#and he accidentally swung the door and it slammed her

[egglygreg]

...

[atlabeth]

bend an ear

pairing: peter parker x fem reader

summary: your boyfriend doesn't listen to you. good thing your friendly neighborhood spider-man does.

a/n: there's just something about him idk. andrew garfield spidey bc of course! look at him! this came from me playing the spider-man game after it went on sale and yearning for peter parker (will prob have to rewatch the movies bc of this) anyways hope you like it

wc: 3.6k

warning(s): reader's bf is shitty -- they argue for a while and he lowkey slut shames her. but this is basically all fluff otherwise bc childhood best friends to lovers babby!!! real yearning loverboy hours!!!

Peter just wants to go home. 

It’s been… a day. He got his ass kicked by an English test (he doesn’t have time to do the readings when he’s fighting crime), got his ass kicked by Flash Thompson (it’s not like he can fight back with his super strength and pulverize his ribs), and has spent every second since his final class ended fighting petty crimes around the city. 

Stopping ATM thefts and minor muggings feels good, sure, but on days like these, it doesn’t really make up for failing intro literature classes and getting absolutely zero sleep. He’s just thankful May is still letting him live with her while he studies at ESU—if he had to do all of this in addition to trying to make his rent? He doesn’t really want to think about it. 

So he swung his way to the roof of some random building, and he’s taking a break. Sue him, but Peter thinks he deserves it. What’s the point of living in a city like New York if you can’t have a second to yourself every once in a while? 

He’ll go home soon. Grab a bodega sandwich, maybe stop another crime, and then get home for some much needed rest. But for now, he’s just going to sit on this rooftop and relax for a second. Even Spider-man needs some peace and— 

“Babe—” 

“Why are you following me?”

Peter winces as the door slams open, an argument following close after as a girl storms out onto the roof followed by a guy speeding to keep up with her. His first instinct is to swing away as soon as possible, but for some reason, he stays. 

“Because I want to talk!”

“God, do you even hear yourself?” 

“You keep talking over me, so I really—” 

“You don’t get to babe me right now!” 

As if his day hadn’t been bad enough, now he’s accidentally made himself privy to some couple’s dispute. He’s about to web himself out of this third wheeling nightmare when the girl turns around with a groan, revealing her face, and Peter realizes who it is. 

It’s you.

This is your apartment complex. Peter came here without even realizing it, but can he really be surprised? Your name is synonymous with peace in his brain. Comes with the territory of being friends for so long—it still calms him, even when you’re being the opposite of peaceful. 

“I don’t get why you’re acting like this!” the guy exclaims, frustration clear in his voice. 

Of course. Why wouldn’t your shitty boyfriend be here too? The only reason you live here is because you scored this place together; said he didn’t want you living on campus anymore. Ethan Frey might be the bane of Peter’s existence after two and a half years of him being your boyfriend. 

“Because you and your posse are acting like complete jags in front of all my friends!” you shout back. 

He laughs in disbelief. “I’m just being myself, babe. Besides, you’re the one who said I could invite them!” 

“Because you complained about it just being my friends,” you grind out. “You weren’t even supposed to be here, Ethan! You just can’t handle the thought of me being around guys that aren’t you!” 

“Well, what the hell am I supposed to think, huh?” He gestures wildly. “You spend every second with that geek and I’m supposed to believe you’re not into him?” 

And now he’s eavesdropping on a conversation between you and your boyfriend about him. How could this get worse? 

“God, it isn’t like that at all!” you exclaim with a mirthless laugh. “Peter is my friend— my best friend since elementary school. You knew when we got together that wasn’t going to change.” 

“Yeah,” he says, nodding lazily, “but that was before I knew how obvious his hard-on for you was.” 

Peter feels his face heat beneath the mask, wants to wipe the sweat off his palms. That’s how it could get worse. 

Your nostrils flare as you turn away, your hands flexing while you shake your head. “Get out of here, Ethan.” 

“Oh, of course that’s where you draw the line,” Ethan mocks. “When I bring up fuckin’ Peter Parker.” He pauses then chuckles. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” 

Peter nearly intervenes right then and there, wanting to stop this mess before Ethan does anything to hurt you. But revealing himself sounds like the worst possible thing to do, so for once he listens to the rational part of his brain over the emotional. 

“He’s not even here!” you retort. “I live with you, not him. I’m dating you, not him. Why are you bringing him up?” 

“Because I’m not blind.” Ethan crosses his arms. “Y’know, I thought you’d get over this little thing after you let me take you out, but for some reason, it’s exactly the same. I swear you spend more time with him than me.”

Your hands clench into fists. “Get out of here.” 

He scoffs. “You want me to leave you up here?” 

“Yes,” you nod. 

“God, you’ve been acting crazy this whole night!” he complains. “You’ll freeze up here. Just get over it—we’ll go back down, I’ll get you a beer—” 

“I hate beer.” 

“Then I’ll get you a fucking apple juice,” he spits. “Just stop being so dramatic.” 

“You’re not listening to me!” you shout. “I want you to leave me alone!” 

This time he says your name, and you shake your head. 

“Go back to the apartment,” you interrupt. “Because if I have to spend another second with you, our relationship might not make it through the night.”

For once, Ethan is silent as he stares at you. You stare back with no sign of giving up. Eventually, he just huffs and shakes his head. 

“Whatever.” He starts walking towards the door. “You better cool off up here, because I’m not dealing with this shit when you come back down.” 

You stare at the door for a good twenty seconds once he closes the door—slams it, rather—before you angrily kick a stray soda can. Your childhood days of rec soccer must still be in you, because you get an arc on it. Just before it can go over the side of the building, Peter shoots a web to catch it wholly on instinct. 

Your eyes widen as you dart around, and Peter is finally spotted from his place on top of the roof door building thing. What is that even called? He doesn’t really have time to think about it. The aluminum can crunches as it flies into his hand, and you stare at him in complete shock. 

“Uh,” his mouth suddenly feels very dry, but he has to make some excuse for why he’s up here, “littering is bad.” 

Good one, Parker. 

“You’re Spider-man,” you say, eyes still wide. 

“The one and only,” he nods. 

“Oh my god,” you mumble, finally seeming to break out of your shock as you cover your mouth and turn away. “Oh my god, Spider-man just heard my relationship falling apart.” 

“I didn’t hear anything!” Peter exclaims. “I—”

You shoot him the withering look he loves so much, that was able to get his bullies to shrink on the spot in high school—it feels weird being on the receiving end of it. 

“I’m not stupid,” you say. 

“I kn—” He has to stop himself from saying I know, because realistically Spider-man has no idea who you are. “I’m sorry.” 

You huff and cross your arms. “Do your superhero duties include eavesdropping on failing couples?” 

“It was an accident,” Peter says. “I was up here before you were. So technically, you were eavesdropping on my actual superhero duties.” 

You laugh, and he smiles just at the sound of it. One benefit to wearing the mask, because it would expose him right on the spot. “Oh yeah? And what are those?” 

“Patrolling the streets,” he says. “I’ve got a very good vantage point from up here.” 

You hum, your mood turning a bit more morose as you glance away. “Well, I’m sorry you had to hear all that during your patrol.” 

“I’m sorry you had to go through it,” he says. “Your boyfriend sounds like an asshole.” 

You roll your eyes. “He’s fine, most of the time. Just had a little bit too much to drink.” 

Peter will never understand why you defend Ethan so much. You’ve been together since freshman year and he’s only gotten worse since then—maybe he hides how he is around you, because he hasn’t really shied away from showing Peter how much he hates him this past year.

“He looked pretty sober to me,” Peter says. “And trust me, I have plenty of experience fighting guys that have had too much to drink.” 

You huff. “What are you, a spider-therapist?” 

“I’m good at a lot of things,” he says. “And I’m always good for bending an ear.”

“Surely you have better things to do than listen to me complain.” 

Peter shakes his head. “My schedule’s pretty clear right now, actually.”

“Really?” you marvel. “There’s no crime in New York City at,” you check your watch, “11:37 pm?”

“Absolutely none,” he says. “I solved it all. At least for now.”

You laugh again at that and gesture with your head as you walk over to the edge of the roof. “Then I guess I’ll take you up on that offer.”

Peter jumps down and follows you over. You hoist yourself on top of the wall, legs dangling over the edge, and he feels himself frown as he leans his back against the wall and looks up at you. 

“Isn’t that a little dangerous?” 

“You’ll catch me if I fall,” you say. 

“Obviously,” Peter says. “I’m supposed to encourage safe behavior in New Yorkers, though.” 

You laugh and tilt your head up towards the night sky. The moonlight reflects in your eyes and Peter knows he could get lost in them forever. “Just this once, then.” 

“I think I can let it slide.” 

“Good.” 

A comfortable beat of silence passes between the two of you, and Peter finds himself smiling. No wonder he ended up at your place out of instinct. There’s nothing else like your company. 

“I always think it’ll be different,” you murmur. Peter glances up at you, your expression shifted to something more melancholic. “We’ll have a good day, which’ll turn into a good week and a good month, but he always does something to mess it up. It’s like it’s in his DNA.” 

He stays silent as you think. Most of the time when you rant to Peter, you just want to be heard, not given advice. At this point, he’s an expert at listening to you. It’s not like he minds. 

“I want things to work out. I— I still love him. I mean, I think I do. But everything is a fucking struggle with him. If I don’t do things the exact way he wants, if I try to do something for me instead of him, if I can’t read his fucking mind, then he loses it and we argue. And I’m so fucking tired of arguing!” 

Your voice has risen by now, and you bite down hard on your cheek. Peter doesn’t realize he’s started reaching towards you to comfort you until you look back down at him, and he runs his hand over his head in an effort to cover it up. 

“I’m sorry,” you sigh. “I promise, I’m a much nicer person than this. You just caught me at the worst time.”

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I know.”

Your brows rise. “Spider-man knows I’m a nice person?”

“I can just tell,” he rushes, trying to save himself. He’s doing a real good job at not revealing his identity. “I’m good at reading people.”

You chuckle and shake your head, then adjust your position so your back is towards the open air. It makes Peter nervous, he can’t lie, but it’s not like he’s not a superhero. 

“So, spider-therapist,” you say. “Any advice?” 

So this is one of the rare times you do want answers. Peter wonders if you’ll leave your boyfriend if Spider-man tells you to. 

“He doesn’t sound great,” Peter says, inclining his head. “How many times have you argued this week?” 

“Four,” you say. “Five, if you include tonight.” 

He whistles. “And it’s only Wednesday.”

You tip your shoulder. “We’re efficient.” 

“And unhappy, it sounds like.” 

“We’re not unhappy,” you defend. “We’re just…” 

“You’re up here talking to me instead of down there with him,” Peter says wryly. “That doesn’t exactly scream ‘happy couple’.” 

You shake your head with another sigh. “It’s because he can’t get over Peter.” 

He tries to act as nonchalant as possible when you bring him up. Is this an invasion of privacy? Letting you talk to him about all this when you have no idea who Spider-man actually is? 

Instead of floundering over moral qualms, he just clears his throat. “And who’s he?” 

“My best friend,” you say. “The one person who’s been by my side since the second I moved to New York. He means everything to me.”

Peter feels his heart skip a beat. “Yeah?” 

“He’s like— like the opposite of Ethan, and it’s wonderful. I guess that’s why Pete irks him so much. Y’know,” you pull out your phone and start typing in your password, “maybe I should call him. He always knows what to say.” 

“No!” Peter exclaims with a bit too much force, causing you to give him a look. “No— I mean, it’s late. He’s probably asleep. And— and it’s a school night?” 

You tilt your head, and Peter exhales when it seems to work. “True. He’s probably studying for that biochem test.” You grimace. “I should be doing that too.” 

He watches you type out a few texts and send them, and Peter’s never been more thankful to have his phone on silent. What a way that would be to blow his cover. 

You shove your phone back in your pocket with another sigh. “I just hate that my boyfriend and my best friend don’t get along. I love them both—why can’t they like each other?” 

“I mean…” Peter trails off when you look at him, and he gestures with his head. “It seems pretty obvious why they don’t get along.” 

“Yeah,” you say dryly. “Because Ethan thinks Peter likes me, and he probably thinks I have some secret crush on him too. I swear, he’s always looking for a reason to fight.” 

God, could the universe be calling him out any more? It’s honestly ridiculous how this is going. 

“Do you?” Peter asks, because he can’t help himself. “Like him, I mean.” 

“I don’t know,” you murmur. “I love Pete, I do. It’s always been the two of us no matter what. But I…”

He holds his breath as he tries not to look at you, tries not to make it too obvious that he might have stumbled his way into his simultaneous dream and nightmare scenario. 

He’s had a crush on you for what feels like forever. Since you stood up for him against his bullies in elementary school, honestly, and it’s only grown over the years as the two of you have grown. From recesses spent together and bike rides through the city; spending the night in Peter’s apartment because it was easier for your sister to let it happen than try and drag you back home; endless nights with heads bent over textbooks trying to study for tests, over college applications trying to get into the same place, and now studying and researching near every damn weekend together because you’re both unfortunate enough to try for ESU STEM degrees. 

You were there when Ben died. He’s there on every anniversary of your parents’ accident. Without knowing it, you were there when he got bit and his whole life turned upside down. 

You and Peter have been there every step of the way for each other, and it’s why he’s content with just friendship—Peter wants you in his life no matter what. But he can’t lie and say he doesn’t hope. 

No, actually. He yearns. He’s doomed to be a yearner for the rest of his life because he’ll never stop loving you. How could he? 

“I’m not sure,” you finally say with a sigh. “All I know is that I’d rather be with Pete tonight than Ethan.”

Peter wonders if your chest compressions are still as good as they were in high school, because he feels like he’s about to have a heart attack. 

You’d rather be spending tonight with him than your boyfriend of two years and seven months, and Peter isn’t even supposed to know. 

You mistake his silent freakout for nonchalance, and you clear your throat as you jump back onto solid ground. 

“Well, I’ve spilled my soul to you,” you say wryly, crossing your arms. “Anything a superhero can spill in return?”

Peter thinks for a good, long second. His hands itch to take off his mask, to do what he’s wanted to do since he got bitten by that stupid spider and show you who he really is. 

How many times has he been a total asshole, canceling plans on you because he had to go stop some supervillain from wreaking havoc in Times Square? How many times has he been late to something important to you because he was caught up stopping dime a dozen muggings? He still remembers the look on your face when he showed up just in time to miss the entirety of Les Mis’s opening night with your first lead role. 

You were a better best friend to Peter than he was to you because of this stupid mask. If he took it off, it wouldn’t make every mistake fade away, but it would sure help explain some of it. 

But Peter has been doing this since high school, and he has seen far too many times what happens to the loved ones of heroes. They’re used as leverage, used for ransom, sometimes just straight up killed.

You’ve been friends with Peter since you and your sister moved into the apartment next to May’s thirteen years ago. It doesn’t matter if you never share Peter’s feelings. You’re one of the only constants in his life, and he’s not going to lose you because he’s too selfish to keep a secret. 

Losing you would be the last straw. He couldn’t take it. 

So Peter pushes all thoughts of secret identities revealed out of his mind and tries to chuckle convincingly. 

“I’m allergic to peppermint, believe it or not.” 

You stare at him, deadpan. “That’s nowhere close to all the shit I just gave you.” 

“It’s true!” he exclaims, holding up his hands. “Happened after I got bit by the spider. They’re repelled by peppermint oil, and I guess I am too.” 

You shake your head in disbelief. “I can’t believe Spider-man is a coward.” 

“A superhero’s gotta have some secrets,” he says, and he taps the side of his head. “Otherwise this thing doesn’t do much good.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you say. “Whatever.” 

A chill suddenly goes up Peter’s spine and he whips around—he can hear a distant scream followed by a distant gunshot, and he mentally curses. 

“Duty calls?” you ask, drawing his attention back to you. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m sorry—” 

“Don’t be.” You smile, and it’s genuine. A nice change from the state Ethan effortlessly puts you in. “You went out of your way to cheer me up. Pretty super of you.” 

“I hope it makes up for the eavesdropping,” he says. 

“More than,” you nod. “Now get out of here. Your city needs you.” 

Peter nods too, and he backflips onto his original spot. “Have a good night. You’re real special to somebody.” 

He’s gone before you can say anything else, already zipping across the rooftops to get to the scene of the crime. Peter can only think of your face as he swings through the air—all the things he’s too scared to say to you. 

The crime, which turns out to be yet another petty theft, is resolved easily enough with some punches, kicks, and a snappy one-liner. Once he’s retrieved the woman’s purse and alerted the police, he’s back in the sky. 

Peter only stops once he’s swung a couple miles away, perching on the edge of some rooftop for some actual peace and quiet. He checks around once or twice to make sure he’s not somehow back at your place, and when he’s sure it’s all clear, he pulls his phone out. He swipes past all the notifications he’s racked up until he finds the one he’s looking for: the texts from you. 

hey pete, I know you’re prob asleep rn but you were right. I really need to study for that test lol

wanna meet me at the library tomorrow after QM? I’ll buy the coffee this time i promise <3 

as long as you use your roomie’s dining dollars to get me a croissant lol 

Peter can’t help but smile, larger than anything tonight. This is why he’s okay with being nothing but your friend for the rest of his life. 

Deal. Anything to get you an A 

lol

asshole 

Never 

Try to get some sleep. No good studying on a tired brain 

Three dots appear for a good long second, enough to constitute a decent paragraph—then they disappear. In its place: 

I’ll try just for you 

night boy genius

(How could he not love you?) 

Night, girl wonder

[tedmustache]

Can you write a fic where the fem!reader is a med student and accidentally calls Robby "Dad." He starts calling her "kid" and it becomes a small thing for them. After a hard case, the reader is close to a panic attack and Robby is there to comfort them, just like a dad?

Hey, Kid

Pairing: Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x Platonic!Fem!Reader

Summary: After a sleep-deprived mistake leads to the reader accidentally calling Dr. Robby “Dad,” the nickname “kid” becomes a quiet, constant thread between them.

Warnings: Medical setting (hospital trauma cases), Grief over patient death (minor character), Panic attack symptoms (breathlessness, shaking, emotional distress), Comfort after emotional distress, Mentorship and familial themes (reader/mentor dynamic, not romantic)

Main Masterlist

[...]

You’d been on your feet for thirteen hours, running on one granola bar, an energy drink you regretted two hours ago, and sheer panic. The trauma pager had been going off like it was trying to set a world record, and somehow every single attending had disappeared when it was time to present the new patient.

Except Robby.

Of course, it was Robby.

He stood across from you now, arms crossed, watching you like a hawk while you sputtered through a case summary that sounded a lot smoother in your head than it did aloud.

“…penetrating abdominal trauma, vitals unstable, FAST was positive—uh, positive… and we’re, I mean I was thinking we should prep for the OR—”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Unless you think there’s something else we should—”

“Finish your sentence before you second-guess yourself” he interrupted, not unkindly. “You're presenting. Own it.”

You nodded quickly, cheeks hot. “Right. Prep for the OR.”

A beat passed. Then he gave a small nod, turning to the trauma team. “She’s right. Let’s move.”

You exhaled, finally breathing, and trailed behind as they rolled the patient toward surgery. As the doors swung shut, you felt the adrenaline ebb from your system, replaced with the thudding crash of fatigue.

“Good call, kid” Robby said as he turned away from the board.

And before you could think. Before your caffeine-deprived brain could stop you, it happened.

“Thanks, Dad.”

The hallway went silent. For exactly three seconds.

You froze.

Robby blinked. You blinked. A resident walked by, did a double take, and wisely kept walking.

“I—I meant Dr. Robby! Sir! I mean—I didn’t—”

Robby stared at you for a beat longer

“Well,” he said slowly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “I’ve been called worse.”

You slapped a hand over your face. “I’m so sorry, that was—”

“Relax. You’re not the first sleep-deprived med student to do it. You just said it loud enough for the whole ER to hear.”

“Please let me die in peace” you muttered.

He snorted. “Not on my shift, kid.”

The nickname stuck. After that, “kid” became a thing.

He called you “kid” when he passed you in the hall. When you brought him a chart. When you correctly identified a spinal fracture. When you tripped over an unplugged IV line and nearly faceplanted into a gurney.

“You okay, kid?”

“Nice catch, kid.”

“Don’t touch that, kid. Do you want to get yelled at by Neuro?”

And despite your initial horror, it grew on you. It was nice, in a weird way. Especially because Robby didn’t just call anyone that. At least, not with that tone. Half exasperated, half protective, like he actually gave a damn.

And he did, you were starting to realize.

Even when he made you redo your discharge summaries three times. Even when he roasted your slightly incorrect anatomy sketch in front of Jack (you had been tired, okay?). Even when he acted like he didn’t care, but showed up every time things got hard.

Like today.

You’d just lost a patient. A teenager. Hit by a drunk driver while biking home from soccer practice. There’d been a window. A small and hopeful window, and you’d clung to it with both hands.

And then you watched it slam shut in front of you.

You stood in the supply room now, the door shut, hands braced on the counter. Your scrubs were stained, your gloves long gone, and your lungs felt like they’d forgotten how to expand.

Your heart was racing. Too fast. You knew the signs too well.

The edges of your vision pulsed. Your hands were starting to tremble.

No. Not here. Not now.

You bit your lip and counted.

In. One, two, three

Out. One, two, three

The door creaked open.

You didn’t have to turn around. You knew the voice.

“Hey, kid.”

You closed your eyes.

“Not a good time” you croaked.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “That’s why I’m here.”

You didn’t answer. Your hands tightened on the edge of the counter until your knuckles went white.

“I shouldn’t have—I should’ve caught it,” you said suddenly. “His pressure dipped and I hesitated, and maybe if I’d said something sooner, or—or run the second unit faster—”

“Stop.” His voice was firm, but not harsh. “That kid died because a drunk driver made a choice. Not because of you.”

You shook your head, breath hitching. “I didn’t do enough.”

“You did everything.”

Silence. Then the soft shuffle of his footsteps. You felt a hand on your shoulder, solid and steady.

“You’re allowed to feel it” Robby said. “That’s part of the job. But don’t carry what’s not yours.”

You finally looked up. He wasn’t glaring. He wasn’t giving you a speech about boundaries or toughness or professionalism.

He just looked… there. Real. Human.

Like a dad.

“I hate this part” you whispered.

“Me too.”

Your eyes welled up, and that was it. You let go.

You didn’t sob. There wasn’t time for that. But a tear or two slipped down your cheek, and when your legs wobbled, Robby guided you gently to sit on the counter stool like he’d done this a hundred times before.

Which, you realized, he probably had.

He stayed for a minute. Maybe two. Just long enough for your breathing to even out. For the shaking to stop.

Then he patted your back. “Come on, kid. Let’s get you a coffee.”

You wiped your face and nodded.

He opened the door, and before you stepped out, he glanced at you sideways.

“You know,” he said, “Dana keeps asking why I don’t have kids.”

You blinked at him. “And what do you say?”

He shrugged. “I say I already have one.”

You laughed, soft and a little broken. But it felt better than crying.

“Lucky me" you said.

Robby gave a lopsided smile. “Damn right.”

[imagineweasley]

Sirius Black’s Guide to Overreacting

Remus Lupin x reader, Sirius Black older brother

summary: you are sirius's little sister and you are dating remus, but keeping it from your protective older brother. james "accidentally" lets it slip and sirius is not happy.

warnings: some mention of sex?? but also not really but a little bit.

y/n: your name

word count: 1.4k

submit requests here! | masterlist

author's note: inspired by ross finding out chandler is with monica in friends!

--

"REMUS LUPIN I WILL TORTURE YOU SLOWLY UNTIL YOU DIE A SLOW PAINFUL DEATH!" Remus and y/n sprang apart when they heard Sirius bellowing down the hall. The few others who were also in the common room jumped as well. Sirius never used Remus's actual name unless he was angry, and this was the angriest y/n had seen him since his Dumbledore chocolate frog card had been stolen. The couple exchanged worried looks while the Fat Lady's indignant cries mingled with Sirius's yells, "MR. BLACK, YOU SLAM MY DOOR ONE MORE TIME AND YOU WILL BE SLEEPING IN THE HA--" her voice cut off as the door closed.

Sirius emerged, the picture of fury. His eyebrows were furrowed, his forehead vein was pulsing violently, and his fists were balled up, knuckles white. Y/n thought for a second that steam would actually start pouring out of his ears. He stomped towards the couple, or rather, towards Remus; his wide, dark eyes were fixed on him. In an attempt to look casual, Remus turned and leaned over the back of the couch to look at y/n's red-faced brother.

"What's up, Pad--"

"What's up?! WHAT'S UP?" The couple flinched and inched toward each other in fear.

"Merlin's beard Sirius, what--"

He whirled towards y/n, pointing his finger accusingly. "AND YOU! YOU KNOW WHAT'S UP TOO!"

"Don't talk to her like that!" Remus instinctively sprang up to protect y/n from her raging brother, even though they all knew Sirius wouldn't do anything to her. Sirius's black hair slapped him in the face as he immediately spun back around to glare at his friend.

The yelling triggered y/n's younger sibling instincts to poke the bear and see how far she could push him. She cooed, "Well, considering you haven't told us what's going on, I actually don't know what's going on, lovely brother." She then smiled a sickeningly sweet smile. Remus groaned.

Sirius's eyes grew even darker as he huffed and puffed, and as he opened his mouth to continue, the door swung open again and the Fat Lady's shrieks filled the rooms once more. "MR. POTTER, I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU WOULD LIKE TO JOIN MR. BLACK IN SLEEPING OUTSI--"

James sauntered in with his usual bored expression and Peter scurried in after him.

"Padfoot, I thought I heard your melodic tunes." James stuck his hand in his pockets and leaned against the wall. "Sorry I couldn't catch him you two, he really is quick when he wants to be." James addressed Remus and y/n, taking in the sight of Remus still standing protectively in front of y/n.

Y/n narrowed her eyes at James. "James," she said in a warning tone, "What did you do?" James shrugged in response and ambled over to the nearest couch. He flopped onto the cushions and took out a snitch from his pocket, and began tossing it up in the air and catching it. Peter wrung his hands in the corner, looking nervously at everyone.

"Well..." another throw and catch, "I might have accidentally let it slip that perhaps you and Moony have been -- well, fucking."

Y/n's eyes grew wide in horror and she began to stomp towards him, but Remus beat her to it. Blood rushed to his face in anger as he flew over to James to thump him.

"James Fleamont Potter, I swear to MERLIN you are such a GIT!" James merely looked up indifferently at his glowering friend.

"YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO BE MAD, HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?" The lamps shook and candles rattled in their holders at the noise.

"SIrius!" Y/n stepped forward cautiously, but he didn't seem to hear her. She tried again, "SIRIUS!" and failed once more, and on the last "SIRIUS ORION BLACK!" He whirled around and scowled at her.

"WHAT!"

"JAMES DIDN'T TELL YOU THE WHOLE THING!"

Sirius's eyes narrowed and a slight look of confusion took over. "Explain, then. Right now."

Y/n sighed and chose her words carefully. "Remus and I -- we're not--" she grimaced, "Fucking. I mean yes, I guess we are, that's what happens when you--" She then started rambling but skidded to a halt upon seeing the fire return to my brother's eyes, "That's -- what I mean is, Remus and I... we've been in a relationship for a while."

The whole of the common room could hear the wheels creaking in Sirius's head as he processed y/n's words. The whole of the common room was silent, and the other students' eyes bounced back and forth between Sirius, Remus, and y/n, as if watching a three way tennis game.

"A... a relationship?"

Remus took the opportunity to jump in and explain. "Yes! It's not nothing, we haven't been just hooking up. I'm... I'm in love with your sister--" you blushed a bright pink, "--and I'm sorry we didn't tell you sooner but I just didn't want our friendship to change."

The silence was agonizingly deafening. Sirius stared at Remus, and y/n's heart pounded as she tried to read her brother's face.

"A relationship." Remus nodded furiously. "So... how long..."

"About seven months now." Sirius turned slowly back towards y/n. "Seven... seven?" Y/n nodded meekly and waited for his response.

"How did you... how did you two hide..." Sirius trailed off. No one spoke. The only movement in the room was the flickering fire.

Sirius stared blankly at the wall for a few moments before speaking again. "Are you happy, y/n?"

"Of course I am Siri, this is the happiest I have ever been, and Remus really treats me so well. I love him, Siri." Now it was Remus's turn to blush. The knot in y/n's stomach uncoiled as Sirius's gaze softened.

"Alright then..." he nodded resolutely, and then the most unexpected thing happened.

Sirius began jumping up and down, punching the air in delight, and he yelled, "MY SISTER AND MY BEST FRIEND! MY BABY SISTER AND MY BEST FRIEND!" He pulled y/n to him and jumped her over to Remus, who was staring, stunned.

"COME ON YOU GUYS! THIS IS A CELEBRATION! MY SISTER AND MY BEST FRIEND!" His other arm was now around Remus, jerking him around with each jump. Remus and y/n looked at each other bewildered, and then burst into laughter. They started jumping with him, squealing, and then jumped over to Peter and dragged him into the circle.

Sirius broke out into a loud and off-tune rendition of the Hogwarts school song, "HOGWARTS, HOGWARTS, HOGGY WARTY HOGWARTS, TEACH US SOMETHING PLEEEEASE! JAMES ARE YOU HEARING THIS?"

Y/n looked over at James, who had frozen on his couch, the snitch flapping violently in his hand. "Come here James! Come join us!" After a beat, James threw his head back in laughter and sprang to his feet to join the circle. In all the excitement, the snitch had escaped from his hand and fluttered above their heads. The group all jumped up and down for a few more minutes while Sirius finished the song, and then panting, they slowed to a halt.

Remus grinned and wiped some sweat from his forehead. "I guess James wasn't completely wrong, I mean, it did start when we got drunk and--" Remus's eyes widened into the size of fanged frisbees as he slowly realized what had slipped out. Y/n's face dropped into her hands.

"I'm just kidding! I'm just... kidding..." Remus backed away carefully, his palms outstretched in submission. Sirius followed him menacingly. He was still panting, but now more so from rage than from leaping around.

Y/n threw her hands up in defeat and sighed, "Oh, Remus, my sweet, sweet idiot, I think you should start running." Remus looked at y/n in horror before taking off.

In the blink of an eye, Sirius was chasing Remus around the common room, Remus yelling, "WAIT A SECOND, LISTEN HERE, LISTEN PADFOOT--"

Laughing, y/n flopped onto the couch between James and Peter, where they had collapsed after the jumping fiasco. She punched his arm playfully, "You're an asshole, you know that?" James laughed and shrugged, feigning innocence.

They watched the chase and James wondered, "How long do you s'pose they'll be going for?"

Peter smiled, amused, and replied, "I don't know but they seem to be going strong to me."

Y/n waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, we'll just let them tire themselves out." And they watched the boys sprint around the common room for the next half hour.

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Clueless Shenanigans

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: the boys accidentally bring you (5 ish) into danger, but you don’t mind—because you have no idea what’s going on

“Dean, are you serious?” Sam kept his voice at a low hiss as he argued with his older brother.

“It’s just a couple of ghouls—blow off a couple heads and we’ll be out of there before she even wakes up,” Dean assured his little brother.

“Dean, she’s 5 years old, she shouldn’t be anywhere near ghouls—“

“Well I don’t want to leave her alone at the motel with demons after us,” Dean snapped, dropping his carefree facade. “This just seems like the lesser of two dangers until we can drop her off with Donna, ok?”

“Fine,” Sam sighed. “I get it.” Sam shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your slumbering form in the back seat.

“De?” You mumbled, tugging at Sam’s jacket and peaking an eye open.

“Shh,” Dean whispered. “Just go back to sleep. Lock Baby up if you hear anything, ok?” He said before shutting you in the car and toting his shot gun.

“We’ll be done before she wakes up, huh?” Sam grumbled.

“Quit whining, she’ll go right back to sleep,” Dean responded. “Now let’s go kill some ghouls.”

…

You did not go right back to sleep. Instead, you took Baby’s spare set of keys out of Sam’s jacket pocket and slid them into the ignition so that the radio sang to life. Then, you shuffled around in the glove box until you found a cassette—the one Sam let you play when Dean wasn’t in the car, which wasn’t often.

You cranked the sound, your favorite song ringing through the air as you slipped out of the Impala and started your own dance party.

…

“Dean, back door!” Sam yelled, rushing after the three ghouls that escaped the back way while Sam and Dean were taking out the few that attacked them.

Dean blew the head off the last ghoul in the house before following Sam outside, his mind reeling—

The ghouls were headed towards you.

…

Dean’s heart did a summersault when he saw you outside of the car, some chick song blasting from the Impala while you danced around barefoot in the grass. You looked like you didn’t have a care in the world as three ghouls approached you.

“Kid!” Dean alerted the ghouls to his presence by shouting, but he didn’t care. “Get in the car!”

“I can’t,” you insisted. “I locked it, just like you said!” Unperturbed, you went right back to dancing.

One ghoul rushed at you faster than the others—he would get there before Dean, there was no stopping it.

Bang!

The resounding echo of a gunshot caught Dean’s attention—Sam emerged from behind a tree, his shotgun raised.

The ghoul flopped to the ground minus a head, but you didn’t even notice it—instead, your focus was on Sam as you clapped your hands over your ear.

“That was loud!” You yelled. You gave Sam your “grumpy face” before you dropped your hands and turned your attention to Dean. “De, come dance with me!”

Dean’s attention on you distracted him from the ghouls until it was almost too late. When the closer one jumped at him, Dean swung his gun around and slammed it into the side of the ghoul’s head.

“Not now!” Dean replied. “I’m a little busy!”

The other ghoul was going after you again, but Sam jumped between you and the monster.

“Sammy!” You grinned. “Will you dance with me?”

“Just a second.” Sam offered you half a grin before he swung his gun around and blasted the head off the ghoul.

“Hey!” You whined, covering your ears.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Sam insisted, his gaze focused on his brother’s fight; Sam couldn’t get a clear shot of the ghoul without risking hitting Dean.

“Sammy, dance with me!” You tugged at your big brother’s sleeve.

“Hey, hey let’s get in the car ok?” Sam offered—if he couldn’t help Dean, he could at least keep you safe.

“I locked Baby, just like Dean said,” you answered. “De has the other keys.” Your eyes were finally starting to wander, so Sam grabbed onto your shoulders and swung you around to face him; he couldn’t let you see the headless bodies of the ghouls, he wouldn’t.

“You’re right, let-let’s dance ok?” Sam waved his arms around in the most ridiculous way he could think of. It worked—you were giggling, your attention completely on Sam even as Dean fired a round into the final ghoul.

“Hey what’s this?” Dean demanded, his keys jangling in his fist as he unlocked Baby. “Having a dance party while I do all the work?”

“Dance with us, De!” You demanded.

“Oh no no no.” Dean shook his head, reaching into the car and popping the cassette tape out. “Nu uh, none of this chick music while I’m in the car, no way.” He turned around and picked you up, dropping you down into the backseat of the car and smiling when you giggled. “Now you’re gonna sit here with me and listen to real music while Sammy finishes up work, ok?”

“Dean—“

Dean cranked his Metallica tape before Sam could start whining; “finishing up work” meant burning all the bodies—the worst part of hunting.

“Sorry, music’s too loud,” Dean mimed, and Sam rolled his eyes and turned around. Someone had to stay with you and keep you distracted from the gore and death around you, and Sam would have to live with the short straw this time around.

But he was gonna make Dean regret it on the next hunt.

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz @johannelis2302nely @studiogrimm810 @tell-elle

[sakurocha]

sam x maid!reader !

in which sam discovers a welcome surprise on his doorstep: you, his new, cute maid!~ read pt. 2 here!

today was your first day serving as a maid for jodi, your sweet neighbor!

you softly knocked on the front door of her house, smoothing out the skirt of your uniform, when it suddenly swung open

a tall, blonde-haired boy who looked nothing like your client stood in the doorway, his jaw plummeting to the floor

until the door suddenly slammed back in your face, leaving you stunned and wondering if you came to the wrong house

but shortly after, the door opened once again, a familiar face welcoming you

“hi sweetheart, sorry about my son here,” jodi said, ushering you in. “sam, please apologize.”

he stammered an apology, glancing down at your outfit with a rosy tint across his cheeks before dashing into his room

he definitely thought you were some sort of escort, sent as a cruel joke by his friends

and he was definitely flustered by the thought, especially with the hardening length in his pants :(

he has to… take care of himself in the safety of his bedroom hehe~

you arrived to clean the house every monday after that

which was inconveniently the exact day and time that sam had his shifts over at joja mart

he couldn't get through his shifts fast enough, the monotony of sweeping allowing his mind to drift to naughty daydreams of what he would do to you if he caught you in an uncompromising position while you were in the midst of cleaning...

and his dreams nearly come true when he returns from work one evening, only to find you bent over his bed, reaching over to smooth out the sheets

his eyes were glued to the way the skimpy skirt of your uniform rode up your legs, nearly revealing what he had fantasized about...

although he rarely made his bed, now he swore to never, if the display in front of him was how it would be remedied

"oh! samson, welcome home!" you'd say while hastily straightening up, much to sam's dismay, dragging him back to reality by the ankles. "i hope i'm not intruding at all, i just needed to finish up your room..."

after several weeks of your presence in his home, he's managed to feel more comfortable talking to you

he reassures you that it's alright, sneaking glances of you hard at work while he pretends to fiddle with his guitar

he realizes he needs to change out the strings, so he makes his way over to his shelf

only to find you on your tippy-toes, stretching to dust a particularly high shelf, bracing yourself with one arm as you reach upwards

"do you... need help with that, miss?" he asked quietly

he couldn't help it, you seemed like you were struggling with how high up the shelf was! :(

startled by his voice, you backed up into sam's body, your ass accidentally brushing right against his dick

and god, he fought hard to suppress a moan from escaping his lips at that slight contact

because even though it was just a teensy little tap, it felt good

and he had been dreaming for ages about what your plush body would feel like pressed up against his

but the flustered yet blissful gleam in your eyes as you looked back at him over your shoulder let him know that you were just as willing to indulge in something so naughty as he was!~

thank you so much for reading! requests are always open~

[sleep-i-ness]

Room Service (Sirius Black x reader)

Synopsis: Marlene, your best friend and roommate, has gone to class and left you with her mess to clean up.

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST | GENERAL MASTERLIST

“You have to be kidding me.” You stared at the drunk man passed out on her bed. “Hey, Marlene, I think you forgot something!”

Your roommate did not reply, not that you had expected her to when you’d been awoken by the door slamming shut. She had returned at 4am, making such a racket that you were startled awake, the thought of burglars jumping through your mind. Until you heard the giggles and loud shushing. This must have been Marlene’s latest. It wasn’t that you minded; well, at least you’d known what you’d be getting into when you agreed to live with Marlene, but this hadn’t been part of the agreed roommate duties.

You'd like to say that this was the first time that this had every happened, that Marlene had brought a guy back in the knowledge that you were sleep next door, fully aware that you had a 10am class. But when she regularly woke up after a late night of partying for her morning run and 9am lecture, you didn't expect her to really understand. And sure, she had let you kick her out before, and hadn't complained about you bashing around in the kitchen until the early hours of the morning when you were too stressed to do anything other than bake. But it wasn't exactly on par with the level of noise that you had to deal with.

The door had swung open, and the sound of her hushed giggling had your groaning; the walls were so thin you could hear the creak of her bedsprings as they tumbled onto her bed, the squeak of movement, and you'd covered your head with your pillow.

And now you were here. With a drunk man, who, despite your reservations, really couldn’t be left alone to sleep his way through the morning. Who knows what he'd do? Or where he'd vomit. You shuddered at the thought.

Your phone buzzed and you tapped at the screen, groaning at the rather apologetic message from Marlene. "I'm so sorry, I had to dash, please, please get the man out of our flat. I'll owe you big time."

You rolled your eyes, and took a step into Marlene's room, noting with distaste the clothes strewn all over. And then took a deep breath as you spotted the pair of men's boxers just lying out in the open. A drunk unconscious man was one thing. A naked drunk unconscious man was entirely another.

You crossed the room, sidestepping the discarded underwear and crouched beside the bed, suddenly grateful that at least Marlene had left a water bottle beside the bed.

You tapped him on the shoulder. No response. Shaking him slightly, you frowned at the complete lack of movement. You hated to think what that meant for Marlene last night. In all fairness, the noise hadn't gone on for long, which you'd been thankful for at the time, but now you could probably chalk that up to something entirely separate.

Sighing, you turned your back on the man for a moment, shuffling around the room to pick up what you assumed to be his clothes. If Marlene had left you to deal with this, she could deal with you accidentally giving her stuff to him anyway.

With a deep breath, you pulled the covers off the man, turning your head away from the sight of the lower part of his body with a grimace. No, you certainly did not want to see that.

"Okay," you murmured, staring at the pair of boxers in your hand and then looking back at the man. "Let's get you dressed."

It would be a lot easier to deal with a dressed man, yes. You hooked one leg hole of the boxers over his leg, and then the other, lifting each limb to shimmy them up his body.

"Uh, hello?" the man slurred, and you jumped, backing away from him.

"So, you think you can get yourself dressed?"

"Uh," came his rather intelligent response as he looked down at himself, and then stumbled to his feet, tripping over the boxers as he did so.

"Woah, woah," you rushed forward to catch him before he tipped onto his face; you were not taking him to A&E if he broke his nose. Together you managed to pull the boxers up round his waist and you sighed with relief. Not naked anymore. You could deal with this.

“I think I’m gonna be-” the man clasped a hand over his mouth, body convulsing as he retched and you jumped back in disgust, grabbing the nearest receptacle to hold out in front of him. Marlene could buy a new bin.

You grimaced as he fell back onto the bed, clutching the bin as he went down still retching. He pushed himself up, pinning the bin between his knees and leaning over it, dark hair hanging around his face. The retching subsided after a minute and the man placed the bin down on the floor delicately, looking up at you with a grey pallor to his face.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, at least having the decency to seem sort of sheepish.

“Do you think we can get you dressed now?”

He nodded vigorously, and then groaned, hitting his head back against the wall with a thunk. You rolled your eyes; what a start to the morning. The clock on Marlene’s bedside table read 7:43 and you were at least grateful that you had a good two hours before class. Plenty of time to get him out, although with the lack of coherent movement from him, you doubted it would be an easy feat.

You sighed and grabbed his trousers from where they lay on the opposite side of the room, laying them out at his feet for him to give it a go. He just stared at them. Oh, for fuck’s sake. Grumbling under your breath, you began to yank them up his legs, stopping when you got to his knees and just looking at him with raised eyebrows.

He stared back at you, forehead wrinkled. And then jolted, pulling himself to his feet where you could continue to manoeuvre the trousers up. Why did he have to have such tight trousers? It was taking real effort to get them up over his body.

The rest of his clothes followed a similar pattern; you would offer them to him, he would look at it dumbly and you would just sigh and dress him. It was like the dolls you used to play with as a kid, if they were a fully grown man who was a lot less pliant.

“Who do you live with?”

“With Prongs,” the man mumbled, lying stretched out on the bed again.

You rolled your eyes. At this rate they were going to get permanently stuck that way. “Prongs?”

And that was how you met James Potter at about half eight in the morning, in his dressing gown and bedhead. He blinked at you blearily from the doorway, mouth opening and then closing again. In all fairness, this probably wasn’t the best first impression; you still in your pyjamas and trying your hardest to hide the grumpy expression on your face.

You would’ve felt guilty if it weren’t for the look of realisation dawning across his face at the sight of the man leaning on you.

“I’ve got something that I think belongs to you.” You pushed the man into him, trying to hide a snort as he stumbled into James’ arms.

“Sirius,” he sighed. James righted Sirius, pushing him to lean against a wall and ignoring how he slid down onto the floor with a soft thud. “I’m sorry.”

James rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “Thanks for bringing him back. He usually manages to make his way home at some point in the morning, but he’s never had a girl accompany him back.”

You pulled a face. He definitely had gotten the wrong end of the stick, and it filled you with a sort of revulsion, especially having seen him throwing up in your roommate’s bin.

“My roommate had an early class so left me to clean up her,” you waved at Sirius slumped on the floor, “mess.”

He laughed awkwardly, scratching at the back of his mess. The silence dragged on and so you smiled, although you were pretty sure it came out as a grimace. “I’ll be off then. Enjoy.”

“Thanks again!” James called out after you and you just waved him off.

--

You sat on your couch, textbook in hand as you stared at the meaningless words on the page. You couldn't comprehend anything before your eyes; nothing had been going in for the past hour. Most people were out on a Friday night, but the stress of university meant that you were less than willing to sacrifice her learning for partying every night. Marlene believed the complete opposite and thus you saw very little of each other, especially following the incident with Sirius. Tonight, however, was an exception.

"Hey bestie," Marlene wheedled, her tone already insinuating that she wanted something. Plonking herself next to you on the couch, Marlene wrapped her arms around you. "Have I ever told you how much of a great friend you are?"

"Alright, what are you after?” you sighed, shrugging her off. "You only act this clingy when you want something from me."

"Come out with me tonight. You've been cooped up indoors for hours now and you need to let your hair down. There's a gig at the pub, it’s some band with guys from campus and it’s going to be really chill. Dorcas and Lily will be there, you like them, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. I really have to work though,” you protested, running your fingers through your unbrushed hair, wincing as they caught on a knot.

“Y/N! You’ve been working all week; you need a break. Trust me, love. Go take a shower and I’ll pick out an outfit for you.” Marlene sighed exasperatedly, pushing you off the sofa as you hesitated. “And I owe you many, many drinks to say thank you.”

“We have two hours to get there,” she hollered up at you. “Even I don’t take that long to get ready, so you have no excuses.”

Stepping into the pub, you weren’t sure how Marlene managed to talk you into this. It was probably the promise of free drinks; she owed you at least until the end of term. The room was packed full of people and if Marlene hadn’t been holding her arm, you would’ve been lost instantly. Marlene lit up, waving frantically at a group in the back – you were too far away still to be sure, but you were almost certain that it would consist of at least Dorcas and Lily and whichever other poor friends they’d managed to drag along.

“Lily! Dorcas! Mary!” Marlene squealed, bounding forward to hug them. “Look at us! The gang all back together!”

You laughed; although you would never admit it to Marlene, you were sort of glad that she’d dragged you out. You never really got to see the others much anymore, but you’d all been thick as thieves at school together and it had been a real shame to drift once you’d gone off to separate London unis.

“Oh my God.” Marlene stopped dead in her tracks, any excitement completely wiped from her as she stared at something behind you, eyes wide. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Hide me, he’s here.”

“Who?” You turned around, scanning the crowd for whichever one of Marlene’s hookups had emerged. Not that you necessarily knew what all of them looked like; more just how they had sounded. Well, not like that.

“Sirius Black,” she groaned, hiding her face in Lily’s shoulder. “I don’t want to see him.”

Your eyes caught on the very familiar face, and you winced as you watched him weave through the crowd, followed by James. He looked a lot better not throwing up in your bin, you mused, and then froze with horror as he made eye contact with you. And winked.

Disgusting.

James followed Sirius’ gaze and laughed, turning to whisper something in Sirius’ ear, who stumbled slightly in response. And then straightened and started towards you.

“Marlene,” you reached out your arm behind you, feeling around as you tried to pat her. “Marlene, he’s coming over here.”

“What?” She sat bolt upright and shook her head. “No, I’m out of here.”

You spun round, eyes wide. “You can’t just leave me, he’s your hook-up.”

“Not my problem anymore. One-night stands should stay as one-night stands.” And she slid out of her chair and away from the table, Dorcas and Mary trailing after her. The traitors. You stared at Lily who just shrugged, with a sort of resigned you-know-what-Marlene-is-like expression, and then glanced behind you with an odd little smirk. Of course she was enjoying this.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

You spun around, grimacing at the sight of Sirius Black. It was a shame how pretty he was, it made it harder to be irritated by him. But then you pictured the image of him throwing up in your bin and that feeling was very quickly squashed.

“Prongs says I know you,” he glanced back, and you followed his gaze to see James smirking at the pair of you. You flipped him off and he laughed. “Won’t tell me how. Care to elaborate? Did we, uh-”

“No,” you scoffed, mouth twisting into a grimace. And then you smirked. “I don’t know if you remember my flatmate, Marlene; she’s gone off somewhere. I had to evict you from our flat the next day.”

He frowned. Opened his mouth. And then closed it again.

“I think we really got to know each other when you threw up in our bin. Or maybe when you were still too drunk to get dressed by yourself so sort of lay there like a Ken doll.” You twirled a strand of hair around your finger, delighting in the look of horror dawning across his face. Oh, he deserved this.

Sirius rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I think I’m going to need another drink to hear the rest of this.”

“I’ll have a vodka lemonade.”

He sighed. “I’ll make it a double.”

[fazedlight]

Listening (Rift resolution, with reference to Kara’s article from Batwoman 1x10)

“I appreciate the favor,” Kate said, as Kara turned off her voice recorder. “It’s nice we’re in the same universe now.”

“Definitely,” Kara said, smiling back. She jotted down some final thoughts, before closing her notebook. “It’s a favor to me, too. Andrea will love this story.”

It had been a messy incident. When a local officer, Slam Bradley, had pushed Kate - Batwoman - out of harm’s way, someone had been snapping photos. Once the pictures went viral, the press had a field day, speculating on the nature of Batwoman’s relationship with Slam Bradley… which he had only played up.

It prompted Kate to make the decision for Batwoman to come out as a lesbian - not just to clear the air, but to give hope to the queer kids of Gotham.  “Are you nervous?” Kara asked. “I’d be nervous.”

“Relieved,” Kate said, and Kara thought it was all too fitting of the Paragon of Courage. Kate nodded in Kara’s direction. “Sounds like you’ve thought about doing it. What makes you nervous?”

Kara sighed, looking at her hands.

“Oh,” Kate said. “Your friends don’t know?”

Kara’s brow crinkled. “I- I wanted to come out to them. Years ago.”

“There was someone?” Kate asked.

“It got complicated,” Kara said. “I don’t know if she’s even queer anyway. And then we had a falling out, so…”

“So if you came out, everyone would know what she meant to you.”

Kara nodded. “It took the joy out of it. So I didn’t.”

-----------

Kara sighed as she reached her desk, sloughing off her bag and dropping it in her chair. She would rather be transcribing Kate’s interview and writing her article at home where she could use superspeed - but since Andrea wanted the staff in the office, it seemed Kara was stuck taking the slow route.

Kara tilted her head, tracking a familiar heartbeat down the hall. What’s she doing here?, Kara thought curiously, trying to avoid looking as Lena followed Andrea into a small meeting room. I shouldn’t eavesdrop, I shouldn’t eavesdrop, I shouldn’t eavesdrop��

“Well, I’m sorry if I’ve offended you,” Lena derided, as Kara tuned in, “But I didn’t come here for this conversation.”

“I’m not offended,” Andrea said, and Kara could hear the grin in her voice. “I’m just amused. Of all the names to call out-”

“Andrea-” 

“- you really fantasize about Kara Danvers fucking you?”

Kara’s head snapped up in time to see Lena’s frame stiffen through the glass walls. Andrea and Lena?, Kara thought, her eyes wide, They were-

“I’m not talking about this here,” Lena said. “Either get to the contract amendment, or I’ll leave.”

“Please, Lena, it’s not like she can hear us.”

Lena shouted my name? Kara thought in a panic, rising quickly to her feet, intent on somehow shutting down the conversation - because if she didn’t, she was going to lose her sanity. She shouted my name, while they were- while they-

Her steps were perhaps slightly too fast, and she accidentally caught Lena’s eye for a moment before she burst in, the brunette looking like she clearly wanted to murder someone. But Andrea was unperturbed by Kara’s arrival. “Sorry to interrupt!” Kara said, knocking on the door as she swung it open.

“Yes, Ms. Danvers?”

“I-” Kara’s mind drew a blank, before the right excuse fell into her head. “I have an exclusive with Batwoman!”

Andrea hummed in interest, and Kara could feel the daggers Lena was glaring into her.

-----------

Lena glanced down at her drink. 

The winter night was cool enough that she should get something warm - even in National City. But the scotch and rage were keeping her warm enough for now, as she stood on her balcony, looking out over the city’s lights. 

She knew she could be spending another night with Andrea if she wanted. Let off some steam. She knew rationally, Kara finding out wasn’t really Andrea’s fault. But Lena was not in a forgiving mood. She was better off alone and rageful.

A familiar double-tap sounded behind her on her balcony, and Lena’s jaw tightened. “Why are you here?” she demanded, without turning.

“I… I found out something that you didn’t want me to know,” Kara said, and Lena could almost hear the blush in her voice.

“If you think that meant anything-”

“I know it doesn’t,” Kara said. “I’m- I’m just here to tell you something I don’t want you to know.”

Lena’s brow furrowed in confusion, as she turned to look at the bashful blonde. Kara looked back curiously, only partially successful at her attempt to hide her regret. “You think that’s fair?” Lena asked. “You get to choose a secret, because you spied on me?”

“No,” Kara said. “But it’s the best I can do.”

Lena left her drink on the balcony, crossing her arms and glaring at the super, her pose haughty and expectant.

Kara swallowed hard. “I’m in love with you.”

Lena’s eyes widened. What the fuck is she talking about?

“For what it’s worth,” Kara said, looking over the balcony instead of at Lena’s face. “I hear it sometimes, around the city. Supergirl’s easy to fantasize about. I know it’s just lust. ”

Kara paused. “I know it doesn’t mean anything to you. But you mean everything to me. If anyone should feel ashamed, it’s me.”

Before Lena could come up with something she could say, Kara was gone.

-----------

Lena tried to ignore it. Tried to pretend that night never happened. Kara doesn’t love me, she told herself. It’s just another lie.

Her anger boiled over one evening, when Kara landed again at Lena’s balcony, just to call her a villain. Lena didn’t sleep that night, tossing and turning and mumbling in disbelief that Kara would have the audacity.

So the next morning, she showed up at Kara’s door. 

Unslept and frazzled, and perhaps not entirely thinking straight when Kara opened the door, Lena marched in and turned, yelling without preamble. “It’s a fucking lie, Kara, you don’t just get to say that!” Lena shouted.

“What do you mean?”

“If you loved me…” Lena panted, as Kara’s eyes widened. “If you loved me, you couldn’t have hurt me like that!”

“I said I loved you,” Kara said, her voice tight with stress. “I never said I was good at loving you.”

Lena hesitated.

“I know I hurt you,” Kara said. “And I’ll never forgive myself for it. Just like I don’t think you’ll forgive yourself if you keep going with what you’re doing.”

“And you told me, to what? Win me over?”

“I already said, I told you because I didn’t want you to feel embarrassed about shouting for Supergirl-”

“I didn’t shout for Supergirl,” Lena growled.

Kara’s eyes widened at the implication, and Lena felt ice run through her veins as she realized what she had done. Without another word, Lena marched back towards the door, and left.

-----------

Is she right?, Lena thought. Will I regret this?

Has working with Lex ever gone well?

Kara was a liar. A liar. The years of deceit, the crocodile tears at the Pulitzer. This could just be another lie in a long list of lies and manipulations. A means of control. But why didn’t it feel that way?

“I said I loved you. I never said I was good at loving you.”

Lena leaned over her kitchen counter, putting her face in her hands. Could it really be that simple?

-----------

Kara tried to control the pounding of her heart as she made her way through the park.

It was a familiar sight, harking back to the day just a few years ago when Lena had made her announcement - that LuthorCorp would be LCorp. That was no longer true on Earth Prime, of course, but the place made Kara smile. It was one of the first places they had met.

She supposed Lena chose it as neutral ground. LuthorCorp, Catco, the DEO, either of their homes - those places all had much more baggage. But it left Kara asking, why? Why did Lena want to meet at all?

She found Lena by heartbeat before she saw her. Lena was sitting on a bench, sipping from a coffee cup, staring ahead at the park. She turned to Kara, though not quite meeting her eyes, nodding as Kara took a seat next to her.

Moments passed in silence.

“I’m not working with Lex anymore,” Lena said. “I messed up.”

“I messed up too,” Kara said. “I don’t want to lie to you anymore.”

Lena nodded, staring at her hands, swallowing harshly. “I want to try again.”

Kara’s eyes widened, before a small smile crossed her face. “I’d like that.”

“Do you think we can?” Lena asked. “Do you think we can fix this?”

“I have hope.”

-----------

One morning, a couple of months later, an article by Lois Lane caught Kate Kane’s eye. The news page featured a smiling Supergirl, standing tall and proud, with an audacious headline. “America’s Power Bisexual? Supergirl Comes Out.”

She got the girl, Kate thought, her lips quirking into a smile. She reached for her phone, sending off a quick text. “Congratulations, Danvers.”

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Hiii saw your requests open and i thought why not give it a shot. I love your stories, I'm more attached to your style of writing melancholy like on floret, counting coins, better left unsaid and always the angel never the god. So, just a random idea to throw out there you can do whatever with it:

Hiccup and yn were engaged early on. Yn is a bit older and fitter to follow around Stoick to learn how to defend and manage Berk. Yn feels sorry for Hiccup and tries to make him enjoy his youth and time with his friends more while she made him handle the rest. Leading to a misunderstanding that he didn't feel needed when in fact he did have a crush on her with how she doted on him and how cool she looked fighting dragons and ordering people around. While she liked him for his thoughtful caring side but still envied his freedom and creativity.

That's pretty much it idk lmao it was just a word puke. That's just the gist no need to be word for word, if it's too much i completely understand but truly want to praise your eloquence and how you caught me right in the feels augh. Thank you for your time! 🦀

Wildflower

Pairing: Unrequited!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Fiance!Reader

Words: 2113

You never asked to be here.

Tags: Mild age difference, fem!reader, heavy exposition, non-canon politics, original characters

Next>

His arms ached, heavy and stiff as if the body of a sapling had been shot right through the bone. They loosened slightly and dipped under some hefty weight- he paid them no mind, eyes drawn to the wild world on the outside even as he grunted and struggled. 

With a jerk, dropping the sword, he with a strength he’d never really been able to spend on the all things that really mattered. There was a hefty clatter and a clang, the sound no less thick than the bang of a heavy bell or a gong, long metal body slamming and dancing against stone.

 His feet and legs stuttered as he stepped both forwards and back, palms roughly meeting the wood of the counter, bouncing eagerly as if he might begin to run or be startled into action.

There had been a shout- something indignant, deeper than normal, not so much a battle cry yet no less defiant and sure. He thought he might have known it- he had to look. 

The feel of smoothed, aged wood beneath his palms, both flatter and rounder than liquid, solid and uninterrupted- the sound of warring battle-cries from the world outside and the sweltering feel of heat from both the forge and the terrible reign of dragonfire and sharp teeth and clawed mouth- all of it came secondary to his searching, the bulk of him overshadowed by the hefty forge window

It was too early in the battle and the warriors of Berk had been too prepared for there to have been a line outside the door, and well- most of everyone had already left for the other side of the island, where the assault had been most violent.

He felt the burn on the side of his hand as he brought his hand back, grazing it against the side of the table- he’d accidentally pressed it against the face of the sander’s belt. It’d stung and buzzed with a thickness not unlike the feeling of folded cloth crusted in dragon spit or the hard skin on the bottom of an old foot, though the skin on his own palm, he knew, wasn’t so thick or stubborn.

Past raging orange flames and scorching yellows he saw you, lonesome, outlined like a shadow in the light across the clearing. 

Your shoulders were stiff and your stance full as you swung the hard, metal-rimmed bottom of a bucket against the head of a beast- a Gronkle, its thick, green-brown head giving way to a wide maw as it bellowed.

 It bled, its blood splattering across your face as if it were naught but a shock of light or darkness made liquid; as if, instead, it was you who had been violently cut and not it.

There was no vicious, beautiful Astrid here to ogle at- not now, as there had been in the before times and as there would be later- no, just you. 

You, who had been meant for him… At least, he thought so. 

He wasn’t completely confident in the fact- the whole thing went rather unspoken of. It wasn’t a taboo per se, more something that lay heavy, made clear through few words a long time ago then made obscure by the lengths of time and age.

Still, there came a suresty with it even if there wasn’t much of a bond between the two of you, something that, for him, acted as a heavy comfort. In times like these, he leaned into it, felt the lump in his chest beat against it like his bones were nothing but taut leather and wood.

-

Blazing red hair, nearly imperceptible against the raging fires as she swung an axe- it took you a while to find any of the others.

Before you was fiery Tove, a tallish Viking girl-woman from a house named ‘Alfson,’ not so influential as it was just there and nearly forgotten. In it, she was like a polished gem among a lot of plain, unassuming stones. She was also a member of your peer group, aged older by about nearly a winter. She’d been born in the warmer month, when the sun was at its hottest and the earth was at its greenest.

You settled by her with crossed arms, close enough to be recognized as part of the group and yet not close enough to hint towards any one specific alliance. 

It was the darkest of nights above yet the fires rendered it light as day. You tried your hardest not to inhale any of the soot as you watched the rest -the two of four, really- fooling, knocking into each other with rough shoulders as you worked where it really mattered.

Your peer group was a large one. The number of you here was only a smallish fraction of a whole, the rest drawn away in the moment by other troubles and politics.

They’d grown complacent in the chaos, used to the raging fires and battle as you all were, carelessly leaving the fires around to burn and eat away at everything. You kept yourself still and casual in spite of it, knowing that, here, words and tussles were just as dangerous as the rock-shattering jaws of any beast.

Brigading was a task born more to temper the fires of the eager younger men more than it was to assure the sanctity of the village, though no task was without its uses- more often than not, however, you all ended up taking up a weapon and battling to your own ends.

Still, you took it seriously. 

You’d not so much been invited into the brigade as you’d one day picked up a bucket and started helping along in silence, though you probably would have been asked along eventually. 

Approval from the others had been slow to garner and yet it was strong, anchoring- you’d no intention of trying to shake it, though you believed it would be hard to.

With the thick wooden handle lying clenched within one hand, you stopped above the smooth, round top of a viking helmet, resting your foot against it as if you were at the edge of a cliff with a sword.

You’d rather be, at least in the day, when the smoke would be blown out and the air fresh and clear.

“-Codswallop!” The one with the protestant words was Duckmaw, who belonged to a set of intimidating burly arms and short-cropped, burned blonde-ish hair typically hidden under a helmet that had made him look bald, soot darkened face scratched and laying posed under your fuzzy brown boot. 

He was unusually brawny and bold for his breed but was also just as soft- he was an Ingerman. Ingermans, though bustingly fierce as any other Viking, also tended to be the most tempered.

“You lot are all the same- tubby poets, you are!” Bjorner spoke back with sharper words. He was the second, and a Thorston, though his second name, Evenson, did not quite match his ties. He also didn’t quite stand on par with his blood, a bit thicker and more prone to jumping into battle than the rest of his clan, who preferred a good bit of taunting first. 

His family was a branch-off- one of many, as there tended to be with the Thorstons. “Gooey hearts and even weaker swords.”

“Your words are of poor taste, though I’d expect no less from a bastard!” Duckmaw shrugged aggressively forwards, jerking away, half turning before he thought to face Bjorner again, stepping closer this time. He looked quite silly with his rounder, younger face and slightly more plump body, standing nearly chest-to-chest with a man who was about two winners his senior.

Absent from your lot were a Hilde and an Arne, who was a plump and tall, honorable nearly-man with blonde hair who was suspiciously absent. Away in a fashion that remained unexplained or pondered was a Jorunn, Frode and Hjerson and a Njal.

“Agh, the lot of them,” Trove spoke appealingly, panting slightly, having brought herself to your side, nudging you in the shoulder. She was thicker than you by about a half and a great deal taller, so her elbow landed more against the top of it than along the side, “We womenfolk know better, yes?”

You gave her a skeptical, apathetic eye before turning your attention back to the conflict, standing still and firm- she hadn’t knocked you hard enough to unbalance you though she had given you quite the hard jab, albeit half of it must have been without intention, the other half with surety and mild competition.

Trove didn’t take so much offense, probably more used to your silence and your stoic behavior now than before, when she also used to grace you with a gruff, judging eye.

“I’m no bastard!” Bjorner barked deeply, squaring his shoulders and stepping forwards again. You couldn’t make out all of it, the sound of splintering wood and the white noise of cooking everything raging for but a moment. “But at least my mother’s no manky whore!”

Gritting his teeth, Duckmaw didn’t back down, even as the thin brown furs still attached to Bjorner’s leather overcoat brushed up against his jaw. His arm- the one facing you- twitched up and down as if he’d wanted to lift it, meaty fists clenching uproariously. “Don’t speak of her that way, you-! You-!”

Your even face did nothing to hide your apathy, even as your eyes stayed trained on them.

Their argument went beyond petty bonds and snippish words- it was, in truth, not their argument at all- more an argument of their house, monoliths of Vikings to which they were of little consequence. It was some tiff over land and the excuse was woodstock. The conflict had grown itself into a mighty feud. 

“Tis the hobby of fools, to spend all their time arguing about their mamies,” Tove said, her freed red hair still doing wonders to blend her in with the fires, some sticking to skin and face, red, pale and slick with sweat like fish’s skin.

You nearly rolled your eyes. As you did, you caught something from the corner of your eye.

“How’ve you lot been doing?” You heard, nearly lost under the crackling of fires and crumbling of houses, the sound of battle-cry off in the distance. He had a plaintive, respectable voice, still somehow smoothe even under the assault of smoke and ash, all male and deep. 

…Ah. Here came the cavalry with a bucket of his own.

You graced swept blonde hair with a nod, what should have been wheat made russet by soot and fire, bursting from the back of Arne’s head where the front was covered by a metal mask- a hazard, as it was, metal being prone to heat and melt under the vicious might of dragon fire. 

You suspected, in a few years, he might have one mighty burn scar running down the side of his face- if he made it out of the whole ordeal alive, as it was. 

His clothes were torn and he sported a bloody gash on one arm- he’d gotten caught up in some battle, then. He was the only one of them who’d already been accepted by the warriors as one of their own, who’d taken up a sword with quiet determination as the rest of them stayed managing buckets.

You occasionally joined him- you hadn’t received any fuss either, and yet… Well, the others needed managing… Watching, more than anything.

He nodded back at you as you levied up your bucket, grasping it by the bottom.

You huffed a breath of hair, blowing away a heavy tuft of soot as it threatened to hit you in the face, unusually large yet very thin, almost enough to be called a burnt wood scrap.

“-That’s what I thought,” Bjorner said maliciously, distantly- he’d jerked forward, and during the time you’d been distracted, Duckmaw, younger and more naive, had faltered. 

You stilled. It didn’t matter so much who was what in this minor, petty battle of wills. It wouldn’t change the outcome. 

It was only by an odd fluke of politics that you’d ended up here, a fisher’s girl from nowhere island, and so while not at all illicit in origin, you were no better than a bastard. 

Here, in this world of blood and fire there was no room for the girl in the woods. You knew that with a quiet, simmering surety, painfully aware of the small square booklet in your back pocket, padding against your thigh as you moved, fresh leather delicately held shut with a clasp, pressing deeply the dulling, colored faces of soft, pressed flowers.

[cloroxcasser0le]

Animal (pt 1 :3)

summary: Jax, pomni, and Ragatha get stuck in a small room together on an adventure, so Pomni and Ragatha see this as the perfect time to put their super cool plan into effect. They’re wrong actually Jax mauls pomni and then in part 2 bad things happen to him.

AN: ion fuckin know the word count bc I’m way lazy so I’m guessing it’s like ~1K. Also I’m so excited to finish part 2 bc it has my favorite thing ever in it. This is still based off a moot saying that i should write about Jax getting what he deserves but like i said. Part two boy.

TW: Semi- graphic Violence

Ragatha awoke to a sudden BANG to her door, causing her to nearly fall out of bed. Before she hit the floor she caught herself on her nightstand, as it was the closest thing to her. 

   She caught her breath after that spook, putting a plush foot on the ground. Only after she did, she realized that there had been an “inexplicable” banana peel right next to her bed. As is typical for banana peels, it slid her right into the ground with a muffled thud, accompanied by a badly suppressed laugh from behind her door.

    Jax. Of course it’s Jax. Jax, I’m gonna KILL you. She thought as she pushed herself up and veritably charged at the door, before slamming it open to expose the culprit, like it wasn’t already a case that even Kinger, no offense!, could’ve solved with his.. history.. with problem solving. 

  “Welp, ya caught me.” He stepped further into Ragatha’s reddening vision. God, she hated that face he made when he had caused, was causing, or was about to cause something bad to happen “What’s the stare for? Thought you were gonna turn me in to the fun police on sight.” 

  The only thing she hated more than that shit with a capital S eating grin was being mean, so obviously a lot. 

 “Jax, seriously? Turn you in to the fun police?? Pranks should and honestly are only fun when everyone’s laughing!” She took in a deep breath to calm down before continuing “And I was not laughing just then, if you hadn’t noticed.”

   “Ugh, fine I’ll just go kill myself then, like Kinger’s wife” he turned back to where his door is, reaching his door and putting a hand-…paw..? 

  With the gloves they looked like hands, which is why he never took them off, because if they could get their hands on any information that made him look any more like a rabbit than he already does, with the purring and thumping and other embarrassing shit, also the fact that he literally has rabbit ears, he’d be ruined.

Luckily he didn’t have fur though, his skin was rubber or something.

  -on the handle, all in the time it took that raggedy Ann looking doll to process that. 

“JAX!! THAT’S INSENSITIVE!!”

“Or maybe you’re just sensitive!” With that, Jax swung open his door and disappeared into the (probably trashed) room.

  Maybe Ragatha needed to hate being mean a little less, because maybe Jax deserved it a little.

For the second time in that interaction, she took a deep breath. But this time it was gladly over, and she could also rest in her room.

Her head had just hit her pillow when another knock sounded, this one much softer. The only thing that drove her to peel herself off her bed was that this was probably someone nicer, like pomni. She liked her. 

••• pomni pov •••

Ragatha’s door opened, honestly surprising, as she was probably still annoyed from the argument with Jax. Speaking of that, “That.. that was you arguing with Jax earlier? Ug-“ 

••• Ragatha pov again lol I accidentally switched back in this paragraph •••

“Yeah” she sighed, intending to start talking again until she realized that’s what the other was trying to do, quickly shutting her mouth, letting Pomni continue. 

“Oh.. well, sorry about that…” she perked up “I’ve actually been devising a plan to make him… I don’t know less.. jerky? Horrible? {SPLAT}hole-ish?” Her devious tone had been lost and regained at each pause, so Ragatha didn’t know if she was too serious about this plan. 

   Regardless, she inquired “Oh? What is it?”

Ragatha decided that the unsure tone was because she didn’t know how she- her,herself!!- would react to it!! How considerate! 

This conclusion was because of how Pomni almost visibly lit up when she began telling her about it “well, it’s pretty cruel!” She chuckled, cute…Is that weird to think? Especially because it seemed kind of nervous.

“Oh! Well, he’s probably done worse.” Ragatha matched her tone, hoping she’d catch on and feel comfy enough to share something “cruel” with her. 

 “In that case! You know how he’s a rabbit? Heh, of course you do, anyway! It’s a plan, so it has multiple steps” she noticed the others… including Jax… leaving their rooms to make their way to where Caine announced adventures, and leaned in to whisper the rest to Ragatha. 

 “Are you sure that’s gonna go well? I mean, there’s a lot of variables” 

 “Eh.. let’s just not think about that”

••• Jax Pov •••

“TODAYS ADVENTURE IS: ESCAPE THE EVIL FACTORY OWNER OBBY!! As recommended by a beloved circus member!” ugh, judging by the previous adventures ‘evil’ probably doesn’t even mean anything. This is gonna be a clone adventure of Charlie and the chocolate factory, he could just smell it.”Uhm, objection! That sounds stupid.”

Caine put a gloved hand on the already annoyed rabbitoid’s shoulder “WRONG!” He said calmly before tossing Jax through the portal that the gang was already walking through, as he probably wouldn’t have gone in on his own. He was such a good ringmaster guys.

•••fast forward yay I’m lazy•••

   This was the funnest adventure ever. He didn’t know how Caine would top it, honestly. Having the time of his life. A joyous occasion. Lovely and whimsy, even. 

   Is what Jax WOULD have said if he was completely lying, this was the fuckin’ worst. 

  He was stuck in a room with ragatha and pomni, who were whispering to each other about some plan or whatever. Girls, amiright?

  Not to mention it wasn’t because of some boulder blocking a passageway, no, they were in a factory. Apparently the guy was evil and locked the door to this useless room with nothing but a buncha machines that were heating the place up like crazy.

  “Sooo… Jax.” Pomni straightened up like she was about to say something important, when there really wasn’t anything of the sort other than ‘we’re gonna be stuck here for more than 5 more minutes!’, in which case he’d abstract on the spot “do you like.. act like a rabbit or just look like one”

  “Depends, do rabbits typically tear you a new one the size of the moon? And not the kind you’re gonna see when you wake up tomorrow.”

“Uhh… no..” 

“Jax!! What’s gotten into you today!” 

“A bullet, if I’m lucky” Jax rolled his eyes like the wheel and shifted to face further away from the other two, also starting to stomp his foot in annoyance. Not the normal bouncy thing, but a full THUMP. He’d come to accept it as normal by now. 

  Pomni apparently hadn’t “well, I guess that’s a yes Ragatha!” She held back a laugh, like he was trying to this morning, as she looked back at Ragatha.

“D’awwww, he a widdle bunny boy!!” She wasn’t actually trying to be THAT condescending, but god DAMN was she. 

 “No!! No I’m not im normal unlike you!! Fag!!”

He said like a 4th grader. Sounding straight out of South Park. With his slurs and such.

“Well your tail’s wagging.“

“No it’s not!!” He grabbed his tail to keep it still or hide it, both he could’ve done without his hands. 

“Then why are you hiding it?” Pomni crossed her arms, feeling satisfied that she’s making Jax embarrassed and defensive, not to mention he’s blushing from her teasing. 

“Uhh…” 

“Exactly!” Pomni leaned back, deciding this was over. Maybe she hadn’t finished the whole plan that they were talking about earlier, but that’s just because Ragatha wasn’t doing her part.

“You know what, pomni? {BOING} you!” He wasn’t even trying to stop his paw from thumping in agitation, as he wasn’t paying attention to that, which was pretty obvious “you’re not {HONK}ing cool!” 

“I can say the same for you jaxy-boy.”

Jax didn’t respond with anything but a growl for a second “The difference is I’m actually cool.”

“Surree you are, bunny boy."

Some might call him dramatic, me? I’d call him a fuckin animal LMAO cuz that’s why he’s even mad in the first place. Anyway. 

  Jax lunged at pomni, scratching and biting at her while pinning her down with his legs, but that still left her hands free to grab his neck and choke him out , which she did as hard as she could.

  She used his surprise to push him off her and to pin him down instead, but when the shock wore off he started scratching her hands too, causing her to start to stand up, but Jax did so faster, biting her arm and unknowingly scratching at her sleeve instead of her actual arm. Nobody tell him though. 

   Ragatha was also shocked, but unlike Jax it was at the fight between the two people she was stuck with.

“G-guys!! Calm down!!” She shouted at them, not quite knowing what else she could’ve said.

“I would’ve been calm if this- OW {SPLAT}!!!” Jax had realized he was scratching at her sleeve, so he started digging his claws into where he was biting. Caine was dumb or something because rabbits aren’t predators, but that wasn’t important because Jax HAD JUST RIPPED HER FUCKING ARM OFF WHAT. 

 As is typical for people in her situation, she shrieked in pain and confusion “JAX YOU {BOIOIOING} {HONK}!!”, followed by a hard kick to his face that sent him- and her arm- into the wall. 

  Ragatha tackled him to the floor, her stuffed hands and arms getting ripped as she pushed Jax’s arms beneath him and pinned them there with his torso, that she had to forcefully hold in place as well as his head so he didn’t try to bite her “Pomni are you o- I’d help but I gotta hold him down!!” 

  Pomni stumbled to the opposite side of the room from Ragatha and a probably rabid Jax.. honestly, forget the probably, she wouldn’t be surprised if he started foaming from the mouth.

 As she sat down, Pomni managed a response “ugh.. it’s fine, you wouldn’t be able to help anyway because he would probably be attacking you right now.. ughhh {BANG}”

“The others will- EEK!” Jax struggled noticeably harder than he had been, causing her to lose the advantage she had over him right now momentarily. Which could’ve been bad “-probably be here soon! Then uhm.. I’m sure they’ll have something to restrain him with, so we won’t have to hold him down.”

   While Ragatha said that, she looked down at him, almost feeling bad. He probably wasn’t in his right mind right now, maybe this is something that came with his avatar, because Caine is fucking stupid. He also probably isn’t in full control of himself, because the jax she knows would never do something like THAT.

[hobiebrownismygod]

Hey hun, I need some hobie comfort. Basically been in a terrible headspace liking planning my final letter type of mind. (not important) anyway I'm usually numb when it comes to these things, so based on something that happened a few weeks back. Miguel is in a bad mood and just lays it into y/n. And needless to say she bursts and full out sobs her heart out, knee dropping type pain from having it built up for weeks and hobie just comforting her. (if you're up to it lovie❤️ have a good day)

I'm so sorry that you're feeling this way :( I hope you can get into a better place soon!! I hope what I wrote helps <3

_____________

The door shut behind you with a SLAM as you practically ran out of Miguel's office, leaving him behind to yell at the wall rather than you. He'd been in a "bad mood" this past week and it seemed as though he needed an outlet. That outlet ended up being the first person he could see, which, of course, ended up being you.

So you'd accidentally dropped one of his gadgets earlier. It didn't break or anything, so why was he so angry? Why did he-why did everyone have to take everything out on you?

You tried your hardest not to cry as you shoved your way into one of the many cramped closets littering HQ and closed the door behind you. You sat down, curling up against the wall of the dark, tight room as you panted, slowly letting the tears stream down your face.

Your sobs were just barely muffed by your knees as you cried, harder than you'd cried in a long time, making it seem as though by the time you were done, there'd be a large puddle of your own tears beneath you.

But then, the noise just barely hidden by your loud, raspy exhales, you heard three soft knocks. You quieted yourself, not even bothering to lift your head.

"Darling? You in here?"

Hobie.

You must've ran past him on your way here without even noticing. You stayed silent, hoping he'd just leave you alone. You didn't want him to see you like this.

"Come on dove, just let me in." He knocked again, refusing to take no for an answer as the handle of the door jiggled.

You simply curled yourself up even tighter. He wouldn't be able to get through the lock, would he? At least, he wouldn't try that hard...right?

But to your dismay, not even a brass lock would be able to stop Hobie Brown from coming in to comfort his girl.

The door swung open and he stood there, a shocked look on his face. When he saw you sitting there on the ground, all bundled up like a child, his expression softened and he frowned.

"Hey, you" he said gently, crouching down in front of you, long arms reaching out towards you to pull you into a hug. "What happened?"

You didn't look at him as he pulled you into his arms, kissing the top of your head with a bittersweet smile and rubbing your back. He stayed silent for another moment before sighing.

"You don't want to talk? Alright. That's okay. I'll just stay here with you, baby." He whispered, nuzzling his nose into your hair and holding you tight.

"he yelled at me." You sniffled quietly after a beat. Hobie's expression perked up when he heard your voice and he smiled softly into your hair. "He yelled at you?" He asked gently.

"Mhmm." you nodded, wiping at your wet, teary eyes before burying your face in his chest. He chuckled softly in response, pulling off his vest and wrapping it around you to hold you even closer, hands settling on your back. "That bastard." He muttered, lips grazing the top of your forehead. "You want me to go piss him off?"

"No." You sniffled again, shaking your head. "He'll just be more mad." You felt the tears welling up in your eyes again and hid your face in his neck, shivering slightly as you began to cry.

"Aww, dove..." He looked as though he might start crying himself as he snuggled you, kicking the door closed with his foot so that the two of you could be in total privacy. "What's going on with you? You don't usually get this worked up over him.

"I don't know." You sobbed, pulling back slightly. He immediately held you tighter, forcing your head back onto his neck. "No, no, it's okay, keep crying. It's okay."

You relaxed against him, letting the tears just fall out as you tried to calm yourself. "Shhh. You're doing good, baby, keeping crying. Let it all out." He cooed, pulling you into his lap and rocking you gently.

As you slowly began to calm down, he cupped your face in his hands, looking into your tear-stained face for the first time. "My poor peng" he cooed again, kissing your forehead and holding you against his chest.

"I'm just so tired of being yelled at, 'Bie." You whispered, closing your eyes again as you wrapped your arms around his waist, hugging him tightly.

"I know, baby, I know" He said gently, laying back against the wall so he could prop you up against him. "Next time he yells at you, you come to me, right? I'll take care of him."

"Okay" you said, mustering up a smile for him as you wiped your wet face again. At seeing this, his expression immediately lit up and he kissed you, holding you close. "Cuz no one yells at my dove. No one." He said again, kissing all over your face, cleaning your face of your tears before nuzzling your neck. "Especially not that dictator wanker."

You giggled, closing your eyes and pulling his warm vest around yourself a little tighter as he held you, rocking you like a baby, back and forth, side to side, whispering in your ear about how much he loves you.

"I love youuu" He teased, "I love you my little doe"

"Doe? You mean dove?" You asked, looking up at him curiously. At this, he just laughed harder, holding your face in his hands. "You know, a doe, a baby deer. You look like a doe with those big, gorgeous eyes of yours"

You shook your head, laughing as he kissed your nose, just barely pressing his lips against the tip before hugging you again.

"My lovely little doe. I'm not gonna let anyone yell at you again, alright?"

"I love you, 'Bie."

He grinned a shit-eating grin, knowing that he'd finally succeeded at cheering you up. "I love you too, darling. More than you'd ever know."

_____________________

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[kestisvrse]

i just read your harry osborn fic and let me tell you it’s so cute and beautiful!! i was wondering if you can do a fic of him where he breaks the table? and how the reader helps calm him down? thank you sm!! 🫶

my first request??? i’ve made it???

but anyways of course i can thank u sm for requesting 🥹 sorry it’s bad and took so long <3

heart to heart

pairing ⋆ harry osborn (ps5) x gn!superhero!reader. angst.

synopsis ⋆ something isn’t right with harry, and while you can’t fix him you can certainly calm him down.

warnings ⋆ spiderman 2 spoilers, swearing | wc: 782

peter called you in a panic, demanding you get to his house as fast as possible.

“what’s going on? pete?” you asked, you were on a rooftop in the city when he had called you.

“i can’t explain right now please, just get there. it’s harry.” his voice cracked, and hearing harry’s name woke you up.

“be there soon.” you said hanging up.

despite thinking you would get there first, as you reached to open the front door to aunt mays home, peter swung in landing right next to you. he gave you a nod of acknowledgment and slammed open the door, you took it as a queue to run in behind him.

“MJ! where’s-“ peter yells out as u both run to the dining room, “harry..” he says as you spot harry and mj sitting down having coffee together, mj’s brows furrowed, her body tense.

“oh hey guys.” harry says nonchalantly, “you look tense, coffee?” he says as a black tentacle reaches out of his arm to refill mj’s cup, she looks terrified as you feel your hand heat up. harry smirks at you.

“we need to talk.” peter said, harry retracts the tentacle.

“you two must get so tired making the world a better place, every. single day.” harry sighs, standing up, “but i can help.”

“harry. please let us help you first.” he looked over his shoulder narrowing his eyes at you, a chill ran up your spine.

“this isn’t you” mj cuts in

“wrong.” he glares at her

“harry…please” you pleaded, he looks at you, his expression softening, but disappears in seconds causing your hand to ignite in flames.

“this is the real me.” harry remarked, jaw clenching he walks over behind mj, “i finally have the power to realise our vision, are you giving up on me?”

you tense as he puts his hand on mj’s back while staring directly towards you, mj catches your eye too as she flinches from the touch.

“harry. we need to get that thing off you-“ peter states but is cut off, as harry smashs the table.

“do not. call us. a thing.” harry demands, black tentacles covering his arms.

“oh my god.” you mutter, “what… what if we take it off to make it more powerful harry? don’t you want that?” you say trying to trick him.

“we. are not harry.” he says, tears slip out of your eyes onto your cheeks.

“please listen to me, my voice.” your voice cracks as you plead, recalling the night peter had been infected and the only person to calm harry’s anger was you, why didn’t it work now? your hand was no longer burning, as you focused on harry, “can we please figure out your… power,” you chose your words carefully, “so we- we can fix the world properly.”

the tentacles slowly retracted, as harry looked into your wide eyes.

“-having power like this is to help people yes, but we can hurt peop-“ his jaw clenched at your choice of words, “accidentally! we can hurt people accidentally no matter how good our powers are! we need to figure out yours s-so that doesn’t happen, you only want to help people right?” you stepped closer to him until your hand was over his heart.

he nods at your words, “okay- fuck. fine okay.” harry says, snapping out of a trance he seemed to have been in, peter and mj share a worried look, “we can figure out h-how we got like this.” he seemed to be choosing his words carefully too to not upset the alien on him, you winced at the use of ‘we’

“okay… okay good.” you swallowed as your throat had to began to feel dry, “-this happened to me too okay? when i got my powers, i know you weren’t there but i-i had to get tests too.” you lied to him, but he didn’t seem to pick up on it like he usually could, he brought his hand up to squeeze the one you had over his heart.

he smiles at you as if he hadn’t smashed a table and didn’t have mj and peter holding hands in fear, “lets go to the labs. i want to get this over and done with as soon as possible.” there was a grumble added to his voice as he spoke, you could have started sobbing right then and there at the sight of black veins protruding on his neck. you turned to nod to peter and mj as you exit the house, peter gave you a sad expression.

you were able to stall him being fully taken over by that thing, but you didn’t think it would last long.

[euphreana]

The Convenience of Pants

ao3 mirror

What if, while fighting in the vault, Walker never bumped the release button on Bob's sleeping pod? What if the crew accidentally left Bob behind when the vault turned into a furnace? And what if Bob smashed his way out before the others left? (AKA 'I wrote a silly fic to make up for my last one')

-

Pants are something easily taken for granted. All four of the mercenaries who went into Valentina's vault that fateful day were wearing pants. They weren't thinking about how convenient the pants were when they started fighting, when they managed to avoid bumping into anything, when they stopped fighting, or when they worked together to escape the doomed room with seconds to spare. As it was, they had just enough time to slam the doors down behind themselves before fire erupted into the storage room. No time to think about pants.

The fire on the other side of the door was scorching hot - the four mercenaries could feel the heat even through the thick, steel door. There was a collective sigh of relief as they mentally regrouped from their near-immolation. That was when Ghost noticed Task Master had left her shield in the vault.

"Well now that that's taken care of..." she swung her handgun in her target's direction and fired.

It was a sloppy shot, foiled by the fact that Antonia moved the moment before Ava pulled the trigger. The bullet embedded itself into the wall behind her with a small burst of concrete.

There was a series of yells, followed by a flurry of gunshots, kicks, and punches as the fight from the vault resumed. They were so preoccupied, they didn't notice the muffled banging coming from the steel door, nor the fact that it was beginning to dent out from the inside. It wasn't until a fist smashed through, letting in the sounds of the inferno, that everyone stopped and looked.

"Hey!" A frantic voice came from the other side. "Let me out!"

The four mercenaries looked at each other in bewilderment. A second later, the hole in the door split open as two hands pried the solid steel apart and someone stumbled through. Someone very much not on fire. Nor wearing pants.

Antonia was the first to speak, mask folding open.

"... Am I the only one seeing this?"

"The naked man who just smashed through the door?" Yelena said. "I'm seeing it."

"I'm seeing it too." Walker said.

"I'm seeing it too." Ava said. "And I wish I hadn't."

The stranger looked just as bewildered as they were.

"Hi... I- I didn't know I could do that." he jabbed his thumb at the hole in the vault door. 

Walker pointed his gun at the man.

"Okay, who are you, and how did you get in here." 

The man held his hands up.

"I'm Bob- I don't- I don't know what I'm doing here. I was just sitting down - getting my blood drawn, you know - and next thing I knew there was fire everywhere-"

"Bullshit." Walker cocked the gun. "People don't just walk out of fire and smash through doors."

Bob's hands wavered.

"I mean it! I don't know how-"

"He could have been in one of the crates." Antonia said. "OXE research project."

"It would make sense." Ava added.

"It's the only thing that makes sense." Yelena stated. "Walker, put the gun down."

"Why? He could be one of Valentina's backup weapons meant to kill us if we escaped."

Bob held his hands up higher.

"Whoah woah woah, no! I don't even know who you guys are!"

"Fire doesn't hurt him, and he's strong enough to rip through metal." Antonia stated. "If he had been sent to kill us, we'd probably already be dead." 

There was a moment of silence.

"Hey uh, does anyone have spare clothes?" Bob asked.

Everyone glanced around the bare room for something Bob could use to cover up. There was nothing. Except...

"Walker, give him the shield." Yelena said.

"What?! No!"

Three guns suddenly trained on him.

"Give him the shield."

Walker adjusted his stance with a scowl.

"Make me."

Bullets ricocheted off Walker's shield as the vault fight resumed, but this time, three against one.

Bob waved his hands.

"Hey, it's ok! This isn't necessa-"

"YES IT IS!" The three women yelled in unison.

Between the three of them, they managed to get Knockoff Captain America into a lock hold long enough to pry the shield loose. Yelena quickly tossed it to Bob.

"There! Appreciate it!"

"I'm appreciating!" He slid his arm into the straps and held the shield in front of himself.

Antonia released Walker from the wrestling hold. Walker picked himself up, glaring at everyone in the room. He pointed at Bob.

"You're giving that back at the first pair of pants we find. Got it?!"

Bob nodded vigorously. Ava spoke up.

"Aren't we supposed to be killing each other?"

Everyone looked at each other. Yelena sighed.

"What's the point? Valentina isn't going to pay us for this."

Guns when back into holsters.

"She's probably sending people to finish us off now." Antonia said.

Guns came out of holsters.

"Let's focus on getting out of here first." Yelena said. "She might not even know we're still alive."

Guns went back into holsters.

The elevator was dead. Walker managed to punch through the roof of the cabin so they could access the shaft, but there were no ladders or handholds they could use to get higher.

"Do any of us fly?" Yelena asked, "Or do we all just punch and shoot?"

"... Um, I can try?" Bob said.

Everyone looked at him. He shrugged uncertainly.

"I just found out I'm strong and fireproof. What if..."

Bob rocketed up into the air. The mercenaries stared up the dark elevator shaft in surprise as he quickly disappeared from view. Several seconds later they heard a distant 'Ow!', followed by a rain of concrete bits. A few seconds later, Bob swooshed back down the shaft, landing on his feet, grinning. 

"Yeah, I can fly!"

There was a long silence as the others gawked at him. Then Yelena spoke.

"You know what? Question time later. Bob, get us up there."

Bob made short work of using one hand to ferry the others one by one to the top, his other hand keeping a tight grip on the shield. The others said nothing until they'd reassembled in the lobby. 

"So now..." Walker started, walking to the front door, "We get Bob pants, and then go our separate ways and pretend this never happened, right?"

He hit the button for the door. Artificial light flooded in. Three mercenaries and Bob quickly ducked out of view.

"Shit!" Yelena hissed.

"Looks like they're sending a group in." Antonia said, peeking around the corner.

"Great. Give me my shield."

"Not till we get Bob some pants!"

"What do you expect me to do, hide behind him till we get out?!"

The arguing continued for a solid minute. Bob tried to break in, saying he'd be happy to give the shield up if it meant they got out alive. Yelena and Antonia drowned him out. Finally, a fifth voice materialized behind them.

"Here." Ava said loudly, pulling something out from inside her jumpsuit and throwing it at the group.

It was a pair of SWAT team pants. Grateful, Bob quickly put them on and handed Walker his shield back while they threw together a plan that might possibly get them all out alive. Meanwhile, there was a commotion growing outside. Something about 'someone took his pants'.

[xoxo-surfergirl]

A Very Targaryen Holiday - Dark!Aemond x Strong!Niece

Part I

summary: Lucera and Aemond reunite with their families to spend the holidays together. Aemond wasn’t always nice to her when he was younger, but has he changed?

notes: the main pairing in this is aemond x strong niece, but I guess I did write it as aemond x fem!lucerys velaryon. Whichever floats your boat more! aemond is not the nicest in this, but this fic is a mix of fluff and smut (but none of the fluff comes from aemond, lol). Slight dubcon, rough oral sex, and attempts at humor. There are no physical descriptions of Lucera besides her having long hair. There is a second part, which I will be posting soon. I cross post on ao3, with essentially the same username (just without the hypen) xoxosurfergirl! I hope you enjoy!!!! <3

Lucera took a deep inhale, followed by a deep exhale. Indulging in her breath usually helped whenever her nerves began to get the best of her. Her suitcase was cracked open in front of her, waiting for her to stuff it.

A few fancy dresses. A few long sleeves—it could get cold there at night. Several pairs of pants. A tank top just in case. A swim suit for the hot tub. More underwear than she needed.

She ran back to her dresser to grab the last few items required to fulfill her trip, when her door swung open loudly. Baela was able to nearly leap from the door to the bed, causing her comforter and pillows to jump from impact.

Her curls splayed out onto the bed in a halo. “I’ve always loved your bed. It’s the softest out of all of ours, you know.”

Lucera looked at her, unease crawling its way through her stomach and up her throat. “Yeah, well. You can always ask mother for a new one.”

Baela softened her face. “Luce, I know this is weird for you.”

“No, no. It’s fine, really, it’s just been awhile.” Lucera folded her clothes to keep her hands focused.

“It’s not really fine. I know we haven’t talked about it for a long time, but I know how weird it must feel for you.”

Lucera sighed. “It’s just, everything might be completely normal you know? And I’m anxious about nothing.”

Baela sat up on the bed, making deep eye contact with Lucera. “Don’t discount your feelings. It’s been four years since we’ve seen them, and for very good reason. Let me remind you that after you accidentally maimed him, he did try to hurt you. On purpose.” Lucera looked away, but Baela continued. “The only reason why we haven’t celebrated Christmas with them is because there were so many close calls and mother noticed”

She remembered the “close calls”. If only they had known all of the times the calls weren’t so close, but no one was there to see it.

“I know, I just wonder sometimes if it’s all in my head. Nothing really happened,” Lie. “I’m the only one who actually hurt someone.” A deep sense of shame leaked through Lucera’s chest, one that she had been trying for years to tame.

But Baela wouldn’t let her stew. “It was an accident, Luce. It’s okay. I’ll tell you as many times as you need to understand it. But what he was doing was not an accident. Remember the year he locked you in Grandfather’s industrial freezer for half an hour? Any longer than that and you would have died. Remember last time he took an ornament and forced you to crush it with your hand so you’d get glass stuck in your skin? Remember when he tried to slam your arm in the oven but Jace stopped him? Remember that other year he almost drowned you in the hot tub? There are even more than this, Lucera. You are perfectly right to be nervous about seeing him again.”

The walls in her mind were crumbling with Baela’s narration of the past holidays. These were memories Lucera had done her best to stifle, but they always returned louder than ever. She would never tell Baela that she had let him do these things, or that there were several more incidents that no one else knew about, because she had always felt like he deserved some form of retribution for losing his eye at her hand.

Aemond had always taken a keen interest in her. He had always followed her, watched her intently. It wasn’t hard to take notice of it. Everyone had.

But everyone had written it up to be nothing beyond youth fascination. Children stare at each other all the time. There was nothing peculiar about Aemond’s behavior.

It was only after the accident that his attention on her took a slight new meaning. Although hesitant at first to resume the previous non-concern from the rest of her family, time had worn away the worry it had initially caused. It had allowed for much else between them to take place.

“Thank you, Bae. I am nervous, but part of me does think we’ve all changed a bit. I certainly have.” And she had. They are adults now. It would be weird if he was still into torture. Most kids grow out of it.

“Exactly. We were weird teenagers and now we’re actually older. I’m sure we’ve all changed a lot since then.”

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

The snow crunched under their tires, a fresh coat not yet salted by the city. Lucera recognized the skyscrapers in the distance, and her face softened when she saw the telltale curves of the family company’s building peak around the corner. Although it had been some time since she had visited their family townhouse in the city, she remembered the streets like she had lived there her whole life. Happy Little Treats, the best bakery in the city. Blackie’s, the best diner on the East Side.

Her, Rhaena, Jace, and Baela had decided to drive separately from their parents, who also had Joanie with them, as well as little Aemma and Viserra. It was much easier to take two cars, especially when they knew they would probably want to go out at different times from their parents who had two little ones. Poor Joanie, too young to be with the older girls all the time, but also far too old to be stuck with Aemma and Viserra, was doomed to float between the two groups.

The radio was tuned to holiday music, and the girls delighted in singing along to every song that rang through the speakers.

As they were closing in on their destination, Baela intercepted the music with her normal speaking voice, the first to do so in over an hour. “What do you think they all look like now?”

Rhaena was the first to answer. “I’m not sure about Aegon or Aemond, but Helaena and I see each other at uni. She’s radiant and beautiful, as she always has been.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot you've mentioned seeing her around.” Baela replied.

Rhaena smiled, and shook her head down. “Yeah, she’s the coolest, honestly.”

Baela laughed. “Out of those three? It’s no competition.”

Jacaera’s breath fogged up the window as she spoke. “I’ve seen Aegon and Aemond in passing at uni as well. They seem alright. Aegon is no longer the tall one.”

Lucera perked at this. Aemond? Tall?  She shook her head. “I swear I forget we all go to the same school sometimes. There’s just so many people I never see them.”

“Aemond is tall now? Wow. I’ll have to see it to believe it.” Baela jeered.

Jacaera drew a heart in the fogged glass before turning and facing the rest of her sisters. “Yes! It was honestly shocking at first. I barely recognized him, but I saw the eyepatch and knew immediately.”

Oh right. The eye patch. Lucera sighed. Baela moved her hand to sit atop hers in acknowledgement.

A right turn here, a left turn there, and the chateaux-style massive townhouse came into view. The four stories were gaudily embellished by baroque trim, with a massive oak door calling attention to its center. Wreaths were attached to the base of every windowsill, and a candle placed in each window. They watched as Rhaenyra and Daemon pulled Aemma and Viserra out of their carseats, having arrived a few moments before they did. Joanie was looking up at the mass of the townhouse, most likely counting how many windows there were, trying to remember which room was what.

Two men Lucera didn’t recognize dressed in all black greeted her parents, and Daemon smiled and gave him his car keys.

Rhaena twisted the steering wheel to pull up right behind them, and the other man dressed in black immediately jumped to open all of their car doors. Lucera felt like she was moving in slow motion the way the man was everywhere at once, and by the time she had stepped onto the sidewalk, he already had the trunk thrown open and was lifting their suitcases next to her.

“Thank you!” Lucera said enthusiastically, trying to cut through his quickness.

The house—if it could be called such a humble thing, loomed above her. She felt as if she was stepping into all holidays past, where he lingered with the bitter taste of sadism.

The large doors eased open, beckoning them inside. When she peaked in, she saw Daemon’s black trench coat deep in the arms of her grandfather, Rhaenyra to his side, buried in Alicent with a beaming smile of delight. They let go, embracing one another in turn. Viserys could barely contain his excitement at the sight of the little ones, having crouched down to greet them. Lucera noticed the exact moment he caught sight of the rest of her and her sisters, and his joy multiplied ten times over.

“Oh, my girls! My girls.” He said, reaching in to hug each one of them. “I couldn’t be more happy to have all of my family in one place again.”

Greetings were further extended to Alicent. It must have been an exhausting process for Viserys and Alicent, she guessed, since there were so many of them.

Alicent addressed the group. “I was just telling your parents, the rest of them are lost in the house somewhere. I’m sure you’ll see them shortly.”

The girls nodded, and Joanie said something about being excited to see Daeron. The flurry of movement divided as everyone was sent to their rooms to unpack.

Alicent nodded to a staircase on her left. “I put you girls up in the kid’s wing.”

Jacaera laughed, playfulness in her voice. “Only some of us are still kids.”

“Oh don’t be ridiculous,” Alicent waved her hand downwards. “You’ll always be children to me.”

Climbing up three floors was exhausting without the bag, and Lucera could hardly imagine doing it with the extra weight in tow. She looked at the house staff carrying her and her sisters bags, and felt a bit sorry for them.

After reaching her rooms, she was delighted to see that she had a window overlooking the front sidewalk. There were fresh winter roses placed delicately in an opaque white vase on her bedside table, the blue jumping out against the walls of her bedroom.

Her nerves were reaching an all time high. She still hadn’t seen Aemond, yet he was here. But her thoughts were interrupted when Baela swung open her door.

Lucera turned to look at her. “Do you ever knock?”

Baela spun around and leaned exaggeratingly against the door frame before saying, “Not with you, I don’t. All of us girls are going to the hot tub. Put your bathing suit on.”

Lucera smiled, and unzipped her suitcase. “I’ll be ready in five. Wait for me?”

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

The hot tub was roiling, jets pumping near blistering water against their backs. It was heavenly. Their hair was tied up in variations of buns and pony tails, the ends tickling their necks.

Rhaena had been intently looking at the back of the townhouse. “It’s so crazy to be back here after all these years.”

“It’s hardly changed since then. It feels like I’m stepping into a place frozen in time.” Jacaera marveled.

Helaena chuckled at their insight. “I’m sure it feels that way. I haven’t been to Dragonstone in forever either.”

Jacaera turned to her in revelation. “Gods that’s right! You should come stay with us for the summer. The beach is so warm then.”

“Yeah! Maybe when we all finish up our finals Helaena can just come home with us?” Rhaena said in agreement.

“I’d be happy if you had me,” Helaena replied. “What are all you studying anyways?”

Baela went first. “I’m studying business, with a concentration on finance.”

Lucera seconded her. “Me as well.”

Jacaera tagged at the end of Lucera's agreement. “Also me.”

Helaena laughed. “All you three planning to work for the family business, then?”

“Something like that. Jacaera, Baela, and I will take over after Rhaenyra and Daemon.” Lucera answered. “After Viserys passes, of course. It will be awhile, but there’s a lot to learn anyways.”

“Aemond’s going to do the same. Aegon isn’t interested in being a part of Hightower Associates, and neither am I, but Aemond is preparing to take over after our grandfather. Have you seen him around uni?”

Baela chuckled. “We were just talking about that,” she looked at Jacaera. “Only Jace has, really.”

“Hm. That’s funny considering he’s also in your department.” Helaena remarked.

“Right? I mean the library is huge, but it can’t be that large. I’m there all the time.” Jacaera pondered.

“Knowing him, he probably found a secret room and lives out of it”. Helaena sighed. “He doesn’t go out too much, and he’s really focused on his work.”

Lucera thought about the growing man Aemond had morphed into. One who was deeply integrated and committed to his family business, just as she. It only meant he had gotten more cutthroat. It’s the only way to survive in the world of finance they were thrust into. None of the top hedge fund managers, heads of banking families, or titans of brokers reached and stayed where they were because they were the most virtuous. To survive in this world meant being vicious at times.

A trait that ran in the family, clearly.

“We’ll probably run into him one of these days.” Baela acquiesced. “What are you studying again Helaena?”

“Studio art, concentrating on painting. Aegon is doing the same, but focusing on photography. We both much prefer it to the chaos of the family business.” She said proudly, until she realized the context of the conversation. “Not that I’m putting you down for choosing it, or anything.”

Jacaera giggled. “No, we get it. It is pretty chaotic.”

The hot tub had gone from the initial burn, to comfortable, to boiling again as the conversations ebbed and flowed through several different interests of theirs, such as their love lives and the semester's hook-ups, with extra time spent on the more embarrassing ones. It was truly Baela dominating the bulk of the conversation, hardly anyone else had anything to add apart from a meager makeout here and there.

Baela was also newly introduced to the term “situationship”, as the rest of them deduced she was most certainly in one with Adam Hull.

“Just because we sleep in the same bed most nights doesn’t mean we’re together.” She objected.

Helaena was set on getting her to admit it. “And does he stay in the morning? Do you do any other activities together?”

Baela scoffed. “We get dinner sometimes. And go to the movies every Tuesday, but that’s only because tickets are half-off on Tuesdays. And we go to the gym together. But it’s nothing, really.”

Helaena tried to ease her into it. “You do realize that is essentially a relationship, besides you have no direct commitment or any expectations? Someone is going to get hurt eventually.”

Lucera rolled her eyes. “And it’s probably him. Gods Baela, the man is probably in love with you and you are too daft to see it.”

All eyes on her, Baela was lost in the processing of this new information, until she remembered who and where she was, and quickly found a way to deflect it. “Oh shut up. Says you, you’re like the genuine version of a pick-me girl. Every man who looks at you falls in love with you.”

Lucera rolled her eyes. “You’re exaggerating.”

A smile crept across Baela’s lips, successfully removing the attention away from her situationship. “Um, no I’m not. What of Tyrek Lannister? Gerrick Greyjoy? Dorren Stark? And that’s only from this quarter.” She used her hands to prove her point, counting them on her fingers.

Lucera threw up her arms. “I can’t help it! Honestly! Besides, I don’t lead anyone on, just have maybe a kiss or two.” The rest of the girls sang a chorus of oos, bringing a blush through her cheeks.

“And who was the best out of them?” Jacaera coaxed.

“It hardly matters,” Lucera drawled, “but, it was Gerrick.”

“Hm. I’m surprised it wasn’t Stark.” Rhaena gave a side-long glance at Jacaera. “I’ve heard good things about Stark men.”

Jacaera’s face flushed, praying the heat from the tub would conceal her thoughts. Naturally, everyone noticed, but chose to spare their easily flustered sister.

Helaena looked her in the eyes, and threw her a trusting wink.

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

As the day wore on, Lucera’s anticipation of seeing Aemond waxed and waned. She thought it would have happened by now—if they were still kids, it surely would have, being at the age where presence around the family was required. She thought of the many places he could be, the things he could be doing, but it was difficult to imagine someone she hadn’t seen in several years. It was nearly impossible to conceive of it, and it only raised her nerves.

Dinner passed along quietly, winter soup and charcuterie being served on a come-and-go basis in the parlor to account for the rush of her family’s arrival and the need for a little bit of flexibility in their schedule. Afterall, there was still much planned for the day: they were going to the ballet, and everyone would be attending.

In front of her vanity, Lucera examined herself in the mirror. She lifted the delicate silver chain to secure it around her neck, the deep crescent moon in its center sitting in the joint of her collarbones. She didn’t try to examine her reasonings for being extra fickle about what she wore, but it was hard to escape his presence in them. It had been so long, and she didn’t want him to think her ugly. He either had changed for the better and would no longer say his cruel thoughts aloud, hadn’t changed and would say that and so much more, or he had gotten worse. A shudder rippled through her as she tried to imagine how that could be possible, but what if it was?

She wanted him to look at her and see how much she had changed, that she was no longer a girl anymore. And perhaps, if he had any lingering thoughts of resentment, that could lend him to realizing that she was no longer deserving of his hostility.

Her nerves from earlier had thawed, and amongst the remains was a newfound confidence. Her mary janes clicked on the sidewalk, her self-assuredness carrying through her legs. She reached into the SUV where her family was waiting for her.

Rhaenyra, holding Aemma on her left leg, reached over and grabbed her hand. “You look radiant, darling.”

Jacaera patted the seat next to her. “Something got your spirits up?”

“Nothing in particular, just had a good day.” And it was true. The day had been knotless. She had been surprised by its ease, and delighted just the same.

Once the tires slowed and the doors slid open, she reached her hand around to grab the frame, the other taking Daemon’s hand to step out of the car. The marquee hung gaudily above them, its essence of performance steeped in its display. She looked around for the Hightowers, who had pulled in ahead of them. She found Alicent’s thick calico fur shawl, trailing to Helaena’s platinum hanging down her back, to…

Her throat seized. Was that really him? His back was set against her, but she could see Aegon’s side profile, meaning the other one must be him.

Jacaera was right, he is tall. She had never pictured him with his hair long. Her sisters poured out of the car to stand alongside her.

Baela was the first to acknowledge it aloud. “Gods, I hardly recognize them.”

The slamming of the car doors must have carried, and he turned around from his mother to face the rest of them.

His hair swung gently, and she caught the moment his eye landed on her. His eyepatch looked menacing, scar tracing just outside of it. While holding her gaze, he upturned his lips into a tight smirk.

Their families approached each other, not too far away to begin with.

Aegon looked delighted to see his cousins, endearing them each. His face had filled out on the edges, and he hadn’t grown an inch. Aemond upheld his apathetic image, looking slightly uninterested, but they knew him better—-he simply always looked that way. Her sisters took turns pulling each of them into hugs with their greetings.

When Aemond reached her, he regarded her for several moments, his dark smile returning. “You’ve changed, Luce.”

She straightened her back, ignoring the way he was openly sliding his eye across her from head to toe. “So have you.”

He surprised her by pulling her deep in his chest, bending his neck down to whisper in her ear. “I haven’t forgotten our little games.” Before she could respond, he released her.

Baela had witnessed the interaction from a few paces away, her eyes still on Aemond, who had gone to greet Rhaenyra. Lucera walked up to her.

She fell into step beside Baela, through the doors, tickets in hand. “What did he say to you?”

Back and forth, she contemplated telling her the truth. Through her childhood, she had never been fully honest through the extent to which he hurt her. Rhaenyra had questioned, Daemon had asked, and her sisters had pushed after her wellbeing once the accidents had been exposed as something more purposeful. Lucera knew her parents were smarter than she, but they also didn’t push the subject when she refused to yield.

She didn’t quite know why, though she supposed it was because she felt she owed Aemond her pain. It was the least she could do for taking his sight. He hadn’t permanently damaged her, afterall. Even though he got close, she reminded herself.

Her mind completed its process, and Lucera would continue her pattern with conflict as she always had. “Just that we all look older now.”

“Hm.” She grabbed Lucera’s arm, looping it in hers, voice quieting. “He looks like a fucking super villian.”

Lucera couldn’t bite back her amusement. “He really does, doesn’t he?”

She didn’t want to think about what else he looked like. Attractive, for one. It felt like a sin to even say it in her mind. Lucera was startled by how menacing he looked, but it suited him. His face was lined in hardness and brutality, his lone purple eye allowing for expression.

His walk bled dominance, something she could do without recognizing. But it was hard to ignore the complex grace in his movements, how every turn of his head and lift of his hand was controlled and measured.

Her eyes kept finding him unwillingly, absorbing the man he had become. Lucera couldn’t help herself, needing to remind herself to keep her gaze anywhere but him. He would notice. Baela would notice. Daemon would notice.

After getting their tickets scanned, she and Baela followed their entourage to their seats. The gilded plasterwork came alive from the walls, creating deep shadows, brightening the jewel tones that sat there. The lattice work was interladened with cherubs holding glowing sconces and foliated candelabras. Figurative and floral murals and abstracts curled and jumped from the ceilings, each framed by golden trim. The proscenium arch jutted out gently from the stage, red curtain dropped to hide the rest of the stage.

Their seats were hoisted on the second floor in the box on stage right. Lucera smiled to herself. She knew whoever had bought their tickets did so knowing that the best view would be from above, so they could see the aerial perspective of the dancer’s intricate formations. If she had to guess, it was probably Alicent.

She had sat in the first row of seats, between Jacaera and Baela, while he sat in the second, off to the side, closer to the stage. The curvature of the seats allowed for her to see him out of the corner of her eye, his side profile unmistakable. As she gauged where he was in relation to her, he caught her eye. He brazenly smirked towards her, and then looked away. She ran her fingers over the front of her dress, needing the movement to keep her grounded. Shortly after, the curtains opened and she breathed relief at the comfort that she would have something else to focus on.

It wasn’t as easy as she had hoped.

As they progressed through the suites, Lucera was trying to tame her gaze, pulling and forcing it to remain ahead on anything but him. There was so much to look at, too—the dancer’s tutus and tights, skin and hair was alight with glitter catching every ray of stage light. The way they moved, their arms pouring up and down, their legs fluttering across the stage. Glissade en arriere to arabesque. The live orchestra in the pit, the sliding of their bows, the dancing of their fingers. She had so much to choose from. And it worked for a time, until she remembered his presence, and she had to pull her gaze forward again.

He caught her once or twice, and returned her wandering eyes with the same haughty smile.

She didn’t know if it should scare her, but it definitely made her feel something. Like she wanted to push the button to reveal a secret. Perhaps it was curiosity; she was a woman now, and can’t possibly be pushed around like she used to. He wouldn’t kill her. Not now at least. It would have had to happen years ago, when he was still a child and could get away with “accidental” murder. At present, he’d go to prison for manslaughter. Right? He has to know that. And he himself is a man grown, who has risen above such ideas. Right?

The curtains were drawn, they stood from their seats, her family quickly ushering everyone to get back to the house as fast as possible.

Once alone in the comforts of her bedroom, she unzipped, unlaced, and undid every button and tie on her clothing, releasing more than just the tension it had held on her skin. The whirlwind of their evening had finally come to an end. She had seen him, and it had been somewhat eventful, but she had expected nothing less.

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

The next morning after an uneventful breakfast, Viserys had called all of his grandchildren to the kitchens. He ensured they knew their presence was mandatory.

“You kids haven’t seen each other in so long. It’s time you bond again.” It was hard to tell what the room-wide cringe was from: being called kids, or being told they must bond over something of Viserys’ choosing.

Lucera looked around the massive kitchen, and knew immediately what they were going to be doing.

Viserys waved his hand. “I dismissed the staff early today. Instead, you all are going to be making our family’s holiday cookies!”

Joanie squealed in excitement, diverting the attention away from Aemond and Aegon, who both rolled their eyes louder than she’d ever seen it done.

“Why not. I love baking!” Rhaena perked.

Viserys stepped out to be more directly in front of them, looking at each of them intently. “Here’s what’s going to happen. Aegon and Jacaera, you two will do our peanut butter kisses. Aemond and Lucera, I want you two doing our sugar cut-outs. Daeron and Joanie, you two are in charge of snowballs. Rhaena, Helaena, and Baela, you three will do our gingerbread cookies. You’ll need the extra person since they’re a lot of work.” He gestured towards the back wall. “I’ve had the cooks set out all the ingredients, and there should be plenty of room for all of you.”

Lucera didn’t know quite what to do. Her intimidation of him was preventing her from moving her feet. Let alone, she didn’t know if Aemond hated this idea, and she didn’t want to feel his rejection. But then again, very little sounded better than fresh cookies.

Joanie and Daeron had practically run across the kitchen, as if it was a race to see who could finish the fastest. Lucera smiled at her youthful enthusiasm.

“Are you going to just stand there and look dumb?” Aemond’s voice cut through her thoughts.

She looked up at him. “No, no of course.”

“Of course you’re going to stand there and look dumb?”

Lucera grumbled. “You know what I meant.”

They walked over to the corner of the kitchen. Lucera knew this recipe by heart, having made it many times the past several years at Dragonstone.

“We need to work the butter, first. Cream it up a bit.”

She began unfolding the wax off of the butter.

“They’re quite simple. I don’t know why he wants the two of us to do it. A child could make these by themselves.”

Lucera took the flat end of the spatula and smashed the butter into smaller pieces in the bowl. “You know why he wants us to do it together.”

Aemond pulled out the bag of flour, dipping the cup deep in the bag. “I suppose. Funny thing for him to act like he cares so much about bonding time.” He swiped a knife off of the top of the measuring cup. “So this is what bonding looks like?”

Lucera scoffed. “It could be, if you actually acted like you wanted to be here.”

Across the kitchen, she could hear Jacaera scolding Aegon over the bag of hershey’s kisses. “You do realize we need some of those to actually make the cookies? Save some for the rest of us.”

Aemond paused, mulling over his next words carefully. “I could be doing something else.”

Lucera looked over at Baela, Rhaena, and Helaena, who were giggling over the molasses and brown sugar.

“And what might that be?” She questioned mockingly. While he poured in the sugar and flour, she began mixing in the butter.

“Working.” He turned to face her, dipping his head to look down at her from their close proximity. Sarcasm sat between his next words. “Ever heard of it?”

Lucera was slightly ruffled by this, and even though she caught on to his tone, wasn’t willing to go along with the act. “You don’t know the slightest thing about me.”

He stood behind her to grab something on the other side, and whether it was for stability or otherwise, he put his hand on her waist. She tried not to make any sudden movements to imply she was thrown off or affected by this gesture, and could not say if she was successful or not. His hand was large, fingers stretching across the right side of her lower back. Just breathe. She tried to tamper down her blush, not wanting him to know that he flustered her. It would only make her more of a target.

“Twas just a joke, Lucie.” He smirked, pulling away, and warping his fingers to the newly formed dough in the bowl.

She tried not to watch the way his deft hands worked the dough into a ball. Needing to prove she was not in fact bothered, she replied, “Regardless, I will have you know that I’m in the line of succession. Me, Jacaera, and Baela are all going to uphold Targaryen International Banking after Rhaenyra and Daemon.”

To her surprise, Aemond showed her possibly the first form of respect she had ever received from him. “It’s an honor to not only be a part of our family, but also uphold its greatness.”

Lucera pulled out the various cookie cutters, clearing her throat. They had been apart all this time, their secret torture games known truly just between them. She knew she should hate him, but she didn’t. And the unfortunate circumstances had decided that he must grow into a desirable devil. But she can’t think about that right now. Looking at her cookie shape options, she decided her favorite was the Christmas tree. “I heard you’re inheriting Hightower Associates.”

He smiled, and even though it was tight lipped, she could tell it meant something to him. “Yes. Otto most likely has another decade in him to run it, but it will be mine once he is no longer fit for it. Thank the gods, Aegon and Helaena would destroy it.”

Lucera looked over at her sister and Aegon. He looked at her with light in his eyes, while she double checked each dough ball to ensure they were the same size. As nice as the scene was, his momentary calm was deceiving. She laughed quietly in her throat imagining him being put in charge.

Their own dough had been rolled out, and they began stamping it with the cookie cutter. “I’m sure you will do the business much good. You can be…” Lucera looked for the right words, and wondered if it was even a good idea to remind him of his nature in the first place. “Quite intense. And cutthroat.”

He paused at her implicit acknowledgement of the past, looking at her directly once again. His chest was at her eye level, even though she pried her eyes upwards to meet his. The soap on his neck had a clean, sharp scent. “Yes. I suppose I haven’t changed much.” He waited for any kind of reaction, but she figured it best to not give him any. Lest he get any real ideas.

Lucera slid the cookies into the oven, the warmth heating up her arms. She vaguely recalled when Aemond had tried to shut her arms in the frame of the oven, and startled herself with his proximity.

He noticed her pulling away from the oven with fear in her eyes. “Relax. My days of trying to scar you are over.” Aemond poured a small stream of milk over the powdered sugar on the stove. “Besides, my hands are busy. And there’s people here.”

It wasn’t until she finished sliding the tray in the oven and closed the door that she processed his meaning.

She looked up at him, eyes widened. “You’re not going to…?” Lucera didn’t say it out loud, for she didn’t want anyone else to hear.

He continued stirring, the smell of the heated sugar between them. “We’re both adults now. I wouldn’t be so senseless.”

The tension she had been holding around him had faded, filled in with relief. “I don’t know why,” she chuckled, “I just didn’t know what to expect.”

His side-eye landed on her, but he was playing lighthearted. “You wound me Lucera. Surely I would hope you think higher of me than that.”

“Hm.” She smirked at him, wanting to joke with him as he had to her. “You’ll just have to prove how smart you are then.”

His face held an unreadable expression, but she still counted anything besides scowling as progress.

The butter, sugar, and flour were melding together in the oven, releasing a heavenly smell. Lucera released some of the tension she had held around him. Perhaps this new chapter of their lives could strengthen their family, instead of tearing it apart as their childhood had.

Reading the golden edges of the cookies, Lucera determined they were finished and removed them out of the oven without fear of Aemond shutting her arm in. The royal icing was ready, and she put them in the refrigerator so the cookies were able to cool before they could put the icing on.

A large guffaw of laughter exploded from the other side of the kitchen, where Joanie and Daeron were saddled with powdered sugar. It had lodged itself in the creases of their faces, deepening their smile lines. In their attempt to brush it off their faces, they only served to spread the sugary dust to every surface in their vicinity.

Daeron, upon realizing the blessing this was, ran to Aegon with his snowy sugared hands and started furiously wiping them on the back of Aegon’s sweater.

Having been attacked by the enemy in a blind spot, Aegon was initially at the disadvantage. But, once he turned around, he used his height and weight to throw Daeron to the ground.

This move might have deterred many from another attack, but Daeron was a Targaryen, afterall. He grabbed onto Aegon’s leg, not letting go. It was an advanced move, leaving the victim—Aegon—unable to do much else than furiously try to peel him away.

Joanie made a jump to his other leg despite Aegon’s protests for her to not get involved. The two clung to his calves, anchoring him to the floor, giggling in victory. Aegon ceased his complaining and sighed in defeat.

“Anyone want to help me?” Aegon moaned.

Jacaera was busy pressing what was left of the hershey’s kisses into the cookies. She shrugged. “I can’t, I have to do this while they’re fresh out of the oven.” Besides, she was too amused by the situation.

“Sorry, I don’t want to get powdered sugar all over my new pants.” Baela shouted from across the kitchen.

Aemond was also pleased by his brothers, and after hesitating a few moments too long, began long strides towards the scene.

He had nearly reached Aegon, but once Daeron had peeked his head around Aegon’s knee to see the long legs of his other brother coming towards them, he flung himself off of Aegon and skittered across the floor. Joanie was quick to follow.

Once the cookies were all primed and pretty—to the best of their ability, at least—Lucera padded up the steps with a giggling Jacaera. In the parlor, Rhaenyra was drinking tea with Alicent. They must have heard of Viserys’ plan, as they looked at Lucera with concern, subtly checking over her limbs and face for any signs of harm as they had done when she was younger.

Alicent leaned over with furrowed brows and express interest, Rhaenyra had worry in her eyes. “How was baking my darlings?”

Knowing that they truly wished to know of her wellbeing, Lucera was relieved that for once around the holidays, she could tell them the truth. “It was good! No unlucky burns or anything! Just tasty cookies.”

They brought a plate over with all of their treats.

Rhaenyra beamed at her daughters. “I see gingerbreads, sugar cut-outs, and—?”

Jacaera leaned forward. “Peanut butter kisses. Aegon ate half of the hershey’s chocolates, so we didn’t have enough to put on top of all of them. Those ones are just plain peanut butter cookies.”

Alicent rolled her eyes through her smile, lovingly joking. “Of course he did, the little twat. I’m sure they’re still delicious.”

“Once he stopped eating the candy and started participating, he really enjoyed baking. Does he ever go down to the kitchens to bake?”

Lucera raised her eyebrows. She knew exactly what made Aegon so interested in baking earlier, and it wasn’t the sweets.

“He’s never thought it interesting before. Perhaps he was just happy to see everyone.” Alicent had toned down her surprise at the idea that he enjoyed the experience, having a mother’s sense of what was really at play. Her and Lucera shared a knowing glance, Jacaera none the wiser.

“And you Lucera?” Alicent had turned to face her.

“Oh yes! Aemond and I got along quite well. He’s an arse, but it suits him.” The sense of relief she glimpsed earlier had returned, and the weight of lying no longer chained to her. She was able to be genuine without having to pretend. It was a welcome feeling.

“He’s a proud man, that’s for sure. I still don’t know where he inherited his arrogance.” Alicent chimed.

Rhaenyra was put at ease with the grace of her features, always knowing the truth of her daughter. A shadow of skepticism remained, but she was optimistic that their maturation had changed things. “I’m glad you had a good time, darling.”

At least for the time being, any fears she had could be put to rest.

It had been a hard period of time when she had lied to her, both of them knowing that there was something much deeper to her words. It had been why, without too much evidence, Rhaenyra had decided it best that they spend a few holidays alone at Dragonstone. Viserys had insisted that they return each year, believing that it best for the family to be together when there was tension. Namely, after the accident where Aemond lost his eye, and his consequent aggression towards Lucera. Rhaenyra could only look at the truth in her daughter’s eyes for so long.

He hadn’t done anything out in the open, but he was occasionally sloppy. He was only a child after all, and was still learning how to keep a victim silent. He was lucky it was Lucera, who in her docility and self-blaming from the accident, let him act as he saw fit.

Her least favorite memory was when he held her head over the tub in the basement filled with water. He had grabbed her hair and held her face under water, keeping it there until her squirms softened to near limpness. He would then pull her up again, allowing for her to catch her breath before repeating the cycle. She had silently trusted him to let her live. It didn’t make the moments she spent choked underwater any less terrifying.

That had been the last time she saw him. Rhaenyra had remembered her coming up the stairs, face flushed, edges of her hair wet. Lucera recalled telling her that she slipped and fell in the snow outside, but her eyes had given her away. Even after much pressure, Rhaenyra still wasn’t sure what had happened, but she knew Aemond was involved and that Lucera looked like she had been through a torture sequence. Which, of course, she had.

But those days were behind them. He had said it himself.

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

Later in the evening, after a light dinner, a particularly competitive game of Scrabble that nearly ended with Daemon’s knife at Aemond’s throat, and a Hallmark movie that Viserys claimed would “calm everyone down” (which it hadn’t—not entirely—although the two had slowly united across the one hour and thirty five minute screen time against their hatred for such movies), the family had dispersed and found their ways to bed.

Lucera was tucked in, nearly drowning in the comforter, just how she liked it. There was just one thing—she needed water. Her eyes had closed, her body tired and unwilling to go downstairs. But her throat was scratching for relief, and no amount of willing herself to sleep had changed it.

She skimpered down the steps, her long fuzzy socks lightening the blow of her feet. All of the lights had been turned off, and she relied on the underlights of the cabinets to light her way.

Under the fridge light, she filled up her cup.

The silence was broken by the stream coming from the fridge, and then by footsteps coming near. Lucera tried to cover up what little she could, as a simple t-shirt and underwear had been all she needed in the privacy of her room. She hoped whoever it was wouldn’t look too closely or scold her for being so indecent.

She would be gone in a moment anyway.

Putting her water glass in the sink, she turned to go down the hallway when she saw the illumination of platinum hair in the dark.

“Aemond.” And even though she whispered, the surprise was not lacking in her voice.

“Lucera. It’s getting late.” He was stepping closer to her, his voice soft.

“I was just a bit thirsty. I’m going back to bed now.” She tried to step around him, but he blocked her way with his arm against the wall.

“You know, before I saw you I wondered if I’d continue our little games.” He glazed his eye over her near-nakedness. “I thought I might not. And then I saw you, this pretty little thing, and I realized that we can have so much more fun together.”

She knew what he meant by it, but tried to ignore it for the moment. “But I thought you said you wouldn’t—”

“I said I wouldn’t scar you. I never said I wouldn’t do other things.” He grabbed a lock of her hair, twisting it between his fingers. “Oh how you’ve grown, Lucera.”

She tried to grab at the wrist of his hand in her hair, but he only grabbed onto her wrists instead, pushing her backwards towards a door in the hallway. He fumbled with the knob before throwing her in, the force of it landing her on the floor.

Lucera pulled her hair out of her face and stood up. “You didn’t need to be so rough with me.”

He grabbed her chin domineeringly soft. “Look at me, Lucera.”

Her lip quivered and she looked up at him, her large doe eyes unable to prevent her from looking nothing but innocent.

He looked deep in her eyes, commanding her submission with nothing but a look. “You always let me torture you, sweet little thing.”

All breath in her body halted, every movement, every beat of blood. The silence around her grew louder, unsure if she had heard him correctly.

“But now I want to do other things to you. I’m still using your body, of course, just in a different way. And you’re still going to listen to me, just like you always have?” Aemond tilted her jaw upwards to the right, then moved it to the left, as if he was examining her face from every angle.

The blood moving through her veins got thicker, her heart quickening its pace. Lucera quietly admitted to herself that she was excited at the idea that he could want her that way. Did he really think her attractive enough to want? He couldn’t mean what she thought he meant. Did he? Surely he didn’t want her like that.

He sneered in her face, clearly finding her dumbfoundedness amusing. “Look at you. Big eyes just looking up at me, waiting for validation. I knew you’d do anything I’d ask. Hells, you’ll probably enjoy it too.”

Lucera didn’t know how he had such a hold on her. How could he get away with talking to her like this? Why did she let him? Why was her belly aching with heat? She could feel her arousal dripping along her slit, sitting warm in her panties.

She pulled every last string of dignity together and tightened her hold to say, “No, Aemond. You’re not allowed to treat me this way.” and tried her hardest to turn away from him.

But, he was quick to react, and immediately pulled her backside flush against him, arms locked across her neck and midsection. “Squirm all you want. I see how your eyes hold nothing but submission for me, they always have. Is it guilt? Or something else?” He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I don’t believe you wouldn’t enjoy every last drop of anything I give you. I’ll prove it to you right now.”

He moved his hand knowingly across her hip bones, giving them a hearty squeeze before sliding his fingers down her thigh to hike up her skirt. Her panic was felt immediately as she put her back and shoulders into every push and shove she gave him. “No, no no no, don’t—”

“Why? Are you worried about what I’ll find?” She wasn’t able to break out of the cage that was his strength, and his fingers gently trailed across the thin fabric hiding her entrance. What little barrier she had did a poor job of concealing her heated wetness.

He began lightly circling her clit, bending his face into her neck. “Tsk tsk tsk. Just as I thought, Lucie.”

She whimpered. “I just, I just am confused.”

“Hmm? I don’t think your body is confused. Your body wants me, Lucie. It wants me inside you. It’s all soaking and ready to take me.”

“You’re just so mean to me. I can’t let you do this if you’re mean to me.”

Aemond chuckled, feeling her melt into his touch as his deft fingers pleasured her. “You’ve always been so good at letting me take out my frustrations on you. This is no different, Lucie.”

She whimpered in his arms, unable to control the profound pleasure he was thrusting upon her. And it was him. There was something so enrapturing about his presence. She wanted to be engulfed in it, to feed off of it. But he had too much power—it wasn’t fair, he had always had the upper hand.

He slipped his fingers underneath the constraints of her underwear, immediately finding her slick folds. He gathered some of the wetness he found there and brought it up to her clit, where he rubbed gentle circles against her. “You’re soaking for me Lucie. I want to hear you submit to me. Your body is begging you.”

She whimpered again. The pleasure was too great, his weight pressed against her from all sides. Lucera needed more. Her resolve and rationality were slipping, disintegrating into a state of utter obedience, the teasing becoming too much to bear. It was like he was drowning her again.

“Anything, I’ll do anything, Aemond. I need this,” her voice squeaked from under his arm.

He laughed darkly in her ear before licking it, the warm sensation filling out through the rest of her body. “You will listen and do as I say, yes?”

“Yes. I swear it.” She cried.

“Good. On your knees, sweet girl.”

Her eyes got even bigger as she received his command. Lucera hesitated, looking up at him in his utter assertiveness. The look in his eye alone made her knees buckle.

Softly finding the most comfortable position she could on her knees, she tilted up her chin, attempting to hold as much dignity as possible. He grabbed both of her cheeks with each hand, fat pudging out between his thumbs and forefingers.

“You’re going to swallow my cock, do you understand? And when I decide I want to fuck your throat, I will.” He moved his right thumb down to her chin. “And if you bite, we can play one of our old games.”

She wouldn’t have bit him, but she was old enough to realize he got off on the power he had over her. And yet, she didn’t have to fake her submission. It was real, and it soaked her through.

With that, he let go of her face and gave her a playful slap on the cheek.

His hands remained at his sides, and she took that to mean that she must be the one to remove his pants.

Lucera tried to conceal the hesitation to approach his cock, but she couldn’t help herself. The bulge reaching across his leg was considerable, and she was unsure about trying to stuff something so large in her throat.

When she finally collected the courage to pull down the flannel in her fingertips, she was truly faced with the reality of such an act.

He was beautiful. Of course, even his cock has to be perfect. She took her hand, and worked the warm skin up and down, twisting her palm ever so slightly.

“Suck.” He said bluntly. 

“I’ll try, but I don’t know how I’m going to—”

“If you can’t figure it out, I think pounding your throat will do the trick.” He interjected, his hand landing in her hair firmly.

This drove her to action, as she wanted to maintain as much control in the situation as possible. She pushed the head past her lips, his salty precum landing on her tongue. Her jaw expanded as much as it could, and she pushed herself to swallow his length.

Lucera could already feel the sides of her mouth being triggered to wetness by the intrusion, and she was thankful for it. She held onto the base to steady herself, and she began slowly moving back and forth, lathing her tongue on the bottom of his cock.

She could feel his hands shift in her hair as he played with it gently, combing his fingers through.

“You’re such a good girl, Lucera”

His voice felt like pure encouragement, and his validation was something she had never felt before. Lucera decided she liked that feeling.

She pushed herself deeper on him as her throat warmed up, but was still unable to fit it all. She tried using her hand to make up for what she couldn’t reach, and although she wished she could deep throat him, she was proud that she had made it this far.

He grabbed her hair a bit more assertively, and guided her up and down with a touch more of force. “You’re taking it so well, your throat wraps around me perfectly.”

Her eyes had begun to slightly water, but she still tried to connect their eyes. She had read in a magazine that boys liked that.

He began to move her head even more strongly, and pushed her throat further on his cock. She gagged, but he only moaned in his chest, the sensation squeezing his cock in her throat.

Lucera could hardly see, her tears clouding her vision. Her saliva gathered around her lips and slopped down her chin as she felt him push deep into her throat.

“Look at you, on your knees for me. This is where you belong.” He thrust into her mouth, holding her by the back of her head. As rough as he was, Lucera found that she just wanted to impress him. To show him that she wasn’t weak, and that she was capable.

“Fuck, Lucera.” He moaned above her, his breath deepening. With animalistic impulse, he worked her throat with lewd hunger, before pulling her as hard as he could towards his hips.

She knew what was about to happen, and although she was still choking on his cock, braced herself. Lucera felt his length throb in her mouth as he unloaded down her gullet and straight to her belly.

Having ceased his brutal thrusts, Aemond brushed her hair gently. “Swallow all of it, Lucie.”

She subconsciously tried to swallow around it, but it was difficult to move much of anything.

After holding her there for a few more moments, he released her. She stuttered backwards slightly, coughing and gulping for air.

He tucked himself back beneath his waistband, and bent down next to her. He took her shirt and wiped off the excess spit that had gathered around her chin, and then moved it up to wipe her eyes.

“You’re gorgeous on your knees, you know that?” His hand dragged languidly against her inner thigh, towards her underwear. She inhaled deeply at his movements, canting her hips to meet his hand.

“You’re so needy, aren’t you?” He tilted his head, looking down at her below him devilishly. “My cock down your throat only made you more soaked, hmm?”

His words burned into her pleasure, and Lucera couldn’t help but whimper. His fingers on her moved in light circles on her clit, warping the pleasure building inside her.

“Tell me how it felt in your throat.” His voice poured over her. She drank in each syllable of every lewd word spitting out of his mouth like ambrosia. 

“You felt heavy on my tongue,” Lucera said, her breathing erratic. “I didn’t know how I was going to take it.”

“Hmm, that’s right.” He drawled. “It’s not easy taking a thick down your throat is it?”

“N-no.” She mewled.

“But you did a good job,” he brushed his thumb above her stomach. “You didn’t miss a drop.”

She panted as he loomed above her, playing her body like an instrument. She had already been so worked up, so much ache already inside her, that she knew her orgasm was coming. Aemond must have noticed too, for he picked up his pacing to the exact tempo she needed.

“Cum on my fingers, Lucie.”

She didn’t need anything further than his voice to send her over the edge as her eyes rolled back in her head, orgasmic pleasure bursting deep in her belly. She did her best to hold back the amplitude of the cries in her throat lest someone hear her.

The euphoria rippled through her body, and she could feel his satisfaction at her pleasure. After a few more moments, the lingering contentment was joined by a new wave of drowsiness.

It was late.

Lucera opened her eyes. Aemond stood up, pulling her up with him.

“Sleep well, Lucie.” He opened the door, gave her a quick slap on her ass, and walked towards the kitchen.

Her haze carried her to bed, where she unceremoniously slung herself under the covers, half-unconscious already. 

[shostakobitchh]

Chapter 72: liminal

Severus had convinced himself not to poison February’s batch of Wolfsbane by talking at Lily’s picture for nearly an hour.

By the end of the one-sided conversation, his throat was hoarse, his hands shaking as he measured out the aconite with exacting precision. The irony wasn't lost on him – that he was speaking to a photograph of a dead woman about whether or not to kill the monster who'd nearly torn him apart as a boy, all while that same monster now taught his daughter.

Sometimes he wondered if the photograph was a form of self-torture – a reminder of everything he'd lost, everything he'd destroyed with his own foolishness, but on nights like this, when rage threatened to overwhelm his better judgment, when the temptation to "accidentally" alter the Wolfsbane was almost unbearable, Lily's silent presence was the only thing that kept his hand steady.

Lily glowered at him, jostling the baby, who flexed her tiny hands into Lily’s jumper.

He couldn't kill Lupin. Not because the wolf didn't deserve it — he did — and not because Lily would have never forgiven him, but because Miss Evans wouldn't understand. Despite everything, despite the burning hatred that coursed through his veins whenever he looked at Lupin's prematurely lined face, Severus knew that murder wasn't the answer (yet).

Not this time - he would make the damnable girl see, first. 

"Not that you ever approved of my methods anyway," Severus muttered to the photograph. The steam from the cauldron rose between them, distorting Lily's face into wavering patterns of light and shadow. "Always the voice of reason, weren't you?”

The bitterness in his tone surprised even him. He hadn't meant to sound so accusatory — not to her, not tonight — but the strain of the past weeks had worn his defenses paper-thin. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the girl’s pale face on that hospital bed, heard the terrible silence when her heart had stopped — and now Lupin, circling ever closer, with his concerned inquiries and meaningful glances. With his hand on Miss Evans’ shoulder and that fucking nickname — 

Sweetheart —

The stirring rod in Severus' hand snapped, the crack echoing in the laboratory's silence. He stared at the broken pieces, feeling a strange detachment as a splinter dug into his palm, drawing blood.

"Excellent," he hissed, tossing the broken pieces aside and reaching for another. "Absolutely fucking brilliant.”

Lily didn't respond, of course. She just shook her head in dismay. The real Lily would have had plenty to say, he was sure. She would have told him he was being ridiculously paranoid — that Lupin would never harm their daughter.

But the real Lily wasn't here. The real Lily had trusted Potter’s friends, and it had — 

He tossed the new rod into the cauldron with more force than necessary, splattering drops of the half-finished potion onto the workbench. The aconite would stain if he didn't clean it immediately, but Severus couldn't bring himself to care. Let it stain — let everything bear the marks of his rage, just as he bore the marks of his mistakes.

A soft knock at the laboratory door pulled him from his spiraling thoughts. He stiffened, immediately casting a wandless Disillusionment Charm over Lily's photograph. The knock came again, more insistent this time.

He glanced down at the pocket watch — Gryffindor Tower. 

"Enter," he barked.

The door swung open to reveal Dumbledore, resplendent in robes of midnight blue scattered with silver stars that seemed to twinkle with their own light. The sight of such whimsy only deepened Severus' scowl.

"I see I've caught you at a rather inopportune moment," Dumbledore continued, seemingly unconcerned by Severus' thunderous expression. He closed the door behind him with a gentle click, the sound somehow more intrusive than a slam would have been.

"It's well after midnight, Headmaster," Severus replied, vanishing the spilled potion with a flick of his wand. "One might question what constitutes an opportune moment for a social call at this hour."

"Ah, but I've found that midnight often brings the most interesting conversations," Dumbledore said, moving to stand opposite Severus across the workbench. His eyes lingered briefly on the space where Lily's photograph had been moments before. "The hour when our defenses are lowest and our thoughts most honest."

"A convenient philosophy for one who enjoys meddling in others' affairs."

"I prefer to think of it as taking an interest," Dumbledore corrected mildly. "And speaking of interests, I thought you might like to know that Miss Evans was seen returning to the castle this evening in the company of Professor Lupin."

The stirring rod stilled in Severus' hand.

“I am telling you this,” Dumbledore went on, watching Severus carefully. “Because I need you to understand that I am keeping an eye on her as well.”

Severus' vision tunneled, the edges of the laboratory darkening until all he could see was the placid expression on Dumbledore's face. The stirring rod cracked again, this time splitting completely in his grip, the jagged end slicing into his palm. He barely felt it.

"She was where?" he hissed, each word dripping with venom that would have made lesser men cower.

"Returning from the grounds," Dumbledore repeated calmly, though his eyes tracked the blood now dripping from Severus' clenched fist onto the stone floor. "Hagrid mentioned seeing them near the edge of the Forest shortly before sunset."

The Forest — again — with Lupin — again. Just days before the full moon.

Something inside Severus snapped — an invisible tether that had been holding back the flood of rage and terror that had been building since the moment she’d collapsed in his arms. The cauldron before him suddenly seemed miles away, inconsequential, as blood roared in his ears.

He had kept it at bay for that damnable girl’s sake — but this —

"You have been telling me for months that Lupin is harmless," Severus snarled, slamming his bloodied hand on the workbench. "That my concerns were unfounded — that I was being paranoid — and now you come to me in the dead of night to casually inform me that he had my daughter at the edge of the Forbidden Forest days with the mass murderer on the loose — again?” 

"Severus —"

"Do not Severus me," he spat, rounding the workbench with such speed that his robes snapped behind him. "I warned you. I have done nothing but warn you about that monster since the moment you allowed him into this castle, and you have done nothing but dismiss me at every fucking turn."

Dumbledore remained motionless as Severus advanced, his blue eyes watchful. "If I believed Miss Evans to be in any danger, I would have intervened immediately. I am telling you this so that you may — deal with her movements as you see fit.” 

“As you intervened when a basilisk was loose in the school? As you intervened when Quirrell —" Severus cut himself off, trembling with a fury so potent he could taste it, metallic and sharp on his tongue. "Do not speak to me of intervention when your record is one of constant, catastrophic failure where she is concerned."

"My judgment has not always been perfect," Dumbledore acknowledged, his voice somber. "But in this instance, I believe your personal history with Remus is clouding your assessment of the situation."

"My apologies — are you referring to the time he nearly tore my throat out? The time your precious Gryffindors used him as a weapon to commit murder? That personal history?"

"The past cannot be changed. We can only move forward with the wisdom it has granted us."

"Spare me your platitudes," Severus snarled. "What the fuck were they doing at the Forest's edge?"

Dumbledore sighed, the lines on his ancient face deepening in the laboratory's harsh light. "I do not know the specifics of their conversation, only that they appeared to be returning from a walk. Miss Evans seemed unharmed — in good spirits, even."

"While in the company of a werewolf days from transformation who has been consorting with an invisible figure at the Forest's edge — the very same Forest where Black has been sighted —” 

He regarded him steadily, his expression unreadable behind his half-moon spectacles. "What would you have me do, Severus? Dismiss a competent teacher based on your suspicions alone? Restrict Miss Evans to the castle when she has only just begun to recover her strength and spirits?"

"I would have you remember your promises," Severus hissed. "That you would protect her — that you would keep her safe."

A flicker of something — pain, perhaps, or regret — crossed Dumbledore's weathered face. 

Severus turned away, unable to bear the gentle understanding in those piercing blue eyes. He moved back to the cauldron, watching the silvery potion swirl hypnotically. His hand throbbed, blood still seeping from the cut, but the pain was distant — inconsequential.

He was going to kill that girl. He was going to make her wish she’d never set eyes on Remus motherfucking Lupin — make her teeth rattle with the knowing horror that she had brought this on herself — 

Are you with me?

I trust you more than anyone — 

Are you okay?

Dad — 

"I will speak with Remus," Dumbledore said after a moment. "I will remind him of the boundaries that must be maintained, particularly as the full moon approaches."

"That is not enough," Severus said, his voice flat. “I want him dead.” 

"It is what I can offer at present," Dumbledore replied. "Unless you have proof — concrete proof — of wrongdoing, I cannot take more drastic action. I am telling you this not to upset you — not to raise alarm — but because I would urge you to impart to Ariel your boundaries. She is free to go where she pleases, but you have expressed concern when she has wandered with Remus in the past. I too was surprised, this soon after her incident.” 

Severus said nothing, his back still turned. The laboratory felt suddenly airless. He had faced this before — this terrible, suffocating knowledge that his warnings would go unheeded until it was too late. Until someone was hurt — until she was hurt — again.  

"I have increased the patrols around Gryffindor Tower," Dumbledore continued when Severus remained silent. "And I have asked the portraits to be particularly vigilant. If Black attempts to enter the castle again, we will know."

"And if he already has?" Severus asked, turning to face the Headmaster once more. "If Lupin has already helped him inside?"

Dumbledore's expression remained calm, but something flickered in the depths of his eyes — a shadow of doubt, perhaps, or simply weariness. "Then we will deal with that situation when it arises — but I do not believe that to be the case."

"Your belief means nothing to me,"

Dumbledore didn't respond to the venom in Severus' voice. Instead, he merely inclined his head, as if acknowledging a point in a chess match.

"I will leave you to your work," he said quietly. "The hour grows late, and I believe we both need time to reflect."

Severus turned away, unable to look at that serene face a moment longer. 

He heard the soft rustle of starry robes, the gentle click of the door closing, and then he was alone again with the softly bubbling cauldron once more.

The pocket watch glimmered in his hand as he held it up to the light once more — Gryffindor Tower. 

[eunoiiaff]

| Chapter 2: Don't leave. |

Pairing: Joel Miller x FemOC WC: 1.5k Warnings: Hints to abuse and domestic violence. A/N: Please turn a blind eye to any mistakes </3 REQUESTS OPEN.

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Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter ______________________________________________

"I JUST DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY YOU NEED TO BE AROUND HIM SO MUCH," Michael complained. Lucia had been standing at the door for at least ten minutes, wanting to have already reached Joel's house to hang out with Sarah for the day whilst he ran errands. 

"He's not even going to be there, Michael. I'm hanging out with Sarah." Lucia said for what had to of been the sixth time. 

Michael's eyes rolled, massaging his temples as he continued trying to find a reason as to why Lucia didn't need to go. "And he couldn't get Tommy to do it, he just had to ask you, huh?" He snapped. "If you hate me so much then leave! What's he got that I don't have?" The man continued to scream.

"Maybe he actually listens to me. Gets me things that I actually want instead of a vacuum cleaner to clean your house with." Lucia grew more upset by the second, her bottom lip trembled softly as her hand ran through her long dark hair, trying to hold back from pulling at it, her gold earrings dangled from her ears, the angry part of her almost wanting to rip them out. Lucia knew the 'present' Michael had gotten her was lifeless, she could tell the moment she ripped away the bland wrapping he'd likely paid someone else to tape together. If she were honest, Lucia didn't even want to live with Michael in the first place, though, she wouldn't dare say that to him. Lucia had always been one to like having her own space, or, at least a space without Michael in it. 

Despite having lived with him for almost a year, nothing in the house felt like her. All of her decorations she had brought from her old apartment had either been sold, tucked away, or 'accidentally' broken; moreover, the house was cold, void of any life other than Michael's own knick-knacks, the bedroom especially void of any love or warmth. 

"So you're just a picky bitch, hm?" Michael questioned rhetorically, murmuring what was likely another swear directed towards the woman before grabbing his keys and walking out of the house, making sure to slam the door behind him. The house shook at the force, Lucia's eyes zoned in on the hardwood floor as she tried her best to stop herself from crying, her hands shaking at her sides. The woman only left the house once she'd heard Michael's car tires screeching around the corner, the sound of her car engine starting finally stopping the continuous ringing in her ears.

The drive to Joel's home had been quiet, Lucia's mind too busy to even think of turning on the radio, her hands keeping themselves busy as she worked the gear shift. Lucia sucked her bottom lip between her teeth as she pulled up to the Miller's home, taking in a few deep breaths to calm herself before she finally got out the car.

Lucia hardly had a chance to knock before the door swung open, Joel's eyes quickly finding hers. "Was starting to think you weren't gon' show up." He teased softly, the smile that had once adorned his face slowly dropping. "You okay?" The man questioned, his once cheerful eyes turning sorrowful, his brows creased causing wrinkles to form between them. Joel's hand gently grabbed hold of Lucia's jawline, his shoulders relaxing in hopes that Lucia's would do the same. 

"I'm fine, it's okay..." She murmured, though, her eyes told otherwise. The two continued to stare at one another for a few moments too long until Lucia finally pulled away, licking her parched lips as she looked past Joel and into the house. "Uh, where's Sarah?" She questioned in attempts to fill the silence.

"Lucy!" A girl's voice called out, Lucia chuckling softly as she watched Sarah come bounding towards the front door, the girl still chewing her breakfast. Sarah grabbed hold of the woman's hand and pulled her inside, Joel chortling softly as he shook his head, closing the door behind him as he followed after the two. "I made extra in case you were hungry," Sarah said, ripping the tinfoil off the still-warm plate of eggs and bacon. 

"Thank you, Sare," Lucia said, the three sat at the round table, Sarah and Lucia eating their food whilst Joel watched on, a small smile on his face as he watched his two girls. Lucia wasn't exactly hungry, especially after how the argument with Michael had ended - though, it ended better than some others -, but how could she say no to a freshly cooked meal? 

"I got some movies for us to watch, I made sure to pick some you like too," Sarah said excitedly, the smile that had been on her face when she'd first greeted Lucia still present.

The woman laughed softly, her heart quickly warming despite how depressed she had been when she entered the Miller's home just a few minutes prior. "After you finish your homework, remember?" Sarah groaned, her head dramatically falling back. "You know the deal," Lucia smirked softly. The woman had always been caring of Sarah's grades, wanting to make sure she did the best she could in school, have the best possible future. Though the girl had found it boring at times, Sarah was grateful for it, grateful that Lucia thought so highly of her and cared enough to help her even on her weekends off. 

"Alright, I've got to go. I'll see you two girls later, okay?" Joel groaned, grunting as he stood up and kissed Sarah on the head, his hand grasping Lucia's shoulder tightly, their eyes locking as he walked away. Lucia's eyes remained focused on the door even after Joel had left, her lips slightly agape before she quickly blinked and looked away, Sarah side-eyeing her softly from where she sat.

__________

"UGH, IT'S SO CORNY!" Lucia groaned, looking away from the television, her nose crinkled.

"No it's not, it's cute!" Sarah tried to reassure, unable to stop the light giggle from escaping her lips. The television continued to play ahead of them, the cliche audience laughter echoing through the living room. Their heads snapped to the front door as it creaked open, Joel sighing softly as he stepped inside, sliding his shoes off at the door. Lucia lifted her legs up as he flopped down on the couch between the two girls, one of his hands resting on his forehead. "You want to watch '10 things I hate about you' with us?" Sarah asked somewhat rhetorically.

"God, no." Joel quickly stated, a soft chuckle escaping his throat as he looked at the two for a few moments. "You get your work done?" He asked his daughter.

Sarah nodded, resting her head on her Father's shoulder. "Mhm, Lucy helped." Joel looked over to the woman and sent her an appreciative smile, his hand just inches away from her thigh. Lucia sent him a smile back, though, part of her felt as though there was something else behind his eyes, something deeper.

"I should get home, I still have to cook dinner yet," Lucia murmured after a few seconds, pushing herself up off the couch and getting her belongings, Joel watching as she traversed the house so calmly, as it were where she belonged.

"Are you sure you can't eat dinner with us?" Sarah questioned as she fiddled with her fingers, not wanting to woman to leave already despite having been with her for almost the entirety of the day. Sarah wasn't stupid, she knew that Michael wasn't right for her, she could see it from a mile away, but what was a fourteen-year-old girl supposed to do against a thirty-seven-year-old man?

__________

LUCIA SIGHED AS SHE STEPPED INTO HER HOUSE, THOUGH, NOT ONE OF RELIEF, ONE FILLED MORE WITH ANXIETY FOR WHAT WAS TO COME. The argument with Michael hadn't exactly come to an end, and all Lucia felt was nervousness for what he'd have to say. The house felt eerie, the walls towering over her, feeling as if they were moments away from toppling down, covering her with rubble only to never be uncovered. 

The woman only had a few seconds after dropping her wallet, keys, and phone onto the dining room table when Michael tossed a small white box in front of her. "Since you were so desperate." He murmured, not even giving her a glance before taking a beer from the fridge and walking out of the room, his body as tense as always. 

Lucia stared at the box for a while before slowly opening it, the silver necklace staring right back at her. The woman's eyes filled with tears as she stared at the piece of jewellery, the metal feeling as if it were stinging at her skin as she touched it, her fingers only grazing the necklace, not daring to lift it out of the box. 

Her stomach churned, her entire appetite dissipating as she closed the box, stepping into the bedroom and dropping it into the bedside table's drawer, the box denting slightly as it hit the bottom of the wooden furniture. Lucia slid out of her clothes and into new ones before sliding under the sheets, her eyes staring coldly at the wall ahead of her. She knew that Michael would be upset to find a kitchen void of a hot meal when he finally finished drinking, but Lucia couldn't care less. Just as he couldn't care less for her.