#I need to see her so I don’t do something impulsive again

[dissapointu]

Jinx Dating Shenanigans

1. Wild, Impulsive Dates

When you’re with Jinx, every date feels like an adventure. There’s no telling what she’ll plan because it’s never just a typical night out. You could be grabbing a bite at a cozy diner one moment, and the next, she’s dragging you through the streets of Piltover for a spontaneous heist—or at least, an attempt at one. “Come on! We’ll just borrow a couple of things for fun. Who’s gonna know?!” The fun is in the chaos, and as unpredictable as it is, she always makes sure you’re part of the madness.

2. Surprise, Unexpected Gifts

Jinx isn’t great with traditional romance, but when she does decide to get you something, it’s always something wild and completely her own style. Don’t expect flowers or chocolates—Jinx would much rather surprise you with a hand-painted bomb (it’s probably harmless, but don’t ask), or an old trinket she found during one of her adventures. “I thought you’d like it, so, uh, here you go!” Her gifts are chaotic, but full of affection in her own, eccentric way.

3. Playful Teasing and Chaos

Jinx is a master at playful teasing, and when you’re dating her, there’s no escape from her mischievous humor. She’s constantly throwing little jabs at you in the most playful way, whether it’s making fun of your reactions or challenging you to do something silly. “Ooooh, did that just embarrass you? C’mon, don’t be shy, I was just getting started!” If she sees you getting a little flustered, she might laugh, but it’s always followed by an affectionate smile, as though she’s saying, “It’s okay, I just want to see you react.”

4. Unexpected Public Displays of Affection

Jinx’s idea of PDA is loud, chaotic, and often a bit over the top. She doesn’t do the subtle, shy hand-holding thing—she grabs your face and plants a kiss on you in front of a group of people, or she’ll sneak up behind you, wrap her arms around you, and spin you around like she’s the center of attention. “Hey, everyone, check out my awesome partner! Isn’t she great?” The PDA is loud and proud, much like everything else she does, but you can tell it’s her way of showing you off because she’s so proud to have you by her side.

5. Involved in Your Chaos

If you’re having a bad day or facing something tough, Jinx doesn’t hold back—she jumps in headfirst to make things worse, in a fun way. Expect her to show up with a smile and some ridiculous, over-the-top solution to your problems. “I know exactly how to help! Okay, so maybe not exactly… but I have a cool idea!” It’s not always practical, but it’s never boring when she’s around. Whether you need someone to cheer you up or just add a bit of chaos to your day, she’ll be there for it.

6. Getting You Involved in Her Mischief

You thought you could escape her chaos by staying at home? Think again. Jinx will find a way to pull you into her crazy ideas—whether it’s a full-on sabotage of a rival gang’s equipment or something as innocent as causing a harmless ruckus in the streets of Zaun. “C’mon, don’t be such a goody-goody. Just one little thing to liven things up!” No matter how wild or risky, she’ll make sure you’re right there, having the time of your life with her.

7. Her Version of Romance

Jinx’s way of showing love is far from traditional. Forget candlelit dinners or quiet strolls; Jinx shows her affection in explosive ways. She might pull you into her arms and tell you that you’re the coolest person she’s ever met while shooting off fireworks (that she definitely didn’t get approval for). Or, she could plan an impromptu game of “who can make the loudest noise” and declare you the winner by throwing confetti everywhere. It’s all a little loud, a little messy, but that’s just how she shows she cares.

8. Constantly Making You Laugh

Jinx has a knack for making you laugh, even when things are at their most serious. She’ll mimic people, exaggerating their mannerisms just to make you crack a smile. “Oh, so this is what you’re like when you’re grumpy, huh? Perfect! Don’t worry, I got it on camera!” She’s always trying to turn any situation into something fun, and you can’t help but be amused at how she manages to turn your worst days into moments of light-heartedness.

9. Unexpectedly Sweet Moments

While Jinx is known for her crazy antics, there are those rare, quiet moments when she’ll pull you close and express her feelings in a more genuine, tender way. It’s not often, but when she does, it’s special. “You’re mine, okay? I don’t share,” she might say, holding you a little tighter than usual. The affection may be awkward or messy, but it’s her way of letting you know that you’ve got her heart—and no one else stands a chance.

10. Her “Crazy” Plans to Impress You

Jinx often comes up with plans that she believes will be incredibly impressive, and she will drag you into them, even if they’re ridiculous. “Okay, okay! This time, we’re gonna do something epic—we’ll rob a candy store, and then we’ll paint the whole place neon blue!” She’s convinced that these wild ideas will somehow show you how much she likes you—because in her mind, nothing says “I love you” like an elaborate scheme. Don’t expect it to make any sense; it’s more about the thought and effort than the actual plan succeeding.

11. You’ll Never Be Bored with Her

Dating Jinx means never having a dull moment. Whether it’s an adventure, a crazy plan, or a random conversation about how “if she were a superhero, she’d be the best one,” Jinx will keep you on your toes. No matter how wild things get, though, you’ll always know that she’s doing it because she loves you in her own quirky, chaotic way. “Life’s never boring when I’m around, huh? That’s what I thought!” She’ll say, smiling widely, showing that her ultimate goal is just to have as much fun with you as possible.

Being with Jinx means embracing the chaos, the laughter, and the unpredictability. No date is ever the same, and no moment is ever dull, but through all the madness, she makes sure you feel loved and special in the most Jinx way possible.

[skhardwarevers1]

where’s that picture of the one girl like taking I think a cigarette away from you and going “nuh uh girl”

[rosaacicularis]

which was more culturally significant, the renaissance or hermitgang

[iamumbra195]

School Bus Graveyard incorrect quotes because I'm bored

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Taylor: Look how creepy it is looking down this hallway.

Ashlyn: I'm gonna get vertigo.

Aiden: I'm a Virgo!

Tyler, deadpan: No, you're a virgin.

...

Aiden: You lying, cheating, piece of shit!

Tyler: Oh yeah? You’re the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything you do. WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD

Aiden: I’m leaving you, and I’M TAKING ASHLYN WITH ME

Logan, picking up the monopoly board: I think we’re gonna stop playing now.

...

Taylor: Why is Tyler so upset?

Logan: He took one of those “Which Character Are You?” quizzes

Taylor: And...?

Logan: He got Aiden.

...

Ashlyn: What did you do with the phantom's body?

Aiden: What didn’t I do with the body?

Everyone:

Aiden: Okay, that sounded more sexual than I intended. I disposed of the phantom respectfully.

...

Aiden: Here’s a fun Christmas idea. We hang mistletoe, but instead of kissing, you have to FIGHT whoever else is under it.

Logan: Aiden, no.

Ben, with text to speech: Mistlefoe.

Logan: Please stop encouraging him.

...

Taylor: Who thinks I can fit 15 marshmallows in my mouth?

Tyler: You’re a hazard to society

Aiden: And a coward. DO TWENTY.

...

Emma, trying to be nice to Ashlyn's new friends: Would you like to stay for dinner?

Mike, excited for his daughter: WOULD YOU LIKE TO STAY FOREVER?

...

Logan: What's a word thats a mix between 'sad' and 'mad'?

Ben: Disgruntled, miserable, desolated-

Aiden: Smad.

...

Ashlyn: Why are you on the floor?

Aiden: I'm depressed.

Aiden: Also I was stabbed, can you get Ben, please.

...

Taylor: Aiden and I were crossing the street, and this dude drove by and honked at us

Ashlyn, sighing: What did he do?

Taylor: he chased him to the next red light, then reached into his window and...

Aiden: Who wants a steering wheel?

...

Aiden: If I accidentally sat on a voodoo doll of myself, would I be trapped forever in that position, doomed to starve to death?

Logan: How am I supposed to know?

Tyler: You say that as if we don’t use you as a source of knowledge of the occult.

Logan: ...You wouldn't be trapped.

...

Ashlyn: Tyler, keep an eye on Aiden today. He's going to say something to the wrong person and get punched.

Tyler: Sure, I’d love to see him get punched.

Ashlyn: Try again.

Tyler, sighing: I will stop Aiden from getting punched.

...

Aiden, holding a python: Guys I impulsively bought a snake, what do I name him

Tyler: You did WHAT–

Ben: William Snakespeare

...

Ashlyn: Dandelions symbolize everything I want to be in life

Taylor: Fluffy and dead with a gust of wind?

Ashlyn: Unapologetic. Hard to kill. Feral, filled with sunlight, bright, beautiful in a way that the conventional and controlling hate but cannot ever fully destroy. Stubborn. Happy. Bastardous. Friends with bees. Highly disapproving of lawns. Full of wishes that will be carried far after I die.

Aiden: edible

...

Taylor, whispering to Aiden, who’s on the phone with Ashlyn: Ask her something!

Aiden: How are you feeling?

Ashlyn: Fine.

Taylor: Something personal!

Aiden: At what age did you start hearing voices?

...

Aiden: If I die, my funeral is going to be the biggest party ever and you’re all invited

Logan: If?

Tyler: Great, the only party I’d actually go to and he might not even die.

...

Logan: We need a distraction.

Ashlyn: Is anyone here good at jumping up and down and making weird noises?

Aiden, whispering: My time has come

...

Tyler: Where are you going?

Taylor: To get ice cream or commit a felony, I’ll decide on the way there

Tyler: I'll come with

...

Mike, buying a whole bag of knives, guns and other weapons like he's going to war on a random Tuesday: I can explain

Jacob (shop owner): Can you?

Mike: If you give me thirty seconds to think of a lie.

...

Taylor: Heads up, if you try to make a candle with food colouring, it will just sink to the bottom of the glass, and when the flame eventually reaches the bottom all the food colouring will catch fire and become one giant tall flame that you cannot possibly blow out and the glass will start to crack and then you'll throw your tea on it in a panic and then the extremely hot food colouring will boil and sizzle horribly and then the glass will shatter.

Tyler, sighing: What did you do?

Taylor, wailing: A MISTAKE

...

Mr. Thomas: What are your goals?

Ashlyn: To pet all the dogs.

Mr. Thomas: No, I meant your goals for this trip.

Ashlyn: To pet all the dogs in Savannah.

...

Logan: Is letting someone win at chess sapiosexual bottoming?

Ashlyn: Does anyone in this godforsaken group ever think before they speak?

...

Taylor: Aiden isn’t answering their phone

Ashlyn: I’ll call

Taylor: Ben and I have both tried six times each, what makes you thi-

Aiden: Hello?

...

Aiden: I was arrested for being too cool.

Tyler: The charges were dropped due to a lack of supporting evidence.

...

Aiden: Jail is no fun. I’ll tell you that much

Taylor: You’ve been to jail?

Aiden: Once. In Monopoly.

...

Mike: You love me, right?

Emma: Normally, I’d say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere and I don’t like it.

...

Aiden: Let’s watch Sharkboy and Lavagirl.

Ashlyn: Okay

Aiden: And make out during the scary parts.

Ashlyn: The-

Ashlyn: The scary parts?

Ashlyn: Of Sharkboy and Lavagirl.

...

Ashlyn: How petty can you get?

Tyler: I once edited a Wikipedia article to win an argument I was wrong about.

Taylor: I KNEW IT-

...

Aiden: I've already sent good vibes your way… they’re coming. There’s nothing you can do to stop them.

Logan: This is the most threatening way I’ve ever been cheered up.

...

Mike: So what’s for dinner?

Emma, staring at the food she just burnt: Regret.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

That's all for today!

[katszumi]

“you know, your eyes kinda resemble a ruby.” you slurred your words. your chin rested in the palm of your hand, elbow digging in the table below you.

bakugou snorted, his eyes never wavering from yours. “what made you think of that shit?”

you lifted your shoulders, quickly dropping them.

“do i need a reason?”

“to be thinking about nonsense? yes.” he answered his own question. his response caused an eye-roll out of you.

you grabbed the small glass in front of you, finishing the shot you set down earlier to save for later.

“that’s your fifth shot of the night.” bakugou intercepted the silence. he sat upright in his chair, his arms folded across his chest.

you gulped the remains of the liquor, swiping your tongue across the bottom of your lip.

“and you’re on your what? like second?” you remarked.

bakugou wasn’t a drinker. everyone knew that. he preferred to be sober, always offering to be the designated driver whenever the group wanted to have a night of fun.

but tonight was his pro-hero debut party. all of his friends and old schoolmates were there, so he figured if he were to drink, tonight was the perfect time.

also, who was he to decline having a drink with a pretty girl?

his eyes glanced at your now wet lips which unfortunately didn’t go unnoticed from you. “two is plenty.”

you leaned forward, reaching your hand towards bakugou’s shirt. your fingers grazed the top button of his shirt. slowly, you unfastened it. “there’s nothing wrong with having a little fun, katsuki.”

due to the sudden proximity, he could smell the alcohol coming from your breath, but he couldn’t bring himself to resist your actions.

you continued to the second button. “take this time to relax.” you raised your hands once more, your fingers now grazing his neck to uncuff the collar of his shirt.

now, you leaned away from him, returning to your previous position. “now you look like a man that’s ready for the night.”

bakugou dropped his shoulders and leaned back in his chair, turning his head sideways. he couldn’t refuse the blush that was coming onto his face nor could he hide it. he knew you were staring right into his soul. he was also aware that you loved to tease him like that.

“unhinged. i swear you are.” was the only thing bakugou could muster.

ever since he’s known you from u.a, you were always that daring girl who was so unpredictable. there was never a dull moment with you.

but that was also what made you so dangerous for him.

a laugh parted your lips. “been called worse.”

“bullshit.” he called it, looking into your eye once again. “like what?”

“irresponsible,” you started count on your fingers.

“i can see it.” bakugou shared his input.

“arrogant,”

he rolled his eyes, “heard my fair share of that one too.”

“impulsive,”

“accurate.”

“provocative.”

bakugou moved his head in a notion like he was deciding between two things. “nah.”

you furrowed your brow, squinting your eyes in confusion. “what is that supposed to mean?”

“provocative sounds like a slutty word.” he simply responded. “i think you know you’re attractive, and you know how to use it to your advantage. not a bad thing at all.”

you paused for a moment, your lips parting from shock. a small grin began to form on your face. “did bakugou katsuki just call me attractive?”

the male scoffed, “don’t act like this is news to you. ‘m sure you heard it plenty times before.” he brushed it off.

“just didn’t think you of all people would willingly say that.”

bakugou chuckled to himself. he raised his finger in the air, indicating for the server assigned to your table to bring him another drink.

“unlike you, not everyone needs five shots of liquor in their system to confess something.” undoubtedly, it was shot taken at her, one that you couldn’t refuse the growing smile on your face.

“oh? since when did you decide to get so bold?”

“someone’s actions tend to rub off on me.”

“they must be foolish.”

once again, bakugou’s ruby eyes lowered to your lips. undeniable. how could his heart ever stand a chance when you treat him this way? did you not understand he loved a challenge?

“yeah, an irresistible fool.”

“please, i’m anything but a fool.”

“don’t flatter yourself; who said i was talking about you?” he opted to lie.

you leaned forward slightly, “with the amount of times you keep staring at my lips, it’s not hard to notice it’s taking everything in you to resist me.” your voice lowered in volume, for his ears to catch only. “therefore, irresistible.”

bakugou took his time to respond, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a smirk. “this must be that arrogant side of yours coming out.”

“one, not necessarily arrogance if it’s true. two, i’m attractive and i know how to use it to my advantage.” you recited his own words.

“this something you do with all your flings?”

you gave him a playful confused look. “do what?” intentionally, your voice had an innocent tone to it.

“drink with them. tease ‘em. nearly undress them. flirt with them in front of an audience?” bakugou could feel his patience slipping. like a sand hourglass, only a few grains left at the top waiting to fall to the bottom.

it had to have been from the shots that made him so precariously bold. but he couldn’t walk away. not when he has you in the palm of his hands— maybe even the other way around.

you propped your elbow on the table once more, cupping your own cheek. you gazed at bakugou through your lashes.

“if i had other flings, you think i’d be here with you all night?”

“don’t know. good question actually.” purposely, he played stupid.

you paused. “there are no others,” you knew that was the answer he was searching for. luckily for him, you didn’t mind giving it to him. “just you.”

bakugou nodded slowly, basking in the information. he could feel his heart flutter from the confession, a huge wave of relief washing over him.

“good. was startin’ to think you were actually considering the guy over at the bar.” of course, bakugou plays it off as a joke. even with the small liquor in his system, it was still difficult for him to admit his true feelings.

but you were fine with it. because even with the guard he pretends to have up, you can feel even with the slightest touch how much he cares for you. bakugou may be loud, cheeky, maybe a bit conceited, but he wasn’t a good liar. you always saw through his facade no matter what lies he decided to spew.

you scoff. “oh, shut up.” you fight a smile. “the guy at the bar doesn’t have the ruby eyes i like so much.”

“here you go with this stupid shit.”

-

i ’d do anything to flirt with katsuki late at night, both of us tipsy. god please im beggin

[beiasluv]

mini norris | l. norris (4)

a/n: i hateeee pregnancy trope but ughhh 😩 wrap it before you tap it 😘

“Oh, you’re feisty, yes, you are–”

Babysitting Oliver’s baby girl was not on your plan today, but you couldn’t complain. Not that Lando was her favorite – and only – uncle.

She cooed and giggled as Lando squeezed her in a hug, the widest smile you've ever seen spread across his face as he giggled with her. And It quickly became clear that Lando wanted the little pitter-patter of baby feet on the hardwood floor to be something more temporary than you expected.

As he turned to look up at you, his dull blue eyes sparkling in the dim light. He’d like to believe he’s over the clubbing phase, more than he’d like to admit. Well – everything was faster than he expected. But it felt right with you.

“You know yn…” he started. “I've been thinking–”

“Lan.”

You gave him the look, sighing softly before taking Mila away from him as she made a grabbing motion towards you – as if saying she was done with her uncle.

“…shouldn’t we think harder about this?”

“I’ve been thinking hard about it,” he pouted, brushing the hair away from her face.

“Sure you did,” you scoffed back. Mila cooing as you bounced her up and down, patting her small back, hoping some of the gas would come up.

“I know it's impulsive, but it feels right. And...” he paused. “...you haven't even said you hated the idea.”

You let the idea sunk in…biting your bottom lips nervously before Lando reached out to wipe the corner of the toddler’s mouth – pumpkin purée to be exact.

“I’m the one getting pregnant here,” you huffed before giving him a look.

“I know,” he smiled, even his eyes lighted up.

“We can do it together. Every little step along the way,” he smiled sincerely. “And besides…” Lando teased, raising an eyebrow before leaning over to swipe some of the pumpkin purée that had ended up on your cheek. He smiled softly to himself as he ran his thumb along your jawline before leaning in to kiss that spot.

“You'll look so hot, all pregnant.”

“Lando– I love you–” you chuckled in disbelief. “But I don’t think I would feel hot carrying a little person inside me.”

“But you will, just watch,” he stopped you, pressing in closer to you and Mila – who just cooed in disagreement, taking her little hand and pushing her uncle Lala away from your personal space. Cackling in satisfaction as she bounced up and down in your arms.

“See, she thinks you’re wrong,” you smiled, cooing the toddler.

“You have no sense of romance, little miss." Lando grinned as he reached for Mila again, his eyes full of mischief as he tried to steal a laugh out of her. "Come here you,” reaching for her and swinging her around in circles as he tried to tickle her.

She giggled and tried to get away from him, fighting as hard she could against his playful grasp.

“Once you learn how to change the diapers, we could talk,” you smiled, looking at the niece and her uncle – tickling each other into a giggling mess. Lando snapping his head up as his messy, curly brown hair fell out of place.

“Then you get ready tonight baby.”

——

“She’s a healthy looking girl.”

When he’d finally broke down your wall and you told him you were ready, he didn’t need to be told twice before whisking you into the bedroom.

And it wasn’t was expected that you’d showed up pregnant at the paddock, hand-in-hand with the McLaren driver. But sharing the experience it with him was the best part – well, for now, until you’ll get to meet your sweet little pea.

“You're... you're so...”

Lando’s words caught in his throat as he stood behind you, watching you check at yourself in the mirror. The way the body-fitted white shirt hugged your body was stunning. The way it clung to every single curve, emphasizing how beautiful your bump looked, how full your breasts have gotten. And definitely the way how full your stomach looked with the denim skirt underneath it.

He really did that, no?

He reached out to squeeze your sides and wrap his arms around your waist.

“You’re so…hot, mama”

“Barely feel like it,” you smiled. “I’ve got my stomach sticking out to the world,” turning to kiss his cheek behind you.

Lando grinned, squeezing your sides gently.

“That's the thing, you look hot in everything…just hotter when your stomach sticks out,” he revealed passionately, leaning down to kiss your neck.

He knew how it made you feel insecure about yourself, which he thought was silly because it only made you look more beautiful to him.

The change in your body was something he was adjusting to as well. The way the way your waistline had curved in, the way your hips had widened. He placed the palm of his hand across the bump on your stomach, gently rubbing it.

"We can always get new clothes," he told you, smiling warmly. "But, honestly. You’re just so...sexy in anything.”

Before you could whisk out another sarcastic response, you felt a kick in your abdomen. Wasn’t as bad compared to period cramps but something you definitely felt a ‘kick’ to it.

“You feel that?” you winced.

“Yeah,” he smiled, tucking his chin on your neck behind you before lifting a pressure off your growing stomach. “Hurting mama already little miss?”

You smiled at the scene, scoffing before looking back at your husband, “You’re such a girl dad already.”

“Is that a bad thing?” he smirked.

“Not that like I’m going to be the strict parent while you get all lovey dovey with your baby,” you huffed jokingly.

“Someone’s gotta be the strict parent, no?” he smiled. “And I'm going to be plenty tough when she needs it.”

“But for now, I'm just excited to spoil this tiny little girl…And her mama.”

“Doubtful.”

You couldn’t only help but rolling your eyes back, tilting your neck to an angle. Turning away from him before smoothing out your lovely skirt.

And God help him because he was torn between his thirst to pull you back in and let his instincts take over or letting you finish getting ready. Deciding to let you get ready instead of making you feel like he only cared about one thing. For now, at least. That thought was enough to get him to try and behave himself for the time being.

"What about your shoes? Have you picked them out yet?" he asked, taking his eyes off of you for the first time in a while.

Knowing what he wanted. Let’s say…he has always been gentle with your baby girl inside, but he could only try so hard.

“Maybe tonight,” you smiled nonchalantly, fixing your hair in the mirror. “The adidas please?”

And you didn’t have to tell him twice, he would be down on the floor, slipping on your adidas sambas – trying his worst to wipe off that grin on his face. Gosh, you’d lie if his beard wasn’t doing things to you.

“Tonight. Definitely tonight.”

wrote it first for Logan but decided to change it for Lando??? 😬😬

– @jsjcue @namgification

y’all know the drill 😘 today’s a great day to take care of yourself!!!

[ceratedfish24]

There are SO many negative nancys this season. Y’all need to cut it out. You’ve gotten so entitled.

“This was a bad wildcard” I don’t know how old you are, but I was in 3rd grade when I was taught how to give constructive criticism, and I was way younger when I learned that most people don’t like receiving unsolicited criticism. All of the players have loved the challenge of each of the wild cards. They have loved staying on their toes. If they genuinely hated it, they would have said something. Changes would be made. If it’s not interesting to you, then you can stay quiet and leave. You’ve gotten way too comfortable disrespecting people from behind a screen.

“The teams are unoriginal” Making sure that the players are having a good time is among the top priorities of this series. They are naturally going to link up with people they’re comfortable with. If you have a problem with that, then maybe you need to be put in a room with your best friends and some people you kind of know and be criticized when you gravitate towards your best friends. I don’t understand why you all are having such a problem with the concept of seeking comfort in a scary and unpredictable environment.

“Pearl shouldn’t be on a team with Cleo and Scott” well, she made her choice, didn’t she. That’s not up to you. She is an adult. She can choose who she hangs out with. Cleo and Pearl have not had significantly more of a rivalry than any other two players on the server. It seems like you’re just paying more attention to them because they’re women. Don’t try to take away from Pearl’s autonomy. Don’t try to conduct who she hangs out with. It’s really fucked up, what happened to Grian and Scar. Don’t let it happen again. Additionally, Pearl doesn’t care if you don’t think her character should be getting along with Cleo and Scott. The lore is made to fit the events of the server, and never the other way around. If you’re not creative enough to come up with a lore-reason for Pearl, Cleo, and Scott to be getting along, then I really don’t know how you’re still alive.

“Scott’s going to kill Pearl” why. Why would he do that. What record do you have of Scott betraying Pearl for no reason. The only reason he didn’t want to accept her as his ally in Double Life was because he just teamed with her in Last Life, and you all have proven just how much you’re gonna whine about a repetitive team. What history does Scott have of killing his own teammates. The biggest concern on that team is Impulse, who is notorious for holding grudges and betraying alliances. And yet your focus is on the catty two who are loyal to the core. Does that not sound like stereotyping to you? Do you even watch their perspectives? Cause you don’t act like you do.

It is a legitimate miracle that Grian is giving us another season. Be grateful, or we’re not getting another. You try coming up with balanced ideas that will last 6-8 episodes with ~15 people. See how many you come up with.

[nativegirltapes]

angel and drew while on a ......."break"......

notes: ask and you shall receive! angel lowkey look like a bitch in this + this is kind of long for hcs, but i think u guys like the drama so i really wanted to try and cover most bases. if you want me to clarify or maybe even make a part 2 lmk ! <3

honestly, they’re on “breaks” quite frequently due to angel’s impulsive nature. in the spur of the moment when she’s upset she’ll tell drew “don’t contact me! don’t talk to me! i need time!” and storm off in the car he’s literally paying for. sometimes he’ll try to follow after her, but sometimes if it’s something stupid she’s upset about, he usually just gives her time because he knows she’ll come around.

but when it’s an actual break from one another (because of all the odessa drama), they’re both going through it. angel is sad but is also taking more time to focus on school because she thinks it’s all she really has aside from drew. she isolates herself from almost everyone, besides frat guys she invites over to hopefully fill some void? which void? she’s not sure. she never actually does anything with them, kind of just trying to prove to herself that she can have anyone she wants and she doesn’t need drew. but how is that benefitting literally anyone? again, she’s not sure.

drew doesn’t really isolate when you’re on a break because he does enough of that on normal days. drew tries to spend more time with his friends, specifically his guy friends. he’ll invite them over or go over to their houses. his friends will ask how you guys are doing and drew never ever wants to paint you as a bad person, even when you are on a break for a “pointless” reason, he’ll just lie and say “she’s going through some stuff right now so we’re just kinda taking a break right now, you know?” he’s the sweetest to you, even when you’re not exactly together :((

they both have nights where they really miss each other so they’ll just call each other and ask if they want to see each other, they never say no. it’s kind of an unspoken rule for the both of them; if one calls saying they want to see the other, you can’t say no (but it’s not like they want to say no anyways). it’s so silly because whenever they do this it’s kind of awkward. they’re making small talk because they’re both too stubborn to make it seem like they “care” again. but eventually they both give in and it usually ends in a heavy makeout sesh. “this doesn’t mean we’re back together you know?”

angel is so petty so sometimes she’ll post pictures of her out and about (partying) on her instagram stories and purposefully have guys in her pics because she knows drew will see it. when she realizes that drew seen it but didn’t say anything she’s throwing a fit. but in all honesty, drew doesn’t even care that much. he knows angel’s tactics and knows that she wouldn’t dare do anything.

there’s a lot of late night phone calls where they usually get pretty deep, asking each other if they should just break up for good/a longer period of time. angel is always like “i want this to work drew.” and drew is like “i’m giving you the space you want. what more do you need?” he’s too sweet. angel is so messy though because she knows she has no intentions to break up with drew ever, she just loves causing a scene.

i feel like the worse drew would do when they’re on a break is hang out with one of his girl friends one on one. and while no, there’s no romantic intentions, he still would never tell angel that. he’s just able to decipher platonic and romantic whereas angel’s insane ass is not ………. kind of.

angel is shitposting on every platform she has, especially her finsta and tiktok. sometimes when she’s feeling extra fiesty she’ll even remove drew as a follower just so she can make him “overthink”, but because he’s an old man, he literally do not gaf! half the time it’s just her ranting or talking about her day since she’s used to sharing everything about her day with drew :(

[firelilyfox]

Taking Advantage

Dune: Paul Atreides x female reader

Warnings: fluff / angst / hurt reader / teasing

Words: 1.3k

you came home from battle injured & Paul wants to make sure you are alright

_____________________________

„That was awesome!“ 

The Fremen men and women were cheering in agreement as your group coming back to Sietch Tabr with the sunrise early in the morning. Every step you take, sends little painful impulses through your muscles. The whole night you were fighting against a Spice harvesting ship that belonged to the Harkonnen and although you made a bunch of them pay for their brutal regiment, you came back badly bruised. But you are doing your best to hide the pain your in in front of your friends. It would be even more embarrassing to see their faces covered in pity over you, when the mood is as good as it is right now. The Fremen had another win and kicked some Harkonnen asses. That’s all that counts right now. 

„I’m a little drained. Go on and have a drink for me, while I’ll be having a good rest“, you said to your best friend Chani, who is giving you a suspicious look but then nodded. 

„You did good today, y/n. And I know for a fact, that Muad’Dib is thinking the same“, she wiggled with her eyebrows, mocking you again. Your eyes darted to the back of the tent, where Paul was sitting with Stilgar. He was already looking at you, not breaking the eye contact once yours met his. Paul was frowning a little, wich made his worried expression even more noticeable. Maybe Stilgar was telling him some bad news or something. You didn’t really care, because all you could think about was the pain that was feeling like needles beneath your skin. 

„I don’t care what he thinks. He fought well. And everything else is not important“, you murmured shrugging your hurting shoulders. Big mistake. Your almost flinched because of the pain that was send trough your body again. 

You quickly waved Chani goodbye and make your way outside the big community room, back to your private stone cabin, that was placed further away. When you finally reached it, a sigh of relief escaped your throat. Carefully you sit down on the bed out of soft fabric and you close your eyes for a second to calm your thoughts. Today was hard and nothing sounds more tempting than getting this suit off and washing the dirt off of your irritated skin. But the thought that you have to move yourself to make that happen, was like your personal nightmare. 

The sound of someone clearing his throat hollowed back from the stonewalls of your room. You quickly turn your head around to catch Paul standing in the doorframe, holding the curtain open. He looks even more worried now than back downstairs. 

„Can I come in?“, he asked. 

You let out a annoyed sigh. „Sure. What is it, Paul?“ 

He makes his way up to you, stopping not even two feet away from the bed you were still sitting on. „Are you alright?“ 

„Obviously. Today was a big win.“ 

He frowned again. „That’s not what I meant.“ 

„Then what are you talking about? Speak up.“ Your tone was annoyed, because the last thing you wanted right now was him seeing you in this pathetic state. 

„You fought like a demon out there. I have never seen someone so … so passionately killing the bad guys. But … I saw you falling down that cliff. For a second I thought you were dead“, he swallowed hard. „I saw you getting hurt. You must be in enormous pain right now.“ 

The fact that he had an eye on you while being on the battlefield, surrounded by enemies, made your chest tightened up. He was really looking out for me? 

You tried to sound unimpressed. „Well, thank you for your concern but I’m perfectly fine as you can see.“ You stood up and wanted to make him leave your room, but the sharp pain came back like a lighting bolt and you tripped over your own feet. Paul had quick reflexes and catching you before you could hit the ground. „I’m fine“, your voice cracks and burning shame blushed your cheeks. 

„No you are not fine, y/n. You need help“, Paul whispered. His arms still wrapped around your waist to hold you up. His eyes right in front of you. So blue you could probably drown in them … although there were little brown spots you never noticed before. 

You swallowed. „I don’t need …“ 

„Oh for fucks sake! Shut up and let me help you“, he demanded. You were so surprised about his little outburst, that you could only nod to give him the permission. 

Paul smiled slightly. „Good. You are so stubborn.“ 

You rolled your eyes on him, not saying anything. He was right, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of you agreeing with him. 

With his help, you turned your back to him. He begins to get rid of the many closures of the suit and with every unbuttoning your face feels even warmer. His direct presence was making you nervous and you were not sure how you feel about that effect he has on you. 

„You need to relax. Otherwise I could hurt you even more“, his voice was low and for a second you thought you heard a light crack in it. Is it possible that you have the same effect on him? 

„It is kinda hard to relax in this … situation“, the words slipped out before you could think about the meaning of them. You bite your tongue as he chuckled softly. 

„And why is that?“, you could feel his warm breath on your neck. It sends goosebumps over your drained body. Before you could give him a sassy answer, his fingertips touched the bare skin on your shoulders, gently pulling down the suit. You could feel his hands on your back while Paul was making sure that you didn’t need to move a muscle to get rid of the Fremen desert suit. Underneath you are wearing an thin layer of fabric, cut in the form of a dress that barely covers your butt. 

„Are you taking advantage of an helpless and wounded woman, Paul Atreides?“, you say with a strangled voice. Still facing the wall. But Paul was so close, that you could feel his chest touching your back. 

Paul gently strokes your hair over one shoulder. His lips almost touching your ear, while he speaks with a breathy voice. „I would never take advantage of you. I know for a fact, that you could kick my ass and slit my throat in no time, even wounded and blinded. But you haven’t done such thing.“ 

He places a soft kiss on the sensitive skin right beneath your ear and your breathing stops. Your whole body reacting to him like a firework. Just because of a litte stupid kiss. What is happening? 

„Did I hurt you?“, he asked as he noticed your reaction. „If you want me to stop, you just have to say one word and I’m …“ 

„You didn’t hurt me“, you interrupted. 

Paul chuckles softly. And you almost hoped, that he would keep on doing where he stopped, but instead you feel how his warm body disappeared from your back. As you peak over your shoulder, he looks at you with deep satisfaction. 

„I’ll see if I can get you something to eat and drink. And then I will send you a healer to make sure you’ll get better in no time.“ 

Your mouth snapped open in disbelief. This jerk just teased you like a champion and now he was looking at you like a little boy, who is more than proud to make fun of you. 

„You’re an asshole, Paul Atreides“, you said smiling. 

He raises his hands defensively. „I’m just making sure not to take advantage of you.“ 

[vaokses]

A ghost to its haunt (Pirtir, Ch.2)

Series Masterlist

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Pairing: Aegon x Rhaenyra's Daughter!Reader

Summary: You set off ahead of your family towards King's Landing, attempting to escape the restlessness that overtook you as the day your betrothal is to be announced draws nearer. You find yourself a witness to what has become of the people you once knew as the King summons you all for dinner.

Word Count: 6.2k 

Warnings: Topic of arranged/forced marriage. Viserys is a terrible father, but you knew that already. Helaena is a dragonrider and has a close bond with Dreamfyre, the show can fuck right off.

A/N: Very little of Aegon here, I'm sorry. I promise next chapter will be more exciting. I hope you enjoy!

Title is from a diary entry by Virginia Woolf, "I come home - and I have a feeling returning like a ghost to its haunt."

Your hand caresses bronze scales as you come to stand on solid ground, and you find yourself fighting the instinct to command Vermithor to take you to the skies again as you face the awaiting party. 

You had hoped that if you were to arrive days before you were set to do so with the rest of your family, they wouldn’t have enough time to make a spectacle out of your arrival. 

Then again, a century-old dragon is perhaps not the best means of transport if you intend to catch them off guard. 

And so there they stand, the Lord Hand, his daughter the Queen, and the three of her children that still live in King’s Landing. 

You aren’t sure what it is you were expecting, but it certainly was not this. You seem to remember them wrong. All of them. 

The spirited even if demure Queen of your memories, of angry eyes and fingers gripping a knife and demanding retribution; has left in her place a shadow of herself, a woman of tired eyes that offers an almost sorrowful smile as she greets you. The anger though, the anger remains. 

The boy you last saw fighting back tears and putting on a brave face as the maesters treated his wound, stands tall as a man of his own right, wound hidden away behind an eyepatch and any of the humanity of your youth absent in his piecing stare. 

Aegon is no less a stranger. Though a mask of him remains, much like the casts of corpses the families of Old Valyria used to make to keep in their homes, the boy you knew once, capricious and uncaring about the legacy or future of any of it; seems to have died since you last saw him, leaving behind something you don’t entirely recognize. Gone is the heedlessness and imprudence of your shared youth, leaving in place something like wariness, like resignation. 

He seemed more spirited, livelier, when you were younger. You suppose you didn’t see then that he has his mother’s eyes -the anger, yes, but also the sorrow-, you didn’t notice then that he too shares in what seems a trait of his family of being uneasy in their own skin.

Your eyes meet, and though you find yourself with so much to say, you were taught better than to speak your mind, you know better by now than to let your heart get ahead of yourself. And neither the reproaches of it being his fault that you are to once again lose your home, nor anything else, something perhaps more foolish and far more careless, leave your lips.

Aegon looks back at you, eyes slightly wide in uncertainty and something else, something like expectation, and though for a moment you think he is to say something, lips parted forming for a moment in what you swear is the beginning of your name; he adjusts in his place, and looks away from you.

Finally, in a sea of strangers, there is a familiar face. Helaena looks familiar, feels familiar. Big eyes are fixed on you, though when your own gaze finds hers, she looks away. A smile, kind and warm and exactly as you remember, curves at her lips, and it gives you the impulse -the courage, the strength- you needed to approach them. 

The pleasantries leave your lips with ease after you exchange your greetings, “Such a welcome was not necessary, though I am grateful for your kindness.” 

“What was possible considering the…short notice of your arrival. It is essential for the people of King’s Landing to see you are welcome here, Princess.” The Hand states, each word chosen carefully. They can’t afford for the people and the Great Houses to think you a hostage, is what he means. 

It is Aemond who steps forward then, before you can even utter an answer, hands joined behind his back, head held high even if for a moment it faintly bows in greeting. It seems he gauges you for a moment, as who plans his next step on a board game, eye narrowing before he adds,  

“So as not to let them confuse your standing with your brothers’.” 

You swear you can hear Otto Hightower heave a sigh at his grandson’s words. 

Resigned, but with practiced familiarity after over a year spent in hostile territory, you fix your stance and return his words in kind. 

“Surely my brothers are as welcome here as I am.” 

“Hm. It just happens it is not a fair comparison, between my…dear nephews and you.” 

You are as much of a bastard as your brothers, and you are certain he knows, for his mother is no idiot, and must have put together the coincidence of your conception happening during Daemon’s short stay in King’s Landing after your mother and Laenor’s wedding. And anything Alicent knows, she feeds to her sons, or so has Lady Mysaria warned you. 

You would rather believe it is the slights your brothers committed against him, and the fraught nature of their relations, what leads him to see them as lesser than you, and not the thinness of their blood. You’d rather deal with vindictiveness than hypocrisy. 

“In your eyes, and the eyes of your family, perhaps,” You remind him. “Not the eyes of the people of the Seven Kingdoms. That I can assure you.” 

And it is no lie. You didn’t spend twenty months in foreign lands and sleeping in unfamiliar beds, drinking watered-down wine and eating overcooked duck, for your brothers’ legitimacy to be as challenged as it was before. 

“It was not the people of the Seven Kingdoms who built this dynasty, niece. Our family did.” He argues, now in your native Valyrian. It pulls at an old part of your heart when Aemond speaks confidently High Valyrian, it makes proud the girl that would let the candles burn until they died out sitting by him and practicing the intricacies of your native tongue.  

There’s a hint of a smile playing at your lips, for at his threat that it is the will and power of the men of your bloodline that can set the future of the inheritance, yours or your brothers’, you can answer with a threat of your own, 

“No, dragons did.” 

As if another part of this conversation, as if to serve as a reminder, Vermithor rumbles a low call, diverting your uncle’s attention to him. A clipped little hm leaves Aemond’s lips as he gazes upon the Bronze Fury, for the first time since you last saw each other in Driftmark years ago. 

You feel the slow breath of warm air leaving the old dragon’s nose, it warms your hands, carefully joined behind your back. From the corner of your eye, you see Helaena’s smile at the sight of him, so alike the smile you saw brightening her face the few times you took to the skies together in your youth. 

You know, though you dread to, that you are to command Vermithor to leave you behind, to occupy his place in the Dragonpit, but you hesitate. 

You first stepped into the Dragonpit many years ago, long before you claimed Vermithor, to meet Dreamfyre, and then Sunfyre, which Aegon insisted you did after hearing his sister had taken you to see her own dragon. You were but children, and the Pit seemed another world entirely, cavernous and strong and other, but now you look upon them and see nothing but stone, carved by men, for men, to soothe themselves thinking they control fire made flesh. 

You say nothing, instead turning around and looking into familiar bronze eyes. Vermithor’s answering rumble for a moment seems to imitate the shrill song Silverwing often directs at their eggs, and without another wasted moment he takes to the skies and towards the outskirts of the city, away from the Pit and towards the Kingswood. 

“Dreamfyre knows he is here. She has missed them,” Helaena mutters quietly, watching him fly away and shifting in her place, as if the she-dragon’s restlessness is her own. “They were one, once. They should have remained so.” 

You hum in agreement, watching the bronze dragon force the clouds to part for him.  

“Much like you and I, they were side by side almost since they hatched, no?” 

You turn to her with a smile, but the sharp gaze of the Queen keeps you from saying anything else or from deviating your attention from her. 

“Princess. You flew here.” Queen Alicent points out, something like accusation lacing her tone. 

You refuse to let your smile falter as you look upon the Queen and answer, “Any journey is made more entertaining, not to mention shorter, on dragonback, Your Grace.” 

“Eager, then?” 

“Restless.” 

“Ah,” She nods, dark eyes trailing over your body from head to toe. “Must be why you come dressed for battle, then.” 

You wear nothing too different from what any dragonrider would, and of course in your mother’s colors, but you won’t deny the dark chainmail over your sleeves, or the metal corset clinging to the red and black fabric, though subtle, are meant to resemble armor. It was a gift from your half-sister, readied for when your tour had meant to include King’s Landing. 

“Dressed for a long flight, nothing more. I’m sure any of your children, all experienced dragonriders, would understand.” You answer, ready to force them into the conversation in order to avoid an ambush. 

“A dress does make flying uncomfortable,” Helaena provides, as kind as you remember. Her gaze flickers to you, and she murmurs, so quietly it is almost silent, “A cloak for war, lies for battle.” 

___ 

Merely an hour after your arrival -barely giving you any time to reach the Keep in the carriage, much less settle in what you are told are to be your apartments-they send your handmaidens a message, instructing them to ready you for dinner, for the King is awake and well, and wishes to welcome you as the pain from his illness prevented him from doing this morning. 

The two handmaidens assigned to you -as yours must be somewhere in Blackwater Bay by now, making the trip here with the rest of your family- busy themselves without even a prompt from you, one tending to you in your bath and the other setting to straightening and readying the dress you brought with you on Vermithor’s saddle, along with a few other essentials.  

You count on your family to bring what else you might need, along with the rest of your clothes and jewels, with them when they arrive on their boats. It is a practiced routine by now, after so long travelling on Vermithor, to take with you only what is most important while a day or two later the rest of the servants bring the rest. 

“Is this…common? For my grandsire to attend dinner with all of them?” You ask one of the handmaidens as she brushes a conditioning cream onto your hair. 

You do not care about the routines in the Keep, that isn’t why you are asking. You want to know the kind of women they have assigned to serve you, as you did whenever you traveled ahead of your own handmaidens during your tour. 

“As any family meets as one for supper, Princess, so does the King’s.” 

These girls are terrible liars. 

You are surprised to find Princess Helaena waiting outside your apartments when you are leaving them to join supper. She stands tall, expression carefully void of any tells, and greets you with a murmur of your name. 

Not your title, not niece, your name. Strange, that you cannot recall the last time your name was preferred, or the last time it was not uttered as a call to heel. 

You accept her strange offer and let her walk you to the dining room, handmaidens and Kingsguards in tow. 

“You are wearing red.” 

“It is our family’s color. We are blood and fire.” 

“Mother never makes me wear green.” She comments instead of offering an answer, and it is only at her words that you notice this morning, while her brothers wore dark green -almost black, but you know better-, and her mother vibrant emerald, she wore a soft blue dress with silver details. 

“This dress is beautiful, Helaena.” You tell her, admiring the greys and blues of its silk, the various designs embroidered in its sleeves. 

She lifts a loose sleeve to show you. Your eyes trail over ling insects of many legs and of odd antennas, before stopping to linger on a spider of red and black.  

“I made these.” 

“Oh, they are quite impressive,” You admit, reaching for her sleeve but stopping yourself a moment before when the Princess stiffens up at the threat of contact. Lifting your gaze, you await permission, or an explanation perhaps, but Helaena merely looks away. Even if a tad thrown off balance by her reaction, you grant her distance and continue, “Are these…real creatures? I have seen nothing like them before.” 

“I copy them from drawings, or descriptions. Grandsire gifts me books that the maesters write about the animals and insects they find in their travels,” She tells you, and for a moment you are sitting with her on the stone steps of Driftmark’s castle on that last night, that last reunion, watching the spider crawling over your hands as she tells you about its origins, about the strings her grandfather pulled to gift her this creature, both of you unaware that your brothers were fighting in the tunnels below. The memory, the unexpected nostalgia that comes with it, catch you off guard long enough that the conversation dies out. After a few beats of silence, your aunt offers, “I’ll teach you, if you want.” 

“Oh.” 

“To embroider. Not spin.” 

“I-I would love to learn, I-…” 

“He is my brother,” She interrupts you, big eyes unwavering in their intensity. She speaks with certainty, with purpose, as if these scattered sentences hold just one meaning, “Despite the rest, b-before the rest. He is my brother.” 

“I was sent here as a bride, not an assassin. Is this a warning?” You try to jest, but she loses none of the intensity, none of the…anger. 

“Yes.” Helaena promises, surprising even herself at the statement, it seems. 

Seeming to hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to do or how to move, she finally decides to stride into the dining room that awaits you, leaving you behind. 

___ 

Your mother was right. By the Gods, you hate to admit it, but your mother was right. You should have never ridden ahead of them.  

The painfully small gathering has arranged you all around a small table, sitting you by the King’s side with Helaena at your other side, while your uncles and the Lord Hand sit across from you in the small table. 

Granted, in your travels you scarcely found yourself dining with a family lacking tension, it is almost a condition of noble blood to hate those you share it with, but there is something else to whatever haunts the family that resides in the Keep. Errant, a thought crosses your mind, a gratefulness to your mother to have taken you from here if this was to be the outcome for you as well. 

There lingers a lifelessness that reminds you of the marble model your grandsire keeps of Old Valyria, that makes you think of them all as beasts desperately trapped in the brittle stiffness of marble figurines. 

The Queen sits as tightly coiled as a spring, jarring tiny movements, almost spasms, as she as she takes her seat next to the King; though her eyes, big and anxious, trail over you all, jumping from person to person like an anxious deer’s. Yet, neither she nor anyone else comments on any of this strangeness. Perhaps this is what is normal for her, for them. 

Helaena has made it her mission to fold her napkin into some form or another, hunched over the table to focus on her task, and refuses to deviate her attention from it; while Aegon seems to have made his mission to discover how quickly he can sight the bottom of his cup, and appears to be making faster progress to his goal with each refill from the servants. 

And Aemond is making quick progress to losing his other eye, by your hand this time, if he doesn’t cease in repeating this maddening little trick with his knife. He throws it a tiny distance so it embeds on the table, then pulls it out. Repeats this once more. Then spins the round-handled knife on his finger, one, two, three times. Back to the table, and the cycle starts again. Thud, thud, swish, swish, swish.  

“I hear you came here on your dragon. How was your journey here, Princess?” Otto Hightower asks, and whether he intended to or not he has thrown you a rope to pull yourself out of the waters. After more than a year of travel and ceaseless talks with nobles, of endless dinners and constant lies and embellishments, an exchange like this is as natural to you as it is for Daemon to wield Dark Sister. 

Thud, thud, swish, swish, swish. 

“Quite wet, I’m afraid, my Lord Hand,” You answer, accepting a small pork tart a servant offers you. Nodding your thanks, you continue, “Vermithor enjoys the rain, and cares not for my opinion on it. If he sees a storm nearby, he’ll take us to fly right through it.” 

Thud, thud, swish, swish, swish. By all the Gods, what use have Lord Confessors for instruments of torture when Aemond and his Gods-damned knife trick exist? 

“I told you before, my girl,” King Viserys muses with a wry chuckle. “The idea that we control them is…is an illusion.” 

“We control them no more than we control our own children,” You tell your grandsire, agreeable smile, as is expected, on your lips. “Or our parents.” 

He seems to gather a deeper meaning from your words, and where you merely meant to compare the veteran dragon that claimed you as his rider and your parents’ own protectiveness, your grandsire takes it as a reproach of sorts, based on his downturned mouth, on his furrowed brow. 

“I…I know you must still resent my decisions. I myself have come to regret them, with the years,” You are certain your confusion must be clear in your face, but he pushes forward with a grimace of pain as he leans closer. “But you are mine own, Rhaenyra. In my eyes, know that none of them could even compare, you must kn-…” 

Queen Alicent interrupts him with a quiet whisper of his name and her hand resting on his shoulder, but you hear the unspoken words as if a dragon had roared them, as does everyone in the room, you are certain.  

You venture to look to your right and find Helaena hunched over the table, both elbows resting besides her plate, and fiddling with her napkin, still attempting to fold it into some shape or another, and unaware of or unwilling to react to her father’s words. But you notice the way she has made herself smaller, the way her shoulders are hunched up almost to her ears, and you feel your heart break a little. 

Prince Aemond is still relentlessly toying with the knife, but where the movements were practiced now they have a certain jitteriness to them, as if the repetitive motions are no longer the result of idleness, but of restlessness. It reminds you of the anxious flicks of Vermithor’s tail when he grows agitated. 

The only one immobile is Aegon. 

He is as still as a stone statue, arms extended and gripping the edges of the table as if catching himself from standing up -from fleeing? Or fighting?-. His eyes -by the Gods, he truly has his mother’s eyes-, wide in shock and shame and something older than himself, remain trained on the table before him. 

A breath, stuttered and shallow, and his gaze lifts to his father. Pain, disgust, and somewhere in them you could swear there is also rage. You’ve seen trapped wolves with that look, you’ve seen cornered snakes with that look. 

“Rhaenyra isn’t here, my love,” Alicent tells the King, “She will join us in a day’s time, to announce her daughter’s betrothal to Aegon. Remember?” 

At the reminder, as quick as a soldier standing to attention, as instinctively as if a command had been issued, Aegon’s eyes flicker to you, only to find you already looking at him. The minuscule smile he offers you is one of lips pressed into a thin line, it is bitter, it is defiant in the face of humiliation, and it is terribly sad. 

Cravenly, foolishly, you find yourself looking away. You turn to the King instead. 

“Yes, of…of course,” There’s clarity in Viserys’ eyes and his mind for a moment before the pain or the remedy for it seems to dull it once more. “Forgive me, child. You do look a mirror of your mother.” 

Your smile is a grimace but still sweet enough for your grandsire to answer with one in kind, but you find yourself stuck with no path forward, with no idea on what to make of this. What you know for certain however, is that you will forbid your handmaidens from ever again braiding your hair in the same manner your mother wears it. 

“When she came of age, I was drowning in an ever-growing sea of letters and gifts, proposals and requests for her hand,” He reminisces, nostalgia as intoxicating to his senses as the strongest of wines. “I’m sure it was no different when you did.” 

By the Gods, you want this conversation to be over, you have wanted for few things more fervently than an end to this uncomfortable and dreadful affair. 

Stiffly, carelessly, you answer, “I wouldn’t know, I refused to hear of it.” 

“Ah.” The King concedes, leaning back, disappointment and something impossibly close to grief clouding his gaze.  

With a deep breath, through gritted teeth, you force yourself to add, “W-Which she tells me she often also did, when she was my age.” 

“She resisted my every attempt to find her a match, as I’m sure she has told you,” He says, not wasting a moment to return to the bittersweet draw of memories. He lifts his cane to aim the ivory dragon your way with a smile on his lips that almost makes him have the healthier and rounder face of the grandsire you remember from your youth. Almost. “And I hear you resisted as well, and set off in your tour to make your own choice. You inherited her beauty and her temperament.” 

But you didn’t inherit her temperament, and you don’t look like her. And though you love her, you aren’t like her, in your faults and in your virtues. 

You understand, however, that it is yet another mask, another face. Some will wish to see your mother’s daughter and nothing more, and so you know that if you aim to win -and you do- that is the face you ought to show. 

“I can only hope, grandsire.” 

“It does warm this old man’s heart to know you walk willingly into this union, child,” Willingly? Your nails dig like claws onto your thighs, and from the corner of your eye you notice Helaena stop in her folding of the damn napkin and turn her gaze to you. “Despite the sacrifice it demands from you, despite the kind of man you must marry.” 

He hasn’t said his son’s name. Hasn’t even looked at him since dinner started. 

Now that you think about it, you doubt he has looked upon any of his children at all tonight. 

And he hasn’t looked at you, not really. Not without seeing the face of the daughter he lost, the daughter he failed. 

And though you ache to tell the King that were the odds to be even slightly more in your favor you would feed Aegon to Vermithor without hesitation, not in virtue of who he is but instead who he must become; and though you know what you must answer with is gratefulness for the recognition of your sacrifice, agreeable demeanor and a sweet smile; it is an old instinct, older than the one learned during your family’s self-imposed exile to Dragonstone, what decides your next words. 

“It is no sacrifice,” You tell him, lie coming naturally to you, a skill in no small part Aegon helped you develop, with all the times in your youth that you lied to cover for him. “As you might remember, we were quite close, all of us. I am glad to return here, and I could ask for no better match.” 

He knows you are lying. He is old and dying but he knows you are lying. 

At least your grandsire remains as you remember him, and will take the comfort of an empty lie over the difficult reality of truth. He smiles, a sentencing. 

“That is good to hear, sweet girl. It gives me hope that our House will remain united, able to withstand what tribulations are to come.” 

“As it should. Only a dragon can kill another. Our House is invulnerable as long as it remains one,” You agree, as is expected, as is demanded. It is unbefitting, untoward, unthinkable, to have you admit you have often thought about it all burning, breaking, crumbling. To admit you have often wished for it. “I am honored to do as expected from me, and uphold the family, the crown.” 

“You possess an admirable sense of duty, of sacrifice, Princess,” The Queen compliments, to which you know you must answer with a smile. Elbows leaning on the table, Alicent rests her chin on the back of her joined hands and asks, “Did you inherit that from your mother also?” 

The smile, as false as a vow made in wine, falls from your lips instantly. 

The Hand clears his throat, straightening in his chair, and at her direct attack there is not the calculating, almost proud look in his eye that was there the night she wielded a knife against your mother. He looks tired, disappointed and irked, but mostly tired. The look in his eyes reminds you of the Dragonkeepers in charge of herding the hatchlings. 

“We will cease with these…these quarrels at once. Otherwise, our dinners, and our lives, will feel entirely too long,” It steals the ground from under your feet, the breath from your lungs, to hear him say such a thing. A lifetime. “Prince Daeron sent word that you were able to meet with him in Oldtown during your travels, Princess.” 

Once again, The Hand saves you all, and thankfully diverts your attention from your own spiraling thoughts. 

“Yes, my Lord. He and Ser Gwayne were kind enough to take me on a few outings and show me around. As beautiful a city as I ever saw.” You tell him, and though the answer is practiced and instinctual, it is no lie. The most innocuous street a thousand years old, every stone that makes up its castle witness to a hundred battles. 

“It is a wonder.” Otto agrees. 

You should bite your tongue, until it bleeds if you must, you know you should. But you didn’t inherit your mother’s temperament, and you want to remind them. Foolishly, recklessly, you want to remind them that you do not run when cornered. 

So you add, “One must thank the Gods that your ancestor had the good sense to bend the knee to Aegon the Conqueror. It would have been a shame for such a wonder, such a House, to burn.” 

“How fortunate the Hightowers are, then,” Aemond drums a short little beat with his fingers on the table, drawing the attention to himself. “That of the dragons capable of such destruction, only Vhagar remains.” 

“Yes, marvelous creature that she is. Yet long past her prime,” You retort. “In all her might, Vhagar is a relic of days sadly gone from us.” 

“Hm.” Another drum of his fingers on the table, and though he is still a stranger, you notice the clear tell of anger on him, a twitch on his lip, the slightest widening of his eye. You’ve seen Dragonkeepers with decades of experience burned to ash for the simple mistake of not heeding the creature’s warnings. 

You will gain nothing from antagonizing him, and while you may amuse yourself by prodding to see what it is that makes him tick, you are aware Aemond remains a weapon you ought to be careful not to see turned at you. 

In your months travelling through Westeros, entertaining conversations with Lords and Ladies from the most brilliant to the dullest, from the most hostile to the meekest, you have learned almost everyone has exposed nerves. Most are aware of them, and attempt to guard them, as you yourself have attempted to guard your own over the years. 

Others, in arrogance or desperation, find themselves unable to. And while your grandsire’s need for peace -perhaps not peace, but merely the absence of conflict, not an extinguished forest fire, but a land devoid of air, where not even embers might linger alive- was something you expected would be easy to learn was his weakness, you are surprised by how swiftly you understand pride is Aemond’s. 

“I have not seen you ride her in years, I fear neither my memories nor the stories I have heard must do either of you justice now, after so long bonded,” You admit, false sweetness twining with honest admiration. “Once I am settled here, would you take me to see her, uncle? We could fly together.” 

You would think a praise as plain as those extended to some Lord or another during your travels, a request as simple as this, would not so easily disarm him, but it seems to. 

A twitch of his mouth, as if he stops himself from giving a quicker answer, and Aemond leans back in his seat. A retreat.  

Another drum of his fingers on the table, but there’s a nervousness to the movement now, and you fight for control to keep the smug smile off your lips. 

“Of course, Princess.” 

You bow your head and mutter a quick kirimvose, and catch yourself slipping, offering an honest smile. A part of you, still the child that would linger long after the candles had started to die out practicing Valyrian with a book recounting the Conquest, is still filled with awe at the mere thought of Visenya’s dragon. 

And the part of you that felt her blood sing when Daemon made you take flight with him on Caraxes and Vermithor and taught you all he could of how to lead a dragon during war, during a true dance, wants more than little else for a chance to prove yourself against the Queen of All Dragons and her rider. 

“A most excellent suggestion, sweet girl,” The King praises. “Two of the oldest living dragons, the two branches of our House, flying as one again. It will remind the Realm we stand as one.” 

Must everything be for the good of the Realm, to send a message? Must everything be for appearances’ sake? You merely wanted Aemond and his hoary dragon to be reminded you and the Bronze Fury remain faster, better. 

Reminding yourself to play, and desperate to close any openings these people might find, you search for a shield. 

“I have dearly missed the musicians from King’s Landing. Many fond memories of my youth involve their melodies,” You announce, entirely more chipper than you have ever been naturally. Turning to the King, you prompt, “If you please, grandsire?” 

He acquiesces, and orders the music start with a slight cough at the end of his words. He reaches with a clammy, cold hand and squeezes your fingers once before letting go. 

Strangely, perhaps in the most bizarre interaction you’ve had since arriving, you find the Lord Hand regard you quietly and offer you a nod when your eyes meet, as if approving.  

With your future betrothed seemingly intent on ignoring you and Aemond back to his maddening little game with his knife -it is strange, that even in such distinct actions and attitudes, the brothers remind you in the same way of the lions the Lannisters of Casterly Rock presented to you when you arrived, and the incessant circles the poor beasts would pace, forsaking food and water to keep up the mad repetition their time in captivity had impressed in them-; you find yourself with no remaining choice but to bother sweet Helaena. 

“Are dinners in the Keep usually…like this?” 

Like a castle a stone away from crumbling to dust, like a barrel leaking oil next to an open flame. Like an open wound, dug into by uncaring, rotten fingers. 

“No. The pain makes father sleep a lot, so he doesn’t join us. Grandsire is always too busy to attend,” She tells you, intent on achieving on the folded napkin the perfect angle for what you know is a dragon. “And usually no one talks to me.” 

“Oh.” 

She taps the dragon’s snout once, twice, to further correct its position. Looks at it for a few beats of silence, studying it. 

“I hope that changes with you here again. I haven’t had a sister before.” 

Though her wording is strange, it is no different from the way the girl you remember from your childhood used to speak. You allow yourself a smile, honest for once, “Neither have I.” 

“You have Baela and Rhaena,” She argues without thinking, before her eyes widen and rise to meet yours. “I’m sorry.” 

“No use in lying to you, is there?” 

She breathes a warm little laugh, but ducks her head, even as she admits, “Everyone still tries.” 

“I can assure you it is not meant as a personal offense, Helaena,” You promise her, “To many it becomes an instinct. It is no longer a choice they can make.” 

Her brow twitches, as if something bothers her, and she does a miniscule shake of her head as if to rid it of something. Instead of sharing thoughts you are certain are itching to be voiced, Helaena presents the napkin dragon to you. 

You take it with careful hands, and bow your head with murmured, yet heartfelt, thanks. 

___ 

Dismissed from what you are certain has been the longest dinner of your entire existence, you walk with Helaena to your room, your handmaidens having gone ahead of you to ready each of your rooms. 

In your hand the cloth dragon is carefully cradled, and you muse aloud about where it is you will place it. 

“Rhaenyra taught me to make these. I used to make them daily for father, for him to put next to his marble ones,” Helaena reminisces, “He discarded every one of them. Aemond found them one day, tried to hide them so I wouldn’t know.” 

“I take it he didn’t succeed.” 

“My brothers are terrible at hiding things, both of them.” 

“I know, and so are mine. Remember when Aegon and Jace agreed to steal Sunfyre and Vermax from the Pits to have them race? Days before they were giddy, couldn’t for the lives of them hide they were up to something.” 

“You cursed at them in Valyrian and in Common when you found out what they were planning.” 

And yet you still went with them, as did Helaena. Even Aemond, grumbling the whole way, joined you and watched the dragons fly overhead with you all.

Foolishly, you find that you remember that day fondly, even though Jace refused to talk to you for a week after finding out you had bet on Sunfyre winning. 

Instead of admitting that memories of a shared youth linger fresher in your mind, closer to your heart, that you would like, you argue,  

“It was an objectively stupid idea. If our mothers had found out they would have had their hides. And ours.” 

“They found out.” 

“They did?” Your smile falters. Even to this day Jace boasts about the time he stole his own dragon from the Pits. “My mother never said anything.” 

“Mine did. She-…” She stops, startles at a thud from within your room as the servants move about. She shakes her head again, though you gather it is memories and not something relating to her dreams that she aims to clear from her head now. “They found out.” 

“I’ll be sure to tell that to my brother, he still believes himself some masterful thief for pulling it off.” You tell her, attempting to bring levity back into the conversation. It feels like yet another mask, for no one’s benefit, and you aren’t sure what to make of both the realization that you wear it even now, and the fact that you refuse to drop it.  

You both come to a stop in the door to your apartments -what used to be your mother’s apartments, instead of the rooms you occupied when you were last here-, and Helaena speaks again, 

“You couldn’t know, but I…I…” Her hands spasm, open and close, one, two times. Like dying spiders. “You hurt me, by leaving.” 

“I never meant to.” 

“I know. You didn’t have a choice,” She concedes, but the stiffness remains. Helaena lifts her head a little higher, hands joined together before her. “It doesn’t change that it hurt, however.” 

“I…” 

“Goodnight.” 

She bows her head as a goodbye and doesn’t wait for an answer before she takes her leave. 

Thank you for reading! Some chapters of this series will skip in time a bit, so if there's anything that wasn't clear or that you'd like to know about the time in between, or any skipped scenes, or stuff from the past, feel free to ask!

Taglist: @21-princess

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[iamnotoriginalphil]

Distracted (Kate Stewart x f!Reader)

Synopsis: You get horribly distracted around Kate leading you to agree to do something that may just make the entire thing worse.

Words: 8.5k

Warnings: smut, fake married, one bed trope, oral sex, boss/employee relationship, swearing, gross middle aged men

“Are you listening?”

“Hm?”

You looked up, finding dark eyes resting on you, a frown pulling down the corners of a mouth that had no right to look that good while annoyed with you. Kate Stewart, sitting across from you, lent back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. Which only made the listening thing more difficult when temptation was pushed up in a very pleasing way. 

“You’re not,” Kate said. 

“Sorry, what did you say?” you asked. 

“You’re not listening at all,” she said. 

It was with great effort that you dragged your eyes back up to her face. Her lips were pursed and you sighed, slumping in your seat. 

“Sorry,” you said. 

“What’s going on with you?” she asked, “you’re usually much better at pretending like you’re listening.”

A small chuckle reverberated in your chest but all you could do was shake your head. You couldn’t tell her the exact issue because then she’d know the exact issue. Which was you finding her incredibly distracting. Because she was incredibly gorgeous. And you wanted to put your mouth on her. All of her. 

“I guess I’m just tired,” you said, “I’ve been having some trouble sleeping lately.”

Mostly because any time you closed your eyes you saw her. Usually doing things that were not appropriate to say out loud in the workplace. Especially to the boss. Especially when it was about the boss. And your fantasies about her. 

“You should talk to medical about that,” she said. 

“I’m sure it’s fine,” you replied with a shrug. 

“If it’s affecting your work, you should have that checked out,” she said. 

She looked down to the tablet in front of her. A lock of blonde hair swung forward and you clenched your fingers to keep from reaching out and tucking it behind her ear again. You squeezed your eyes closed and tilted your chin down, pushing the impulse down as far as it would go. 

“So we’ll be leaving on Friday,” she said. 

“Leaving?” You really wished you’d been listening. 

“For Scotland. We’ll be gone for the weekend. Pack warm,” she said, glancing up at you. 

“Because we’ll be… doing… important work,” you said, nodding slowly. 

“We’re going undercover to root out the nonhuman at this event,” she said, “they don’t know we’ve realised they’ve begun impersonating one of the people that will be there. So I’ve accepted the invitation and you’re my plus one.” 

You could only gape at her. 

“You really heard none of that, did you?” The iciness had begun to melt and the amusement was beginning to shine through. 

You shook your head, taking a deep breath. When you looked back to her, you made a concentrated effort not to look at the tantalising swell of her breasts or the exposed skin at her collarbone. Her lips had begun to lift at the corners and relief was sweet. 

“So the whole weekend?” you asked. 

“Leaving Friday, returning Monday morning,” she confirmed. 

“And I need fancy clothes, right? Formal, rather,” you said when she raised an eyebrow at you. 

“Best to be prepared,” she replied. 

“I’m sure I can leave the bikini at home,” you quipped. 

There was a moment when her eyes seemed to darken as they looked at you. You were sure you were seeing something, that it was just a change in the lighting. 

“Perhaps for the best,” was her only reply. 

_____*****_____

Friday afternoon came around far too quickly for your liking. Sitting on a train with Kate was alright. Working on separate things, it was quiet, comfortable, barely different from being in the office with her. The air was warm and when you looked, quite a nice view was going past the window. 

Kate groaned, pressing her fingers to her temples as she flung her tablet down. You glanced up, nudging your open bag of crisps in her direction. She looked at you before taking one, crunching down on the potato. 

“Problem?” you asked. 

“I did not get into this line of work to be dealing with finances,” she said, “I’m not a bloody accountant.” 

“No, you’re better. You’re every job rolled up into one,” you said. 

“Just once I’d like it if someone else could put out the fires,” she said, taking another crisp. 

“Unfortunately we don’t have anyone better,” you replied. 

She sighed and her fingers returned to her temples. You nudged the undrunk cup of tea towards her. The smile she offered you was beleaguered and put upon. You nodded to it and she rolled her eyes, picking it up and pressing it to her lips. You waited until you saw her swallow, throat bobbing in a way that made you want to press your lips to her skin and make her do it again for a completely different reason. 

“You need to stay hydrated,” you said, “and not just drink coffee all day.”

“You’re not my doctor,” she said. 

“But I know you well enough to know you haven’t had any water today,” you replied, “or enough sleep I’d imagine.”

“Speaking of sleep,” she said, leaning forward, chin resting in interlocking fingers, “you seem more alert today.”

“Oh?” You weren’t sure where she was going. 

“You’ve been sleeping better, then?”

“Oh.” You hadn’t, “I suppose.”

You’d been making a more concentrated effort to not be caught daydreaming about her. Certainly not in front of her. You didn’t need her to look into it more or force you to talk to one of the doctors when you knew the issue. And you certainly had no interest in explaining the issue. 

You thought you’d rather let the world swallow you up than do that. 

“Are you going to tell me this fabulous secret to getting more sleep?” she asked, snagging another one of your crisps. 

“Tire yourself out,” you said, thinking about how you usually helped yourself get to sleep at night. All that fantasising had to come in useful eventually. 

“And how would you suggest I do that?” she asked. 

“I don’t know,” you replied.

“Well, what do you do?” she asked. 

Your cheeks heated and you blinked at her, mouth falling open. There was no way to answer that appropriately. She waited patiently before she seemed to notice she wasn’t getting an answer. Her eyes slipped down your body before her tongue dragged over her lower lip. 

“I see,” she said, voice lower than usual. 

“I’m not suggesting you… it’s not… you do?” You weren’t even sure what you were saying at that point. 

“I think I do,” she said, leaning back in her chair, bringing the cup of tea to her smirking lips. 

“Right well, I’m going to go… get you some water,” you said, fleeing the scene. 

When you returned she said nothing more about the conversation you’d been having, squinting down at the tablet. She took the water from you with a perfunctory thank you before she fumbled in her bag. Dark framed glasses were placed on her nose and you lost your breath. 

You didn’t bother going back to your report, staring at her instad. You hadn’t seen her in the glasses before, and now you had, you knew they’d be playing a role in your fantasies from now on. You took a deep drink from your own water, knowing you had to look away but not able to. She was entirely too sexy with those heavy frames resting on her face. 

She glanced up, brown eyes finding yours from behind glass. You were quick to look back down at your laptop as if you hadn’t been staring before darting up again. 

“I know. Not one word. Growing older comes with some serious caveats,” she said.

“I like them,” you said, “they suit you.”

“Psh,” she said, flapping her hand at you but you could see the pleased tilt to her smile. 

You continued working in silence until the train pulled to a stop. Rain was lashing the window and it was with difficulty that you navigated your luggage to the front of the station. Kate was holding the umbrella over your head, sheltering you as best she could. 

Holding the door open, the driver UNIT had organised took the bags from you. You slid into the backseat with a sigh, leaning back in the soft leather. You closed your eyes, relaxing into the warmed chair. 

“Tired?” Kate asked. 

“I think it’s better if we don’t start that conversation again,” you said, “or else I’ll be forced to throw myself out of this car while it’s moving.” 

“Point well made,” she said. 

You slipped back into silence, the night pressing in at the window. You could see in the reflection she was also looking out her window, watching the scenery go by. The way she seemed to soften as she thought made you smile. Watching her when she didn’t think she was being watched was one of those things you rarely got to indulge in. You never failed to enjoy it when you could. Unguarded Kate felt like a privilege. 

“Here you are, ma’am,” the driver said, pulling up on a gravelled drive. 

“Thank you,” she said, pushing the door open. 

She held the umbrella above as you grabbed the bags before you looked up. 

“Oh my god,” you breathed. 

“What?” she asked. 

“We’re staying in a castle. A literal castle. Kate, this is a castle,” you said, turning to look at her. 

The smile on her face was amused and a tad fond at your wide eyed wonder. Her hand landed on the small of your back, leading you towards the door. 

“Try to look like you belong,” she murmured, leaning closer to you. 

You shivered at her warm breath hitting your skin. She held the door open for you, then shook the rain out of her umbrella. After placing  it in the holder waiting by the door, she swept you to the front desk. 

“Stewart, checking in,” she said to the young woman behind the counter. 

“Ah yes, we have you right here Mrs and Mrs Stewart,” she said, tapping at the keyboard of her computer. 

Your cheeks heated and you opened your mouth to correct her. Kate pinched your hip, effectively silencing you. Your mouth shut with a snap, dragging your eyes over to her. She raised her eyebrows at you but you had no way to answer her. 

“Alright, Wesley will show you up to your room,” she said. 

A man had appeared behind you, taking the bags from you. Kate walked beside you up the stairs, her hand close enough to brush against yours. You glanced at her again, finding her already looking at you with a small smile. Wesley stopped outside a door, the key clunking in the lock. 

The door opened onto an expansive suite, rich and luxurious. He put your bags down in the bedroom, lush carpet keeping his footsteps silent. He nodded to the two of you before closing the door. 

“Kate?” you whispered. 

“Sorry about that. They’re very strict about the kind of plus one we can bring to these events,” she said, walking away from you, leaving you gaping in the sitting area. 

“I dunno about this,” you said, following her. 

“You really weren’t listening when I explained this,” she said, ending on a laugh. 

You stopped, realising there was only one bed. A very large, very soft looking bed. But only one. For the both of you. To share. 

Oh no. 

“They think we’re married,” you said, voice unsure and small. 

“Newlyweds, in fact,” she replied over her shoulder, “do you want to shower first?” 

“Uh, no, you go ahead,” you said, “what do you mean they think we’re newlyweds?”

“They didn’t have a wife on file for me. I had to let them know it was a new development,” she said. 

She wandered into what you thought was the bathroom. Her gasp had you rushing in behind her. Crashing into her back, your hands clutched at her hips to keep the two of you upright. 

“What is it?” you asked. 

“Look at that tub. The things I’ll do to that tub,” she all but moaned. 

Your cheeks heated again and you stepped back. 

“I’ll uh, leave you alone with that,” you said. 

“Quite right,” was her response. 

You closed the door on the bedroom, curling up on the sofa, facing an already lit fireplace. You stared into the flames, trying to calm your racing heart. You couldn’t seriously be about to spend the weekend pretending to be your boss’s new wife. Your life had stopped making sense. 

“Alright, you're up.”

You startled, not realising how long you’d been sitting there, trying to wrap your head around your situation. Kate was there in a set of sensible pyjamas, looking much more relaxed than she had all day.  

“Right,” you said. 

Getting up on wobbly knees, you passed her, rifling through your bag to find your own pyjamas. Not sensible, an old pair of shorts and an oversized shirt, you felt a flush of embarrassment. You hadn’t thought she’d be seeing them. You might have picked something that made you look a bit better than old clothes. 

You took longer in the bathroom to shower and brush your teeth than was strictly necessary, but you figured you had the right after having this whole thing sprung on you. Gathering your courage, you stepped back into the bathroom. 

The light was soft, a warm glow, the lamps on either side of the bed lit up. Kate was sitting in the bed, glasses perched on the end of her nose as she looked over a file in her hands. You froze, not realising that this was something you wanted to see. But now you couldn’t look away. 

“I hope you don’t mind that I took the right side of the bed,” she said, glancing up at you from over the top of those thick frames. 

“Oh, uh, no, that’s fine,” you replied, finally moving again. 

Climbing into the bed beside her felt odd. Kate was usually so professional, all buttoned up and at a distance. This was so far outside the realms of your understanding you were certain you’d slipped into an alternate timeline. In the bed beside you she was all soft and tired, too domestic for you to be seeing. 

“Tomorrow we have quite a busy day,” she said, plucking the glasses off her face. 

“So we should sleep now,” you said, nodding. 

“Indeed.” Her eyes swept over you for a moment, “but perhaps we don’t engage in our tiring activities to tempt sleep.”

“Okay, I’m ignoring you now,” you said, your embarrassment growing to a point you couldn’t handle anymore. 

You rolled over, her chuckle warming you more than the down quilt you were burying yourself in. Squeezing your eyes closed, you waited for the lights to go out. 

“Goodnight,” Kate whispered across the expanse of the bed before the lights went out. 

It shouldn’t have felt impossible to relax in the bed, given it was big enough to not even notice another person was in it. Kate was so far away from you, you could barely feel her when she shifted on the mattress. On the edge of the bed, trying to give her more room, you held yourself so tight there was no opportunity to fall asleep. 

A warm hand curled around your arm, tugging on you until you rolled onto your back. 

“If you stay over there you’ll fall out,” Kate’s gravelly voice said from across the expanse. 

You let her manoeuvre you into a more comfortable position, closer to her than before but still not close enough to really feel her. Her hand disappeared and you were left alone again. Her soft breaths were the only thing you could hear in the darkness. You tried to match your own breathing to them, hoping it would help you relax. She shifted and you froze. 

This was a terrible idea. 

After hours of doing your best to fall asleep, after what felt like minutes once you were, a strong hand was softly shaking you awake. You blinked into the sunlight, groggy and unsure of yourself. 

“Rise and shine. Breakfast will be served in half an hour.”

You grumbled, pushing yourself up into a seated position, hair a tangle around your face. Kate was standing at the side of the bed, looking down at you, already dressed and looking perfect. You blinked again, rubbing at your eyes, trying to clear away the haze. 

“Right, okay, yes,” you said. 

Pushing the duvet off your legs, you stood, stumbling for a moment before she caught you. You dragged your eyes up to her face, finding her so close. You could feel the curves of her body, the brush of the wool of her jumper, the scent of her perfume clinging to her skin. 

“Careful,” she murmured. 

You jerked out of her hold, stumbling over to your bags again. You didn’t look at her as you scrabbled for clothes. Closing yourself in the bathroom, you took a deep breath, trying to push away the tiredness clawing at your eyes. One weekend, you could get through it. For Kate, you’d do a lot worse. 

“Alright,” you said, exiting the bathroom, “let’s do this thing.”

She raised an eyebrow at you from her spot on the sofa. You waited until she shook her head and stood, holding an arm out to shuffle you towards the door. 

“Is this what you’re like before you’ve had your morning coffee?” she asked. 

“I suppose,” you replied, “no one ever really sees it.”

“Lucky me.”

The dining room was a hotbed of old masculine activity. You felt immediately out of place, in your jeans and jumper and non executive position in your organisation. Kate lifted her chin, staring down the room like she was in charge. Her hand settled on the small of your back again, leading you over to an empty table. 

“Coffee?” she asked. 

“You’re a goddess,” you said, sinking down onto the chair she’d held out for you. 

She lingered a moment, looking down at you with a wide eyed gaze. You blinked, staring up at her, waiting for an admonishment. It never came. 

“One cappuccino,” she said, placing a cup down in front of you. 

“I could get used to this treatment,” you said. 

“Kate,” a booming voice interrupted before she could say anything, “there was a rumour going around you might not make it this year.”

“And yet here I am,” she replied, shaking the hand of the middle aged man in a suit that probably cost more than your rent for an entire six months. And you lived in the heart of London. 

“And this must be the new Mrs Stewart,” he said, turning his attention to you. 

You got to your feet, holding a hand out to him. He brought it up to his mouth, lips brushing the skin of the back of your hand. Kate reached out, an arm wrapping around your waist, hand resting on your hip. It was a surprisingly possessive gesture and you were so focused on the warmth of her palm seeping through your layers you missed what he said next. 

“Sorry, she’s a little tired this morning. Unfortunately we didn’t get as much sleep as we would have liked,��� Kate said. 

“Ah yes, newlywed bliss. I miss those days,” he said with a sage nod. 

Your cheeks heated again and you couldn’t look anyone in the eye. Kate’s warm chuckle was the only thing keeping you holding it together. Lips pressed to your temple and you startled. 

“Good work, Kate. She’s a beauty,” he said by way of parting. 

She gave you a squeeze before releasing you. You sunk down onto the chair again, wrapping your hands around the warm cup she’d brought you. Sitting across from you, the table was small enough her foot brushed against yours. 

“Sorry about that,” she said. 

“Who was that?” you asked, finally taking a sip of coffee. Of course it was perfect. Of course she’d managed to know your order without being told. Of course she did. 

“Donovan. Head of homeland intelligence. He’s never been best pleased with our interference,” she replied, looking at you over the rim of her own cup. 

“Which explains why he was… flirting. That was what he was doing, right?” you asked.

“His version of it, yes. Bumbling fool that he is,” she said, “I should have warned you. People might use you to try and get the inside scoop on… me, I’m afraid.”

“I think they’re going to be disappointed. I’m a pretty loyal gal,” you said. 

She reached for your hand, lacing your fingers together on top of the table. Your heart skipped a beat and for just a moment it was easy to believe the fiction you’d started. She took another drink from her cup, foot nudging yours under the table. 

“You’ve always been good to me,” she said. 

“It’s pretty easy,” you replied with a small shrug. 

“I’m rather lucky to have you,” she said. 

You looked at her from under lowered lashes, not sure what else to say. Anything more felt like you’d be slipping into dangerous territory where she might work out that your feelings were a bit more than professional. You didn’t want to be reassigned to a new division. 

Breakfast passed with warm looks shared over food and too many introductions with important men and their wives as they tried to sniff out the competition. Kate bestowed smiles on you like they were free and the way she kept finding reasons to touch you was making your head spin. 

And you were no closer to figuring out who the imposter was. 

“Will you be okay on your own?” she asked once breakfast was done and you were about to split off. 

“I’m sure I can manage,” you said, smiling up at her. 

“That’s my girl.”

Her lips brushed your forehead and your breath caught in your chest. She gave your hand a squeeze before leaving you with the wives of the men she was going to investigate. 

“Come on, love, we’ll take care of you.”

An arm threaded through yours, tugging you away from the retreating back of Kate. She glanced over her shoulder one last time before the doors were closed between the two of you. 

“Ah, new love. We promise you’ll survive without her,” Elaine said, leading you into the sitting room. 

“No, I know,” you stumbled over your words, “that’s not…”

“Relish these early days, my dear. Being this smitten won’t last forever and then it will be boring drudgery day in and day out,” she said, steamrolling over your words. 

“And weekends away in Scottish castles,” you said. 

The tittering laughs of the other wives made you look from face to face, trying to work out what was so funny. Elaine tightened her arm around yours, giving you an indulgent smile. 

“I see why she likes you,” she said, “hard as nails that one but I suppose she has to be when she’s in the boy’s club.”

“Really?” No one at work would describe Kate as hard as nails. Kind, compassionate, tough at times but not some kind of steel lady. 

“Oh yes. She holds her own with the men,” one of the other women, Helen, said, settling on an upholstered settee. 

A swell of pride wasn’t what you’d been expecting but the distaste at the assumption she might not be up to it was. Of course Kate could hold her own. She was one of the most capable people you’d ever met. 

“I bet you give her a run for her money,” Elaine said. 

“Oh, I’m not sure-” you tried to say. 

“But then you’re such a pretty young thing I’m sure you have her wrapped around your little finger,” Elaine continued, 

You were not going to like the rest of the day if this was anything to go by. 

After hours of invasive questions you did your best to dodge, you finally managed to get a moment to yourself, slipping away to your room upstairs. You were no closer to figuring out who was the disguised alien and all you felt was sympathy for Kate for dealing with this alone for years. Staring out the window on the expansive grounds, rain lashing at the windows, dark clouds pressing in, you tried to work through anything you might have learnt. 

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” 

“Hello, wife,” you said, turning to look at Kate as she shut the door with her foot. 

“Mm, I could get used to such a warm greeting,” she said, sauntering towards you with one hand in her pocket. 

“Any luck?” you asked. 

“None,” she replied, “you?”

“Well, all the women here seem to think I’m young and pretty enough to have you wrapped around my finger,” you said with a small shrug, “so nothing new.”

Her warm chuckle was throaty, making a shiver go down your spine. If only they knew who was really the one wrapped around a finger. If she asked, you’d impale yourself on the gate out front. Which would be concerning if you really thought about it. 

“The ruse is going well then,” she said, “I spent the morning fielding questions about how I managed to convince you to marry me.”

“Oh, it was definitely the pay rise that came with it,” you said. 

“Undoubtedly,” she chuckled. 

She stood beside you, looking out on the rain. Shoulder to shoulder, you stayed in silence for a moment. 

“These people suck, Kate. I don’t know how you do it,” you said. 

“They don’t teach diplomacy in university but my god, I think they should,” she replied. 

“Sorry,” you said, duly chastised. 

“Oh no, you’re absolutely right. They’re an insufferable lot with too much ego and not enough sense between them to know when to quit,” she said. 

You pressed your lips together trying to keep your laughter in, but once the first giggle slipped past you couldn’t stop. Her own face lit up, a smile spreading, eyes sparkling when she caught your eye. Her shoulder brushed yours as she lent closer, entering into your personal space. 

“There’s no one I’d rather suffer through this weekend with than you,” she said, “you’ll at least see the humour in it when they inevitably put their foot in it.”

Your heart skipped a beat. The way she was looking at you made you forget that this was all a lie. That you weren’t there with her for a ruse to find an alien. That there was something more between the two of you. You wished there was. 

“Now, chop chop, we need to get dressed for dinner,” she said, breaking the moment. 

“Oh god,” you groaned. 

“Don’t be like that. If you’re lucky, there’ll be dancing.”

That thought didn’t comfort you as you threw on your dress and did your hair all pretty. Kate was gallant enough to let you take the bathroom, giving you the space to panic in peace as you prepared your game face. You weren’t one for fancy dinners and dancing. More like late night take away food and lounging on the sofa. 

Stepping out of the bathroom, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, you took a deep breath. You looked up, finding Kate staring at you, lips parted, something in her gaze that had your skin heating. Something about it was addictive and you wanted more. You always wanted more with her. 

“Did I do okay?” you asked, voice soft, unsure, hand smoothing over the silk of your skirt. 

“Wonderfully. I’ll be the luckiest person in that room tonight,” she said, taking slow sauntering steps towards you. 

Your eyes skated over her body. The suit she was in was tailored to her body and your mouth grew dry. It wasn’t that different from how she usually dressed at work, if only a touch more formal. Her white shirt was unbuttoned just enough to be tantalising, and having the long column of her neck on display like that was making you lose your train of thought. You had to take a deep breath to chase away the thoughts of leaning forward and brushing your lips over her pulse point. 

“Maybe I should make formal wear a requirement for your position,” she said, her eyes sweeping down your body then back up. 

“I think that would be abusing your position of power,” you said, cheeks heating up. 

“Quite right,” she said, stepping back, the familiarity disappearing from her face, “I suppose we should head down to dinner.” 

She held her arm out to you, your hand threading through her elbow. Leading you down the stairs, you could hear music coming from the back of the castle. You took a deep breath and she paused a moment around the corner from the open doors. 

“Ready?” she asked. 

“As I’ll ever be,” you replied. 

She lingered another moment and you thought she might be about to say something more. But then she put on a pleasant smile and steered you into the ballroom. 

The room was lit by crystal chandeliers, warm light, soft and flattering, beautiful in a way that was hard to replicate for less money. The hardwood floors were polished and at the far end a string quartet were playing lovely music. Waiters were wandering around with trays of drinks and hors d'oeuvres and the crowd of twenty people made the entire place feel empty and too big for their gathering. 

“This is eerie,” you said. 

“It’s a show of power. ‘Look how much money we have, beg us for some of it to keep your lights on’,” she murmured in your ear, “look suitably impressed. Here comes Donovan.”

“Ladies, you’re the last to arrive to our little gathering,” Donovan said, approaching the two of you. 

“It’s beautiful,” you said, smiling at him. 

“I hear you both cut out of the activities early this afternoon. Enjoying your suite in your newly wedded bliss?” he asked. 

Your stomach roiled at the implication. 

“I’m sure you remember what it’s like having a beautiful new wife,” Kate said, her arm once again curling around your waist. 

“Indeed I do.” His eyes swept over your body and you did not feel the same warmth you had with Kate, “you’re a lucky son of a gun, Stewart.”

“Don’t I know it,” she said. 

She pulled you half a step closer. Your body rested against the length of hers. Her hand rested on your hip and you curled an arm around her waist too. She looked down at you, smiling softly. You found yourself smiling up at her, not able to help yourself when she was looking at you like that. 

“Harold, are you bothering the young people?” 

Elaine slipped her arm through Donovan’s smiling at the two of you. 

“Oh yes, you make a handsome couple,” she said, looking at the two of you. 

“Thank you,” you said. 

“It’s nice to see Kate finally settling down again. She’s been alone too long,” she said, “you’ve done her the world of good. Look at that glow.”

Her arm tightened around you, keeping you pressed along the long line of her body. 

“I’m not doing much,” you said. 

“You’re doing more than you know,” Kate murmured, lips brushing your temple. 

“See, Harold, I told you their love was real,” she said, “you should hear how that one talks about Kate.”

“How do you talk about me?” she asked, looking down at you, that twinkle back in her eyes. 

“Like a normal person would,” you said, that sense of embarrassment welling up again. 

“She thinks the world of you,” Elaine said. 

“Quite right,” she said, giving you one of those little smirks that had your heart skipping a beat, “luckily, I feel the same way.”

You felt yourself leaning closer to her, getting lost in her eyes. Soft fingers gently tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, lingering on your jaw long after it was necessary. Your lips parted, an ache starting in your chest, wanting to lean forward and close the distance, to taste her, to fall into her well of gravity. 

“Oh honey, the dancing has started.”

You blinked, coming back to the moment. Leaning away from her, you took a deep breath, trying to settle your heart. Her gaze lingered, before she turned away, watching the couples begin to dance on the floor. 

“Do you feel like there are less people here than this morning?” you asked, trying to count all the people.

“I think you might be right.” Dark eyes swept over the crowd, assessing the number of people in the ballroom, “that’s concerning.”

“They're not dead, right?” you asked.

“It’s too soon to tell,” she replied, then looked down at you, “I’m sure they’re fine.”

A stab of fear went through you. Sure, you were used to complicated situations, but killer aliens were more the purview of the Doctor than you. Kate’s arm tightened around you again, her steady body keeping you from falling apart in front of everyone. Your unsure smile seemed to amuse her more than worry her.

“Let’s dance,” she said, “see who is still here.”

She swept you onto the floor. Your hand settled on her shoulder, the other clasped in hers. She was perfunctory in her movements, keeping to the beat but not as graceful as you might have once thought. Still, being within the circle of her arms, bodies brushing together, close enough to feel the warmth of her skin, it made your heart beat hard.

“At least three of the men are gone,” she said, pulling you closer, lips brushing your ear with each murmured word.

“But you saw them before returning to the room?” you asked.

“Mm,” she hummed, “keep an eye out for someone who is trying to get anyone alone.”

“What if they’re just trying to get off with someone?” you asked.

“Then that will be awkward for a moment but at least they won’t be dead,” she chuckled. 

Her hand was warm as it skimmed over the skin of your back before it settled in the curve of your spine. Your breath caught and her eyes flicked back to you, an eyebrow pulling up. Your cheeks heated and you looked away, focusing on the couples dancing over her shoulder. 

Helen was leaning over Elaine’s shoulder, whispering to her. Elaine stood, shooting a look over at the two of you before a small titter came from their lips. Older lady disapproval. That cut you deep to the core.

“I do look okay, right?” you asked.

“Darling, you’re beautiful,” she said, “dazzling. I doubt these men have seen anything so wonderful in many years. Donovan keeps looking at you like you’re something to eat.”

“I wish you hadn’t told me that,” you said.

“I agree, that went a bit too far. No one needs to know that about Donovan,” she replied, giving you a small smile, “now careful.”

She dipped you, giving you the chance to see the people behind you. Back arched, you waited a moment before she pulled you up again, closer than before, chest to chest. Your curves were melded against hers, and you could feel her breath brushing over the skin of your throat. You shuddered, not able to stop it. She chuckled, the vibrations reverberating through you like a tidal wave. 

“I think you’re better at this than I am,” she said.

“Well, I did take a few years of dance when I was about 10,” you said.

“That’s not what I meant,” she said and you weren’t sure what her tone was but it made your stomach sink.

She twirled you, and in that moment when you couldn’t see her face, you felt a sense of panic. The feeling that she was trying to hide something from you grew, only making you more desperate to see face, to gauge her emotion. But then she pulled you back in, hand on your hip, swaying to the music as she let her forehead fall to rest against yours. 

“May I cut in?” 

You blinked, turning to find Donovan by your side. He was holding a hand out to you, a cocky grin on his face. You opened your mouth to reply, only for Kate to wrap her arm around you, keeping you pressed against her.

“Elaine has run off with Helen and I find myself in need of company,” he said.

“And what will I do without her?” Kate asked.

“I’m sure you can spare her for one dance.” His eyes swept down your body and disgust curdled in your stomach. 

“Darling?”

You looked up into her face, finding something you hadn’t expected to find there. Annoyance and frustration and something you hadn’t seen in her eyes before. 

“Do you want to?” she asked.

“You know I’ll always prefer to be with you,” you replied, really not wanting that man to put his hands on any part of you.

“Correct answer,” she said.

“You have her well trained,” Donovan said, interrupting the moment.

“I’m not sure that’s what-” Kate began to say.

“But you can loan her out to me for one dance, can’t you?” he said, “after all, Elaine seems to have slipped away with Helen to whisper in the corner and I find myself all alone.”

“I’m afraid I still require her,” she said, “I really don’t want to let her go just yet.”

You slid your own arm around Kate’s waist, keeping as close to her as possible. Her chin dipped towards you and it was like Donovan stopped existing. She was the only one that existed and the way she was looking at you made heat spread through you. She was definitely better at this than you. Those heated looks and the possessive touches and the dancing. It was all making your head spin and you had to keep reminding yourself it was all pretend. 

“You never have to,” you whispered.

She drew closer, breath ghosting over your lips. You couldn't stop the small whimper that escaped from you. Her eyes darkened as they darted down to your lips. You lent closer, not able to keep from practically begging her for a kiss. 

The first brush of lips was soft, stealing your breath. You pressed closer, kissing her more firmly, your hand coming up to curl around the back of her neck. The small noise she made as your tongue swept along her lower lip had warmth pooling in your lower stomach. Her arm tightened around you as you melted against her. 

The low wolf whistle interrupted you, thoughts rushing back into your brain after the emptiness her kiss brought. She pulled away from you, a stricken look on her face. Donovan was watching the two of you, looking as if he was enjoying the show more than the two of you had been, which was saying a lot given how you were feeling. She tugged out of your hold.

“I uh… I need a moment,” she said.

She turned on her heels and disappeared through the crowd. All you could do was watch her back as it got further from, disappearing through the doors of the ballroom. 

“It appears as if you’re free for a dance now,” Donovan.

“Not so much,” you said, hiking up the skirt of your dress to chase after Kate. 

Following her footsteps up the stairs, you chased her down the halls until you reached the door to your suite. Catching it before it could close, you slipped inside. Kate was pacing, hands shoved in her pockets, muttering under her breath.

“So,” you said, watching as she froze, “are we going to have to file paperwork with HR now?”

“I must apologise. We never discussed the boundaries of pretending to be in a relationship and I went too far. I would understand if you wanted to make a complaint with our HR department,” she said.

“What?” You’d already lost track of the conversation.

“I took the ruse too far and crossed your personal boundaries. I can only apologise and hope that you can forgive me,” she said.

“I don’t-” 

“If you felt pressured in any way,” she interrupted, “you have my sincere apologies. The thought that I have ruined our working relationship with this brings me great pain. Not that I want to guilt you into dropping the issue.”

You ignored her, striding over. Both hands cupped her cheeks and you pulled her in, kissing her again, muffling the words against your lips. Her hands hovered a moment before they settled on your hips, pulling you closer again. Your tongue swept into her mouth, tasting her, wanting more. She groaned, deep in her chest, muffled in your mouth.

Your back hit the wall, pinned between it and her body. Your fingers found their way into her hair, tangling in the soft blonde strands, tugging until she made a small noise in the back of her throat. You arched against her, begging her for more.

Her hands slid up your body, cupping breasts through the silk of your dress. You moaned her name as her lips began to trail down your neck. Your head fell back, giving her the access she wanted. Her tongue ran over your skin, making you gasp, gripping onto her hair tighter. When her teeth sunk in, a groaned curse fell from your lips, arching into her touch, fire coursing through your veins. 

“Fuck, darling,” she moaned against your neck, “what are we doing?”

“What we should have been doing months ago,” you replied.

“Months ago?”

She pulled back, raising an eyebrow at you. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip, watching how her eyes focused on it. Her thumb brushed against your hardening nipple, your hiss making her smirk down at you.

“Months?” she asked again.

“I might have had a bit of a crush,” you said.

“Around that trip to York to chase the ghost?” she asked.

“Uh huh,” you said, focused on the way her thumb was making you feel. 

“That’s about the time you started being so distracted,” she hummed, thoughtful, tortuous in how slow she was touching you.

“I suppose so,” you said, breathless, watching her from under hooded eyes. 

“Now that does explain a lot,” she said before swooping in to kiss you again. 

Her name was muffled against her lips. Fingers scrabbled with the zip of your dress, tugging it down. Sure hands pulled the top of your dress down, dragging it over your arms, leaving you exposed. Her hands found their homes on your breasts again, skin against skin making your head spin. 

You moaned her name, your own fingers making short work of the buttons on her shirt, pushing it from her shoulders. Her mouth was finding a home on your neck as fingers pinched your hardened buds. Your hands were travelling over the skin of her back, warm and soft against your palms and you wanted more. She was murmuring something into your skin, her tongue tasting you. 

“Just to be clear,” you gasped as she rolled one of your nipples between thumb and forefinger, “we’re not pretending anymore, right?”

“Correct,” she said, lips brushing your skin, “this is very, very real.”

“Okay good,” you sighed, pressing closer to her. 

Her hands pushed your dress over your hips, letting it pool at your feet. You kicked it away before she swept you up into her arms. Your legs wrapped around her waist, your fingers tangling in her hair again as you tipped her head up. Leaning down, you kissed her deeply, your tongue in her mouth, tasting her. 

When she placed you down on the side of the bed, she knelt in front of you, looking up at you with smouldering eyes and smirking lips. Her fingers were slow as they unbuckled your heels, fingers brushing over your skin in a way that had you trembling. 

“You’re so beautiful, darling,” she murmured, “do you really want this?”

“God, yes, Kate. Fuck, if you don’t do this I’m going to be so angry,” you said.

“Well, I can’t have that,” she said.

Her lips skimmed over your calf, teasing you as she took her time to reach the apex of your thighs. Her mouth ghosted over your underwear covered core, humming when she realised you had soaked through them. Your fingers were tangled in her hair, pressing her closer as your legs spread further apart, trying to coax her closer. 

Her fingers hooked in the waistband of your underwear, slow to drag them down your legs. She paused a moment, her breath ghosting over your heat, making your hips arch off the bed, begging her closer. She chuckled, eyes finding yours. Your mouth opened, ready to admonish her, cut off when her tongue swiped through your folds. 

Your hips rose into her mouth as you fell back on the bed. The groan that fell from your lips felt filthy and her gratified answering groan had you tightening your fingers in her hair. She took her time, exploring you, tasting until you were breathless and begging her for more. She mostly ignored you, teasing you, dark eyes staring up your body as you clutched at your own breast, touching yourself until you were gasping for breath.

Her lips wrapped around your bundle of nerves, sucking, her fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as she kept you spread out for her. Her name was a chant, a prayer, a moan as you urged her on. Fire was creeping through your veins, burning away the person you were before, leaving you a phoenix to rise from the ashes of your desire. Her tongue was insistent on you, making you gasp, hips rolling against her face as you chased your high. 

It was the vibration of her moan that had a wave of pleasure breaking over you. The cry of her name from your lips was loud to your own ears but it was hard to care when her mouth was still on you and your orgasm was still singing in your veins. 

You tugged on her hair, pulling her up your body, letting her press her lips to your skin along the way before you kissed her, tasting yourself on her tongue. Her hands were sure on your body, holding you tight as she kissed you, humming her approval as your legs curled around her waist.

“Why are you still dressed?” you mumbled against her lips.

“Because you’re not very effective at undressing me,” she replied.

“You distracted me,” you complained, pouting when she drew away from you.

“Hasn’t that been your problem for months now?” The corner of her lips pulled up and you knew she was teasing you but you still wrinkled your nose. 

“Fine, then I won’t undress you as I let you distract me again,” you said, “I won’t even listen to you and just agree with anything you say.”

“Mm, I like the sound of that,” she murmured, swooping in to kiss you again.

It wasn’t until the morning, wrapped up in her arms, warm body pressed along your spine that you allowed yourself to consider the actual purpose of your trip again. Soft lips trailed over your shoulder, the hands on your body holding you in place against Kate’s body. You hummed, slow to roll over and look at her in the morning light. The light was warm, lighting her up like she was glowing from the inside out. Curling an arm around her neck, you nuzzled against her.

“I could get used to this,” you said.

“If we weren’t here for work, I’d suggest we stay right here,” she said, “all day in bed, nothing to interrupt, just giving in to any impulse we might have.”

“But we have to find an alien that is abducting people,” you said on a sigh.

Her hand skimmed down your body before she sat up, the covers pooling around her waist. Your eyes trailed over her body, considering everything you’d do if you were able to stay in bed all day with her. A very naked Kate Stewart was certainly a nice view to have first thing in the morning. 

“Are you distracted again?” she asked.

“Can you blame me?” you asked, fingertips brushing along her spine.

“You’re insatiable,” she murmured, leaning down to kiss you again.

“Only for you,” you groaned when she pulled away.

“Come on,” she said, standing from the bed, “we have an investigation to finish.”

It was during your shower that it hit you. Not even bothering to grab a towel, you rushed back into the bedroom. Kate looked up from where she was bent over, putting on her shoe on the edge of the bed. 

“If this is your attempt at convincing me to stay in for the rest of the day,” she said, standing, tongue dragging over her lower lip as her eyes traced over your wet body, “it’s working.”

“It’s Helen,” you gasped, grabbing her forearms.

“I’m not following,” she said, the lascivious look dropping from her face. 

“Helen is the alien,” you said, “she took Elaine off during the ball last night. I saw them talking together. Donovan even told us she’d taken her away into a corner and couldn’t find her afterwards. And she kept trying to convince me to take a walk with her through the rose garden alone. I put her off by talking about you but she kept trying to get me alone.”

“What did you say about me? You know what, it doesn’t matter. Are you sure?” she asked.

“Positive,” you said, “it’s her.”

She pulled you in, a perfunctory kiss placed on your lips before she turned away, pulling out her mobile phone. You dried off, listening to her call in the rest of the team, explaining your theory to them. She turned, watching as you pulled on your clothes, the appreciative look obvious even from across the room. When she hung up, her eyes were dark and you were breathless. 

“You’re brilliant,” she said, cupping both your cheeks and pulling you in for another kiss. 

You laughed, muffled against her lips as your hands settled on her hips. It was warm and soft and so achingly good you never wanted it to stop. 

“We should be downstairs when the team arrives,” she said, pulling away just enough to speak.

“Fine, but if we’re getting the train back to London I want a private compartment with you,” you said, tangling your fingers through hers.

“You can have whatever you want,” she promised.

Your eyes swept over her body and she chuckled, warm and throaty and you knew she knew exactly what you were thinking. Her arm slipped around your waist, directing you towards the door. You rested your head on her shoulder, snuggling into her side. 

“We are definitely going to have to file paperwork with HR now,” she said.

“Fine, but you should know I’m going to be even more distracted now that I know for certain how good you are in bed,” you said.

“As you should be,” she chuckled, leaning down to kiss you again.

[nadvs]

Would you ever write reader and rafe running into ty at a frat party or something a few years into college and how that would go down? Or just what would ever happen if they saw him again?

omg yes!! rafe is so protective that he doesn’t even give ty a chance to see her 😭

set in the home before dark universe

she would be unable to erase the date ty’s set to be released from prison from her mind. at that point, she graduated and is working and engaged and living with rafe and every time she sees the date on her phone even weeks leading up to when he’ll be let out, she feels like she’s just as scared as she was the night he broke in.

the day before, she mentions it to rafe. he remembered. he hoped she didn’t. he can see the emptiness in her gaze. it’s the same look he saw when she went to the police to file the restraining order, the same look he saw throughout the trial. it’s like she gets so scared that her mind goes blank to keep her from losing it.

he loves her too much to allow her to relive any of it.

rafe calls the lawyer who helped her through the case, asking what to do if ty tries to contact his fiancée. she tells him the protective order has lapsed at this point and ty technically can be in her vicinity, can even talk to her, and he wouldn’t be breaking any laws.

rafe is fuming. but he’s not surprised. he always found the law to be senseless. and he knows he’ll have to take matters into his own hands.

within a day, rafe tracks him down. night has just fallen as he pounds on ty’s front door, in a rundown dingy apartment building on the south side of the island, purposely covering the peephole.

when ty opens the door, he wavers in fear, trying to swing the door shut but rafe already has a foot in the space.

ty shuffles backwards, clearly terrified of the man who shot him years ago.

“what do you want?” he asks rafe, trying to sound steady. “what are you doing here?”

“you need to leave town,” rafe tells him. “do you understand? go wherever the fuck you want. i don’t give a shit where. but leave.”

rafe feels the side of him he hasn’t felt in a long time coming out. pure rage boils through him. he could kill this man for the mark he left on the love of his life. he could do it with his bare hands.

“you think i don’t want to?” ty says, up against a wall now. “my parents cut me off after… listen, i don’t want to be here. everyone knows me. they know what happened. i’d love to get off this fucking island. but this is all i can afford right now.”

rafe considers him, his fists clenched at his sides. and he realizes things are different now. he can’t just give into his aggressive impulses whenever he wants. his choices affect her. he’s building a life with her.

he could kill ty. honestly, he would. but to put her through the consequences of committing a crime like that isn’t worth it for rafe. no matter how much he loathes the person he’s looking at right now.

“how much?” rafe asks through gritted teeth. “how much for you to be gone for good?”

he wants to die at the thought of giving anything to ty, but really, he knows he’s giving something to her.

ty mutters a price, more than enough for transportation to the mainland and presumably a few months of rent, but it’s hardly pocket change to rafe. he tells him he’ll wire it to him and that he needs to be gone by tomorrow night.

then, rafe steps closer to him, grabbing his collar, staring at his frightened eyes.

“if i see you around here,” rafe threatens, “if i even hear about you around here, and i swear to god, if you try to get near her, i’ll kill you. do you understand?”

“yeah,” ty says shakily. “yeah. i understand.”

rafe gets home to his fiancée that night, finding her in front of the tv. she’s still not entirely herself, clearly on edge.

“hey,” she says. “where were you?”

rafe leans down, sitting next to her.

“you never have to worry about him again,” he says.

“rafe…” she says, face dropping in worry, immediately knowing who he’s talking about.

“i didn’t do anything to him,” he says. “but you won’t see him around. he’s leaving the island.”

“h-how?” she stammers.

“how about this?” rafe says, shifting closer to her. “how about i promise you that he’s gone and we never have to talk about him again? it’s like he never existed, alright?”

her eyes sweep over his face, her breathing suddenly fast.

“okay,” she finally whispers. she trusts in him wholeheartedly.

rafe confirms that ty is gone the next day, his apartment already up for rent.

for the next few weeks, he doesn’t let his girl out of his sight. he hires a private investigator, who finds ty on living in the mainland like he said he would be.

eventually, rafe can breathe easy. and when he sees her slowly acting like herself again, unafraid to go out into public, he knows he did his job.

he has always wanted to take care of her. even when they were just a couple of kids. he’ll keep her safe until his last day on earth. and by the way she falls asleep curled up to him every night, he can tell that she knows she’s protected.

as they lie in bed, her hand is on his chest, and he wonders if she knows that every one of the heartbeats she’s feeling is for her.

[girliism]

childhood friends to lovers: patrick zweig x reader. og prompt mixed with this

you and patrick have been best friends since the beginning of time. you grew up and did everything together. you lost your first tooth together (the same one), you guys accidentally got high together for the first time when patrick’s older brother left his brownies on the counter and the two of you ate three each, you even let him convince you to join the tennis club with him. there wasn’t anything you guys wouldn’t do for each other.

your budding crush on patrick was some what of a deep shameful secret you had. it wasn’t supposed to happen but it did. you tried to ignore it, you tried to ignore the way you cheeks would blush when patrick complimented you or how it felt like a war was wagging in your stomach when he even looked your way. the crush only got worse when you impulsively kissed him at fourteen.

patrick had been grounded and not allowed to leave his room but his mom had a soft spot for you so she let you visit him. “hey.” you walked into his room like it was your own. patrick sat on his bed ‘reading’, his left eye had a nasty bruise on it. “how’s your face?” you asked, setting on his bed. patrick shrugged. “it’s fine. kinda itches.” he said, looking up at you. “why would you even attack him? he’s taller than you you would’ve never won.” you scolded him. “i didn’t care about winning ok. i couldn’t just let him say that.” “say what?” you were confused, patrick wasn’t the type to just start fights out of nowhere. patrick slammed his book shut and tossed it away. “just stupid stuff. stupid boy stuff about you and it pissed me off so i hit him.” patrick said like it was nothing. he hit someone for you? “you hit someone for me?” you whispered. “yeah, i mean it was nothing, i’d do it again-” you cut him off by pushing your lips onto his. you’ve never kissed anyone before but what you were doing felt right. you pulled away first and let an awkward silence fill the room. neither of you said anything. your lips tingled and your heart pounded. “thanks.” you whispered. patrick shook his head. “don’t mention it.”

that kiss seriously messed with patrick’s head. he thought his eight year old self had successfully pushed down whatever feelings he had for you, but then you kissed him and patrick wanted you to keep kissing him. except he couldn’t do that, you were his best friend, what if something went wrong between the two of you and you never talked again. so patrick pushed his feelings down again and started dating this girl that liked him.

patrick’s first of many girlfriends. it was pathetic, you don’t think you’ve ever cried as hard as you did when patrick introduced you to her a day after the kiss happened. what’s worse is that she was actually nice and sacrificed her self respect to stay with patrick even after all her friends would make comments not understanding how she could be so chill about yours and patrick’s closeness.

“look at them, his hand is literally caressing her back.” one of her friends pointed out as they watched the two of you from afar. a blind man could see that there was something between you two. every time patrick wasn’t looking you’d sneak glance at him quickly turning away, and when you weren’t looking patrick would sneak a glance at you, his eyes soaking up every little detail about you. she broke up with him that next day.

being friends with patrick during his fuckboy era was hell for you. you were still disgustingly in love with him even though you knew it would go no where, so having to sit through him recounting whatever hook up he had the night before was like a knife to the gut. “the girls i fuck never have good feet.” patrick randomly said. he was sitting on the edge of your bed painting your toes while you studied for the both of you. “what?” you laughed. “i’m just saying the girl i saw last week needed a spa appointment immediately, but you… you have nice feet.” patrick complimenting your feet shouldn’t have made you blush the way it did. “you’re stupid.” you muttered, lightly kicking patrick in the chest causing him to almost fall back but he was quick to grab onto your ankle. patrick’s thumb pressed into the base of your ankle stabilising himself. this chill went through both yours and patrick’s body as your eyes locked. you wanted him to kiss you so badly.

an alarm from patrick’s phone went off snapping the two of you out of whatever trace you were in. you pulled your foot to your chest clearing your throat and patrick got up to check his phone. you played with the corner of your textbook, chewing on the inside of your mouth. “um, i have to go meet this girl, i’ll text you later.” patrick didn’t even left you respond before he was out the door. “bye.” you whispered into your empty bed room.

patrick didn’t leave right away, he stood outside your bedroom door hand gripping the door knob debating if he should go back in or not. he couldn’t, so he let his hand drop from the knob and made his way out of your house and to his car. the whole ride on his way to his hook ups house what had happened in your bedroom, something so innocent and unimportant played on repeat in his head. he put you out of his mind as he parked his car in this girls driveway.”

the second she opened the door her hands began rubbing up his chest to his shoulders. “hi, pat.” she said in a sultry voice and he couldn’t help but think how much better it would sound coming from you. in a matter that of minutes clothes were off and condoms were on. patrick let himself get lost in fucking the girl beneath him, letting his eyes slip closed. the face of the random girl slowly starts turning into your face. patrick was quick to snap his eyes back open reminding himself its was not you who he was fucking, but oh how badly he wanted it to be. his subconscious wouldn’t leave him alone though and next thing he knew it was your name he moaned loud and clear as he came. “that’s not my fucking name.” shit.

patrick barely had his pants on when the door was slammed in his face. he drove home in silence and ignored your calls that night. his mind felt like mush. did he like you? he laid in his bed rethinking everything. i mean, he like the way your nose scrunched up whenever he made an inappropriate joke. he liked how passionate you got about movies, often going on rants all the way home from the theater. he liked your smile and always made sure to tell you cause you hated your smile. he liked how you made him feel. he liked…. he liked you.

patrick didn’t know how to act around you anymore, he wasn’t in elementary school he couldn’t pull your hair or tease you and hope you catch on to the fact that he likes you, so now he was super rigid, instead of holding your hand or throwing his arm around your shoulder he walked with his fist balled at his sides. you of course took notice to his weird behavior, not understanding why patrick who usually knows no boundaries all of a sudden wants to sit at your desk and study instead on laying in your bed.

“alright, what the hell is up with you.” you confronted him. patrick turned around in your desk chair to face you. “what do you mean.” he said slowly. you gave him a look. “i’m not an idiot patrick, you’re being weird, since when do you study.” patrick scoffed. “what? a guy can’t be interested in his schoolwork now a days?” you rolled your eyes. “not when the guy is you, no.” you closed your book and scooted to the edge of the bed to get closer to him. “i’m serious, pat. what’s up?” i’m in fucking love with you that’s what’s up. “nothing, i’m fine.” patrick shrugged. “never been more fine in my life.” he smiled at you. “ok…” you sighed, going back to studying before patrick spoke up again. “do you wanna get high?”

you and patrick laid next to each other on your trampoline in your backyard waiting for the brownies you guys ate to hit. “remember when we got high that one time off my brothers stash.” patrick broke the silence. you laughed as the memory came flooding back. “god, talk about a bad first trip. i though my tongue was gonna fall off.” patrick laughed too. “you threw up all over my kitchen. my mom never wanted to kill me so bad, but she didn’t cause she liked that i took care of you that day, you know cleaning up your throw and all even though i was high out of my mind.” you laughed lightly, staring up at the blue sky, clouds moving and making shapes. “you always take care of me.” you spoke softly. your pinkie playing with his before you fully slotted your hands together, fingers interlocking. “like taking care of you.” patrick mumbled mainly to himself.

you turned your head to look at him. taking in the slope of his nose, how his hair was blowing in the wind, the way his tongue poked out to lick his lips. “hey, patrick.” “yeah.” he whispered. “is it weird that i wanna kiss you?” he shook his head, turning to look at you. “no. is it weird that i wanna kiss you too?” you shook your head “no.” and unlike when you were fourteen patrick was the one to initiate the kiss. it was soft kiss, neither of you rushed through it but patrick did deepen it, bring his other hand that wasn’t intertwined with yours up to rest on your cheek, pushing his face more into yours. you pulled away from the kiss to breathe but kept your forehead resting on his. “that was way better than when we were fourteen.” you smiled, squeezing your hand in his. patrick nodded in agreement. “way better.” he said against your lips before moving in to kiss you again.

[jade-jini]

Student Council president!Chaewon x Little Menace reader Headcanon

Genre: Fluff. Smut.

Warning: this sht is LONG and well as I said there’s a little bit of smut-

I recommend reading Yunjin’s headcanon first since it’s where this chaewon is first introduced. Not necessary tho. I mentioned before that I think this will be some type of series. And yes, but also I might post other student council content but with Yunjin as the romantic interest. Almost the same universe as these but with that difference. Anyway we’ll see how it goes in the future.

-Your dynamic is basically arguing almost 24/7 dbdjdjnd

-Your friends find it amusing most of the time tbh.

-Your routine is based on having breakfast, creating a little bit of chaos here and there, and getting detention/afternoon activities as punishment which were mostly with the student council members.

-Which in your brain translates to having a good day because you had food, went to class, had a lot of fun and spent time with your favorite girl(s) during the afternoon. What’s better than that??

-Chaewon, on the other hand, just can’t believe you.

-How are you always getting in trouble but looking so happy? Aren’t you concerned about anything?! She knows you’re smart, and knows you’re not a bad person neither, but you’re so reckless and impulsive and just a magnet for trouble sometimes and Omg you get on her nerves, you’re like a puppy who never listens!

“Why would you do something like that!”

“It was Yeonjun‘s fault! Why Tf would he say green flavor when red or blue are better!”

“Those are colors, y/n. not flavors!”

“you don’t get it :(!”

-you’d complain with a pout like a little kid. Again, you get on her nerves so easily.

-She’s always scolding you, telling you that you need to tone it down, to learn how to behave, be responsible and to stop being such a troublemaker.

-To respect your school and take some pride on being a student there.

-You just sigh, roll your eyes and complain that maybe you don’t need to tone it down, maybe she needs to tone it up and learn to have fun and to let go of all that seriousness.

-And you guys spend the time arguing about it.

-The rest of the girls look at you in amusement

-You’re sure you heard Eunchae said that you two should get a room.

“Hey! What do you know about those things huh?!” You heard Sakura said while chasing Eunchae down, who ran away to avoid being scolded as well.

-You looked at chaewon, who also heard the whole thing and laughed at how her cheeks turned into a cute pink tone. You winked at her and started walking to the gym to meet with Ryujin and Yujin but

“Hey I’m not done with you! You still have detention today and the principal said you’re assigned to help me move some equipment from a practice room and…”

-But when she’s not scolding you tho…

-Ohoho when you guys are alone

-you’re all over each other kissing until your chests hurt ‘cause of the lack of air.

-You’re sure you’ve kissed her in every secret corner of the school.

-In the library, when you meet up with the excuse of tutoring you.

-You have her against the bookshelves at the end of the hall, holding her so close to you while her arms are around your shoulders. Kissing her like her mouth is more interesting than any adventure in any book in that library.

-And it is! You’re sure about it.

-In empty rooms when you’re assigned to help her with anything the prestigious Stucon president might desire. Lucky for you, very often what she desires the most is you.

-Encounters in the student council’s office when you have detention and Yunjin is not there to watch you. It’s never planned and she always says it won’t happen again because it’s their office and it’s the school! It’s not a place for such acts!

-But it always ends up happening bsjsndjd you just let her talk ‘cause it’s funny. But it really only takes for you to kiss her neck and she’s melting in your arms, ready for you to please her.

-You lift her and make her sit on her own desk, while you get on your knees and eat her out so good she almost forgets where she is.

-She’ll grab your hair and push you closer to her pussy, rubbing herself on your tongue and looking at that pretty face between her legs while she bites her hand trying to keep herself quiet.

“Hurry up! they’re gonna come in any second”

“Hopefully you too”

“Omg shut up…”

-As I said you let her talk ‘cause it’s just comical that she tries to lie to herself when you both know she can’t keep her hands off you when you’re both alone.

-Unless you’re not in the mood to deal with that.

-Either ‘cause something happened and you’re angry or ‘cause you’re stressed.

-You’d be rather quiet for your usual self, surprising her.

“What’s up with you?” she asked with a raised eyebrow (the rock).

-You looked at her, without answering while an idea popped in your head.

-Maybe the dear stucon president could help you destress.

-So you get up and sit on her lap while you kiss her aggressively.

-She tries pushing you, shocked about it.

“Wait ! Not here, somebody could walk in and-”

“Kim Chaewon, shut. up” you said in a rather deeper voice that gave her shivers and made her close her mouth immediately, ‘cause there weren’t many occasions where you’d be actually dominant like that. “I’m gonna fuck you on top of this desk until you can’t feel your fucking legs do you hear me?”

-And she’s scared but is even more turned on ‘cause damn didn’t you look hot af like that bekdkdkd

-So instead of “complaining or arguing” about how you shouldn’t be having sex at school, she follows your each and every order, enjoying how you fuck her while bent over her own desk, the papers she was working on long forgotten. Pulling her hair, spanking her ass and grabbing her tits from behind while focusing all your energy and anger in only one thing: making the girl under you come hard as you fuck her until her brain can’t organize an easy thought besides you you and you only.

-After you’re done and dressed again tho, she’ll ask you why you were so upset.

-You ended up telling her what happened and depending on what is it, she always has a way of making you feel better. (Besides Fuckin, Ofc)

-If it’s a silly thing, then she’ll jokingly scold you a little bit

“Seriously?! You’re angry because Ryujin scored and won against you?!”

“I’m angry because she cheated! I wouldn’t be angry if she’d won fairly but she wasn’t following the rules we stablished ! Not fair” you said with cross arms and a pout, causing Chaewon to laugh at you.

She shook her head to then rest it on your shoulder “fine you’re right, but still I can’t believe you, y/n”.

-If it’s something serious tho, she’ll quietly listen to you as you vent and either give you a little bit of advice if you ask for it or she’ll just let you talk if she doesn’t know what to say, knowing sometimes you just need to let things off your chest.

-And since Yunjin wasn’t there that day, she could do her role as your bestie. Ofc she could, you could always come to her.

-Lowkey jealous and a lil possessive as you can see lol

-Not if it’s her friends tho (well -)

-But like if she sees someone being too touchy or extra smiley with you it’ll show. ‘Cause yeah you’re funny and charming but she didn’t know you was a fvckin comedian to have that girl almost rolling on the floor and choking when you’re just there breathing-

-Anyway!

-You think it’s hot tho. Oh-

-Specially since you know it’ll reflect when you’re alone jddjkfjf. More details here.

-Constantly fixing your tie ‘cause it’s always loose and your shirt sndkdjj.

-You tell her that’s just your style and you like it like that!

-But she says your uniform should always look impeccable because students represent the school. You roll your eyes, but let her have her way because secretly you enjoy the attention and how cute she always looks fixing your tie and shirt collar.

-It’s not like she’s trying to change the person you are. Even if you’re a little bit of a mess, she respects and appreciates you.

-But Ofc you know she’d like you to be a little less of a menace kdndkfh. She knows it won’t happen. Not that easy. But she’s happy to be a little bit of a good influence sometimes (lol).

-And you’re happy to be the one corrupting the oh so well mannered student council president Kim Chaewon.

-It’s a win-win, sex or not related.

-You love your dynamic. It’s fun, it’s interesting.

-Sometimes you wish you didn’t have to watch out for how much distance you had to keep with her sometimes tho. You weren’t good at it anyway, you let yourself be guided by your feelings. Often hugging her close, Ofc with the excuse you guys are friends (even when most of the time people see you arguing shjdkdjf).

-People bought it tho.

-You had that cute golden retriever puppy energy, so they knew you got clingy with your friends sometimes.

-didn’t expect it to happen with the stucon presi who sometimes seem like your enemy more than your friend but oh well -

-Who could say no to you anyway, right?

-You like it like that tho, being each other’s little secret. Maybe eventually the guilt of hiding this whatever-it-is from your friends will invade you two. But for that you’d have to first realize that what you’re feeling is more than physical attraction aaand

-we’re not there yet jdndkdn.

[knavesflames]

Hi! Remember this?

I decided to finally make a part two. Unfortunately, no, there isn’t a happy ending. I tried and tried but couldn’t find anything that would let them be happy. The quality of this is also not as good as the first one, I fear. Alas, it is here. Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 1147

Contents: bro just sadness

utc!

Arlecchino doesn’t come home for hours. The night ticks on and for the first hour, you just sit there in tears, your outfit not at all matching, though that seems to be the least of your problems. By the second hour, your eyes and throat burn, and you feel like it’s almost impossible to stop crying, and you wonder if you ever will. You drag yourself out of the bed, the bed you’ve made love on so many times, the bed she has laid you on as she coaxed our every single orgasm you’ve ever had. The tangled bedsheets and what’s remaining of her imprint from her body is a cruel, painful reminder. A reminder that you are not the one she’s been in love with this entire time, that you were just a replacement.

You wander the halls of your home, a gigantic, lavish home. Much larger than it needs to be, really, but Arlecchino always loved to show off her wealth. You don’t look towards the walls, you know that you’ll only see many, many photos of you and Arlecchino. Ones you that you hung there, and you remember the grin on your face when they were in place. You remember how your smile faded slightly when Arlecchino replied with a simple “that’s nice, dear.” You assumed she was only tired. Every single thing you remember but ignored comes crashing onto you, and all you can do is stare at the floor like some pathetic dog being scolded for doing something they shouldn’t have. You feel pathetic, or worthless, or angry. You can’t really tell which when they all blend together. You pad around the hallways aimlessly, a hollow, miserable look in your eyes.

You find yourself in the bathroom, and one look at yourself breaks the dam and your eyes fill with tears again. You can only see her, yet you look nothing like her. Therein lies the problem, you realise. Your hair is not red, nor do you have her white headband. You stare at yourself, muttering hateful words until yourself is not yourself. Your reflection is just a blur and you can’t tell what you look like. Your fist clenches, and you understand you have to leave the bathroom before the mirror shatters over the floor. Sombrely heading towards the living room, you’re met with pure rage at the sight of the lumidouce bells. A scoff is heard from you as you notice the picture of you three right next to them. Yet again, it went unnoticed, or perhaps, ignored. In a fit of impulsivity, the photo frame crashes to the floor with a guttural scream of “I hate you!” And of course, the vase topples to the floor too. You give no fucks as to the fact it’s four in the morning, or that the neighbours will probably complain. Let them complain, you think.

Arlecchino finally comes through the door at 9am. Your face is so swollen and puffy she wonders if you’re even the same person. You hear rustling and look towards her. There, in her hands, lies a bouquet of lakelight lilies, and yet it stings more than ever before, being the second choice. But doesn’t it fit so well? Perhaps too well. You quickly look away to avoid the sixth batch of tears.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?”

A bitter laugh leaves your throat before you can even stop yourself, your gaze refusing to even glance in her direction, your voice practically a sneer.

“What, did they run out of my favourite?”

“Stop that. Please. You know I love you.”

How are you so angry, so hurt, yet your heart still beats for her? Her lips come to your forehead in a kiss, and there’s a whimper before you burst into quiet sobs again.

“You admitted you don’t. What am I to you? A friend, a lover, the way I thought we were? Or some sort of sick rebound?”

Arlecchino has a tendency to stay silent when someone is correct and she does not want to admit it. Maybe because she won’t can’t admit it to herself, maybe because she can’t see you cry anymore.

“You are a cruel woman, Peruere. You use me all these years, you pretend I am someone I am not, you ruin me, and yet I find myself choosing to wait for you to want me like a dog with a bird at the door. A stray dog chasing after any sort of attention you will give me, don’t you realise, you stupid woman? I whine for you and your affection and you choose to muzzle me and leave me at the side of the road to favour someone who died so long ago. Is that what I am to you? A mutt, waiting and ready for you to kick when you’re down?”

Your outburst is unexpected, the usually stoic and unfearing woman flinching at the sheer desperation in your words. Her lips begin to form your name, but you snarl, cutting her off.

“Call me for who you think I am. Strays and mutts cycle through names anyway, so why does it matter? Say it.”

When she doesn’t respond, your anger explodes, and you push the lilies out of her hand, trampling on them and shoving her over and over again as you demand that she calls you the name you know she’s been secretly calling you. If anyone were to push and shove her the way you’re doing, they’d be ash, a new spirit to haunt her in her dreams. Yet, she withstands it with a blank face, her eyes swirling with regret and sadness.

“Shall I bark for you, Peruere? Get on my knees and beg for you to pay attention to me? Would that make you feel better? Or shall I dye my hair red and buy a white headband, and wear that damned necklace I know you keep?”

Eventually her eyes close, and she mutters a word so quiet you almost can’t hear it over the sound of your rushing heart and your ragged breathing. Your eyes burn again, but you only wish you could burn her in her own flames until she herself becomes a spirit.

“Clervie.”

That seems to do it for you, barking out a harsh laugh that’s anything but happy. You move towards the door, sliding whatever shoes you can find on.

“Oh, my poor, mad, cursed knave. You live up to who people think you are, after all. When you’re dying in the war that will occur when your precious god gets what she wants, I hope you scream for me. I hope I’m there to watch.”

With your final words, you slam the door so hard it almost comes off of its hinges, leaving a stunned, hurt Arlecchino Peruere to clean up the mess of what she had caused, both physically and mentally, though she wonders if she ever could.

[vixstarria]

Vix, gimme an interaction between Wyll and Astarion. Where Astarion is like yo quit trying to steal my girl. But in his Astarion-y way that you write so well! <3

Congrats on 1000 followers my friend!

My pleasure, here's what I came up with:

Bonus Astarion POV scene following Seeing stars:

Earlier this evening you’d finally pulled her aside, confessing your lies and manipulation. Laying bare more details about your past. Fully expecting that to be the end of whatever it was you had with her.  

And yet, despite all odds, she stayed. She wasn’t even angry with you. Something was definitely wrong with her. Delightfully, maddeningly so.  

The proverbial shoe would inevitably drop sooner or later – this was too good to be true. But until then, you could allow yourself more of these impossible moments of comfort and happiness.  

You now stalked the camp, trying to find something to occupy yourself with. You’d been doing your utmost to avoid following her around like a lovesick puppy. After all, now you knew she would be back in your arms again later tonight. And you wouldn’t need to do anything but hold her. 

You caught sight of Wyll. An irritated anger still seethed in you after the stunt he had pulled yesterday. He had managed to avoid you all day, having stayed back in camp. 

He was sparring with Lae’zel, trying to teach her how to use a rapier. She was arguing, perhaps justifiably, that she didn't see the point in poking small holes in someone when she could simply cut them in half with a greatsword.  

On an impulse, you approached.  

“A moment with your sparring mate, if you don’t mind,” you directed at Lae’zel. She motioned you to go ahead, with a knowing look.  

Before Wyll could react you swiftly kicked his legs out from under him, simultaneously grabbing him by a horn and catching him in a headlock.  

“I heard you’re not too fond of the horns. Rest assured, I will assist you in breaking them off should you touch what does not belong to you again.” 

Lae’zel stood back observing, arms crossed, with an amused expression on her face, as Wyll scuttled, kicking up dust, trying to keep his balance.  

“You are right, and I apologise! I was caught up in the moment and not thinking straight,” Wyll gritted through his teeth. Trying to keep the peace and stay amicable even now. How dull. 

“Yes, I’m sure you were quite caught up in the moment you had orchestrated.” You dropped him in the dirt. “Just don’t do it again,” you said, starting to walk away.  

“Would you have pulled his hair if you could grasp it?” 

Apparently the scuffle had merited a rare smile from Lae’zel.  

“Honestly... Probably, yes,” you said without slowing down, as you walked past her. It wasn’t too long ago that Tav mentioned that Lae’zel herself had propositioned her recently, and you were not about to get into an altercation with the githyanki. 

“You have already mastered biting, but have you considered scratching as a tactic?” she called out after you.  

Over two centuries old, and reduced to fistfights over your lover, like a grease-faced adolescent.  

It was mere days ago that you socked Gale in the nose for referring to Tav as your ‘livestock’. He still sported a bruise and steered clear of you. 

Had you gotten into fights over love interests in your youth, you wondered. You scoured your memory for anything that might ring a bell, but came well short of any images. Some ghost of a feeling whispered faintly in your mind. Despair at... being rejected? Excluded? Were there several people involved at once..? The memory came up as a sour aftertaste of melancholy and dejection. It must have been sharp once, for any remnant to survive for over 200 years. You didn’t try to pursue it further. 

You rounded a corner to see Tav talking with that mountain of an elf named Halsin.  

Did you truly just overhear them talking about how large he is..? 

Ha! But also, really? Sigh... Fuck my unlife... 

You would deal with that later, if it ever came to that. You kept walking. 

You glanced at Shadowheart. The cleric was praying in her corner of the campsite, as she was wont to do more and more often in her spare time, of late. When had she approached Tav, anyway, you wondered. Must have been back at the tiefling party. Hardly a threat anymore.  

What now?  

You spotted Karlach stargazing near her excuse of a tent.  

You grabbed a bottle of wine you found palatable from one of the supply crates and made your way towards the tiefling.  

“Karlach! My best friend, my pal. My home-girl, my rotten soldier. My sweet cheese, my good-time gal.” * 

“Are you okay there, fangs?” she gave you an apprehensive look.  

“Never been better! A game of cards, now that you can hold them yourself?” 

There. You could have normal, friendly interactions with your companions too.  

“Alright. But I’ll punch you every time I catch you cheating.” 

“Fair.” 

Absolutely normal.  

*Sorry, I couldn’t resist, the Lazlo quote plagues me.