#brush and roll inc

[brush-and-roll-painting]

We are meeting with the owner of this beautiful home built in 1940 on the hill in Historic Augusta to give quotes for painting. Can’t wait to see it up close & in person.

[mv1simp]

Kiss It Better ♥️

Max Verstappen x Friends w Benefits! Reader

no one else gonna get it like that, so why argue? You here, here to take it all back (kiss, kiss it better baby)

Work’s got you stressed. Lately, you’ve been ignoring friend’s messages, coming home late and haven’t had a home cooked meal in weeks. Max decides that as your friend, he needs to intervene and look after you…by taking your mind completely off work and completely onto him, instead. Turns out he's as good at it as winning F1 championships.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, friends to lovers, overworked girlboss! Reader basically gets overstimulated by Max hehe, dom/sub, size kink, praise kink, light bondage, choking, degradation kink, all the good stuff, WC 2.8k

Easy chatter buzzed in your cozy apartment as your group of friends finished up the lively dinner and drinks you’d hosted tonight. It’s so good to see you, Maya sighed, slumping back in her chair and patting her food baby. I’ve missed your pistachio tiramisu dearly.

You laugh at her satisfied expression, and others in the group chimed in about how tasty your dessert had been and how it's been ages since you had been free to catch up. You waved them off with an apologetic I know, I know, explaining that work had been so much more hectic the past couple months. You worked as an advisor in the financial sector for Redbull Inc, a very prolific job that's led you to meet many of their star athletes. That included Max, who’d become one of your good friends and intently watches you talk now, his handsome face resting against his hand. You didn’t want to bring the vibe down of the dinner party, so you brush off your friend’s concern with a joke that it was hard work finding investors to fund Max’s millionaire contract, after all.

You’re met with laughter, and the conversation slips into light teasing that you needed better stress management techniques. Maybe finally time to get on Tinder and get yourself railed by a hot Monaco tourist? Can personally recommend that as great relief. Emily, another friend proposed with a wink, earning more giggles. You roll your eyes fondly, biting back that you’re sure most guys on Tinder wouldn’t even be able to find the clit, it would just make you even more wound up. Mock groans rise up from the boys sitting at the table, while the girls enthusiastically cheer their agreement. As your gaze flits around the room, your eyes shining with happiness for the first time in weeks, you can't help but catch Max's pretty blue eyes again - focused on you intently.

You brush it off, not thinking too much of it as the dinner party winds down and your friends start filtering out. You turn down their offers to help clean up, saying your housekeeper would be by tomorrow to sort it. You almost get a heart attack later once everyone leaves, as you begin humming along to your Spotify playlist and beginning to wash the dishes - only to hear a gentle clink as someone sets the wine glasses down next to you. Jesus Christ, Max! you exclaim, hand to your chest. You scared me!

He raises an accusing eyebrow at you. I knew it. You don't have a housekeeper, do you? Despite your numerous protests, he insists on staying to help you. How did you know? you ask curiously, conceding defeat. About me not having a housekeeper, I mean. No one else caught onto that. Pretty normal for working professionals in Monaco to have one, after all. Grabbing a teatowel and drying your dishes as you washed them, your friend the F1 millionaire and driver Max Verstappen warms your heart with his surprisingly caring and observant nature. Clearing his throat, he replies that you're way too much of a control freak. There's no way you'd trust a stranger to clean your house. He smirks knowingly when you splutter, feeling mildly insulted and hitting him with a There's no way you're accusing me of being a control freak. Have you met yourself? That's like the pot calling the kettle black! He swats you with the teatowel, rolling his eyes, but he's laughing at your accurate remark. Later, once your apartment is in sparkling condition, you and Max enjoy a late night glass of sweet wine out on your balcony. You've been talking for a while about silly topics, currently ranting about some random relationship drama of a friend when Max cuts you off, his mind clearly on something else.

I think the others were onto something, you know, he starts, low Dutch voice making you feel warm in the cool night air. At your confused expression, he continues. You've been really stressed lately. I've barely seen you around at padel or online streams these past two months. And you've lost weight, your apartment was messy which it never is, and the other week my accountant got emails from you at 3am...plus you haven't gotten your nails done, which is weird because you're always the group chat every two weeks what colour you should get.

Your eyes widen at the realisation that Max was paying much more attention to you than you'd thought. You hadn't known he was so perceptive towards your mood, and it made unfamiliar feelings flutter in your stomach. You try to reassure him, half truths that you were fine now, truly, he didn't need to worry! You absolutely didn't want to be a bother to someone as busy as him. Seriously, I'll just download Tinder and let off some steam like Emily suggested, you joke to try and change the dubious expression on his face.

But his next offer blows you out of the water. Suddenly avoiding eye contact for the first time all night, Max's handsome face blushes as he murmurs that he could help you take your mind off things. When you stare at him blankly, not comprehending, he takes a deep breath and fixes that intense gaze back onto you, looking determined. Unwind the tension. Or, rail you good, like Emily said. Like a…friends with benefits situation. And before you start saying how you don’t want to be a bother or whatever - trust me, you aren’t, and I wouldn’t offer to help if I didn’t want to.

You’re flabbergasted, half laughing at the insanity and half gasping in shock. I don’t understand, you say finally. What’s in it for you? This seems like way too much work to just be doing a friend a favour. Max smirks at you, a bit deviously, and although you've seen the expression when he pulls an aggressive move to win a race, you've never seen it directed at you. It sends a shiver running up your spine and an aching need shooting straight in between your thighs. Proving I know how to find the clit, he says rather smugly.

You whack him over the shoulder with a pink throw cushion, rolling your eyes and changing the topic to diffuse the sudden sexual tension. He lets you off the hook as you quickly change conversations, flustered with the sudden interest from Max. But over the next few days you can’t stop thinking about his proposal constantly. You’ve always had a bit of a friend crush on Max - I mean, who wouldn’t? He was a tall, handsome racecar driver with a wicked sense of humour. And a very cute accent that sounded very sexy when he lowered his voice. You wondered what he’d sound like whispering something naughty in your ear, tangled up in his soft bedsheets, his large hands wandering where friend’s hands shouldn’t be-

You abruptly bring yourself back to reality, cheeks going pink at the fantasy you’d gotten carried away with. Over the next week, work gets ridiculously busy again and you find yourself completely absorbed in the same toxic cycle, getting home late and ignoring your friend’s messages. You’re working late one evening, frowning as you glare at your computer screen, thick files scattered across your desk. You’re too distracted to notice that Max is calling your name until a warm hand gently brushes your shoulder. It turns out he’d been in the building to sort out some legal paperwork and had decided to come by and see you. You’re surprised, but he narrows those intense blue eyes at you, saying you’re not looking after yourself again, are you?

Despite your protests that you are (lie), really, you don't need him to help you at all (another lie), he orders delivery from your favourite Italian restaurant and joins you for dinner in your office. Soon you’re laughing, caught in conversation and genuinely enjoying Max’s company until your phone starts ringing. You sigh, remembering the mountain of tasks you still had, and look apologetically at Max. But the handsome blonde is having none of it. He smoothly takes your phone out of your hands and declines the call, making you yelp for it and reach across the desk-

Only to find yourself pulled onto Max’s lap, his strong arms easily wrapping around your smaller waist. Enough, he whispers into your ear, his husky voice just as deep and as sexy as you'd secretly fantasised about. Let me take care of you, please? You look up at him with wide eyes, your back pressed against his muscular chest, as you manage to nod. And oh, does Max take care of you. Your innocent dinner as friends is transformed into a dirty office hook up, as Max's skilled tongue slides into your gasping mouth and his even more skilled fingers slide your tight pencil skirt up and finger you through your panties. And when you've soaked them through, he swipes them to the side and fucks you on his fingers, his impressive strength easily keeping your plush hips pinned firmly against his hardening erection as you buck and writhe helplessly in his lap. And he’s not stopping until you're moaning his name into the deep kisses and having one of the most intense orgasms of your life. Feels good, doesn't it prinses? he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear as he takes in the pretty sight of you blushing and panting in his lap, silk blouse fallen off your shoulders and tight skirt pulled up after you'd falling apart on his fingers. All for him, he thinks with a feeling rather similar to possessiveness unfurling in his chest.

"Good" would be a massive understatement. Once Max proves to you just how effective of a stress management technique this is, you can't stop. He's over at your place after hectic workdays, at first, giving you slow deep kisses as he gets you off on his thick thighs. Any hint of self consciousness you'd had becoming so undone in front of the very attractive athlete dealt with by the praise he showers you with. That’s right, use my thigh baby, you’re doing so good, you're gonna cum all over my jeans for me, okay? His voice sends you spiralling over the edge, letting out teary whines and moans as he coaxes you through another orgasm, letting you fall apart all over again in his arms before putting you back together with dinner and laughter filled conversation in the shower after.

Soon he’s there on the weekends, eating your tiramisu first before spreading your legs wide on the dining table after he'd placed you on it. What did I say about doing work during your weekends, hmm? He says in mock disapproval, gently kissing your aching pussy through your panties before teasingly slapping it. You whine breathlessly, embarrassed to have him in between your legs for the first time, but once again he dampens every insecurity of yours that bubbles up. He eats you out like a man starved, and oh, Max Verstappen definitely knew where to find the clit. Your dark red nails, freshly manicured after he’d taken you to the salon earlier, tug at his soft blonde locks as his talented tongue kisses your sensitive bundle of nerves. He groans against your pussy, the vibrations sending you over the edge and squirting onto his flicking tongue as he smirks up at you. Oh, Max! Max! Right there, please don’t stop-

He’s a little too adept at distracting you. You don’t have any inhibitions about holding back anymore, openly begging for him to make you feel good again and again and again. You’ve become more curious with him, wanting to try new things in the bedroom you’d always wondered about but been to shy to ask for. But with Max, who you trusted as a friend first, and who spoilt you, it was easy to test your boundaries. You make him blush the first time you hold up some toy handcuffs and cutely ask if he could pretty please try them on you? His intense blue eyes darken with desire as he looks down at your pouting face, batting your lashes up at him almost innocently despite your naughty request. You love that Max wants this, wants you, just as much as you want him.

The handcuffs set off the more...dominating side of Max in bed and you're absolutely addicted to it. Soon enough he has you face down ass up in his bed most nights, delicate lace lingerie you'd started wearing under all your classy corporate outfits half ripped, as he roughly pounds into you from behind. You loved when Max used his predatory strength against you, applying just enough to make you dizzy with pleasure but never enough to come anywhere near hurting you. One of the bear paws he calls his hand wraps snugly around your neck, over the sparkly collar you’re wearing, and the other one smacks your bouncing ass red, using all the power of a high performance athlete who worked out daily. You're sobbing and screaming his name into the mattress, his sheets long ruined from your drool and your mixed cum trailing down your legs. You just love when I completely control you like this, don't you prinses? Max says with a smirk, his tongue licking up your tears as he used his hand on your neck to tilt your crying face towards him. My pretty girl, so needy and stressed, your brain just can't take it anymore right? Need me to take over and fuck you stupid? A rough slap to your ass has you scrambling to answer him, frantically nodding yes, yes Maxie, please take all the tension away, it feels so fucking good-

You can't even lay a hand on him because yours are tied tightly behind your back, well and truly giving all your power to Max. And he uses it to talk you through multiple orgasms, murmuring in your ears as he relentlessly thrusts into you to let go for me, that's right, just like that pretty girl, gonna fuck you so hard you’re only going to be able to think about my cock for the next week. I want to feel that tight pussy cum all over my cock in five, four, three...

Whew, his fans would go batshit crazy if they found out that their celebrity crush does, in fact, talk you through it in bed. You would feel bad about taking up so much of his time, but you’ve started to realise how much stress relief you offer Max, too. Like when he’s had a bad race weekend (rare, but still) and you walk into his apartment, seeing his tense shoulder and frowning face as he continues gaming after grunting out a Hey.

You hmmm, shrugging out of your pretty blouse, lacey bra on display, and making yourself comfortable in between his big, muscular thighs. Stressful day? you ask, leaning down to rest your cheek against him. He glances at you as you teasingly massage his impressive legs, coyly looking up at him as you tease the waistband of his sweats. Wanna fuck my mouth, Maxie?

That certainly got his attention, a lazy grin appearing on his face. Fuck me, I've really made you addicted to my cock, haven't I schat? he says lowly. He loosens his sweats for you, letting you lick his inner thighs teasingly before softly kissing his rapidly hardening cockhead. Large hands tangle in your hair, undoing your elegant twist, as Max guides you all the way down his length. You whine, looking up at him with those sweet doe eyes and choking slightly as you’re still not used to how big every part of Max is. And somehow you still look so fucking innocent, despite your drooling lips wrapped snugly around his cock. His hand possessively tugs at your curls, making your teary eyes roll back as you moan from the rough treatment. Max smirks at the delicious sight of you on your knees for him, clenching your thighs desperately. You wanted this, pretty girl. Wanted to be my obedient slut and have me throatfuck that slutty mouth of yours, right? Should've been careful what you wished for if you couldn't handle it.

He emphasises his filthy words with an initial thrust all the way to the back of your throat, making your breathing hitch as you struggle. Giving you a second to adjust to his full length, he tells you one last promise before he ruins your throat. You’re going to have to cancel all your meetings tomorrow, prinses. There’s no way you’re going to be able to talk after I’m done with you.

_____________________________________________

A/N: AHHHH IM ATTEMPTING TO BE BACK IN BUSINESSS and keep all my pookies fed 🍗 My tactic for getting tf out of my writers block hell is only looking at max edits on tiktok cause everytime I open insta I see another lovey dovey couple max and pregnant gf post and get a fucking jumpscare (I mean obvi happy for them but my delusion….my delusions!!!)

Let me know what you guys think!! I’m cooking up a dark Max who’s talked into being a gym trainer for oh so innocent reader hehe so dark max girlies I gotchu xx send in ur requests!!

[moon1833]

Knots- Shouta Aizawa

⋆｡°✩ ✮⋆˙ ⋆｡°✩ ✮⋆˙ ⋆｡°✩ ✮⋆˙ ⋆｡°✩ ✮⋆˙ ⋆｡°✩ ✮⋆

“Shouta’s eyes are usually rimmed with tiredness, reddened by excessive stress and lack of sleep. Now, they’re pleading with you, glossy and alert of every movement you make.”

Inc: Smut, bondage, inappropriate use of a capture weapon, sub-ish Aizawa, dom reader, begging, cowgirl

⋆｡°✩ ✮⋆˙ ⋆｡°✩ ✮⋆˙ ⋆｡°✩ ✮⋆˙ ⋆｡°✩ ✮⋆˙ ⋆｡°✩ ✮⋆

Shouta had used his binding scarf on many people before. He’s used them on villains or criminals mostly, occasionally his unruly students. He’d even used them on you before, and as purely erotic as it was, nothing could’ve prepared him for this.

He’d never had them used on him before.

You hum contently above him, the curve of your breast slipping into his sight as his old t-shirt drops deeper down your shoulder when you peer down at him. His forearms flex behind his back and he swears he’s never been this hard in his life.

His back arches slightly off the headboard when you finally settle yourself in between his legs, your lower thigh just grazing his boner. His elbow presses into a tight knot, keeping him still as you climb over him.

Shouta’s eyes are usually rimmed with tiredness, reddened by excessive stress and lack of sleep. Now, they’re pleading with you, glossy and alert of every movement you make.

“You okay?” You stroke his chin, letting his stubble drag under your thumb.

Shouta knows that you know this is the closest he’s been to heaven by the cocky smirk on your face, but he finds himself humoring you, anyway.

“Mhm, yes.” He whispers, subconsciously fluttering his eyes closed. You coo, readjusting your legs so you’re sitting on his lap.

“How long have you been wanting to try this?” He grunts, attempting to regain some of his composure.

“Since our spar.” You reply instantly, bringing your lips to his neck. “You remember, the one where I managed to use your own capture weapon against you.”

“That was a dirty move.” He can hardly get the words out, his hips stutter as you shift over him. You can’t tell if he’s talking about last week’s training session or how you sunk your teeth into a particular spot on his neck.

“Yeah?” You pull back, tilting your head. “You seemed to have liked it then, too.”

Uncharacteristically, Shouta flushes at the memory, recalling how quickly his dick hardened at being restricted by you, and how quickly he came when he ran off to go shower afterwards.

“So what?” He grumbles. You run your fingers through the hair around his nape. His breath hitches.

“Don’t be a brat.” Your lips brush his jaw. “It’s more enjoyable when you let go of that attitude.”

You tug on the knot behind him while your other hand fists his hair, and against his better judgement a whine sneaks through his clenched teeth. His dick practically jumps, and he can feel the precum leaking from his tip and making the fabric of his boxers stick to it.

You kiss him, grinding your hips down onto him as he groans into your mouth. Reflexively, he tries to pull you closer, but his hands are stopped by the restraining ties of his own weapon. He groans a little, and you rut against him forcefully, pushing more noises out of him.

Shouta is worried he might finish in his pants, and his concern is echoed on his face. His lips quiver with small moans of “Ah, fuck” and gasps of pleasure as you mark down his chest. You lick around his skin, letting it roll over your tongue and nourishing the taste.

You know he’s close. You’ve memorized his tell signs. From his screwed shut eyes and twitching nose, Shouta is about to finish. You peal off of him, amused at how he throws back his head in protest and his eyes shooting open.

You shove your panties off, making a bit of a show as you maintain eye contact with him, watching his chest heave.

Shouta lifts his hips slightly, encouraging you to help him push his boxers off, and you do, throwing them off to some corner of the room.

You place your knees on either side of him, hovering over him and sighing when his tip smacks against your clit unintentionally.

You don’t move, though, keeping your position and peering down on him.

“What?” He breathes.

“Come on.” You cross your arms, and his eyes watch your tits press against the thin material of your shirt. “Beg for it.”

His throat closes, his mouth parted in shock. When all he does is gape at you, you refuse to move.

“Shouta.” You warn. “I will finger fuck myself right here and leave you untouched.”

“Okay, fine.” He says quickly. “Shit, please.”

You give him a pointed look. “Keep going.”

“Fucking hell.” He seethes. “Please, just ride me already. I can’t take much more of this.”

You giggle, sliding down his dick until just the tip was in. An involuntary moan shivers out of you at the stretch, and Shouta’s face twitches in confidence.

In retort, you slam your hips down, forcing him all the way into you. He yelps in shock, and you dont give him much time before lifting up at repeating the action.

Your hole is burning, but it melts into pleasure the more your slick and his precum lubricates his dick. You continue to bounce up and down, little huffs of pleasure leaving you in between each stroke.

You lift your shirt over your head, fully displaying your chest as your body jiggles at the force of your thrusts. The smack of your bodies colliding is loud, but Shouta’s whimpers and string of curses are louder, and you use his shoulders to balance yourself.

Continuing your movements, you feel around the comforter for your underwear, grasping them in your palm. You tug on Shouta’s hair, and a sharp grunt leaves his mouth. You take the opportunity to shove your panties inside, watching his expression turn to a half-assed glare before switching into a burningly erotic submission.

“Aw, you gonna cum?” You jeer, even though you were fighting back your own orgasm.

Lost in a haze, Shouta nods vigorously. You keep your motions steady, fucking him through his climax as his hips jump to meet your pace. The harshness of it, along with the pretty sounds he was making forces your own orgasm, and your legs jerk as his cum leaks out of you.

You wrap your arms around his neck as you regain your breathing, combing out the small knots you formed by pulling his hair. You kiss his cheek as you reach behind him, pulling off of his dick completely to focus on untying the knot.

“Was that okay?” You ask, using your fingernails to loosen the garment.

All Shouta can mutter out is a small “Mhm”, instantly wrapping his arms around you when you finally pull the fabric through the headboard.

“So good.” He adds, his words soft as he lays down across the bed. “Love you so much.”

“Love you too.” You giggle, cuddle closer to him. He’s asleep before you can pull the covers over each other.

⋆｡°✩ ✮⋆˙ ⋆｡°✩ ✮⋆˙ ⋆｡°✩ ✮⋆˙ ⋆｡°✩ ✮⋆˙ ⋆｡°✩ ✮⋆

[starlostseungmin]

husband!hyunjin

✰ notes: here concludes my husband!skz series with hyunjin. i hope you enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing everyone! not proofread and not edited. DO NOT FORGET TO REBLOG, COMMENT AND LEAVE TAGS! thank you <33

seungmin , chan , lee know , jeongin , han , changbin , felix（ hyunjin ）

ꔛ

Husband Hyunjin whom everyone expected to make a grand proposal, prepared a simple candlelight dinner in your shared apartment and cooked your favorite meals. You thought it was just a usual dinner date at home which you’d do sometimes. He suddenly got down on one knee and opened a small box with a diamond ring, “Will you be my everlasting muse? The one who would love to spend the rest of their life with me?” 

Husband Hyunjin who cried and hugged you tightly as he thanked you for saying yes. 

Husband Hyunjin who was the happiest and got emotional during the weddingーmentally screaming, hair-ripping, toe-curling, exaggerated excitement (sincere), and deeply in thought about how he would spend an eternity with you. 

Husband Hyunjin who loves to stare at you while talking, especially on your lips thinking how much he wants to kiss you. His kisses start with innocent, soft, and warm then later change into intimate, hot, and intoxicating which makes you get addicted to them. 

Husband Hyunjin who loves to be babied and cuddled when he’s tired or just wants to be a small spoon whenever he feels like it. He’d refuse to go to work just to stay in bed all day with you. 

Husband Hyunjin whose dates consist of visiting art museums, picnics, watching musicals or movies, evening strolls, and road trips. Sometimes it gets over the moon when he decides to take you to (country) because you’ve been dying to visit the place. He giggled nonstop when he surprised you that he bought the tickets. 

Husband Hyunjin who would always bring his sketchbook and camera on dates just to take a picture of you or make his hand busy sketching a portrait of you just because he finds you beautiful every time. He will show them to you when he’s done. The pictures or sketches will be hung on your shared apartment's wall for safekeeping and memories. 

Husband Hyunjin who drives you crazy when he’s just doing normal things like simply unbuttoning his polo, rolling up his sleeves, taking off his jacket showing his bodybuild especially when he wears a tanktop inside, brushing his bangs upward, dancing? It would add fuel to the fire when he kisses you like a man starved from your touch. 

Husband Hyunjin who brings you food and medicine when you get sick. He will probably take his day off from work depending on how fast your recovery is that it would take days for him to sit there and take care of you. The type to make sure that you won’t die since he would end up grieving so hard. “It’s just a mild flu, Hyunjin.” “Are you sure?” 

Husband Hyunjin who is loud and dramatic whenever he realizes he got betrayed, lost a game, or is just being dumb (lovingly). He and Jisung are a perfect match and you’re the one who actually gets in between. 

Husband Hyunjin who gets shy whenever you compliment him but sometimes he would feel a blast of confidence that he gives you a wink as a response and becomes flirty.

Husband Hyunjin who loves to make a fool of himself, vocabulary just consists of memes (you can blame Han and Felix for that) cringes at his own cuteness and regrets it later just to make you laugh. 

Husband Hyunjin who lets you play with his long hair. He loves it when you do pigtails. You often tease him that he looks like Boo from Monsters Inc. 

Husband Hyunjin whom Kkami wants to disown. 

Husband Hyunjin who tries his hardest to comfort you as best as he can whenever he sees you being vulnerable in trying times. Promised not to leave you alone until you feel better, crack a dad joke he got from Chan to lift the atmosphere (which is effective by the way) and take you to his arms, whispering how he is proud of you. 

Husband Hyunjin who made a playlist filled with songs that make him think about you, scream your vibe, and the ones that would portray his exact feelings. Sometimes he would write down lyrics about how lovesick and hopeless romantic he is. All songs and melodies are heavily inspired by you. 

Husband Hyunjin who loves to send you selfies, videos of him taken by the members that serve husband material, and voice messages whenever he’s abroad because he misses you so much that he cries himself to sleep and can’t wait to go home. It’s also necessary to send you short vlogs and pictures of sceneries of the places he went without you because of work and leave messages like, “This reminds me of you.” “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Let’s visit this place together soon!” “I’m sure you’d like these souvenirs I got you!” “The food out here is great! Treat me here soon!” 

Husband Hyunjin whose love languages are words of affirmation, physical touch, gift-giving, quality time, and acts of service. 

Husband Hyunjin who loves to spoil you even if you tell him not to spend a lot of money on you but he won’t listen and insists on accepting them. 

Husband Hyunjin who doesn’t admit his mistakes during the first few minutes of the argument but later apologizes over and over again and promises never to do it again. He’s also the type that is hard to make up with but he can’t keep it up for hours and just cuddles you whispering “I’m sorry, I’ll do better.” 

Husband Hyunjin who gets jealous easily and is possessive whenever he sees you having a good time with his members. “I’m yours, Hyunjin. Don’t worry.” You’d say but you know that is not enough for him so he’d show you to whom you belong (affectionately, or depending on how you both want it).

Husband Hyunjin who refused to get a divorce when you felt that your marriage was falling apart because he couldn’t imagine his life without you. He won’t let go of you easily and you didn’t even make any attempts to leave him. 

Husband Hyunjin who is careful whenever in talks of having kids because your decision matters in this relationship but he would reassure you that if you ever wanted to have one, he will be the best dad your kid could ask for. 

Husband Hyunjin who is the most precious, kind, and pure to your heart that you wouldn’t even want to live a life without him. He is the moon and stars to your night, the sunshine after the rain, the rose amongst the thorns, and the pretty shells you find on a beach where no one knows. 

Husband Hyunjin who holds your hand and intertwines your fingers as he kisses your knuckles saying, “I love you.” 

Husband Hyunjin whose wedding vows are not enough to show how much he would love to spend his entire life with you. “I fucking love you so fucking much and we’re married, you can’t leave. You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not!” 

✰ taglist: @notastraykid , @ameliesaysshoo , @l3visbby , @reignessance , @lix-ables , @skzfelixlove , @rachabreathing , @hyunverse , @minluvly , @sleepyleeji , @starseungs , @midsoulz , @oddracha , @armystay89 , @lashaemorow

©️ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 , 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

[tinylilacbun]

Ooooooh, little!reader stressing over finals and daddy!John B. trying to gently coax her into little!space to get her to calm down🥺

I have been stressing so much over my finals and I need this to happen to me🥺

You got this sweetheart!!! But I hope you're okay and don't overdo yourself 🫂🫶🏻

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ♡ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

"This is so stupid!" You groan for what feels like the hundredth time already.

The finals are getting closer, meaning you were spending every possible second learning and re-reading all your notes over and over again. Books and paper sheets scattered around on the living room floor at the Chateau and you are sitting directly in the middle of it all.

John B walks in after just finishing his surf session and sighs, seeing you rub exasperated hands over your face.

"Hey there, champ. How's it going?" He asks, standing beside you and scratching your scalp to soothe you.

"Bad. I just don't understand this!" You whine waving a sheet of paper up in his face.

"What about taking a little break, hm?" He suggests and you shake your head.

"I can't." You say while grabbing one of the books again not seeing John B roll his eyes.

It had been going on like this for days and he understands where you're coming from and really tries to support you but he also noticed that you haven't been little the last days 'to not get distracted' which concerns him because he knows your mood could only get worse the longer you keep pushing the headspace away.

"Have you eaten anything yet? Or drank some water?" He suddenly asks, crouching down beside you. He brushes your hair to the side and the way you shrink back in yourself let's him know anything he needs. "C'mon, just a tiny break."

"Da- JB, please. I'm fine, 'kay?" Your small slip didn't go unnoticed by him.

He smirks, his hand going down to rub your back. He's almost through the barricade that you built up in your head, you just need a little push. "Don't you want to cuddle for a little, bun?"

You pout at him using the nickname he only uses when you're little. It's not fair. It's like a switch being turned off, finally being able to forget about all the stress.

Tears of relief start building up in your eyes and John B coos at you, gently taking the heavy book from your hands and laying it aside before he scoops you up into his arms.

"Thereee we go. No need to cry, I'm here now." He shushes you, carrying you to his bedroom knowing you will feel more comfortable there.

He sits down against the headboard with you curled up on his lap, your head resting against his chest as he starts rocking you. "All that fuss and just needed daddy to come and save you, huh?" He chuckles, reaching over to grab your bunny stuffie, placing it in your arms before wrapping both his arms around you tightly.

You just snuggle more into him, your eyes fluttering shut at the constant rocking. John B looks down and smiles at the sight, he'll just make you something to eat after your much needed nap.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ♡ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @aagn360 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @fluffyblanketgecko @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse @kissforvoid

[fanficsformyfaves]

Reunion

Shaggy Rogers x Daphne Blake's Sister!Reader

WARNING: Nothing but Fluff <3, Mutual Pining, Reader is a Black Belt in Karate

PREFACE: When the gang first split up, of course Shaggy was devasted, but he was more upset that he would never get to see Reader again. That was until they all reunite in the airport for a mystery they were invited to solve two years later

A/N: Flashbacks in Italics!

There aren't any stories about my husband and I am deeply appalled!

SHAGGY'S P.O.V.

"Come on, Scoob. Like, we're gonna be late for the flight", I say,

Packing up our Scooby snacks for the trip, while he dealt with our clothes.

"Oooh, Rooby Snacks"

He says, trynna grab a piece, to which I bat his hand away.

"These are for the trip, man!", I scold,

As he huffed, zipping up our bags. We hail a cab, toss our luggage in the trunk and hop in.

It's been a while since we had a totally rad mystery to solve. Like, as terrifying as those creeps were, I miss getting to work on cracking the case...and getting to hang with (Y/N).

She was like, the most perfect girl in the world. Like, imagine all the best things in one person. Even all the hotdogs, sundae ice creams and rollercoasters couldn't come close to how beautiful she was. She never failed to make my heart do summersaults inside my chest.

But I never had the guts to tell her that. I mean, she was super cute and I was the goofball of Mystery Inc.

So, I knew I had no chance.

"Raggy!", Scoob snaps me out of my thoughts,

Nudging me with his elbow and letting me know that we made it to the airport. While grabbing our bags, I look over at the large tree by the entrance and my heart drops like a sack of potatoes.

There she was in all her glory. With her pretty hair and eyes that shined like gumdrops. She was just as pretty as I remembered. I could already feel the goofy grin settling on my face.

YOUR P.O.V.

"Want anything from the gift shop, while I'm in there?", Daphne questioned,

"I'm good- oh! Maybe food from the McDonald's next door?", I request,

Looking up from the book I bought prior to getting here. I watch as my sister gives me an unimpressed look, placing a hand on her hip.

"What? I missed breakfast!", I retort at her reaction,

"And who's fault is that?"

"Um, yours? If you hadn't hogged the bathroom all morning to do your hair, I would've had enough time to make some food"

"Well, excuse me for caring about my appearance. You think all this takes five minutes?", she says,

Gesturing to herself. Once she realized there was no getting through to me, she accepts defeat by sighing to herself and rolling her eyes.

"Fine, but just this once. That stuff will kill you"

"Not fast enough, apparently", I answer,

Getting back to my reading. She shakes her head, before walking off.

"Be back soon, ciao"

"Ciao", I replied,

Without averting my gaze from the pages.

As I was waited for her to get back, I decided to grab the water bottle I had in my backpack. Just then, my journal falls out from one of the compartments

Jeez, it must've been a while since I've cleaned this out.

I flip through the pages and come across one that was covered in hearts with arrows shot through them. The letters (Your First Initial) and S added together on the insides.

I've always had a thing for Shaggy. He was always such a sweetheart. I remembered how he would always give me the cherries off his sundaes, regardless of how much he wanted them.

"Shaggy, you don't have to keep giving me the cherries, if you want them", I say,

"Like, I know you want them, so...let me be a gentleman", he says,

Picking one off the vanilla ice cream and handing it over to me. For the first time ever, I decided to rid myself of the familiar shyness I was always plagued with and take it from him with my teeth, causing a bright red hue to brush against his cheeks.

"Like, wow", he giggled shyly.

Not to mention, how incredibly cute he was. I couldn't help but sigh at the memories of those pretty blue eyes staring back at me.

I knew I should've said something before we all split up, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it and besides, he probably didn't feel the same way.

As I was strolling down memory lane, I feel a hand on my shoulder.

"HiYAH!", I yell,

Hitting whoever it was in the shin, before pinning them to the tree by their throats. Once I realized who it was, I gasp.

"Like, wow", he grinned,

I couldn't help but feel a weird sense of Deja Vu when he said that.

"Shaggy! I am sorry!", I apologize,

Pulling away and fixing his shirt.

"Just as strong as I remember", he says,

Rocking back and forth on his heels, with the same old laugh I remember falling for. I chuckled and bent down to pick up my stuff.

"Oh, let me help you with that", he says,

Getting down and accidentally butting me in the head with his, causing us both to fall backwards, exclaiming in pain.

"Owie!", he whines,

Grabbing his forehead, as I laugh doing the same.

"Good to see you again, Shagster", I say,

"(Y/N)", I hear a familiar sound coming from behind me,

I turn around and see the best boy in the world.

"Scooby!", I yelp in excitement,

As he ran over, barking and greeted me with a lick to the face.

"Hiya, boy!", I scratch at the back of his head,

Whilst his tail wagged and foot tapped softly on the grass.

"Like, he really missed you!", Shaggy says,

Making me turn to face him.

"We both did", he admitted shyly,

My heart skipping a beat listening to his words.

"I missed you too, you screwball", I kid,

Getting back on my feet and finally embracing him. At first I felt his body stiffen against my touch, but he eventually melted into me and his arms go around the small of my waist.

We pull away and our lips were merely inches apart. It felt like time stopped and everything else disappeared around us. In that moment, we were the only people to exist.

"(Y/N)?"

"Shaggy?", I whisper,

Feeling the magnetic current pulling me closer towards him. Just as we were about to close the space between us, we were interrupted.

"Oh my god", Daphne says,

Carrying my food in her hands, watching us leap out off each other's arms.

"Shaggy?", she calls out,

"Oh, like, Hi, Daph!", he says,

"What are you doing here?", she chuckles,

Walking closer towards us and handing my the paper bag and drinks.

"Well, Scoob and I got this super creepy invitation to solve a mystery on-."

"Spooky Island", they both say in unison,

"Like, how groovy, man!"

My head snaps in his direction.

"Wait, you got invited too?", I ask,

"Well, yeah! Didn't you hear about the all-you-can-eat buffet they're hosting?", he questions,

Making me laugh to myself. Of course, he would go for the food.

"Well, let's hope we're the only ones who got the invite", Daphne says,

Walking into the airport. We take a moment to look back at each other, before shrugging and picking up my belongings. We trail behind her and made our way through the bustling crowd. I take a bite of my burger, before looking over and finding Shaggy ogling at it.

"Hm?", I hum,

Offering him a bite.

"Oh no, I couldn't possibly-"

"The plane won't be serving food till three", I interrupt,

"Who am I to deny such a gracious offer?", he jokes,

Making me chuckle to myself.

"Wanna go halfsies?", he asks,

"Sure", I agreed,

Watching him split the burger in half and handing me the bigger piece.

"Thank you", I say,

Continuing to enjoy my share, along with the fries I was already sharing with Scoob. I throw a fry in the air and laugh as the pooch jumps up to catch it.

While walking, Scooby grabs the dufflebag Shaggy was holding and made his way to the bathroom.

"Where's he going?", washing down the last bite down with my drink,

"Oh, you'll see", he replies,

It takes us a while, but we finally get to the check-in, where Daphne proceeded to argue with the man behind the desk.

"What do you mean I can't have seven carry-on bags?! That is so economy!", she complains,

"Yeesh", Shaggy muttered to me,

"Oh, that's just her makeup. You should see the suitcases full of costume changes and hair products", I say,

Making the tall geek laugh at my joke. I look around and my eyes fall on two very familiar faces.

"Daph?", Fred called out,

Catching my sister's attention.

"Crap", Velma muttered to herself,

"Oh, no. I'm not talking to you guys", she snapped,

Pretending to zip her lips shut and throwing away the key, but alas, she could not control her anger.

"What the heck are you doing here?", she questioned,

Watching the pair make their way over to us. That's when Fred eventually notices me and Shaggy.

"Oh, hey, you two", he greets,

We couldn't do anything but wave awkwardly.

"Isn't it obvious? We all received the same letter from one Emile Mondevarious...the reclusive owner of Spooky Island", Velma explained,

"It's not fair! I was gonna solve the mystery all by myself for the first time ever", Daphne argued,

As Fred scoffed. Oh no.

"How are you gonna save yourself when you get caught?", he poked fun at Daphne's past of always being the damsel in distress,

"I'm a black belt now. I've transformed my body into a dangerous weapon", she answered,

As him and Velma laughed at her response.

"It's true!"

"Far out! I guess we're, like, all going to Spooky Island, man!"

Daphne rolls her eyes and returns her attention to the check-in employee.

"Hey, where's Scooby?", she asks Shaggy,

Just then, the Great Dane, or should I say, Great Dame, emerges from the crowd. All dressed up in an long-sleeved dress, cheetah print reading glasses and a straw hat.

"Hello, sorry", he says,

Navigating his was through the fellow airport patrons.

"They don't allow big dogs on the plane", Shaggy explained nonchalantly,

As I let out a shocked laugh.

"You've got to be kidding", Velma protested the ridiculous disguise,

"No one is stupid enough to believe that", she added,

"Who's the ugly old broad?", Fred asks,

Leaning over to Shaggy. Velma shakes her head at Fred's naiveness and folds her arms over her chest.

"Say hello to Grandma", Shaggy announced,

"Attention. Flight 3774 to Spooky Island is now boarding", the announcer alerts through the telecom,

Everyone, besides Shaggy and I, groan before heading towards our terminal.

SHAGGY'S P.O.V

"Shall we?", I move over and gesture for her to step in front of me,

"My my my, what a gentleman. Just like I remember", she smiles,

Walking ahead.

"Nailed it", I sing to Scoob,

Before following behind her. We arrive inside the plane and take our seats. A moment passes and Scoob nudges me, before holding up the neck pillow we brought.

"Aaah"

I quickly picked up what he was putting down.

"Say, (Y/N)", I call out,

She turns back to me.

"Could I interest you in some in-flight comfort?", I ask,

Offering it to her. She grins to herself, before taking it.

"Why, thank you, Shagwell", she says,

Putting it on. I turn to Scoob and he raises his eyebrows at me.

"Butt out, Scoob", I scold in a whisper,

Before looking back at her. I swear heaven was missing an angel. Like, how could someone be this perfect? I could feel the blood rush up to my cheeks every time she spoke. It always felt like that one time with the cherries. Oh, man, did it make my heart go all squirrely.

I was never man enough to tell her how I really felt back then, but those two years without her was pure torture, man. It made me realize that I couldn't put myself through that again.

So, I take a deep breath and finally plucked the courage up the guts to come clean.

"(Y/N)?"

"Yes?"

"If we ever make it out of this, you know, with our head still attached to our necks"

Making her laugh. Gosh, were her little giggles music to my ears. Focus, Shaggy, Focus! I shake myself out of my distracting thoughts.

"Would you maybe wanna...I don't know...like...go out with me?", I ask,

Cringing in anticipation for the let-down of a lifetime.

YOUR P.O.V.

Was I hallucinating? There was no way on God's green earth was the man I'd been crushing on for literal years now actually reciprocating how I felt.

I pinch at my arm and hiss at the pain that brought me to the realization this wasn't just a scenario I dreamt up.

"Ow!"

"Like, what was that?", he yelped concernedly,

"Uh, nothing, it's just...", my sentence trails off into an awkward silence,

"I would love to!"

"Really?", his eyes widen,

"Really?", Scooby repeats,

"Really! I mean, I don't know if you've ever noticed, Shaggy, but, I've always liked you", I admit,

"...Get outta here, like, me too!", he responds,

"Wait, what?! Why didn't you say anything?!", I questioned,

"Well, I mean...look at you", he blushes,

Making the heat rush to me cheeks too, as I pout in awe.

"You're so pretty and smart and nice...and you share your food with me! I mean, that takes a whole lotta moxie!", he explained,

Gosh, was he freaking adorable.

"That totally puts you out of my league!"

"Oh, Shaggy", I sigh,

Taking his scruffy face in my hands.

"You're the best guy I know", I reassure,

"Which is why I'm gonna do what I should've done a long time ago", I say,

Closing the gap that wedge us apart for years by pressing my lips against his.

[hopelesslys-world]

50 SHADES OF FUCKED UP | CH. 1

Pairing: Christian Grey x innocent!reader

TRIGGER WARNINGS!: TOXIC RELATIONSHIP, reader is kind of a bimbo, heavily detailed smut, basically porn, loss of virginity, harsh language, anger issues, stalking, obsession, jealousy, controlling behaviour, DOM-SUB themes, BDSM Expand considered to be portrayed with incorrect/poor etiquette, emotional abuse, physical abuse, sexual abuse/assault, statutory rape.

Tell me if I missed anything...( As you can see most of the warnings will appear in future chapters. )

I apologize for any grammar mistakes...

Y/M/N: Your Middle Name

Y/L/N: Your Last Name

Y/N/N: Your Nickname

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

*𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝙋𝙊𝙑*

┅┅

𝐈 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐖𝐋 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐅𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 𝐈𝐍 the reflection of the mirror. Damn my hair—it just won’t behave! And also damn Isabella Clark for being ill and subjecting me to this ordeal. I should be studying for my final exams, which are next week, yet here I am trying to brush my hair into submission.

I must not sleep with it wet. I must not sleep with it wet. Reciting this mantra several times, I attempt, once more, to bring it under control with the brush. I roll my eyes in exasperation and gaze at my reflection in the mirror, you blow dry your hair into oblivion and with the help of some hairspray you managed to put your soft curls into place.

Now you finally look somewhat presentable.

Bella is my roommate, and she has chosen today of all days to succumb to the flu. Therefore, she cannot attend the interview she’d arranged to do, with some mega-industrialist tycoon I’ve never heard of, for the student newspaper. So I have been volunteered.

I have final exams to cram for, one essay to finish, and I’m supposed to be working this afternoon, but no–today I have to drive a hundred and sixty-five miles to downtown Seattle in order to meet the enigmatic CEO of Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

As an exceptional entrepreneur and major benefactor of our University, his time is extraordinarily precious—much more precious than mine–but he has granted Bella an interview. A real coup, she tells me.

Damn her extra-curricular activities.

Bella is huddled on the couch in the living room. “Y/N, I’m sorry. It took me nine months to get this interview. It will take another six to reschedule, and we’ll both have graduated by then. As the editor, I can’t blow this off. Please,” Bella begs me in her rasping, sore throat voice.

How does she do it? Even ill she looks gamine and gorgeous, strawberry blonde hair in place and green eyes bright, although now red-rimmed and runny. I ignore my pang of unwelcome sympathy.

“Of course I’ll go Bella. You should get back to bed. Would you like some Nyquil or Tylenol?”

“Nyquil, please. Here are the questions and my mini-disc recorder. Just press record here. Make notes, I’ll transcribe it all.”

“I know nothing about him,” I murmur, trying and failing to suppress my rising panic.

“The questions will see you through. Go. It’s a long drive. I don’t want you to be late.”

“Okay, I’m going. Get back to bed. I made you some soup to heat up later.” I stare at her fondly. Only for you, Bella, would I do this.

“I will. Good luck. And thanks Y/N/N – as usual, you’re my lifesaver.”

Gathering my things, I smile wryly at her, then head out the door to the car. I cannot believe I have let Bella talk me into this. But then Bella can talk anyone into anything.

She’ll make an exceptional journalist. She’s articulate, strong, persuasive, argumentative, beautiful – and she’s my dearest, dearest friend.

The roads are clear as I set off from Vancouver, WA toward Portland and the I-5. It’s early, and I don’t have to be in Seattle until two this afternoon. Fortunately, Bella’s lent me her sporty Mercedes CLK.

I’m not sure Wanda, my old VW Beetle, would make the journey in time. Oh, the Mercedes is a fun drive, and the miles slip away as I floor the pedal to the metal.

My destination is the headquarters of Mr. Grey’s global enterprise. It’s a huge twenty-story office building, all curved glass and steel, an architect’s utilitarian fantasy, with Grey House written discreetly in steel over the glass front doors.

It’s a quarter to two when I arrive, greatly relieved that I’m not late as I walk into the enormous – and frankly intimidating – glass, steel, and white sandstone lobby.

Behind the solid sandstone desk, a very attractive, groomed, blonde young woman smiles pleasantly at me. She’s wearing the sharpest charcoal suit jacket and white shirt I have ever seen. She looks immaculate.

“I’m here to see Mr. Grey. Y/N Y/L/N for Isabella Clark.”

“Excuse me one moment, Miss Y/L/N.” She arches her eyebrow slightly as I stand self-consciously before her. I am beginning to wish I’d borrowed one of Bella’s formal blazers.

My outfit definitely didn't suit for something like this, but at the same time I've neve done anything like this.

I love my skirts, basically all of my closet is filled with skirts, dresses, sweaters and the occasional jeans and formal pants.

For me, this is smart. I tuck one of the escaped tendrils of my hair behind my ear as I pretend she doesn’t intimidate me.

“Miss Clark is expected. Please sign in here, Miss Y/L/N. You’ll want the last elevator on the right, press for the twentieth floor.” She smiles kindly at me, amused no doubt, as I sign in.

She hands me a security pass that has VISITOR very firmly stamped on the front. I can’t help my smirk. Surely it’s obvious that I’m just visiting. I don’t fit in here at all. Nothing changes, I inwardly sigh. Thanking her, I walk over to the bank of elevators pastthe two security men who are both far more smartly dressed than I am in their well-cut black suits.

The elevator whisks me with terminal velocity to the twentieth floor. The doors slide open, and I’m in another large lobby – again all glass, steel, and white sandstone. I’m confronted by another desk of sandstone and another young blonde woman dressed impeccably in black and white who rises to greet me.

“Miss Y/L/N, could you wait here, please?” She points to a seated area of white leather chairs.

Behind the leather chairs is a spacious glass-walled meeting room with an equally spacious dark wood table and at least twenty matching chairs around it. Beyond that, there is a floor-to-ceiling window with a view of the Seattle skyline that looks out through the city toward the Sound. It’s a stunning vista, and I’m momentarily paralyzed by the view. Wow.

I sit down, fish the questions from my bag, and go through them, inwardly cursing Bella for not providing me with a brief biography. I know nothing about this man I’m about to interview. He could be ninety or he could be thirty.

The uncertainty is galling, and my nerves resurface, making me fidget. I’ve never been comfortable with one-on-one interviews, preferring the anonymity of a group discussion where I can sit inconspicuously at the back of the room. To be honest, I prefer my own company, reading a classic British novel, curled up in a chair in the campus library. Not sitting twitching nervously in a colossal glass and stone edifice.

I roll my eyes at myself. Get a grip, Y/N. Judging from the building, which is too clinical and modern, I guess Grey is in his forties: fit, tanned, and fair-haired to match the rest of the personnel.

Another elegant, flawlessly dressed blonde comes out of a large door to the right. What is it with all the immaculate blondes? It’s like Stepford here.

Taking a deep breath, I stand up.

“Miss Y/L/N?” the latest blonde asks.

“Yes,” I croak, and clear my throat. “Yes.” There, that sounded more confident.

“Mr. Grey will see you in a moment. May I take your coat?”

“Oh please.” I struggle out of the long black coat.

“Have you been offered any refreshment?”

“Um – no.”

Oh dear, is Blonde Number One in trouble?

Blonde Number Two frowns and eyes the young woman at the desk.

“Would you like tea, coffee, water?” she asks, turning her attention back to me.

“A glass of water. Thank you,” I murmur.

“Olivia, please fetch Miss Y/L/N a glass of water.” Her voice is stern. Olivia scoots up immediately and scurries to a door on the other side of the foyer.

“My apologies, Miss Y/L/N, Olivia is our new intern. Please be seated. Mr. Grey will be another five minutes.”

Olivia returns with a glass of iced water.

“Here you go, Miss Y/L/N.”

“Thank you.”

Blonde Number Two marches over to the large desk, her heels clicking and echoing on the sandstone floor. She sits down, and they both continue their work.

Perhaps Mr. Grey insists on all his employees being blonde. I’m wondering idly if that’s legal, when the office door opens and a tall, elegantly dressed, attractive man with short dreads exits. I have definitely worn the wrong clothes.

He turns and says through the door. “Golf, this week, Grey.”

I don’t hear the reply. He turns, sees me, and smiles, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners. Olivia has jumped up and called the elevator. She seems to excel at jumping from her seat. She’s more nervous than me!

“Good afternoon ladies,” he says as he departs through the sliding door.

“Mr. Grey will see you now, Miss Y/L/N. Do go through,” Blonde Number Two says.

I stand rather shakily trying to suppress my nerves. Gathering up my bag, I abandon my glass of water and make my way to the partially open door.

“You don’t need to knock – just go in.” She smiles kindly.

I push open the door and stumble through the impressively giant office. I notice a man his face hidden behind the computer. But in a moment he raises his head and approaches me.

That's when I see his face.

Holy Cow, his young nothing like I'd imagined him.

“Miss Clark” He extends a long-fingered hand to me. “I’m Christian Grey.”

So young – and attractive, very attractive. He’s tall, dressed in a fine gray suit, white shirt, and black tie with unruly dark copper colored hair and intense, bright gray eyes that regard me shrewdly. It takes a moment for me to find my voice.

“Um. Actually–” I mutter. If this guy is over thirty then I’m a monkey’s uncle. In a daze, I place my hand in his and we shake. As our fingers touch, I feel an odd exhilarating shiver run through me. I withdraw my hand hastily, embarrassed. Must be static.

I blink rapidly, my eyelids matching my heart rate. “Miss Clark is indisposed, so she sent me. I hope you don’t mind, Mr. Grey.”

“And you are?” His voice is warm, possibly amused, but it’s difficult to tell from his impassive expression. He looks mildly interested, but above all, polite.

“Y/N Y/L/N. I’m studying English Literature with Bella, um… Isabella… um… Miss Clark at Washington State.”

“I see,” he says simply. I think I see the ghost of a smile in his expression, but I’m not sure.

“Would you like to sit?” He waves me toward a white leather buttoned L-shaped couch.

His office is way too big for just one man. In front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, there’s a huge modern dark-wood desk that six people could comfortably eat around. It matches the coffee table by the couch. Everything else is white – ceiling, floors, and walls except, on the wall by the door, where a mosaic of small paintings hang, thirty-six of them arranged in a square. They are exquisite – a series of mundane, forgotten objects painted in such precise detail they look like photographs. Displayed together, they are breathtaking.

“A local artist. Trouton,” says Grey when he catches my gaze.

“They’re lovely. Raising the ordinary to extraordinary,” I murmur, distracted both by him and the paintings. He cocks his head to one side and regards me intently.

“I couldn’t agree more, Miss Y/L/N,” he replies, his voice soft and for some inexplicable reason I find myself blushing.

Apart from the paintings, the rest of the office is cold, clean, and clinical. I wonder if it reflects the personality of the person who sinks gracefully into one of the white leather chairs opposite me. I shake my head, disturbed at the direction of my thoughts, and retrieve Bella’s questions from my bag.

Next, I set up the mini-disc recorder and am all fingers and thumbs, dropping it twice on the coffee table in front of me. Mr. Grey says nothing, waiting patiently – I hope – as I become increasingly embarrassed and flustered. When I pluck up the courage to look at him, he’s watching me, one hand relaxed in his lap and the other cupping his chin and trailing his long index finger across his lips. I think he’s trying to suppress a smile.

“Sorry,” I stutter. “I’m not used to this.”

“Take all the time you need, Miss Y/L/N,” he says.

“Do you mind if I record your answers?”

“After you’ve taken so much trouble to set up the recorder – you ask me now?”

I flush. He’s teasing me? I hope. I smile shyly, unsure what to say, and I think he takes pity on me because he relents. “No, I don’t mind.”

“Did Bella, I mean, Miss Clark, explain what the interview was for?”

“Yes. To appear in the graduation issue of the student newspaper as I shall be conferring the degrees at this year’s graduation ceremony.”

Oh! This is news to me, and I’m temporarily pre-occupied by the thought that someone not much older than me – okay, maybe six years or so, and okay, mega successful, but still – is going to present me with my degree.

I frown, dragging my wayward attention back to the task at hand.

“Good,” I swallow nervously. “I have some questions, Mr. Grey.” I smooth a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

“I thought you might,” he says, deadpan. He’s laughing at me. My cheeks heat at the realization, and I sit up and square my shoulders in an attempt to look taller and more intimidating. Pressing the start button on the recorder, I try to look professional.

“You’re very young to have amassed such an empire. To what do you owe your success?” I glance up at him. His smile is rueful, but he looks vaguely disappointed.

“Business is all about people, Miss Y/L/N, and I’m very good at judging people. I know how they tick, what makes them flourish, what doesn’t, what inspires them, and how to incentivize them. I employ an exceptional team, and I reward them well.” He pauses and fixes me with his gray stare.

“My belief is to achieve success in any scheme one has to make oneself master of that scheme, know it inside and out, know every detail. I work hard, very hard to do that. I make decisions based on logic and facts. I have a natural gut instinct that can spot and nurture a good solid idea and good people. The bottom line is, it’s always down to good people.”

“Maybe you’re just lucky.” This isn’t on Bella’s list – but he’s so arrogant. His eyes flare momentarily in surprise.

“I don’t subscribe to luck or chance, Miss Y/L/N. The harder I work the more luck I seem to have. It really is all about having the right people on your team and directing theirenergies accordingly. I think it was Harvey Firestone who said ‘the growth and development of people is the highest calling of leadership.’ ”

“You sound like a control freak.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

“Oh, I exercise control in all things, Miss Y/L/N,” he says without a trace of humor in his smile. I look at him, and he holds my gaze steadily, impassive. My heartbeat quickens, and my face flushes again.

Why does he have such an unnerving effect on me? His overwhelming good-looks maybe? The way his eyes blaze at me? The way he strokes his index finger against his lower lip? I wish he’d stop doing that.

“Besides, immense power is acquired by assuring yourself in your secret reveries that you were born to control things,” he continues, his voice soft.

“Do you feel that you have immense power?” Control Freak.

“I employ over forty thousand people Miss Y/L/N. That gives me a certain sense of responsibility – power, if you will. If I were to decide I was no longer interested in the telecommunications business and sell up, twenty thousand people would struggle to make their mortgage payments after a month or so.”

My mouth drops open. I am staggered by his lack of humility. “Don’t you have a board to answer to?” I ask, disgusted.

“I own my company. I don’t have to answer to a board.” He raises an eyebrow at me.

I flush. Of course, I would know this if I had done some research. But holy crap, he’s so arrogant. I change tack.

“And do you have any interests outside your work?”

“I have varied interests, Miss Y/L/N.” A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “Very varied.”

And for some reason, I’m confounded and heated by his steady gaze. His eyes are alight with some wicked thought.

“But if you work so hard, what do you do to chill out?”

“Chill out?” He smiles, revealing perfect white teeth. I stop breathing. He really is beautiful. No one should be this good-looking.

“Well, to ‘chill out’ as you put it – I sail, I fly, I indulge in various physical pursuits.”

He shifts in his chair. “I’m a very wealthy man, Miss Y/L/N, and I have expensive and absorbing hobbies.”

I glance quickly at Bella’s questions, wanting to get off this subject.

“You invest in manufacturing. Why, specifically?” I ask. Why does he make me so uncomfortable?

“I like to build things. I like to know how things work: what makes things tick, how to construct and deconstruct. And I have a love of ships. What can I say?”

“That sounds like your heart talking rather than logic and facts.”

His mouth quirks up, and he stares appraisingly at me. “Possibly. Though there are people who’d say I don’t have a heart.”

“Why would they say that?” I ask, intrigued by that information.

“Because they know me well.” His lip curls in a wry smile.

“Would your friends say you’re easy to get to know?” And I regret the question as soon as I say it. It’s not on Bella’s list.

“I’m a very private person, Miss Y/L/N. I go a long way to protect my privacy. I don’t often give interviews,” he trails off.

“Why did you agree to do this one?”

“Because I’m a benefactor of the University, and for all intents and purposes, I couldn’t get Miss Clark off my back. She badgered and badgered my PR people, and I admire that kind of tenacity.”

I know how tenacious Bella can be. That’s why I’m sitting here squirming uncomfortably under his penetrating gaze, when I should be studying for my exams.

“You also invest in farming technologies. Why are you interested in this area?”

“We can’t eat money, Miss Y/L/N, and there are too many people on this planet who don’t have enough to eat.”

“That sounds very philanthropic. Is it something you feel passionately about? Feeding the world’s poor?”

He shrugs, very non-committal. “It’s shrewd business,” he shrugs, though I think he’s being disingenuous. It doesn’t make sense – feeding the world’s poor? I can’t see the financial benefits of this, only the virtue of the ideal. I glance at the next question, confused by his attitude.

“Do you have a philosophy? If so, what is it?”

“I don’t have a philosophy as such. Maybe a guiding principle. I’m very singular, driven. I like control – of myself and those around me.”

“So you want to possess things?” You are a control freak.

“I want to deserve to possess them, but yes, bottom line, I do.”

“You sound like the ultimate consumer.”

“I am.” He smiles, but the smile doesn’t touch his eyes. Again this is at odds with someone who wants to feed the world, so I can’t help thinking that we’re talking about something else, but I’m absolutely mystified as to what it is. I swallow hard. The temperature in the room is rising or maybe it’s just me. I just want this interview to be over.

Surely Bella has enough material now? I glance at the next question.“You were adopted. How far do you think that’s shaped the way you are?”

Oh, this is personal. I stare at him, hoping he’s not offended. His brow furrows. “I have no way of knowing.”

My interest is piqued.

“How old were you when you were adopted?”

“That’s a matter of public record, Miss Y/L/N.” His tone is stern. I flush, again. Crap.

Yes of course – if I’d known I was doing this interview, I would have done some research. I move on quickly.

“You’ve had to sacrifice a family life for your work.”

“That’s not a question.” He’s terse.

“Sorry.” I squirm, and he’s made me feel like an errant child. I try again. “Have you had to sacrifice a family life for your work?”

“I have a family. I have a brother and a sister and two loving parents. I’m not interested in extending my family beyond that.”

“Are you gay, Mr. Grey?”

He inhales sharply, and I cringe, mortified. Shoot. Why didn’t I employ some kind of filter before I read this straight out? How can I tell him I’m just reading the questions?

Damn Bella and her curiosity!

“No Y/N, I’m not.” He raises his eyebrows, a cool gleam in his eyes. He does

not look pleased.

“I apologize. It’s um… written here.” It’s the first time he’s said my name. My heartbeat has accelerated, and my cheeks are heating up again. Nervously, I tuck my loosened hair behind my ear.

He cocks his head to one side.

“These aren’t your own questions?”

The blood drains from my head. Oh no.

“Err… no. Bella – Miss Clark – she compiled the questions.”

“Are you colleagues on the student paper?”

I have nothing to do with the student paper. It’s her extra-curricular activity, not mine. My face is aflame. “No. She’s my roommate.”

He rubs his chin in quiet deliberation, his gray eyes appraising me. “Did you volunteer to do this interview?” he asks, his voice deadly quiet.

Hang on, who’s supposed to be interviewing whom? His eyes burn into me, and I’m compelled to answer with the truth.

“I was drafted. She’s not well.” My voice is weak and apologetic.

“That explains a great deal.”

There’s a knock at the door, and Blonde Number Two enters. “Mr. Grey, forgive me for interrupting, but your next meeting is in two minutes.”

“We’re not finished here, Andrea. Please cancel my next meeting.”

Andrea hesitates, gaping at him. She’s appears lost. He turns his head slowly to face her and raises his eyebrows. She flushes bright pink. Oh good. It’s not just me.

“Very well, Mr. Grey,” she mutters, then exits. He frowns, and turns his attention back to me.

“Where were we, Miss Y/L/N?”

Oh, we’re back to ‘Miss Y/L/N’ now.

“Please don’t let me keep you from anything.”

“I want to know about you. I think that’s only fair.” His gray eyes are alight with curiosity.

Where’s he going with this? He places his elbows on the arms of the chair and steeples his fingers in front of his mouth. His mouth is very… distracting. I swallow.

“There’s not much to know,” I say, flushing again.

“What are your plans after you graduate?”

I shrug, thrown by his interest. Come to Seattle with Bella, find a place, find a job. I haven’t really thought beyond my finals.

“I haven’t made any plans, Mr. Grey. I just need to get through my final exams.”

Which I should be studying for now rather than sitting in your palatial, swanky, sterile office, feeling uncomfortable under your penetrating gaze. “We run an excellent internship program here,” he says quietly.

I raise my eyebrows in surprise. Is he offering me a job? “Oh. I’ll bear that in mind,” I answer, completely confounded. “Though I’m not sure I’d fit in here.”

Oh no. I’m musing out loud again.

“Why do you say that?” He cocks his head to one side, intrigued, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” I’m uncoordinated, scruffy, and I’m not blonde.

“Not to me,” he murmurs. His gaze is intense, all humor gone, and strange muscles deep in my belly clench suddenly. I tear my eyes away from his scrutiny and stare blindly down at my knotted fingers.

What’s going on? I have to go – now. I lean forward to retrieve the recorder.

“Would you like me to show you around?” he asks.

“I’m sure you’re far too busy, Mr. Grey, and I do have a long drive.”

“You’re driving back to WSU in Vancouver?” He sounds surprised, anxious even. He glances out of the window. It’s begun to rain. “Well, you’d better drive carefully.” His tone is stern, authoritative.

Why should he care? “Did you get everything you need?” he adds.

“Yes sir,” I reply, packing the recorder into my bag. His eyes narrow, speculatively.

“Thank you for the interview, Mr. Grey.”

“The pleasure’s been all mine,” he says, polite as ever.

As I rise, he stands and holds out his hand.

“Until we meet again, Miss Y/L/N.” And it sounds like a challenge, or a threat, I’m not sure which. I frown.

When will we ever meet again? I shake his hand once more, astounded that that odd current between us is still there. It must be my nerves.

“Mr. Grey.” I nod at him. Moving with lithe athletic grace to the door, he opens it wide.

“Allow me to escort you outside.” He gives me a small smile.

He's so polite now.

“Sure, Mr. Grey,” I smile, and his smile widens. Together, we walk into the foyer. Andrea and Olivia both look up, equally surprised.

“Did you have a coat?” Grey asks.

“Yes.” Olivia leaps up and retrieves my black, which Grey takes from her before she can hand it to me. He holds it up and, feeling ridiculously self-conscious, I shrug it on.

Grey places his hands for a moment on my shoulders. I gasp at the contact. If he notices my reaction, he gives nothing away. His long index finger presses the button summoning the elevator, and we stand waiting – awkwardly on my part, coolly self-possessed on his.

The doors open, and I hurry in desperate to escape. I really need to get out of here. When I turn to look at him, he’s leaning against the doorway beside the elevator with one hand on the wall. He really is very, very good-looking. It’s distracting. His burning gray eyes gaze at me.

“Y/N,” he says as a farewell.

“Christian,” I reply. And mercifully, the doors close.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[ series masterlist ]

DON'T BE AFRAID TO SPAM WITH LIKES AND COMMENTS. I WOULD ALSO APPRECIATE IT IF YOU COULD REBLOG THIS POST <3

[giggly-argent]

Late Lunch

lmao this Technically isn't finished but I gave up at the end so! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (loosely based it off tht one pic of Ori that I'll put below the cut ♡)

Word Count: 3184

The employee lounges in Aster's castle were just as decorated as the rest of the palace, with the spaces for the highest ranking officials being the most lavish. Massive windows overlook the well-manicured courtyard garden, bathing the room in soft, golden light. Rich tapestries line the walls, adorned with intricate designs and vibrant colors. The centerpiece of the room is a massive oak coffee table, surrounded by plush sofas and armchairs, perfect for weary officials after a hard day's work. This particular break room was reserved for the (mostly) admirable young captains of the West Wing, but two far less admirable freeloaders had found themselves lounging there instead.

Orion was sprawled out on one of the plush couches, his ruby eyes half-lidded as he watched his fellow nuisance Homare make his ninth or tenth dizzying lap around the room. The silent demon seemed to be in a daze, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his black jeans and his head tilted up at the ceiling. As nice as it was to not have the younger menace causing a fuss, his atypical dawdling was starting to bother Ori.

“Dude, what're you on? You're looking like a fuckin’ zombie.” Orion snickers aloud, finally pulling Homare from his listless trance. He stops in his tracks and pulls his right hand from his pocket, cupping it to make a simple gesture down his chest: he was hungry.

The ever smug rockstar just waves towards the door, earning a blank stare from his restless friend. "Uh, you know the biggest food court in the kingdom is right out there," he snorts, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "And it's all you can eat, unless you're expecting me to pay for ya'!”

Internally, Homare's thoughts were racing. “This dumbass knows that's not what I mean, right? Or maybe I never told him... no he HAS to know already, it's obvious-” His face scrunches up in frustration as he tries to think of a way to convey his intentions.

"...Well, if money's really that tight, I don't mind covering this time, eheh..." Orion's playful smirk grew more tense as he switched his tone. While Homare was lost in thought, his piercing emerald stare was practically boring through Orion's head. Homare snapped from his trance again, shaking his head and slouching over in exaggerated defeat.

"I-N-C-U-B-U-S," his fingers spelled out, his antsy gaze now aimed at the floor to avoid eye contact. He idly rocks on his heels, almost as if he were embarrassed by his predicament. "I need to feed." He signs feebly, and Ori could hear a quiet, unintelligible grumble from under the man's cloth mask.

"Oooh wait, I get it!" Homare rolls his eyes as the lightbulb goes off above Orion's head.

"Shit, I got a roommate just like you. We help him out all the time- his dumbass always forgets to feed when we're out touring-" The star rambles on, tugging at the collar of his jacket and brushing his hair back to reveal a few telling hickeys around his neck and shoulders.

Homare's pale face goes beet red and he straightens up fast. Why did those marks look so… fresh? Before he could let his mind get carried away for a third time, the exasperated demon tried clear the air as fast as possible. “Not that way!" Now both of hands were out, and more irritable murmurs accompanied his dramatic signing.

Orion tilted his head and stood up from the couch, strolling right over to the blushing man. "Riiiiight... So how do you do it then?" With his hands on his hips, the taller demon's casually flirty look only twisted Homare's thoughts even more.

Homare blinks up at him, appearing starstruck for a moment before his lips curl into a faint smile under his mask. The oddball doesn't give a clear response yet. He quietly snickers to himself, only leaving Orion more curious than before.

"C'mon, spit it out~" Orion lets out a playful whine, nudging the incubus with his elbow. "You're killin' me here, dude!" Much to his annoyance, Homare just crosses his arms and gives a nonchalant shrug, playing more coy than usual.

"Hah, don't lie to me, you bra-HAHT!!" All at once, every last drop of smugness vanished Orion's voice once he felt something soft brush against the shell of his ear. He frantically scans the room, not noticing a faint purple glow from Homare's hands. Two glittering, enchanted purple feathers soon revealed themselves from behind Ori's wild mane before fluttering over his pointed ears.

"B-Broho, the fuck are you doing?!" The startled man sputters, snatching one of the plumes out of the air while clumsily stumbling back to dodge the other. "That... Doesn't work on me!”

"Not ticklish?" Orion didn't expect to shiver just from seeing the word signed out, and that hungry, almost predatory look on Homare's face wasn't doing him any favors either. Nevertheless, he tried to keep cool, hoping he could shake the troublemaker off before he learned too much.

"Neh-Nuh uh, it just, uh... It felt weird!" Foolishly, Orion thought he could laugh it off for the time being, until a gentle push to his chest pressed him back against the wall. That little weirdo really had him cornered… But that aura of yearning in his often unreadable eyes made the rockstar's heart pound in his chest.

"We'll do it your way, then." Homare briefly leaned back just to let Orion see him signing. He then slowly tugged at the other's jacket, but he barely had a chance to feel it before Ori eagerly ripped it off himself. His own hands wrapped around Homare's hips and yanked him closer, erasing the gap between the two.

"Aww! Look at you, tryna be all dominant-" Ori chuckles, his goofy, boyish charm still slipping through his seductive front. Homare only hummed and tilted his head, too close to sign a response. Instead, he did the next best thing.

Slender gloved hands trailed down Ori's arms, only stopping to graze the bare skin of his waist. Even through his hunger, Homare was still one step ahead of his target, distracting him with the unfamiliar, yet extremely welcomed advances all while he worked his other magic more subtly.

Ori's racing heart nearly leapt from his body when his wrists were grasped tight, and it didn't take long for him to spot the familiar purple magic forcing his arms up behind his head. Before he could protest, the taller punk's toned waist was stretched taut, leaving him vulnerable in front of the famished incubus. He knew he was seeing traces of a grin under that dark mask now…

“H-Hold on!" Ori's eyes widened when Homare turned away from him. He ignored the man’s preemptive begging, summoning a small portal to sift through his storage. "I was just jokin', babes! Doesn't matter who tops, I'm not that pick- what the fuck are those-"

When he spun back around, Homare was holding several wooden sticks in one hand, and he waved the portal shut with the other. The tools almost looked like ear picks, but the size and sturdiness of the plumes at the end let him know they weren't meant for an average grooming.

Homare didn't grace him with a spoken or signed answer, deciding to give him a more hands on introduction instead. Holding the other four tools in one hand, he traced the feathery tip of the last one over Orion's bare stomach. If the punk wasn't actually ticklish like he claimed to be, he might've noticed Homare was just signing his own name. Instead, his eyes were squeezed shut, fangs clamping down on his lip to hold his giggles in.

"Shihit-!" Ori pressed against the wall, trying not to squirm too much that would give away his ticklishness after all. The round plumes looked pillowy soft, but held just enough firmness to make him jolt and whimper with every stroke.

Homare, being a jerk as usual, stealthily conjured up a small magic hand by his captive's side: those purple fingers then briefly drilled near Ori's back where it met the wall. The punk nearly screamed in surprise and arched his back, giving Homare the opportunity to press the fluffy tool right into his navel and give it a spin.

"GAHAH-?! Oh fffuhuhck you!" It all happened so fast; Orion couldn't stop the quick bark of laughter that forced its way out. He tried to glare at the bratty incubus, but that stupidly cute, cocky look in his eye made Ori give up instantly- or maybe it was that twirling tool in his navel. "D-Don't look at me like thaHAHAT!!"

As if he hadn't had enough surprises, he felt another plume dancing along his skin. The spare magic hand kept the other three tools nearby, while Homare dragged two of them over Ori's waistline. More strained snickers slipped from the punk's lips, just feeding into Homare's urges even more.

How did these stupid things tickle so bad? Even Homare was surprised by how effective they were. His regular victims usually required a lot more effort to crack, but Orion, as tough as he pretended to be, seemed to crumble at the softest touches. With a longing sigh, Homare slowly started to drag the plumes upwards, drawing more panicked prattling from the bound man.

"Nnonohoho don't you fucking dahahare- Ahaha wahahAIIT!!" The incubus paused surprisigly enough, holding the tools right below Orion's underarms.

He'd noticed Ori reaching a new level of struggling once he got a liiiitle too close to his armpits- definitely a weak spot. As much as he would've loved to keep slowly teasing the punk over and over, gradually breaking him down with those soft, calculated strokes… He'd have to save that for a day when he didn't feel like he was withering away from hunger.

Orion felt a wave of relief wash over him when Homare stepped back, tossing the two sticks in the air, but that feeling was painfully short-lived. The hand holding the remaining tools split into three separate wisps of magic at the dull snap of Homare's fingers, and two similar wisps caught the others that he tossed. Now all five of the fluffy plumes were poised directly over Ori's bare body, just waiting on the cue to strike.

"Ahh..." Homare noticed his captive breaking a sweat, and clasped his hands together. That nervousness was so cute- it always made his meals more flavorful! On the other end, Orion managed to break his focus from the (non)threatening picks hovering around him, putting on a wide, antsy grin. "Homareeee… Are you trying to kill me?"

Homare shook his head at the pretty-boy's whining, which drew the next question from him. "Are... you mad at me?" Yet another nonverbal ‘no’, and the oblivious man took that as a sign to relax. "...So that means you'll let me go now, right?"

The third answer sent a shiver down Orion's spine. Maybe it was his anxiety over getting the living hell tickled out of him, but he could've sworn he heard Homare actually whisper "no" that time. Before he had the chance to throw out another distraction, all five plumes made their move.

The first began at his waist, drawing a large circle around his stomach that grew smaller with each loop, just threatening to dive right back into his navel. Two more flew up to his pointed ears to mimic the annoying feathers from earlier, but this time there was nothing he could do to slap them away.

The last two dove straight into Ori's taut underarms, dragging up and down in an erratic pattern to keep him on his toes. Some strokes were long and slow, dragging up his arms and down to his chest. The others were faster and never strayed too far from his pits.

Poor Orion was beside himself with laughter. He couldn't even try to hold back the shriek that ripped from his lips as soon as the tools touched down.

"NOHOHOHOHOO!! " The sudden ticklish onslaught broke his nerves immediately, and his initial fit of thrashing against his bonds melted into useless tugging and worming around. After just a few more seconds of reckless squirming, the sensitive punk slumped against the wall, tossing his head back and letting his cackling flow free.

"YOHOHOU'RE THE WOHOHOHOOORST!!" he whined at his captor, who was practically drinking up the panicked, helpless laughter. He couldn't hear Homare's amused giggle in response, but he could tell the sadistic brat was too pleased with himself seeing how the tickling just didn't seem to stop.

But Homare's mean streak didn't end there. Orion’s tickle-addled brain didn't process the sound of Homare snapping again, but he definitely felt the plumes moving faster than before.

The one at his stomach stopped circling around, dipping into his navel again and prodding around incessantly. At his underarms, the tools became more focused on drawing the loudest squeals from their pretty ticklish ‘toy’, twirling right over the smooth skin with a bit more pressure than before.

While he wasn't near the point of silent laughter (damned musical breath training), the pitifully sensitive rockstar couldn't get a single word out once the harsher tickling took over. His already uncontrollable giggling went up almost a full octave, and his body went rigid for a split second before slumping back down. He weakly shook his head, trying anything his instincts could work up to keep the fluffy tools away from his ears.

Homare gave it another minute or two, then slowed down the tickling with another soft sigh of delight. Now that he had the chance, Orion took this opportunity to finally spit out his defeat.

"AHA-ALRIGHT!! It tihihickles!!" Homare's ears perked up, and he couldn't help but giggle in awe. He had only sped up the tickling just to satiate his hunger faster, but Ori's whiny concession was an added bonus.

"Huh?" Just to be a dick, the incubus stepped closer and cupped his ear, snapping at Orion to get his attention. Ori's eyes were blurry with tears, but he could still see the eccentric demon taunting him.

"Oh fuck yohohou- WAITWAHAHIT!!" He only had a moment to regret his poor choice of words: it almost looked like Ori would break free with how hard he jerked under Homare’s fingertips. The incubus listlessly poked around his ribs, getting dangerously close to under joining those plumes at his underarms. "IT TICKLES, IT TIIHIHICKLES!!!”

After what felt like hours to the ticklish drama king, Homare pulled both his hands and all of the fluffy tools away, though they still hovered nearby in just case Ori was dumb enough to to spare any more sass.

Though it felt like he'd just started, Homare's energy had flooded back faster than he was used to. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but this quick, strong rejuvenation wasn't entirely foreign to him. He'd once had an encounter with a nymph queen whose mirthful squeals of laughter replenished his power almost too fast- Maybe Ori's own magic was on par with hers?

…No, not a chance. Now that it was on his mind, he could recall similar experiences nearly every time he (begrudgingly) had his precious, eager to please Inori help him feed as well, and he knew her magic was always on the weaker side. He tried to think of anything his best friend had in common with the punk in front of him or a powerful queen, but he just couldn't draw any parallels...

Ori was still pressed against the wall, breathlessly giggling long after the tickling had stopped. Once he blinked away his tears, he could see Homare having a stretch and getting lost in his own mind as usual. The sight of the tools lingering nearby kept him on edge, but he couldn't help but notice a stark change: the magic holding them seemed more vivid in color. "Huh..." Ori huffed softly, his teary eyes shifting from the tools to the seemingly energized troublemaker in front of him.

"What's up? You full already?" He piped up, startling Homare mid-stretch. The incubus furrowed his brows, noticing the familiar shit-eating grin that Orion had the nerve to bear. "Heheh, and here I was thinking you were starving! Can't believe you'd use me as a quick snack."

While Ori was just teasing the other man, he didn't know he was poking a sleeping… No, a freshly energized, very alert bear. Homare stared the punk down, his visible eye now just as vibrant as his magic. He didn't bother to snap this time, cutting out the theatrics in favor of dishing out his favorite punishment.

The bondage around Orion's arms suddenly shifted, and the taller demon dropped to his knees with a startled gasp. He thought his bonds were completely loosened, but the incubus had the rope catch his wrists on the way down, fully stretching his arms above his head. Taking full advantage of his captive's stunned state, Homare dropped down as well, seating himself straight onto Ori's lap.

“Hghn-!? What-???” Orion was already convinced he fit the bill of an ‘inexperienced, flustered idiot’ by now, but the moment he tried to save face one last time, he was immediately countered by Homare slowly tugging down his own mask. It felt like he could never get used to seeing the lower half of the younger demon's pretty face, but what really shook him was the impish, telltale smirk on his lips. Ori shivered, feeling Homare's gloved hands gingerly rubbing up and down his sides. It might've been relaxing if he didn't know what it was leading up to. "D-Damnit! Wait, can't you take a joke?? Ya’ don't really HAVE to keep going-"

"Yes, I do." A lovely, melodic, and oh-so unfamiliar whisper seemed to shatter any of Orion's objections- that, and the feeling of soft lips grazing his cheek afterward. Ori's mind went blank, save for one thought: the incubus known for being an unpredictable, dangerous threat was currently planting the most tender kisses along his jawline.

When it seemed like Homare's lips would finally meet Orion's, that teasing brat only gave him a quick peck instead of what he truly wanted. Homare leaned back and let out an airy laugh, one that Orion would've folded over without a drop of shame if he wasn't so riled up.

Homare didn't give him the chance to whine over it too much. Soon, the hands at Ori's waist dug in, squeezing at his hips without warning. Orion bucked and yelped, almost jerking himself up off the floor, but Homare kept him in his place, kneading that sweet spot with light, hellish precision.

"OH MY GOHOHOD I HATE YOU!!"

“I know…♡ " Homare kept his voice low, leaning in to carry on with the soft kisses, this time right along Ori's ear. The combined merciless squeezing and loving, tickly kissing was maddening. He so desperately wanted to break out of the ropes and give Homare a taste of his own medicine, but a part of him didn't seem to mind the position he was in…

[kaminocasey]

Oh my, your post about Tech's soft voice got me swooning! (It's true though, he has a lovely voice) So, if it's alright with you, I'd like to make a request for a fluffy Tech x Reader fic. Maybe it's one of your first times sleeping in the same bed as Tech, and in the morning, he really doesn't want to let you go. He so rarely gets this kind of affection, so he's just holding you, whispering sweet nothings trying to get you to stay. Thank you so much, you deserve all the love and praise!

Hi! I'M SO SO SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! (Literally 9 months, I'm the worst lol, please forgive me!) I'm gonna try to get back to a point where I can open my requests again!

I got hit with massive writer's block for Tech and then After that finale, it got harder and harder to write for him lol. Hopefully this makes up for it? I got a sort of idea for a series... so Lemme know if you think it's something you guys would want??

Soft Mornings

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI; smut-ish? suggestive themes

Taglist Form

You feel Tech’s warm body against yours before you open your eyes, snuggling against his chest more, your bottom brushing up against his length. 

“Good morning, darling.” He chuckles, softly, kissing your neck. 

Your previous night had been so perfect. Better than anything you could’ve ever imagined. Parts of it start to flood your memory, making your face go warm. 

“Good morning.” You bring his hand to your lips and he snuggles his nose into the crook of your neck. “How did you sleep?” 

You’d been slightly afraid that Tech wouldn’t be able to sleep well since he’s never slept next to another person before and you know how much he enjoys his space. But when you’d offered to go back to your bunk, he’d only pulled you close to him, bringing the covers up over the both of you and asked you to stay.

“I think I slept better than I’ve ever slept before.” He admits and then starts to smile. “I’m afraid I will not be able to sleep alone now.”  

“Oh no. How awful. Guess I better take up permanent residence here.” You laugh. 

He chuckles again and you roll over to face him. 

“Hi.” You smile up at him.

“Hello.” He smiles back, his voice still soft and raspy in a sleepy way, making you melt like putty. 

His hair is sticking up in different directions and you imagine yours is too, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Kissing him softly, you run your hands up to cup his face, which is starting to feel slightly stubbly from not having shaved in a few days. You take note of how good the five o’clock shadow looks on him.

“I’ve got work soon.” You sigh against his lips.

His sigh matches yours. “Don’t go.” 

You laugh, softly. “I have to.” He wraps his arms around your lower back, pulling you up against him. “I’m sure I could persuade you to stay.” 

“Try.” You whisper. 

He pushes you onto your back and hovers above you, smiling so softly down at you. “All I’ve wanted since meeting you is to wake up next to you. It’s a new feeling for me… But getting to wake up next to you, and seeing how absolutely endearing you are with ‘bedhead’ and your sleepy voice, makes me want nothing more than to do this every morning.”

You look up at him, wide eyed at his confession. Tech’s not been one for being forthright with his emotions, so this is new. And it melts your heart. You’d love to hear him tell you these sweet nothings every day. 

As if he can read your thoughts, he kisses you again. “I know I don’t speak about how I feel a lot… but I feel safe here… with you.” 

Your chest tightens and you pull him toward you, crushing your lips to his. He groans softly, his hand sliding down to grip your hip, anchoring you to him and the bed.

“Let me convince you to stay.” He murmurs, kissing your neck.

“I don’t need any more convincing.” You smile with a hum. “I’ll call in and we can stay in bed all day.” 

“Sounds lovely.” He nuzzles his nose against your jaw as he presses his growing length up against your already eager warmth, making you gasp softly.

“Maybe you could use… other incentives to make me stay.” You tease him and he chuckles, darkly, catching on immediately.

“Say no more, darling.” He nods as he shows you just how much he loves waking up next to you. 

You really could get used to this… perhaps one day, he’d leave the war and battles behind to be safe here in this bed with you… where nothing bad could happen to him, and you wouldn’t have to worry so much every time he leaves. 

Perhaps, he’ll choose these soft mornings with you, too.

TAGS:

EVERYTHING @twistedstitcher27 @rebel-finn @rexandechosandwich @madameminor @dumfanting @rain-on-kamino @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @brynhildrmimi @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501 @idledreams @redheadgirl @themcuwriter @ashotofspotchka @sunshinesdaydream @crosshairsimp73 @ariadnes-red-thread @rosmariner @heyitsaloy @starstofillmydream @high-ct5555 @echos-girlfriend @sleepywych @nekotaetae @justanothersadperson93 @aconstructofamind @book-of-baba-fett @chopper-base @palliateclaw @501st-rexster @dead-poolz @nahoney22 @where-is-my-mind-tho @jediknightjana @erishimoon @witching3 @queen-of-many-fandoms @wizardofrozz  @burningfieldof-clover @rebelsriley

[make-me-imagine]

A Step Forward

Prompt/Request: A takes B's hand to help them down steps/wall, and doesn't let go

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Gn!Reader

Requested By: Anonymous (this is a leftover Valentines Request lol)

Words: 617; super short I know, but at least I managed to write something lol

-

After everyone had disappeared from the sanctum grounds for the evening, you and Stephen walked side by side through the training area.

"This group seems promising" you noted as you thought back on the group you had been helping him train.

Stephen hummed "Yes, but they still have a long way to go."

"You say that every time"

"That's because it's true every time" he said as he smiled at you.

"You said that about me too, and then I helped save the world, and your life two weeks later."

He rolled his eyes but laughed "You are a rare exception." he added, his tone a bit softer, making your heart thump.

You smiled as you headed up onto a platform "A rare exception? That's a rare compliment from thee Stephen Strange."

Stephen watched as you picked up a training dummy and set it aside, his eyes gazed over you fondly.

"Why do you think I now allow you to teach alongside me? You're one of the best here."

You smiled down at him "And here I thought it was because you and Wong bicker when you train it together"

Stephen smiled, "That too"

Walking over to the ledge of the platform, you prepared to jump down but Stephen stepped forward and reached out his hand for you to take.

You were caught off guard by the action, but brushed away the warmth in your chest as you placed your hand in his. Leaping down he kept you steady as you laded on the pavement below.

Stephen continued to walk and you expected his hand to slip from yours, but instead, he only entertwined his fingers with yours as he walked along side you.

You looked down at your intertwined hands before looking back at him. His face was turned away from you, as he seemed to avoid your gaze, and instead eyed some training targets.

Your stomach flipped as you repressed a smile, noting how warm your face felt.

You and Stephen had been dancing around your obvious feelings for one another for what seemed like ages. You both knew how you felt, but you were both hesitant to start anything. Your lives were dangerous, was it worth the risk?

But now, as his hand gripped yours it seemed as though he had made that decision for the both of you.

As you headed back towards the sanctum, you allowed yourself to softly squeeze his hand. A subtle way of telling him you wanted it too. You saw his smile widen a bit from the corner of your eye as he squeezed your hand in return.

Heading into the Sanctum, he did not remove his hand from yours, even as others walked past, obviously noticing. You saw the looks on their faceas as they smiled as they passed. Most of them thinking it was about time something happened with you two.

Finally stopping, Stephen turned towards you and looked down at your hands before he cleared his throat softly. He gently caressed your hand with his thumb before he met your eyes, a soft smile ghosting his lips.

"Would you like to go get dinner?"

Stephen was still uncertain of how to word his feelings, uncertain of how to tell you just how much he wanted to be with you. but the fact that you allowed him this gentle form of affection told him you knew he was trying.

You nodded with a smile "Yes."

He smiled in return as you both continued down the sanctum halls, hands still linked, as you walked a bit closer than before. It may not be perfect yet, but it was a step forward, and a promising one at that.

xx End xx

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @rexit-mo, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

Marvel + Stephen Strange Taglist:  @aquariuslavenderhoney, @trashywritestrash, @groovy-lady , @marvelouslyme96, @supersourlemon13, @mochamoff, @simsiddy, @gay-and-ready-to-cry, @flourishandblotts-inc, @spuffyfan394, @agent-catfish-kenobi, @locke-writes, @cs-please, @soultrysworld, @a-lumos-in-the-nox, @creativitybeware, @that-marvel-simp, @gatefleet, @skylions-den, @silverose365, @nix-rose, @etanordoesbullsh1t, @dominos-palast, @maellem, @readingwithatorch, @cauliflowertree, @writerfulltime, @multifandomfix, @lokidokieokie,

[beautifulloverwitch]

By Fire, Sea and Blood

The untold tale of an approaching collapse

Act I: chapter nine: The Darkness calls

Previous ///// next

Summary: Daenerys is learning to navigate the turning path of grief at her leisure, while the world around her screaming at her to be done with it.

________________

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Daenerys Velaryon (Strong! Oc)

WC: 11.2k

Warnings: Targcest, mentions of underage drinking, emotional inc*st.

Masterlist

A sharp hiss left the sneering lips of the one-eyed prince, who had found himself for the hundredth time within these three long months on the same chair, with wet cloth carefully rubbing at the hollow space of his eye and an unpleasant chill rolling through his body with every rub. His scar had long healed in the time that had passed, hopeful he had been, that no mark besides his missing eye would remain, so that he may forget about what had transpired that night, but hope is the fool's companion.

He may no longer have needed stitching for the flesh had finally mended, but the space where his eye should have been was empty, unprotected, hence he was vulnerable. Every speck of dust or drop of unclean water was a danger to him. 

Each night he would have this hollowness cleaned before bed, and each morning he would have to go through the same mind-numbing routine again. How could he forget any of this having ever happened, if morning, noon and night he is reminded of this absence that existed on his face and in his life. 

As these… necessary procedures, went on he had decided to reflect on the night he has been returned to every time he sat down with a Maester sat uncomfortably close to him.

His own words echoing in his own mind as he wondered to himself, how true they really were. He measured the cost, placing it upon his tilted scales. 

Aemond had gained the largest dragon in the world, along with it he had gained a guarantee that his brother would no longer taunt him for now they were forever equals, no longer would he be a nuisance to his house, he was now every bit a Targaryen, and most of all, a truer Valyrian than any.

His head raised with pride at that reflection, the Grand Maester Orwyle frowned at the action “be still my prince…”

He huffed through his nose before weighing the cost of all he had gained. His eye cut out, this maiming leaving him afflicted with tribulations the rest of his life, his mother, humiliated before the courts by his father, who had deserted them all, he would be looked at with an irking pity by people of every status, he was condemned to a lifetime of nursing, even as he flew the dragon he had paid so much for, he was at risk of something being blown into his eye, either killing him quickly or bestowing upon him an agonising sickness. So much for one thing, one thing that others had paid nothing for.

On his face, he was missing an eye and at his side, he was missing a friend.

Those boys took his eye, and his dearest friend

A friend that would have held his hand through all of this, a friend that would have told him it was not right what had happened to him, that would have agreed it was his right, that would have stood with him not against him. Had he not sullied her ears with a truth she so hastily denies. The doings of her mother shielding her children from her depraved actions and her delusional and stupid brothers drowning her with those lies. 

But no… she was smart, incredibly sharp, she would not succumb to such lies, she knew they were all true, and yet… she hated him for it, even though he did not bestow that title upon her, one he would agree she had not deserved, it was her mothers fault, if not for her actions she would not be a-...

He winced, but not at the feeling of the cloth brushing the inside of his eye socket, rather that the word had tasted bitter to him, he could not even think of it. He would not insult her, but how does he know that she is not doing the same, that she is not laughing with her brothers as they joke to her about what they did to him this very moment. He hated that he could imagine it, the contagious sound of her laughter that would leave them both almost in stitches, began to twist and turn into something ugly, something he hated, something painfully familiar.

He began to hear her laughter with them, with his brother, in the dragon pit, her pointing her finger, unashamedly allowing strings of laughter to fall from her lips. Laughing with them, at him.

. 

To hell with the bastard then-, they can keep her. He knew how terribly they treated her, how alone she would be even with her undisciplined cousins. Let her choice benefit her, let it haunt her as she mourns the man she so desperately proclaims to be her father. Let her be alone, let her suffer. Let her sit with her patience and let us see how much she prefers it.

His fingers clenched around the arms of the chaise, digging into the wood, digging his nails into the crescent indents that littered the wood. Anger makes one think thoughts both rational and irrational, and our bodies do not shy away from showing the conflict of opinions.

Orwyle let out a sigh after a long moment of silence, satisfied with his work as he inspected the socket one last time.

“That should last the night,” he spoke as he stood to gather his things scattered on the table.

Aemond hummed, reaching for a silver plate to see his reflection. His breath hitched as he saw what he could of the left side of his face, Stains of purple and blue replaced the swelling bruises around his eye and scar, the scar that had settled into a shade of fleshy pink and turned to a crimson red as it neared the bottom eyelid, that's rim had been left jagged as it laid slump, with nothing to keep secure.

A shuddered sigh left his lips, he cleared his throat when he felt the worried gaze of the Grandmaester “what is it my prince, shall i prepare I salve to ease your discomfort?” 

“No,” he stiffly answered, quickly standing up and walking away from that dreaded chair. 

The door came open and his mother entered the room, in her hands a sea green embroidered cloth. She gave her son a worried look before glancing towards Orwyle, she walked on towards him and asked him as he packed his things “how was everything.”

Aemond frowned as he saw his mother enter his room, they had just had dinner together what would bring her here. 

“Nothing odd, my queen, we only cleaned the eye for the night,” Orwyle reported, glancing towards Aemond before whispering to the queen “although, I do believe he is experiencing a discomfort that he is not telling me.”

Alicent frowned as she heard of this, looking to her son before dismissing “thank you Grand Maester,” she fiddled with the cloth in her hands, rolling the sphere object within it in between her fingers “that will be all.”

She made her way towards the fire place where her son patiently stood waiting for her. His eye lingered on the man, waiting for him to leave the chambers before he advanced towards his mother, placing a quick kiss to her head “mother.”

She hummed at the gesture, a tense smile on her lips and a glimmer of excitement in her eyes, she brushed away at his shoulder before she sat beside him “how are you?” she asked.

His hand clenched at his side when he saw her sit where he could only sit at her right, where the left of his face was visible to her. He tentatively sat, a strand of his hair shielding her eyes from the left side of his face. 

“I am well…” he spoke.

She nodded “good… I was worried, you barely spoke at dinner.”

“There was nothing to say,” he answered, looking over to his mother, noticing the disappointed look on her face. “Helaena had not joined us, I would imagine she would have much to say of her day.”

Alicent sighed, shaking her head “she has not anything to say to me, she does not look at me, sit with me, tell me anything at all,” she winced as she recalled the outburst her daughter had displayed, the loudest she had ever been. Alicent had refused that she send a letter of condolence to her niece for the loss of her father.

“She used to have Dany for that.”

Her gaze snapped towards her son, irked by the name, but they were honest. Her lips pursed before she warily asked “are you mad at me as well, for what i did?” 

He sighed before answering “it was necessary, we have forgotten the importance of each other because of her,” he admitted “Helaena will forget, she will forgive” he looked out onto the fire, watching the very memory of her begin to burn “I… will forget her, she will realise, just as I have, that it was for the best.”

Alicent felt a weight leave her shoulders at the reassurance, resting her often harsh hand gently on her son's cheek “I do hope for that.”

A twinge of a smile pulled at Aemonds lips, gladdened by her relief.

As her other hand clenched in her lap, she recalled the reason for her presence. She took the cloth from her lap and presented it to him “I have something for you,” she told, her face glowing with excitement as she waited for him to take it.

He took the folded cloth from her hand, frowning in confusion. He placed it on his lap as he gently unfolded the embroidered cloth. Inside it was a sapphire, the largest one he had ever seen, the near size of a walnut, many facets covering its spherical shape. It shone with hues of blue and vibrant green as the light danced about its surface. He was amazed by it, but confused to see it attached to nothing, not a necklace, the hilt of a dagger, or even a ring, he was not one to display vanity but if it were a gift from his mother he would wear it every passing second.

“Thank you… but what is it for?” he questioned, fearful of it being something stupidly obvious.

She straightened her posture as she explained to him “I’ve speaking to the maesters…” her face tensed when she saw the look of fear in his eye, she rest her hand on his tense arm “i know how much you hate their visits, and I have been urging them to find another means to protect you from any… diseases,” she carefully spoke “they have suggested a stone of sorts be placed where your eye once was,” she resisted to squirm at the idea “and I found the best stone the seven kingdoms could possibly offer.”

He glanced back down at the stone, wary of the idea, why would he want to decorate the ugly sight, he would have preferred to conceal it.

“They will never need to come here and clean the wound, you will simply need to wash the area around the eye with warm water, which I will have the servants provide you with every morning and they won’t utter a word of what it is for,” she assured, hopeful that he would like this gift that she had struggled to find.

He hummed, plucking the sapphire from his lap and into his hand. He pondered it for a moment, how glad he would be to not have to see their bothersome faces again, bidding them goodmorning and goodnight. He stood up, and made his way to a mirror, looking at the empty place where his eye should have been, he hesitantly lifted the rock up to his eye, a groan leaving his lips as its cold surface pushed against his lids and the walls of the hollow socket.

Alicent flinched at the sound, jumping from her seat and rushing to him “Aemond!” mayhaps she may have sounded too hasty, she should have told Orwyle to do this. She spun him to face her, stilling as she saw his face, the sapphire stone complimenting the icy blue of his other eye “is it comfortable?”

His eye fluttered as he attempted to settle into this foreign feeling, it was annoyingly chilling “it is fine, i suppose I will grow used to it.”

She smiled stiffly at him cradling his jaded face in her hands “good…” she mumbled, her eyes glazing over with fresh tears as she looked at this new face, of what they had done to her precious boy. She should have acted sooner, done something to have kept them away from her children. Sobs began to pass her lips and she pulled him into her arms, holding him tightly against her. Muttering soft sorry’s into his hair.

His father had done this to her, blaming her for a fault not her to bear. He would never forgive him for that.

The birds chirped on this rare sunny day on Dragonstone, singing their cheerful song outside the elated Rhaenyra’s bedchamber windows. Their song was a comfort to her, and a headache to her daughter, who had been sitting by the window chair, the sun rays kissing her cold and pale skin. She had not left the castle in a long time.

Jacaerys worriedly looked over at his sister, with a shawl wrapped tightly around her shaking shoulders. 

“You should sit here with me, it's much warmer,” he hopefully invited, gesturing to the seat across from him, a waft of cosy warmth radiating from the blazing hearth the two chairs had faced. Lucerys playing with his toys with disinterest on the ground.

Daenerys gulped, not finding the will to look their way “I’m fine where I am, Jacaerys.”

She was eager to get out of the room and return to her cold bed chambers. Her hand itching to cover her nose from the terrible smell of burning wood. Her mind had grown to be a cruel friend, tormenting her with night terrors during these three long months. Night terrors that could not be kissed away by a mother, or chased away by a father if she had one left. No, these night terrors stayed with her day, noon, before coming again at night.

Every dreadful night she had been brought back there, reliving that horror. 

She would wake up in the same corridor, different screams of the same note of terror sounding through them as her feet guided her to the source against her own will. Herself a bystander of her own body as she could only watch through her own eyes. The hall looked entirely the same, every little detail accounted for, except for the body, the most crucial detail. One night it would be the body of a young girl or boy, the next it would be the body of a grown woman or man, never had it been the body of her father.

The first time it had happened she screamed and cried, pleading for none of it to be real, she had woken the entire castle as she rushed through the halls, checking the rooms of her brothers, cousins and finally her mother’s. The next dozens of times it had happened she simply woke up and stared at her ceiling, patiently waiting for it to turn interesting. 

Those terrors soon followed her from the night and to the day, it grew difficult to smile, for why would anyone smile at the gruesome sight of a charred body standing so menacingly at the corner of one's eye. And soon… it grew difficult to look at the faces of her own beloved family.

Lucerys’s brows knitted together, saddened by her answer, he locked eyes with the exhausted Jacaerys, who had tried everything to get through to his distant sister.

Jacaerys frowned as he watched his brother play “Are you not done playing?”

Lucerys confused, looked up at Jacaerys “I’ve nothing to do.”

“Quite the opposite I would say, you’ve much to do.”

Lucerys squirmed in his place, eyes pleading for help as he looked over at Daenerys, but she remained still where she sat. 

The poor boy had grown timid in character, The weight of his duty sat uncomfortably on his shoulders. He was still attempting to grow into being a prince, now he had to grow into being a lord? His brother made sure that the weight had not slipped from its place, reminding him every waking moment of the title that either of them may be inheriting. Lucerys found himself praying that his sister would accept the throne, so he may be freed of this heavy burden.

Jacaerys was hypervigilant, it was as though he had been preparing his siblings for an oncoming war yet to be decreed. He was haunted by a terrible guilt, still angry at himself for failing to protect them. He would tell himself that he should have been quicker, he should have ended that confrontation the moment it had begun. Put his uncle in his place before he had berated and attacked his family. He was at least thankful for one thing, his sister would no longer be fond of the pompous twat, she learned his true colours in an unfavourable manner but it was best she had learned now rather than later.

Jacaerys wondered to himself if she had still missed him, if she was mad at what had to happen, if she was mad at her brothers, her blood. He refused to believe it, even though her behaviour towards them seemingly proved his unpleasant fears.

The doors came open and Rhaenyra rushed in “Ah! There you all are!” she exclaimed excitedly. Sending a look of concern to her quiet daughter as she clutched the unsealed letter in her hand. 

Daenerys frowned as she heard the cheerful note in her voice, glancing her way once she felt her press a kiss to her head.

Rhaenyra stood between them all “What have you all been up to today?” she awkwardly asked “I had not seen you all day.”

Lucerys was the first to answer “I was reading books Maester Gerardys told me to read.”

“I was in the training yard,” Jacaerys said.

“I was in my room,” Daenerys quietly answered.

Rhaenyra arched her brow in surprise “Really? I would have expected you to have been anywhere but.”

Daenerys mumbled “I’ve seen everything this stupid island has to offer.”

Rhaenyra eyed her daughter, the comment had not blown past her ears. She pursed her lips “we’re having dinner with your cousins tonight,” she plainly spoke “for I have an announcement to make.”

“Why?” 

Rhaenyra turned to look at her daughter, confused by the question “what do you mean?”

“Why do our cousins have to hear of this announcement?” she asked “are they not leaving?”

“I do not know… my uncle has told me nothing,” she lied before attempting to convince her “but I think it would be nice for us all to spend time together, it has been… a tumultuous few months and I think we all deserve a moment of calm… as a family.”

The three children glanced at one another, words hanging in the air between them, unused. 

“I think it will be nice,” Lucerys spoke, earning himself a smile of relief from his mother “We haven’t spent much time with them.”

“I suppose we’ve been terrible hosts…” Daenerys mumbled aloud as she stared at the stone wall.

Jacaerys got up from his chair and moved towards his sister “Rhaena and Baela are asking about you,” he sat across from her, her gaze intently focused on the floor, shuddering as the smell of ash filled her nose again “I think I’ve exhausted the limits of my chivalry sister,” he jested as he attempted to get her to look at him.

Chuckles cut through the tense room, an energy Daenerys struggled to match.

“I suppose… I could go see them after dinner,” she said, feeling that was the most she could possibly offer.

Rhaenyra hummed at the idea “that would be nice,” she looked at her daughter a moment longer. Her daughter's behaviour was terribly odd, but not uncommon for a girl grieving her father, nor for a girl having seen him dying. 

Rhaenyra’s eyes fluttered as her fingers brushed over the coarse parchment.

“How about you boys get ready hm? I wish to speak to your sister for a moment,” she asked, resting her hand on Daenerys’s head, brows knitting together as she felt her daughter flinch away.

“Yes mother,” the boys answered in synchrony, walking out of the room together. 

Rhaenyra made her way around the long chair, slowly sitting beside her daughter, watchful of her reaction. She watched her push herself further away from her mother, staring with great focus on the cobblestone ground, her face stiff with fear. 

From the corner of her eyes she saw her mother holding out the opened letter.

“It’s a letter from your Grandsire, Corlys,” she said.

Daenerys looked at the letter, knowing what it was, for it was not the first that she had received. She feared that it would be echoing the same words its predecessors had. She looked up at her mother “did they?”

Rhaenyra did not answer, looking at the letter in her hands and not her daughter's face. She grew to hate this weekly routine, another letter to remind her of the lie her daughter had been living in. she had tried to hide the letters, hoping that Daenerys would forget, but the girl would only grow uneasy. She was tired of this, Rhaenyra needed this to end, and hopefully it would soon.

Daenerys took the letter, her hands shaking with excitement as she unfolded the parchment. Rhaenyra looked at her with worry as she watched her eyes skim through the words. Her features slowly squeezed together in anger as her eyes ran over six words, over and over and over again. 

We have not found him yet.

She stared at the words, so long that she thought that they had begun to smile tauntingly at her. She hunched over clutching her head as the words echoed in her mind, the man had not been found, after these three long months he had not been found. The seven hells could not have swallowed him up already. Had she the strength, she would have found him, she would not have rested until she brought him before the feet of her grandsire and grandmother. She would make him pay for what he did. With every letter saying that he had not been found, Her sorrow would twist and form into an uglier and far more vicious creature, anger. No words of comfort from her mother nor distraction from her brothers would lay water upon the lashing flames of rage that licked at her being. 

Rhaenyra rubbed soothing circles on her back, her voice concerningly unbothered by the news as she told her daughter “your grandsire is doing all he can, he will find him.”

Daenerys frowned at the tone, that was not the voice of a wife or cousin longing for vengeance. She glanced up towards her mother, searching her face for even a bit of grief but there was nothing but impatience. Why was she not distraught, why was she alright? 

Why was Daenerys tormented by this grief, while her mother seemed to be untouched by it, why was she alone in this grief?

She was unnerved by her mothers demeanour “I think I’ll go get ready for dinner now,” she said, moving to get out of the suffocating room. Escaping her mothers grasp.

A few candles decorated Daenerys’s dark bedchambers, the maidservants shivering as the cold settled upon their skin. Glancing towards the hearth battling the urge to tear away the shroud and set it alight, the princess was surely distracted enough to not notice? Right?

As one maid brushed her hair, the other inched towards the hearth, watching the princess as she slowly grasped the cloth in her hands.

“If you wish to be warm you can go to the Dragonmont,” Daenerys abruptly told, glaring at the two maids from the reflection of her mirror “I’m sure the dragons would do you a kindness.”

The two maids froze in fear of her calmly spoken threat, the daring one had frantically explained “forgive me princess, We-.”

“You can get out, both of you,” Daenerys told, taking the brush from the maids hands and brushing at her own hair “get out.”

They began wondering to themselves where her kindness had gone. The daring one shook her head, while the other urged her to leave “Dalia come on.”

Dalia scoffed, not shying from mumbling a quick “foolish bastard,” beneath her breath before leaving the room, being chastised by her friend. 

Daenerys harshly pulled at her brown hair, brushing the curls out, turning it into a frizzy mess. Her hair had grown long, ending beneath her shoulders. She gathered it all to the back of her head, putting it into one braid and tucking the short hairs around her face behind her ears.

She sat back to look at herself in the mirror. She looked simple, wearing a black gown decorated with red embroidery trailing up her arm and the hem of her dress. A golden necklace holding a small blue stone around her neck. She forced a smile on her chapped lips, her smile faltering when she saw how much she had changed. She had become lanky, her shoulders tense and eyes dark and sunken, a terrible frame around those precious eyes. 

This was not her, this was not who she enjoyed being, she hated how this grief had ruined her. She wanted to be the girl who enjoyed glamorous dresses and pretty hairstyles, to barely indulge in her septa’s lessons, to argue with her brothers on trivial matters, to gossip and jest with her cousins, to curiously tail her mother, but she could not. 

She sighed, stepping away from her mirror, contemplating whether she should cover it with a cloth as well. Going to her bedside she knelt down and reached beneath her bedside table, pushing past the dusted journal and half open shining compass, grasping the cold handle of her fathers dagger.

She sat down holding the dagger closely to her chest as she closed her eyes, trying to remember her fathers warmth. 

The candle at her bedside had burnt out, telling her that it was time that she leave. She tucked the dagger beneath her bed and looked about her room as she made her way out, she would need new candles.

She left her room and made her way towards the hall, where dinner would commence. She clenched her hands together as she felt her nerves take grasp of her again, the cold shiver of fear washing over her. It was as though she had started to learn how to breathe for the first time, so aware of each shallow breath that had left her. Her nails dug into the back of her palm, scratching at the flesh. All will be well, this is just a dinner, she would tell herself the entire way there.

As she looked up from the ground and up at the dim corridor her breath hitched at her throat, her shoulders pulling together at the familiar setting. Her eyes agape as they darted about the hall. This was not a dream, she was sure of it, and yet this hall felt so frighteningly familiar. She braced herself to hear the terrible sound as her feet guided her further down the hall. Only for her to freeze at the sound of laughter reaching her ears. The sound was so different to what she had expected to hear.

Everything is alright, she thought to herself, nothing is wrong.

Heaving in a deep breath she pushed her fears aside and clasped her hands in front of her. She reached the doors and waited for them to be opened, they were opened far too quickly for her liking. She tensed in her place as she felt the eyes of the room rest on her.

The children all beamed at the sight, thrilled to see her join them “Dany!” Rhaena excitedly called out.

Daenerys looked towards her cousin, her eyes trailing up the left side of the table, where her cousins and their father sat. A slight frown wrinkled her brow as she saw Daemon sat on her fathers chair. One that she had always kept empty at every dinner with her family. 

Rhaenyra followed her daughter's gaze, pursing her lips as she saw the cause of her irk. 

Daemon tilted his head back as he looked at Daenerys from the bottom of his nose.

Daenerys looked towards her mother, a look of dismay she hoped her mother would share. But her dismay soon turned to disbelief, she was downhearted by how unbothered her mother had seemed by Daemon's occupation of her fathers place.

Rhaenyra cleared her throat “Daenerys! I was worried you wouldn’t be joining us tonight.”

Daemon looked her up and down, a small sound of dissatisfaction leaving his pursed lips before he spoke “I thought you were busy getting dressed, but judging by your clothes… doesn’t seem you spent long on them.”

Baela grasped her fathers arm that rested on the table, whispering something indiscernible to him, glancing worriedly over to the stunned Daenerys.

Daenerys frowned at the insult, brushing her sweaty hands over her skirts “I got lost.”

Rhaenyra was happy to see her daughter, she gestured to the empty seat beside her “come, sit,” she urged.

Daenerys stared at the man a moment longer, angered by the subtle insult he had made while sitting in her fathers chair. A chair that should have been empty, to remind everyone of who was missing, but with it filled it was as though he was never there. Daenerys has had her reservations about the rogue prince, mostly because of the dark rumours that had circulated about him. She would usually ignore such things but seeing how many there were, she could not help but be sceptical. She had few encounters with him, finding it odd how frequently he would be within her mothers chambers, they never had an exchange of words, rather they traded looks with one another. She would look at him with dismay while he would look at her with smug amusement that would leave her uneasy.

She moved towards the seat beside her mother, sat across the curious Daemon. 

Rhaenyra rested her hand atop of her daughters, giving it a quick squeeze as she muttered “eat.”

Daenerys gave a reluctant nod before glancing about the table, looking for something to spark her appetite.

Jacaerys nudged her stiff shoulder with his elbow, in his hands a plate of cod coated with a pink sauce “you should try this!” he suggested.

She smiled at the suggestion, mouthing a quick thank you before taking the plate from his hand and scooping a portion into her own plate, eying her mother who had snuck in a portion of vegetables upon Daenerys's plate. Rhaenyra sent her daughter a cheeky wink as she lifted her cup up to her lips.

Rhaena worriedly watched her cousin picking at her plate. She had missed her terribly. Before Laenors death she had imagined all the things they would do together, but those plans were put down before they had even begun. She had not the chance to even express her condolence because of the distance Daenerys had forced between them.

Baela was the first to begin conversation on the quiet table, grimacing as she tasted Jaces suggestion “Ugh! Was the cook drunk when he made this?”

Rhaenyra frowned, going to taste the same plate, grimacing at the strong taste of red wine that “Seven hells…” she gestured for the servants to take that plate away.

Jacaerys frowned “it wasn’t too bad.”

Daenerys knitted her brows together as she eyed the crispened cod covered with the pink sauce curiously. She cut through it with her fork, gathering a more than generous portion of the sauce. As she tasted the appetiser her eyes widened at the warm taste of the uncooked red wine hitting her tongue with the sharp sting of fresh ginger. The taste was odd but comforting, resting warmly in her stomach, it was as though it had reached a hand up into her mind and kneaded away all of her fears, keeping her in the present rather than the past. She liked it.

She knew her mother would not like her indulging in it, so she quickly moved to hide the sauce beneath the vegetable pieces her mother had placed. She had not noticed the look of dismay that tugged down on Daemon's face as he watched her.

The night went on and to everyone’s surprise Daenerys had actually begun to laugh along, her eyes crinkling with her joy rather than her tearful anguish, chatting freely with her cousins, without a mention of her father ringing in her hazy mind.

Rhaenyra could not have been happier this night, to see her daughter's face glow with joy was a sight she had begun to think was vanquished from this world, but there it was, and she had the perfect view of it. She had rested her hand on Daenerys arm the entire time as they ate, a gesture of gratitude, and a means to hold on to this rare sight. 

Daenerys frowned as she glanced towards her brothers, concerned as she saw Lucerys uncomfortably sat beside a chastising Jacaerys, refusing to meet his gaze.

She inched towards Jacaerys, reaching for his arm “what’s going on?”

Lucerys eyes did not go to meet his sister’s, he looked with despair at his empty plate, feeling terrible for wanting to eat another. 

“I was just telling Lucerys that he shouldn’t eat too much, we have sword training tomorrow, and he will only be slower,” he said, sending a disappointed look towards his ashamed younger brother.

“No he won’t!” Daenerys quickly disagreed “let him eat, let that be a problem for tomorrow or the day after it doesn’t matter,” Jacaerys gave his sister a look of disbelief “he has years ahead of him  to perfect his discipline, brother, let him have fun for this one night.”

Jacaerys sighed falling back against his chair, a pout on his lips as he frowned and crossed his arms. 

Daenerys gestured for Lucerys to eat before playfully punching Jacaerys’s shoulder “that goes for you as well.”

His lips twisted to the side before succumbing to his sister's request, giving her a sheepish smile before going back to pick at his plate.

Daenerys had a proud look on her face, plucking at the gelatinous covered seeds of the pomegranate in her hand, her nails stained with their pinkish purple colour. She glanced over to her cousins, feeling terrible for how she had treated them these past few months, leaning forward as she moved to engage with the two.

Rhaenyra leaned back on her chair as she watched them all talk together, mayhaps this will work, she thought to herself. 

Daemon rested his hand on the back of Baelas chair watching as she led the conversation, proudly glancing over to Rhaenyra every now and then.

Rhaenyra heaved in a deep breath, rising from her chair. The action drew all the eyes of the table to her “How it gladdens my heart to hear laughter fill these halls again,” she said, resting her hand over her heart “this castle has known sorrow for too long,” her eyes moved about about the young faces of the table, whos smiles so slightly wavered “we’ve all suffered a cruel year, one filled with loss during a colourful spring,” she began to choose her words carefully, turning the rings on her fingers “we are vulnerable as a house, and as a family,” she looked down to her daughter, who had met her with a look of confusion “and we’ve been vulnerable too long…” she looked away from her daughter and towards Daemon, who had given her a nod of support.

Daenerys narrowed her eyes as she followed her mothers gaze, frowning at the silent exchange between them.

“We need each other to return strong, hence…” she heaved out a shuddered breath, her hand reaching out for Daemons as she gathered her composure before saying “I intend to marry the prince Daemon, to unite our blood and strengthen our position at court, before the weeks end.”

The room fell quiet at the announcement, the children stunned into silence, their mouths agape as they stared at their respective parents. A burning sense of distressing confusion burning behind each of their eyes.

The disgusted Baela was the first to ask, a loud “What,” escaping her grimacing lips.

Lucerys whispered to his brother “but he’s her uncle?” The question earned him a light swat.

Rhaenas eyes fell to her plate, in disbelief of what she had heard, as she looked up at her father she saw his displeased reaction at Baelas opinion. Her disbelief was quickly replaced with an eagerness to appease him “thats… thats wonderful!” 

Baela snapped to look at her sister, who waivered beneath Baela’s fiery glare. She smiled as she saw the surprised look her father had given her before forgetting her again. 

Daemon was grateful for his young daughter's understanding, he would rather have one headache, than two.

Lucerys glances confusedly from Baela to his rigid and solemn mother, he thought his mother was saddened by this decision, frowning in worry as he looked at her. Did she not want this? He thought to himself.

Rhaenyra did not crane her neck to see the cause of her cold discomfort, staring ahead of herself as she fought against the slight breeze challenging her weak knees. Like a rusted lever struggling to be pulled down, she finally moved to look to her left.

The splash of cold water that fell upon her skin turned to steam as a furious fire ignited within her veins and radiated from beneath her flesh, Targaryen and Velaryon all at once, a dangerous combination. Her eyes covered with a sheen of tears as she looked up at her mother from beneath her watery lashes.

It has been three months, the words echoing in her mind as she stared at her, her jaw clenched too tightly for the words to come out aloud. Three months and not a tear slipped from her mothers eyes, not a frown tore at her porcelain face, not a moment of sorrow interrupted a minute of joy, not a shawl of mourning around her shoulders, nothing. The words had begun to dissolve into a loud ringing in her red ears, and before she could set forth a blast of flame, she abruptly stood up from her chair and stormed out of the room, not waiting for the guards to open the door for her as she pushed past them both, ignoring her mothers pleas for her to return. 

She stormed towards her room, whimpering as she felt the sobs bubble at the back of her throat. The announcement left her in a disarray further than she already was, the hazy state the wine tasting sauce had left her in had muddled her. She halted in her tracks, besides the familiar tapestry covered wall, her wide eyes stared at the wall in contemplation, daring herself to do it, daring herself to wander off and never return, to make her mother feel some sort of loss, but no, she could not, her mind may have been in a bit of a haze, but that did not quell the fears of what could happen with her gone, with her family alone without her. 

She forced herself away from the wall and towards her chambers, still with a raging turmoil clawing from within her, screaming to come out. She locked her chamber doors, staring at the wood of the door a moment before kicking at it, stumbling back as she groaned in pain. Resting herself against the chaise next to the fireplace as she chided herself for the action, but the rise returned again, flowing through her arms and curling at her fingers, bursting forth as she pushed the arm chair to the ground, slamming it against the covered stone of her hearth, dragging the cloth down with it.

Her rage began to dwindle as she saw the hearth unveiled to her again, but this time he was not there, he was gone. She slowly moved about the chaos she had created, her shaking hands at her sides as she moved. She was saddened by the sight, to find him missing, where he had last been, now empty forever. She slowly sunk to her knees before her hearth, blankly staring at the untouched wood. 

Her eyes darted about in search of something remaining of him but there was still, nothing. She reached for two stones, striking them together near the wood, the sparks attacking the dry wood. She placed the stones away, inching closer as she watched the flame begin to engulf and settle upon the wood. Its glow illuminating the dark room littered with melted candles.

She thought he would appear again, which way did not matter to her, it would still be him.

‘Come back, show yourself to me, please,’ she begged. Her arms curling around her hoping that they would be replaced with someone elses. She began to rock back and forth as she realised he was not going to appear within the flames or within her room. They were making her forget, they are forcing her to move from a place she has yet to comfortably sit in. 

Why have they all moved on so swiftly while I am stuck here?

Did he not exist to them?

Was his memory that forgettable?

“Fuck!” she cried out, clutching her head in her hands as she tried to take a grasp of her hazed mind. Ducking her head into her knees as she rocked back and forth. She peered up from her knees to look at the flames one last time before succumbing to the pool of tears that gathered in her eyes, emptying down her red cheeks. What an odd feeling to be in the present, when you wish so much to be trapped in the past.

“WHAT?!” 

The king's voice boomed, slamming his hands on the ceramic table as he shot up from his seat. The man fueled with a fiery outrage as he glared at the poor messenger.

“They married in the way of their house my king, officiated and all, witnessed by their children,” he reported bowing his head. 

Jasper gave out an exasperated sigh as he muttered “oh.. For fucks sake.”

Lyman was tripping over his own words as he spoke the outright obvious “but… she is still freshly widowed.”

Alicent, unsurprised, glanced at her father who had matched her displeased expression. It was to be expected, those two were free of their binding marriages, so nothing was left to stop them, why Viserys was so shocked by the occurrence surprised them more. She stared blankly at the dark marbled lines on the table, grimacing as she imagined the two toasting to the death of their husband and wife.

“Its only been three months… three. Fucking. Months, since their spouses have died,” Viserys ranted pacing about the room angrily “THREE MONTHS!”

Orwyle carefully told the king “I’ve received word from all the Maesters of the great houses, all reporting a common reaction,” he glanced at the queen as he told “shock.”

Viserys scoffed in disbelief, looking out the window as he ran his hand over his tight face.

Otto looked to the king “this my king, is a spit on your authority-.”

“Do not start…” Viserys warned, knowing this song all too well, even though he had been spared of it this past decade.

Otto stood up from his seat and approached the king, unwavered by the warning “a punishment must be made for this act of defiance,”he advised, his hands clasped in front of him as he looked down patronisingly at the king “the princess Rhaenyra and your brother are as you know, relentless, they defy you once without punishment, they will do it again till they know your bounds.”

Viserys looked over his shoulder at his eager hand, his eyes falling shut as he contemplated his next action “what news of the Velaryons?” he questioned, attempting to quell his anger.

Otto was displeased, but reluctantly answered “they have been quiet, but tides often hide horrors,” silence befell the room as he reinstated “my king… we must-!”

“Clear the room.”

Otto went silent at the demand, outraged by it, his voice rising so slightly as he pushed forth again “we must resolve this matter!”

Viserys snapped around, getting in Otto's face as he shouted “and I will! Now get out!”

Otto looked down at the king from the bridge of his nose, humming as he bowed his head and left the already empty room, spare for Alicent still sitting on her chair to the king's right.

Viserys glared at the back of Otto's head, turning to Alicent as he venomously spat “to think I trusted your counsel in bringing him back,” before looking out the window again.

Her gaze darkened as she stared at the back of his head, loudly getting up from her chair and storming out of the room. Her face fighting the dejection that twisted her features into sadness. 

Otto appeared beside her, diverting her from her path to her chambers and instead towards his solar. Forcing her to swallow her sorrow as she picked around her raw nails.

“This was our chance,” he angrily spoke “they gave it to us and it will all be for fucking naught.”

Alicent sniffled “need I remind you where the king's favour lies-?”

“It could lie with you and he would still stay blind to her doings,” he interrupted, shaking his head “were three eyes taken that night or just fucking one?!” 

Alicent tensed at his disregard, hateful of how easy the words could roll off his lips, how easily he slept after what happened to his grandson.

“Have you spoken to him?”

Her lips rolled between her teeth before she answered “tried.”

“That is not enough!” they stopped at the spiral steps as he turned to tower over her “speak to his weakness, let him realise his hands strike too soft, open his eyes, pry them open if you must!” He quickly urged “send his children to his chambers, tell Aemond to be penitent, ashamed, let him gain some sympathy from his father.”

“You can’t expect me-.”

“I am!” he shouted, at his daughter, forgetting her a queen. He sighed, gathering his composure, resting his hands on her stiff arms, a tender look on his face as he watched her frightened face, a scene all too familiar “your children are the key to his favour, he may be distant from them now but he will see in them what he does not see in Rhaenyra this very moment.”

Her lips trembled before she asked “and what is that?”

“Respect.”

Daenerys drew patterns in the sand as she sat by the shore, unbothered by the tides that rolled in and soiled her lavender dress. She was too annoyed by the two guards looming behind her to care, had she her bow she contemplated a good amount of target practice for the day.

Her mother had appointed them to her, to keep watch of her daughter who had gone further into her shell. Rhaenyra had feared her daughter was a push away from disappearing again, for how long, she could only imagine. The two had not exchanged any words for the three weeks since the humble marriage ceremony. 

The cap on Daenerys’s anger fought to stay on as she attempted to accept this change, but she could not. Her fathers words kept echoing in her mind as she tried to find reason within this decision.

‘your mother must prepare’

‘She does this for you’

What did Daenerys gain from this, what did she benefit from this marriage? Nothing was the answer she kept ending with. All it had caused her was heartache. 

It pained her to know how easily her mother had disposed of her fathers memory, how excited she had seemed to move on. How contented she had looked with Daemon.

In different circumstances she would have been thrilled to have her mother be happy, but she had not expected such a time to come so soon.

She stilled her drawings as she felt a cloak rest upon her shoulders, rudely interrupting her thoughts. Angrily staring ahead of her before shrugging the cloak off.

“Princess… you will get cold,” one of the guards said.

“I am half Targaryen Ser Lorent, I needn’t worry about a stupid cold,” she said, continuing her scribbles.

Lorent sighed defeatedly, gathering the cloak before it got wet, hoping she would reconsider later.

She narrowed her eyes, hoping to glimpse his face in the random patterns, but he appeared in none of them, no matter how hard she squinted. 

“Dany!” a familiar voice called out.

Daenerys sighed “yes Rhaena?”

Rhaena was accompanied by Baela who gave a weird look to the two stationed guards “If you’re going to just stand there, you can find a place you are more useful in.”

Rhaena settled beside Daenerys, regretting the action immediately as the tides rolled in again “you didn’t break fast with us, again…”

Daenerys jabbed the sand with her stick “I woke early and asked to eat in my chambers.”

“Again?” Baela asked, plopping beside her.

Her lip twitched at the comment “do forgive me for being incapable of a sound sleep.”

Baela huffed “do not be rude with me,” she demanded “I only point out the obvious.”

“The too obvious I’m afraid,” Daenerys said, her fluid patterns turning into a mess of angry lines.

“Are you still mad about the marriage, it’s already been done, Dany,” Rhaena said, hoping to stamp out her anger “this stand of yours is pointless, seize this.”

Baela grimaced at the reminder “forgive us for not being as fickle as you are sister,” raising her brows as she felt her sister staring in displeasure on the side of her face. Stretching out her legs ahead of herself as she leaned back on her hands.

“What could we have done to stop them?” 

“Say no,” Daenerys said in a literal manner. She glanced over at Baela, the two staring at each other before snorting out a short laugh together. Confusing Rhaena, who had begun to regret her decision in supporting her fathers new marriage, for Daenerys and Baela had grown close at their shared disdain of it.

“Are you truly that annoyed by it?” Rhaena asked, fearful of their response.

Daenerys sighed, dropping the stick beside her and looking at the downhearted Rhaena over her shoulder “there are few benefits I suppose,” she assured.

Baela scoffed “there are benefits?” she questioned in disbelief.

Daenerys gave a quiet laugh, resting each of her hands on either girl's laps “I have two sisters now…”

Rhaena smiled in delight, grasping Daenerys’s hand in hers, while Baela gave a sad sigh.

Daenerys eyed the cousin beside her, frowning at her demeanour “what’s with you?”

Rhaena knitted her brows together as she told “she’s to go to Driftmark.”

“What?” Daenerys questioned in disbelief, looking to Baela for an answer “when? Why?”

She pursed her lips, crossing her legs as she told “I’m being sent there to be grandmother's ward, in a few weeks I think, and why?” she shrugged her shoulders “I do not know.”

Daenerys pondered for a moment, imagining all the reasons why such plans would be made “Who told you this?”

Baela nonchalantly said, not knowing the fuel she was setting alight “Um… princess Rhaenyra and Father.”

Daenerys’s face went blank before turning red with rage. Was this their peace offering to the house they insulted? She could only imagine their fury, her grandsires letters to her had seized, that offered her a hint of how angry they were, how disrespected.

She rose up from where she sat and marched towards the tunnel that led to the castle. Turning towards her cousins to ask “is Daemon gone?”

Baela frowned in confusion, wondering where she was going before answering “um, yes… he was asking about where Syrax had last been, and then went after her on his dragon.”

She nodded before returning on her path, Storming to her mothers chambers. Another unprompted barge in should not bother her that much, especially as it would be the most normal thing Daenerys had done in a long time.

Rhaenyra was fuming, her face flushed with embarrassment, in her clenched hand a parchment and beside her on a table an envelope with the king's royal seal broken open. Such an elegant little thing, holding together such sharp words that cut her so terribly deep. Reading his words of disappointment gnawed at her conflicted heart, they tasted bitter as she mouthed some of them. 

She would squint every now and then, making sure that the writing was his, hoping that there would have been a slip and the identity of the writer would be revealed, she already had two suspects in her mind. But to her misfortune it was his writing, the same shake at the beginning of each word, the heavy dent at each full stop, the smudge on every second line, this was her fathers writing. She began to forget the son that she had cradled in the other arm.

The sound of the doors being pushed open startled her, moving to clasp Joffrey close to her chest as she looked towards the door “Daenerys?” she questioned in surprise “what are you doing here?”

“You’re sending Baela away, as some conciliation gift?” she shouted, belittling the action as she shook her head.

Rhaenyra was in disbelief by the accusation, glancing towards the stunned handmaidens who were excited to watch everything unfold. Rhaenyra stood up and handed Joffrey over to one of them “get him some clear wine, and lull him off to bed afterwards.”

“Yes, your grace.”

The two quickly left the room, leaving the two on their own. Daenerys gave her mother a burning look of disappointment as she stared at her.

Rhaenyra sighed as she looked at her daughter “three weeks of silence and you come barging in my chambers unannounced, yelling at me.”

“Three months since his death and the only tears you have to shed are tears of joy,” she was quick to quip.

Rhaenyras next words caught in her throat as she heard her daughters remark “are we still stuck on this matter?”

Her jaw ticked at her characterisation of it “may we stay in it, although… I do think you’ve already moved on, so I suppose I’m alone in this.”

“Stop that.”

“Stop what? The truth endlessly pouring from my lips like your decisions?” she remarked again, unbinding the bottled up fire that had lashed at her for too long.

“Enough…” Rhaenyra tried to keep her cool.

Daenerys grimaced as she asked the bitter tasting question “How long did it take for you to make this decision? Hm? To spit on the memory of your cousins and your husband to marry Daemon.”

Rhaenyras face began to harden as her daughter kept going on, oftentimes she would welcome these outbursts, guiding her through them with a gentle hand. But this one she found unbearable, because the outburst was because of her, and she had not the patience to receive another earful of expressed disappointment of her doings. Through tight teeth she told “our position was weakened, we were dangerously alone and vulnerable.”

“We’ve been alone for longer and you did not seem so eager to fill that void when…” she caught the words before they passed her quivering lips “when he was alive…”

Rhaenyra shook her head, missing the right words.

Daenerys glanced to the ground, imagining the pieces splayed before her as they slowly came together “I wonder why so soon, I wonder how, the timing was so terribly perfect for you both.”

Rhaenyra rubbed her brow, soothing the ache pulsing behind her eyes “what?”

“Laena dies, and we all gather to mourn her, father dies, only a few days after-,” she choked on her own breath as a piece fell perfectly in place “and Daemon was always there-.”

“Careful.”

Daenerys glanced up from the ground, her mothers caution did not slip past her ears. Not caring about the line she knew she had crossed “you didn’t care for father, you waited for his death every passing day-.”

“I did not.”

“You did, if you weren’t so eager to marry Daemon, I wouldn’t have had a doubt in my mind,” she spoke with a burning venom.

Rhaenyra shook her head, turning her back to her daughter as she tried to think of what to say, but her voice kept interrupting whatever thought tried to form.

“How good it is, for the good of the realm to be so perfectly aligned with your desires,” she insulted stepping towards her fuming mother. “I wonder if the good of the realm and the good of us, demanded my father be turned into a charred and unrecognisable corpse.”

“You do not speak to me like that, I am your mother!” Rhaenyra loudly reminded her, as she turned around. Too enraged to notice her daughter shrinking beneath the weight of her sharp stare.

“And he was my father!” She cried out, fearing her mother had forgotten.

“HE! IS! DEAD!”

Her breaths were shallow and hot as they went out into the air. In her anger she had not noticed the terrible misstep she had made. Rhaenyra was so angry, her loathing for Laenor overflowed and spilled before the wrong person. She had grown tired of her love for him, the love Rhaenyra fought desperately for, so easily given to the dead man. She thought with him gone that her daughter would finally come back to her. But it was as though Laenor had taken the best parts of her with him across the narrow sea, and she knew not how to bring them back. 

Daenerys was stunned into silence, how happy she had almost sounded as she shouted the truth in such a cruel manner, how easy they slipped past her thin lips as she bared her tight teeth, her mind realising the mistake she had made, trying to keep her from saying anything else. Daenerys’s hands clenched at her sides as she looked at her mothers face, her own face a mask of sadness, crestfallen by her mothers words. She was truly alone in this grief.

Rhaenyra was thankful for the silence as she was finally capable of thinking about her next words, the adrenaline of her shout still coursing through her as she awaited Daenerys to dare say another word.

Once she had realised her daughter had fallen to silence she finally spoke, her voice firm for this was not an invitation to discussion “he’s gone… no amount of blame, no amount of anger can bring him back, and I will not have myself or your brothers suffer because of your refusal to move on,” she chided “you may mourn all you wish, but this grief will not slow me down.”

Rhaenyra huffed a hot breath from her nose moving to the wine table at the corner of her room “if you will not resolve this anger, rid yourself of it in your chambers, do not spit it in my face or anyone else’s.”

She poured herself a cup, her hands shaking as she held the pitcher, red wine spilling all over her hands. She readied herself for another barrage of complaints from her daughter, closing her eyes as she waited.

“If you have anything left to say I suggest you speak your words carefully-,” as she turned around she froze, finding the place where her daughter once stood empty, and the door half open. The longer she stared at where she should have been, the more she realised what she had done.

She glanced over to her own reflection, seeing in herself what she had hated in her father, what had caused such enmity between them for so many years. How easily he had moved on to a new wife, at least he had done Aemma the respect of mourning her for a whole six months prior to searching for a new woman to warm his bed. Rhaenyra only granted Laenor three, and even that felt like too much. She did not grant her daughter the time to grieve, and when she had come to ask why, she scolded her for it, for grieving.

Daenerys had a blank look on her face as the maids put her into her nightgown, vacantly staring at her own reflection, a blankness reflecting the growing void in her heart. Her ears were tugged red, one sparked alarm in her handmaiden, commenting to Dalia ‘her ear is bruised!’

Over her nightgown they put on a light blue short sleeved heavy dress, the colour teetering on grey, the fireplace may have been alight but the winds of a coming storm had been sweeping through the hallways of Dragonstone.

Dalia was eager to leave after she had seen their work was done. The other had stayed, treating the curly head of hair of the princess with the utmost care, tying half of it up into a loose bun so that she may rest without it wrapping around her face. She smiled at her work, stepping to the side of the expressionless princess, worriedly staring at the bruised ear “is there anything else you need princess? Shall I have dinner brought here for you?”

Daenerys flinched at the kind note in her voice, interrupting the angry shouts echoing in her head. She gave her handmaiden a tight smile “No… thank you Alyss,” she told “I think I’ll set off to bed now.”

“Very well, Goodnight princess,” Alyss said.

“Goodnight Alyss.”

Daenerys’s tired eyes followed her handmaiden as she left her bedchambers. Once she had gone, a shuddered breath left her reddened nose as she stood up from her vanity and moved towards the small table beside her bed, sitting down before  reaching beneath it to find her fathers dagger. Her fingers grazed over the half open compass, the circular object making her tense as she pondered taking it out, instead she had pushed it further away, so she would not encounter it again while searching for her fathers dagger. 

Grasping the handle she pulled it out and reached for her bedcovers, lazily pulling them along with her as she sauntered off towards the fireplace. Dropping the blanket to the ground she reached for a pillow from the chaise and placed it beside the fireplace. 

She slumped to the ground, resting her head against the pillow and staring at the flames, waiting for her fathers face to appear. How long it would take did not matter to her, for she would be patient. 

She held the dagger close to her chest as she waited for sleep to embrace her but it refused her, for too many thoughts danced about her head and she had nowhere to spill them.

This room was too small to hold them and she was just about to burst. She needed to move, she needed to wander away, her mothers bed chambers may have been far away from this room, but her presence still felt suffocating. For the good of this family, Daenerys had to keep her deepest worries and fears to herself.

Her mind fell back to that fish sauce, missing the warm taste of the red wine and the haze it had left her in. she needed it, but that would only push her troubles to another day. She needed to deal with this now, before it suffocated her in her sleep. 

She blinked at the flames, waiting for her father to tell her something, to advise her on what to do next, but he would not appear to her. 

Reaching for her dagger she stared at it instead, asking it for the next step, but it had no tongue to answer her.

So instead she fell to her heart, asking it what to do.

‘Your mind needs space, find someplace where it can implode, where you can implode.’

Rhaenyra stared at the empty seat beside her, her plate left untouched as last night's ordeal replayed in her mind. She could hear the whispers of what had happened, she wondered if they had reached the ears of her sons and step-daughters. 

Daenerys had haunted her with her silence, a silence that had chilled Rhaenyra to the bone, she had feared that she had lost her daughter for good. 

Daemon worriedly stared at his wife, he knew of what had happened, and was rather thankful for it, but that was soon quelled once he had seen the state it had left Rhaenyra in, he had never seen her so remorseful. Rejecting his advances for the night, and instead standing by the window, emptily staring across the sea, disgusted by her actions.

He reached for the wine pitcher and poured her a cup, purposefully overflowing it. She flinched away from the table, glaring at her smirking husband, who had a glimmer of concern in his eyes.

The servants were quick to clean up the mess before it had spilled over upon her dress. Rhaenyra glanced to her right to Ser Lorent, asking him “have you seen Daenerys?”

“No your grace, she has not left her chambers,” he glanced down towards Rhaenyra, mirroring her concern “nor has she asked for food to be brought to her chambers.”

Rhaenyra frowned in worry, hesitantly asking “could you call for her to join us?”

“Of course, your grace,” he answered, bowing his head before leaving her chambers.

Rhaena was confused before attempting to dispel the worry that lingered on the table “mayhaps she’s still asleep, she has been saying that she has not been able to find sleep for a time.”

“She's never overslept though,” Jacaerys dismissed, making Rhaena shrink in her seat.

“Maybe she’s reading?” Lucerys suggested.

His words lingered in the air, for they seemed the most plausible. Rhaenyra stared at the door, her hands itching as she prayed for her daughter to come through them.

A few moments passed before Ser Lorent quickly returned, his eyes wide with a yet to be discernible look. 

Daemon was the first to cheekily ask “did she tell you to sod off?”

The knight did not even entertain the prince, plainly stating the cause of his worry.

“The princess is not in her chambers.”

[brush-and-roll-painting]

Before & after shots of a deck we just cleaned, then coated with superdeck by Sherwin-Williams.

[bobawitch]

Neon Orange | C.S.

summary: reader dyes her hair orange for the versus tour and to support her boyfriend chris

cw: just fluff <3

wc: 906

a/n: this is shorter than a lot of my fics and idk how much i like it but i wanted to write smthing for chris since he won 🧡🧡🧡 matt fic coming soon 😇

You had been dating Chris for almost a year, and it had been the best year of your life. The two of you started as just friends but eventually began hanging out more and more often and eventually on a late night you two kissed. It was history after that kiss, feelings came out and you both began dating. Though you and Chris had to work up to it with his commitment issues. Now you were sitting on his bed waiting for him to get out of the shower so you could use the bathroom for dyeing your hair. You decided to go orange to support him in the verses tour and to welcome in the fall. Chris soon walked out in some sweats and smiled at you, walking over and climbing onto the bed, resting his head on your stomach. You chuckled after making a big huff from the weight now on you. “Hey baby, you have a good shower?” He hummed before pulling your hoodie up a little and kissing your stomach. “Yeah, it was really nice.” You giggled, playing with strands of wet hair. “That's good. Hey baby I’m gonna dye my hair so I need you to get up.” Chris groaned and held your torso tighter, you huffed again before picking up his face. “Baby I’m serious. We can cuddle once I’m done with my hair.” Chris mumbled something before leaning up and kissing you. Once you were off the bed you grabbed your sally beauty bag. Chris slowly got up from the bed to follow you into the bathroom as you switched your hoodie for a dirty shirt. You began to set up your hair dyeing station, glancing at Chris sitting on the floor. You smiled down at your now sleepy boyfriend who has now scooted over to you to lean on your leg. You put the dye in the bowl and grab the brush. You slowly began to coat your hair with the hair dye, making sure there’s a lot of product on each section. Chris looked up at you and smiled. “Are you doing orange?” You nodded, smiling a little. You had realized that you didn’t tell him your plan. “That’s cute, though you’ll be a ginger.” Chris teased and your eyes instinctively rolled. 

After around 30 minutes you finished coating your hair in the dye. Chris eventually got bored and went to grab you both snacks while you cleaned up your mess. When Chris got back he giggled at your appearance. “You look like a neon orange egg.” Your jaw dropped and you scoffed. “Looks like you’re in love with an orange egg then.” You teased, shrugging your shoulders as you moved out of the bathroom. Chris sat on the bed with a bag of chips and his signature pepsi. You moved towards him, causing him to bite his tongue. You could tell he was trying his best not to laugh in your face. You sighed and shook your head. “You can laugh, dork.” Chris smiled widely before bursting into laughter, setting his pepsi down so as not to spill. You shoved at his chest before smirking. You reached your hand into your wet hair and pulled back, looking at the neon orange dye that was on your fingers. You leaned towards Chris and wiped his nose with it. Chris’s laughter immediately stopped and he stared at you. He blinked a few times before sitting up fully. “You did not.” You smirked. “Oh but I did.” He stood up and walked to the bathroom staring in the mirror at his orange nose. “Bruh if this doesn’t come off you’re so dead.” You rolled your eyes with a small laugh before you walked into the bathroom with him. You grabbed one of the little wipes you had been using to clean up and wiped the orange off his nose. It was barely noticeable that the dye had been there in the first place. You threw away the wipe before looking at Chris. Chris had moved closer to you and was now pressing you to the counter. He smiled at you, both hands on either side of your hips. “You’re evil.” He gently whispered, his face inching ever closer to you. You rolled your eyes, setting your clean hands on his chest. “And you love it.” He smirked, tilting his head in a nod. “True.” He stated before planting a kiss on your lips.

~~~~

You had gone along on the tour, trying not to show yourself too often since his fans could get a little crazy. Though multiple fans in their various colors came up to you and asked for pictures or complimented your neon hair. But tonight was the last night of the tour, it was between Chris and Matt, Jenga holding suspense over the crowd. With Nate and Matt sizing the block tower up Nate made his move, taking the block out and stepping back. As he stepped back the blocks came crashing down and the crowd went ballistic. Chris had won and you got to watch from the sidelines. After the show you all piled into the bus, Chris following right after you and pulling you to his chest in a hug. “Congrats on winning babe.” Chris smiled, planting a kiss to your lips. “I couldn’t let my girl down when she dyed her hair for me.” You giggled and pulled him back into a deep kiss.

[armysantiny]

23:15 – 지성 (Jisung)

P: Jisung x female reader | G: timestamp, fluff, comfort, established relationship au | Inc: period pain, movie night, blanket fort, dropping a glass | Wc: 353 | W: broken glass, period mention| R: G

Min's notes; fully inspired by the time my cramps were so bad i was frozen still in my kitchen. i didn't break a glass tho-

Y/n freezes when the glass slips out of her hand, breath caught in her throat as shockwaves of pain go up the lower part of her back. There’s broken glass on the floor, water everywhere and period-induced agony; it’s overwhelming. Unable to bring herself to move even a step, y/n’s rooted to the spot, tears very quickly burning her eyes.

“Baby?” Jisung calls out, and y/n feels the drip of tears on her cheek, unable to call out to her boyfriend, “is everything okay? Did something break?”

The resulting silence consumes Jisung, compelling him to untangle himself from the blanket fort and wonder into the kitchen. Worries chip away at him during the short distance from the living room and the kitchen, and Jisung’s heart drops when he sees y/n. Standing with glass at her feet.

He sees the tears, and more or less leaps into action.

“Lift your foot for me?” He asks, brushing what he can into the dustpan and checking for any cuts. There aren’t any, and relief ultimately washes into his chest. He dries the water off of the floor, drops the cloth in the sink and offers to help y/n walk into the living room to continue their movie night.

Y/n melts into her boyfriend’s arms, basking in his embrace. The pain’s still there, and y/n allows herself to be waddled into the living room, bundling under the blanket fort, and pulling the nearest cushion flush against her abdomen. Jisung returns a few moments later, hot water bottle in one hand, painkillers, and a glass water in the other. Her saviour.

“Delivery for my favourite person ever?”

“Han Jisung you’re a godsend.” She downs the painkillers, replacing the cushion with the hot water bottle. The relief is immediate, and y/n plants several appreciative kisses onto Jisung’s face.

“Thank you baby, and, you know, about the glass—”

“Don’t worry about it~ it’s just one glass, we can replace it, but” Jisung shuffles in closer, bringing his face right up to y/n’s ear. “A few more kisses would be perfect, you know?”

Y/n rolls her eyes, fond.

“C’mere you.”

© copyright work of armysantiny 2023-2024

Networks: @kwritersworld, @kdiarynet, @ultkpopnetwork, @whipped-kpop-creators, @blankjournal, @districtninewriters

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading! Consider reblogging, leaving some feedback or donating to my kofi!

Taglist: @teeztheflag, @jeonqquk, @mikailo666, @babyboobean, @taem-min, @borahae-reads, @tinystarstay | Taglist form

[brahmsthirdracket]

from the likely never-to-be-finished hs au: jack comes out to his brothers

Quinn’s still sulking as they brush their teeth side by side over the room’s tiny sink. He’d tossed Jack a tiny AirCanada toothbrush and a t-shirt and shorts. Jack pulls them on, not even protesting that the t-shirt’s got a Cardinals logo, which means he’s probably wearing Brady Tkackuk’s clothes or worse.

“Becks is staying at his girl’s tonight,” he says shortly, leaning out to plug his phone in. “So, you can have his bed.”

Jack frowns. “I’m not sleeping on some rando’s sheets. Shove over.” Quinn scowls but slides over to the wall.

“No,” Jack gives up arguing and clambers right over him to wedge himself between Quinn and the wall. He burrows under the blankets, wriggling and rotating like a rotisserie chicken until he’s all bundled up the way he likes. Quinn huffs but Jack can’t take him seriously when his tacky lights make him look like that purple lizard from Monsters Inc.

Jack tugs him down and shoves his face into Quinn’s shoulder. “What would mom and dad say if I fell out and cracked my head open on your nasty Ikea shelf? All their hopes for a top-three draft pick, gone.” He snaps his fingers and giggles.

“Probably, that you shouldn’t have rocked up in the middle of the night in the first place?”

“Mmph.” He rubs his cheek against Quinn’s t-shirt like a cat. “Maybe I just wanted to see the world’s first college dorm room without a single book in it.”

Quinn thumps him. “I have a book, asshole. Somewhere.”

Jack leans over him precariously, one hand balanced on Quinn’s chest, to peer across the darkened room. That might be a textbook moonlighting as a dinner tray. “Not on the bookshelf.”

Quinn tugs him down into his arms and squeezes him in a headlock-hug like a boa constrictor. “That’s my protein powder shelf.” Jack struggles manfully for a few seconds, then gives up, sinking bonelessly against Quinn. Oof. His brother really is getting strong.

They lie there for a few minutes, and Jack thinks Quinn must’ve fallen asleep when he pipes up: “So what’s really going on? Nobody buys that bullshit about college.”

Jack’s silent for a moment, chewing his thumb. Quinn’s patient, petting absently though Jack’s hair. He’s always been able to wait Jack out.

“It’s kinda big,” he admits eventually.

“Okay?” Quinn hasn’t stopped stroking his head, which sort of makes Jack want to cry.

He swallows, and whispers, “I’m scared you’re gonna hate me.”

Quinn’s quiet for a second, then: “That could never happen, bud.”

Jack has to take a few deep breaths, and wipe his nose on Brady’s t-shirt, before he can swallow past the huge lump in his throat and mumble almost inaudibly into Quinn’s shoulder:

“I think I like guys. A guy.”

For a few, heartbreaking, seconds Quinn doesn’t say anything. Then, Jack feels the shoulder underneath him start to shake. He pulls back to look at Quinn, terrified. But Quinn is, he’s - laughing? Jack blinks at him, and an unshed tear wobbles dangerously, then rolls down his cheek.

Quinn stops laughing, but he’s still smiling. He reaches up and wipes Jack’s cheeks with the corner of his top sheet. “Hey. Jackie, buddy, look at me, okay? Is that all this is about? You might be gay?”

“Yes?” Jack’s still so confused but he lets Quinn pull him back down so they’re lying nose to nose on the nice memory foam pillow.

“I’m just relieved, is all. Dude, I thought you were going to say something really serious!”

“It is serious,” Jack pulls back slightly, affronted. “I’m having a crisis here!”

“Well there’s your first problem, you’re having a sexuality crisis here,” Quinn giggles. “That’s what training camp is for!” He pauses. “Is this about Zegras?”

“No. No one from Plymouth.”

“Okay?”

Jack’s pointedly silent but Quinn just snorts. “Well you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. If you’re not ready.” Quinn pushes himself up one elbow and stares down at Jack. “You were really scared I would take it badly.” He says it slowly, like it’s not a question. “That I would hate you? For real?”

“No? No, I just-, I didn’t know, I guess. I haven’t told anyone else.”

“Not mom and dad?”

He shakes his head. “Nope.”

Quinn assesses him, clearly thinking. “I really think they’ll be fine, dude. They’re liberal people. And they love you to bits.”

Jack rolls onto his back to stare at the ceiling, considering.

“You’d probably have to like, murder someone for mom to be disappointed with you.” Quinn trails off, and they let the unspoken rest of that sentence linger between them. “Dad is dad,” he continues after a beat, “He might take a while to come around, but he’ll love you just as much. You know that right?”

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

“How do you think they’d react if it was me or Lukie?”

It’s different, Jack wants to say. But maybe it’s not, not really.

He rolls over, pushing his face into Quinn’s chest, hoping he can convey all the overwhelming love, and how fucking grateful he is that of all the people in the world he gets Quinn as his big brother.

Quinn gives him another of his patent suffocating hugs and pretends not to notice Jack wiping his eyes again on his t-shirt.

“So college makes you smart, huh?” Jack sniffles, when can trust himself to speak.

Quinn just hmms pulls the blankets right up round their shoulders and wraps an arm around Jack’s shoulder, tucking him close like always done, ever since they were little kids and Jack had nightmares, or didn’t want to admit he was scared of the dark, or later, when he was upset, or worried about a game, or just plain bored and in need of entertainment.

Jack can tell he’s grinning in the dark when Quinn whispers: “Yeah, dude. Just watch out for all the books.”

***

In the end, as always, his mom sees straight through Luke and she’s up waiting for him when he shuffles in at four a.m. the next morning.

But in the end, as always, Quinn saves the day by making up some bullshit about Jack stressing out about a trig test and needing help. It’s double bullshit because Quinn is currently failing his freshman stats class, and anyone would pay not to be tutored by him, but their mom lets it drop.

Jack hides his Datsyuk jersey under his mattress and has to buy Luke off with a giant slushie and an entire gas card top-up’s worth of sour candy, which they immediately fall upon in Jack’s car like a pair of sugar-crazed raccoons.

“You know, I don’t think mom and dad would be mad,” Luke says conversationally once they’re surrounded by empty plastic wrappers. He shakes his drink, trying to hoover up the last bit of flavored ice.

Jack’s heart suddenly starts thumping in a way that has nothing to do with all the high-fructose corn syrup he’s just ingested. “Mad about what?”

“Nico.” He gives up and pulls the lid off, crunching up a mouthful of ice. Jack cringes. “He’s really nice and mom kept going on about how polite he was at dinner.” Luke wipes his mouth on his sleeve and considers the snowy lot, as if he’s actually thinking about it. “Like, sure it might be hard to accept at first, but they’ll come around.”

Jack stares at him. “Have you been talking to Quinn?” Luke has a phone, but as far as Jack knew, it’s only ever used to send memes and bottle flipping videos.

Luke shrugs, and stuffs a handful of candy into his mouth. “No, I just have eyes,” he grunts, or at least that’s what it sounds like through half a bag of Sour Patch Kids. Jack grimaces. Luke chomps his candy and swallows. “I’m just saying, even if he doesn’t play hockey, they’ll still love you.”

[tinylilacbun]

Pairing: daddy!john b x little!reader x papa!jj

Warnings: age regression, some cursing

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ♡ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You were standing before the entrance of the country club, hands shaking and tears forming in your eyes while you call John B, anxiously waiting for him to pick up.

Just seconds later you hear him on the other line. "Hey baby..." He trails off, waving JJ over to him as he hears you starting to sob instantly. He puts you on speaker, trying to calm you down. "Baby, breathe. Are you hurt?"

"N-No..." You sniffle and both boys sigh in relief.

"Okay, can you tell me what's going on?" He asks, JJ pulling his hat off while pacing back and forth, desperate to know what or who made his girl upset.

"I-I was servin' one of the guests and-and he was bein' weird and tw- tried to touch me! I was bein' nice and told him not to...b-but later my boss came to me and fired me bee! Didn't do anythin' wrong-" You sob, hoping nobody hears you right now and he could hear your speech slurring a little and knows you're fighting to not slip in public.

"Mother-" JJ starts and John B gives him a warning glare, sending him off to get the keys for the Twinkie.

"It's okay, bun. Where are you right now?" He sounds calm but also he was boiling with anger, knowing that creep probably told your boss some shit, threatened or bribed him to fire you just because you told him no.

"M'outside before the entrance..."

"Alright, stay there. Me and papa are on our way, 'kay?" You didn't answer but John B knows you were nodding your head.

As soon as JJ was sure you weren't on the phone he started cursing and ranting while getting in the drivers side of the van. "I swear- imma beat the shit outta that asshole. How dare he? Fucking kooks-"

John B tunes him out, more focused on texting you to make sure you're alright and keeps you updated on how far away they are.

Soon enough they spot you standing before the country club, hugging yourself sadly. John B quickly goes to the back and slides the door open, jumping out to embrace you.

He scoops you up, getting back in the Twinkie he slides the door close before sitting down and cradles you in his arms. He brushes the strains of hair that stuck to your wet cheeks to the side, looking down at you with a comforting smile.

"M'sorry-" your bottom lip quivers and you went to hide your face in his chest.

"Hey, you don't have to be sorry at all. It's not your fault, okay? Neither of us are mad at you." He assures you, wiping the one tear from your cheek that slipped. "Right, JJ?"

"Huh- oh hell yea! We're proud of you for standin' up for yourself, cupcake. If something like that ever happens again you have my full permission to slap that person." JJ says catching you smiling a little through the rearview mirror, giving you a wink.

John B just rolls his eyes but doesn't say anything as your giggling at JJ's antics was better than seeing you cry. As much as he's the more responsible one he can't deny that he wishes you spat in that creeps face. Anyway, it was a shit job either way.

Maybe he can talk to Mr. Heyward about giving you a mini job.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ♡ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @aagn360 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @fluffyblanketgecko @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse @kissforvoid

For JJ:

@chiaraanatra