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taintandviolent · 1 month ago

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Le coup de foudre ; Gambit x Reader

summary: THIS IS PART 3 OF THE TACO TUESDAY SERIES! PART ONE HERE / PART TWO HERE! Reader is suffering, big time. She wants Remy, but he hasn't called. Post-Void, everyone got out alive and everything is fine.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 3.1K | some angst to start things off, smut with some plot (we've got an established relationship, huzzah), French and typing out accents/dialects, pet names (chere, mon ami, mon coeur, etc.), shower sex, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, no use of y/n, and some fluff at the end, because I went and broke y'all's hearts in the last chapter.

a/n: praying that the gambit fandom hasn't completely died out.... i'm so sorry this took me so long. banner by @/strangergraphics!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

The first day is the hardest.

The first day is the hardest because by 1:30 PM, you realize that you’re in love with Remy Lebeau. You cry on the couch he kissed you on. Why are you crying? Because you can’t remember the last time you’ve been in love with someone, and you know what comes with love. None of it is good.

The second day sucks too because you go to work, and come home to an apartment that, for the first time since you’ve lived there, really felt empty. There’s nowhere you can sit that he hasn’t touched. His memory lingers everywhere and try as you might, you can’t escape it. You aren’t sure you want to, either, which is troubling in and of itself.

By the third day, your heart is aching, but it’s a dull ache. Something like anger has started to roil in your system, and you’re wondering why he hasn’t called, or stopped by. You can justify it by saying that you don’t know what mutant superheroes go through or what their daily life looks like, but you’re still sour that there’s been nothing but radio silence on his end.

Day four comes and goes, and nothing changes. You’re still sad. You’re still angry. But most of all, you’re still lonely.

Day five… however. Day five comes, you’ve cycled through all the stages of grief and landed somewhere on the spectrum of desperation.

So, after work, you march across the hall to Wade’s, and knock three times in a little melody. After a few moments, the door flies open, revealing a very casual looking Wade. He’s wearing a Hawaiian shirt and grey sweats. You avert your eyes from his groin, out of respect.

“Wade,” you stammer, scratching a non-existent itch on your arm. “Hey.”

“Pookie! How nice of you to stop by. Blind Al and I were just about to partake in some Colombian party powder, care to join us?”

Your pupils dilate. Was he being serious? You couldn’t tell. “Uh… no. No, I’m good.”

You shift uneasily. You aren’t sure how to start this, so you just blurt whatever comes out.

“Wade… um. Look, I’m sorry to ask this of you. I just…. I can’t take it anymore. He doesn’t seem like the type to ghost someone, and I just… I really want to talk to him.”

“You want Gambit’s number?”

You perk up, relieved that you didn’t have to ask the question yourself. Wade was more perceptive than you thought.

“Y-yeah, if you have it.”

“I don’t. Womp-womp. But I gave him yours.”

“Oh…” A beat. “...wait. How did you get my number?”

“Remember that package that was misdelivered?”

“No….”

“Yikes. Well, I do. It had your name and phone number on it. I figured it’d be useful to have so…” He taps the side of his head.

“Why did you… did he ask for it?”

“Boy, did he.”

You frown, feeling an overwhelming flurry of emotions. On one hand, he’s had your number and hasn’t called. On the other hand, he wanted your number. But he hadn’t done a damn thing with it. Your shoulders sink, unconsciously.

“Oh, sweet cheeks. Someone play some Cigarettes After Sex, this is getting emotional.” Wade mock frowns, looking off to the left for a moment before his eyes dart back to you. “He’s probably saving lives or something heroic. Undisclosed mutant drama.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, choosing to ignore his weird commentary. “I appreciate it.”

“What’re you gonna’ do now? Cue the depressed drinking montage.”

“That’s a great idea, actually…”

“No, no… let’s not.”

You interject with a finger in his face. “Yeah, let’s.”

“If you’re going to do that, let’s do it inside. C’mon.” Wade doesn’t give you a moment to reject him, and plants both of his hands on your shoulders, yanking you forward.

Turns out, Wade does have alcohol. He makes you a drink, something that tastes like whiskey. Maybe it's your whiskey, left over. You bring the glass to your lips, sucking the liquid down. It’s strong, but you aren’t complaining.

“Oooohohoh, you’ve got it bad, huh? Heart eyes and all that mushy-gushy shit?”

You throw a glare his way, and take another sip. The liquor burns better than any remark you could’ve come up with.

“It’s okay,” he says, nodding. “I can’t say I blame you. It’s that Southern charm he’s got. Handsome, slick, and he can do magic tricks.” His eyes widen, excitedly. “How could you not fall in love with him?”

“Wade, you’re not helping.”

“Sure I am,” he retorts.

You take a seat on Wade’s couch, looking distraught. You’re thankful that Blind Al is in fact… blind because she can’t see the way that the tears are welling up in your eyes. You look at the chairs that you two sat on, flirting with each other.

“Oh,” Wade says, looking somewhat surprised. “Oh no.”

“She cryin’?” Blind Al asks. Great, she’s perceptive. You swallow back a sob, and bring the glass to your lips again.

“Almost… almost… c’mon, give us a cinematic, single tear.”

You shake your head and suck it up as best you can. You don’t want acknowledgement, that’ll only make it worse, possibly sending you into a fit of sobs. You don’t even know why you’re so upset – it’s not like he told you he never wanted to see you again. He just hadn’t… well, done anything and that was somehow worse.

“Je-sus…!” Wade says suddenly, leaning over to angrily look through the peephole. He stays there for a moment, before leaning back, a sly smile on his face.

And that’s when you hear the dull thudding that has Wade’s attention. It sounds like a knock – a heavy handed one.

You straighten your spine, curious.

“Oh, this is too perfect.” He says under his breath, before taking one step towards you. “Save the waterworks, your Cajun Prince has returned.”

You set the glass on the floor and scramble off the couch, practically on all fours as you run towards the door, pushing Wade out of the way. Standing on your tiptoes to look through the peephole for only a split second, you get a visual. Hurriedly, you twist the knob and throw the door open, wanting to rip it off its hinges. It bumps into the wall behind it, and your breath rushes out.

Remy stands there, facing your door, his fist raised to knock again. He has a duffel bag on his shoulder, which slides off the second he hears your voice.

“Remy?” you call, your voice quivering slightly. He turns abruptly, his coat flaring out behind him. He’s wearing armor now, and looks like he’s just come back from something serious.

“Chere? What’re you –”

You don’t need to answer again, instead, just run across the hall, rushing into his arms. Your body hits him so hard that you let out a little vocalization, a delicate oomph, as you compress yourself to him. He immediately responds by wrapping one arm around your waist, and the other around the back of your head, hand petting your hair gently.

He smells like blood, sweat and ash, but you nuzzle your cheek into the rigid plate of his purple chestplate anyway, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso in a desperate hug.

After a moment, you pull away, just enough to look up at him. He looks down at you, his eyes burning with such an adoration that you can’t help but clench your stomach. He looks like he missed you as much as you missed him.

“Is this your superhero outfit?” Your fingers stroke the ridges in his cowl, admiring it. Slowly, they trail down the length of it, and begin to make their way over his smooth chestplate.

He laughs, looking down at you. “ ‘Spose so.”

“I like it.”

Two smiles later, he pulls you in for a bruising kiss, lifting you up off the ground slightly. You’re on your tiptoes again, smashing your lips against his and tasting him as hungrily as you did the first time – if not hungrier. There’s something extremely erotic about kissing a costumed hero, something to do with uniforms and all that, you assume, but the butterflies in your stomach go wild at the feeling of his armor against you. This time, you don’t try to suppress anything and give into the feeling of it all.

Someone sighs dreamily behind you and Remy breaks the kiss to look knowingly over the top of your head. Wade is leaning against his door frame, hands clasped in front of his chest. Short of having hearts bursting over his head, he’s silently gushing, his brows pulled together in a sappy expression, with a dorky smile curling around his lips.

“Oh, c’mon! Just a peek? Where’s your sense of fan service?!”

“No, Wade.” Remy croons, opening your door and pulling you in with him. He shuts the door with one hand.

“Now before we get to the good stuff, I wanna’ wash this day offa’ me.”

You nod your head, understanding, and reach for his hand. The bathroom is adjacent to your bedroom, so you lead him down the hall.

You flick on the light; it’s all dark tile and cool tones. You head to the sizable shower, and open the glass door, leaning in just enough to turn the knob. The water splashes to life, and steam fills the bathroom quickly.

Watching Remy undress himself is like a strip tease that has you biting your lip. He’s determinate and meticulous, like he knows you’re watching. The jacket and armor pieces come off first, and get set on the edge of the bathroom counter. Then comes the shirt, revealing that delicious torso again, the one that you’ve been longing to run your hands over for almost a week. He quickly unzips his pants and drags them down his legs before setting them atop the rest of the items. The briefs are last – the perfect ending to reveal his heavy, flaccid cock before he turns, and walks into the shower. He’s got a perfect ass, too; muscular and round. You’re pretty sure you could bounce a quarter off of it. The water splashes against the roundness of his freckled shoulders, spattering against the muscle and onto the tile.

“Chere, c’mere…” He reaches for your hand, pulling it inside the shower.

“Wait, wait,” you laugh, and retract your hand. “I’m not coming in there fully dressed.”

“Then get naked, mon amour. We know we done been waitin’ long enough to feel each other again.”

You pull your shirt over your head, and reach around back to undo your bra. Your jean shorts are next, joining the pile on the floor.

The water is warm, but Remy’s naked body is even warmer.

There’s a beautiful, tender familiarity in the way you touch each other, coupled with a hunger that can only be fueled by absence. He hasn’t had you in days, you haven’t had him; the desire has reached a boiling point, and needs to be expelled. He presses you against the tile of the shower, watching as the water pitter-patters against your skin, over your decollete, over your breasts and down the gentle curve of your stomach. He leans down and kisses the hollow of your throat, his hands cupping your hips forcefully.

“I missed you,” he murmurs against your skin.

“I missed you too… maybe more.”

“Ooh, doubt that.”

As his fingers trail along your body with an air of ownership, Remy kisses your wet shoulders, nipping at the warm, slick flesh. Despite the heat, you shiver. He has a real knack for making your body shudder. Your knees feel like jell-o, so you wrap your hands around his strong neck, interlacing your fingers behind it for some support.

His fingers dip down between your legs and teasingly splay out over your folds. His middle finger slips between them, glossing over your center, and slides all the way down, teasing your entrance with the pad of his finger. Everything is wet, but he can feel the slickness that meets his finger. His cock twitches against your thigh.

“‘Dat’s my girl,” he says, low. “Y’know, I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout ‘dis way too much.” His hand cups your cunt, as if to punctuate his sentence and you bite your lip, looking into his eyes. You shift, forcing more friction against his wet palm, the warm water pooling between your legs. “The thought of you been distractin’ me. You a dangerous woman, cher…”

“I’m dangerous? Says the guy who has fucked me in every room, on almost every surface in my apartment…”

Remy chuckles and the sound fills your heart. There it is again – that unyielding feeling of adoration. You’re horny as all get out, but somehow, you still have the capacity to swoon over tiny things like his laugh. This isn’t you, this isn’t what you’re used to. Frustrated, you bump your head against the tile, letting out a small groan.

He notices this, and brings his other hand – still leaving one situated between your legs – up behind your head.

“What’re you doin’? What’s wrong, chere?”

“Nothing...” you huff, looking over at the shower head. It doesn’t sound very convincing, but you aren’t ready to spill your guts to him yet… you’d rather have him rearrange your guts and not think about the feelings.

He smirks, devilishly, like he already knows. If he does, he’s not letting you off the hook.

“Guess I just gon’ have to fuck it outta’ you, huh?”

You avert your gaze back to him, pupils dilating. You know him well enough now that he means what says.

With that, he places a kiss on your forehead, and turns his body towards the stream of water. He begins washing himself, and you watch as the suds slowly trail down the ample curve of his back. You reach forward, spreading them over the indentation of his spine, washing him gently.

“Hoo, the way you touch me…” he murmurs just loud enough for you to hear it.

The shower is intimate and everything is mutual, cue the montage. For the… what? Tenth time that week? You realize that you're in way too deep with Remy. Way too deep, and there’s nothing you can do to change it.

Drying his feet off on the mat and allowing you space to do the same, Gambit then pulls a towel from the rack, and wraps it around your naked body. The droplets absorb into the fibers, and you’re a little less drippy. Well, your body is. The hungry, whining void between your legs isn’t.

When Gambit turns, you catch a glimpse of his half-hard cock and blush. Even though you’ve fucked it, sucked it and everything else, the sight of is still enough to send butterflies erupting in your stomach.

He can’t get you to the bedroom fast enough. His hands are on your hips, directing you towards the bed and you let out a little vocalization, much to his delight.

“C’mere, mon ami… get up on ‘dat bed.”

You obey. Why wouldn’t you? You’ve been waiting for this for almost a week now.

Before he has a chance to stop you, you’re reaching forward to take his cock in your hand. It’s heavy and hot and the feeling of it against your palm makes you clench painfully, twinging with heat. You take your time in stroking him to full hardness, swiping your thumb over the leaking tip and smearing the pre-cum down his veiny length.

Once he’s there, he’s like a freight train. Unstoppable and panting hard. He fucks you hard over the edge of the bed, hard enough to make your breasts bounce back and forth with each bullying thrust, withdrawing it to the tip and bottoming out each time. Your bedroom is filled with the sounds of bodies slapping together, flesh against flesh.

“Tell me,” he grunts. “Ain’t no place for secrets up in here.”

“It’s not important – uuhhh!” Another thrust, deep as he can go.

“Cher,” he growls and thrusts again. “I ain’t gonna’ let you cum ‘till you tell me.”

“No,” you moan, bringing your hands to your tits as they move. “Please, I’m so close, we can — uhhh god!”

He’s relentless.

“Fuck, fuck-fuck, oh my god…!”

With a slick pop, he pulls his cock all the way out. You lift your head up, gazing distraught between your legs; he’s centimeters away from you. The tip is red, glistening and angry as it twitches up, pre-cum leaking from the slit.

“Tell me, cher, or you ain’t gonna’ get ‘dis cock again.” He bucks his hips forward, dragging the fat, wet tip against your swollen cunt. You cry out at the sensation, your clit buzzing with electricity. Despite all that, he doesn’t penetrate you again, and you whimper at the empty sensation. Every time you try to move your hips to get his cock to slip in again, he pulls back just enough to put distance between you two. You whine through gritted teeth.

“Okay!”

He presses the head of his cock against your clit. Waiting. Patiently. So patiently. For a moment, you marvel at the control he has considering that his cock looks red and angry, aching to empty itself inside of you.

“Fine. I think…” You pause to catch your breath. “I think I love you.”

Remy closes his eyes for a second, reveling in the sound of you saying it. He’d wanted to say it to you at breakfast, and he’d wanted to say it before he left.

“Mm.”

“Mm?”

“Mmm-mm. ‘Dat’s what I wanted to hear, chere. An’ it sounds so good comin’ outta’ ‘dat mouth of yours.”

He lines the cockhead up, and bottoms out with another word. He’s said enough, apparently. When he takes hold of your hips, lifting them up slightly to give himself a deeper angle, you wrap your hands around your sheets until the fibers squeak. Your nails dig into the fabric, nearly puncturing holes in them. It’s only a few more earth-shattering thrusts before you cum, and before he fills you with white hot heat, the two of you calling and moaning each other’s names in ecstasy.

After softening inside of you, which is somehow extremely sweet, he withdraws himself from your cunt, and uses the sheet to clean up the mess that leaks out. He carefully lifts you up onto the bed fully, and then crawls next to you, nestling into the same space he did last night.

It’s like he never left.

“I really do, you know. I love you. I know we just met and fucked and that’s all, but I love you.”

“You keep sayin’ ‘dat’s all’ as if what we have is somethin’ casual, cher. You’re gonna’ hurt Remy’s feelings if you keep ‘dat up. So, knock it off, ah?”

“It’s… it’s not casual?”

He shakes his head. “I love you too, mon coeur. I have since I first saw you…”

You hum happily, and nuzzle yourself against his bare chest. “I finally understand that French phrase I learned… C’etait le coup de foudre?” (It was love at first sight.)

“Oui… oui.”

#Gambit #Remy Lebeau #channing tatum #Deadpool and Wolverine Gambit #channing tatum gambit #Gambit x reader #gambit x you #remy lebeau x reader #remy lebeau x you #female reader #Deadpool and Wolverine #Deadpool 3 #x reader fics #myfics

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sheeple · 8 months ago

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Heirs of Hogwarts | part 3

Genre(s): Nuisance to Lovers / Fake dating / Fluff / No Voldy au Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Mattheo Riddle x Hufflepuff!Reader Summary: After finding out your (now ex)boyfriend cheated on you with the girl he told you not to worry about, you decide to get into a fake relationship with the kid of another founder of Hogwarts. What could go wrong? Warning(s): Matt's thirsty (but so are you also lowkey) / Awkward family moments / Visuals (Don't like them? Don't use them🤷🏻‍♀️) / I suck at writing kiss scenes (yes it's happening) / it's spicy but not full on smut (smut adjacent) A/n: For now this is the end of the mini-series. Thank you all for enjoying my story and see you all in the next one! [Masterlist] [HoH masterlist]

Normally you would love to be proven right. Revel in the knowledge that they should have listened to you. But now? Fuck being right. You don't want to right.

You've been carrying the letter with you for a couple of days and the weight of it makes your schoolbag makes it feel like it's filled with bricks. The letter is weighing you down, and everybody around you seems to notice it. Especially Mattheo. You still hang out with him, of course, but every time the words are on the tip of your tongue, you chicken out.

"Have you told him yet?", asks Susan as she sees you reading the letter again during lunch.

Giving her a frowned look, you shake your head. How in Merlin's name can you inform him that 'hey, my parents want to meet you because Meemaw saw us sneak into my dorm. Now they think we are together and having sex and want to meet the hypothetical father of my hypothetical baby if we were actually having hypothetical sex and not being careful. All hypothetically of course. Why else would I sneak a boy into my dorm?'

Not casually at least.

You look over towards his table and meet his eyes. He motions with his head towards the door. You nod with a small smile and finish your juice. "See you in class."

"Have fun with your boyfriend!", she calls after you and you flip her off.

"What was all that about?", asks Mattheo with a small smile while the two of you walk side by side towards Herbology.

You shrug, scratching the nailbed of your thumb. You feel a sharp pain but you continue. You know now more than ever that this is the time. "I've... I've received a letter. From my parents." You fish the letter out of your bag and hold it out for him.

Mattheo stops and looks unsurely towards the folded-up paper. When you give him a nod he unfolds the letter. You watch nervously how his eyes scan over the words.

When he stays silent, you begin to panic. "We- you don't have to! I can totally write my parents back and tell them... something! That we broke up or whatever."

"You've got nieces?" He's got a soft smile on his face as he traces the embellishments of the letter. Of course, the stationery of House Hufflepuff has its letters decorated to match the vibe of the family name.

With a shake of your head, you run a hand over your hair. "Out of everything... the thing you focus on is my nieces? Not that fact that my parents want to meet you?"

Mattheo shrugs, handing you the letter back. "Yeah, so what? That's what boyfriends do, don't they? Meet their girlfriend's parents. Fake relationship or not. Wasn't it your parents you wanted to fool?"

That shuts you up and a flaring heat spreads over your face and neck, even towards the points of your ears. "I-I yeah... But I never imagined them doing this! Then I would have never done all this to you!" With a guilty look, you slowly reach for one of his hands. You rub slow circles over the back of his hand.

Mattheo's brain short circuits as his eyes focus on your hand and his. How soft the pad of your thumb feels against his skin. He wonders if your hands feel as soft on different parts of his body. Or how sharp your nails feel when you scratch his back.

He snaps out of it and shakes his head. Taking his chance, he turns his hand around and laces his fingers with yours. "So... how do I leave a good impression on your parents?"

You think for a moment, looking away. "As superficial as it sounds, they put great value in looking a certain way." In that way they're just like other pure-blood families, you want to add but don't. You don't want to offend him or his family.

With a determent nod, Mattheo starts walking the opposite way you were going, pulling you behind him.

"Where are you taking me? Divination is that way", you point over your shoulder as you catch up to him.

Mattheo gives you a daring smile, his eyes wrinkling playfully. "My dorm. I need your advice on what to wear."

You protest and sputter about your attendance all the way towards the Slytherin dungeons. A snake made of metal rises from the ground and reveals a set of double doors. "Pure-Blood", says Mattheo and the doors swing open. You give him a look and he shrugs. "It's the password. Nothing I can do about it."

"I said nothing!", you laugh, being pulled through the entrance

The common area looks like it's carved out of rock, with marble pillars and arches. Large windows give you a look into the endless depth of the Black Lake, fish swimming by. It takes your breath away how stunning the Slytherin common room looks. It's oh so different from your own, but just as beautiful.

You try to ignore the stares you get from the Slytherin's around the room. You do stand out like a sore thumb with your sunshine yellow robes.

"Don't you ever need to pee very much when you are in the common area?", you ask, motioning towards the waterfall you circle as you enter the common room and the many water features around.

Mattheo rolls his eyes with a smile as he leads you down a corridor and holds open the door for you to enter his dorm. Four four-poster beds with green drapes are arranged in a circle with a heater in the middle of the room, spreading warmth around the room. He motions for you to sit on his bed while he rummages through his closet.

You lean back on your hands as you watch him pull one after the other crumbled-up shirt and pants out of the closet. He sends you a slightly embarrassed look and you hop off his bed.

"Let me have a look", you say softly, pushing him to the side.

"I'm sorry... It's a bit of a mess." He scratches the back of his neck as a slight blush colours his cheeks.

You wave his worries away as you spot a nice pair of jeans and a not-too-crumpled black shirt. It could totally work paired with a dark green jacket. You lay out the pieces on his bed and look proudly between the outfit and Mattheo. It's something you're parents would approve of while still being himself

"If you wear this with the shirt tucked in and your hair just styled like you always do, everything will be okay." You turn towards him with a smile.

While you were arranging the clothes, Mattheo snuck closer to you. He now stands so close to you, that you can smell his cologne. Your lips part as you look up at him. "Matt?", you whisper as he slowly cradles your face with both of his hands.

His eyes flicker from your eyes towards your mouth. Your eyes flutter closed as you feel soft puffs of breath on your face.

Mere millimetres before his lips touch yours, the door swings open and the two of you jump away from each other. "God fucking damn it", you hear him grumble under his breath as Enzo and Draco stand in the doorway.

The two boys look at you with wide eyes before Draco's expression morphs into something more teasing. "I hope we didn't interrupt anything", he says slyly, sending a smirk towards Mattheo. Who gives the blond a scalding glare.

Feeling way too awkward about the situation, you quickly gather your things. "I-I have to go. I wouldn't want to be late for my next class." Giving Mattheo a shy smile, you rush out of his dorm and the Slytherin common room — almost stumbling down and then up the stairs.

Once you deem yourself far away enough, you slump against a wall and cup your scorching hot cheeks. Your heart beats wildly in your chest... and somewhere else. Did that really just happen? Or almost? In Merlin's name, when did you get so hot and bothered about Mattheo Riddle? Not long ago he was a nuisance to you. And now? Now you've almost kissed two times and he's meeting your parents this weekend.

When you close your eyes you still see Mattheo's warm honey ones, looking at you with such softness and want- no need.

Gods.

Shaking your head, you steady yourself and with slightly unsteady legs you walk towards Arithmancy.

Meanwhile, back in the boy's dorm, Mattheo collapses onto his bed and curses out his friends. "Fucking twats!" He presses the balls of his hands into his eyes, frustration running rampant through his body.

This was the second time someone interrupted him trying to kiss you. Just when he has gathered the courage to do so. First your friends and now his own. Who out there has it so out for him to cockblock him two times.

Draco and Enzo just look with high amusement towards their frustrated-to-no-end friend. They're gonna take this moment and tease him forever with it.

You don't get a chance to talk to Mattheo about the kiss. To talk to him in general. Because every time the two of you spot each other, either his or your friends wisk you away and it's driving you mad. It's like they planned it together or something.

It makes you all sulky because you want to discuss what happened between the two of you multiple times. You want answers — which you are lowkey scared of. But it's better to rip the bandage off quickly and get your heart broken than live with questions and never get an answer.

You walk into the Great Hall that Saturday, your fingers anxiously clawing at the nailbeds. But you've taken precautions and bandaged up your thumbs so you can't scratch. The pain stays but there's no blood.

"Don't you look all lovely", smiles Hanah brightly, making you twirl.

You smile and show her a cheeky leg as the split in your skirt falls perfectly when you sit. "Well...", you let out a nervous sigh, "Matt's meeting my parents today. So, we have to look the part, don't we?"

Your friends' eyes bulge out at the nickname you gave Slytherin bad boy Mattheo Riddle. Nobody ever dared to call him anything other than his name.

"Is that why he was not-so-subtly sneaking glances at us before you came?", wonders Susan out loud, which makes you tense up.

Looking at the Slytherin table, you find Mattheo easily. He gives a small wave with a smile and you return the gestures. "I'm going to sit over there. I have to prepare him from the wolves."

Slowly, you rise from your table and walk to the other side of the Great Hall. You feel the eyes of the Hufflepuff's and Slytherin's on you. But the only important ones are Mattheo's liquid honey ones, who look at you in wonder.

"Hi", you whisper when you finally reach him.

"Hi", he whispers back, a wide smile on his face.

"Can I sit with you?"

Without hesitation, he nods and slides to the side, almost shoving Enzo into Blaise's lap. He pats the now-empty spot next to him and you swing your leg over the bench. Mattheo zero's in on your bare leg and his brain shortcircuits.

You try to ignore the weird looks the Slytherin's present are giving you as you reach over and grab a piece of toast. You meet Hannah and Susan's eyes from across the room and they give you enthusiastic thumbs-up.

Swallowing your bite, you turn towards the boy next to you to say something. But your words die on your tongue at the look Mattheo gives you. It's unreadable. But not bad unreadable. There is some fondness in there you believe. "I have to warn you, by the way."

He cocks his head to the side, an easy smile on his face. "For your parents?"

A snort escapes you and you shake your head. "No- well... maybe my dad will grill you. But my brothers are way worse. They will either try to embarrass me or you."

"How many do you have?"

"Brothers? Four. There's a twin pair in there too. They are the second youngest after me."

Mattheo pales slightly. Four brothers? He found Thomas already trouble enough. But Four? He knows he's in for some shit.

You can't help but laugh as he visibly pales. Taking his hand, you pat it. You look around the Slyherin's. They all look very amused at Mattheo's despair.

The two of you finish your breakfast before it's time to go. Your parents expect you for lunch but knowing your family, there's not going to be time during just lunch.

"How are we getting to your home?", questions Mattheo as you both walk through the halls towards Professor Sproud's office.

You knock on the door and when there's no answer, you enter the room. "Via portkey. Which should arrive any second now." And like you said, a little yellow cup appears on the desk.

Placing a hand on the cup, you hold the other out for him to take. Mattheo does so and the two of you are whisked away from the castle.

You stumble for a second before you find your footing. Taking a deep breath, your senses fill with the floral aroma of your home. It feels good to be back.

"Holy fucking shit", you hear Mattheo whisper under his breath as he looks at the estate your family owns. It looks centuries old, with ivy covering most of the outer walls. A sprawling garden buzzes with bees and butterflies. A fountain is heard somewhere in the back.

You feel slightly embarrassed at Mattheo's slack jaw. This is mostly the reason why you never told about or took anyone home. The house mansion has been in your family's name for centuries. It's said that Meemaw bought it, but there's no proof of it.

"Come on." You tug him by his hand towards the front door. Mattheo's too caught up by the exterior of the house that he bumps into you when you stop in front of the front door. "Ready?", you ask, and he shakes his head.

As you ring the bell, Mattheo looks at the inscribing above the door. "Dum spiro spero, vi et animo. What does that mean?"

"As long as I breathe I hope, with strength and courage", says your father as he opens the door with a wide smile. "It's our family's motto. Nice to meet you, son." He holds out his hand for Mattheo to shake.

As he pulls the boy inside, you try your bestest to not cringe. "Dad this is Mattheo. My boyfriend." You shyly glance towards Mattheo to gauge his reaction. A slight blush paints his cheeks and you bite your lip hiding your smile.

Your dad shakes the dark-haired boy's hand enthusiastically. He starts to ramble off about the family motto and what it means and it morphs into an in-depth history lesson about the house. How the tiles and pillars in the foyer are at least four hundred years old and how they're kept in such fine condition by magic.

"Dad!", you call out, not having missed the hidden panicked looks Mattheo has given you, trying his best to look interested. "Don't you think it's a little early for Staghill History 101? Let the boy breathe."

Your father lets go of Mattheo with a jolly laugh, his moustache curling upwards. "You are right. I am so sorry, good chap. Why don't you two go to the library while I round up the twins? They're all very excited to meet him."

Tugging on Mattheo's hand, you nod. "Sure. Make sure they clean off any dirt before Mum has an aneurysm. Again."

As you lead him towards the south wing, you stop just outside of the library. "Are you okay? I'm sorry. My dad's a lot and he's just happy to see anyone and everyone. Could be Father Christmas with how jolly he is." You scratch the back of your neck awkwardly, looking away.

Mattheo laughs. "It's okay. He's... nice. Now I get where you get it from."

"What?", you question with a cock of your head.

Mattheo wets his bottom lip, his eyes focused on yours. "That twinkle in your eyes when you talk about something you're passionate about." He reaches out for your flaming hot cheeks, cupping them.

The doors to your right swing open and the two of you feel like little children caught with your hand in the cookie jar. Your oldest brother, Felix, raises one disapproving brow and the two of you quickly step away from each other.

"Is it them? Don't hog the door, you big oaf!" Behind Felix appears Herbert, immediately engulfing you in a big, bone-crushing hug.

"They were snogging", says Felix, walking back towards the couch he always sits on when he visits home. His comment earns him a swat from his wife next to him.

"We were not!", you protest scandalised, wrestling out of Herbert's hold. "We were just... It's none of your business what we were doing!" You grab Mattheo's hand and walk into the library, towards your mother.

He scoffs under his breath, mumbling; "You made it everybody's business when you let Meemaw catch you." That earns him another swat from his wife and a stern look from your mother.

"Mum", you say after giving her a hug, tugging Mattheo closer, "I would like you to meet Mattheo."

"It's very nice to meet you, ma'am." Mattheo puts on his most charming smile while holding out his hand.

Your mother shakes her head and gives him one of her signature warm hugs. "None of that! Call me Clementine. Or Clemmy. Or Ma. You're practically family now!"

You blanch, shrinking into yourself. Dear Lord. Why does your mom need to be so much?

Felix snorts. "Is he to stay? What happened to that bloke from Christmas?"

Yours and Mattheo's eyes meet and you purse your lips. "I rather not speak about it..."

That gets their attention, both men leaning forward in their seats. "What did he do?"

"Nothing!" You grow irritated at their endless questions as your mom ushers the two of you towards a couch. Sitting closely together, Mattheo lays a hand on your knee. You don't know if it's to comfort you or to ground himself.

Herbert studies the two of you with his eyes narrowed. He purses his lips while leaning back into the chair. "He beat the ex up, didn't he?"

"Oh, my Gods! Can you not play detective about my life? Stop talking about my ex with my new boyfriend right next to me", you scowl, not wanting the two of them to flip out over something that you're way past.

At that, your mother claps in her hands. "That's right! Mattheo, why don't you tell me something about yourself? What house are you in for instance?"

Mattheo glances nervously towards you and you lay a hand over his own, giving him a reassuring squeeze. "I'm in Slytherin, ma'am. I hope that isn't an issue."

Your mom chortles and waves his concern away. "Oh please, we aren't that kind of family."

"Speaking of family", pipes Herbert from across the room, "Who's family you belong to?"

Both your mom and you sputter and scold Herbert. But the twins coming in gives your brother his answer.

"Why on Meemaw's good name is Mattheo Riddle sitting next to our sister?", sneers Victor, Danny leering over his shoulder.

A groan escapes you while you slink down the couch, hiding your face in your hands. You had hoped that Mattheo's family wouldn't be a subject. The twins are the only ones from your family who have seen the kind of nuisance Mattheo has been to you before leaving school last year. Of course, it looks very fucking weird that he is now cosying up to you, his hand on your knee and claiming to be your boyfriend.

You feel everybody's eyes on the two of you. Mattheo shrinks down under the many gazes, his hold on you tightening in a silent plea to not abandon him right now.

Not knowing how to get away under the scrutiny, you glance at your mom. She looks shocked and when she meets your eyes, her gaze softens before turning stern. "Didn't I always tell you boys to not judge people? What can the poor boy do about which cradle he was born into? So get off your high horses and be nice to the boy!" She stands with her hands on her hips, berating your brothers.

"What did I miss?", asks your father, standing in the doorway with a tray filled with cookies and teacups, the teapot floating behind him.

"Nothing", smiles your mother, turning towards you, "I was just saying that Mattheo should have a tour of the house. Why don't you do that, honey?"

Getting what she's implying, you nod exuberantly. "Yeah, right! Let's go."

Mattheo's all too happy to escape the tense room and quickly follows after you, walking with a big arch around the twins, who are still glaring at him.

"I am so sorry." You cast your eyes towards the floor as the two of you walk through one of the many art-lined hallways. "I- There is no excuse for how they treated you..."

Mattheo's hand on your waist makes you stop and look up at him, unsheathed tears dancing in your waterline. He tuts, wiping away the single one that has managed to escape. "Don't cry, pretty girl. It's a warranted reaction. I'm used to it by now. How awkward it was anyways."

You pout while leaning into his hand. "That's horrible Matt. You don't deserve to be treated like that because your father made a wrong choice!"

"It was more than a wrong choice, lovely. Besides, there's not a witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin, remember?" He laughs, but you see that there's sadness in his eyes.

With a shake of your head, you lean closer to him. "You aren't bad! Such a vile stereotype."

This time a genuine laugh bubbles out of Mattheo's chest. "Oh, sweet, sweet, Hufflepuff", he trances your cheek with the pads of his fingers, "there are many things that make me as bad as they say. Mostly for the thoughts I have about you."

Your brain short circuits and you blink up at him, processing his words. He has what? Heh?

Mattheo chuckles at your dumbfounded look. Oh, how cute you are when you are clueless. He clasps his hands behind his back and looks around. "Is there anything in particular you want me to see?", he asks, throwing you a bone.

That seems to snap you out of your daydream of what Mattheo could do to you and you shake your head. "Yes. There is one final person I have to introduce you to."

The two of you walk side by side as he studies both muggle and magical paintings. You lead him towards the main sitting with an empty frame with a chair hanging above the fireplace. Dragging an ottoman over, you motion for Mattheo to follow your lead and climb on top of the cushions.

"Meemaw", you call out towards the empty portrait, "I would like to meet someone."

It takes a second or two before your ancestor appears from the side, graciously draping herself and her skirts on the chair. "My littlest Badger! How are you, my dear?"

You lean closer, smiling. "Hello, Meemaw. I would like you to meet someone." You motion towards Mattheo, who looks with big eyes at her.

"Isn't that...?"

Heat spreads over your face and you bite your bottom lip. "I- yeah..."

"Mattheo Riddle, your ladyship." He bows slightly, earning a hearty laugh from her.

"Aren't you a charmer? You musn't call me ladyship. Just Helga is fine. Or Meemaw, seeing as you are our littlest badger's love." She sends you a doting smile. "Say, if I may ask; aren't you one of Salazar's boys?"

"Yes. I hope that isn't an issue for you, Helga."

She waves his concerns away. It surprised you how easily Meemaw's taken by Mattheo. He's a naturally charming person when he wants to be after all.

"Oh, of course not, dear boy! Your great-grandfather and I had a... very special relationship of our own when we were younger. It warms my heart that our descendants have found each other." A fond look paints her face as she looks off in the distance.

As a melancholy glimmer befalls her, you take that as your cue to leave. "I have to continue my tour of the house, Meemaw. See you later."

Waving her off, you hop off the ottoman and put it back in the right place before exiting the sitting room. A sigh escapes your lips and you swing your arms back and forth. Mattheo gives you a raised brow before taking your hand in his and continuing the swinging.

It's nice. The two of you just walking and talking about nothing special in particular. You sometimes point out some facts about you growing up around the house. "In that room, we always used to build pillow forts in." Or "I once ran against that door and lost both my front teeth. They were loose anyways", you add quickly at his concerned look.

Everything's so easy with Mattheo that it scares you. How are you supposed to go back to strangers after your arrangement has come to an end? Can you even go back to strangers? Even if Mattheo doesn't feel the same, you wish you at least could stay friends. Because he's genuinely a nice person to hang out with. It would sadden you to lose him.

The ring of a bell plucks you from your thoughts and you turn towards where the sound came from. "Oh! Dinner's ready." You lead the both of you towards the dining room, taking shortcuts and hidden doors. Mattheo chuckles as you press open another hidden panel before finally arriving in said room.

Out of habit, you go to sit at your usual place at the table and Mattheo follows you. But as he pulls the chair back, Danny is quick to sit in it. After sending a glare at your brother, you look apologetic towards the dark-haired boy. His eyes scan the room and the only free seat is right in front of you, between Herbert and Felix.

Mattheo sighs and takes place on the empty seat. He feels your brothers stare at him, and he does his best to try and act normal. He smiles politely and answers any questions your mother asks him. Eventually, he learns that — who he believes is Felix �� is a beater for the Caerphilly Catapults. His wife plays for the Holyhead Harpies and that's how they met each other.

Dinner seems to pass by smoothly — not counting the snarky remarks of the twins. But they're dicks. As everybody starts to collect the dishes, your father clears his throat. "Why don't you all go outside and...", he glances towards Mattheo, "Take a lap around the fountain so Mattheo and I can have a heart-to-heart."

Both you and Mattheo send slightly panicked looks towards each other as he gets led away by your father. As your brothers let out an 'oooh', you jab Danny in his side with your elbow. He rubs his side with a slight pout and you poke out your tongue.

"The last one is a rotten egg!", yells Victor and he sprints towards the back door. You let out a curse and start sprinting after him, the others following.

While you and your brothers race towards the burrow, Mattheo gets led towards your father's office. He anxiously takes place in the chair in front of your father's desk. The man leans forward and studies the Slytherin boy with narrowed eyes.

"What are your intentions with my daughter?", he asks, getting straight to the point.

What are his intentions? Well... he can think of a few things. But none are parent-approved answers. "I like her. I really do, Sir. I wouldn't dare to hurt her." Because that is the truth. He always had a crush on you, but getting to know you? You're everything and so much more than he imagined.

Your father hums. "I ask this because I have received some chatter that you've been in a... physical altercation with one Malcolm Preece. So, Mattheo, what is the deal with that?" He leans back in the leather chair, one brow raised.

For the first time in a while, Mattheo feels genuinely nervous. And it's not the same kind of nervous before he took you out on your first date. No. This is a different kind of nervousness. A deep-down fear to disappoint the people who he cares about.

And yes, you are one of those people he realises. He cares about you the most.

Lying will do no good. Because, as your father has shown, he somehow has a way to get information about what happens at school. "In all honesty, sir, Preece was threatening your daughter. They broke up and he kept bothering her. It... indeed got physical because some guys don't know when to take a hint."

Your father purses his lips, his eyes scanning over Mattheo's face. Searching for a sign of dishonesty. But he finds none.

"Did you at least get him good?"

That makes the dark-haired boy laugh. "Yes, sir. He won't dare to bother her again."

Your father stands up from his chair and holds out his hand for Mattheo to shake. With a smile and a firm handshake, he says, "You did good son. Now, I believe someone's way too anxious to wait a second longer." He points towards the door, where a shadow is seen pacing under through the crack.

Mattheo closes the door behind him and sees you look at him with wide eyes, chewing on your thumb. "How did it go? What did Dad say?" You fling your arms around him and press your cheek against his shoulder.

He smiles and wraps his arms around you. "Don't worry. Everything's fine." When you look up at him, he cradles your face and wipes away some stray dirt. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it", he smiles.

You roll your eyes but can't help but smile. "Fine. You know what, if we leave now, we maybe have some time left before curfew."

A smirk grows on Mattheo's face while he wetts his bottom lip. "And do what?"

"I don't know", you shrug playfully, pulling him with you, "We will see."

"Absolutely not", says your mother when you come and say your goodbyes. "Your room is already set up. Fresh sheets and everything! Wasn't that clear from my letter?"

Your eyes dart nervously towards Mattheo, who gives you the same look. You silently ask him if he's okay with it. If he's not uncomfortable. He shrugs. He's not too bothered by the idea of staying over.

A sigh escapes you. "Fine. But we don't have anything to sleep in."

Your mother claps in her hands and gets up from the couch, motioning for the both of you to follow her. She leads you through the house, towards your bedroom.

The smell of clean cotton hits you as soon as you enter your room and you breathe in the smell. That's one of the many things you miss about your home. The house elves of Hogwarts don't use the same detergent as your mother and it just hits a special spot in your brain when you finally smell it.

"I'll grab a pair of Felix's clothes for you, Mattheo." Your mother pats his shoulders before exiting the room.

The boy in question stands in the middle of your bedroom and a smile grows on his face. He can't explain why but it so much you. In the short period he has gotten to know you, this is exactly the type of room he imagined you to have. Maybe with fewer plants.

A four-poster bed stands in the middle of the room, facing a fireplace. On top of the bed grows some hanging plants that spread onto the walls and turn into wallpaper. There's a cosy-looking chair next to the fireplace with tons of pillows and blankets.

You watch him eyeing the chair and you mention towards it. "You can sit in it if you want. It gives you also a really nice view over the garden."

Mattheo does so, burying himself between the pillows. The garden is almost too perfect with the way it's lit up by floating lights and lightningbugs. When he looks back at you to comment on the beautifulness, he sees you pull away the many pillows from your bed into a trunk at the front of your bed and readying the bed for sleeping.

"I... I can sleep on the ground- if you're more comfortable with that. I could even fall asleep in this chair."

You stop what you're doing and look at him with such a scandalised look that it makes him shrink. "Uhm how about no? I dragged you into this, like hell I let you sleep on the floor!"

Your mother comes back at the right time with a pair of joggers and a shirt in her hands. She gives him a warm smile as she hands him the clothing, instructing him to where the bathroom is. Mattheo takes that as his saving grace to get a moment of his own. He has to admit, your family is a lot. This whole situation is a lot. And he has nobody to blame for it except himself.

Not that he blames himself. He's quite enjoying himself, being with you, meeting your parents and seeing where you grew up. He now gets why you are how you are. How you can shine so bright because your parents do everything to lighten you.

When he comes back you are also changed in quite the same outfit as him. You are sitting on your bed, nervously nibbling on the side of your thumb. He strides towards you and grabs your hand, stopping you from destroying your nailbed and making you look up at him.

"Are you okay", he asks, interlacing your fingers.

You nod with a hum, eyes focused on your interlinked hands. "Yeah... I'm just tired from today." You run a hand over your hair, brushing some stray strands out of your face. "Are��you okay?"

Mattheo lets out a light-hearted scoff. "Don't worry about me, lovely. My family is much much worse."

You blink, wanting to ask more. But a knock on your door stops you. Your father stands in the door opening, Victor looming over his shoulder and glaring daggers at Mattheo.

"Will you do your old man a favour and keep the door open? I know it makes you uncomfortable, hun. But I don't think I have to explain why?" He motions with his eyes towards how close the two of you are and with a sigh, you nod.

The house is so old that it creaks and groans with even the slightest breeze. And it freaks you out when you hear it at night. Are you saying that this centuries-old house doesn't have ghosts? Likely.

As your dad walks away, Victor takes a step forward, his jaw taut. "You", he points towards the dark-haired boy, "I'm right next door and these walls aren't as thick as they seem. I will hear everything. No funny business!"

Mattheo sends him a charming smile that you know will irritate Victor. "I promise." But when he turns around when Victor storms away, he shows you his crossed fingers. You let out a giggle and swat him.

After that you take it as a cue to get ready to sleep so you crawl under the covers. Mattheo positions himself between you and the open door and the two of you lay on your backs, staring up at the canopy.

It... feels weird having Mattheo Riddle next to you in your bed. The even weirder feeling is the desire to keep him there.

You turn so you're facing him, your hands tucked under your pillow. "I've been wondering... When you spoke in Parsletongue, what did you say?"

Mattheo tenses slightly before turning towards you, a pink flush heats up his cheeks. His eyes trace every inch of your face, taking in the details; moles, freckles, perfect imperfections. It makes him want to reach out and trace every one of them.

"Oh I don't remember", he says offhandedly, his eyes fleeing yours.

You scoot closer, a mischievous smile on your face. "Yes, you do! Please tell me. It can't be that embarrassing."

His lips part and the same sounds fill the room, raising goosebumps on your arms. "You are... you are the most beautiful person I know and I don't know if I can keep pretending that this is fake."

Your smile melts off your face and you look with wide eyes towards him. An unsure look fills his eyes as his brows knit together. "Say something", he whispers- begs. A hesitant hand reaches out and gets placed on your cheek.

Your heart beats a million miles an hour and every word just escapes your brain. So you do what you have been wanting to do for a while now. And you kiss him. Pressing your lips against his, you close your eyes while your hand travels from his wrist to his shoulder, gripping him tightly.

Mattheo lets out a surprised humph, his eyes wide as he watches your eyes flutter close. He breathes in deeply before kissing you back, pulling you closer.

Two pairs of lips mould against each other while Mattheo's hand slides down and grips your thigh, wrapping your leg around his middle. Your body melts against his as the kiss grows more fierce, lips parting and tongues exploring each other's mouths.

A low growl emits from Mattheo as you part, your chest raising and falling rapidly. He zeros in on your neck and decides then and there how kissable the skin looks and that it needs to be marked.

Your head gets thrown back as Mattheo attacks your neck with kisses, licks and bites and you do your best to suppress the breathy moan that wants to escape you. You bite your bottom lip as your eyes squeeze close.

Mattheo's lips travel down, tracing the shape of your throat with his teeth and he flips the both of you over, hovering above you. He relishes in your bitten raw lips and the half-lidded look you give him. The way your chest raises and makes your shirt tighten... he thanks whatever god there is out there that made this possible.

His admiring takes too long in your opinion and you grab the back of his head, yanking him down so he kisses you again. Mattheo complies and cradles your face, his big hands engulfing your cheeks, feeling the heat underneath them.

He pecks your lips a few times before trailing down, Mattheo's hands finding the hem of your sleep shirt. He glances at you and only continues after a nod. He pushes your shirt up, above your breast while his lips trail from your chin, neck, and collarbones, to your sternum.

When he flattens his tongue tentatively against one of your nipples, a moan escapes you. It makes him smirk against your skin, doing it again.

"Matt... ah!", you squeak out, gripping his shoulder.

His tongue swirls against the nub and one of his hands reaches up, clasping a hand over your mouth to silence the sweet noises pouring out of your mouth. Your tongue swipes over one of his fingers. Mattheo presses the pads of his pointer and middle finger against your tongue before sliding into your mouth.

A 'mmph' escapes you while you suck around his digits, hands trying to ground yourself as everything feels too much; his tongue against your boob, his fingers in your mouth, and something hard pressing against your core.

Your hands find the hem of his shirt and your nails rake up against his bare back. He moans against you and releases your nipple with a 'pop'. He looks at you with dark eyes and swollen lips while he lowers himself towards your core.

While his fingers dance over the elastic of your underwear, you push his fingers out of your mouth. "Matt wait..."

As if your words scorched him, he's off you immediately, his chest raising rapidly and face flushed. "I'm-I'm sorry. I got a little carried away..."

You sit up, pushing your shirt down and shaking your head. "No... please don't- it's okay. I-I enjoyed it too. It's just...", you cradle his face and peck his lips, "I don't want our first time to be in my childhood bedroom and avoid making too much noise."

Mattheo leans into your touch and kisses your palm. You pull him down with you and lay on top of his chest. When you move your legs, you accidentally bump against his boner. You sputter out an apology, feeling bad for blue-balling him.

His hands grab your hips tightly and he presses you closer against his body. He brings his lips towards your ear. "Don't worry about it, Princess. Because when I have the chance, I'm gonna fuck you so good you forget our whole relationship was fake to begin with."

Oh Gods, you created a monster...

Tag list (bold means I couldn't tag you): @mylosz0 @kermits-bitch @jolly4holly @daisiesformylove @frogtape @dancing-inasnowglobe @slytheos @undercover-smutlover @reverse-soe @nikkissecretlibrary @moon-struck-meraki @bengbengbengi @justhavingsomefun1 @itsamusical4lifee @genshingeeksworld @y0urm0m12 @alnitakstarsky03 @mel-vaz @slytherinboysappreciation @sailtomarina @bubybubsters @jasmine2105 @abaker74 @lovelyygirl8 @vickykazuya @eltrss @llpovi@m1kasawps @sol3chu @ledtassoo @itsarajr @glittervame

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somewhereincairparavel · 7 months ago

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If Jason had been written to have atleast somewhat of a jealousy streak of Percy, then it would have made him more human tbh. Ironically I feel like the fandom would've been much more empathetic to his character, if he acknowledged that he envied Percy a little and then came to terms with it. We know that Jason's fear of being 2nd best is a very integral part of his character, I mean, Gaia taunting him with that in his nightmares was enough to reduce him into tears. and that's the ONLY time we've even remotely seen him cry. Percy had so many things Jason didn't have, a loving mom, a loving girlfriend who took a knife for him and never broke his heart, a loving camp that looked for him endlessly after he went missing, people ACTUALLY wanting him to survive because they care about him not because they need him for glory, etc. and if im being honest Poseidon wasn't even that bad of a father (for a big three god, atleast) tbh he still came to percy's 15th birthday, invited him to fishing, genuinely loved sally, she was probably the only mortal he fell in love with and it stayed that way, he was never rude to percy and stuck up for him etc. not tryna say percy had it easy or anything ofc he didnt, but there is no point in denying that he had a MUCH better support system than jason ever had.

The fact that Jason despite having none of these things was not even remotely envious of Percy made him appear like a bland robot with no emotional baggage

Compare this to Nico, who was rightfully a little jealous/idolizing Percy while simultaneously having a crush on him, also a little jealous of Jason because he was "the golden boy" who everyone respected, it made him have SO much depth and the fandom loves him (rightfully so)

also, leo. He was resentful of Percy up until blood of Olympus because of how everyone loved him, how Calypso fell for him almost immediately, etc. it's very realistic.Jason feeling a little resentful of Percy and then later talking it out would've made his character much less of a shallow stereotypical nice guy that ppl dislike.

maybe Rick could've expanded on Jason's jealousy of how quickly camp Jupiter accepted Percy and how quickly Reyna made him praetor, when jason himself had dedicated his whole life to it and was only made praetor in the last couple months, how camp Jupiter and his supposed friends never held a memorial for him even after they thought he was dead, etc. Also how Percy spent more time with thalia than jason ever did, we know he did feel a little envious since he mentioned how much he wished thalia looked for him the way she was looking for percy

I would've loved to see Jason being a little cold to Reyna too because of this and then they later talk it out, since it's VERY realistic, I was surprised with how quickly jason shrugged the whole Percy- being- a -praetor thing off, I thought he'd have felt a little betrayed by Reyna considering that they were childhood friends, and reyna never really sent a search party or something after him like annabeth did, gods, the amount of angst potential this man had i love him ugh

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aayakashii · 5 months ago

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I am once again presenting to you all a short comfort fic I made for myself after I got sad 🤲

too cute to be a bad boy

Warning: maybe just a bit of angst, but nothing else

“So you're telling me… You were on that train at that moment because you were at a concert?” Sho stopped cutting the bell pepper to stare at you from under his eyelashes.

“Um… I mean… Yeah…” you rubbed the back of your head, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his judgemental glare.

“That's a dumb way to go, I gotta say” he snickered and went back to chopping.

“Hey, I didn’t ‘go’ yet, okay? I’m still alive and I had to go to their concert. It was their last one, they disbanded after that.”

“Oh, I see, so it was a special concert, huh” he said, a bit of humor still present in his voice.

“Y-yeah… I mean, yeah. It was special. I would probably never see them again, at least not together. I had a lot of fun being part of the fandom, okay?” you pouted, and grabbed a stray french fry that laid on its counter, chomping on it.

“Hey, don’t eat that, that's old!” he widened his eyes.

“Well, what do you care, hm?” you said, dramatically raising your eyebrows as you glared at him “I’m gonna ‘go’ in like 10 months anyway, what’s a soggy french fry going to do?” you swallowed it as if to make your point clear.

Sho sighed, putting his cooking knife to the side.

“Hey, okay, I get it. I’m sorry for making fun of you. But... please don’t talk about yourself like that.” he looked at you, his eyes suddenly gloomy and regretful.

You avoided his gaze, staring at the floor. You could feel tears pricking at your eyes, as the weight of your own words seemed to dawn on you.

10 months.

And it felt like only yesterday that all you thought about was that stupid band.

“Hey, senpai.” You heard Sho gasp and he rounded the corner of his food truck’s counter, walking towards you. His hands held your arms tightly and he shook you a little in order to look at him. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.”

You hesitantly lifted your gaze to meet his. You didn’t know when you began letting the tears fall, but it seemed like biting your lips till they almost broke didn’t work as well as you planned.

You knew you weren’t crying because of Sho’s playfulness and you were pretty sure he also had enough emotional intelligence to understand that those were your unspoken fears taking over your body. But also, you didn’t feel like ruining what was supposed to be a fun date hangout with talks of your impending doom. You already had every single lonely waking moment to grieve yourself, you didn’t want to do that when you were with him.

You sniffed and gave Sho’s forearms a gentle squeeze, and his tight grip on you loosened.

“It’s okay” you rubbed your eyes, drying up your tears. “It’s not your fault.”

You looked up at him, a small reassuring smile on your face, and he sighed.

His arms hovered around you and, for a moment, you thought he would pull you into a hug. Instead, he patted your head, much like his captain usually did.

Sho trudged back inside his food truck, rubbing his neck, a conflicted expression plastered on his face for all to see.

You knew he didn't know what to say or what to do. Having a metaphorical guillotine hanging over you sure made it hard for people not to walk on eggshells. But if there was anyone you wanted to be comfortable around, it was Sho.

So you would have to find a way out of this little hole you had dug for the both of you.

“You know” you began “I was just crying because I miss Hizu soooo much” you said with your hand hiding the smirk that began to form on your lips at your silly attempt to make the atmosphere loosen up.

Sho raised an eyebrow before resuming his chopping, as you scrolled through your phone.

“Hizu…? Who’s that.”

You turned your phone to face him with a playful smile on your face.

A photo of a man with brown hair and dark eye makeup filled the screen. He was shirtless with just a black faux fur jacket haphazardly thrown over his shoulder and he appeared to be singing on stage, if the sweat on his body was anything to go by. He looked angry as he was (apparently) yelling something into the microphone, while one of his hands touched his own bare chest.

Sho choked on his saliva when he turned his gaze to your phone.

“Wh-what’s that?!” he said, after a coughing fit that left you laughing loudly, the previous tears completely forgotten.

“Not ‘what’! ‘Who’, please be respectful!” you said, faking outrage “And this is Hizu, he was the vocalist of the band I liked, obviously.”

Taking a sip of water, Sho turned to you, flustered.

“Wow senpai” his voice cracked while he smiled awkwardly “Didn't peg you as someone who liked this… This type of guy…” he muttered, trying to find his bearings before beginning to chop his vegetables again.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me yet, my dear.” you put your phone back in your pocket, feeling triumphant after catching him off guard and getting such a cute reaction from him. If there was any reason for you to beat your curse, you were pretty sure one of them was to keep on teasing him.

“I thought you were too nice to like a scary type of guy…” he grumbled again, deep in thought, eyebrows knitted and the tip of ears pink, as he finished his task and began mixing everything inside a bowl.

“Whaaaat. You’ll see that, in fact, I am pretty attracted to bad boys.” you said, resting your elbows on his counter as you leaned your head on your hands.

Sho’s head quickly snapped towards you, and you smiled happily when you noticed the blush spread from his ears to his cheeks. He scratched his cheek and looked away, walking towards his fridge to grab the hamburger meat he needed for his recipe – and NOT to cool his face down, no, not at all.

“Um, yeah. I sure hope you like bad boys.”

You giggled at his bashfulness. Your kouhai was just too cute to be a bad boy, but you weren't going to say that. At least not at that moment.

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#tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker x reader #sho haizono #tokyo debunker sho haizono

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03jyh23 · 1 month ago

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🌷⌇seeds of uncertainty finding our way back part 7; a choi jongho mini-series

ex-boyfriend! idol! jongho x ex-girlfriend! single-mom! reader

│ series masterlist│ next │

│synopsis: five years have passed since jongho last saw you. your lives have taken drastically different paths, with jongho achieving fame and you focusing on raising your daughter, nari, in quiet anonymity. when jongho discovers he has a daughter, he's determined to be a part of her life.

│genre: a slice of life, romance, fluff, some angst

│trigger warnings: unplanned pregnancy, illegitimate child, single parenthood, physical violence, blood mentioned, mature language, emotional manipulation

│words: 8.4 k

│reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

!minors do not interact!

— hi there my lovely people! i hope you all had a lovely weekend! till now the story was somewhat a slow-burn when it came to certain aspects but it's going to change now! as always let me know your thoughts!

love, mon ♡

│taglist: │ @seventeenthingsblr │@DALSUWAHA │

│ @ateez-atiny380 │ @yoonshiiu │ @sndeoki │ @bomi-ja │

│ @vixensss │ @all-fandoms-rise │ @finnydraws │

│ @jonghosbrainrot │ @ateezswonderland │ @stayatinykatsy

│@chickenscoups │ @ana-stasssiaaa │ @starryunho │

│ @originalcupcakenacho │ @ultrapinkvoidbouquet │

│ @sweetinsaniiity│ @jennifermakmur│ @mitchii │

│ @hannah-97 │ @hyuckiesgf │ @treehouse-mouse │

│ @eternoange1│@ultrapinkvoidbouquet │ @jycas │

│ @velvetskize │

│ if you wish to be tagged let me know here! ♡

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤJongho entered the apartment, moving slowly and deliberately to avoid disturbing the sleeping child in his arms. With utmost care, he gently placed Nari's belongings on the corridor drawer, each item set down with a whisper-soft touch. He then removed his shoes, the familiar ritual feeling different tonight, weighted with the responsibility of the precious cargo he carried.

Nari stirred slightly in his arms, her small form shifting against his chest. "Are we home?" she asked, her voice a sleepy murmur that tugged at Jongho's heartstrings.

"Yes, sweetheart, we're home," Jongho whispered back, his voice a gentle caress in the quiet of the night. He infused his words with all the tenderness he felt. As he walked, he rubbed soothing circles on Nari's back, a rhythmic motion designed to lull her back into sleep. The door to Nari's room creaked softly as Jongho pushed it open with his elbow, careful not to jostle his daughter. He fumbled for a moment before finding the switch for her night light. A warm, comforting glow suffused the room as it flickered to life. Jongho carefully lowered Nari onto her bed, supporting her head and body to ensure a smooth transition from his arms to the mattress. As he laid her down, he couldn't help but marvel at how small and fragile she looked amidst the sea of pillows and plushies. He took a moment to tuck her in, pulling the comforter up to her chin with gentle, loving motions. As he did so, he found himself memorizing every detail of her peaceful face, from the soft curve of her cheek to the flutter of her eyelashes against her skin.

"Mommy?" Nari's voice, thick with sleep, broke the silence. Her eyes fluttered open for a moment, a hint of confusion in their depths as she struggled against the pull of slumber.

Jongho's heart clenched at the sound. He leaned in close, his voice barely above a whisper as he sought to reassure her. "Shh, it's okay. Mommy will be here soon," he murmured, his fingers gently carding through Nari's hair in a soothing rhythm. The repetitive motion seemed to calm her, and he added softly, "For now, Uncle is here. Go back to sleep, angel." Nari's eyes drifted closed once more, succumbing to the irresistible call of sleep. Jongho settled himself on the edge of her bed. As Nari's breathing became calm and steady, Jongho took out his phone. Worried that you still weren't back, he sent a quick message: "Hey, is everything okay? Nari's asleep. Let me know when you're on your way home." He tucked the phone back into his pocket, then leaned down to place a gentle kiss on Nari's forehead. Satisfied that she was sleeping soundly, Jongho quietly left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. He made his way to the kitchenette, his movements careful and deliberate in the quiet apartment. Pouring himself a glass of water, he leaned against the counter, his mind still reeling from the earlier encounter with Hyunwoo. The cool liquid did little to calm the storm of emotions swirling within him. The confrontation in the hallway played on repeat in his mind, each word, each accusation etching itself deeper into his consciousness. Jongho closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he tried to process everything that had happened. The weight of fatherhood, which had felt so light and joyous earlier in the day, now seemed to press down on him with renewed intensity. Questions and doubts began to creep in, fueled by Hyunwoo's words. Had he truly been absent for too long? Could he make up for lost time? And most pressingly, how would he navigate this complex situation with Hyunwoo's apparent involvement in Nari's life? Jongho shook his head, trying to dispel the negative thoughts. He reminded himself of the progress he'd made, of the bond he was forming with Nari. He set the glass down before making his way to the sofa, his body heavy with exhaustion. He sank into the plush cushions, letting out a deep sigh as the tension slowly ebbed from his muscles. For a moment, he contemplated turning on the TV to distract himself from the thoughts in his mind. However, he quickly decided against it, worried that the noise might disturb Nari's sleep. Instead, he allowed himself to relax further into the comfortable embrace of the sofa. Before he knew it, his eyelids grew heavy, and he drifted off into an unintended slumber.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤJongho wasn't sure how long he had been asleep when a sudden cry pierced through the veil of his unconsciousness. His eyes snapped open, instantly alert despite the fog of sleep still clinging to his mind. It took him a moment to register where he was and what was happening. Then, as the cry sounded again, louder this time, he bolted upright, his heart racing.

"Mommy!" Nari's cry echoed through the apartment, jolting Jongho fully awake. He was on his feet in an instant, his fatigue forgotten as adrenaline coursed through his veins. Without hesitation, he rushed towards Nari's room, his heart pounding with concern for his daughter.

As he approached her door, he could hear her distressed whimpers growing louder. Jongho pushed the door open gently, not wanting to startle her further. "Nari, sweetheart," he called softly, stepping into the dimly lit room. "It's okay, I'm here."

Nari was sitting up in her bed, tears streaming down her face, her small hands clutching her favorite stuffed animal. As Jongho approached, she looked up at him, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. "Where's Mommy?" she whimpered, her voice trembling.

Jongho's heart ached at the sight of his daughter's distress. He quickly moved to her bedside, sitting down gently and opening his arms. "Mommy's not here right now, sweetheart," he said softly, his voice filled with warmth and reassurance. "But I'm here for you. Can I give you a hug?" Nari nodded softly before throwing herself into Jongho's arms, her tiny hands clutching at his shoulders, her small body still trembling. "Shh, angel," Jongho whispered, gently cradling her against his chest. He began to rock her slowly, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. "It's okay, I'm here," he murmured, his voice soft and comforting. "You're safe, sweetheart. Uncle’s got you." He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, feeling her gradually relax in his embrace.

As Nari's sobs gradually subsided into quiet sniffles, Jongho continued to hold her, his heart swelling with an overwhelming mixture of love, protectiveness, and a newfound sense of purpose. In that moment, he realized just how profoundly he had come to care for this little girl. Being a father, which used to seem scary and overwhelming to Jongho, now felt natural and rewarding. His earlier worries faded away. Instead, he felt a strong desire to be the best father he could be for Nari. He was determined to give her all the love and support she needed.

"Would you like to lay down again, sweetheart?" he asked softly, his voice a gentle whisper as he continued to cradle Nari in his arms. He could feel her small body still trembling slightly against his chest, a reminder of the vulnerability he now held in his embrace.

Nari shook her head, her voice muffled against his shirt as she replied, "No, I wanna sleep in Mommy's room." There was a brief pause, filled with the sound of her quiet sniffles, before she added hesitantly, "Wanna bathe."

Jongho found himself at a crossroads, carefully considering Nari's requests. The rational part of his mind reminded him that it was late, and a bath at this hour wasn't exactly ideal. However, as he gazed down at Nari's tear-stained face and felt her small body still quivering from her earlier distress, his heart made the decision for him. Perhaps the warm, soothing water would help calm her frayed nerves and wash away the remnants of her nightmare.

"Okay, sweetheart," he said gently, his hand moving to stroke her hair in a comforting rhythm. "How about we have a quick, warm bath to help you feel better, and then you can sleep in Mommy's room? Does that sound good to you?" His voice was soft and reassuring, filled with a tenderness he didn't even know he possessed until this moment. Nari nodded against his chest, her sobs now quieting to small, intermittent hiccups. Jongho could feel her body relaxing slightly in his arms, the tension slowly ebbing away. With careful movements, he stood up slowly, still holding her close to his heart. "Alright, let's get you that bath," with Nari still clinging to him, Jongho navigated through her room, his movements gentle yet purposeful. He rummaged through her drawers with one hand, the other securely holding his daughter close. His fingers sifted through the neatly folded clothes, searching for a pair of soft, comfortable pajamas and clean underwear. Once he had gathered everything they needed, he made his way to the bathroom, his steps slow and steady to avoid jostling Nari.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤIn the bathroom, Jongho carefully sat Nari down on the closed toilet lid, making sure she was stable before reluctantly letting go. He turned his attention to the bathtub, twisting the faucet to release a stream of warm water. As the tub began to fill, he reached for the bottle of bubble bath, adding a generous squeeze to the running water. Almost immediately bubbles began to form, filling the air with a soft, comforting scent. The change in Nari's demeanor was almost instantaneous.

As she caught sight of the rising bubbles, a small smile began to tug at the corners of her mouth, chasing away the last vestiges of her earlier distress. "Bubbles!" she exclaimed softly. Jongho couldn't help but mirror her smile, feeling relieved at the sight of her brightening mood.

"That's right, sweetheart," he said, "Lots and lots of bubbles, just for you." He dipped his hand into the water, swirling it around to test the temperature. Satisfied that it was comfortably warm but not too hot, he turned back to Nari. "Okay, little one, let's get you in the tub. The bubbles are waiting for you." With gentle, careful movements, Jongho helped Nari out of her day clothes, then he lifted her with tender hands and slowly lowered her into the warm, bubbly water. As Nari settled into the tub, surrounded by shimmering foam, her eyes lit up with pure, childish delight. The earlier tears were now replaced by a look of wonder as she reached out to scoop up a handful of bubbles, giggling as they slipped through her fingers. Watching her, Jongho felt a warmth spread through his chest, a feeling so profound it almost took his breath away. At that moment, as he knelt beside the bathtub, watching his daughter play in the bubbles, all the doubts and fears that had plagued him earlier seemed to dissolve. This, he realized, was what fatherhood was truly about - these small, precious moments of joy and comfort. With a gentle smile, he reached for the shampoo, ready to help his daughter finish her bath and prepare for a peaceful night's sleep.

"Alright, angel, time to towel off and put on some pajamas," Jongho said, reaching for a fluffy towel. He helped Nari stand up in the tub, carefully wrapping the towel around her small frame. With gentle movements, he lifted her out of the bath and set her down on the bathmat. As he began to dry her off, Jongho couldn't help but marvel at how natural this all felt now. The initial awkwardness and uncertainty had given way to a sense of purpose and love that filled his entire being. He carefully patted Nari dry, making sure to be extra gentle with her hair "There we go, all dry," he smiled, reaching for the clean pajamas he had brought. "Let's get you dressed and ready for bed, sweetheart." Jongho helped Nari into her pajamas, carefully buttoning up the soft fabric.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤThey made their way back to the living room. Jongho intended to lay Nari down on the sofa. However, she clung tightly to him, her small arms wrapped around his neck. Sensing her need for comfort, Jongho decided to sit down with her still in his arms. "It's okay, sweetheart," he murmured softly, reaching for a nearby blanket. He draped it over both of them, cocooning them in its warmth. Nari snuggled closer, her head resting against his chest. Jongho began to gently rock her, his voice low and soothing as he started to hum a lullaby. The melody, soft and comforting, filled the quiet room. He felt Nari's body gradually relax against him, her breathing becoming slower and more even. As he continued to sing, Jongho marveled at the moment. The weight of his daughter in his arms, the trust she placed in him, filled his heart with an indescribable warmth. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, his voice never faltering in the lullaby. In the quiet of the night, father and daughter sat together, enveloped in a blanket of warmth and love, the gentle lullaby a testament to their growing bond.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤYou walked into the quiet apartment, your head pounding from an exhausting day at work. Closing the door silently behind you, you moved through the space. Your gaze immediately went to Nari's room, but you found her bed empty. A momentary panic gripped your heart before you quickly looked to the living room. There, you noticed a disheveled tuft of fluffy brown hair on a pillow, soft snores filling the room. Relief washed over you as you approached quietly. The sight before you made your heart swell with affection. Nari was curled up in Jongho's arms, her small form rising and falling with each peaceful breath. Careful not to wake them, you gently adjusted the blanket, ensuring it covered both sleeping figures. You placed a soft kiss on Nari's forehead, yet your eyes lingered on Jongho. Smiling, you ran your hand gently on his cheek, your thumb brushing against his lower lip. The man you loved—or perhaps still loved—the father of your daughter, looked angelic. His arms were wrapped loosely around Nari, her head resting against his chest. You couldn't count how many times you had dreamed of a moment like this, to walk into not a house, but a home—a home that you dreamed of creating with Jongho. Tears welled up in your eyes, your heart bursting with emotion. You smiled, a bittersweet ache settling in your chest. God, you would do anything to get to see this each day. The scene before you was everything you had ever wanted, yet it felt just out of reach. Jongho and Nari, were peacefully asleep, looking like the perfect family you had always imagined.

As you stood there, watching them sleep, a mix of joy and longing washed over you. Joy for the growing bond between Jongho and Nari, and longing for what could have been—what still might be, if you dared to hope. You wondered if there was a way to bridge the gap, to turn this fleeting moment into a lasting reality. But as quickly as those thoughts came, you pushed them aside. It was too soon, you reminded yourself. Jongho had only just returned to your life days ago. The wounds still lingered, the history between you unresolved. You couldn't let yourself get carried away by one tender moment, no matter how it tugged at your heartstrings. Taking a deep breath, you steadied yourself. This was a time for caution, for careful steps forward. You needed to focus on what was best for Nari, on building a stable co-parenting relationship with Jongho. Romance and reconciliation were thoughts for another time, if ever. For now, you had to keep your feet firmly on the ground, even as your heart yearned to soar.

You shook your head, chiding your own thoughts. Maybe you could allow yourself to be selfish, just for the next couple of hours. Settling down next to Jongho, you rested your head on his shoulder and placed a soft kiss on his neck. Closing your eyes, you let yourself sink into the warmth of his presence. The steady rhythm of his breathing and Nari's soft snores filled the quiet room. In this moment, wrapped in the cocoon of familial warmth, a sense of peace washed over you. It was a fleeting indulgence, you knew, but one your heart desperately needed. As you drifted off to sleep, a small part of you wondered what the morning would bring. But for now, in this perfect slice of time, you allowed yourself to simply be—a mother, a woman, part of this little family unit that felt so right, even if it was just for tonight.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤThe soft morning light filtered through the curtains, gently illuminating the living room. Nari stirred, her eyes fluttering open as she slowly became aware of her surroundings. She lifted her head from Jongho's chest, her gaze wandering until it landed on you, nestled against Jongho's side. For a moment, confusion clouded her sleepy eyes. Then, as recognition dawned, her face lit up with a mixture of surprise and delight. "Mommy?! Uncle?!" she exclaimed, her voice a blend of excitement and bewilderment. Her sudden outburst broke the peaceful silence of the morning, causing both you and Jongho to stir. You blinked awake, momentarily disoriented as you realized the position you were in - snuggled close to Jongho, his arm around you, his head resting atop yours. Jongho, too, began to wake, his arm instinctively tightening around you before his eyes snapped open, suddenly alert. The realization of your proximity dawned on him, and you could feel the sudden tension in his body.

Nari, oblivious to the adults' awkwardness, giggled with delight. "Mommy and Uncle were sleeping together!" she announced, her innocent observation hanging in the air between you and Jongho. Her eyes widened with excitement as a new thought struck her. "Will I have a baby brother now?" she exclaimed, her voice filled with innocent hope and curiosity. You felt your cheeks flush crimson, your eyes darting to meet Jongho's equally startled gaze. The awkwardness in the room intensified tenfold as you both struggled to find an appropriate response to Nari's unexpected question.

Jongho cleared his throat, his voice slightly strained as he attempted to address Nari's innocent question. "Angel, that's not... I mean, it doesn't quite work like that," he stumbled over his words, shooting a desperate glance your way. The situation had caught him completely off guard, and he found himself struggling to find an appropriate explanation for a child's curious mind.

You stepped in, "Nari, honey, Mommy, and Uncle were just sleeping. That doesn't mean we're going to have a baby." You could feel the heat radiating from your cheeks, acutely aware of Jongho's presence beside you. You silently hoped that your explanation would satisfy Nari's curiosity.

Your daughter's brows furrowed in confusion, her gaze darting between you and Jongho. "But you were sleeping together, like in the movies!" she insisted, her child-like logic unshakeable. Her innocent observation hung in the air, making the atmosphere even more uncomfortable. Nari's eyes lit up with excitement as she exclaimed, "When big mommies and daddies sleep together in movies, they have babies!" Jongho let out a nervous chuckle, running his hand through his hair. The two of you exchanged a panicked glance, desperately trying to figure out how to handle this unexpected turn in the conversation.

"Sweetie," Jongho began gently, his voice soft and patient, "sometimes adults sleep close to each other because they care about each other, but that doesn't always mean a baby is coming. Mommy and I were just resting together because we were tired." He looked at you, silently hoping his explanation was adequate and wouldn't prompt more difficult questions from your inquisitive daughter.

Nari's lower lip trembled as she crossed her arms, a pout forming on her face. Her eyes, wide with disappointment, looked up at both of you imploringly. "But I want a baby brother," she insisted, her voice taking on a whiny tone that tugged at your heartstrings. "Mommy's big and Uncle's big so can you make me one now?" Her innocent request, born out of a child's simple desire for a playmate, only served to heighten the awkwardness of the situation.

You felt your face grow even hotter if that was possible. Glancing at Jongho, you saw his eyes widen in panic, mirroring your own feelings of discomfort and uncertainty. "Having a baby is a very big decision that grown-ups make after a lot of thought and planning. It's not something we can just do right now because you want it." Jongho spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully to ensure Nari could understand without opening the door to more complicated questions.

You nodded in agreement, adding, "That's right, little one. And remember, Uncle and I aren't... we don't..." you trailed off, clearly struggling to find the right words to explain the complexities of adult relationships to a child. The situation felt like navigating a minefield, each word potentially leading to more confusion or misunderstanding.

Jongho jumped in to help, sensing your difficulty. "Mommy and I care about each other very much, but we're not together in the way that people are when they decide to have a baby. Do you understand?" His voice was gentle but firm, trying to convey the message in a way that would make sense to Nari's young mind.

Nari's pout deepened, her eyes filling with tears that threatened to spill over. The disappointment was evident on her face as she processed the information. "But I want a brother," she sniffled, her voice small and filled with sadness. The sight of her distress tugged at both your hearts, making the situation even more challenging to navigate.

You pulled her into a hug, stroking her hair gently, you spoke in a soothing tone, "I know, angel. I understand you want someone to play with. But for now, how about we focus on all the fun things we can do together? Just the three of us?" You hoped that redirecting her attention might help ease her disappointment and change the subject to something more positive.

Jongho reached out, gently patting Nari's back in a show of support. "That's right," he added, "How about we start with a special breakfast? Would you like that?" He glanced at you, silently communicating his hope that this suggestion might successfully divert Nari's attention from the sensitive topic at hand.

The little girl's face brightened slightly at the mention of food, her earlier disappointment momentarily forgotten. She looked up, her eyes still a bit watery but now sparkling with a hint of excitement. "Can we have pancakes again?" she asked, her voice hopeful and eager. The simple question was a welcome reprieve from the previous conversation, offering a way out of the awkward situation.

You and Jongho shared a relieved look over Nari's head, both grateful for the change of subject. "Pancakes sound perfect," you said, your voice filled with enthusiasm to match Nari's renewed excitement.

You looked at Jongho as he took Nari in his arms and rose from the sofa. "Ready to make some delicious pancakes again with me, princess?" he asked, his voice warm and playful. Nari's face lit up with excitement, her earlier disappointment completely forgotten. The sight of Jongho with Nari in his arms, heading to the kitchen with such ease and familiarity, stirred something in your heart. It was a bittersweet feeling - joy at seeing their bond grow stronger, coupled with a lingering sense of what could have been.

You were pulled from your thoughts by Jongho's gentle voice. "Y/N? If you want to, you can go and take a shower. We'll prepare breakfast for you. Right, princess?" he said, looking down at Nari with a warm smile.

Nari nodded enthusiastically, "Yes! We'll make the best pancakes ever for Mommy!" she exclaimed, her eyes shining with excitement.

You couldn't help but smile at their enthusiasm. "That sounds wonderful," you replied, feeling a rush of gratitude for this moment of normalcy amidst the complex emotions swirling within you. "I'll go freshen up then. Thank you."

As you headed towards the bathroom, you could hear Nari's excited chatter and Jongho's patient responses fading into the kitchen. The domesticity of the scene both warmed your heart and made it ache, a reminder of the delicate balance you were all trying to maintain. In the shower, you let the warm water wash over you, trying to clear your mind of the conflicting emotions. The morning's events played on repeat in your head - Nari's innocent questions, the awkward explanations, and the undeniable comfort you felt waking up next to Jongho. You stepped out and wrapped yourself in a towel. right before walking out of the bathroom, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the day ahead.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤThe smell of pancakes wafted through the air as you opened the door, "The breakfast smells delicious," you said as you walked back to the living room, drying your hair with a small towel. "I can take it from here," you smiled at Jongho. "Maybe you'd like to freshen up a bit too?" you asked.

Jongho looked up from the pancake he was flipping, "I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome."

You hesitated for a moment, torn between wanting him to stay and knowing it might complicate things further. "You're not overstaying," you assured him softly. "Besides, Nari would love to have you here a bit longer." You paused, then added with a small smile, "And so would I."

Jongho's eyes widened in surprise at your words, and he quickly looked down, feeling heat creeping up his neck. The spatula in his hand trembled slightly as he tried to regain his composure. He cleared his throat, attempting to find the right words to respond. "I... I appreciate that," he managed to say, his voice slightly husky. He risked a glance back at you, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before darting away again. The air between you seemed to crackle with unspoken emotions.

Nari's voice suddenly piped up from the kitchen, breaking the tension. "Uncle, is the pancake ready yet?" Her question brought both of you back to reality, Jongho cleared his throat again, this time more decisively. "I think I'll take you up on that offer to freshen up," he said, his voice steadier now. "Could you watch the pancakes for a moment?"

"Yes, just give me a second," you said, taking a few steps toward your closet. You weren't entirely sure how Jongho would react, but you felt compelled to retrieve something that had been tucked away for years. With slightly trembling hands, you rummaged through the lower drawers, searching for a box that had been left forgotten, yet one that you couldn't bring yourself to discard. It was a big, unassuming container, but it held within it a treasure of memories. You opened it carefully, as if handling a delicate artifact, and gently took out a few items of clothing, each one carrying the weight of shared history. Standing back up, you felt Jongho's eyes on you. You turned to face him, holding up a pair of grey sweatpant shorts and a dark green hoodie with a shy, tentative smile. These weren't just any clothes; they were remnants of a time when your lives were intertwined in the most intimate of ways. Jongho used to have his own drawer in your room when you were still together, a small but significant symbol of your shared life. You remembered with a pang of nostalgia how you'd wear his clothes while pregnant, finding comfort in his scent and the way the fabric draped over your changing body. These particular items were the clothes he had left behind five years ago, you had kept them all this time, unable to part with this tangible connection to your past. "I thought... maybe these might fit you," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper and tinged with a complex mixture of nostalgia, uncertainty, and a hint of hope. The words hung in the air between you, laden with unspoken emotions and shared memories. "They're yours from... before," you continued, your voice catching slightly on the word 'before', as if it encompassed an entire world of experiences and feelings. "I hope you don't mind that I kept them," you added, your eyes searching his face for any sign of how he might be feeling. The simple act of offering these clothes felt monumental, as if you were extending not just fabric, but a piece of your shared history, a tentative bridge across the years that had separated you.

Jongho's eyes widened as he recognized the clothes, a flicker of emotion passing across his face. He reached out slowly, his fingers brushing against the fabric as if touching a cherished memory. "You... you kept these?" he asked softly, his voice thick with emotion. The air between you seemed to hum with unspoken words and shared history as he gently took the clothes from your hands. For a moment, Jongho stood there, holding the clothes close to his chest, his eyes distant as if lost in memories. Then, with a soft smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, he looked back at you. "Thank you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I... I appreciate this more than you know." Jongho's fingers lingered on the fabric as if trying to absorb the memories it held. With a deep breath, he looked up, his eyes meeting yours with gratitude "I'll go shower then," he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that seemed to wrap around you both.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤAs Jongho emerged from the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed in the clothes you had given him, the enticing aroma of freshly made pancakes wafted through the air, filling the apartment with a comforting warmth. You and Nari had already set the table, a towering stack of golden, fluffy pancakes sitting invitingly in the center, accompanied by an array of toppings and syrups.

"Perfect timing," you said with a welcoming smile, gesturing for him to join you at the table. The sight of Jongho in his old clothes, now slightly snug on his more muscular frame, stirred a mix of nostalgia and something else you couldn't quite name.

As you all settled in to eat, Nari dominated the conversation with her animated chatter, regaling you both with a seemingly endless stream of stories from her preschool adventures. Her infectious enthusiasm filled the room, punctuated by giggles and dramatic gestures as she recounted tales of finger-painting mishaps and playground conquests. You and Jongho exchanged amused glances over her head, your shared laughter creating a bubble of warmth around the table. The atmosphere was cozy and comfortable, yet tinged with the bittersweet awareness of its temporary nature.

The meal drew to a close, with plates nearly empty and bellies satisfyingly full. Jongho glanced at his watch, a hint of reluctance clouding his eyes. "I should probably get going," he said softly, his gaze flicking between you and Nari as if torn between duty and desire.

Nari's face immediately fell, her earlier joy evaporating like morning mist. Her lower lip jutted out in a heart-wrenching pout, her eyes widening to impossibly large proportions. "But Uncle," she pleaded, her voice small and trembling, "can't you stay longer? Please?" Her imploring gaze darted between Jongho and you, silently begging for intervention, her little hands clasping together as if in prayer.

Jongho's expression softened at Nari's plea, his eyes filled with warmth and understanding. "I promise I'll be back soon, sweetheart," he said, his voice gentle and reassuring. "And you know what? I have an even better idea. How about we plan a special day with all the uncles? We could go to the park, and have a picnic. What do you think about that?"

"Really? All the uncles?" she asked, her voice rising with each word, filled with a mixture of hope and barely contained enthusiasm.

Jongho nodded, "Absolutely," he affirmed, reaching out to gently ruffle her hair. "We'll make it a day to remember. But for now, I need to head out. Can you be my brave little princess and give me a big hug goodbye?" Without hesitation, Nari launched herself into Jongho's arms, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck with all the strength her little body could muster.

As Jongho gently disentangled himself from Nari's embrace, you cleared your throat, trying to keep your voice steady despite the sudden flutter of nervousness in your chest. "Nari, sweetheart," you said softly, "why don't you go play in your room for a little while? Mommy needs to talk to Uncle for a moment before he leaves." Nari nodded obediently, her earlier excitement still evident in her bright eyes. She gave Jongho one last quick squeeze before scampering off to her room, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Once Nari disappeared into her room, you turned to Jongho, a mix of emotions swirling in your chest. "Let me walk you to the door," you said softly, gesturing towards the entryway. Jongho nodded, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he followed your lead.

The short walk to the front door felt charged with unspoken words and lingering glances. As you reached the threshold, you both paused, Jongho turned to face you, his eyes searching yours as if trying to memorize every detail of this moment. Just as he was about to say goodbye, you reached out impulsively, your fingers gently encircling his wrist. He looked at you, surprise evident in his eyes, a question forming on his lips. You quickly pulled him outside, closing the door slightly to ensure Nari wouldn't hear.

Jongho looked at you questioningly, his brow furrowed slightly in confusion. "Is everything alright?"

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the words you were about to say, words that had the power to change everything. "Jongho," you began, your voice barely above a whisper, trembling with the weight of your decision. "There's something important I need to tell you." You paused, gathering your courage, your hands shaking slightly as you met his gaze. "I... I've made a decision. I want Nari to know the truth. I want her to know that you're her dad." The words hung in the air between you, heavy with implications and unspoken emotions. You searched Jongho's face intently, your heart pounding against your ribcage as you waited for his reaction. The silence stretched on, each second feeling like an eternity as you stood on the precipice of change, the future of your little family balanced precariously on the edge of this moment.

Jongho's eyes widened, a myriad of emotions flashing across his face in rapid succession - surprise, disbelief, hope. For a moment, he stood perfectly still, as if frozen in time, processing your words. Then, slowly, he spoke, "Are you absolutely sure about this? I don't want to rush into anything if you're not completely ready. This is... this is a big step."

"No," you interjected quickly, not allowing him to finish his thought. Your voice grew stronger, more resolute with each word. "I'm certain about this. I want her to know the truth. You deserve to be recognized as her dad, to hear her call you 'Daddy.' I want this for her, for you... for us." Your eyes darted across his face, drinking in every nuance of his expression, your voice softening as you added, "That is... if it's what you want too?" The silence that followed was electric, you could hear your heart thundering in your ears, and feel the rush of blood in your veins as you waited for Jongho's response.

In this moment, the future of your unconventional family hung in the balance, poised on the edge of transformation.

Suddenly, Jongho's face broke into a radiant smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners and lighting up with unbridled joy. A soft, melodious laugh escaped his lips, dispelling the tension that had built between you. "God, of course, I want this," he exclaimed, his voice brimming with emotion and barely contained excitement. "You have no idea how much I want it." His hands reached out, gently grasping yours, his touch sending a familiar tingle through your body, awakening memories and feelings long buried. Without warning, Jongho pulled you closer, enveloping you in a warm embrace. The scent of him surrounded you, bringing with it a rush of nostalgia and comfort. Without giving it a second thought, your lips found Jongho's in a tender, hesitant kiss. Your arms wound around his neck of their own, pulling him closer as his hands settled on your waist, holding you as if you might disappear if he loosened his grip even slightly. It started soft, a gentle exploration of forgotten territory. But quickly, the kiss deepened, years of pent-up emotions and unspoken feelings surging to the surface.

Lost in the rush of feelings, you didn't hear someone walking up until you heard slow clapping. The sound, at first barely noticeable, got louder, breaking the moment you were sharing. Your bodies separated as if shocked. As you turned towards the source of the interruption, your eyes fell upon Hyunwoo standing in the hallway, his expression shifted rapidly - shock, hurt, betrayal, and finally settling on a mixture of disbelief and resignation. His eyes, wide with surprise, darted between you and Jongho as if trying to piece together a puzzle he never wanted to solve. The slow clapping, which had initially seemed almost comical, now took on a bitter, almost sarcastic tone. Each clap echoed in the hallway, punctuating the heavy silence that had fallen over the three of you. As the reality of the situation sank in, Hyunwoo's posture changed. His shoulders, usually held high with confidence, seemed to slump under the weight of what he had witnessed. His hands fell limply to his sides, fingers curling into tight fists. The muscles in his jaw worked silently as if he were physically chewing on the words he wanted to say but couldn't quite bring himself to voice.

When Hyunwoo finally spoke, his voice was strained, barely concealing the turbulent emotions bubbling beneath the surface. Each word seemed to cost him great effort as if he were forcing them past a lump in his throat. "Well," he began, his tone a brittle attempt at nonchalance, "isn't this a touching scene." The sarcasm in his voice was palpable, a thin veneer barely masking the hurt that lay beneath. His gaze held a coldness that sent a shiver down your spine. Hyunwoo's voice dropped to a low, bitter whisper, his eyes clouding with a mixture of pain and resignation. "Lovers reunited after years," he said, the words dripping with sarcasm and hurt. "How could I even stand a chance?" A humorless chuckle escaped his lips, the sound hollow "How foolish of me to think that I stood a chance at all."

The hallway suddenly felt too small, too confining.

Hyunwoo's eyes narrowed, his voice dripping with venom. "Have fun with your idol boyfriend," he spat, his words laced with bitterness. "But let me know once he leaves you again." He paused, a cruel smirk twisting his features. "Hopefully without a second baby on the way this time."

The words hung in the air, sharp and cutting. Jongho's body tensed, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. In an instant, the warmth in his eyes was replaced by a fiery rage. He took a step forward, his voice low and dangerous. "You fucking piece of shit," he snarled, his usually gentle demeanor completely gone. "You don't know shit about our situation. How fucking dare you speak to her like that? Who the fuck do you think you are?" His chest heaved with barely contained fury as he continued, spittle flying from his mouth, "I may have fucked up in the past, but I'm here now, I'm fighting for my goddamn family. And I won't let anyone, especially not a pathetic loser like you, disrespect Y/N or my daughter."

"Jongho, please..." you pleaded, placing your hand on his chest in an attempt to stop him from lunging at Hyunwoo. But your efforts were in vain; he was too strong, too enraged. In a flash, Jongho flew across the hallway, his hands reaching out to grab Hyunwoo.

Hyunwoo's expression shifted from anger to a cold, calculated smirk. "I wouldn't recommend that... at least not if you don't want me to give a call to one of those gossip websites," he threatened, his voice dripping with malice.

"You wouldn't!" you exclaimed, feeling your own nerves fraying at the edges. The situation was spiraling out of control, and you felt powerless to stop it. Desperately, you turned to Hyunwoo, your voice pleading. "Hyunwoo, please calm down." The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. You stood there, caught between the two men, your heart racing as you desperately tried to think of a way to defuse the situation before it escalated any further.

Hyunwoo's face contorted with rage, his eyes blazing with a mixture of hurt and fury. "You think you can just waltz back into their lives and play happy families?" he snarled, "Where the fuck were you all these years, huh? Living it up while Y/N struggled to raise your kid alone?"

Jongho's jaw clenched, his muscles visibly tightening beneath his hoodie as he shifted his stance, getting ready for a possible fight. His eyes, usually warm and gentle, now blazed with an intensity that could melt steel. "You don't know anything about our situation," he growled, his voice dropping to a dangerous low, each word dripping with barely contained fury. The air around him seemed to crackle with tension, his entire being radiating a palpable anger that threatened to explode at any moment.

Hyunwoo let out a bitter laugh that echoed harshly. His face contorted into a mask of disgust and resentment as he spat out his next words. "I know more than enough, you piece of shit. You're nothing but a selfish, spineless coward who abandoned a girl who loved you beyond reason. She was young, terrified, and completely alone, yet she chose to keep your baby. And where were you? Living it up as an idol, basking in the spotlight while she struggled through sleepless nights and endless worries. You don't deserve them, you pathetic excuse for a man. You don't deserve an ounce of their love or forgiveness!"

Both men stood their ground, bodies coiled like springs ready to unleash at the slightest provocation. Their heated exchange hung in the air like a powder keg, threatening to ignite into a full-blown physical confrontation at any moment.

"Y/N, please step back," Jongho whispered urgently, his eyes locked on Hyunwoo's face.

"Absolutely not!" you exclaimed. With swift, purposeful strides, you positioned yourself between the two men, your heart thundering in your chest. Adrenaline surged through your body as you extended your arms, palms facing outward towards each of them, creating a physical barrier. "Both of you, stop this immediately!" you demanded, your voice quavering but resolute. "This is pointless! We need to approach this situation rationally and discuss it like adults." Your eyes darted between them, silently pleading for reason to prevail. Turning to Hyunwoo, your gaze softened with empathy. "Hyunwoo, please," you implored, "This isn't you. I know you're hurting, but this isn't the way."

Shifting your attention to Jongho, your expression became more stern. "And Jongho," you said, your tone leaving no room for argument, "remember who you are and what's at stake here. Think about Nari, think about your career. Is this really how you want to handle this situation?"

The hallway fell silent, both men stood frozen, their chests rising and falling rapidly as they struggled to contain their anger. You remained steadfast between them, your posture unwavering, a living shield determined to prevent any further escalation. The weight of the moment pressed down on all three of you, each second stretching into eternity as you waited to see if reason would finally prevail over raw emotion.

Jongho took a step back, his fists still clenched. Under his breath, he muttered a string of profanities, his voice low and seething with anger. "Fucking asshole... piece of shit... who does he think he is..."

Suddenly, without warning, Hyunwoo lunged forward. His fist connected with Jongho's jaw with a sickening crack, the impact echoing through the hallway. Jongho stumbled backward, caught off guard by the sudden assault, his eyes wide with shock and pain.

You gasped, horrified by the sudden turn of events. "Stop it!" you screamed, your voice shrill with panic. Adrenaline coursed through your veins as you watched Jongho recover from the initial shock. His eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flashing in them as he wiped a trickle of blood from his split lip.

"I won't disrespect Y/N like that, I won't fight with you for her to see, and..." Jongho paused, his voice low and controlled despite the anger still simmering beneath the surface. "Funny how you supposedly wanted to take my place in Nari's life but you don't have any respect for her mother." The hallway fell silent as the weight of his statement settled over you all. Hyunwoo's face contorted, a mix of emotions flashing across his features - anger, shame, and finally, a flicker of realization. The fight seemed to drain out of him, his shoulders slumping as the weight of Jongho's words sank in. He took a step back, his eyes darting between you and Jongho, as if seeing the situation clearly for the first time. "You are not a man, Hyunwoo," Jongho continued, his voice low and controlled. "And let me repeat this again, as I did yesterday: I don't want you near my daughter." With that, Jongho turned away from Hyunwoo and walked towards the elevators.

"Jongho, wait!" you called out, your voice cracking with desperation.

Jongho paused, his hand hovering over the elevator button. He took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling with the effort. "Y/N, I'm sorry," he began, his voice low and strained. "But... I really need to go. This... it's too much right now." His eyes, usually warm and inviting, now held a storm of conflicting emotions. "Please understand." You watched helplessly as Jongho stepped into the elevator, his gaze never leaving yours until the doors slowly closed between you. The soft ding of the elevator's descent echoed in the now-silent hallway, leaving you alone with Hyunwoo and the heavy aftermath of the confrontation. Turning to face him, you felt a surge of conflicting emotions. His earlier words still stung, sharp, and painful in your memory. But the sight of him now, deflated and ashamed, stirred a complex mix of pity, frustration, and lingering hurt in your chest. His usual confident demeanor had crumbled, replaced by a man who looked lost and regretful. You took a deep breath, trying to gather your scattered thoughts and decide how to address the mess that had unfolded before you.

"Y/N, I—" Hyunwoo began, too soon for your liking, his voice faltering. His eyes darted around, unable to meet your gaze. He opened his mouth again as if to continue, but no words came out. The silence stretched between you, filled with all the things left unsaid.

"I need you to leave," you said firmly, your voice surprisingly steady despite the turmoil inside you. You turned your back to him, unable to bear the sight of his remorse any longer. Without waiting for a response, you walked back into your apartment, each step feeling heavier than the last. The door closed behind you with a soft click, finally separating you from the chaos in the hallway.

As you leaned against the closed door, you let out a shaky breath that seemed to come from the very depths of your being. The events of the past few minutes replayed in your mind like a relentless film reel, each scene more draining than the last. You felt anger at Hyunwoo's words, worry for Jongho, concern for how this would affect Nari, and an overwhelming sense of exhaustion that seemed to seep into your very bones. You knew you'd have to deal with the aftermath of this confrontation eventually - there were conversations to be had, explanations to be given, and decisions to be made. But for now, all you wanted was a moment of peace to collect your scattered thoughts and tumultuous emotions.

♡│if you enjoy my writing please consider supporting me by tagging and reblogging│♡

#jongho x reader #jonhgo x you #jongho x y/n #jongho series #jongho fanfiction #jongho fanfic #ateez #finding our way back series #jongho fluff #choi jongho #jongho #jongho ateez #ateez fanfiction #ateez x female reader #ateez x reader

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newtkelly · 14 days ago

Note

Not to word vomit on you but I can't stop thinking about Oliver wanting a love story like Tarlos and how it all accidentally lined up.

Knowing that Carlos and TK were about to move in, and then Carlos made that romantic gesture and TK got scared because it was, "too good to be true."

Carlos is left, confused, puzzled and nursing a broken-heart but still just as in love. What do you mean that TK and Carlos saw a future together, one got scared at that prospect and left before Carlos was the one to leave??

What do you mean that happened after Oliver said he wanted Bucktommy to have a love story like Tarlos; where it was always going to be them?

Then you consider Oliver saying that we might see Tommy and Buck interact during a call and it'll be awkward and who can't help but think of TK and Carlos running into the furniture store and seeing each other for the first time in weeks.

Anyways, sorry to be delusional in your ask box. I'm deep within the Tarlos trenches so this is all starting to look eerily familiar lmao (it could also be Tim is out of ideas, which is most likely the case)

Please feel free to word vomit on me always, I live for it.

Receiving this ask has actually prompted me to share some thoughts that I’ve held back from sharing, just because I wasn’t sure if it was worth it to throw more speculation into the void. But this message is so lovely, and I agree with it so much and so… okay I will share some of my mixed bag of thoughts about this whole situation.

Firstly, I adore Tarlos and LS (even if I don’t post about either much), TK is my baby, and the interesting thing about them for me is that I wound up caring for them more AFTER they broke up and got back together. If Buck and Tommy’s story is formatted as a rom-com, TK and Carlos are a tragicomedy. TK, the heartbroken recovering addict thrust into an entirely new city, a new career, who doesn’t want to let himself get too close to something good because he is misery incarnate. Carlos, the hopeful hopeless romantic who sees TK and doesn’t see something that needs fixing, but someone who his love could help heal. It’s such a gorgeous story, and the symmetry of both characters shockingly losing a parent in a tragic way is painfully beautiful. I LOVE their love story.

That brings me to Oliver and Tim’s comments. Throughout the Buck and Tommy relationship, my belief that this would be Buck’s final relationship only ever wavered twice. The first time was in the immediate aftermath of their first date (I spent the whole episode thinking that Tommy was actually reintroduced to kick off the bi awakening plotline and Buck was not acquiring a boyfriend) and the second time was towards the tail end of the summer hiatus when I legitimately began to doubt Lou would want to come back given everything that transpired. Other than that, I had full faith that this was it, this was Buck getting off the “hamster wheel”—Tim’s words, not mine.

I had confidence for a few reasons. 1 – the story was always handled with care onscreen and gave us no reason to think they weren’t going to work out. 2 – the chemistry was insane, and I knew it couldn’t just be me because an entire fandom was born. Tim and tptb must have seen what we saw. 3 – the supplementary information funneled to us through articles and Tim’s social media, literally up until post-8x06 never seemed to indicate that their relationship was headed in this direction. A big part of that was the comparison to Tarlos.

In order to protect myself (should I name the list of shows, movies, couples that I’ve fixated on that wound up playing out in dissatisfying ways?), I am awfully pessimistic. The post-episode interviews, articles, + hearing a bit from LFJ and OS has me wondering if this was some mass hallucination. Did we truly cling to something good and blow it up, run with it? Was this always the plan? I’ve wondered if because S7 was so short and S8 required that other characters get the spotlight first/other stories needed to be told and wrapped, and if because of production and scheduling and whatever external reasons, did their relationship wind up having a longer life than was ever intended. Were they ever supposed to make it to six months? Were they ever supposed to make it past the fucking wedding? I have been asking myself this stuff a lot. Alternatively, did something happen that made them want to or have to part ways with LFJ? So many questions, and I’m not sure we’ll ever know.

But… then there’s the delusional side of me, and the reason I haven’t totally abandoned hope is because when I was watching 8x06 live, EVERYTHING in me told me that this is a necessary section of the rom-com formula. Even the call-backs throughout the episode made me feel like the writers are so painfully aware, and that the narrative wants these characters to be together (Miceli’s, Abby, basketball, going to the movies, calling an uber, the loft kitchen, “you’re not ready”)—the motifs were absolutely popping off. I did not think it was the end when the episode ended. I wondered when and how they would find their way back to each other to fulfill the rom-com genre, but what I did NOT expect was to open social media and see articles framing this as the end. I wasn’t surprised when I found out who wrote the articles, and listen—if they bait one side of the fandom, can’t they bait the other? I still have some hope, because at the end of the day, anything can happen with network television. Maybe this is all part of the plan, and the interviews should be taken with a grain of salt. I just don’t know.

Interviews with Tim and Oliver from day one positioned the Buck and Tommy relationship as a queer love story devoid of trauma. Okay, well… huh. From where I was sitting, there was A TON of explicitly queer trauma exposed in 8x06. Their “hurdle” is tied utterly and completely to queerness. Tommy runs because he is a gay man who doesn’t trust that his bisexual boyfriend should “settle” for him, and who would rather be alone than heartbroken, and if that truly is the last of Tommy, it has to be one of the coldest and cruelest exits we’ve ever seen on this show. Do they simply not realize how deeply traumatized both characters come off in that episode, or is it all part of the plan? If the interviews positioning this as the permanent end of bucktommy should be taken at face value, shouldn’t the other interviews that position them as a rom-com (with the formulaic third act breakup, boils and all) be taken as the truth as well? If there was some misinterpretation, why hasn’t Tim said anything—he clearly knows a lot of fans were hurt by what they watched. He must have seen the outrage—why radio silence? Did we truly blow this out of proportion? Are the wheels coming off behind the scenes? I need a tell-all at this point lol

Thank you for the lovely ask, I’ve been sitting with these thoughts all week so this was a good excuse to finally articulate them. <3

#bucktommy #tevan #tarlos

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whisper-in-the-night · 5 months ago

Text

Undesirable

Plot: Thomas is omega who will never find his true mate. Or no?

Warnings: omegavers; slight mention of bullying; deviation from the canon; omega!Thomas Hewitt, alpha!male!reader / Y/N

Note: it's my first work in this fandom and even first work in Omegaverse, so I hope it'll be fine. Thanks for reading. About 3-4 chapters planned here.

Part 1 | Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

•••

It's hard to be an omega. And it's even harder to be an omega when you don't fit the description of an 'ordinary, attractive' omega.

Thomas understood the essence of this system from his childhood, as soon as he went to school. And although, because of his strength and size, Hewitt thought he was at least a beta as a child, fate seemed to mock him. During one of the tests to determine the second gender, his results finally turned out to be positive. The young man nervously looked at the neatly folded piece of paper in the envelope. He carefully pulled it out and unwrapped it. Many of his health data were written on white blank paper, but what caught his attention was the green inscription in the middle of the sheet "Omega".

At first, the boy did not attach importance to this word, his childish curiosity and some naivety accepted it simply as a fact. Other children in the class were violently discussing their secondary genders, sharing their impressions and all that. A couple of minutes after the results were given, Thomas was approached by a group of children who had previously often mocked him because of his external features. As soon as they surreptitiously noticed the inscription in Thomas's results, mocking laughter broke out in the crowd. "Look at him! He's a freak! So also omega! No alpha in your life will look at you, monster," one of the boys said enthusiastically, grinning nastily.

That evening, Thomas locked himself in his room. After several unsuccessful attempts to invite her son to dinner, Luda went up to the second floor and gently knocked on the child's door. There was no response. Then she cautiously opened the door. The lights in the room were turned off and the windows were curtained. The woman cautiously went inside, when suddenly she heard a slight crunch under her feet. Picking up a crumpled piece of paper from the floor, Luda read the unfortunate word. She carefully sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled the child into her arms. The boy allowed himself to cry out loud, burying his face in his mother's chest, clutching the fabric of her dress in his fists.

As the years passed, the Hewitt family was left alone in this ill-fated town on the outskirts of Texas. They had to come to the current of life that we all know about. This family consisted mostly of betas, with the exception of the youngest, Thomas. And yet now, life seemed much easier for him. Since he left school, just for many years, his abusers have grown up and left, and Thomas has become a little easier. Although self-doubt and pain remained deep in his big warm heart. He really believed in their words. Thomas was too big and strong man to be a desirable omega. Too strong, too big, too wayward, too rude. The man has long accepted his place in society. Although sometimes he still sat in his room at night with a heavy heart. Sometimes he wished he had a mate he could rely on, a mate who could protect him and calm his heat, maybe even give him pups. But Thomas knew he didn't have time for that, he had to protect the family.

***

The sun seemed to come out of hell in Texas this year. The heat was incredible, there was a drought all around. The small grass turned yellow, and those rare trees turned into a kind of deadwood. There's not a cloud in the sky.

Thomas was helping his mother in the store, it was damn stuffy in the room. Recently, due to the intense heat, there were no visitors from the word at all, so he did not care about his appearance at all. The sleeves of a light-colored shirt were rolled up to the elbows, dark tangled hair was pulled into a low ponytail, only a few strands fell over a face in a leather mask. The man's brown trousers were slightly damp from how often he wiped his sweaty palms on the fabric.

Suddenly, a light ringing of the door bell was heard, followed by Luda's tired but pleasant voice.

"Hello, how can I help you?" the woman asked the man who entered.

"Oh yeah, hey. I'd like to refuel my car," you replied smiling, scratching the back of your head, "Do you have some gasoline?"

The woman smiled slightly, which caused fine wrinkles to run across her tired face, and turned towards the back room, shouting a short "Tommy!". A couple of minutes later, a dark-haired man came out from behind the shelves, holding a canister of gasoline. His gaze slid down on you, as if assessing you, and his eyes widened for a moment. You were a tall, muscular man, it seemed, even one and a half times bigger than Thomas himself. Your short sleeved high-collared shirt was unbuttoned at the top buttons, and because of the sweat, the outlines of your strong body showed through the damp fabric. You were also wearing beige breeches that hugged your toned ass beautifully. Thomas licked his lips almost instinctively and came out from behind the counter, handing you a can of gasoline. And indeed, you were almost a head taller than him, which made Thomas feel almost small, which had not happened to him for a long time. The man's nostrils were touched by your island fragrance. Something like an orange with black pepper and bergamot mixed with your body's natural scent. Your pheromones, even under a veil of suppressants, made Thomas feel heavy in his knees.

You smiled briefly and picked up the canister, lightly brushing the rough skin of Thomas's fingers. It almost made the man blush. You took your wallet out of your pocket and handed the woman some green bills, so she nodded curtly.

"Tommy, can you help the young man?"

He didn't need to be asked twice. Although Thomas hesitated a little at first.

Thomas followed you outside in case you needed help, which he clearly doubted. You looked like a confident, independent person who didn't need anyone's help. Besides, you were clearly an alpha, given the smell of your pheromones. It was an extra time for Thomas to be in your presence. He had met alphas before, at least because many of his victims were one, but he had never felt such a strange sense of comfort around an alpha before. Your presence calmed his inner omega.

"The summer is too hot this year," you muttered with a slight grin, sorting out the car and seemingly hoping to strike up some kind of small conversation with the big guy. There was no response. Thomas's head was too busy with your pleasant scent. "You're not the talkative type, are you?" There was playfulness in your tone, but you clearly weren't trying to humiliate another man. Thomas frowned a little at first, listening to your words, but eventually relaxed, nodding briefly. The scars on his face always made it difficult for him to speak clearly, but lately, due to the intense summer heat, every word he uttered seemed almost painful.

After ten long minutes of intense silence, you finally finished refueling the car and put the empty canister on the ground, brushing off your hands.

"Well, thank you. I think without you, I would already be stuck somewhere on the road in this wilderness..." You said, looking back at Thomas and smiling amiably. "Well, alright. I'm already a little late. I wouldn't like to be late for my sister's birthday. For missing her 'special day' one more time, she'll definitely stab me half to death," you said with a light laugh and patted Thomas on the shoulder, "Bye."

Finally, you went to the car door, got into the driver's seat and started the engine, driving away from the old shop.

Thomas watched your dirty beige car drive away for a long time. Your touch is still clearly felt on his hot skin, and his head is slightly dizzy from the citrus scent of your body.

#slashers #slashers x reader #slashers x you #slashers x y/n #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x you #thomas hewitt x y/n #thomas hewitt x male reader #slashers x male reader #omegaverse #omegaverse slashers #thomas brown hewitt imagine #thomas hewitt imagine #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher x y/n

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sundrop-writes · 4 months ago

Note

oo! I was just unsure of how you could do it for some of the characters but I trust you to come up with good scenarios, you’re always very creative with them.

So, could I ask for how you think teen wolf characters Stiles, Isaac, Lydia, & Derek would react to finding out reader is pregnant? (could be with their baby, or however else you think up bc ofc Lydia can’t get anyone pregnant 😂)

And no you are not alone. I really like pregnancy and baby fics, which is why I was wondering, but I was still a bit worried you weren’t up for it for this particular fandom! It’s very fun to read about having an imaginary family with my fav characters and the variety of diff scenarios that could lead to it.

'I'm sure you could come up with something good' - and the first time I read this message, I came up with something delightfully insane for Lydia. so strap in omg

I am also glad that I'm not the only one who likes pregnancy and kid fics!!! I think they are so much fun because it has elements of drama and fluff and caring. It's such a nice soup of emotions. I really hope you like what I have done here.

Teen Wolf requests are OPEN. Please read my Rules before requesting!

How would the pack react to finding out that you're pregnant with their baby?

Included: Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin, and Derek Hale.

Warnings: usually I do GN readers for reactions but this one called for fem!reader - the reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina (and has the ability to get pregnant); in Lydia's section, the reader is a werewolf; mentions of the reader having typical pregnancy symptoms; sexual themes (baby making - duh), some sentences that could be considered smutty?; I think Isaac's part is the longest because we know I have a fucking soft spot for him; mentions of unprotected sex (again - duh); mentions of the abuse Isaac experienced from his father (not detailed); umm idk what else - generally mature themes? But no major warnings other than that.

Stiles would freeze up. He would be so unsure how to react to the information that for a while, he wouldn't react at all.

When the words came out of your mouth, he thought he had misheard you.

"Stiles, I - I'm pregnant."

"What?" He gaped in response.

"I'm pregnant." You affirmed gently.

He sat there, frozen with shock, and didn't say anything for a long time.

He was overwhelmed with too many thoughts and emotions. He wanted to be happy, but he felt like he wasn't ready for this. But he also wasn't ready for half the things that had happened to him in life so far - being kidnapped (more than once), having friends die or nearly die around him, being possessed by a thousand year old demon and fighting to be freed.

This was good, right?

It was you. He wanted you, he wanted everything that came with a life with you.

But it was so soon.

His dad was going to kill him.

"Stiles, say something, please-" You begged quietly, and when your eyes began to brim with tears, that broke him free from his horrible shock.

He couldn't stand to see you hurt. He jumped off the bed and swept you into a hug, holding you tight. Instinctively, you squeezed him back, seeking the comfort that always came from his touch.

"Hey, hey, I'm sorry." He said, whispering into your neck. "I'm sorry, I know this is bad-"

"You think it's bad?" You posed in return, misconstruing his words. "So - so you don't want to keep it?"

His heart shook in his chest.

Of all the things he had been thinking, that was not one of them.

"No." He said sharply, pulling away from the hug to get a good look at your tearful face. Your features were still twisted with pain, and he absolutely hated it. "I just - I just meant that you're upset, and that's bad."

"Well - what about the pregnancy part?" You asked urgently. "What do you think about that part?"

"It's scary as hell." He answered honestly. Your lip quivered, and he rushed to say more. "But for once in my life, I think it's the good kind of scary, like - like roller coasters or scary movies where you know nobody actually gets hurt, or - or spicy hot wings." He rambled on. "I'm terrified, but I think this is gonna be amazing. There's nobody else that I'd rather have a baby with than you."

Saying the word 'baby' out loud made it all terribly real.

You gave him a wet, tearful smile, and then pulled him into a kiss.

Isaac would be upset and insecure.

After you told him, Isaac ran - he ditched out of your bedroom window, leaving you alone and tearful, and after you spent days in bed sobbing (your sadness likely multiplied by the pregnancy hormones), you would be determined to track him down. Even if he didn't agree to be a father, even if he didn't own up to it, at the very least, you needed to finish the conversation you had started. You needed closure - the end of the relationship, if that's what he wanted.

After days of him dodging you, you finally managed to catch him at Derek's loft. It was clear that he wanted to run again, but Derek's words about owning up to his responsibilities were ringing in his ears, and he decided that at the very least, he owed you an explanation. He would give you the conversation you so desperately wanted.

"What the fuck, Isaac?" You barked at him, tears edging in your eyes again at seeing him for the first time in a week. "What the hell is wrong with you? I-"

"You really want me to run down that fucking laundry list now?" He snapped, more bitter and rage fuelled than you had ever seen him. His voice caused chills down your spine. "Because I'm surprised it's taken you this long to notice one thing, let alone half of it!"

This was not the man who you had fallen in love with. This wasn't your sweet, loving Isaac. This wasn't the man who had taken you to bed, kissed over every inch of your body, made you so ripe with passion that something like a condom felt insignificant compared to the cosmos you saw in his eyes as he pushed his cock inside of you.

"Isaac, what are you talking about?" You asked, your voice small, barely edging above a whisper as you stared him down carefully, searching through his eyes - wondering if everything before this had just been an act to get you into bed.

All you saw boiling up inside of him was hurt, and it made you ache too.

"I don't expect you to know." He sighed fitfully, shaking his head.

You put a hand over your stomach, a protective instinct, and his gaze focused there. Regret splashed up inside of him, and he couldn't contain his next words.

"When you told me you were pregnant, did you expect the fucking sun to shine down and angels to sing and some fucking - Hallmark bullshit?" He questioned, clearly jaded.

You hadn't expected that, but you hadn't expected him to run away. Part of you expected him to be happy.

"I can't be happy about this." He told you, almost as if reading your mind. "I have shitty, horrible DNA. I'm a monster, Y/N." You gave him a puzzled look, and he continued. "I'm not talking about the werewolf thing - my father was a horrible person. You know that. I can't be around a kid. I can't have a baby. I can't risk it."

He said the last part softly, that terrible regret lacing his voice, and suddenly, in that moment, it all became crystal clear to you. He thought his father's abusive ways would be hereditary.

Your chest clenched with a horrible pain, and you wandered across the room toward him, and instinctively, he backed away from you.

"Don't." He said, continuing to eye your stomach sharply. You realized now that he thought he was protecting your baby by staying away from it, staying away from you.

You inched toward him again, this time managing to snag his hand, which you brought to place flat on your stomach. You were early in your pregnancy, not showing (your stomach not any different than it normally would be) - but something wolfish inside of him flared with protectiveness, something could sense that different thing about you. It was subtle, but he could feel and hear another heartbeat under his palm. He wanted to run again, but feeling this, being so close - it caused him to relax against you, instinctively wrapping his other arm around your shoulders and pulling you close.

"Isaac, you're nothing like your father." You told him quietly. "You're not going to hurt our baby-"

"But what if I do?" He argued, his voice cracking with fear.

"You won't." You assured him. "We both know that you won't."

Lydia would be shocked - in denial. Because - what the fuck is happening? This shouldn't be scientifically possible, right? Right?

At first, she was convinced that you cheated on her. She freaked out about that. She screamed at you, threw things. You cried because you hated that she was accusing you of such a horrible crime, even if you understood why (to an extent). She shouldn't be able to get you pregnant, so it was perfectly sane to think that you had cheated on her with a guy during the course of your relationship - even though you hadn't. This was crazy. This shouldn't be possible.

When you had first started feeling the symptoms - the nausea, the irritability, the generally off feeling, something that kept nagging at you and had all of your senses on edge, you hadn't even thought to take a pregnancy test. Even when you missed your period, you assumed that it was stress, not eating right... a laundry list of other things before you would have assumed this.

But then - Derek pulled you aside and asked why you smelled like that. He said the only other time he had smelled it was when he was much younger - before the fire, when one of his aunts was pregnant. You told him that it wasn't possible, and he told you that his nose never lied.

So - driven crazy by the thought, and believing it to be impossible, you peed on the stupid little stick. And then another, and then another, entirely in disbelief. And when you dumped a bunch of pee covered sticks onto Scott's Mom's kitchen counter, much to her horror, asking her if there was any way they could be wrong. She told you it was unlikely, but took you to the hospital to get you a blood test, and when it came back positive, she asked you who the father was.

She gave you that same fish-gaped mouth when you told her.

"Lydia." You sighed. "Lydia is the father. She's the only person I've ever had sex with."

And this left you and Lydia in Derek's kitchen with him and Stiles, with your positive blood test sitting in the middle of the counter, Stiles pouring over every book he could find on the subject - all of you irritably confused.

"How?" Lydia gaped, still in shock. "How?"

"I don't know." Derek shrugged. "You tell me."

"And - and you didn't cheat on me?" Lydia asked you, still believing this to be the most logical answer.

"Yes." Derek answered, cutting you off. "She's not lying. That much I can tell you."

You were glad that he backed you up on this, but it still left everyone confused and searching for answers.

"Look, okay, Lydia - you survived the Alpha bite, you have some weird immunity." Stiles said, pausing between his frantic page flipping. "Maybe... this is what happens when you have sex with a werewolf?"

Lydia scoffed and you hid your face in your hands with embarrassment. You wondered if it had something to do with the full moon. The last time - you had been so full of energy, pulsing with power as the moon came to its fullness overhead, and you had pinned her down, spent hours rubbing your cunt raw against hers. But you never thought that anything the two of you did could result in a pregnancy.

"Maybe it would help if you tell me exactly what you two did?" Stiles suggested - he was thinking of it from a theoretical, scientific standpoint, not realizing how perverted this sounded until after it left his lips.

"Really?!" Lydia glared at him.

You picked up a nearby vase and threw it at him without hesitation, and he dodged it, causing it to smash against the wall behind his head, disintegrating into dust.

"Okay, bad idea!"

"Just shut up and keep reading."

Derek would be intensely protective. From the second the words came out of your mouth, the entire axis of his world shifted. Everything became about you and protecting you and your unborn baby.

"Derek, I think I'm pregnant."

Everything suddenly made sense. The change in your scent, the odd way you had been acting, the fact that you had been sick recently.

He couldn't contain the deep, feral growl he let out - the way his eyes lit up as the news fully overtook him. The flash of red made you mistake him as angry, and your entire body sagged.

"Look, I'm sorry, but this isn't just my fault-" You hissed sharply at him, and he cut you off by sealing his lips over your own, smothering you in an intense, hot, confusing kiss.

Of course he knew that it wasn't 'just your fault'. The two of you had sex plenty of times, but if he wasn't mistaken, he remembered the night vividly well-

You thought it would be funny to tease him by tempting him with a chase through the woods, and it ended with you stomach down in a clearing, your cheek pressed against the dirt while he fucked into you roughly from behind, growling warnings in your ear, telling you not to tease him again. (Which only made you want to do it again, and again.)

"Don't be sorry, moonflower." He mumbled against your lips, using his nickname for you. "Don't ever be sorry about this."

The passion that overtook his voice sent chills down your spine. You were speechless.

"Derek?" You questioned, a quiet chirp that almost died off in your throat.

"From now on, you don't leave my sight, do you understand me?" He said, gently running his knuckles across your face, as sweet and soothing as you had ever seen him.

Before, he had been subtle in his protection of you. Reaching over to snap on your seatbelt before you could do it yourself, always putting an arm around you, especially in the face of danger, making sure that he walked in front of you if thought there might be a threat around. He had never been this outright passionate about his protection of you before.

But he would never risk the life of his unborn child - he would never let anybody come between him and the woman who was going to mother that child. It was a sacred bond now.

"Yes, of course." You couldn't help but to agree.

Then, Derek surprised you when he knelt down in front of you, placing his forehead on your stomach and gently closing his eyes as if partaking in the solitude of prayer. Which, he was - uttering silent promises to your unborn child, worshipping at the altar of the powerful, beautiful woman who was going to bring that baby into this world.

It left you speechless once again, and all you could do was run your fingers through his hair, further adding to his peace.

#sundrop answers #anonymous #sundrop writes #reactions #lydia martin x reader #teen wolf x y/n #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf #stiles stilinski x reader #isaac lahey x reader #derek hale x reader

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queers-gambit · 1 year ago

Text

Save Me From Myself

prompt: ( requested ) in a moment of unparalleled anger, you learn what Joel really thinks of you.

pairing: Joel Miller x female!reader

fandom masterlist: The Last of Us

collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

word count: (short as hell at) 1.9k+

warnings: very mild spoilers, there's probably cursing, oneshot (no part two), hurt no comfort, mild angst, shorty shorty short short shorty! author is disappointed in this one, she wanted to give much more.

"Gimme that," you grunted at Ellie, picking her backpack from her shoulder with ease as the shorter young lady protested with a small growl.

"I got it - "

"Take a break," you smiled at the kid, shouldering her pack. "Tell me another one of those shitty jokes you love so much."

Ellie smirked and whipped out her book, flipping through a few pages, scanning the pages, then deciding on one. "What... Is Beethoven's favorite fruit?"

You shrugged, "No idea."

"Ba-na-na-naaaaa!"

You laughed, you couldn't help it. "Goddamnit. That's a good one," you praised, eyeing her for a moment as she silently read down the page. You wondered, "You know, I meant to ask, but why that book in particular?"

"My friend gave it to me... It was a present," she explained softly, seeing your head nod of understanding. "What did one ocean say to the other?"

"Nothing, they just waved," you smirked.

"You shithead," she tisked. "Okay, okay, here's a good one. What's brown... And sticky?"

"Oh, Ellie, don't be gross - "

"A stick."

There was a long pause.

"Oh, you know what? Fuck you," You laughed heartily. "I gotta remember that, I like that one."

"You'll like this one, too. Why should you never trust stairs?"

You knew the answer, but humored her, "Why?"

"Because they're always up to something."

You chuckled, "Good one, kid, yeah. Okay, okay, wait, I got one."

"Lay it on me."

"How do you cut a Roman Emperors hair?"

"How?" She grinned, ready for the punchline.

"With Caesars."

Ellie paused, offering a confused look, "I don't get that one."

You both stared at one another for a long moment, still walking through the cold, dead field.

"You don't know Julius Caesar?"

"No? Who the hell is that?"

You chuckled, "You know what? Just as well, who fucking cares about the Roman Empire when we're living in the end-of-days?"

"It's a decent joke," Joel spoke for the first time in hours; holding his rifle protectively as he lead you both through the wilderness, "for what it's worth."

You smirked at Ellie and teased, "Told you I was funny."

"You used the term punny."

"Both are accurate."

"I think you're just an idiot."

"I think you've got a helluva mouth on you."

Ellie grinned and flipped through her book, your gaze trailing to Joel and eyeing him for a long moment. You've known him since you were 19 and hired to babysit his daughter, Sarah. Joel was everything you could've asked for - loyal, sweet, protective, respectful. You had been at their house, doing coursework for your university program when the Outbreak happened. You did what you could to help protect Sarah, but in the end, nobody was safe, nobody was immune, and Death stretch His hand unto all of mankind alike.

He left only select few, you, Joel, and Tommy being amongst the survivors.

The past twenty years had been anything but easy, and while you had gone into this pandemic together, you and Joel didn't actually stick together the whole time. When you settled in Boston with Tommy, Tess, and a few other nomads, you were exhausted from the brutality you were forced to survive in, and so, first chance you had, you broke away.

Technically, you and Tommy broke away. But still.

Joel turned to a life of shadiness with Tess at his right hand (and on his cock). The two of you becoming estranged, until he saved your ass from a pair of FEDRA agents harassing citizens.

He didn't just distract your assailants, but put them in the dirt, helped pick you up, dust off, check for injury, then escort you home. Once at your apartment, he ensured you weren't hurt and was truly okay, and after that, he was back in your life - like the snap of fingers.

You hated to admit it, but it felt nice having a constant back in your life. Joel was your tether to reality, and without him, you felt akin to a kite with the string cut - useless and drifting away.

After that, you came around a little more to see how much your old neighbor had changed in your time apart. Joel was familiar, he was family; had always been something of a source of peace for you. He was usually protective of your wellbeing - even if he had a strange (and borderline unhealthy) way of showing it - creating a bubble of safety.

You eventually left the Fireflies and met Bill and Frank, venturing out and about with Joel and Tess; the latter of who simply despised you for just existing. She was never fond of you, more so now that Joel was obviously attached to you.

Joel never let her argue about you; he never cared for her opinion nor what assumptions she had. He kept you close, he liked your close; and if she sneered any hateful slander, Joel was swift to push her away in favor of you.

One time, he even literally locked her out of the apartment because she was rude to you and told you to "get lost!".

How could you not feel safe? Comfortable? Secure?

When you made it to Jackson and found Tommy once more, you were overjoyed by his familiar face and scent, but quickly pulled him aside to voice your concern for Joel.

"He's been clutching his chest, walking slower than I've seen before," you whispered to Tommy. "I don't think he's havin' a heart episode, but somethin' ain't right, Tommy. He's not doing the best."

"I'll talk to him," he assured.

You believed him, there was no reason not to. You (willfully blindly) believed Tommy would go about this subject with sensitivity and wouldn't mention your words of concern, but you were wrong. Very wrong. Joel had a known temper and if he caught wind that you spoke his name, even in passing, he would lash out, so, truly, you thought Tommy wouldn't tip Joel off.

The moment you returned "home" (to the house you, Ellie, and Joel were offered), you were met with a fuming Joel and an awkward looking Ellie. "What's going on?" You felt worried, fearing for the worst, asking, "What's wrong?"

"You," Joel snapped. "You're what's wrong."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Joel," Ellie tried with a frown, "she just walked in 0 "

"You had a word with Tommy now, did'yah?" He demanded, ignoring Ellie to focus his glare fully on you.

"Well - yeah - I mean - "

"No," he seethed with narrowed eyes and furrowed brow, "where the hell you get off talkin' to my brother like that? Huh? You worried 'bout me, you say somethin' to me - otherwise, the hell you talkin' for?"

"Joel - "

"You overstepped," he shook his head and pointed a scolding finger at you, "and my health ain't your concern - "

"Of course, it is! Fuck's sake, how can you even say that? I get you're mad, fine, okay, you know what? I get it, I'm sorry if I overstepped by telling Tommy how worried I am, but for the love of God, Joel, I am worried about you because you're not the same man you once were!"

"Are any of us?" He huffed.

"You don't think we've noticed the way you've slowed? How you clutch your chest? I'm allowed to be worried - "

"You know, if you weren't so Goddamn clingy all the time, you wouldn't feel whatever compulsion this is to concern yourself with something that ain't got shit to do with you."

You blinked in shock, feeling disarmed by the harsh tone and bruising words he offered. "Joel, we're both worried about you,," Ellie stepped in again. "Don't be such a dick, she's just looking out for you."

"By involving those that don't need to be involved?" He sneered, glaring at the girl before rounding on you. "From now on, you stay in your place - enough with this - this fucking - this protector bullshit you think of me as. You cling any fucking tighter and I'll suffocate, so back the hell off."

You nodded slowly, watching him storm off; door slamming after him hard enough to make both you and Ellie flinch. "I, uh..." You cleared your throat, "I should... Um, uh, you know what, I'll jusy - uh, yeah, no, I can just... Yeah, I should - yeah."

"I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"You didn't do anything."

"No, but that wasn't very nice of him to say."

"No, I suppose not," you smiled ruefully, giving a hearty, heavy sniffle. "I should, you know, go and find somewhere to crash - "

"Why wouldn't you stay here?"

"I don't exactly like to linger where I'm not wanted," you mused, keeping your tears at bay. "I just need to clear my head for a bit. Go for a walk or something. Maybe he just needs some space, I don't want to be here and upset him more... You two have a mission at hand," you tried to smile, "that's bigger than us all, and whether I see the end of it or not doesn't matter now - what matters is you, Ellie. This petty squabble will pass," you lied, "because you're all that matters. I won't risk further upsetting Joel, gambling with this already sketchy-ass plan and put everything we've worked towards so far at jeopardy."

You both smiled ruefully.

"I know when to walk away," you ended softly.

She nodded, opening her mouth but closing it instantly; knowing you were stubborn enough that she didn't even attempt to stop you. So, she did the only thing she knew she could do: offered her joke book.

"Oh, Ellie, no," you breathed, "no, no, I can't take that, it was a gift."

"And now I'm gifting it to you," she shrugged, holding the book out. "C'mon, just take it, it'll make me feel good knowing you're cracking shitty jokes to yourself - or whoever will listen."

"I can't take this," you whispered.

"Just make sure you stay alive to give it back," Ellie compromised.

"Deal," you smirked, opening your arms and embracing the girl the moment she rushed into your chest. "I'll miss you," you whispered. You promised to see her as soon as you could (so you could return the joke, of course), kissed her forehead, then grabbed your bag, which had yet to be unpacked, and left the house.

You managed to find lodging in the old cantina, and you'd never know that when Joel got back that evening and saw your items gone, he breathed a sigh of relief. In his head, with you gone, it was one less painful reminder of Sarah, the life he had before; and while his mind played tricks into thinking he saw Sarah in town today, he realized you were the constant trigger.

The single strand that kept him in the past.

Constant reminder of who he was, who he wanted to be.

Prevented him from truly moving on.

Though not done in the best or most respectful way, in his heart, Joel knew he needed to shove you into the mud to get you to let go; you saw too much "good" in him. You saw him in the same light as Sarah, and he couldn't handle that; could not fathom that there was anyone left in this world who saw anything remotely humane in him.

So, Joel did what he did best: made his own life infinitely harder by pushing away those who loved him.

requesting rules and masterlist

TLOU masterlist

Clingy Baby masterlist

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darlingofvalyria · 1 year ago

Text

❝I am not a Valyrian Sex God.❞

part 03 | pucker up, buttercup

chapter summary:

[ The line of friendship dances in uncertain waters when you and Aemond play the fake dating game a little too well. Helaena reveals much more than meets the eye to Aegon, and vice versa. Oh, and Alys. Hi Alys! ]

[ 5,399 ] [ series masterlist ] | best friend's brother!aemond targaryen x f!reader, ft. cregan stark x f!reader & aemond targaryen x alys rivers,

contains— mostly fluff, a wee bit angsty, a little smutty - profanity, i swear a lot sorry too shhshs - no use of y/n - no gods, no kings, no betas.

a/n— thank you so much for the love this little fic is getting so far!! it truly warms my heart that you people enjoy my twisty, crackpot humour and my version of a modern au for these characters!! as much as i am grateful for george for making these characters and these stories, i have to say what propelled me to write is the beautiful community i found. truly, from the bottom of my heart. ❥ fandom is built on community. i would not have had the courage to start writing fanfiction again if not for ya'll. so thank you so much. for the consumers and the creators. you, us, are the beating heart of fandom. please take care of each other. + comment, reblog & like at will, mwa ♡

"Please tell me I haven't inhaled so much drugs in my system that I am hallucinating our— and I say this with a lot love, okay you know what? No. Our Nasty Little Bitch of A Grudge Holder we call, lovingly, a brother, is not dating the hottest friend you have? Hel? The hottest friend you told me if I ever came anywhere near, you'd rip me a new asshole? How is Aemond's asshole still intact?? Or does our brother just have a gaping fun-house slide down there? Hello? Hellooo, pay attention to meee. This is so rude, why didn't I call Daeron?"

"Because Daeron knows nothing and I know everything?" Hel snorts, finishing up re-naming Aemond's contact from CURRENT DUMB BRO to NASTY LITTLE BITCH OF A GRUDGE HOLDER, before turning to Aegon on her laptop.

Like she predicted, Aegon is already pouting, leaning back on what Helaena remembers is their grandfather's rum-coloured leather office chair. In his office. In Oldtown.

After a quick stint in Ibiza, it seems Helaena's brother had found himself back in the country, and worse— back in their grandfather's office. Without him in it.

"Grandpa's going to kill you." Helaena snorts. "How'd you even get inside his house?"

"This is not the first time I have been faced with a locked door, baby sister."

"You broke a window didn't you?"

"I really, really had to piss."

She rolls her eyes. Hard. "You are a boy. You can literally just pee anywhere."

Aegon flutters a gasp and a hand over his chest. "Excuse me? I may have a penis, but that does not mean I have to be uncouth. For shame, Helaena. Also disgusting. But that's not why I called." He steeples his fingers as he leans forward, pressing his elbows against the nice mahogany desk. "What the fuck is happening over there? I'll be there by tomorrow and I'd like to know what the fuck is happening before I start—" he wiggles his eyebrows salaciously, " — shaking things up."

A dark look crosses Helaena's usually amiable pretty face that has Aegon leaning back. "If you do anything— and I mean anything — to ruin what I have going on, Mother may help you for I certainly won't. The Stranger will look like an old friend, Egg, don't you fucking dare."

"What the fuck," Aegon exhales, wide-eyed and horrified. "Have you been watching M. Night Shyamalan movies again?"

"No," she lies. "I'm doing this for my OTP."

"Oh my god, you're the one who roped them together?" Aegon strangles a sigh. "Lae-lae, we've talked about this. No matter how much you think they're cute, Aemond—"

"— Aemond and Alys broke up."

"Then they'll be together again before the weekend's out." Aegon rolls his eyes. "It's Aemond."

"Not like this." Hel shakes her head. "I got her to agree, Egg. And they're like... Gods, the pictures don't do them justice. They're magnetic. They make plans at the apartment, Aemond is there all the time— my OTP is happening."

"You are playing god between two people you care about."

"What else am I supposed to do?! They're obviously so hot for each other, and now that Alys is out of the picture, and she's there, right in front of him, Egg, you should see how it is between them. The energy. It's crackling. They have inside jokes, they're so comfortable with each other, and I will have the most beautiful nephew and niece—"

"—Helaena Targaryen," Aegon admonishes with finality. Hel quiets. Often times, the siblings forget Aegon is quintessentially the oldest sibling. They had never been close to their father's actual firstborn— the age gap is wide and there's just... too much complicated family fissures in between that it feels awkward, even when they're relationship is okay, to interact or consider Rhaenyra anything past a cousin you see every other holiday because you have to, much less now that their father's dead — so Aegon is their big brother.

And though they see it in bits, in flung comet pieces that you see preciously once every few hundred years— the vibe of big brother grasps the edges and reminds the younger siblings.

Sure, he's a dick. Sure, he's a whore. Sure, he's their mother's least and most favourite headache— but Aegon is their big brother.

"You cannot play puppeteer like this. This can blow up in their faces. And they care for each other. Their friends. If this blows up in their faces, it is going to hurt."

"I know that," Helaena says quietly, pout pinched but face mostly cleared. "You don't think I don't know?"

"I think you've already outweighed your chances and your choosing a possibility."

Helaena looks truly scolded at that point, and it juts a guilt down Aegon's stomach. But Aegon likes you. Maybe not like in the way that his brother likes you— in that intense, possessive way he gets with people and things he care about because there are so few of them — but he likes you. And he loves Aemond on a bad day, and likes him on a good one.

And Aegon knows, as a superior power about crashing and burning, that this is going to hurt both of you in ways that he truly doesn't think Helaena understands.

Because he isn't blind (as his brother) (bad joke?) (probably) to what he sees in Aemond's gaze when it looks at you. Sure it's possessive, sure it's the same way he looks at most people he keeps close to his heart.

But he was the one who saw how Aemond looked at you before Alys came into the picture. Before it morphed into nothing but platonic; morphed close to how he looks at Helaena. In that soft, I'm So Glad This Person Exists I Would Kill Literally Everyone For Them.

Aegon always thought he looked at you like he wanted to devour you. Etch you into his skin until your shape is in red marks across white plane. He looked at you like I Would Kill Myself If You Asked.

It was the possibility of devotion dipped in insanity. Aemond had so few things, much less people, who so vocally, physically, and emotionally cared for him without addendums.

The only real reason he never did anything before was because you were Helaena's best friend. Helaena loved you. And he couldn't destroy that alongside the fact that you might leave his side.

And then Alys happened and that focal point moved.

Aegon knew his brother. Not as intensely, and maybe that's the reason he could see it. To see clearly past the intensity and recognise its edges. Aegon knew his brother in his marrow.

"When this crashes and burns—"

"If!" Helaena quips stubbornly. "If it crashes and burns. Come home. You'll see, Egg. Aemond just needs to see."

"And what if she doesn't reciprocate, Lae-lae? She's not hard to love, and this is Aemond." Even Helaena knows his feelings, once taken root in whatever form, can blossom.

Helaena smiles softly. "Come home. You'll see. I can see it. I've seen it. The possibility of them, and it's so pretty, Egg."

It's really not all that pretty, fake dating.

Maybe it could be, but Aemond Targaryen is such an ass.

"This is not like The Devil Wears Prada fashion montage," you grumble, pinching off the big, 60s, yellow sunglasses off your nose to glare pointedly at the man sat on lounge chair. "All the zippers and tugging— this is not as pretty! And I look ridiculous! I don't wear dresses like these, Aemy!"

"You don't look ridiculous, you look like my girlfriend." He makes his emphasis with an inch raised eyebrow and pouty lips twitching not to laugh. "That's the point, is it not?"

You make a drawl huff. It's not just that his words were right— that's what the past hour has been, roaming around all these big named fashion brands where the staff just knows Aemond Targaryen, if not just by him sauntering in with all the swagger of an asshole you'd walk the other side of the street to ignore, then by the flash of his black card (or three, 'cause what the fuck is money to Targaryens holy shit) — but the way he's sitting as he appraises every look he's chosen for you.

He's lax, as could be in his usually perfect posture, with his hips in the middle, and one leg braced down whilst the other is raised to his other thigh. A confident man's sitting position, with an arm over the length of the sofa, balancing a champagne a trying-to-suppress-her-giddiness staff gave him.

At your disapproved glare— down on your nose at him because you're standing over him, lording over him, as he's sitting down — and he's smirking up at you. As if the power dynamics don't shift by whoever is looming over the other.

Aemond doesn't need to stand to make you feel all fluttery with a smirk and a strong gaze against your body. His eyes gaze from the bottom of your heeled toes, slow, slow, slow, until it reached the top of your head.

Surely you've only imagined his gaze lingering on certain parts of you that now felt hot and tingly.

Surely.

"Plus," he continues with a hum. A sip of champagne. "Isn't this your idea?"

"Yes, but—"

"Didn't you tell me that I should prepare the kind of outfits that Aemond Targaryen's girlfriend would wear—"

"Yes, but I—"

He leans forward, taking pleasure in arguing with you, as he settles his elbows on his knees, pressing both of his feet flat on the tile. He's looking up, still, but his eyes are intense and the corner of his mouth is twitching from a grin he's trying to fight.

"And even when I told you that didn't matter, that whatever you wore would be fine, you insisted?"

"Because I thought it'd be fun!" you growl and he falls in faint, amused laughter. His eye is sparkling and there's a joy to him that makes you giddy. You truly have missed Aemond as you know him. "Because I wanted a fun dress-up montage, but nothing about this is fun! Why are you choosing so many goddamned zippers, and they're all so fucking tight?"

You plop beside him, stealing his champagne. Staff look away, trying not to ogle too much between you two. As you take sips of his drink, his hand, still over the sofa's arm, begin drawing idle circles on your exposed shoulders. It warms you and calms you down, melting further in the seat beside him.

"I liked the dresses," he finally murmurs. "The ones before this. The flowy fabric ones."

"Those are summer dresses," you say though don't know why.

"Hm," he hums. "You look pretty in them."

You look up at him and he's looking at you, a small smile on his face. The proximity is too near to be proper but not near enough if you're fake dating. You study his silver lashes and the scarred flesh.

"Thanks."

"We'll get them. Is that alright with you?"

You snort softly. "You're paying, Aemy. You can do whatever you want. Can't believe this is how your dates with Alys usually went."

Hatching plans meant unloading information about his former relationship with her. Going through their relationship so you could understand it better, better proportioned the good and the bad, and secretly, make him see the red flags that should jump out in clear, plastic red.

"Not at first." He's looking away now, but his finger is still drawing circles. There's a wistful tone to his voice, like seeing through a dream and a memory. "But when it got... bad, it seemed like the only time we weren't fighting was when we were in public. Almost subconsciously, whenever things got tensed, I'd offer to take us out. Do anything outside of our bubble. Money isn't an issue, and before Alys said she felt like a... cheap whore than a girlfriend, buying things for her, spending time looking through things to wear, to match almost, was safe."

"Gift Giving," you mutter with a nod. He turns.

"What was that?"

"A love language." He cocks his head. You sigh. "I mean it's stupid and not really theoretically accurate, but for fun, there's five types of love languages. People do this test thing and sort of box up the kind of love language you want to receive and what you give— but truly, in my opinion, a true kind of love demands all five for it to work."

He hums, intrigued. "And what are the five?"

"Words of Affirmation, Quality Time, Physical Touch, Acts of Service, Gift Giving. But, you know, all of those should be given by a partner, in increments they can do for you. There shouldn't be a boxed fixture of what your relationship could be."

You shrug, standing up and stretching. You don't see him looking at you in the way that he has been for the past few days, and he doesn't know the tingles and feelings you keep between a smile and a sigh.

"Love looks different for everyone but it should have the same concept."

"And what concept is that?"

You turn to him, smiling. "That if you truly love someone, you can try anything. Love doesn't demand things that you do for the simple reason that you love the person enough."

"Love can be complicated," he says, and he's not arguing, not really. He isn't begging for you to understand. He is simply saying.

"Love can," you agree. "As most things are complicated. But it doesn't have to hurt."

It's a boundary line, the way he blinks, remembering why you're here together, why he gets to touch you in intimate ways, why he gets to pay for clothes, why you spend this time with him. A jolt. A shock.

You don't press and he doesn't retreat. The line exists not just to remind, but to stabilise any projections. Any dangerous tones.

You simply smile, nodding at the time. "Dinner date, babycakes. We can't be late for reservations."

"We can be late for a few minutes," he says, remembering echoes of how Alys sometimes got late. It isn't really her fault; there are days when she's too busy at the law firm, too busy with a meeting or two, or still finishing up her makeup because she doesn't like going to dinner in her work clothes.

"Sure, but we're here together and I know how much you hate being late." You snort.

"I don't hate it."

"Sure, but you got that eye twitch you do when you're annoyed," you tease, tapping your own eye before you wink at him and skip away.

For the past few days since the bar incident, by your suggestion, you and Aemond had pour out the intricacies of how Aemond and Alys' relationship worked whilst hiding your true intention of making him see its faults and corners, and at the same time, continue on with the charade of dating him.

It's been a packed week or so, going to your shifts at the bar, meeting with Cregan once and a while (boy had been busy, and he found the entire thing with Aemond incredibly hilarious).

You answered no question mark in regards on who the hand was, only sent a winky face or a kiss blowing emoji. You continue to post minute representations of your no-longer-single status in brief intervals, making sure that you never name him. You never publicly give him a recognisable body.

But for those that knew, knew.

It really wasn't that hard. There were only so much pale, toned hands, so much body builds you can hide with your hand covering his general face that you can hide without people making smart guesses. There wasn't a lot of pale, toned people around you after all.

But in your refusal to name him, the question continues, and so does Alys silent observation of every post. The only story she had liked had been the very first one.

You often wonder what she thinks, before your mind is devoured once again with everything else.

To be fair, as often as you had both been seeing each other lately— and it has been the most often you have been seeing of him — there were still things outside of Aemond and Helaena plans. And Aemond still had UNI to focus on.

"You know, I often forget you're still in university," you say now, comfortably warm in Aemond's car. All fresh leather seat and crisp new car smell despite knowing that Aemond's had this unit now for at least a year. He maybe rich, but he knew what he liked and took care of them.

He shoots you a quizzical look before looking back at the road. The city is bathed in a gorgeous stream of oranges and pinks, tie-dying glass buildings and bustle of city roads. When you look at him, you smile softly at how pretty the light hits him.

"Why is that? Do I look that young?"

"Your vibe is so old man on a nine to three, cigar breaks by four, and whiskey sours by seven pm."

He makes a disgruntled sound at the back of his throat. You laugh. "I would like to think it's my altruistic classicism. A timeless endeavour."

"Sure, old man," you tease then sigh. "Reality is, I'm so much older than you. I'm hanging out with a child. On my free day. Is this what it means to reach low status?"

"I am not a child." His reply is sharp, cutting, almost offended.

"You're in college."

"And of legal age? You're only four years older."

"Oh, right."

"What?"

You smirk at his dark look. "You like 'em way older."

His face, much like his gaze, heats up. You're imaging it when the ride turns red, the car slows to a stop, and he is looking at your lips. Surely it was, because you got transfixed with the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips. A slow, tantalising movement.

It feels like an eternity stretched within three seconds. The light turns green and both of you turn away.

Well, there's been that. A few times. But it doesn't mean anything. Aemond is in that transition of trying to rid himself of bad habits, of being freshly single once again, and you know he and Alys get in on frequently. This had been a conversation a few days back, on a couch, smell of grease and pizza around the room while Murder She Wrote played in the background.

"Wait, wait, wait." You sat up, folding your legs underneath your butt, and giving Aemond your full attention with a little 'o' in your mouth.

"Wait!" Helaena calls playfully from her sway to the bathroom. "Imma pee!"

"Take care, my beloved!" you call back, before turning to Aemond with a big, Cheshire grin.

"Can we not dwell on it?" He's flustered but is trying not to show it, looking back to the TV as if he understood why there's a body on the plane.

But wine has been had, spilled and shared, and it's enough for you to grab that fluster and the topic, and smirked.

"No, no, we will talk about it. We shall! We must! Do you mean to tell me that by the end of it, most of the time, you two were just boning? Is Aemy, one of my favourite people in the world, a Valyrian Sex God?? Oh my god??"

"I am not a Valyrian Sex God."

"Okay, girly pop, please." You raised a hand in a 'talk to the hand' motion and he was smiling at you, entranced and frustrated. "Women talk, Aemy!"

There was a flush and Helaena came back. Wine did things to Helaena, and she was stumbling and giggling as she flopped behind you, turning around and encasing you in a koala hug.

"Women talk, baby bro." Helaena nodded sagely. "Even I try not to listen, they talk, alas."

"And Alys has said those hips—" You pointed a j'accuse finger at his hips, then his mouth. "—and that tongue has done things that can make the Maiden blush."

Helaena groaned behind you're back, a slew of 'ew's escaping her mouth. And you were still being playful, teasing, but Aemond was looking at you, though scarlet, with a deepened expression.

And at that moment, both of you were thinking the same thing.

His chin brushing your thighs, your sighs like music to his ears, and his tongue making you scream.

Warmth pooled, twin expressions share a gaze. Hunger, desire, shame.

The connection was destroyed when Helaena abruptly jolted and fell down the carpet. Because she was holding onto you, you got pulled with her.

"Are you okay??" Aemond asked.

Hel gasped. "I thought I saw Bobby. I think I squished Bobby."

You shook your head. "You didn't. Bobby is spry. Bobby knows to move away."

Aemond's confused face peered down at both of you. "Who's Bobby?"

"The local spider that lives here."

"Of course." And he smiled.

You smiled back.

Helaena giggled beside you but when you ask her, she only shook her head.

And the silence that lulls in the car is like both of you reaching the very same memory and having to sit through the stifle of that drunken interaction about his sex life. He coughs, you let out a breathy giggle.

"I should admit something," he says, parking the car in front of the restaurant. Dusk is settling, sunset in bright red and orange turning to a cool blue and pretty lavender— and when you turn to him after getting out of the car, coddling your jacket close to your body, he looks nervy. Apologetic, almost.

"What? What'd you do?"

He bites his bottom lip. "I know something about this restaurant."

"I would assume. You chose it." Your eyes narrow, giving the black-out floor to ceiling windows a look. The Painted Table is lit up in a scrawled font on top of it.

You step inside, not bothering to turn to his call of your name, and is submerged by the restaurant's vibe. It's a darkened place with meaningful lighting but a casual air, a bar on the side, and an upbeat jazzy music dancing in the air — it looks good. The place smelled delicious.

Nothing about it sparked familiarity to you, but the anticipation from that look of guilt on his face brought you to a high-strung, so when he calls your name again, just behind you, you turn.

"Is this where you had your first date with Alys?"

He shakes his head. "No. No, but—"

"Aemond?"

The voice is familiar, and you don't stop enough to think before you're turning to the low, clear voice that's just a hint of husky, and Alys' green eyes go wide at your appearance.

She's dressed nice, dressed to go out in a black dress dipping low and fabric tangled around her body to show off her curves. Her inky hair was swept to one side and her mouth was bloodred.

Alys Rivers, owner of Aemond's firsts. The woman he seemingly can't let go off.

You smile. It feels fake. "Oh. Hi Alys."

Her shock staves off into a genuine smile that makes you guilty. "Hi, my love. I see you two are together. Always attached at the hip. Dinner?"

Before you nod— or maybe strangle Aemond — he comes forward, taking your hand in the process and lacing it. He's looking at her as if he's setting a challenge when Alys' eyes fall on your intertwined hands.

"Yes," he says. "We are."

"Well... that's good. This place is great. I—" Someone calls her name, she turns back. You shoot Aemond a withering glare you hope conveys how much you're going to beat his ass after this. She turns back, smiling still. There's a pinch between her eyes but it's gone by the third blink. "Well, I have to go. I'll see you both soon, okay?" She turns to you, stepping forward, not minding the Targaryen beside you. "Especially you. We haven't hung out in a while."

"That's true, I've missed you, you crazy witch." And she laughs and you smile, because you genuinely consider Alys to be one of your friends. Not maybe as deeply as Helaena's, or as close, but Alys was an amazing person and you enjoy her company.

Plus, right now the one you're angry about it solely the man holding your hand.

Alys turns to Aemond, and he stiffens. Between them is a complicated look. So many things unsaid, before her smirk softens. "It's nice to see you too, Aemond."

And she turns away, walking back to her table, to her date, when you tug him with you to the bar. As you order a dry martini, he speaks. Calm and soft.

"You're mad at me."

"You knew she was going to be here." You turn to him, arching an eyebrow, hating the way your chest pangs. "You stalked her and brought us here because you wanted to use me."

He shifts, face crumples at the word 'use' and calls your name in a plead. "It's not like that."

You snort, taking a sip of your drink when it arrives. "Don't lie."

"Okay. Yes, I did. I... I made an impulsive decision because I wanted to see how she could go on a date as if we were nothing." Bitterness cripples his words, the smirk on his lips is ironic and darkened in hurt. Your heart hurts for him, but you can't give him a pass just like that. He hurt you too.

"You could've told me."

He raises an eyebrow. "You would be okay with this?"

Your own smile is ironic and darkened by hurt. "You're already using me, Aemy. That was the deal I agreed, for Hel. It would at least lick the wound to have been in the know, and not, you know, got shot in the face with it."

At the first part of your tirade, he looked like he wanted to argue with the using part, but the realisation weighs him because it is true. To him, he is using you. And it's a cheap shot on your part because you were also doing this for him, out of your own free will.

You sigh when he turns away, guilt dipping low.

"You're such a dumbass."

He hums in agreement.

You're aware of a gaze from the tables, somewhere in the ocean of jazz music and chatter, Alys is looking, and you kinda wanna make this good for him. You were already here after all.

Your hand reaches his jaw, sliding across his neck until you reach his nape and fingers tangle with the baby hairs there. His hair had been wrapped into a bun. Sleek and fluffy.

He turns to you, to your touch, in shock. "What are you—"

"Try not to look so surprised," you whisper, stepping close to him until your noses are bumping. "We're supposed to be dating."

And then you slant your mouth against his.

TAGGED: @fan-goddess @snh96 @valeskafics @opheliaas-stuff @tempo-rary-fix @fantasticpeaceharmony @diannnnsss @iamavailablesstuff @spinachtz @at-a-rax-ia @bespinnn @tsujifreya @moonlightfoxx @kemillyfreitas @joyouart @bananzaa @honey-on-mars @alexa4040 @cinnamonbambii @wintrr13 @wxb-slingrr @astroswift @queenofshinigamis @helaenaluvr @kaetastic @jxdegodfrey @laniii-on-your-left @watercolorskyy @snowprincesa1 @gemini-mama

#aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond fluff #aemond smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x you #aemond x reader #hotd x reader #hotd smut #hotd fluff #elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒#hotd fanfic #aemond one eye #tshbft ༊*·˚ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ

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thepaintedsable · 6 months ago

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PYRO! It’s Pyro! Yippee e!

I accidentally inverted the colors all of the insignias and gave Blue Pyro Red Pyro’s flamethrower :( My professional explanation for the second part is that Blue Pyro beat the living shit out of Red Pyro and stole their weapon, my professional explanation for the first part is I am is have are stupid.

Close-ups and special sketch page below the cut!!!

I remembered TF2 existed and this happened.

I have to mention that I have never touched this game, but I’ve been fairly aware of it for a really long time. I strayed away from it all because I was not/am not the best at multiplayer games, especially shooters (especially team shooters), and I never exactly felt like I had the skill to draw any of the characters. Plus the comic’s whole “missing the last issue” situation. I just really, really, didn’t want to be let down by investing myself in something I couldn’t be invested in. But something about “Meet the Pyro” stuck in my head like a burr to a shoe.

Rewatched Meet the Pyro more times than I should have. Looked into more animations and the fandom. Finally broke down and read the comic LMFAO. Surprisingly, I really enjoyed it! Even with the missing part, the format it’s presented in and the general wackiness was refreshing compared to what I normally read.

I still like Pyro, and when I remembered I’m better at drawing now, augh. There he go. They are all over, as they should be.

MF has a homemade flamethrower, canonically killed great value brand Smokey the Bear (on purpose), is/was the highly successful CEO of an engineering company, and is so efficient on the battlefield his teammates are horrified by him and his methods. Also there is no telling wether they even know what they are doing or where they actually are because of the pyro vision stuff. Plus the fun mystery of who they are under the mask. :) We don’t even know nothin about this guy.

Just a silly little guy. I’d like to take both the “They know nothing about what they are doing” and the “They know everything about what they are doing” and staple them to Blue and Red respectively. Which is which, though? Not important. Only need enough info to pit two bad bitches against each other, and also to consider how their teams treat them in response. They are both fucked up, but in opposite directions.

ALSO WHY DID I HAVE TO FIND OUT THIS FANDOM HAS THE CUTEST SHIP NAMES EVER ON MY OWN????? I don’t even really like ships in general, but like… Texas Toast? Speeding Bullet? Brush Fire??? Can someone please please confirm that French Toast is another one oh my god???? I don’t even care about the ships, I care about wordplay and cleverness. If you look up Texas Toast on this site it is all Engineer x Pyro and that is SO FUNNY

I can’t promise that this will be the last Pyro page. He might be the one that’ll actually stay.

#sketchbook 29 #traditional art #art #sketchbook #gouache #watercolor #mixed media #colored pencil #alcohol markers #pyro #tf2 pyro #tf2 #team fortress 2 #team fortress two #team fortress fanart #fanart

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aziraphales-library · 2 months ago

Note

Hello! Thank you for the role you play in this fandom, I don't know what we would do without Aziraphale's fic library

Today I wanted to ask if you knew fics where Aziraphale and Crowley are bitter exes who end up realizing later that they haven't stopped loving the other.

Thank you 💛

Hi! We have #getting back together and #reunion tags you can check for plenty more fics like this. Here are more to add...

Even Now, I Still Love You by Zakani_Donovan (T)

It had been 6 years since Crowley had last spoken to Aziraphale, and considering their nasty little breakup, he hadn't expected their next conversation to start with them suddenly being neighbors.

Down to the River by CemeteryAngel725 (E)

Twenty-five years ago, Tony Crowley walked out of Azi’s life and broke both of their hearts. Since then, Azi has been living in suspended animation, working in the army/navy surplus booth he inherited from his dad and writing horror novels. Now Tony is back from the city, flush with success and wanting to catch up with Azi. Should Azi risk his heart and try to reclaim what they’ve lost? Or is it too late to start over?

Reason Enough by ffonippop (E)

Crowley and Aziraphale’s entire relationship spanned just a little under eleven months. If dissected, the entire affair can be categorized very neatly into three parts: a rocky beginning, a rocky middle, and a rocky end. It devastates Crowley, how something that was so promising and held so much potential could end in such a shitstorm. Diminished to nothing but a hungover, sad, and lonely stain on his couch, Crowley is left to wonder if it was always going to end this way— or if it’s ended yet at all.

Like a Martyr, Not Enough (The Decoy Bride) by vines_and_vellichor (M)

Author Aziraphale Eastlowe had been a dutiful son for the entirety of his life… mostly. After a bout of teenage rebellion, he learnt that disobedience only brings misery and heartbreak to those he cares about; it’s better for everyone to toe the line and make the most out of the plan that has been laid out for you by your family and God. When a courtship with the famous Christian singer Gabriella Archer presented an opportunity to exit the dog-eat-dog world of city life, the last thing he expected was an existence plagued by writer’s block and a wedding so enticing to the British press that the privilege of a private ceremony was tantamount to successfully teaching a duck to play the accordion. In desperation, they turn to Taddesfild, a remote island in the Outer Hebrides, to marry. Things go south when a convoluted plan by Gabriella’s agents culminates in hiring local resident Anthony J Crowley as a decoy bride to put the paparazzi off the scent. The very person Aziraphale distinctly remembered dumping nineteen years ago. The situation is less than ideal: his fiancee is missing, the island is infested with bloodthirsty photographers and he has just accidentally gotten married to his ex.

Borrowed Words by sunrisesinthesuburbs (M)

Anthony J. Crowley, best selling author, has writer's block. He could blame the Accident, but deep down he knows his block started way before. He hasn't written anything in too long, if we choose to ignore the dozens of unsent letters addressed to the angel he lost two decades ago, when he moved to New York City. When his best (and only) friend convinces him to take a little vacation in a small town in Connecticut, he expects peace and quiet. He doesn't expect to see the smile that still haunts his dreams again. Apparently, small towns are full of surprises, and how late is too late? The world stops spinning on its axis or, at the very least, Crowley stops breathing. This is absolutely impossible. He forces himself to swallow, to take a deep breath, as he doesn’t want to scare this girl off. Muriel, who is still smiling, all bright and wide and just like- Oh, God. “A bookshop, you said?” He chokes out. This is impossible, and he’s being ridiculous. He is in London, this is just a sick coincidence and his stupid brain playing stupid games. “Yes, you can see it if you turn around.” Crowley doesn’t move. “It’s called A. Z. Fell Books.” Now, the world definitely stops spinning.

Sinking Ships by AppleSeeds (E)

The world is practically on fire and it feels like nobody's doing anything about it, but Crowley's outlook brightens considerably when a new member arrives at his local climate action committee. Crowley is immediately smitten, and is thrilled when he and Aziraphale become fast friends, although he can't help but hope they might one day become something more. When all of his wishes come true, Crowley starts to feel like life couldn't possibly get any better. He can picture exactly what his future is going to look like, until something happens that feels like a powerful bolt of lightning has struck and split Crowley's life right down the middle, with everything before that moment on one side, and everything that is to come - scorched, lifeless and devastated - on the other. With the help of a counsellor, Crowley begins the difficult journey of picking up the pieces and working through what's happened. When Aziraphale unexpectedly comes back into his life, Crowley finally has the chance to get some answers, revealing that the truth is very different from what he was led to believe. Now he just needs to figure out whether that changes anything.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable partners #break up #getting back together #adult omens #human au #mod d

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poltxrgxist · 5 months ago

Text

The Water is Fine (hsr isekai fic)

Dan Heng x Reader x Blade

Pt.1/???

CW/TW for series *more will be added eventually* - Gore, Murder, Blade, Typical HSR violence, description of medical treatments/injuries, Typical Demon Slayer violence, Canon but also not canon, Eventual Smut so MDNI 18+

A/N - got a little silly and decided to indulge myself in a poly relationship with RenHeng. Also had to mix the two main fandoms I’m in. This was also finished on an airplane so like, no proofreading done yet.

Expect grammar/spelling errors due to my dyslexia.

WC - 1715 - Crossposted to Ao3

A girl sat quietly on a roof, gazing out at the sunrise. It was a relatively quiet night in the butterfly mansion, she didn’t even notice the girl with pink and green hair coming up from behind her til they spoke, “Is something on your mind?”

The other girl startled had quickly turned to look at the source of the voice, her body visibly relaxed once she recognized the girl. “Oh. Mitsuri, how are you feeling?”

“I’m doing fine, I’m more worried about you (Y/N) you haven’t given yourself a break since…” Mitsuri seemed hesitant, unsure if it was the best idea to continue with her words, worried about how it’d affect the other girl seeing as it was still a fresh wound.

“I know I haven’t… however it’s been a quiet night so I suppose it’s been a quiet night which has been sorta of a break.” (Y/N) responded briefly as she turned back to look at the horizon.

“Then why do you look so glum?” Mitsuri asked as she took a seat next to her.

“Just thinking about stuff,” She responded, her gaze unmoving, Mitsuri seemed to frown at this response but looked at sunrise alongside (Y/N).

“Do you want to share what you’re thinking about?” Mitsuri inquired softly, trying not to stress her out too much.

(Y/N) inhaled softly before letting out a breathy sigh, “Do you think there are other worlds out there? A reality where the world isn’t terrorized by demons… a world free of Kibutsuji or a world where things are completely different than here.”

Mitsuri didn’t respond immediately, just closing her eyes before letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Maybe… if there are different realities or worlds I do hope we get the world free of demons. What made you bring this up?”

(Y/N) shrugged, “I don’t know I’ve just been reading a lot of things and there has been a theory of alternative universes.. some people think people can be pulled into these worlds without warning.”

Mitsuri hummed softly, “You say that like you want to be pulled into a different universe.”

“Wha-? Of course not! Someone has to take care of the butterfly mansion.” (Y/N) was appalled by Mitsuri’s accusation even if it wasn’t meant with any ill intention.

“I’m just messing with you, you already have your worlds with how much you daydream.” She teased as she playfully nudged (Y/N).

(Y/N)’s face flushed a rosy hue as she looked away due to embarrassment. Her gaze landed on the small piece of a jade pendant she wore on her uniform belt. “I can’t help but fantasize about the history of this jade pendant I have.”

“I don’t blame you. It looks like a piece of a whole pendant, I wonder how many pieces are left and if other people have the missing parts.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, “Are you sure you don’t fantasize about it more than I do?”

“Hey, don’t blame me! Who wouldn’t be curious about the history of this mysterious pendant? Ever since you told me about when I started teaching you love breathing, I just am dying to know the history since you also have no idea.” Mitsuri giggled as she briefly glanced at the jade pendant on (Y/N)’s belt.

“Logically speaking though it likely doesn’t have a cool history, it’s probably just an old pendant that has been in my family and it just broke over time. Also speaking of love breathing, I know I’ve said this a million times now but thank you for teaching me it. It feels nice to have a breathing style that suits my body.”

Mitsuri rolled her eyes, “It’s nothing, you picked up so quickly like you were the one who made the style!”

“It was because I had a great teacher.” (Y/N) snickered as she reached up and poked Mitsuri’s nose with a playful smirk. She then looked back at the sunrise and yawned.

“Why don’t you head to bed? I can keep watch, besides I don’t have any missions.” Mitsuri nudged (Y/N) gently to convince her to go to sleep.

“Don’t you have a region to patrol though?” (Y/N) asked after blinking a few times to clear the watery eyes from yawning.

“Nope. Giyuu agreed to cover it for me since it’s so close to his region that he patrols. Besides the master wants me to keep an eye on you, to make sure you don’t do anything harmful to yourself.”

(Y/N) was about to remark that she would be fine and that she wasn’t tired but had yawned again instead. She let out a sigh of defeat after yawning before standing up, “Alright, fine I’ll go to bed.” She bowed her head, exchanging a good night with Mitsuri. She then jumped off the roof and headed into the butterfly mansion. Her steps are quiet to avoid making noise to wake up any patients who may be sleeping.

She quietly pushed open the door to her room, stepping inside. She walked over to her vanity, getting ready to take out her butterfly hair clip. She then spotted a strange black crystal with golden undertones to it. (Y/N) blinked a few times in confusion, “Huh…? I didn’t put this here..” She murmured to herself as she reached out to pick it up.

She paused when she felt a strange energy coming off it. It felt hot, yet not enough to cause burns on the skin. She wasn’t sure if she should grab it, but she wanted to see if it had a tag saying who it was from. She assumed one of the girls had left it as a gift but it certainly didn’t seem like something that they’d get her. She looked around her vanity, to see if there was a note nearby. She let out a breath as she stepped back, “No note… just a strange crystal on my vanity that I didn’t put there… just everyday things..”

She ran a hand through her hair, moving some of her hair out of her face. “Alright… what's the worst thing that could happen? It might just be feeling like that because I haven’t slept all night.” She was desperately trying to reason with herself, trying to find any sort of logic that she could. However, she couldn’t find anything that seemed logical in this situation.

She shook her head and just grabbed the crystal. She didn’t even get to process what had happened when she got blinded by a bright light. When the bright light subsided, it was cold, like the winter air clinging to her body. But then she heard voices which caused her to open her eyes. Wincing at the bright light, she gave her eyes a moment to adjust before she looked around.

Tensing up when she noticed five people looking at her. She tensed up, instinctively placing her hand on the hilt of her sword, she was about to speak before the woman with long gray hair spoke, her weapon aimed at her, “Name yourself.”

(Y/N) tensed up, she didn’t understand what they were saying, it was a foreign language, well it was foreign at least to her. She tilted her head before speaking, hoping they’d understand her, “I.. I’m sorry. What did you say?”

The people standing before her shared confused glances with eachother. The pink haired girl looked at the male, saying something, “Dan Heng you’re smart, do you know what she said?”

The male looked shocked for a brief moment before quickly regaining her composure. “No, I don’t. However, it might be easier if we bring her to Belobog so she can write something so we can translate on our phones.”

The two gray haired girls nodded her head, while the black haired girl spoke, “But what should we do about Cocolia? Do we tell the people that she died?”

While four of them talked amongst themselves Dan Heng approached (Y/N) holding a hand out. She instinctively placed her hand on the hilt of her sword, eyeing the male suspiciously. He looked familiar but she couldn’t figure out why, but she assumed he looked similar to a slayer she saw. The male noticed her holding the hilt of her sword, he retracted his hand, holding both hands up to show he meant no harm. She blinked a few times, lessing the tension in her body, still being extremely cautious and wary. Dan Heng visibly relaxed before lowering his arms and extending a hand towards her.

(Y/N) very hesitantly took the extended hand, allowing the male to help her up to her feet. She didn’t let go as the male led her over to the group. She watched as they talked amongst themselves, while she held the male’s hand. The pink haired girl seemed to notice and smirked at the male, grabbing what (Y/N) could only assume was a camera. It looked different then what she remembered they looked like but she assumed technology was a lot different here then Japan. The male narrowed his eyes, “March…”

The pink haired girl giggled, “Please! It’s the most action you’ll ever get with a girl.”

“No. We can’t even ask if she’s okay with taking a photo because she doesn’t understand us.” Dan Heng shook his head, not even going to respond the remark March had made. “Anyways, have you guys decided what we’re going to do?”

“I will be telling people that mother sacrificed herself to rid of the stellaron. It’s best if they don’t know what actually happened.” Bronya spoke, the others didn’t give much of a reaction.

“I suppose our sudden guest will be handled by the astral express, huh?” March asked, placing a hand on her hip.

Bronya nodded, “I figured it would be best as she did appear after the energy from the stellaron overwhelmed my mother’s body.”

Dan Heng nodded, “When we return I’ll send a message to Mr. Yang and Himeko.” The group exchanged a few more words with each other before they began walking. (Y/N) continued to hold Dan Heng’s hand as she didn’t want to get lost and wasn’t the best at navigating snowy terrain.

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