#all these doodles were drawn on different days

[silly-cheese-rat]

Moodies (mostly Pinder. That's just how it is.)

[shimomcdragon]

oc doodles

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

The Prefect Was Here

Synopsis: The VDC boys notice the ways in which The Prefect has left their mark.

Something Ace notices during his time staying in Ramshackle is the various out of place chairs and boxes in different rooms of the dorm. He first realized they were there because he would trip over them or stub his toe on their corners. He'd move the objects out of the way to prevent himself from injuring himself on them again, but the next day they'd be back in their spots. This little cycle of him stumbling over the objects, moving them, and then stumbling over them again the next day repeated for a while until one late evening when the pieces clicked. Ace was leaving his room to get a glass of water from the kitchen when he looked over the railing of the stairs to see you stood atop one of the particularly annoying chairs placed in the lounge. A chair he trips over almost every morning in his half-awake state placed right next to the fireplace. Watching you organize various photo albums on a shelf above the mantle, he finally understood. He stopped moving the objects that no longer seemed out of place after that. They were right where they belonged: next to tall shelves, high up windows, and the occasional rickety door you had to open by shimmying it open from the top.

You often lent Deuce your notes to copy for those class periods he just couldn't keep his eyes open: exhausted from a long night of studying. At first he didn't notice anything, too busy frantically taking notes. It wasn't until he was staying in Ramshackle and he no longer had to worry about getting your notebook to you before day's end when you'd head off to your dorm and he to his that he saw it. As he was studying your notes he saw a little doodle on the edge of the page. The doodle was of Grim stirring a cauldron while standing on a stool, his goggles falling off his head. As he continued through your notes he saw ones of Epel carving an apple, Rook shooting a bow, and Vil looking studying rehearsal footage. Flipping back through the book and starting from the beginning he noticed the doodles seemed to be telling the story of your time at NRC. Early in the book, before there were notes on classes, there were doodles of the dark mirror, Crowley, and Grim. About the time you were officially enrolled there were drawings of the great 7, Ace with a smug look on his face, and even Deuce summoning a cauldron. He's asking to borrow your notes again? You could have sworn he was awake all class period (he just wants to see any new doodles).

Kalim noticed the walls, or more specifically: what was on them. It wasn't the boarded-up holes that drew his attention, nor was it the dust that you never could seem to get rid of completely. What got Kalim's attention were the drawings. In the kitchen, in your room, and on various doors there were drawings taped to the wood. Some were colorful while other were monochrome. Big, small, detailed, simple; he loved all of them! In your room you had an entire wall covered in pieces of your art, many of said pieces being of your friends and your various adventures. Your door was basically an extension of that wall just with a prominent sign in the middle reading 'Prefect and Grim.' Grim's name seemed to be written in his own handwriting (pawwriting?) and at the bottom of the sign laid a pawprint and a handprint. The other doors that had signs were rooms like the bathroom, laundry room, and the rooms each of the boys stayed in. The first few signs were put there by yourself to help the guys more easily navigate the sometimes-confusing building while the ones on each of their doors was to make them feel like they too belonged there. The kitchen had various drawings or little doodles your friends made for you. No matter how simple or detailed the drawing, you had every single thing anyone had drawn for your here displayed on the wall. All but Grim's art. He had his own pedestal (the fridge) for that. Kalim made sure to make his fair share of contributions to your display wall.

Jamil was in charge of the kitchen during the VDC and found some things rather unusual from the moment he stepped foot in there. Nearly all of your upper shelves were completely empty and when he pulled out a drawer he assumed would be a utensil drawer all he found was towels. That would be fine on its own, but none of the drawers had utensils. The upper cabinets that did have things in them held cleaning supplies, items that are commonly agreed to go below the sink. Just when he thought he was going to have to go back to Scarabia to get any kitchenware, he checked the lower cabinets. That's where he found pots, pans, cups, plates, and any other kitchen item you'd need all organized nicely as if they weren't in the most bizarre of places. Just as he was about to resign to silently judging you for your dishware placement, Grim came up beside him and opened one of the lower cabinets to grab a cup before scampering over to a step ladder placed next to the counter so he could reach the faucet and fill his cup with water. After seeing that he supposed your placement of things made sense. And after much time cooking in your kitchen as well as having to bend down to grab items he also realized that you must be even kinder than he originally thought (or just plain stupid, but he's keeping that thought to himself).

Vil is a man of beauty. He believes in not only you as a person looking your best at all times but also making sure your surrounding look their best. He understood most of Ramshackle's 'quirks' were unfixable as things were, and you did seem to keep the place remarkably clean all things considered, but there was something that caught his scrutinous eye. Clothes hung up to dry in the laundry room and bathroom (it was too cold to dry them outside) splattered in paint and a door that had matching patterns. At one point he grew curious as to what could possibly possess a person to leave a door in such a state and decided to open it. He almost fainted when he saw inside. The walls, ceiling, floor, and any furniture unlucky enough to be in the room was covered in layers of paint. The only thing that seemed to be kept clean was the window with a view of the forest beside the dorm. He left that day deciding that how you kept that room didn't affect him. As long as your mess didn't encroach into his space he would leave you to your mayhem. However, something odd began to happen. On a day Vil felt especially stressed, he went to do his laundry. When he closed the washer door and turned it on he looked up to see a row of paint splattered clothes hung up to dry, and before he knew it he was opening the door to what he assumed to be your art studio. He closed the door gently behind him and simply stood there in the room as the evening sun cast warm rays of light in through the window. It was as he stood there that he realized just how comforting the room's atmosphere was. It was hectic with all the paint everywhere and yet calming and homely at the same time. Now whenever he got too stressed during the VDC he went to that room to simply take a moment to breathe and forget about the stresses of being perfect. To look around at the remnants of pieces you put your heart and soul in splattered across the walls: telling a story only you know but that anyone who takes the time to observe can feel. Now, he may even see your paint splattered clothes and face to be rather endearing (not that he'll admit it).

Ever the hunter of Beauty, Rook notices a lot of ways in which you leave your mark on this world. The stickers on the covers of your notebooks, the patched sewn a bit sloppily onto your clothes, and even the spots on your front doorstep that have been ever so slightly worn down from scraping off mud and/or snow every time you come inside are all glorious examples of how you make the world more beautiful by being here. However, he does have a favorite. Out of every way you show that you've been here in this world, that you existed, his favorite by far is yours and Grim's height charts lightly scratched into the wall in a corner of the kitchen in a nook between the fridge and the wall. You wouldn't see it unless you really looked, but as we all know, he looks. Seemingly etched into the wall with a fork, butterknife, or something of the sort as not to be erased or easily covered up by paint are two separate sets of dashes. One is low to the floor while the other is about where the top of your head would be were you to stand with your back to the wall. Each chart has initials below the lowest mark and each dash has a date next to it. However, what really gets Rook's heart soaring is the initials and how after the letter of each of your first names there is an R. Now, Rook knows Grim doesn't have a last name and that you haven't uttered a word about what yours is (whether it be because you forgot or just simply don't want to tell people). Overwhelmed with curiosity he hunts down the ghosts to ask them the meaning of the R to which they tell him it stands for Ramshackle. You and Grim saw each other as family and so you decided to unofficially create a last name to share. When you were unable to agree on a good one you suggested Ramshackle so as to always remember your roots in this world. Rook won't encroach on the memory by asking to put a height chart of his own next to the two of yours, but you do notice that suddenly any official paperwork you or Grim gets has 'Ramshackle' after your first names.

What Epel notices are the big tape Xs in various places within the dorm. On the stairs, on the a spot in the hallway on the 2nd floor, there're even parts of the banister wrapped in blue tape. At some point he gets curious and prods at the banister only for it to sway and nearly fall off. This catches his attention so he goes through the dorm looking for places with tape on them to see if his hypothesis was correct, and, wouldn't ya know it, it was. All the places with tape are areas that could be considered hazardous for one reason or another. At first he wonders if you were just really dumb and put tape there to try and fix it, but when he sees you avoiding the areas too he decided that's not it. Then the idea comes up that perhaps they're there for an inspector that's going to come to fix up ramshackle, but it becomes apparent that's not the case when you come back one evening: exhausted from trying to convince Crowley to do something about the water damage in the attic only to be shut down. It isn't until he sees you yank Kalim back by the collar of his shirt as he was about to step on one of the Xs that he realizes you put them there to keep people safe. Epel tried pulling up a piece of tape at one pint in his inspection to get a better idea of what was underneath it and for the life of him he couldn't get it unstuck. At least he know for sure that it will stay there for generations to come acting as a kind reminder to anyone else who ventures into the dorm to avoid those areas and keep themselves safe.

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[andypantsx3]

ALL IN A DAY'S QUIRK : SERO HANTA x READER

summary: Sero gets hit with a quirk that makes others see him as the person they are most attracted to. Which you really wish you had known before you opened your mouth and gave him your usual, “Hey, Sero!” tags/warnings: pro hero au, fluff, misunderstandings, quirk accident, not actually unrequited feelings, smut, thigh riding, fem reader (no pronouns but AFAB genitalia terms used), aged up characters, 5.3k

It was approximately four thirty-three p.m. when Sero Hanta returned from patrol and blew your peaceful day to bits.

Before his arrival, the Todoroki Agency had been relatively quiet, as it usually was around this time, everyone but the on-call staff winding down for the day. You’d been hearing the telltale rustling of jackets and scuffle of feet in the office behind you since the clock ticked past four.

Not long after, a couple of your friends from the analytics department had wandered over to your desk, clearly deciding they were not going to get anything else done, gossiping and stealing the candies you kept in a glass bowl on the reception counter.

“I heard Shouto’s manager is considering signing him up for a shirtless charity calendar,” Mari told you immediately, wiggling her eyebrows. “Hana from brand management said she was asked to do research on the impact the calendar had on other pros’ careers, so I think this is serious.”

She looked beyond pleased, her cheeks pink and her ears tipped red, the way they always were when she contemplated her massive crush on your agency head, Todoroki Shouto.

You couldn’t fault her–Shouto was incredibly handsome and kind, if a bit spacey–but you’d always been drawn to a different pro hero on the agency roster. Someone just a little bit taller, with dark hair and a half-moon grin, a razor sharp sense of humor, and the most inconceivably mouth-watering thighs in the pro hero business.

Not that you had been giving them attention. Much.

You suppressed the urge to ask if anyone else from the agency was being considered for the calendar, wiggling your eyebrows back. “Well I know you’ll be the first in line.”

Mari’s blush deepened, and Kimiko laughed around an orange-flavored candy, which you stocked for many reasons other than a certain tape-themed hero’s predilection for oranges, thank you very much.

“I just hope they include Uravity-san,” Kimiko said. “I mean–not shirtless shirtless, but like, god would I kill for her in a little sports bra.”

Kimiko sounded unaffected, but you’d literally hidden her beneath your desk the time pro heroes Uravity and Deku visited for an agency team-up with the Todoroki office. She’d spent the entire time peering out with big eyes, muttering under her breath, “I am so gay. So very very gay.”

You didn’t doubt if Uravity were included in the spread, Kimiko might even beat Mari out for the first spot in line.

“You both have such kind hearts,” you laughed. “So eager to give to charity.”

“I’m a lifelong philanthropist,” Mari agreed, picking up your pen and doodling hearts all over your office stationery. You noticed she colored in only the left side, and suppressed another laugh.

Whatever. You knew what it was to be that whipped, even if you’d never do anything about it.

As huge as your thing was for Sero, there wasn’t a chance in hell he returned your affections. He was incredibly friendly, but over the past few years, he’d never even given a hint that he was into you like that. He’d treated you with the same easy cheer and subjected you to the same good-natured roasting he did everyone else in the agency.

And now was not the time to go looking for more, anyway. You’d recently become close enough to see Sero outside of work and you were not about to endanger that–you’d been invited to a house party of his a couple months ago, gone to drinks with him and a couple of agency people after work, and even grabbed dinner alone a few times over the past few weeks. You’d been texting memes practically nonstop this entire week alone.

He was so much fun, always quick with a joke, a wink, or an interesting story, and he wasn’t afraid to tell things like they were. You forgot time was passing when you were with him, and sometimes when you went out, you stayed out long enough that you thought he might, too.

So you were finally reaching a stage in your friendship where Sero clearly felt close and comfortable—you would not press for more.

It was just, sometimes, when he smiled down at you with that clever, mischievous grin, your heart felt like it was experiencing some sort of medical event. Sometimes, when he put his dark hair up into a messy half-bun, those biceps cording as he did so, it felt like someone had just vacuumed all the oxygen straight out of your lungs. Sometimes, when he leaned down to whisper something to you in his most conspiratorial tones, it felt like someone had spiked your brain into a blender and pureed it into mush.

But it was cool.

You knew how to play it cool.

Mari pulled you back to earth with the promise of more gossip—this time, about her arch nemesis in accounting—and Kimiko leaned in, offering her own commentary over the unwrapping of another of your candies.

And then the clock struck four thirty-three, and Sero Hanta returned from patrol.

You heard the telltale mechanic ping of an agency badge passing checkpoint, and peeked around Kimiko to see Sero trudging through the doorway, looking strangely contemplative. He was covered in dirt and his uniform was slashed in several places, including a great deal of shredding about the thighs, which you would have been happier about if he didn’t look so unusually subdued.

He didn’t look hurt at any rate, so that was good. But you couldn’t help but call out to him.

“Hey Sero!” you said, curious about his demeanor. “How’d patrol go? Something happen?”

Kimiko and Mari turned around, and you watched as both of them seemed to freeze up. Kimiko’s hand slapped against the reception counter, the sound echoing through the room, gripping tightly as though she’d suddenly seen a ghost.

“Ur–Uravity-san,” she said, dipping into the most formal bow you’d ever seen her make. “What’s brought you here?”

You felt your mouth pull into a frown, staring at the back of her head in absolute bamboozlement. Was she seeing things? The only person in the doorway was Sero, and he was very much unaccompanied.

His helmet was propped between his hip and his elbow, so his face was clear too–so Kimiko didn’t even have the excuse of not being able to see his face, different though his costume was from Uravity’s.

Sero blinked, his mouth pulling into a semi-puzzled grin. “Uravity?”

Mari was slapping Kimiko before you could inquire the same thing, hissing, “Are you losing it? That’s fucking Shouto.” She turned back to pin you with something between a glare and a concerned, assessing gaze, as if you too had lost your marbles.

You frowned back, your own concern deepening. “I’m sorry–are you guys seriously telling me that Shouto and Uravity are here with Sero?” You peered back around Mari at Sero, quirking a brow at him. “Did they get hit with some kind of invisibility quirk or are these two experiencing some kind of hallucination?”

Maybe too much shirtless calendar talk had gotten them too hot and bothered.

Sero’s dark gaze pinned you, and he quickly came tromping over, his boots echoing on the stone flooring. He leaned over the reception counter, pointing to his face with one long, pretty finger. “Wait, you can tell it’s me?”

He smelled like cement and sweat and dust, and something vaguely minty, like he’d been chewing gum recently. You tried not to let your expression show how much you liked the look of him up close, those hooded dark eyes, his wide, charming mouth.

“Um, yes? I have eyeballs?” you wondered.

Sero blinked, leaning in closer. Your heartbeat ticked up. “You’re sure?”

“Should I not be…sure?” you asked. “Are Shouto and Uravity really with you and I’m the only one who can’t see them?”

Sero shook his head, “Nah–it’s just me.”

You frowned up at him, curious. “Then why are they calling you Shouto and Uravity…?”

Sero shook his dark head. His hair was pulled into that half-bun you loved, the way it usually was under his helmet on patrol, and all mussed from whatever run in he’d had. You tried not to think about what other activities might get his hair all mussed like that.

He smiled, something wide and conspiratorial. “Got hit with some kinda illusion quirk. People have stopped me like a thousand times on my way in to ask for All Might’s autograph, or Hawks’, and even Bakugou’s. They’re lucky it was just me, he’d have thrown a shit fit getting cut off in the street like that.”

Sero’s features shifted into something slightly more contemplative again. “But you’re somehow immune, huh?”

You frowned. “Shouldn’t you get checked out at medical, then?”

His eyes softened, and another grin made its way onto his mouth. “Yeah yeah, I’ll head right there.”

Kimiko and Mari were still gaping over at him like he was a miracle, and some strange feeling came over you, a concerned little squeeze of your heart. You grabbed Mari, plonking her down into your seat in your stead. “Cover me for a couple minutes? Just say people are unavailable and take notes and I’ll figure it out when I get back. I’m gonna run down to medical with Sero for a second.”

Mari nodded dumbly.

You pulled Sero’s helmet out of his grip, resting it in the crook of your own elbow, and gestured him down the hall with you. Sero fell into step beside you, keeping up easily with his long stride. He grinned down at you, seemingly unperturbed that he’d gotten hit with a quirk that had all but erased his identity in the eyes of others.

It was something you admired in him, his inherent good-naturedness.

You wondered why you were the only one who could tell it was him.

“Any good gossip while I was gone?” he asked, like he really couldn’t be fussed about his predicament. “I was starting to hear shirtless calendar talk before I had to head out on patrol.”

You suppressed a flush and fought down the urge to ask if he’d been asked to be in it too.

You did not need to know.

“Whatever the hell is going on with you is the spiciest bit of gossip all day,” you told him, rounding a corner and badging into the stairwell down to the medical floor. You clung to the railing carefully and most definitely did not watch his thighs bunch as he took the stairs. “Want a drink after work? It seems like you could use one, after this.”

Sero smiled, an eyebrow raising. “Trying to get me drunk, huh?”

You wrinkled your nose. “As if I’d need to be so underhanded.”

You did. You did need to be so underhanded.

Sero had to angle himself carefully through the door, his shoulder pieces liable to snag on the doorway with the breadth of those pro hero shoulders. The medic on staff took one look at him and flushed, mumbling out a name you didn’t know.

You piped in before she could say more. “Cellophane’s been hit with a quirk that makes him appear like someone else. It’s not whoever you think!”

She blinked curiously, but then nodded, probably having seen much weirder things in her time as a hero agency staffer. She gestured Sero to a cot on the side of the room. “Alright, please sit down, Cellophane. We’ll do a couple quick tests and then get you sorted with the right quirk cancellation.” Her cheeks seemed to heat again as she spoke, but she made good on her promise, disappearing down the hall, calling to someone for quirk testing strips.

Sero hopped up on the cot, swinging those long legs, grinning at you from eye-level, now. “Think I should prank a couple people before they cancel it?”

You rolled your eyes. “Only you would be having fun with this. No one in the world knows who you are!”

The corner of Sero’s mouth pulled wryly. “You do.”

“You don’t know if that could change, dude. Better get it over with before you get stuck as like, Endeavor forever.”

Sero laughed, light and airy. “Shouto wouldn’t hang with me anymore.”

You nodded. “Exactly, and none of the rest of us read the same weird manga you guys are into so you’d be all alone with no one to fanboy about it to.”

The medic returned with a thick silvery strip, pulling on blue nitrile gloves as she did so. Sero held his arm out obligingly, the lean muscle flexing in the fluorescence of the office lighting. She peeled off the backing of the strip, pressing it to Sero’s forearm, pushing it down firmly.

She attached a cable to some screened device, and you listened to the beep of various buttons. Sero watched you over her shoulder, his easy smile still in place.

Finally, the device in the medic’s hand beeped, and she pulled back, announcing somewhat shyly, “An attraction-type quirk.”

You blinked, mystified. A what?

Sero’s grin seemed to freeze on his face, and his thin brows furrowed the tiniest bit.

The medic continued, oblivious. “This quirk creates an illusion. External parties will perceive the affectee with the traits or as the person they are most attracted to.”

Sero’s dark eyes snapped to yours, widening, and you fumbled a step back, almost tripping over yourself. You threw out a hand, barely catching yourself on the counter.

No.

Oh fuck no.

If people were seeing who they were most attracted to…and you had just seen Sero the whole time…

That would mean—that would mean—and he had heard you say—

“Oh my god, I just remembered I have to get back to Mari,” you said, offering Sero a wave of your suddenly numb hand. “Can’t, um, strand her at the desk for too long. I’ll leave you guys to it. Uh, yeah. Thanks–bye!”

You quickly threw yourself out through the door, leaving Sero alone with the medic. You dashed back up the stairwell, your heartbeat shooting into your mouth.

How could this be happening? How unbelievably embarrassing was that? You’d worked so hard to play it cool in front of Sero for all this time, for years, really, and you’d finally just made it to a comfortable place as friends.

And then—and then—some attraction-illusion quirk goes and blows your cover, just like that? For real?

And he’d heard you, too. Heard you say, “Hey, Sero!” as soon as he’d come through the door, before anyone had revealed anything about who else they thought he might be instead. Before you could have possibly had any clue that he’d been quirked.

You could die of mortification.

You shooed Mari and Kimiko away from the desk when you got back, quickly readying your things to get the hell out of the office as soon as your night replacement arrived. You cleaned up all the bi-colored hearts Mari had doodled on every available surface of your desk and refilled the candy bowl Kimiko had apparently seen fit to devastate in your absence, your ears heating with the thought that Sero could catch on now, why you stocked orange candies.

God, could your replacement hurry the fuck up before Sero got back here?

But the night receptionist was predictably late, of course, and by the time you finally saw him badge through the front entrance you could hear quick, booted steps across the tile behind you.

Sero’s voice sounded over the back of your chair, just as a long-fingered hand closed around your wrist.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice more careful than you’d ever heard it. “Still up for that drink? I think maybe we could talk over it.”

The night receptionist nodded at you and Sero as he made his way over, and you gave up your chair to him, collecting your bag with Sero’s warm fingers still clutching your wrist. You slowly worked up the courage to look up at him, face heating as you took in his uncharacteristically intent expression. His face had been cleaned and it looked like some antibiotic had been applied to some of the scrapes along his jaw.

You knew then you’d trapped yourself. Though it was probably also better to get things over with now than avoid the subject forever.

“Okay,” you said, trying to keep your voice normal. “Yeah, let’s talk.”

Sero was the nicest dude ever, you had to remember that. Even when it came down to a rejection, he would still be completely kind and friendly. Probably not too much would change on his end afterwards either. You couldn’t imagine him avoiding you or treating you any differently.

“My place okay?” Sero asked as you shrugged on your bag.

You nodded, and he smiled, nearly as wide and silly as he normally did, tinged with only the slightest bit of shyness.

You’d originally planned to take him out somewhere fun, but this conversation was probably best had in private. And Sero’s place was close, an apartment only a couple blocks’ walk, in a charming little neighborhood fringed by a park and a variety of interesting bars and cafes. Sero chatted away with his usual friendly ease as you walked, still in his shredded hero costume, waving to the couple people that recognized him as you did so.

Your stomach flipped as he opened his front door, gesturing you inside under his arm. He was tall and lanky enough that you fit easily, and you caught a whiff of that minty scent again under all the dust that coated his uniform. You tried not to look too closely at the lines of his bicep as you passed under it.

His apartment was just as you’d remembered it; spacious, casually decorated in neutral tones with splashes of interesting patterns spread across the rug, throw pillows, and his collection of wall hangings. It smelled cottony and clean, and Sero gestured you to his couch as he dumped his helmet and boots in the doorway, shrugging off his shoulder pieces.

“A beer cool?” he asked as he made his way into the kitchen. “I’ve got a couple of good ones.”

“Sounds great,” you told him, listening to the sounds of him cracking the caps.

To your surprise he plopped down on the couch next to you as he came back in, handing you a bottle. It was cold, and your fingers made little prints in the condensation where you touched it.

“So,” he said, turning to you, a sly look in his dark eyes. “You wanna talk about what just happened?”

Your face flamed, and you took a quick sip of your beer to give you time to recover yourself. It was sour on your tongue, a hint of orange peel in its profile.

“No,” you told him honestly, giving him a self-conscious smile, which he returned. “I think it’s pretty clear, actually. You got hit by a quirk that shows people the person they’re most attracted to and I, uh, obviously saw, um, you.”

Sero’s grin pulled wider at the edges, surprising you. If you didn’t know better, you would think he liked hearing that. Although maybe it was a little bit of an ego stroke to hear you were someone’s fantasy man, even if you didn’t return their feelings.

“Not All Might and not Bakugou,” he said, something pleased in his tone.

You blinked at him, disturbed by those insinuations. “Definitely not,” you sniffed. “I am a paragon of taste.”

Sero laughed, his fingers flexing on the side of his beer. Then he took a sip, seeming to contemplate something as he did, and you drew yourself together, preparing for the inevitable. That was definitely a look that said he was thinking hard, probably about the best way to let you down.

But then Sero grinned back down at you, leaning in collusively. “You wanna know something?”

You could feel your brows raise curiously, even as your heartbeat picked up with his proximity. You looked down, then accidentally spied the strips of tanned thigh where his costume had torn, and had to quickly reroute your gaze for fear of staring. “That depends.”

Sero’s grin went even more sly. “I think if you’d been hit with that quirk, I’d have known it was you too.”

Your heartbeat slammed to a halt in your chest. It was only when Sero threw a hand out that you realized you’d lost your grip on your beer, his quick reflexes the only thing saving his carpet. You startled at the sudden move, making a weird arm-flinging motion somewhere between grabbing for your beer and grabbing onto him, ending up accidentally smacking him in the chest instead.

“Fuck, I—sorry!” you garbled out, stunned by his sudden proximity and the fistful of his costume you’d taken. His skin was warm against the side of your hand.

Sero blinked, looking taken aback for a moment. Then he shifted, and you heard the clink of two beers being deposited on his coffee table. You swallowed, unable to look away from him, and you watched his dark eyes rove over your face, before dipping down to stare at something just under your nose.

A shiver prickled up your spine.

“So when you—with the quirk—” you tried, but your brain had gone offline, and the right set of words were not coming to you. “Um, when you say—you would have known—?”

Sero’s grin crept back across his mouth. “I mean that I’d have seen you, because I’ve been wanting to ask you out and trying to figure out if you're into me for months.”

It had to be the shock of this admission that registered you so stupid. “You—months? Try years.”

Sero’s laugh beat back the instant wave of mortification that overcame you in the next second, when you realized what'd you'd just said. You could only smile back helplessly, equally pleased and embarrassed. He looked so good right then, too, grinning toothily, his hair a mess, his costume torn to shreds. He really was the most gorgeous guy you had ever seen, that quirk had totally had your number.

It suddenly dawned on you that you had little else to lose now, with everything out in the open. And when Sero looked like that—sly, pleased, and a little bit of a mess—you thought you were done trying to bury things.

A thrill zinging down your spine, you leaned in and pressed your mouth to his.

He’d been laughing, and you only caught the edge of his mouth, but Sero quickly corrected. You could feel his lips go slack in surprise for a second, and then he was schooling himself and returning your kiss with abandon.

Long fingers came up to take your chin, holding you firmly in place. It was so unexpectedly bold that you shuddered, kissing him harder. Your hand tangled further in the fabric of his costume, gripping onto him for dear life as his tongue met yours, twisting and teasing. It was so like him, the way he kissed. Teasing, playful, easy. Your head spun with how much you liked it.

“Aw fuck, I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” Sero said, when he finally pulled away far enough to enunciate the words. He shifted against you, putting a large palm against your back, pulling you to him. You followed his guidance, climbing into his lap, chasing his mouth again. You wanted more—more now that you thought you could have it.

“I’ve been wanting—for years—” you said, squeaking in surprise when Sero guided you down onto a strong thigh. It was hard and thick and way too muscular to be allowed, and your breath left you in a harsh hiss. And because this was the most embarrassing day of your life, Sero clocked it immediately, leaning forward in interest.

“You—like that? My—thigh?” he asked curiously.

You could feel your face burning, like someone had just dunked it in a bucket of hot coals. “I–yes. I like everything about you. Including your thighs,” you admitted.

Sero’s hand guided you back down against him, pressing his knee up experimentally. A thrill sang through your veins at the feeling of a piece of him so warm and firm right up against your core. You barely bit back the noise you wanted to make.

“Fuck, this is weirdly hot,” Sero said, leaning in to take your mouth again. You could feel him growing hard against your knee through the fabric of his costume, as his tongue flicked against yours, making your brain go a little woozy.

His arms came around you, holding your waist as he ground his leg up into you, sending a wave of pleasure striking through you like lightning. The moan you’d been trying to hold in finally broke free of you. “Ah—Hanta!”

The sound seem to spark something in him. Sero surged up, his hands making quick work of your shirt as he kissed you, still rocking you against his thigh in a way that made you see stars. You had the wild thought that everything about him was more than you’d ever imagined it would be, from the delicate press of his fingers to the warmth of his thigh to the way the strands of his hair that had escaped brushed across your forehead. Embarrassingly fast, like he knew exactly how to play you, he worked you up to the crest of your pleasure.

You had to put a hand to his chest to stop him.

“Hanta, if you—I’m going to cum if we don’t stop—” you said.

“Oh my god please,” was his only answer, and he pulled you down onto his thigh with renewed vigor. Sparks of pleasure pricked all over your body as he kissed you again, his hands roaming every inch of exposed skin. He left bruising kisses down the side of your throat, fingers playing with your nipples.

Another few rocks into his thigh sent you right over the edge, and he held you against him as you rode it out, squirming against his thigh.

“This is the hottest thing that has ever happened to me,” he said, something in his tone making it clear he was not done with you yet.

He helped you wiggle out of your pants, freeing himself of his own costume, and laid you out over his couch, grinning. He was golden with a fading summer tan, and his smile was so wide and charming and white against the dimming light from the windows. He was gloriously lean, hard with dense, compact stretches of muscle, every single inch of him honed from years of hero work. He was perfect—so stupidly, handsomely, perfect.

Between his thighs, his cock was just as long and lean, heavy and flush with arousal. It made you dizzy to think that this man, who you’d crushed on for so long, wanted you like this—wanted you back in the same way you’d always wanted him. You motioned him closer, too eager now to be self-conscious about it.

Sero laughed, a happy noise. “Fuck, you’re so pretty though.” He stretched out over you, sliding in between your thighs and guiding himself into you. His chest pressed to yours, hot and slick with a light sheen of sweat already, and you hissed with the feeling of him slipping inside you.

You felt drunk with arousal, crazy with want. You clutched him to you as he moved, thrusting carefully at first, as if testing the feeling of you, and then more firmly. You let out soft noises you hadn't meant to, which Sero seemed to appreciate.

“God, look at you. Listen to you,” he said, grinning down at you, his dark eyes tracing over you. “I can’t believe I got hit with that quirk. This is the luckiest day of my life—you’re so cute. So—fuck—so perfect.”

He slid into a frustratingly sedate pace, strokes long and languid, stretching out almost teasingly. You wrapped your legs more tightly around his hips, trying to press him into you, but his smile just widened. He moved leisurely, setting his own pace, just on the wrong side of too slow.

It drove you insane, somehow working you up even faster than if he’d been doing what you wanted. You muffled the sounds of your own moans against his lips, gripping onto those broad shoulders. Sero’s own fingers slid down to your clit, playing with you just as lightly and teasingly as his thrusts.

You could have killed him, but all you could do was hold onto him, slurring his name appreciatively.

He worked you like that for a while, bringing you close but never too close, drawing out the feeling into something warm and fizzy, like soda left in the sun. But eventually the band of his control seemed to snap, and he began thrusting into you harder, faster. Those long, lovely fingers circled your clit with more intent as he did, murmuring a steady stream of praise.

“Please—cum with me,” he panted into your mouth, as his fingers drew ever-tightening circles over you. “I want you to come with me, Y/N. Can you—can you do that?”

You nodded frantically as his thrusts grew faster, sloppier. He was so good inside you, so good over you, his fingers such a delicious pressure against your clit. It only took a few thrusts more, a few strokes of those careful fingers, and then you were squirming against him in earnest, your veins going molten with pleasure.

“Hanta—I’m going to—!”

“Yessss,” he hissed, and then he was orgasming too, spilling out his pleasure inside of you. His hips slapped yours in a stuttering pattern, half-crazed, and you shook against him, gasping. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest as you crested the wave, until finally—finally you went limp against him, just as his own body relaxed over you.

“I want to be hit with a quirk all the time,” he said, ridiculously.

You couldn’t help but laugh, smiling into his shoulder. “Don’t make a habit of it.”

Sero hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t know. If this is what I get every time, then…” he trailed off, smirking down at you.

“I’m not going to bang you if you’re going to be irresponsible,” you told him.

He perked up, however, those dark eyes peering at you hopefully. “But you’ll bang me otherwise?”

You laughed again, pinching him lightly on the arm where you held him. “What do you think having a crush on you for years means?”

His grin went all sly and pleased again. “Then I’ll have to lock it down, of course. I haven’t spent months wondering just to let you get away. Starting with dinner this evening, maybe. Do you—would dinner be okay?” he asked. The sound of genuine, eager hope in his voice was so gratifying it made you want to kick your legs in the air.

You settled for nodding instead. “Dinner sounds amazing.”

“Then I’ll arrange the finest takeout just for you,” he said, which you knew from experience meant the empanadas place around the corner. You laughed again, feeling full already with the promise of an easy meal, and a relationship to come.

“Whatever you want sounds good to me,” you said, even as he began to slide off of you, helping you up alongside him. “You’ve had a crazy day today, empanadas sound like the perfect cap.”

Sero leaned in, his expression as mischievous and charming as always. “It’s nothing,” he said, even as he carefully held out your shirt to you again, guiding you into it in an unexpectedly gentlemanly move. You let him stuff you into it, laughing, smiling into the kiss he gave you as you emerged.

He winked at you as he found his phone and dialed, smiling as you heard the call connect. “After all, I'm a hero," he said. "And it’s all in a day’s work.”

[mochinomnoms]

How would ptm jade react if Yuu told him about marine mushrooms?

I only know what wikipedia knows about marine mushrooms...unfortunately for yuu mind reading doesn't give them sudden infinite knowledge!

“You know, with as much as you...like mushrooms and stuff, I'm surprised you haven't mentioned anything about marine fungi.”

You felt a chill run down your spine and Jade's bi-colored eyes on you.

“Pardon?” Does my darling also love fungi? How could I have not known this?

You shifted in your seat, staring down at your notebook as you doodles between the margins. A small button mushroom that you'd absentmindedly drawn minded you of Jade.

And you just happened to be doing research with him for your group project in the library this day.

“Sorry, I just was thinking about it, and it's just surprising to me that you never had, like an aquarium type terrarium or something with them.”

You let out a nervous laugh, after all, it was just you two by yourselves. Riddle and Yev were busy with their dorms due to the Spelldrive Tournament, and your dorm still didn't technically qualify, since all your freshmen were officially in other dorms.

Such a wonderful laugh, I'd like to hear it more...

“Well, to my knowledge, they don't exist.” Jade leaned in, his eyes wide and full of excitement. “By chance, do such mushrooms exist in your world?”

Please tell me more! Tell me lies for all I care, so I may hear your voice...though you wouldn't lie about such things, would you?

You perked up. It was rare that you knew something Jade, or anyone at NRC, had no clue about. It probably wasn't intentional, but the way people would look at you when you had no clue about something make you feel dumb, even though you logically had no way of knowing even the most basic things of this world.

It was kinda nice to be the one to share knowledge with another person.

“Well, I don't know a lot, but they mostly exist in marine environments. I think a few hundred?” You leaned in closer, moving your notebook towards Jade as you started drawing again.

“I can't remember their names very well, but I've always been a more visual person anyways.” You drew a piece of driftwood, a snail, and a rock covered in lichen.

“This one grows in mangroves, usually on the places. But this one grows around the shell of a snail, who eats it. And sometimes lichen will grow with fungi, but I don't know a whole lot about them.”

You paused, pursing your lips in disappointment.

“Sorry, I don't know enough to tell you about them, I know how much you...”

Your words trailed off as you looked back up at Jade, who was resting his check against his palm. He was staring at you with faint smile, and soft, half lidded eyes and pink cheeks.

So beautiful...

Cheeks and chest going hot, you stared back, opening and closing your mouth as you tried to figure out how to respond.

“Uh, Jade, you're, uh, staring...”

Jade stiffened, straightening up and covering his mouth in embarrassment.

“My apologies. I was just....enraptured by your descriptions.” And you. “I don't mind that you aren't familiar, but I would like to heard more from you about marine fungi. Perhaps you can tell me all about your world's plant life? It never occurred to me that your world would evolve differently, but saying that now, it seems obvious.”

He smiled at you again, his teeth showing a bit more as he excitedly leaned in.

“You struggle in musicology, yes? Perhaps in exchange for your knowledge, I can help you with practice?”

Please say yes!

You paused. Various suggestive scenarios that seem more apt for a risqué site or story flashed through Jade's mind in giddy anticipation.

You know better. You know what Jade's hoping for. You shouldn't string him along, you're going to get embarrassed. You're going to get uncomfortable, you're...

Another daydream, one of you two curled over a book, as you leaned into Jade's side while his arm pulled you closer, invaded your mind like a parasite in your brain. He had a tender smile as you laughed at something he said, your free hand reached up to cradle his cheek.

Maybe parasite is a harsh word. When the thoughts Jade had were so sweet and soft, it almost made you want to give in.

Almost.

“It's okay, I'm just a choir member, so there's not much for me to improve on.” You could hear your more logical voice sigh in the back of your mind. “But I'm happy to share...if you help me figure out if the mushrooms growing behind Ramshackle are edible.”

I'm weak…

Jade blinked, processing what you said.

Really? “Really?” Even Jade seemed like he was anticipating your rejection.

“Yeah, why not.” You shrugged, Jade's internal excitement flooding into your subconscious and influencing your own emotions. “Means less money to spend on food, and I'm sure you know plenty of yummy recipes we can use if they do end up good!”

Jade rarely smiled, at least not genuine, bare-teethed smiles. Despite the sharpness of them, you weren't put off by them, or him, at all.

“I would be honored.”

[porcelaininkpot]

Miscellaneous D.A.M.N Crew Headcannons Volume Two >:}}}

Gavin always takes an extra long time to shower because not only does he have a fifteen step self care routine, he gets distracted by his reflection and admires himself for so long he takes twenty minutes to even start.

Damien works himself so hard he loses track of time completely and can't tell the difference between night and day. Once, he started getting ready for an early morning class and was almost out the door before Huxley emerged from his room and told him it was 11pm.

This concerns Huxley to no end, so to keep him grounded he'll come up behind Damien at random times and murmur the time and day in his ear. Its developed into an affectionate habit and he does it even now despite Damien being much less harsh on himself.

Up until meeting Freelancer and the crew, Caelum had never properly written anything before in his life. He still doesn't really have any need to, but Damien insisted that knowing how to read and write was a basic skill anyone should have regardless of whether or not they actually need it. This was said while he gave Gavin the most atrocious side eye.

As a result, he taught Caelum how to write, and his handwriting is less text and more doodles, he replaces his As with stars and his Os with spirals and uses exclusively pink glitter gel pen.

Damien was once having a terrible day and in the middle of a mental breakdown realised it was the birthday of someone he hated and got so offended and mad he snapped out of it, stopped breaking down and made himself have a good day out of spite.

After Lasko left, his parents erased all traces of his existence and had another child, a girl. Their parents were so scared she'd turn out like him they put her through unimaginable restrictions and didn't let her have any freedom. Unfortunately for them, she turned out to be a water elemental. They didn't take it well. She's now currently a teenager on the run and neither her nor Lasko know that the other exists.

Being around Caelum makes Lasko remember how much he always wanted a little sister of his own.

Freelancer once tried to put their little sister up for adoption.

Huxley has shoulder length hair that he almost exclusively ties in a half up half down look.

Dear loves drawing on other people's hands.

Lasko loves having his hands drawn on, but only when it's Dear doing the drawing.

They both do it to relieve stress.

Huxley is the only person alive that makes Damien feel comfortable enough to loosen up and just exist. No stress, no worries, no thoughts, just how much he loves and how much he's loved.

Dear is scarily good at poker.

Freelancer once tried to learn tarot but the first reading they did on themselves called them out too hard and they dropped it out of spite.

To this day, Gavin thinks platypuses aren't a real animal.

Damien has actually met Avior, it was at the library and they got into an argument over who got to check out the last copy of Pride and Prejudice.

The DAMN crew once went to the beach and got super competitive at sandcastle building. Huxley and Freelancer won against Gavin and Damien while Dear sunbathed, enjoying watching them fight.

Lasko was off elsewhere trying not to lose his shit at the sight of Dear in a swimsuit.

Huxley has freckles.

Damien has dimples.

Freelancer's favourite coat once tore, and Gavin seamlessly stitched it up. It was as if the tear never happened in the first place. {He used shibari knots}

Dear has the best handwriting out of the entire crew, unfortunately their cursive is so intricate and elegant no one can read it.

All demons have markings and designs across their bodies naked to the human eye but visible under uv light, similar to scorpions, they're a reflection of the demon's soul and naturally, unique to each demon.

Gavin's marks are smoky and wispy, trailing over his long limbs to form the most ornately designed hearts. They glow a deep pink under neon light and he loves showing them off at clubs.

Caelum's markings are bubbles and clouds that float around his body and change shape. His are bright yellow and blue and he didn't know he had them until Freelancer got him an invisible ink pen with a uv flashlight attached.

Freelancer has a uv tattoo of Gavin's wispy hearts across their own sternum, curling up to one soft heart right above where their own beating heart lies.

[digiflora]

✦ ⠂⠂୨୧ DO YOU WANT SOMEBODY LIKE I WANT SOMEBODY?

ಇ roommate!jing yuan, roommate!sampo, roommate!gepard x reader ︴wordcount :: 1.7k ︴contains :: nothing crazy, sampo with tattoos, in gepard's part reader drinks wine like a White Woman TM ︴part one ︴requested by @elsy34 @sydneyy-l @fairiesdobesparklin @w9vyy

ఌ︎. | JING YUAN

you've quickly come to realise that your roommate is a workaholic

his punctuality, his strict regime of getting up at 6 and coming back at 6 seems to be the only constant in your life

the little mumbled apologies to inanimate objects as his too-large frame squeezes into your dingy shared bathroom causes you to roll over in your bed, a little smile growing at his sweet antics

then after about the 20 minutes it took him to shower and get ready, as well as fix himself - and you, you've noticed recently- breakfast before he's out the door as quietly as he can manage

then you're out of bed a bit after he leaves, yawning idly as you make your way out of your room, smiling fondly at the intricarely prepared fruit and yoghurt bowl that jing yuan had left you, along with a little smily face drawn on a post-it note

you eat it slowly, savouring the taste of it as you slowly wake up, before naking your way into the bathroom to freshen up

it's warm from the shower jing yuan had taken earlier, and the combination of his products and cologne that he had also sprayed almost envelopes you in a hug as you brush your teeth, your eyes noticing the little doodles left by the steam on the mirror

"out of milk" - :( is what jing yuan had decided to write this time, along with his attempt of a drawing of a milk carton

you giggle at the wonkiness of it, making a mental note to add it to the shopping list later

and you do your own little routine too, leaving a little later than him and coming back a little sooner on account of the fact that your job was a lot closer to your apartment than his was

and this next part- when the work day was over- was your most favourite part of the shared little routine that had been forged over the weeks you've spent living with jing yuan

you hear the key turn in the lock as your roommate lets himself in, a teasing "honey, i'm home" accompanying the slight shuffle of him taking off his coat and shoes

you cast him a wave from what you're doing tonight - this time, it's your turn to cook dinner - and you turn your attention back to the stove as you hear jing yuan pad over to you , peering over your shoulder and humming in approval at the choice of food

that brief closeness in proximity tantalised you with the same warmth and smells of his cologne that had been so comforting in the morning, and you felt some of your own stress melt away as you kept stirring the contents of the pan

and in this pseudo domesticity, you found comfort in your roommate, as he began to set the table for just the two of you

ఌ︎. | SAMPO

where to start with him omg

you don't know what to think when you first move in

he seems so scary with his hair and his tattoos and his cigarettes

but he's sweet, too, and his face lights up a little every time he manages to make you laugh

and hey, maybe he wouldn't be too bad as a roommate

after he figured out that you aren't a smoker yourself, he makes sure to always smoke either before he came back to your shared space, or out on the balcony far away from you

"those things will kill you, y'know"

your protest is lighthearted, and sampo smirks as he brings his lighter to the end of the cig dangling from his lips

"it's not like i'm gonna live forever"

it was the little things, after all

and little by little, your differing lifestyles began to integrate

you come to learn that sampo had a knack for remembering the details

you had been called to cover a coworker's shift at the last minute, one that would end a lot later than you're accustomed to

and since you took the bus to and from work, you were really not looking forward to taking it on the way back, when it would be pitch black outside with mostly drunkards to keep you company on it

and that dreadful thought had been put off for the time being

but with your shift drawing to a close, you stop your work momentarily to check what the buzz from your phone was

hey

i'm outside

come out when you're ready

-sampo

your eyebrows knitted together in confusion

you had told sampo when you would get off work, but you definitely hadn't asked him to pick you up after it had ended

but you were never one to turn down such an offer

you finished closing up, before leaving the building

you spotted a couple cars left parked on the side of the road, though all were empty with the headlights off

you clutched your phone, about to text sampo and ask exactly where he was l, before you heard a shout of your name from somewhere to your left that had you spinning on your heel

and you didn't know what to expect when sampo said he was here to pick you up, but it certainly wasn't this

you approached sampo, eyeing the motorbike that he was leaned against dubiously, mentally cursing yourself for assuming that he would drive a car, because of course sampo just had to do something more dangerous than that

sampo straightened up as you drew close, smiling and handing you a spare helmet, laughing at the uncertainty on your face

"if you hold on to me, you'll be fine, c'mon"

ఌ︎. | GEPARD (PT. 2)

it was hard to tell where you and gepard stood right now, ever since that night

on the one hand, you were still friendly around each other, and nothing had really changed behaviour-wise in either of you

yet on the other, your brain was constantly plaguing you with the memories of how his fingers had felt against your thighs, fingers in his hair and scratching at his scalp as he melted against you

it wasn't technically romantic, but it sure as hell had felt like it

and maybe it was just the wine that you had been drinking that night, but there's certain moments where you catch a certain hungered look in his eyes that makes you think that maybe, just maybe he was feeling the same inner turmoil that you were

but life goes on

work was getting busier for gepard, and much to your chagrin you were seeing less and less of him

maybe that was for the best, to give you the space and time to get over the silly little crush that you had on your roommate

"but you don't want to," that little pesky voice in the back of your head whispered to you

you shook your head a little violently to clear it, deciding that a distraction was in order

you had an unopened bottle of wine and a new series to binge screaming your name right now

and so you settle on your couch, putting on the show, letting yourself sigh into the cushions and welcoming the little headache that would ensue after you finish your first couple glasses

you noticed, with some amusement, that this was basically the position that you were in when gepard had laid on your thighs

these thoughts would be harder to avoid than you realise

you managed to immerse yourself into the show somewhat, too engrossed to hear the front door open, much like how it had happened that night

but your attention is transfixed to the screen, not to the sight of gepard as he walks in, yawning and practically making a beeline to where you sat on the couch

and then you realised he was there, when the cushions dipped underneath his weight, his arms thrown against the back of the sofa, one resting behind you

there's a pang of ... disappointment? that you feel when you realise that he hadn't sat in front of you once again, but you push that aside, scanning your roommate's face ij concern

he looks paler than usual, deep eyebags underneath his dulled eyes, and a glance at the time has you double taking as you see that it's past eleven

"your overtime pay must be through the roof," you try to joke, and you get the feeling that the half smile gepard responds with is the most that he can muster right now

and again, like there is some other being urging you to do so, you find yourself acting without thinking about consequences or what it might imply

"do you want a massage?"

gepard doesn't even have the energy to look surprised, merely nodding

you motion for him to lie flat on the couch, and he does so a little too quickly, not giving your tipsy self enough time to stand up before his head falls onto your thighs

oh, you think

he looks really pretty like this

his feet are dangling a little off the end due to his too-tall stature meeting the too-small couch, but you do your best to make him otherwise comfortable

he's on his front, arms now snaking their way around your hips and legs like he's done this so many tines before, and you could have sworn that the man even nuzzled his cheek against your soft skin before lying still

your hands hover for a second, unsure of how exactly to start and not expecting it to even get this far, butterflies in your stomach be damned

your fingers gingerly meet the junction where his neck joins his shoulder, immediately prodding a knot of tension

you do your best to rub circles into his skin, feeling out the muscle underneath to target

you were no professional, but the way that gepard was sighing contentedly from your touch made you think that you were doing something right

it was a few minutes of this silence, his breaths beginnign to even as you wirked your way down his back, doing the best that you could over the material of his shirt stretched thin across his back

the slight loll of his head alerted you that he was asleep, along with the softest puffs of air from his mouth that blew against your thigh

you continued for a bit more, wanting to do your best to get the knots out, before you felt the tug of sleep at yourself as well

the rhythm of gepard's breathing was constant and soothing, and you dismissed the worries of what to do about you and him and this predicament tomorrow- when you both wake up on the couch

gia's notes :: much anticipated continuation of the roommate hsr series yippeee ^_^ gepard is back 💯💯 also i only realised like... near the end of jing yuan's part that his ass is NOT a workaholic but... whats done is done ig 😔 shoutout to me not having played the 2.0 update yet,, or the game at all recently tbh ,,,

-‘๑’- honkai star rail masterlist

[aspenmissing]

ʙʀᴏᴋᴇɴ ʙᴏɴᴇꜱ ᴘᴛ 2

ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx/ᴘᴏᴡᴅᴇʀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ || 6440 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ʙʀᴏᴋᴇɴ ʙᴏɴᴇꜱ, ᴅᴇꜱᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋꜱ, ꜱɴᴀᴘᴘɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ʙᴏɴᴇꜱ

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴏᴜʀ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʙʀᴏᴋᴇɴ ʙᴏɴᴇꜱ.

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ ᴠᴇʀꜱɪᴏɴ

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx/ᴘᴏᴡᴅᴇʀ

VANDER

Vander had always been a stalwart figure in The Last Drop, a protector and a father to the kids of Zaun. But today, things were different. As fate would have it, a misstep while working in the bar had caused him to break his leg. The pain was sharp, but the scolding from Y/N was much worse.

"You’re not stepping foot in here, Vander," Y/N said firmly, her voice brokering no argument as she hovered beside his injured leg. "Not until you're properly healed. You’re on bed rest."

Vander grumbled from the couch, his large frame unaccustomed to sitting still for long. "But I can't just leave it all to you, Y/N," he protested, though his voice lacked the usual strength. "The Last Drop needs me."

Y/N crossed her arms, looking down at him with a mixture of concern and authority. "You can trust me, Vander. I’ll take care of it. With the help of Vi, Mylo, and Claggor, we’ll manage. You need to rest. No more arguments."

Despite his protests, Vander was caught by the fierce determination in her eyes. He would have grumbled some more, but the thudding of footsteps and the sound of a small voice stopped him.

"I’ll make sure he stays in bed, Y/N!" Powder’s small, determined face appeared around the corner, hands on her hips as she stood beside Vander’s chair. "If he tries to sneak out, I’ll tell you, and then he'll really be in trouble!"

Y/N looked to Powder, ruffling her hair with a small smile, her eyes gleaming with hidden smugness. "Good girl, Powder. You’re in charge when we're not here," she said, the words laced with affection but a hint of playful authority.

Powder beamed up at her, thrilled by the responsibility, while Vander let out an exaggerated sigh, slumping further into the couch. "This is ridiculous..." he muttered, though the fondness in his gaze softened the words.

As he glanced down at his cast, his lips twitched in a reluctant smile. It was already covered in drawings and doodles—mostly from the kids. Some were crude, some were surprisingly detailed, but all were an assortment of tiny messages, playful sketches, and reminders of the little faces who had come to check on him. Vi had drawn a particularly fierce image of him, arms crossed, a crown on his head like some kind of king, while Mylo had drawn a goofy rendition of his face sticking out from behind a bar counter. Claggor’s doodle was a dragon wrapped around his leg, protectively guarding it. Powder had added her own personal touch—her signature scribbled across the top in bold, bright letters: "Vander the Best"

He chuckled softly to himself, unable to hide the warmth that spread through him at the thought of the kids. They had all rallied around him, even if it meant forcing him to stay still against his will. "I guess I’ve got some new artwork to admire," he said, his tone softened with affection.

Powder’s grin widened, clearly proud of her handiwork. "I made sure it was extra colourful!" she said, bouncing beside him as she looked at the drawings with satisfaction.

Vander sighed in mock exasperation but couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Alright, alright. I’ll stay put. But only because you’re all so persistent."

Powder beamed, her tiny hands clapping in victory as she immediately returned to her assortment of parts, ready to keep him entertained. And though Vander wasn’t thrilled about being confined to the couch, the warmth of the kids’ affection and the comforting presence of Y/N’s watchful eyes made it bearable. He might be stuck here for now, but for the first time in days, he felt truly at peace.

=

A few days had passed since Vander’s injury, and though he had begrudgingly accepted his bed rest, the constant stillness was starting to wear on him. The pain had eased, but his patience was running thin. He was a man of action, and being confined to a chair was a fate he was never fond of.

He looked down at Powder, who was once again beside him, deeply absorbed in her assortment of strange bits and pieces. Her hands were quick, assembling something intricate with enthusiasm as she chatted away about her latest invention.

Vander sighed, glancing out of the window with longing. "I’ve had enough of sitting around," he muttered, his voice laced with frustration.

Powder, sensing his restlessness, didn’t even look up from her work. "Uh-uh," she said firmly, continuing to twist and turn a metal rod in her small hands. "You need to stay in bed. Y/N will be mad if you get up."

Vander shifted uncomfortably, eyeing the door as though he could make a break for it. "I just need to stretch my legs for a minute. I’ve been sitting here for days."

Powder paused, finally glancing up at him with a knowing smirk. "You tried that already," she reminded him. "And you know what happened."

Vander grimaced as the memory of his last attempt to leave flashed through his mind. He had barely gotten to his feet when Powder had practically launched herself at him, pushing him back into the chair with a strength that belied her small frame. "I’ll tell Y/N if you leave!" she had declared, with all the seriousness of a seasoned enforcer.

He slumped back into the chair with a sigh, pouting in defeat. "You’re relentless."

Powder grinned, clearly enjoying the power she held over him. She hopped up beside him, settling in with a pile of spare parts as she went back to her work, a gleam of excitement in her eyes. "I’ll keep you company, Vander!" she chirped. "We’ll make something fun! And you won’t be bored!"

Vander chuckled softly, shaking his head at her. "You're a troublemaker, Powder," he said, though the warmth in his tone made it clear he didn’t mind. Despite his frustrations, there was something comforting about the small girl’s presence, her unyielding determination to keep him entertained.

As she began to arrange her parts into a new contraption, Vander couldn’t help but smile, watching her explain her ideas with the usual enthusiasm. For a moment, his frustration eased, and he allowed himself to just enjoy the company, even if his leg was still keeping him down.

Powder beamed, and without missing a beat, she began explaining how her latest invention could work, filling the silence with her animated chatter. And though Vander wasn’t able to do much, he felt the weight of his boredom lift just a little, content in the knowledge that he wasn’t truly alone.

=

The day Vander’s cast finally came off was a moment of triumph—not just for him, but for everyone around him. After weeks of grumbling, restlessness, and being bossed around by Powder, he was eager to return to The Last Drop and reclaim his role. With a confident grin and a barely perceptible limp, he pushed open the doors to the bar, feeling the familiar warmth of the place wash over him.

The patrons immediately noticed his return, and the room erupted in a chorus of cheers and greetings. "Welcome back, Vander!" "It’s about time!" "The boss is back on his feet!" The shouts came from every corner of the bar, accompanied by hearty claps on his shoulder and mugs raised in his honour.

He grinned broadly, his heart swelling at the warm reception. It felt good to be back, to see the familiar faces and hear the hum of conversation that had been sorely missed during his absence. But as the initial excitement settled, he began to notice a recurring theme in the chatter.

"You’ve got a real gem in Y/N," one patron said, raising his drink. "She kept this place running like clockwork."

Another chimed in, nodding in agreement. "She didn’t just hold down the fort—she ran it better than you do, Vander!" The comment was followed by a burst of laughter and teasing smirks.

Even the regulars at the corner table, notorious for their grumbling, offered praise. "Y/N’s got a knack for keeping the peace. She might be tougher than you, Vander!"

He chuckled good-naturedly, accepting the ribbing with a shake of his head. "I’m glad to hear she kept you lot in line," he said, though the pride in his voice was evident. He’d always known Y/N was strong and capable, but hearing how much the community respected and appreciated her warmed his heart.

=

As the night wore on and the bar slowly emptied, Vander felt a familiar sense of satisfaction. The Last Drop was back in full swing, and though his leg still twinged now and then, he felt whole again. He bid goodnight to the remaining patrons, extinguished the lamps, and climbed the stairs to their shared living quarters.

Pushing the door open quietly, he was greeted by the soft sound of Y/N’s even breathing. She was sprawled across their bed, sound asleep, her hair tousled and her face relaxed in a way he hadn’t seen in weeks.

His chest tightened at the sight. He knew how hard she had worked while he was out of commission—running the bar, keeping the kids in line, and still finding time to check on him every day. The exhaustion etched into her features spoke volumes, and guilt prickled at the edges of his relief. She had carried everything on her shoulders while he rested, and now it was his turn to take care of her.

Quietly, he stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face with a tenderness that belied his rough exterior. "You did more than hold down the fort," he murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You kept it alive."

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple before carefully pulling the blanket over her. She stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent, but didn’t wake.

Vander stood there for a moment, watching her with a soft smile. The chair by the bed briefly tempted him, but the pull of her warmth and the comfort of being close to her was stronger. With a quiet sigh, he carefully climbed into bed, mindful of the weight he placed on his healing leg.

Once he was settled, he gently wrapped his arms around Y/N, pulling her closer until her head rested on his chest. The sound of her steady breathing mingled with the slow, familiar rhythm of his heartbeat, and a deep sense of peace washed over him.

Y/N shifted slightly in her sleep, instinctively curling into him as though she knew he was there. A faint, contented sigh escaped her lips, and Vander couldn’t help but smile, pressing another kiss to her hair.

"You’ve done enough, love," he murmured softly, his voice a low rumble. "It’s my turn to take care of you now."

As he lay there, holding her close, the exhaustion of the past weeks began to melt away. The world could wait for a little while longer. For now, he was exactly where he needed to be—right here, with her.

SILCO

The sound of something snapping echoed through the dimly lit alleyway, followed by a sharp cry of pain. Silco turned sharply, his mismatched eyes narrowing as he saw you crumpled on the ground, clutching your arm. Blood trickled from a scrape on your temple, but it was the unnatural angle of your wrist that made his stomach twist in a way he didn’t care to acknowledge.

“What happened?” His voice was tight, the icy calmness masking the flicker of concern beneath.

“I slipped,” you muttered, biting back a hiss of pain as you shifted. “The railing gave way. I tried to catch myself…” Your eyes darted to your wrist, the sight of the bone pressing against the skin making your stomach churn.

Silco crouched beside you, his gloved hands hovering for a moment before resting lightly on your shoulder. “Idiot,” he muttered, though his tone lacked its usual edge. His eyes flicked to the jagged remnants of the broken railing and then back to your wrist. A rare flicker of something softer crossed his face before it was gone. “Come on. We’ll fix this.”

He slipped an arm under your uninjured one, careful to avoid jarring your wrist, and helped you to your feet. You leaned against him instinctively, your legs unsteady. His grip was firm, his presence steadying as he led you out of the alley.

=

The walk through Zaun’s winding streets felt endless, the throbbing in your wrist growing sharper with each step. Silco’s pace was brisk, his sharp gaze daring anyone to so much as glance at you wrong. You clung to him, every jolt and uneven step making the pain bloom anew.

Finally, the heavy door to Singed’s lab creaked open, the acrid scent of chemicals and something burnt hitting you instantly. You wrinkled your nose, trying to focus on anything other than the fire in your arm. Silco barked Singed’s name, his voice cutting through the stillness.

Singed turned slowly, his scarred face impassive as he took in the sight of you. His gaze lingered briefly on your wrist before he gestured for you to sit on the edge of a metal table. Silco helped you up, his hands steadying you as you winced in pain.

“Broken,” Singed said after a quick examination, his tone clinical. “I’ll need to set it before I stabilise it. Hold her still.”

Your eyes widened. “Set it? What do you mean—”

“It’s dislocated and misaligned,” Singed interrupted matter-of-factly. “If it isn’t set properly, it won’t heal correctly. She’ll lose function in the arm.”

You instinctively tried to pull your arm back, but Singed’s grip was firm, his movements already efficient and deliberate. Silco stepped closer, his hand pressing gently but firmly on your shoulder to stop you from moving.

“Stay still,” Silco said, his voice low and commanding.

Singed glanced at Silco and tossed him a scrap of leather. “She’ll need this. The pain will be... unpleasant.”

You stared at the leather, your heart racing. “Unpleasant?”

“Bite down,” Silco ordered, holding the leather to your lips. His mismatched eyes locked onto yours, his voice softening just slightly. “Do it.”

You hesitated, but the flicker of concern in his expression pushed you to obey. You bit down on the leather just as Singed gripped your wrist and began manipulating the bone.

The pain was blinding, a sharp, unbearable agony that stole the air from your lungs. Your muffled cries were caught in the leather as Silco held you firmly, his hand pressing down on your good shoulder to stop you from jerking away.

“Almost done,” Singed muttered, his focus unwavering as he aligned the bone with unsettling precision.

Finally, the pressure eased, the searing pain fading to a dull, throbbing ache. You sagged against Silco, your breath coming in ragged gasps as Singed set down your arm.

“You’ll live,” Singed said flatly, already moving to gather supplies. He returned with a thin metal pipe, a coil of rope, and bandages. “This will stabilise it.”

You flinched as he began securing the pipe along your arm, the cold metal pressing against your skin. Singed wrapped the rope tightly, ensuring the splint was sturdy, before finishing with the bandages.

“She’ll need to keep it immobile,” Singed said, addressing Silco as he tied off the last of the bandages. “No heavy lifting, no sudden movements. If it swells or the pain worsens, bring her back. Otherwise, it should heal in time.”

Silco gave a curt nod, his jaw tight as he helped you off the table. His hand lingered on your lower back as he steadied you. “Is that all?”

“For now.” Singed’s attention had already shifted to his other projects, his interest in you seemingly gone.

=

As Silco guided you out of the lab, his arm remained firmly around you. The moment you were back in the dim streets, he stopped and turned to you, his eyes scanning your face.

“You’ll stay at the Last Drop,” he said firmly. “I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

You frowned, shaking your head. “I can manage at home—”

“No,” he interrupted sharply. His gaze softened slightly, though his tone remained firm. “You’re not risking infection or making it worse because of your stubbornness.”

His intensity caught you off guard. Silco rarely let his emotions show, but the flicker of protectiveness in his mismatched eyes was unmistakable.

You sighed, leaning against him slightly. “Fine,” you muttered, exhaustion weighing down your voice. “But only because you asked so nicely.”

He huffed, his lips twitching in the barest hint of a smirk. “Don’t make me regret it.”

As he led you back to the Last Drop, his arm never left your side. In his own way, Silco had done more than mend your broken bone that night—he’d reminded you that even in Zaun, there was someone who wouldn’t let you fall apart.

=

The Last Drop had a certain charm in its chaos—the hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional crash from a rowdy patron. But Silco had cleared a quiet space for you, one of the private rooms upstairs, far from the usual bustle.

You were propped up on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket with your arm resting on a cushion. The makeshift splint Singed had crafted itched slightly, but the pain had dulled to a tolerable throb. A tray sat on the table beside you, holding a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits that you were fairly sure one of Silco’s underlings had been tasked with fetching.

The door creaked open, and you turned your head to see Silco stepping inside. His sharp, mismatched eyes flicked over you, narrowing slightly as if to assess whether you were following Singed’s instructions.

“You look comfortable,” he remarked dryly, closing the door behind him.

“I am.” You gave him your best smug smile, leaning back further into the cushions. “Though I could use a bit more help.”

He arched a brow, his lips twitching as though caught between amusement and exasperation. “You’ve got everything you need. What now?”

You lifted your uninjured hand and pointed at the edge of the blanket that had slipped from your lap. “Could you just... pull that up for me? It’s drafty.”

Silco stared at you for a long moment before letting out a sigh. “You’re impossible.”

But he stepped forward anyway, tugging the blanket up over your legs with the precision of someone folding a document. You beamed at him, and his eyes narrowed slightly.

“Anything else, Your Majesty?” he asked, his tone dry.

“Now that you mention it...” You shifted slightly, holding up your uninjured hand. “My slippers are over there.” You nodded towards the fuzzy monstrosities sitting by the door. They were Zaun’s finest attempt at comfort, adorned with comically oversized pom-poms. “I’d hate to get up and ruin all your hard work keeping me still.”

Silco’s jaw tightened, but the faintest ghost of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Slippers.”

“Fluffy ones,” you clarified with a grin.

He muttered something under his breath—something suspiciously close to “unbelievable”—but he retrieved the slippers anyway, holding them between two fingers as though they might bite him.

“Your footwear,” he said, placing them at your feet.

“Could you?” You wiggled your toes pointedly. “I can’t exactly bend over with my arm like this.”

Silco’s glare could have wilted a flower, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward. With a theatrical sigh, he crouched down, slipping the ridiculous slippers onto your feet with surprising care.

“There,” he said, standing and brushing off his coat as though the act had somehow sullied him. “Anything else? Shall I fetch you a crown while I’m at it?”

You grinned, wiggling your toes in the slippers. “No crown needed. But...” You pointed at the teapot on the table. “I could use a refill.”

Silco’s expression was a mix of disbelief and begrudging amusement. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“Of course I am.” You leaned back, resting your head against the cushions. “How often do I get to see the Silco waiting on someone hand and foot?”

He rolled his eyes but poured the tea, placing the cup in your good hand with a surprisingly gentle touch. His gloved fingers brushed yours briefly, and you caught the faintest flicker of warmth in his mismatched gaze.

“You’re lucky I have a soft spot for you,” he muttered, sinking into the armchair across from you.

You smirked, cradling the warm cup in your hand. “Soft spot, hmm? I’ll remember that next time you’re trying to be intimidating.”

“Don’t push it,” he warned, though his tone lacked its usual bite.

For the rest of the evening, you lounged comfortably, revelling in your newfound ability to call Silco for every minor inconvenience. He played along—grumbling, sighing, and shooting you exasperated looks—but he never left your side for long.

=

Weeks had passed since your unfortunate accident, and though the pain in your arm had dulled to a faint ache, the splint Singed had crafted remained an irritating constant. It itched, it was heavy, and it made every small movement feel like an ordeal.

When Silco finally declared it was time to visit Singed for a follow-up, you couldn’t hide your relief. The thought of finally having the metal pipe removed filled you with a mix of nervous excitement.

The walk through Zaun was quieter this time. Silco stayed close as always, his sharp gaze scanning your surroundings for any hint of trouble. You felt his hand brush your lower back occasionally, a subtle gesture of reassurance.

Singed’s lab smelled as acrid and unwelcoming as ever. The scarred scientist barely glanced up from his work when you entered, his focus fixed on some bubbling concoction. Silco’s sharp voice cut through the air.

“She’s here for the follow-up.”

Singed turned, his face unreadable as he studied you. Without a word, he motioned for you to sit on the same metal table as before. You climbed up with less grace than you’d like, but Silco’s hand on your elbow steadied you.

Singed’s long fingers moved with clinical precision as he examined your arm, unwrapping the bandages to reveal the bruised but healing skin beneath. You winced when he prodded certain areas, but the pain was far less intense than before.

“Good alignment,” Singed muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “The bone has set. No signs of infection.”

“Does that mean the splint can come off?” you asked, a hopeful lilt in your voice.

Singed gave a single nod, already reaching for a small blade to cut through the rope securing the pipe to your arm. Silco hovered nearby, his mismatched eyes fixed on the process.

The relief was immediate as the metal pipe was removed, followed by the rest of the bandages. You flexed your fingers carefully, marvelling at how light your arm felt.

“Be careful,” Singed warned, his tone flat as always. “The bone is still fragile. No heavy lifting, no sudden impacts. I’ll prepare a brace to support it for a few more weeks.”

You frowned slightly, the thought of another contraption on your arm less than appealing. “A brace? Can’t I just... not use it?”

Singed’s deadpan expression didn’t waver. “If you want it to heal properly, you’ll use the brace.”

Silco’s voice cut in, low and firm. “You’ll wear it.”

You sighed dramatically, earning a faint glare from Silco. Singed returned moments later with a lightweight metal brace, this one far less cumbersome than the previous splint. He secured it around your wrist and forearm, tightening the straps snugly but not uncomfortably.

“This will protect it during daily activities,” Singed explained. “But don’t push your limits.”

“Understood,” you said, wiggling your fingers experimentally.

Silco, satisfied with the outcome, stepped closer. “What does she need to avoid?”

“No overexertion,” Singed replied, adjusting the final strap. “And same as last time, keep an eye on her for swelling or pain. If anything seems wrong, bring her back.”

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t do anything reckless,” Silco said, his tone pointed as he glanced at you.

You offered him a cheeky grin. “Oh, I’m a picture of caution.”

Silco’s lips twitched, but he said nothing as he helped you down from the table.

=

As the two of you left Singed’s lab, you flexed your fingers again, marvelling at how much freer your arm felt without the splint.

“Feels good to have it off,” you said lightly. “I feel like a new woman.”

Silco shot you a sideways glance. “Don’t get too comfortable. You heard what Singed said—no heavy lifting, no overexertion.”

“Relax,” you replied, slipping your arm through his. “I’m not planning on getting into any fights. Not yet, anyway.”

His hand rested briefly over yours, his grip firm but gentle. “Good. You’ve caused enough trouble for one lifetime.”

“Admit it,” you teased, leaning into him slightly. “You’d miss me if I didn’t.”

Silco’s silence was telling, though the faint smirk on his lips spoke louder than words. For now, you were on the mend—and you intended to enjoy every moment of having him fuss over you just a little longer.

JINX/POWDER

The sound of hurried footsteps and a sharp gasp pulled Y/N from her thoughts. She was in her workshop, busy sorting through a pile of supplies when Jinx burst in, cradling her arm with tears pooling in her wild eyes.

“Y/N!” Jinx wailed, her voice cracking. “I—I think I broke something!”

Y/N’s heart dropped as she rushed over. “Oh, Powder,” she murmured, instinctively slipping into the nickname she’d used since they’d first met. She guided Jinx to sit down on a nearby crate, her hands gently examining the injured arm.

The bone wasn’t sticking out, thank goodness, but the swelling and the way Jinx flinched told Y/N it was definitely broken.

“Jinx,” Y/N began, her tone a mix of worry and exasperation, “what were you doing this time? Jumping off a rooftop? Playing with one of your bombs again?”

Jinx sniffled, avoiding Y/N’s gaze. “It wasn’t that bad! I was just testing a grappling hook idea, and it… kind of backfired.” She winced as Y/N carefully adjusted her arm, her lower lip trembling.

Y/N sighed deeply, shaking her head. “Reckless, absolutely reckless,” she muttered, though her hands were gentle as she reached for her stash of bandages. She always kept supplies handy for moments like these; with Jinx around, you could never be too prepared.

“Stay still, love,” Y/N said softly, wrapping the bandages around Jinx’s arm with practised ease. “This will have to do."

She fashioned a makeshift sling using a strip of cloth, tying it securely yet comfortably around Jinx’s neck to support her arm.

“There,” Y/N said, brushing a strand of blue hair from Jinx’s face. “Good as new… well, sort of.” She crouched in front of Jinx, her hands resting on the younger girl’s knees.

Jinx sniffled again, her tears slowing as Y/N fussed over her. “It really hurts,” she admitted, her voice small.

“I know it does,” Y/N replied, her voice warm and soothing. “But you’re tough, Powder. You’ll be alright.” She pressed a kiss to Jinx’s temple, earning a faint smile from the girl.

“But you’ve got to stop being so reckless,” Y/N added, her tone firm but not unkind. “One of these days, you’ll get yourself into a situation I can’t fix, and I won’t always be there to save you.”

Jinx’s face fell, guilt flashing in her wide eyes. “I… I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said quietly.

“I know, love,” Y/N said, pulling her into a careful hug. “Just promise me you’ll think before you act next time. Deal?”

Jinx nodded against Y/N’s shoulder. “Deal.”

For the rest of the evening, Y/N kept Jinx close, doting on her as she prepared tea and a snack, ensuring the girl was as comfortable as possible. Jinx basked in the attention, her usual manic energy subdued by the warmth of Y/N’s care.

=

A few days later, the sound of loud, exaggerated groaning filled the workshop. Jinx was sprawled on the couch Y/N had set up in the corner, her injured arm still in its sling. She flopped dramatically onto her side, glaring at the ceiling as if it were personally responsible for her misery.

"Y/N!" Jinx whined, dragging out the name like a petulant child. "This is so boring! I feel like I’m gonna die just sitting here doing nothing!”

Y/N glanced up from the table where she was working on repairing a gadget. “You’re not dying, Powder,” she said with a smirk, not even bothering to look her way. “You’re healing. Big difference.”

“Same thing!” Jinx threw her good arm into the air for emphasis, her slinged arm held protectively against her chest. “You won’t let me tinker, you won’t let me test anything, and you won’t even let me—” She cut herself off with a frustrated groan, kicking her legs like a sulking child. “I’m losing my mind, Y/N!”

Y/N finally turned around, crossing her arms as she leaned against the table. “You broke a bone, Jinx. You need to take it easy. Or do I need to remind you what happened the last time you ignored my advice?” She raised an eyebrow, a knowing look on her face.

Jinx pouted, pulling her legs up to her chest. “You don’t have to remind me,” she muttered, avoiding eye contact.

“Good,” Y/N replied, walking over and sitting on the edge of the couch. She reached out, gently ruffling Jinx’s hair. “You’re lucky it wasn’t worse, you know. And if you want that arm of yours to heal properly, you’ll listen to me this time.”

“But I hate sitting still!” Jinx groaned, leaning her head against Y/N’s shoulder with an exaggerated sigh. “I wanna blow something up! Or tinker with my zapper! Or—”

“Absolutely not,” Y/N interrupted firmly, though she couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped. “But…” She stood, grabbing a small box from the workbench and returning to Jinx’s side. “I did find something for you to do that won’t get you into trouble.”

Jinx perked up immediately, her eyes lighting up with curiosity. “What is it?”

Y/N opened the box, revealing a small mechanical puzzle. “It’s a prototype I’ve been working on. A little puzzle box with gears. You have to figure out how to make it open.”

Jinx eyed it suspiciously at first, then reached out with her good hand, a spark of interest flickering in her eyes. “This… looks kinda cool,” she admitted, turning the box over in her hand.

“Thought you’d like it,” Y/N said with a smile. “It’s not the same as your usual chaos, but it’ll keep you busy. And it won’t involve any broken bones.”

Jinx let out a dramatic sigh, though she was already engrossed in the puzzle. “Fine,” she muttered, a small grin tugging at her lips. “But only ‘cause you’re no fun when you’re mad.”

Y/N laughed, leaning back on the couch. “That’s the spirit, Powder.”

And as Jinx’s tongue poked out in concentration while she worked on the puzzle, Y/N allowed herself a moment of relief. At least this would keep her out of trouble—for now.

=

It was late in the evening when Silco entered the dimly lit hideout, his sharp gaze scanning the room. The moment he stepped inside, he caught sight of Jinx crouched over a pile of scrap metal, her injured arm still secured in the sling. She was humming to herself, her good hand deftly tinkering with a handful of loose wires and a half-assembled contraption.

Silco’s footsteps echoed as he approached, his presence making Jinx flinch slightly before she looked up with her usual wide-eyed grin.

“Silco!” she chirped, quickly trying to hide the gadget behind her back with one hand. “What’re you doing here?”

“I might ask you the same thing,” Silco replied smoothly, his voice low and measured. His eyes flicked to her sling, and a faint frown tugged at his scarred face. “Didn’t Y/N tell you to rest?”

Jinx shifted awkwardly, her grin faltering for just a moment. “I am resting! I’m just… doing some light tinkering. It’s not like I’m fighting off enforcers or anything!” She laughed nervously, glancing away.

Silco stepped closer, his tone sharp. “You’re still injured, Jinx. And I’ve seen the lengths Y/N goes to when it comes to keeping you safe.” He paused, his mismatched gaze narrowing slightly. “What do you think she’d say if she found out you were ignoring her instructions?”

Jinx froze, her expression somewhere between guilt and defiance. “She doesn’t have to know,” she muttered, glancing at the gadget she was hiding.

“Doesn’t she?” Silco tilted his head, his voice quiet but heavy with warning. “You know as well as I do that Y/N has a way of finding things out. And if she learns that you’ve been… ‘mucking about,’ as she puts it, while still healing, she won’t be happy.”

Jinx winced at the thought, the memory of Y/N’s stern yet caring lectures still fresh in her mind. “She wouldn’t have to get so mad,” she grumbled. “I’m fine, Silco. It’s just a little break. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Silco’s expression hardened. “You might think that now, but if you push yourself too far, you’ll end up making things worse. And if Y/N were to see you like that—helpless because of your recklessness—I imagine she’d be far more than just disappointed.”

Jinx’s eyes darted to her arm, and she let out a frustrated sigh, plopping down on the floor with a huff. “Fine,” she mumbled. “I’ll stop. Happy?”

“Not entirely,” Silco said with a faint smirk. “But it’s a start.” He crouched down to her level, his voice softening ever so slightly. “You care about Y/N, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Jinx snapped, her tone defensive. “She’s, like… the best. Even when she’s being all bossy and overprotective.”

“Then respect her enough to listen,” Silco said, his voice taking on an almost fatherly tone. “She looks after you because she cares. Don’t make her worry unnecessarily.”

Jinx fiddled with the edge of her sling, her usual manic energy subdued. “Yeah… okay,” she muttered, her voice quiet.

“Good,” Silco said, standing and straightening his coat. “Now, get some rest. And if I hear that you’ve been sneaking around again…” He let the threat hang in the air, though his tone was more teasing than serious.

Jinx rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. Y/N’ll kill me if she finds out. Message received.”

As Silco turned to leave, he glanced over his shoulder. “She’d only kill you because she loves you, Jinx. Remember that.”

Jinx watched him go, her fingers idly tracing the edge of her sling. She huffed again, but this time, it was softer—less frustration and more fondness.

“Yeah,” she whispered to herself, a small smile creeping onto her face. “I know.”

=

It was finally the day Jinx had been waiting for. She sat perched on the edge of Y/N’s workbench, bouncing her legs excitedly while Y/N prepared to remove her sling and bandages.

“Alright, Powder,” Y/N said, carefully untying the makeshift sling. “Hold still, and we’ll get this off nice and easy.”

Jinx grinned wide, practically vibrating with excitement. “Finally! No more stupid sling, no more boring rules—freedom!”

Y/N chuckled as she began unwrapping the bandages around Jinx’s arm. “Let’s see if you’ve actually been careful, or if I’m going to have to lecture you all over again.”

Jinx feigned an innocent expression, her eyes darting to the side. “Careful’s my middle name!”

“That’s a lie,” Y/N quipped, rolling her eyes. She focused on her task, her fingers working gently to peel away the final layers of bandages. “Alright, here we go. Let’s see—”

The bandages fell away, revealing Jinx’s arm. As Y/N stepped back to inspect it, Jinx suddenly bent her elbow at an unnatural angle, making her arm look horribly twisted and misshapen.

“Uh… Y/N?” Jinx said, her voice trembling in mock panic. “I think something’s really wrong!” She wiggled her fingers for dramatic effect, her arm bent in a way that looked grotesquely broken.

Y/N blinked, tilting her head. “Hmm…” she muttered, her tone calm as she squinted at Jinx’s arm.

Jinx bit her lip, trying not to laugh as Y/N leaned in for a closer look. “Is it bad? Am I doomed? Am I gonna have a noodle arm forever?”

Y/N straightened, crossing her arms. “Oh, no, no. It’s not that bad,” she said, her voice eerily calm. “We just need to… re-break it so it heals properly.”

Jinx’s grin faltered. “W-What?”

Y/N turned and picked up a small hammer from her workbench, tapping it against her palm with a thoughtful expression. “Yep, just a quick snap back into place,” she said casually. “Shouldn’t take more than a second.”

Jinx’s eyes widened. “Wait, wait, wait! I was joking!” she blurted, waving her hands frantically. She quickly straightened her arm, showing that it was perfectly fine. “See? Look! Good as new! No noodle arm, no problem!”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching as she tried to suppress a smile. “Hmm,” she said, still holding the hammer. “You sure? It looked pretty bad a moment ago…”

“Positive! Absolutely positive!” Jinx insisted, laughing nervously as she scooted further back on the bench. “You don’t need to fix anything! Promise!”

Y/N finally cracked a grin, setting the hammer down and crossing her arms. “That’s what I thought,” she said, giving Jinx a pointed look. “You little troublemaker.”

Jinx burst into laughter, clutching her now freed arm. “Oh, come on, Y/N! You should’ve seen your face—it was priceless!”

“My face?” Y/N retorted, shaking her head. “I should’ve let you see yours when I grabbed that hammer.”

Jinx doubled over, tears of laughter streaming down her cheeks. “Okay, okay, you win!” she gasped, barely able to catch her breath.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh along with her, ruffling Jinx’s hair affectionately. “You’re lucky you’re adorable,” she teased. “But if you ever try something like that again, Powder, you’d better sleep with one eye open.”

“Got it, boss!” Jinx saluted playfully, still giggling.

As they laughed together, Y/N couldn’t help but shake her head, smiling fondly. Jinx might have been a handful, but she wouldn’t trade her for anything.

[fictionalmenxyn]

𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞? 𝐍𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

Pairing: tutor!rafe x student!reader

Replying to this ask

(Reader is 18 and Rafe is 23. Consensual. Also if your name is Lilly think of a different name for the ‘goody two shoes’ sos 😭)

Warnings: language, light degradation.

꥟꥟꥟

Once again, the clock strikes two pm. Meaning you have your final two hour class of the day. 2 till 4, simple yet challenging. It was math. Although you were a great student with great grades. Your math grades had somewhat dropped recently. Due to the lack of focus and the annoying boys or the good two shoes in your class. Along with the fact you have started to be more laid back and your humour getting to you and your friends.

So here you were. Sat towards the middle back, up by the windows. You sat on the inside part of your desk, resting your back against the wall. Your friends sat around you as the class started to slightly fill. There were about fifteen people in this class. Due to the misbehaved teens who’d skip this class knowing Rafe wasn’t one to mess with.

He sat at his desk, typing away at some emails as he waited for the class to everyone to arrive and for everyone to settle down.

You chatted and laughed with your friends. Then soon enough, Rafe had kicked the door wedge away from the door and closed it. He clasped his hands together “right everyone, focusing now!” Everyone had grown quiet. You turn a little in your seat facing the front a little more.

Rafe started to go through the basic steps of how to do probability. Easy and simple to finish off the day.

He had gotten Lilly to hand the books out. Everyone knowing, including Rafe, that she was the teachers pet. Always correcting people’s answers or calling out on bad behaviour. As he go to hand yours and your friends books she faced the front. “Mr. Cameron?? Y/n and the girls have drawn all over their books…” you and the girls shoot daggers at Lilly. It was the smallest of doodles at the bottom on the cover. Which Rafe had actually said to do if your pen had ran out or broke. Hence the continuous circles at the bottom.

Rafe waved it off “it’s fine, Lilly, just hand them their books…” he sat at his desk and leaned back a little. His polo doing justice for his lean muscular shoulders and his nicely round biceps. He was one of the few male teachers who’d work out. He was also the youngest teacher at your school. He definitely caught your eyes. And probably more girls in the school too.

You watched as his eyes would flicker over to the ‘popular’ girls in the class. For no reason at all, you felt almost, jealous?… could you even say that about your own teacher?… guess so, right?…

You had noticed how those girls, who were also in many of your other classes, would catch people’s attention. So that’s another reason you’ve become the way you have been for the past two weeks.

You did a few questions, knowing you wouldn’t be in detention for the lack of work you would’ve had. So as you do about ten questions. You turn to your friends, chatting away and quietly messing around.

Rafe would glance over the class every so often. Checking if anyone had their hands up or needed help. He then looked over to you and your friends. He saw the way you weren’t writing away as you usually would. He also noticed your lack of concentration and focus this past couple of weeks. He cleared his throat “Y/n, girls… focusing please.” He said in a soft but firm voice.

You and the girls went quiet, chuckling and giggling to yourself as you all do a few more questions then go back to what you were doing with each other. Lilly, however, must’ve had a thing against you today. She wasn’t happy. She raised her hand. Rafe looked up and nodded his head up “yeah, Lilly?” Lilly lowered her hand and replied “sir, Y/n is distracting me! I can’t focus…”

You scoffed and threw your arms up and let them drop down. Your friends rolling their eyes at Lilly. But also shocked as how she just called you out too. Even though they knew they were chatting just as much as you.

Rafe looked over to you “Y/n, I told you to focus on your work… c’mon, back to it.” You and the girls go back to working.

After three more times Lilly has specifically picked out you to complain about.

Rafe got up from his desk. Walking over to you and the girls. He had told two of your friends to split up and sit else where. The three of you being separated. Lilly had a smug yet stupid grin on her face. You glared at her and spoke “I’ll smack that stupid smile-” Rafe cut you off “don’t even finish that sentence, young lady… now..” he leaned back in the empty desk opposite you. Crossing his muscular arms. He continued “listen, you’re gonna finish your work and I’m gonna stay right here so I know you’re not causing any trouble. Get, to, it.”

You felt his eyes bore into you. You could feel his gaze. You were struggling. And not academically… he noticed that quickly. So he grinned slightly to himself. He grabbed a spear chair and sat in front of you at your desk. “Need help, sweetheart?” You looked to his eyes. Locking eyes as you nod a little. Your palms feeling slightly sweaty at the hottest teacher in your school.

He leaned closer, his legs spread under the desk due to his long legs. He reached into your pencil case and grabbed a pen. Even if he had his own pen in his pocket. He couldn’t lie when he said he’d been eyeing your pens. They looked nice to write with. A strange thing to say but it was true.

He started to talking you through it, how to probability. He’d lean closer to you as he would turn the paper so you could both see what he’d write. He’d use your stationary.

Soon enough he’d let you be, both of you slightly disappointed at the loss of closeness. But another teen in class needed his help. So he left you to it to finish in your own.

Soon enough, the bell rang. He called out “right everyone! Pack away, have a good day all…” he watched you closely as you put your pencil case into your bag and tug your backpack onto your shoulder. As you walk over to your friends. He called out “everyone’s dismissed, but Y/n! Stay behind, please” You whipped your head around “what?!”

He nodded “yes, you, stay behind..” he clicked his fingers and pointed to the desk right in front of his. You huffed and wave your friends bye as you sit on the desk.

Once everyone had left. He turned to look at you. He crossed his arms and leg one on front of the other. As he leaned his hip against his desk, he spoke “now, you and I know why I asked you to stay back.” He added “so why’re you being like this, hm?”

You crossed your leg over the other “like what?” He looked to your legs for a brief moment. Wondering what his hand would be like on them. Or his what his head would look like bet- Rafe, no, don’t start.

He reminded the setting of the moment. He spoke “like you had today, what’s with all the chatting and the lack of work getting done? Where’s that high scoring gone, hm? I’ve noticed the slight drop in your grades, sweetheart. Y’know if you keep this up I’m gonna have to call home..” you shake your head “don’t, please, it’s fine… it’s not even that bad.” He shook his head “darlin’… you went from a B to a D… and I know you do well in all of your classes so there must be something going on..”

After going back and forth, Rafe was slowly loosing his patience. God how could a pretty girl like you make him want to shout at you?… you’re to gorgeous for him to do that.

He spoke “Y/n, Y/n, darlin’… listen.. I’m not here for your bullshit excuses… I’m here to support and teach you…” you snapped back “I pay attention! I do the work! It’s fucking-” “language, sweetheart.” You huffed “I bet this is all cause of the teachers pet, Lilly..” you cross your arms. Rolling your eyes.

He had enough, you needed to be taught a lesson. And not in math either. Rafe didn’t teach naughty girls. Not at all.

He yanked your arms to uncross themselves and grabbed your jaw. He stepped closer and gently yanked your face closer to his. He spoke lowly “you listen here… I don’t give a shit about Lilly… yeah she may be a teachers pet, but that isn’t the discussion I’m trying to have here. You’re being naughty… and you know I don’t teach naughty kids. So tell me, what’s up with you?!”

You gasp softly as he had gently yanked your face closer to his. His eyes darting between your eyes and lips. His lips parted ever so slightly. Looking as hot as ever. God you didn’t expect this to turn you on so much. You feel your knees going weak and your lower stomach fluttering.

You remarked.

“I’m trying my best! Doesn’t that matter?!” He replied “Yea! I see that! But you’ve done so much more, Y/n… I know you can do more than that… I’ve seen the way you interact with people, how well you do in other lessons, the way other teachers talk highly of you… c’mon, what’s the issue? Why’re you falling back in just my lessons, eh? You were a smart girl, sweetheart… where did that go?” You mumbled “I- I thought you’d be into popular girl more…” you looked to the floor as Rafe continued to stare into your eyes. His breathing hitched ever so slightly.His eyes on you as he clicked his tongue…

꥟꥟꥟

[leighsartworks216]

You Have A Type, Don't You?

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Based on this post

I wrote this instead of doing any of the work I need to do! I'm gonna go do that now lol

Warnings: innuendos, minor references to sex, the barest hints of jealousy

Word Count: 1,601

Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Your pencil scratched across the paper, drawing Astarion over and over again on a single page. This wasn’t anything surprising; you drew all of your companions. Gale, Wyll, Karlach, Shadowheart, Lae’zel - they all had pages of their own, but it was usually only one drawing. Some had even posed for it. It was just a way to relax, and their faces always lit up when you showed them, even if they tried not to show it.

Everyone needed a break from fighting and exploring day in day out, so you decided one more day here wouldn’t hurt. As such, you’ve spent the better half of the day just drawing. At first it was little doodles of Scratch, but then you realized you hadn’t drawn the vampire spawn yet.

Most of the expressions you captured came from memory. You’d occasionally sneak a glance for quick reference, pretending to stretch or get distracted by some birds. But at some point, he’d disappeared from camp. You just assumed he’d gone off hunting.

That assumption was proved quite wrong when a voice tsked over your shoulder, almost directly in your ear.

Startling away from the sound, you whipped around to see Astarion crouched down. He wore a self-satisfied smirk and settled down into a full sit on the ground.

“It seems someone is infatuated,” he teased. “So who is it? Someone we saved from peril, perhaps?”

Oh. Right. It had completely slipped your mind.

You cleared your throat as your cheeks warmed and smiled. “Y-Yeah, something like that.”

He chuckled. “Come on, darling, there’s nothing to be shy about. Spare none of the juicy details. What’s he like?”

“He’s, well,” you stammer, “he’s interesting.”

He scoffed. “That’s hardly juicy or a detail. Or is he just another pretty face?” He leaned forward, trying to get a better look at your drawings. You wanted to pull them away and hide them, but why? All the others had drawings done of them, and you loved showing it off when they were done. Why was this any different?

“No, he’s a lot more than that,” you admit quietly. You weren’t good at lying - usually Astarion took the lead any time you had to - but maybe if you didn’t tell a complete lie… “He’s funny, charming. His laugh lights up my world. He’s had a rough go of it, but he doesn’t like it to show.”

“He must like you if you know,” he hummed. Your heart leapt into your throat as he pointed to the pin pricks drawn on the neck. “Is he a vampire, too?” He chuckled, but it sounded strained. “You have a type, don’t you?”

You scoffed even as warmth flooded to your cheeks. “No! I do not have a type.”

“No, of course not,” he played along. “Certainly not for creatures of the night who bite into that pretty little neck of yours.” Despite his smile, there was a tension in his eyes. “I don’t mind, dear. I’d be more than happy to scrounge around some nights so you may indulge your new lover.”

You shook your head. “You don’t have to do that, Astarion,” you assured. “He’s not… We’re not together.”

“No?” You shook your head again. He opened his mouth to give you advice or console you, but you cut him off. It was better to end this fantasy now, before it began to hurt too much.

“It doesn’t matter. Besides, you shouldn’t be sneaking around so you can look over my shoulder. I could have been drawing something terrible.”

He laughed. “All the more reason to risk a peek. You’re so good, it would be nice to know you can be tempted.” Then he scowled. “Unless it’s something terribly dull. You deserve much more than missionary.”

If your cheeks weren’t already blazing hot…

“In any case, I was only wondering when you’d draw my portrait. You seemed more than happy to provide the others with a likeness. And…” He looked past you, seemingly far away. “I haven’t seen myself in two centuries. One gets curious, especially when you’re as vain as me.”

If he heard your heart start racing, he didn’t comment on it. Drawing him would make him realize it wasn’t some other vampire crush you were drawing. But, it had been a while since your adventure began, and you’d drawn everyone else. You swallowed down your anxiety. “Yeah! Of course! Did you wanna pose, or anything?”

He blinked and suddenly he was back in the present. A sly smirk covered up whatever emotions could be lingering on his face. “If your little vampire friend doesn’t get too jealous. I would actually like if you could draw me just,” he paused, “smiling. It would be nice to know what everyone else sees. Make sure I’m not off-putting, you know how it is.”

Once he was sitting comfortably, you turned to a fresh page and began drawing. The paper was hidden from his view, but he watched as your hand, wrist, and arm all moved in tandem like a clock’s gears to create an image. Your eyes moved between the sketch and him multiple times. Sometimes you’d glance up and draw for almost a minute. Then other times you kept going back and forth, constantly checking for reference.

Watching you work was fascinating. All your surroundings faded away. Karlach being her usual loud self, Wyll dancing, Gale cooking, Lae’zel sharpening weapons - nothing could turn your attention from him. He almost felt subconscious with the intensity of it. Your eyes studied him, taking in every single feature, and translated it to your journal. What did you see when you looked at him, he wondered. What did the world see? It had been so long, he couldn’t even remember his face. All he knew was he was attractive.

With a final few marks, brushed away to blend them into the rest, you looked down at your masterpiece. You were so caught up in the drawing you forgot why you were hesitant before, but now that Astarion stared at you from two different angles, your anxiety came back full force. There was no way out of this.

“All done, dear?”

You smiled shakily up at him and turned the journal around. His face scrunched up in confusion. When he met your eyes, he was decidedly unamused. “Darling, if you’re going to draw your fleeting fancy, don’t trick me first. I know it’s hard to see past the depraved bloodlust, but we don’t all look alike, you know.”

“No, Astarion, it’s not- I-”

While you fought to find words, Karlach picked up the slack. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she shouted across the camp, “IT’S YOU, FANGS!”

Dread washed over you. You closed your eyes. If a merciful god was going to kill you and rid you of this embarrassment, now would be the time. A bolt of lightning, perhaps. You’d even welcome decapitation.

You risked a glance when you felt your book being tugged carefully from your hands. His eyes were wide, mouth slightly open as he tried to comprehend what the fuck had just happened. Gods, now he was going to leave camp. You buried your face in your hands. He was going to pack everything up and leave before the sun even touched the horizon. And you’d never see him again. Maybe you’d go find Cazador yourself, just to kill the bastard.

“All these drawings… are me? Darling?”

You inhaled deeply and lowered your hands, but you couldn’t bear looking at him. He could stab you with his dagger and you’d apologize to him for it all. Hell, you’d let him drink you dry if it meant leaving this all behind you. “You’re very pretty,” you admitted quietly. “I didn’t know how to ask, and just- You can rip the pages out, burn them, whatever makes you feel better. And if you leave, I won’t blame you or chase after you or-”

“I’m not upset.” Your head never shot up so fast. “Well, a little. You’re not subtle when you stare, you know. I thought you were just uncomfortable being around a vampire, but this…” He turned back to the portrait you’d just finished. “This is really what I look like?”

You swallowed away a small portion of the shame. At least he wasn’t running away. “As best as I can capture you, anyway. Y-You’ve got these sharp eyes, and your hair curls around your ears, and you get little wrinkles around your eyes and mouth when you laugh - and I just like drawing you.”

The page flipped over again. The page of expressions, capturing everything you described. When he smiled full and bright his fangs were on full display, accented by the laugh lines on either side of his mouth. And the puncture wounds on his neck…

“Ah, so when I said you had a type…” He chuckled, but it didn’t hold as much warmth as usual.

“Your laugh does light up my world,” you admit. His red eyes were on you in an instant, flickering over your whole face. “Just, for the record.”

He glanced at the drawings once more, contemplative. Then, he held the book back out to you. “I wouldn’t be… opposed to trying this. Whatever this is.”

You reached out to take it, but he pulled it away. “But, no more sneaking glances across camp when you want to draw me. I would be delighted to model for you again, in any pose your sweet heart can concoct.” He held the book out again. “Deal?”

You grabbed onto the book, finally relaxing as you smiled. “Deal.”

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @mjmygd @flsalazar @thedevilssinner @marina-and-the-memes @softempest @rebeccasship @pinkishredlemonade @faeoran

[djpachipikachu]

doodle dump of unreleased aus that r still actively in my Brain Often but i dont post shit about them

⚠️warning for old art and blood and injury drawn and death mentions⚠️

———

magic lily au:

main theme -

summary is that leo is transported to the samurai rabbit universe instead of his family’s arms through a trifecta of his ninpo, mikey’s mystics that begged for him to be safe, and the ki stone sensing a hero in need

when leo lands in the world, he doesnt know any japanese aside from simple phrases he grew up with; “thank you”, “please”, “excuse me”, “help me”, “i love you”, etc

him and yuichi fall in love and he remains there for a few years ! however . theyve all known since the beginning that the ki stone would take leo back once he was healed. she was clear on the fact he was only there to be helped , not to live there . so yuichi and leo hold off the inevitable, despite leo missing his family horribly and knowinf they think hes dead , despite knowing how selfish it was to have one more day with each other , they avoided the ki stone until they go to the temple together and leo is ripped from the world without even a chance to reallt say goodbye to everyone

uhhh etc etc they were their first and last loves as they were both on the aro spec and didnt have a need to find that kinda love again they just . wanted each other and blehhh

i have a playlist for it as well ! my oldest au , started since i got into the fandom

UUAU:

[temp name]

my original usagi/tmnt iteration with miyamoto usagi as the main protag ! i still want to create a comic and really officially send this out so i wont spoil a lot, but !

the basis is that usagi lives in a post apocolyptic solarpunk society and is forcibly sent back in time to a cyberpunk city where the seeds of a war have begun to sprout, dropped in the middle of the highest tensions between three turtles and their eldest brother who is on the enemy side

doomed siblings, doomed toxic yaoi, doomed Everything, its inspired by idw and 2003 so what else is there to expect

only showing the beta design for usagi ! i have a lot of other drawings for this but again, spoilers

historical graves au:

this one is the most recent of the bunch, just putting my version of yuichi for rise into a more usagi yojimbo styled setting ! the story is entirely different from the fanfic and im still working on it But

yuichi is the great grandchild of miyamoto usagi instead of a distant ancestor , so the debt of the shogun’s assassination is that much heavier and Far more dangerous to hold. yuichi and his adoptive little sister, hana, have recently escaped the mass murder and pillaging of their rabbit village (the same one that mariko and kenichi and usagi grew up in) and are on a journey to find their aunt for sanctuary

along the way, they run into a lot of familiar faces, such as the hamato clan , who has karai as their jōnin ! also yuichi gets possessed by jei at some point

hes trans too so he “disguises” himself as a boy to be more hidden as they travel

ive got one more original iteration but theres like . nothing i want to share from it rn lmao

SOOO THATS IT basicallt !!umm if anyone wants to know more about any of these aus id be happy to answer ! u can request doodles of them too !

if u read this far ily and im kissing you

[gingerale13]

I churned this out so fast excuse the quality.. anyways there's a cheesy ass note to my mutuals + followers under the cut bc I love you guys 🧡🧡

This year kinda whizzed by for me! A lot happened in my personal life that I don't want to share online, but throughout all of the highs and lows I was always able to come back to this wonderful fandom. It's been a huge comfort seeing other people theorize and discuss my favorite characters!

I've meet a lot of awesome people through Tumblr & Ao3, cosplaying, and various TF2 groups. As of writing this post I've got a solid 260 followers, which is an insane number to me when this blog simply started as a place to organize my creative works 😭

All of the little tags and comments on my stuff have seriously kept my life whimsical (for lack of a better term) and I would like to shout-out some notable people and works that kept me going through 2024!

First up, and probably the biggest one, is the lovely @aussie-bookworm and their fic, Going Through The Motions. These updates seriously made my day, and I couldn't have been happier you accepted my offer to proofread. It's been super fun discussing the differences between our countries, yapping about the Mercs, and different AUs. I hope to read many more of your works in 2025 B)

Next, another fanfic author, is AhChunta! If you like slow burns, mystery, and Speeding Bullet, I would really recommend Stolen Pieces. It's a super cool crime boss AU that I've been enjoying this year. Plus it deserves more attention!

Another awesome artist is @800db-cloud, who is honestly CARRYING the Freak Fortress fandom. I love how silly your depictions of those freaks are 🧡 and also YOUR ARTSTYLE IS SO COOL AND SATISFYING TO LOOK AT ARGHHH.. You're just super awesome 👍 also shout-out to @riskreward1, my chillest mutual. I think your Getting Milk comic series is hilarious and amazing, but seeing all of those other fandoms you draw is like a gateway drug to me because it's drawn in your KICKASS artstyle‼️plus you like The Mountain Goats and that's based

@thechocolatearmor!! The other Medic Cosplayer I met at my first con!! My friends still mention the in-character convo we had, you were hilarious and I'm so glad I got your Tumblr because I love reading all of your takes on reblogs. I hope I see you again so we can be insane together again 🔥

also @mikimel, I admire how silly you are 😭 I still have that little doodle you drew at the con, and I wish your Tomodochi Miis well <3 AND THE SOLLY FIGURE. He's beautiful. Your fashion sense is fire, and I hope to see more of your cosplay projects! :0 (specifically Soldier Miku. If that's still a thing hehe)

@ivvyzzspark you. You know what you did.

Another HUGE thanks to my very very patient proofreader @emiette for helping me make Crates readable! Em dashes are my new favorite form of punctuation.

And lastly I would like to thank @mvabank because you were the one who made me start rotting over TF2 in the first place 🫶 Magmas were always so fun with you and the image of your little sona with the big ass eyes is forever seared into my brain <3

Maybe it's because 2025 is divisible by 5, but I have a feeling this year is going to be a good one. Stay safe out there, people! Cheers 🥂

[mountainficss]

thinking of a bratty college boy jeonghan who’d literally like…be absolutely obsessed with you. but instead of yk being normal about it he’d just make it his mission to bother you. he just finds it cute when you’re pissed off at him.

classmate!jeonghan who you’d have an early morning class with. he’d notice you storm in on the first day with your bag clutched in your hand and a glower on your face. even with the nastiest expression he’d think you’re the prettiest person he’s ever seen in his life. you’d plop down in a chair furthest from the front of the room and jeonghan would find himself getting up from his seat and sitting right next to you. you’d feel a presence to your right and oh it would make you angrier. you were not a morning person. it was too fucking early for this and you were too tired to tolerate any kind of social interaction. all these empty seats and this asshole has to sit next to you? of course you didn’t expect a pretty boy with long hair and an impish smirk to be sitting next to you when you whipped your head around to glare at him, but your scowl didn’t falter. it would take more than a pretty face to un-piss you off. he’d introduce himself and offer you his hand to shake, but you’d just roll your eyes and face the front of the room again. “you’re not gonna tell me your name?” he’d smirk, your blatant annoyance amusing him. “it’s y/n.” you’d snap, hoping that would shut him up. “the lecture’s gonna start soon. be quiet.” he’d say nothing, just smile smugly as he turns to listen to the professor’s words. from that day on he’d make it his goal to bother the fuck out of you every day just so he can get your attention.

he’d sit in the same spot next to you every morning, doing little things to irritate you <3 they’re never mean things, just things that he does because he highkey likes you and likes to see you all huffy and mad at him. he’d scoot his chair closer to yours just to see you shoot daggers at him but not move away. would sometimes grab a little piece of your hair and twirl it around his finger just to feel your hand slapping his away. if he’s lucky you won’t even shoo his hand away and will just tell him to fuck off, causing him to keep twirling it <3 would definitely whisper stupid jokes in your ear while the professor is talking, grinning and watching the corner of your lips fight to twitch up into a tiny smile. he’d draw little doodles on sticky notes of different things, sometimes drawing little animals and sometimes drawing cute pictures of you. would crumple the sticky note up and throw the little paper ball at the side of your face. you’d glare at him as it bounces off your cheek and onto the table, turning your head back to pay attention to the not-so-interesting lecture. jeonghan would definitely gripe about you not paying attention to his work of art. “c’mon,” he’d whine quietly, grabbing your hand and gently prying it open so he could place the wadded up piece of paper into your palm. “you didn’t even open it.” you rolled your eyes at him, huffing as you uncrumple the little square. you’d be met with a drawing of you as a stick figure, an arrow with the tail labeled (y/n) pointing to your little stick body. he’d drawn a bunch of little hearts around you, the drawing bringing a tinge of blush to your cheeks. he’d feel proud making you blush, a boyish grin practically glued to his face for the rest of the day. two or three days later you’d be sitting next to each other again, your notebook sitting in front of you as you rustled in your bag on the floor to try to find your favorite pen. while you were distracted, jeonghan would steal your notebook to doodle another silly picture inside. he’d open it and immediately be met with his sticky note drawings he’d made for you throughout the semester. would find things like his poor drawing of a rose with “for you <3” written at the bottom, his drawing of you as a pouty cat, and the stick figure of you surrounded in hearts he drew a few days ago. his stomach would flip at the realization that you kept them, that you secretly liked his drawings. maybe even secretly liked him. oh he’d love that so much. you’d finally sit up after finding your pen, eyes traveling to your open notebook and blushing hard. you’d snatch the book back and slam it closed, but jeonghan would already be grinning ear to fucking ear. his face would be red too, would definitely fight the urge to kiss you on the fucking spot. “want me to make you more?” he’d ask, his eagerness making your heart swell a bit. you’d mumble a small “sure,” avoiding his eyes as he practically radiates with excitement. he’d just smirk cutely and would be twirling that strand of your hair around his finger again. this time you wouldn’t say anything and would just let him <3

ugh this isn’t even smut and it wasn’t even supposed to be this long but i love the idea of little tease jeonghan that’s obsessed with you :( i’ll probably think of some type of smutty continuation anyway but ugh just the idea of him annoying you is so ugh <3

[fuxuannie]

↳ pairing : miles morales x reader

↳ synopsis : shenanigans with your favorite classmate :) (maybe even a secret crush)

↳ authors note : i'm rlly trying to expand through fandoms, plzzz don't leave i promise i still write hsrr ;o; !!!!! i'm gonna be on a LONG atsv brainrot plz <\3 wuts a proof-read idk what that iz (/j)

MILES MORALES was the new student two years ago, some people thought he was an oddball since the first day encounter with his dad.. but you didn't really mind it honestly. You had much more important matters to attend to, like not listening to gossip.

After learning he was in some of your classes, you decided to try and get to know the guy. He seemed pretty cool, and you never passed an opportunity to know someone new.

"Morales, right?" Miles hears from behind him, it's currently lunch and so he turns his head to see you standing there with a tray in hand. "Mind if I sit with you?"

Since that day, you two hit it off like crazy, with sharing interests and hobbies it wasn't hard to talk every single day and run out of things to talk about.

"So, my Uncle Aaron took me to this crazy place like 2 years ago maybe? But yeah, it's where I did one of my first graffiti art." He explained, leading you through the dark traintracks while holding your wrist so you don't lose him in the darkness. "Sounds cool! Is it the same one that you used in your essay?"

You listen to the echo of his laughter. "Yeah, it is.. He was a great man, made me who I am today."

The way he talks fondly about his Uncle makes your heart sting a little. Though you were never able to meet him yourself, the way Miles talked about him to you made it clear he was a man who loved his nephew like he was his own son, and it was like you could emphasize with his pain of losing him.

However your thoughts are interrupted at the loud sound of a light switch turning on, illuminating the room and different graffiti art drawn on the walls. Miles laughs at your breathless expression, admiring the way your eyes seemed to glow at the art all around you.

"Heeey, look at that!" You chuckled, pointing at the 'Expectations' graffiti you brought up earlier. "You were so much shorter back then.." And Miles rolled his eyes at that comment, knowing that you were referring to the silhouette on the wall. "Very funny."

Then you realize theres a section of the wall thats covered with cloth, and he notices how you take notice of it. Miles immediately clears his throat, puts a hand behind his neck and looks at the ground. "Oh, uh.. that's a work in progress. I wouldn't want you to see i-"

Suddenly his spidey-senses go off, the second he looks up he already sees you right infront of the wall and about to touch the cover. "(name)!"

Pulling it off, it reveals a wall full of.. you? You were surprised that the details were down almost perfectly, your nose shape, your eyes and your smile. It was all so perfectly done that in a way it could either be flattering or a tiny bit creepy.

Of course, Miles being your best friend, you may or may not sketch or write about him every now and then (or rather all the time) depending on which one you felt like doing, but he didn't have to know that.

"I'm.. honored?" You laugh, looking back at your poor friend whos pulled his hoodie over his head and his hands covering his face. "Oh, come on! It's not that embarassing- And it looks good I promise!" You tried to reassure him, but the boy has no intentions on budging.

"I forgot I had that." Miles mumbled to himself, ignoring how you pull on his arm to try and get him to show himself.

At some point you've given up, and let the guy wallow in his own embarassment for a while. Your attention shifts back onto the art wall, seeing the several doodles and actual art pieces that you can only assume Miles was working on for the past 2 years you two were friends.

The much smaller doodles were your favorites, ones where he made you a tiny little creature were the cutest ones, and at some point you noticed how so many of them involved.. him. He drew tiny moments of you and him holding hands, going on walks, sharing earphones and little cliche date stuff.

You were about to say something, but are stopped at the realization Miles was right next to you while his eyes never seemed to break contact from yours. "Miles?" You say in almost a whisper, seeing how focused his gaze was on you.

"I mean, we're both smart enough to realize it.. right?"

The urge to play dumb was strong, it really was, but Miles could see through you like he was staring at glass. That's how well he knew you, and how transparent you were with him.

"And maybe I'm stupid enough to make up delusions in my head but.. do you.. feel the same?"

The question leaves you stunned, stammering to find an answer, but the serious facade Miles kept up melts at your nervous reaction. He begins to laugh, digging through his pockets and pulls out a paper you recognize all too well, it had to be either a drawing or a poem you had written for Miles and considering one of your recent ones going missing.. if what he had in his hands was that one, it gave him more than an answer.

That realization makes you gasp, and Miles' laughter only grows stronger as you've now realized what's happening in its full extent. Miles liked you, and he knew you liked him too.

"You cheeky-" You try to grab the paper from his hands, but the tall piece of shit tip-toe's just to make sure you couldn't grab it. "Whaat? What am I, hm?" He'll playfully taunt at you, still unable to control his smile as he knows that deep down you enjoyed this banter just as much as he did.

You two continue to playfully argue for a while, laughter echoing throughout the abandoned area as hours passed on and on. The talk about either ones feelings never came to light, but you two were content with the moment, and in another time you'd talk about the confusing thing that is the feelings you both mutually share.

You had all the time in the world, right? Miles Morales wasn't going anywhere.

[thesilmarillionblog]

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part: 20

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: +18! (Minors DNI), smut!, Soldier Boy having ejaculation problem, language, disagreements

Word Count: 6343

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

You kept Ben and others in the dark about the fact that you weren't healing like a supe as the days went by in peace and quiet. You weren't sure why precisely, but you decided that it would be best to wait to discuss the situation in detail with the doctor or learn what had happened from Mindstorm.

Except for the moments you were with Ben, you'd always wished you weren't a supe and could simply live like a regular person in the past. When you two were together, you were cool with being a Supe. You handled his strength whenever he touched you, battled by his side when he needed you, and didn't really care what you were as long as you didn't age like him.

But inevitably things were different. You have to remain a supe in order to defend yourself from everything and everyone. You were aware of it. That's what you wanted. If you weren't a super, you really didn't know how to live a normal life. You couldn't even recall the last time you experienced physical weakness. Neither were you accustomed to seeing bruises on your skin. You sighed with annoyance as your thoughts raced at the possibility of you stopping becoming a Supe at any moment. What happens if your body suddenly loses all of its strength? Even though you still had your powers, you still needed to exercise caution.

In fact, you weren't sure whether that was simply an excuse about that you needed to be a supe. Perhaps all you wanted was to stay alive. You had no idea what your own heart was actually craving. You didn't want to find out, though. 

Butcher had informed Ben and you earlier in the morning that he had located the doctor in charge of Supe Studies for Vought. Ben had given you a strange look, as if he had sensed something, since your heart was beating so quickly. You needed to be prepared for whatever was ahead. It was something you had to embrace. 

“Tonight, we're going to the doctor. It is not very helpful that he is residing at Vought Tower. Although he is well protected, we can still cope with it while we have the strongest supes, right?” With a cunning grin, Butcher said, emphasizing the phrase ‘most powerful’ as though he intended to hurt you. 

You remained silent. You could still tear him in two without even trying your hardest. Of course you wouldn't. Butcher and how to beat him till he bled were among the numerous improper thoughts that sprung from your wounded pride. Ben would undoubtedly die from intense pleasure if he could see your thoughts. 

“Homelander will be there,” you said, tracing your fingers over the table and the page you were doodling on in front of you. Ben was deep in thought as he sat next to you, examining the bizarre things you were sketching randomly. 

“Yeah,” Butcher said unsurely. “Unless his attention is drawn on something different.”

Cutting off Butcher's ambiguous remarks, “What do you mean?” Ben asked. It was evident that he was impatient. 

You knew Butcher was ready to come up with something risky since he was staring at both of you and Ben. His expressions were now easily interpreted. 

“If you use your nuclear chest and explode somewhere, he will come to you. Since everyone will be concentrating on you, Annie and Y/N will be able to sneak into the cave, speak with the doctor, and also obtain more Temp-V.”

“You seem that you thought about this too much,” Ben interrupted; his tone remained cautious, and he showed little interest in Butcher's bold proposal. It was sufficient, in your opinion, nevertheless. 

Ben and you both gave Butcher a startled look. You were now curious about his real intentions. Ben's tensing up was palpable as soon as he learned about the member of the team who had betrayed him. It was impossible to ignore the heat radiating from Ben's chest. You watched him abruptly get up and go toward Butcher in a way that was almost menacing, but you did nothing to soothe him. 

With perplexity, you glanced at Ben. It was risky for the two of you, but you had agreed to take the chance and trust that Butcher would be able to divert Homelander's focus. You had to know the truth. You got frustrated with Ben's attitude now, remembering how he promised you weeks earlier. You could always count on him to let you down. What's happened is that it stopped being surprising.

“How about if I say that I found Mindstorm?”

Ben questioned, “When?” 

“Why do you care? But he's concealing rather well, I have to admit. He must be scared as fuck since you appeared,” Butcher said, but Ben did not care about this fact. All people who betrayed him better be scared. 

Ben said, “Fine,” in a controlled tone that surprised you and Butcher alike. You weren't prepared for him to give up so quickly. “Y/N is not going to Vought Tower, which means I'm not going to blow up anywhere." She will accompany me to Mindstorm. We don't need the doctor.”

“What?” you said, puzzled. He would never gladly embrace Butcher's idea, of course. Watching Ben was determined to go after his own plan, not giving a damn about your thoughts nor contemplating, you shot him a furious glare. “You are not in a position to determine this. It's all about me.”

“I know,” Ben strongly stated. He turned to face you and froze for a second when he noticed how you were staring at him. “But it's too risky for you. This is not what we're doing. Discussion is over.”

You firmly responded, “No,” and furiously dropped the pencil on the table. “We are exactly doing this.”

Butcher sighed with irritation as he observed that you and Ben were prepared for another argument, and he considered his next move. “How about me and Y/N go after Mindstorm and Soldier Boy meeting the doctor himself?” he finally suggested. 

Neither Ben nor you said anything, but Butcher's suggestion didn't seem right. Ben was clearly considering his options attentively while you watched him. You couldn't tell what his real intentions were or whether he truly intended to keep his word. You were discouraged.

Ben firmly stated, “She's not going to Vought Tower without me.” He was determined not to do anything Butcher asked of him and willing to listen to you neither.

“If you think you can kill Homelander and the others there in a very short moment, why not?” Butcher provoked him.

You stated serenely, hoping Ben would understand. “If something goes wrong, I'll be blamed by the public and Vought once more.” You thought he would understand that you were not interested in joining him in his war. All you needed were answers. “You're not going to come with me, and you'll bring Mindstorm. You said you would help me, Ben.”

Ben stared at you for a long time, confused by your cool, composed statements. You knew it was difficult for him to accept the obvious, yet you wanted him to think carefully and not ruin this. 

When he turned back to face you, you were startled watching him think about every possibility. After all, he didn't enjoy following instructions since, in his mind, he was a strong, alpha leader. He was clearly making an effort to maintain his composure in the face of your provocative tone, and you have to agree, it was entertaining to see him struggle.

Ben didn't want to give in and accept Butcher's foolish and dangerous idea, but he was becoming powerless as he saw you almost beg him with your eyes to keep his word. Ben had no idea as to why you would be willing to pay a visit to Vought Tower without taking into account the events that had occurred decades prior. It seems like yesterday when you were deceived and put in a box. Given your physical conditions lately, he might sense your anxiety even at that distance. He would never let someone hurt you ever again. No fucking way. 

Ben added, “And you know I'll keep my promise,” not wanting to say anything more or let you go there by yourself. “But not in that way.”

You sat in your chair and waited for Ben as he approached you. It took you a whole minute to blink before he walked your side. Ben's desire to touch you was overwhelming him, driving him insane and causing him to think filthy stuff, but all he managed to do was touch your chin to get your attention. “Together, we will go to Vought Tower. We can catch Mindstorm another day.”

“I think he's always on the move.” Ben's hands slipped to your chair and caressed your hair from the back when Butcher interrupted. You found it amusing that he had been playing with your hair when his voice abruptly became harsh. Ben had a strange way of being both gentle and tough at the same time.

“How do I know that you're not trying to separate us or trick her?” Ben exclaimed. His explanation of the situation was significantly different from yours. You wouldn't deny that you were grateful that he was careful for you this time and didn't trust Butcher or anyone else.

Ben continued, “I would kill you,” even before Butcher spoke a word. You could tell he despised everything because of the way he spat out the words. You knew that he would murder Butcher. 

Your heart flooded with relief, and you forced yourself to keep yourself from soothing him—his body temperature was changing minute by minute—in an attempt to provide him some peace. It was another problem that needed to be resolved quickly. You made a self-promise to support Ben in this matter as well, not knowing if he would suddenly explode again. Of course, it was after you discovered the truth about yourself. 

“Look, I'm offering you an opportunity to talk to Mindstorm and her to see the doctor, but you are accusing me of something I never ever considered once. Aren't you an ungrateful baby boy?” Butcher remarked, making Ben even more tense.

“Yet,” Ben went on. “I won't allow her to go to the Tower. Fuck Mindstorm. If he attempts to flee again, you'll locate him.”

You firmly said, “Stop it, Ben,” as you stood up and moved away from his gaze. He didn't say anything about that. He needed to keep the promise that he had made. This was something he owed you. You took a long look around the room and considered all of the options and risks. “I'll go to Vought Tower with Annie and Kimiko, and you'll blow somewhere up and then bring Mindstorm.”

“Don't give me orders, sweetie,” he eventually muttered. His look had somewhat changed, and he made an effort to seem as gentle as possible, but it was obvious he was struggling to hold his shit together. Good. “We'll do it in my way.” 

You sighed, “Your ways hurt me enough,” interrupting him before he could say anything more. You had to find a way to stop him arguing, not because you wanted to bring up past events while you were discussing the plan. 

Ben stiffened at what you said, unsure of how to protest anymore, even though he knew that was what you wanted and that it would be difficult to change your mind given how anxious you were about learning the truth about your condition. Even though Ben didn't want to do it at all, he did his best to remain composed and gave you a nod before you left without saying anything more and went upstairs, leaving him alone there with Butcher. 

Butcher was filled with joy as he watched Ben battle to avoid exploding the whole house. His jaw clenched while his heart filled with regret and watched you leave the room without even looking back. You possessed a unique kind of power over him, which he didn't even complain about anymore.

“She knows how to shut your mouth, huh?” Butcher made a quick remark to irritate Ben even more. It would be preferable to toy with Soldier Boy's fury going forward if the idea wouldn't make him blow up anytime and get him killed. 

“Your blowjob-addicted mouth is going to be your undone one day,” Ben said. He waited and pondered you and everything for a while after taking a sip from the half-filled bottle of wine. If something went wrong, he would murder anyone. He wouldn't blink.

“Okay,” Butcher said, not wanting to die today at the very least. “I'm going to pick Kimiko and Frenchie up. You two be prepared in thirty minutes.” 

You were almost finished putting on your supe suit when Ben pushed open the door and entered. When you sensed Ben's pulse pounding with passion and excitement, you couldn't help but feel the same way.

Ben pushed the door open and entered just as you were about to finish donning your super suit. His lips parted with astonishment as his lips curled with a smile. You were tempted to do the same as you sensed Ben's pulse pounding with passion and excitement. It had been so long since you put on your suit that you could not even recall when you did so. With all the iron on your breast and the small iron details on your skirt, you looked like a warrior, and so you'd never really liked it.

Even though you didn't feel like a danger on the inside, you chose to wear your suit to show that you were one, even though it would have been ideal if you had simply worn your regular everyday clothing.

Ben's amazed gaze made you take a long breath, and you glanced at him for a moment before realizing it had been a while since he had put on his own suit as well. You were too preoccupied with living your life like any other human being, devoid of conflicts or battles for reasons.

Ben said, “I didn't think you'd put on your suit ever again,” before shutting the door. You were relieved that this time he had not given you a speech about your opened door.

You answered, honestly, “Me neither.”

“Why?” Ben queried. “I thought you didn't want to be seen as a threat. You don't want to deal with Vought ever again, right?”

Glancing down at your naked legs and the cleavage-revealing breasts, he thought you looked like a goddess. He's always thought highly of you, but right now he was also becoming aroused at every step you took and every breath you took, wanting to touch you and pull you onto the bed behind you. His hardened cock was already straining and pleading to be freed from his pants, but all he could manage was to come nearer to you. His heart beat with passion, recalling how you let him cum within you days before. It wasn't a proper sex, but it felt better than any other sex.

You answered, “Yeah,” and Ben moved forward to stand in front of you. You didn't notice Ben avoiding contact with you for so long when you were in your suit and alone in a room with him; therefore, your body was betraying you with expectations and intense need.

“But I want them to know that they will pay for what they have done to me,” you softly said. “I want them to know that I am a threat to them if so.” Your own voice had taken you by surprise. When you did speak, it was quite quietly, but you were very serious. This was something Ben knew.

You just wanted to live in peace and quiet moving forward; no plans to exact revenge or anything like that. But there was no way you could be alright with it if they'd done you anything unforgivable.

Ben's lips curled up proudly and gladly at your reply. He was almost enjoying this small war because he was prepared to murder anyone who betrayed him, placed him in a fucking box, and indicated to destroy him. He was prepared to tear down Vought in every way. But the thing that most thrilled him was that you were prepared to do this with him as well, just like in the old days, as if you were still in a relationship. To Ben, it never altered.

Ben realized, as he glanced at your suit, how fond he was of the way you looked. Whatever was going on with you didn't matter now; you looked just as strong as him.

“And they will pay for it, I promise.” Ben said, “But I still don't want you to go there alone,” he added before you could say anything more. You were conscious of the risks. “If you are exposed to that damned gas again...” Ben went on and then inhaled deeply. Your body stiffened at the mention of the gas; you would never forget or be able to forgive all the torment you had to endure.

You said, “Would you save me again?” That was a surprising thing to ask, but you had to know. “If something goes wrong.”

Ben said straight away, “Of course I would,” in an authoritative and clear manner. “I'd blow up the entire fucking tower up on their dead bodies in a second.”

You eagerly questioned, “Do you swear?” not knowing if you would believe him or not, but wanted to hear it from him none the less.

“I fucking swear,” said Ben. His fingers were now hovering near your thigh. It was difficult for you to ignore his pooking hardness, but you tried, at least though your pussy had other ideas. You couldn't even identify the precise moment when the two of you grew close.

It was difficult to keep your hands apart as you let him touch your back and run his gloved fingers over your outfit. Because of the extreme stress, your body began craving things that it hadn't desired months before. There was simply too much tension that needed to be eased.

“Do you regret it?” Ben asked abruptly, leaving you perplexed.

“From wha-”you murmured, but you knew what he meant by the way he stared at you. “I never do anything that I might later regret, Ben. I mean, generally.”

Following the events in the automobile a few days prior, you had never spoken. In actuality, you were relieved that Ben never brought up the subject of your sexual interaction with him. He seemed to be understanding or patient, you could tell. In your own ways, you were both experiencing internal conflicts. You still didn't understand why, one night, he came in much too much and didn't become erect when you touched him. Your life is full of many issues that needed to be resolved at first.

He said, “Understandable,” in a calm voice. “All I have to tell you is that I will always be wanting you. You never think otherwise.”

You were briefly left speechless by it. He didn't wait for a response, and you had nothing to say.

Ben's lips drew closer to yours, his hands tighter around your abdomen as he gauged your response. Your hands grabbed his neck and drew him closer as his lips captured yours with lust and need. Your heart was racing as his gloved hands pressed your body onto his firm cock. With your tongues meeting as though you had been waiting for this moment for a very long time, you parted your lips to let him in.

Like his body, yours required release and some level of relaxation. It was just too stressful. For you both.

You moved yourself closer to Ben as he continued his desperate kisses, pushing him to go all the way and take control. As soon as he got the message, he quickly had you lie on the bed behind you while lifting your body up and continuing the kiss. Your legs were completely visible to him since the skirt of your suit was already too short.

After giving you a few gentle bites, Ben eventually pulled back to savor the moment. His hands gripped your ass cheeks and gave them a firm squeeze, causing you to moan with bliss.

He used to treat you really harshly because he knew you wouldn't break or whatever, but today, even though he wasn't holding back on his strength, he seemed strangely gentler. You got used to his aggressive and rough demeanor, so you were irritated to see him acting a little more cautiously now and wondered if it was only because you were not as strong as you had been.

You tried to express your wish for him to be rougher with you by tightening your legs around his hips and giving him more forceful kisses in return, even if you didn't say so.

Ben was growling and pressing his hardness between your legs; his hands were gripping your underwear beneath your skirt, lowering it already, which was proof of his impatience.

When your clothing prevented him from reaching your tits, he tried to give them a firm squeeze without breaking the iron chest plate on them, and he made a dissatisfied moan. It was evident that he was struggling not to rip it off. He knew you enjoyed a lot when he played with your tits, but you didn't have much time to take it off.

You took a deep breath as Ben kissed every inch of your body where his lips could reach. You wanted to do it and get rid of all the worry and negative ideas in your body, even if you weren't entirely sure if it was the right thing to do at that particular time. For a little period, you wished to clear your mind. Ben must have had the same thought.

He indicated to you that he intended to suck you there before entering you by lowering your panties and then moving down lower on your body. But you stopped him.

You exclaimed, “No time for this,” and grabbed onto him with quivering hands in order to stop him.

He grumbled, “We have eno-“ and then attempted to convince you. Once more, you stopped him.

You snapped, “No,” and put your fingers on his trousers, beginning to unzip him.

“Impatient?” Ben murmured as he saw that you were eager about freeing his hard cock while you worked nervously on his pants.

His lips once again captured yours, preventing you from speaking, and he helped you. Ben made another move to remove his chest plate so he could be more comfortable and intimate with you as he lowered his pants just enough to free his cock. But you stopped him once more. After all, that wasn't necessary.

It wasn't that throughout previous sexual interactions, you were always naked. On the contrary, Ben rarely ever takes off his suit when he takes you since you always want to avoid getting caught. He was usually tough and quick in these situations.

You gasped when he took off his erection and felt its weight on your clit. Knowing what was coming up next had both of your hearts pounding like crazy.

With little time, you had to move quickly. You lifted your hips to indicate to Ben that you were ready, but he only gave you a short glance before giving you a gentler kiss that you weren't particularly fond of at the moment.

He began stroking his cock, stopped kissing you, and tried to swallow his own groans. Touching the star sign on his suit with your shaky hands, you placed them on his back while you waited under him. Ben checked your facial expressions very carefully to make sure you were completely okay with this, and he saw no hesitancy, which gave him a sense of ease. You simply waited under him, eager and needy.

“Ready?” he muttered. He parted your legs a little wider and pressed your body against the bed a little further. He did not take off your panties, even if they were a little of an obstacle. He was quite okay with taking you like this while you were still wearing it.

You merely nodded to him and said, “Yes.” It seemed like you were already leaking there. Already, you were clutching your walls like a cat in heat.

Ben stroked himself once more and muttered, “Look at me,” pressing the tip of his cock against your entrance. That's when you realized that you were holding your breath.

It felt as though you two were going to experience your first-ever sex, like you were two virgins. Wondering whether Ben thought the same thing.

With eagerness, your lips parted as you obeyed. Your hands traveled to his large arms and biceps, wanting to feel a little flesh too. You were shamefully wetter knowing that you could still bear his strength at the highest level, and the sensation of his strength beneath you was making you feel even more excited.

You nailed his arms through the cloth and couldn't contain your groan as he shoved the tip of his cock within you. Ben's tightened jaw showed that he was trying to contain himself from making a loud sound.

Ben could not help but breathe heavily this time as he continued to press in your tight hole, feeling as though you were dripping there.Your shaking legs weren't helping either.

Ben groaned and said, “Relax a little, baby,” but you were unable to stop clenching around his big cock and lost control over your pussy. You could feel his lips on yours.

You groaned, trying not to clench around him. “I'm trying.”

Ben could not wait any longer and, unable to contain himself, shoved his cock inside of you with one single push that you both moaned in your mouths. His mouth found your neck and began to give it bites there.

This time, stunned by your tightness, he couldn't help but groan when he pushed his all. Ben wasn't sure if he could control himself because of how tightly you clutched him. After all, he hadn't properly fucked you in the past fucking forty years.

Sighing into your neck, “Fuck, I missed your tightness; I missed this so fucking much,” he waited inside of you to feel every part of you and enjoy the moment. But you were moaning underneath him to continue. You needed that release so much it was killing you.

“Don't stop,” you said, impatient for him to get moving. Your heart was on the verge of bursting.

Ben's hands tightened around your hips, his head buried in your neck. Just the way you wanted, he drew his cock back and gave it a really hard shove inside again. He groaned, and you moaned loudly at that action. You were so desperate to feel some flesh that you lowered the cloth around his neck and gave him the same hard bites and licks that caused you to tremble in ecstasy as your hands stroked his arms and shoulders through the fabric.

Ben waited, feeling your wonderful, soaked tightness around him. It was difficult to resist shoving his cock quickly and roughly inside of you. He wanted to relish this moment, look into your face, and observe every expression you made to remind himself how much he missed you in every way—after all, it had been decades. But he'd do everything you asked, and you were being desperate. Nor did you have any fucking time.

Ben repeatedly thrust his cock in you with strong motions as you pushed him to act quicker. His hands squeezed hard on your hips, listening to your little groans and watching as you bit your lips in joy. He started to fuck you harder and quicker.

It was not an excellent sign when he felt himself coming closer because of the incredible and tight way you clasped around him.

“Ben!” you cried out, sensing that you were almost there. Your hands were trembling with pleasure and excitement as they rested on his shoulders. All you needed was a little bit more. All you needed was for him to give you a few more hard strokes while fucking you.

Ben forced himself not to come first until he made sure you came first as he fucked you hard and deep, causing the bed to shake beneath you. He could feel you tighten around him. It was fortunate that he could hear you become more loud since no one else was in the home.

Yet it wasn't helping at all. The little sounds you were making, the way you held him close, and the way your cheeks flushed with pleasure... He was getting too close.

Ben was doing his hardest not to cry out, but he was unable to control himself when you begged him, “Ben, please,” like a whimper, and your fingers tugged his hair a little too hard.

Your eyes opened wide in shock as he gave you one last stroke, and he thrust all of his length into your pussy, filling you up with his thick white ropes between swearing and a loud growl. You waited for him to empty his balls in your pussy as your hands loosened over his biceps.

He was filling you before he had even completed ten strokes. The way his body was shaking on top of you as he spilled himself in you made your eyes wide in shock.

Ben was breathing heavily on your skin and grumbling softly on your neck. Your hands found his back and caressed the star emblem on his suit, and all you could do was wait for him to finish.

To your amazement, he moaned, “Fuck, sorry,” into your neck as he kept filling you up. His voice was shaking. You were perplexed by his response since it sounded regretful. The closer he got, the more tightly he gripped your hips as though you may break free at any second.

He had previously refused to allow you to finish. You didn't know why it was important right now.

You simply said, “It's okay,” not sure how you should respond. It felt awkward when you realized it was over already. You waited for Ben to finish since it was unclear what to do at this point and the air was thick.

Ben didn't feel any better coming inside you so quickly; he had just fucking entered you. Wearing the suit he's always admired, you were there, underneath him, ready for him to take what he'd needed and wanted and yearned for weeks, but he felt awful, and his pride had been broken again. Fuck, he thought to himself. He didn't know what was going on with him these days. His cock must have missed you way too much; he could even know it seemed.

For the first time in his life, he looked for anything to say—anything to at least soften the situation and cover up his wounded pride—but he had no idea how. Not being able to get hard was not as bad as it was. He may have failed because he didn't jerk off earlier. He didn't know a single fucking thing right now.

He only needed to make you come around his cock, but he had failed once more. In spite of your pleas, all he did was leave you feeling unsatisfied. He was unable to contain himself for even five minutes. Ben's constant confidence began to fade from him.

Ben was still breathing heavily on your neck, and he tried to speak, but nothing came out. He never liked to feel powerless, but as you were waiting for him to draw his softening cock back, he did feel powerless. Although he felt physically satisfied, this didn't make him feel any better; instead, it made him feel even more annoyed, stressed, and unsatisfied.

You finally had the guts to make the first move, and your hands left his back. You put one hand to your underwear and attempted to lift it, giving him a message to pull back so that you could break the tension and be ready to go. As you waited for Ben to realize what was going on and withdraw his cock from your pussy, your face started to flush.

Ben took a big breath and cautiously and gently removed his cock from you when he got the cue. You wanted that release badly, but there was nothing you could do. Your walls tightened with expectation once more. Perhaps at a later day.

Ben was staring at your chest as you adjusted your underwear, and he tucked himself back into his pants, trying to get your attention away from his intense stare. Ben was looking between your legs, where his thick come was dripping, before you pulled your panties back. He should have put his hot cum back in your pussy. His erection was screaming for him to be put back in you, so he could fuck you some more, but there was absolutely no time.

Ben said in a rough voice, nervous, “I couldn't hold it back,” and he zipped himself back, waiting on top of you and refusing to let go. Seeing your dissatisfied, confused, and reddened face was an unbearable source of pain. “I didn't do it...on purpose.”

You whispered, “It's okay,” in a trembling voice. Ben was still between your legs, and you wanted to straighten your skirt too. It was time to make the air softer. “It's not the first time.”

It looks like it didn't help any better, Ben stated, “No, it's not,” a firm voice said. You had no idea what he really meant. “I will fix this as soon as we get the job done.”

You wondered how much time you had left if you offered a second time. You had a total of thirty minutes, and now you must have around twenty minutes remaining. But you weren't sure if it was appropriate to offer it. Ben didn't seem to be interested in going inside you again tonight, so you waited for him to initiate it.

You licked your dry lips, whispered gently, “Okay,” and watched him eventually retreat.

Ben surprised you with a strong and soft kiss before helping you to stand up. He withdrew without allowing you to kiss him back. For a brief time, your gaze met. Whatever had occurred was unimportant because, let's face it, you weren't teenagers and it was simply sex. A quick one. You had done it right more than a hundred times with Ben. Actually, only with Ben.

You felt awkward knowing that Ben's seed was still inside of you, but you were too busy to take a quick shower. Ben finished fixing his own suit and hair and remarked, “Remember to be quick there and don't take any attention. You are a Supe after all, to frighten him well and make sure he shits in his trousers so he will share all he knows.”

It relieved you to see him bring up a different subject.

You complained, sounding irritated, saying, “I know what to do,” since Ben was giving you advice. “I wasn’t born yesterday.”

His, “Good girl,” were accompanied by a wink.

His gaze was now and then resting on your suit and again on your skirt. The look on his face hardened. “I didn't know that skirt was that short.”

“It has to be because of the washing machine.”

“I can see your lovely ass cheeks from here,” he scowled, making you turn a little around yourself.

You said, adjusting the skirt slightly, “Stop exaggerating.” You saw Ben was carefully glancing at your legs and skirt, so you changed the topic and asked, “What happens if Homelander doesn't come to you?” He wasn't pleased with how much skin you showed.

“He will. I'll make sure to explode good and nice.” He attempted to make a dirty joke, but he didn't smile at all. Instead, he caressed your arms to comfort you.

“But make sure you don't hurt anyone, Ben,” you firmly stated, placing your palm where the star emblem was on his belt. “I'm serious.”

“Of course not,” he said instantly, as if you had just uttered something ridiculous. He sounded puzzled.

Even though you knew he should exercise caution as well, you remained silent. Perhaps you just didn't want him to believe that you were also worried about him. Actually, all that worried you about his chest was the enormous and potentially lethal power it held. After all, he was still unable to find a means to control it.

“Do you think you can handle Homelander there?”

It seemed better to question him about his strength in order to provoke him.

“Are you really questioning my strength, sweetie?” He asked amused, trying to disguise the fact that your suspicious tone had hurt his pride. “I will tear that lab product apart, and you'll be watching on the TV.”

“If you say so,” you said, giving him a little smile.

Ben continued, “By the way,” clearing his throat and carefully placing his gun in your palm after removing it from his suit. “You take this. Since you are not carrying a pistol, it may be useful.”

You mumbled, “I'm a supe, Ben,” but you refused to return the gun to him. “Every part of my body is a gun itself.”

“Oh, yeah?” Ben chuckled and bit his lips sexily, “Don't even tell me.” You've tried to hide your embarrassment, so just roll your eyes at him.

“But thanks anyway,” you said as you tucked the firearm in your suit.

You both heard Butcher returning just as he was about to speak, so you knew it was time. You left the room before Ben got his shield from the corner. All you wanted was for today to be over already.

⋆⋅☆⋆☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋆☆⋅⋆

A/N: Comments and reblogs are very appreciated. Let me know what you think please <33

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[darknight3904]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕽𝖆𝖈𝖊

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ᴏᴄ! ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ / ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ /ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ʟᴀᴅʏ ʀʜᴀᴇʟʟᴀ ʜᴀꜱ ᴍᴇᴛ ʜᴇʀ ꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴅᴀᴇᴍᴏɴ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ. ʜᴇ ɪꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ꜱʜᴇ ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰɪɴᴅꜱ ʜᴇʀꜱᴇʟꜰ ᴅɪꜱᴀᴘᴘᴏɪɴᴛᴇᴅ ɪɴ ʜɪᴍ. ɪɴꜱᴛᴇᴀᴅ, ꜱʜᴇ ꜰɪɴᴅꜱ ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ ɪɴ ʜᴇʀ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ, ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ.

126 AC

Edric smiles when he sees Rhaella has finally fallen asleep. She had been rather silent as he read a story before bed to her for the first time since she was seven. He remembered how she used to ask relentless questions about what would happen to the characters in the books, always eager to spoil the ending.

He tries to be as quiet as possible as he crosses to the door. He hopes a goodnight of sleep will help her, after all, it isn't every day a young lady's father introduces himself for the first time in front of half the major houses of Westeros.

"You're rather dedicated for just simply being a Maester."

Edric nearly jumps out of his shoes when he hears Prince Daemon's voice in the dark hall.

"She is the Lady of Runestone. It is my duty to serve her, just as I did her mother." Edric says

"Yes, Yes, I know. Honor, duty. Wonderful things." Daemon says finally stepping into the light

"May I ask what you are doing here, my Prince?"

He knows why Daemon is here, on the opposite end of the keep instead of back with his wife.

"I am here to see my daughter. We have things to discuss." Daemon says

"She is asleep. Perhaps your discussion might wait until the morrow. A night of rest is good for all." Edric says

He hopes Daemon will turn around and go crawling back to Pentos. What does he think he is doing? Coming back after all these years for Rhaella.

Daemon lets out a hum of amusement at the old Maester standing in his way. At first, he didn't recognize him but now, up close, he does. Edric had been the one to pull Rhaella into the world while his...lady wife Rhea had screamed.

"I will see her, she can sleep after our talk." He says, brushing past Edric and into her chamber, "You are dismissed, Maester Edric."

Surprisingly, the old man wasn't lying. Rhaella is indeed sleeping. Long silver hair is spread across her pillows and she's tucked securely under covers.

He decides to leave her alone for the moment and instead inspects the different things that litter her chamber. Books of every kind line her shelf and desk. A poorly drawn dragon sits atop a stack of parchments full of different doodles. He's surprised to see a practice sword along with what looks like a boy's outfit for sword fighting lying on a chair.

He can't help but feel the regret that seeps into his bones as he turns back to look at her. She is only a year older than Baela and he knows he's already missed so much. He wonders how much of fatherhood Edric has stolen from him. Was he there for Rhaella's first steps or perhaps that cunt Gerold was. Looking at her now he realizes he should've taken her with him after Rhea had died. Perhaps she'd be a dragon rider by now if he had.

He winces when the hilt of his sword bumps into a stack of books that are sitting on the edge of a table. They tumble to the ground and disrupt the trance he is under.

"Aemond?"

Rhaella's voice fills his ears for the first time. He's insulted but not surprised that she calls the name of Visery's boy. According to the numerous messages from his brother the two were companions.

He's not sure what to say when Rhaella rubs the sleep from her eyes and looks at him. He had been so confident at the feast but now his mouth is empty.

She stares at him, most likely expecting him to speak first. He probably should, he is the adult here after all.

"Get out."

Well, he wasn't expecting that.

Rhaella couldn't believe what was happening. When her eyes had cracked open and saw a head of silver shoulder-length hair she thought Aemond might've come for a late-night visit. She couldn't believe that Daemon was standing there, a stack of books at his feet and a curse on his lips. She tells him to leave and she gives him the look that Jacaerys gives his mother when she tells him he can't have any more sweets before dinner.

"You're training with a sword. Are you any good?" He asks, ignoring her command.

Why did he even bother asking? He had never shown interest in her before. She knew her uncle had sent letters to Pentos about her so why was he suddenly in front of her like he cared for her?

"I'm sure you are, it's in your blood after all." He smiles gesturing to the legendary Dark Sister who sits in the scabbard wrapped around his waist.

"Leave. I don't want to see you right now." She says, hoping he'll understand this time.

Daemon's mouth quirks up into what Rhaella can only describe as an arrogant smirk.

"Sleep well, daughter. I'll see you at breakfast."

The next day is a beautiful one. The sky looked as though it was painted blue and birds sang their sweet songs while a soft breeze flowed through the castle. Despite the inherent beauty of the day, Rhaella had been missing from breakfast. Aemond took note of it immediately when his Uncle Daemon was at his father's side and one of his cousins, perhaps it was Baela, he wasn't sure was in Rhaella's spot.

He finds her still in bed, her hair like a silver tuft of fuzz among the blues she had chosen for her blankets.

"You missed breakfast. There was bacon. Aegon scarfed your portion down before I could stop him." Aemond said, placing the plate of food he had in his hands onto her table.

There isn't an answer nor a "thank you for bringing me food, Aemond" from his friend.

"Do you plan to sleep the day away? I wanted to visit my horse in the stables with you today." Aemond said

He walked over to her and tugged the covers off her.

"You're not even asleep!" He scoffed

Aemond looked at Rhaella's face which she tried to hide behind an ugly-looking pillow she had attempted to embroider. He wasn't sure what he expected, initially he thought the cup of wine his father had given as a treat to her might've been to much for her, she was rather skinny. Puffy red eyes were not at all what he thought was going to be staring back at him this morning.

"What's wrong?" He asked sitting down at the foot of the bed

"Daemon is what's wrong." She shuddered

Of course, it was. He was an imbecile for thinking it might've been something else.

"He is no longer in the castle. He said something about going for a morning flight on his dragon." Aemond says, unsure if that will make her feel better. He's never been very good with feelings, choosing to ignore his own had worked rather well for the past nine years of his life.

"I do not care. I wish he'd fly back to Pentos and never come back." She said

"Perhaps he will. My mother said he's never been able to stay still. Apparently, he and my father always get in fights that end in Daemon's banishment." Aemond says

"I wish the banishment would come quicker." Rhaella sniffed

Aemond isn't quite sure what to do. He had wanted to run off to the stables to see the beautiful mare he was given. He was aware it was his father's attempt to make up for his lack of a dragon. Initially, he hadn't been interested, why should he have a horse instead of a dragon? But now he loved Rain and the way the wind would whip through his hair when she ran. Rhaella's sad face however had him rethinking his plans for the day. Rain would have to wait just a bit longer.

Rhaella suddenly sits up and looks him right in the eyes.

"He came here last night. Asked about my sword skills and knocked over a stack of books. He keeps calling me daughter like I have always been near him...he pretends like we are familiar when he is nothing but a folktale to me, an imaginary story Maester Edric tells before bedtime."

Aemond feels his hands begin to sweat when fresh tears make their way down her face. He hopes he is not overstepping some unspoken boundary when he wraps his arms around her in a warm embrace. To his surprise, she reciprocates and Aemond feels his shoulder dampen with hot tears.

"I wish he would just disappear." She whispers

Laena Velaryon watches quietly as the two children embrace. She had initially come to apologize to Rhaella for Daemon's behavior. She had told him not to visit her last night, yet he slipped away while she was bidding goodnight to her own daughters. Her hands rest on her baby bump as she hears Prince Aemond ask Rhaella to eat the food he has brought her.

When Daemon told her so many years ago he had a child with the late Lady Rhea, Laena had felt jealous. She had been young and only freshly married to Daemon when he had admitted it. But, as the years passed and she read letters from the Maester of Runestone and eventually the king himself, her mind was changed. Rhaella seemed simply wonderful and Visery's many stories about how she entertained Rhaenrya's children and his own were good things to her. She was surprised when Daemon had declared they were to attend the girl's name day feast. He had never wanted to discuss her until just a few days before the big day.

"I want to meet her."

That had been his only explanation for this hasty trip. Sometimes she swore she had no idea what was running through her husband's mind. It was not that she wished to deprive Rhaella of a father but she had pointed out to Daemon before they left Pentos that the girl might not want to see him. He had dismissed her worries and proclaimed that she would. How foolish he was.

"Lady Laena?" A voice calls out

"Oh!" She smiles at the handmaiden who is trying to enter the room, "I am in your way."

"It is alright, My Lady. Do you wish to speak to Lady Rhaella?" She asked "I can come back to dress her later."

"No, it is alright. I can see her later." Laena says backing into the hall

Aegon is not sure what to make of the scene in front of him. He had been searching for a spot to drink where his mother would not find him. The library had seemed perfect yet it was already occupied. Aemond and Rhaella sat far too close to each other while they whispered to each other over an open book.

"What are you two doing?" He asked

"Aegon." Aemond turns to greet his older brother

"We are trying to translate this book from high Valyrian. Rhaenrya said that is what she did when she was young, it helped her become more fluent." Rhaella explains

Aegon has never been fond of his little cousin. Maybe it was because she was boring and loved books the way Aemond did or perhaps it was just because her tits hadn't come in yet. Either way, she wasn't very interesting in his mind.

"What's the point in learning Valyrian if you don't even have a dragon to command it with?" Aegon asked lazily falling into a plush chair.

He doesn't miss the way Aemond's brows pinch together in...annoyance? Disappointment?

"We can still converse in High Valyrian! For your information, Aegon we will have dragons one day, they'll be even prettier than Sunfyre!" Rhaella declares

Aegon scoffs at her overconfidence.

"Do you plan on making one magically appear?"

"No...there are unclaimed dragons! And, if any of Dreamfyre's eggs hatch I am sure we will both be able to bond with them, right Aemond?"

His little brother nods and looks at Rhaella like some lovesick puppy.

"You are both nauseating." Aegon declares

Not entirely sure if I like this chapter. Oh well.

Aegon seems like the type to steal people's bacon.

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