#world-building is sooooo a headache

[lookotherway]

Only heroes have the license to use their quirks in public like that’s a big reason why the MLA were still kicking.

not sure you mean it good or bad, but like there is a reason for the prohibition of public using quirk. how do i even start to explain this without making a mess 😵

in mha, there is no limitation for 'quirk', for what and how quirk can be and will be. there's no barrier, no system, no textbook power. you can imagine something, stupid or magnificent, and there definitely will be someone in the world has or had that. and even your imagination will be limited of how quirks could turn out. that's the first thing, because there's no solid scale to reckon how great a quirk will be, there is no way to reckon how terrible a quirk will be.

the second thing is, mha world isn't a world that started with superpowers. it is a world that started out as a normal world and evolved into phenomenon world. it means the base of civilization was built up for a normal civilization, not for a paranormal civilization. i will take example so it could be easier to understand:

take it as the gigantic quirk. the roads and map of buildings were set since the quirkless era for normal people, even though it has been improving again and again for the existence of mutant, it still kept the main design for average human size. do you think it should be rebuild to fit someone as big as the gigantic in PLA, or someone like mt. lady, just because they are free to use their quirks aka become too big for the city? how will they hold the responsibility? if they destroyed some buildings is it their fault for using their quirks wrong or is it the society's fault for not building some bigger roads?

what about quirk like overhaul's? when he disassembles then reassembles a person, are we going to count it as a killing action or a treating action? is he going to hold the responsibility of assaulting people, or is the government going to hold the responsibility because they let him use it freely? are the people who voted for free use of quirk going to hold the responsibility, or they will just push it to the government?

or toga. her quirk requires drinking blood to active. so if she attacks people and drinks their blood, how are we gonna handle this case? yeah sure, there is law that prohibit you to attack people with your quirk. but her quirk requires drinking blood to active. if we prohibit her to drink people's blood isn't that just we taking away her human right? her free quirk using right?

it will be a horrible legal nightmare to regulate quirks if everyone's free to do whatever fuck they want. it will be a century pain if you want to... pull the entire based civilization down and rebuild it so everyone can be free.

and another thing is, leading a whole nation isn't a game. stabilizing a nation and society isn't a game that one can simply put on a bet that sure people will behave and comply with the law if we allow them to use quirks freely. no. human's heart is ugly no matter what kind of evolution they've gone through. the government simply cannot bet the entire peace and order of the society on... the society itself.

it's not about 'they prohibit me from using my own quirk freely'. it is about you have yet to prove them that they can have faith on you. that's literally how heroes start out. the society isn't just you. it is everyone, so it can't be 'everyone can be whatever fuck they want', it has to be 'everyone are equal therefore everyone are treated the same unless they prove their ability'. a clock can't work if each of its cog wants to wheel its own direction.

[garbinge]

My Best Girl (4/?)

Summary: Tony Stark and Pepper Potts fell in love as teenagers and had a kid, Maxine Stark, who would grow up to be a bio engineer. Here she was, now an adult and learning how to navigate the world she wanted to live in, as well as the one her father lived in. 

Enjoy these slices of life moments that happen throughout different periods of time along the MCU timeline. 

Pairings: Tony Stark!Dad x OC Maxine Stark Steve Rogers x OC Maxine Stark (romantic pairing)

Chapter Index

TW: alcohol, angst, alluding to smut (like blink and you’ll miss it). 

A/N: This is a scene that’s lived in my head rent free for months and the fact I finally finished this snippet makes me sooooo happy. I hope you love this chapter as much as I do. 

Word Count: 5.5 k words

September 9th, 2013

The line at Starbucks was atrocious but so would Max’s behavior be if she didn’t get caffeine in her system. She also figured she’d get a small bite so she could take her tylenol to suppress the constant headaches she was still experiencing from having the Malibu house rubble fall on her.

Finally, after she ordered, she moved to stand in the mix of people waiting patiently for their own orders. Her phone buzzed causing her to check the notification. A reminder that the conference she had plans to attend, was starting in 30 minutes. The notification expanded and she read the details of the 2013 Biotech Convention in Washington DC. Her panel wasn’t until the next day but showing her face the day before never did any harm, if anything it built up momentum. 

She was brought back to reality when she heard her name being called. 

“Ms. Stark.” 

Max glanced up and saw that they hadn’t placed any drinks or food on the pick up table, a frown filled her face as she wondered who was saying her name.  

“Ms. Stark, can I have your autograph?” 

The voice was behind her and she immediately turned around to see the 6 foot tall blonde haired man that the world knew as Captain America standing behind her. 

“Steve?” She smiled and brought him in for a hug. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were gonna be in D.C.?” He questioned the girl as he hugged her.

“Last I heard you were on a mission for Fury. Plus I’m only here for a couple days.”

“I just got back last night from my 4th Fury mission this year, I always pick up coffee after my morning workout.” Steve nodded towards the building. “So what brings you here for a few days?”

“Max!” The barista called out before Max could answer. 

She turned her head and excused herself for a moment to grab her order. Just as she grabbed her things, Steve’s order was being called out. 

“Oh, I’ll bring it to him.” Max said casually as she went to pick up the hot coffee. 

The barista froze for a minute, still holding the coffee cup. Max realized immediately what was happening. Everyone wanted an interaction with Cap. Max smiled and took a step back as Steve approached. He took his coffee and thanked the barista, using her first name in his gratitude, causing Max to grin. 

The two exited the Starbucks, Steve holding the door for Max, like the gentleman he was. 

“So you’re on a first name basis with the barista, huh?” Her smile grew wide as she tried to cover it with her coffee cup. 

“I do come here pretty often,” he offered an excuse. 

“Mhm. She's cute.” Max said, still with the coffee cup to her mouth now finally taking a sip of her cold beverage. 

“Between you and Nat, I’m not sure who’s worse,” Steve offered an awkward chuckle as they stood outside on the large sidewalk in front of the coffee shop. 

“Probably Nat.” Max said quickly to be funny, even though she knew it was the truth. 

There was a brief silence as the two stood there, it was never awkward between them though, even in moments like this.

“I’d ask if you wanna get a cup of coffee but..” Steve raised his hand to call attention to the cup in his hand. 

“Mm,” Max swallowed her coffee. “I wish I could hangout but I have to get to the Biotech conference in like 15 minutes. It’s why I’m here. I’m a panelist tomorrow.” 

“Look at you, surprised you’re not making your own Stark Expo,” Steve smiled. 

“I’m alright without the fame and the flash, I just want to get these new AI regenerative limbs and organs out to those who need it. But first that requires investors and companies or medical professionals who will help finalize research and deliver them worldwide.”

“Investors?” Steve was confused. He knew she had all the money in the world at her disposal,  Stark wouldn’t cut her off especially for something like this. 

“No one takes me seriously with Dad’s money tied to it or with his name tied to it. I was attached to Stark Industries with this and everyone just wanted to speak with Tony and get Tony’s ideas and thoughts.” She mocked before continuing.  “They see Stark Industries on that presentation paper and it‘s game over. This way, I get a lot less people who show up just for Iron Man and show up for the actual purpose, they want to be involved for a reason.” 

Max had gone on a rant and she knew it based on Steve's face. 

“Sorry, I digress,” she raised her hands. 

“No please, I could listen to you talk all day.” Steve said without thinking.

The two flirted... a lot. It drove Tony nuts, but it was always innocent in Max’s eyes.

“Well unfortunately, I have to get going. But if you’re around tomorrow, come by the event. I’ll be talking on and off all day, it’ll be your dream.” She laughed. 

Steve shook his head before saying goodbye to the girl and walking over to his truck. He turned the key in the ignition and had slowly started to reverse out when the passenger door opening caused him to slam on the brakes. 

“On second thought, I can skip today, it’s just introductions and crap anyway.” Max was climbing into the vehicle. 

“Next time, like knock or something or call me.” Steve was annoyed, simply because he didn’t want to accidentally run her over. 

“The hundred year old man is asking me to call him on the phone that he doesn’t know how to work. Funny isn’t it?” 

“If I recall, I asked you last time to call me when you got home. And you never did. I’d say maybe you don’t know how to work a phone.” Steve’s eyebrows raised as he began backing out of the spot. 

The comment earned a smirk from Max. 

“So where to?” Steve was still in the mall complex where the Starbucks was. 

“I know a cool spot, hop on the interstate and I’ll give you directions from there.” 

“Funny how I live in DC, yet you’re showing me around.” Steve turned out of the complex and made the correct turn for the interstate. 

“I’m a Stark, we know everything.” She shrugged, taking a bag of pills from her backpack out. 

Steve glanced over and saw how she laid out the bag and her food. 

“From the accident still?” Steve asked in reference to when he had seen her in the hospital after the missile hit the Malibu house. 

“I get headaches practically every other day. I’ve run my own tests but I can’t quite figure it out yet. So until then, I'll take the pretty little candy.”  Max answered. 

The bag shook in her hand as she pointed to the exit. 

“Take this exit,” Her mouth now had the pills in them as she sipped her coffee to wash them down. 

“You don’t need a doctor or your own lab to know that you’re still healing, and that you over-stress yourself.” 

“Works gotta get done. I can manage a headache, there’s people out there who are dying–take this right.” 

Steve followed her instruction without missing a beat. “Can’t help people if you’re not okay yourself.”

“I’ll be fine.” 

“A break might be good for you.” 

“Says the man who hasn’t taken a break since he woke up from the ice.” Max was quick to rebuttal. 

“I took a 70 year break. That’s gotta count for something.” 

“Alright, just park on this street,” Max interrupted. 

Steve never questioned the girl. She was a free-spirit and that’s what he enjoyed about her. Things were always spontaneous. 

The two got out of the truck and Max held out her hand the way she’d seen Steve do a couple times. The action earned a genuine laugh from Steve as he held his arm out mimicking her stance. 

“I’m too tall, you loop with me,” he grinned. 

The girl attached herself to him by linking arms and they strolled down the street. Steve didn’t ask questions, if he was honest with himself, he could do this forever with the girl. It was a beautiful day out, between the fresh air, the sun, the views, and the girl. This was blissful to the man. 

“We’re here.” Max stopped in front of a large patio that had metal chairs and tables scattered around. There were about 4-5 musicians formed right in front of a large fountain that was practically drowned out by the sounds of saxophones, pianos, guitars, trumpets and singers. 

Steve was in awe at the sight in front of him. People were dancing, some sitting and enjoying the atmosphere, others eating and laughing. It was amazing. The groups of people moving to the beat, the sun shining down through the trees alongside the tables. 

“This might be my favorite pocket of the world.” Max smiled as they stood still on the sidewalk just on the edge of the patio. 

“I can see why.” Steve still had a grin on his face. 

“Come on, let’s get you a drink.” She dragged him to a large truck that was selling alcohol. The girl had taken a couple shots and washed it down with a beer. Steve stuck with his bottled beer while the girl chatted away with a couple people around her. He simply watched her in awe, how quick she was to make friends and get to know people. Hours had gone by and the two of them had just spent the time chatting together and occasionally breaking out to chat with some other people. 

Max had just wrapped up a conversation and turned back to Steve who was smiling at her. 

“What’s up, soldier?” She grinned back at him as she wrapped her hand around the glass that held her draft beer. 

Just as Steve was about to answer, the musicians started playing a beat that felt familiar to the girl in front of him and her eyes widened. The grip around the glass got tighter as the smile on her face grew and she was now picking up the glass and walking backwards through the crowd of people towards the dance floor.

“I LOVE THIS SONG!’ She called out as she moved her body to the beat and began to sing the song as on key as she could. 

Steve managed to chuckle as he turned away from leaning on the bar table and forward to watch the girl get lost in the dance floor crowd. But just when he thought he had lost eyes on her, the drummer hit the beat and he saw the girl jumping up and down to the song. His eyes followed her as best as they could, but she was moving around swiftly. She went from moving around solo on the dance floor, to on stage with the singer sharing the mic, to back on the dance floor in a matter of minutes. 

Steve saw how the crowd looked at the girl in amazement similar to his. People ogled her, even the older men smiled at her liveliness. Which shouldn’t surprise him, as he too was technically an older man who was under the spell of Maxine Stark. As she moved her body and feet, throwing her one arm in the air, she downed the rest of the beer and turned her way back to Steve, dancing her way over to him. 

“C’mon Rogers.” She called out to him to join her. He simply shook his head and put his hand up with a wave to say he was okay. His response was met with an eye roll as she turned back around to dance with an older gentleman who had to be in his early 70’s. She spun him around as he did the same to her as they innocently danced in the afternoon sun. 

Max’s head flew back as a laugh escaped her mouth, somehow another beer was in her hand and she was now chugging it down. This had to easily be her fifth beer, which was sitting on top of the couple shots she had taken earlier. 

The song had now changed to something a little slower and she wasn’t going to take no for an answer from Steve. She marched up to him and grabbed his hand to bring him to the dance floor. This was something he could move to without too much awkward tension, and it did help that Max was in no doubt leading. They moved to the jazz song at a neutral speed. Max had her head against his chest and his head rested above hers. 

“You can move, Rogers.” She chuckled into his chest. 

“You say this like you’re not leading us right now.” 

“Teamwork.” She laughed as she left his chest to be spinned around. 

As she spun back into his arms she looked up at him. 

“This is nice.” 

“I think you’re drunk.” Steve looked down at her with a smirk. 

“Might be. But that doesn’t mean this isn’t nice.” 

Their eyes didn’t break until the song ended. One might have thought they were going to kiss. And that tension didn’t break just because their connection did. 

“I feel dizzy.” She shook her head with an awkward giggle. 

“I’ll grab you some water.” Steve said, turning to go back to the truck selling beverages. The line was short and while it only took him about 2 minutes to get a bottle of water. The girl was back on the dance floor as the music picked back up, playing a jazz cover of some Nelly Furtado song. 

She was moving her hips as she sang along, eyes now really glued on her. Nothing out of the ordinary though, until someone approached her. Steve could tell the man’s ulterior motives from the minute he clocked him. He let it be for a minute knowing Max was fully capable of taking care of herself and that if he intervened too soon it would cause the girl to get annoyed. 

After a few minutes of the guy not letting up despite the Stark girl’s comments and ignoring, Steve stepped in. 

“Here,” He smiled at her, handing her the water bottle. 

Her eyes had a look of annoyance in them and he took that look as approval to step in. 

“I got it from here, thanks.” Steve stepped in front of the random man so he was now blocking Maxine completely with his body. 

“Hey man, I was talking to her.” The man slurred. 

Great. Another drunkie. Steve thought in his head.  

“And now you’re not.” 

Steve looked over his shoulder and was quickly met with a shove. He didn’t so much as lose a footing at the man’s sad attempt to push the super soldier. 

The man’s eyes widened when Steve turned around fully, not to be threatening but to block the girl he came here with. 

“Holy shit, you’re Captain America.” The man choked out of his cracking voice. 

Steve said nothing and the man just eagerly moved away without an argument. 

“My hero.” Max chimed in, causing Steve to turn back around to see the girl had another shot glass in her hand. 

“Thought you were dizzy.”

“Shhh.” She said, taking the shot. 

“C’mon. Let’s get out of here.” Steve said not wanting to push his luck out here anymore. They had been out here for easily 6 hours, and the sun was starting to fade down the horizon. 

“Cap.” The girl whined as she wrapped an arm around his shoulder as far as she could reach until she lost her balance tripping into him. The stumble is what made Steve realize it was definitely time for them to leave. 

He picked the girl up with ease and walked her down the block to the car. Getting her to the car wasn’t much of an issue but buckling the girl in proved itself to be a task. She was squirmy and very opinionated. Finally, after multiple attempts to get her secure in the truck she was safely buckled in the passenger seat of Steve’s car and they were on their way back. Max leaned over and turned the volume of the radio up as she nodded her head to the song. 

“What no show this time?” Steve commented on her little 2 minute stage debut earlier. 

Max smiled and started to loudly sing the lyrics which Steve quickly objected to and turned the volume down. 

“Change my mind.” He laughed as he frowned at the volume and extremely off key notes of the girl. 

She maneuvered herself in the seatbelt so she could comfortably lean against the side of the door and extended her knees to her chest. 

“What were the 40’s like?” She asked him curiously as her head tilted.

“It was a lot different.” Steve laughed at the girl's curious comment. 

“What were you like in the 40s?” The girl continued to ask him questions. 

“5 foot 4, scrawny–” Steve started to talk. 

“I can read that in a museum. I wanna know what you were like, Steve, I want to know what your interests were, what your hobbies were, about your family.” 

“I hated bullies. Always tried to stand up for what I felt was right, you know? I was a stubborn kid though, let me tell you.” He laughed. 

“Not much has changed.” The smirk grew on the girl's face. 

Steve brushed the comment off with a smirk and nod, and waited a few seconds before he continued. He spoke up now with a neutral face. 

“My mom died when I was 16. Things were rough back then, we went from our parents being in a war to us being in a war. Bucky– my best friend, Buck, he really kept me on my feet, honestly was like a brother to me.” Steve went into detail about his life. 

“Any lucky ladies?” The girl asked after they wrapped up the previous portion of the conversation. 

Steve laughed, “There was one girl.” He left the statement alone but made eye contact with Max who made a face to ask him to continue. Her eyebrows lifted up and her head moved forward and her right hand that was wrapped around her legs moved in a motion that told Steve he had to continue. 

Steve shook his head. “Her name was Peggy. Smart and resilient as ever. She saw me when I don’t think many people did.”

“You loved her.”

“Very much.” Steve answered without missing a beat. 

“What’s it like?” She asked without missing a beat herself. 

“What’s what like?” Steve frowned in confusion at the girl's comment. 

“Love.” 

“You know.” He shrugged with one hand on the wheel. 

“No I don’t, actually.” She said, still staring at him. 

“You’ve never been in love? I find that hard to believe.” Steve shook his head. 

“Well, believe it. Look, trust me, I have my fun, but love? I don’t have time for that. My mind can’t be in two different places, that energy needs to go into my work, my career. People think things are handed to me cause I’m a Stark but in a lot of cases I work 10 times harder just to get half the respect he gets. If I had a man attached to me, I might as well throw away everything I’ve worked on.” She explained. 

“It’s sad that it’s gotta be like that still.” Steve shook his head thinking about the disrespect he saw Peggy get in the short amount of time he was around the woman. 

“It is what it is.” She shook her head angrily. 

There was a long stretch of silence in the car before Steve spoke up. 

“Pure.” The word fell out of Steve’s mouth. 

“Huh?” The girl frowned at him. 

“Love is pure. It’s untouchable compared to anything else in this world.” Steve explained to the girl answering her question from before. 

Max nodded her head as they turned onto the exit that lead them back to the Starbucks. 

“Let me know where your hotel is, I’ll take you home. You shouldn’t drive with how much you’ve had to drink.” 

“Take me to your place.” The words practically fell off the tip of the girl's tongue. “This is probably my last night out before I hopefully get some sponsors and then can go make things happen.” She laughed. 

“Alright.” Steve agreed and they began driving to his apartment complex. 

___________

They entered his apartment and Max was quick to be nosy and look around. 

“Not what you expected?” Steve laughed when he caught the confused look on her face. 

“Not the place, your reading material.” She was milling through the bookshelves. 

“Had a lot to catch up on.” 

“So you knew Howard?” She looked at a photo on the wall knowing the answer. She’d heard it from her father countless times and also she had been to the Smithsonian to see Cap’s exhibit. 

“What was he like?” Her eyes didn’t move from the wall even after she asked the question, they just kept gazing over the photos and art that were hung. 

“He was smart. Really smart. You have that in common.” Steve laughed. “Sarcastic as ever, too. Another Stark trait.” Steve half smirked as he earned an eye roll from Max.  “He also was determined. Always up for a mission or project.” 

Max nodded and made her way to the couch and plopped down onto it. She patted her hand down on the leather material so Steve would join next to her. He obliged and spread his hand over the top of the couch as his leg crossed over the other, resting one ankle on his thigh. Max adjusted so her back was against the armrest and her legs were brought up to her chest again. 

They stared at each other for a moment. Max knew what she wanted to ask but also knew the question was loaded. 

“You have a nice place.” She eased into conversation. 

“It’s nothing special, in all honesty, I would have loved to move back to Brooklyn.” He shook his head. 

“I crave to move back to New York all the time. When Dad moved to Malibu from Manhattan, I was shattered. It’s home, you know?”

“Yup, it’s home.” He nodded. 

“If you could go back in time. Would you?” She asked quickly, barely separating the words and unloading the heavy weighted question on him. 

“What?” Steve asked with a frown and grin. 

“Say you could go back in time. Would you? To be with her?” She added in the statement that wasn’t there the first time she said it. 

Without any hesitation, he answered. 

“No.” He shook his head and uncrossed his legs, leaning forward to rest on his elbows. 

“We’ve moved on, you know? She definitely has, and you and Nat have me working on that.” Steve paused to tease the girl before continuing. “Sometimes things are meant to be left as moments in your life, you know?” He asked in a tone where he was hopefully looking for confirmation from the girl. 

“Yea, I completely get that.” She said as she situated herself down the couch. 

“Plus, you know, there’s a lot more fish out in the ocean or whatever the saying is. And much like you, I have work to focus on, the world to save.” He smiled at her. 

“I’m sure the right gal will come along.” She mocked him.

“Do you want water or anything?” He rolled his eyes, getting off the couch and retreating to the kitchen. 

Max simply nodded her head as she sunk into the couch. Her eyes weighed heavily and shut closed too easily. She inhaled a large breath before her breath became normal and even, there was a slight snore that one could only notice if they were close enough to her. As Steve reproached he noticed the girl was sound asleep. The water was placed on the end table by her head and he expanded the throw blanket that rested on the couch over the girl. 

Steve retreated to the little book nook he was standing in with Max not that long ago. Grabbing a book and situating himself in the arm chair, turning on a small table lamp which was the only thing illuminating the house.

About an hour had past when Max started to stir on the couch, waking up for a brief moment, closing her eyes again, until they shot open, her heart was racing. She became nervous as to where she was until her eyes saw Steve out of the corner of her eye. A sharp breath exhaled out of her body and she stood up walking over to the man. 

Her hand gripped the one book shelf and peaked in. 

“What? Super soldiers can’t get drunk and they don’t sleep?” She laughed. 

“Been having some trouble sleeping lately.” He closed the book and placed it back on the shelf as he stood up. 

“It’s the mattress right?” 

Steve frowned at how the girl knew. 

“I work with veterans. I hear what it’s like. Even though it was a different time, I’m sure the PTSD isn’t too far off.” 

Steve followed the girl into the kitchen as she attempted to reach for the cereal at the top of the fridge. 

“Hungry?”

His hands reached up and grabbed the box and as he brought it down, their eyes met. They were both now suddenly extremely aware of how close they were to each other. Max’s hands fell from her attempt to help him grab the cereal box and they lightly brushed against his shoulders and rested on his chest as she slowly moved them. Her eyes moving from her hand movement back to his eyes. 

Steve was frozen, until she looked back up at him and moved onto her toes so she was higher up to his eye level. He still didn’t move, but he wasn’t holding his breath any longer.

Mex brought her hands back up, wrapping them around his neck and lightly bringing him down so they were on equal levels. Their faces were close and Steve moved slightly forward while Max moved back a couple centimeters, not to pull away from him, but to tease just slightly. She smiled and closed in on the space between them. Their lips crashed into one another's, something soft and gentle until she slammed his body into hers which made Steve pick the girl up and plop her on the counter. Her hands moved from his neck to cup his face, she never wanted to have any space between the two of them again. She soaked in the glory of it all. The taste of his mouth, the slight breaths he let out into her mouth and against her skin as they took millisecond breaks to catch their breath. Her legs wrapped around his waist and he picked her up again and brought her into the bedroom that hadn’t seen a body in weeks. And when it did, it surely wasn’t a woman’s body - let alone Maxine Stark’s. 

They got tangled up in the sheets, removing their clothing but never giving themselves more than 6 inches of space. The sparks flew between the two of them, moans escaped from both of them from the electric touches. The final moan that escaped from Max’s mouth was simple. His name, at a whisper. If it was any other time, the girl’s voice would have been drowned out by the white noise of the day but the 3AM night time buzz allowed the quiet whisper to be heard and made Steve lose all self-control he had left, which wasn’t much anyways. 

___________

The next morning Steve rolled over to find the bed empty. The sheets were wrinkled and the floor was only scattered with one set of clothing now. He threw on his boxers and made his way to the kitchen where the box of cereal was standing up with a Starbucks coffee exactly like how he ordered it yesterday next to a small piece of paper. 

Heather was upset you weren’t there to pick up your usual order but I let her know you were well taken care of. Make sure you don’t have any late night cereal without at least thinking of me. Thanks for an amazing day and even more amazing night. See you round, Cap. 

Steve smiled at the note as he took a sip of the coffee. He knew where the girl would be and thought it wouldn’t do any harm to stop by and support her. He threw on the typical ‘trying not to be seen’ outfit that would help him blend in and made his way down to the convention center. 

He stood in the very back of the large auditorium for a moment, making sure he was in the correct room. Suddenly the chatty crowd got softer as a group of panelists came out, Max being one of them. As the host announced them all, Steve found a seat and quickly took it as he listened to the event. 

Max was right, she would be talking on and off all day long, and Steve sat through it, enjoying seeing her in her element and the passion she had flow from her voice. He waited out in the lobby where tons of booths were set up.

He was able to spot the girl since he was so tall and luckily was able to grab her before she was otherwise occupied. 

“You were amazing up there,” Steve said as he caught up behind her. 

The girl turned around quickly and looked less than thrilled to see the man, which made Steve frown. 

“Wha– Why are you here?” Max said flustered. 

Steve suddenly realized he caught her in the middle of working, as she was about to schmooze and talk with people who had just seen her present her idea. The room felt like it was getting smaller as he came to the realization this might not have been the best idea. 

“I’m sorry– you just– I wanted to come see– you did such a great job,” Steve was now getting stuck on his sentences. 

“I appreciate that, Steve, but you can’t be here, at least not with me in public like this, I told you I have to be taken seriously.” The girl wasn’t coming off mean but she wasn’t exactly in a peachy mood either. 

“Just figured after last night–” Steve pulled a card out of his jacket that had one single rose taped to it. “I’d come wish you luck and let you know I’m think–”

“Steve, I’m not looking for anything–” She quickly grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into a less populated area of the center. “I care about you, you’re a great person, but let’s not make this more than it is. You want the white picket fence, the family life. I want...this.” She pointed around the lobby at all the science and tech booths. 

Steve was still holding out the rose and envelope as he nodded understanding now that he misinterpreted everything. 

“Yea, of course, no problem.” Steve said quickly with a nod taking a step back. “Take the card at least, there’s a gift card for Starbucks, you can treat yourself to a coffee, especially if you’re going to be here late winning everyone over.” He smiled as she shook her head. 

“Steve, I can’t take that after I just–”

“Just take it, Max. It’s for you.” He smiled through the pain. 

Her hand extended out and reluctantly grabbed the items from him. 

“Are we oka–” She started to ask before Steve interrupted her again. 

“We’re fine, we’re good, I’ll leave you to it and you can call me when you’re home, or not, you don’t need to call me, just, yea, good luck.” He stumbled over his words as he backed away pointing at the lobby and immediately turning around to leave. He was so stressed he didn’t hear the girl calling after him, just quickly left the convention center. 

Max stood at the exit doors inside the building not having any luck chasing the super soldier. Her entire mind filled with guilt and remorse, not really knowing if she made the right choice in what she just did. Her adrenaline from the event was still high, and she was in pure chaotic mode to get what she intended to from this event and Steve threw her off. After a minute of staring at the last place she saw the man, a voice caused her to snap out of her thoughts. 

“Excuse me, miss. I’d love to talk about getting your project off the ground.”

Max turned and smiled at the woman who was talking to her and nodded quickly, turning her head back over her shoulders quickly one last time before kicking herself into gear. 

“I’d very much like that, come, let’s chat.” Max guided the woman to her booth and pushed what had just happened to the back of her mind.

[buckyskorpion]

Do Something Bad, Too - Part 5

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader

Summary: It’s like every single Alpha on the planet won’t rest until they’ve confessed their eternal wish for you to mother their children, and it’s getting old. Luckily, that’s a problem Bucky might be able to fix.

Warnings: language, a/b/o dynamics, mentions of violence

A/N: sooooo..... lets not mention the last time i updated this fic was four years, and get excited that im finally updating!! woo!! i really hope this was worth the wait, im very anxious about letting you guys down. let me know what you honestly think! love u all, thank u for sticking with me

series masterlist | main masterlist | my ko-fi

You stay in Nat’s apartment in the Tower for the rest of your heat, which lasts an entire week. Nat comes and goes throughout that time to make sure you’re drinking enough water, to make you dinner or run you a bath, or sometimes just to keep you company when you’re capable of that. She doesn’t stay long, though, aware her presence just makes the unbearableness of going through heat even worse. She also doesn’t mention Bucky’s clothes or anything about that first day, which you’re immeasurably grateful for. You don’t think you could talk about it without crying.

To say you’re humiliated is an understatement. Mixed with that is all this guilt and shame and self-hatred for inflicting that situation on you and Bucky. Mostly for Bucky. He had made it so very clear he was only comfortable helping you with the scent thing, and even with that there were boundaries. You had blown through them all by showing up to his apartment, triggering both your instincts to do things you couldn’t control, and now he probably resented you enough to never want to see you again.

You don’t blame him. It doesn’t stop it from hurting so much, though.

You’ve well and truly fucked yourself now. Not only is it omega instincts driving you towards Bucky now, but also your own stupid, naive heart. You miss his giant hands and broad shoulders that block out the world for a second, narrowing your scope to just the two of you. You miss the way you can breathe around him, how the world doesn’t feel so scary and foreign to you when he’s by your side. It’s crazy because you weren’t even close, you weren’t even really friends, but now you never will be because you’re so goddamn stupid it’s actually astounding.

Nat’s plan had not worked. And this time, you couldn’t even blame her for this colossal backfire. This is all your handiwork.

You’re back in your office, returning to work once your fever died down and you could stand to be in the vicinity of other alphas without passing out. Maybe you’re tapping rather aggressively on your keyboard, and maybe all the techies on the floor can hear you sigh and groan in frustration every two seconds and are sending you strange looks through the glass. Whatever, you’re their boss, they can’t say anything. Besides, your boss has requested some rather strange security upgrades and you’re not sure if it’s within your job description to email Tony Stark and say what the fuck?

It turns out you don’t have to, because Tony Stark comes to you. It’s not often he takes part in the day to day workings of Stark Industries - that’s your job, after all. But he comes striding into your office eating an apple and wearing sunglasses during the middle of the day, and points a ringed finger at you.

“You’re back,” he says, and you find yourself glancing down at your baby-blue pantsuit just to make sure you are, in fact, back. Stark takes a very pointed breath through his nose and adds, “You smell terrible. This is great!”

“Great?” You can’t help but sound bitter. Your smell is hardly great to you. Even after sweating out your entire body-weight and taking more showers than is considered healthy, you still smell like Bucky. You can’t escape him - not your thoughts, not your heart, and certainly not the way your skin seems to emanate him like he’s crawled underneath and set up shop. It’s embarrassing and humiliating, because it’s not real, and just serves to remind you of the terrible mistake you’ve made. You hope beyond hope Stark doesn’t recognise the other alpha scent clinging to your pores.

“Yes, great. I need your help,” he says, sitting down in a chair opposite your desk. You glance at the specs you have open on your computer, the strange security upgrades he wants you to make to the Tower, and then back to Stark’s million-dollar smile. It’s unsettling. You feel a headache forming before he even opens his mouth.

“If this has anything to do with these emails-“

“Those can wait,” Stark says, waving a dismissive hand at your computer. He lobs his applecore into the bin beside your desk as if to punctuate his point, then says, “This is a request on behalf of the Avengers.”

“Um,” you say, rather eloquently. Avengers? What on earth could they want with you, unless- you groan, rolling your eyes to the ceiling. “Natasha.”

“She highly recommended your expertise,” Stark says, and that headache brewing in your temples blooms into a full-blown migraine. He stands, smooths out his slacks, and says without room for question, “Follow me.”

This is how you end up back in the residential floors of the Tower, much to your chagrin, which Stark seems to pick up on. The closer you get to Bucky’s floor the more fidgety you become, heart racing and skin turning clammy until you watch the numbers fly by and you leave him somewhere in the clouds above Manhattan. The elevator doors ding open to a floor that seems to go on forever, full of gym equipment and fancy simulation tech you figure the Avengers must use to train. You find Natasha’s red head on the sparring mats, tackling someone to the ground with her thighs, and glare daggers as you follow Stark into the room.

“She’s alive!” Natasha calls across the room, ignoring your death glare for a knowing smirk. Her voice echoes through the warehouse-style gym floor, drawing the attention of the others in the room. The Avengers, and all of a sudden you feel like an eighteen year old kid watching aliens attack New York on a grainy satellite TV in the desert again. This is like meeting celebrities on another level. Steve Rogers finishes wrapping his hands as he walks over to you and Stark, Sam Wilson beside him, and Natasha gives Clint Barton a hand to help him up from the mats.

“What have you roped me into now, Nat?” you ask, not bothering to hide your frustration. You’ve just about had it with her meddling, but you should’ve known it was a pipe dream to think she would stop.

“We know you’re very busy, we won’t take up much of your time,” Steve Rogers says, extending a hand and introducing himself like he needs to. Captain America needs no introduction.

“I know who you all are,” you say, giving them a nod. “And you’re right, I am busy. So why am I here?”

“You and Nat must get along like a house on fire,” Clint says, earning him an elbow in the gut from Nat herself. You grin, all sharp in the way Nat tells you looks scary in a hot way, and watch as he subtly shifts behind Nat as if to hide behind her smaller frame. It’s only then that you register the scents mingling between them, and realise that Clint Barton is Nat’s omega. She grins at you, beatific and serene, as if she can read your thoughts and knows exactly what you’ve just figured out.

“Let’s not hold (Y/n) up any longer,” Nat says, grinning in a way that always spells trouble for you. “She’s a woman in high demand.”

Stark leads them to what seems to be a large empty space in the training facility, but it’s soon filled with hologram projections from a tiny Starkpad he pulls from his pocket. You fall into step beside Nat, using your height advantage to glare down at her and convey the level to which you want to strangle her right now. She just loops her arm with yours and kisses you on the cheek, frustrating your attempts at intimidation before you can even begin. Bloody Russian spies, you grumble to yourself as you come a halt in front of the holograms.

You’re looking at building specs, that much is obvious. Why, though, is entirely lost on you. The structure is a tall hexagonal building reminding you of a panopticon, with security floors in the centre and what seem to be prison cells surrounding them. Details jump out from Stark’s hologram - security cameras, miniature guards patrolling the floors, thermally sealed doors and electromagnetic force-fields on the cells. It’s a prison, you surmise, and you’re starting to get a bad feeling as to why you’re here.

You turn to Nat and say, “I’m not going back in the field.”

She pats your arm with only a tiny bit of condescension and says, “I’m not asking you to.”

“You’re my Head of Security,” Stark says, then gestures to the hologram building, “If you can design impenetrable security systems, surely you can undo them.”

“You want me to help you break into this place?” you ask. The team all nod, and you look back at the intimidating, virtual-blue building in front of you. “It’s a fortress.”

“Yeah, they really upped the anti on security since I was in there,” Sam Wilson says, earning him a reproachful look from Steve. It does nothing to soothe the anxiety starting to thread through your chest. Failing the Avengers doesn’t seem like an option, but from where you’re standing, neither is breaking into this facility.

“I’ll need to know what it is first,” you say, “Then I can try and help you. Emphasis on try. I’m not a miracle worker.”

“It’s called the Raft,” Steve says, his face growing stony and set as he talks. “It’s a prison designed for enhanced persons by Secretary Ross. After Germany, I broke Sam, Scott, and Clint out. But Wanda-“

“We need to get her out of there,” Clint says. You pretend not to notice as beside you Nat discreetly takes his hand, rubbing her thumb across his bruised knuckles.

“Leave the search and rescue to us,” Stark says, and you watch him shift uncomfortably under some inscrutable looks Steve and Sam are giving him, “We just need your help on how to get into the joint.”

“Simple,” you breathe, but only Nat laughs. This seems like an impossible task, but from the look of  everyone around you, failure isn’t an option. You’re going to have to make the impossible possible. It’s a good thing you’ve had some experience with that - in the military, trapped into sand-filled corners with no foreseeable way out, it really did seem like you were working miracles to stay alive out there. You swallow past a dry mouth and blink through desert-gunked eyes, say, “I’ll need that Starkpad, and some time.”

“You have forty-eight hours,” Stark says. The hologram disappears in a blink as he throws the Starkpad, no bigger than your palm, which you only just manage to catch. Stark clicks his fingers, as if an idea as just occurred to him, and says, “Oh, I almost forget to tell you! The Raft is underwater. Completely submerged, middle of the ocean, super top-secret. Fun, right?”

Your heart drops to your stomach. Fun is not the word you you would use. Only forty-eight hours to break into the most secure facility in the country, if not the world? This day couldn’t possibly blindside you anymore.

As if the universe is conspiring against you, FRIDAY’s voice chimes in from overhead speakers to say, “Mr Stark, Sergeant Barnes is on his way to the gym floor.”

You feel your whole body lock up, heart seizing in your chest - Bucky? Here? You weren’t prepared to see him yet, or speak to him. What would you say? How could you apologise for one of the worst crimes you may have ever committed, and you’ve killed people? Natasha unloops her arm from yours, tries to soothe you with a hand on your back but it does nothing for the anxiety shooting sparks throughout your blood stream.

“How many times have I got to tell that illiterate Soviet popsicle, he’s not on the fucking team,” Stark grumbles, storming towards the elevators with a scowl. Steve clenches his fists, glaring after Stark but Sam holds him back. He mutters something only Steve can hear which makes him close his eyes and exhale sharp through his nose - frustrated, but calming by the nanosecond.

It’s a shame nobody thought to do the same for you.

“What did you just call him?” you say, ignoring Natasha’s warning murmur of your name as you follow after Stark. Maybe you still have some residually elevated hormones from your heat, or you really are just a lovesick idiot who can’t control her temper, but whatever it is has you absolutely incensed. Stark stops dead, clearly caught off guard by the venom in your voice, and spins on his heel to stare at you incredulously.

“Excuse me?” he says, blinking owlishly at you as you lean up into his space. You’re aware you’re overstepping the boss/employee line, but you can’t help yourself. The rage is brewing, and with each laboured breath Bucky’s scent grows stronger and stronger until it’s all you can smell. It settles over your skin like armour, and the urge to protect that hold on you, to protect him, is beyond your control - it’s primal.

“Don’t talk about him like that, ever,” you snarl, watching with satisfaction as Stark’s eyes turn round and wide.

He glances behind you towards his friends and says, “Are we sure she isn’t an alpha? Sheesh.”

“Tony,” Natasha warns, but it’s too late. You use the palm of your hand to slam into Stark’s solar plexus. You kick out his kneecap and he drops on one knee, wheezing and gasping for air. It all happens so fast you can’t even think about the repercussions of assaulting your boss, let alone what’s driven you to do it in the first place.

“I don’t need to be an alpha to kick your ass,” you hiss, glaring down at Stark who looks up at you like you have, in fact, lost your mind.

At that moment, the elevator dings and reveals Bucky practically seething behind the elevator doors. He storms in, larger than life - in the week or so it’s been since you’ve seen him, you’ve somehow forgotten how physically intimidating he actually is. You immediately step back from Stark’s kneeling figure, feeling the strange need to hide your hands behind your back like a kid caught with the cookie jar. Bucky glances wildly between you, Stark on the ground, and the ring of Avengers in different states of attempting to intervene. He heaves ragged breaths and is emitting a scent that threatens to take you to your knees, too. Authoritative, powerful, protective.

That submissive, animalistic side of you makes you really hate being an omega sometimes.

“Why is she here?” Bucky asks someone behind you, probably Natasha. He swings his, frankly, frightening gaze to Stark and demands with just as much venom as you had, “What did you do to her.”

“Jesus Christ, nothing!” Stark wheezes, clutching at the spot on his chest you’ve definitely bruised. He points an accusing finger at you and cries, “She hit me!”

“I’m so sorry,” you say, feeling your hands start to shake where you clutch them behind your back. You look to Bucky like maybe he can explain, which makes you sick to your stomach because he’s not yours to look towards. Now, more than ever, that is abundantly clear. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“I do!” Natasha pipes up behind you, helpful as ever. Bucky glares at her for you this time, releasing you of his burning-hot stare. His gaze has the power to paralyse you, and you need to get away from him, this, all of it - right now. You don’t get a chance to, however, before Natasha once again sticks her foot in it and says, “She was defending your honour, James.”

“Yeah, and I’ve no idea why. One quick google search should tell you he doesn’t need any-“

It takes you a second to realise the snarling, growling sound echoing through the gym is coming from you. Your face burns as you roll your lips together, cutting the sound off completely. For your entire life you’ve been headstrong and confident, but this whole experience with Bucky from the very first day you met him has shaken your entire self-perception. Everything you’ve known has been turned upside down - it was easy when all alphas were assholes, and you were one omega they couldn’t fuck with. Now, you stare down at your shoes and refuse to look in Bucky’s direction because he’s affected you so much you can’t even control yourself anymore. The worst part is that it’s entirely your own doing, because Bucky made it very clear you aren’t the one he wants, so everything you’re doing right now is just incredibly humiliating.

“(Y/n)?” Bucky’s voice makes you shudder. Looking at him would surely make you burst into flames, from embarrassment of the last time you saw him which you can’t even think about, or from the shame of pathetically defending a man who doesn’t want anything to do with you. He doesn’t even want you here, storming up to ask why you’re in his home in the first place.

“I’m gonna go,” you say, giving Bucky a wide berth as you head for the elevators. You can’t get there fast enough, practically sprinting to press the close-door button as fast as you can.

“Wait-“

And then, the absolute worst thing happens. You almost crush the Starkpad still in your hand from clenching your fist so hard - you have to, in order to keep your hands by your sides and not in Bucky’s personal space. Because just as the doors are about to slide closed, he slips in between them and FRIDAY seals you both in. The elevator fills with Bucky Bucky Bucky, just like your heat-addled brain has been chanting at you since you stumbled into his apartment a week ago.

Bucky stares at you wide-eyed, and you stare back just the same. This could possibly be your worst nightmare come to life, especially when the elevator screeches to a halt and FRIDAY’s dulcet tones hammer your fate home.

“I appear to be having some technical difficulties,” FRIDAY says, sounding confused if an AI can sound like anything. “I’m so sorry, I’m trying to fix this. It seems someone is manually overriding my control of the elevator.”

“Nat,” you groan, in unison with Bucky. So that’s it. You’re stuck in an elevator with Bucky and are being forced to face the music, by the powers that be. The powers being Natasha, a no good meddler who is going to be in a world of pain when you get out of here. Alpha be damned.

[jaskierswolf]

Heartbreak Hotel

Or the dating show Geraskier AU based on an idea by my wonderful friend @slythnerd (Also on my AO3) 

Geralt took a deep breath and pulled at the tie around his wrist. The cameras weren’t rolling yet and he was seriously considering jumping out of the window. He was grateful that he wasn’t one of the original contestants. He wasn’t sure whether he would have been able to cope with all the build up and hype before entering the hotel. The set to the show was essentially the top two floors of a hotel, and one of the reasons he hadn’t made a break for the nearest window. He did enjoy being alive despite how much he liked to grumble about it. Geralt was going to be the first new contestant since the season had started just over a week ago. With any luck everyone would be happily paired up and he would be allowed to go home at the soonest available opportunity.

He’d only agreed to this shit show for Yen’s sake. He was pretty sure that her and Triss just wanted to laugh at his discomfort.

“Mr Rivia?” Some attractive young brunette with a clipboard asked.

He raised an eyebrow at them. “Yeah?”

“Are you ready?”

Geralt looked back down at the wristband. It was pink, purple and blue. He gave a small smile. When he’d been filling out the application form he had hovered over the box for bisexual for over an hour. He wasn’t out to his family yet. Yennefer knew, but that was it. Well at least coming out on one of the most popular dating shows in the world would mean he’d probably only have to do it once.

He grunted and nodded, dropping his wrist to his side. “Yeah.”

_________________________

Jaskier was seriously starting to doubt his life choices as he flopped dramatically across the laps of Virginia Stael and Valdo Marx who were curled up on the sofa together. Jaskier had tried to woo  the ‘Countess’ as he affectionately called her due to her love of expensive jewellery and designer clothes, but she’d reached an ‘agreement’ with Valdo. They had a game plan. Everyone in the damn hotel knew it and he hoped the viewers at home could see it too. The pair of them barely tolerated each other. They would split up as soon as the show ended. They’d only chosen each other because they’d both deemed the other to be the most attractive out of the contestants. It was shameless and it was loveless. Well, not entirely loveless, despite their personality clashes and endless drama, they did end up shagging rather loudly every night, much to Jaskier’s displeasure as he had the misfortune of having the room next to Valdo.

Valdo wasn’t even that attractive.

“What are you doing, Jaskier?” Valdo snapped.

Jaskier rolled his eyes and extended one leg as he gestured to himself. “Lying down. Obviously.” He muttered.

“There’s a free chair.” Virginia pointed out in her snooty I-am-holier-than-thou voice which made Jaskier feel incredible glad that his attempts to seduce her had failed.

Unlike most of the contestants, Jaskier wasn’t playing for the money. He’d been naive to think he’d be able to actually find love on the show. What had he been thinking? Everyone else was catty and brutal and he just wanted to be loved god damn it.

Although, the sex so far had been spectacular so who was he to complain?

“Where’s… who are you paired with at the moment?” Valdo glowered at him, with unfairly pretty green eyes.

Ok so maybe he was that attractive, but fuck Valdo. Not literally.

Unless….

No.

Bad Jaskier.

The man was an arsehole. He did not deserve to get fucked!

Jaskier sighed again and patted Valdo’s cheek. “Priscilla but she broke up with me.”

“And why did she do that?” Virginia asked.

“I made out with Aiden.” Jaskier hid his face n his hands and moaned. “but in my defence the challenge was to kiss who I thought would be best in bed! Priscilla is lovely and I really like her, but Aiden just looked like he could fuck the living daylights out of me, which incidentally he can.”

Jaskier’s attention was drawn away by a woman behind a nearby camera who was obviously trying to hide her laughter and failing. Most of the time Jaskier was able to ignore the cameras but sometimes they just really got on his nerves.

“I was being honest!” He snapped and pouted. “I thought honesty was the key to all healthy relationships.”

No one had a chance to reply as the elevator doors opened and a god of a man walked out.

“Holy shit.” Jaskier’s jaw dropped.

This was it. He was in love. The man had silver hair that looked like it had been woven out of moon beams. It was pulled back into a messy bun revealing a truly sinful undercut on both sides of the man’s head. He was wearing a loose black shirt with the top few buttons undone and the sleeves were rolled up to the elbows. He’d paired the shirt with some tight black jeans. Oh god his thighs could probably break Jaskier.

Jaskier let out a pathetic whimper.

The noise drew the hot guy’s attention and holy fucking cock balls… his eyes…

Jaskier was going to drown in those eyes. He licked his lips and he stared unabashedly at this fucking work of art, that is, until he was dumped on the floor by Valdo shoving him hard. “Oi! Fuck it, get off!” He yelped as he landed on his arse.

His eyes snapped back up to the new guy and he blushed. The man was smirking at him, clearly laughing at his misery. Jaskier gave a little wave and the scrambled to his feet so he could introduce himself. “Hi! I’m Jaskier!”

“Geralt.”

Jaskier could have melted on the spot. How was his voice that good? Fuck it was better than sex.

“Jaskier.” He replied and then swore. “I mean. I already said that. Hello.”

“You said that too.” Geralt chuckled.

“Well what else am I supposed to say? I just met you! I can hardly start asking you to bend me over that table and…” He cut himself off and clapped his hands to his lips.

“Shall we start again?” Geralt asked, still smirking although there was now a faint red blush on his cheeks, probably embarrassed by Jaskier’s outburst. He extended his hand, which, Jaskier noted with absolute delight, had a bi wristband tied neatly on it. “I’m Geralt.” Jaskier grinned and shook Geralt’s hand, making sure his own matching wristband was on display. “Jaskier Pankratz. Nice to meet you.”

“Cut the cameras!” A voice called out through the speakers. “Everyone, we have a newbie Geralt Rivia. He’ll be joining and he will be leading our next challenge. We love the drama but try and give the man a warm welcome. Jaskier! Excellent. We’ll work with that. The viewers are going to love it! Ok. Rolling!”

Jaskier groaned and gave Geralt a sheepish smile. “Urgh. I’m sorry. Looks like they’ll be pairing us together for a few challenges.”

Geralt frowned. “Can you say that with the cameras running?”

Jaskier shrugged. “Not everything makes the cut. They get a lot of footage. There’s a whole bunch of people not even here that are being filmed right now. It’ll get cut and pasted until they get what they want.”

“So why did they cut the cameras?”

“Important announcement. Make sure people are actually listening. I doubt they actually stop rolling.”

“Hmm.”

“Sooooo….” Jaskier linked his arm with Geralt’s. “Did you want the tour?”

Geralt laughed. “Will there be any tables?”

Jaskier tripped up instantly and spluttered as Geralt caught him around the waist. “Geralt!” He choked.

“Relax, Jaskier. I was joking.”

“I should hope so!”

“Mostly.”

“Geralt!”

_____________________

Four days in and Geralt was more relaxed than he thought he would be. Most of the contestants gave Geralt a wide berth. He was more than a little out of place. He wasn’t really sure how he’d ended up being chosen. The rest of the contestants flirted easily and could all talk for hours about their ‘types’ and what they were looking for in a partner.

When asked Geralt had just shrugged, he’d glanced over at Jaskier who had been busy braiding Priscilla’s hair and not paying much attention. Jaskier was currently paired with Priscilla, they’d been arguing when Geralt had first joined the hotel but had since rekindled their love, if you could call it that. Geralt had ended up pairing with Kiera. She was pretty enough and had taken a shine to him during his first challenge. He wasn’t that interested in her but he’d promised Yen that he would give the show a fair shot. So he was trying.

“What about you, Buttercup?” Priscilla winked at Jaskier.

“Oh umm. Me? Fair hair, pretty eyes… a voice like a dream.” He sighed wistfully and Priscilla turned to kiss him.

Geralt averted his eyes. He didn’t enjoy it when they kissed. It made him… uncomfortable.

Yen would say jealous but Geralt scoffed at that. Jaskier was his friend. They often hung out around the hotel when they weren’t being filmed with their respective partners. Jaskier was the only one Geralt felt he could really talk to. He let Geralt talk for far too long about Roach and the other horses at the ranch. Kiera had just laughed and made a joking about riding Geralt then shut him up with a kiss.

It wasn’t a bad kiss. It was just not what he’d been expecting from a partner.

He was on the wrong show.

Geralt groaned. “I’m going to my room.” He muttered. “Headache.”

Jaskier jumped up. “Are you ok, Geralt?” The brunet put a hand on Geralt’s arm and looked at him with such open affection that it made Geralt ache.

Fuck.

He was falling in love with him.

Geralt pulled away sharply. “Fine.”

“Oh. Right then. I’ll just, I’ll be here if you need me then.” Jaskier mumbled and slunk back over to Priscilla, taking her hand and decidedly not looking at Geralt.

“Fine.” Geralt repeated and fled the room, glaring at the camera man on his way past. He just needed to get away and be alone for a bit.

________________________

“I just. I don’t know what to do!!” Jaskier whined as he shifted in the armchair for the third time that minute, moving so his feet were draped over the back of the chair and he was hanging upside down over the edge. “Priscilla is very pretty and we both like music. We’re thinking we could start a band after this is all over, compose music together. She’s incredibly talented, maybe even better than I am, and oh ho! Let me tell you that I don’t say that very often!”

“So what’s the problem?” The person behind the camera asked.

“I just don’t love her. I thought I did but then in walked Geralt and it was like the universe rearranged itself and Geralt was in the centre.”

“How poetic.”

“Yes, yes.” Jaskier waved his hand and then scrambled up so he could sit cross-legged on the chair. He was getting head rush from being upside down. “It all sounds like a bad rom com but I swear. God, and then he had the audacity to be kind!”

“Not many people see him that way.”

“Bollocks!” Jaskier glowered at the camera. “He’s just shy but once you get him talking I swear he’s worse than me. Oh and his sweet darling Roach, has he shown you a photograph? No? Well that is tragic. She’s gorgeous. Stupid name for a horse though. Oh and he has this collection of little horse figurines that he paints. It’s just the sweetest. I swear if he proposed tomorrow I would say yes.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah….” He sighed longingly. “I could be Mrs Geralt Rivia. Oh wait no. Fuck! He’s going to see this eventually. Shit. Can you edit that out? What do you mean no?! Fuck!”

____________

Geralt stared at the envelope in his hands. It was the challenge of the day. It was almost the end of Geralt’s second week in the hotel and soon people were going to get eliminated. He almost hoped it would be him, except that would mean leaving Jaskier behind. He wondered whether they could exchange contact details before he left. No, that would be weird. Jaskier was still paired with Priscilla.

Kiera had thankfully moved on.

“Umm.” Geralt blushed as he reread the words. He hadn’t participated in one of the infamous kissing challenges yet. His first challenge had been more of a get to know you type, after that the worst thing he’d had to do was a strip dance to ‘Toxic’, that was bad enough. “I have to kiss the person that I’m most likely to propose to after we leave here.”

“Sweet mother of…” Jaskier groaned and Geralt turned to look at him.

His friend was already blushing although Geralt supposed it was rather warm in the hotel. It was supposed to encourage the contestants to wear skimpy outfits to lure in more viewers. Jaskier as a result seemed to never be able to do his shirt up properly. The dark chest hair that trailed down into Jaskier’s tight fitting denim shorts drove Geralt mad. How anyone could resist the urge to pin Jaskier down and kiss every inch of his chest, was beyond Geralt.

Perhaps Yen had been right. Perhaps he really did need to get laid.

“Seems a bit forward.” Geralt muttered. “I’m not even paired with anyone.”

“Oh just snog someone already. Propose!?” Valdo scoffed. “This isn’t Married at First Sight.”

Valdo was right. This was too personal. He couldn’t.

“You don’t have to do it, Geralt.” Jaskier’s hand was on his cheek. “Let’s just say you have to kiss the person you think is cutest. We’ll all agree on that.”

“I won’t.” Kiera muttered.

“Shhh!” Jaskier hissed at her. “The challenge is a dig at me, something I said in the diary room. You shouldn’t have been dragged into it.”

“Hmm.” Geralt leant into Jaskier’s hand before he knew what he was doing. Jaskier had always been generous with the casual touches and Geralt lived for every single one. He hadn’t realised how much he’d been craving that physical touch before he’d met Jaskier. “Ok.” He nodded.

“Ok?” Jaskier asked, letting out a shaky breath and pulling back slightly but Geralt gripped onto his wrist to stop him.

“I can do it. The challenge.” He nodded.

It was now or never.

He loved Jaskier. He wasn’t ashamed to admit it. It was fast but then the circumstances weren’t exactly normal. They’d been living in each other’s pockets for two weeks and Geralt loved him.

He lunged forward before he could lose his nerve and captured Jaskier’s lips in a bruising kiss, cupping Jaskier’s cheeks in his hands to hold him close. Jaskier melted against him and wrapped his arms around Geralt’s neck, returning the kiss eagerly and moaning as their lips parted. Geralt had been dreaming of kissing Jaskier ever since the brunet had licked his lips when Geralt had first laid eyes on him. Every time Jaskier chewed on his bottom lip Geralt had imagined running his thumb along the soft pink skin and gently pulling it away from his teeth. Now all Geralt wanted to do was bite it for himself, so he did. Jaskier let out a sinful moan and pushed his body up against Geralt.

Geralt’s head began to spin. God the things he wanted to do to Jaskier. The noises he could pull from him. “Jaskier.” He breathed as he reluctantly let Jaskier go, resting his forehead against Jaskier’s and running his thumb along his cheek.

“Uh huh…” Jaskier mumbled and gripped onto the fabric of Geralt’s shirt. “Winter wedding then?”

Geralt laughed. “How about dinner first?”

Jaskier scoffed and buried his head against Geralt’s neck. “Fine, a spring wedding then.”

“Hmm.” Geralt muttered and kissed Jaskier’s hair. “We’ll see.”

_____

More witcher fun

[ackermaniacc]

SNK CHAPTER 138 THOUGHTS and questions because I’m confused as fuck

Please don’t shit on me, its just my opinion.

1. HOW COULD I BE SO DUMB not noticing the very subtle hints of eremika. I’m not much of an eremika shipper because it always seemed very one-sided, but seeing that it is canon makes this story sooooo much sadder.

We see that after Mikasa gets a headache, she sees an alternate reality in which she and Eren run away from all of this and just live a happy remaining 4 years. But in this alternate reality, they have abandoned all their comrades, and all the people they care about including Armin and Historia. They’ve given up on trying to save Paradis and decide to be selfish. WHICH IS JUST SAD! Even if they decided to be selfish, they will be plagued with betraying the other people they care about. It just (sadly) couldn’t be a possibility for them to settle down. Is there really happiness in that?

ANYWAYS, back in Chapter 123 (?), Mikasa decided not to be honest when Eren asked her what he was to her, in which she replies “family”. Eren decided to continue on with his plan as a result. But like wasn’t it so obvious that Mikasa loved him? Why did he need to ask her that if he knew she would up and leave with him anytime he asked her to?

(EDIT: Okay, Mikasa wouldn’t up and leave. She knows better than that and will not go against her morals to be with Eren as you have seen in the past few chapters where she is well aware of what is right and wrong)

I think regardless of Mikasa’s answer, Eren would still continue his rumbling plan. Did he send her these visions as a way of confessing to her? To show her that he did consider or imagine a world in which they could be together? Maybe it gave her closure, allowing her to act the way she did, with a happy face, showing that maybe she understands his intentions (?)

2. THE ACKERPARALLELS!! I KNEW IT!! Throughout this manga, I’ve noticed multiple similarities between Mikasa and Levi, who:

Both decapitate the Jaeger bros

Say “See you..” to the people they love or care about deeply

Look after Gabi uwu

And more that I can’t recall right now

Totally unrelated: but I think levihan is canon and honestly I aint complaining ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Like I mentioned a while back, I have a feeling that Mikasa is going to lose all the people she cares about just like Levi T-T Highkey hoping every titan related thing will just get reversed (including Ymir’s curse), bringing me to my next point-

3. GDI JEAN, CONNIE AND EVERYONE ELSE?!?!

I had to go through those pages 5 times because I was so shook. Not sure what exactly was going on but I’m assuming that the centipede thing did that to all the eldians? We see that the centipede has this insane will to live and hence why its literally letting all hell break loose. But I swear I thought I saw the centipede outside of Eren so why is Mikasa decapitating him? I figured that if that centipede died then all these problems would be solved? Maybe once that centipede dies, all those eldians will turn back to normal? I’M REALLY HOPING THATS THE CASE THOUGH!! Jean and Connie didn’t go through all the shit for this to happen to them, it just seemed so random.

Not to mention that Falco had gone so far to protect Gabi and now she’s also a mindless titan? There’s no way Isayama would build up such relationships and feelings only for it to end like this. BUT then again, this is Isayama we’re talking about and he just loves to see us cry LMAO

4. How did Levi know they were all gonna turn into titans? Also made me think about that scene where all the survey corps members turned into titans while Levi didn’t. I had always thought he didn’t turn into a titan because he didn’t drink Zeke’s spinal fluid but could it be because he was simply an Ackerman?

Edit: OK just noticed they all turned to titans because that centipede was emitting some kinda titan gas. Excuse my slow brain

ALRIGHT end of my rant aka my barrage of questions. After typing this I realized that I’m even more confused than I was before LOL

[we-always-hit-our-ass]

Flyboy (Floyd Talbert x Female! Reader)

this is my first fanfic, like EVER.  and i really wanted to write for Band of Brothers for a really long time now. sooo here’s my best shot at it. an i know this trope has been done a lot buuuut i can’t help myself. i hope i did well on my first ever fanfic

Description- It’s been a while since you had the time to enjoy yourself, and you finally get to spend it with the boys at the Currahee Party. As the night goes on, the boys decide you had a little too much fun after making a bet with Joe Toye. On the journey back to the barracks, you drunkenly slip out a few words to a certain guy you have your eyes on. 

Words- about 3.7k (oh wow)

Warnings- intense drinking, and vulgar language(i mean… it’s the Easy boys) rest is just fluff an two idiots fallin for each other ig <3

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

Adrenaline rushes through your veins, and you couldn’t help yourself from smiling the whole way down to the building where the party was gonna be held. You spent your time making sure you looked good. 

Hopefully good enough to catch that boy’s attention… Ever since you met him at Camp Toccoa, all of your thoughts were occupied by who other than Floyd Talbert. 

The way he looked in his PT uniform, his God-awful jokes, and that goofy smile of his. Any woman would have to be mad to turn Floyd Talbert down.

You two would joke like no tomorrow, and some of the Easy Company men would say that you two would make a good couple (to both of you guys’ embarrassment, but you two lowkey kind of like it).

 You don’t really hang out with him as much as yo, Liebgott, Bill, and Frank do, sadly. But you both made sure to make the moments you two spend together last.

He was like an angel, and he never fails to make your day just a tad bit brighter. No matter how many times Sobel punishes you, if you get to his cute face or hear his sweet voice, guess what? Everything else but him doesn’t seem to matter anymore.

It was understatement that thinking of him led you to getting into trouble by Sobel.  How many times did he make you run up that fucking hill just because you were distracted by some annoying, pissy, and undeniably cute bastard? 

You gave up on keeping track after the fifth time.

No matter how many times you try to push him out of your head, he somehow keeps crawling back.  You just wished that he would see you more than his best friend. And that was the one thing you hated about yourself… 

But this night wasn’t about him. Oh no, this is the night where you finally get off Camp Toccoa and escape Sobel’s never ending complaints.  You finally got the jump wings you and you’re boys deserved. 

After this, you’re gonna fight at Normandy and you're gonna show America the greatest soldier in existence. But it couldn’t hurt to catch his eye at this party tonight. Sooooo... 

You dressed to impress.

You made damn sure that everything about was absolutely perfect. Some light makeup to highlight your key features and to make your lips and (E/C) eyes pop. You decided to leave your (H/L) hair down and to slightly curl your (H/C) locks. 

The day you wouldn’t be soldiers’ eyes with the way you looked tonight was the day hell would freeze over. The way you looked tonight and you couldn’t help but be flattered when the boys whistled and complimented you on your look.

“Golly (Y/N), who are you tryna impress tonight? And oh Lord, please tell me it’s not Sobel.” Perconte jokes at you, wrapping an arm around your soldiers.

“Relax, relax, you sure as hell know it isn’t Sobel. I’m doing this for myself.” You throw your subtle lie at Perconte while nudging his arm off.

“You see boys, this is where I call bull. No matter how many times we go to bars, not one time, not ever have you ever put in this much effort.” 

“Shut up Perco, I never put effort because I know I already look good. Unlike a certain someone I know.” 

Your (E/C) eyes drift over to Perconte’s and you decide to lightly ruffle his hair before you jokingly punch his arm. Even though you were smiling, you were, in all honesty, a nervous wreck inside. The cogs and gears in your brain kept turning and, damn, was it giving you a headache. 

You were trying really hard to catch his eye tonight, and you weren’t going to let this opportunity slip by your fingers so easily. Fingers nervously patted down your uniform for any creases. Your arms reached to adjust the hell out of your hat. 

You twirled your strands of (H/C) hair on your fingers out of nervousness. Lastly, you decide to fix the tan skirt that hugged your legs ever so nicely. The pads of your fingers were turning ghostly white from how hard you were gripping the ends of your blazer. 

Huffing out in exasperation, you decide to run your hands to smooth down your uniform for what seemed like ages.Joe, like the older brother that he is to you, walks over like he somehow notices your nervousness.

Steady arms wrap against your shoulders as he pulls you to his side. His eyes glance over at your anxious face before starting to speak. 

“Hey c’mon, doll, what’cha nervous for? You look beautiful enough, I mean it. Now stop fussing over your clothes or else you won’t have hands before we even get to Normandy.” 

Joe’s words reassure you and you look up and stare ahead at the dirt road in front of you.

“God! When I’m done, my liver’s gonna shut down,” Guarnere states loudly, cigarette between his lips and arms reaching over to pull you and Perco close to him. 

“And both of you assholes better make sure the replacement that comes afterwards comes just as close as being as hot as me!”

A breathy laugh escapes your lips at Guarnere’s words, the beam in your eyes never leaving since Easy Company got the news that there would be a party just for them. With good food, no Sobel getting annoyed for no valid reason, and beer.

Lots, and lots, and lots of beer.

 And that was what caught all of Easy Company’s attention.

“Not on my watch Billy-boy. Wouldn’t want a freshman who could only aim his piss instead of his shot to replace Ol’ Gonorrhea! Don’t you think so (Y/N)?” 

Perconte’s eyes turn to you, lips pulling upward into a smirk.

“Well in that case, I wouldn’t mind if some newbie replaces Old Faithful over there.” 

You joke, making sure to raise your eyebrows and to look at Bill to look at his reaction.

“C’mon (Y/N), I bet you only want that because you don’t want competition!”

 He shows off his famous eat-shitting grin while he nudges your arm slightly.

 “I swear on my life that I could be dancing, spinning, and reciting three passages from the Bible, and I could still shoot a Kraut from 1000 feet better than you.”

“You talk a lot of shit for a sober man, Guarno.” 

Finally making it to the building. Bill opens the door and you, Perconte, and Liebgott walk inside.Your eyes were met by all of the Easy Company getting absolutely wasted. 

You even quickly lost count of how many men were downing glass after glass and how many men were already halfway to heaven. Shouts and cheers filled the air and your once anxious mood dissipated at an instant. 

You turn your head to look at your buddies before Bill cracked a smile.

“Try not to die before me, alright you pricks?”

Rolling his eyes, Joe flicks Bill’s forehead and you chuckled for a few good seconds. 

“No promises Bill.” 

Bill smacks your’s and Joe’s heads before walking over to sit at an empty seat with Bull. 

Frank leaves the doorway to saunter over to Johnny. Joe flashes a quick grin and gives you a pat on the back before quickly joining Bill and sitting at another empty seat at the table. 

A smile tugged at your lips as you spotted two of your best friends at the bar.  Walking briskly to the surprisingly not the occupied bar, you throw a smile at Toye and a wink at George, who gladly returns it.

“Now tell me (Y/N), how much money are ya willin’ to bet that I could drink more rounds of beers than you?” 

You scoff loudly as you smack Toye’s shoulder.

“Are you kidding? I could drink three times as much as you can Toye. So unless you’re planning to lose good money, then I suggest you drop this.”

“5 bucks, (L/N), take it or leave it.”

“I’m not stupid enough to pass up a bet that I know I’m winning. Count me in Toye, but you’re gonna regret this.”

The glare he gave you made you burst out laughing and after recovering you gave your attention to George. You lean over the counter to put your hand on George’s shoulder while beaming him a cheeky smile.

“Alright Georgie, you heard us. You’ll be the judge, okay? Now hurry up and pour us our drinks, I'm looking forward to a real nice hangover in the morning.” 

“Aye aye, private.”

Plopping back down to your seat, your eyes wandered across the room and, boom, there he was in all of his glory. Floyd Talbert, stealer and breaker of hearts. 

Your stare lingers for what seems like days and you can feel the blood rushing to your cheeks. My God, you could never get enough of him, no matter what you may push yourself to think. 

He was already a bit tipsy, you observed. Slowed down movements, slurred speech, and rosy cheeks. All of a sudden those beautiful chestnut eyes of his met your (e/c) ones. 

You could’ve sworn that his face was getting redder after you two made eye contact.

 You were sure that yours was. 

The world kind of started to slow down, and it felt that you and Floyd were the only people in that room. His goofy smile made you return one of your own while the world continued to dance around you.

 You were hypnotized by Floyd, there was no other explanation.

 Little did you know that he was feeling the same.

Not wanting your little encounter to be awkward, you decided to give him a demure smile while raising your hand to wave at him. You giggled like a schoolgirl when you saw him waving back at you, glass of beer still in his hand. 

Almost forgetting about your bet with Toye, you suddenly yelped when Joe came to tap on your shoulder.

“Yoo-hoo, earth to (L/N)? Don’t tell me that you’re drunk already, though i’m not complaining. I’ll be all too happy to get 5 bucks from you.”

Joe smirked as he watched you recollect yourself from your flustered state, failing to come up with sentences and only managing to stammer words that didn’t make sense.  Joe laughs before rubbing your shoulders to help you calm down a little. The clinking of glasses on the wooden surface causes you to look up at George.

“Two beers for the lovely couple, now just call me up if ya need more. Or throw your glass at me, either one works.”

After throwing a light glare at George you face Joe, who smirks at you, thinking that you’ll be done after two glasses. 

Well he’s wrong, cause you know you can handle more than two glasses. 

“Good luck.”

“I don’t need it Joey. No need for luck when I know I’m going to win.”

George then counted down from…

“One…”

“Two…” 

“Three…”

“Go!”

And as soon as George shouted those words from his lips, you and Toye rushed to get your drinks and down them as fast as you can. George couldn’t even see your arms move for your glasses. 

You quickly brought the cool glass to your mouth and downed the liquid like your life depended on it.  It burned as it went down your throat, but you could care less. You just needed fun and those five bucks tonight.

When you finished you slammed the glass hard on the table, so hard that you feared you could’ve left a dent on the wooden counter. You slammed back your empty glass about the same time Joe did. 

You both desperately called out for George and George hurried over to take your cups and refill them.

“Didn’t think you’d make it this far, Joey.” You directed at him a teasing grin and were met by a playful roll of his eyes.

George came as fast as he could and slammed the two glasses in a similar manner as he did before. Like before, you and Joe rushed for your glasses and heaved them up faster than light. 

Soon a crowd started to form around the two of you. The bar suddenly became louder than before and your adrenaline burst through the roof. However, now that Floyd was in the crowd, you couldn’t help but burn up again. (E/C) eyes flickered over the crowd, searching for him. 

When your eyes finally landed on him, you couldn’t be more surprised when he was already staring at you.  The slamming of the glasses caught your attention and you proceeded to gulp the amber liquid.

Round after round of beers, you started to feel lightheaded. The lights seemed to blind you and the pounding your head was only made worse by the cheers and shouts of the crowd around you.  You would be lying if you said you weren’t drunk. Images were blurry and sounds weren’t as clear as they were supposed to be.You could barely make out any sentences or words that anyone was saying. 

Mumbled words and incoherent sentences passed by your lips, and you could barely look straight ahead without seeing double. You swear you were on your 30th glass of beer…  You looked over at Joe and he didn’t seem to be better than you were.

“Alright kiddos, last round. You two don’t look so good.” George muttered, or at least that’s what you think he did.

The redundant sound of the glass slamming on to the wood barely registered in your mind before your whole head became too heavy for your neck to support. The last thing you felt was your forehead making hard contact with the wooden surface of the bar counter. 

The last thing you heard was the crowd yelling and your friends shouting for someone to help you.

The last thing you saw were those beautiful chestnut eyes and softly tousled dark brown hair.

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

You groaned as you felt your body being shaken and as your eyes slowly opened, you could start to make out gentle words being said in your direction.  Slowly but surely, you start to gain back your consciousness. 

The quiet was the first thing that hit you. The loud yelling and shouting and the clinking of glasses of beer seem to have disappeared. Suddenly you come to your senses that you’re not in the bar anymore. 

You swiftly turned your head around to see exactly where you were, but that only seemed to give you a headache. Groaning out, you raised your to feel something for support. 

“Don’t worry, (Y/N), I got you now.”

A sudden burst of energy went through you when you heard the voice. 

You, slowly now, turned your head to see who was talking to you. Your vision was still blurry, and the pounding in your head still hasn’t stopped.

“Joey- That you- no, no, no… Are you Percy? Perseus…? Oh! Perco… No. It doesn’t sound like you. Ahhh. You’re Guadamalarkey, I don’t know. That doesn’t seem right…” 

You called out a few names, but none of the names seemed to fit with the voice you just heard. You continued to slur and ramble incoherently, but you were stopped when the voice started again.

“You’re that drunk? Thought you could recognize me by now.”

Huh? Who’s he-

Oh.

OH.

“Flyboy? Is that you...?”

 “Jesus (Y/N), Flyboy? C’mon, we should get you to bed.”

“Yeeah.. Flyboy… Flyboy Tablets. Right?”

 You muttered quietly, still unknowingly clinging on to his crisp blazer. Floyd laughed, and there it is again. The blushing and the stammering.  Floyd didn’t really seem to notice though, as he was enraptured by your parted lips, glazed eyes, and the soft yet husky ramblings of your drunk self.

“Close enough, (Y/N). We really need to go get you to bed, okay?”

Soft, gentle circles were rubbed on your back, and it worked slightly enough to calm you down and to stop the dizziness and lightheadedness. Floyd picked you up gingerly from the dirt road you were sitting on for the past few couple of minutes.

He helped you get up, and you clumsily wiped off any dirt that was clinging on to your uniform.  Floyd had carefully put your arm over his shoulder and gingerly wrapped his other arm around your waist.

 A slight pink tinge appeared on his cheeks as he looked over at you. 

What he would do to kiss those lips of yours. He mentally scolded himself for thinking about you in that way while you were under the very, very heavy influence of alcohol at the moment. 

Floyd was taking his time when helping you walk. He kicked tiny rocks and pebbles out of the way to make sure you wouldn’t trip, and every time you would stumble he would put his arm in front of you, while his hand was tightly gripping on your blazer. 

After a few minutes of walking, you turned to him with your glazed (E/C) eyes and ever so slightly leaned in closer to him. You two stopped near the barracks, just outside of it really.

The sky was dark and stars were shining, it once again felt like they were the only people in the entire world.

“You know, Flyboy… I- I liked you ever since I saw you… Like.. l-like like, I suppose?”

Did he- Did he hear right?  Floyd knew he wasn’t as drunk as you, but he had to have been drunk enough to have had heard whatever you were saying.  There is no possible way that he had just heard you say those words correctly. 

His eyes widened and no amount of drinking could have made his cheeks burn red brighter than right now.  Floyd’s breathing slowly picked as he looked over at your disheveled, yet oddly cute and beautiful appearance. 

You were so, so, so close… 

Just one more inch and his lips would be touching yours.. But he controlled himself, and urged himself to listen to your slurred speech. 

“An- and- every time, every single goddamn time, I h-hung out with you... The feelings just got wor-worse… I really didn’t want to like yoooou.”

Oh yeah, he was definitely drunk.

“But I couldn’t stop… You know? I really like yo-you, Flyboy… I think I love you too.. Really love you… You just make me so happy and you could make me sm-sm…. Smile.”

You continued while smiling like an idiot, and Floyd was burning up by the second.

“No matter how many times that prick Sable curses at me, just o-one good look at you. My troubles are awaaaay..”

“You’re really drunk, (Y/N), you’re probab-”

“But I do! I really do, Flyboy…” 

You suddenly whined out, interrupting him. You knew what he was going to say, and you had to prove to him that you really did love him from the start. 

You were burning up so fast already. Whether from the alcohol or from your close proximity to Floyd, you really didn’t know. Floyd really didn’t know how to respond, but he thought that since you were drunk, whatever he’s going to say to you… You’ll forget it in the morning.

“(Y/N), I-I know you’re just drunk. And that you’ll forget this shitfest in the morning. But I actually lik-love you too. You’re so smart,” 

He says while caressing your (S/C) skin, leaving goosebumps where he touched.

“So beautiful and funny,” His fingers brushed over your parted lips and your breath hitched for the 100th time in this minute.

“And so fucking brave and kind.” Floyd quietly murmured, only intending for only him and you to hear.

 He looks up to your dazzling (E/C) eyes with his equally stunning chestnut ones. You stare at each other, and you could see nothing but warmth and pure, genuine love inside of his irises. 

He takes his time to examine your face again. You rest in comfortable silence, the only sounds you could hear were both Floyd’s and your heavy breathing.

“I don’t care if you’re gonna forget my words tomorrow… I just need to get it off my fucking chest… I love you. I love you so much (Y/N), and I literally don’t know what I’m going to do without you.. When I saw you looking like that, my heart burst…”

Now you knew you were really drunk, and you stood there in shock, stupefied reaction pasted over your face.

“Every time you’re talking with any of those guys. I just… I get so jealous, but I'm too much of a coward to let you know how I feel.”

How many times have you blushed or had your breath taken away because of this guy?  But he still continues, glancing up and down between your hands woven between his and your alluring (E/C) eyes. 

“You’re perfect to me, and fuck what anybody else says, ok? And I know you’ll just forget this in the morning bu-”

Without any thought crossing through your mind, you yanked on his tie and pulled him towards your face. 

Finally, finally! 

After months and months that turned into years of pining… You were finally kissing Floyd fucking Talbert. 

His wide eyes slowly closed as both of you melted in each other’s touch. His arm snaked around your waist so your chest was flush against his. He reached up, fingers following your jawline and slowly making its way to run its way through your disheveled (H/C) hair. 

The kiss was so tender, and you could’ve died right there on the spot. The lips you imagined kissing you all over were right there. You couldn’t help but want more.

You wrapped your arm around neck, and tilted your head slightly to deepen the kiss. (S/C) colored hands running through his short, soft hair, slightly pulling on the roots.

Truly, nothing else mattered, and you two were finally one.

As you two broke the kiss, your eyes slowly wandered up to meet his. You were entranced to see that he loved that kiss just as much as you did.

You two gasped for air and your chests were heaving up and down. 

Love was all you really felt right now. 

Drunk or not, you both really didn’t care. 

“I know I’m not going to forget this in the morning… Now will you shut up and kiss me again, Flyboy?”

And he did.

 Over, and over, and over again.

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

“SEE I TOLD YOU SHE WAS TRYNA IMPRESS SOMEONE!”

“Shut up, Percy!”

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whoooo what a doozy, gonna write speirs next ;)))))

 btw sorry for any grammar/spelling mistakes or making any characters too OOC

5 bucks back then is like about 74-76 dollars today

[paodequeijofeliz-blog]

I won’t take risks

Bloodbound Fanfiction (characters and main story belongs to Pixelberry Studios).

Pairing: Kamilah Sayeed and MC (Annie)

Information: this takes place after Bloodbound 3, but I made a few changes. In my story, MC was never Turned because Gaius wasn’t able to hit her. Also, the world don’t know anything about vampires yet, just a few people (politicians, scientists...). It’s a working progress.

Summary: News about a new virus spreading on China makes Kamilah worry about her human and the vampire holds no effort to make sure Annie will be safe. Even if it means not touching her for months.

Warnings: none, just fluff.

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4

I WON’T TAKE RISKS - PART 5 (Finale)

         “LILY!” – if anyone had doubts about the girl’s headaches being really gone, that solved it. Annie screamed and laughed so loudly when she saw Lily that now Kamilah was the one feeling a pinch on her forehead. – “OH MY OH MY OH MY YOU’RE HERE!!!”

           “YEAH, GIRL!” – Lily jumped from the chair to take Anna into a huge hug. Both of them, clumsy as they were, fell on the floor immediately.

           “She certainly seems recovered” – Adrian laughed. His voice captured Annie’s attention and soon the human was there hugging him too. – “I’m glad to see you ok, Ann.”

           They had set a beautiful breakfast table for her. And it seemed like no one had eaten yet, waiting for the girl to be awake. Annie was sure Kamilah threatened then not to touch anything. After those couple days of vomiting and nausea, she knew her wife would wake up especially hungry.

           “Man, the waffles are sooooo good” – even though Lily had been plenty healthy, she was eating as much as Anna.

           “I know” – the girl chuckled, looking straight at Kamilah. – “They were made by a very special chef.”

           The Vampire Queen looked away but there was a small smile on the corner of her mouth.

           “So, is it truly over?” – asked Adrian. – “No more locking in the basement, no more poker night through the glass?”

           “Yes. Now she is immune and safe. There’s absolutely no risk.” – Kamilah took a sip of black coffee.

           “But I still think poker nights should become a thing, though.” – Lily lifted her fork, swinging a piece of strawberry while talking. – “The Baron agrees with anything if we put some whisky and poker chips on the table. That’s good, right?”

           Kamilah sighed. “It’s rather unprofessional”.

           “Maybe we could make then only a few times. Like once every two months.” Adrian winked at Lily. It was easier to win if they moved slowly.

           “A fin tis a gud dea” – muffled Annie with her mouth filled with cake.

           “Charming, my love.” Although Kamilah shook her head, she was still deadly happy to see Anna eating her food with such an enthusiasm.

           “I said I think this is a good idea” – she repeated after swallowing. – “And I also think we should consider including monopoly nights too.”

           “The last time you two played monopoly, I came here to find a literal pillow wall in the middle of the apartment.” – Adrian lifted his gaze to Lily, worried. The younger vampire agreed eagerly by nodding her head.

           “Because Kamilah cheated.” – Annie didn’t even stumble to say that.

           “WHAT?” – the vampire almost fell out of the chair. – “How dare you, mortal? I have never cheated on a game!”

           “Ha! You pretended to forget paying taxes when it was your turn. And I’m pretty sure you took some money from the cashier.”

           “Of course not! I won a fair game because you got lost and spent all of your money on useless things. I told you to build a strategy.”

           “Then now I’ll be the cashier and yall see the difference.” – Annie crossed her arms, eyes narrowing. – “You won’t be able to cheat, bloodsucker.”

           “Humpf” – Kamilah pinched the bridge of her nose. – “Mortals”

           “Okay, okay, and that’s why we’ll let monopoly rest a little bit longer at my place. Fine? Fine.” – Lily interrupted at the sight of Adrian’s pleading face. – “And uno too. No one wants to repeat what happened that night.”

           Now Kamilah’s gaze moved to the side, locking eyes with Adrian.

           “Yes, indeed. No one wants to remember how hundreds of years of friendship and support can be thrown away when your little brother betrays you and teams up with your wife.”

           “Wh-What? Wait, come on, you had won three times in a row, it was time for somebody else to have a victory.” Adrian gesticulated at Annie, asking for help.

           “Yeah, get over it, it was just a plus four.” – the girl agreed.

           “Battles, tears, pain, lost… All suddenly forgotten…” – Kamilah kept going on dramatically, her head shaking slightly. Annie noticed the acting tone on her voice and opened a huge smile.

           “You don’t fool me, Kami. You never do. I know the truth.” – she stood up and went to sit on the vampire’s lap, gently kissing her for a second. – “I know that who actually teamed up was you two. To let me win.”

           Lily laughed ironically, her attention lingering on the waffles. “Yeah, right. I doubt that. Kamilah would never lose on purpose.”

           Annie was still looking inside the brown eyes she loved the most.

           “For me, she would.” – a warm sparkled when she said those words, slowly pressing their foreheads together. – “I’d do the same.”

           Kamilah smiled at that beautiful sight, so genuinely happy for having her wife safe and sound in her arms. She held the girl’s waist with one hand, the other slowly moving to caress her face. Besides them, Adrian smiled at that vison. Kamilah was right after all.

           No one should take risks during a disease chaos.

[kinda-ooc-just-a-little]

L.O.V.E ME

Authors Note: This is a little fic for @just-some-friendlydrabs​ because her secret santa didn’t follow through what a little bitch. So I thought and wrote this up today for new years because new year kisses are so cliche but sweet. I don’t know how good it is, but i hope you enjoy it, you cutie!

This fic is based of the song L.O.V.E ME by Hayley Kiyoko, my lesbian goddess. Give it a quick listen below if you haven’t already!

 “I love her, but…”

“What the hell does that even mean?” You pondered in your head while trying to still your racing heart. Currently, you were attempting to relax on the couch in the ballroom of your agency that was hosting a new year’s party, everybody either dancing with their significant others or chatting on the side. Clutching your cup, you unsteadily took a sip while mulling over in your head a conversation you overheard between Shinji Nishiya and your current crush/like/love Yu Takeyama.

“Why don’t you just tell her?”

You heard Nishiya say, with a mention of your name. You really didn’t want to snoop, but the way his tone was and the way he said your name made you feel like it was some important tea about you. And well, you can’t help but snoop when it comes to gossip. So, you stayed in the hallway adjacent to hall they were talking in, hiding behind the wall, trying to make as little sound as possible.

“Because! We’re both Pro-heroes! You know how the media would eat that crap up. They probably wont leave us alone for months.” You heard Takeyama sigh and groan. “And besides, we work together. Messing up our relationship would be… awkward.”

“But… don’t you like her?” Nishiya asked. “Wouldn’t it be worth the cons?”

“I mean. I love her, but… I don’t know if I would want her to be with me. She’s still so new, I don’t want to screw up her popularity points for the new year.”

You grit your teeth, groaning as you threw your back against the couch while massaging the steadily growing headache. How the hell could she say she loved you but doesn’t want you to be with her. Was she not listening all the times you flirted with her? Or told her you really didn’t care about the popularity polls? Does she not get that you would go through heaven and hell for her just to hear her call you hers?

You looked around to see the countdown to midnight was in its last couple of minutes. You searched the crowd to find Takeyama, hopefully to maybe talk to her and tell her how you felt, but she was nowhere to be found. You didn’t want to go on a mad dog search for her when midnight was already so close, and you knew she always had her phone on her and turned on.

Fuck it.

You pull out your phone to send her a text.

All I wanna do is bust a move

You got me begging, "Pretty, please"

I would throw away all of my revenue

If you swear you'd never leave

Takeyama sighed and ran her hand through her hair as she leaned against the wall right outside the ball room everyone was currently partying in. She would love to just barge in and laugh and joke with everyone like she usually does, but she knew you were in there and there would be no way she could stop herself from throwing herself on you. Especially now, trying to recover from the four shots she chugged down as soon as she saw you enter the building.

God, you were so pretty, even more so in the new year’s outfit you picked. As soon as you said hello to her, all she wanted to do was lean down and tilt your chin up and kiss you on your pretty lips. But she controlled herself. She didn’t even know how you felt about her so it wouldn’t be right to steal a kiss without permission. But god, did she dream about grabbing you by the hips and just stare into those gorgeous irises of yours.

Takeyama groaned and buried her head in her hands. Is it too late to be that douche bag male protagonist and just, power walk in the ball room and steal a kiss before it’s too late?

Ping!

“Who would be texting me now?” Takeyama whispered to herself as she pulled out her phone. Her heart fluttered when she saw your name on her screen. Quickly opening the text, she held her breath:

-Hey, sooooo…. I know it’s almost new years but I need to tell you that I really really really like you. Like, like you. Might even love you.

-And I don’t care about the popularity polls. I told you this while trying to flirt with you

-Sorry. I over heard you talking to nishiya

-So yeah

 So girl, don't tell me you love me if you don't really want me

I'm working through my issues, yeah, I'm gonna kiss you

In front of everybody that wants to be your honey

And if you have a problem, don't tell me you love me

You sighed as you closed your phone, too scared to even see if she read it yet. Getting up from your seat, you decided to go get another drink to distract yourself from the anxiety suddenly budding within you. Maybe you should have waited? Maybe talk to her about it after the new year? You mulled over what you just did as you quickly poured your drink, not wanting anyone to notice the unsteadiness of your hand.

“Shit. Things are really going to be awkward until we talk about this.” You thought.

You walked back to your seat, only to see it was taken by a couple making googly eyes at each other. Silently cursing at them, you made your way to the back of the ball room, opposite of the T.V. where everyone’s attention was. You lean against the wall to see the countdown in its last thirty seconds.

“What’s already done is done.” You think. “No sense in worrying about it now.” Taking a sip, the countdown was now at twenty seconds. “Maybe I can talk to her the next time I see her.” Fifteen seconds. “When will I see her though?” Ten seconds. “Hopefully not long.” Five seconds. “Maybe, I should-”

You were thrown out of your thoughts when you felt a hand on your cheek and another on your neck, pulling you toward your side, right into the lips of Yu Takeyama. You almost dropped your cup, but you were shocked and frozen in place. You didn’t even notice you stopped breathing. Her lips tasted like strawberries, no doubt the lip gloss she puts on damn near every day that made her lips look so kissable and made you want a taste. Now here you were, with her giving you a taste of her soft lips on yours.

She pulled away, her face as red as the Christmas hat that she wore to go along with her Christmas dress. “Damn she looks cute.” You thought. “Nah, she looks cute every day.”

Unbeknownst to you, she was thinking the same thing about you. “S-sorry.” She said. “I should have probably asked before I kissed you but, your text made it seem like… well…”

You said nothing as you wrapped your arms around her neck and pulled her down into your lips, tasting strawberries again. She relaxed into your kiss, placing her hands on your hips, lightly gripping them. You both completely shut out the rest of the world, enjoying the feeling of finally holding each other. You hear her hum as you run a hand through her silky hair and you softly groaned as she ran her nails up and down your back, scratching lightly, making you arch your back into her.

You started to wonder if the kiss was making you dizzy or the heat of too many people in one room. Either way your head was spinning as you both slowly pull away, still holding onto each other.

Takeyama chuckled. “I’m guessing you didn’t mind it the first time?”

“Of course not. I’ve wanted this for a long time.” You said as you grinned at her. “Why the change in heart?”

“I just realized that losing you is much worse than you losing some stupid popularity contest.” She lowered her eyes and gently placed her forehead on yours. “Hope you don’t mind?”

You closed your eyes and sighed, relishing in her aura. “For you? I would have you kiss me in front of every camera.”

“Good. Because I noticed a lot of people in here chatting you up all night.” She started massaging her thumbs into your hips. “I wanted to let them know who you belong to.”

“Please that’s my line.” You said as you opened your eyes to meet hers. “Too many people want you. Didn’t think I had a chance.”

“I’ve always wanted you.” She glanced down to your lips and back to your eyes. “Only you.”

“Well, I’m here.” You inched forward slowly. “Only for you.”

You both closed your eyes, slowly reaching each other’s lips and-

“Excuse me! Are you both an item now?!”

You opened your eyes to flashes of cameras and reporters with recorders asking questions over each other. You glanced at Takeyama. All she gave you was a shrug and a grin as she captured your lips.

You smiled into the kiss, thinking you could get used to this.

  L-O-V-E me, let me be, be your company

H-E-L-L-O, let me know if you wanna go

L-O-V-E me, let me be, be your company

H-E-L-L-O, let me know if you wanna go

[collecting-stories]

omg i love hearing about you & your sister. please tell more! 🏖 also, my great grandfather had a huge stamp collection & left them to my mom when he passed & now i have them. seriously in love.

Stamps are BEAUTIFUL honestly...I feel like Richard Gilmore like someday I’m gonna be an old man in a tweed suit jacket with patches on the elbows, smoking a pipe and looking through my stamp collection like ‘ah yes the 1888 speciality blah blah blah’😂

Oh okay, so as I said, it doesn’t matter what happens like if it involves my family some crazy shit is bound to happen! It’s truly a gift we have. Last year was the death of our van ‘The Beast’ which in itself was a blessing because that van was a piece of shit. Our new van is actually new (because the first three vans we had were all hand-me-downs...omg the stories I could tell you about the first two!!) So we’re in the Beast and we arrive, on my sister’s birthday, to see Ariana Grande. My mom and I weren’t going in...it was my sister, her best friend, and my youngest sister. 

So we pull in and park and we go to let the lift down and it stops...the whole car DIES!! Everything goes!!! So we’re like, what the fuck cause we’re thirty minutes from home and when your car breaks down with a wheelchair in it you can’t just call a tow and get a taxi home. ESPECIALLY when your sister can’t be lifted from her chair by hand. (She has a rod in her back for her scoliosis and can’t twist her back so we move her from bed to chair with a motorized lift.) ANYWAY so we have to hand crank the lift down and it’s sooooo slow and it’s this little handle that looks like your building something from Ikea with it and you just turn and turn and turn....my arm was ready to snap off!!! So we get her out of the van, the lift is fully down, and they go inside. Meanwhile we’re like ‘what the fuck are we doing if this van doesn’t work’. 

Inside they had a shit time with the lift that goes up to the handicap section and had to argue with security and go to the help desk and generally every aspect of the evening BUT Ariana Grande was a massive fucking headache! Also, my youngest sister Danielle got in trouble from a security guard while they were waiting in the merch line because she called Gill a ‘fucking cripple bitch’ which the mom in front of them was not amused by. (btw, Gill is fine with it and we’d never say anything to her that she wasn’t okay with). 

So they come out from the concert and by some crazy fate the car is working (there are two batteries and only one died). So it’s 2am and we get off the highway at our exit...which is in a questionable neighborhood btw. So we’re just off the highway and all of the sudden ALL THE LIGHTS DIE! The gages go and my mom is coasting the car for the next ten minutes home with no idea how fast she was going and no headlights whatsoever!!!

We pull all the way into our driveway and the WHOLE FUCKING THING DIES!!! Again! So not only do we have to hand crank the lift ALL the way down over again we also have to release it because it’s automatic. So I release the latch and the thing smacks me in the leg...like comes down ON MY LEG!! Danielle, who is more than a little drunk at this point, helped me crank it all the way down and all the way back up because we can't just leave the car sitting there open all night. 

So yeah...thats the story of how the Beast exited the world with all of us in it! 

[kmseokjins]

Thunderlight (Chapter 2)

Fandom: BTS Pairing: BTS x Reader / OT7 x Reader Warnings: n/a in this chapter Genre: fluff Summary: It's a typically day for [Name] until there's a bit of a shake up at work.

Thunderlight (n): Lightning; a bolt or flash of lightning.

Notes: I edited and rewrote this chapter sooooo many times that I've lost count. Not really how I wanted it to go, and there's quite a bit of information about [Name]'s current status as a "witch". if It seems confusing, I'm sorry! I'll break it down a bit more in a future chapter, I promise. Apparently I have a serious problem of shoving information out to get the story moving (I'm impatient with my own writing lmao). Sorry this chapter took so long to get out! [See end of chapter for extra note).

Archive Of Our Own || Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

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

Fathomless black eyes. Hands on skin; squeezing, squeezing. “You can’t hide from me forever, little dove.”

You’re bolting upright with a gasp, eyes darting around your bedroom as you try to work out exactly what happened. Another nightmare. You press a hand to your throat as you collapse backwards, staring up at the ceiling as you slow your breathing. The images dance along the edges of your memory, but no matter how hard you reach for them, you can’t get a hold on them. For years, you tried harder to recall those nightmares that would send you reeling back into the real world, but as the years passed, you didn’t actively seek to remember. You’d lived a nightmare for most of your life to begin with, and you didn’t want to have any part of it anymore.

You were done with that part of you.

You roll to your side to look at your alarm clock, groaning softly at the red numbers that glare back at you before you’re pushing the covers off of you and climbing out of bed to begin your normal routine. A shower brings you fully awake, shuffling into your kitchen after you wrapped yourself in your favorite robe to make yourself a cup of coffee.

To be honest, you hated coffee. The liquid was mostly to help mask the taste of your tonic. As your cup of coffee brewed, you tapped one fingernail against the small, round glass holding a shimmering black liquid within.

You would be shunned if anyone in the supernatural community knew you willingly subjected yourself to the black liquid. Actually, you would probably be sacrificed in a ritual, if it were up to your own kind. Witches didn’t take kindly to those who tried to suppress their powers, much less take a tonic to completely render themselves human. Keeping that side of you shut off had been crippling the first couple of months. You rather imagined it was like losing one of your senses suddenly and abruptly. The tonic had other side effects too: blinding headaches and body aches. The tonic suppressed your abilities and masked your natural scent that would instantly paint you as a witch to any supernatural creature you came into contact with. To any supernatural now, you smelled completely human.

When you’d first started taking the tonic, you had to take it daily for months before you could get away with only taking it once a month. The ingredients were hard to find, and it was even harder (and riskier) to find a witch who would willingly make you a few batches. You could have done it yourself, but you had never been particularly good at whipping up potions and tonics in the first place. The less you dabbled in the actual acts of witchcraft, the better.

You popped the cork off the vial as you slide your hot mug of coffee closer, tipping the vial to pour the liquid into your coffee, using your free hand to swirl the two liquids together with a spoon. As you raised the mug to your lips, you paused to observe your hand at a tingling sensation, watching with disinterest at the little sparks of light that danced across your fingers.

You were going to need to get the witch to up the potency of the tonic. They were starting to not last as long. To keep yourself under the radar, you had to make sacrifices. Choking down the now sweet liquid (with a smoky aftertaste), you’re heading back to your room to finish getting ready for work. Within the next twenty minutes, you’re locking your apartment door and deciding you wanted to walk the couple of blocks to work.

You’ve barely entered the front lobby of BigHit when you’re descended upon by your best friend, Chan-ri. “I missed you!” You grunt at your best friend’s whisper scream as she latches onto you, almost sending you both toppling over in the middle of the lobby.

“We just saw each other yesterday,” You remind her, “We had lunch, silly.” You’ve known Chan-ri for years, and despite the fact that she was human, she knew all about your past. Thankfully, she rarely brought the subject up, but you knew she was there to listen should you need her.

Chan-ri rolls her eyes with a sigh, “So? I can’t miss my best friend?.” The shorter woman loops her arm with yours as you laugh, pulling you along with her towards the elevator, pushing the button to call the elevator when you both got to them. You worked on different floors; she was an assistant to one of the PR managers, while you worked with make-up and wardrobe.

As the elevator doors slid open and you both stepped inside and Chan-ri pushed the buttons for each of your floors, “Lunch again today? I want to go to that cute little cafe we went to a few months ago.”

You nod, “Sounds good to me.” Chan-ri grins at your agreement, releasing you as the doors open on her floor. “See you at luuuuunch!” She sing songs as you offer her a small wave before the elevator doors slide shut and take you to your floor next.

You hoped today was another quiet day.

++++++++++++++

“[Name]! Where is that girl?”

The sound of your name makes you stiffen, pausing in your mending of the jacket you were working on to glance up and around for the source. You immediately spot the tall, willowy woman marching right for you, and you immediately scramble to your feet, attempting to bow.

The woman, Iseul, pauses to eye you up and down, one eyebrow raised. She purses her lips together before she sighs, “You’ll have to do, I guess. Come with me.”

You stand frozen for half a second, watching her retreating back before you quickly rush after her, “Uh..wha-what’s going on?”

She flicks a glance your way, looking slightly irritated that you would ask such a question, “We’re short-handed. Eun-Min didn’t show up for work. You’re taking over for Eun-Min today.”

Your eyes are wide as saucers at the mention of Eun-Min. She was one of the main make-up artists and stylists for the company, or rather, more specifically, for Bangtan Sonyeondan . “Me? Am I really qualified for that? I mean….”

Iseul abruptly stops, causing you to almost run into her. She fixes you with a look that makes you almost want to run the other way, “Management has seen what you can do, that’s why you got hired, is it not? Unfortunately, you are the only option we have that can at least save this for us. If it’s too big of a responsibility, [Name] , I can make sure that Management knows.”

Her threat takes you by surprise. Iseul had never really been friendly, but she’d never been this down-right cold to you. Of course, you mostly kept to yourself; you’d been hovering in the background of the department since you got hired. Apparently, too many people were better than you at the job you’d gotten hired for.

“N-no! It’s fine. I can do it.”

Iseul’s lips curve into a smile, and it’s not friendly in the least. “Good.” She turns sharply on her heel without another word, and you quickly follow after her. You’re quiet as you follow her lead through the building and to the main lobby, where she ushers you out to a large black van, the side door open. Three other woman are sitting inside, eyeing you carefully. You recognize them as other make-up artists.

You barely get a bow in acknowledgement before Iseul basically shoves you forwards into the van before sliding the door shut roughly. You flop in the available seat, quickly buckling your seatbelt as the van starts moving.

“She’s like that with everyone.” The woman sitting next you pats your arm, “I’m Soo Jin,” She indicates the two sitting behind you both, “These two are Yun Hee and Jin Ae.”

“[Name],” You reply, glancing back behind you at the other two, who nod in acknowledgement.

“You’re replacing Eun-Min?” One of them, Yun Hee, asks curiously, and you nod.

“Um, yeah, I guess. What’s going on?” It pains you to feel like such a rookie, but they seem friendly enough.

“Bangtan Sonyeondan have an interview and a performance today. Usually, it’s not this..chaotic, but with Eun-Min not showing up...”

“You’ll be fine. If you have any questions, ask us. Don’t worry, the boys are gentlemen.” Jin Ae assures you, and you nodded absently.

You could do this, right?

+++++++++

You: I don’t think we’ll be having lunch today…

Chanri: What? WHY?

You: They pulled me to do actual work

Chanri: WITH WHO???

You: Bangtan

Chanri: !!!!! You’re going to tell me EVERYTHING later!!!!

You were positive that you weren’t going to make it back by lunch, not with how the three women were chatting. You had quickly messaged Chan-ri, glad you brought your phone and not left it back at BigHit. You slid the phone back in your pocket, shaking your head at Chan-ri’s demands to hear every detail once you got done. She was probably green with envy right now.

No sooner than you got off your phone were you piling out of the van, following after the three women with a look that you were sure came off as a deer in the headlights . The three women were helpful, explaining as much as they could on the way to the room that all of you had been directed to. Three other make-up artists were already inside, working on setting up their tables.

Soo Jin indicated the table near hers, pointing out the several bags that belonged to Eun-Min. “They’re going for a more natural look today, so you shouldn’t have any trouble. You’ve seen what that looks like, right?” When you nodded, Soo Jin grinned, “Good. It will be wardrobe after that. Those clothes are picked out, so you’ll just have to help him if he needs it.”

You wanted to ask her which one you’d be working with, but she’d already moved away at the call of her name by one of the other make-up artists. Biting the inside of your cheek, you set to work on getting the supplies set out. It doesn’t take you very long, and no sooner than you’ve set down one of the brushes, the door opens on the other side of the room.

You glance up to look in the mirror, watching the seven members of Bangtan Sonyeondan file inside. They’re talking amongst themselves as they enter, but you don’t let your eyes linger on them long, staring down at the table in front of you. Which one did you get to work with?

You were decently familiar with the band, much thanks to Chan-ri and her obsession, but you had never actually...met them. A few passing looks here and there, but you’d never talked, much less made eye contact with any of them. Your little corner at BigHit kept you secluded, aside from the occasional person rushing to you to get something fixed. “A waste of your abilities, [Name]! It’s unfair!” Chan-ri’s drunken rant one night comes to mind and it makes you smile. You didn’t mind, your job kept you in the dark, to yourself.

Until now.

“You’re not Eun-Min.” The curious voice from behind you makes you jump, almost sending several brushes and products scattering. You compose yourself before you turn to face the owner of the voice: Jeon Jungkook. The brunette sits in the make-up chair, watching you with his head tilted in curiosity. When your eyes meet his, he immediately shifts his focus slightly, so he’s not full-on staring at you.

Say something. You urge yourself, attempting to break out of the stupid stupor you probably have plastered on your face. “I’m [Name], Eun-Min wasn’t able to make it..”

Jungkook immediately straightens, nostrils flaring and his eyes growing wide as he finally focuses back on you. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out, forcing him to promptly snap his mouth shut.

“Is...is that alright? I can find someone else?” You wring your hands together, wondering if you’d upset him.

“No!” He snaps a little louder than he means to, drawing several of his bandmates attention towards the two of you. He shakes his head and lowers his voice, “No, it’s fine.”

You nod quickly before turning your back to him, catching Soo Jin watching you. She offers you an encouraging smile before she’s back to focusing on her client: Jimin. The dancer is focused on Jungkook, but when he notices you looking, he flashes you a bright smile.

Heat rising in your cheeks, you shake your head and grab what you need before turning back to Jungkook. You knew what you were doing, you could do this.

+++++++++++

“You did amazing, [Name].” Soo Jin praises you as you flop in the chair that Jungkook had vacated thrity minutes before. You swirled in the chair to look at her, offering her a half smile. “He’s just shy around girls, especially pretty ones.”

Jungkook had been quiet while you did his make-up, watching you with rapt attention when he thought you weren’t looking. As soon as you made eye contact, he acted like he hadn’t been staring. You had turned to the mirror several times to see if something was on your face, but there wasn’t ever anything there. It was frustrating, to say the least.

You had been relieved when you’d gotten finished and moved out of the way so he could look in the mirror. He nodded quickly in confirmation that it was fine before he was scrambling from the chair and onto wardrobe. You had offered to help, but he’d waved you off. Oookay then.

You did your best to brush your feelings aside. You were simply filling in for Eun-Min for the day, so it wasn’t like you would have to put up with Jungkook’s odd behavior all the time. Come tomorrow, you doubted he’d even recall your name, much less what you looked like. Before you knew it, you would be back to your daily routine back at BigHit, Eun-Min would be back, and everything else would go back to normal. Normal.

The voices of Soo Jin and the other women chatting were background noise to your thoughts, staring off towards the opposite wall for what felt like hours before you finally roused yourself from the chair, stepping towards the table to make sure the make-up products and supplies were tucked away in their proper places into Eun-Min’s bags. You did your best to make sure all of it was put where you’d found them; you weren’t entirely sure if Eun-Min was particular about her things. Better safe than sorry.

You had just finished your organizing when the chatter from the others slowly died down. You glanced sideways towards Soo Jin, taking note of Jimin sitting back in the chair he had occupied earlier as Soo Jin worked on removing his make-up. It took you a moment to realize that, that meant Jungkook was probably back too. You turned abruptly, and lo and behold, the maknae had returned. You stare at him for a few moments before reaching behind you for the make-up wipes that you hadn’t put away yet.

You tugged a few free and stepped closer to Jungkook, reaching up to gently use the wipe to remove his make-up. He shuddered slightly under your touch, but you didn’t seem to notice.

You’re tossing the used wipes into the trash bin nearby and turning back to him to make sure you’ve removed all of his make-up when Jungkook finally speaks.

“I’m sorry.”

You freeze for a moment, slightly surprised to find that he’s actually making eye contact with you. “Sorry?” You inquire, tilting your head.

“For earlier..I...I was a little rude,” His shoulders shrugged slightly, “I didn’t mean to be. I was just...surprised.”

Surprised? “Oh, I know you were expecting Eun-Min,” You couldn’t help but offer him a smile. Jungkook seemed sincere enough, and you really didn’t want to end things on bad terms with him. If Iseul got wind of any complaints, you’d be kicked out the door. “Maybe...she’ll be back tomorrow?”

You watched Jungkook’s eyes widen and he opened his mouth to speak but he abruptly snapped his mouth shut when a hand clasped him on the shoulder. You glanced up to see who had joined you and Jungkook, straightening immediately at the sight of the silver-haired leader of Bangtan.

“Jungkook-ah, ready?” Namjoon wasn’t looking at you at first, his attention on his youngest member before he glanced up. When he realized you were looking back, he grinned. “He hasn’t been causing too much trouble, I hope?”

Holy dimples.

You couldn’t help but return the smile, feeling a little nervous about being under both of their gazes. “No, no! He’s been perfect.” You glance down at Jungkook, missing the brief stiffening of the silver haired leader.

“Jungkook-ah, we need to go,” Namjoon’s voice almost sounds strained, and you glance up at him with furrowed eyebrows. Jungkook is jumping out of the chair immediately, his attention on Namjoon as the man offers you a quick bow and what sounds like a mumbled goodbye before he’s moving away. Jungkook smiles at you nervously before he bolts after his bandmate, “Hyung, wait!”

You watch them go, blinking rapidly. That was...odd. Sure, the one time you’re dragged from your little corner and you have a day like today. Although, you can’t complain; you’d gotten to meet two members of BTS. Chan-ri was going to strangle you.

“They’re pretty intense, huh?” Soo Jin bumps her shoulder into yours, dragging you from your thoughts.

“Yeah, you could say that.” You glanced around, noting that all of the boys had apparently filed out at some point, and those left in the room were packing up and heading out as well.

“You need great, by the way! Eun-Min is going to have her work cut out for her when she comes back.” Soo Jin grins, before she’s tugging you with her, “C’mon, rookie. Let’s go.”

There’s a small part of you that hopes Eun-Min doesn’t come back right away, but you shake the thought away.

It wasn’t going to happen.

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

Note:  SOOO, basically: [Name] is a witch, who takes a tonic/potion that suppresses her powers/witchy signature to other supernaturals. This makes her appear human, and basically renders her as helpless as a human. Recently, however, her body has built up a tolerance, which requires her to take the dose more often. Eventually, the tonic will stop working, especially when coupled with....okay, I won't spoil it ;)

[visforvengeance]

Reggie x SP x OC: Fingers Crossed -Smut sorta-

Requested by: @rocsahlt

Summary: Hey I was wondering if you could do a one shot or a series where the reader was from the south side or is family with someone from the south side (like Toni’s cousin or something) and both reggie and sweat pea like her and she’s the only person who doesn’t judge the south side but is from the north side (so she goes to school with the gang and is friends with b and v and everyone) and you could add smut too

Notes: this is like my first actual story since my long assssssss break. It’s gonna be a poly relationship between the reader, Reggie, and SP. Now it’s up to you which Reggie you guys want. I’m doing this based off of S2 Reggie, cuz daddy. You already know what the fuck is gonna happen. A fucking striptease and female masturbation at the end. I’m gonna use my OC's name, Nova. Sooooo ye, and as much as I don’t like Betty. I had to be nice for this damn story. This is very shitty. I hope this is somewhat decent for you, love.

Song: Lovely by Brent Faiyaz

Nova’s Pov

I wouldn’t say being Toni’s cousin was easy, but it wasn’t hard either. Being that we live on opposite sides was definitely a problem. Now I don’t judge anyone from the Southside, considering ya girl was born there, but I do hate it when Toni fucks around because I live on the Northside.Oh my god and don’t get me started on what’s his face. Ehm Sweet Pea, was it? Yeah, that snarky fucker. The fucking nerve he’s got calling me ‘Northside Princess’. I’ll show him a princess. But in all honesty, the kid is kind of cute. Fuck that he’s daddy material. Homeboy could like get it. Oh boy, that leather jacket suits him. You guys think he’d go for a Northside girl? Nah probably not, since he like hates us so much. But can you blame him? We blame everything bad that’s ever happened in Riverdale on them. Not to make anything better, fucking Archie just had to go start shit and lookit where we are now. Thanks, Archiekins. 

Sweet Pea’s Pov

Those fucking Northsiders could like really get their heads out of their asses. Those weak ass murders that are happening there isn’t our fault. We literally have no type of business over there whatsoever. Well except me. My business is about 5′3, brown colored shoulder length hair, brown eyes, and a really wicked smile. Oh, and her name is Nova. She’s like Toni’s twin but cuter. She’s the only Northsider I’ve learned to tolerate, besides Jughead. She’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. Her laugh is like a melody and her lame jokes are fucking hilarious. Never thought I’d be saying this, but I think I’ve fallen in love with a Northside Girl.

Nova’s Pov

Another dreadful day at the wonderful Riverdale High. I hate all of these bitches, except my friends, of course. I almost tackled Veronica and Betty. “Oh my god, guys. I missed you so much.” “Whoa there, babe. How was your weekend in the armpit of Riverdale?” Veronica asked. I sent her a death glare. Not a playful one either. “Ronnie, don’t. And it was great, thank you very much. I’d rather be there than here any day.” She rolled her eyes and was about to say something, but Betty cut her off. “Did you see Juggie?” I sighed. Even tho Betty and Jughead broke up, she still asks about him. And I feel so bad for her. “Yeah, Betts I did. He’s okay as of now. He still asks about you everytime he sees me.” She smiled a little. “It’s gonna be okay. B. I promise.” I said as I gave her a hug. She sighed. “I know. I just wish that this didn’t have to happen. This stupid killer almost ruined my relationship with you guys. My best friends in the whole world. And he completely shattered my relationship with Jughead. The absolute love of my life. Not to mention he’s a serpent now.” I didn’t want to hear the shit she had to say so I cut her off. “Whoops, time to go to class. Bye babies, see you at lunch!” I screamed down the hall running to my class. Only to bump into Reggie Mantle.

Reggie’s Pov

“Whoa there, didn’t know you were so happy to see me.” I said as I looked down at the shorter girl. “Oh fuck. Reggie, why is your chest so hard? I have a whole headache now.” I laughed. She was so cute. “Uh, I work out. Duh. And are you okay? You want some ice?” She chuckled. “I mean compared to that one time a stack of books fell on my head, this is nothing. I’ll be fine, but thank you for offering. That was really sweet of you.” I nodded and grabbed her hand while walking to class. “Whoaaa, what’re you doing?” “We’re going to the same class right? So why not? I mean I can let go of your hand if you want.” “NO. What, no. You’re fine. It’s okay.” She let out a nervous laugh. “Good, because I honestly didn’t want to let your hand go.” 

Nova’s Pov 

“Good, because I honestly didn’t want to let your hand go.” Oh, Reggie, you can hold whatever you want. “You can hold my hand as long as you want. Except for when we get to our seat, because then that would be awkward. Us sitting across from each other with our hands just dangling away? That’s weird.” We both laughed. Reggie wasn’t as much of an asshole like I thought he’d be. He was really cute. I may or may not like him too. I’m in a really fucked up position here. There’s Sweet Pea, Southside Serpent, tall and kind of an asshole, funny, never met anyone more sarcastic than Jughead besides myself and Toni, looks like he’d fuck you crazy but will get you food afterwards. And then there’s Reggie, football player, tall hehe, dimples, big hands, funny, sweet, caring, looks like he’s into some kinky ass shit, also looks like he’d fuck you crazy but will cuddle afterwards. I can’t just choose between the two, that’s hard. Maybe if I persuade them well enough, they’d be open to a polyamorous relationship.

After school, I asked both boys to meet me at Pop’s. Sweet Pea knows about Pop’s because I’d taken him here multiple times. None of them know that the other is coming, but I bet they’d fuck each other up if I didn’t stop them. I heard the bell ring and their bickering as they entered. I got up and walked towards them. “Boys. Stop it. There’s something I need to talk to you about.” They automatically stopped whatever it was they were arguing about. Then they bombarded me with questions like ‘are you okay? did he do something to you?’ I just grabbed their hands and led them to the booth I was at and motioned for them to sit. “I wanted to tell you guys that I really like the both of you. I honestly cannot choose between the two of you. I like one of you just as much as I like the other. I know that you guys have had your differences in the past. I’m asking you guys if somehow there’s a way you could solve whatever issue it is that you have for the sake of me. Reggie, you only hate Sweet Pea because of whatever it was that Archie put inside your head. You don’t really hate him, do you?” He shook his head no. “I know that you guys don’t know each other as well as I do. So if you agree to eventually have a relationship between the three of us, you’d need to get to know each other. But would you guys maybe wanna be my boyfriends?” “Like at the same time?” Reggie asked. I nodded. hesitantly. “No way. It's either him or me. You can’t have us both at the same time.” Sweet Pea mumbled. “Like I said earlier, losers. I can’t choose just one of you. So, with that being said. I’ll choose neither of you.” And I walked away.

Reggie’s Pov

“Dude, I think she’s hurt.” I ran a hand through my hair. “Look I know that was probably about the craziest thing you’ve ever heard. But maybe we could work this out? For her at least.” He just shrugged. I sighed. “I know what happened was wrong. And you were just trying to defend your town. Archie was wrong to just up and decide it was the Serpent’s fault. Whoever is targeting Riverdale knows way too much about anyone born here. You’ve got no reason being here. And we had no reason to literally vandalize your buildings. So, I'm sorry.” He thought about it for a second and sighed. “Let’s go get this relationship shit started.” And I smiled

Nova’s Pov

I really tried. Oh my god, it's going to be so fucking awkward tomorrow. Maybe that was a stupid thing to do. There was a knock at my door. No one was home so I was forced to get it. Once I opened it, I was totally surprised. “Uh, guys what are you doing here?” “We came to tell you that we’re sorry and we’re willing to try this whole poly relationship thing out.” I’ve never been so hype. I pulled them in and just kinda explain how it worked. “So you’d be dating both of us and we’d all be dating each other?” Sweet Pea asked. I laughed at his confusion. “Exactly. Are you down?” He thought about it for a minute and nodded. I literally leaped into their laps. “Good! Because if you guys would’ve said no then you wouldn’t be able to fuck me, now would you?” Boy, were they speechless. “Come on boys. Don’t flake out on me now. Or would you rather watch?” I mumbled as I stood up. They were staring so intently as I took off my shirt revealing my breast. 

I almost fell in love with you

After the club last night

They don't know what you do (Oh)

Money's gon' treat you right

I ran my hands over my breasts, as I proceeded to trail my hands to the hem of my pants. Unbuttoning them as slowly as I could. I could hear their breathing getting harder. Sliding down my bottoms and kicking them to the side, I smirked at their faces. Mouths wide open and eyes practically bulging out of their sockets.

Girl don't act like you changed

When we both know you can't

And I know you love me

'Cause I think you're lovely

I started swaying my hips to the beat. Running my hands down my thighs and through my hair. Twisting and twirling to the song. I turned around and gave them a full view of what I got.

Girl check my coat (baby won't you check my coat)

Drop that ass on the floor (drop that ass on the floor)

See you move on that pole (way you move on that pole)

Baby look at you go (baby look at you go)

I shimmied my way into the chair across from the boys. Giving them a good view of my pussy. I spread my legs wide enough so I could slide my hand between them. My fingers made its way to the slippery slit and squeezed in between them. I rubbed the little bundle of nerves and moaned at how good it felt. When I looked at the boy in front of me, they had their hand in their pants pumping up and down. That only made me wetter. I slipped in two finger fingers and began plunging in and out, getting faster by the second. My moans began getting louder and louder. I could hear the boys' moans as the kept pleasuring themselves. The feeling of intensity kept growing inside of me. My breathing getting faster and heavier, as I got closer to my orgasm. It felt like a truck had hit me. “Oh my fucking god.” I breathed out. “I know.” Reggie and Sweet Pea mumbled. I slipped on the t-shirt I had on and flopped in between my boyfriends. “Next time you boys will be doing the work.” I said as I sprawled out on them. “It would be our pleasure.”

[a-cup-of-polynectar]

FAME

Rebelde AU

Word count: 3,3 k

Characters: Minah, Jane, Tara, Sungjae, Tyler, Daniel

Fame has just as many downsides as it has perks…

Fame has just as many downsides as it has perks. One of them —the one concerning Minah Delacroix and Jane Durand at the moment— it’s the fact their private lives as part of one of the worldwide sensation that is Impulse, are always exposed to the scrutiny of the public eye. One would expect just as much considering the pop group became an overnight sensation across the globe after starring the namesake TV series, but after so many years of being harassed by paparazzi, the media and even their fans and having pretty much lost any remaining bit of privacy, Minah and Jane have somehow believed —rather innocently, to be fair— that gossip-hungry tabloids would be tired of them by then.

Yet, it seems the world can never get enough of them, which from Jane’s perspective is just as sad —for a media machinery that has nothing better to report— as it is beneficial for the group.

“If you see it the positive way, at least we’re still relevant enough for a simple interaction to make it to the headlines” Jane tries to comfort Minah, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.  It’s been the third rumor in a month regarding Minah’s romantic life and at this point, she’s dated a veteran Hollywood actor, the bassist from the most popular pop-rock band of the moment and now a member of the biggest boyband in South Korea —well, maybe biggest is a bit of an exaggeration, but they are undoubtedly the one with the most number of members if that serves as consolation—.

Deep inside, Minah knows Jane is right and had she not been harassed online by NCT’s fans, she would probably even go as far as to agree with her best friend out loud, but Minah is mentally exhausted and she just had the bad luck of bumping into Sungjae and his long time partner, holding hands in the elevator. Sungjae is one-sixth of Impulse and Minah’s former “love interest” in the drama series that launched them into stardom. He is also the love of her life, or at least that is what delusional fans and an even more delusional Tara —the third female member of the group— stubbornly insist on.

“I mean, will they ever get tired of us?” Minah groans, burying her face in a cushion and letting out a frustrated scream. Jane only pats her back sympathetically and bits on her lower lip. Should she say what she really believes or is this one of those situations where you tell a white lie to protect your friend’s feelings?

“I want to say yes, but it’s probably not going to happen anytime soon” someone else’s voice replies and for once in her life, Jane is actually glad to hear that voice. “I saw the news” Tyler Lee materializes behind the two women, holding a copy of Gossip Star in one hand and a coffee delivery box on the other. As per usual he’s clad in one of his head-to-toe signature Gucci outfits and looks as relaxed as a ten thousand dollar outfit allows him to.

Minah slowly lifts her head from the cushion, her hair a mess and her eyes red as though she had been shedding tears. She is about to snap at her groupmate when she recognizes the logo of her favorite coffee shop printed on the front of the box Tyler is now showing off with a silly smile. t’s been a nonspoken tradition for the group that whoever went to the coffee shop downstairs first was obligated to pick everybody else’s orders. It is usually either Sungjae or Jane in charge of the morning delivery, but since Sungjae was too busy doing whatever he was doing with his girlfriend and Jane spent the morning trying to humor Minah, the daily coffee dose is arriving later than expected.

Minah can’t help but let out a relieved sigh at the sight of coffee.

“I trusted you enough to never get involved with a member of the worst boyband in the world and yet you still managed to disappoint me picking the worst of them all” Tyler says, plopping on the empty spot on the sofa and chuckling lightly. It earns him a poke with the elbow and an eye-roll from Minah, but he is still smiling when he places the delivery box on the coffee table in front of them.  “I mean, it was expected from Jane…of course she has a terrible taste,” Tyler says that bit eyeing the blonde woman with a judgmental look that she completely ignores in order to keep the peace. The last thing Minah needs now is to be stuck in the middle of one of the day-to-day arguments between them. “Apparently she’s been sharing her tips on serial dating with you” Tyler attempts to joke “But, are you serious, Minah? Mark Yang?” Tyler scoffs, smirk still present on his lips.

Minah’s reply takes a lot longer than it has any right to do, just because she’s been feeling as though someone is hammering on her skull and Tyler’s voice has only made her headache worse.

“It is obviously a misunderstanding” she states, reaching for the paper cup that has her name written on. “It was just a simple interaction blown out of proportion. I met Mark at our lobby a few days ago and walked him out.” A sigh heaves from Minah’s lips before she takes a sip from her caramel macchiato. “I was just being a good friend-” she says that last bit without realizing the full implications and though she tries to move on from the topic, Tyler manages to ask the question, before she can bring up the TV show Tyler and Tara have been invited to.

“What do you mean you were being a good friend?”

“I- I was actually-“ Minah hesitates, not knowing what to say. It is not a secret for anyone that Tyler tends to be a tad overprotective of Tara, so letting him know that Mark was at their building a few days ago to see her didn’t sound much like a very clever idea. She has enough for the time being as well, she doesn’t think she can deal with Tyler’s annoying nagging without considering homicide.

“She was just making me a favor and returning Jaehyun’s stuff to Mark” Jane intervenes. For a brief second Minah is surprised by Jane’s ability to make up intricate lies on the spot, but she settles for a thankful smile thrown in her way and squeezing the blonde girl’s hand briefly.

“Yes, I was doing Jane a favor, but somehow I’m now involved in this mess,” Minah says recomposing herself. “It’s sooooo unfair”

“You know what’s truly unfair?” Another male voice asks from the hallway. “It’s unfair I can’t go to my own apartment because Sungjae and his lover are having a passionate rendezvous” Daniel, yet another sixth of the group snarls, walking into the living room as he pushes a pair of Chanel sunglasses over the bridge of his nose. “In this broad daylight, for god’s sake”.

Jane offers a glare to the newcomer and has to use all her self-restraint to stop herself from tackling him down, but he doesn’t notice her reaction or if he does he knows exactly how to pretend otherwise. Instead, he sits on the armrest of an empty couch and brings attention to the paper bag he has been holding this entire time.

“Brought donuts,” He says, lifting his hand playfully, “I thought miss Delacroix could indulge in some sugar and forget about the diet just for today”

Minah rolls eyes. Of course, Daniel would be the one reminding her how Sungjae is upstairs probably fucking that awful girlfriend of his while she is stuck in her apartment, dwelling on yet another groundless dating rumor. The young woman doubts for a second, but ultimately decides she needs something to pass the bitterness in her mouth.

“Thank you, but I know you just want me fat” Minah says, reaching to snatch the bag from Daniel’s hands and pulling a chocolate donut that she immediately places in her mouth. Comforted by the taste of chocolate and the mouthwatering and soft texture of the dough, she gives Daniel a thumbs up and offers one of the sugary treats to Jane and then to Tyler, who are looking at her with something that looks like concern.

“What? It’s just a donut, stop staring and eat before I eat them all” Minah grumbles. She is ready to go off on anyone who dares to annoy her on what might be one of the worst days of the month, but her group mates know better than to irritate her under the current circumstances and they are quick to do as they were told.

“You know, maybe next time you should let Tara deal with lover boy on her own” Daniel says, pensively sliding on the couch “If she had talked to Yang herself, you wouldn’t be involved in this mess” Daniel rolls eyes “With Yang of all people” He adds, scrunching up his nose. “You could do so much better in that group…” The guy briefly looks at Tyler as if to make sure he’s paying attention “Taeyong is such a cutie, for example. I wonder if he’s dating-”

“I thought you said Yang came to pick up Jaehyun’s stuff” Tyler scowls at Minah  

From her position on the sofa Jane can see Tyler’s jaw clench and Daniel’s eyes narrowing and though she is convinced her little lie is not to blame, she stills forces herself to speak to save Minah from Tyler’s accusations.

“I lied, ok? Mark came to see Tara, but she didn’t want to talk to him” Jane admits “So Minah went down and told him she wasn’t home”. The blonde girl attempts to wind up the conversation by picking a cup of coffee and sipping from it.

“Did you know that?” Tyler acknowledges Daniel presence for the first time, which is hilarious —for Jane anyhow,— considering Tyler has been unsuccessfully trying to ignore Daniel for almost a week now with less than stellar results because he always ended up being the first one to talk to him. Daniel only shrugs innocently in response and changes the topic.

“Is that my coffee?” He asks and without even waiting for a response he hovers over Tyler while he picks one of the cups on the table.

“I asked you a question” Tyler growls annoyed, which makes the other male smirk behind the rim of the cup as he sits back down.

“I happened to be here when he rang” Daniel says, a teasing tone lightly laces his words. The intention is rather clear “But Tara refused to receive him, so I didn’t think it was important at all-” he doesn’t finish his sentence, instead he spits the coffee right out and starts coughing and choking.

Jane checks her phone distractedly and Tyler snickers discreetly while Minah, sighing wearily, is the one who reaches to pat —rather violently— Daniel’s back and saves him from what he claims, could’ve been a potential death. Tyler rolls eyes at that.

“I think M messed up with my order because this is definitely not a mocha!” Daniel complains dramatically as he puts the cup on the table, glaring at it as though it had offended him.

“That or you drank Sungjae’s espresso” Jane points out, signaling the name written on the side of the cup.

“Who drank my what?” Speak of the devil. Sungjae’s voice causes everybody to redirect their attention towards the entrance hall, where he emerges looking tired and slightly disheveled, his hair sticking out in all sorts of directions.

Minah thinks she can recognize that expression and she immediately looks away. The only mental image of Sungjae and his girlfriend is like a knife to her chest and it has her stomach plummeting.

As pretentious as it sounds, Minah Delacroix is not used to not getting what she wants. From a young age she’s been handed everything she’s ever wanted —and many other things she never knew she needed— on a silver platter. Minah never had to ask for anything. Even her fame came swirling like a strike of good luck, becoming the wildly popular icon of the French ‘It-girl’ rather effortlessly. Her refined recklessness and unique beauty have secured her star status and now, Minah is at the top of the world. Knowing that there’s something —or rather someone— as close and yet unobtainable is a new sensation, unfamiliar and daunting, and she doesn’t like the feeling at all.

“Question is who allows you to dress like this” Tyler scowls, looking at Sungjae as though his clothes have insulted him.

The lives of Impluse’s members are usually filled with responsibilities and high expectations. They are expected to be graceful and composed at all times, only speak wise, clever words and never to have anything but a beautiful, perfect image in front of cameras and their fans. If any of them were to make one wrong move, the future of the group may be in peril. It is so rare to see any of them in anything than overly elaborated, expensive clothes, that Sungjae’s simple black jeans and t-shirt almost feel out of place —especially in comparison—.

“Anyhow, Daniel drank your coffee” Minah says, her eyes trying to avoid Sungjae’s once he occupies the place across her on an empty chair.

“What’s with the mood?” As the appointed leader of the group, Sungjae knows to recognize when something is off, and the way everybody is suddenly quiet and Minah plays with the hem of her blouse obviously raise his suspicions “Did something happen?”

“Nothing much, just the usual dating scandal of the week and Tyler being clueless” a haughty smirk guised as an innocent smile makes its way onto Daniel’s lips.

“Dating scandal?” Sungjae repeats, brows arching and eyes jumping from Minah to Jane, as though he is expecting them to elaborate on it.

“It’s not a scandal” Minah finally speaks after an exasperating moment of silence. “It’s just a picture blown way out of proportion” she says in a hushed voice, still not daring to look at Sungjae.

“What picture?” Sungjae inquires and Jane can’t ignore how tensed his words sound, as if he were keeping himself contained within his body.

“A picture of Minah talking to Mark Yang in the lobby of the building” Jane is fully aware of Minah’s conflicting feelings, so she helps her out.

“And what was Mark doing here?” Sungjae’s voice is calm and it slightly evokes the tone parents use to talk to their teenage children.

“Visiting Tara, apparently” Tyler replies sounding eager to bring up the fact Mark has been unsuccessfully trying to woo his sister, as if Sungjae needed to be enlightened as well.

“Ohhhh” Sungjae trails off, understanding what happened without further explanation.

“Yeap…” Jane nods along, grabbing her cup and pressing it to her lips.

“Wait, did you know it too?” Tyler lets out an offended snort and glares at Sungjae.

“Everybody knows, Tyler” Daniel deadpans “Move on.”

“So everybody knew of Yang harassing my sister and no one said anything about it?” Tyler inhales sharply. At this point, it wouldn’t be a surprise if there were actual steam escaping his nostrils. “How can you all be ok with it?” He questions raising his voice.

“No one is harassing Tara” Jane sighs tiredly.

“It sounds like that to me!” Tyler retorts angrily “If not why is my sister making excuses not to see him and sending people to talk to him?” He asks with a roll of his hazel eyes.

“For the same reason you keep giving Daniel the silent treatment” Jane snaps, making both Tyler and Daniel turn to her, looking more than aggravated. How she dared to use their couple issues against them? “It’s obvious they had an argument.”

“To have an argument they would need to be something other than simple acquaintances” Tyler points out, purposely ignoring Jane’s previous words  “Which judging by the sounds of it, they’re clearly not.” his eyes narrow, almost shutting close. “It’s all one-sided.” He states convinced.

“Not really” Jane counters back, eyes looking wearily at Tyler “Mark likes her and she likes him too. She just doesn’t want a relationship for the time being.”

“Not to mention she is afraid of romance” Minah sighs absentmindedly, without realizing she’s voicing her thoughts out loud. When she does, a fraction of second later, she covers her mouth as if she’d just blurted out one of her own secrets.

“That’s nonsense” Tyler rolls eyes “What is there to be afraid?” He crosses his arms over his chest rather childishly, “She just doesn’t like him”.

“Falling in love can be pretty scary” Minah doesn’t know where that confession is coming from and she’s pretty sure she’s probably talking about herself at this point, but she still goes on, her eyes briefly settling on Sungjae longingly before looking down at her lap “Especially when you’re in this industry” she lets out a long sigh “And unfortunately we are not the greatest of the examples, Tara believes she’s gonna get hurt and she doesn’t want to be just like us”

Silence fills the room for a moment that seems to last hours, filled with gazes and expressions that try to convey all the things no one in that group is brave enough to say.

Fame has just as many downsides as it has perks. There is glamour and shoes and handbags and expensive cars and exclusive invites to even more exclusive parties. There are the picture-perfect smiles on the front covers of magazines, the platinum albums and TV interviews and everything in between they’ve given up in order to keep the appearances. There are Jane’s failed relationships, Tyler and Daniel’s constant arguments, Minah’s willingness to settle for anyone as long as it helps her to bury her real feelings deep inside and of course, there’s Sungjae, holding desperately onto the last bit of his life before stardom, the last thing that makes him feel like the ordinary person he sometimes craves to be.

There’s only giving up.

“What do you mean we’re not a good example to her?” Tyler narrows his eyes dangerously. “I am a great example, thank you so much”

“Yes, watching you and Daniel fight every day is undoubtedly a great example” Jane snorts.

“Maybe it’s you not being able to date the same guy for more than a week that’s truly a bad example” Tyler retorts hurt. Jane looks at him, offense widening her eyes, mouth hanging open. It was a low blow.

“Ok, this is about enough” Sungjae has been massaging his temples for a while now and his voice is scarily calm when he finally speaks. “This is getting ridiculous. Whoever Tara is or is not dating is definitely none of our concern. It’s Tara’s personal life” He says, trying to reason, although he already knows Tyler will protest using some stupid excuse.

“That is probably none of your concern, but in case you’ve forgotten Tara is my sister” Tyler states, his lips slowly curling into a wry smirk before letting out a huff.

“It’s still none of your concern” Tara walks into the room and occupies the only available spot next to Sungjae. “But just so you know, none of you have anything to worry about” She says, smoothing the wrinkles of her skirt distractedly. “The fact I don’t want a relationship right now has nothing to do with any of you” That is a blatant lie and everybody is painfully aware of it at some level, but they —unusually wisely— choose to take her word and move on.

Fame has just as many perks as it has downsides. For Impulse, the greatest pop group in the world, one of them is sharing their daily lives with one another, for better or for worst, amid loud screams and even louder laughs or silent coffee breaks where there’s no need to talk because even silences carry their own meanings.

This one is one of them.

—

[feynites]

I... wrote Game of Thrones fanfic? Which is weird because I’ve only watched like two episodes of the show and read like none of the books. But I know a lot about it anyway and I couldn’t stop thinking about Elia, especially with all the awesome Rhaenys stuff that Cinn has been doing. Sooooo... yeah. This is my take on one of the most tragic characters in the series. Please excuse any continuity errors in light of the fact that I have no clue what I’m doing.

Elia Martell knew that having children might kill her.

It was something warned of for nearly her entire life. She was frail; she was sickly. She had a heart that fluttered and breaths that stuttered, blood that flowed too freely, narrow hips and frequent headaches and irregular moons. Her parents had hesitated in marrying her off. Even to a match most nobles would gladly throw any child into, even with the threat of a mad king’s displeasure should they do him the insult of refusing.

Elia’s parents loved her. But she was still a noble born girl, in the end. Still expected to produce heirs, or face unrelenting shame.

The world had always underestimated her. Even her family had, at times, though in their case, Elia knew it was from love and worry. Poor, sickly Elia. Her first pregnancy had been a nightmare. Much of it she spent bedridden, and she had felt for months upon months as if she was dying. As if they were both dying; herself and the little flicker of life building within her.

Rhaegar had been attentive. She had been glad for him, in many ways. His father was a nightmare, and her heart wrenched for Queen Rhaella, and all that she endured. But she could ask for far worse husbands than one who came and played soft music for her when she was ill, and sat often at her bedside, and spoke of books and songs and poets. Histories, quite often. Rhaegar was a scholarly prince, and an artistic one. He was handsome – though, privately, Elia thought that his looks had been over-sold. It was comparative, she reasoned. Any decent looking man born a prince would become the height of desirability.

Rhaegar always looked just a little too pale to her eyes, though. He was tall and fit, but his smile rarely reached his eyes, and his sharp features had a waxy quality to them at times, which made her think of masks and carvings more than any face. He was courteous and thoughtful. He brought her flowers and played her songs, but at times he also spoke of strange things.

Mad, she deduced, in fairly short order. He was mad, like most Targaryens, but at least his madness had no fire. It was more like the moon. Fickle and fey and driven to odd preoccupations. But harmless, she had thought.

A foolish thought.

Elia could scarcely recall Rhaenys’ birth. There was pain and blood and most of her recollections are of that, but she could remember afterwards. The startled feeling inside of her when she woke, and realized that she had not died. The warm weight of her daughter, being placed in her arms, and oh. Oh. She had thought she might despair if the baby was a girl, if only because it would mean that she would have to try again. To endure more months of torture and pain and probable death. And some part of her, later, did quail.

But Rhaenys was perfect. A little squalling bundle of a babe, round and healthy, with Elia’s brown skin and hair and the most beautiful eyes. She was a daughter, and she did not look a thing like Rhaegar. She looked like a Dornish girl, like home. Elia’s precious child. It did not matter, in the end, that she would have to make another attempt to give Rhaegar a son. Rhaenys was hers. Her girl. The best thing she had ever managed to achieve, through blood and pain and fear, and the sheer stubbornness that had kept her running past it all.

She had to work not to fight anyone who tried to take her daughter from her arms. When she discovered that she could not make enough milk to feed her, she wept like the fragile woman everyone always took her for, and was inconsolable on the subject despite all her best efforts to be practical.

Of course, the rest of the world was not always inclined to share her sentiments. Rhaegar seemed pleased – he held Rhaenys and cooed at her, and smiled his softest smiles for her – and there were celebrations in King’s Landing. Many happy congratulations on ‘the little princess’. But King Aerys did not share any good sentiments. He disliked that Rhaenys looked Dornish; he accused Elia of all manner of infidelity, and his son of weakness, and called his own granddaughter snake spawn and sand rat.

But he was mad, and that was known.

So it was not until he threatened to burn Rhaenys, should he discover who her ‘whore mother’ had actually permitted to sire her, that Elia felt something click in her. Something much colder than a mad king’s fire. It made her canine teeth itch like fangs, and the back of her throat taste like poison. It made her feel calm, and ready, and though she did not recall explicitly contemplating the matter before – that was the day she decided that if she ever got the chance, she would kill King Aerys.

Of course, Aerys was fire and power and madness, and paranoia in spades. So Elia did not suppose she would have very many opportunities. And she was still recovering from the ordeal of pregnancy, on strict orders from the Maesters not to over-tax herself. She spent more time in Queen Rhaella’s company, and that of the septas assigned to guard the queen’s honour. Court was sparsely populated ever since the king began to lean too heavily on his hobby of live immolation. The humiliation of Rhaella being forced to share her bed with the older women, to prevent adultery, struck Elia as a terrible and unworthy insult. But the queen herself seemed much happier to spend time with the septas, and her young son, than with her husband.

There wasn’t much for it, either way.

“Rhaenys may well end up marrying Viserys,” Rhaella mused, one afternoon, while the two of them had tea in Elia’s chambers. Rhaenys was down for her nap, but Viserys was with them. Playing with his toys as the two of them spoke.

Over my dead body, the cold venom in Elia hissed.

“May well,” she agreed, aloud.

“Dornish whore!” Viserys exclaimed, laughing. “Dornish whore, whore, whore!”

Rhaella sighed, and tsk’d. It made Elia think of her own mother, who had taken Oberyn’s chin in her hand the first time she heard him repeating that kind of language, and made him look her in the eye and repeat it. She had shamed him so neatly and concisely that Oberyn had nearly swallowed his tongue, hadn’t dared repeat such words again where she could hear them.

Somehow, Elia doubted that the same technique would work on Viserys.

“He has no idea what it even means,” Rhaella offered, apologetically.

“Of course not,” she agreed, and took a further sip of her tea.

When Rhaenys was old enough, she decided, then, she would send her to Dorne. She would convince Rhaegar to allow it, however she had to. She would foster her daughter out in her homeland. Send her to her family, get her away from the dragons and their ilk. She would not marry Viserys. Elia would find her a Dornish husband. 

But... Rhaegar had assured her, when they had first married, that they would be able to leave King’s Landing before long. That they would be free to go to Dragonstone, and avoid the mad king’s court for a time. The promise had proven hollow. Aerys was convinced, at times, that Rhaegar was plotting against him. That any mobility he granted his son would be used to organize a strike.

Elia had no idea if it was true or not. The crown prince did not confide in her. More importantly, she had learned the lesson of a broken promise, and learned it more firmly with each day that passed in King’s Landing. Getting Rhaenys away would be a challenge.

Recovering from her first pregnancy took time, and King Aerys railed and raged, at turns deriding both his son and Elia for failing to produce a suitable Targaryen heir; and at others gloating that he had a second son, that he had Viserys, now, and Viserys would surely prove to be everything that Rhaegar was not. Loyal and gifted and virile. He would shriek at Elia that Rhaenys would never marry Viserys; as if that was meant to wound her pride.

As if she wanted such things for her daughter’s future. Sitting in this stinking cesspool of a city, caught in the deluded ravings of this farce of a court.

The Dornish court had its dangers, and treachery, and ugliness. Elia had known that well enough. But it still functioned. More and more, she longed for home. The thought that she might be trapped here indeterminately was almost unbearable. Aerys was not so old, for all that poor hygiene and terrible habits and past suffering had weathered him. And Rhaegar was a disjointed mess; far kinder and better, but who knew if that would last? People had said that King Aerys was dashing and likable in his youth, too.

What if Rhaegar ended up the same as his father?

Elia passed several weeks nearly unable to look at the queen for long, for fear that she was looking into her own future. Rhaella’s wrists were bruised, and her eyes were tired. Another miscarriage. Aerys had raved of her infidelity, impossible though it was.

And then Elia’s second pregnancy took hold.

As bad as the first had been, the second was many times worse. It likely did not help, Elia supposed, that she felt so trapped. Rhaenys had discovered the wonders of toddling around on her own two legs, and raced around with happy abandon; but her increased mobility meant that the septas could watch her more, and Elia’s own seclusion gave her protests little weight. She felt almost entombed; trapped in her rooms, forced to avoid ‘excitements’, and with few visitors to speak of. The nobles who were both invited to attend court, and willing to tempt the fickle ire of the king, were few and far between. And maids and servants all kept as quiet as possible. Servants were often the first to be targeted by Aerys’ paranoia. None would risk immolation for the sake of smalltalk, and Elia could not even blame them.

She wrote letters home. More than once she thought of asking her family to send someone, some of her cousins or friends or maids, to come and attend her. Most of all she wished she could ask for her brother to come, but always, she would remember King Aerys, and her hand would still. Her mind filling with visions of some innocuous incident setting him off, and him exploding into tirades on Dornish assassins or intrigues, and burning them.

He would do it, too, she was certain. He believed everyone was already plotting against him, that they were all his enemies, or willing to be. A paranoid certainty in him that meant he was not afraid of making enemies. There was no point in trying to prevent something that had already come to pass, after all.

She began to wish, instead, that she could ask to come home. Dornish weather, she thought. She could claim that the Dornish weather would suit her better. She could take Rhaenys with her. Dorne had never been conquered by the Targaryens. It was by agreement that they had joined the seven kingdoms, not force. Her people had resisted conquest even when the dragons actually had dragons by their side. If she could go home, her family would protect her, they would have royal Targaryen children in their hands, they could go to war and finally rid the kingdoms of Aerys…

…And that was why she would never be allowed to leave. No matter what entreaties she made. Dragonstone, she remembered. The king would not even permit her to go that far, and Rhaegar had not brought it up again, despite several efforts on her part to suggest it once more. The subject would be changed. Apologies lurking in her husband’s gentle voice.

Sometimes, she thought about plucking the strings off of Rhaegar’s harp, one by one, and then smashing it against a wall.

She wrote to her family that she was expecting another child. That she missed and loved them dearly, but that they must not worry. She was strong. It would be a son this time, she was certain, and she would manage well enough.

Her family sent kinsmen to her anyway. Chief among them Ashara Dayne, whom Elia had known since childhood, and who kept her company in the infirmity of her condition. Laughing and joking and remarking upon things with the Dornish perspective that she had missed so fiercely.

It eased her mind; though not much could be done for her body, save hope.

As little as she recollected her daughter’s birth, her son’s would prove vivid in her memory, in all of its excruciating details. She felt certain that she would die, and the certainty was all the more terrifying when she knew what she would be leaving her first child to, if she did. Alone and motherless in this court of rot and ash, with a grandfather who hated her, who would never let her see Dorne, who would marry her off to her uncle, while her spineless fucking father played the harp and read books and broke his promises…

It was a miracle that she did not say anything treasonous in the throes of her worst pain. Pain that became so all-consuming that it circled around to a queer sort of place, where Elia could not process anything else. In labour it felt as if she lived in that pain, as if she spent a decade trapped in it, trying to fight something that could not be fought.

When it was over, she was so startled to find herself alive that she almost could not reconcile the shock of it.

Aegon, she was ashamed to say, did not win her heart as swiftly as Rhaenys had.

His father loved him with great preoccupation, spoke of stars and portents and old stories, and believed he had a destiny. He had the Targaryen look. Fair hair and violet eyes, and when Elia held him, and went through familiar motions of rocking and soothing him, she felt as though she was holding someone else’s child. A dragon child. Not hers, not really; he was for Rhaegar, for mad Aerys and for the cold Iron Throne.

It filled her with guilt. What an awful thing, to leave a poor baby motherless in this place. But she was exhausted and still in great amounts of pain, bleeding and weak, and Aegon… Aegon looked like a ghost. It made her feel dead, to hold him.

She tried to, anyway. Yet she did not fight the nurses when they came for him, did not wish to hold him longer than she had to. Rhaenys was brought to her in the afternoons, when she was often feeling strong enough to not frighten her daughter with lethargy or fainting or bleeding. Recovery was actually swifter than the first time, for all that the pregnancy and labour had been worse. Swifter, and yet, less complete. Her body was ruined. She could not have another child, but she had done her duty and given Rhaegar an heir, and survived the process.

And as the weeks passed, the alarming indifference towards her son began to ease, bit by bit. He had her skin, and her nose, she thought. He had Rhaegar’s eyes and hair, but he was darker, and there was nothing unnerving in his gaze. He was just a little baby, like the Lannisters’ so-called ‘imp’ had been. Not a monster or a horror or anything deserving neglect. If, perhaps, she still did not feel as though he was her baby, she did not see fit to mention it to anyone. Her heart was trying to shield itself, she thought. The gods had given her the Targaryen son she needed, and in so doing, the son that would never wholly belong to her.

He was Rhaegar’s perfect, healthy, unquestionable heir.

Aerys hated him anyway.

Called him ‘reedy’ and ‘weak’ and insisted he had the look of some ancestor who had gotten fat and disreputable in his old age. Elia had stood and taken the insults, had stared at Aerys, pale and thin-lipped and still aching in so many places. She knew some of them would likely always ache, forever on into the rest of her life.

However long that managed to be.

After that, she loved Aegon almost defiantly. Fervently as she loved his sister, though it was still different, too.

She had nearly died to give the dragons their accursed due – if Aerys did not want him, she thought, acid building on her tongue, then she would gladly take him home with her, too. Hair could be dyed, to look less Targaryen. And much of him did seem Dornish. When he smiled, she did not see Rhaegar’s own soft, sad expression; she saw Oberyn, the first time she had peered into his cradle, and he had grinned back at her.

It was a sweet, foggy memory.

We will be alright, she told herself. Aerys not favouring his grandson was not the worst of fates. He would still be more focused on Viserys, then, and if nothing else, they could avoid him as often as not. Perhaps, finally, he would let them go to Dragonstone, if they left without Rhaegar. There was no more need for Elia to remain close to her husband, now that she was barren, and whatever insults Aerys had levelled against them, he at least did not seem to credit her with being strong enough to pose a threat.

Not on her own, anyway.

Rhaegar, though…

After Aegon’s birth, Rhaegar himself became more of a worry.

“There is no chance whatsoever?” he asked, for what felt like the hundredth time, after Elia and the Maester and everyone, it seemed, had explained that she simply could not have another child. It made her glad all over again that the possibility itself was extinguished; because she knew, then, that for all his politeness and consideration and gentility, for all that he had never struck her or touched her harshly, or even raised his voice at her, that he would let her die trying for another child.

A child he did not even need.

“None,” she said, with more finality than she generally employed. She could grant that it was not the most secure of arrangements, to only have one daughter and one son. But Aerys himself had only been able to produce two viable children after decades of attempts, and Rhaenys and Aegon were both healthy. And if it came to it, Elia supposed, they could discuss the prospect of divorce. But not until the children were older. Rhaenys she might have been able to keep with her, but Aegon would be swept up by the court, and in constant danger. Not only from the existing threats, either – if Rhaegar’s second bride should prove scheming or ambitious, Aegon would stand in the way of her own heirs inheriting the throne.

And who would protect him? His grandfather, who hated him? His grandmother, who was abused and locked away? His father, who was sitting before her with that damning moonlit fire in his gaze?

Even Elia was not sure what she would be able to do for him. For any of them.

“You must understand. It has to be three,” Rhaegar said, all woe and tragedy in his countenance. “The dragon has three heads.”

She could have hit him. She wanted to slap her husband clean across the face, in fact. She wished that she believed it could work; that one single, stinging smack could shake the clouds from his eyes and drag his mind back up to reality, but it would only make him look woeful again, she suspected. And hurt her hand.

“I cannot give you three,” she said, at last. Her throat felt tight, to her own surprise. Her voice wavered, as she could not help but ask. “Are Rhaenys and Aegon not enough for you?”

What a terrible thing, for her children to have a father who loved them so little.

Rhaegar only looked still sorrowful, though.

“For me?” he asked. “For me, they are more than enough. But there must be more. All the signs… Elia, I don’t know how to explain it all to you. I have spent my entire life learning everything that I need to know, in order to understand what I do.”

Her father had told her, once, to never trust anyone who claimed that what they did was too complicated to explain. Either they were a swindling liar, or they thought too little of everyone else’s intelligence.

“You want three children because you believe that a prophecy has foretold the coming of a great hero, who will be needed in the days hence,” she summarized. “You named our son Aegon because the great hero of your line was a man who rode the back of a dragon alongside his two sisters, whom he married. You want a second sister for your son, so that when the time comes, the three of them can awaken the dragons of your dreams and restore your family’s dying legacy by beginning the cycle of history anew.”

Rhaegar stared at her for a long moment. Less sad, and more reserved.

“You think I’m mad,” he guessed. Elia thinks she might have appreciated it if he had sounded at least a little accusing, rather than pitying.

Has the possibility never crossed your own mind?

“Of course not, my lord,” she said, aloud.

He stood up. Put his back to her.

“This was a mistake,” he said. “I… I am sorry for it. But you were never the one who could have given me what I needed. I see that now.”

A cold, hard knot of ill-defined fear settled in the pit of Elia’s stomach. A warning bell rang in her mind. She could guess how a sensible man, in Rhaegar’s position, might react to all of this. But that was the thing about madness, she supposed. If it was sensible, it would not be mad.

Her husband left her chambers. Apologies scattered in his wake. Steps quick and stiff, shoulders tensed. Unhappy.

When he was gone, Elia found herself moving to the window, and looking out towards the grounds. If she was a fit woman, she thought, she would go into the nursery. She would take the children, and bundle them up, and carry them out. In the dead of night, when none were expecting such a move. And she would go… where?

Where could she go that would not result in either death or betrayal? Dorne was too far away.

And it did not matter. Elia was not a fit woman, and never had been. She put the thought aside, but went to the nursery, all the same. She was tired. Yet she felt much more at ease when she saw them both sleeping, safe and sound. For a long moment she watched Rhaenys’ eyelashes flutter in her sleep. Smoothing back some of the curls that had gotten into her face. Then she went, and peered down at Aegon.

His mouth was moving in his dream.

Gods, she hoped his dreams were not like his father’s.

It will be alright, she thought, but could not say.

She was expecting things to become complicated. Difficult. Even unpredictable; and it was the last one that struck first, of course. When Rhaegar arranged for his tournament, and fought, and passed her over in his victory run to name the Stark girl-child his Queen of Love and Beauty. Elia’s first thought was that he was shaming her on purpose. Her second thought was that Lyanna Stark was an active and healthy girl, but also, a girl. There was still baby fat on her cheeks and a certain hint to her frame that suggested she was on the cusp of a growth spurt.

Did Rhaegar choose a child, she thought, in hopes of making it clear that he was intentionally snubbing Elia? But, why pick a girl who was engaged to his own cousin? Surely Robert Baratheon could easily interpret the slight as one aimed at him, and it would be a needless insult if Rhaegar’s only goal was to humiliate her…

She sat, calm but also frozen, as something else pressed against the back of her mind.

Lyanna Stark.

The Starks were a northern family, of course. The wolves. Honourable but simplistic, viewed as very steadfast, and unwise to provoke, but also not generally involved with courtly affairs. They were well-liked by their bannermen, so far as Elia knew, and that was impressive, given the number of brutal houses reputedly situated in the North. But then, she supposed, pragmatism was often inescapable when one lived in a dangerous place, and the North was home to the Wall, and served as the last border against the wildlings. The first sentinel of winter.

…Cold.

As ice.

Ice, and fire.

Oh, Rhaegar could not be so stupid, could he? Lyanna Stark? Aegon was not even out of the cradle yet, and already her ‘honourable’ prince was making moves to woo a highborn and betrothed girl to his bed, all for the sake of his thrice-damned prophecy.

Elia was calm, and collected, and spitting mad when she finally made her way out of the stands with as much decorum as she could manage. Her heart was hammering hard enough that it was difficult to disguise her shallow breaths. The court was all in a flurry over things, of course, and the number of pitying looks she received was unsurprising. She preferred the outrage, though, and for once, when Aerys launched into one of his tirades, she found some small vindication in it.

Naturally, Aerys still managed to blame her for much of it. And Rhaegar’s response to his father’s shouting was stoic and resilient. Elia was permitted to leave, by way of her father-in-law bellowing that everyone else get out, and she did. She had no interest in hearing more of his tirades about spies and traitors and his son being an embarrassment. She had no will to even begin to defend her husband.

She was surprised when Rhaegar sought her out, not long after the shouting had finished.

She sat by the fire, trying to warm herself up, and calm the tangle of her nerves. Rhaegar stood at her doorway, still dressed as if for a fight. He looked tired.

“None could fault you for leaving me, now,” he ventured, after a few awkward moments.

Elia stared.

“Is that what you think?” she asked.

He blinked, as if that was not a response he had expected.

“You think I have stayed here because I could not manufacture a decent excuse for leaving?” she continued, too angry and too tired to bother minding her manners. “You are a fool. My children are Targaryens, Rhaegar. They are heirs to the Iron Throne, and your father may be as mad as a bag of cats, but at least he knows how political maneuvering actually works. There is not a lord in all seven kingdoms who does not want to see him off of the throne by now. If I go home, it will be with my children, and if I take my children to Dorne, then there will be nothing to prevent Dorne from rallying the discontent lords throughout the kingdoms, deposing your father, and ruling as regents until Aegon comes of age. He knows that.”

Rhaegar looked sad and stoic. Sad, and stoic, and gods, she was tired of it. He was an able warrior, a man with access to all the resources of the kingdom, and yes, his father was a mad wretch, and Elia did not pretend to know what growing up with that must have been like. But she, who had none of his warrior’s prowess, had taken to keeping a poisoned dagger beneath her skirts. She had watched, and learned, and she knew the way this court worked. She had laboured and nearly died to give Rhaegar his heirs, had done exactly what was expected of her, and given half the chance, she would bury her dagger in his father’s black heart and do what was needed, too.

Rhaegar had more than half a chance.

And he used his chances to give flowers to betrothed girls of five-and-ten.

“…I am sorry,” he ventured. “I did not think…”

Silence fell between them again.

Elia looked into the fire. She needed the warmth. But the sight of flames had long since begun to make her feel sick. The venom in the back of her throat felt like blood and ash, instead.

Rhaegar sighed.

“I will make certain you are safe,” he promised. She supposed it was the only thing he reasonably could promise, here. No other words of comfort would not tread too close to treason. The walls had ears; Elia had possibly said too much herself. Though, come to it, she doubted that she had said anything that King Aerys was not entirely assured of already.

“Of course. I know what your word is worth,” she replied.

And there, just barely, she saw him flinch. Saw the barb land home, for once. Before he turned, and walked away.

Elia of Dorne knew that having children might kill her.

But she had always supposed that it would do so in the carrying and birthing of them, and not the terrible intrigues that would follow after.