#but I have to acknowledge that it has been nothing but great so far

[myfanfictiongarden]

What…? Am I the only one who actually likes this show so far? Please explain, what is going on here? Why all the headlines of this or that being wrong with it, when so far- until episode 3 that is- we have seen none of it? I mean, who knows, maybe with episode 4 it will go downhill, or maybe episode 5 will be unwatchable, or by the time of the season finale I ll say “This is the worst thing ever!” BUT UNTIL NOW NOTHING OF THAT IS TRUE! We have a fantastic story, charming and interesting characters, cool fights, incredible costumes (I’m a costume girly), great score, visuals, drama, conflict, humour, emotions… what else do you need? 

You know what? You have no right to complain, I bet you are the same kind of people who claimed George Lukas ruined Star Wars with the prequels, who said there is nothing worse then the prequels, the dialogue, the acting, the characters- Lukas killed Star Wars! Only to come suddenly back and say “oh the prequels were incredible, kethlyn kennedy killed Star Wars with the sequels!” Stop it! Yes, opinions change over time, we change over time, but you can’t proclaim something as garbage and then later praise it to the heavens only to bash on other things.

What exactly is your problem right now with the show? The fact that we see more of the expanded universe, that we have complex characters, other perspectives mentioned? Weren’t we already told since 1977 that the galaxy is wide, the world not black and white, and truth may depend on the point of view? The Jedi feel responsible for something that happened a few years ago? Good people do feel responsible! Good people usually feel guilty when bad things cant be prevented! We have a coven of witches who think they are in the right? So… none of you watched the Clone Wars show?

I have no idea what will happen next or if I ll like it till the end, but until now? I’m hooked.

[acid-ixx]

You know what would be a good add for you yan bat fam fic? We refer to our father as Bruce! We don’t call him dad or wtv we call him by his name sense we don’t see him as a dad!

I can just imagine the heartbreak look on Wayne’s face!! Ooo even better if we call him by his last name!

a/n: this !! it's already hinted at during chapter one that you literally despise writing bruce wayne as your father in legal documents and even hated him to the point of changing your last name back to your mother's after your eighteenth birthday. the angst potential was stated in this drabble so it's something i had already expanded on but i love talking about my plans for the story so yk. this is basically the reader disowning their own father LMAO. p.s. one of the paragraphs here would be used for the next chapter !!

bruce knows that you have every right to not even refer to him as your father— he is way beyond unworthy to be called "dad" or "father" or any parental name you had in mind. but he wishes you have a sliver of love to even refer to him as "bruce" like your other siblings would call him.

but no, the world always has something else in mind.

"sorry, mr. wayne. but i am not your child, and will never see myself as one. and you? you will never be my dad."

your heartless tone, the way you look at him like he wasn't your father, but a mere stranger. maybe in your mind, he was just a sperm donor for your mother, and he knows he would only amount to that, seeing as how he wasn't even there for when you were born; not acknowledging your existence for five years and simply taking you in when your mother had left you, then forgetting about you again—

it's now that it isn't batman who has gone too far but bruce wayne. your supposed father, the man who should've been there for you, to nourish your growth, watching you as you accomplish all the great things in the world.

he was supposed to be the man who should've kissed your wounds away whenever you go out to the park with him to play. he should've been the man who would sit on the crowded bleachers to watch you perform on a talent show. he was supposed to be the father who would hold you close to your chest as you cry about your first heartbreak, about your overdue projects, about the bullies in the school.

but he wasn't that father for you. and now, you seek love and attention from people who weren't even family. because they had failed you, he had failed you.

it reminds him of all the times he was left brooding alone, in the manor as he forces himself to remember the scene of his parents dying all over and over again.

yet it was you, his precious baby, that he had lost. not physically, but emotionally and spiritually.

he doesn't want to lose hope at any instance for redemption but fuck, he doesn't want to delude himself into thinking you would easily forgive and forget.

but damn it all, because he would have nothing to lose to show you just how much he loves you. and he will, he will spoil you rotten to the core, he'll give you the entire world if that meant he would hear you would call him your "dad" just for once.

[clare-875]

Where Are You? (Luffy, Zoro, Sanji)

_____ Pairings: (Separate) Luffy x Reader; Zoro x Reader; Sanji x Reader Summary: They can't find you after a battle. Warnings: Descriptions of injury and blood, angst, comfort, Marineford spoilers and slight PTSD for Luffy's. Notes: The above image does NOT belong to me, Female Reader [One Piece Masterlist] _____

- Luffy - (A/N: This was angstier than I originally was going for, sorry!)

"Oi, Nami..." Luffy's gaze fights between untamed trepidation and utter despair as he looks down at his navigator, who bore the same look in her eyes. "Where's [y/n]?" There is a deep and unwavering silence until Nami speaks up from where she sat, exhausted, shaky voice reaching the air. "I-I thought she was with you, she stayed back to fight the enemy w-while I escaped. Luffy I-" More crewmates gather from the now destroyed town, wiping debris from themselves and cradling injuries won through their respective battles. "Hey, what's going on?" Zoro first interrupts the tense atmosphere as Nami gazes into her Captain's shadowed eyes, betraying rare worry. This battle had been formidable and deadly. It was obvious in the way the crew were clad with cuts and bruises, and it had been hours since you had been left to deal with your opponent. "I'm going to go look for her!" Luffy leaves the scene despite hearing the worried call from Nami and the confused words of the rest of the crew.

Normally, Luffy wouldn't be worried about his crewmates, especially you. He held them to a great standard and had great trust in them; there was nothing they couldn't overcome in his mind. However, he would be lying to say he wasn't worried for you now. Despite burying the feeling every time he and the crew faced battle, it was hard to ignore the lingering dread, especially after having experienced the potential consequences of warfare with Ace. He needed you safe. He needed you with him and his crew. He couldn't lose you too. Too much time has passed in his mind, and he flung his outstretched limbs as far as they would go, to the place where Nami had left you to fight. Maybe he was overreacting, but Luffy couldn't risk anything with you. You brought out that serious side in him, you brought forth the dread of losing someone again.

When Luffy finally makes his way to the scene he witnesses the destructions, etched with the uniqueness of your battle techniques. The ground had been upturned, buildings indented with impacts and smoking in the wake of your battle. In the midst, he sees your opponent, unconscious and lets relief fill his system; you have won. Then, his eyes scour the scene and land on whisps of [h/c] hair, which leads to a familiar face. Luffy feels his heart pound once, twice before picking up pace. You were there, but you were unconscious, were you-. Luffy runs, and he feels that unfamiliar feeling twist in his chest once more; dread, fear, worry. The emotions were so unnatural to him, but so was love, until you taught him the sensation. "[y/n]!!" He yells quickly, and reaches your side in an instant, as trembling hands take your bloodied face into his lap.

"Hey, [y/n]!! [y/n]!! Are you-"

Luffy doesn't know what to do and considers running you back to Chopper. But finally, he sees it: your eyes. They flutter open and your gaze adjusts to the sight of Luffy, except his face is adorned with emotions you had yet to familiarise yourself with. "L-Luffy?" You sit up steadily, wincing slightly, but okay nonetheless. Your boyfriend stares in silence, and your concern only deepens at his far-away gaze. You grab his shoulders gently, "Hey, Luffy... are you okay?" A moment passes before Luffy shakes his head from his trance, as though finally with you again. "Y-Yeah." You frown deeper at his uncharacteristic response, but you know deep down the events of Marineford are still fresh in his mind.

When Luffy looks at you, he can only grip at his reality and try to acknowledge that you are there with him... that you are alive and safe. Your eyes linger on his face as you pull him into a hug that he didn't know he needed. "I'm sorry Luffy, I must've passed out, let's go now. I'm sure there's a banquet waiting for us." With that, Luffy finally shakes free from the haunting feeling that lingered just earlier. You finally witness the quirk of his lips as he nods and tells you to hold on to him. He flings you back to the crew that waves and smiles at you in relief. That night, Chopper frantically checks up on you anyway, and Luffy pays closer attention to you. You on the other hand make sure Luffy's lingering smile deepens, and returns to that full, wide, joy you know it should always encompass

As the night loiters on, you see the normalcy seep back into celebration. By the end, Luffy dances with you and eats like his life depends on it. You smile softly and he grins; all is well in his world because all is well with you.

- Zoro -

You gasp as you pull your limbs out of the debris that had fallen in the impacts of your battle. You cradle an arm you know had likely broken and take in a stuttering breath as you pull yourself back to your feet. Almost instantly, you feel pain. Great, you think to yourself, a broken arm and a broken ankle, just what I needed. You momentarily lose balance before gritting your teeth and forcing yourself still. The battle had been more tedious and time-consuming than you had originally hoped, but in your mind, it was worth it to witness your agitating opponent finally bite the dust. You gaze upward towards the falling sun. You had let too much time pass, and you had to get back to your crew; you had to make sure they were safe. So, despite the pain you limp and try to ignore the raging discomfort as you make your way further from your fallen foe.

Quite a ways further from you, Zoro looked around him whilst trying to deny that it was worry he felt at the lack of your presence. Crew members were now having their injuries checked up on or being slowly pulled into preparations to celebrate victory. Too busy being doted on by grateful, new friends or being lulled into the temptation of food and drink, there hadn't been much time to settle and do a head count. But Zoro noticed; of course, he did. He could deny all he wanted, but you were the first thing he looked for post-battle. He had great trust in you and your abilities; you were strong, dependable and courageous. He never doubted you, but time ticked on, and unrest ate up at him. Where were you? You should be here by now.

"Where's [y/n]?"

Robin is the next crewmember to look around in concern at your absence but she is the first to actually voice the lack of you. Her words catch the attention of other crewmates as Nami and Sanji also turn and look around the vicinity. "Now that you mention it... when was the last time any of you saw her?" Zoro's heart rate only picks up further despite eyeing his crewmates in silence, listening as they question your whereabouts. Luffy starts to bound over as he witnesses his crew start to clump together, worry betraying them. "What's happening?" Zoro turns once his Captain has entered the fray, already having started to move before registering the rest of the crew's increasingly uttered words. "Oi, Marimo, wait you'll get lost before you even-" But he is too far by the time Sanji notices that Zoro has gone, most likely to look for you. "Tch, we should send someone else to look for [y/n]-san too."

Zoro walks briskly through the barren streets and takes himself far from where the smoke of the campfire rages behind him, marking the beginning of a banquet. His keen ears pick up on odd sounds in the area, but none of them are you, and his horrible sense of direction has betrayed him again. Where were you? It was dark now, and the moon lingered in the sky. Abruptly, there is a tangible dread that twists uncomfortably in the swordsman's chest; he knows that you should've been back by now. If you weren't something must've happened, but Zoro refuses to acknowledge what that 'something' could be. Surely you wouldn't be- Suddenly, there is a ruffle of trees to his far right and he turns quickly, instincts forcing his hands to his swords. Someone was here. "Oi, show yourself!" There is a tense silence, until finally, Zoro hears the one thing he had been hoping for: your voice.

"Really Zoro? You can't even recognise your own girlfriend?"

Amid trees and branches, you finally break away into the clearing albeit with exhaustion and injury weighing you down. You breathe heavily and you would never say it but you felt such relief at seeing Zoro, that you could cry. But, your pride holds your tears and instead, you smile, grinning at him and holding yourself up with as much strength as you can muster. The swordsman who looks at you finally feels the worry dissipate but his eyes travel your form and the way your arm bends an awkward way or how you clearly favour one leg to the other. "Oi, [y/n], what took you so long?" Zoro lets out a deep sigh as he relaxes his stance but would rather die than admit his concern to you, and so masks it behind nonchalant words. You, however, have hoarded so much pain, that you feel as though on the brink of collapse.

"Yeah, yeah, help me out here?" You reach out to him, longing for some sort of support, but Zoro's sharp eyes widen as he sees you topple. Almost instantly you feel warm arms wrap around you. When next you open your eyes you are cradled against your boyfriend's chest and held firm but gently. Your gaze drifts to his face and you laugh as you see the slight flush of red fill his cheeks. "Where you worried, Zoro?" You tease, trying to lighten the mood, but your head lulls into him, as you finally feel the safety of being back in his arms. "Tch, don't be ridiculous." You smile softly, too tired to reply, but you point in the opposite direction of where he walks. "Zoro, that way." You mutter against him and he turns sharply, a more fierce blush rising to his face. You laugh before letting sleep pull you in. Zoro almost starts yelling in panic until he sees you have merely drifted off; you don't see the worry he held onto just moments earlier, almost causing him to turn the town over to find you.

"Don't do that again, idiot." His words are murmured to you, and he holds you closer, but you don't hear them, too far in your sleep.

- Sanji -

"[y/n]-san!!" Sanji's eyes are almost wild as they turn left to right, his legs lit aflame as he moves across the destroyed town, searching every nook for a glimpse of your face. Worry pounds in his chest and he barely has the time to care that he has gone and lost his composure. "Sanji-kun!" Nami speaks up from behind him, but she barely has the will to keep up her angry facade when she witnesses concern radiating from the cook; she was worried too, after all. Nami sighs heavily as Sanji looks at her with his teeth gritted. "Calm down, I'm sure she's alright, maybe-" Her words are meant to be of comfort, but Sanji has been looking through the town for too long, and he merely needs you with him again. He needs you safe and in his arms. So though trying to hold onto words spilled in their reassurance, only you could calm the worry he holds now.

"Oi, Sanji!" The cook turns at the sound of Luffy's voice as he bounds over, rare sincerity coming from his Captain. "Have you found her yet?" Sanji could do nothing but shake his head because he hadn't. He can't find you. It had been hours since you were left to deal with your opponent, and he had found them battered and obviously defeated by you. But where were you? He had been searching with some of his crew for a while now, and every instant he felt his hope start to slip away; he felt failure creep up on him. In his mind, it was his duty to make sure that you were safe; he hated even the faintest scratch on your skin. But he also wanted to place his trust in you. Despite having to resist his instinct to protect, he wanted you to fight your own battles for your own pride, but now he feels himself regretting having run off with another enemy; he should've stayed by your side.

Sanji continues through the barren streets, and he prays to whatever being he has to pray to, holding on to the slim hope that you are safe. As crew members also disperse in their concern for you, he pulls back the debris, now almost scared to see what he could find. Were you injured? Were you taken? Were you- "S-Sanji..." For a moment, the blond-haired cook freezes and he feels his heart beat faster, if that were even possible. "S-Sanji, that you?" Sanji had never raced towards the sound of someone's voice faster than he had in that moment. "[y/n]-san!? [y/n], where are you?" He is met with the quiet once again, and he fears it might've been a trick of his mind until finally, your voice lingers once again. "Here, I'm trapped... can't breathe." His eyes turn sharply to a building, and beneath the debris, he eyes your arm reaching upwards, desperately trying to gather his attention. "[y/n]-san..."

Sanji moves as though his life depends on it, ripping away rubble and fragments of building built upon you. His hands bleed by the end of it but he doesn't seem to care because finally, he sees your face. "Love!" Sanji, tears away the final pieces of destruction that had piled around you and gently pulls you free from your encasement. He gathers you in his arms and his embrace, relishing your warm body against his. "S-Sanji." When the cook finds the will to pull away he allows relief to wash away his dread, but not the concern as he sees your half-lidded eyes, straining in your exhaustion. "Love, let me find Chopper." You had never seen Sanji so serious. He holds you in his arms and runs as fast as his legs would take him, lit ablaze as he scours the scene for the sight of the crew's doctor.

When he finally does, he wastes no time.

"Chopper!" Almost immediately there is action, as crewmembers gather at the sight of you in Sanji's arms, and Chopper's eyes widen at the state you're in. "[y/n]!" You had lost consciousness by the time the small reindeer could look over your state, and Sanji silently suffered his worry once more, reaching for a cigarette. Long moments pass in the aftermath, and it is only hours later when you wake amid celebrations of victory. When you turn to your side, Sanji is already there, watching crewmembers feast upon the banquet that marks the end of another fight. As he turns and meets your eyes, you see them widen and you smile gently. "Love! You're awake, thank God!" Sanji reaches over to you and you laugh as you gather him in your arms. "I-I'm so sorry. If I had-" But you cut off your lover and you hush him quickly with the clasp of your hand around his.

"Thank you, for saving me."

Sanji looks down on you, battered and bruised but safe and with him. He smiles softly at you and squeezes your hand in his, as though in silent promise: he would never see you lost to him again. You grin at the serene expression that has finally filled his face but are interrupted by the rumble of your stomach as you pause and feel heat rush to your face. "I- I guess I am a bit hungry after all the-" But of course, you barely have to finish your sentence. Sanji has a platter in his hand, full of all the foods you could want with determination in his eyes. "Please, let me love." In that moment, you let Sanji take care of you because it seemed that was what he longed to do, after holding onto his concern for so long. Just never leave him in that state again, he doesn't know if he could take that.

[moonstruckme]

i seen your post asking for thawing out ideas/requests and i love it so far you’re an amazing writer!! it’s only 2 parts and i’m obsessed haha – maybe reader or sirius falls or something on the ice (nothing serious ofc!) and remus panics a little as a way of thawing the tension between siri and rem? either sirius realizing remus cares about the reader and starting to trust him more or remus realizing he really cares about what happens to sirius/their duo!!

Thank you for your request gorgeous!!

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11

cw: modern au, chronic pain, brief and lightly implied past abuse

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 2k words

You’re only a few days out from flying to the Olympics when Sirius doesn’t show up to walk you to practice. You call him and wait around with Remus for a while, but eventually you decide to get in whatever training you can without him. It’s far from unheard of for Sirius to sleep through his alarm. 

Remus seems grateful for the extra time with you. He’s been laying it on a little thick since you’d reacted so drastically to his unintentional Peter-ism, praising you for everything from how you stretch to the simplest of jumps, and any criticisms are softened into measly recommendations. You’ve done your best to let him know that you’re not upset with him (you never were, honestly, how could he have known the effect those precise words would have on you?), and now things seem to be more or less normal between the two of you. 

You like Remus more by the day. When he’d first come to coach you and Sirius, you’d been happy to see him, but only because of what he represented. A fresh start, a guiding hand, the possibility of his greatness transmitting to your duo and making you better than you’d ever been. And all of those things have proven true, but as you’ve worked together and learned from each other you’ve grown to appreciate your miracle coach as a man, too. 

Remus is kind. He’s smart, and discerning, but he doesn’t boast about it, and he’s patient with you and Sirius when you can’t always keep up with his reasoning. He’s patient in general, though you know neither of you have made it easy for him and you’ve often wondered if you deserve it. He has a serious manner, but sometimes when you’re joking around with Sirius you’ll see him smiling, tongue pressing into his cheek like he’s trying to repress it. You can tell that, despite years in front of cameras and a well-earned self-assuredness, he’s shy about certain things. Like Sirius, he doesn’t always like to have his kindnesses acknowledged. But there’s a warmth about Remus. Not bright and dazzling, but a soft, steady warmth, like the flicker of a candle or the glow of the moon. 

You can see it now, the faint gleam of approval and something else in his eyes as you land your final jump in the routine on a solid ankle. His lips tilt up as though the accomplishment were his own. 

“That was lovely,” he says as you skate over for feedback. “Really, really good.” 

You beam at him, the praise lighting something in your chest. “But…”

Remus shakes his head. “No buts. I think you’ve got your part of the routine down completely.”

It’s impossible to contain your elation. You want to hug him and so you do, the toes of your skates pressed against the edge of the rink and your arms wound up around his shoulders. 

Remus seems surprised for a moment, but eventually his arms come around you too. Gentle, tentative. You don’t mind; you squeeze him extra hard to make up for it. 

“Now all we need is for Sirius to get the spiral,” Remus says. 

You laugh, your good mood unshakeable. You know Remus has questioned the wisdom of his decision to add the death spiral into your routine over the last few days. After several practices on and off the ice, you’ve made no progress on getting even an inch lower than you were, which isn’t enough to gain full points in competition. You know by now that it’s not because Sirius isn’t strong enough to crouch further down, or that he has his skates in the wrong position. He just won’t do it. It’s frustrating, but there’s nothing left for you or Remus to do. It’s like you under-rotating your jumps when you’d first started practicing; it’s a mental block, something he has to get past on his own.

“He’ll figure it out,” you tell Remus certainly. “Sirius does well under pressure. You’d be surprised what he can pull out at the last minute.” 

And speak of the devil. The door to the rink bangs shut, announcing Sirius’ entrance. He looks about as happy as he always does to be up before sunrise, worse because he’s clearly rushed out of bed to get here. His sweatshirt is on backwards and there’s a pillow crease on his cheek. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, slumping down onto the bench to put his skates on. 

“It’s okay.” You comb your fingers through his sleep-fluffed hair, moving some of the larger pieces away from his face. The look Remus is giving him borders upon fond. “As it turns out, I do much better when you’re not here.” 

“Always knew you would.” He brushes your hand away, using the hair tie on his wrist to pull his hair back into its usual haphazard bun. And as usual, you have to make a concerted effort not to watch how his biceps flex with the motion. 

“Let’s have you do a shortened warm-up today,” says Remus. “Ten minutes, alright?”

“No, I’m good.” Sirius stands, stretching his arms behind his back as he walks towards the ice. “We’ve missed enough time today, let’s get to it.” 

Remus frowns but doesn’t argue, and you know better than to try either. Sirius doesn’t seem grumpy, per se, but he’s never in his best mood when he first wakes up and he’s stubborn at the best of times. 

However half-asleep he may seem, Sirius is still resplendent on the ice. He skates with a lazy grace, the illusion breaking only when he has to tighten his form for jumps and turns. He never wobbles, never falters, every movement as easy and sure as if he’d been born with blades on his feet. 

The death spiral goes the same as it has been. Sirius makes it look like that’s the way it was always meant to be performed, but no matter his bravado any judge will know the difference. Still, you get your practice in with the general movement, and then he’s throwing you into your next spin, then jump after spin, spin after jump, the routine crescendoing in music, pacing, and difficulty. The world whirls around you, Sirius’ hand a home base that you grasp and let go of only to find again, the sounds of your skates on the ice their own rhythm conducted by muscle memory, complex and quickening and so consuming you almost wouldn’t notice Sirius’ had stopped if he didn’t cry out. 

You stop, breathless. Sirius is on his side. He’s no stranger to pain, but he doesn’t like it either, and it’s all twisted up in his face now. 

It takes you a beat to move. When you do Remus is already coming out onto the ice, the rubber soles of his shoes slipping until he goes down on his knees to slide the rest of the way to Sirius. 

“What is it?” you ask, though you think you know, your friend’s body curving and hands reaching for his skate. 

Sirius’ breaths are short and pained. “My ankle.” 

“Let me see.” Remus’ fingers are deft and sure as he undoes Sirius’ laces. Your own hand quivers slightly as Sirius sits up and you set it on his shoulder, hoping to anchor him even if you don’t feel very anchored yourself. He inhales sharply as the skate comes off. Remus shushes him, gentle fingers circling his ankle. “Shh, love, you’re alright.” 

“Does it feel broken?” you worry. 

Sirius is watching Remus prod at his ankle with a bemused sort of caution. “No,” he says. “I think maybe just twisted.”

“It could be a sprain,” Remus says. He’s rolled down the top of Sirius’ sock and is turning his ankle over carefully in his grasp. “Bruising might show up later.” 

“It’s fine.” Sirius sits up further, but when Remus doesn’t let go of his ankle he doesn’t pull away. “I just need to stretch it out and it’ll be good.” 

Remus’ eyes flicker up to his, and you see the kind sternness in them. “Whether it’s sprained or not, you can’t just skate it off. We’re done for today. Probably for tomorrow, too.” 

“Don’t be daft.” Sirius reaches for his skate. Remus moves it away. “We don’t have time for me to take a sabbatical.”

“Sirius,” you say, “practicing more won’t mean anything if you can’t compete.” 

Remus nods his agreement. “We’re not risking you injuring yourself no matter how close to comp we are,” he says. “We’re not.” He stands with Sirius’ skate in hand. 

“What’re you doing?” 

“I’m confiscating this,” Remus holds up Sirius’ skate, and you press your lips together to hide a smile, “until you’re cleared to skate again.” 

Sirius is appalled. “But—but it’s mine!” 

“Oh, don’t be a child, Pads.” 

Now you can’t suppress your snicker. Sirius lets out a shocked huff, elbowing you in the ribs. You can see the corner of his mouth twitching unwillingly. 

“Hey.” You pinch the back of his arm in retribution. “Do you want my help getting off the ice or not?” 

You end up finding ice for Sirius in the staff break room and sitting with him for a while as you hold it to his ankle. Remus stays, too, the three of you chatting about banal things that you enjoy immensely nonetheless. The car Sirius had nearly walked right out in front of in his rush to get here this morning, Remus’ mother and how she loves to bang around the house as soon as the sun is up, the new syrup flavor you’ve discovered at the coffee shop. Every sliver of information you can get about Remus feels precious, and though you sometimes feel like you know Sirius inside and out you never tire of hearing his stories either. He has such a fun, vibrant way of telling them, all big gestures and dramatic words, whereas Remus seems almost tentative when he talks about his life, smiling when you laugh along as though it hadn’t occurred to him that humor could be shared. 

When the hockey team shows up Sirius only lets James fret over him for a minute before he’s dragging him and his messed up ankle out the door, forcing you to hurry after so you can act as his crutch. You walk Sirius home, where he vows to stay and rest, before heading back to your own apartment. 

It’s only once you’re alone that your mind, unbidden, begins turning over the way Sirius and Remus had looked at each other today. You’d been too worried about your friend to think of anything else at the time, but there had been a moment, between Remus’ gentle handling of his ankle and his soft, kind placations, where Sirius’ expression had faltered. Surprise, vulnerability, and something else. Something that rings of familiarity, and yet you can’t place. 

It’s clear to you that the dynamic between your partner and your coach has shifted. That while you’ve been feeling closer to Remus’, Sirius has too, and they’ve passed some boundary you missed along the way. Maybe the chemistry between them was always obvious. They’d fought, antagonized each other, but some people enjoy that, don’t they? Maybe you’ve been naive to think that you’ve been working to get them amicable, when really they’ve had this unspoken tension tethering them to each other all along. 

The idea of Sirius and Remus together feels…strange. But that’s probably only because it’s so new to you. Sirius is your best friend, and you’d thought you and Remus were getting close, so it’s odd to imagine the two of them interlocked in this other dynamic together, separate from you. You can see how it might happen. They’re both very attractive, both headstrong in their own ways, and you’ve seen how they can soften for one another when the circumstances call for it. You think they could take care of each other. And you can take care of them both, though in a different way. You can support them, make things easy between the three of you, be a good friend. Nothing has to change in your dynamic with either of them, even if theirs with each other has shifted. 

You could be alright with that, you think. You can be happy for them. You will be.

[miabebe]

Camp Seventeen: Chapter 1

Pairing - Afab!reader x ot13 (Reader x Seungcheol, Reader x Soonyoung for this Ch)

Word count - 13K

Genre - Greek Demigod AU! We’ve got crack, smut (tags for the chapter are under the cut), fluff , angst, hurt, comfort, all of it in this series, buckle up!

Chapter summary - It's been a week since you stepped foot in Camp Seventeen - as you navigated the days trying to wrap your head around the 13 boys, one's touch and another's voice start to become a bit too bothersome....

A/n - And the series has finally kickstarted! Please read the prologue before this! Big thanks to @okiedokrie and @c-oupsie for helping beta read this, y'all are the sweetest <3

I do have a taglist so comment on this post to be added! And if you enjoyed reading, please don't forget to leave feedback in the comments or tags - we've got lots of chapters to go and hearing thoughts really helps <3

Smut warnings - mutual masturbation, fingering, use of a very questionable dildo, is this considered cheating? Idk it's all blur here, jerking off, cum feeding, cum eating and I hope that's all?

“Fucking hell.” 

You mumbled, waking up the same way you had been for the last one week - startled and nearly jumping off your bed. 

While most people began their days to the ringing of alarm clocks (or roosters if they preferred the countryside), you regularly woke up to the sound of Seungcheol’s eagle screeching in your ear. 

Turning your head, you glanced at Zephyr perched on the window before it gave you a short nod of acknowledgement and flew off into the darkness. Yes darkness, because unlike most people, your day also began at 4 fucking am in the morning. 

Groaning and stretching, you sat up, holding back the large yawn that was threatening to pull you back to sleep. If Zephyr was here to wake you up, that meant you were late yet again and you hated that - you had done too many walks of shame to the training field and were in no mood to be conspicuously stared at by 13 boys as you stumbled over, carrying all your gear. 

Knowing you didn’t have enough time to drop by the washroom, you popped a mint and sprayed some deodorant before quickly grabbing your things and running out into the darkness. 

The sun was just starting to peek from between the mountains as the House Of Zeus became smaller and smaller behind you. Although you had a long list of concerns living with Seungcheol, an unbeatable advantage was how close his residence was to the training grounds. Still, you could somehow never manage to be punctual. By the time you reached, you were 15 minutes late and Seokmin had already begun the morning drills. 

“Two laps around the field newbie.” He muttered as you walked past him, habituated to receiving the same punishment everyday. 

While you begrudgingly jogged around the perimeter of the grounds, your mind wandered to everything and nothing that happened over the past few days. 

Life at camp so far had been…. strange. 

You would be lying if you said you were already accustomed to life here. You most certainly were not. And forget a week, not even a year could prepare you for what living in the wild was like. 

To begin with, there was no electricity here. That’s right, no lights, no air conditioning, no Internet, nothing. 

Member’s began their days at sunrise and ended it as sunset - after all nothing much could be done in the dim illuminance of the fire torches scattered all around the base. So of course for you, who functioned best from 1 to 3am, this archaic way of life was highly inconvenient. 

The only place that had even a trace of something technologically advanced was the Great Hall - some of the more brainy boys had managed to set up a small circuit for kitchen appliances, laundry machines, a small charging station and that was about it. Rumor was that Wonwoo's residence had its own circuit too, but no one could really confirm that intel - it was as though none of them had ever ventured into the House of Hades. 

And as though the lack of scientific inventions was not enough, showers…..were communal. Apparently it made more sense that water lines were directed to one common bath house rather than to each individual house. For them it was definitely more convenient to have the baths, jacuzzi and sauna all in one place, but for you that meant waiting everyday after training for the whole lot of them to be done washing up before you could do the same, with some privacy. 

Oh and speaking of privacy, in the last week you spent here, you had come to realize that in this all-boys-greek-mythology world, it was privacy that was the real myth. Obviously after years of living together the boys were close but sometimes, they were perhaps a tad bit too close - like the time you had walked in on Mingyu and Seokmin boxing in just their underwear or when Soonyoung and Seungkwan sat right next to you, loudly comparing their dick sizes. You usually drew the line at phallic discussions.

The one place on camp that perhaps gave you some alone time and space away from the mess that the boys were, was the library. Considering you had shifted the last year of your University to an online study, you had a shit ton of assignments to complete and that was the only place you were able to get anything done at all. It was like the boys didn’t even know the study building existed - no one cared enough to go there so yeah, maybe occasionally, you also allowed yourself to let down your hair, sing in your horribly off pitch voice and dance to beats from your walkman. Outside those four walls it was impossible for you to feel even a little peace and quiet. 

Surprisingly, not even the temple, which one would think would be a place of sanctity, was spared from the deviant actions of the boys. The altar was less a place of worship and more a place for bargains and exchange deals - it was the only way to connect to the gods, aka, the parents in Olympus. 

You had come to learn that just like the human world, not all God parents loved their kids the same - some members were regularly showered with gifts and goods, others would not receive so much as a response. You found yourself falling in the second half. Your father never cared for you in the human world and apparently, neither did your mother. 

Brushing off the thoughts of the woman you had thought was dead for the last 25 years, you wrapped up your punishment and joined the boys for morning exercises, ready to start yet another tiring day. 

“All done!” 

Joshua gave you a sweet smile as he stepped out of the bath house, rubbing the towel into his wet hair. Thanking him softly, you walked into the showers, stripped out of your clothes and turned on the hot water. The mud that Minghao had you rolling in today as part of combat training washed off as the heat worked to soothe your aching muscles. Lathering shampoo onto your scalp, you finally felt yourself relaxing, letting your favorite citrus smell take over your senses. Outside the bath house, you could hear Seungcheol raising his voice, instructing all the members to head for breakfast, loud footsteps following his words. 

Choi Seungcheol��.. Living with him so far had been frustrating. 

When you first stepped into his residence, you told him that you’ve always lived alone so it might take you a while to adjust to living with someone and Seungcheol seemed to inwardly decide that giving you space was his life's purpose. After that, whenever you appeared before him, he politely greeted you and walked away. Whenever you stood as much as two feet near him he took a step back, like he didn't want to intrude on your personal space. Whenever you sat in his vicinity, he excused himself stating he'll give you some ‘me-time’. 

You wish he knew how much you were in fact craving for the exact opposite - You wanted Choi Seungcheol. God you so badly wanted him. 

It wasn't like you could just make a move on him because 

1.Hell no you didn't want him or anyone in this camp to realise just how (as Jihoon called it) thirsty you were and 

2. Seungcheol wasn’t just anybody, he was the leader. Members bowed to him when he walked by, even the companions, specially Patricia who listened to no one, obeyed him - anything and everything on this camp premises held him at the highest regard. You couldn't just walk up to such a man and tell him, “hey, you're hella hot and I'm hella attracted to you, I wish you would ravage me.”???? 

All you could hope was that Seungcheol somehow approached you on his own but that seemed questionable given the clear line he had drawn between the two of you. 

The one person you wished would actually draw a line was the first one to always cross it - Yoon Jeonghan. You knew he and Seungcheol were the same age and that they were close but you didn't understand just how close they had to be for Athena's son to barge into the leaders residence whenever he wanted? Even at times you were changing your clothes or lying casually on the bed in your night dresses that barely covered anything. 

The most infuriating part was Jeonghan did not ever apologize - he'd just laugh and walk away and you wanted to do nothing more than throw a shoe at him. For some reason he enjoyed getting on your nerves, he enjoyed making you angry and it wasn’t just you - in the last one week, it was evident that Jeonghan was a pain in everyone's ass but somehow they all adored him? You didn't get why they all seemed to love a man who always liked to pull their leg, never leaving any chance to fool them with his wit - you assumed they just preferred to be on his good side so all his harmless fun remained harmless. 

Even Joshua, who was one of the sweetest people you knew, seemed to have a soft spot for Jeonghan. 

When you asked him why he said before Jeonghan joined camp, Seungcheol was very uptight and ran the camp like a military barrack - it was the former’s pranks and carefree attitude that allowed members to be at ease. Though he was talking about Jeonghan, you knew what Joshua’s words truly reflected were his own good nature. He just seemed like the kind of guy who could do no wrong - like a pure, sweet soul. The days after you first arrived at camp it was Joshua who showed you around, guided you with everything and tried to make you feel at home. No one else really tried to get to know you as a person - they were all more interested about how and why you landed in their camp. 

It also helped that Joshua was extremely pleasant on the eyes - at times when you didn’t want to feel overburdened by thoughts, you loved to sit next to him and watch him work on his little craft for the day or write that new novel of his. Yes he was good looking and yes when he smiled, you felt dazzled, but it was his sweet disposition that made you choose his company over the other members.

On the days he would go off to the city for some work, the next best place you found yourself was on Jun’s farm. Not that he was particularly nice to you or anything, Jun was…. quiet. He seemed to always do his thing, not bothering anyone, only speaking when required. When the evenings rolled around, you liked to take Natalie on a walk to visit the man she had a big fat crush on. Honestly though, who wouldn’t have a crush on someone like Jun - though he was the one working in the fields, it was you who was sweating, just watching him. 

Although you did want to talk to him, try to get to know him a little bit, you chose not to - as someone who enjoyed the peace and quiet, you decided to let at least some member offer you that because guys like Soonyoung sure as hell could not. 

Soonyoung was…….. A teenager stuck in a man’s body. Oh yeah he was hot as hell - just the nice build with muscles popping in all the right places. He knew how to dress better than most people on camp too - if you had seen him somewhere else, you would have thought he was one of those cool kids you always saw on campus. 

But that image of him was destroyed the moment he sat on a Leopard and insisted it was a tiger. Over the last week, that was the predominant discussion between the two of you. That and his incessant flirting. Or rather, attempt to flirt. All he came across was cheesy, kinda humorous and loud. Extremely loud. 

Wonwoo on the other hand was as silent as the night. 

Most of the time you didn’t even know if and when he was around, it was like he was non-existent. The members too didn’t seem to bother much with what he did - you noticed he didn’t wash up with the others, often hitting the showers after you were done. He never came for any meals on time, he always stayed back, even after all the members dispersed for the day - he just seemed to function however he liked and no one questioned him. He never questioned you either - Not once did Wonwoo ever attempt to make conversation with you or even meet your eye. It was like he couldn’t care less and that wasn't very pleasant for you. 

Someone who seemed to care a lot though, was Jihoon. Oh Jihoo was quiet too, but somehow he had his eyes on everything. Everything you did, everything you saw, even everything you felt seemed to find its way into Jihoon’s radar - he just knew. It terrified you that he was able to see right through you but the good thing about Jihoon was that he generally kept his mouth shut and wasn’t too keen on discussing his observations. Regardless, his presence made you feel extremely conscious and a part of you often tried to not be alone with him, lest he could read your mind or something. 

As the last of the soap rinsed off you, you turned off the water and grabbed your towel, patting yourself down. Your body was sore and aching all over - Minghao said that was because you were not used to such combat routines and in a few months time you would get used to it but you weren’t really sure if you had it in you to tolerate all this for that long. 

You also still had no idea what exactly these skills were needed for but from the conversations you overheard, it sounded like some sort of competition? That was both unlikely and terrifying cause who really competed with swords and spears anymore but if it was true, then what the actual hell??? Minghao said he didn’t want to scare you with the details just yet and would explain everything when the time came. For now, you were to focus on building your core strength and basic self defense, in case the camp is ever attacked…. Yes, cause that is less scary, way to make one feel better. 

But that was the thing about Minghao - he did not have the habit of sugar coating things. He was honest with his feedback no matter how rude it sounded and though sometimes it did make you feel like shit, he also made sure to push you to do better. You knew if there was anyone you could approach for a real, unbiased opinion, it was him. 

The same could not be said for Mingyu though - everything that came out of his mouth was saccharine sweet to the point it actually annoyed you. There was no doubt he was a nice guy - he was handsome, goofy, really good with his hands, really really good with his brain but the same didn’t extend to his mouth. His style of getting your attention was to ceaselessly seek validation and unfortunately for him, you weren’t really someone who was great with words of affirmation. When he was not trying so hard to please though, Mingyu was truly the biggest sweetheart with the fattest, most caring heart you had ever come across - the kind one wanted to wrap in bubble wrap and tuck away safely. 

Seokmin too fell in the same category - the type who was so precious, it was hard to believe people like him even existed. The only reason you were able to survive these few weeks of training despite coming late was because Seokmin had your back every time Seungcheol wasn’t watching - allowing you to take breathers, overlooking the fact that you were doing less sets than you were supposed to, things of that sort. He was always sweet and calm, giving you soft smiles and sweet eye crinkles. 

With his members though, Seokmin was a whole different person - he was unnaturally loud, extremely energetic and all over the place. The problem was, you didn’t know which of the two was the real him. You weren’t really sure why but something told you Seokmin wasn’t the man he seemed like and a strange curiosity coursed through you every time you interacted with him. 

Seungkwan on the other hand was the exact opposite, he was exactly what he seemed like - always annoyed, unabashedly honest and unnecessarily snarky. In a way, you understood him - Seungkwan had the habit of taking on many things at once and keeping him unbelievably busy. In university, you too were like this - you took extra modules, signed up for multiple clubs, worked an internship alongside a couple of part time jobs and more. You liked to be occupied, to not allow yourself the room to think about what your life could have been otherwise. Maybe that’s why you saw yourself in Mr. Busy Boo - always roaming around with that bluetooth in his ear, attending some meeting or the other, frequently heading to the city to get work done - ‘rest’ was just not a word in his dictionary.

But even amidst all this business and even though his automated response was to snap back at people, he still managed to bond really well with the members despite having joined the camp only a few months before you had. It was like they all needed him to be their constant reality check. 

The one who you thought required his presence more than anyone was Hansol. A man like him whose entire personality was avoidant needed someone like Seungkwan who would drag him into everything forcibly. Hansol wasn’t like Wonwoo, who was unbothered, couldn’t care less and pretended like you didn’t exist. Hansol was well aware of your presence and chose to actively avoid you every time - if you remembered right, there were even instances when he had practically run away from you. Something was just weird about that guy. 

Perhaps the most normal of them all was Chan - actually he was just as loud and consistently blabbering much like some of the others but something about him made you feel very fond of him. Sure he was the same age as you but he felt like a child, always babied by his members, always grinning like a cheshire cat. And consequently, you too naturally babied him and Chan too enjoyed it - the two of you were perfectly content with your dynamic. 

If only you got that same feeling with everyone else……

As you grabbed your things and stepped out of the bath house fully dressed, Wonwoo was standing outside with a towel slung on his shoulder, scrolling through his phone. Without so much as looking at you, he walked past you, into the shower room, loudly shutting the door behind him. 

“Can you ever be on time?” Jeonghan sighed, handing you a plate of pancakes as you looked around realizing everyone was nearly done with breakfast. “It’s not my job to wait your table every morning.” 

“Until you lot arrange for me to have my own shower,”  You grabbed an apple, taking a bite into it as you sat at the extra long dining table. “I’m afraid this is exactly how late I will be everyday.” 

“You know what they say sweetie,” Soonyoung whisked the apple from your hand, taking a bite of his own. “If you can’t beat the crowd, join the crowd.”

You looked at him exasperatedly, knowing that he was just talking out of his ass. Maybe if it was someone else you'd be offended but seeing his childlike face and full cheeks, you were only mildly amused. 

“I'm more of the ‘don't join the crowd, let it follow you’ kinds.”

“Oh I'd follow you anywhere Y/n.” He sighed dreamily as you laughed, taking a bite out of your pancakes that were still too hot. 

“How about you start following your own girlfriend instead Kwon?” Minghao walked around the kitchen island shooting Soonyoung an unimpressed look. “Rumour is that she was seen outside the Dreamboys Disco and we all know exactly what one goes there for.”

“She's not my girlfriend anymore.” Soonyoung muttered. “We broke up.”

“Weren't you just planning an anniversary trip two days ago?” Seokmin looked at him quizzically. 

“Yeah then we argued over a location and she said it was better we broke up for a while.” 

“This is what, your third breakup this month?”

“Fifth.” He whispered sadly in a way that made you want to pat his back. “Sixth actually, if you count the one that lasted for 3 hours.” 

“I'll never understand these on again off again kind of relationships.” Seungkwan clicked his tongue, hurriedly grabbing a banana, balancing all the files in his hand. “The only thing it screams to me is disrespect.” 

“Okay Mr. Seung-I-am-the-son-of-Hera-and-marriage-is-the-way-of-life-Kwan” Soonyoung rolled his eyes. “Not every traditional relationship is healthy, and not everything unconventional is toxic.”

“Yes, except yours is both unconventional and toxic.” Seungkwan scoffed, raising his hand before Soonyoung retaliated. “I can’t care enough right now, tiger boy, I’m already late. We can reschedule your relationship counseling session sometime later.” 

“How about never?” Soonyoung grumbled as Seungkwan rushed off, attending a call on his bluetooth. “Who’s idea was it for him to join the camp again?” 

“Mine.” Seungcheol slid onto the seat across you, raising an eyebrow. “Is there a problem?” 

“Nope.” Soonyoung shook his head fast. “Absolutely not.”

Smirking just a little, Seungcheol turned to you, sliding a couple pieces of chicken breast off his plate onto yours. “You need to eat more Y/n, that little won’t last you through the day.” 

“Same goes for you..” Jeonghan mumbled, placing a bottle of protein shake near Seungcheol who gave him a grateful smile. From the corner of your eye, you saw Jun increase the portion of chicken to buy on the huge shopping list scribbled on the white board.

If there was anything you absolutely loved about this camp, it was the brotherhood. No matter what each member was like individually, as a team, they loved and cared about each other immensely. You weren’t really sure if and when they could extend the same for you but having lived alone nearly all your life, a part of you craved to be one of them, to be cared for like that. 

“I won’t be able to make it for the meeting tonight.” Wonwoo, as usual, strolled in much later than you and no one, as usual, had any complaints with that. In fact rather uncharacteristically nicely, Jeonghan handed him breakfast, shooting him a worried look.

“Why, what’s wrong?” 

“I need to drop by the headquarters today.” He sighed, sitting a couple of seats away from you. “There’s an important official coming and apparently my presence is needed.” 

“Will you be back by nightfall?” Seungcheol asked, looking concerned. You knew why he was worried - if Wonwoo wasn’t there on camp grounds at night that meant all the members had to take their places on the perimeter to guard overnight. Sleep was not an option that night. 

“Yeah,” Wonwoo replied, not looking up. “I will just have to miss out on the meeting for the lawsuit.” 

Right that meeting. The one you, Jeonghan and Wonwoo, had been trying to have for days now to sort out the biggest mess of your life. 

“Shouldn’t be a problem, Nonu.” Mingyu patted his shoulder, shooting you a wink. “Y/n has other plans with me today anyways.” 

You frowned confused as Mingyu clarified. “You were going to finalise your house plan so I could start construction, remember?” 

Oh yeah, you had that too. 

“Awesome, then I can go to the city today.” Jeonghan clapped cheerily, taking his apron off. 

“You don’t work today though…..” Jun muttered, looking at the shortage in the lunch boxes he had packed. 

“Don’t worry about food, I got some friends to meet over lunch.” The older man shot him a two-fingered salute before jogging out of the dining hall, earning Seungcheol’s tired sigh. 

“I can never keep up with him-” 

“Cab leaves in five!” Chan shouted, poking his head through the window. 

The members around immediately stuffed the last of their breakfast, grabbing their things hurriedly, rushing out to get the front seat in Chan’s car. Afterall, the ones behind had to squeeze to fit themselves in and the one hour bumpy ride to the city was not fun. From their collective groans though you could tell Jeonghan had called shotgun - the asshole was lucky as usual. 

Seungcheol downed the last of his breakfast with a fond laugh before turning to you. 

“Have a nice day Y/n, I’ll see you later.” 

You tried not to smile back at him too widely as your eyes followed him leaving the premises. When you turned back to your meal, you could feel a set of eyes keenly looking at you. Looking up, you saw Jihoon staring at you with a small smirk, his expression all knowing. Gulping, you excused yourself from there. 

You stared at the blueprint before you, humming skeptically. 

“Are you still not happy with the design?” Mingyu sighed, crossing his arms. 

“I don’t know.” You drawled. “Something about it feels….off.” 

“Something about your own design that you made for your own house feels off?” 

“Gyu.” Joshua chastised, standing up from the couch and walking over to you. “Artists second guess their work all the time, have some patience.” 

“I am patient.” The bigger man pointed. “But she’s unbelievably indecisive.” 

“I know, I’m sorry.” You looked up at Mingyu guiltily. “It’s just, I’m wondering if having a bathroom in my residence is a good idea or if I should just have another small one built by the bath house? I mean think about it - my residence is so far from the training grounds and the dining hall, if I had to walk all this distance everyday, I’m only going to be more late-” 

“I get it.” Mingyu patted your back. “I get your concerns but the sooner we finalize this, the sooner I can get to building it and the sooner you can get out of Seungcheol’s house and into your own space.” 

Ahhh. 

Right. 

A part of you was thankful that Jihoon wasn’t a part of this discussion otherwise he would’ve seen right through your subtle attempts to delay this process. You didn’t want to be an inconvenience on purpose but….. You were just a girl and you wanted to get to know Cheol a little better. It didn’t help that he was barely ever at home, leaving at the crack of dawn for training and only returning very late at night, after he finished attending night school doing that stupid astronomy degree of his. The only time you ever got with him was on Sunday because members did not train on Sundays - everyone was free to do whatever they wanted. And you wanted to do Cheol. 

So far you only had the chance to spend one weekend alone with him and maybe just maybe if you pushed your house construction a little you’d have the chance for another weekend or two. Then perhaps, you’d be able to take this unresolved, unnecessary tension with him somewhere. 

“How about you take a few days and work on your plan again Y/n?” Joshua rolled up the large paper carefully, handing it to you. “Whenever you’re ready let me and Mingyu know - we’ll try and figure out the materials, budget, feasibility and all that.” 

“It’s times like this I miss Jeonghan’s brain.” Mingyu clicked his tongue, disappointed. “Where did he say he was off to again?” 

“When does he ever tell us?” Joshua mumbled. “He should be back by nightfall though. Jun said he needed help with the fertilizer composition and Han told him he would help.” 

“Wow, he’s capable of being useful.” You rolled your eyes, stashing the blueprint into your bag. Mingyu and Joshua laughed, amused.

“Jeonghan is always useful..” 

“We still haven’t managed to figure out a thing about my lawsuit and my hearing is in a few weeks-” 

“Han and Wonwoo will sort it out Y/n, don’t worry.” Joshua rubbed your arm comfortingly. “They’re the best one can ask for.” 

“Yeah except I can’t seem to ask Jeonghan for anything cause he’s a little bitch or ask Wonwoo anything because for that he would need to realise that I exist and I don’t think he does.” 

“Wonwoo hyung is….” Mingyu trailed off. “He’s a little hard to understand. Just give him some time. Once you figure him out, you’ll know why he’s like this.”

Exasperated, you shook your head and walked away. Time was the one thing you never seemed to have. 

Like always, as the sun began setting you glanced out of the window of the library catching sight of the varied hues in the sky. On the camp ground you could see Mingyu riding his big mechanical bull, lighting up the fire torches around for the night. Pulling out the lighter from your bag, you stared at the candles stacked in the middle of the table. 

Sighing you cast the lighter aside and snapped your fingers, watching the flames come to life in your hand, dancing across your palm. Stretching your fingers, and moving your hand around, you watched the orange yellow light just glide across your skin like it was a pretty accessory and not literal fire that should have obliterated your hand by now. 

Fire never did burn you - how could it when a mere thought could make it come alive in your hands. You first discovered this when you were 16 and accidentally dunking your hand in a pot full of boiling water did not leave so much as a scar. Even though you were unscathed you roamed around for a few days with a fully bandaged hand - the world would have thought you were some sort of freak otherwise. Over the years you tried to play with fire in many ways, just to test your limits, just to see how far you could go and each time, much to your own dismay, the limit didn’t exist. Each time proved just how much you didn’t fit in the world, just how much you deserved to be alone because you really were a freak. 

But that was until a few weeks ago. 

Until you discovered it wasn’t the inability to burn that was the true madness - it was your ability to create fire itself. 

From there things spiraled. You learnt you weren’t the anomaly but a part of a rather large group of such circus acts - a world completely hidden from your own. In a cascade of events you were thrown into camp seventeen out of no will of your own and now, this was your life, this was your world. 

Holding your flaming hand over your redrawn sketches you glanced at them. Thanks to the two boys yet again canceling the meeting with you, you found yourself working in the library earlier than usual, exhausted by the time the sun set. As you debated between working a little more or heading back, the door opening with a slow creak made the decision for you - if it was windy outside, it was most likely going to rain and you didn’t want to stay long enough to get drenched. Quickly dousing the flame and blowing out the candles, you grabbed all your things and saw your way out. 

In the darkness, the camp was quiet as usual. You figured most of the members must’ve retired to their residences for the night and when you reached the House of Zeus, surprisingly, so had Seungcheol. 

“Y-you’re home.” You stuttered, watching the shirtless man, doing sit ups in the middle of the living room in the dim golden light of the paraffin lamps. 

Evidently Seungcheol hadn’t expected your presence so soon either because at the sound of your voice, he got up with a jerk, pulling a muscle in his abdomen. 

“Cheol oh my god-” 

“You’re early.” He got up wincing, holding the side of his trunk. “I’m sorry I should have been doing this in my room-” 

“I mean, the whole house is yours-” 

“There’s a heavy rain forecast today, not really much astronomy I can do-” 

“Yeah I came back because of the rain too-” 

“Yeah me too….” Seungcheol trailed off realising how silly he sounded. 

Grabbing his shirt from the floor, he attempted to put it on, groaning miserably at the pain shooting up his abdomen. Watching him struggle, you quickly dropped your things and tried to reach for him to help out, but just as your finger barely grazed over his skin, he stumbled back like he was electrocuted, pushing your hand away. 

“Don’t touch me.” 

“Cheol…. “ You frowned, confused. “I was just trying to help-” 

 “Seungcheol.” He corrected. “And I don’t need your help Y/n. Please just…. stay away from me.” 

You blinked at a complete loss of words at his unwarranted behaviour. Unsure about how you felt, you grabbed your bag from the floor, turned on your heel and walked out silently, the same way you came in. 

As usual, bad luck had followed you on your way out. 

Not only was your life miserable, the weather too decided to be a pain in your ass and it started drizzling the moment you stepped out of Seungcheol’s house. 

Even though the water was cold and you were shivering, you took off in the rain. You needed to get as far away from here as you could. 

You were such a fool. You should have known that Seungcheol wasn’t being nice or giving you your space, on the contrary he was keeping his distance, putting you at an arm’s length. It was evident today - not only was he uninterested, but somehow it seemed like your very presence was disturbing him in some way. 

And there was you who was always desperately wishing for the smallest interaction with him.. What an idiot. 

Hugging yourself, you walked further down the cobbled path. Tomorrow you were going to finalise your house plan with Mingyu and get out of Cheol’s house as soon as possible. But as much as you wanted to avoid him and pull yourself away, a part of you was still aching at the loss of something that you believed had a lot of potential. Why did it have to be him of all people? Why couldn’t it have been someone like Mingyu - he was hot as hell and unlike his leader, he actively showed interest in you all the time. 

As you raised your head, Mingyu’s house loomed before you and your feet, as if they had a brain of their own, took you towards his mini mansion of a residence. That was until you saw Jihoon stepping out of the same place and instinctively took a swift u-turn. 

The last person who could see you right now was Jihoon - that man would read you like an open book and know exactly how fucking embarrased you were. Hoping to god he didn’t spot you, you quickly ran, entering the nearest gate for temporary refuge, till you got out of his sight. 

But in hindsight, perhaps falling in Jihoon’s line of vision was better than the situation you had landed yourself in….. You weren’t really sure who’s house you had trespassed until the low growling expressed just how much his companion disliked it. 

Horang. 

Realising you had quite literally thrown yourself into the den of a wild cat, you froze, praying that it didn’t notice you and you could slip out as easily as you slipped in. But before you could do anything, a hand grabbed you quickly, leading you into the neighbouring cottage, shutting the door behind you. 

“Are you insane?” Soonyoung looked at you confused, shaking the water off his hair. “Why would you enter Horang’s enclosure unless you wanted to be ripped apart.” 

“I didn’t know….” You rubbed your arms, generating heat. “I was just….trying to escape the rain.” 

“You should have knocked on my door then..” He muttered, disappearing for a split second, returning with a towel in his hand. “Horang isn’t used to you yet so please don’t venture near my tiger in my absence - he only listens to me.” 

You tried not to hyperfixate on the inappropriate labeling of Horang in the off chance that an annoyed Soonyoung threw you back out. Instead, you accepted his towel, patting yourself dry, still shivering a little. With his hands on your shoulder, Soonyoung led you to the fireplace, guiding you to sit on the couch across. As you did, you glanced around his residence.

This was the first time you were in Soonyoung’s place and in all honesty, it looked much like that designated room in college dorms where all the parties happened - he had party lights everywhere, streamers hanging from the ceiling and techno music softly playing over the speakers. 

When you turned back to him, Soonyoung held out a christmas mug, with a grin. “Mulled wine.”

“I can’t.” You shook your head although in the headspace you were in, you could really use some alcohol. “I won’t be able to wake up on time tomorrow.” 

“It’s not like you’ll be on time even if you were sober.” He chuckled, immediately regretting his words as you narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re in the House of Dionysus. This is literally the only hot drink I have to offer.” 

Sighing you took it from him, desperate to have something warm coursing through your body after all that coldness you experienced earlier. 

“So, why are you out and about in the rain?” Soonyoung sank into the couch beside you, sipping a drink of his own. 

“I….just needed to be away from that house for a while.” You mumbled, taking a sip. 

“Why? Has Seungcheol gotten overbearing already?” 

“It’s not him….” 

“It’s always him.” Soonyoung sighed. “But it’s not his fault. He just has a lot of pressure on him to be perfect as a leader, you know? That sort of thing gets to you.” 

“I know. It’s just….. “ You sighed, not knowing how to explain things to him. “Forget it, I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“No, tell me.” He whined making you turn to him, finally noticing he was fully dressed from head to toe like he was about to march right into a party. 

“Are you going somewhere?” 

“Work?” Soonyoung stated like it was obvious. “Don’t tell me you forgot what I do.” 

You looked at him sheepishly. “I’ve been here for just a week Kwon and there’s thirteen of you so I’m sorry if it’s taking me some time.” 

“Forgiven.” He nodded amused. “I own the Midnight club in the city centre.” 

“Right, that big Demigod rave place.” 

“No, the Midnight club is for humans. There’s another club hidden behind it, After Hours - That’s for Demigods exclusively.” 

You let out an oh of realization as Soonyoung continued. 

“Business usually runs fine on its own but I try to drop by from time to time to just remind everyone who the boss is.” 

“I heard there’s a life size portrait of you behind the DJ booth to do the same.” 

“Obituaries are portraits too.” He rolled his eyes. “I need to let them know I am alive, kicking and always in charge.” 

You shook your head laughing. “Well then aren’t you getting late? You should probably leave by now-” 

“I don’t think I’m going.” He mumbled, downing his drink in one shot, red slowly creeping on his face. “Not in the mood.” 

Glancing at him silently, you just blinked at him. You knew guys like Soonyoung could not keep a thing in them - he would share whatever was bothering him without you even asking in three, two, on-

“The intel is that my ex is going to be there tonight.” 

“Ahh.” You crossed your feet on his couch, settling in. “And you don’t want to see her?” 

“I don’t want to see her with other men.” He gripped his mug tight. “With the news out that she’s single, guys will be falling all over her and I know she’s going to play along just to make me jealous.” 

“Well two can play that game right? You can do the same?” 

“What makes you think there are girls fawning all over me?” 

“Do you just want to hear me say you’re hot and that you could pull if you wanted to?” You cocked your head at him. “Cause I can. I have a little wine in me so I can use it as an excuse.” 

Soonyoung laughed, throwing his head back. “No I know I’m hot, but do you know who she is?” 

You shook your head, drinking up more. 

“Aphrodite’s daughter, the femme fatales of the demigod world - boys want her and girls don’t want to mess with her. No one is going to so much as look at her ex, forget trying to hit on me.” 

“Huh.” You pondered, the cogwheels in your brain turning. “Well technically, no one in the human world knows her so I’m sure one of them will-” 

“There’s no point of that. She knows I won’t go for a human.” 

“Why is that?” 

Soonyoung stared back at you a little hard before a small smirk formed on his face. “Y/n, are you a virgin?” 

You blinked, breaking out into a laugh. “I sure am drunk cause I seem to have missed why this intrusive question is relevant now?” 

Taking your empty mug from you, Soonyoung filled it up again from the pot. “What I mean is, demigods don’t sleep with humans sweetie.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because we’re half gods, do you think humans can really satisfy us?” Soonyoung raised his eyebrows. “Mortals can’t keep up with our sex drive.” 

As you looked confused, the smirk returned back to Soonyoung’ face. “Which is why I asked. If you haven’t realised that a mortal man can’t pleasure you, then either you’ve never had sex……. or you’ve never had an orgasm.” 

“I don’t have to answer that.” 

“Come on, humor me.” 

“Maybe I’m starting to get why your girlfriend dumped your annoying ass.” 

Soonyoung pouted, feigning hurt as you rolled your eyes. 

“So now if you want to get her back, you won’t be hit on by another demigod and you can’t be hit on by a human which means your only chance of making her jealous is with……” You looked at him intently. “Kwon Soonyoung, why are your eyes glimmering with mischief?” 

“You.” He took the cup from your hands and set it on the table, much to your dismay. “You’re the only one who she doesn’t know about and the only one who doesn’t know her…..” 

“So?” 

“Oh you’d be the perfect bait.” Soonyoung clapped his hands. “One look at you next to me and she’s going to be quaking in her boots.” 

“If you think I’m about to stroll into a nightclub and pretend to hit on you to make your ex girlfriend jealous you’re sorely mistaken.” 

“Why?” He whined. “Why can’t you do me a small favour. I saved you from Horong-” 

“Number one. If you didn’t pull me into your house, I would have ran out of the gate and been safe anyways-” 

“Sure.” 

“Number two, I don’t know what the hell is in this wine. Normally it takes a whole bottle to knock me down but two glasses in and I’m already buzzed-” 

“It’s a special blend.” 

“And number three, unfortunately for you, women are really observative creatures. One look at me next to you and she’s going to know there’s absolutely nothing going on between us.” 

Soonyoung opened and closed his mouth like he was thinking about what to say. “It won’t work out Kwon.” 

“This always happens.” He sighed. “She breaks it off with me for any small thing, goes on to have her fun, pushes me till I have to beg for her forgiveness and then she accepts it whenever she feels like. Everything is always whenever she feels like it. We haven’t even had sex in like two years-” 

“Okay.” You cut him off before he went into details you didn’t need to know. “If you’re so aware of what she’s doing, why do you always give in to her? Do you really like her or… is she just a habit?” 

“I don’t know.” Soonyoung stared at the floor, lost in thought. “I just know that we’ve been together since we were 18. And I can’t throw that away.” 

“I never knew you were such a romantic Kwon.” 

He laughed, sinking further into the couch. 

“You really want her back huh?” 

“I do.” 

“And this time do you want her to make the effort?” 

“A man can hope.” 

“Well then.” You turned to him. “Point number three was relevant only if she saw me…do you have your phone?” 

Soonyoung nodded, patting his many pockets and finally finding it, holding it out. 

“You're going to call and tell her you're hitting on me?”

“No…. If you give her a missed call will she call back?”

“Not immediately.” He sighed. “She'll take her time to pretend like she didn't see and then get back to me-” 

“Do it.” He continued to look at you confused. “Call her and cut the call.” 

He followed through but the frown didn't leave him the whole time. “Y/n what exactly are you doing?” 

“This may be a bit diabolical but it should do the trick.” You took a deep breath glancing at Soonyoung. “When she calls you back, she's going to hear us having sex.”

“W-what?” 

“Before you get any ideas, I'm not going to have sex with you Soonyoung, we're just going to make her think that we are.”

“How exactly will we do that?”

“We'll fake it.” You shrugged. “Make a couple of wet skin smacking sounds-” 

“and you could moan my name, say how good I'm making you feel.” 

“Didn’t you get onboard this real fast.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “I'm going to make it really clear once again that this is for her not-” 

Ring! 

At the sound of the ringtone both of you glanced at his phone and in a split second, Soonyoung picked up the call, holding it against his ear. Thankful that you got the opportunity to execute your idea so soon and determined to put up the show you promised, you immediately got to it, clearing your throat.

“Fuck yes Soonyoung, that feels so good-” 

With widened eyes and a swift movement, Soonyoung shut your mouth with his hand, shaking his head. 

“Yeah, yeah I remember…..Oh no that was just…. our cow?…..Yes Daisy, she's just having a rough night….. Anyways thanks for the reminder Hyungwon.”

You stared at him mortified, all the wine threatening to exit your system. 

“Yeah sure, see you tomorrow bro.”

Soonyoung brought down both the phone and his hand at the same time. 

“Oh god I’m so sorry, I thought it was-” 

“That’s your idea of having sex??” He looked at you shocked. “Thank god it wasn’t Mina because there was no way in hell she would have believed that?” 

“Hey, I had no preparation time, you try faking it off the bat.” You mumbled. “Besides, it wasn’t so bad.” 

“Wasn’t so bad?” Soonyoung looked scandalised. “Do you even know what you sounded like? Fuck yes Soonyoung, that feels good-” 

You leaned back inching away from him. 

“What the…..what was that?” 

“That's what you said.” 

“I know but” You frowned unsure if you heard right or if you were starting to get too drunk. “You sounded exactly like me. Like your voice, it….it was mine.” 

“Oh.” Soonyoung scratched the back of his head. “Yeah well um being the son of the God of Theater comes with its own skill set. Imitation helps confuse opponents during war - it has actually saved us in quests many times.”

“You can imitate anyone?”

Soonyoung nodded.

“Any sound they make?”

He nodded again as you let out a low whistle. 

“Well that's brilliant, then you don't even need me. You can make your girlfriend jealous by simply impersonating me.” 

“The keyword is imitate. I can only repeat sounds I hear, I can't just make them up.” He shifted in his seat. “So if I should impersonate you, I need to hear what you actually sound like during sex.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Don't push your luck Kwon.”

“I'm kidding.” He laughed leaning back into the couch, his eyes fluttering shut. “But you really have to work on the faking.” 

“Yeah I've been told.” You muttered as Soonyoung sat up again.

“Aha, so you have never had an orgasm!” 

“Because of a man, no I've not.” You confessed. “But bold of you to assume that I'm not perfectly capable of my own.”

Soonyoung looked confused. 

“Ever heard of masturbation, genius?” 

Soonyoung's mouth formed an O of realisation. “Well I've been in a relationship for almost 10 years so I've never had to take care of myself.”

“Don't rub it on my face Kwon.” You scoffed but regretted immediately knowing some dirty joke was going to come out of the man. So shutting his mouth with your hand, you held a finger to your lips. “Not a word. You're going to shut up till your girlfriend calls back.”

“That could be a very very long time.” He mumbled against your hand making you press it harder against his mouth with a shush. 

5 minutes later you were on your fourth mug of wine and Mina still hadn't called. 

10 minutes later, you were nearly falling asleep and Soonyoung was already snoring away beside you. 

15 minutes later the sound of the rain began to get softer outside. 

And 20 minutes later was when you finally lost your patience, shaking Soonyoung awake. 

“It’s getting late, I should go….” 

Soonyoung looked up at you sleepily as you got off the couch, standing up. 

“You should.….. I’m sorry, I shouldn't have roped you into this” He glanced at the blank screen on his phone. “Clearly Mina is either too busy having fun on her own or she doesn’t care.” 

You smiled at him sadly, as he pulled his feet up, snuggling into the couch. 

“I'm so sorry.” You whispered. “Goodnight Kwon.” 

“Goodnight sweetie.”

Setting the mug down, you grabbed your bag and opened his front door, relieved that the rain seemed to have stopped. But something was also stopping you from stepping out. 

Giving it a thought and sighing, you turned around, looking at the half asleep man again. 

“You said you could imitate me right?” 

Soonyoung's eyes slowly fluttered open.  

“So if you listen to how I actually sound, if and when she calls back, you can execute the plan on your own right?”

Soonyoung looked at you in a mix of confusion, drunkenness and sleepiness.

“Are you saying that…”

“No, I'm not going to sleep with you Kwon Soonyoung.”

“But you're horrible at faking.” 

“Yet again I'm going to remind you about masturbation.” 

You sighed, looking at his eternally lost expression. Grabbing his hand, you pulled him off the couch, leading him to his room. 

Soonyoung's room was just how you expected it to be - a mess. There were things scattered everywhere, all kinds of band posters up on the wall, snack wrappers all over the floor. 

He quickly kicked the trash under his bed and looked at you pleadingly. “You cannot tell Mingyu how messy my room is. And you most definitely cannot tell Seungcheol I'm snacking - he does not understand post break up slump.”

You gritted your teeth annoyed to be reminded of him again. Of course he didn't understand anything remotely related to feelings.

“Don't worry, no one's gonna know anything because you too are going to keep your mouth shut about whatever happens tonight.” 

“I still don't know what's happening tonight.” He mumbled as you walked around his room, glancing at everything. 

“I'm going to get myself off and you're going to listen and take notes.” Soonyoung's eyes finally widened in realisation.“Do you have a towel?” 

He nodded, quickly going through the stack of clothes piled on the chair across his bed and pulled out a long white one. Taking it from him you laid it down on his bed, the two of you staring at it mindlessly. 

“Could you also close the curtains?” You fidgeted with your fingers, putting your bag down at the foot of his bed as Soonyoung nodded. “Also dim the lights please.”

Following through your requests he tried not to look at you as you stripped out of your jacket and threw it on the bed. But when you unclasped your bra and pulled it out from under your shirt, Soonyoung was quite literally gawking. 

“I’m hot.” You mumbled as he walked back, standing much closer to you than he was before. 

“Yeah you are…. I mean,” He cleared his throat when you raised an eyebrow at him. “Yeah it's a little hot in here.” 

Both of you tried to ignore the sound of cold raining softly falling against the window. 

“On second thoughts,” You took a step back. “I don’t know if I can do this.” 

“W-why not?” 

“If you haven’t noticed I am buzzed as hell and I’m not sure I can do…. a great job on myself right now.” 

Lips slowly curling into a smile, Soonyoung cocked his head. “I can help.” 

“Yes and I can finally use all that combat training and kick your ass. Soonyoung I am not sleeping with-” 

“What? No, no I mean….. just wait here.” 

Your eyes followed him as he jogged out of his room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You must be crazy to suggest this. Sure there was alcohol in your system and sure you were trying to get your mind off Seungcheol, avoiding going back to his house but this…..

“Here you go.” 

Soonyoung strolled back in with what you could only describe as a wooden looking, very phallic instrument. 

“That’s…” 

He nodded. “A dildo.” 

“I have so many questions.” 

“Let me clarify. Yes I have used a dildo before-” 

“Oh god.” 

“- Although my girlfriend isn’t the biggest fan of it-” 

“This wasn’t my question.” 

“-I do occasionally enjoy it myself.” 

“I don’t think I should be a part of this conversation.” 

“But this dildo in particular, has never been used by either of us before.” 

“That!” You pointed out. “That’s all I needed to know.” 

Soonyoung held it out to you, looking at you expectantly. You gulped. 

“You know, I don’t think I can do this. I’m actually more of a vibrator girl myself.” 

“Now who’s indulging in the TMI?” 

You rolled your eyes. “My point is, I don’t need this, I can just do it myself-” 

“I haven’t even gotten to the story behind this.” He giggled. “This is my father’s.” 

“Aaaand I’m done here.” 

“No what I mean is-” He shuffled closer to you like he was revealing a big secret. “My father may be the god of wine and ecstasy and madness and theatre and so many things but he is also…. the creator of the dildo.” You stared at him vacantly. What?? “I don’t think you wanna know the story behind it, it’s disturbing as fuck-” 

“More disturbing than everything so far?” 

“-but basically, a few years back, my father was temporarily exiled from Olympus and while he was in the human world, he had, what he calls, a magnificent business idea….sex toys. Dildo’s in particular. That’s when he made this.” He held it up and you wished he did it a little less proudly. “This isn’t an ordinary dildo Y/n, no. This baby can take on the shape, size, dimensions and every single tiny detail” He gave a dramatic pause. “Of the person you are imagining while going at it.”

“W-what?” You blinked at him stumped. “You mean to say it…. morphs into a replica of someone’s actual dick?” 

Soonyoung nodded fast. “This piece is a prototype that Dionysus made but when he brought the idea to Zeus it was shut down immediately because Gods aren’t supposed to interfere with human business and all that hoo ha, so he left it with me before he returned home.” With a small smile dancing on his lips, he held it out to you. “So if you want, it's all yours.” 

You stared at it. 

A magic dildo that could take the shape of any dick you wanted? 

You would have to be insane to say no to that. 

Pretending to hesitate just so you didn’t come across completely deranged, you slowly took the toy off Soonyoung’s hand, feeling the weight of it in your own. As you tried to picture how exactly this night might go, Soonyoung took a few steps back, grabbed a fistful of the material behind his neck and pulled his shirt over his head. 

“What?” He smirked as your eyes ran down his chiseled body, mouth moving but no words leaving it. “Didn’t you say it was hot?” 

As Soonyoung moved all the clothes stacked on the chair to the floor and sat down, you watched as the minor oversights in your plan came into play. If he had to take notes,  then Kwon Soonyoung was going to watch you. 

Tongue in the cheek, you glanced around the room, thanking all the gods in Olympus when you spotted a lacy blindfold hanging on the headboard. Without questioning its existence in his room, you quickly grabbed it and threw it at him.

“The deal was for audio Kwon, no visuals.” 

In complete contrast to his hot as fuck appearance he pouted like a child as you shook your head and looked at the blindfold pointedly. Sighing, he reached for it and put it over his eyes, tying it behind his hand. Not trusting him entirely, you walked up to him, slotting yourself between his legs and pulled the knot. Soonyoung’s hands gripped your thighs in both surprise and pain. 

“Sorry.” He mumbled, fingers softly grazing your legs as he pulled his hands away. “I promise, I can’t see a thing.” 

You nodded, then realised he said he couldn’t see and cleared your throat. “Yeah, okay.” 

“Okay.” He breathed, leaning back, waiting expectantly. 

Taking a few seconds, you let out a deep determined breath, preparing yourself for what was coming. As you unbuttoned your jeans, shimmying both your shorts and underwear down your legs, your eyes finally took a good look at the man of the hour, Kwon Soonyoung. Yeah he was one of the members who often trained shirtless which meant you had seen this display many times before but this was perhaps the first time you were actually paying attention to it. Before this, you hadn’t quite realised just how beautifully tanned and toned he was or how much that undercut suited him or how hot he looked biting his lower lip. 

Kicking your garments away, you pried your eyes, reminding yourself that this man was taken. Or at least would be taken again pretty soon. You shouldn’t do this. You shouldn’t be looking at him, you shouldn’t be thinking about him and he sure as fuck cannot be the inspiration for your new magic sex toy. 

That unfortunately meant that there was only one other person in your mind who could be the muse - Choi Seungcheol. Despite his dismissal earlier and despite being someone who held herself as a very high level of self respect, it was evident that your body shamelessly still craved him - he was the only one running in your mind. Trying to block him out, you arranged the pillows on Soonyoung’s bed against the headboard, adjusted the towel and slowly climbed on. In all the time that you took leaning against it, spreading your legs and settling in, Soonyoung remained incredibly quiet. Patient. 

Although he couldn’t see you, watching him felt weird, given the man and the dick on your mind were not him. Sighing, you glanced at the object you were gripping - it had already taken shape of what you desired and the sight of it made you gulp. 

Lord was Choi Seungcheol thick.

Given his beefy exterior and broad build you had always assumed he was packed between his legs but this was nowhere near what you were imagining, not even close. Earlier, you were worried how you would get yourself off when you weren’t even wet enough but now you were practically dripping with the thought of that inside you. Still, you didn’t think it could fit, not without any prep. 

Slipping two fingers in your mouth you wet them messily before guiding them to your folds, smearing the spit with your very evident arousal. When you let out a soft sigh, Soonyoung shifted in his seat like he was alert and when your fingers teased your hole, slowly slipping in, an unintentional moan left you too, making him practically grip the armrests of his couch tight. 

“I'm going to need more than that Y/n.” He whispered. “What are you doing right now?” 

“I’m prepping myself, it’s…” You gulped. “It’s too big.” 

“Do you need lube?” He frowned. “Although I don’t know where it is….or if I even have any-” 

“That’s okay.” You shook your head. “I think I’m wet enough. Almost.” 

“Do you need any help?” 

You glanced at his tense body. “How can you help?” 

“Are you the kind that listens to instructions?”

“Occasionally.” 

“Then push your fingers further.” He exhaled. “Curl them up.” 

Although that was what was on your mind anyways, you obeyed. As your fingers brushed that spot, a soft fuck escaped your lips. 

“Feel good?” 

“Yeah.” You nodded. “Yeah that’s good.”

“Then move.” He cocked his head. “Slowly at first, then pick up speed.” 

Even before he finished his sentence you had followed through, fingers pumping faster, head falling back as the grip around the dildo in your hand tightened. 

“Add another finger.” 

“This feels good enough.” 

“This will feel better.” He urged. “Stretch yourself a little and add another finger.” 

Scissoring yourself open, you held back the moan that was threatening to tumble out, terrified Soonyoung would hear you. Belatedly you realised - Soonyoung was supposed to hear you. 

“Fuck that does feel better.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Are you ready for more?” 

“.......I think so.” 

“Then wet the dildo.” He shifted. “Put it in your mouth.” 

Hesitating just a bit you brought it up to your eye level, still taken aback by its sheer girth. In the dim light of the lamp on the nightstand you can see a stark vein running along his length, the sight of it nearly making your mouth water. Oh you wanted him to fill your mouth, you wanted him to fill you just about anywhere so bad but it was clear from earlier that Seungcheol didn’t want the same. So you were just going to take this chance and fuck him out of your brain. After tonight you were not going to think of Choi Seungcheol anymore. 

Determined, you wrapped your mouth around the tip, humming against the weight on your tongue before pulling it out with a wet pop. As Soonyoung’s breath hitched, you sunk your mouth down on it again, taking it further in, not far enough to let it hit the back of your throat, but enough to just slightly choke around it, drool running down the corner of your mouth. 

“Y/n,” Soonyoung’s voice sounded almost choked too. “Please….” 

You’ve never had a man beg for you like this before and it wasn’t enough to touch him but to touch yourself? Something in you swelled in pride, but something was also terrified about what things would be like once this was over - could you and Soonyoung really be the same again? And if things were going to change, how would they be? 

“Sweetie, you have to do something….” 

Knowing you needed something in you more than he did, you drove the thoughts away before aligning the tip at your dripping hole and slowly pushing Seungcheol’s girth in. 

“Holy shit..” You sighed as you thrusted his length further, the stretch serving a sting that slowly ebbed from pain to pleasure. 

“Is it all the way in?” Soonyoung groaned as you shook your head gulping.

“It’s not…” You panted, glancing down to see barely any length disappearing in you yet you were so full. “I can’t.”

“You can.” He licked his drying lips. “You can Y/n, come on - fuck yourself like you want to be fucked.” 

Yes you knew Soonyoung had a horrible habit of pointless flirting but you did not think his mouth was capable of spewing such filth too. 

“Tell me how you like it.” 

“Deep.” You whimpered, answering him as you shoved it in more, feeling it hit all the right places. “I like it deep.” 

“And fast?” 

“And fast.” 

“Then move.” 

And you did, pulling it out, pistoning it into you, sharp intakes of breath and curse words leaving you as you did. You felt your eyes roll back, threatening to shut but when they landed on Soonyoung they widened - he had slid down his chair, manspread now a lot wider and stark against his pants was the imprint of his uncomfortably trapped boner.

“Soonyoung….” You accidentally moaned, simply trying to get his attention. “Are you… hard?” 

“Unbearably.” He confessed immediately. “I’m s-sorry, it’s been a while-” 

“Do you want to touch yourself?”

You don’t know why exactly you asked him that but you wanted him to feel good too. Just as good as faux Seungcheol was making you feel. 

“I think I can cum without that.” He half laughed, half groaned. “But god yes I want to.”

“Do it.” You directed him, halting your own movements, watching him. “Touch yourself.” 

Without wasting a second, Soonyoung instantly unbuttoned his pants and stuck his hand down, wrapping it around his erection. As he shifted uncomfortably, you could tell he would’ve felt a lot better if he could completely free himself.

“Careful. Otherwise I’ll see you…I mean it…” 

“Do you mind?” He raised his eyebrows at you. “Would it bother you if I….” 

If you were being honest, since the moment you laid eyes on the outline of his dick you were curious…

“No.” You shook your head. “I don’t.” 

“Then I don’t give a flying fuck.” 

He raised his hips a little, just enough to pull down his pants as his erection sprung free, resting against his abs, pink and flushed. 

Oh he was long. 

Seungcheol might be thick but Soonyoung was long, like he could reach places no one else could. As he spat in his hand and smeared the pre cum along his length pumping it in his fist, you gulped, forgetting that you too were in the middle of doing the same thing, just staring. 

“Y/n,” He moaned your name, throwing his head back, setting off a strange fire in your groin. “Match my pace.” 

You nodded, thankful to not have to put your own brain to this which was threatening to shut off any moment now. Watching him half lidded, you let him set the pace for your movements, matching him almost perfectly. 

“Fuck this feels so good.” Soonyoung whimpered. 

“It does.” You agreed, with struggling breaths. “Soonyoung please…. Faster.” 

“Faster?” He smirked, but listened. “You really are one of us huh.” 

“I need more.” You whined, feeling yourself at an edge you were just not able to cross. “Soonyoung….” 

“I wish I could help, baby.” He sighed, “I really do wish…” 

“What would you have done?” 

“I’d have my mouth everywhere…marked your neck…. marked those pretty breasts….fuck Y/n, you’d have to beg me to stop.” 

“Don’t.” You moaned, pushing your shirt up with your free hand, grabbing a tit, squeezing it painfully hard. “Tell me more…” 

“I’d hold the toy for you, watch you fuck yourself on it….” He stroked himself faster, almost erratically. “Maybe give it to you from the back so I can see how your ass-” 

Groaning annoyed at the sound of music coming loudly from his pocket, your movements faltered, eyes widening. It was different from the ringtone earlier which probably meant-

“Is that Mina?” 

“Yeah.” 

“P-pick it up Soonyoung.” 

“Ignore it.” 

“Soon-” 

“Ignore it.” He emphasized. “Go on Y/n, I don’t know how long the effects of that toy are going to last.” 

And that’s what made you stop wondering why Soonyoung wouldn’t pick up the call when this was in fact the most ideal situation the two of you were meant to be caught in. You didn’t want to lose what you were pumping inside you, you didn’t want to lose the feeling of Seungcheol stretching you out. As you resumed the pace, Soonyoung’s voice left him like a croak. 

“Do you like the thought of this? Someone listening to you get off?” 

You didn’t want to answer that. Wasn’t the kind of things you liked evident by the fact that you were fucking yourself to one man while watching and listening to another? 

“Because I love that you’re watching.” He whispered. “It’s driving me insane.” 

“I wanna see you cum.” You pulled the toy out of you, tossing it onto the towel before your fingers found your clit rubbing circles hard.

“Fuck I'm close.” He pumped himself faster, losing rhythm, broken moans and whimpers leaving him. “So close.”

Words left your mouth too as incoherent babbles as you felt your back arch and insides tighten pleasurably. Eyes crossing and shut tight, you finally came, chest heaving, trying to catch a breath. As you slowly came around and ran your fingers down your folds realising just how much you came, Soonyoung continued to push himself over the edge, like he just needed a little more nudge to finally find his release. Gulping you swung your legs off the bed and silently walked up to him, standing between his manspread, leaning till your lips were right by his ear. 

“Cum for me Soonyoung.” 

Almost immediately, with a guttural moan, his head fell back, baring his neck as spurts of cum shot onto his hand and torso, painting them white. Once the sheer amount left him he finally slumped back into his chair, breathing again, like he had been holding it in for too long. The sight of his cum all over his abs against the sheen of sweat on it made you clench unwillingly and you ran two fingers over it, collecting it. You knew his lips parted to catch his breath but you took the chance to slip your digits into his mouth, letting him taste himself. Surprised but not unpleasantly, Soonyoung ran his tongue along them, licking it clean, pulling away with a pop.

“You taste as good as you sound.” 

It's only then that you realise your own arousal was coating your fingers too. 

Scoffing awkwardly, you shuffled back, picking up your shorts and panties from the floor, putting them on slowly.  

“I'm not dressed yet!” You shrieked, futilely trying to cover yourself as Soonyoung attempted to remove his blindfold. Holding his hand up, he allowed you to get dressed in the silence that followed. Silence that was too much to bear, silence that if he hadn’t broken, you would have. 

“I wasn't sure if I heard right but I thought…” He let out a deep breath as he tucked his flaccid self back in his pants. “I thought you took someone's name as you came.” 

You froze. 

You hadn't realised but now that you thought about it…. maybe, just maybe, you had taken Seungcheol’s name as your orgasm hit you. Yes you were incredibly turned on by Soonyoung and the sight of him and the sounds that left him but there was only one thing running at the back of your mind - cheol, cheol, cheol. 

“I'm not sure what you heard.” You brushed away his concerns, trying to sound casual. “I don't even know what I was saying, I was in some other zone entirely.” 

Soonyoung hummed in response and didn't push you for any further details. Grateful, you wiped your hands on the towel laid out before grabbing it, the bedsheet as well as the dildo and stuffed them all in your bag, throwing it over your shoulder - this was your mess to deal with.

“You done?” 

“Yeah just….put fresh sheets please.” 

“Oh don't worry about all that.” He got up, attempting to take his blindfold yet again. “I got it. If you want you could-” 

“Goodbye Soonyoung.” You stepped back, knowing he was offering for you to stay the night. Instead you headed for the door, hoping to leave before your eyes met his again. “I hope I was of help.” 

And as you left, you heard him sigh, revealing something he probably didn't mean for you to hear. 

“I don't think so Y/n.”

—

When you left Soonyoung’s house the rain had stopped but as you stood in the dining hall before the laundry machines the storm had returned yet again, much heavier this time. You glanced outside the windows at the obscurity sighing. It was like things just hated being in your favour. 

When the ding of the washer went off, you shifted the sheets into the dryer and decided to leave it there for the night considering you couldn't carry them back in the rain - you’d deal with them in the morning anyways, you weren’t ready to see Soonyoung just yet.

When you grabbed your bag from the floor, the weight had not reduced much - the dildo was still in it except it was back in its original popsicle-like shape, any trace of its resemblance to Seungcheol lost. You'd simply washed it and put it back in the bag, unsure what else to do with it. A part of you was annoyed that it had taken after Seungcheol of all people but the other was terrified that if you were to ever use it again, it would probably still model after him yet again. 

Disappointed with yourself you took a deep breath and shook your head. No. No more Choi Seungcheol. This ends here. 

Glancing at the machines one last time, you held onto your bag and ran out into the rain, hoping that Seungcheol had retired to his room by the time you reached. Instead, just as you approached the House of Zeus, you heard his voice. 

“Y/n!” 

He was drenched from head to toe, his blonde hair sticking to his face much like his shirt plastered against his pecs, like he had been soaked in the rain for hours. Letting out a struggled breath, you walked straight into his house, ignoring him. Seungcheol jogged over as fast as he could, putting himself in between you and the doors. 

“Y/n please listen to me-” 

“I don’t want to.” You attempted to go around him, only to be blocked by him again. 

“I just want to explain what happened earlier-” 

“I don’t care enough for an explanation.”

“I do!” 

You rolled your eyes as you pushed him away, a lot less gently than you intended to and Seungcheol immediately caught your hand, pulling you towards him.

“Seungcheol-” 

“You…. you can touch me.” He looked at his fingers wrapped around your wrist in awe, then at your palm flat against his chest.

“Didn’t you say you didn’t want me to-” 

“You shouldn’t be able to.” He muttered like he was amazed, unable to tear his eyes away. “How can you….” 

“Seungcheol, you're not making any sense.” 

He let out a deep breath. “Do you remember when you first came to camp we told you that every demigod has a certain set of offensive and defensive powers depending on their parentage?” 

You nodded, frowning.

“As the son of Zeus, my defensive power is….an electric field.” Oh. “At times like war, or in adrenaline driven situations, I become highly charged, rendering anyone who so much as comes two feet near me electrocuted. It's supposed to be a way to weaken enemies.” He sighed, “That’s why I was afraid of you touching me. I didn’t want you to get hurt.” 

“But…..Seungcheol I’m not an enemy and this isn’t a war-” 

“I get nervous around you.” He avoided your eye. “I don’t know, I just….. I can feel my skin prickling around you but……” He glanced at where your hands met his again. “You don’t feel anything?” 

“No, no I don’t but why do I make you nervous?” 

Seungcheol smiled softly. “Do you really not know?” 

You suppressed the grin forming on your own face. Fucking finally. 

“No.” You shook your head feigning innocence. “Tell me.” 

“Can I show you?” 

Maybe you nodded a bit too eagerly, because Seungcheol chuckled, pushing himself up against the door, pulling you along with him. As your body pressed against his, his hands found your waist, gaze darkening. He leaned in, lips hovering over yours, whispering your name softly, like he loved the sound of it. As your breaths mingled, lightning went off behind you, the silver light illuminating his gorgeous face and all its sharp angles. Just as you moved closer, eyes fluttering shut, Seungcheol cleared his throat. 

“Y/n I’m sorry, I forgot that it’s late and we have training at 4 tomorrow.” He muttered, drawing his hands away. “You should sleep. I can’t excuse your lateness everyday.” 

And yet again Choi Seungcheol left you completely baffled as he opened the door behind him and walked in, away from you. 

Next Chapter

a/n - please send me your thoughts - this kind of writing is waaaay out of my comfort zone, I need to know I'm not completely messing shit up and if I missed you in the taglist, please lmk!

[jeneveuxrein]

attention (TWICE Nayeon)

word count: 6.1K

(she's been on my radar since the killing voice medley, and well, yeah, enjoy!)

-- -- -- 

You’re seething, forcing the amber liquid down, watching the people mingle. You should introduce yourself to some because networking at events like this always gives you the chance to meet the next up and coming. 

But not tonight. 

You don’t even want to be here. You weren’t on the original guest list, but with last minute changes and someone’s wife suddenly going into labor, your boss forced you to attend. 

Maybe the proper term is chaperone. 

All you wanted to do tonight was spend some time with this woman you’ve been casually seeing. Nothing serious, nothing committal, just dinner and drinks that had the potential of ending together in a bed. You had been dragging it out, and you think it’s warranted. She makes it obvious she’s interested.

But with how this evening was looking, you’ll be spending the night with someone else. 

That someone is across the room, draped over some man you’re more than likely going to have to do damage control. She’s an idol after all, and rumors will spread like a wildfire about her being linked to someone who’s nowhere near her caliber. 

She catches you staring, sending a sly smirk as she leans into whatever-his-face is saying. A little too close for the company’s taste and a shit ton too much for your sake.

“Dear fuck,” You mumble, shaking your head before standing. 

You don’t know what compels you to walk through the crowd, nodding politely at those that wave, but there you are, less than a meter away from where she’s seated. 

“Nayeon,” You say coolly. The man quickly separates himself, going as far away from the woman in question. “Time to go. You have an early day tomorrow.”

Nayeon tilts her head, a questioning glint in her eye because she, out of all of the members, knows her schedule. She has nothing for tomorrow, except maybe rest and recovery because this is her fault you’re here. 

Well, maybe you should backtrack. It’s technically your fault because if you hadn’t mentioned to Sana and Momo the plans you originally had, you wouldn’t be at some event against your will. It was an innocent question on how you were going to spend the weekend, the only mistake was that you said too much that they went running to their unnie. 

“Okay,” Nayeon says slowly, standing before bidding farewell to the people at the table. You wait for her, obviously, because that’s what you’re supposed to do. “Shall we?” She asks as she turns to face you. 

You nod, stepping side before bowing politely. You’ll have to send a message to the media team to stop any photos releasing of Nayeon and the man, but that could wait. There were more pressing matters that needed your attention. 

It isn’t until you’re inside your car that she says something that ticks you off, “So no date with Suji-unnie tonight?”

You shake your head, composing yourself because it’s a question she knows the answer to. “Nope, duty calls. Had to be here.”

“How unfortunate,” Nayeon says casually as if she had no part in how your night turned out, slouching in the passenger seat as you shift the car into drive. “Yours or mine? ” She asks, looking out the window. Adding, “Momo’s in Japan.”

“Mine,” You answer simply, turning onto the street. 

-- -- 

You should’ve seen it coming, but you let it happen. 

The company and management would have you barred from working with anyone in the industry if they ever found out. You reasoned that was why by the time things unfolded, it was out of your control. 

How it started was subtle, nothing too out of the ordinary to draw attention to her mostly. She flirted with you, commenting on your outfits about how it looked good on you and you, being you, would return the sentiment. It wasn’t anything explicit, just a polite acknowledgement of her looking great, something she heard daily from the girls and other people on the team. 

She lingered to walk with you whether it was crowded or not, it didn’t matter. She was right by your side, and the times where fans were around, she’d be especially close that you had no other choice to wrap your arm around her, shielding her from people who desperately wanted her attention. You missed the snickers from the girls, rolling their eyes because they knew what she was up to, while you were just doing your job. 

Then she texted you on free days, asking if you wanted to do something. Anything from getting food at hole-in-the-wall restaurants she learned about from Chaeyoung to intimate concerts of artists in the industry. You tried to decline, advising her to go with one of the female managers so it wouldn’t look suspicious to the public eye, but she was adamant about going with you. Some of the girls would join from time to time, but the majority of the time, it was just you two.

Again, you thought nothing of it. You were the closest to her, so no one batted an eye when she put in the group chat when something was planned. 

That was just how your relationship was with her for five years since the group debuted. 

Until one night.

You were working late, going over the travel plans for the girls’ encore tour, tucked away in your office. A short four-city stint in the United States that would be a bit of a hustle for them, but you knew they could do it. 

There were a soft two knocks, scaring you because you thought everyone had already left. You remembered the way you said come in, raspy and tired, when the door opened slightly, the half of Nayeon’s face peeking through the crevice. 

You smiled immediately, sitting straight, nodding as she stepped inside. You took note of her outfit. Something comfortable since they had dance rehearsals for the better part of the day, dark sweats and a heather grey cropped hoodie that showed a sliver of her skin, peeking from underneath. 

You watched Nayeon grow into a beautiful woman. Sexy too, but you slapped yourself every single time you thought of her like that. There had to be some professional line drawn somewhere. Although it seemed that metaphorical line had been blurred, crossed, over the past few months. 

She was more affectionate, playing with your fingers in the car, gently touching your arm wherever you walked. She pressed into your side more, even when there were no people around. She hugged you a bit longer than the others, not like you were counting the seconds. 

You stood to meet her on the couch, asking if she was alright since she was vocal earlier in the day she wanted to go home to sleep. She explained that she had finished practicing with the dance instructor. You admired how hard she worked, which for what it was worth, you thought she did well during rehearsals. 

“And I saw your office light on as I was leaving, thought I’d say goodbye,” Nayeon rested her head on your outstretched arm. It wasn’t out of the norm, something she did quite frequently in front of everyone. 

“You should rest,” You urged, softly squeezing her shoulder as she snuggled into you. “You did great today.”

Nayeon looked up at you, gaze briefly shifting to your lips before meeting your eyes, “Really?” 

You hadn’t realized it before, but as she stared at you, you could see how much she needed the affirmation, the reassurance, the praise, from you. 

You cleared your throat, looking away because it suddenly felt hot in your office. With Nayeon this close, her perfume faint, it had you dizzy. You mumbled a shy yeah. 

You knew the moment her hand touched your thigh, it was over. Everything you worked for, investing time and resources to make sure the girls you managed were successful, would be tossed down the drain because the undeniable tension that had been building over the past however long at this point broke.

The thing was, you didn’t know about it until that moment. 

You weren’t sure who kissed who first, and it didn’t matter. All you knew was she was on top, your arms pulling her closer as your lips met in a heated kiss, swallowing each other’s moans. 

Something clicked inside of you, like this was always supposed to happen. Every message, every call, every playful push, every stolen glance, every single thing led to this. 

“Nayeon,” You tore yourself apart, hyper aware of the small whine leaving her mouth as you tried to get some grip on the situation. “What’re we doing? We can’t do this.” 

Her eyes narrowed, glaring, and you knew that whatever resolve you had would be taken from you by her whether you liked it or not. She was never one to be challenged, always exceeding whatever expectation was placed on her. 

“And why not?” Her voice was steady, but her body was not. She dropped to her knees in between your legs. All the thoughts you pushed deep down inside you came rushing to the surface, dismantling the walls you put up for her to break it so easily. “You don’t think I’m pretty?” Her hands were on the waistband of your slacks, trailing along, stopping when she reached the button. 

You didn’t have the words, no sentence to form as she slowly, oh so slowly, pulled the zipper down. You nearly choked once she placed her hand over your cock, palming with the softest pressure. 

“Your body seems to think so,” She teased, slipping her hand underneath the fabric, wrapping around your cock. 

That very thin thread of control you snapped, leaning forward to pull back onto your lap. “That’s a lot to assume,” You quipped, hands gripping her waist firmly. 

“Really?” She rolled her hips over you, catching the smirk on her face as your eyes closed. “I think that you’ve always wanted me as much as I wanted you, which I—”

Impulsively, you brought your lips to hers, a searing kiss that she met with the same enthusiasm. You murmured a shut up before nipping her bottom lip, sucking lightly that her body shuddered against you. 

You didn’t remember much else from that night. 

That was a lie because that was the night she confessed it all. It didn’t help that she somehow slipped all her clothes off and she sunk your cock inside one smooth motion, testing your control once again because you could’ve exploded the moment you felt her warmth wrapped around you.

You remembered it vividly, clearly, as you watched her move on top of you. It was slow, intentional with every drop of her body, like she was showing you what you had been missing. It was hot, tight, and you couldn’t stop the whimper out of your mouth when she started whispering things—nasty, filthy things that you would have never guessed were in her vocabulary. 

Nayeon bit your ear lobe, murmuring how good you felt, how she got so wet whenever she saw you. The soft moan she let out. The dazed, lust-filled expression with each roll of her hips. You couldn’t stop the noises you made, the groans, the grunts, the fuck every time her pussy tightened. 

There was a brief sense of clarity when your stomach tightened, signaling you were close. You couldn’t exactly cum inside her because one, you stupidly (blindly) forgot to put a condom on, and two, you didn’t keep track of her health records (that wasn’t one of your responsibilities among everything else), so getting an idol pregnant wasn’t exactly on your list. 

She knew you were close the second your hips thrusted up, stealing a breathy moan. You were content lifting her off you to cum anywhere else that wasn’t inside her.

However, Nayeon was not. 

She made it perfectly clear when she wrapped her arms around your neck, pulling you against her as she quickened her pace. You tried, maybe not that much, to get her off you before you met your impending end, but it was futile when she kissed your cheek, affectionately, lovingly, hot breath against your skin that she wanted you to claim her in a way no one else ever had. 

Air left your lungs as you came, releasing a lot inside of her, causing her own orgasm that felt like yours went on forever. She muffled her scream, biting into your neck as her body trembled. 

You wanted to believe it was a one-time thing, a mishap, a lapse in judgment because it was still your fucking job on the line. 

It was not a one-time thing. You couldn’t even count it as a two-time thing, or three, or four. It just kept happening. You couldn’t exactly avoid her, you literally worked for her. 

No one would think you favored her because they all knew you did, but they understood why. No one could stop Nayeon from being near you because she would throw a fit. Any crisis she had, you were the main point of contact because she only listened to you. 

Even if you had some kind of control over her, she had the most control over you. 

Then after some time of figuring out how you and Nayeon could keep whatever this under wraps—nothing was ‘figured out’ as you wouldn’t really be talking if you were alone together—a mutual colleague introduced you to Bae Suji.

-- 

You went on one date with Suji, or Suzy, as she sometimes preferred. How any of the girls found out was beyond you, but if you had to wager, it would’ve been Jeongyeon or Sana (Nayeon later did say it was the latter because her friend saw you).

It didn’t matter who found out because managers are allowed to have lives outside of their work, but this particular part of your life wouldn’t be allowed by the woman you spent a good chunk of time with, on- and off-the-clock. 

To say Nayeon was upset would be an understatement. Sure, she was upset, but she was livid. You didn’t see her that night, but she was at your door the next morning. She did what she always did, easily seducing you before demanding an explanation while you were deep inside her. 

It wasn’t healthy by any means, but it’s not like either of you cared. It was toxic at best, but it was debauchery at its absolute worst, using sex as a loaded gun to get whatever you wanted from each other. 

“You know we can’t keep doing this,” You grunted as you thrusted inside her, pausing as her pussy tightened. 

“Yet here you fucking are, still balls deep inside of me,” Nayeon said lowly, tugging you so you towered over her. “You aren’t fucking her so why did you even go out with her?”

You didn’t bother responding, instead you wrapped a firm hand around her neck, squeezing enough to shut her up because at that point, she was pissing you off. 

You would admit that that morning was the first time you let her get the best of you. You typically weren’t aggressive with her. You might’ve been rough less than a handful of times, but never like that.

What you couldn’t predict was how she’d react. She could have done anything. Hit you. Slap you. Push you off. 

She didn’t. 

It spurred her on more than anything. By the way her pussy tightened. By the way it felt wetter. By the way she tried to make a sound, but couldn’t because of the hold around her.

Your hand relaxed, listening to her violently gasp as the air entered her body. You broke for a moment, searching for any sign of discomfort, uneasiness, because at the end of the day—you wouldn’t admit this to her—you loved her. You were in love with her, stupidly falling for her whether you wanted to or not. You believed she felt the same, but those kinds of things weren’t a topic of discussion. 

“Baby,” You whispered, still buried inside of her, but you weren’t moving. “I’m sor—”

Nayeon shook her head, sitting up as you hissed once the cool air hit your cock. She gave you a quick peck before turning onto her stomach, arching her back. Pushing herself up on her hands, she shook her hips side to side, head slightly turned, “Fuck me, daddy.”

A new kink was unlocked that night among a myriad of emotions you weren’t prepared for. One thing you were prepared for was to fuck her like you owned her. 

Maybe you did, but she owned you too. 

-- -- 

You open your front door, stepping aside for Nayeon to walk through. Tossing the keys on the side table, the door shuts as you take off your shoes. She’s right next to you, arms crossed behind her back, leaning against the wall. She’s waiting for the reaction you give whenever she pisses you off. She does what she does to rile you up, if that isn’t obvious. 

You sigh, shaking your head, standing in front of Nayeon. Her eyes look up, but your gentle hand cups her chin, tilting her head back. When you meet her gaze, there’s something off with her. 

You can read her like a book, very familiar with her moods. Though, this time, you see—and feel—the walls up, something unfamiliar to you. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask softly, searching her face for anything to give her away. Her expression remains neutral, shrugging indifferently. “Something’s wrong.” 

Nayeon pulls away, averting her gaze, “Nothing’s wrong.” Pause. “So are we going to fuck or what? Isn’t that why we’re here?” 

“Not with that attitude,” You say sternly, reaching for her arms behind her back. You bring them around, struggling a bit. “What the fuck is your problem?” 

“There is no fucking problem. If you want to talk about thoughts and feelings, I’m going to pass,” She breaks away, and you let her. “I’ll call Jihyo or Jeongyeon to pick me up.” She turns to walk away, but you reach out quickly, hand wrapping onto her forearm to pull her back. 

Nayeon lets out a small oomph against your chest, glaring at you, unbothered by her attitude (you’ve dealt with worse), “Tell me what the fuck is wrong right now.”

“Or what?” Nayeon huffs, hands on your chest in a feeble attempt to get away from you. 

The movement brings your bodies closer, and accidentally, maybe purposely, she grounds her pelvis against you. It’s with the lightest pressure, but it’s enough for your cock to stir, awakening from her heated stare. You notice the way her breath hitches, body shivering as you pull her closer. 

“Brat,” You murmur, dropping your head to capture her lips with your teeth. She moans softly when you start sucking. Her hands move to interlace behind your neck. You didn’t want to use sex to get it out of her, but she’s being defiant. “Do you get off on making me mad?” 

“Not intentionally, of course.” You feel her smile form, the upward curve of her lips as you slide your tongue in. She sighs dreamily into the kiss, dropping her weight to lean against the wall. You fall into her, practically pinning her. “Is someone going to put me in my place?” 

It’s a rhetorical question because there has only been one person to put her in her place. 

You. 

This evening could have played out in two ways. The first, being the doting lover you’re familiar with, praising her softly like a secret only between you and her, taking your time to draw out every moan and sigh against your lips. The second, the one you’re leaning towards, being the indifferent, apathetic lover, uncaring of if she cums, fucking her until she begs for you, pussy deliciously tight to force you to breed her, claim her, because she’s yours. 

“Why not that tool you were all over at the party?” The question catches her off guard, body tensing at the thought that you caught her. She wanted you to catch her though, she has always wanted to be wanted by you. “You knew I was watching across the room,” Pulling away as you tower over her.

“It wasn’t like that,” Nayeon rushes out, the excuse you’ve heard multiple times before. The false panic in her eyes means she knew exactly what she was doing to get a reaction out of you. “We were just talking.” 

“I don’t believe that,” You click your tongue, the image of her with someone else like that sparks a possessive desire. “That wasn’t very good of you, baby.” Void of any affection associated with the pet name. Under the dim light of your hallway, you see her eyes dilate and her breathing picks up. She wants you and fuck do you want her too. “Room. Now.” 

Nayeon nods obediently. You reward her with a soft, chaste kiss. She tries her best to keep your lips together, but you tap her hip twice and she pulls away. “Daddy.” She whines, pouting in hopes it’ll get her more than you’re giving. You thought she’d last longer before using her nickname for you. 

“Don’t be a brat,” Your eyes narrow, challenging her because if she wants to act out even more, you’d just have to punish her. “Go to the room now.” Nayeon’s eyes widen at your tone, nodding once before walking down the hallway. 

You tilt your head side-to-side, stretching the muscles before making a quick stop in the kitchen. You know you’ll both be exhausted whenever you finish, so you might as well at least have water nearby. You’ll find the energy to make her food in the morning, or there’s always takeaway. With two water bottles in hand, you kick your room door open to Nayeon perched on the edge of your bed, topless, only leaving her red lace bottoms, dress tossed haphazardly on the chair. 

“For later, okay?” Momentarily breaking out of character because you still care for her, and her well-being will always be your top priority. She sends you a grateful smile before you place the bottles on the dresser. When you meet her on the bed, she moves to swing her leg over yours, but you shake your head. “Not yet, baby. You weren’t very good back there.” 

“But, but,” Nayeon’s voice trembles, biting her lip. “I didn’t mean it!” 

“Then why did you act out? Do I not give you what you want?” You gently push Nayeon off to her original position. 

“You do!” She says desperately, nodding her head. 

“Then why? Why him?” You taunt, deciding how far you want to go with her tonight. Something’s still wrong, and you need to know what. You want the reason, the confession, because she doesn’t keep secrets from you. You see the wheels turning, unsure if whatever she has to say would matter. It does matter to you. “So what is it?” 

“Because I wanted your attention,” Nayeon confesses before she jumps on you, landing perfectly on your already hard cock. She moans at the contact, grinding slightly before your hands find themselves on her hips, guiding her movement. “I wanted you to remind me who I belong to.” 

“And who’s that?” You say lazily, tongue trailing against her lower lip before dipping inside, swirling that she grounds harder. 

“You,” Voice dropping low, seductively adding, “Daddy.” 

You have to still make her pay her retribution. She’s almost there, telling you the real reason, and you’ll get it out of her. You easily lift her body off yours, smirking at the whine and huff when you pull away as you lay her on your stomach against your lap. “I still have to punish you, baby.” You rest your hand on her back, ghosting over her skin until you reach her low back. 

“But daddy,” Nayeon huffs, raising her hips in a feeble attempt to get your hand where she wants. “It didn’t mean anything,” She repeats, squirming on your lap. 

Your hand goes lower, hovering over her buttcheek, “It meant something to me,” You say pensively. Curious, prodding, “Is that why you wanted me to fill in instead of Seoyeon-unnie? You didn’t want me to go on my date.”

You don’t hear a response. You swiftly bring your hand down to her bottom, a resounding smack echoes through the room. “Well?” 

Silence again, which would result in another slap to the other cheek. She muffled a moan into the bedsheets, refusing to budge. 

Bingo. 

Her pride is her biggest downfall, ego constantly needing to be stroked. She loves the attention and adoration from fans, thriving off the praise, knowing that it’s all for her. She would rather suffer through the pain than have to admit she was jealous. 

The center of attention, the one in the limelight, spotlight shining on her and only her. She craves that from you, to be the center of your world, but ever since Suji came into the picture, she’s scared that there might be someone else, crashing like a meteor on unstable ground she’s never had. 

You continue with the slaps, easing the sting with light rubs. You know she’s soaked, the small dark circle forming on her underwear. You’re not faring any better, cock tenting against the fabric. 

After the seventh hit, Nayeon moans, body shaking wantonly in frustration. “Fuck fuck, please, please.”

“Tell me the truth.” Coercion isn’t the best method, manipulative by any definition, but you had no other choice. 

“Fine, fine.” You relent, hand halting mid-air. “I didn’t want you to go. You’re supposed to be mine,” She cries, breath uneven as she tries to compose herself. 

Your hand drops. Her body flinches when she feels it against her skin, but continues to wait, anticipating your next move. Your chest squeezes at the confession because she’s never been this vulnerable, open, willing to express her feelings for you.

You give in, to her, to this, the urge to suddenly show her who owns you becomes too great. You pull her up, laying her on the bed as you fall in between her legs. 

“Baby,” You murmur, leaning forward to brush your lips against her ear, “You’re being so good. I am yours,” Her body shivers, hips rolling up into nothing as she seeks some kind of friction. “I’m yours,” You repeat like a mantra, a reminder of what you’ve always said. “You deserve a reward, okay?” 

Nayeon shakes her head, eyes shooting open, wild with want and desire. “I can’t wait, daddy.” She reaches for your shirt, ripping the buttons, before stopping at your belt. “Inside me, please. I need to feel you.” 

You do nothing to stop her, hands swiftly moving to unbuckle your belt and slipping your cock out of your briefs. You groan when she wraps around your length, stroking lightly. She aims the tip at her opening, against the lace, uncontrollably moaning and panting. 

“Go ahead,” You goad, eyes fixated on your cock rubbing over her. The wetness seeps on you, mouth watering at the sight. You watch as she moves her underwear to the side, lining up your cock perfectly, the warmth and wetness surrounding you has you seeing stars. 

“I’m so wet, daddy,” Nayeon moans loudly, scooting closer to take more of you in. “All for you—fuck.” 

You couldn’t help yourself. She felt too good, too wet, and the tightness suffocates you the second you snap your hips forward, burying your cock to the hilt inside her. The sudden stretch has her head snapping back, screaming into the air. 

“You’re such a slut, always ready for my cock,” You choke out, hands settling on her hips before drawing backwards. Her body squirms, chasing after the sensation of being filled. “So needy tonight, baby.”

“Please, please,” Nayeon begs, doing everything she can to get all of you back inside her. She wants you, wants you so no one else can have you, desperate for the feeling you give her. She thrusts her hips down, sucking you in unexpectedly, that you nearly collapse on top of her. Her arms wrap around you, nails digging into your skin when your length rubs along her walls. “Fuck me. You own me.”

“Mine?” You’re able to catch a breath, holding on to the control you’re trying to keep. 

“Yours.” 

It snaps, breaking the moment she says the word, possessing you to pull back before sliding back in. You lose yourself inside her, each moan and breathy sigh, as you set a steady pace. It’s a beautiful sensation for Nayeon’s pussy hugging your cock perfectly, warm, wet, tight—just for you. 

Her nails trail down, scratching your back enough that you’ll see the damage later. The pain turns you on, snapping your hips, driving your cock through. You nearly falter when your eyes meet hers. It’s akin to love, a word that has been dangerously sitting on the tip of your tongue these past few months. 

“I—fuck,” You stutter out. You can’t tell her how you feel. You can’t. You shouldn’t. You won’t. 

“I love you.” 

You swear you misheard her. The three words forming the sentence that has you over the moon. She says it again, softly, affectionately, because she means it. 

“You love me?” You cease your movements, cock bottoming out inside of her. The snugness of her pussy warms your cock as you wait. She doesn’t hesitate, saying it again and again before pulling your lips to hers. 

“I love you,” Nayeon mumbles, tongue running along your bottom lip. 

“Fuck,” You pull away, hips drawing back before flipping her body over. She raises her hips, the beautiful arch in her back. You tear the lacy garment off, making a silent promise you’ll buy her another later. You’ll buy her whatever she wants. “I love you,” You whisper before sinking in, missing the way her eyes roll back. 

You couldn’t control what happened next as the words triggered her orgasm. Her pussy pulls you in, suffocating you so you wouldn’t leave—not like you had anywhere to go. You’d lose yourself inside her ten times out of ten. 

“Fuck daddy, I’m cumming,” Nayeon screams, panting as her body shudders, pussy tightening and relaxing rhythmically as you groan. You feel the wetness coat your upper thighs, guttural moaning against her hair. “Come inside me, please. I’m yours, yours, oh shit—”

Your stomach tightens, snapping at the way her ass cheeks ripple against your pelvis, moving uncontrollably as she coaxes your orgasm. Your hands grip her muscles, hips erratically thrusting into her as your release floods her, painting every crevice inside her. 

Nayeon leans her head back, enough for you to kiss her forehead. Her hands find yours, interlacing them sweetly as you both try to catch your breath. 

You’re still hard, and you’re feeling particularly giving. She can handle whatever you throw at you, so you gently remove one of your hands from hers, trailing slowly to the apex of her thighs. Her breathing hitches, “What’re you doing?” 

“Another,” You command as you rub through her folds, finding her clit. 

“Wait—wait shit,” The contact catches her by surprise, her body folding forward as you continue your onslaught. 

“Good girl,” You murmur, watching as her hips move in slow figure eights with your cock still inside. Her pussy constricts, finding every angle to hit her favorite spot. And when she does, she mewls and pants. “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

Nayeon turns her head, locking eyes with you as she moves faster along your length. Your fingers aren’t idle, applying heavy pressure that has her going crazy, unsure with what to do with the pleasure flowing through her body. You mouth cum and flicking like a switch, she gushes all over you, forcing you to leave her warmth. 

“Fuck daddy,” Nayeon screams, voice hoarse as you watch her body convulse, back arching and flexing as she squirts more fluid than you’d ever seen. “I need you, please. Something, anything—oh shit!” Your fingers enter her swiftly, massaging her inner muscles as it just gets wetter, drenching your skin and bedsheets. 

“Tell me who owns this pussy,” You say lowly, eyes fixated on the way her butt muscles ripple with every movement of your fingers. 

“You,” She repeats your name over and over, pussy sucking you as she tightens deliciously around them. “God, fuck, you, sir, only you.” 

You replace your fingers with your cock, aiming at her opening before sinking in once again. Her fingers ball into fists, wrinkling the bed sheets as you nearly go feral on her body. She could take it. She wants you like this, crazy, addicted, in love that no one else could fuck her. She needs to feel how much you want her. She only needs you.

“So easy,” You swing a hand back, slapping each cheek with precision. “All you need is my cock, right?” 

“Yes, yes, only yours daddy,” Nayeon nods, easily agreeing to whatever you say. You could call her every name in the book, and she’d comply. She’s your little fucktoy that gets your cock stuffed inside her whenever you want.

You lose it once Nayeon lets out a high-pitched squeal. The orgasm crashes through your body, hips stuttering forcefully into hers as you fill her again, unabashedly rolling your hips to hear her breath staccato. 

Every nerve on your body buzzes, stimulated by Nayeon’s walls pulsing to milk you for all that you have. It hits overstimulation, sucking the breath from you as you regretfully pull out. She whines at the loss of contact, but you lean forward, sweetly kissing her buttcheek, nipping at the skin that she squirms. 

“Ticklish?” You tease, voice light and relaxed. The exhaustion slowly sets in your bones. 

“You know I am,” Nayeon huffs, hips dropping, limbs spread limply. 

You’re still a sick human, and you want to see the result of your activities. You nudge Nayeon’s leg, easily responsive as they spread a little. You bite your tongue at the sight of your essence dribbling out of her swollen lips. It’s hot, filthy to see you all over her. You wish you had a phone nearby to snapshot this into memory, but your mind drifts off to recreating it at a later date.

You yawn, collapsing next to her that she scoots to snuggle into your side. You fight to keep your eyes open because you still have to clean up. Nayeon mumbles something into your skin. You don’t quite catch what she says, softly asking her to repeat it, and you freeze. 

“I love you.”

It’s a finicky thing, this thing between you and Nayeon. Somewhere along the way, you fell for her. Maybe you knew the moment you met her, or maybe you knew that you would at some point in time. Or maybe you knew the night she walked into your office because by then, it had built up between you that that was the final piece of the puzzle to confirm what you’ve known. 

The hormones flow between you, and you can’t help but think that’s the only reason why. You’re an idiot too, “Are you just saying that?” Nayeon’s hand presses into your chest. You open your eyes to her peering over you, hair an unruly mess, “What?”

Nose scrunching, Nayeon rolls her eyes, “You seriously believe I’d throw that around so easily?”

You don’t, but this was Nayeon. You may have been sleeping with her for a while, but you’ve heard the girls talk about their flings. You could almost guarantee that she’s only been sleeping with you, but they know how to hide things. 

“Stupid,” Nayeon shakes her head when you ask again. “Did you just say it?”

You did. You do. It’s not just the hormones causing you to act like such a love struck idiot. You weigh the situation, knowing that whatever answer you give will change your relationship. It won’t be an illicit affair between an idol and her manager. It’ll be hard because you’d still have to keep it a secret, unless you changed companies, something you’d be willing to do. 

“No,” You send an easy smile, “I love you. I’m in love with you.” 

Nayeon’s face lights up, beaming with all her teeth showing, eyes crinkling in the corners. She kisses you, softly, tenderly, a contrast to how you were no less than five minutes ago. 

“I love you,” Nayeon says quietly, an unspoken vow passed between you. She understands what this means, being together for real, that there will be hardships, but she’ll do them with you. 

You sigh contentedly against her lips, whispering those same three words, full of intent and promise. 

“No more dates with Suji-unnie,” Nayeon sing-songs, confident after pecking you on the lips, smug at accomplishing her mission of making you hers. 

-- -- -- 

(pardon any mistakes or typos, lol)

[adragonprinceswhore]

Rumours

Aemond Targaryen x (Ex)Wife

Chapter V: Silver Springs 🎼 Masterlist

Summary: You think back to the tumultuous end of your marriage.

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, angst, fighting, possessive Aemond, toxic relationship dynamic, dysfunctional family dynamic, physical violence, blood, anger issues

Word count: 5700

A/N: As always, I’d like to acknowledge my love, Justine @theoneeyedprince 🩵 She’s writing a new series called Careless Whisper and it is a gem! ILY!

“You excited for the big show tonight?”

Jace’s cheery voice greets you as you enter the backstage area of Winterfell Arena. You look up from your phone and acknowledge your bandmate with a smile, 

“Excited and more nauseous than I’ve ever been”, you joke, sliding your phone in your pocket. 

It looks like most backstage rooms have looked so far on the tour; sparsely decorated with fold up tables and chairs. There’s an array of snacks and drinks offered, and you make your way to the refreshments next to Jace to grab some coffee. 

He appears to already be wearing his stage clothes; a tight, purple silk button-down shirt that  shows just enough skin to get his fans excited. Despite the curse of being the overlooked bassist, Jace has a small yet rowdy fanbase, who tend to go absolutely mental whenever he winks at them from stage. He loves the attention, and you guess today’s extra slutty outfit choice is his gift to them. 

He moves to lean against the table, plastic coffee cup in hand,

“So, will you treat us to a new song tonight? I hadn’t heard ‘Dreams’ all put together before we performed it but damn, it sounded great”

You meet his eyes as you pick up the plastic cup by the small ear on the side, 

“I think I’ll do ‘Dreams’, it’s the only one I feel is really finished”, you reply and take a sip. 

There is another song you’ve been working tirelessly on, but you’re not sure if you feel ready to perform it. 

It is one of the reasons why your album is delayed. The members have all recorded their instruments and finished the back-up, yet you haven’t submitted a final version of your vocals. 

As a musician, you’re used to pouring your heart out when writing lyrics, not afraid of getting personal. And still, for some reason, this one almost feels too revealing; too intimate to sing out loud. 

You have the lyrics written down, and you’ve sung them to yourself at home. But singing them on stage, with him there, feels too exposing.

Too vulnerable.  

You haven’t seen Aemond since your regrettable tryst in his hotel room. 

After reading through the divorce papers, you called Alysanne back up, needing help to wrap your head around the entire situation. 

After a few hours of talking, she convinced you that this was for the best. 

You’d gotten what you wanted. 

And the mishap in Aemond’s room was, according to your best friend, nothing more than a chance to “bang one out” one last time. 

“Got it”, Jace replies in his typical cheerful manner. He reaches for a small biscuit on the table and pops it into his mouth, “I’m sure your song will sound great. They always do” 

His warm, brown eyes shine as he assures you of your abilities. It feels nice; how uncomplicated his praise is, and you smile back at him again, thankful to have at least one easy-going person in your band. 

You continue to chat light-heartedly as you wait for the other band members to arrive.  

When Jace heads outside for a smoke, you spot a familiar notebook on one of the chairs nearby. 

It’s open.

Curious and foolish, you head over to see what’s written. 

You glance at the paper, lyrics written by hand in impeccable handwriting. You know you shouldn’t, but you can’t help yourself. 

‘I don’t wanna stand ‘tween you and love, honey’‘I just want you to feel fine’

Again with the self-pitying? Fucking hell, he’s relentless. 

Did he want you to “feel fine” when he forbade you from attending events without him? Or when he went through your email without your permission?  

‘Oh, you say you love me but you don’t know’

You put the paper back down, already feeling your mood souring. 

Prick.

When you first started dating, you quickly learned that Aemond was the rock of his family. 

If his brother had been arrested for drunk and disorderly behaviour, he was there. 

If his mum needed someone to help organise a charity event, he was there. 

If his grandfather needed him to go over a case at 3 am, he was there. 

Seeing the stress of such immense pressure weigh him down, you, in turn, tried to be his rock; supporting him in any way you could. 

You managed quite well. Like those times he came home late after spending 12 hours at the office, and you greeted him with a smile and a home-cooked meal, kissing his cheek. 

He’d sit down and grab you by the waist as you placed the plates on the table, keeping you on his lap while you ate and discussed your days together. 

When you finished eating, you’d stay like that. He’d lean into you, resting his face in the crook of your neck while he held you close, thanking you for the delicious meal. 

You knew that he was thankful for what you did for him; gratitude evident in his voice and how he complimented your cooking skills. Still, there was always this sadness inside of him, a pitiful tint to his tone. 

It was tough seeing how drained he got from being everything for everyone. 

Aemond’s older sibling never felt the crushing pressure of being Otto Hightower’s protégée. While he worked tirelessly at Oldtown Solicitors after finishing his degree, they chose to pursue the band full-time. A privileged career choice made optional by their generous trust funds. 

You took a part-time position after graduating so that you could stay in the band and write music. Aemond nearly convinced you to focus on the band full-time as well, arguing that he could provide for you if you ever needed anything. Despite the generous offer, you decided that he already had enough to deal with, and potentially adding further to his endless list of responsibilities didn’t sit right with you. 

You wanted to ease his troubles, not add to them. 

Consequently, when you recorded your first album, it was mostly at night, after Aemond had finished working with his grandfather. His natural talent and precision as a guitarist and singer meant that it usually only took him two or three attempts before he was satisfied with a piece. 

You, on the other hand, did not find the recording process as easy. 

You feel tears of frustration sting your eyes as you step out of the sound booth. Helaena, Aegon and Jace had already gone home, drained from a full day of recording. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?”, Aemond asks when he sees the way the corners of your lips pull downward. 

You let out a shaky breath to gather yourself, swallowing in an attempt to make the lump in your throat disappear, 

“I can’t do it, it just-, it sounds like shit no matter how many times I-”, you mumble, cutting yourself off as you try to take another deep breath, determined not to cry. 

You feel silly, getting so upset over something so nonsensical. Still, being unable to deliver in the way you’d like has left you feeling powerless over your own voice, like you can’t control it. 

Aemond stands up from his seat by the mixing table and slowly makes his way towards you. He moves one of his hands to cup your cheek and looks down to make eye contact with you, 

“Don’t say that”

His voice is soft as his thumb gently strokes your cheek, “It’s late and you’re tired, it’s okay to need a break. But never doubt yourself, love”. 

He leans down to place a kiss on your forehead and you crave his touch like nothing else, pushing yourself against his body as your arms hug his waist. He hugs you back, one hand stroking your hair, and you instantly feel the lump in your throat melt away. 

The tears that had threatened to spill, never do. 

He makes it all go away.

The blood, sweat and tears you’d put into creating your first ever album as Dragon Dreamers proved to be worth it. Suddenly, your songs play on the radio and are featured on major playlists, where thousands of people can listen to them. 

The success instigated both you and Aemond quitting your jobs and focusing on the band full time together with Helaena, Aegon and Jace. You were certain that leaving Oldtown Solicitors and creating some distance with his grandfather would be good for Aemond, maybe even pushing him to open up to you more. 

He had a tendency of shutting you out, particularly when he was clearly distressed by something. He refused to even acknowledge some things, like he wanted to spare you from it. Yet all his secrecy did was make you feel lonely; like a stranger your beloved did not trust enough to let in. Every time he dismissed your concerns and refused to speak about what was upsetting him, another crack appeared on your weary heart. 

During the first year of your relationship you’d been under the impression that you and Aemond shared a connection so innate and deep, you didn’t need to discuss things like other couples did. 

You were able to understand each other wordlessly. 

And though there was truth in that assumption, time made you realise that Aemond’s inability to open up slowly tore a cavernous rift between the two of you. 

Music blasts out of the speakers in the crowded bar, making it hard for you to hear Tyland as he introduces you to one of his colleagues. 

It’s a man around 30, with a slightly crooked smile and long, dark hair pulled back in a bun. 

You move closer to hear what he’s saying, nodding along to his explanation of what next for your band. 

“We’d like to make a music video for one of your songs, maybe featuring a live performance?”, he asks and you feel yourself light up at the thought. A bright smile breaks out over your face, revealing your approval of his proposal. 

“That would be amazing!” 

You nearly have to shout for him to hear you over the ruckus in the bar, and you lean in a little closer. 

“Have you ever considered doing some solo stuff? On the side, of course”, he asks, grey eyes locked with yours. 

You open your mouth to answer, but before you have a chance you feel a warm hand on your shoulder, stopping you, 

“She wouldn’t have time for that”

Aemond’s firm voice answers right behind you. You didn’t see him come up, and you can hear the irritation in his voice. A quiet sigh leaves your lips, dreading what’s to come. 

The man Tyland had introduced you to appears a bit stunned by the sudden shift in atmosphere, and offers you both an awkward smile and stiff nod before heading to the bar counter. 

You turn to face Aemond, whose face is set in a frown,

“What was that about?”, he asks and you feel irate frustration bubble up inside your chest. 

This is not the first time he’s taken the liberty of answering for you, or scaring away anyone who dared approach you. 

“Nothing”, you reply before walking around Aemond, moving towards the door. 

You need air, your husband’s presence suffocating you. 

You step outside and spot Jace, leaning against the wall with a cigarette hanging from his lips. 

“You don’t happen to have one more?” 

He pulls out the pack together with his lighter and opens it for you in an invitation to steal one. 

You place the cigarette between your lips, mumble out “thanks”, and light it up. 

You take a drag, let the smoke fill your lungs, and you close your eyes. 

The nicotine gives you a slight high and your fingertips tingle pleasantly. 

“Give us a minute, Jace”

Aemond’s voice interrupts your serenity, and your companion leaves without a word of protest.  

You open your eyes to look at Aemond. You know he’s upset about what had just happened, but there is something else that he’s not telling you. 

Behind the angry facade, he seems sad. 

Or insecure? 

It is hard to decipher when he so persistently tries to push those feelings down. 

He doesn’t say anything. His hand seeks out yours to grab the cigarette and he takes a long drag before handing it back to you. You wish he’d just talk to you. Tell you what makes him act so hostile towards those around you. 

Towards you.

It makes you anxious; the uncertainty. Not knowing what’s going on inside. 

Aemond breaks the silence.,

“So, you really want to leave the band?”

You click your tongue in frustration and throw the cigarette on the ground, stomping on it until the bud stops glowing,

“When have I ever said that?”

“You sure seemed happy when that scumbag wanted to steal you away”, he says and moves to lean against the wall next to you. 

“Aemond”, you sigh, looking up to meet his eyes. He is so hard to read it infuriates you. 

You know there is no point in fighting. It’s like his mind is set on distrusting you; of thinking the worst of you. 

“Every time you act like this, you break my heart. It's like you don’t trust me in the slightest”, you say in a helplessly defeated voice,

“That hurts, you know”

As Aemond got more and more possessive over you, he also kept you further and further away from himself. 

Sometimes you wondered if he actually hated you. 

Why else would you cause his ire to light up so fiercely? 

Whenever someone approached you, he was there, looming over you. 

Guarding you. 

Like you were his, and no one else was allowed near. 

No matter how many times you asked him to stop, he wouldn’t listen. 

Instead, after you found yourselves in a fight, something that had become a weekly occurrence, he’d head out without a word, leaving you alone in your shared home. 

He could be gone for hours, leaving his phone behind so you couldn’t contact him. It felt like torture, waiting for him to come back without any knowledge of what he was up to, or if he was okay. 

When he eventually came back and you confronted him about his behaviour, he dismissed your concerns, telling you that he just needed to “clear his head”. 

Everything about the situation felt unfair. 

Not just the fact that he opted for running away instead of talking to you, but also because you knew he’d be livid if you decided to suddenly leave in the middle of the night. 

After a year of meaningless fights, petty arguments and baseless accusations, you came to the realisation that you couldn’t be his rock anymore. And he’d stopped being yours long ago. 

Before the success of the band, you could provide him with reassurance and love. 

Now, it seemed like he’d made you the enemy, suspicious of everything you did, set on distrusting you. 

Staying with him, loving him, felt like too great of a challenge. 

And maybe it was. 

Taking one last look in the mirror, you put on just a little more lipstick before tossing it in your handbag and walking out of the bathroom. You’d ordered a taxi for six o’clock, and it should arrive any minute now. 

“When were you going to tell me about this?”

Aemond’s harsh voice echoes in the quiet room. 

He’s leaning against the kitchen island in the middle of your open-plan flat. You feel the all too familiar pit of anxiety form in your stomach at his tone. 

He’s irritated again. 

He holds your phone up so that you can see the screen, an email from Tyland.

He’d contacted you earlier today about an opportunity for you to do a photoshoot and interview at Casterly Rock to promote the band's biggest hit yet, Landslide. 

Your eyes narrow as you look at Aemond, 

“Don’t go through my emails”

“Tyland wrote that he’s already booked you a ticket. You have to run that by me first”, he continues in a stern voice. 

As if he’s lecturing a child on bad behaviour. 

You stay silent, move to the sink to pick up a glass and fill it with water. You try to distract yourself enough to breathe, anger already making you feel hot all over. 

“It was a last minute decision, it’s only 2 nights next week”, you explain through clenched teeth. 

You really don’t want to get into a fight right before a show, and had already decided to tell Aemond after instead. Somewhere inside, you knew he wouldn’t be happy. 

“Were you not going to give me the courtesy of letting me know that you’re leaving?”

“I was going to tell you after the show”

Your body is still facing the sink so you won’t have to face him. 

You can’t decide if you’re more angry with him for trying to control you, or saddened by the fact that he doesn’t trust you. 

“You should’ve told me imm-”

“Aemond, you don’t own me. Stop acting like I’m your possession!”

Your irksome voice cuts him off. His still trying to keep his cool, tone refusing to match your intensity as he answers, 

“But I am your husband”

“It’s just two nights away. I’ll be with Tyland the entire time”, you say, softening your tone to not trigger him further. 

“Out of the question. You’re not going”, he replies stoicly and places your phone back on the kitchen island before standing up. 

“That’s not for you to decide!”

Your previous attempt to remain calm fails. You almost want to laugh at the absurdity of it all; being denied a business trip by your husband like he’s your guardian. 

“Yes, because we’re a team! I’d never fucking run away without you”, Aemond spits, clearly as incapable of keeping a level head as you are. 

“It’s two nights away to promote the band. I’m not “running away”, you clarify and turn to face him. 

You can see how exasperated he is by his stiff posture and the hard look in his seeing eye. He tries so hard to hide it, and yet you always manage to see through the facade. 

“It’s good publicity”, you say. 

“I said no”, is all he replies before he moves to the sideboard by the door, picking up the keys placed in a small dish resting on the polished surface. 

You feel your face heat up in anger at his dismissal of your words; of your agency. 

How dare he think he can dictate your life? 

“Well, I don’t need your fucking permission!”, you shout back at him, 

“If I want to fly to Casterly Rock, or any other fucking place, I will! You can’t stop me from doing anything, Aemond. I’ll fly to fucking Yi Ti if I so wish! You can’t-”

Your rant is cut off by a sudden loud crash by the wall next to you. 

The remnants of the dish where you kept your house keys lies in shambles on the floor next to you. Your wide eyes look down at the plate's remainders in disbelief before travelling towards Aemond. 

It’s like both of you are frozen in shock from his actions. His recovery seems to be quicker than yours, regret clear on his face and in his voice, 

“Shit. Fuck! Sorry, I’m so sorry”

He rambles apologies in panic, clearly stunned by his own action. He tries to shuffle closer to you, but you recoil as soon as he comes near.  

The shock of his action and the loud sound that accompanied it triggers something inside you, and you immediately feel tears well up in your eyes. 

You feel like a child; startled and scared. 

“Fuck. Sorry for scaring you, love”

His voice is much softer than mere seconds ago. Pleading. 

Aemond brings his hands up slightly, a sign of surrender, and moves closer to comfort you. 

You wince and back away from him, eyes still widened in disbelief. 

“I’d never hurt you”, he tries to assure you. 

You still can’t fully comprehend what had just happened, 

“How the fuck am I supposed to believe that?”

Aemond opens his mouth to answer just as the intercom rings, signalling that the taxi is waiting downstairs. 

You try to gather yourself somewhat and take a deep breath before moving to grab your bag and jacket from the hallway. 

Aemond’s pitiful expression observes you, and you tell him, “When we get back, we need to talk about this. About us. I can’t take this any more”

The taxi ride to the venue is excruciating. 

Aemond hasn’t said a word, but his fingers are tapping restlessly against his thigh, something you’d learned to be one of his most prominent nervous habits. 

In the corner of your eye, you can see how his gaze repeatedly seeks out yours, but you refuse to look at him. 

He reaches out to lightly touch your fingers, but you move away from his touch,

“I-, I don’t know what came over me, love. I am so sorry for scaring you, I promise it will never happen again”

You’re too tired to respond, and stubbornly continue to watch the city pass by through the car window. 

When the cab pulls up to the live house, you can still feel the tears of shock drying on your cheeks. You thank the driver and step out of the car, before entering the backstage area. 

The small room you’d been assigned to prepare in smells musky and the lights are toned down. 

Helaena is nowhere to be found, but you immediately notice Jace’s brown locks in the corner of the room, seated in an armchair with his base in his lap. 

On the large, brown leather sofa placed in the middle of the room sits a slouching young man with ruffled, silvery hair and purple bags under his eyes. He lights up when he sees you enter, voice slightly slurred, 

“There she is! King’s Landing’s new little, uh-, fucking-, romantic, sexy sweetheart!”, Aegon drunkenly declares, smiling from ear to ear, 

“Charming everyone with her sad songs”

“Hi Aegon, are you okay?”, you ask gently.

You try as hard as you can to hide the fact that you’re disappointed in seeing him so clearly intoxicated. 

You know he has problems with alcohol, and despite a recent trip to rehab, he hasn’t gotten much better. 

“I am, now that you’re here”, he replies with a sloppy wink. 

You move towards the small fridge by the wall of the cramped room, pulling out a water bottle and handing it to him without saying a word. 

He brings the bottle up in a mock cheer before opening it and taking a large sip, possibly to show you, and Aemond, that he isn’t as drunk as you assume he is. 

“Always so fucking sweet to me”, he smiles at you, “Mondo, you’re a lucky guy, you know”, he addresses his brother, who’s leaning against the door, clearly displeased with the fact that Aegon hadn’t been capable of waiting until after the show before he got shit-faced. 

The hostility between the brothers is clearly one-sided as the older Targaryen continues,

“I just saw the most unhinged shit online man! Some fans were discussing what her favourite position is”, he laughs out as he addresses his brother. Aemond’s face is stoic, but you can see the tension in his jaw as he fixes his eye on Aegon. 

“Is it true, baby? Is it really doggy?”, he asks as his eyes shift from Aemond to you. 

You’d gotten more or less used to how lewd your brother-in-law could get when he’s drunk. But being asked something so crass after the day you’d had only leaves you feeling disgusted. 

“Knock it off”, Aemond’s stern voice cuts through the cramped space. 

You notice Jace shifting uncomfortably in his seat, picking up the pack of cigarettes in front of him on the coffee table before standing up and heading out of the door. 

You wish you could run away as well, but the tension radiating from Aemond tells you to stay put.

“Oh, come on, it’s all in good fun! I’d die to have a girlfriend with tits like that”

Whatever game Aegon thinks he’s playing with his brother is clearly one-sided. Aemond quickly jerks his head to the side to look at his brother, seeing eye darting at a speed that his blind eye’s incapable of. 

“Uh oh! Eyes going two different directions!”, Aegon says with a laugh, crossing his eyes to mock Aemond, 

“Can Lazy Eye look you in the face when he’s fucking you?”, he asks and he turns to you, eyes still meeting over the bridge of his nose. 

“Seriously, Aegon, knock it off”, you plea. 

He can turn so fucking mean when he’s drunk, hiding his own displeasure with life behind jabs at his brother. 

He continues to laugh when he adds,

“One eye on your face and one on your tits? A pity he can’t see through it”.

Before you have a chance to reply, Aemond lunges forward, fist held high as he smashes it against his brother's face. Aegon keeps laughing even as blood spills from his nose, staining Aemond’s hand going in for blow after blow. 

You’re frozen for a millisecond before you start to yell at him to stop, but it’s like he doesn’t hear you.  

Neither does he hear his older brother’s laughs turn to grunts of pain as he begins to sober up under Aemond’s assault. 

You see Aegon’s face turn slack, eyes fluttering shut like he’s going out of consciousness. Aemond continues to land punch after punch on his brother’s face and you feel panic rush inside of you. 

You throw yourself on Aemonds back in an attempt to pull him away. He’s inaccessible, not listening to your desperate pleas for him to stop.

Drops of blood are flying in front of you, landing on the worn leather sofa underneath Aegon. Your arms encircle Aemond’s shoulders as you try to pull him off of his brother with all your might. 

He tries to shrug you off, but as he goes in for the next hit, his elbow accidentally retracts against the side of your body, making harsh contact with your ribs. 

You wail out in pain and Aemond immediately stops his assault on his brother to turn around and look at you in panicked worry. 

Your body’s folded over the coffee table next to the sofa, hand placed over the spot that's hurting on the side of your stomach. 

He moves away from Aegon to make his way towards you, but you back away from him by reflex, suddenly too aware of how dangerous his temperament can be. 

You hurry up on your feet to quickly leave the backstage area, Aemond’s strained voice calling out your name behind you. 

He’s fucking lost it.

Thinking back to everything that led up to your divorce leaves you feeling a mix of emotions, misery being the most prominent one. 

This is supposed to be the highlight of your career; the band’s biggest show yet. 

You don’t want to feel like this; a constant state of being filled with sorrow. 

You want to enjoy performing again. 

You can hear the crowd call for you to come out on stage, and you feel nerves ebbing through your veins in anxious waves. 

“Aemond wanted to perform ‘Never Going Back Again’ as the first part of the encore later on”, Helaena says and looks at you. You feel even more restless. 

“And I thought maybe you have another new song to sing? Maybe the one you sent me a recording of?”

Her hand comes up to rest reassuringly on your upper arm. You know which one she means, even if she doesn’t say anything else. The song. 

“I told the guys it’s called ‘Silver Springs’, they’ll know which one it is from recording. I know we haven’t practised it together but Dreams was such a hit with the fans, I’m sure they’ll love this one too”, she says and smiles gently in that way only she’s capable of. 

The thought of Aemond performing ‘Never Going Back Again’, on top of singing ‘The Chain’ and ‘Go Your Own Way’, lights a fuse inside of you. 

You look over at him, 

“Okay”

This is it. 

The stage, vast and intimidating, seems to close in as the intro to ‘Silver Springs’ starts to play. 

You have no idea if Aemond had listened to the voice recordings for the song.

You asked Helaena to do backup vocals instead of him on the track, hoping that would make the song feel less of a testament to your heartbreak. 

‘You could be my silver spring’

‘Blue-green, colours flashing’

‘I would be your only dream’

‘Your shining autumn, ocean crashing’ 

What if he had read the lyrics? 

Had he pondered them weeks after, dreading to hear you sing them on stage? 

‘And don’t say that she’s pretty’

‘And did you say that she loved you?’

‘Baby I don’t wanna know’

Had he even cared?

Your longing gets the best of you, and you glance over at Aemond. 

‘So I begin not to love you’

‘Turn around, see me runnin’’

‘I say “I loved you years ago”’

‘Tell myself you’d never loved me’ 

His face is stoic; good eye already observing you.  

He might look calm to the audience, but you can see the tension in his jaw. You see how he’s breathing heavily out of his nose. 

His grip on the guitar seems bruising, fingers moving skillfully; never making a mistake. 

You quickly look away. 

Why do you suddenly find him so intimidating? 

‘And don’t say that she’s pretty’

‘And did you say that she loves you?’

‘Baby, I don’t wanna know’

‘And can you tell me, was it worth it?’

‘Baby, I don’t wanna know’ 

Your own lyrics prickle your heart. 

Do you tell yourself he never loved you because that’d be easier? 

What if it was true, that he never really loved you? 

He’d been possessive over you. And he’d been controlling. But that’s not love. 

Loving someone means you care for their well-being and happiness, over anything else. 

You know he loves Alicent and Helaena. He treats them differently from how he’s been with you; he was so much gentler with them. 

Picking fights with you over nothing, controlling your life and not letting you be happy, that's not love. 

Worst of all, he doesn’t act like that with Alys. 

Does he love her?

‘Time cast a spell on you, but you won’t forget me’

‘I know I could have loved you, but you would not let me’

You think back to how your relationship once was. 

When he was your biggest supporter, erasing any doubts you had about your own talent. Always reassuring you that you were worthy. 

That man is not the one sharing a stage with you now. 

The sorrow over losing your beloved husband turns to anger, and you need him to know. 

He needs to see how much he hurt you. 

‘Time cast a spell on you, but you won’t forget me’ 

You can’t look away, not even when tears start forming in the corners of your eyes. 

Aemond’s seeing eye looks so dead; completely void of emotion. His knuckles are white from the force in which he’s holding his guitar. 

‘I know I could have loved you, but you would not let me’

Every emotion you’ve tried to suppress comes crashing over you; 

Anger.

Hurt.

Betrayal.

Grief. 

But you won’t let him win. You can’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you broken. 

You feel a tear escape down your cheek, but you refuse to look away from his face as you keep singing, 

‘I’ll follow you down ‘til the sound of my voice can haunt you’

‘Oh, give it just a chance’

‘You’ll never get away from the sound of the woman that loved you’

Despite standing in front of thousands of people, despite what happened in his hotel room, this feels like the most intimate exchange you’ve had in months. You want him to see how much he hurt you. 

You want him to feel bad. 

To hurt too.

‘Was I such a fool?’ 

‘I’ll follow you down ‘til the sound of my voice can haunt you’

Your voice almost breaks from the sheer force of the emotions pouring out of you, but you manage, singing with nothing but raw emotion and sorrow-fuelled rage. More tears slide down your cheeks. 

‘Oh, give it just a chance’

‘You’ll never get away from the sound of the woman that loved you’

‘Time cast a spell on you, but you won’t forget me’

‘I know I could have loved you, but you would not let me’ 

You finish up the concert on auto-pilot, not really present anymore. As soon as you finish playing The Chain, you make your way back to the hotel. 

You throw the door to your room open, kick off your shoes, and dive into the back of the closet where you store your clothes. 

You pull out Aemond’s university hoodie from the black bin bag you’d tossed it in, anger consuming you just by the sight of it. 

Fuck him. 

You look around the hotel room for something sharp; a pair of scissors, a wine opener, a fork, anything. You spot the small pair of scissors you use to trim your nails with on the nightstand and grab them before stabbing one of the tiny blades into the soft material of the hoodie. 

Fuck him. 

Your vision turns blurry as tears well up in your eyes for the second time this evening, but the tiny bit of relief you feel from ruining something of Aemond’s is intoxicating. 

You put your fingers through the small holes you’d made in the fabric and pull with all your strength, ripping the shirt over and over until it’s nothing but a pile of scraps of fabric. 

Fuck him.

A/N: Thank you for readig! 🫶

[biceratops7]

I’m gonna SCREAM-

We’ve already established as a fandom that Metatron could teach a masterclass on gas lighting, but I wanna talk about how he specifically validates the things Aziraphale cares for while simultaneously devaluing them under the surface.

First off, this moment?

Tells us everything we need to know. It sets the scene for exactly the games Metatron is playing. He makes Muriel feel important while openly insulting them (flat out calling them stupid), aka seamlessly reinforcing the idea that they’re less than to both them and anyone else in the room. He knows he can get away with this easily, he knows that Muriel, lonely, overlooked little Muriel, will be completely distracted by the fact that someone so important is taking an interest in them.

This is already horribly clever, but then later on you realize it’s doing even MORE heavy lifting when he appoints Muriel to run the bookshop. “See? What’s important to you is what’s important to me! I’ve graciously taken the time to ensure your beloved shop is looked after by Muriel. You know, the dim one!” …let’s suffice it to say he’s ensnared too birds with one net for this one, and that a pattern is already starting to arise.

So when Metatron says Gabriel came to Aziraphale because he’s a “natural leader” and “doesn’t just tell people what they wanna hear”? Yah he’s full of shit. Aziraphale struggles with his sense of purpose when he doesn’t have someone or something guiding him, and for thousands of years he’s been terrified of sharing his true feelings and opinions to 90% of people he’s known. Completely just trying to butter him up. Wanna know the real reason Gabriel seeks asylum with Aziraphale?

Exactly this. Gabriel just says so point blank. It’s not because Aziraphale is this person for him, it’s because despite knowing nothing, he has this instinct that Aziraphale is the only one who can possibly understand why Gabriel did what he did. He is, I mean as far as we know, the only other angel who has fallen in love. (In general, let alone with a demon.)

But nope, can’t have that. We can throw the promise of restoring Crowley in the mix to sweeten the pot, but we can’t acknowledge why he’d want that so badly in the first place. So now it’s cause they work so well together. We can praise the angel for the fallen archangel Gabriel himself coming to him protection and guidance, give him a gold star. But we couldn’t DARE imply that it was by virtue of Aziraphale’s courage to choose earthly love over heavenly. How Gabriel didn’t need a leader, but a friend who’s truly known the joys of adoring that “particular person” and the pain of needing to hide it.

Cause then Aziraphale would start getting crazy ideas, like that his silly little human feelings have a great deal of worth. That they have the power to inspire, form cracks in the institution, fundamentally weaken what has controlled and harmed him. We wouldn’t want him to know the true value of the cards he holds when he has the ace in a match against you, now would we? After all…

Metatron uses this ingeniously sinister tactic of taking away Aziraphale’s choice while giving the illusion that he’s actually opening up doors. Notice how he tells Aziraphale he would have the authority to do something as extraordinary as turn a demon into an angel, yet he never once puts the much simpler alternative of just working with a demon on the table? The sleight of hand here is that he’s being offered the opportunity to freely be with Crowley… but he’s already freely with him as is, no bargain to be made. In fact he fought to be. Metatron disappears this accomplishment right before our eyes, while seamlessly maintaining the illusion to Aziraphale that he (Zira) is in control.

He sets Aziraphale up for failure by only providing the option he knows Crowley will not only decline but be deeply hurt by. It’s all so cleverly planned. Once this plays out exactly how he wants, he delivers the finishing blow by diminishing Crowley and his “damned fool questions”. Suddenly doing a complete 180 and emphasizing how foolish and troublesome he is. Metatron was offering Crowley by Aziraphale’s side as The Carrot. Now he’s telling Aziraphale it was stupid of him to want The Carrot, un-heavenly.

Aziraphale’s life, love, happiness, it’s all not only a massive inconvenience for Metatron but a liability. He has successfully taken a weapon from Aziraphale’s hands he didn’t even know he had. Metatron sees the writing on the wall, and he wants it contained.

[abyssruler]

a dummy’s guide to dating your crush, by lyney

lyney x gn!reader

lyney has loved you from the moment your childish small hands found each other for the first time and never let go. it’s just too bad that you don’t feel the same way, but that was fine, lyney has mastered the art of pretending. or — the one where lyney tries, and fails, to set up a few dates with you, and inadvertently wins your heart in the process.

childhood friends to lovers-ish, delulu lyney, one-sided crush, jealous lyney, slight neuvillette x reader

You and Lyney have always been close, even as children living beneath roof of the hearth and Father’s careful guidance. You were one of the first children to accept him and Lynette when they were still strangers in a new, unfamiliar place.

You were the first person to hold his hand apart from his sister, a brightness to your eyes as you led him to a secret nook that you claimed would be a hiding place for only you and him. You were the first person to make him laugh after a failed mission, the first person who held him as he cried silent tears that he’d tried to hide from his siblings, the first person who kissed his cheek and promised to ease the burden on his shoulders.

You’re the first person he’s loved that isn’t explicitly family, though that isn’t quite right either, because you are family. Not in the same way Lynette and Freminet are family to him, but family in the way two close friends are family—family in the way a man might consider his spouse family.

And it feels almost natural to come to such a conclusion. Like flicking on a light switch and realizing that little has changed save for the fact that he now sees so much more. After all, why shouldn’t his natural conclusion be that you two belonged together the way two spouses would?

You’ve always been close, know each others’ secrets, have each others’ backs, and so much more. It’s a relationship built from years and years of trust and affection, and really, can he be blamed for thinking that your shared history must mean something more? That it has set the foundations for a love so great it could rival romance novels? You’ve known each other since you were children, would and have killed for each other, and he imagines if he asks you if you love him, you would say yes. Never mind the specifics of whether that love was romantic or familial, what mattered was that you would say you love him.

Lyney is so far gone in his delusions and fantasies that he fails to see the glaring fact that he pointedly refuses to acknowledge, the glaring fact that everyone but him has made peace with, because you never go a day without telling everyone how much you like—

“Monsieur Neuvillette!” you call out, a smile lighting up your features as you turned away from Lyney to face the man, the myth, the legend himself.

Neuvillette, also known as the bane of Lyney’s existence.

✧

The proper, rational thing to do was to ask you out on a date, a bouquet of flowers in hand as he invited you to a high-end restaurant or to watch one of the operas showing that night. But, as Lynette would say, when has Lyney ever been rational?

So, he reserved a seat at restaurant that he heard from the grapevine was a popular spot for couples, bragging to the receptionist how he was bringing a date that night. And if he made sure to make his voice come off a little louder, to make his presence more known? Well, it certainly had nothing to do with him wanting rumors to spread of him taking you out on a date in a restaurant well-known for hosting couples. Nope.

“I believe this is your date, Monsieur Lyney?” the receptionist from before asks, a knowing look in her eyes as her gaze darted to yours and Lyney’s clasped hands. He nods in response.

“Monsieur Lyney,” you whispered to him with a teasing laugh that sent his stomach rolling pleasantly—that was, until you realized what the receptionist actually said. “Wait a minute, date?”

Lyney laughs off your confused look, pretending not to have heard the latter part of your statement.

“I hear they serve your favorite dessert here,” he says in a rather horrible attempt at changing the topic that would have had Lynette staring at him with unimpressed eyes. Thankfully, you’re not as sharp as his sister, and thus, more easily distracted by the prospect of delicious food.

Once you’re seated at the table that Lyney had made sure was facing the windows, offering a view of the vast ocean outside, he takes the time to appreciate the much better view in front of him: you with furrowed brows as you squinted at the letters on the menu, your lips jutted out in consideration, a serious look in your eyes like you’re about to decide the fate of the world instead of what you’ll have for dinner.

Lyney finds it all endearing.

He opens his mouth to ask you something—but then he promptly closes it shut when the distant baritones of a voice reaches his ears. Familiar, deep, and so very unwelcome.

Evidently, you hear it too, because the menu on your hands is forgotten in favor of a wide grin that isn’t directed at Lyney, no, you turn your head—swivel, more like—so quickly he almost fears for the state of your neck.

He doesn’t need to turn to know just who that voice belongs to, but the sheer happiness in the tone of your voice is unmistakeable as you raised a hand in greeting for the man who continues to haunt Lyney’s nightmares.

“Monsieur Neuvillette, it’s been a while since I last saw you!”

A while, yes, if six hours ago could be considered a while. Lyney would know, he’d been crouched on top of the tree that overlooked you and Neuvillette as you sat on a bench and spoke in an almost friendly manner. Freminet hadn’t been happy to be dragged into what his younger brother dubbed was a gross violation of your privacy, but it wasn’t a violation of your privacy when you were out in public where any passing stranger could see you. If you asked Lyney, he was only making sure Neuvillette didn’t do anything untoward towards you, like smiling at you, or talking to you, or just being within a hundred-meter wide vicinity of you.

Unfortunately for Lyney, the esteemed Chief Justice of Fontaine did all those things. And as if that wasn’t enough, he even grazed his fingers over your hair when a stray leaf landed on it! Truly a vile man, abusing his authority in order to get close to you and touch your hair, smiling and talking to you as if Lyney didn’t exist. Lyney, who’s known you since you were children. Lyney, who brushed your hair every morning and did everything you asked without hesitation.

Lyney, who was your soulmate!

“Lyney, you wouldn’t mind if the Monsieur sat with us, would you?”

And now Neuvillette had the gall to insert himself in, when Lyney had planned this to be a romantic date for two, not three.

He knows if he said no you wouldn’t push the issue anymore, but you’re looking at him with such hopeful eyes, even clasping your hands together to your chest, that Lyney can hardly find it in himself to say no.

For the rest of the night, he’s forced to endure watching you and Neuvillette make easy conversation while he silently stabs at his steak. He wonders which god he must have offended to make him feel like a third wheel in the date that he himself planned.

✧

It becomes a reoccurring trend.

Lyney would ask you to meet with him, either at the park or by the fountains or in the opera or merely at one of his magic shows—though he never specifically tells you that it’s a date. And before he could make any sort of move to indicate that he feels more for you than a childhood friend should, Neuvillette arrives and takes up all your attention.

It doesn’t seem to be intentional, or even a malicious act. The Chief Justice always seems pleasantly surprised to see you, and he’s never rude to Lyney. It’s just that…

“Monsieur Neuvillette, do you think these flowers would look good displayed by my window?”

The man in question seems to ponder deeply over your words, regarding the bouquet in your hands seriously as though it were a matter of life and death. Lyney remains standing behind the two of you, feeling a little out of place, as though he were the one intruding on Neuvillette’s time with you instead of the other way around.

“Yes, they would fit well with the general backdrop of Fontaine. Although personally,” Neuvillette plucks a single flower from the bundle and places it on your hair, “I think they would look best displayed like this on you.”

Lyney’s jaw drops to the floor. His eyes bulge out of their sockets. His hair begins to fall one by one until his bald head is left shining in the mid-afternoon sun.

I think they would look best displayed like this on you.

I think they would look best displayed like this on you.

I think they would look best displayed like this on you.

Neuvillette’s words keep repeating in his head like a particularly annoying fly buzzing around his ear, taunting him with the fact that while he may hold you freely and spend as much time with you as he can, he will never be the man who so easily captures your attention and keeps it.

You’re smiling, a bashful tint to your eyes as you looked up at Neuvillette beneath your lashes, fingers touching the petals of the flower now nestled in your hair.

It’s a sickeningly romantic scene, like something out of a play or movie or song. Lyney wants to claw his eyes out, though mostly he wants to snatch that flower off your hair and replace it with a rainbow rose, his signature flower. His.

Lyney takes a single step forward to interject, to insert himself into the conversation and make himself known, to keep you from looking at Neuvillette with those eyes that should be directed at him.

But before he can utter a single word, you move to pluck a flower from the bouquet and place it behind Neuvillette’s ear, a mirror image to the one he placed on you.

And it’s like watching something inevitable, like being a bystander to someone else’s story.

Lyney sees you laugh at something Neuvillette says in a tone too low for him to hear, but the happiness and brightness radiating off of you is unmistakable. There’s a bounce to your step as you lead Neuvillette away to whatever store has tickled your fancy, a brief glance thrown in Lyney’s way to make sure he’s still there. An afterthought at best.

As he watches you and Neuvillette parse through the menu of a cafe, the two of you standing so close that a fly would be hard-pressed to find a way between, he comes to the realization that there isn’t space left for him, that just as he thought before, he was the intruder here. The third wheel of a bicycle, the extra cog in a machine, a piece in a puzzle that doesn’t fit.

And it’s painful to acknowledge his own insignificance, but the truth has always been right in front of him, taunting him with your besotted look that isn’t directed at him.

He stands there quietly, thinking to himself that if he were in a play, this would be the prelude to the climax, the one where the unwanted third party finally leaves and allows the two lovers to be together.

So he does just that.

He bids you goodbye, claiming an excuse about promising Lynette to rehearse for their latest show. You’re sad to see him go, but it’s overshadowed by the smile that blooms on your lips when your eyes moves past him and onto Neuvillette. He watches it all with an acceptance akin to a man walking to the executioner’s block.

Lyney leaves, resignation heavy on his chest.

(He doesn’t see the sympathetic pair of eyes that follow his back as he walks away.)

✧

It had been relatively sunny outside that morning, only for a torrential downpour to begin that afternoon. It was during that sudden rainstorm that you knocked on the entrance to the house Lyney and Lynette live in, utterly drenched from the rain with a melancholic smile on your face.

Before Lyney could even begin to tell you to come in and ask you what’s wrong, you beat him to it.

“I confessed my feelings for Monsieur Neuvillette.”

And Lyney feels himself stiffen, limbs locking in place from where he’s half leaning on the doorway, half gesturing for you to enter his home.

He doesn’t know why he’s so surprised about it. He should have seen this coming from miles away—have seen this coming from miles away, he’d simply refused to believe what had always been in front of him. But for your feelings to go that deep that you’d confess…

Before he can fall down into an unending spiral of despair and self-recrimination, you once again upturn his whole word with a few measly words.

“He rejected me though.” You laugh to yourself, more self-depreciating than anything. “And… I suppose it was a bit presumptuous of me to assume that he liked me back.”

There’s a sadness to your eyes that Lyney hasn’t seen since you were children, having seen your first death. And now that same sadness is painted across your face, all because of one man who didn’t see the treasure that was right in front of him.

Lyney would have never done that to you.

But all of that matters little now, because you’re here standing in his doorsteps covered in rainwater, seeking comfort in him instead of anyone else. So, really, what else is he to do but step close and wrap you in his arms? Heedless of the fact that he’ll be getting his clothes wet.

You bury your face in his shoulder, reciprocating the embrace, your arms around him as familiar a sensation as the feeling of the wind on his cheeks and Lynette’s presence by his side. Constant. Something he will always remember.

“Perhaps it’s for the best,” you murmur despondently. “He is the Chief Justice of Fontaine, and I… we are Fatui.”

Lyney feels a jolt of something zip through him at the mention of we, because yes, it has always been you and him (and Lynette and Freminet), him and you. The Magician and his most avid watcher. We, we, we.

So Lyney smiles despite your obvious heartbreak at Neuvillette’s rejection. A part of him knows he shouldn’t be thinking such things when you’re clearly upset, but it’s hard not to do so when his chest has felt the lightest it’s been in weeks.

Is he thankful that Neuvillette rejected you? No, of course not. Not when it’s brought about a melancholic sheen in your eyes and a downcast turn to your lips. But neither is he entirely against Neuvillette’s rejection of you.

He cards his fingers through your hair the same way you used to do with his, back when he still hadn’t quite mastered the art of carefully coiling his hair so that it won’t get in his face.

You eventually pull away, a look of acceptance on your face. Lyney doesn’t think much of it when he reaches out to grab your hand, it’s when you intertwine your fingers together that all thoughts and rationality promptly go out the window.

He wants you so much, and now that you’re finally here, here without anyone to hold him back, he’ll allow himself this one impulsive decision.

“Lyney, thank—”

“What do you say about lunch tomorrow? My treat,” he blurts out, only to immediately flush red when he realizes what he’s just said.

You pause, eyes blinking rapidly for a few moments before you crane your head and look at him, really look at him.

Beyond the mischievous smiles and the lenses of a childhood gone by, beyond the little acts of affection that you’d thought was common between friends—beyond everything that used to color your perception of him, stands someone who is looking at you as though you’re the only person in the entire world who matters. Not the boy who used to follow you around with wide eyes and a hesitant smile. Not the young magician who fumbled with his cards whenever you teased him.

No, this is Lyney. Just… Lyney, with his soft eyes and patient smile with the barest hint of nervousness in the corners of his lips.

And oh, how blind you must have been to miss this.

But you don’t dwell on it, on this newest revelation of Lyney and his feelings for you, because you’re you, and he’s him, and the two of you have an entire life’s worth of time to ponder over friendships and changes and love. It’s easy to place it in a back burner, to be analyzed when you aren’t so drenched in water and Lyney isn’t so deep in his own head.

So, instead of consternating over the realization that your best friend loves you, you settle for a teasing huff.

“Not even a day after I was rejected by my crush, and you’re asking me out on a date?”

Lyney only smiles wider. “Never let it be said that I’m the kind of person who wastes time.”

“You’re incorrigible,” you tell him, but there’s a grin that’s fighting to make itself seen.

“You love it.”

“Yes,” you say softly, “I do.”

It’s not romantic, the manner in which you love Lyney. But as you watch him fret about you needing to take a shower before you catch a cold, you don’t think it would be too difficult to fee the same way.

note: the truth is that neuvillette did actually reciprocate your feelings, it’s just that he realized that depriving lyney of the possibility of love feels almost selfish, and he believes that you’d be happier with lyney than with him. he’s immortal and you’re not, which solidified his decision to reject you bc he has years upon years to find love again while lyney only has a few decades with you. basically, he felt bad about stealing lyney’s crush. and yeah, it suddenly raining was a reflection of neuvi’s mood.

[miharuhebinata]

do you mean twilight princess, in which she held a sword exactly once in a flashback and pretty much immediately dropped it in surrender? or wind waker, where she forgets how to use a sword the second she turns into princess zelda until literally the final battle 🤔? and i genuinely can't think of whatever other time you're referring to that she apparently uses a sword. spirit tracks? ok i'll give you that one, i guess, because phantom zelda is pretty badass, but other than that.........??

"ummm actually it's a good thing that zelda plays differently from link, because link has the triforce of courage so of course he fights and uses swords! meanwhile zelda has the triforce of wisdom, so obviously she's going to find more clever ways to solve her problems teehee ;)" hey did you guys know you can still be excited for the game while also acknowledging it's pretty fucking shitty of nintendo to act like zelda is incapable of picking up a sword in a mainline game.

[norawriteswords]

CAT & MOUSE, 2

notes:: I love literally all of you🫶🫶 thank you SO SO SO MUCH FOR READING!!🫶🫶🤭 this is a part two but it can be read as a standalone because nothing really connects to the last part <3 really similar themes to part one but with a bit more going on… kinda..😭 just under 900 words, fem pronouns used. Mentions of blood & brian cuts his palm in a kitchen setting!

Brian chopped up some tomato, his knife skills precise and practiced. He had some oil and aromatics in his pan, preparing some pasta sauce. You, his ever faithful helper, sat on the stool at his kitchen island, peeling some carrots.

Brian liked to take charge in the kitchen, and it was a great explanation as to why he had a massive walk in refrigerator- one you’d never seen the interior of. In reality, he didn’t mind cooking, but Rudy Cooper? He loved cooking.

“So, how was your day? Spare me no details.” Brian said as he began to cut up an onion. His cutting board was on the island facing you, his pan on the stovetop sizzling behind him. “It was alright.” You swished around your wine in your glass. “I know you’re probably sick of hearing me talk about the ice truck killer.” You mumbled, taking a sip.

Brian could never be sick of you, especially not when you were talking about him. He could listen to you talk for hours, regardless of topic. It was just a little added bonus he was the subject.

“Absolutely not. I could never be sick of hearing you talk doll.” He smiled affectionately, gently pinching your cheek. You felt your own little grin as you looked down to your carrot pile bashfully.

You cleared your throat. “It’s hard. You know? He’s just- smart. Annoyingly smart.” You sighed and sipped your wine. Brian nodded, turning his back to you to add the onions and tomatoes to the pan. Frankly, you were sick of thinking about the ice truck killer. “I mean, what kind of psycho has this much precision?” You huffed. 

He liked this. He liked when you inadvertently stroked his ego, it felt nice to hear it from you. His detective girlfriend. So intelligent. So close to the truth, but so far.

Brian hummed in acknowledgment, turning back to you after giving his pan a little stir. “Well you’re smart too. I have no doubt you’ll get him.” He grabbed the carrots from your little pile, cutting them into small cubes.

You sardonically exhaled in response. It had been weeks and the Miami Metro PD were getting nowhere. You looked around the kitchen, trying to be of use. You felt stumped at work, but that didn’t mean you had to be idle at home. You spotted a couple unused onions sitting on the counter.

You sprung to your feet, walking up beside Brian to grab the onions. He quirked brow at you. “What’re you doing?” He asked, genuine confusion striking his features.

“Taking the onions back to the cold room.” You announced. Before he could protest or convince you to sit back and relax you turned your back to him, already making way to the freezer.

Brian’s pulse quickened. What was he going to say? How could he manipulate this? You were going to find out. Like this. No. It wasn’t right. He had a plan. A plan to help you. He felt a cold sweat on the back of his neck.

In a split second Brian grabbed the kitchen knife, slicing open his palm. He winced loudly for dramatic effect, feeling practically nothing. He was used to far more pain, but this would do for now. You whipped around, dropping the onions as you rushed over.

“Rudy? What happened?” You stared at his slightly hunched over figure. You eyed the blood dripping down his forearms, your eyes going wide. “I cut my hand.. grabbed the knife the wrong way..” he lied, loving how much attention you were giving him.

You grabbed his hand, pulling him over to the kitchen sink. “Wash it.. clean it, just, let the water run over it… I’ll go grab your first aid kit..” you said, shaking slightly. You ran over to his bathroom, rummaging under the sink for any gauze or a first aid kit.

You pushed bottles of cleaning products out of the way, looking for old, white first aid box you’d seen countless times while sleeping over at his place. You spotted it, grabbing the kit as you made haste back to the kitchen where Brian had his hand under the running tap. “Let me see..” you peered over his side.

“It’s fine doll, really..” he titled his palm to show you the deep gash. You scrunched your face, feeling queasy at the sight of his blood. “I brought gauze. We’ll wrap it up tonight and get it checked tomorrow.” You mumbled. You looked around the kitchen, grabbing a clean hand towel. You turned off the tap and gently wrapped his hand up with the towel. “Keep it high and just make sure it’s all dry.” You instructed. “Yes detective.” He flashed you a little smirk, and you rolled your eyes fondly.

Opening up the first aid kit you grabbed a roll of gauze and some antibiotic cream. You motioned for him to come closer and he obliged, unwrapping the towel and resting his hand in your smaller one. “Jesus Rudy. That’s a big cut..” you mumbled, spreading some of the antibiotic cream on his palm. “I’m such an idiot. I was just trying to grab the knife..” he explained. You looked up at him, a little frown on your lips.

God, you fell into his trap so easily. You were just eating this up. It was adorable how easily you believed him.

You wrapped up his hand, gently, with such care and love it almost hurt his heart. “Thank you doll. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” He smiled reassuringly. You looked up at him, tenderly rubbing his cheek.

He leant in, kissing you tenderly. You smiled, slinging your arms around his neck as he peppered kisses along your face. You giggled.

It wasn’t much, but it kept you out of the freezer. That was all that mattered. His secret wasn’t just a secret, it was a gift for you- and you have no business spoiling it before it comes to fruition.

[kitkats-and-kittens]

I know Dc has always proclaimed Tim Drake as the best detective and the smartest Robin and he is. By conventional measurements he is the best detective and he’s very smart but I wish they would acknowledge that each Robin is incredibly smart in their own way.

Dick Grayson is a master manipulator. He’s a genius when it comes to reading people and honestly whenever I need to write young him in fanfiction I literally just do Missy for Sheldon.

He’s smart. Book smart, but also people smart and people need to acknowledge this more it pains me to see DC forget this in exchange for a far more fannon. Far less complex version of him. He’s smart! Let him be smart.

Jason Todd is also book smart, though less mathematics and science and more classical literature. That man knows his way around the collections of Fyodor Dostoyevsky and that’s not even mentioning his street smarts.

He may not be the best conventional detective but he knows how to distinguish different gangs and their territories. He knows where dealers like to run their shops and he knows when a crime is too messy to have been caused by any of the rogues in the area.

Stephanie of course is a mix of the two. She’s good with people and she’s good on the streets but she’s also for very obvious reasons amazing at puzzles. Any tricky, seemingly impossible sort of quiz she’s got it, which is especially useful when the criminals of Gotham enjoy sending their hero’s on a wild goose chase.

She’s incredibly good at seeing through riddles and word vomit and she’s an amazing detective in her own right which should be used more.

Cass has been proven to be a great detective on so many occasions and of course do we even have to mention how adept she is at reading body language?

Her knowledge of combat is obviously unmatched and I’d love to see comics take this and apply it to her detective skills. How cool would it be for her to analyse a corpse and tell the fighting style of the assailant just by noting where on the body the strikes landed?

Realistic? No, but this is comics. Let me have my fun.

Damian was obviously trained in a dozen forms of martial arts, but he’s obviously knowledgeable about other things. The LoA are eco terrorists. You’re telling me that kid doesn’t know plants?

And that’s not even mentioning his knowledge of weapons and how he knows the ins and outs of organised crimes after living surrounded by it for a decade.

Plus his undercover skills.

Duke is new to me so I don’t know as much about him, but like Jason and Steph he grew up in the narrows and was part of gang, plus he apparently survived the riddler at like age 7 (pls don’t quote me on this I know practically nothing about zero year). So I can assume he’s incredibly intelligent. Street smarts! Also his powers let him look into the past which as evidenced in WFA can be used to help solve crimes.

Like I don’t want them to be conventional detectives. Let Tim be the Sherlock Holmes of the family. He’s already shown to be very observant.

I want to see more of the batfam using their own unique skill sets to solve crimes. They’re all good detectives they just have different ways of solving crimes.

Pls Dc, they would look so cool. If WFA can do it so can you! 😭😭

[jaspvids]

The Diagnosis Of David

Disclaimer: I am by no means a mental health professional. This is just a meta-analysis.

What do we think of when we think of David?

His values of kindness. Optimism. Hope. Conviction. Passion. His drive to do his best every single day. The way he always makes an effort to reach out to others.

But also:

Attachment issues. People pleaser. Rose-colored glasses wearer. And at times, though the fandom doesn’t want to acknowledge it — Selfish. Unstable. Rude. Hypocritical. Kind of a dick.

See this video I made;

He’s complex, so let’s try to unpack him, and figure out what he’s got going on under that floof.

On David’s Childhood

David has been through a number of traumatic events in his childhood, most notably:

Witnessing Jasper fall to his near-death.

Finding Jasper, and being almost mauled by bears during the escape.

Clown school was apparently very bad, given the flashback-like reaction he had when it was mentioned. I’m unsure of his age when this occurred, however.

The fight with Jasper at the cave before they parted ways.

Losing Jasper. He says Cameron told him he was picked up by his parents, but I’m not convinced it’s not just his mind trying to erase painful memories.

As far as what we don’t necessarily see in the show, but can infer, David’s father was either not present or not great. He dreamt Cameron was his real father, as seen below.

And we all know Cameron is an awful father figure to begin with.

Yet, that’s better to David, apparently, than whatever he had at home. Which implies it was likely a pretty bad situation.

This can also be backed up by his attachment to the camp — growing up (and even now) it seems to be more of a home to him than his actual home.

That’s a home that hasn’t ever been mentioned, by the way. Contrary to Gwen, we know absolutely nothing about his family. He hasn’t talked about them once, if I recall correctly.

David is often open with emotions, if not wearing his heart on his sleeve. So why would he never mention his family and home?

We know why.

Even as an adult, he has retained this attachment to Cameron (who has in turn, continued to use this attachment to his benefit). He gets very excited about helping Cameron change in “keep the change” — because he needs to believe people who hurt him can get better. Otherwise, it’s too painful to bear.

The Loss Of Jasper

Part of his childhood, but significant enough to warrant its own section.

Jasper and David had a very interesting relationship. We’ve seen in the past that David was pessimistic, foulmouthed, and hot-tempered, directly compared to an optimistic, peppy, popular Jasper.

But then Jasper saw Cameron’s real self, and David received a modicum of praise for what was likely the first time based on his reaction. And so, they basically did somewhat of a switcheroo.

(David takes on many traits of Jasper after this experience, showing that he does admire him at the end of the day. I believe these traits are the foundation of David’s many masks.)

Despite the whole shebang, further episodes show us that they form a strong bond (or maintain one, we don’t know what happened before the first Jasper and David episode.)

What makes this friendship especially crucial in David’s development is that I believe Jasper was the first person to truly stand up for David.

David is, as we have seen, easily manipulated. Jasper picks up on this, and knowing Cameron’s just trying to use his best friend, tries to take Cameron down.

Jasper essentially died trying to protect David.

If Jasper hadn’t died, I don’t think David would have ended up as gullible and dependent as he is. If he had the more rational and realistic Jasper by his side during the rest of his developmental years, I believe things would have ended up much, much differently.

With Jasper’s death, there seems to be nobody else at camp who knows of Cameron’s crimes, or possibly, doesn’t want to speak out about them. Nobody to stand up for him. Nobody to redirect him.

So there’s nobody to stop the unhealthy-attachment-train from picking up speed.

Cameron And David’s Relationship

Cameron is manipulative and abusive towards David. This even becomes physical:

Despite this, David continues to idolize him as is seen in many cases of abuse. He works his ass off maintaining Cameron’s camp. Cameron’s approval makes or breaks him, because this is the man he sees as a father, unfortunately.

In addition, David is unable to let go of the hope that Cameron can change, because he’s convinced himself that deep down Cameron is still “good”, based on his skewed perception of him. And we all know how that ended.

But as Diane from Bojack Horseman once said —

And that is David’s problem — he wants so much for there to be a “deep down”, that there will be a day where Cameron showers him with praise and throws signed adoption forms at him, etcetera.

He judges Cameron not on who he actually is, but who he wants him to be. And so, the unhealthy attachment remains.

(Which is, of course, incredibly destructive to his mental health.)

Other Things We Know About His Mental Health, From Canon

We know he takes meds.

We know he has (sometimes dissociative) panic attacks.

We know he has been seen to suddenly snap, even to the point of violence.

My Final Conclusion: C-PTSD

(As the trauma has been not just one event, but many over the course of his life, and among other reasons, I believe CPTSD fits better than PTSD.)

David meets much of the criteria, most notably:

Lack of emotional regulation

Dissociation

Flashbacks

Anxiety

Guilt and shame

Distorted perception of abuser

Relationship difficulties

Okay this was long I’m tired good night.

[gay-dorito-dust]

you’ve got a great writing style! I was wondering if you could write Ford x Reader where reader finds him mid flashback/panic attack because of his history with Bill, and has to comfort him, but having no clue about his past so just really struggling 😭

sorry if this is too specific or niche so no pressure!

You had been looking for Ford for what felt like forever now, even going as far as to ask the twins whether or not they have seen their Grunkle, only for the two to share a look of concern before telling you that they saw him bolt off into his room with a look of pure panic upon his face.

‘He looked like he remembered something that he didn’t want to remember.’ Dipper said and you thanked him before heading towards Ford’s room, where you noticed the door was open and the man you were looking for all day was huddled in the corner of his room with a haunted, yet terrified, look upon his face as his breathing came out raged.

‘Ford?’ You whispered.

No response.

‘Ford.’ You spoke louder this time, beginning to become worried as you stepped into his room, closing the door softly behind you, all the while keeping your eyes on the man who looked as though he had saw a ghost of his past.

Taking a deep breath you cautiously walked towards Ford, all the while also keeping a good deal of distance between you both for his benefit as you knelt on the floor across from him. It wasn’t until you were close to Ford to notice the tears glistening within his eyes, or how his lower lip was being bitten to absolute death to the point of bleeding, or the way his fingers gripped and clawed his own arms. It hurt you to see Ford like this as it pained your heart to not know what he was going through, especially when all you wanted to do was help him however you could.

‘Ford you’re hurting yourself.’ You said lowly as you gently took both of his hands in yours, allowing him to squeeze them as tightly as he wanted, ignoring your own pain at his grip as you rubbed your thumbs against the back of them soothingly. ‘No one is going to hurt you Ford, I don’t know what’s got you like this but you’re safe, you’re safe with me.’ You promised as you felt Ford squeeze your hands in what felt like morse code; something you and Ford had both used when neither of you felt comfortable speaking upon your feelings in public spaces, so you both agreed to resort to morse code instead.

‘You’re safe.’ You repeat as you squeezed his hands back. ‘Stan is safe, Dipper, Mabel, Soos, Fiddelford, Wendy and myself are here if you ever need us Ford, please I just want to know if you’re okay.’ You pleaded as you felt hopeless in trying to comfort Ford and you hated it as all you wanted to do was make him happy, safe and loved, but how could you do that when he was seemingly frozen in fear of something you weren’t privy to.

Ford blinked his teary eyes as they finally acknowledged you and you swore you could hear him take a deep sigh of relief, seemingly having came out of his own head, before pulling you in his arms where he held you tight as he buried his head into your shoulder.

‘You’re okay.’ He whispered. ‘You’re all okay, he didn’t win, he didn’t get to any of you.’

You didn’t know who this ‘he’ was but it was obvious that Ford feared him more than anything, and while the mystery about this character that seemingly haunted Ford unnerved you, you could only hope that your hug would reassure him that you were real and not imaginary.

‘I’m here Ford, I’m right here.’ You reassured him. ‘Nothing is going to take me away from you, nothing.’

[carriesthewind]

Ok I'm not done complaining about this.

The IA's tweets about how "Publishers removed '1984' [and Fahrenheit 451] from our library"! really underscore how to me, their messaging has been more about self-serving performative manipulation than anything else.

They are deliberately comparing the enforcement of existing copyright law against them, individually and specifically, to the wholesale destruction and suppression of knowledge.

The metaphor really doesn't work in this case*, but that doesn't matter. The idea is not to convey a truth, but a feeling of oppression and injustice.

I just checked. I can check out both of those books, by ebook, from my local library. As in, they are available to check out right now.

And that's not true for everyone, I want to acknowledge! There are real access issues, even for popular books like those. And there are absolutely a number of people who only had access to certain in-copyright books because of IA. ...but also, again, because of how IA works, 1) those are also people who already had the ability to access the internet and all the content therewithin (including other resources designed specifically by librarians to get people access books that may be banned where they live), and 2) they still have access to so many other books through IA (and other resources).**

*And just to make it clear - I'm not saying that there aren't a lot of good arguments and examples about how aspects of the current copyright regime are dystopian. But in this context, these specific books are not the metaphors you are looking for.

**They are currently retweeting a bunch of folks from India, and it feels...a bit weird to me, in context. I know literally nothing about access to books and media in India. (I suspect, given the number of people, it is a topic with a great many facets and issues.) But there's something that feels...off to me, about how much they are focusing on the fact that this removed "more than 1,300 banned and challenged books"***, all of which, as far as I can tell, are either English-language books or books that were already published in English. It makes me question to what extent anyone involved in leadership in the IA knows about access needs in India either.

***Worth noting: they are counting each individual copy of a book - so in getting to their numbers, they count Lady Chatterley's Lover, for example, as 38 books removed.****

****Also you can still borrow all of these books from IA if you need access because of print-reading disability. They aren't actually removed and if you were relying on their print-reading accessibility program, you can still use it.

[junosmindpalace]

SHE WANTS YOU!

🎧 you’re proud to be my man, and i won’t let you go!

synopsis: they just can't see what a particular fangirl of theirs is trying to do...with the msby 4!

content: litte bits of insecure reader and little bit of clueless msby. but fears are put to rest. fluffy. casual intimacy. they are Smitten & loyal bfs

total wc: 4k

BOKUTO: Kotaro has always been good at handling difficult people. It just wasn’t in his nature to think the worst of them, and he handles even intentional malice by interpreting it as genuine questions or comments that needed a response to. And so he’d reflect and answer honestly how he felt, and that was often times enough to shut those kinds of people down. 

Even the seemingly most malicious kinds of people Bokuto eagerly approached in a friendly manner and treated as a close friend. That, of course, included his fans. 

He's always been one to enjoy basking in the limelight, being praised for his strengths and acknowledged for his easy going attitude. It was a great bolster to his self-esteem; he loved the people, and boy did they love him. 

It’s because of Kotaro’s easy going attitude that made forming a relationship with him very easy. 

Boundaries can become more easily crossed, but Kotaro doesn’t have very many, which only encourages fans to attempt to see just how far they can tread over the line before they’re pushed back on the other side of it. 

Of course, there was nothing wrong with fan interactions, especially on your end; your heart swelled when you saw the ways his fans supported him and how much joy your boyfriend took in connecting with them. Their support meant just as much as his love for the sport he plays.

But there’s one fan you just can’t help but get a bad feeling from.

It’s more instinctive than anything, but the fact that you’re a little too familiar with her doesn’t sit right with you. She's somehow managed to catch Bokuto at all his events, and talk with him outside of matches before he's due to depart from the arena. She's always eager to catch him, even at the very last second, but since it’s Bokuto, he has no qualms, and happily stays to chat for a couple of minutes before the coach insists the team needs to get a move on. 

And then she’d start to slowly up the physical touch, from brushing her hand against his skin while reaching for something for him to sign, to fully grasping his arm as she laughs at something he said. 

You knew he wouldn’t believe you at first when you brought up your concerns. 

“Really? I mean, I don't blame her for coming back for more; I'm awesome! But she’s only a fan!”

This one particular person you had a bad feeling about was not exempted from your boyfriend's goodwill, despite over time becoming more obvious with her intentions. Eventually, she began treating him like an old friend with some underlying feelings. 

“I don't think she has bad intentions.” he’d answer honestly in response to your concern. Of course, Bokuto doesn’t want to believe that this nice fan of his has an underlying agenda with her eager conversations, but he can at least see that the situation has been stressing you out with each reluctant drop of the subject, lip jutted out as if not fully soothed by his reassurance. 

She’s there in the crowd again, and you know that after the game, no matter the outcome, she’ll go looking for your boyfriend as he sticks around for a couple of interviews to conclude the day, and you dread it. The game goes smoothly, with Kotaro in perfect form, something you know he wasn’t able to achieve very often back in his high school days, and you can’t help but marvel sometimes at the amount of progress he’s made.

When the Jackals eventually file out of the gym after their triumphant win, you make a beeline for each other. He quickly runs to meet you halfway in one of the halls, caught up in his adrenaline high from the game as he wraps his arms around your waist and spins you off the ground. He’s sweaty, and how he still has energy is beyond you, but you don’t care and immediately reciprocate the affection, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“Did you see me? Did you see how amazing I was out there?” he badgers excitedly as he puts you down, and you nod with a grin. 

“You did so good, Ko! That spike in the final set was—“ 

“Kotaro! You were incredible!”

Your grip on his forearms immediately tighten, and the two of you both look over your shoulder to see her jogging up to the two of you with a breathless laugh. 

“As always, of course. I knew you’d be able to power through their defense!” 

“Well, not always.” Bokuto let’s out a little laugh and peeks from the corner of his eye at your tense smile. She seems to take notice as well, and hers only widens. 

“Give yourself more credit,” she scoffs playfully. “I noticed even in this game that you—“ 

“I appreciate the kind words, but I can’t stay to chat.” he smiles at her, wide and genuine, and you look down in surprise when you feel his arm wrap around you, his hand squeezing your shoulder as he brings you to his side. 

“My partner here is treating me to a celebratory meal!” 

The two of you both blink in surprise at his words. Typically no matter how crowded his schedule, he always spares a couple of minutes to chat. 

“Oh, well… I suggest this one sushi place nearby. I can pull up the location!”

“That's alright! Y/N already promised to take me to one of my favorite places. It was nice seeing you again!”

And with that, he takes your hand and drags you off with a bounce in his step and a smile still plastered on his face.

There isn’t a single indication that any of his words were fake or had a malicious undertone meant to humiliate her. Only that he was vocal in that he prioritized you over her. 

You gave him a teasing smile. “So, when did I say I'd be treating you?” 

“You mean you won’t?!” he whips his head toward you with a heartbroken expression, as if having fully expected that you’d reward him for his incredible performance. 

“No, no, of course I will. Anything you want.” you grinned, bumping his shoulder as his grip on your hand tightened and his smile widened, and he continued to boast about how great his plays were. 

He later posts a message of thanks to his fans for all the support he received for the match on his socials with a photo of the two of you enjoying your meals. You can now be confident that no other fan will be testing their luck with his boundaries any time soon.

MIYA: Atsumu is solely focused on himself. On his plays. On sharpening his skill. On having his fun.

And, of course, on you. 

Atsumu, as much as it has been stereotyped for him, is not one to look for validation in his fans. Whether they’re a fangirl or an old man in the stands who's watched the game all his life, he does not care for their criticisms nor their compliments. The only people he at all considers feedback from is his coach, his brother, and you. That doesn’t mean he’s immune to what they say about each one of his plays, however. He gets down when the commentators call out a bad play, and pumped when the stadium roars with cheers for him. 

But because of this sort of suave personality of his, people fit him into the mould of a playboy. And because he has such high expectations of the people around him, people have assumed that he had high expectations of his romantic partners as well.

Someone rich, someone famous, someone absolutely drop dead gorgeous. That was who the majority of Atsumu's fans assume is his criteria for a partner. And so, when he’s spotted out with a celebrity he’s been working closely with for a modeling partnership, one that happens to exceed all of those expectations, it’s no surprise that dating rumors regarding the two of them being in secret kahoots start to circulate among not only their individual fanbases, but the sports community as well. 

Multiple comments claiming the encounters to be a “soft launch” made your eye twitch as you encountered them under related posts. You couldn’t help but sometimes find yourself laughing at those who insist that it’s obvious they’re in love with one another. 

Perhaps the celebrity he’s been hanging with was in love with him, as she hasn’t been the least bit shameless in expressing her admiration and adoration for your boyfriend, but Atsumu had not the slightest bit of romantic interest for her. You knew through his exasperated rants about her being difficult and obnoxious. But, of course, nobody else knew. 

Still, he works with her for quite a bit of time. And though you know Atsumu isn’t the type to be disloyal, certainly not toward you, you can’t help but let the rumors get to your head sometimes, and in turn an insecurity manifests in the form of an ache in your chest or a lump in your throat. It doesn't help the fact that this celebrity is constantly posting her time with him online, and “playfully” validating comments that ship the two of them together. 

He tells you to get off of social media when you get down about the situation. It just isn’t worth the mental torture; and besides, their relationship is strictly professional. It's the only reason why she’s so friendly. For a man who loves to bask in whatever praise he’s given, he sure seems oblivious to the very obvious clues she’s been dropping him. He has to believe it’s strictly the guise of accomplishing successful business. 

Still, it’s not like you make a conscious decision to go against his words and subject yourself to further irritation and insecurity. You couldn’t help yourself; you knew very well that, compared to her, you were a nobody. You couldn’t compete with everything she had. 

You slowly started to agree with the comments who argued that they should get together; they do look pretty good together, they are extremely compatible. And above all else, she could probably support him way better than you ever could. You swear to yourself you don’t feel jealous, bitter, petty--not in the slightest.

But the sour expression Atsumu comments on one evening while the two of you lounge on your couch as you yet again scroll through comments claiming your boyfriend would suit someone not like you has you reflecting otherwise. 

“What’s with the look? Reading the news?”

“Mm.” Is your vague reply, eyes not peeling away from the screen in front of you. Atsumu’s curiosity grows, and he raises an eyebrow. 

“What’s it say?” 

A moment of silence between the two of you as you continue scrolling. When you finally process the question and silence, you inhale sharply and finally look up at him, closing your phone and setting it on the coffee table beside you. “No, it’s nothing. Just something online.” 

“Ugh. Don’t tell me you’ve been scrolling through those comments again.”

You shoot him a glare at his insensitivity, but also at how quickly he was to figure it out. The sour look on your face has become synonymous with that topic that Atsumu could easily recognize as the source of your frustration.

“Fine. I won’t tell you.”

He groans as he collapses on top of you, closing his eyes and nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You grunt in pain at the sudden weight, and still annoyed from his previous comment, you try to pry his face away, which only makes Atsumu stubbornly latch even harder onto you. “Atsumu!”

“I told you, those people have no idea what they’re talking about. She’s insufferable.”

“I know.”

It’s a statement, but the sad tone in which you say it makes Atsumu’s heart sink. He opens his eyes and tilts his head to look up at you, chin digging into the side of your arm. “You’re way prettier.”

You roll your eyes. “Thanks.” 

“And your place is nicer. And your food is tastier. And your humor is better than hers.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh as you feel your heart lighten a little at his attempts at picking you up, and Atsumu feels his own growing lighter, too. “Don’t tell Osamu about the food thing.”

“Oh, no, his is still better than yours.”

“Of course it is.” You reply back as if it were hardly a matter that needed to be debated. 

Atsumu was good at this; making you smile, making you laugh, making you feel loved and wanted. It didn’t take long for him to stomp on the insecurities that managed to manifest in your heart in order to lessen their load on you. He wouldn’t stand for his partner to feel inadequate compared to someone else, especially since Atsumu chose you. You and your wit, your kindness, your passion, your talent, your everything. 

He stays over that night as he often does, and he knows he really shouldn’t do this, but the people he cares about came before anything else. And what’s the worst it could do, really?, responding to a couple of comments?

Needless to say that Atsumu’s replies talking you up about how great you are under his shippers’ comments make headlines on news articles the next day--and show the world just who his heart truly belongs to regardless of who you were. 

HINATA: Much about him is different, upgraded. His technical skill has immensely bolstered since his high school days. He's able to pull off more in games; impressive feats achieved by his lightning quick reflexes and speed, once aiding him in his high school signature quick now aiding him in setting and receiving, sharpened by his intense training in the South. Even his physique is different; still shorter than most players you’d encounter in the realm of volleyball, but he’s grown a few inches and packed muscle all around. If that wasn’t enough proof of his hard work, his tan surely gave away just how much he dedicated himself to the sport with all the time he spent out in the sun training. 

All of these things, along with his impressive performance on the court, have made Shoyo Hinata quite popular, and not simply for what people used to cheer him on for; being the underdog, or one half of a fearsome duo. His journey as a player aided him in his career, and all on his own has he established himself as an indomitable force. 

People admire him for that. You admire him for that. You couldn’t blame the people who were so amazed and star stricken by him; how could you when you were as well?

But sometimes it went overboard, and sometimes it seemed like you were the only person who took notice. Sometimes this one sided observation was accidental; he’s too absorbed in his game; in the blood rushing to his ears, in the thrill of a good game-- that he just doesn’t notice. Sometimes you purposely keep the observation one-sided; these kinds of fans are inevitable, and the rational part of you knows they won’t compromise your relationship by any means. 

There's one enthusiastic interviewer that’s a fan of Shoyo’s, and that he’s very friendly with; as he is with all of them. But this one in particular has managed to latch onto him because of it. You see her and her crew at every one of his games, big or small, and always openly expresses her very immense love for the sport; and for him. 

Of course, Shoyo only understands “volleyball”, and you know that he’s always been giddy over being shown on the front covers or interviewed online, and so he’s always eager to accept a conversation with her, especially since she’s so friendly and knowledgeable.

iIt’s late in yours and Shoyo’s apartment when they run the interviews and live games from a big game earlier that season. As they start to discuss the Black Jackals, you call for him over your shoulder in the kitchen, where he’s preparing dinner.

“Sho, hurry, it’s starting!” 

You can hear the increased urgency in his movements, but they die out as you watch one of his interviews from a very familiar news channel come onto screen. Your boyfriend, from hours earlier, stares happily at the interviewer behind the lens.

“Your skill and strength was absolutely incredible in this game- as it always is. You were also very impressive in high school, you must’ve been really popular—especially with the girls.”

You felt your smile drop slightly, not even hearing the curses coming out of Shoyo’s mouth as he fumbled around in the kitchen. 

The Shoyo on screen chuckled and rubbed his neck. “Oh, no, not really. Many didn’t even believe I was a starter!” 

“Oh, that’s me!” Present Shoyo struggling with your food calls out excitedly from behind the kitchen wall. 

“I know!” you laugh over your shoulder, and you recognize the interviewer’s also intermingling with yours, which only makes your irritation grow. 

“You’re so impressive though, especially now! I'm sure there isn’t a single person out there who wouldn’t want to be with you.” 

You could feel a vein in your head pop and your eye twitch, but you were caught off guard by on- screen-Shoyo’s next words.

“Well, I wouldn’t really know; I have an amazing partner who I'm always looking at, so if there were, I wouldn't have noticed!” he laughed, and it’s so sincere that your heart flutters at the honesty behind it.

“Ohh, that’s so sweet.” you hear the interviewer speak again, and you laugh at the significantly less cheer in her voice. “They must all envy—?“

“Y/N!” he interrupts to introduce you with a cheerful nod. “Yeah, I'm not sure. I know I used to envy their admirers.” he reflects with a short laugh. “But they’re truly my biggest supporter, and always put up with my schedules and drills. There’s one drill in particular actually—“ 

He goes back to droning on about the subject at hand, about his volleyball training and how it impacted his performance in the game, but by the time Shoyo from behind the kitchen wall finally arrives into the living room, the main spokesperson has moved on to discussing other players and matches. 

“Aw, did I miss it?” Shoyo cries disappointedly as he speeds into the room, sliding your plate down on the coffee table in front of you and taking a seat beside you on the couch with his own. 

You grin at him, mind still on his words from before and you nudged him. “Took you long enough.”

“You could’ve helped.” he grumbles and you kiss his cheek sympathetically with a small sorry, and from the way he brightens and his cheeks tint pink, you can tell you’re immediately forgiven. 

And as he gushes in awe of the other players’ highlights and interviews, a small part of you can’t help but think back on his words and feel a little smug with yourself when you also remember the interviewer’s awkward disposition after he had brought you up. You can’t help but be comforted to know that the innocent mention of you was not only a reminder to her, but to those like her, that his heart was fully committed to you and only you.  

SAKUSA: If there was one aspect of Sakusa’s career he particularly disliked, it was the fans. 

It was evident that he couldn’t care less about the fame he had or the things people were willing to do for him or had to say about him (unless they were directly interfering with his life), and you couldn’t help but feel some sort of relief to know Kiyoomi would not spare a single glance at some of his more fiercely devoted fans.

Yet of course, your problem had to lie outside of that realm.

Your problem was not an avid fan, who had the circumstances of a parasocial relationship to comfort you, but a colleague of Kiyoomi’s whom the Jackals worked pretty closely with; and happened to be quite a fan of your boyfriends.

You felt bad getting worked up over something so petty, but her persistence in trying to extend her relationship with Sakusa into something friendlier couldn’t help but sound off alarm bells in your head. You already knew that your boyfriend had a million other nuisances to deal with, and you had no intention of adding onto that list with your selfishness and unjustified uneasiness, especially when you knew your boyfriend had strict boundaries he wouldn’t compromise for anyone. 

Well, almost anyone. 

She was shamelessly unprofessional at times, attempting to emulate your affectionate behavior towards him in hopes that she’ll receive the same sort of submissive response that only you could get out of him. 

Your boyfriend, for the sake of keeping good business, tolerated the over-friendliness, and saw it as nothing more than an attempt at trying to seem more casual and easy going in a business setting. 

You’ve attempted to subtly bring up your discomfort at times when she got too out of hand for your liking, typically when the two of you were in the car or lounging around at home. You’d ask his thoughts about her behavior or her personality, to which he respond with something that amounted to the conclusion that: “she’s just doing her job.” 

She’s tagged along on one of the away games that you so happen to also be coming along on. She's been quite enthusiastic on sharing her research on the area they’re staying in to him, and she doesn’t spare a single detail as he prepares to head out for the day. 

“--and apparently the food in this area is extremely good. Everyone says that you can’t visit without trying it. There’s this restaurant in particular not too far from the training center! I’m sure I can get the two of us reservations before we--” 

“Why would we do that?” he asks suddenly, obviously already irritated by her incessant conversation, turning toward her with a frown. 

Her expression is one of shock and slight embarrassment for a moment before she recollects herself. 

“Just…you know, to sample the cuisine!”

“Is it business related?”

Again, blunt and to the point, the woman needs a moment before she responds.

“Well--”

“My partner and I have plans while we’re in the area. You can talk to my manager about scheduling a meeting regarding any matters you have to discuss. I've already discussed with them my availability.” 

You start to approach him as he finishes setting the remainder of his gear into his training bag, and the woman yet again tries to recollect herself after suddenly being met with the fact that Kiyoomi was already taken. He looks up at you waiting for him by the gymnasium doors, and doesn’t even spare the woman a single glance or wave before making his way over.

He bumps your shoulder as he strides in step with you, mumbling “let’s get out of here.” and then “are your hands clean?”

And when you mumble a yeah in response, he reaches down to take one in his, intertwining your fingers and leaving just enough room for the woman watching your backs to be able to see the rare show of affection. 

You’re caught off guard by the sudden pda, and glance over your shoulder, then back at him in confusion. He feels your quizzical gaze on him and sighs exasperatedly. “She wasn’t just doing her job…”

You couldn’t help but hum a little pleased with yourself, puffing out your chest a little when you realized that she didn’t get her way, and squeeze his hand a little tighter. He shoots you a look at you a little with a roll of his eyes and squeezes back. “We’re going back to the room.”

“Actually, I heard there was a really nice restaurant around here. I was thinking of trying to get us reservations.”

He stared down at your eager smile and bright eyes and found his resolve waning the longer he did so. He turned his gaze back toward the front. “Okay. Room first, though.”