#and now they dare to ask her about her about him ?

[writeriguess]

Can you write Katsuki x fem reader with trope "I hate everyone but you"??

The Exception

Katsuki Bakugo was a menace to everyone around him. He barked orders, scowled at classmates, and had a scathing remark ready for anyone who dared to test his patience. He didn't do small talk, didn't care for friendships, and had no tolerance for incompetence.

But then, there was you.

The one person he didn't treat like an annoying bug under his boot. The one person he tolerated, sought out, and—though he’d never admit it—needed.

And it was painfully obvious to everyone else.

“Dude, he literally just told me to drop dead five minutes ago, and now he's carrying her bag like it’s no big deal,” Kaminari whispered to Kirishima as they watched Bakugo sling your gym bag over his shoulder without complaint.

Kirishima snorted. “I know, right? And did you see how he yelled at Midoriya for standing too close to her yesterday?”

“Think they’re dating?”

“No way—Bakugo would combust before admitting he has a crush.”

The thing was, Bakugo didn’t just like you—he was obsessed with you. You were the only one he could stand for longer than five minutes, the only one whose presence didn’t make him want to scream.

And maybe, just maybe, that scared him more than any villain ever could.

“Tch. You’re late.”

Bakugo was leaning against the dormitory entrance, arms crossed, his usual scowl firmly in place. The streetlights cast a glow over his sharp features, but the impatient tapping of his foot betrayed his annoyance.

You rolled your eyes. “I was studying.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go.”

The “let’s go” was unnecessary. You knew that when Bakugo said those words, what he really meant was, I was waiting for you. I don’t like waiting for anyone else, but I’ll wait for you.

You walked beside him, comfortable in the silence, while he glared at anyone who so much as looked your way. It was amusing, really, how the explosive hothead softened just for you.

“Did you eat?” he asked gruffly.

You hummed. “Mmm, not really.”

His scowl deepened. “Idiot. You need to eat.” Without hesitation, he shoved a convenience store bag into your hands.

Inside was your favorite snack.

Your heart warmed. He’d thought about you.

“You’re sweet, Bakugo,” you teased.

He bristled, ears tinged pink. “Shut the hell up.”

You laughed, and for the first time that night, Bakugo didn’t look angry—he looked at peace.

Because as much as he hated the world, he could never hate you.

You were the exception.

[wqlfstqr]

◟𖥻 percy's girl : percy jackson

▰▰ pairing: percy jackson x fem!reader

Percy would let the world burn if that assured him y/n's happiness. Everyone knows it, except y/n herself.

warnings: jealous n overprotective percy, slight mentions of violence i really don't know if it counts, oblivious reader, no cabin mentioned for reader.

Everybody at camp halfblood knows by now not to mess with percy's girl— except, well, she isn't really percy's girl. At least not that she knew, but for everybody else? yes, she is his girl.

Hard to think about it in any other way when Percy walks around camp glaring at just anyone that even dares to look at her the wrong way. And when it comes to keeping her out of harm's way? He is practically a force of nature.

Percy doesn’t take y/n's happiness lightly, so anything that threatened that is handled by him without her even noticing.

She is probably the only person to come unharmed out of every Stoll prank, and it's definitely not for lack of trying. Connor and Travis like her enough not to pull anything dangerous, but that doesn’t mean they can let her get away without trying.

So everything was planned. A simple, classic, but effective bucket on the door. She only had to come out of her cabin for lunch and they would get her. Hiding in the bushes, Travis and Connor snicker once the door opens.

She is talking to Percy, that is walking behind her, but something makes him pause just when she steps exactly on the mark the Stolls had left. Percy clocks what is happening immediately, as if it was second nature, and he moves y/n out of the way just in time for the bucket to fall directly on him.

He ends up fully covered in chocolate syrup seconds later, but he couldn't care less. His only worry is— "you okay, sunshine?" he asks, wiping chocolate off his face.

She is, in fact, okay. But she's gaping at him, her eyes comically wide. "Oh my gods Percy, how did that happen?"

Oh he definitely knows how that happened, he can turn around right now and find the bush in which the Stoll brothers are hiding just by the sound of them snickering. He is going to kill them.

Still he shrugs. "I don't know, weird bucket placement." He replies casually. "Why don't you go ahead and wait for me in the pavillion? I'll take that bucket down."

"Weird things always seem to be happening around here, huh?" She raises her eyebrows, but happily obliged as she starts walking away.

Percy doesn't take the bucket down, he makes the Stoll brothers do it once he takes them out of their hiding. And the snickering doesn't last them much because as he's leaving, he glares at them. "You two better not try this bullshit with her again."

Listen, Connor and Travis are all about going against direct orders from everyone. But they don't try anything else after that, because Percy is scary when it comes to y/n and they are not about to end in the same position as that Ares son who had tried to flirt with her.

It had been after sword training, some Darren or Dane or something— Percy really did not care about his name, mostly because he was more occupied with glaring at him as he leaned a little bit too close to y/n.

He stood a few feet away from them, knowing that he couldn't intervene without y/n noticing but still fully preparing to do it just in case she got too uncomfortable. He knew her, she wouldn't say anything in fear of being rude. But Percy didn’t have that problem, he would gladly be rude if that meant keeping her safe.

So for now, he only stood with his back against a wall, pretending to sharpen riptide.

"You know, you should train with me sometime. I could teach you a few moves." He told her, smiling smuggly. Percy wished he could erase that smile right away.

And when she started hesitating, the son of Poseidon got ready to intervene. "um- I-" she stammered.

But Percy didn’t really have to do much, because as he was pushing himself off the wall, the Ares guy seemed to notice him, sharpening riptide and sending incredibly hard stares at his way.

Darren-Dane-whatever visibly gulped and took a step back. Percy smirked. Smart move.

As the boy excused himself and basically ran away, y/n blinked at him surprised before she turned to Percy. "Okay, that was weird."

Percy smiled innocently. "Right? so weird."

The next morning due to completely unrelated events, Darren-Dane-whatever ended up waking up in the lake, completely soaked without a single clue how he got there. Percy denied any relation to this weird incident.

Worst part about it all is that Percy swears people don't learn their lesson. While y/n is just walking around in her perfect sunny world, Percy is just following her, trying to maintain her world exactly as it is, free of assholes.

But gods dammit, those assholes don't make it easy for him.

When they're playing capture the flag, they end up on opposite teams and even though Percy is focused on getting that flag, he's also worried for her. He hasn't seen her around, but he knows she should be somewhere close because he has already seen some of her siblings running around.

It's only when he's close to the opposite team's flag that he finds her: she's supposed to be guarding the flag but she's crouched down near the lake, watching a butterfly that's perched on a flower, completely oblivious to the mayhem happening around her.

Percy stops abruptly, his heart racing at the sight. She looks completely at peace, lost in her own little world, the late afternoon sun tracing shadows on her face, it's like she belongs in a painting. So beautiful.

He's mesmerized for a second, flag completely forgotten. Then—

A blur of blue runs past him, pulling him out of trance. His mind barely registers one of his own teammates from cabin nine before the boy is already charging towards y/n at full speed, catching her completely off guard.

She rolls on the mud, almost falling into the lake and Percy is immediately running to her.

"Dude what are you doing? go take the flag!" His teammate yells at him, pinning y/n to the ground. Fuck the flag, Percy couldn't care less about it.

With almost too much strenght, he's pushing the boy out of her, sending him soaring through the air, an indignant yell before he lands with a splash right into the lake.

"Dude what the fuck? i'm on your team!" The Hephaestus boy yells as he clumsily stands on the lake, dripping wet and looking very displeased.

Without looking, Percy flicks his hand and a second later, a wave crashes into the boy's face. He doesn’t care about his protests, he's busy helping y/n up on her feet.

"Are you okay?" He asks, his hands cupping her face to make sure there's absolutely not one scratch on it.

She lets out a small cough, wipping mud from her face. "Yes? it's capture the flag, Perce. This is part of it."

He knows she's right, that doesn’t stop him from scoffing. "Yeah, well, what he did was unnecesary." They both look at the boy once again trying to stand up only to be met with another wave crashing against him.

This time, she realizes this is Percy's doing and gasps. "Percy!"

"What?" he shrugs innocently, wiping some dirt from her nose without any care for the other camper. "He looked like he needed some refreshing."

He ends up being dragged away by her, not that he puts any kind of restraint anyways.

Yes, maybe everyone at camp knows about him being just a little overprotective of her, but so what? he loves her— can't help it if he wants her to be happy and safe. The only one that doesn’t realize this is y/n herself, she's completely oblivious of his actions.

And she remains oblivious through it all; when she's thirsty after training and he's waiting for her with a water bottle, when she's hungry and he has her favorite snack ready, when campers are talking badly about her archery skills and with only one Percy-designated glare they immediately shut up before she can hear them, when he deliberately walks by the side closer to the magical borders just in case something dangerous happens.

It's always there, he's always there. And all it takes is overhearing a conversation for her to realize it.

She's outside of the Aphrodite cabin, waiting for Piper to go have dinner at the pavillion when she overhears some of the girls walking by.

"I mean, come on, Percy is literally the hottest guy at camp, don't you think?" one of them says, and she feels this bubbling jealousy in her chest— something she has never experienced before.

"Agree, but it's a little annoying that y/n is always around him." the other one adds. "I mean she's sweet but he probably finds her annoying how much she clings to him."

Her heart drops, is that what they think? is that what Percy thinks? that she's just this annoying girl clinging to Percy for everything?

Before she can overthink it, the first girl talks again. "I don't think he finds her annoying, he's like totally in love with her, obsessed even."

A third girl sighs dreamily. "Right? he's always so careful and protective with her, Dean from cabin five told me Percy was glaring at him for flirting with her, and the next day he casually woke up on the lake. Listen, he would totally let someone burn if she said she wanted to roast marshmallows."

A chorus of giggles follows, their voices dissipating as they walk away without even noticing y/n was there all along, trying to process their words.

Suddenly everything clicks in her mind. Every time that Percy seemed to just be there. Always at the right moment. Always with a solution to every single problem.

She's not dumb, she has known Percy was protective. But she always thought it was him just trying to be a good friend, surely he was the same with Grover or Annabeth? but now she was sure it was never the same.

Because neither of them has Percy following them around, treating them like they're the most precious thing in the word. That's only reserved for her, and it has taken her this long to understand it, realization crashing over her like one of those waves Percy used to almost waterboard the boy that almost hurt her during capture the flag.

Piper finally steps out of her cabin, apologizing with y/n for taking too long. But she's not even listening, she's already made up her mind.

Without even stopping to take some time to think it through, she turns around and ignores Piper's questions as she sprints towards his cabin.

She arrives just when he's stepping out of the front door, and she's running so fast that she can't stop herself in time before she crashes into him. Thankfully, Percy's senses are better than hers so he catches her by the waist before they both end up on the floor.

"Woah there." he says, and even through his confusion he still finds it in him to be concerned. "Did something happen, sunshine?"

He barely has any time to finish his question before she's grabbing his face and pulling him down to kiss him. He makes a startled noise, completely caught off guard because honestly that was the last thing he was expecting to happen. A couple of long seconds pass with him completely frozen but then— oh, then he's kissing her back, his hands finding her waist like they've always belonged there.

He can taste the strawberry chapstick he has always seen her put on, but the kiss also tastes like stolen glances and endless afternoons spent together, like a love that's always been there, just waiting to get noticed.

When she finally pulls back, too soon on Percy's opinion, he blinks at her. "Not that i'm complaining, but what was that for?"

Her heart is stammering against her chest as she offers him a small smile. "Some girl said you were in love with me?"

"Took you long enough to realize." he replies simply before pulling her close again, his lips finding hers as if this was something he had been born to do.

And she can feel it, in the kiss, in the way he holds her— Percy Jackson loves her. And the best part? She loves him too.

[yois2aki]

wc. 1.3k

the cabin was dimly lit, the soft glow of lanterns casting flickering shadows across the wooden floor. the group was huddled in a loose circle, the empty bottle in the center still spinning from the latest turn. laughter echoed through the room, loud and teasing, but your mind was stuck on one thing.

the bottle had landed on you.

and now, your fate was sealed.

“truth or dare?” one of your classmates grinned, leaning forward.

you hesitated. truth was safer. truth would keep you from humiliating yourself. but knowing these guys, they’d make you confess something embarrassing, probably about caleb, and you were not about to do that in front of him.

“…dare,” you finally said, regretting it the second the words left your mouth.

“ohh, i’ve got the perfect one!” one of the girls clapped her hands together, practically vibrating with excitement. “you and caleb—seven minutes in heaven. right now.”

your stomach plummeted.

the group exploded into cheers, some gasping in exaggerated shock, others cackling like they had just won the lottery.

beside you, caleb tensed, though his face remained neutral.

“seriously?” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “this is the best you guys can come up with?”

“hey, rules are rules,” one of the guys smirked. “unless you’re scared?”

caleb let out a slow exhale before turning his head slightly toward you. his voice was low, meant only for you. “you okay with this?”

your heart pounded. you and caleb had been best friends since childhood, but this—this felt like uncharted territory.

“…it’s just seven minutes, right?” you mumbled, trying to ignore the heat rising to your face.

caleb’s lips twitched slightly, something unreadable in his gaze. “guess so.”

before you could process what was happening, hands were on your back, shoving you both toward the small, creaky supply closet. you barely caught a glimpse of caleb’s expression before the door clicked shut behind you, plunging you both into darkness.

the air was thick, the scent of old wood and fabric softener filling the small space. you barely had room to move without brushing against him, and the only light came from the sliver beneath the door, casting faint shadows across the walls.

you exhaled slowly, pressing your back against the wall, trying to ignore how close he was.

“well,” caleb’s voice broke the silence, low and amused, “this is cozy.”

you scoffed. “if you like being locked in a tiny closet.”

“depends on the company,” he mused.

your heart skipped. “you’re so annoying.”

he chuckled under his breath.

a few seconds passed. then a minute.

outside, someone whispered, “do you think they’ll actually do something?” followed by a harsh shush.

caleb sighed. “they’re just waiting for us to crack.”

“or for us to—” you stopped yourself, suddenly very aware of what this game usually involved.

caleb smirked, even in the dark. “kiss?”

your face burned. “don’t say it out loud!”

he leaned in slightly, just enough to make you feel the shift. “why? getting ideas?”

you swatted his arm. “shut up!"

silence stretched between you, thick and unbearable. caleb shifted, his shoulder brushing yours briefly before he leaned back against the opposite wall.

outside, muffled giggles and whispers could barely be heard through the wooden door. you had no doubt your classmates were listening.

“they’re totally waiting for us to do something,” you muttered.

caleb huffed a quiet laugh. “probably hoping for a scandal.”

he rapped his knuckles against the door suddenly, making you jump. “hey!” his voice was loud and teasing. “you guys really just gonna sit out there and eavesdrop?”

chaos erupted outside.

“what?! no!!”

“shut up, caleb!!”

“we weren’t listening, we swear!”

caleb smirked. “sure.”

you groaned. “why are you like this?”

“gotta keep them on their toes.”

a few beats of silence passed. you could feel the warmth of his presence, could hear the steady rhythm of his breathing in the quiet.

then, in a softer voice, he asked, “you nervous?”

you hesitated before answering. “a little. it’s… weird, right?”

“yeah,” he admitted. “kinda is.”

silence stretched between you, thick with something unspoken. this moment was awkward to say the least—to be forced in such a challenging scenario with none other than the childhood friend you grew up with and had the most foolish crush on was nothing but flustering.

you shuffled your feet. “this is the longest seven minutes of my life.”

“is it?” his voice dipped slightly. “feels kinda short to me.

you turned your head slightly, trying to make out his expression in the dim light. “you’re being weirdly calm about this.”

he exhaled. “trust me, i’m trying.”

your breath hitched. “trying?”

“not to think too much about it.”

your stomach flipped. “about what?”

he hesitated, then muttered, “you.”

your pulse skyrocketed.

the silence that followed was deafening, and you tried to pretend those words didn't come out of his mouth.

he shifted again, this time closer. “wanna sit?” he asked suddenly, as if needing to break the tension.

you blinked. “on the floor?”

“unless you wanna sit on my lap—”

“no!”

he snorted. “relax, i was joking.”

you huffed, lowering yourself down, hugging your knees to your chest. caleb followed, sitting across from you, his back against the opposite wall.

it was still too close. your legs brushed slightly, and neither of you moved away.

caleb shifted again, his movements slow, deliberate. “i think we should mess with them,” he said after a moment.

you blinked. “what?”

“just to freak them out a little.”

before you could respond, he knocked on the door again—this time, slower.

“hey,” he called, his voice dipping just slightly. “you might want to give us a few extra minutes...“

outside, your classmates screamed.

“what the hell?!”

“no. no, stop.”

“open the door right now!”

“caleb, what did you do?!”

you smacked his arm, face burning. “you’re actually the worst!

he was laughing now, a low, warm sound, and you could practically feel his smug grin. “oh, come on, that was good.”

outside, someone knocked on the door. “y’all making out yet?”

caleb shot a glare at the door. “oh, definitely,” he called back sarcastically. “best seven minutes of my life.”

a chorus of groans followed. “ugh, you’re the worst!”

“hey, if you wanted details, you should’ve picked a different guy!”

you buried your face in your hands. “why are you like this?”

“what, you want me to give them a show?”

you refused to dignify that with a response.

caleb shifted again, voice lower now. “for real, though. you okay?”

you nodded. “just… wasn’t expecting this tonight.”

“you and me both.”

a few more seconds passed.

then, in an almost hesitant voice, he asked, “you ever thought about it?”

your stomach flipped. “thought about what?”

“us.”

you froze. “…what about us?”

caleb exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair. “never mind.”

“caleb.”

he let out a quiet laugh, almost self-deprecating. “just… wondering if the idea ever crossed your mind, that’s all.”

your heart pounded. “i..."

another stretch of silence. your heartbeat was out of control.

then, quieter, caleb spoke again. “but seriously.”

you swallowed. “what?”

he hesitated, then let out a breath. “you know i wouldn’t— i mean, if it were someone else in here with me, i’d probably be trying to claw my way out.”

your stomach twisted. “but because it’s me…?”

caleb’s voice was barely above a whisper. “i don’t mind it.”

your whole body felt like it was on fire.

and before you could even begin to process what that meant, the door suddenly burst open, light flooding the tiny closet.

“seven minutes, exactly!” someone declared. “so… what happened?”

caleb stretched his arms, looking entirely unbothered. “wouldn’t you like to know?”

your classmates groaned, but you barely heard them over the pounding in your ears.

caleb stretched, looking entirely unbothered, but as he passed you, he leaned in slightly, voice just for your ears to hear.

“we’ll finish that conversation later.

you swore your brain short-circuited.

[savanir]

The cure to vampirism is to never get turned at all

Dick is not ashamed to admit he's in trouble. 

He's surrounded on all sides by vampires (because that's a thing now), he's put in this situation by his sister which is just great. Some ancient vampire lady named Pandora says she needs him to defeat the Queen of Blood named Mary and he's pretty sure that involves him being turned into a vampire as well, which he doesn't want. 

He's good but even he can tell his odds are pretty shit. There is no backup coming and even if he could call them they would never arrive on time. 

And of course he's in his civvies and doesn't have any of his gear. Just fantastic. 

But if he goes down he'll go down fighting.

"DANIEL!!"

everything screeches to a halt as the furious booming male voice echoes through the room. 

A large ornate wooden double door in the back slams open and a young man rushes through slamming them closed behind him.

Intricate red and green flashes of energy cover the doors and then the young man turns to the crowd in the fancy crypt.

"Our young gifted prince? There is no need for you to attend this meeting, But if there is a way we may assis-?" The question hovers in the air, choked off as the young man runs forward and with hands shimmering in eerie venomous green and deep blood red energy he tears through the random vampire's throat, startling all the others. 

"I'm putting an end to this madness, here and now" He drops the gradually disintegrating corpse on the ground. 

"Young prince!?" Exclaims lady Pandora.

For Dick things become a blur after that. Screaming and screeching and inhuman growling. The young man easily tears through them all with his powers. It seems some form of backup did arrive, but if this is a blessing or a curse remains to be seen.

Dick doesn't understand though, he seems to be one of them so why...?

One second they are all still fighting then the next the old vampire lady is lying dead on the ground, gradually turning into dust. The vampires who remain all stare at the young man in shock. “he… he killed Pandora, our oldest. The strongest of us” 

None of them seem to know what to do now. There are a lot of dead vampires all around, in Dick’s humble opinion this meeting could not have gone worse for the acolytes of shadow. He’s not feeling too upset about that though considering what they wanted from him. Still, the fact that they aren’t outright trying to kill this young prince in retaliation… he must be someone special, that alone is more than enough for Dick to keep his guard up around him.

Then the young man darts forward and grabs Dick's wrist, "we have to leave, the seal I put on the door is about to break. I won't be able to protect you from him"

"Who?" Dick can’t help but ask as they both start running for the exit. The young man quickly dragging him up the stairs. For a split second does Dick think about Melinda, he’s not entirely sure if she was among the ones killed or not. She was the one who tricked him into that mess. 

Well, she absolutely knew the consequences, she told them about him being Nightwing, if whatever is left down there decides to punish her for this fiasco that’s probably what she deserves.

"I'll explain everything later, I promise, but we need to go now!"

The furious noises behind them grow steadily in volume. Danny pushes Dick forward as he slams the red fake fridge door closed behind them and another flash or red and green covers that as well, another seal of sorts most likely. The one other person in the kitchen startles as the two of them run past him.

"Who are you?"

"Call me Danny, now this way, quick!" the young prince, Danny apparently, faults over the Waffle House front desk Dick not hesitating to do the same.

"DANIEL HOW DARE YOU!" comes faintly from behind them as Danny slams the fake establishments front doors open and pulls Dick out of there.

"Oh he's next level mad" mutters Danny as they are running again. Meanwhile Dick is just very glad to be breathing in the fresh cold night air of Bludhaven. 

However, his legs are having trouble keeping up with the pace, he has taken some serious hits and those things definitely don't pull any punches. 

He can’t help the faint pained groan and the speed with which the other man snaps his attention back on him almost makes him flinch. 

"Do you need a hand?"

"I'm fine"

"Here let me-" 

Next thing Dick knows he's being carried, if he wasn't friends with so many supers and speedsters he'd probably be flailing. Instead he's just kinda used to it and lets it happen even if it’s a bit awkward what with Danny being a bit shorter than him.

He's glad when they get to a safehouse and Danny puts him on the couch. He then goes to fetch Dick the first aid kit. 

"Who were we running from?"

"Old as balls vampire lord named Vladimir Masters, he’s in cahoots with the acolytes of shadow. And I guess he’s now fully in charge seeing Pandora just had her final death."

Dick pauses and just looks at him. 

"Yes he's really named that" Danny looks rather tired.

"And I'm guessing he's the sort who is going to be a massive headache"

"I mean they had this whole plan of world domination, you were a key player in that plan which is now completely ruined by the way. I was part of it too but I really don't want anything to do with any of that so... here we are"

"Here we are"

It's only when Dick is fully bandaged that Danny flops down in the nearest arm chair and drops his head in his hands and takes a deep shuddering breath. Perhaps all the murder is catching up to him? 

"Are you okay?"

"Don't mind me, I'm just... thirsty... I'll be fine" 

"Ah yes of course, vampire."

"I'm unfortunately a vampire yeah but don’t get it twisted, I'm absolutely not one of them" Danny looks up and sneers, Dick can now clearly see the fangs. “Seeing humans as cattle… the absolute moronic-” Danny trails off in furious muttering. “living in a world with demons and angels and aliens and whatever else but no we’re the ones who deserve special treatment.”

Dick makes a choice and then gets up, Danny watching him go and curiously listening to him opening and closing something in a different room before coming back and holding out a blood bag with a bit of IV tube hanging out of it. 

"Here you go."

“Oh! thank you,” Danny gladly takes the bag, "You just have bags of blood in your house?"  

"You never know when you need an emergency blood transfusion. Especially considering my nightly activities." … you know that sounds kinda vampiric in it’s own way doesn’t it?

Danny snorts and starts drinking. It kind of looks like a huge capri-sun that way. It's sort of adorable. 

If only it wasn't a massive plastic bag of Dick's own blood but whatever. 

They both fall quiet as Danny focuses on his drink and Dick takes a moment to think about the absolute mess he just went through.

“Someone called you gifted… what did they mean by that?”

“This mostly,” Danny holds out his hand and shows Dick the strange glowing mixture of red and green energy he saw down in the crypt. “I am a huge anomaly because I became a vampire while I was half alive and half dead. What that means for the most part is enhanced powers, I am even harder to kill than a regular vampire and you cannot fix my vampirism with one of those disgusting smelling pits of… what was it called? Lar- Lazard?” “Lazarus,”

"Yes that! Anyway I am like.. the backup to their world domination plan, initially they just wanted me to be their weapon but I have morals, pesky things, super annoying according to them. Which is why they decided to ‘recruit’ you. But I managed to screw that up too.” Danny looks very satisfied with himself about that. 

“Thanks for that” Dick says genuinely earning him a cheeky sharp fanged grin from Danny. Though he wished it had not involved such a massive carnage, he’s very glad he’s not a vampire right now. Beggars can’t be choosers he guesses.

“It would probably be best to get the League involved, root them all out. Vlad is definitely going to make more drastic moves now that things have turned out this way.”

Dick ponders to himself, “Yeah… let’s be Helsing about it,” He already got a Vampire on his side too.

Danny dejectedly looks down at his empty blood bag, “... can I have another?” He asks carefully.

“Sure!” responds Dick with a smile that finally manages to ease the tension out of Danny’s shoulders.

[heliosunny]

Hello love your writing style and ideas !!

can you write au siren reader x Phainon but not the kind that sings with sweet deception—hers is a quiet, haunting presence, a being who does not need to lure with honeyed songs. . She does not chase her prey; she waits, watches, lets the prey come to her and whether by choice or by fate, all who cross her path will find themselves drawn into the abyss.

I wrote the yandere one is Phainon *cough if I'm mistaken, please forgive me.

Yandere!Phainon x Siren!Reader

Phainon had spent his life hunting monsters.

The sea was full of them—things with too many teeth, too many eyes, lurking beneath the waves where no man dared tread. He had slain creatures the size of ships, things whispered about in fearful legends. The bounty was good, the thrill intoxicating.

But you were something else entirely.

You looked at him from the water’s edge. A haunting silhouette against the crashing waves.

He had been told sirens lured men with songs, full of honeyed lies, but you did not sing. You did not need to. Something deeper, something older called to him. The tide lapped at his boots, coaxing, beckoning.

He should have turned back.

Instead, he returned. Again and again. Until the sea smelled less like salt and more like you, until the nights on his ship felt hollow without your gaze watching.

The first time, it was a corpse.

Phainon stood at the water’s edge, the scent of blood thick in the air. The body—a man, throat slit clean, slumped from his grasp and hit the waves with a hollow splash.

“I thought of you” he murmured, “While I was cutting him open. I wondered if you’d like it fresh.”

The second time, the offering was still alive.

The man kicked, thrashed, screamed. Phainon held him by the hair, forcing him to kneel in the shallow water. The fear in his victim’s eyes was nothing compared to the madness in Phainon’s own.

“She’s watching” he whispered to the struggling man, “You should feel honored.”

Then he looked up, as if seeking approval. His hands trembled—not with hesitation, but with exhilaration. “Do you like it better this way? When they’re still warm?”

Phainon smiled. “I’ll bring more.”

---

Phainon sat on the shore, a strange grin playing at his lips. The moonlight turned his silver hair ghostly, his hands moving deftly over the instrument. He did not look surprised to see you—no, if anything, he looked satisfied.

“You’re here” he mused, fingers never faltering.

The melody shifted, softer now, coaxing. It did not pull like a siren’s song, but it lingered in the air, refusing to be ignored.

“Can you understand me?” His voice was almost teasing, “Or have I been speaking to the waves all this time?”

You replied him with nothing but silence.

Phainon chuckled, but there was no humor in it. His hands stilled on the strings. “You know,” he said, “I’m an expert.”

“If you don’t come to me, I’ll find a way to get you myself.”

The tide licked at the shore, rising as if in warning. Phainon's fingers pressed idly against the strings of his instrument, though the song had long since faded.

“I was starting to think you were nothing but a shadow in the water.”

You did not respond.

The wind howled between you both, salty mist clinging to your hair.

“You believe you can take me?” You asked at last.

Phainon laughed. It was not the laugh of a man deterred, but of a man entertained. “Oh, dear siren,” he murmured, standing slowly, his boots sinking into the wet sand. “You mistake me.”

“I don’t need to take you.” His fingers brushed over the hilt of the blade at his hip, not as a threat, but as a promise. “I just need to make sure you never leave me.”

----

Humans had no strength in the water. You knew this. Had seen them flail and drown, helpless against the current. Humans were fragile creatures swayed by fear, by curiosity, by the gentle pull of the tide. You did not need to sing, nor whisper sweet deceptions. You only needed to wait.

And they came.

The first was a sailor. He did not see you at first—only the glint of something pale beneath the waves, something shifting in the current. He stepped closer.

By the time he realized his mistake, the ocean had already swallowed him whole.

The second was younger, trembling as he peered over the railing of his ship, searching for whatever force had dragged his crewmate down. He never saw the hands that pulled him under.

The third did not even scream.

One by one, you took them, the water welcoming their bodies, their struggles fading into the deep. The abyss always called, and they, like all before them, answered.

splash

Phainon.

You turned, expecting him on the shore, but no—he had come from above, from a ship lurking just beyond the reach of the waves.

And before you could move, something cold snapped around your wrist.

Bracelet?

Phainon grinned, hair fanning in the water like silver thread, eyes burning with something near-manic. “Got you.”

Phainon had no place in the water.

He was human— no matter how steady his hands, no matter how many monsters he had slain. The ocean did not care. It did not recognize him.

And it swallowed him whole.

The weight of his own foolishness dragging him down. He had leapt in willingly, with no plan, no survival in mind.

Typical.

You swept him under without hesitation.

The current embraced him instantly, pulling him deeper, his body twisting in the tide. His fingers brushed against you, grasping for something, anything. But you had already let go.

Bubbles burst from his lips, frantic, uneven. His arms thrashed, desperate to break the water’s grip. It was pathetic.

You turned away.

And yet—

Something in you twisted.

A pull urging you to turn back.

You did not want to.

But you did.

You moved before you could think.

Your arms wrapped around him, dragging him up, breaking through the surface with force. His head lolled against your shoulder, his breath nonexistent. The waves carried you both, faster than they should have, as if the sea itself was trying to rid itself of him.

You pulled him onto the sand, his body cold, heavy. For a moment, you hovered, staring at the rise and fall of his chest—shallow, struggling, but alive.

You should not have done this.

With one last glance, you turned and slipped back into the depths, vanishing into the tide before he could wake.

----

The thing on your wrist pulsed, faint but constant, sinking into your skin like rot. A weight that did not belong, that was not of the sea. And worse—

It would not come off.

You clawed at it, pried at the lock, but the metal held fast, unyielding. The more you struggled, the more it burned, a creeping heat that should not exist in the abyss.

It was wrong. It did not belong here.

Phainon.

Even now, his presence lingered, his touch wrapped around you in this cursed thing he had left behind. He was not here, but somehow, he had still reached you.

And for the first time in your existence, the ocean did not feel safe.

---

The cave was silent, save for the steady drip of water against stone.

You sat near the entrance, where the tide reached just enough to lap at your legs. The bracelet on your wrist gleamed dully in the dim light, unyielding no matter how many times you tried to pry it off.

Your nails scraped against it, frustration curling deep in your chest.

Phainon had done this.

You did not know how, did not know why, but the truth was undeniable.

You should not have saved him.

Fine.

If you could not remove it yourself, you would find the one who had placed it.

And this time, you would not hesitate.

---

You had tracked him to this place. A hidden inlet carved into the cliffside, shielded from the open sea, the entrance barely visible against the jagged rock. It was a place humans rarely came, yet his scent lingered here, fresh, undeniable.

He had been waiting.

You emerged from the water slowly, deliberately, stepping onto the slick stone with movements far too steady for something that should not belong on land. Your tail had given way to legs, but the shift felt sluggish, unnatural. The bracelet burned against your wrist as if resisting the transformation, as if tethering you to something unseen.

You did not call for him. You did not need to.

You felt his presence before you saw him.

“You came.”

Phainon stepped forward, into the dim light filtering through the cave’s mouth. His clothes were damp, his silver hair still tousled from the ocean air.

“I knew you would.”

Your gaze drifted to his hands, resting casually at his sides.

Slowly, you lifted your wrist, the thing glinting dully in the weak light.

“What did you do?”

“Ah. You noticed.”

“Remove it.”

“I could,” he admitted, his voice light, conversational. “But why would I?”

“You have no power here, human.”

Phainon hummed, stepping closer, unbothered by the threat laced in your tone. “Don’t I?”

You stiffened. A slow, creeping heat crawled up your arm, spreading through your veins, dragging at something within you.

Phainon watched you carefully, eyes gleaming with that same maddening certainty.

“You feel it, don’t you? Now you’re bound.” His fingers twitched at his sides. “To me.”

“You think this will keep you safe?”

Phainon exhaled a laugh “Safe?” He leaned in just slightly, as if daring you to move. “Who said anything about safe?”

“I can take you with me,” he said, voice smooth, deliberate. “But I didn’t.”

The accessory on your wrist pulsed, a silent reminder of his touch, his claim.

“I gave you your freedom.” He tilted his head, studying your expression, his eyes gleaming like a predator waiting for its prey to realize it had already been caught. “And that’s generous of me.”

His smile sharpened, his chest rising and falling just slightly faster, as if he had been waiting for this—waiting for you to acknowledge him, to see him, to let him stand in your presence.

“Ah…” His voice came quieter, more breath than sound, as if he had to steady himself. “You’re—”

He cut himself off, exhaling a soft, shaking laugh.

Then, without hesitation, he dropped to one knee.

Not in surrender.

In devotion.

You stared at him.

Phainon—kneeling, breathing uneven, staring up at you as if he had finally reached the thing he had been chasing all this time.

This was a human. A creature of land, of fleeting years, of brittle bones and fragile flesh.

You did not take things like this.

You consumed, you drowned, you let them sink into the abyss and never resurface. You did not let them linger, did not let them follow you, did not let them worship you like this.

Your lips pressed into a thin line. “You are mistaken.”

“Am I?”

“You think you have done something that matters.” You lifted your wrist. “You think this changes what you are.”

His grin widened.

“Oh, I know what I am.” He tilted his head, silver hair falling over his forehead, breath still slightly uneven as he watched you, enthralled. “The real question is—do you know what you are now?”

You did not answer.

Because you did not need to.

You were what you had always been. A creature of the abyss. A hunter that did not chase, a being that did not need to lure, because all things that crossed your path fell eventually.

Phainon was no different.

And yet—he was still here.

Still breathing.

Still kneeling before you.

You lowered your wrist slowly. “You will get nothing from me.”

Phainon’s grin did not falter. “I already have.”

You moved before he could react.

Sharp teeth sank into his flesh, the taste of salt and blood blooming across your tongue. His breath hitched, but there was no pain—no fear—only that same maddening exhilaration.

You ripped yourself away, your eyes locking with his for the briefest moment—one final warning, one final denial—before the sea surged around you.

And then you were gone.

The cold water swallowed you whole, the ocean embracing you once more. You did not look back.

But Phainon—

He remained kneeling, staring at the crimson dripping from the fresh wound on his hand.

Slowly, he exhaled, his fingers flexing as if memorizing the sting.

Then he smiled.

A deep, satisfied grin, as if the pain only proved something he had already known.

You had left your mark on him.

And that, to him, was enough.

----

The land felt unnatural beneath your feet.

It was not the first time you had taken this form, but it had never felt like this before—heavy, constricting, a shape that did not suit you.

Still, you moved without hesitation.

Phainon’s dwelling was easy to find. He had left traces of himself everywhere—the scent of salt and steel, the remnants of blood staining the docks, the unmistakable pull of the thing on your wrist that told you he was close.

He had made no effort to hide.

You entered with ease, silent as the tide, your presence slipping through the space like a current unseen. He would not know you like this. He could not. To him, you were just another figure in the world of men, another stranger walking paths that were never meant for you.

“You should’ve knocked.”

His voice cut through the still air.

Phainon stood just beyond the dim candlelight, leaning against the wooden frame of the room, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. He looked... amused.

“Well?” His eyes glinted, sharp and knowing. “Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?”

Your gaze flickered past him, tracing the walls of the dimly lit room.

They were covered in remnants of things that did not belong on land.

Bones, scales, preserved limbs from creatures that had once moved through the depths with silent grace. And among them—stuffed figures, carefully stitched, resembling the very things he had hunted. Trophies. Proof of conquest.

A silent declaration of power.

This was the world he belonged to.

You turned your attention back to him. “I apologize,” you said, your voice smooth, carefully measured. “I did not know this was your home.”

Phainon’s gaze didn’t waver. He was studying you now. Not like when he looked at you in the water. Not like when he had dropped to his knees, breathing uneven, his voice trembling with something unhinged and worshipful.

This was different.

Because he did not recognize you.

You offered the slightest tilt of your head. “My name is—” you paused, giving him a name that was not your own, one that fit the form you had taken.

Phainon didn’t react immediately. He simply held your gaze, as if assessing whether you were worth acknowledging at all.

“Hm.” He pushed off the wooden frame, stepping fully into the dim light. “And what do you want?”

To hunt the monster in front of you. Him.

----

You moved carefully, your steps barely making a sound against the worn floor. Phainon had already gone to sleep—or so you had assumed. His breathing had evened out behind closed doors, his presence heavy but unmoving.

It gave you time.

Your fingers ghosted over surfaces as you searched, slipping between shadows, eyes scanning the strange collection that surrounded you.

The house was decorated with death.

Everywhere you looked, pieces of creatures long lost to the sea were displayed like trophies—monsters pinned to walls, their hollow eyes frozen in expressions they had never worn in life. A cruel mimicry of their existence, preserved only to serve as proof of their defeat.

And among them—

Some were familiar.

The curve of a fin, the shape of a claw, remnants of things that once swam in the abyss where you ruled.

You turned your attention back to your search. You needed something—anything—to break the annoying thing on your wrist.

Eventually, your steps led you into a smaller chamber. The air was damp, cooler than the rest of the house.

A bathroom.

Your eyes flickered toward the tub—and stilled.

The water was filled to the brim.

Strange. Phainon had gone to sleep. Humans did not need water in such quantities.

The liquid was still, reflecting the dim glow of the lantern outside the doorway. But as you stepped closer, a ripple passed through its surface—slow, unnatural, like something unseen had disturbed it from below.

You ignored the faint unease creeping into your chest, instead stepping toward the sink. If nothing else, you would wash your hands, rid yourself of the lingering sensation of this place before continuing your search.

The water ran cool over your skin, grounding you. You let out a slow breath, muscles relaxing just slightly—

Then your gaze drifted back to the tub.

The water’s color was wrong. Dark, shifting. A shade that did not belong in a home on land, thick with something more than just salt. It almost seemed to breathe, pulsing in slow waves against the porcelain edges.

Your brows furrowed.

Push

A force slammed into your back before you could react, knocking you off balance. Your hands caught the edge of the tub for the briefest second before another shove drove you forward—

And then you were submerged.

The second the water swallowed you, your body betrayed you. Pain lanced through your legs, twisting through your bones like an unseen force was dragging you back to what you were meant to be. The shift came violently, your skin splitting, merging, reshaping.

The familiar weight of your tail returned, but—

Your upper body remained unchanged, still locked in its human form, even as the rest of you was forced back into what you truly were. Panic surged, but before you could push yourself free, fingers curled over the edge of the tub.

Phainon. Again.

His grip was steady, his knuckles white against the porcelain as he leaned over you, looking down with something unreadable in his gaze.

This had been planned.

“Caught you.”

"You know," he murmured, flexing the mark of his injured hand, the blood welling where your teeth had sunk deep, "I almost didn’t recognize you."

He tilted his head, gaze dragging over your face, your body—your still-human form above the water, the betraying flicker of your tail below.

"But you should’ve been more careful."

A breath of laughter escaped him, "The way you move. The way you watch." His eyes gleamed, sharp with something close to amusement. "You were always so quiet."

He leaned down, one hand braced against the porcelain, keeping you caged.

"But no human has ever looked at me the way you do."

"No human hesitates before speaking like you do."

"And no human would ever think they could hide from me."

His free hand lifted, trailing over the water’s surface, fingertips barely grazing the liquid that had forced your transformation.

"Now that you’re here…" He hummed, his expression unreadable, but his next words were clear, "I think I’ll keep you."

Water surged as you twisted violently, your tail thrashing against the porcelain. With a sharp flick, you sent a wave straight into Phainon’s face, forcing him to pull back, the liquid splattering against his clothes, his skin.

You didn’t waste a second.

Hands gripping the sides of the tub, you tried to pull yourself free, the weight of the water slowing you down but not stopping you. Your muscles tensed, every instinct screaming to get away, to get out, but a strong hand clamped onto your shoulder.

Before you could react, Phainon shoved you back down.

The force sent you crashing beneath the surface, the water swallowing you whole. It dragged at your skin, the strange substance wrapping around you like a second set of hands, pulling, twisting—

And then the last remnants of your human form shattered.

Your body shifted entirely, the final traces of your disguise ripped away as your tail fully emerged, scales gleaming dark beneath the unnatural light.

You gasped sharply as you resurfaced, claws scraping against the slick porcelain, but before you could lash out, something warm pressed against your shoulder.

Teeth.

A sharp sting bloomed as Phainon’s mouth closed over your skin.

A growl rumbled in your throat, low and threatening, but he didn’t pull away. His fingers dug into your arm, holding you in place, his breath warm against your damp skin.

The pressure of his teeth lingered even as he finally released you.

Then he lifted his gaze to meet yours, and the look in his eyes sent a chill down your spine.

"That," he said, "was for trying to run."

Before you could pull away, his grip on your wrist tightened.

Then, without hesitation, he sank his teeth into your hand.

A sharp sting shot up your arm.

"Let go."

You did what you must, you commanded him to.

For a moment, his fingers slackened, his pupils dilating slightly. His body swayed just the faintest bit forward, caught on the hook of your call, just as countless others had before.

But then—

His breath steadied.

A slow, knowing smirk spread across his lips.

And from beneath his soaked shirt, he pulled something into view.

A dark, worn amulet hung from a chain, the metal glinting in the dim light, etched with carvings you could not immediately decipher.

"Did you really think it would be that easy?" His voice was calm, almost amused, his grip tightening once more.

"Why do you think I can hunt other ones?"

Your eyes snapped to the amulet, realization settling in.

That was why he had been able to hunt. Why your kind had never been able to pull him into the depths as easily as the others.

Your attempt to escape was swift—your body surged forward, water splashing violently as you twisted, tail coiling with the force needed to propel yourself away.

But Phainon was faster.

A hand shot out, seizing your wrist with a strength that sent a jolt through your bones. Before you could react, before you could tear yourself free, a sharp yank sent you crashing back into the water.

The tub overflowed, liquid spilling onto the floor, but neither of you cared.

You thrashed, snarling, claws raking against his arm. But Phainon only gritted his teeth, his grip ironclad as he pressed down, forcing you deeper into the water.

The strange substance swirled around you, clinging, binding, warping.

Your muscles locked. A cold sensation seeped into your skin, into your veins—an unnatural weight, something that latched onto the very essence of what you were. Your vision blurred for a moment.

You tried to lurch forward, but your body barely responded.

And Phainon—Phainon only watched.

"You feel it, don’t you?"

You bared your teeth, refusing to acknowledge it. Refusing to let him see the way your chest tightened, the way your limbs felt heavier.

But he already knew.

His hand lifted, fingers brushing the bracelet still bound to your wrist.

"It’s not just some ordinary restraint," he continued, tilting his head. "You thought I was careless, didn’t you? That I just let you slip away before?"

He leaned in, "I was never letting you go."

You hissed, tail lashing, but the motion was sluggish, weaker than before.

"Fight all you want," he mused, fingers pressing lightly against your jaw, tilting your face toward him. "It won’t change anything."

"I told you, didn’t I? If you wouldn’t come to me…"

His fingers trailed down your throat, resting lightly against your collarbone.

"I’d find a way to take you myself."

You had underestimated him.

And now, you were his.

[itsnesss]

I love your blog 💖 my request is for sensei Wolf, where the reader is Miguel's older sister and has a baby, since Barcelona Wolf has an interest in her, and when the tournament returns to the All Valley Wolf approaches and you decide the ending

𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐳𝐞 | sensei wolf × fem!reader

summary | the request

warnings | intense gaze and implied attraction, soft romantic moments, light suspense, mild references to past relationships, vulnerability

word count | 2.0 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The hustle and bustle of the Sekai Taikai filled the All Valley. The bright lights shone intensely, the cheers of the spectators echoed through the stands, and the sharp sound of blows on the tatami set the rhythm of each match. Everything felt so familiar that, for a moment, you felt trapped in déjà vu. It was as if Barcelona had never ended, as if those chaotic and exciting days were happening all over again before your eyes.

But this time, something was different.

You were carrying your baby in your arms, wrapped in a soft blanket, as you walked through the gym hallways, trying to find a quiet place to calm him down. Being Miguel’s older sister had already made you a familiar figure in the karate world, but now, being a mother made you feel even more visible. You received curious glances, some filled with tenderness, and others, like the one you had felt from the first day, filled with something deeper.

You knew exactly who it was.

You hadn’t forgotten his intense gaze since the tournament in Barcelona. Even then, when your whole world revolved around supporting Miguel, you couldn’t ignore the way he looked at you. Like you were a mystery he was dying to solve. But back then, there was no room for distractions. Your baby was on the way, and everything else faded into the background.

You didn’t expect to see him again, much less here. But there he was, on the other side of the tatami, leading his students with that calm authority that defined him. And every time you looked up, you found him watching you.

The first day you managed to avoid him. Between taking care of your baby, supporting Miguel, and dodging awkward questions, you kept your distance. But at the end of the day, when the stands were starting to empty and the noise was fading away, his voice caught you by surprise.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon.”

You turned slowly, finding yourself face to face with him. He was even more imposing than you remembered. Tall, with his slightly messy hair and that lopsided smile that felt like a challenge.

“Me neither,” you replied cautiously, adjusting your baby’s blanket.

Wolf took a step toward you, never breaking eye contact.

“May I…?” he asked softly, gesturing towards the little one sleeping in your arms.

You hesitated for a moment but nodded. He approached carefully, observing the baby with a tenderness you didn’t expect from someone like him.

“He’s beautiful,” he whispered. “Just like his mother.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile escaped your lips before you could stop it.

“Always so direct?”

“Only when I’m sure of what I want,” he replied without hesitation.

A shiver ran down your spine. You remembered too well the feeling of his intense gaze, but now there was something more. Something you didn’t dare name.

“I have to go,” you murmured, walking away quickly before he could say anything else.

The next few days felt like a silent game. Every time you walked past him, you felt his gaze following you. Every time you tried to focus on something else, his image crept back into your mind. And every time you thought about getting closer, you reminded yourself that your life was no longer just yours.

But Wolf didn’t seem willing to give up.

One afternoon, while you were walking through a quieter area of the gym to calm your baby, you found him leaning against a wall, as if he had been waiting for you.

“Are you avoiding me?” he asked with that smile that made you nervous.

“I’m not avoiding you. I’m… busy,” you replied, trying to sound firm.

“I understand. You have a lot going on in your life now. But… can I take you to dinner after the tournament?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head.

“Dinner? With a baby? Doesn’t sound very practical.”

“I don’t care about the circumstances,” he said, stepping a little closer. “I only care about you.”

Your heart pounded loudly. You wanted to say no, that it was too complicated. But part of you longed to feel seen, desired… loved.

“I’ll think about it,” you finally said, walking away before he could press further.

The night of the tournament’s final day arrived faster than you expected. Miguel was focused on his final match, and you were trying not to think too much about Wolf. But it was impossible. Every time you looked around, you found him nearby, watching you with that intensity that made you lose your breath.

During a short break, Miguel approached you, frowning.

“What’s going on with you? You’ve been acting weird the whole tournament.”

“Nothing’s going on,” you lied, avoiding his gaze.

“Does it have something to do with that guy?” he asked, discreetly pointing at Wolf across the gym. “I’ve seen him watching you the whole time.”

You were speechless, surprised that Miguel had noticed.

“It’s nothing, Miguel,” you tried to reassure him.

“If he hurts you, I’ll knock him out,” he joked, though you knew he meant it.

The final match ended, Miguel won, and the gym started to empty out. You were gathering your things when you felt a presence behind you.

“Have you thought about it?” His voice was soft but determined.

You turned to find him closer than you expected.

“My life isn’t simple. I have a baby, responsibilities… I don’t know if I can do this.”

Wolf nodded, as if he had already considered it.

“I’m not asking you to leave everything behind. I’m just asking for a chance.”

You bit your lip, unsure. But when he reached out and gently caressed your baby’s cheek, something inside you gave in.

“Okay,” you whispered, almost not believing it.

Wolf smiled, a genuine smile you hadn’t seen before, and for the first time in a long time, you felt that maybe, just maybe, you deserved to be happy.

He took a step closer, so close that you could feel the warmth of his presence, the weight of his gaze. For a moment, the noise of the gym disappeared, and all that existed between the two of you was that charged atmosphere, full of unspoken promises.

"So, when will we see each other?" he asked softly, his tone as gentle as the brush of a warm breeze.

You could feel the knot in your stomach, the mix of emotions you had always managed to control, but now they seemed to flood out like an unstoppable torrent. The idea of letting someone into your life, of allowing Wolf to have some kind of access to you, terrified you. But at the same time, there was something in the way he looked at you, something in his stillness, that told you it could be different. That maybe what he was offering wasn’t a distraction, but something real.

"I promised I'd think about it," you replied, your voice trembling a little, but you managed to keep it steady.

Wolf didn’t insist. Instead, he simply nodded with that calmness that always surrounded him.

"I know. I just don’t want you to think I’m pressuring you. Take your time, okay?"

A small sigh escaped your lips. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, and that, more than anything else, made you lower your guard a little. You were used to being alone, to facing everything by yourself, but in that moment, you didn’t know what was happening, but you didn’t want to reject the idea of being with him.

"I’ll see you later," you said with a slight nod before turning and walking toward the lobby, where your baby was starting to move in your arms, as if the little one had something to say.

The afternoon passed in a whirlwind of emotions. Every step you took brought you closer to a point of no return. On one hand, you thought about your child, about what he needed, about what you needed. Were you ready to open your heart to someone else after so much time keeping the world at a distance?

And yet, something inside you told you that maybe you were. Maybe it was time to take the risk.

When night fell, and the place emptied of the last wave of spectators, you found yourself face-to-face with him again. He was there, as if he had been waiting for you, in a corner of the gym, surrounded by the lights that were slowly turning off.

"I think I’ve made a decision," you said, looking at your feet for a moment, taking a breath before raising your gaze to meet his.

Wolf raised an eyebrow, interested but not pressing you. He knew that what you were about to say was important, and you could see that in his expectant look.

"And... what is that decision?" he asked, his voice low and smooth at the same time, sending a shiver down your spine.

You smiled slightly, with that insecurity you only felt when you didn’t know what the future held.

"I think I’d like to... have that dinner after all." Your words were like a revelation, something that had been locked inside and finally came out.

Wolf took a step toward you, and the world seemed to stop for an instant.

"Then, will you let me do things right?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper as his hands, firm yet gentle, took your baby’s hands, giving you space to make the decision you had already made in your heart.

Without thinking twice, you nodded, feeling like you could finally see the possibility of something beyond your fears.

Wolf smiled, a smile that wasn’t one of triumph or satisfaction, but a warm, understanding smile, as if he had understood every piece of uncertainty that had been swirling in your mind. It was the first time you felt truly seen, as if everything you had kept inside, everything you had feared, had found a place where it could fit.

"So, when will we see each other?" he asked again, but this time there was no urgency in his voice, just a longing you secretly shared.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, but instead of resisting, you decided to let that feeling surround you. You didn’t have clear answers, nor did you know what the future might bring, but something told you that, at least for a moment, you could allow that small spark of hope.

"Tomorrow?" you answered almost without thinking, as if you had been waiting for that response in some corner of your being.

Wolf nodded, his gaze fixed on yours with a soft but unwavering intensity. The noises of the gym, the flickering lights, everything faded into the air, as if time had stopped just for you to be here, in this space, in this possibility of what could be.

As you walked toward the exit, your steps slowed, as if the weight of the decision was taking form in your feet. The little one in your arms adjusted, breathing peacefully, his small face calm, unaware of the internal battle you had fought.

You reached the door, and before stepping out into the cold of the night, Wolf stopped. He turned to look at you, his expression serious but filled with something you couldn’t quite identify, something that invited you to come closer, to trust.

"I promise you won’t regret it," he said, his words simple, yet carrying a weight that made you believe them.

Without thinking, you nodded. Because sometimes, what you needed wasn’t to have all the answers, but to know that someone, even if just for a moment, was willing to walk alongside you, not pressuring you, not demanding anything more than being there.

With one last look, he said goodbye with a simple gesture, a promise without words.

[krispdreemurr]

sometimes I think about mettaton and alphys like. god. what a fucked up friendship. the accidental entering into a dynamic where both of you have blackmail material on the other that like surely you know you'd never Use it on each other, you're Friends, but it's always there hovering in your minds. how it must have seeped into everything. alphys shutting down and procrastinating on finishing the EX body, and mettaton knowing at least a little that something terrible is behind it (and if he knows Fully that's even more Material) but he never dares to push. mettaton growing away from alphys and becoming increasingly cold and snarky when they're pushed into contact, but she never dares to ask if he still even wants to be her friend.

and there has to have been a certain fucked up like Safety to it too. the one person in all the world who you can trust, even if it's a trust born from having weapons leveled at each other. neither of them knows how to manage a friendship that the other person can Leave, and so they just get into this self destructive little spiral for the two of them

i'm thinking about this again because I recently reread the alarm clock dialogue for mettaton, the last bit, where he and Maddie watch Alphys and Undyne together, and for just a second he's bitter. not because he was in love with Alphys, obviously, but - she's grown past the loop. all her secrets are spilled. she's learned that she can be honest about who she is and what she's done and can still be loved. she may still be friends with mettaton, but she doesn't Need him now.

but, well.

he hasn't been quite so lucky.

and so just for one moment a little bit of that long-curdled resentment boils free, before it's gone again behind a dazzling show-worthy smile.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Keegan's Girl Chapter 1

Summary:  Y/N was Keegan’s girl.  Until she wasn’t.  The team would never be the same, and Ghost respected that.  But after years of trauma, pain, grief and loneliness, he still never stopped loving her.  Is it too late?  Or wrong?  Or is it just right?

**Keegan x reader **Konig x reader **Ghost x reader

Warnings: major character death; mentions of death; grief; depression; smut; language

Next chapter

**pictures from TikTok= Keegan is @kpruss86; Konig is @coser_boba; Ghost/Simon is @simon.ghost00

“We drop in 60 seconds,” Konig barked over the comms.

“Copy,” Ghost replied.  He turned to look back at Keegan, who was holding Y/N.  He quickly looked away to let them have their moment, the pain in his heart still stinging.  He had deep, romantic feelings for Y/N for years now, but Keegan had beaten him to asking her out all that time ago.  He’d just never been able to gain the courage, so he suffered in silence as his friend and his love were happy together.

“Got your six,” Keegan breathed as his forehead rested against her forehead.

“Got your six,” Y/N whispered.  She reached up on her tiptoes and kissed him through his mask.  She pulled away from him, giving him a wink before heading to the med bay behind them.  Keegan smiled then joined Ghost and Konig at the loading dock that was opening over the drop point.

“Ready boys?” Keegan asked, giving them both a cocked eyebrow.

“Looks like a good day to die,” Ghost smirked.

Konig snickered.  “Drop in 3…2…1…Go!”

***

The mission went to shit almost the moment they hit the ground.  The intel was bad, and instead of a quick stealth mission to find information and blow the place to shit, they were ambushed and pushed into a corner.  Ghost was quickly running out of ammo.  “Backup!  We need backup!” he yelled through the comms again, repeating the coordinates.  “Answer me, dammit!”  There was a crackle in his radio, then nothing.  He swore heavily as he moved position, finding himself next to Keegan.  “Where are they?” he asked, shooting another insurgent.  

“Your guess is as good as mine!” Keegan yelled back.  He shot off a few more rounds before ducking down and reloading.  “That’s my last mag.”

“I’m on my last,” Ghost replied.  “Konig?  Where are you?”

He heard a grunt over the comms and panted breaths.  “By the river.  I see the chopper.  They’re headed your way.  Meet you in 2.”

“Hurry,” Ghost said.  He turned to Keegan again, who was about to stand back up and shoot, when he saw a soldier coming at them from the side.  “Keegs!” Ghost screamed, aiming and shooting at the man.  Keegan whirled around to shoot but it was too late.  He was hit, his body convulsing and falling backwards just as Ghost’s bullet killed the opposing man.  “No!” Ghost ran up and pulled Keegan up out of the mud.  Keegan’s eyes were wide, looking around wildly as his breathing staggered.  Ghost held him up, checking where the gunshot was, and upon seeing the blood pouring out of his chest he groaned.  “Keegs is hit!” he yelled into his radio.  “I repeat, Keegs is hit!  We need medical, now!” 

Finally the chopper could be heard overhead just as he saw Konig running towards them.  Konig helped lift Keegan as it landed and they rushed toward it, bullets raining down around them.  They jumped on and it lifted immediately, the gunner shooting at the insurgents as they quickly flew back.  Keegan was set onto a bed in the med bay and Y/N came running up.  “Keegs,” she breathed as she started ripping his vest off.  “Don’t you dare die on me, you fucker, you hear me?” she growled as she started doing everything she could to stop the bleeding, trying to get him stabilized.

Keegan chuckled then coughed as he watched her.  “Sorry, babes, I don’t…I don’t think this is gonna end well.”

“Stop it!” she yelled at him.  “You’re not dying on me.  Not today.  Come on!” she fluttered her hands around him, switching out bloody gauze for new gauze that quickly matched the red ones.  She barked at her med bay partner for more supplies and they quickly ran to the supply closet, grabbing more gauze and needles and medicine.

“Y/N,” Keegan panted.  “Look at me,” he pleaded, his eyebrows knitted together in pain.

Y/N shook her head as her partner brought over the supplies and started trying to help her.  “No, Keegs, come on.  You gotta hold on for me, we’ll be there soon,” she said, her voice wobbling as the tears that she was fighting started to fall down her face.  Ghost and Konig could only stand back and watch, both of them panting from the exertion of the mission and the panic at the scene in front of them.

Keegan looked over at Ghost.  “Simon,” he pleaded, reaching a gloved hand out to him.  “Take care of her for me.”

Ghost walked over to him and took his hand.  “I won’t need to mate, you’re gonna be okay.”  He knew as he said it that it wasn’t true.  Keegan squeezed his hand and Ghost nodded.  

Keegan gave him a nod back.  He then turned back to Y/N.  “Babes,” he whispered.  Y/N finally stopped, looking at him, her face scrunched in pain.  “I’m sorry,” he smiled at her.  Y/N shook her head as she leaned down close to his face, her hands coming up to grasp his other hand and then cradle his face in her palm.  “I was gonna marry you, you know?” he said quietly.  “The ring is in my dresser, in the top drawer,” he gasped in pain, his body starting to shake.  Y/N’s lips trembled and she shook her head again.  “I was gonna…ugh, I was gonna ask…make it all sweet and corny,” he said shakily.  

Y/N whimpered and reached up to pull down his mask.  She leaned down and kissed his lips.  “I say yes,” she cried.  “I love you, Keegs.  Please stay.  Fight and stay so you can marry me.”

Keegan’s body was shaking worse, his breaths becoming more shuddered and shallow.  “I wish I could, Y/N,” he smiled at her, tears streaming down the sides of his eyes.  “One more kiss, please…”  Y/N quickly leaned in and kissed him again.  She leaned her forehead against his forehead.  

“I love you babes.  Even if I’m not here, I’ve always got your six,” he whispered.

“Got your six,” she whispered.  Keegan smiled wider, then huffed a laugh before he gasped again, letting out a hum, then his eyes fluttered closed and he sighed his final breath.

Y/N gasped, freezing as she watched his eyes close.  Nobody moved, the last bit of hope being sucked from the room with his sigh.  Ghost was crying, still holding Keegan’s other hand that was now limp.  He turned and looked at Konig standing behind Y/N in shock, then at the other med bay attendant, who met his gaze and then looked at his watch.  “Time of death, 2200 hours, 14 minutes.”  Y/N dropped Keegan’s hand and fell back, Konig catching her before she hit the floor.  Ghost quickly set Keegan’s hand down and rounded the bed, kneeling down in front of her.  She was crying silently, her eyes distant and her face pale.  She looked dead, like Keegan had taken her soul with him.

“I’m so sorry, love,” Ghost whispered to her, taking her hands as Konig tried to keep her upright.  He sniffed hurriedly to keep his composure.  “I’m so sorry…”

Y/N just sat there, her head leaning back against Konig’s shoulder.  Her eyes eventually registered him in front of her, and she finally came back to herself.  She curled in on herself between the two of them, her face scrunching in pain again and her breathing becoming ragged.  She inhaled deeply then let out the worst sound Ghost had ever heard.  He flinched at the unearthly wail, and released her hands to reach for her face.  Ghost was trying to speak to her, but she was beyond hearing, her grief overtaking her.  She screamed and screamed as they flew back to base until her throat gave out and the med attendant sedated her.

***

Hours later, after Keegan’s body had been carted off the chopper and mission reports were done, Ghost walked into Y/N and Keegan’s room.  Y/N was sitting on the bed with her legs crossed, holding a ring box and staring at the ring inside.  He slowly walked over to her and sat next to her on the bed.  “Love?” he said quietly.  Y/N didn’t move.  She was still silently crying, the tears never ending since she woke up from being sedated.  He turned to face her more and reached out, setting his hand over hers.  “Y/N?”

She blinked and slowly looked up at him.  She looked dazed, a brief recognition in her red-rimmed, puffy eyes.  “Simon,” she whispered.  Her voice was broken after the screaming from earlier.  

He gave her a small smile.  “Hey love,” he stroked her hand with his thumb.  “What can I do to help?”

Y/N shook her head.  “I don’t know,” she sniffed.  “I’m…I feel…”

Simon nodded.  “I know,” he said.  He’d lost so much throughout his life, gone through so much that he had an idea of what it was she was going through, but he’d never lost a deep love like she had.  Y/N nodded and looked back at the ring.  “Can I see it?” Simon asked.  Y/N numbly handed the box to him and he took it gingerly.  It was a beautiful ring.  Keegan must have saved for a while to get it for her.  He looked back at her.  “He had great taste,” he chuckled lightly.  “Do you wanna wear it?”

“No,” she said automatically.  “Wouldn’t feel right…”

Simon hummed.  “How about this?” he said.  He gave her back the ring box and then reached his hands behind his neck.  He took off the simple chain he wore under his shirt, then took the ring from the box.  He hung the ring onto the chain and then held it up to her.  “That way you can wear it, but not…like you would have,” he said.  Y/N looked at the ring on the chain and blinked back tears as she nodded.  She turned so her back was facing him and he put the necklace around her neck, clasping it as she adjusted it down her chest.  She turned to face him again, her fingers holding the ring and setting it down low on her sternum.  

Y/N looked back up at him as a fresh wave of tears fell down her face.  She whimpered as she held the ring between her fingers.  “Si…” she cried.  “What do I do now?” she leaned forward until her forehead rested against his shoulder and he hugged her, pulling her closer and holding her.

“I don’t know, love,” he whispered, his voice trembling. He kissed the top of her head through his mask. “But I’ll always be here for you.”   

**I just wanna say I'm so sorry! Made myself cry with this one. Hope you guys wanna see more! Coming soon...**

[lunette-png]

Waves of Ithaca

Chapter 1: The Tides Brought Her Home

The dock groaned beneath her boots, the solid earth a sharp contrast to the gentle rise and fall of the sea's embrace. Her lungs filled with the scent of brine an pine, the Ithaca sun pressing her with warmth. Yet it did not ease the unnamed tension that filled the air.

Regal as ever, draped in a deep blue, Penelope stood at the pier. Even from a distance, there was a quiet strength in the way she held herself, but her hands were clasped tightly in front of her, betraying the tension beneath. Beside her stood Telemachus- no longer the small child their father had left behind, but not yet a man. He was taller, though still slight, his hands curled into fists as if trying to prove himself to the world.

She barely had time to disembark before her brother broke into a run.

"(Y/N)!" he shouted, his voice cracking slightly with emotion.

She laughed, barely catching him as he collided into her, his arms wrapping around her in an unguarded embrace. She staggered back a step but held him tightly, ruffling his hair like she used to when they were younger.

"You’ve grown since we last saw eachother," she murmured.

"And you smell like the sea, as you always do," he grumbled, though he did not let go.

She only chuckled, her gaze shifting to Penelope.

Her mother had not moved, but her eyes were shining, her lips pressed together as if holding back words she dared not say. It was not the first time she had returned from a voyage, but something about this homecoming felt different. Heavier.

"Mother," she said, quieter now.

Penelope stepped forward, cupping her daughter’s face with hands that were calloused from years of weaving and worry. She did not speak of the months spent waiting, nor of the prayers whispered to the gods for her safe return. She only held her close, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead.

"The sea has not taken you from me yet." Then, finally, she pulled her into a firm embrace.

"You came home," Penelope whispered.

"I always do," She smiled, though there was an unspoken understanding between them. It would, someday.

She was her father's daughter, after all. That fact alone terrified Penelope.

For now, though, she was home.

As the three of them began the walk back to the palace, the familiar streets of Ithaca stretched before them. Her men peeled away, each hurrying to their own homes, to the loved ones who had waited as hers had. The streets were still the same—narrow and winding, the scent of olive oil and baking bread lingering in the air. Yet something had changed, something she could not quite name.

Then, as they neared the palace, she understood.

Strange voices echoed from within the halls—loud laughter, slurred speech, the clatter of goblets against wood. The scent of spiced wine, of roasted meats, filled the air. But it was not the warmth of homecoming. It was something else entirely.

The moment they stepped into the courtyard, her stomach twisted.

Men—dozens of them—lounged across the stone benches and stairways, draped in fine tunics that did not belong to them. They feasted from silver platters, drank from goblets that had once been her father’s. Servants moved between them with downcast eyes, shoulders hunched under the weight of unspoken commands.

She stopped in her tracks.

"Who are they?" she asked, her voice dangerously quiet.

Telemachus scowled. "Suitors," he spat, the word like venom on his tongue. "Men who believe Father is dead. Men who wish to take his throne—his wife, our home. Men who dare lay claim to what is not theirs"

A slow, burning fury settled in her chest. She clenched her fists at her sides, her nails biting into her palms.

Her mother straightened beside her, her expression composed, though her eyes betrayed her exhaustion. "I have stalled them as long as I could," Penelope murmured.

"But they grow bolder. They dishonour our home, they insult your brother in his own halls."

Her lips pressed into a thin line.

She met her mother’s gaze, then Telemachus’s.

The sea had made her strong, had given her freedom. But here, in her father’s halls, another battle was brewing.

And she had no intention of letting Ithaca fall.

AN: it's kinda short, sorry ㅠㅠ still getting used to typing on my tab

[klaus-littlestwolf]

an you please write some yandere Daemon hc's

Yan!Daemon T. HC’s

(I also received a request for Daemon and Rhaenyra’s sister HC’s so I’m going to combine them for this one-sorry it’s so short but I just wanted to write a short Daemon one tonight)

Honestly I’m kind of sorry I’m never in more Daemon moods rather than Aemond. Aemond is my Babygirl and my fav Targaryen of all time and ofc my fav little war criminal but I love Daemon and I’ve been asked if I would be willing to write for him more so if you have any specific Daemon requests that you think I would pull off well go ahead and send them🤷🏼‍♀️

~Daemon adored you the moment he laid eyes on you

•He was the first person besides the Maester to hold you. Your mother was sleeping soundly after the difficult birth and as the Maester was bringing Y/n to the King, Daemon cut him off and insisted he would do it himself

•He took his time getting to the small council where the King waited to see his second child, he was content just playing with you as you kept snatching his thumb and trying to suck on it, squeezing tightly which he was impressed by-already a tough Targaryen, he couldn’t wait to see the strong Dragon Rider you would become

•It wasn’t often that Daemon held babies but you were the cutest little thing he had ever laid eyes on and it was difficult to release you.

‘It is a girl brother.’ He announced as he walked in, all men now staring at the vicious Targaryen man that was wild enough to mount Caraxes, as he cradled a small babe who held his fingers tightly without making a single sound.

‘She is beautiful.’ Viserys stated as his younger brother handed him his daughter, grinning like an idiot at the sweet little girl.

‘Another girl. I am sensing a pattern my King.’ The Lannister teased and before the King could comment, Dark Sister was at the idiots throat and he dared not even swallow to avoid being nicked by the Valyrian Steel blade.

‘That is enough brother. You have taught him his lesson. Come now, let us go and find Rhaenyra, she will want to meet her little sister.’ Viserys stood but Daemon cut him off.

‘Actually I believe I should go to the pits, she will need an egg in her cradle tonight. I will choose the most beautiful one possible, brother.’ He nodded and Daemon was off to get his niece her first gift though if he had it his way he would teach his niece to fly right beside him on Caraxes, cradled like their mother had done for them.

~Y/n looked up to her uncle and loved him very dearly all her life

•He was the first one to comfort her when her second egg did not hatch when she was given it at 6, she was heart broken but her Uncle made her feel better

‘Of course you will have a dragon, it will just take time. You will mount your own dragon like a true rider, you’ve nothing to worry about my darling.’ Daemon kissed the girls head before leaving her to her studies as soon as her tears had dried up.

~Daemons affection for her grew as she got older and once she was 17 years old he knew he needed to make her his

•The men fighting for your hand were boys, children who could never care for his precious niece like she deserved and so Daemon took her for himself

•He stole you away in the night and married you, finding the fact that your Uncle loved you as you did him to be something you could not live with married to another man

•Your father lost his mind, he tried to annul the marriage but it had been consummated already and you refused to leave Daemon, getting angry at your father for hitting your husband (though you hadn’t seen the smirk Daemon wore at the idea of having you all to himself)

•You fought with your father viciously once you both returned to the Red Keep and though it went on for almost an hour, eventually your father dropped the subject-not wanting to risk losing his second child over a marriage that he didn’t approve of

~Daemon and his Niece!wife ended up on Dragonstone with Rhaenyra and her sons

•His first two daughters lived on Driftmark with their grandmother and visited often, both loving their cousin/step mother dearly and begging for more common visits however it didn’t happen much once Daemon first filled you up with a baby

•Daemon had never been happier than the day that you went into labor-unlike most men he insisted on being in the room and holding onto your hand tightly (allowing you to squeeze his hand as firmly as you needed)-refusing to let what happened to Laena Ever happen again and telling the Maester months before the delivery that if he so much as even considered cutting his wife open as an option in any way that he would cut him open from balls to brains and find them a new Maester that knew what he was doing

•You gave Daemon his first son the first time you gave him a child and he was over the moon! Once the Maester handed him his son he didn’t want to ever let him go, pacing with the baby boy-Daemion- until he began crying and Daemon realized he was keeping his son from his very first meal as his wife looked over at him truly exasperated

•Once you finally fell asleep as your son had been cleaned and fed Daemon took him down the hall-the King had come when you wrote and asked for his presence since you were so close to giving birth

‘Brother…would you like to meet your first nephew?’ Daemon asked, peeking into the library where his brother waited upon hearing your screams of pain, everyone else having joined him.

‘A boy! Yes! Wonderful brother!’ He grinned, holding out his arms and taking his brothers first son into his hold.

‘What has she named him?’ Rhaenyra inquired, moving to see the silver haired angel along with Jace and Luke, as well as Helaena and Aemond who moved to peek at the boy as well.

‘Daemion. He is in perfect health, and my wife is doing splendidly, even after breaking 2 of my fingers.’ He joked, though he knew it was true as he looked down and still couldn’t move his last 2 fingers on his left hand.

‘May I have the pleasure, Uncle?’ Rhaenyra asked, unable to look away from the perfect little Angel that she called a nephew.

‘Of course Rhaenyra.’

•Rhaenyra loved Daemion more than she thought possible, Aemond, Aegon and Helaena also loving their elder sisters son and her next 3 sons and daughter as well-Y/n having been very good to them in their childhoods in ways that their mother was not, all looking to her for comfort in their youth-it was her in the end that kept the family from killing each other more often than not

~Once the King died, Rhaenyra was promptly settled as Queen thanks to her younger sister-though it was completely unintentional

•Aemond set out to find Aegon as their mother told him to, however both brothers rode for Dragonstone not an hour later with Vhagar and Sunfyre

•Rhaenyra hadn’t realized how much her younger brothers loved her sister until they landed outside of the courtyard, everyone coming outside in question of the impromptu appearance, and she knew in that moment that if it wasn’t for her sisters kind heart in raising those boys when Alicent didn’t that the idea of her being Queen may have just been a fantasy

‘My sweet boys!’ Y/n smiled, raising her arms and hugging the both of them to her firmly, Aemond and Aegon hugging the girl back as they always did (Y/n ignored Daemons jealous growl at the interaction-he hated the fact that he knew his nephews had “Mommy Issues” and they were much too in love with his wife in his opinion-Both boys just avoided the subject since they knew he was right, keeping it very well hidden from her all their lives)

‘Hello Sister!’ Aegon smiled, kissing her cheek.

‘What brings you both here like this…what has happened?’ She worried, looking to Aemond to explain as she picked up her daughter, holding her tightly as she was now worried at the looks on her brothers faces.

‘We wished to avoid a war all together. Father is dead…and our Mother is determined to see Aegon ascend the throne. Grandfather insisted that you should all bow to the new King or he would send Vhagar to burn Dragonstone to the ground…I could never in my life have come to hurt you or your children sister, nor could Aegon.’ They all knew that there was no love lost between Rhaenyra, her sons, and her brothers but everyone knew that both brothers and Helaena loved Y/n passionately.

‘Helaena could not get the twins and fly with us quickly enough however she is waiting for you all with excitement.’ Aegon told her, pulling something from his bag and stepping closer to their eldest sister, unwrapping the object and presenting Rhaenyra the crown of “Jaehaerys the Conciliator”. ‘My Queen.’ He spoke softly, clearly not enjoying it but kneeling in front of her, Y/n taking the crown and setting it onto her sisters head as everyone around them knelt before their new Queen, Y/n joining them quickly.

~Daemon and Y/n moved back to Kings Landing with Rhaenyra and her family

•Daemon ended up on Rhaenyra’s council along with his wife who forced him to work with Aemond in controlling the Queens army

•Rhaenys made a wonderful Hand of the Queen as the last hand ended up in the Black Cells for the rest of his life

•Daemon was content with his wife in the Red Keep as his days were not full of commanding the Army and impregnating his wife who ended up giving him 5 sons and 3 daughters all together-Caraxes providing almost all of Daemons children with dragons with both Silverwing who Y/n ended up mounting and Syrax-also providing Aemond and Alys’ sons with dragons of their own a few years later as well (Daemon having introduced the two in order to keep Aemond away from his wife who he seemed to become more and more obsessed with the more babies she gave Daemon)

~Daemons obsession and marriage to his young niece seemed to have given almost everyone everything they wanted-at least it gave Damon everything he wanted and that’s all that mattered to him in the end

Daemon T. Masterlist

[melodyreads]

Hamzah x (Manager)Reader: Part 2

Description: Y/n is the manager for Slushy Noobz. After several months of subtle advances, Y/n figured she may have to take extreme measures to keep things professional. But will this star Hamzah away, or make him even more invested?

a/n: You guys asked for a part two and I am here to deliver. Enjoy!

---

While her job came with many challenges, avoiding her feelings for her employer was the biggest one.

Y/n had always prided themselves on maintaining professionalism. As the manager of Hamzah, one of the internet's biggest growing sensations, they had to. Hamzah was more than just a client—he was a whole new brand. As their manager, Y/n's job was to keep him on track, organize deals, and ensure his content reached the right audience. What they weren’t supposed to do was develop feelings for him.

And yet, here they were, sitting in his apartment after another late-night brainstorming session, watching as he laughed at his own terrible joke. If anyone were to see them right now, Y/n was sure they would be able to tell how she secretly felt just by the way she looked at him. His voice was warm, his presence magnetic. Y/N knew that staying professional was the right thing to do, but it was getting harder with every lingering glance, every accidental touch, and every moment that stretched just a little too long.

Hamzah, on the other hand, had no idea how Y/N managed to keep their composure. He’d been crushing on her for months—maybe even longer—but he never dared to say anything. She was his manager, and he respected her too much to complicate their dynamic. Still, he caught the way their eyes softened when he spoke, how her lips parted slightly when he leaned in too close, how her breath hitched when he touched her hand just a second longer than necessary.

“You know,” he started, leaning back against the couch, arms resting along the top as he turned to face them. “It's so easy to talk to you about video ideas and stuff.”

Y/N let out a small chuckle, shaking their head. “That’s my job, Hamzah.”

“No, but it’s more than that.” His voice became more serious as he started to fidget with his hoodie strings. “You look out for me, not just as a creator but as a person.”

Y/n swallowed hard. She could feel the weight of his gaze as her eyes stayed fixed on the laptop in front of her. The unspoken tension humming between them like an electric current. “That’s what managers do,” she replied, but even to their own ears, it sounded weak.

Hamzah tilted his head slightly, studying them. “Is that all?”

Y/N hesitated. They wanted to provide him with a solid answer. She needed to. But the truth was right there, simmering between them, undeniable. Still, she forced a smile and stood up, brushing imaginary lint off her black slacks. “We should wrap this up. You’ve got a big shoot tomorrow.”

Hamzah sighed, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips as he stood too. “Right. Always professional.” He watched them gather their things, the moment slipping through his fingers. But as they reached the door, he took a step closer, lowering his voice. “One day, Y/n, I’m gonna make you admit there’s something here.”

Y/N’s fingers tightened around the doorknob, but they didn’t turn it right away. Instead, they took a steady breath before glancing back at him with a small, knowing smile. “Goodnight, Hamzah.”

And with that, they walked away, leaving him staring after them—frustrated, intrigued, and more determined than ever.

---

A week later, Hamzah arrived back at the bar he and their team had agreed on. They were hosting a work party celebrating the following year's accomplishments. Was it odd that he felt strangely excited? It wasn’t that he particularly enjoyed these kinds of events, but he knew Y/n would be there, and any excuse to see them outside of work was enough to get him out of the house.

As he entered the building, he was met with many welcomes and congrats, but there was only one person he was searching the dimly lit room for. Unfortunately, Hamzah's excitement was short-lived.

He finally spotted her.

Y/n... standing at the bar, laughing at something some guy had whispered in her ear. The man, tall and effortlessly charming, had his hand resting on the small of their back.

Hamzah clenched his jaw. He couldn't help as his fingers curled into fists at his sides as a wave of jealousy surged through him.

He tried to convince himself that it didn’t matter. That Y/n was free to date whoever she wanted. But when she glanced over and met his eyes, something in her expression flickered- guilt? Hesitation? It was gone in an instant, replaced with a polite smile, as if they hadn’t spent months caught in unspoken tension while you stood with a guy you didn't even know.

He exhaled sharply, forcing a smirk as he grabbed a drink from the passing server. If Y/n wanted to play this game, fine. But he wasn’t going to make it easy for them.

---

The night dragged on, and Hamzah found himself watching Y/n more than he should have. Every laugh, every subtle touch between them and the stranger grated on his nerves. Finally, he had enough.

He strode over, heart hammering in his chest, and slid in between Y/N and the man with a casual confidence that betrayed his frustration. “Hey,” he greeted, flashing a smile that unknowingly gave Y/n butterflies. “Didn’t know we were bringing plus ones tonight.”

Y/N tensed for a fraction of a second before recovering. “Hamzah, this is Tucker. Tucker, this is Hamzah- one of my clients.”

"One of my clients"? The words stung more than he expected.

Tucker extended a hand, oblivious to the underlying tension. “Nice to meet you, man. Y/n’s told me a lot about you.”

Hamzah took the offered handshake but didn’t miss how Y/n shifted uncomfortably. “All good things, I hope,” he said smoothly, but his eyes never left Y/n’s.

Tucker chuckled. “Of course. You’re kind of a big deal.”

Hamzah smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So I’ve been told.” He turned back to Y/n, lowering his voice just enough so Tucker wouldn’t hear. “Didn’t realize you were seeing someone.”

Y/N’s gaze flickered with something unreadable. “It’s new.”

Hamzah nodded slowly, then took a step closer, just enough to make Y/n inhale sharply. “Hope he knows what he’s getting into.”

Y/n’s lips parted slightly, but before they could respond, Tucker placed a hand on their shoulder. “Hey, Y/n, want to dance?”

Hamzah held their gaze, daring them to answer. For a moment, it felt like a silent battle. Then, finally, Y/n turned to Tucker with a small smile. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Hamzah watched them walk away, jaw tight. Fine. If Y/n wanted to pretend like nothing was there, he could play along. But he wasn’t giving up.

At least... not yet.

---

a/n: lol i am dragginggggg this but i'm starting to love the cliffhangers. who wants a part 3?

[omgfangirlland]

Will Mark snap at some point?

Like is he gonna be slightly yanderish for his Sister? Like when the Batfam comes around?

Like:

Mark: "Hey would you prefer staying home and play some boardgames with me your brother" Insert puppy eyes

Batsis: "Yeah sure why not, after all we haven't had enough time this past days"

Mark smiling because he definitely not said that to batsis just because he knew the Waynes were in the city and he didn't want to share his sister no more

Or just Mark and Nolan even Debbie some days encouraging Batsis to just stay in the house and Batsis being like "sure why not, it's not every day that my parents who definitely have their relationship on a thin threat and my brother are in good terms" so she stays in with them (the reason being that also the Ways are in the city)

Or just

Dick Grayson and Mark Grayson are having a passive aggressive competition Infront of Batsis and she's just like..... 😐...... Plus point if Damian (+Jon)bor Oliver just 'steal' your time away from those two (Dick and Mark)

I just need protective/Jealous Older bro Mark

-Nameless 💜

Yes to both. It'll be slow, drop by drop, slow enough that batsis wouldn't notice the clingness. They were already quite close anyway, Mark being more clingy as the story progresses would be brushed by Batsis as her older brother just being worried for her.(and MC enjoys the attention of the family, so she can't complain but shh don't tell Nolan it'll go straight to his head)

Like family nights? Mark and Oliver hanging around as she paint? Comic reading sessions? Batsis is fed and warm, and the pettiness she holds towards batfam grows. Add to it that Nolan realizes he's never really held his kids enough, and some days, the man just picks them all up- baby/toddler Oliver strapped to his front, in one arm Batsis just chilling and the other Mark who is mortified- "I'm a grown man now, dad, but this is nice ig"

The Dick vs. Mark rivalry will be started by Richard, like Mark didn't see this dude as a threat, you told him you hate Dick Grayson, he hates Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson is on the ignore in real life list.

Dick "the angry Robin who fakes going to therapy and is still having issues regarding attachments and expressing his real emotions" Grayson being overheard saying something like "Oh, batsis still loves me us, she stuck around those lesser Graysons becomes she missed me us, she doesn't actually need them."

Instant war. Not because Mark fears what he said to be true (well, maybe a tiny bit) but because of the pure audacity this guy has- how dare he, Mark is the favorite older brother and it shall stay that way. (Mark will use his brain for once and start shit and then go fake crying to Batsis about the meanie Waynes just to make it harder for them to repair the bond)

I definitely see the Mark v Dick thing being an opportunity for the younger siblings, and they'll milk it too. Oliver "they're being scary" puppy dog eyed Grayson and Damian "mother asked if you and Debbie wanted to come eat lunch with us at this family owned restaurant, we could finally spend some time together. You never have time for us." manipulative Wayne would make it hard to say no. Jon being happy to spend time with his friends and their family would be the nail in the coffin.

Batsis will be kind of weak when it comes to the youngsters. Them teaming up together would be an instant win. Those are her little siblings (Jon included, that boy has hung around long enough for the honorary title of little bro by then)

Is Mark jealous by that? Sure, but he has big brother privileges, and being annoying is one of them. (He doesn't really have it in him to be mean to the youngsters due to them being young. He remembers how he himself was, so for now they're giving a bit of grace.) The lil siblings are cuddling? Mark is immediately lying on top of them. "No, you can't get up. It's jail time." And just grabs them all, holds them knowing nobody will save the. Debbie? "Aww, family time." Forehead kisses and bye. Nolan? That man is debating joining or not. The bats? Good luck even coming near the house.

The lil siblings trying to chill in batsis room? Mark is already there, pillow fort built. Mark "Sorry kids, space is big enough only for your sis and I." smugass Grayson has his plans spoiled by Jon immediately going back home stealing all the pillows and by Damian who just buys more. Mark pouts while reading his comics in the much bigger pillow fort Oliver made while Batsis hands the kid colors for his book, Damian "coloring the sun green is... a choice." Wayne helping, and Jon is making friendship bracelets.

Mark's not as pouty when he's forced to join the bracelet making and when he's handed four bracelets(Damian was very much forced to make one for everyone), but he still misses when he had all your attention.

[fairytales-and-folklore]

Champagne Problems

Teen Wolf » Sterek

Title: Champagne Problems

Author: fairytalesandfolklore

Fandom: Teen Wolf (Masterlist)

Relationship: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up (a complete collection of author's notes, inspiration credits, content warnings and tags can be found on AO3)

Summary: Stiles has got champagne problems. No, really. He's had way too many mimosas. A game of tipsy truth or dare at a New Year's Eve pack party ends with Stiles accidentally blurting out that he's in love with Derek…right in front of the sourwolf himself.

"Alright, fine," Erica simpers. "I dare you to tell us who you've got a crush on." "Because we all know there's someone," Lydia insists, giving him a pointed look. "Someone you've clearly been pining after for years now," Danny agrees. "So just come clean, Stilinski. Tell us who it is." Stiles, who is absolutely smashed off his ass at this point in the game, rolls his eyes so hard he sees stars. "Nice try, assholes," he teases with a sing-song lilt and a self-satisfied smile. "But there's no way in hell I'm ever gonna tell you I'm in love with Derek, so you can just—" Somewhere in the distance, a champagne flute shatters, and suddenly, Derek is just there, looming in the distance, eyebrows arched so high they practically straddle his hairline.

Read On AO3 | Read On Tumblr:

Stiles has got champagne problems.

No, really. He's had way too many mimosas.

He'd like to blame Lydia for supplying the Dom Pérignon for tonight's festivities, but really, it's his own fault for thinking he had the stamina to keep up with the brunch quartet. Allison, at least, has the decency to look sympathetic, but Lydia, Isaac, and Danny haven't stopped laughing for a good ten minutes now, ebbing to a series of breath-catching sighs, only to start right back up again with a hastily stifled snort the second Stiles stumbles over his words, doubled over and clutching each other in an attempt to remain upright.

Which, under any normal circumstances, would be totally fine. It's just that drunk Stiles tends to be a bit of a talker. Okay, fine. More of a talker than usual. Like, the kind that has absolutely no reservations about spilling his deepest, darkest secrets to anyone who will listen; no filter, no shame. And Stiles? Yeah, he's determined to take this secret to the grave. 

And if, by some stroke of bad luck, he does manage to run his mouth tonight, well…he's had a good run. Twenty-two is a ripe old age to curl up and die from embarrassment, right? At least he can pride himself on the fact that he's made it six whole years without the pack of human lie detectors he calls his friends and family sniffing him out.

Or so he thinks.

What he doesn't know is that nearly everyone in the pack, including Scott's mom and Stiles's dad, has known for years now that Stiles and Derek have got it bad for each other, and that they're both too stubborn and stupid to do anything about it. Being the meddlesome lovable assholes that they are, they've finally decided that enough is enough, and that it's time to take matters into their own hands. 

Which is how Stiles ends up in a crowded corner of the living room, swept up in a game of tipsy Truth Or Dare.

It starts off innocently enough, spilling truths about kindergarten crushes and drunken college escapades, daring each other to take shots of awful combos like watermelon Smirnoff and Bailey's Irish cream. But then it starts to get weirdly specific, and Stiles can't help but feel like maybe the universe is conspiring against him, because—

"Stiles, truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Who are you going to kiss at midnight?" Allison asks, giggling when Scott leans in to press a kiss against her dimpled cheek.

"Uhhh, no one," Stiles frowns. "You know, since I'm pretty much the only one here not coupled up in disgustingly adorable romantic bliss."

He gestures between the two of them and mimes vomiting rainbows.

"Everyone except for Derek," Danny helpfully supplies.

Stiles swallows nervously. 

"Right, yeah. I, uh…forgot."

Like hell he did.

"Stiles…truth or dare?"

The smile Lydia gives him is downright predatory.

"Uhh…dare, I guess."

Stiles watches Lydia exchange conspiratorial glances with Allison and Danny, and narrows his eyes in suspicion.

"I dare you to kiss the last person you texted at midnight."

Which — of fucking course — just so happens to be Derek, of all people.

Which Lydia knows damn well, having stolen his phone for a group photo just moments before.

Stiles is beginning to sense a theme here…

"Yeah, okay," Stiles chokes out around a nervous chuckle, rolling his eyes. "I think I'll pass. I don't feel like going into the New Year with my throat ripped out, thanks."

He can't be certain, but he thinks he hears Lydia mumble something to the effect of god, you're both such oblivious idiots under her breath. And…yeah, Erica definitely just rolled her eyes. What the hell?

"Fine, I'll choose another one. I dare you to…" she taps one perfectly manicured finger against her chin thoughtfully. "…send a sexy selfie to the last person you texted."

Stiles gives her a pleading look, but Lydia just stares back at him expectantly, one threatening eyebrow arched.

With a resigned sigh, Stiles pulls out his phone, tilts the camera like it's 2003 and he's angling for the perfect myspace profile pic, and gives the camera a cheeky half-smile. He opens his text thread with Derek, smirking to himself as he reads over the last thing they'd written to one another just hours before — a heated debate over who made a better villain, Voldemort or Umbridge — and texts the photo to Derek with a hasty apology.

sorry, we're playing truth or dare, Lydia made me

Heart kicking up speed, he watches Derek glance down at his phone, chest puffing out as he takes in a sudden, sharp breath, before a smile that makes Stiles melt into a puddle spreads across his face.

Ugh. Curse Derek Hale for having a smile like actual fucking sunshine.

A few seconds later, Stiles's phone buzzes.

I don't mind. It's a good photo of you.

The blush that burns across his face could start a bonfire.

He doesn't realize it's his turn again until Erica is threatening to steal his phone and use it to send Derek one of the many unsolicited dick pics she's received over the years, complete with a winking emoji and a cheesy pick-up line. Stiles blanches, gaze snapping up from his phone screen to catch the mischievous gleam in her eyes.

"Whoah, calm down there, Satan," Stiles teases, slipping his phone back into his pocket, hands held up in surrender.

Erica smiles sweetly at him. He's never felt more terrified.

"Now that I have your attention…truth or dare, Stilinski."

"Truth," he says, which, judging by the positively wolfish grin that spreads across her face, is a mistake. 

She asks him if he's ever wanted to kiss anyone in the pack, which devolves into a game of Never Have I Ever, which somehow ends up turning into a round of Fuck, Marry, Kill during which Stiles accidentally chooses to both fuck and marry Derek.

(In his defense, his only other options were Gerard Argent and a Berserker, so…)

"Shit," he says, a fresh wave of heat swimming through his veins from the victory shot he'd just done for winning Never Have I Ever. He's pretty sure whoever manages to put the most fingers down first is supposed to be the one who drinks, but…well, who's counting?

"I just chose Derek twice, didn't I?" he asks sheepishly.

"Yes you did, sweetie," Erica giggles, ruffling his hair affectionately. "Yes you did."

Stiles chances a glance over at Derek, who's standing at the kitchen island with a champagne flute in his hand, deep in conversation with Boyd, Isaac, and Jackson, and breathes a sigh of relief.

"Alright, buddy, I've got one for you," Scott chimes in, slinging an arm around his shoulders and swaying a little on the spot. Looks like someone went a little hard on the wolfsbane-laced whiskey. "But you've gotta pick truth."

"O…kay," Stiles agrees reluctantly.

"Do you have a crush on anyone?" Scott poses with a knowing smile. And like, okay…Stiles is vaguely aware that Scott has probably suspected for quite some time now, but he didn't think his best friend would ever call him out on it.

Stiles brushes it off with a laugh and scoffs, "What are you, five? Who even says 'crush' anymore?"

"Uh…you do," Scott frowns. "Remember? Just last week, when you said you had a crush on that guy who plays Superman in that new show on The CW—"

"Yes, okay, fine," Stiles concedes, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Whatever, I'm switching to dare."

Scott gives him his patented puppy-dog pout.

"Alright, fine," Erica simpers. "I dare you to tell us who you've got a crush on."

"Because we all know there's someone," Lydia insists, giving him a pointed look.

"Someone you've clearly been pining after for years now," Danny agrees, somehow managing to look both fond and exasperated all at once. "So just come clean, Stilinski. Tell us who it is."

Stiles, who is absolutely smashed off his ass at this point in the game, rolls his eyes so hard he sees stars.

"Nice try, assholes," he teases with a sing-song lilt and a self-satisfied smile. "But there's no way in hell I'm ever gonna tell you I'm in love with Derek, so you can just—"

Somewhere in the distance, a champagne flute shatters, and suddenly, Derek is just there, looming in the distance, eyebrows arched so high they practically straddle his hairline.

It takes a few seconds for his brain to catch up to his mouth, and then the realization of what he'd just said dawns on him. Stiles claps a hand over his mouth, eyes wide in comical horror as he sinks to the floor and covers his face in the palms of his hands. He suddenly feels a lot less warm and fuzzy, and about ten shades more sober.

Moments later, he feels a pair of strong arms lift him into a standing position. Hesitantly, he moves his hands away from his face and finds Derek standing right in front of him, wide eyes warm and bright, a tentative smile curling across his face. 

He's so pretty when he smiles, Stiles thinks stupidly. He hopes Derek will let him down gently.

"So uhh…how much of that did you hear?" Stiles asks, sheepish smile coming across as more of a grimace.

"All of it," Derek replies with a hint of amused fondness in his voice.

Stiles is vaguely aware of how quiet the room has gone, music and chatter fading to a gentle hum as his entire world zeroes in on the man standing in front of him. 

The rest of the pack looks on like they're watching a soap opera. He's not sure how, but he thinks he even sees Isaac produce a lawn chair and a bowl of popcorn, nudging it toward Scott and Boyd.

"Oh," Stiles says, sounding small, resigned. He winces, preparing for the inevitable rejection.

"Stiles," Derek says softly, and Stiles swears his name has never sounded so sweet. When he looks back up, Derek is staring at him with a positively radiant smile on his face, forest eyes sparkling in the glow of the fairy lights strung around the living room. He reaches a hand up to gently cup Stiles's face, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against the hollow of Stiles's cheekbones as he leans forward and kisses him. 

There's an eruption of cheers and catcalls all around them, Derek's smile a hard line against his lips as a rumble of laughter vibrates through Stiles's chest.

They spend the rest of the evening curled up on the couch, too wrapped up in each other to care that they've missed the New Year countdown.

[finchyclarkemd]

Something Different- Pt3

~ NSFW CONTENT ~

Arthur stood in the hallway, his hand hovering over the doorbell, hesitation gnawing at him. The text had been simple: “Come over, my brother’s not home.” He’d never imagined it would lead to this—a quiet flat, just the two of them, with nothing but a spark between them waiting to ignite. He exhaled, shaking off the nerves, and finally rang the bell. When she opened the door, her smile was a little too warm, the kind that made his pulse skip. Her brother was gone, and for a moment, everything else seemed irrelevant. It was just her and him, and he wasn’t sure how much longer they could keep pretending this wasn’t anything more than a simple visit.

Arthur could feel the tension in the air the moment he stepped into the flat, the soft hum of the city outside barely cutting through the silence. It wasn’t just the quiet of the place that had him on edge—it was her. She was sitting on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her, a knowing smile playing at the corner of her lips. He could feel his pulse quicken as their eyes met, the unspoken tension between them so thick it felt like it could snap at any second. Her brother was out, leaving them alone. And something told him that this evening was about to take a turn neither of them would forget. But there was one risk- Chris could be home any time. 

Arthur couldn’t tear his gaze away from her. Every inch of space between them felt like it was charged, crackling with a kind of electricity that left his thoughts hazy and his body restless. She was standing just close enough that he could feel the heat of her, but still distant enough to make him ache with anticipation. He wanted to reach for her, but something held him back—a silent challenge in the air, a question neither of them had asked aloud.

Her fingers brushed against his, light as a whisper, a subtle invitation. The touch sent a rush of heat straight through him, and he didn’t know if he wanted to pull her closer or step back, just to see if she would follow.

"You’re quiet," she said, her voice soft, but with an edge of something he couldn’t quite place. She tilted her head, her eyes locking with his, daring him to make the next move. "What’s going on in that head of yours?"

Arthur inhaled sharply, fighting the pull of her gaze, the way her lips seemed to tease him with their promise of something more. He swallowed, his heart pounding in his chest. "I’m trying to figure out if I can hold back," he said, his voice rough. 

Her smile deepened, a mix of amusement and something else—something that made the air between them feel impossibly thick. "I guess we’ll see," she replied, her fingers brushing the back of his hand again, this time lingering just a fraction longer.

And in that moment, Arthur knew that if he didn’t kiss her soon, he might not be able to stop himself from doing something even more reckless.

“We should maybe do something before Chris comes home…” She said quietly, swallowing hard

Arthur glances at his watch then back at her, with a slight furrow in his brows. “Like what? Chris won’t be back for another couple of hours at least.” He tilts his head curiously, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“Im thinking about you” She says quietly. 

“Me?” He replies, slightly confused.

“You.” She says again.

“What do you want me to do?” Arthur asks. He has an idea of what he wants to do, but he’s unsure if it’s too much too soon, or if they should take up the opportunity of being alone right now.

“Oh i think you know” She replies, a small smile plastered on her face.

He looks up at you, a smirk plastered across his face, his eyes filled with lust and desire. His hand grip the sides of her face with slight aggression before he speaks again. “Are you seriously asking me if i want to fuck you right now?” He groans out.

“What if i was?” She replies, with a devilish smile.

Arthur pills her in for a hungry kiss, biting her lower lip slightly as he growls slightly against your mouth. “Then hell yes, i do.” He breaks the kiss to look down at her, his pupils blown with lust. “Right here, on this couch.” 

“On the couch?” She asks, shocked. It’s risky. Too risky. Chris could come home. But the risk was a thrill, it made it more enjoyable- right?

“On the couch.” He repeats, his voice low and commanding. “I’m gonna bend you over the armrest, pull down those pants, and fuck you hard and deep until you’re screaming my name.” He searches her face, his breathing heavy. 

She looks down at him, unable to form a sentence after what Arthur had just said to her. He can see the shock in her eyes, and he loves it. “Cats got your tongue? Or are you just trying to figure out if I’m serious?” He brings his lips close to her ear, his hot breath tickling her neck. “Because baby, i’m deadly serious.” He runs one hand up her thigh. “Do you want me to stop?” He asks. 

“No…” She whispers, wanting more

Arthur smirks, knowing he has you right where he wants you. He leans back a little giving himself enough room to work. “Good,” He murmurs, his hands moving to your pants. He unbuttons them slowly, his knuckles brushing against her skin. “Lift up.” 

I lift up, like Arthur asked me to. He pulls down my pants and underwear in one swift motion, leaving me bare from the waist down. Arthur takes a moment to appreciate the view before he grabs her hips and lifts them slightly. He then frees himself from his joggers, his long, hard member springing free from its clothed prison. “Hold onto the armrest.” He says in a low, gruff voice. 

Arthur gives a low growl of approval at her response, “That’s right,” he says, positioning himself at your entrance. “Now, be a good girl and keep holding on, okay?” He begins to slide into her, inch by inch, giving her time to adjust. “Fuck…” He groans out at the feeling of her tight walls around his member. 

She lets out a whimper at the feeling of him stretching her, breathing becoming heavier. She grips onto the couch, her knuckles turning white. Arthur’s grip tightens on her hips as he hears her whimper, his breathing becoming ragged. He leans down, his lips brushing against your shoulder as he whispers “You’re so fucking good darling.” 

“Arthur please…” She begs, wanting more of him. He chuckles lowly, a devilish glint in his eyes at her plea. “Please what? Please fuck you harder, or maybe…” He pulls out almost all the way before slamming back in, deliberately hitting your sweet spot. She screams in pleasure at this, which causes Arthur to grin wickedly- knowing he’s found your spot. He picks up the pace, his hips slap against your ass with every powerful thrust, the couch creaking beneath them. He wraps one arm around her, pulling her in closer as he pounds into her. His other hand reaches up to grab her hair, tugging it aggressively to arch her back further. 

“You like it like this? Hard and deep?” His voice is ragged with effort, each thrust is coming faster than the last. He lets go of her hair, his hand wandering to her clit, circling it in time with his thrusts. She mutters his name in time with every thrust, almost as if she’s saying a magic spell. His thrusts become harder, almost punishing, “God.” He moans out softly, getting close to his high. 

He can feel her tightening around him, your body trembling with her impending orgasm. “Come on my cock darling…” He whispers harshly, his own orgasm building close to the edge. Feeling her walls flutter around him, Arthur knows she is about to climax. He drives into her with wild abandon, his cock throbbing inside of her. With a low groan, he bites her neck, playing with her clit faster, determined to drive her over the edge. His words send her over the edge, her orgasm hitting like a freight train. Her walls clamp down on is cock, milking him for all he’s worth as she screams his name in ecstasy. Arthur’s own release follows shortly after, his hips jerking as he fills her up with his hot seed. He stays buried inside her, both their breathing returning to normal. His arms wrap around her, pulling her into his chest. “Guess this means you’re my girlfriend now…” He whispers in her ear. 

“Yeah i guess so..” She replies, but before they can share a kiss, the sound of keys jingling can be heard outside the flat. Shit, it’s Chris.

—————————————————————————————————— PART 3 WOO! first tine writing NSFW content so it may not be the best (many apologies)

LMK if you want a part 4 👀

Tags-

@tyna-19

@themdera

[magic-shop-stories]

how would bts react to their kids being disrespectful towards their wife?

💌 Reply:

Ahh, I hope this is what you wanted... I took me way too long, but I got so many ideas while writing this.

This blog is honestly turning into BTS Parent AU (crying in orphan) - I started with a J-Hope Dad fic and end up writing Dad Headcanons for whole Bangtan - well, it kinda heals my childhood lol...

Thanks for the Request and feel free to reach out 💜 and HAVE FUN reading ✨️✨️

“Respect isn’t a rule, it’s the soil we grow in. If you poison it, nothing blooms.”

NAMJOON

Philosopher-leader

introspective

values growth through empathy & dialogue

Reaction & Consequences

Initial Response:

when he hears the disrespect, his grip tightens on whatever he’s holding, knuckles whitening

closes his eyes for a beat, exhaling through his nose

you know how his jaw clenches? THAT!!!

his voice is low but steady, deliberate calm masking his hurt

“That language isn’t acceptable. Let’s take a walk.”

Internal Feelings: 

disappointment curdles in his chest

mentally files it away to process later

blames himself first before focusing on guiding his child

Teaching Moment

Nature Walk

takes his child to a quiet park or riverbank

points to tangled tree roots: 

“See how they hold each other up? Families are like that. When you hurt Mom, you shake our roots.” 

asks them to find a smooth stone and toss it into water

“Words are like ripples, once they’re out, you can’t take them back.”

Punishment

1) Apology Letter & Reflection Essay

his child writes two things

heartfelt apology to their mom, including specific examples of her sacrifices

A 1-page reflection on “How My Words Impact Others,” using a metaphor; e.g., “Anger is fire,it burns the person holding it too”

2) Community Service

would volunteer with his child at a local community garden for a weekend

“You’ll water plants and see how care grows something beautiful. Like Mom does for us.”

3) Lost Privileges

no screen time (tablet, TV) until both letters are completed to his standards

Internal Conflict

Self-Doubt:

later, he vents in his journal

 “Did I overreact? Am I too abstract for them to understand?” 

worries his calmness comes off as indifference

Frustration & Compassion

part of him wants to yell "How dare they hurt her?" but he swallows it, knowing anger won’t teach

instead, texts his wife: 

“I’m sorry you had to hear that. We’ll fix this together.”

Guilt

buys her favorite latte and leaves it on her desk with a sticky note

“You’re our bedrock. Thank you for enduring my learning curves too.”

Follow-Up

Family Meeting

gathers everyone to discuss “healthy communication.”

uses a whiteboard to map emotions

e.g., “When you’re angry, here’s how we express it without explosions”

lets his child lead part of the discussion

Ritual

starts a weekly “Gratitude Stone” tradition

each family member drops a painted stone into a bowl while sharing something they appreciate about the others

the bowl stays on the dining table as a visual reminder

_________________________________________

“Respect your mom, or I’ll revoke your WiFi and your right to laugh at my jokes. And trust me, you need both to survive.”

JIN

playful disciplinarian

fiercely protective

humor as a bridge to vulnerability

nurturing with a side of theatrics

Reaction & Consequences

Initial Response:

Dramatic Flair

whirls around, clutching his chest like a K-drama lead

“Yah! Did I just hear disrespect in this household? To the woman who gave you life? Are you a villain in a weekend drama now?” 

his voice drops, dead serious

“Apologize. Properly. Now.”

Body Language

looms over his child (playfully intimidating), arms crossed

winks at his wife to reassure her he’s handling it

Internal Feelings

hot flash of anger - How dare they hurt her?

masks it with humor to avoid scaring his kid

secretly wonders - Did I joke too much about respect? Is this my fault?

Teaching Moment

Cooking Lesson Consequences

drags his kid to the kitchen

“You think parenting is easy? Let’s see you handle dinner.” 

carefully forces them to peel garlic, chop onions, and stir a bubbling pot while he “supervises” from a stool

Metaphor Time

 “Mom’s like this stew, holds everything together. You insult her, the whole family falls apart. You wanna taste chaos? Here...” 

lets them sip over-salted broth

“See? Without her balance, life’s spicy in the worst way.”

Punishment:

Apology Performance

he'd make them sing an apology parody of Super Tuna (Jin writes lyrics if they're younger/need help) (too personal opinion)

“I’m sorry, Mom, I was a fool / I broke the golden respect rule!”

complete with fish-themed choreography

Mom’s Personal Assistant

for a week, his kid acts as Mom’s “manager”

bringing her coffee, massaging her shoulders, and taking notes on her daily tasks

“You’ll learn how hard she works and say ‘Yes, Queen’ with a smile.”

No Joke Privilege

bans his child from his dad-joke sessions (their favorite bonding time) until they earn back trust

“Comedy’s a privilege for people who respect their co-stars.”

Internal Conflict

Guilt & Second-Guessing

after bedtime, he stress-eats kimchi pancakes in the kitchen

mutters to his wife: 

“Was I too harsh? Should I have hugged them first?” 

(if she reassures him, he still texts his mom at 2 a.m.)

“How did you not disown me when I was 13 and edgy?”

Protective Fury

secretly grinds his teeth remembering the disrespect

Humor as Armor

buys his wife expensive skincare “just because”

glares at hiskid’s homework like it personally offended her

cracks a joke during the apology song

“Your high note needs work, but the remorse is chef’s kiss”

makes sure his child knows he’s dead serious underneath

Follow-Up

Family Dinner Theater

institutes a weekly “Appreciation Roast” where everyone playfully roasts each other, but he'd end up praising his child and wife

“Your mom’s so amazing, she makes the sun jealous. Fight me.”

Secret Spy Mission

assigns his kid to stealthily document Mom’s daily acts of kindness (e.g., packing lunches, fixing Wi-Fi)

“Mom Appreciation PowerPoint.” = Jin adds meme slides for flair

_________________________________________

“Your anger’s a tool. Use it to fix what you broke, not break what she fixed.”

SUGA

stoic realist

quietly protective

values actions over empty words

emotionally reserved

deeply introspective

Reaction & Consequences

Initial Response:

Cold Silence

freezes mid-task (producing beats, fixing a coffee)

eyes narrowing to slits

voice drops to a low, icy register

“Repeat that. Slowly.” 

room chills, even the air feels heavier

Body Language

leans back in his chair, fingers steepled, jaw clenched

a vein pulses at his temple, the only tell of his simmering rage

Internal Feelings

visceral flashback to his teenage self snapping at his parents

guilt claws at him

“Am I failing like I thought he did?” 

referencing his own father’s emotional distance

Teaching Moment

Studio Session

drags his kid to his home studio at midnight

slams headphones onto them

“You’re angry? Scream. Spit it into the mic. Let’s hear exactly what’s rotting in your head.” 

records their raw, unfiltered outburst

plays it back, deadpan

“This what you want your legacy to be? Noise?”

Lyric Exercise

forces them to transform the rant into structured rap verses 

“Anger’s useless if it doesn’t build something. Mom’s your hook, write a chorus thanking her.”

Punishment

Gratitude Ledger

his child must document every thing Mom does for them for a week, down to folded socks

present it as a spreadsheet

 “Numbers don’t lie. Now apologize in data.”

Manual Labor

assigns them to clean the studio top-to-bottom

“You wanna disrespect the woman who cleans your messes? Learn the weight of it.”

Tech Ban

confiscates their phone/laptop until the rap is perfected

“You’ll communicate face-to-face like we did in the trenches.”

Internal Conflict

Fatherhood Ghosts

stares at old family photos late at night

his father’s stern face haunts him

“Will my kid remember me as a wall or a weapon?” 

texts his mom

“Did I ever make you feel small?” 

she replies with a heart emoji, he saves it but doesn’t sleep

Emotional Paradox 

wants to hug his child but fears coddling

leaves a new pair of sneakers (their size) outside their door -no note

Protective Rage

slips cash into his wife’s purse with a scribbled 

“Buy silence. Spa. Dinner. Whatever. I’ll handle the chaos.”

Follow-Up

Family Cypher

hosts a living room rap battle

he goes hardest on himself

“I’m a flawed king, but Mom’s the throne. Diss her again, and you’ll rap alone.” 

his kid’s verse earns a nod

“Better. Still trash flow, though.”

Silent Ritual

every Sunday, he and his child cook his mom’s kimchi jjigae recipe

no talking, just chopping, stirring, and passing ingredients

“Respect’s in the labor,” he mutters once, and his kid finally gets it

_________________________________________

”You can’t fake respect like a bad dance cover. Nail the basics, or you’re benched from my WiFi."

J-HOPE

radiant disciplinarian

structured yet warm

balances positivity with unwavering principles

thrives on growth through accountability

Reaction & Consequences

Initial Response:

The Judge Face Activated

the moment he hears the disrespect, his signature smile evaporates

eyes narrow into a laser-focused stare

brows furrowing into "courtroom glare."

stands tall, arms crossed, fingertips tapping his biceps

silent countdown to explosion

Voice

sharp and clipped, volume rising just enough to sting

“Hold. Up. Did you just speak to your mother like that? Do you need a mirror to see how ugly that sounded?”

Body Language

steps between his child and his wife, a protective shield

his usually animated hands now rigid at his sides, fists briefly clenching

Teaching Moment

Choreography of Consequences

”Respect Rehearsal”

forces his child to practice bowing and polite phrases

”Yes, Mom,” “Thank you, Mom” 50 times in front of a mirror “You wanna act up? Perfect your performance as a decent human first.”

Gratitude Graffiti

hands them poster boards and markers

“You have one hour to turn this disrespect into art. Every color is a reason Mom deserves better.” 

stands arms crossed, critiquing laziness

“That’s yellow effort. I’ve seen your TikToks, do rainbow.”

Hope’s Homework

assigns a essay titled ”How My Words Dance on Others’ Hearts”

must include a choreography metaphor

“If you can’t write it, we’ll literalize it. Ten pirouettes per paragraph.”

Internal Conflict

Post-Punishment Panic

“Was I too much? Did I break their spirit? What if they hate me now?” 

after sending his kid to their room, he paces the kitchen

stress-eating gummy bears

texts Jimin: 

”Hyung messed up. I went full dance captain on them 😭”

Guilty Glimpses

peeks into his child’s room later, heart aching if they’re crying

leaves a bowl of their favorite fruit with a note

”Anger fades. Love doesn’t. Let’s talk tomorrow.”

Wife Reassurance

kneads his wife’s shoulders that night, voice small

“Did I… overstep? I just... I couldn’t let them think it’s okay to dim your light.” he exhales shakily

Follow-Up

Apology Showcase

makes his child present their poster and essay at a “family meeting.”

he claps loudest, eyes misty

”This… this is hope, right? Growth!”

Kindness Choreo

creates a ”Respect Routine”

his child must perform one act of service for Mom daily (e.g., making her coffee, tidying her shoes)

Dance Floor Therapy

blasts upbeat music, pulling his kid into a silly dance-off. 

”Life’s a stage, yeah? But Mom’s the main audience. Never forget.”

_________________________________________

“You’re my blood. But if you cut her, I’ll bleed harder. Fix this.”

JIMIN

affectionate empath

fiercely loyal

balances warmth with unexpected intensity

prioritizes emotional harmony

Reaction & Consequences

Initial Response:

Surprising Fury

his doe eyes harden into a steel-gray glare

voice dropping to a razor-sharp whisper

“What did you just say to her?” 

steps closer, posture taut as a bowstring

“You don’t ever speak to Mom like that. Apologize. Now.”

Body Language

hands tremble slightly, not from fear, but suppressed rage

he grips his child’s shoulder, not roughly, but firm enough to ground them

“Look at her. Look at how you made her feel.”

Internal Feelings

flash of his own childhood guilt surfaces

that time he snapped at his mother during trainee stress

his anger is laced with panic: 

“Am I repeating cycles I swore to break?”

Teaching Moment

Emotional Bootcamp

Apology Art

forces his child to create a “Heart Map” collage

photos of Mom’s sacrifices, surrounded by handwritten apologies in every color

“If you can’t say it, show it.”

sits silently beside them, tears brimming as he points to a photo of Mom staying up late with homework

Role Reversal

makes them act out a skit where they’re the parent

Jimin plays them, mimicking their harsh tone

feigns sobbing into a pillow

“Feel good? Proud? This is what you did.”

Service Sentence

his child must take over Mom’s chores for a week, packing lunches, folding laundry

he supervises, arms crossed 

“You think her love is free? It’s labor. Respect it.”

Internal Conflict

Guilt Spiral

after confrontation, he locks himself in the bathroom, splashing water on his face

“Did I scare them? What if they think I’m a monster?” 

texts Jungkook: 

”Messed up. I sounded like a monster”

Midnight Check-In

creeps into his child’s room at 2 a.m., tucking them in

whispers

“I’m sorry I yelled. But Mom… she’s my soul. You can’t break her.” 

leaves a handwritten note: 

“Anger is love that’s bleeding. Let’s heal together.”

Wife’s Reassurance

clings to her that night, forehead pressed to her shoulder

“Tell me I’m not failing. Tell me they’ll still love me.”

Soft Family Resolution

Pillow Fort Summit:

builds a blanket fort in the living room

stuffed with snacks and fairy lights

initiates a feelings circle

“I’m sorry I yelled. I felt scared; scared we’d lose us.” 

“Love is sticky, yeah? Messy. But sweet when you knead it right.” 

encourages his child to share

pulls them into a cuddle pile

Baking Therapy

bakes cookies together, Jimin guiding their hands

feeds Mom the first bite, eyes soft

Dance of Apology

plays a slow song, swaying with his child

“This is how we say sorry without words.” 

by the end, they’re both laughing through tears

_________________________________________

“Disrespect your mom, and you erase the art of our family. I’ll burn the palette until you paint her properly.”

TAEHYUNG (V)

artistic empath

whimsical yet profound

values emotional depth and creativity

fiercely protective with a tender heart

Reaction & Consequences

Initial Response:

Quiet Intensity

his playful demeanor evaporates

tilts his head, eyes narrowing into a piercing gaze

voice low and steady

“Did I just hear you disrespect the universe that holds our family together?”

his tone is velvet wrapped in steel

Body Language

steps closer, crouching to his child’s level

hands clasped tightly behind his back to avoid trembling

“You think words are just air? They’re echoes. Let’s make sure yours don’t haunt us.”

Teaching Moment

Metaphor-Driven Lesson:

”Broken Vase” Analogy

brings out a delicate ceramic vase

smashes it deliberately

“This was us. Now fix it.” 

hands them glue, forcing them to piece it back

“Apologies are glue, but cracks remain. Choose your words wisely.”

Songwriting Therapy

drags his child to the piano

“Turn your anger into music. Write a chorus for Mom, every line a reason she’s our melody.” 

plays minor chords until his child’s lyrics shift from defiance to remorse

Silent Gallery

curates a “Mom Exhibit” in the living room

photos, her favorite scarf, a recipe card

forces his child to stand there for an hour

“Breathe in her soul. Then tell me she deserves disrespect.”

Consequence

1) Art Ban

revokes access to paints, instruments, or cameras until the vase is repaired and the song is performed for Mom

“Creativity is a privilege. Use it to heal, not harm.”

2) Memory Journal: 

assigns a diary to log daily acts of kindness from Mom 

“Fill 10 pages. Then burn one and see how it feels to erase her love.”

3) Shadow Day: 

his child must follow Mom for 24 hours, documenting her tasks in a sketchbook

“You’ll learn her language of love—it’s spelled S-A-C-R-I-F-I-C-E.”

Internal Conflict

Doubt in Darkness

late at night, he stares at the fractured vase on his shelf

texts Jin: 

“Hyung, what if I’m too abstract? What if they don’t see?” 

vowing, “I’ll be the parent who stays in the frame.”

Guilt in Gestures

secretly films Mom’s daily routine, editing it into a montage set to his child’s song

leaves it on their laptop with a note: 

“Her love is your legacy. Don’t let it be a silent film.”

Protective Poetry

writes a letter he never sends: 

“I’d raze galaxies to keep you safe. Both of you.”

Resolution

Family Portrait Session

dresses everyone in coordinating hues

directing a photoshoot where Mom is the focal point

whispered to his child: 

“See how she outshines us all? That’s why we orbit her.”

Midnight Storytime

gathers them under fairy lights

recounting a fable about a boy who lost his voice after hurting his mother

ends with, “Love is the only language worth speaking.”

Collaborative Art

paints a mural together titled “Home.”

guides his child’s hand to outline Mom’s figure

“Without her, this canvas is empty. Now fill it with light.”

_________________________________________

“Disrespect Mom, and you’ll spar with me until your heart matches your mouth, strong enough to lift her, not tear her down.”

JUNGKOOK

gentle protector

resilient softie

leads by example

values hard work and emotional honesty

channels intensity into growth

Reaction & Consequences

Initial Response:

Silent Fury

freezes mid-rep at the gym, dumbbell hovering

his muscles tense like coiled springs

jaw clenched so tight his cheekbones sharpen

sets the weight down with deliberate calm, turns slowly, and locks eyes with his child

“You think you’re tough enough to disrespect your mom? Let’s test that.”

Body Language

cracks his knuckles, rolling his shoulders back

his gaze is volcanic

his voice stays eerily quiet

“Gym. Now. You wanna act hard? Be hard.”

Teaching Moment

Boxing Bootcamp

drags his kid to his home gym

forces them into gloves, pads him up, and drills combos

“Hit the pad. Harder. Harder. That’s your anger? Mom’s felt worse from your words.” 

makes them sprint between rounds

“Respect isn’t a game, it’s a discipline.”

Breakdown: mid-session, he stops, chest heaving

“You think I’m mad? I’m terrified. Because if you break her heart, I don’t know if I can fix it.”

Punishment

Labor of Love: 

assigns 100 burpees (he does them too)

“Every rep is a ‘thank you’ for Mom’s sleepless nights.”

Gratitude Gauntlet

forces his kid to handwrite 50 reasons Mom “outworks them daily.”

critiques each one

“’She drives me to school’? Weak. Dig deeper. Sacrifice.”

Tech Timeout

confiscates gaming gear until they’ve detailed Mom’s daily schedule in a spreadsheet

“You’ll see her 18-hour shift. Then we’ll talk ‘fair.’”

Internal Conflict

Regret & Vulnerability

after the workout, he sits alone in the gym, head in hands

texts Yoongi:

”Hyung, did I go full drill sergeant? What if they hate me?” 

stares at a family photo on his phone, zooming in on his wife’s smile

Guilt Gifts

sneaks into his kid’s room at dawn, leaves protein pancakes and a new hoodie (their favorite anime print)

scrawls on a napkin

”Anger fades. My love for you doesn’t. But never hurt her again.”

Protective Paradox

books his wife a solo vacation, "growling" at his kid

 “You’re stuck with me. We’re rebuilding what you cracked.”

Soft Resolution

Sparring Therapy

returns to the gym days later, gloves on

this time, he lets his child hit his pads while venting

“I get it, anger’s easy. Loving’s harder. But Mom? She’s worth the reps.” 

ends with a fist bump

Tattoo Talk

shows them his “ARMY” tattoo

“This means I fight for what I love. You’ll earn yours when you learn to fight for her, not against.”

Family Night

teaches self-defense moves

positioning Mom as the “VIP to protect.”

his kid must shield her from his playful attacks

“Guard her like she’s your last round.”

_________________________________________

[hungermakesmonsters]

(It Is) What It Is

Chapter Four

Plot Summary : When Billy Russo realises that there is a certain class of wealthy clients who refuse to contract with Anvil because of his playboy reputation, he decides to alter their perception of him. You’re just a down on your luck PA, just trying to get by so when Billy offers to pay you to pretend to date him, you can’t refuse. But the last thing you expect is for Billy to pull you into his secret world of lust and debauchery.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Nothing noteworthy on this chapter just more cutesy fluff for now. There will be smutty themes throughout the story. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 5.9k

A/N : 😅😅😅they're both clueless, send help.

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE

Master List

Chapter Four

True to his word, Billy appeared from his office at exactly midday.

For a few seconds, you forced yourself to keep your attention focused on your laptop and the invoice you were trying to finish, but Billy didn’t seem to want to wait. Without any sort of warning, he moved towards your desk and closed your laptop, barely giving you time to pull back your hands.

“Mr Russo, I was -” you started to complain, eyes fixed on the hand that was still holding your laptop shut.

“I said lunch at midday. It’s twelve-o-one now,” he said, almost managing to sound playful.

“You can’t be serious, I need to -”

You stopped yourself when you realised he was holding out his hand to you, expecting you to take it so he could lead you to lunch. And, for reasons far beyond your understanding, you did. It didn’t even cross your mind that you could refuse him as he helped you to your feet and held your coat as you slipped it on.

You didn’t even really think about the way his hand found the small of your back and he moved you both towards the elevator.

When you dared to look at him, you found the strangest little smile on his lips. The whole thing felt surreal, almost so much so that you had to wonder if you’d fallen asleep at your desk.

But, if you were sleeping, your surreal dream quickly became a nightmare as the elevator paused on the fifth floor and Jenny, one of Anvil’s analysts (not to mention the biggest gossip in the building) stepped on. She flashed you a smile before her attention completely shifted to Billy.

“Good afternoon, Mr Russo,” she greeted cheerfully. And, of course she was cheerful - Billy’s hand was still on your back, giving her plenty to talk about once she stepped off on the third floor.

Billy returned her greeting, seemingly oblivious to what the smirk on her lips meant and how she probably felt like she was already bursting to tell someone what she’d just witnessed.

She was there for less than fifteen seconds, but it was more than long enough. The damage was done and, soon enough, everyone who hadn’t seen the photos on the gossip blog would know that there was something going on between you and Billy.

You slumped a little and let out a sigh as she stepped off the elevator, but Billy said nothing; either because he didn’t know or didn’t care about her reputation.

(Or, maybe, he was glad - gossip around the office would certainly help sell the lie.)

When you stepped out into the foyer with him, you forced a smile, giving Carl a little wave as you passed the security desk while Billy remained stuck to your side.

The moment you were outside, his hand dropped from your back and you felt his fingers brush against yours. Instinctively, you pulled your hand away, feeling your whole face start to warm. Looking at him, you expected to see annoyance but, instead there was something else, something you couldn’t quite decipher.

He waited a beat before asking; “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you answered. “Sorry, I’m just... still getting used to the idea of doing this at work.”

“I know,” he said, a hint of genuine regret in his voice. “I’m sorry it’s all so much, so fast. If we had more time...”

Honestly, you weren’t sure what more time would really change. It would still all result in the same thing; your co-workers looking at you like you didn’t deserve your job and believing that you were getting special treatment. At least this way, you supposed, the band-aid had been ripped off and the likelihood of it getting any worse was slim.

Instead of trying to placate him with some lie about it all being fine, you reached for his hand and took it in your own before leading him across the street and into The Bean Grinder.

He fell into step behind you, looking around the little coffee shop that he’d never bothered to set foot in before. You came to a stop in front of the refrigerators, browsing the food selection before settling on a panini. Billy followed your lead and grabbed something for himself. Then he watched with a thinly veiled curiosity while you made small talk with the barista preparing your drinks and heating your food.

Everyone in there knew who Billy was, even if he’d never darkened their door before and, if the looks you’d gotten that morning were anything to go by, they all knew who he was to you. (Who he was pretending to be to you.)

Soon enough you were sitting by the window, Billy sat opposite. You both fell into a strange sort of quiet, one that wasn’t quite  uncomfortable but that left you feeling like something should be said. 

But it wasn’t you that chose to break the silence.

“Can I ask you something?” He said.  You didn’t answer save for the slightest of nods, but it was all Billy needed to continue. “What is it about all of this that makes you so uncomfortable?”

You thought for a few seconds before letting out a sigh. “It’s not that I’m uncomfortable, I just don’t like other people being in my business.”

Billy gave a knowing hum as he lifted his panini and took a bite, his eyes remained fixed on you.

“I get it,” he said a few seconds later, “I guess I should’ve anticipated this.”

This? What did this mean? Was he already reconsidering the whole arrangement? 

For the few short moments he allowed you to spiral, you found yourself panicking. Surely things would be worse if he dropped you now; people would think you were like the other women he’d dated, or they’d assume that he'd only wanted you out of boredom, or worse pity. You wouldn’t be able to stay at Anvil, it would be too embarrassing, it would -

“I know you like to keep to yourself a lot,” Billy continued, not seeming to notice your discomfort. “I’m sorry, I should have at least tried to prepare you for what this is like.”

You waited a moment, waiting for him to drop the bombshell and tell you that he’d changed his mind. But it never came. 

“I just don’t know how you can stand them always wanting to know every little thing about you,” you finally said.

Billy shrugged. “I went from no one caring, to some people caring too much.” He paused to take another bite from his panini, prompting you to do the same. “At least we can try to control the narrative this way.”

You nodded and allowed another silence to fall while you both ate. Bily didn’t speak again until he saw you wrapping your fingers around your coffee mug, trying to warm them.

“Cold?”

“My hands are always cold,” you said.

You both returned your attentions to your respective lunches and you wondered if you should be doing more, trying to make conversation. Usually when you came into the little coffee shop for lunch, you were alone and you’d spend the whole hour reading or listening to a podcast on your phone and, while his company didn’t feel intrusive, you weren’t sure what to do with it.

“Do you like to run?” He asked, brushing crumbs from his lips.

“Only if I’m trying to get away from a bear.”

One of those strange laughs escaped him, the kind that seemed too real for what this was, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sound.

“Why?”

“I like to run through Central Park in the morning, I thought maybe you’d like to join me,” Billy offered. You know, like you were saying - doing fun things together,” he explained.

You didn’t need to stop and wonder if people would be paying attention to things like that. You knew for a fact that they did. Only a couple of months ago, your google alert had pinged with a very sweaty looking photo of him and some story about how he kept in shape since leaving the Marines - though, really, the article had been more focused on the fact that he still had a smoking hot body years after leaving the Marines.

“And that’s... fun for you? You asked after a beat, an almost teasing tone filling your voice. “Getting up early and running in the freezing cold?”

Billy smiled. “I’d be lying if I didn’t say half of the fun was stopping at the waffle truck on the other side of the park.”

The promise of waffles had you perking up.

“I guess we can try,” you offered, deciding it was only fair when you were dragging him to a movie festival you were certain he wouldn’t enjoy. “I haven’t really run anywhere since high school though...” 

You were already embarrassed, knowing that you’d look ridiculous trying to run with him. It wasn’t something you’d ever really thought about before, but just from looking at him, you knew Billy was in far better shape than you’d ever been.

But, at the same time, you tried to think of it as an opportunity. For years you’d been telling yourself that you should try to be a bit more active, even if it was just walking sometimes instead of always taking the subway. You’d just never really done more because the prospect of going to the gym or going to a yoga class on your own always felt a little daunting.

“We don’t have to run,” Billy said, somehow reading your mind, “we can just walk around the park.”

And that was how you ended up in Central Park at seven in the morning, shivering under your thick hoodie and wool hat. Billy was already there waiting for you, wearing a pair of fitted joggers that really accentuated his -

Okay. No. That was a thought you really didn’t want to think.

He smiled and, before you knew it, you were in his arms and he was  kissing you and... well, you weren’t sure it was something you were ever going to get used to. After only a couple of days, he was already going all in on the performance. It probably should have unsettled you just how easy it seemed to be for him, how he managed to turn on the charm and pretend like you were the most important person in the world to him.

But you chose not to think about it.

(Thinking about it meant wondering if he was a sociopath and that wouldn’t help you pay for your brother’s care.)

“Ready?”  He asked.

“Sure. I think?” 

You weren’t ready. Not even a little bit. All you could think about was how you were going to manage ten meters and then be so out of breath that you’d faint, or you’d clumsily manage to fall over your own feet and end up face-planting in front of him.

“Don’t look so nervous,” he said, going through the effort of fighting back a smirk, but he didn’t give you time to answer back before starting to move, “c’mon.”

He went slowly, more of a walk than a jog and you fell into step beside him.

“How far to the waffle truck?” You asked after about five minutes, smiling at how ridiculous the whole thing was.

“We’ll get there sooner if you want to pick up the pace a little?”

You were feeling warmed up enough to go a little faster, though what you ended up doing was still barely a jog, but it felt - not nice, but bearable in a way you hadn’t expected. There was a familiar ache in your lungs, but you tried to ignore it. You knew your body well enough to know your limits in that regard.

Fifteen minutes was all you managed at the faster pace before you started to slow, sucking in deep and awkward breaths as Billy fell in beside you.

“Sorry,” you managed before awkwardly having to cover your mouth to cough, the cold air exacerbating the sudden ache in your lungs. 

Billy came to a complete standstill, his hand finding your shoulder as you tried to suppress a coughing fit. He bowed his head a little, trying to catch your gaze while you very obviously tried to look anywhere but at him, until his hand moved to your cold but clammy cheek.

“Are you okay?” He asked, seeming more concerned than you thought he really had any right to be.

You nodded and tried to force a smile. “Fine. Sorry... told you it’s been a long time since -”

Another series of awkward coughs cut you off, leaving you gasping to catch your breath, while Billy awkwardly led you to a nearby bench and sat you down, crouching in front of you. Fortunately your face already felt like it was burning, so your embarrassment was slightly easier to ignore.

“Sorry,” you offered again.

“Don’t apologise. Why are you apologising?”

You didn’t expect to see concern on his face, or feel the warmth of his hand on your thigh bleeding through your leggings. 

Once your breathing settled a little and you were certain you wouldn’t start coughing again, you gave him a sheepish sort of look.

“I’m -”

“I told you, don’t apologise.”

“But I -” 

Just one look from him was enough to stop you from finishing the statement.

“Are you okay?” He asked this time slightly more firmly, his his hand still lightly gripping your thigh, and his eyes - fuck, his dark eyes were fixed on yours.

You managed a nod. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

For a few long, uncomfortable seconds he continued to look at you as if he didn’t believe you, but he seemed to decide against asking what might be wrong.

“Want to go get some waffles and a coffee?” He asked and, again, you nodded. “C’mon then.”

Billy slowly, reluctantly, stood back up and offered you his hand, and you took it without really thinking. 

You got to your feet and tried to ignore the sudden tension in his body, the way he was looking at you like he was worried he might have to catch you if you fell. You wanted to tell him that you were fine, that you’d overdone it a little, but you didn’t. You didn’t want to explain it to him, didn’t want to have to tell him more about yourself than was strictly necessary.

With your hand in his, the pair of you walked the rest of the way across the park to the waffle truck. You could tell from the little looks Billy was giving you that he wanted to ask if you were alright,  but you were glad when he didn’t.

Instead, what he did say when the pair of you were finally standing at a table with hot  waffles and coffee was; “we don’t have to do this again if you don’t want.”

And, again, you felt that awkward feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“No,” you protested, perhaps a little too quickly. “I want to. I just... I think I overestimated myself. Maybe we could just try walking next time? I mean... if that’s okay? I don’t want to ruin your exercise routine or anything.”

The moment you realised you were babbling, you stopped yourself and quickly took a bite of waffle, pointedly trying to ignore the way Billy was smiling at you.

You wondered if he knew he was doing it, if it was all part of the act, or if that was just how he was with everyone and you’d only just allowed yourself to notice.. Already you were starting to understand how he charmed so many women, there was just something about him, something magnetic.

If you hadn’t been a party to the lie, you couldn’t help but think how easily you might have fallen for his charms.

“We can walk,” he said without a second thought. “I don’t think six months of walking is going to destroy my figure.

You decided not to comment on that. In fact, you were still very much making a point of not thinking about his figure at all.

It got easier. Not just the morning not-runs, but being around him, spending time with him - though you still struggled every time you saw your picture pop up on some gossip blog.

You fell into a rhythm with him, your lives slotting together in the strangest of ways; lunches together whenever he was in the office for it, walking through the park every other morning, and he even managed to convince you to let him take you out to dinner a couple more times.

You’d talk about books and movies, the news, and other little things that didn’t affect your lives in any meaningful way. But, every now and then, one of you would open up and let slip something real without seeming to mean to. It was how you’d found out that he’d grown up in foster care, and how he learned that you’d mostly been raised by your aunt.

In less than two weeks, he’d gone from being your boss to being someone who, under any other circumstances, you would have considered a friend. And, if you hadn’t known any better, you might have convinced yourself that you really were in a relationship with him.

And the pair of you had managed to convince everyone else.

By the time the horror movie festival rolled around, you were so comfortable with his presence that you were almost looking forward to spending the whole day with him, even if that day would be spent in a movie theatre, making him watch movies you were sure he wouldn’t enjoy.

Shivering, you looked at your watch before checking your phone. 

The first movie was due to start in fifteen minutes and he still wasn’t there. For a horrible moment you dared to think he was going to stand you up, that he’d had enough of you and the ridiculous scheme.

The thought hurt even though you knew that there was nothing between you, but the more you thought about it, the more you thought about what would happen after everything, the harder it became to deny that you’d miss him. 

Even if he was only showing you some small part of himself, you liked that piece. You liked his silly jokes and how utterly clueless he seemed sometimes, and you loved sitting with him and just listening to him talk about books. You enjoyed being around him and you hoped that he felt the same way about you.

So, when his driver pulled up outside the theatre, you breathed an audible sigh of relief, replacing the anxious look on your face with a smile as you moved to greet him.

Billy met you halfway, smiling that smile as he wrapped an arm around you and kissed you. And that was something you were getting used to too; how tactile he was and how he always seemed more at ease when he was touching you.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said as he pulled back, leaving one arm around you while the other arm lifted to present you with a bag. “I stopped off to get you something.”

For a few seconds all you could do was stare at the fancy looking boutique bag in his hand (from the same boutique the dress had come from) before frowning at him.

“You got me a present?”

He didn’t answer, just shook the bag, waiting for you to take it.

So you did.

Cautiously, you peered inside, pulling aside the tissue paper before pulling out a pair of fleece-lined leather gloves. Your first thought was about how much they probably cost, but it was quickly overshadowed by the sweetness of the gesture. It had been almost two weeks since you’d made the comment about your hands always being cold, and he’d seemingly remembered.

Your cheeks warmed at the gesture and you found yourself lost for words.

“Are you going to try them on?” He asked.

You did, immediately noticing how he’d made sure to remove the tags and hadn’t left the receipt in the bag. They were perfect - the perfect fit, the softest lining, and the light grey colour complimented your coat. (You were starting to think that Billy had missed his calling as a stylist.)

Still; “you shouldn’t have.”

Again there was that flicker of confusion and discomfort on his face, like he wasn’t capable of understanding that you didn’t need or want him to shower you with expensive things.

“But they’re lovely,” you quickly added. “Thank you, Billy.”

You reached for him, lightly grasping the lapel of his coat as you leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. Despite yourself, you lingered for a moment, pressed against his side.

“C’mon, or we’ll miss the first movie,” you finally said, reaching for his hand and tugging him inside the little theatre. 

As you queued for popcorn, you explained that you’d taken the liberty of planning the day, choosing the four movies that you were going to watch; The Omen, Pet Sematary (the original version), Dog Soldiers, and the 1988 remake of The Blob. Billy had no objections and didn’t even ask why you’d selected those movies.

He just followed your lead, not-so-sneakily reaching into your popcorn bucket as you pulled him towards the first screening.

Throughout The Omen, you snuck glances at him, finding yourself amused by how much attention he was giving the movie. You wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that you’d told him it was one of your favourites, or if it was just because he was genuinely enjoying it. His attacks on your popcorn bucket became more brazen and it wasn’t long before he was taking handfuls every time he reached across, but you didn’t mind.

Neither of you spoke until the credits started to roll.

“Wait, that’s it?”

“Well, there’s two sequels,” you answered, barely holding back a laugh at the look on his face.

“Great, now I’m going to have to watch them too,” he grumbled.

The next movie, the original version of Stephen King’s Pet Sematary, was a more amusing affair, both of you desperately trying to stifle your laughter at the very dated special effects and the very obvious use of a doll as a stand-in for the demonic toddler in some scenes.

Every so often, Billy would nudge you with his elbow, smirking at something that had you rolling your eyes and trying to not burst into fits of giggles. But, as silly as it was, you both enjoyed it.

During the brief break between screenings you both got coffee and you got another bucket of popcorn - you offered to get one for Billy too, but he told you that he’d much rather steal yours. You didn’t even argue. You were just happy that he seemed to be having fun.

The next movie seemed to catch Billy’s attention a little more and it didn’t take much for you to think you knew why; Dog Soldiers was about a squad of British soldiers trying to survive a  night in the woods with werewolves.

You thought - though maybe in all honesty you completely imagined it - that you saw him flinch when the gory violence started. And it wasn’t until that moment that you realised you hadn’t considered Billy’s past when you chose to see that particular movie. You’d never really discussed his time in the Marines and you had no idea how it might have affected him, but it was something you should have considered before dragging him to watch a movie where soldiers were getting torn apart.

Without thinking too much about it, you reached across and took his hand in your, linking your fingers through his. Billy didn’t say anything, he didn’t even look away from the screen, he just gave your hand a reassuring squeeze as if he thought the gesture was for your comfort and not his.

As the movie came to an end, neither of you said anything about it and, as the 1988 remake of The Blob started to play, you were glad that he didn’t let go.

While you’d enjoyed the other three movies, there was something about The Blob that unsettled you, made you feel queasy even. Just the sight of people being smothered and devoured by the gelatinous monster had you shifting in your seat, your fingers tightening around his hand.

You didn’t want to think about why the movie made you feel that way, but you quickly started averting your gaze every time you thought someone was about to get Blob’d.

Your discomfort hadn’t gone unnoticed, but Billy had the good grace to wait until the credits were rolling before saying anything about it.

He gave you a gentle nudge with his elbow, making a point of keeping your hand in his.

“You’re fine with blood and gore but The Blob made you squirm?” He asked, obviously amused by the thought.

“It just looked so... gooey and gross,” you tried to explain, knowing that you couldn’t really put your actual feelings into words.

Just thinking about it had you visibly cringing. Billy almost laughed but thought better of it, realising just how uncomfortable you’d been. Instead, he shook his head and reached into the popcorn bucket with his free hand only to find it empty.

“Well, you clearly weren’t so grossed out that you couldn’t eat all the popcorn,” he joked, smiling softly, trying to cheer you up.

And it helped. You weren’t the sort of person to let a movie affect you for more than a few minutes; like all the other things that bothered you, The Blob was forced to the back of your mind and your attention was redirected to Billy.

“I’ll buy you another bucket for on the way home,” you retorted as you got to your feet and started to pull your coat on.

Billy followed suit and it wasn’t long before the pair of you were stepping out into the cold evening air. The fresh air was nice after so long inside, but the chill had you pressing into Billy’s side.

“So, what did you think?” You asked.

“I liked the one with the werewolves,” he said.

“Oh, I wasn’t sure if that one was a little...” you trailed off, not wanting to say it.

“What?” Billy prompted, wrapping his arm around you when he noticed you were shivering.

“Y’know, the military stuff. I wasn’t sure if you’d...”

You felt silly, and you could feel your cheeks warming. His arm tightened around you, and you heard him let out a  slow exhale that almost sounded like a ‘huh’, finally understanding why you’d taken his hand during the film.

“No, it was fine,” he said after a beat, “I’m not - I mean, things like that don’t tend to get to me.”

“Oh, okay,” you said. “I just - I should’ve asked, I didn’t think -”

“Seriously, it’s fine,” he said, still smiling softly. “You don’t need to look after me.”

You hadn’t even realised that was what you were doing but, when faced with the very obvious truth of the matter, it was impossible to deny it. You were trying to look after him. It was just what you did, you looked after the people you cared about.

And you did care about Billy. You weren’t sure how or why, but he was a friend now.

He continued talking, but you found your attention drawn elsewhere to something else - someone else. Across the street there was a camera pointed at the pair of you. It served as a sudden reminder that this wasn’t real and whatever you felt about Billy probably wasn’t reciprocated.

No matter how much fun you thought you were having together, he was only really there because he wanted the VDK contract.

You needed to remind yourself not to get used to any of it because, at the end of your six months, he’d probably want to go back to his normal life - a life that had no space in it for you.

You let out a soft sigh and it didn’t go unnoticed.

His gaze soon followed yours and he let out a sigh of his own.

“Sorry,” he muttered before pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

The gesture might have felt sweeter if you hadn’t been questioning his motivations; was he doing it for you, or for the camera?

“It’s fine,” you answered, suddenly feeling despondent, “I knew what I was getting into.”

Again, his arm gave you a squeeze and he started to lead you towards the car.

“I had a lot of fun today,” he said, opening the car door for you and saving his driver the job.

You wanted to believe him, but for a few wonderful hours, you’d allowed yourself to almost forget about the reality of your situation. Even if he had enjoyed it, you doubted he had any intention of ever doing it again.

“Maybe we could watch the other Omen movies together some time?” He said as he got into the car beside you.

“Sure.”

Once you started, it was easy to spiral, to wonder if he was performing as much for you as everyone else

It shouldn’t have mattered to you. Like you’d told him only a couple of minutes previous, you’d known what you were getting into. But, still, it was depressing to think that it was all fake, that every smile and soft word was a lie.

“You okay?” He asked over the hum of the car engine.

“Yeah, just tired,” you shrugged, “it’s been a long day.”

Billy didn’t press you for more than that, allowing silence to fall until the car came to a stop outside your building.

You didn’t even try to argue as Billy got out of the car with you and took your hand. Every time he brought you home, he insisted on walking you in and, now, for reasons beyond your control, all you could think about was that he was only doing it so his driver thought the two of you were going upstairs to fuck.

And you hated it. You hated how one silly little thought had suddenly turned everything on its head and was making you tear apart every little moment that you spent with him.

He didn’t speak again until you were both in your apartment, and you were automatically moving towards the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee for both of you.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

It was clear from his tone that he knew there was something going on with you, but he hadn’t managed to put it together.

“It’s nothing,” you said, but could tell straight away that he didn’t buy it. “It’s stupid, I’m being stupid.”

You didn’t expect him to move behind you as you turned away, or for him to place a hand on your hip to turn you back towards him. Your back pressed against the kitchen counter as you looked at him, trying to decipher his expression.

“Tell me,” he said.

For a moment you almost imagined that you saw his eyes dropping to your lips, but why would he even think about kissing you when there was no one around to see it? (More to the point, why were you even wasting time thinking about it?)

You sighed, taking a moment to consider your words, and a moment more to ignore just how close he was standing.

“How much of it is real?” You dared to ask, feeling like an idiot the moment the words left your lips.

Billy’s confusion was palpable.

“How much of -” he shook his head. “I don’t understand. This is -”

“No, I know what this is,” you were quick to tell him. “I mean... you, when we’re together. I just...” You trailed off into a sigh and remained quiet for a few seconds. “Sometimes when I’m with you I can’t tell if you’re lying to me.”

Your cheeks started to warm and you had to force yourself to hold his gaze.

“I don’t understand,” he said again.

“I just... I don’t want you to lie to me or feel like you need to perform for me,” you explained, but the confusion remained clear on his face. “Like when you said you had fun today, I don’t even know if -”

“I did have fun today,” Billy interrupted. “I - I like spending time with you.”

“Oh.”

That one little sound was all you could manage and, for an indeterminate amount of time, you didn’t move. And neither did Billy. His hand was still on your hip, and his eyes were fixed on yours.

Then, again, you thought you saw his eyes drop to your lips.

It wasn’t until the coffee pot behind you started to sputter that Billy pulled away, taking a step back and heading to the fridge to grab some milk for your coffee. You turned away and grabbed a couple of mugs, and it was as if the strange moment had never happened.

You were on autopilot, finishing making the drink while Billy put the milk back in the fridge, then the pair of you headed to the sofa, like you always did.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked after a couple of minutes of silence.

No, you really didn’t want to talk about it, but you knew that you should. It had only been two weeks, what you’d managed to achieve so far was only the groundwork, and you couldn’t spend the next five months questioning his every motivation without driving yourself insane.

You blew lightly on your coffee, lost in thought for a few moments, trying to put all of your ridiculous feelings into words.

“I guess I just don’t want you to lie to me,” you said.

“Lie about what?”

“Spending time with me,” you answered, fixing your eyes on your drink. “I get that we don’t exactly like the same sorts of things, but I don’t want you to lie to me about it. It makes me feel shitty thinking that you might not really be enjoying yourself. I know it’s all pretend, but if you hate it, I’d rather know...”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that,” he said without hesitation. “I told you, I like spending time with you, even if our relationship isn’t real. But, going forward, just so we’re clear; I won’t lie to you. And, I hope you won’t lie to me, especially not when it’s just me and you.”

“So you want to watch the other Omen movies some time?”

Billy laughed, and you finally felt yourself relax. “I have to. I want to know what happens next.”

You gave a laugh of your own before drifting back into silence. You hadn’t been lying when you’d said that you were tired. As much as you loved movies, watching four back-to-back really took it out of you.

“We’ve got the gala on Friday,” he said when his mug was half empty. “Do you think you’re ready for it?”

You’d been trying not to think about it at all.

It was going to be an extravagant affair, with titans of industry from all over New York raising money for charity. You’d never been to anything like it and you were already certain that you were going to stick out like a sore thumb, but there were bound to be members of the Van Der Koy family there, and you needed to help convince them that Billy was a changed man.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you answered.

A/N : I promise that there will be a bit more movement on the plot in the next chapter, I just needed to lay the ground work and create some tension between Billy and reader (that and I've been enjoying the cutesy fluff). But, now that they've established their fake relationship, they're going to get to flaunt it next chapter.

For anyone keeping track, I'm hopefully going to try and get through the last few 500 follower celebration prompts over the weekend, so if I've not gotten to yours yet, I promise I'll get to it soon!

As always thanks so much for your support with the likes/comments/reblogs, I'm glad so many of you are enjoying the slow burn. Hope you all have a wonderful weekend!

If you'd like to be tagged, please let me know! Otherwise new chapters will be posted around 7:30pm GMT on Fridays.

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