since the car was in the shop, i had to get the groceries delivered to the apartment and it was expensive - and don't even get me started on the car. that was a nightmare, it was expensive to fix the stupid thing."

jonathan just chuckles softly, "i told you to use my card for things like that, sweetheart. groceries, car payments, shopping, all that - i gave you my other credit card specifically so that you wouldn't have to worry about that kind of stuff." jonathan says softly, kissing the top of your head again.

"...well, i was stressed, okay? i forgot you gave it to me." you say, looking up at him innocently.

he just shook his head and laughed softly, pulling you into a kiss, and kept his arms around you, to hold you close, keep you there, be there for you.

after a moment, you pulled away to whisper softly to him. "thank you for loving me even when i'm a mess."

he looks at you lovingly, "i'll love you under any circumstance, darling, don't be silly." he says to you, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip, the little action making your heart leap.

"before i knew you, i was always fucked up - like, so anxious all the time. emotionally distressed, i'm not even kidding...but i'm not like that since i met you." you say softly to him, as he kept you in his arms.

"you're the love of my life, you know that?" he mumbles against your lips as he leans in for another kiss, which you gladly let him do.

"you make the bad stuff delightful. i love you." you say, breathlessly, between kisses.

after he heard you say that, he kept you wrapped up in his arms, the two of you tangled slightly in between the white sheets of your shared bed, the sun gently glimmering through the window. for a moment, the world was still, just the two of you - perfection in a world of imperfection.

"i made breakfast and coffee..." he says softly, and took your hand in his, "we should have it before it gets cold."

you giggle softly with a nod, and take his hand letting him lead you into the kitchen.

these were your favourite kind of mornings, the ones spent with the man you love, the ones where you could blissfully ignore the world as you were too wrapped up in jonathans warm embrance to care about anything else.

[jflemings]

would you minds sharing any random jessie relationship headcanons you have? you write about it so well in your fics pls let us into your brain lol

— my oddly specific gf!jessie headcanons

pairing: jessie fleming x reader

warnings: nsfw & saw

a/n: got this ask and kept it in the drafts so i could just keep adding to it when a thought popped into my head :)

if any of my headcanons inspire fics please please please tag me!!! i’d love to see your take on them <3

- took soooooooo long to ask you out because she kept psyching herself out

- spoke with such confidence that it was honestly a shock to you when she told you she was nervous

- talked about you all the time to her friends and family before they ever actually met you

- introduces you to her sister before the rest of her family (mainly bc elysse begged to meet you)

– she has tiktok only so you can send her videos and you’re the only one she follows

– she takes soooo many photos of you

loves taking embarrassing ones just so she can laugh at them later

– sleeps on the side of the bed closest to the door

– is an absolute pain in the ass to go furniture shopping w because she reads everything on the label

– early bird

– not super big on pda but insists on holding your hand everywhere you go

– she doesn’t really celebrate her goals but if she knows you’re in the crowd she’ll point to wherever you’re sitting and blow you a kiss

– if you get married she gets your first initial tattooed on her inner left bicep closest to her heart

– easily embarrassed by compliments

– likes to read her book with your head in her lap

– makes the best bacon and eggs, i don’t make the rules

– if you drink coffee you can bet your ass she memorised your order the first time y’all went out for coffee

– super clingy in the mornings

– makes a playlist of songs that reminds her of you/your relationship

– very attentive gift giver, will take note of even the smallest things you say you like for future reference

– if you’re a reader she’s got your tbr in her notes app so that if she sees a book you’ve been meaning to read she can just get it for you

– likes to give and receive flowers

– a rambler, she’ll talk your ear off if she gets talking about something she really enjoys

that includes you, she talks about you to her teammates all the time

– secret avid pet name user

babe, baby, my girl, sunshine, ALL OF THEM

- blanket hog

- the two of you make a pact to learn something new by the end of the year and she chooses to learn how to play the fucking harmonica

- she gets rlly good at it tho

- picks out your outfit for game days

- loves having baths with you

doesn’t get to do it often but when she does she goes all out: bath bomb/bath salts, candles, her kindle. the whole lot

- talks during movies if she doesn’t know what’s going on

“why’d he do that” “jess i don’t know, we’re watching the same movie”

- not a big tv series watcher but will sit with you while you watch it

- loves her documentaries though

- does a really good david attenborough impression

- is ridiculously competitive when it comes to monopoly and twister

- which is funny because she’s shit at twister

- likes to be close to you at all times

if the whole couch is free she’ll still sit next to you, thigh to thigh

- doesn’t like to argue but will if she feels strongly enough about it

- she can honestly be kinda condescending in arguments without even realising it

definitely comes from her role as a leader

- she asks you multiple times through the day what you’re thinking about just because she likes to know what’s going on inside you head

- likes to do normal, everyday things with you like chores. honestly doesn’t even care that she has to vacuum the whole house, she just likes that fact that the two of you are cleaning together

- as clingy as she is she also really likes her alone time and will often take herself to a corner of the house to just mellow out, especially if she’s been around people a lot that day

- she’ll always come and find you with a smile on her face when she’s ready to though

- loves to update you on her day when she’s away. she’s been known to send you photos of anything and everything when she’s with team canada

- likes to get you lil something from every city she visits if she can

- you display all the trinkets she gets you on a shelf

- when you first started dating she’d write you letters as a way to express her emotions because she didn’t feel like she could properly communicate them directly to you

she gives them all to you on your wedding day

- she’s just so so so so in love with you

NSFW

– generally soft during sex unless she’s high off a win, pissed off or been away from you for too long

– is a switch lol

– gets pleasure from you being pleasured, she’d eat you out for hours if you let her because she likes knowing that she can get you off

- also a biiiiiiiiiiiiig fan of using a strap, absolutely loves the way you look when she bottoms out

- is surprisingly vocal in bed

- has a massive praise kink it’s literally insane

- she came untouched once bc she was fucking you w her strap and you were telling her how good she was doing

- likes when you scratch down her back but can’t let you do it often bc of the shared change room

- once went to training with a scratched up back and sam never let her live it down

- isn’t super experienced but she is observant so she figures out what you like really early on

- made it her personal mission to fuck you on every surface of your new place when the two of you moved to portland

- is a big fan of morning sex

- not a big fan of shower sex

- also is a fan of make up sex

- tries to give you as many orgasms as physically possible in one round (four is her record) (she intends to beat it)

- aftercare queen

- is pretty firm with what she does and doesn’t like and isn’t usually one to go out of her comfort zone unless the two of you have discussed it before

- refuses to hit you during sex. she’s just not comfortable with it

- doesn’t really like choking either but she does like having her hand on the base of your neck without applying any pressure

also goes absolutely feral when you do it to her

- definitely prefers to have sex in the comfort of your own home

- the two of you got caught by niamh once because jess was too loud as you ate her out

neither of you could look her in the eye for about a week afterwards and jessie endured so much teasing

- isn’t one to have drunk sex but she does like just having her hands under your bra so she can cup your breasts. she doesn’t know why, it just happens when the two of you are going to bed after a night out

- is the biggest tease in the world

- will rile you up and then pretend she has no idea what she’s doing

- has insane stamina and will go for rounds until she physically can’t

- can get really cocky during sex, especially when she knows you’re about to cum

- if she’s had a really shit day/week she likes to be overstimulated just to get all of her negative emotions out

[gretagerwigsmuse]

can't hardly wait

Summary: in which a guy named bradley likes you back on hinge...

OR a prequel fic with the first hinge messages

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader

Warnings: listen i know i have a picture selected for her, i just wanted to have the ice cream comparison and went with this one. also i have all the pics on bradley's profile if you're curious 💁🏼‍♀️ he's just so goddamn cute! written for @roosterforme 's 'rocktober' event and inspired by the replacements song. don't forget to read part 1 to see how the date goes 😉 [image template (x)]

Your phone lit up with a notification, buzzing in its spot on your glass desk. You glanced down at it for a moment before going back to your slide deck - until it buzzed again. It was a Hinge notification. You hadn't been particularly active on the app the last couple days, not wanting to get your hopes up yet again. But you'd made one last ditch attempt on Hinge, liking some guys who were way out of your league - before telling Max he had the go-ahead to set you up with his buddy. Leaning back in your desk chair, you swiped up on the notification.

Oh. It was this one - the pretty one. Bradley.

You scrolled back through his profile one more time, reacquainting yourself with the 6'1" brunet. He had a picture cuddling a chunky French Bulldog, one at a Rolling Stones concert, one with an older guy who was probably his dad, and one where his eyes looked like pools of chocolate, in addition to his main photo. Unbidden, a smile crept across your face. He looked kind, sweet. Even if he didn't say where he worked.

Bradley, you tested the name out.

Without further delay, you pulled up his message:

Did you only like me because I also have a picture eating ice cream on my profile? I guess that means you're not lactose intolerant?

You let out a little giggle and twirled around in your desk chair. Oh, he was sweet (and a little nerdy). No, it's because you're unfathomably pretty and I didn't think you'd actually like me back. Trying not to overthink it, you typed out a response:

bold of you to assume it also wasn't the 'stache...and that i'm not just mainlining lactaid

It was cute, a little cheeky. He typed and deleted his response a couple times, leaving you on the edge of your seat.

How far do you have UVA going in MM this year?

You pursed your lips. Hmph. And went back to scrolling his profile. Ah, there it was - he'd also gone to UVA, though a couple years before you. He also drank, didn't smoke, and was vaccinated and bi. You swiped back to the chat.

Your allegiance to UVA in any sporting event wasn't exactly top of mind, so you had to check your March Madness bracket that everyone in the office had been forced to fill out for team building. Just has you were about to say Elite Eight! Bradley messaged back:

Sorry, that was really lame. I’m not used to this.

You smiled. that has to be a line...

His reply was instantaneous. It's not, I promise! Alright give me one more try. How's this?

In the background, your computer pinged with multiple Teams message notifications, but your eyes remained glued to your phone.

Did you know the moon's actually lemon shaped? And that the Milky Way apparently smells like raspberries and rum?

It was such a ridiculous and silly fun fact that it made you smile. Time to put all that barstool trivia knowledge to good use.

no, bradley, i did not know that. do you only specialize in space fun facts or can i get something else out of you...

----------

Turns out all it took was a smattering of the world's silliest fun facts to get you hooked, and after days of texting you were at the Hard Deck. The beachfront dive bar wasn't exactly your ideal first date location, but it seemed like there was a good crowd inside judging by the excessive number of the cars in the parking lot. As it was, your Uber let you out next to a pale blue Bronco. You smoothed your hands over your dress and checked your hair one final time before heading inside.

You didn’t really date. Not in the same sense that your friends Caroline and Darcy or even Alexa and Max did. The last person you’d gone out with for more than three dates had been your ex-boyfriend Jack and even that relationship fizzled after six months. 

But there was just something about him - about Bradley - that made you think this could be something? Something about Bradley made you giggle at your phone while you read his texts and buy a new dress and get a wax for your date. 

God, please like me. I hope he likes me.

The bell above the door jingled as you entered, suddenly taken aback not only by the amount of people in the bar, but also the Navy paraphernalia doting seemingly every usable surface. Jesus. Did Uncle Sam pay everyone's tab, too?

Scooting out of the way of another group entering behind you, you bit your lip and stretched your neck, looking around the bar for Bradley. What if he wasn't there? What if he saw you get out of your Uber in the parking lot and bailed? No - he wouldn't do that. The Bradley you had gotten to know over the last couple days sent you fun facts and his Wordle score. He asked about your projects at work and what you were having for dinner. He texted with full capitalization and punctuation. At the very worst, you'd hope you'd get an it's not you, it's me text from him.

But your worry was all for naught because when you got closer to the bar, you saw him. And by some sort of miracle he hadn't seen you yet, which gave you ample opportunity to ogle because you seriously needed a minute. God, he was so pretty. His hair looked lighter in person, not as brown, his arms looked so strong even in his unbuttoned light blue oxford, and that mustache? It worked. It really worked.

And he looked nervous? His knee was bouncing and he kept glancing down at the phone propped up on his knee. 7:33pm - you were late. You squared your shoulders and cleared your throat before closing the final few steps.

"Bradley?"

He spun around on his barstool at your voice. The abrupt motion caused him to almost drop his phone, but it made you smile. Once his eyes settled on you it was like everything stopped. The bar got quiet, you didn't notice the girl next to you complaining about her drink, and the hockey game on TV faded into the background - you just noticed Bradley.

A smile crept across his face as he said your name in turn and you nodded. Your stomach was going crazy with butterflies and your heart was pounding so hard, you were convinced Bradley could see the outline through your pink dress. His voice was warm and raspy and had your insides turning into honey.

"It's nice to see you - " He gave you a full hug that was over far too soon. God he smelled so good, too. "- Here, have a seat. Do you want a drink?"

"You too." You took his hand and got on the barstool, placing your clutch on the table and glancing around the bar. "Ummm, what're you having?"

"An old fashioned - sorry," he shook himself and glanced back down at his drink sheepishly, "you just look really pretty."

You cheeks warmed under his stare and you bit your lip. If your knee nudged his underneath the bar-top then that was just an accident. "Thanks, I'll uh - I'll have a margarita?"

Bradley was either really smart or really lucky when he ordered your margarita with your preferred tequila - you only had to pipe up to request salt on the rim.

And then it was just easy. Everything just fell into place. You talked about your time at UVA - he even got you to admit that you were a Tri-Delta after he admitted to being Sigma Chi philanthropy chair -your favorite restaurants and neighborhoods in San Diego, and your job, which Bradley endearingly thought was fascinating - something you wouldn't exactly agree with, but it was flattering all the same.

And it was only because of the easy conversation and banter between the two of you that you finally felt comfortable bringing up your most burning question all evening:

“So, what’s with the bar?” you asked, looking around with a teasing smile on your face. Bradley cocked his head. “I mean, is it just me or is like every naval officer within a forty mile radius here?”

And then the night took a turn...

don't forget to read part 1 to see how the date goes 😉

a/n: so this was just something small to tide me over before i post my next fic about thanksgiving! hope you all liked it!

[inbloomwriting]

a calm surrender II Roy Kent

Plot: Roy doesn't love her. In fact, he finds her irritating above anything else. And yet he manages to tell her in so many different ways.

Pairing: Roy Kent x female reader

Warnings: A lot of swearing, mentions of food and alcohol. Reader takes Keeley's spot in some plot points - no disrepect to her though she's my favorite.

Notes: This is inspired by a "100 ways to say I love you" List. It’s 8.3k words, It's a big one.

Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

"It's enough for this restless warrior Just to be with you"

Take my jacket, it’s cold & You can have half

She’s irritating. Everything about her manages to get under his skin. The way she’s always smiling that big radiant smile of hers or the perpetual scent of jasmine and vanilla that seems to follow her anywhere. She laughs too loud, she’s a terrible driver and even worse at parking. The music coming from the physio room is mostly cheesy 80s and 90s pop songs that make Roy want to give himself a lobotomy. She’s irritating in every which way you look at it — and maybe that’s the exact reason why Roy can’t keep himself from looking at her.

Tonight is no exception. For some inexplicable reason, his eyes manage to find her across the room and in the crowd, every single time without fail. It’s not like it’s a conscious choice on his part either. It just happens. That sparkly green dress of her’s just seems to call out to him like the damn light across the bay at the Buchanan’s dock.

And the worst part is that she noticed. She caught his eyes on her more than once, even had the audacity to smirk back at him. During the auction, for a small moment, he thought she might bid on him when her hand just barely twitched and her eyes held a sense of infinite mischief. She didn’t though and for a second he could feel a string of disappointment pull at his heart. Not because he wanted her to bid on him or anything, he just wasn’t particularly fond of the idea of having to spend time with Cheryl Barnaby.

He managed to find her across the room all night — except for right now. Everyone’s on the dance floor. Keeley, Jamie, Ted, even Beard. But not her.

No one’s paying attention to him right now, if he were to just slip out of here, no one will notice.

It’s not like he wanted to be here in the first place. Sure, raising money for underprivileged children is something honorable and he would never let his own disdain for overly glitzy social events get in the way of doing the right thing. Doesn’t mean he has to like it though.

Emptying his glass with one last sip he grabs his jacket from the back of the chair and steps out into the chilly air of a London night.

It’s funny, really, how the moment he stops searching, the green light calls back out to him and she steps into his vision. A glowing beacon of refuge, guiding ships through dark nights to safe shores.

The cold air nips at her skin, sharp and vicious and Roy doesn’t even have to get any closer to her to notice that she’s shivering. He can barely suppress the urge to roll his eyes at her. Of course, she’s cold, she’s only wearing the dress and some flimsy chiffon scarf thing around her shoulders. That’s gonna do fuck all to shelter her from the cold. Irritating. She’s so irritating.

The most irritating part though, is that he can’t help but slip out of his suit jacket. The most irritating part is that he can’t help but care.

“Take my jacket, it’s cold.”

There it is again, that smile of hers. The one he sees sometimes when he’s about to fall asleep. How ridiculous, he thinks, how foolish of him. How absurd it is to fall asleep to the image of a smile belonging to a girl that annoys him more than anything and anyone. (Except maybe Jamie).

“Are you — are you talking to me? Little old me? Are you being nice to me?”

“Jesus fuck, don’t make it weird. I’m always nice.”

She giggles and it’s bloody adorable. So adorable that a smile threatens to pull the corners of his lips upwards. See? Fucking irritating.

“You hardly talk more than 3 words to me when you’re in the physio room but — okay. If that’s your version of nice.”

“Take the jacket or not, I don’t care. I’ll let you freeze out here if you’re trying to be difficult. Means fuck all to me.”

That’s not true. They both know it. No matter how much Roy tries to deny or hide it, there is a soft heart buried inside the rough exterior. He just can’t risk showing that to everyone. Can’t have people getting the wrong ideas.

“No, please I — sorry I’m just — you make me nervous and when I’m nervous I talk a lot and then most of what comes out is just stupid nonsense or deflecting humor or something. I would really appreciate that jacket. It really is fucking freezing.”

Roy has been in the public eye for years now, he’s used to people being intimidated, nervous. Usually, it’s strangers though, people who don’t know him. Those that do, that work with him, usually lose that feeling pretty quickly.

“Why the fuck would I make you nervous?”

She just glances at him before turning her face back towards the street “Have you seen yourself?”

He’s not sure how to take that. Is it a compliment? Does she think he’s handsome? It’s not like it matters to him really. In fact, the thought that she might find him attractive is — say it with me — fucking irritating.

He contemplates asking her outright if this is something she does on purpose. If she’s deliberately trying to rile him up. The words are on the tip of his tongue when he notices her shiver once again and all that was on his mind vanishes against the desperate need to keep her warm.

“Jesus. Let me just — “

Jasmine. Vanilla. He smells it when he slips the jacket around her shoulders. He wonders if his jacket will smell like that, like her, when he gets it back. Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Not because it’s her or anything — just because it smells fantastic and Roy is not one to deny himself the simple pleasures in life.

“I really appreciate it, Roy.”

And the gratefulness with which she says it is not irritating at all. It’s endearing. It’s flutters-in-his-tummy kind of wonderful.

Instead of reacting like a normal, reasonable person with a simple “you're welcome”, he gives her one of his signature grunts. That’s as good a normal reasonable reaction as anyone can expect from him, really.

“What are you out here all by yourself for anyway? Trying to get kidnapped or something?”

“No,” there it is again, the giggle. Ugh. “ I’m waiting for my Uber. He’s — “She checks her phone, illuminating her face with the harsh blue light. He thinks she looks wonderful either way. Then scolds himself for thinking it. Some simple pleasures he has to deny himself. “ 12 minutes away.”

Roy isn’t quite certain whether or not he considers himself a good person. He tries to be, it’s a conscious effort each and every day. He helps out his sister, he gives in to all of Phoebe’s wishes even if it means having to play the princess yet again and never getting to be the dragon. He donates more money to charity than the press is aware of, leaves hefty tips whenever he goes out to eat and though he does swear a lot, he still tries to be polite if he can.

He tries to be a good person and a good person doesn’t let a woman wait outside in the cold dark night by herself. No matter how infuriating she is.

“Do you mind if I keep you company? Couldn’t live with myself if you got snatched up and I was the last person to see you alive.”

A laugh tumbles from her lips. A step up from a giggle and god does it send shockwaves through his traitorous heart.

“The press would have a field day if that happened. I can see the headlines, ‘Football legend Roy Kent involved in the disappearance of Richmond sports physio’ and then they use a picture of you from like 10 years ago with the really bad long hair that makes you look a little sketchy.”

“I didn’t look sketchy.”

“You looked a little sketchy.”

Roy glances at her through the corner of his eyes. She really is a dream in forest green, the sequins, and rhinestones reflecting the street lights like little kaleidoscopes. He’s almost certain he’ll dream in shades of green tonight. He’s sure he’ll see her smiling face.

“You look beautiful.”

The words fall from his lips before he can stop them and it makes him want to put his head through a wall. Fuck.

“Thank you —” she replies bashfully, “do you want some sausage roll?”

In all the scenarios running through his head of how this conversation could’ve gone, this is not one of the outcomes he expected.

“What?” he asks, one eyebrow raised in question.

“Do you want a part of my sausage roll?” she chuckles and pulls a brown paper bag from her sparkly clutch bag. “I wasn’t sure if they were gonna actually feed us or just serve us rich people portions so I brought backup. You can have half if you want.”

She breaks the flaky pastry in two and holds one piece out to him. Even her nails are painted to match the dress. If he was any worse a man he would risk it all for just one taste of her and whatever black magic she possesses that gets so deeply under his skin. He is a better man than that tough, so he settles for a taste of the sausage roll.

“You’re a strange woman”

“Strange or smart?”

Taking a bite from the sausage roll, buttery and flaky and greasy, he must admit she has a point.

“Bit of both.”

“I can live with that.”

Silence settles upon them, well as silent as a London night can be. It feels weirdly comfortable. No expectations to be someone or do something. Just her and the city and the fucking Greggs sausage roll.

And — Elton John?

“Oh, I love that song!”

A string of pink lights adorns the top of the rikshaw as it turns the corner, loudly blasting Can you feel the love tonight. The driver catches sight of them and Roy can’t suppress the annoyed groan slipping its way out.

“Good evening can I interest you lovebirds in a — “

“No, fuck off!”

Elton’s voice gets quieter and quieter as the startled driver rides his rickshaw further away and back into the inky black of the night.

Lovebirds, he called them lovebirds. Thought the two of them were anything other than acquaintances. People pushed together by circumstances and coincidence. As if anything between them could ever happen. She’s already getting under his skin, sticks around his thoughts, and ghosts through his head without him ever giving her permission to do so. She’s all he can think about lately and yes he knows it sounds repetitive but god it’s so damn irritating.

“I would’ve liked to hear the rest of the song.”

Roy scoffs “Figures.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

He turns to face her and, for the first time since he’s stepped out of the building and into this tiny bubble they’re sharing for just this fleeting moment, he looks at her. Really looks at her. With her sparkly dress and her lips painted a deep red like candy apples. With flakes of the pastry sticking to her lower lip and his jacket wrapped around her looking almost like this is where it’s always belonged.

He’s never had a heart attack before, he wonders if this is what it feels like.

“You play the worst fucking music when you’re working in the physio room.”

“Uh — are you insulting my taste in music? Are you really out here insulting the legend, sir Elton John? The Lion King soundtrack is a religious experience, okay?”

He hates that he can clearly tell by the glimmer of mischief in her eyes that she is joking more than anything. He shouldn’t be able to tell. Mere acquaintances can’t do shit like that.

“No, in fact, it’s a pretty fucking great movie. It came out when my sister was a kid though and I had to watch that shit a million times. You know how traumatizing it is having to watch Mufasa die over and over again?“

She grants him a look of understanding and shrugs her shoulders in agreement “At least it’s not Frozen, eh? “

“I have a 6-year-old niece.”

Roy Kent has a lot of things in his life that he takes pride in. His career and talent, all the hard work he put in to be where he is today. He takes pride in being a good brother and a loving uncle and maybe even a good friend and leader.

Making her let out a snort as she laughs at his Frozen-induced misery? That might be his proudest achievement to date.

“I’m glad you find my suffering amusing.”

“What can I say? You’re a funny guy, Roy Kent. So funny in fact that I almost bid on you at the auction.”

He wants to let out the most guttural scream in the existence of mankind. She can’t just go ahead and say stuff like that. Not when he is trying so hard to keep their interactions at the most basic level. Not when she already haunts his dreams. She’s irritating, Roy. Not charming or lovable or — beautiful. Or maybe she is all those things but most of all she’s annoying and infuriating and — oh he’s so fucked.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Oh, well I’m just a measly sports physician. Don’t get me wrong, it's good money but I don’t really earn quite enough to throw thousands of pounds at a man to have him spend time with me.”

He’d do it for free. Hate every second of it, naturally. But he’d do it for free.

Can’t tell her that though. Never. So once again he just grunts.

A silver Toyota pulls up to the curb, effectively bursting their little bubble of comfort as the driver leans down to look out the window. “You (Y/N) ?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

She makes a motion to slip out of the jacket, only for Roy to step in and hold it closed, keeping it in place, wrapped around her, and shielding her from the cold.

“Keep it,” his voice comes out all rough and husky. More than usual. It’s probably the jasmine scent getting to him, clouding his every sense. “Don’t want you to freeze on the way home. Just give it back another time.”

“Oh, okay. Well, thanks again. Goodnight, Roy.”

He opens the door for her and closes it softly once she’s settled into the car. Roy tries so hard to be a good man, a good person but in that moment all he wants to do is be a little bit worse, just a little bit. Just enough to rip the door open again, pull her out of the seat and kiss her stupid.

Instead, he wishes her a good night and sends her off before stepping out into the night himself. There is a smile playing on his lips all the way home and it’s so fucking irritating.

I was in the neighborhood & It’s okay I couldn’t sleep anyway

The door leading to her apartment is bright red and there is a little white sign and the picture of a dog with huge fucking ears that reminds him of Gizmo from the Gremlins. It says “Beware of the dog — might cuddle you to death.”

It’s cheesy as hell. He loves it.

He’s not quite sure how he ended up here. Losing is never fun. Feeling yourself slowly becoming unable to do the things you love, the things you were good at, and actively playing a part in your team losing? That’s absolutely mortifying.

Of all the places he could’ve gone, all the people he could’ve seen — he ends up in front of her door. Red and shiny like her lips that night.

It’s almost 1am and all things considered, this is a really dumb idea. She’s probably asleep and waking her up would be fucking rude. He should just go and forget this ever happened instead of knocking on her door in the middle of the night. That’s what the rational part of his brain tells him at least.

Roy was never really good at listening to the rational part of his brain.

Tiny barks, no doubt belonging to the dog on the sign, echo through the hallway before the door swings open just enough for (Y/N) to look at him with tired eyes.

“Roy?”

“I was in the neighborhood I — I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m sorry.”

It’s not a lie, really. He was in the neighborhood. He walked here specifically to knock on her door and see her.

“It’s okay, I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

Now that is most definitely a lie. Her eyes are sleepy, her hair disheveled and he can just about make out the pillow print on her cheek.

“Do you want to come in?”

He does. He shouldn’t but he really does.

The apartment is small but it feels cozy rather than cramped. The walls are lined with pictures, little reminders of happy moments and people she loves.

There’s one of him too, well him and Isaac and Sam and then her at the end of the line. He thinks it was taken at some get-together after a particularly hard-fought win. He likes to know that there’s a picture of him on her wall even if his appearance in the photo is probably more incidental than anything.

“I didn’t know you had a dog.”

It’s a stupid thing to say, there is so much he doesn’t know about her. He doesn’t know where she was born or if she has siblings or if she always wanted to be a physiotherapist. But there are things he does know, like the specific way she likes her coffee and that she always gets a snickerdoodle cookie from the bakery down the road from the stadium, every Wednesday without fail. How she scrunches up her nose when she’s frustrated and that she snorts when something makes her laugh really hard.

“His name is Yoda. He’s a papillon and also my best friend.”

“Don’t let Sam hear.”

“Oh, he’s also Sam’s best friend.”

Yoda, it’s a fitting name. He does look like a Yoda.

“So what brings you here, Roy? At uh — “ she glances towards her open kitchen and the digital clock on the microwave “ 1:04 am?”

Should’ve gotten his story straight before he came here. What is he supposed to say? I felt like proper shit and wanted to see your smile? Surely not.

So he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind.

“Came to get my jacket back.”

Absolute dumbass.

“Your jacket? Oh uh. sure. Let me go get it.”

She regards him with confusion and curiosity, he can tell she’s not really buying his story.

“Or, if you aren’t in a rush, I was about to pop in a movie and pig out on some popcorn? Do you want to join me?”

This might be the first time he lets her see the smile she continues to put on his face.

“Fuck yeah, what are we watching?”

“Vernon is such a little bitch. Antagonizing fucking teenagers? What a loser."

“Right?,” (Y/N) agrees, taking a sip from her glass of rose before stuffing another handful of buttery popcorn into her mouth. “Bender needed someone to care, not just another adult yelling at him. "Such a loser. Hey, now that I think about it, you do give me John Bender vibes. All broody and mysterious.”

Roy just scoffs in response.

Her eyes fall onto his empty glass of wine resting on the little square table in front of the couch.

“You want a top-up?”

“No, I’m good. I should probably get going.”

He hates to admit it, it’s something he’ll take to the grave with him, but there’s something about rosé that gets to him. It makes him tipsy immediately. He doesn’t want to go home but the longer he stays the more he opens himself up to saying something stupid and fucking this up — whatever this is.

“Did you walk here?”

“Mmh.”

“Oh well I can’t in good conscience let you walk home, half a bottle of rosé in your system and dealing with all the emotions brought on by the breakfast club. Couldn’t live with myself if you got snatched up and I was the last person to see you alive”

Throwing his own words back at him should be infuriating, annoying. It isn’t. It’s lovely. She’s lovely.

“You can stay if you want. My couch isn’t the biggest but I think you’ll fit just fine.”

The sincerity in her eyes hits him like a dart to the chest. It’s something so simple as offering him her couch for the night but it means everything for a man who has grown so awfully accustomed to loneliness.

“If I stay, will you make me breakfast?”

“Fuck no”

Laughter fills the tiny living room and it takes him a second to realize it’s his own.

“I might be up for a Starbucks run tomorrow morning before work though.”

“Sounds great. I love peppermint lattes, those are fucking delicious.”

She grants him another smile as she gathers their glasses and the empty bottle and brings them to the kitchen before returning with a fluffy pink blanket for him. He thinks that smile could’ve just about killed him, thinks he might just die right here on her couch and it wouldn’t be so bad.

“Well goodnight, then. Hope you don’t mind Yoda”

The dog is curled up on Roy’s chest like a little bagel. It’s gonna be annoying later, he’s sure but hell will freeze over before he disturbs the little pup.

“That’s fine.”

“He snores, just thought you should know.”

“Makes two of us then, hope he doesn’t mind.”

Another laugh. Another tiny heart attack.

She’s by the door, just about to turn off the light and plunge the room into darkness, when she hesitates for a moment.

“Hey Roy,”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry you guys lost today and I — I can see you struggling but I just wanted you to know that it was not your fault. I need you to know that.”

The entire way here, he tried to make himself rationalize that. Make himself understand that losing is part of the game and that he did his best. But knowing your best might not be good enough anymore is a hard fucking pill to swallow.

Hearing her say that it’s not his fault, it takes the weight off for a moment. Not all the way, never all the way. But a tiny little bit and that’s a whole lot already.

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

“Night, Roy.”

He falls asleep with the taste of rosé on his tongue, the snoring of a little dog in his ears, and the sight of her on his mind, all sleepy eyes and messy hair. She never looked better.

It looks good on you & I like your laugh

He’s positively buzzing with euphoria. They won, something no one thought was possible. They won and he scored the winning goal.

Spirits are high as the team and their friends have taken over the Karaoke place. Shots and drinks flow with no regard to the tab they’re raking up or the headache that awaits each of them tomorrow. None of that matters right now. Tonight is made for celebrating. Consequences don’t exist right here and now.

Rebecca burns the house down with her rendition of let it go and after a short intermission by Dani, singing a Spanish song that neither of them managed to join in with their non-existent knowledge of the language, the opening chords to another familiar song fill the room.

“Well, thanks for making us all look like amateurs, Rebecca,” (Y/N) says into the microphone as she takes her place on stage. Her words are laced with happiness and laughter and Roy thinks she must have him under some spell because he can’t manage to not smile when she’s around. It’s a bit ridiculous if he’s being honest.

“I will most definitely not be able to live up to that performance but I thought we could stay in the Disney bubble for a moment.”

Her eyes meet his across the room and when she winks at him it takes everything in him not to get up on stage and devour her. Fucking irritating.

“I know you all know this song so sing along if you feel like it. This one’s for you, John Bender.”

He knows it’s one of the cheesiest love songs ever, written for a movie about a cartoon lion. But sitting on the couch at the karaoke place surrounded by his team, having just scored a winning goal and listening to the girl that haunts his dreams sing straight to him and only him, he thinks Elton has a point. He can feel the love tonight. It’s in the smiles of his friends, and the voices coming together all chaotic and off-key singing along to the song. And there is love in her eyes, clear as day and undeniable.

“And can you feel the love tonight How it's laid to rest? It's enough to make kings and vagabonds Believe the very best”

The night is coming to an end, everyone’s found their way to their respective rooms — or whoever’s room they felt like staying at. Roy’s pretty sure he saw Rebecca’s friend enter Ted’s room but that’s none of his fucking business, is it?

“Okay, you can’t laugh though!” (Y/N)’s voice calls out from the bathroom and drifts towards the main part of the room where Roy is perched on the chair by the window.

This isn’t his room and really he knows he shouldn’t be here. But being alone right now sounded like proper torture. He wasn’t ready to leave this magical night behind yet. Not like this. Not when she sang to him and he had nothing to give her in return. So when she invited him to her room to watch yet another John Hughes movie on Netflix, he couldn’t do anything but accept.

“Are you sleeping in one of those weird fluffy onesies?”

“No, god no.”

“Then I don’t know why I’d laugh at you.”

When she steps into the room, he can see why she’d think he’d laugh at her choice of sleepwear. The white shirt looks not so white anymore, there is a hole at the bottom and a mysterious red stain by the collar. It doesn’t make him laugh though. It makes him fucking hard. Because that’s his name on the back of it. That’s a 2014 world cup Roy Kent England Jersey.

“Fuck me.”

He doesn't mean to let it slip but alcohol and euphoria have made his lips go loose.

“I knoooow, it’s embarrassing. I meant to bring something else but it’s just so comfortable.”

“It looks good on you.”

It does. He thought the green dress was it. Then he thought she looked absolutely adorable, all sleepy and natural. But this? This is the look that pushes him over the edge. This is everything.

“Yeah?” she asks and twirls around the room, not unlike Phoebe whenever Roy gifts her yet another new princess dress. He’s just such a sucker, can never say no when she asks him for something. “You just wait and see, I’ll steal your job soon enough.”

That makes him erupt into laughter yet again, he doesn’t think he’s laughed quite as much lately as when he is with her.

“I’ve seen you attempt to play before. I’m not worried.”

“I like your laugh,” she says, all warm eyes and wistful smile.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

Something takes over, an invisible force pulling him to his feet and making him walk up to her. She’s leaning against the wall as he places one hand on her hip, the other on the wall next to her head. This shouldn’t be happening, he knows this. It’s dumb to believe that whatever tension there is between them can lead to anything. That’s just not in the cards for him no matter how much he wishes for it.

Girls like her don’t fall for boys like him. They never did, they never will.

“Roy Kent, you won today.”

Winning the game is the last thing on his mind right now. How could he ever think about winning right this moment when her hand is softly resting on his cheek and her nose gently nuzzling against his and the —

A knock on the door cuts through the moment making Roy let go and take a step back.

“Fucks sake.”

In his defense, Sam looks apologetic as he stands in front of the door, signature smile on his face. Good-natured and lovable. If this was any other moment Roy wouldn’t have been able to be mad at him. But this is that moment and he is a little pissed right now.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to disturb, I was just wondering if you had another phone charger. I can’t find mine and I know you always bring extra so — “

“Uh, yeah let me go get it real quick.” (Y/N) says and turns back towards the room.

Roy’s eyes connect with hers for a split second and it’s like a bucket of ice straight over his head. They both know whatever magical spell they had been under, it’s broken and gone and all that’s left now is a big old pile of what-ifs.

“It’s getting late, I should leave. Goodnight, (Y/N). Night, Sam.”

“We’ll reschedule, yeah?”

Tiny smile on his lips he nods his head in agreement.

He gets a soft “goodnight” in return and though he hates to admit it, the touch of her hand against his cheek lingers there all the way to his room and even further into his dreams.

Call me when you get home & We’ll figure it out

Rain pounds against the roof and windows like tiny bullets. A rainstorm has Richmond tight in its clutches so cruel and unforgiving the team can’t even train right now.

And yet for some reason Roy still finds himself in the workout room, trying to push himself to do just 5 more minutes on the treadmill. Just 5 more.

Actually, it’s not entirely true. He knows why he’s here. Part of him hopes that if he just pushes himself enough, he can overcome the pain in his leg and all the issues it causes. That if he just tries harder, he can go back to being the talented overachiever he used to be.

But it hurts. A sharp stabbing pain rushes through his knee forcing him to step off the treadmill. He hates this. In fact, it’s his worst fucking nightmare. Football is all he’s ever been good at, he can’t lose that. It’s his entire life.

If he’s not Roy the footballer, who is he? Some bloke named Roy with a dead career and no one to come home to? Now doesn’t that sound delightful?

"Roy?"

“Jesus, fuck!”

There she goes again giving him a heart attack, only this time it’s not because she’s being cute or anything.

“Oh shit, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The smile on her face falls as she catches sight of him holding onto his knee. He can almost see the thoughts running through her head. She knows about his knee. If anyone knows how bad it is, it’s her. She told him not to overdo it. Said that would only make it worse.

He knows she has pity on him and he hates it. It’s irritating coming from everyone. Irritating and misplaced. Why would they pity him? It’s his own damn fault for not being good enough anymore.

But coming from her? That’s even worse. No one wants a guy that’s getting too old to do his job properly. That’s falling apart and breaking.

— Not that he wants her or anything. Oh, Roy, who are you trying to fool here? Of course, he wants her.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m fine.”

She raises her eyebrow in disbelief, in that bratty way that drives him crazy.

“I said I’m fine, (Y/N).”

“I hear what you’re saying,” she says and comes to stand next to him, crossing her arms in defiance. “but I can also see the way you’re holding your knee and that face you’re making. You’re in pain, love.”

Love. He doesn’t hate how it sounds when she calls him that. Irritating for sure but also — sweet.

“I’ll be fine! What are you even doing here?”

He hasn’t seen a lot of her ever since the night in Liverpool and while part of him was quite glad about it because he honestly wasn’t sure whether or not to bring up whatever had or had not happened between them, another part of him had missed her smile desperately.

“I work here.”

“You’re a fucking smartass, aren’t you.”

“I try.”

Fuck, even when she’s being deliberately difficult she manages to pull a smirk from him.

“I had some paperwork to do but by the time I arrived here, the storm was so bad that now I have to wait for it to stop before I can drive home. I hate driving when it rains.”

“Oh you should,” Roy returns, nodding his head in agreement “You’re a horrible driver in the best of weather.”

She responds with a scandalized gasp and a hand placed on her heart in mock upset “I am not a horrible driver! Take that back.”

“It took you 18 minutes to park your car the other day. I know because I saw it, we all saw it. Boys took the time and had bets going. Jamie won 20 quid.”

“Wha — okay I’ll have to have a word with the guys, you’re ridiculous. But don’t think you can change the topic on me, Mister. Is your knee getting worse?”

Yes, and he fucking hates it. Can’t even say the words out loud because that feels like admitting defeat. And that’s a terrifying thing to do.

Fortunately for him, he doesn’t have to say anything. A look is all it takes and she nods her head in understanding.

“That’s okay, Roy. We’ll figure something out.”

We will figure something out. We as in him and her. Since pretty much the beginning of his professional career, Roy had admirers. People who would latch onto everything he did or said and hold him to abnormally high standards he would never be able to reach. They adored him but they also didn’t know him. She knows him even when he tries so hard to keep her at arm's length. She knows him and is still in his corner, still has his back. The only people who ever did that were his family.

It’s an unusual feeling but he really really likes it. Even if it’s a little terrifying.

“What if — “ he takes a deep breath, trying to form the words that weigh so heavy on his heart “What if I can’t go back to how it used to be? What if this is the end for me?”

“Do you want me to be honest or nice?”

“Lay it on me then.”

“Things might not get back to how they used to be and there’s not really much you can do about it other than learn to accept it and then figure out a new place for yourself.”

“Football is all I have.”

“That’s not true but even if it was there is so much more about it than just the players.”

She’s right but it’s still a bitter pill to swallow.

“…and with that smile of yours, you can always go into modeling. I’m sure they’re always looking for new faces in the toothpaste commercial business.”

“Oh fuck off.”

“See! There’s that smile I was talking about.”

“You’re fucking insufferable sometimes.”

She is. He adores it.

“Oh, but you like it — right?”

“What?”

“You do — like it? Like me?”

It’s the first time he’s seen her act insecure. She’s always so bubbly and happy and smiling, he hates that he put any doubt in her mind that he does anything but cherish her.

“You irritate me, woman. Drive me up the fucking wall, every day.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No! Don’t say sorry. I love it. I think you’re a fucking knockout. Best thing since sliced bread.”

He does, he truly does and it feels nice to say it out loud for once. To admit it to her and to himself. It feels nice when she comes closer and when she rests her arms around his neck and it feels fucking phenomenal when her nose brushes past his and he can almost feel her lips on his.

Almost.

That’s until her phone beeps and she pulls away altogether.

“Ah shit, I gotta go.”

“Fuck sake. The universe hates me.”

“The universe doesn’t hate you, Roy Kent. We just have bad timing. ”

He’s not convinced.

“What about the storm?”

“I think the rain stopped, listen.”

Roy hears nothing. Where raindrops were drumming against the roof and windows just minutes ago, there is silence. He’s never wished for a rainstorm to persist more than he does at that moment.

“Well, call me when you get home at least. Roads will still be wet.”

“Aw, Roy, are you worried about me?”

His lips say no, but his eyes and his smile tell a different story.

You can stay & Is this okay? Can I hold your hand?

This is it. This is the end. He’s seen this one coming for a while now but he tried so hard. He trained and pushed and it was all for nothing. They’re losing and his career as an active footballer is over for good.

The door to the locker room opens slowly, almost cautiously and he’s just about to yell and whoever dares to disturb him, when his head snaps up and he sees (Y/N) standing in the doorway.

“What are you doing here? Game is still going, you’re the fucking Physio.”

“Good thing there’s more than one of us. I have to make sure all my players are okay.”

I’m not okay. That’s what he wants to say. He wants to scream it from the rooftops. He’s not okay. He’s not sure he ever will be.

“Get out, (Y/N).”

She can’t see him like this. Defeated. Broken. Old.

Instead of listening to him, she sits down beside him and holds an ice pack to his injured knee.

“As a physio, I need to tell you that what you did was really stupid.”

He knows it was. It was a calculated risk he was willing to take and if nothing else, he kept Jamie from scoring and the fans appreciated it. That was all that mattered at that moment.

“But as a friend and Richmond fan, I think it was brilliant. I just wish you didn’t hurt yourself in the process.”

Silence settles over them and (Y/N) is just about to get back up when he grabs onto her arm and pulls her back down. “You can stay.”

“Okay.”

And for a long while they just sit. No words, no expectations. Just them.

Softly, almost like a whisper, he feels her touch against his hand, sliding her fingers between his.

“Is this okay? Can I hold your hand?”

It’s not okay. It’s phenomenal. It’s everything he could’ve wished for in that moment but never would’ve had the nerve to ask. It’s a promise that he isn’t alone in this. There is someone there holding his hand through the darkest of times.

A green light guiding him to safe shores.

“Don’t you fucking dare let go.”

Stay there, I’m coming to get you & I can't wait for tomorrow

Turns out, retiring from a successful football career does not mean you suddenly have a lot of free time. In fact, Roy doesn’t think he’s ever been this busy doing shit he doesn’t like.

Everyone wants an interview, a statement, a “what happens next”. It’s a lot of paperwork and contracts and shit he doesn’t care about. The point is, he’s fucking busy. So busy he hasn’t seen (Y/N) in quite a few days. Nothing has really changed since their moment in the locker room but somehow everything feels different.

It’s exactly 4:12 am when his phone rings. He almost doesn’t want to answer but calls at 4am usually mean bad news and he’d never forgive himself if something happened to his sister or Phoebe or (Y/N) or even (and he will deny this if you ask him about it) Jamie just because he couldn’t be bothered to answer his phone.

“Hello?”

“Royoooo.”

Oh. Oh!

A smirk pulls at his lips.

“(Y/N)?”

“Sorry —” she says and stops for a giggle “Sorry to wake you. I just — I was out with the girls and I didn’t plan on drinking but I did. They had a buy one get one free deal. It would be stupid to say no, right?”

“Right.”

"So, yeah."

“Go on. Didn’t just call me to tell me about the drinks, did you.”

“Oh, no. I just wanted to talk to you while I wait for my Uber. I miss you.”

“Do you?”

“So much!” her words are slow and slightly slurred. “Every fucking day. Like — god, I just wanna see your stupid handsome face.”

“It’s handsome, innit?”

“You have no idea! I just want to kiss you, so badly.”

Kiss him. She wants to kiss him. Sure, it almost happened twice but it’s still different hearing her outright say it. But then again, she’s drunk and by the time she wakes up tomorrow, she probably won’t remember half of what she’s saying right now.

“Where are you?”

“It’s that weird little bar around the corner from Sam’s restaurant. The one with the green door.”

“Go on and cancel that Uber.”

“Then how am I going to get home?”

“Stay there, I’m coming to get you.”

Roy isn’t quite certain whether or not he considers himself a good person. He tries to be, it’s a conscious effort each and every day. He tries to be a good person and a good person doesn’t let the woman he’s absolutely head over heels for wait outside in the cold dark night by herself. No matter how infuriating she is.

“Okay,” she agrees, a giggle slipping past her lips “Thank you. Can’t wait to see you.”

And though Roy had other plans for his weekend than picking up a drunk girl at 4 in the morning, he also can’t wait to see her.

“…and like it was mostly sugar, right? So I thought why not have another one. Turns out it was mostly vodka.”

“Who could’ve guessed.”

She’s cuddled up on his couch in one of his shirts looking into his eyes and retelling her night in vivid detail. Her story is slurred and a bit all over the place, blame it on her tipsy brain. It takes her forever to get to the point and when she does, the point doesn’t even make all that much sense. It doesn’t matter, he’d listen to her ramble forever if it meant he got to spend time with her wearing his shirt sitting on his couch — looking into his eyes.

“You’re going to feel like shit tomorrow.”

“I know,” she shrugs then scoots closer to him and wraps her arms around his “but you’re here so it’s only half as bad really.”

“If I’m feeling generous I’ll even make you breakfast.”

“You really are the dream, Roy Kent.”

She’s clawing at his chest, prying open his ribcage and burying herself where his heart used to be. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

“You have to stop saying shit like that. People are gonna think you’re in love with me or something.”

She pulls away slightly and looks up at him with those big eyes of hers before resting one hand on his cheek.

“Roy, I am. I thought you knew.”

He had a hunch, of course. Fostered a spark of hope in his heart that there could be something between them after all. But once you grow accustomed to loneliness it’s a little hard to let yourself believe.

“Do I need to show you to believe me?”

She pulls his face closer to hers and for a millisecond he wants to let go, but when he smells the alcohol on her breath he pulls back. This isn’t right.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“You’re off your tits. I’m not kissing you like this. Our first kiss is not going to be some inebriated tongue-wagging. You hear me? I’m a hopeless fucking romantic, that kiss is gonna be special. I’m gonna kiss you stupid.”

She bites her lips to suppress the smile from taking over.

“So if I were to ask again tomorrow, you’d say yes?”

“Mh.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

At that she snuggles further into his arms and rests her head against his shoulder, a content smile on her face as she closes her eyes.

“Oh, I can’t wait for tomorrow.”

He doesn’t admit it, but neither can he.

I think you're beautiful & I’ll meet you halfway

“Roy?”

Her voice echoes through his house as the eggs sizzle on the stove.

“Why is there a small child looking at me?”

“Phoebe, stop staring at her you little creep!”

“She’s so pretty.”

She has a point.

10 minutes later the girls join him in the kitchen, walking in hand in hand and big smiles on their faces. Seeing them get along makes his heart grow approximately 12 sizes. That being said, the two of them teaming up against him sounds like trouble to him. Good trouble though. Trouble he loves to deal with.

“Good morning, Roy.”

“Morning. Pheebs, go sit down, breakfast is almost ready.”

“Okay, Uncle Roy.”

Once she’s out of the immediate earshot he turns back towards (Y/N). Though she tried her best to conceal it, yesterday's makeup is still smudged around her eyes and her hair is a downright mess. She’s wearing his shirt though, standing barefoot in his kitchen after bonding with his niece.

Sometimes life is fucking sweet.

“Don’t look at me like that, I know I look like a mess.”

“I think you’re beautiful.”

“You’re delusional.”

“That’s not what you said last night. Think you called me the fucking dream if I recall correctly. Said you were in love with me.”

(Y/N) leans against the kitchen island, her hands flat against the countertop and her eyes trained on Roy.

“I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Yes.”

Roy mirrors her position, arms resting on the kitchen island across from her. God, she really is so beautiful.

“Remember what you said?”

“Do you?”

“You promised me something, Roy.”

Roy Kent doesn’t make promises lightly. He thinks there’s hardly anything quite as heartbreaking and awful as breaking a promise. He prides himself in keeping all the ones he’s made.

It’s only right to keep this one too.

“Phoebe,” he calls out to the little girl without moving his eyes away from (Y/N) for even a second “Blindfold!”

The 6-year-old slaps her tiny hands over her eyes obeying her uncle's orders with no hesitation and no questions asked. He’s proud of her. Silly little idiot.

Leaning across the counter, his lips almost reach (Y/N)’s. She’s so close. So close.

Only —

“Fuck, I can’t reach. My knee.”

There’s so much love in her eyes as she regards him. It almost knocks him out.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll meet you halfway,” She says and gets up on her tiptoes.

Across the counter their lips meet. There are no fireworks or butterflies or an angel choir singing. But there is her tasting of toothpaste and smelling his deodorant. Her and the feeling of belonging. Of comfort and domesticity and love. He loves this woman, undeniably and irrevocably.

It’s a great kiss. Fucking mindblowing. There is no need for rom-com-induced fairytale fantasies when you have the real thing and it is so much better than any story could ever be.

“Hey Roy,” she whispers against his lips as they come up for air.

“Hmm?”

“The eggs are burning.”

“Fuck!”

“You owe me a pound, Uncle Roy!”

Irritating! Both of them.

They’re his whole entire heart.

I love you & I love you

“I love you.”

It’s a normal fucking Tuesday when she says it for the first time. Really says it. Using those exact words. There’s nothing special about that day but with those words, she puts magic into it. The way she puts magic into his life every single day.

“Fuck you!”

“Sorry, what?”

She’s laughing. She’s always laughing and smiling that goddamn smile that makes him go all soft inside. Beautiful, lovely, knockout that she is.

“I said fuck you. I’ve been thinking about how to tell you all fucking week and here you go and say it first. You’re infuriating.”

Softly she rolls over so she’s resting on his chest, fingers softly tracing patterns into his skin.

“You’ve said it a million times before, Roy.”

“I love you, (Y/N).”

Can’t hurt to say it again.

“I know. I knew. I always knew. From the moment you gave me your jacket.”

Of course, she knew. She took one look at him and it was like she got a view straight into his soul. Straight into his heart with all the vices and virtues, all his triumphs and defeats. All the good and the bad.

How fucking irritating. He loves her for it.

[wheneverfeasible]

🧠 🪱 WIGGLY WEDNESDAY 🪱 🧠

Thanks for the tag @stervrucht ! Ended up writing this on my lunch and hiding in the back at work lmaoooo

Because today I’m thinking about…children’s entertainer Eddie Munson and single parent Steve Harrington…

-

This is definitely a modern au. Eddie did the whole band thing in high school, and they still get together and play in bars and occasionally at events and things, but now Eddie’s music is…different.

Like…think Johnny Karate different.

Except he’s still Eddie. He still dresses in darker clothing, still keeps the metal influence in his music, it’s just all kid appropriate nowadays. He sings songs that are inspired by DnD and fantasy novels he loved growing up, like The Hobbit and The Last Unicorn. He even has a couple children’s books out based on his songs and stories. (His buddy Jeff illustrates them.)

Now, Eddie’s biggest fan happens to be Dustin Henderson, the young friend of single parent Steve Harrington. Dustin is actually a fan of Corroded Coffin as well, which is how he learned of Eddie’s children entertainment persona, The Freak (so named to show kids it’s good to be different), who sometimes dresses up like a court jester, especially when working a kid’s birthday party, crowning the kid as king or queen or anything else their little heart desires.

Steve has two little kids, twins, a boy and a girl. Their fifth birthday is coming up and Dustin convinces Steve to hire Eddie. After much heeing and hawing, Steve finally agrees, if only because Dustin gets the kids to whine about it too, and Steve honestly can’t say no to any of kids, even the ones that are only fiveish years younger than him.

Eddie comes, dressed in his understated jester costume, and the kids absolutely adore him. He all but beams when the boy staunchly proclaims he wants to be a princess, not a prince, and the little girl decides she wants to be a goblin. But a good one. Eddie grins and tells her to watch out for enchanted crystals.

The kids then decide that if the boy is a princess, then that makes their dad the king, and Eddie grins even wider and flourishes an adult size crown for just this sort of occasion. After a lot of complaining about his hair, Steve finally agrees to wear the crown, feeling oddly flushed when Eddie gets close enough to set it on top his head.

“Don’t worry, darling, I won’t mess your hair up too badly. Not until you ask me too,” he whispers just for Steve to hear and winks, even as he quickly jumps away because rule number one is never flirt with a parent when he’s on a job. Something about the single dad is just a little too much for Eddie’s self-restraint, however. Both are blushing.

The rest of the party goes on well, he even gets most of the adults to join in on the ridiculous and repetitive titles, and maybe he showboats a little with his guitar riffs, but Steve’s eyes have barely left him the entire time, and only then when he needed to keep his eyes on the kids.

Eddie is paid and leaves, like he’s supposed to, though not without giving out his business card to some of the other attending parents who want to hire him as well for their own kids’ birthday parties. All in all, a successful night. He gives one last glance at Steve and then he’s gone.

…

Time passes, yeah? Steve can’t stop thinking about Eddie. Eddie can’t stop thinking about Steve. They both think that’s the end of it.

And then Dustin, matchmaker extraordinaire who clocked that shit immediately because Steve hasn’t looked at anyone since the kids, convinces Steve to go to a bar with him where a live band is playing.

The band?

Why, what else but Corroded Coffin.

And the lead guitarist? Well he just happens to look beautifully familiar.

-

rip fartbuckle

-

Hostage tag: @derythcorvinus

No pressure tags: @scoops-aboy86 @endlessmusings1801 @steddieassheg0es @steddiecameraroll @fkinkindagauche (if you’ve already been tagged and posted before, let me know so I can read your stuff!)

[xpao-bearx]

"Like A Virgin"

Steven Grant x Fem!Reader/Jake Lockley x Fem!Reader/Marc Spector x Fem!Reader

Read Part 1 HERE

Read Part 3 HERE

Read Part 4 HERE

NOTES: Y'ALL the way my jaw literally DROPPED when not even H A L F a minute after I posted the first part, you guys were already exploding my notifs which I wasn't expecting AT ALL I swear Oscar Isaac's really got us sluts in a chokehold O_o

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOUUU!!! 😭❤️❤️❤️ This is truly wonderful and encourages me a lot, especially since this is my first ever Moon Knight fic AND the first time a story of mine blew up this much! This is also great cuz I've been terribly sick, but of course ✨️priorities✨️ I gotta shower our Moon Boys with some much deserved lovin' and it's just so fucking nice to see that it's paying off! \(^o^)/ I was so happy and inspired that I couldn't resist and just HAD to write this second part ASAP!

Dissociative identity disorder is also briefly mentioned here and if I made any mistakes, then I apologize and please kindly correct me. And I feel like the ending may be a bit rushed, but it's the best my tiny brain could think of!

I'll shut up now and I'm very proud and excited to present... PART 2!!! 🥳 And if you'd like to be tagged for any of the next parts, feel free to tell me!

Also Marc does something very asshole-y here oop

TAGS: @autismsupermusicalassassin @ungracefularchimedes @pimosworld @ababynova @sweatyroadcowboyjudge @anapnovo-blog @am-3-thyst @harrys-tittie @zukoisbabee @wiltedwonderland

Part 2: You made me feel I've nothing to hide

After work, instead of heading home, you rushed straight to the nearest boutique to buy yourself a new dress for tomorrow night. The butterflies in your stomach were doing somersaults and you felt as if you could spontaneously burst into song like in those cheesy musicals your former college roommate was so obsessed with.

You knew the employees were all looking at you oddly as you constantly giggled to yourself like some lovesick schoolgirl while you perused through endless racks of the latest fashion. Of course you knew you were acting ridiculous--crazy--but wasn't that what attraction or, dare you say, love did to you?

Besides, you wanted tomorrow to go perfectly. In your eyes, Steven Grant was already perfect--perfectly imperfect or imperfectly perfect, you didn't know or care which was which. You just knew that you liked him. A lot.

And it relieved and pleased you to the moon and back that he actually felt the same! So, who cares what anyone else thought?

You just hoped that after tomorrow, Steven would like you enough to go on another date. And another. Then another...

Maybe you were looking--wishing--too far into the future, but you swore you could almost hear wedding bells chiming in the distance.

God, is this what happens after being a total virgin for twenty-something years? There was absolutely nothing wrong with being a virgin, but your insecurity bugged you. What if you weren't at all what Steven expected?

But another part of you, a positive ray of sunshine, clobbered all your doubts. For once, you were going to be brave! You were going to take a leap of faith! You were going to control your life!

Because, in the end...it was worth it. Steven was worth it. Sure, you've experienced various crushes throughout your life, but not like this. Not with Steven. This felt more...serious. Adult.

It felt as if right from the get-go crossing fates with "Steven with a V", your life was about to change--for the better.

Of course you were afraid, and yet you've also never been more sure of something in your entire existence. You've been waiting this long and you're glad you did, and now you were ready to jump head first (and head over heels) into whatever adventure was in store for you--with Steven.

You then squealed excitedly when you spotted the perfect dress, ignoring the judgmental stares other customers shot you as you hurriedly grabbed it like a child in a toy store.

Yes, tomorrow was going to be a dream come true.

♡•••🌙•••♡

You arrived at the restaurant thirty minutes early. It was totally embarrassing how eager you were, but you couldn't help yourself. Though at least with how early you were, you snagged a good table overlooking the restaurant's beautiful back garden strung with fairy lights and you can have some time to calm down before Steven came.

And you looked stunning. Your hair tumbled down in elegant waves, light makeup adoring your face and donning the contact lenses you rarely used. And the dress you bought fit like a glove; it was the shortest dress you now owned, stopping around your thighs. It was baby blue and had an off-the-shoulder style with some frills, and it hugged your figure just right.

You felt very self-conscious. You've always fancied clothes like this, but never actually had the guts to wear them--until now. Did it really suit you? But you couldn't deny that you were happy and, truly, isn't that all that mattered?

"Shall I get you started, ma'am?" A waitress snapped you back to reality and you shook your head.

"Not yet, thank you. I'm still waiting for my...date." The word made you blush furiously, as if sharing a dirty little secret.

The waitress smiled and nodded, leaving you by yourself once more as you sighed wistfully.

You took out your phone from your purse, checking the time. 6:45 p.m. Alright, not too long now. And you double checked that the address you texted Steven was correct, which it is.

You settled back in your chair, peering over the garden and giggling softly.

"I'm right here for you, Steven."

♡•••🌙•••♡

"It's about time, innit?" Steven murmured, glancing over anxiously at his wristwatch for the umpteenth time. It was already eight p.m., a whole hour past your meeting time (not to mention he arrived embarrassingly early). And he was just informed by one of the servers that the restaurant was closing in thirty minutes, to which a pitiful look was also casted to him.

"It's not 'about time', Steven. It's late." Marc gruffly pointed out, Steven seeing Marc's reflection glaring back at him from the shiny silver flower vase set in the middle of the table. "Face it: she's NOT coming."

"Don't you dare say that." Steven's voice was barely above a whisper, but there was a certain edge to it that one would normally not hear from the soft man. "Y/N would never do that. Not her. She's just running late, I'm sure. Traffic and all."

"Oh, please, we both know that even the traffic here doesn't take this long." Marc scoffed. "Stop kidding yourself, Steven. She's. NOT. Coming."

Steven frowned, and with a shaky hand he pulled out his phone. He should've called you since way earlier. It was the logical thing to do, after all. But he was...scared. Scared that, maybe, a terrifying maybe, Marc was right.

He found your number and called you, pressing his phone to his ear as it began to ring. He didn't realize he was holding his breath until you finally picked up, voice groggy.

"Hello..?"

"Y/N..." Steven heaved a relieved exhale. "Hey, uh, I'm at the restaurant. Guess you got stuck in traffic?" He chuckled halfheartedly.

A long, dreadful pause. And then:

"Fucking EXCUSE me?"

Steven's eyes widened, having never heard you swear before. He was just about to ask what was wrong when you continued without skipping a beat.

"Are you playing with me, Steven? Is this what it is?!" You definitely sounded angry, but he didn't miss the faint sniffles coming from you. Shit, were you crying? What the hell was happening?

"How can you be such a...such a DICK?!" You shouted, causing him to jerk his phone a few inches away from his ear. "I fucking waited for you like a total idiot until closing time, you prick! You never showed and you never answered my calls! What the fuck can you POSSIBLY gain from toying with me, huh?!"

"W-Wait, I don't understand!" Steven was nearly hyperventilating, all the colour draining from his face and his mind running a mile a minute. "I-I'm here! Right now! D-Didn't we agree? Friday night, seven p.m.?"

You were dead silent. Steven was going to check if the call was still connected when you beat him to it.

"Steven... It's Sunday."

Steven froze. Then his eyes landed on Marc's reflection, refusing to meet his gaze and it clicked.

"Y/N." Steven said slowly, steadily, despite feeling like crying himself. His eyes were still on Marc, cold and pissed. "Please. I promise I have an explanation. I just... God, can we meet? Y/N, please, I'll come to you."

"No need." Tears threatened to spill from Steven's despondent eyes at your flat response, before you suddenly added: "I'll come to you. You said you were at the restaurant, right? Stay there."

You ended the call, and Steven flared at Marc--no longer caring if other people perceived him as a lunatic fighting with himself.

"Why the fuck would you do that, Marc?"

"Steven..." Marc struggled to find the right words, and the asshole actually had the audacity to look ashamed. "Listen, she's nothing but a distraction--"

"You always think you know better, yeah?" Steven laughed humourlessly. "A distraction? YOU stop kidding yourself, Marc. This is not just your life, but mine. And it's about fucking time you stop being such a selfish bastard!"

"Um, sir?" Steven winced, greeted by a baffled waiter. "We'll be closing soon, so I'm gonna have to ask you to leave if you're not ordering anything."

Humiliated and repeatedly babbling apologies, Steven abruptly sprang out of his chair and dashed outside. He sighed deeply and collapsed listlessly on the ground, finally allowing the tears to fall.

He vaguely heard footsteps approaching until he saw a pair of worn bunny slippers in front of him. His eyes heavily dragged upwards, finding you staring back at him with an unreadable expression and breaths coming out in ragged pants.

"Y/N!" Steven jumped up, surprised you actually came despite the way he--the way Marc--treated you. Your bloodshot eyes and the dried tears on your cheeks only made him feel even shittier, much more fucked up than any beating he suffers on a mission.

Because at least with those, he can be confident that he and the boys would win no matter the challenge. But with you?

He had everything to lose.

Your hair was a total mess; glasses slightly crooked and you were in your pyjamas, a matching set of a purple tank top and shorts with stars and moons. The only thing you had covering you was a purple silk robe, drawing it closer to your chilly body as your eyes narrowed at Steven.

You should be mad at him, and you were. Still, despite everything, you hopped on to the first bus you saw and scrambled the rest of the way here as fast as you could.

But now that you were here...what in Khonshu's name were you going to do? You could scream at him with all the pain you haven't had the pleasure to release like you did on the phone, but you'd just be wasting your breath. Then again, he wasn't lying. He really is here. And it confused you more than anything.

And seeing him like this, looking so...sad. Well, it made you sad. Him miserably clenching onto a heart shaped chocolate box, fat globs of tears cascading down his cheeks as he gawked at you with his pretty doe brown eyes.

You raised your hand, and Steven shut his eyes as he braced himself for the slap he very much deserved--only to be met with your soft palm, wiping away his tears tenderly.

"Explain to me, Steven."

♡•••🌙•••♡

The travel to Steven's apartment was spent in deafening silence, but it brought upon a strange sort of comfort. Unconsciously, you hugged Steven's black jacket that he had offered you earlier even closer to your much smaller frame. It soothed your nerves, being completely enveloped in his smell; fresh soap with a hint of musky cologne.

Once you reached his unit, you couldn't help but smile. It was just so...Steven. It was a bit messy, but a good kind of messy. You didn't really know how to describe it, but it warmed your heart especially when you saw a giant fish tank with only one goldfish.

"Cuppa tea?" Steven asked to which you shook your head, facing him fully.

"No. I'm a 'get over it' kinda girl so whatever your explanation is, I'd rather we just nip it in the bud." You huffed before you halted, biting your lip. "Oh, uh, sorry... Of course, if you wanna have tea, you can. It's your home, after all."

Steven laughed, his first real laugh that entire day. "Are you always this nice to blokes you should be mad at?"

"Only if they are really into Egyptology and have beautiful brown eyes and gorgeous curls." You rolled your eyes though you couldn't suppress your grin before you cleared your throat, getting a hold of your stupid giddy self. "Now, explain."

Steven's demeanour instantly shifted, serious now and quite uneasy. But he nodded and gestured towards the couch. You walked over and plopped down, Steven sitting next to you and keeping a respectful couple inches between the two of you.

He looked down at the ground, carefully considering his words before meeting your gaze solemnly. "Have you ever heard of dissociative identity disorder?" You nodded, previously learning about it in Psychology class and researching about it due to personal interest. "That's...what I have. I'm an alter within a system, and there are two others--Marc Spector and Jake Lockley."

"Am I correct to assume that when you asked me out...it wasn't actually you?"

Steven blinked, rather startled that you were taking this so well. "Yes. Jake was the one who asked you out."

"Was he also the one who didn't show up for the date?"

"No, that would be Marc." He grumbled. "And listen, I'm truly sorry about him. He's a right twit. It may not have been me who didn't show up, but that absolutely doesn't excuse the hurt it caused you. I am so, so sorry, Y/N."

Your brows furrowed, mulling over this new revelation. But...you believed him, especially when it explained all those times you secretly caught Steven muttering incoherently to himself or staring at his reflection and quietly reacting to something. You were curious about more, of course, but Steven didn't have any reason to lie about such a serious matter. And if he was lying, there were plenty of other things he could say. But the way he acted, and just the look in his eyes--he knew the risks of opening up to you, but he did it anyway.

You clasped his hands in yours, sighing. "I know I look calm right now, but trust me, I'm freaking the fuck out." You chuckled, and Steven felt safe enough to join you. "But... I trust you, Steven. And I believe you. Tell me one thing, though. Are you...into me? Like, at all?"

"Of course I am!" He replied in a flash, making you both pause before erupting into easy laughter. "Why would you even have to ask that, love?"

"It's just... Well, if Jake was the one who asked me out, it made me wonder if you really did like me." You mumbled, looking away.

Steven gently grasped your chin, tipping your face back towards him. "I've liked you since the day we met, Y/N. In your pink skirt and the cute little pigtails you had." He smiled, eyes so amorous and gleaming with sincerity. "Truth is, I've wanted to ask you out since forever. I'm just not as...forward as Jake is."

"And that's fine. But hey, we gotta thank him 'cause Lord knows I'd just spiral into a panic attack if I ever made the first move." You chuckled. But it gradually died down as Steven continued to stare at you, and you never thought you would ever have someone look at you the way Steven did; as if you were precious treasure hidden within a sacred tomb.

Slowly, ever so slowly, your body started moving of its own accord. You were leaning closer, closer, closer--a mere breath away from his lips before he piped up.

"I'm also Khonshu's Avatar!"

"Say what?"

"Um, well, you see--" He stammered, mentally slapping himself.

'Don't say anything, Steven.' Marc warned, and it took all of Marc's willpower not to seize control and actually slap Steven.

But it was too late now. Steven already said too much, but he wanted to be honest with you. Utterly so. And since you wanted to nip this in the bud, now was the best time more than anything.

"Erm... You've seen the news, yeah?" He didn't grant you the chance to respond as he rambled. "Masked vigilantes... Moon Knight and Mr. Knight? They're actually...Marc and I."

"Steven, this is--"

"I'll show you, Y/N. I'll summon the suit."

"Summon the soup? What is happening--"

Steven stood up, and a split second later there was a whirl of white. And sure enough, there was none other than one half of the mysterious heroes you've been seeing a lot on the news recently; his glowing white eyes locked with yours, crisp ivory suit and batons clutched tightly in his hands.

"Look, I know this is a lot to take in--"

"Handsome..." You blurted out before you can restrain yourself.

"Huh?" Steven blushed underneath the mask, and you were the same as your cheeks tinted crimson. Then you rose from the couch, closing the gap between you two and removing his mask.

His curls stuck every which way and his eyes were as wide as the full moon, making you giggle. "You're so handsome, Steven. And yeah, this is a fucking lot to take in. To be honest, a part of me is still wondering if this is all just a dream." You reached up, caressing the side of his face sweetly and smiling. "But...thank you. Thank you for being honest with me."

His batons dropped to the floor, trembling hands hesitantly settling on your hips. You noticed his Adam's apple bob as he looked down at you, tears once again glistening in his eyes. Happiness, relief, adoration--how can so many exhilarating emotions crash over him all at once?

"Can I be more honest?" He whispered, resting his forehead against yours as he gazed deeply into your eyes. "I...want you to stay with me."

Your cheeks hurt from how impossibly wide your smile has stretched, wrapping your arms around his neck and nuzzling his nose with yours.

"I'm staying whether you like it or not, Steven with a V."

[confusionmeisss]

𝐢 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 - 𝐜. 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

🫧 frat-bro!chris sturniolo x fem!reader

🫧 in which you unfortunately learn you weren’t as special to chris as you were made to believe.

🫧 angst. hurt/no comfort.

🫧 602 words.

🫧 hello lovelies! this is inspired by tate mcraes i still say goodnight , it’s one of my favorite songs of hers. its heartbreakingly beautiful, i recommend giving it a listen. anyway i hope u enjoy n’ much love!! <3

The first sign was when he stopped saying goodnight. A little thing, but you knew then that he was letting go, but still you held on tight and ignored it.

Then he stopped looking at you the same way he did; like you were the only thing that mattered in the entire universe. Instead he looked at you like you were getting old; like he was sick of you.

He always did have ridiculous expectations when it came to your relationship. Like, if you both went to the same party, you weren’t allowed to show up together or really interact too publicly. And his validations were few and far between. You always dressed up nice, it was just something you’ve always liked to do for yourself, but you always did like the extra validations you’d get from others. It felt nice. But he rarely ever gave them out, and it started to make you a little insecure.

At some point, during a frat party that was being held for the end of the first semester, you overheard Chris complimenting a random girl on her outfit, and it made you leave the party early. It just wasn’t fucking fair, how she got the compliment you should’ve gotten. How all these girls always seemed to get the compliments from Chris that you should’ve gotten.

You remember the breaking point. The thing that made you call off your entire relationship with Chris. It was the day before everyone was leaving for winter break. You’d gone to visit him at his frat house to say goodbye.

You knocked on the bedroom door you knew was Chris’, waiting patiently for it to open up and reveal the boy.

The door soon opened to reveal an anxious looking Chris.

“What are you doing here, Y/N? I told you not to come.”

“I know,” You said nervously. “But I just wanted to say goodbye before we all leave is all.”

“Okay. Bye then,” Chris said, going to close the door.

“Wait!” You said, putting a hand on the door to stop him. “Are you alright? You seem a little out of it.”

“I’m fine,” Chris said, glancing behind him.

“Are you sure?”

He looked you straight in the eyes. He had that look in his blue eyes that you’d come to learn meant you were going to be hearing a lie exit his lips.

“Yup. Everything’s fucking dandy. Thanks for stopping by, but you can go now.”

At that response you hadn’t been able to say much. Chris had never spoken to you that way before. And being so distracted by the new feeling swarming your chest and trying not to cry, you’d simply nodded your head and left the frat house.

After the first week of winter break and talking with your cousin, Lizzie, about your entire situation with Chris, you came to the conclusion that you just couldn’t keep that up when the next semester started.

When you got back to school for the second semester, you avoided Chris at all costs. You stopped going to parties, knowing he’d be there. You stopped going to places you knew he’d be at, really. It’s not like he really noticed the newfound lack of your presence in his life anyway. You really weren’t as special as you’d been made out to be. You should’ve known he was simply scared of being alone.

Which is why you felt so fucking stupid because every night before you go to bed, you whisper out a quiet goodnight chris, because you loved him the way he never even planned on loving you.

[mrsnancywheeler]

invisible string // finnick odair x reader

based of this request:

congrats on 700 followers!! you deserve it sm!!💜 ahh i’m so indecisive, i wanted to send a 🪻 but i can’t choose between these songs: invisible string, delicate, or slut! so whichever inspires you the most! ik it’ll be great whichever you choose!

masterlist

1.7k words

warnings: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, breakups, arguments, past relationships which includes allusions to cheating and a wrist gets grabbed, soulmates, a slowburn for them but not for us, meant to be, very little dialogue, allusions to trafficking, mental health struggles, unedited, no use of y/n

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

When Finnick was younger he'd take every free moment he had to swim, usually with his friends, but now part of him craved to be alone with the waters. It let him drop the facade and be melancholy even if it was one of the few things that really brought him joy. So, he'd stopped inviting them to his favorite secluded beach area, that way he could finally be alone with his thoughts. He would be able to turn the thoughts in his brain of all of his regrets and all the secrets he'd have to die with.

The only company he ever had besides the waves and creatures below was the family that always set out their boat to fish and it had been that way for years. A persistent presence in the water that felt like part of the environment and it didn't bother him. No one had ever spoken to him except when he and his friends were younger, the adults would urge them to be careful when they passed by. Now though it was part of the peacefulness to hear a family muttering around in the back. A family that just so happened to contain you.

Before he'd grown up and became more withdrawn he'd always accompany his mom, adorning her signature royal blue skirt, to the markets, where he learned the only place she'd buy her lobsters from was your family. As a kid it gave him some sort of pride to know where the source came from, this little special area, and now he was just grateful that the routines stayed the same whenever he was able to just be at home. He'd arrive at the beach and your boat would be bobbing up and down in the distance, Finnick would fill his time swimming and lost in thought, then eventually your family would dock the boat, he'd get closer to the shore and you guys would leave with your catch, you'd always send him a smile that he'd send an acknowledging nod back to. The normalcy felt good to him which is why it put him off when everyone filed off the boat and you weren't there.

It shouldn't have unsettled him as much as it did, but this was the one part of his life that he felt like he had some expectations for, there was control. You could just not have felt well or had something come up, but it made his stomach knot regardless. So he tried to go about the rest of his evening, searching for something to make his brain feel like there was still control. His feet brought him to the bakery, maybe those familiar sea green stained, salty loaves of bread would make him nostalgic enough to take away the feeling. There was also the cup of hot, mint tea that it seemed like only they could make the way they did, just right.The bell rang and he went inside, overtaken by the comforting smell and warmth. When he'd gotten the loaves and turned back onto the dimly lit cobblestone streets his brain only felt normal again when he'd caught a glimpse of you.

There you were, stranding with your back to the wall of the shop as you argued with some guy in front of you. Wearing that same sea green the bread was. And it felt ridiculous to Finnick, but seeing you was part of his nightly routine and it made him feel calmer even if it hadn't been the same way. This time he smiled at you and you noticed him for a second, sending a nod back before you were drawn back into whatever the man was saying.

Besides that blip, for months life went on as normal. He'd go to swim, the boat would be on the water, the boat would dock, he'd swim to shore, you'd smile a goodbye, and life would go on. A few months in there was an addition to the family on the boat, a new guy, and a new face in his routine was just as difficult for him to adjust to. Not as much as the day your family passed by and you stayed at the dock with the man. He could hear you both arguing, the setting sun illuminating you in your royal blue, your hands moving around to illustrate whatever point you were making. Finnick didn't want to eavesdrop, he wanted to tear his eyes away, but he couldn't. Then he could no longer sit still when the man grabbed your wrist with a yell and you tried to pull it away.

“Hey!" Finnick heard himself shout as his feet pounded against the sand, both of you turned your heads towards him.

“Whoa, man, nothing to worry about here!" The man let go of your wrist and put his hands in the air as some kind of defense.

“Definitely didn't look like there was nothing to worry about." Finnick knew he was intimidating, you don't win the Hunger Games and come out without some form of fear attached to your name. The man scoffed as he took a step back, “You can go now.”

The man said what must have been your name,"You don't want me to go, do you?”

You rolled your eyes, "Of course I want you to go!” You were exasperated and with a huff of frustration the man walked off. There was a beat of silence, "Thank you.” You acknowledged, sitting down on the dock, taking off your sandals, so you could dip your feet into the waters. Finnick hummed a response and stood there behind you for a while in silence before you patted the area next to you, "If you want to sit down you can, I don't usually bite." You didn't look at him, eyes staring out at the horizon.

His routine was already so skewed that there was no possibility of fixing it now, so he did sit and the dock creaked as he moved. “Are you okay?"

“Yeah, I'll be fine." You said quickly.

Finnick didn't believe you, but was in no position to call you out on that. So you sat there in comforting silence as the moon began to shine and occasionally he'd look over at you through the corner of his eyes to see how radiant you looked. At some point you were suddenly sliding off the dock into the water, fully clothed as you did so. “What're you doing?"

Your head dipped under the water before you brought it back up, “Washing it off!" It made him feel understood for a second, that's what he always was trying so desperately to do.

Maybe if he was a smarter man, after that night he would've spoken to you more, made an effort. Instead he thought about things he could say, but stuck to what was normal. The only chance was the added smile to his nod when you passed by. So for months he continued on, fantasizing about things he could say to talk to you, but wouldn't and eventually there was another boyfriend on the boat. It shouldn't have hurt him, but it unexplainably did. Hurt with himself for not saying something to you, trying to be your friend. He'd gotten used to it though until the night where you were once again nowhere to be found when your family walked off the dock. Another knot in the depths of his stomach, like something as being twisted and tugged at. So he did what he had nearly a year before, the bakery, searching for something to rid the sensation. When he'd entered it though he instantly found you. Sitting in the corner, eyes red, sipping a cup of tea. He couldn't stop his feet from moving towards the booth. In silence he sat across from you

“What'd he do?" Finnick asked as softly as he could. You sniffed, wiping away a stray tear.

“Sometimes I just wonder why nothing clicks and the puzzle pieces never fit even if I do everything I can. It's like there's no one out there for me." Your voice was so quiet as you took another sip of your tea, without a clue on any it felt so natural to open up to this man who you'd known without knowing your whole life.

It was how he felt too, everyone looked at him like he was some sort of monetary gain that could be achieved, instead of wanting to really see him. “What'd he do?" Finnick reaffirmed and you looked at him for a second before getting a look in your eye that told him everything he needed to know before you were shaking your head, trying not to cry again. He didn't know what came over him, but he rose to sit on the side of the booth you were in and had his arms wrapped around you, letting you sob into him.

That's when he felt it, the surge of energy, the bliss when you touched and maybe you did too because you stopped to stare at him for a moment. Maybe he was delusional or maybe something felt like it had clicked deep inside of his soul. He smelled the mint from your tea, looked at your royal blue top, and something felt right, more right than anything had felt since the day he was reaped. Eventually you just laid your head on his chest and felt the energy surge back and forth between the two of you. “I'll walk you home, I know the area, I grew up two streets away." He eventually muttered, not wanting to move at all. Suddenly you shifted again, this time to stare in confusion.

“I grew up, I mean I still live, two streets away.”

Maybe it was really then that Finnick knew, and you knew, that something had tied you two together since the beginning. That even when he was just the boy on the beach and you on the boat, without a word spoken, the universe meant for this. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that the string had pulled you from every man who would hurt you, and kept him living. It must have been worth it all to realize after all this time it had been you.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you for reading, fluff isn't my strongest spot so I hope this makes up for all the pain I caused in the latest chapter of the river! as always if you enjoyed it likes, comments, reblogs, discussion is all very appreciated and my ask box plus requests are open. thank you again 💋

taglist: @wowzabowza69

[planetwaynez]

RUNRUNRUN

Stalker!Jason Todd X Fem!reader

Notes: I was at the gym today and RUNRUNRUN by Dutch Melrose started playing and I just got this thought about Jason being a stalker. So this is heavily inspired by that song and by Devil's Night by Penelope Douglas. Also this is my first smut, so please be kind <3

WARNINGS: SMUT! stalking behavior, toxic thoughts, toxic behavior, explicit sex scene, mentions of drugs and alcohol, mentions of being stalked, mentions of stalking, breaking in, non consensual consensual recording, chasing someone in the woods, crude words, stalker!Jason, he is kind of a misogynistic guy... if there is more, let me know, I might have missed something! +18! Enjoy <3

Words: 3,4k

Synopsis: He can't control himself anymore, after months of watching you he has to have you all to himself.

TAGS: @fandxmslxt69 @iglowinggemma28

The neon lights give the house an eerie look, the music is loud and the young Uni students are high or drunk at this point. But I am not. I keep my gaze on her and I know that just not drunk or high, she is always sober. I know her like I know myself, and I know I can't wait anymore to have her under me.

Her costume is ridiculously cute, the white flowy dress with fake blood splashed in it makes her look like a predator even though she is my prey. She just doesn't know it. The ripped veil is sitting perfectly in her braided hair and her heels gave her legs a delicate look. She is the most beautiful corpse bride of this stupid Halloween party. 

My grip tights in my plastic cup when I see a guy approaching my girl, he is clearly flirting with what is mine and I feel anger boil in my stomach. I want to go there, grab her by the waist and drag her to my apartment and do unspeakable things to my little one. But not yet. I need her alone and tonight is the perfect night to finally have her.

I've been watching her for months. I know the way she likes her coffee in the morning, what is her favorite sandwich, what is her favorite shirt and her favorite pair of shoes. I know she doesn't wear her glasses when she is home, even though she needs them. I know her week schedule and her favorite classes and which one she is failing. I love to watch her through the cameras I put in her apartment. I love to see her dancing around the kitchen or to watch her pleasuring herself in the shower after a frustrating date with a stupid guy. She doesn't know yet but I am the only one for her.

I watch as her friend goes upstairs with a random guy and my little one stays alone in the corner, with her bottle of water and her cute outfit. I walk slowly to her, taking off the paintball mask I am using tonight, it's red and black and it looks like I slit someone's throat and it splashed on it. It 's perfect. 

"What are you doing all alone here, corpse bride?" I ask with a friendly smile on my face, she looks at me and she smiles. I know how she likes to be persuade, and I won't waste my opportunity. 

"My friend ditched me for some guy" she answers, turning her whole body in my direction, giving me her full attention. 

"That's too bad, you look too pretty to be all alone by yourself" she laughs, in that way that I know she's flirting. And it's with me. 

"Do you think so?" She asks, lining in my direction so I can smell her additive perfume. I want to throw her on my shoulder and flee with her. Instead I take a deep breath and smile again.

"I do, Little One" I step closer, wanting to touch her but I let her choose what comes next. 

She opens her mouth to say something when someone calls her, it's one of her friends and they want to go home, after all it's almost 3A.M and I know she has an important place to be tomorrow with her mom. 

"Sorry, big guy, I have to go" and she steps back, still smiling and walking backwards to her friends. I fist my hands, I had her. I had her and now she is leaving. 

I watch her go to her friend's car and put my mask back on, I jump on my bike and go after her. I need to know she is going home and I will be there when she comes to our future home.

…

I wait patiently in her room, in the corner sitting in her desk chair, surrounded by her perfume making my head drown in thoughts of her.

I hear the front door open and her giggles with her friends, then there's just the sound of her feet on the cold floor of the apartment. 

I take a deep breath and close my eyes, savoring the moment. She opens her bedroom door and flicks the light on.

I am still wearing my mask and I open my eyes to see her at the door, frozen with fear. This is going to be fun.

"This is not fun, Kyle," she says. Oh, stupid Kyle, her friend that loves pranks. She thinks I am him? That 's insulting. "You need to stop with your pranks"

I just keep breathing and look at her, she doesn't move either, my little one stays at the door, staring at me. Under the mask, I smirk.

"Kyle?" She asks again, her feet moving away from the bedroom. I stand up, stalking her like a predator stalks a prey and I can already sense her fear. 

"You really need to stop this, Kyle" she keeps backtracking, with her hand up, sweat trailing down her throat. I really want to grab her throat while I fuck her senseless. 

"You know I am not him, baby" I say, my voice deeper than normal from being silent for a long time. She gulps and takes a run to the living room door. 

I go after her and, right before she gets to her freedom I grab her by her arms, throwing her at the ground. 

"Who are you?" She asks and I tsk with my tongue at her, such a silly little girl. 

"This doesn't need to be so difficult, you know?" I say, crunching down to talk to her, near her pretty face. "You just gotta be a good girl for me" 

She shivers and tries to escape again, but I pin her down with my own body. I need to suppress a moan when I finally feel her so close. 

"Please let me go" she whispers, begging so pretty for her freedom, however I don't intend to give it back to her.

"Sorry, Little One, but I can't" I get close to her, closer to her neck and inhaling her perfume. "You are mine now."

She cries out, desperately trying to get out of my grip. I chuckle and just for fun, let her go. 

She gets on her feet and takes a deep breath and looks at me with all the determination she can gather inside her. Cute.

I stand between her and her door, but I know my Little One and she launches herself to her window, to get to the fire escape staircase. I let her, because I know she won't be able to reach the street. My intentions are to take her to the woods, behind her apartment building. 

I let her go and give her a minute of advantage, calmly I go to the window and climb down stairs, looking at her distress, before she can gather herself and run in the direction of the street, I stand in front of her, her head is low and she's catching her breath. She looks up and visibly shrinks.

"You have fifteen seconds of advantage, Little One. After that, I am going after you" she gasps and tries to go in the opposite direction, but I push her back. She falls into the floor, her butt hitting the concrete and she whimpers. "Remember what I said? This doesn't have to be difficult, just do what I say."

She gets up and looks behind her, taking a deep breath, she runs for the woods and I howl watching my little one be my good girl. 

I walk slowly to the woods, taking my time and letting her advantage be taken, even though I know fifteen seconds are nothing. There's not a single thing that will keep her from me.

So when I get to the edge of the woods I howl once again and run to where I know she went. 

…

My girl is predictable, I know she will stick with the trailed path of the wood that runners and wickers use, so I have to be the bad guy once again.

I am close to her, she is panting and probably crying her pretty eyes out, she's also filled with hope that by the end of the trail she will find help. However that won't happen. 

I get her in my arms once again and she finally screams. With everything that she got so I put my hand in her mouth, silencing her and throwing her in the woods ground. She looks at me and I can see the anger in her eyes.

"Why are you doing this?" She knows why I am doing this, she is not a dummy like most people think. 

"You know why I am doing this" I reply, watching every move of hers attentively. She stands up, backtracking until she is against a tree and I walk to her, her eyes are focused on me and only me. That makes me feel like the king of the world, having her attention.

"Because you are crazy." She says, and I sigh. Not the right answer. 

"Try again, Little One" she looks away, tears in her eyes and her brief moment of confidence shattering. I don't like this.

"I know who you are," she sniffs, holding back her tears. Her hair is a mess and I just want to hold her in my arms. "You are the guy that put the cameras in my apartment."

I smile. I knew she would remember. 

A month ago my pretty girl found one of my cameras and from there, she was smart enough to find the other ones. She didn't take them out. She left them there.

"Exactly. I am also the guy from the party" she gasps and looks at me again, I can't see her pulse quickening in neck and I need to wet my lips to not devour her right here.

"The guy with the teal eyes." Oh, was I so remarkable to her? I smirk. I suppose I was. I suppose I am.

"Yes, baby, so if you remember me so well and know about the cameras and never took them off, why are you running?" She gulps. She is searching for a way out. 

I step just a little bit closer, just close enough that our breathings are mixing together. 

"You like the chase as much as I do, don't you?" I ask but she doesn't answer, my little one just runs again, this time further into the woods.

And I go after her. Because she can complain as much as she wants, run away as much as she wants, if she didn't want me she would have called the cops when she found out about the cameras. She is just as mad as I am.

…

She's hidden somewhere in the woods. The moon is higher in the sky and it seems like the night got darker as time went on. Have been chasing her for almost an hour by now and I know she's tired. She's a sedentary, a moment or another she will crumble. Her body will give into its urges.

I step into dead leaves and tree branches on purpose. I want her to hear me and I want her to know where I am. 

In the quiet of the night she made a mistake, her breathing got louder and I know she is hidden behind a big tree, just a few steps away from me. I walk to her and she runs. Again. 

I like the chase, but I am getting tired of her running from me. My patience is over.

I run faster than her and grab her throat, pushing her body against mine. She takes a deep breath and stops squirming, we are in the middle of the woods, just the two of us.

"You are mine now, Little One." I tell her and she does exactly what she should have done earlier. She gives in.

Her body relaxes against mine and she whimpers. "I can't lie to you, I've been enjoying your attention." 

That makes my cock harder on my pants and I growl against her ear.  "I know. And I enjoyed every single show that you performed for me" I tell her and she squirms, trying to turn around. 

"Please, I've been dying to know your name" I turn her to me and pin her against a tree, my hand still on her neck. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes glossy. 

I take off my mask and let her see me, my little one wets her lips and arch her back, trying to get closer and closer.

"Jason" I answer her and I love the smile that crosses her face. 

"Jason" she moans, closing her eyes and enjoying my name on her tongue. "I finally have a name to call out." 

I growl again, pushing myself against her making her open her legs, letting me rest my hard on against her covered pussy. 

"Oh, Little One… I can't wait to have you" with one hand I caressed her bottom lip and the other goes to her hair. 

"From me you can't have everything you want, Jason" And I kiss her, open mouthed, our tongues touching and her hands grabbing my hair. Our hips moving together. I need her.

One of my hands goes to her right breast, holding it and flicking her perked nipple through the fabric of her flimsy dress. She moans so prettily against my lips. 

"Please" she bags as I distance myself from her, memorizing her features and her lustful look.

"Please what, baby?" I kiss her neck, biting and licking, making her whimper and move her body against me.

"Please, take my dress off" I mumble happily, taking her dress slowly, enjoying the view. 

I know what she's wearing underneath, I watched her get dressed through the cameras. But still, I stop and lick my lips, loving the view. No bra, just white lacy panties that barely cover her. I let my hand travel through her body until they are on her ass cheeks, hoist her up and make her cross her legs on my waist.

I rip off her panties, and she closes her eyes, biting her lower lip. She looks beautiful.

I let myself enjoy some more and collect her wetness on two of my thick fingers, playing with her clit and making her whimper and beg for more.

"Please, Jason, please!" I loved hearing her begging when I watched her in the shower but hearing her bag me? Calling out my name? It makes me want to eat her alive.

"So pretty, Little One" I tell her, moving my fingers slowly, putting just enough pressure on her clit. "I can't wait to have your pretty pussy gripping my cock."

She moans moving her hips, trying to get more. I slide two fingers inside her, feeling her walls tight around them. I grunt, controlling myself. 

"Jason" she moans with a smile on her face and I lower my head, biting her ear lobe, her neck and finally sucking one of her nipples on my mouth, moaning with her sweet taste and soft skin. One of her hands grips my hair and the other one my arm, moaning and whimpering for me and just for me.

I watch her throw her head back and shout, coming on my fingers. "Good girl, just like that" 

She shivers and opens her eyes, they are still full of lust and raw need. "I need your cock, Jason, please." 

I need to suppress a moan when she says that, so sweet to me. So good. It took time to make her behave, but now? She is just perfect. 

"My baby needs to be fucked?" She nods, her doe eyes glassy and needy. "I will fuck you really good, Little One" I will fuck her until she forgets about her name, or about any other guy. Until it is just me in her pretty little head. 

I take off my shirt and she lets her hands loose, caressing and ranking her nails on my skin. Her lips are on my neck, giving me a hickey here and there and I hold her by her waist, strong enough to leave handprints on her. 

"Baby" I call her, yanking her head back by her hear and looking at her fuck out expression. I haven't even started yet. 

I kiss her hungrily, letting my tongue slide against hers, my teeth biting her lips, her body moving to feel mine even more. Her bare breasts touching my bare chest. I feel good, too good. 

I break the kiss, taking off my pants and my boxers, letting my cock spring free, hard and proud. 

She whines "it's too big". I arch an eyebrow and let my cock slide against her wet pussy, and she is already squirming, trying to get more and more.

"I will fit" I tell her, holding her throat in my hand. "You are made for me, Little One" 

She shivers and there is that look in her eyes. That look that drowned me in the first place. That raw need, to be touched, to be seen and needed.

"Was I?" She asks and I smile, playing with her lips. "Yes" I answer, moving my hips, letting my cock feel all of her pussy.

Making her a needy mess. Slowly I slide inside her, holding her neck slightly tighter, feeling her walls squeezing me so deliciously.  She whimpers and moves, a few tears running down her pretty face.

Mine. 

She 's all mine. 

I bottom out, feeling like I finally found my place in the world. And its between her legs. 

"You are so perfect, baby" I prise, playing with her nipples, making her moan and move her hips, fucking herself on my cock.

"Jason!" That's all I need, my girl screaming my name while she fucks herself on my cock.

"Such a greedy girl, aren't you?" One of my hands stays playing with one of her nipples, the other one holds her neck. I want to leave bruises on her that she won't forget next morning that I was the one inside her. "Can't wait for me? Can't be a good girl?" I ask moving my hips away and then slamming back in, making her arch her back and scream, her nails streaming down my back, leaving marks of her own. 

"I..I can be… your good…girl" she says between moans and whimpers, her eyes closed.

"So be a good girl and watch me fuck you" reluctantly she opens her eyes, looking at me, making an effort to not close them again, making an effort to pleasure me. 

I growl next to her face, keeping eye contact with her, my hips moving fast and hard against hers. I move one of my hands to her clit and play with it, moving in the same pace as my hips, my little one moaning and trying not to close her eyes.

"Go on little one, scream for me" and she screams my name, moving her hips with mine, her eyes full of lust and need. I want to fuck her forever. 

"I… Jason!" She moans, her pussy tight against me, fluttering around my cock and making me moan too. "I am coming!" 

"Come for me, Little One, be a good girl and make a mess on my cock" I tell her and kiss her lips, feeling her come around me. I grunt, painting her walls with my cum.

We stop, breathing hard and looking at each other. I analyze her face, cheeks red and eyes glossy. She looks thoroughly fucked out. 

"You ok, baby?" I ask her and she smiles, her hands playing with my hair. 

"More than ok" she says, giving me a pack on the lips. My heart flutters and I just want to lay down with her.

"Good" I properly kiss her, hands on her waist and our hearts beating together. "You did so well, baby" 

She mumbles something  happily, her arms around my shoulders. "Take me home, Jason" 

"I will" I put her on the ground and dress her then dress myself hugging her close to my body. "I finally have you, I won't let you go."

"Please, don't. I've been waiting for you." 

I get her in my arms and I carry her back home, so I can't have her on every surface of the house just to myself. 

[thrillered]

'You Know I Mountain Dew It For Ya" | Spencer Agnewx F!Reader | Pt. 3: You blew up.

I hope you guys like this part! I struck inspiration.

-

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-

-

You chose to ignore your phone the next morning, putting on do not disturb and opting to put on a record while you got ready and popping in a CD on the way to work. You walked into the office, putting on a smile as you greeted people on your way to the kitchen to get a coffee.

 Normally you were one of the first people in the office, making a large pot of coffee so that it was hot and ready for your coworkers. Today, however, you didn’t have a morning meeting or shoot block so you didn’t have to come in until 11. It was a little ritual you had begun the year prior. On days where you didn’t have to be in early you would stay offline until absolutely needed. It was a welcome break from your constant social presence. 

Your morning had been so peaceful, little did you know that online, things were very different. Your song blew up on both tiktok and twitter. You had amassed more than 500,000 streams just the first night. 

You were walking to your desk, iced coffee in hand when someone grabbed it from your hand, placing it on the nearest surface. Before you could blink you were swinging around, being lifted by strong arms, in a suffocating hug, a squeal escaping your lips. You recognized who it was almost instantaneously, the familiar scent of amber and citrus embracing you.

“Well good morning to you too” You laughed to Spencer as he set you down. 

“Good morning? Just good? It’s a fantastic morning! Nay! A Stupendous morning!”

“Okay wow, this is some positivity,” You laughed, “What’s got you so bright eyed and bushy tailed?”

“Are you absolutely serious Y/N?” He raised his eyebrows so high you could imagine them flying right off his forehead. “Have you not looked at literally anything this morning?” 

“No, I never do on late mornings, you know that Spence.” 

“Oh my god, you’re ridiculous,” He began, pulling out his phone, “Look at this Y/N, this is insane.” 

You looked at his screen, becoming suddenly dizzy at the words in front of you. 567 thousand streams of Espresso. You stared, swallowing thickly before emitting a loud “What the fuck?!” 

“You’re also trending on twitter and tiktok!” Spencer continued, your mind still not believing the number you had read. “Dude, you might have been famous for smosh but.. Now you're just famous, like really famous.” 

It was like the most intense high of your life. You had never had a song blow up like this, god, you had never had a song do even a 10th as good as this. You were sitting on cloud nine, this is what nirvana must feel like you thought. 

Then your stomach sank. If there were maybe 100 comments about Spencer last night, there had to be thousands now… 

You may have fucked up. On one hand your music career might take off like you’ve always dreamed! On the other hand you’re gonna have to discuss this with Spencer and that means confronting your own feelings which is not ideal.

“I need to use the bathroom.” You muttered before running off to the single bathroom, leaving Spencer more confused than he’s ever been, and that’s saying something.

 Shutting and locking the door behind you, you took a long deep breath. You leaned against the door and unlocked your phone, turning off the do not disturb to a bombardment of notifications. Friends, family, fans, everyone was texting, tagging, and tweeting you. You were overjoyed at the love your song was receiving. People were tagging you in the most loving reviews and giving the highest appreciation for the song. 

You were just scrolling, reading tweet after tweet in the “Espresso” and “Y/N from Smosh” Tag. you retweeted a post from a smosh fan account saying “I know Y/N from smosh. You know Y/N from Espresso… we are not the same”. You laughed before switching to tik tok and going through some of your notifications. You would never be able to see every video, there were just too many. You were totally engrossed, the real world fading away. Until a loud knock startled you out of your trance.

“Y/N I don’t know if you're having a crisis or what but I need to pee and you have a shoot.” Amanda’s voice yelled through the door. 

You unlocked and opened the door, seeing that half an hour had gone by. “I am so sorry Amanda, I don’t know how I spent so much time in there.” You laughed.

“You’re good honey,” She laughed, walking past you into the bathroom, “Oh and huge congrats on the song, that’s really cool, we’re all really proud of you.” 

You gave her a sweet smile before rushing to the sound stage. You were doing an episode of reddit stories with Shayne and Spencer, this week's theme was missing, it featured stories about missed connections, missed chances, and missed hints. 

“You okay?” Shayne asked as you walked into the set, heading over to get your mic. 

“Yeah of course, just got a little overwhelmed is all.” you smiled. 

“I can understand that, there’s a lot of attention on you right now, but it looks like a lot of love so that’s good,” He began, soothing your nerves, “Plus right now you get to hear about some idiots with your two favorite idiots.” he laughed. 

“Yeah, you're right, thank you Shayne.” You laughed with him.

“We’re all really proud of you though Y/N” Shayne finished, pulling you into a comforting hug. “Alright let’s get this shit going.” 

The stories were crazy, as always. Though, it was almost hard to focus on what Shayne was saying with Spencer so close. Your realization that you would have to confront your own feelings made it feel almost suffocating to be so close but so casual with him. You thought that if you got too close he would be able to feel your heartbeat or read your mind. You focused on channeling your professionalism and got through the video smoothly, you just hoped it didn’t look weird on camera. 

–

You kind of wanted to avoid Spencer. Your feelings were weird and they were strong, you weren’t sure what to do. Unfortunately you were supposed to be doing a livestream for the games channel at 3 pm and Spencer would, of course, be there. You and Courtney were supposed to play the Sims4. You were gonna be making your sim and dressing her before adding her to the smosh save. 

You and Courtney were sitting at the desk, chatting as you fixed your hair while waiting for the stream to start. Focused on your conversation with Court about how excited she was to show you the sim she had made of you, you hadn’t noticed the chat on the ‘stream starting soon’ screen. 

Everyone was talking about Espresso. Talking about how good it is, how it’s stuck in their heads, asking if there's gonna be a music video, asking for a comment on the ‘Spenspresso’ (as twitter so kindly named) allegations, etc. 

Soon enough Alex let you know your mics were being turned on and the stream was starting.

“Oh my goodness, are we live??” You asked, now glancing at the chat, turning immediately a deep shade of red. “Oh god” 

Courtney immediately realized what you were seeing and tried to change the subject of the chat by introducing the stream and talking about how you were gonna be put into the sims world. It did very little to stop the constant talk about your song. 

Spencer showed you a note from off camera, “You should just talk about it a little.” It read. You nodded before speaking. “Okay let’s address the elephant in the room… I’m wearing my hair differently” You joked, making the room laugh. “No actually, okay, thank you guys for all the love on Espresso, It’s actually so nutty how much you guys like it. However! I will be doing a live stream on my instagram to talk about it sometime today or tomorrow! So, hold your questions! Now let's sims!” You exclaimed.

That seemed to do the trick. The chat mostly switched to talking about the stream, and if the comment was about your music it was relevant to designing your character. 

Courtney did a really good job, the sim looked so much like you, almost unnervingly so. You guys had so much fun trying to style your sim, compromising with the chat by making your party outfit popstar inspired. You added your sim to the world, asking the chat what you should do.

“Spencer’s already with Shayne, they literally have a kid, Y/N can’t get with him, duh!” Courtney said, responding to a comment suggesting making you flirt with Spencer. 

A “Damn it!” could be heard off camera, Spencer nudging your foot with his own as he said it. You both joked about the ship of you two. Yet, you couldn’t help but blush and wish that he truly meant it though. His words didn’t go unnoticed by the chat either, opening a whole new can of worms.

The rest of the stream went by much smoother than you expected. You only realized you had promised an instagram live after the stream had ended. This meant you would have to say something about the Spenspresso conspiracies, and how they might not be conspiracies afterall. You would do it tomorrow, you decided. You already had a half day planned tomorrow for an appointment so it gave you time to do it anyway. 

You only had the stream left for the day so you went back to your desk once it ended, packing up your stuff in preparation to leave. 

“You heading out?” Spencer asked, walking over to you, his laptop tucked under his arm. 

“Yep, I’m done for the day.” You explained curtly, hoping to get out of a conversation and home before you word vomited a love confession. Hoping he was satisfied with your answer, you sidestepped him, throwing your bag over your shoulder before muttering a “See ya later Spencer” before swiftly walking to the exit, not stopping to say goodbye to anyone. Which was very unlike you. You were such a sociable person, you always said hello and goodbye to most of the office every day, it was something Spencer liked about you. He enjoyed your extroverted nature, it helped him to be more outgoing. 

He knew there was something wrong. You always give Spencer a hug goodbye, even if he was going to be meeting you at your house in 20 minutes. You barely spoke a word to him all day unless necessary. Not to mention you running away and shutting up in the bathroom this morning. He wondered if he did something to upset you but he couldn’t think of anything. You were together the night prior and were celebrating so he couldn’t imagine he did anything wrong. 

But he was determined to figure it out.

[sailoryooons]

King of Tides | KSJ | Drabble

☾ Pairing: Pirate!Seokjin x Sea Demon!Reader 

☾ Summary: Seokjin meets a ghost of his past when he and his crew stop to celebrate for the evening. 

☾ Word Count: 1,969

☾ Genre: Pirate AU, Angst, Lovers to Enemies 

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: References to smut, explicit language, weapons and mentions of murder, betrayal, vague world building, Seokjin is an Asshole, brief references to childhood trauma, angst. 

☾ Published: Friday, January 5, 2024

☾ A/N: Drabble 2 of the 100 Drabble Challenge is prompt #67, pirates! I had no idea what I was doing with this until I wrote it. It is obviously inspired by Pirate of the Caribbean with the whole Davy Jone’s chest thing, but I very much put my own spin on it. The ring is inspired by Solomon’s Ring, which is a Christian-centric mythology that Solomon had a ring that could summon the forces of Hell. So I did that but like… sea hell hahaha. I hope you enjoy this! I’ts very different for me!

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Main Masterlist ☾ 100 Drabble Masterlist ☾ Ask ☾ Song Inspiration

Seokjin is used to the occasional knife in the dark. As one of the most notorious captains and thieves on the seven seas, he’s even been the knife in the dark himself. 

When he feels the pressure of a blade against his spine tonight, he’s not surprised. His crew is too drunk to see the threat standing behind their captain, and Seokjin has made the ridiculous mistake of letting a pretty woman lure him to a dark table in the corner, away from the noise and celebrating. 

Seokjin immediately feels like a fool for letting his guard down, the worst mistake he could ever make. 

The pretty girl in front of him grins and looks at Seokjin’s assailant before nodding her head and slipping from the chair. He grits his teeth, realizing she is in on it. He clenches his fist as he starts to turn, but the knife digs into his ribs. A hard push would send it right between the two of them and into a lung. It would be a slow, gross death.

The raucous noise of the tavern buzzes in his ear as a hand taps his shoulder, signaling for him to stand. He does so slowly, looking around the tavern to see if there’s anyone he can appeal to for his plight.

No one pays him any mind, hands going up dresses or down pants, wine flowing, and crowd singing. His crew is too busy celebrating. And why shouldn’t they? They’ve just stopped at their favorite port after a successful three years of hunting a timeless piece of treasure. A power that puts Seokjin on edge.

The ring sits heavy in Seokjin’s pocket. Only Yoongi his firstmate and Namjoon his chronicler know of the power in Seokjin’s pocket, too dangerous to be left on the ship with the remainder of the treasure. He doesn’t enjoy hiding the ring from his crew, but he hasn’t quiet yet decided what to do with it. How to explain what it is that it does without scaring the loyal members of his crew.

Slowly, a hand turns Seokjin around and walks him toward the stairs, still at knifepoint. He grins as he goes, leaning his head to the side to see the person who holds him captive. The knife digs harder into his back, a warning that makes him chuckle and turn forward, holding his hands up in defeat.

“If you wanted to lure me to your bed, you just had to ask,” he says, going up the steps. His boots are heavy on the creaking wood as he goes. “I am the most handsome of pirates, but I’m also quite liberal with my affections.”

His captor says nothing as they reach the second landing. Doors line either side of the hall. Seokjin can detect all manner of lovemaking and laughter beyond each closed door. He does not typically favor staying upstairs or renting rooms for whores, preferring the rocking of the ship in the harbor and the canvas of the night sky. It makes him unfamiliar with the second floor, but he counts his steps as they go. 

They turn and go down another hall and stop at the last door of the right. It’s not a far run to get to the stairs and sound the alarm. Once he disarms his captor, he just needs to sprint and scream. He’s pretty quick on his feet and-

The knife prods him and he realizes the door to the room is open. He steps over the threshold into the room, glancing around. It’s simple enough. A single bed stands in the corner with a chest at the foot, a nightstand to the left, and a candle burning, smoke drifting toward the ceiling. 

When the door shuts behind him, Seokjin’s muscles coil. He prepares to spring, hand sliding into the front of his jacket pocket, inching towards the small knife there-

“Don’t bother,” the voice says, knife ever-present. Seokjin’s hand freezes, recognizing the rasp of your voice anywhere. “That’s not the right knife, Captain.” 

You’re right. The knife in his jacket pocket would do nothing against you, but the knife in his boot would. He’d grown lazy, no longer keeping the adamas dagger at his hip or within close reach. Three years haven’t made him feel safe, exactly, but he had started to think that you were still captive in that little home he’d left you in.

Evidently, it’s a mistake that will cost him. 

Now he’s nervous. You push him further into the room with your palm but remove the knife from his back. He doesn’t reach down to the weapon in his boot, stuck between fear and the desire to see you - to talk to you again. 

When he turns, his heart cracks open and starts to bleed. 

The last time Seokjin saw you is fresh in his memory. You’d been chained to the bed you shared in a small island home off the coast of the Americas. He remembers the smell of your skin, like salt and driftwood. The cool touch of your lips against his burning skin. You always felt like the depths of the ocean, every part of you fluid as you’d fucked him last night, your breath sea breeze against his mouth, cries a haunting siren song.

And your eyes. Seokjin sees the inhuman blue-green glow of your eyes every night. 

Now, those same eyes are staring at him, glowing in the dark. You stand so far in the shadows that it’s hard to make out any of your features or expressions, but Seokjin has your face burned into every part of his memory. The bow of your mouth, the slope of your nose, the roundness of your cheeks. It’s all there along with the knowledge that he’d betrayed you. Chained you. Loved you. 

When you step into the light, Seokjin holds his breath. You’re so beautiful. It’s what lured him to you in the first place, a sailor to a siren, but he knows you’re so much more than a pretty face and glowing eyes. You’re also incredibly smart and wicked, a ruthlessness in you as brutal as the sea running in your veins, an unpredictably like a storm destroying the tropics. 

A pirate by trade. Daughter of Leviathan by nature. 

“You must be talented to get out of those cuffs. We should have used them more” Seokjin doesn’t know what else to say. You’re not advancing further into the room, and he’s worried reaching for his knife will startle you. 

Behind him, the candle casts an orange glow on your face. It makes the sneer much more twisted, the furrowed brows as you glower harsher. Your features are sharper than he remembers, your eyes burning with the unnatural glow of a demon of the deep. You are murderous.

“I’m the favorite daughter of Leviathan, King of the Depths, Destroyer of Seas, and Maker of Tides. You think he would leave me to rot?” 

“No, I suppose he doesn’t want that pretty face to wilt.” He tries to appear casual, spinning and tossing himself on the bed. You don’t move, eyes tracking him. “I suppose you’ve been following me all this time, then?”

“I have far more important things to do.”

“Perhaps, but you’d always loved revenge.”

“I loved you.” 

There. You said it.

Seokjin doesn’t say anything for a moment, shocked to silence. Usually, you like to spar with your words, dancing around what you want to say with quick barbs and turns of phrase. Tonight, you cut right to it, leaving all playfulness out of your voice.

It makes his heart squeeze painfully. In the years that you sailed together, he cannot recall a time that you’ve ever been so direct. Even when you loved him most. Even when you were at your most vulnerable. 

Perhaps you are here to kill him after all. 

“So you’re here to win me back over?” he tries, desperate to get on familiar ground. Desperate to goad you. To make you snap back, to throw an insult. “You’ll need more than a knife to do that.”

“Give me the ring.”

“What do you want with it?” 

“The likes of you shouldn’t have the power to summon the demons of the depths.” 

“What if I’m in peril and need to call you?”

“You had me!” You roar, the force of your voice shaking the room, the candle almost guttering, the window panes shaking. He hears the scream downstairs, the entire building rattle with the rage of the ocean in your voice. 

Seokjin drops the act, sitting up and squeezing his fists to fight the nausea of guilt twisting his stomach. He can feel your rage fill up the room like a solid thing, a cold pressure pressing on his skin as the candle on the nightstand flickers. 

“Humans are not made to command Leviathan and his children” you growl, stepping further into the room. Standing closer to the light, Seokjin realizes your eyes are watery. He sucks in a sharp breath. He’s never seen you cry. “You are weak and petty, your lives but a speck of sand in fathomless oceans. You are selfish and greedy and cruel.” 

“Are demons not the same? Do you not fight amongst yourselves for power? Do you not cause chaos among the seas? Do you not hunger for power, lust, and riches?” 

“Those things belong to us.”

Seokjin stands abruptly. “Now they belong to me!” 

“Seokjin.”

“Now I will command the seas. I will have the power to rein in the monster of the depths when he wants to destroy innocent ships. When he wants to send storms against islands. When he wants to swallow the souls on the sea. He will bow to me, now.”

“This is madness.”

“This is fair.” He feels his heart rate speed up. Feels rage pumping through his system. Feels like the little boy clinging to a piece of driftwood as the sea destroys the ship he and his family were sailing on, feels the burn of saltwater in his lungs as the ocean drags him down, feels-

“You’d risk the world for a sense of vengeance for your lost childhood?” your voice is barely audible, a sea breeze. “The infamous Captain Seokjin of the Blue Moon, Scourge of the Seas, so afraid of losing control of the tide that he’d dare assert his dominance over it.”

“Captain Seokjin, King of Tides has a better ring to it.”

You glance at his pocket where you know the ring sits heavy. He can feel the power ebbing from the cool metal as thought it senses you in the room. Like calling to like. A tool to control Leviathan and all of his demonic children of the sea sensing one of those very creatures in front of him.

“The sea will bow to no one.” 

A blade glints in your hand. Seokjin finally realizes why you refuse to jest. Why there are tears in your eyes. You’re not here to negotiate or to let him loose. He truly has fallen out of your favor, and you’re here to take what he used you to steal. 

He slowly bends down, watching you all the while. You let him remove the knife from his boot, kind enough to offer him a fair fight. “The sea loved you, you know?” 

He knows you’re not just talking about the oceans he sails. His throat constricts as he nods. “I love her.” 

You appraise him once more, uncanny eyes flickering. If his admission that there is still warmth flickering for you has an effect, it doesn’t show. 

“Your love means nothing. You betrayed her and now you will meet your death, King of Tides.” 

He grips his knife firmly. The ring is heavy in his pocket. “I welcome the attempt.”