#but yeah. this was way harder than i thought it would be

[writeriguess]

GUURL What a joy to have you here again. I am very happy to know that you are back to doing something you like and that you do it perfectly anyway. you are amazing, i missed you ���⁠(⁠*⁠´⁠︶⁠`⁠*⁠)⁠╯

I wanted to request a Bakugou x Reader where he's the bodyguard. maybe something smutty or suggestive with the situation, do what you want with it. (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

author's note: Thank you so much! <3 This scenario is so incredibly hot—I couldn't help but make the smut longer. Katsuki as the reader's bodyguard is just irresistible!

Duty and Desire

The rhythmic clicking of your heels against the marble floors echoed through the grand hallway, each step a reminder of the gilded cage you called life. Tonight’s charity gala was no different from the others—endless forced smiles, hollow conversations, and the subtle undercurrent of danger you’d grown used to.

Trailing behind you was Bakugou Katsuki, his sharp crimson eyes scanning every corner with the intensity of a predator on the hunt. Dressed in a tailored black suit that hugged his broad shoulders and powerful frame, he looked more like someone who belonged at the event than a hired bodyguard. But his scowl—perpetual and deadly—made it clear he wasn’t here to schmooze.

“Will you stop glaring at the walls like they personally offended you?” you teased, glancing back at him with a playful smile.

“Tch. You think this is funny?” he grunted, hands shoved into his pockets. “You’re the one with a damn target on your back. Maybe take it seriously for once.”

You rolled your eyes, but his words carried weight. The threats against you had started small—anonymous emails, cryptic messages slipped under your door—but they’d escalated. Enough for your family to hire Bakugou, a pro-hero known for his explosive temper and unyielding determination, as your personal bodyguard.

Except he didn’t just feel like a bodyguard anymore.

It was in the way his broad shoulders stiffened whenever someone got too close, the way his gaze lingered on you for just a second too long when he thought you weren’t looking. And it was in the way your skin burned whenever his hand brushed yours—brief, accidental, but searing nonetheless.

“Stay close,” he muttered, his voice low and gruff as he stepped forward, placing a firm hand on the small of your back.

The touch was fleeting but deliberate, and it sent a shiver down your spine. You hated how much of an effect he had on you.

“I’m not going to wander off into danger, Katsuki,” you said, turning your head to glance at him.

He arched a brow, his lips curving into a faint smirk. “Yeah, well, I’ve seen the way you get when you’re bored. Don’t make my job harder than it already is.”

The night dragged on, the room filled with the kind of people who thought money equaled worth. You navigated the crowd with practiced ease, playing your part as the dutiful representative of your family. But no matter how many times you smiled or shook hands, you were always aware of Bakugou’s presence—his crimson gaze never leaving you.

Every time someone stepped too close, his hand would brush your arm, your back, your waist, guiding you away with a touch that was equal parts protective and possessive.

“You’re hovering,” you said at one point, turning to face him.

“Yeah, that’s kinda the job, princess,” he shot back, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

The nickname sent a jolt through you, as it always did. It wasn’t affectionate—not really—but there was something about the way he said it that made your stomach flip.

The tension between you simmered beneath the surface, growing harder to ignore with every passing moment. By the time the event wound down, you were desperate for some fresh air.

You slipped away to a secluded balcony, the cool night breeze a welcome relief from the stifling atmosphere inside. The distant hum of traffic filled the silence as you leaned against the railing, staring out at the city lights.

But, of course, you weren’t alone for long.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone,” Bakugou said, his voice cutting through the quiet as he stepped onto the balcony. He shut the door behind him, effectively sealing you both off from the rest of the world.

You turned to face him, leaning back against the railing with a faint smile. “You’re off-duty now, aren’t you?”

“Not until you’re home and locked up safe,” he replied, his hands shoved into his pockets as he approached.

His presence was magnetic, his broad frame and piercing gaze drawing you in despite the simmering annoyance in his tone.

“You don’t have to babysit me, you know,” you said, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

Bakugou scoffed, his lips curving into a smirk. “Yeah? Tell that to the psychos sending you threats.”

The tension between you crackled like static electricity, the unspoken attraction growing harder to ignore. You didn’t know if it was the moonlight catching in his ash-blond hair, the way his suit hugged his muscular frame, or the fact that he was the only person who ever made you feel truly safe—but you couldn’t deny the pull anymore.

“You’re always so serious,” you murmured, your voice dipping into something softer, more intimate.

“And you’re always so damn reckless,” he shot back, stepping closer until there was barely a breath of space between you.

The heat radiating off him was intoxicating, his scent—smoke and spice—clouding your senses. You tilted your head up, your heart pounding in your chest as his crimson eyes bore into yours.

“Maybe I like testing your limits,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bakugou’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching at his sides as he stared down at you. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“Don’t I?” you challenged, leaning up just enough to close the remaining distance between you.

For a moment, he didn’t move, his breath mingling with yours as he hovered just out of reach. Then, with a growl of frustration—or maybe surrender—he grabbed your waist and pulled you flush against him, his lips crashing into yours.

The kiss was everything you’d imagined: fierce, demanding, and all-consuming. His hands gripped your hips with enough force to leave bruises, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss, his teeth grazing your bottom lip. You gasped against his mouth, and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue past your lips, his kiss turning rougher, more desperate.

“Knew you’d be trouble,” he muttered against your mouth, his voice rough and low as he pressed you back against the railing.

“And yet, here you are,” you shot back, your fingers tangling in his hair as you tugged him closer.

Bakugou growled, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs, lifting you onto the edge of the railing as he stepped between your legs. The cool metal pressed against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat of his hands as they roamed over your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he admitted, his lips trailing down your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there.

“Good,” you breathed, your head falling back as you clung to him. “Because you’re the only one I trust to catch me when I fall.”

His grip tightened, his gaze blazing as he pulled back just enough to look at you. “Damn right I will. But don’t think this changes anything. You’re still a pain in my ass.”

You laughed, leaning forward to press a softer, lingering kiss to his lips. “And you’re still my favorite pain in mine.”

Bakugou’s lips were relentless against your skin, trailing heat down your neck as his hands gripped your thighs firmly, keeping you steady on the edge of the balcony railing. The cool night air did little to temper the fire burning between the two of you, and with every graze of his teeth, every rough kiss, the world outside the balcony seemed to fade further away.

Your hands roamed over his chest, your fingers gripping the lapels of his suit jacket as if anchoring yourself to him. His body felt solid beneath your touch, every muscle tense and coiled with barely restrained energy.

“Katsuki,” you breathed, your voice breaking as his mouth found the sensitive spot just below your jaw.

He growled low in his throat at the sound of his name spilling from your lips, the vibration of it sending a shiver through you. His hands slid higher, brushing the fabric of your dress aside to squeeze your hips. The pressure of his grip made your head spin, but it was the sudden shift of his body against yours that truly sent your pulse skyrocketing.

You gasped as your thighs brushed against his hips, feeling the unmistakable hardness pressing against you through the thin fabric of your dress.

“Fuck,” you whispered, your eyes widening slightly as you looked up at him.

Bakugou froze for a moment, his crimson eyes locking onto yours as if daring you to say something. His lips curled into a smirk—cocky, almost predatory—as he leaned in closer, his voice a low growl in your ear.

“You feel that, princess?” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “That’s what you do to me.”

The roughness in his voice made your stomach flip, your hands tightening their grip on his jacket as your thighs instinctively pressed together. But he wasn’t about to let you retreat. His hands gripped your hips tighter, pulling you flush against him so you could feel every inch of his arousal pressing against you.

“Shit,” you breathed, your cheeks flushing as a wave of heat pooled low in your belly.

“Yeah,” he muttered, his lips brushing against your ear. “That’s what I thought. You’ve been teasing me all night, haven’t you?”

You swallowed hard, your mind racing as he pressed his hips against you again, his movements deliberate and slow. The friction was maddening, and the smirk on his face told you he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you shot back, though your voice came out shakier than you intended.

Bakugou chuckled darkly, his hands sliding down to grip the backs of your thighs. “Flatter myself? Tch, you’re the one squirming.”

“I’m not—” you started, but your words cut off in a gasp as he rolled his hips against yours, the hardness of him pressing perfectly between your legs.

“Not what? Huh?” he taunted, his tone rough and teasing as his lips found yours again, cutting off whatever weak protest you were about to make.

The kiss was dizzying, his tongue sliding against yours with a mix of dominance and desperation. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your body arching into him as the heat between you became unbearable.

“Admit it,” he muttered against your lips, his voice dripping with arrogance. “You like this. You like driving me crazy.”

You let out a shaky laugh, your lips curving into a smirk of your own as you leaned in to nip at his bottom lip. “Maybe I do.”

Bakugou growled, his hands gripping your thighs hard enough to leave bruises as he pulled you even closer. “You’re such a fucking tease.”

“And you love it,” you countered, your breath hitching as he pressed himself against you again, the hardness of him making you dizzy with want.

“Maybe I do,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as his lips trailed down your neck.

Bakugou's lips were back on yours, searing and demanding, as his hands slid down to grip the backs of your thighs. He pulled you closer to the edge of the railing, locking you in place as his hips pressed firmly against yours. The hardness straining against his pants was impossible to ignore, especially as he shifted his hips deliberately, dragging against you in slow, maddening strokes.

“Katsuki,” you gasped, your voice breaking as the friction sent a jolt of heat straight to your core.

He didn’t respond with words—he didn’t need to. Instead, he growled low in his throat, his hands sliding to the underside of your thighs and hoisting you up higher so you were completely at his mercy. The cool night air hit your legs as the fabric of your dress bunched up around your hips, but the heat of his body pressed against you made you forget the chill.

“Fucking soaked already,” he muttered, his voice rough as his crimson eyes dropped to where your bodies met.

You flushed at his words, your breath hitching as you felt his hips press against you again, harder this time. The thin fabric of your panties did nothing to stop the steady, delicious pressure of him rubbing against you, and you bit your lip to stifle the whimper threatening to escape.

“You like this, don’t you?” he asked, his tone dripping with arrogance as he rocked his hips against yours, slow and deliberate. The hardness of him pressed perfectly against your damp center, and the friction had your head spinning.

You clung to his shoulders, your fingers digging into the fabric of his suit jacket as your body moved instinctively to meet his. “Shut up,” you whispered, though the way your thighs tightened around him betrayed you.

Bakugou smirked, leaning in to nip at your ear. “Don’t tell me to shut up when you’re grinding on me like this,” he growled, his voice rough and teasing as he thrust against you again, dragging a gasp from your lips.

The movement sent a wave of pleasure through you, the friction just enough to make you ache for more. Your panties were soaked, clinging to your skin as he continued to press against you, his pace growing rougher, more desperate.

“Katsuki,” you whimpered, your head falling back as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

“Say my name like that again,” he muttered, his breath hot against your skin.

You obliged, your voice breaking on his name as he ground his hips against yours, the rhythm almost punishing now. Every movement sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your body arching into his as the heat pooled low in your belly.

“Fuck, you’re driving me crazy,” he admitted, his grip on your thighs tightening as he held you steady, his movements growing more erratic.

“You’re the one who started it,” you shot back, though your voice was shaky, barely a whisper as your nails raked down his back.

Bakugou chuckled darkly, his teeth grazing your neck as he thrust against you again, harder this time. “Yeah, but you’re the one who’s gonna finish it.”

The tension between you was unbearable, the heat and friction building to a crescendo as his movements grew rougher, more desperate. You could feel every inch of him through his pants, the hard length of him dragging perfectly against your damp panties, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

“Tell me you want this,” he demanded, his voice low and commanding as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze.

Your breath caught in your throat, your body trembling as you stared up at him. “I—”

“Say it,” he growled, his hips pressing firmly against yours, dragging another gasp from your lips.

“I want it,” you finally whispered, your voice breaking as the words tumbled out.

Bakugou’s eyes darkened, a triumphant smirk curling across his lips as he leaned in to capture your mouth in another searing kiss. “Good,” he muttered against your lips, his movements growing even rougher as he ground against you with enough force to make your legs shake.

The world around you disappeared entirely, leaving only the two of you tangled in a haze of heat and desire, the line between duty and desire long since obliterated.

Bakugou’s movements stilled for a moment, and you felt him pull back just slightly, his forehead pressed against yours. His breath was hot and ragged as his hands slid down to grip your thighs again, his thumbs brushing dangerously close to the edge of your panties.

“You’re killing me,” he muttered, his voice low and rough as he glanced down at where your bodies were pressed together.

You swallowed hard, your breath catching as his fingers hooked around the damp fabric of your panties, tugging it to the side with a deliberate slowness that made your pulse race.

“Katsuki—” you started, but your words dissolved into a sharp gasp as his fingers brushed against your bare skin, grazing your slick folds.

“Shut up,” he growled, his eyes dark with hunger as he leaned in to capture your lips in another bruising kiss.

His free hand moved to his belt, and the sound of the buckle clicking open sent a shiver down your spine. You felt the warmth of his hand as he freed himself, the hard length of him brushing against your thigh.

“Look at you,” he muttered, his voice dripping with arrogance as he shifted his hips, the tip of his cock teasing your entrance. “Already soaked, begging for it. You really are a tease.”

Your hands gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you tried to steady yourself. “If I’m such a tease, then what does that make you?” you shot back, though your voice was shaky, breathless.

Bakugou smirked, his lips brushing against yours as he pushed forward just enough for you to feel the pressure of him pressing against you, not quite entering yet. “A guy who’s about to give you exactly what you’ve been asking for.”

The heat between you was unbearable, the tension snapping as he finally rolled his hips forward, pushing into you slowly, inch by inch. Your breath hitched, your head falling back as he filled you, the stretch of him making your thighs tremble.

“Fuck,” he growled, his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself fully inside you. “So fucking tight.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging hard enough to draw a low groan from him as you arched into him. “Katsuki,” you whimpered, your voice breaking on his name as he pulled back slightly before thrusting into you again, harder this time.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his voice rough as his movements grew more deliberate, each thrust sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

“Katsuki,” you repeated, your voice trembling as your body moved in rhythm with his.

“That’s right,” he muttered, his lips finding your neck as he bit down gently, his teeth grazing your skin. “You’re mine tonight.”

The world around you faded away entirely, leaving only the heat of his body against yours, the sound of your ragged breaths mingling in the cool night air. Every thrust, every whispered growl of your name, pushed you closer to the edge, and you clung to him as if he were the only thing keeping you grounded.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he muttered, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as his movements became more erratic, more desperate. “I’m not gonna last if you keep squeezing me like that.”

You gasped, your nails raking down his back as the pressure built inside you, your body trembling with the force of it. “I—I’m close,” you managed to whisper, your voice breaking as his thrusts grew harder, faster.

“Then come for me,” he growled, his grip on your hips tightening as he held you steady, driving into you with a relentless pace.

It was all you needed. The tension snapped, and a wave of pleasure crashed over you, your body arching into his as you cried out his name. He wasn’t far behind, his movements growing erratic as he groaned low in his throat, his grip on you almost bruising as he found his own release.

For a moment, the two of you stayed like that, tangled together on the edge of the balcony, your breaths mingling as the cool night air wrapped around you.

“Fuck,” Bakugou muttered, his voice rough as he finally pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. “You really are trouble.”

You laughed softly, your fingers brushing against his cheek as you leaned in to kiss him, softer this time. “And you love it.”

His lips curved into a smirk, his crimson eyes glinting with amusement—and something deeper. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice low. “Maybe I do.”

Feel free to request <3

[luvfae]

INFINITY LOOP

summary: you’re in a toxic relationship with thanos but you can’t get enough.

parings: thanos/choi su-bong x f!reader

warnings: toxic relationship, mention of cheating, swearing, smut, p in v, absolutely no foreplay or aftercare involved, unprotected sex (wrap it, don’t be a dummy), choking

The door slammed shut with the force of a collapsing star. Again.

You didn’t flinch. You were used to it by now—the way Thanos had a flair for dramatic exits. You stared at the dent his last punch had left in the drywall. Add it to the collection.

Five minutes. That’s how long it usually took.

You lit a cigarette. The ritual helped. Inhale. Exhale. Pretend you weren’t waiting to hear his footsteps stomping back up the stairs like some vengeful god who’d just realized he left his phone behind.

Seven minutes.

Okay, maybe he was serious this time.

The thing with Thanos was—he was always serious. Until he wasn’t. His promises shattered faster than the cheap glass ashtrays you kept buying because he’d break them during your arguments. And you’d break his heart right back, not that either of you had one worth saving.

Your phone buzzed. Incoming call: Thanos.

You smirked, didn’t answer. Let him sweat. Three more missed calls, and then:

“Open the door.”

No apology. Not even a please.

You opened the door anyway.

There he was—stormy eyes, bruised knuckles, breath heavy like he’d been running. Maybe from whoever he’d been with before he came crawling back to you. Again. His jaw clenched, like he had something to say, like this time would be different.

It wasn’t.

You grabbed him by the collar, pulling him inside. His lips crashed against yours like you were the last planet left to conquer. His hands roamed like they forgot all the reasons he was supposed to hate you, tracing old scars—some emotional, some not. You bit his lip hard enough to taste blood. He liked that.

“I fucking hate you,” Thanos growled, his breath hot against your lips.

You smirked, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, pushing him hard until his back hit the wall with a satisfying thud. “Yeah, right,” you whispered, eyes dark with defiance. “You fucking love me.”

His jaw clenched, and for a second, you thought he might say something—something real. But words were never your language. Violence was. Lust was. The sharp edges of affection carved into bruises and bite marks.

Thanos grabbed you like he was trying to prove something, hands rough, unforgiving. He spun you around, shoving you down onto the couch, tugging at your pants with a growl that rumbled from deep in his chest. No patience. No pretense. Just desperation.

Good. You liked it desperate.

His fingers dug into your hips, pinning you in place as he drove into you without warning. The sharp stretch stole a gasp from your throat, head falling back against the cushions, eyes fluttering shut.

But Thanos wasn’t about to let you escape into the pleasure. No, he wanted you here, wanted you present—wanted to see every flicker of satisfaction and spite warring on your face. His hand wrapped around your throat, not tight enough to cut off air, just enough to remind you who was in control.

“You’re such a fucking bitch,” he hissed, his other hand slipping between your thighs, fingers ruthless against your clit.

You laughed, breathless, the sound sharp and bitter. “Shut up,” you spat, hips bucking into his touch. “Make me come and shut the fuck up.”

His eyes darkened, something savage flickering behind them. “Whore,” he snarled, thrusting harder, each movement punctuated by the venom in his voice.

“Cheater,” you shot back, nails raking down his forearm, leaving angry red trails in your wake.

His hips stuttered for a second—just a second—because you both knew it was true. But he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. This was how you punished each other, how you forgave each other, all in the same breathless, broken rhythm.

“Like you can talk,” he muttered, his pace brutal now, like he was trying to erase every memory of someone else’s hands on your skin. His face hovered close to yours, breath ragged. “Ain’t no pussy as good as this one, though.”

Your smile was feral, a wicked curl of lips that tasted like victory. “No dick compares to yours,” you whispered, voice trembling with the edge of an orgasm. “But you always fuck me better after I’ve been with someone else.”

That hurt him.

His hand clamped over your mouth, silencing your smug words, and his hips snapped forward with reckless abandon. You moaned against his palm, the sound muffled but desperate, your climax hitting you like a freight train—sharp, all-consuming, leaving you breathless and trembling.

The way your body clenched around him dragged him over the edge, a guttural curse spilling from his lips as he came, hips jerking, breath hot against your temple.

For a moment, there was silence. Just the sound of your ragged breaths tangled together in the stale air.

Then he pulled out, standing up without a word, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before he walked out that door again.

Maybe tonight. Maybe tomorrow.

Later, tangled in sheets that still smelled like his cologne and someone else’s perfume, he lit one of your cigarettes.

“You’re toxic,” he muttered, exhaling smoke toward the cracked ceiling.

You laughed, dragging your nails down his chest just to watch him shiver. “Takes one to know one.”

By morning, he’d be gone again. Maybe with someone new. Maybe with the same regret he always carried but never unpacked. You’d break up, block his number, swear this was the last time.

Until next week.

Until the next fight.

Until the next call.

The infinity loop. Your favorite kind of hell.

[silent-stories]

𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐎

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Summary: based on this.

Noah felt it before you even said a word.

That something sitting between you, like you were about to say something that was going to change everything. You were curled up on the couch, picking at a loose thread on your sleeve, your knee pulled up to your chest like you were trying to make yourself smaller. That wasn’t normal.

And then you spoke.

"I got a job offer."

His fingers stilled around the beer bottle, grip tightening just enough that he could feel the condensation slide against his skin. He didn’t look at you. Didn’t trust himself to. "Yeah?"

"In another city."

The words hit harder than he expected.

For a second, just one, he let himself think about what that meant—about this house without you in it, about days without your voice filling the empty spaces, about knowing you were somewhere else, somewhere new, somewhere without him.

And it made his stomach fucking sink.

But you didn’t belong here, did you? You never had.

You weren't his and he wasn't yours. All you had ever been was just friends.

He always knew you’d go. He just never thought it would be so soon.

You kept talking, explaining—something about better pay, bigger opportunities, a smart move. Noah heard it all, but it was like listening through static, every word just another reminder that this was real. That this was happening. That you weren’t just thinking about leaving. You were already halfway gone.

And what was he supposed to do? What was he allowed to do?

Because yeah, maybe he thought about it. Maybe he thought about pulling you in, pressing his forehead against yours, telling you he didn’t want you to go. That he needed you here, that he—

And then, for the first time, it really hit him.

He never told you. Never fucking told you.

Not when he first realized that the way he looked at you wasn’t the way a friend should. Not when you laughed at his dumb jokes, and he caught himself staring at your smile like it was something he could get addicted to, wishing he could bottle up the sound of your laughter, save it for the nights when the silence felt too heavy—when you weren’t there to fill the space beside him.

Not when you fell asleep on his shoulder during long car rides, and he stayed perfectly still, barely breathing, just to make the moment last a little longer. Not when he watched you dance around the kitchen in his hoodie, not when he felt his heart ache just being near you.

Not when he should have.

Not when it would’ve mattered.

And now, sitting here, the words he should’ve said—I like you. No, I love you. More than a friend. More than anyone—were useless. Too late. You were already slipping through his fingers, and he had no one to blame but himself.

So he stayed quiet. Because what was the fucking point now?

What was he supposed to do—throw everything at you now, at the last second, when you had a whole future waiting for you? When you were basically already half out the door? When he had every chance before, and he wasted them all?

No. That wasn’t fair.

Not to you. Not to the life you were about to build. Not to the love he’d never had the guts to give you.

So he bit his tongue. Kept his hands in his lap so he wouldn’t reach for you. Forced his voice steady as he said, "You should take it."

And fuck—he hated how easy it sounded. Hated that it came out smooth when his chest felt like it was caving in.

You hesitated. He could feel you watching him.

"You think?"

Noah swallowed hard, leaned forward, let his eyes settle on the floor instead of your face. "Yeah," he said. "Sounds like a great opportunity." Another shrug. Another lie. "You’d be an idiot not to."

The silence that followed was the worst part.

Because he could feel it—the shift, the way something between you cracked, just slightly, just enough that he knew it wouldn’t go back to how it was.

He tried to imagine what it would feel like to be around someone else the way he was with you. He’d never been able to picture anyone else in your place, never wanted to. You were a part of him now, you were the person who knew him best, the one he always leaned on when things got heavy, the one he could rely on when everything else felt like it was falling apart, the one who always answered his texts sent in the middle of the night when he couldn't sleep.

And now you were walking away. And he couldn’t imagine filling that gap.

The comfort of having you around, the steady presence of your friendship, even if it had always just been friendship, was something he never thought would disappear. It was just always there. And it was hard, almost impossible, to wrap his head around the fact that it might never be like that again.

How would he ever find that again? He couldn’t even begin to picture it. And the worst part? He wasn’t sure he ever wanted to. You were it. And now, as he sat there, heart heavy with the weight of what he couldn’t say, of what he had never had the guts to tell you, he knew that he had just let you slip through his fingers. The easy, effortless thing they had—the laughter, the comfort, the quiet moments, the understanding—was something he couldn’t replicate. Not with anyone. Not now. Not ever.

"Right," you said, voice quiet. "Yeah. That’s what I thought."

Noah didn’t move. Didn’t look at you.

Because if he did—if he saw the way you were looking at him, if he saw even the smallest flicker of doubt in your eyes—he knew he’d break.

And if he broke, he’d beg you to stay.

So instead, he just sat there, fingers gripping the beer bottle like it was the only thing holding him together, and let you slip further away.

A few days later, you were sitting on the leather couch in the living room of the house you’d spent so many nights in again.

Folio was giving you one of his usual "don’t forget" lists—one that had become a comforting part of your routine over the years for all the times you went on a tour or trip together. This time, however, it sounded different, as if it was the last.

"Okay, remember to pack all your jackets. And the extra batteries for your camera. Oh, and make sure you’ve got your phone charger, you always forget it!" He waved his hands in the air as though he was trying to remind you of the most crucial thing in the world, like the fate of the universe rested on you not forgetting your phone charger.

You chuckled, leaning back on the couch, a small smile tugging at your lips as you gave him a playful eye roll. "Yeah, yeah, I got it, Nick. I’ll pack everything. No need to worry."

Folio grinned. "Good. You know I worry." He paused, then his tone softened, almost hesitant, like he was preparing to say something serious. "I’m really going to miss having you around. It won’t be the same without you here."

The words hit you harder than you expected. You had been preparing yourself for this goodbye for days, but hearing him say it out loud made it real, made it feel final. You swallowed, forcing a smile. "I’ll miss you guys too. And don’t worry, I’ll send plenty of pictures. And I’m sure I’ll come back to visit."

Folio nodded. "Yeah, of course. And we’ll come to visit you, too. So you don't forget us." He said it with such certainty that for a brief moment, you let yourself believe it—believe that things could stay the same, even when you knew they couldn’t.

But as Folio finished his sentence, you glanced over at Noah. He had been sitting at the other end of the room, quietly listening, but now he abruptly stood up, his movements stiff and awkward, as though something had snapped in him.

Noah didn’t say anything, just turned toward the door and walked out without a word. His departure felt like a heavy silence in the room.

You blinked, watching him leave, confused. "Did I say something wrong?" you asked softly.

Folio didn’t seem surprised by Noah’s reaction, but there was a hint of concern in his eyes. "It’s been like that for a couple of days now," he said, his voice low. "I don’t know what’s going on with him. He’s been… off. Something’s going on in his head, but he won’t talk about it."

You felt a knot form in your stomach.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the way he had acted the first time you spoke about the job offer. That cold, almost detached response, like he had no opinion on the matter at all. You replayed it in your mind over and over: "You should take it. Sounds like a great opportunity." But something in the way he said it—something in the way he couldn’t even look at you when he spoke—made you wonder if there was more to his reaction than he let on. Was he angry? Disappointed? Did he hate you for making the decision to leave?

You tried to push those thoughts away, but they kept creeping back. It was impossible, you told yourself. He couldn’t possibly hate you. Because you were just friends, right?

But just friends never felt like the right term for what you two had. Not for the long nights you spent talking, for the way you always seemed to understand each other without saying a word, for how comfortable you felt in his presence—like you were home when he was around. It had never been just friendship for you. Not really. Maybe it had started that way, but over time, something shifted. You couldn’t pinpoint when it happened, but you’d always known that your feelings for him ran deeper than what you were supposed to admit.

You thought back to that first time you’d met him, to the way he’d walked toward you with that easy, confident stride but still looking so damn shy. You liked his long hair t, and his eyes—those brown eyes, warm and sweet—that had locked onto yours in that instant.

He had smiled, and you’d felt it all the way down to your bones. It was like something clicked, something undeniable. That’s when you knew, even if you didn’t have the courage to admit it then, that there was something about him that made your heart race.

And all these years, that same feeling never really went away. Not when he touched your hip for a second to grab a cup from a high shelf you couldn’t reach, not when he would pass you the last slice of pizza even though he was starving, not when you’d sit together in silence and it never felt uncomfortable.

You told yourself over and over that it was just a crush, that you were just friends, but every time he touched you, every time his hand brushed yours or he’d take your hand in his while walking through a crowded space, your heart would skip.

And when he would hold your hand, you’d feel the heat flood your face, and when he was on the stage and his eyes locked with yours for a moment, it was like the world disappeared. It was just the two of you.

Did he ever notice?

Did he ever feel what you felt? Was it possible he ever sensed the way your heart raced when he would grab your hand, as if the world didn’t matter and you two existed in your own little bubble just for a while? You wondered if maybe, just maybe, he’d caught the way your breath would hitch when he’d look at you with those brown eyes, like you were the only person in the room.

But now, all of that was left in the past. You were about to leave, and nothing between you two was ever going to change. You were just friends.

You thought about getting up and going after him. But what could you say? "I'm sorry I'm leaving?"

He was the first person to tell you to take that job, it wouldn't have made sense. So you stayed there.

The day had finally come. It felt surreal, the finality of it weighing on you as you stood in front of the door, ready to say your goodbyes. You had spent the last few days avoiding the inevitable, pretending like you still had time, still had something to hold onto. But now, as you stood there, your suitcase in your car and your heart feeling like it was somewhere deep inside your chest, the reality of leaving was all too clear.

You walked into the living room, where the band was gathered. They were all quieter than usual. Folio was the first to greet you, giving you one of his bear hugs that made you feel both comforted and sad at the same time. “Take care of yourself, alright?” he said, pulling back to look at you. “Don’t forget the pictures. And don’t be a stranger.” You nodded, blinking back the sudden lump in your throat.

“Yeah, yeah, I will,” you managed to say, your voice wavering a little.

Then, one by one, the others came over to say goodbye.

“Don’t forget us,” Matt said, pulling you into a quick hug. “I'll miss the food you made for us.”

You laughed and pushed him away as he pretended to be hurt.

Finally, there was Noah. He was standing a little apart from the group, his hands in his pockets. He didn’t approach you right away, and you weren’t sure why that felt different. But when your eyes met his, his gaze softened, and you could see something unsaid flickering in his eyes.

He stepped forward slowly, pulling you into his arms, and for a moment, you didn’t want to let go. You hugged him tightly, the warmth of his body against yours a reminder of all the small moments you’d shared over the years. You could hear his breath, steady and calm, like he was trying to hold onto this moment too.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, and the quiet between you both felt almost too much to bear.

“I’m really going to miss you,” you whispered, your voice cracking just slightly.

Noah gave you a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. His hand lifted, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face, a touch so tender it made your heart ache.

“I’ll miss you too,” he said softly, then, without saying another word, he kissed the top of your head.

You only looked at him for a few seconds before taking a step back, as if if you stayed longer, it would only hurt more.

Then, you finally turned toward the door, ready (or maybe not) to leave and start something new. But you also knew, deep down, that no matter where life took you, a part of you would always be right here, with them. And with him.

About two hours later, Noah was sitting on the edge of the couch, his leg bouncing up and down nervously, the restless energy radiating off him like a low hum. His gaze was distant, unfocused, as if he was somewhere miles away from where he actually was, lost in thoughts that seemed impossible to escape.

Nick, who had been trying to make sense of the silence in the room, finally broke it. "What's going on with you?" he asked, eyeing Noah with a raised brow.

Matt, who had been observing Noah for a while, leaned forward, a knowing look crossing his face. "It's about Y/N, right?"

Jolly, sitting across from them, raised an eyebrow. "Y/N?" he echoed, confused, like he hadn’t caught on.

Matt shot him a look as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. "Of course, it’s Y/N. He’s been in love with her since the first time he saw her."

Nick blinked, a little stunned. "What? And you never told me?" He looked genuinely surprised, a slight hint of betrayal in his voice.

Folio let out a smug little laugh. "Ah! I knew it. I ducking knew it!"

Noah, who had been tuning them out, suddenly snapped back to reality. He stood up, his frustration bubbling over. "Enough. You’re not helping," he interrupted, his voice louder than usual, the words spilling out in a rush. "I fucked up. I let her go. I feel like shit. Because…" He hesitated, but it was like the weight of it was too much to keep in. "Because I love her. I’ve loved her for years. And when she told me about the job… I thought it was too late to say anything." He shook his head. "I’m such an idiot. I'm such a fucking idiot."

"Yeah, you are." Said Folio, who had been waiting for the confession.

"It’s not too late." Jolly spoke.

Noah turned to him, shaking his head with a defeated look in his eyes. "Yeah, it is. She’s gone."

Matt glanced at his watch. "Her flight hasn’t left yet," he said, his voice steady, as if offering a lifeline Noah hadn’t considered.

Noah froze, his eyes wide for just a moment before the doubt came crashing in. "I can’t do it," he muttered.

Nick leaned forward, a serious expression on his face. "Do you love her?" he asked, not bothering with any other words, just cutting straight to the core of it.

Without thinking, Noah nodded immediately. "Yes," he said, his voice barely a whisper but resolute. "Yes, I love her."

Nick didn’t waste any time. "Then go," he said, his voice firm. "Go fucking get her."

The words hung in the air, and for a split second, Noah didn’t move. He was caught in all his own doubts, his fears, his regrets. But then, something clicked. Maybe it was Nick’s certainty, maybe it was the look in his friends’ eyes, but Noah felt it—he had to go. If he didn’t, he would regret it forever.

He had nothing to lose.

Noah never thought he’d be that guy—the one who ditches his car in traffic, sprints through a crowded airport, and makes a total fool of himself in the name of love. And yet, here he is, running through the terminal, heart hammering in his chest, lungs burning with every breath, because you’re about to board a plane and leave, and he can’t let that happen.

Traffic had been his worst enemy, but he didn’t care. His car had been left behind in the middle of the arrivals lane, engine still running. The thought of you, suitcase packed and ready to leave, was all he could focus on. Every second spent on the road felt like an eternity, but he had to get to you.

He run through the airport.

He narrowly avoided a child who’s been skipping along, then almost tripped over a suitcase abandoned in the middle of the aisle. He bumped into people left and right, his shoulder knocking into a couple who glared at him as he shouted, “Sorry! Sorry, I’m in a hurry!” He didn't wait for their response, didn't care. His focus was on you only.

He cut through crowds, hands brushing against strangers as he weaved between them, the sound of his own breath growing louder in his ears. Another wave of people blocked his path, and he barely managed to swerve, knocking into a woman holding a cup of coffee. It splashed across the floor, the warm liquid spreading out in a wide arc.

“Watch where you’re going!” she yelled.

"I'm so sorry! It's important, I swear!"

The overhead announcement blared, sharp and unrelenting. Final boarding call for Flight 237, please... He didn’t hear the rest. His mind was focused on one thing: You. The gate was in sight. There you were, standing at the counter, your ticket in hand, a look of quiet resolve on your face, your eyes scanning the people around you.

"Wait!"

Heads turned. People gasped. A security guard stepped forward as Noah sprinted toward you, chest heaving, his breath coming out in ragged bursts.

"Don’t go," he blurted out, his voice raw with desperation.

Your brows furrowed as you turned to face him. "Noah, what—?"

He took a step closer, suddenly overwhelmed by the need to confess everything he’d kept locked away for years. "I love you," he said, the words tumbling out, frantic and real. "I fucking love you," He could barely keep his breath steady as he looked at you, his heart thundering in his chest. "And I know—I know I should’ve said this sooner, that I should’ve told you everything before it got to this point. I should’ve been braver, I should’ve figured it out sooner, but I didn’t. I’ve been so damn stupid, too scared to say what I’ve been feeling because I never wanted to mess this up. But I can’t—I can’t let you go without telling you, because if I don’t, I’m going to lose you, and I can’t lose you."

He ran a hand through his hair, "I know I don’t deserve a second chance. Hell, I probably don’t deserve even one, not after all the times I avoided the truth, but please—please don’t get on that plane. I can’t imagine my life without you in it. It scares the shit out of me, honestly, because I’ve let you slip through my fingers, and I’ve never been more afraid of anything in my life than losing you."

He took a deep breath, struggling to steady himself. "Please, just… give me a chance. Don’t go. We can figure this out. You and me, together. I’ve been an idiot for not telling you this sooner, but I know now—I know what I want. And it’s you. It’s always been you. Just don’t walk away from me. Not when I finally have the guts to tell you that I have been in love with you since the first moment I saw you."

There was a moment of silence.

You were sure that a girl was filming the scene, ready to post it on tiktok, probably without even knowing who Noah was.

The security guard took a step toward him, but Noah didn’t flinch. “Sir, you can’t be here—”

"Just give me one second," he said with his eyes locked on yours, pleading.

You stared at him for a moment, a mixture of shock and disbelief in your eyes. Then, as if the weight of his words hit you all at once, your ticket slipped from your fingers and hit the ground. Without thinking, you grabbed his face, pulling him into a kiss.

It wasn’t like the movies—there wasn’t a crowd cheering or anything like that. Just the hum of the airport and the soft murmur of an old woman sitting nearby, who, after a brief pause, simply gave a small smile as she went back to reading her book. It made you almost laugh, the absurdity of it all.

Noah smiled against your lips, the warmth of your kiss sinking into his chest.

“You are such an idiot,” you murmured, smiling through the kiss, your hand gently resting on his cheek.

“But an idiot you love, right?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, as he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes.

You rolled your eyes, but there was no hiding the affection in your gaze. "Yeah, you idiot. An idiot I love."

You both shared one last smile before you pulled away, glancing back toward the gate. The security guard had stepped back, his hands raised in surrender.

Noah took your hand, leading you out of the airport, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief.

As you walked with him, you couldn’t help but tease him a little. "I never thought you’d pull the 80s movie move to tell me you love me."

Noah gave you a sheepish grin. "At least the security didn’t tackle me."

You laughed, the sound light and free, as the two of you walked through the terminal, together.

"You should write a song on that, you know?"

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme @hurricanesfollowyou @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @missduffsblog

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt behind the cut; “the one where Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“It usually involves taking care of the sub for a little while–like if they need to recover or if the Dom needs something to calm themselves down doing, for example–but there’s other ways and reasons to do it,” Tim says, stroking his hair just a little bit more carefully as Kon once again tries and fails to figure out what the fuck he’s feeling right now. “That’s just what most people think of first when it comes up. Supposed to just make it easier for everyone to come up and level out, basically.” 

Tim’s been petting him all this time, Kon realizes, biting the inside of his lip again. 

And then he realizes–Tim’s also been the only one talking to him about this. Like, the “polite intel-collecting/light interrogation” kind of talking, but definitely only Tim doing it. So, like–Tim thinks this is something to be careful about talking about, and apparently so does Bernard. 

. . . weird, Kon thinks, ducking his head just enough to hide his mouth against his folded forearms as he bites his lip outright, and doesn’t know how he feels about that either. 

He thinks maybe they’re doing that–“gentle” thing again, though, even though they’re not even actually fucking around right now. Like . . . like just being in bed together at all is reason enough to do it, or something. Like it’s just–like it matters enough to keep doing it either way. 

Kon knows exactly how he feels about that, but that’d be a lot more than just “mortifying” to admit. 

“Um . . . sorry,” he says, half-worrying about what Tim means by needing to calm himself down. The times he’s tried to Dom made him all anxious and nervy and filled his head up with even more useless circling thoughts than usual, so like . . . does that happen to Tim too? It hadn’t seemed like it was, but . . . “Should I be–doing something for you, you mean? Because I can–” 

A flash of stress flickers across Tim’s face, and Kon cuts himself off and feels a little–stupid, maybe, like he’s said something wrong or just messed up something obvious or . . . 

He bites his lip harder and a weird little–reflex, almost, has him glancing towards Bernard for . . . he’s not even sure why, just . . . Bernard would know what Tim needs right now, wouldn’t he? Like–he’d have to, right? 

Bernard’s still just standing by the nightstand and the breakfast tray, but the moment Kon looks at him he gives an easy shrug, scoops up the middle plate, and manages to neatly deposit it in Tim’s lap even as he lays down on his other side, stretched out on his own stomach and propped up on his elbows. Kon feels–something, kind of, and thinks about how that puts them both kinda . . . parallel to each other, kinda. Just . . . mirrored, a little, both lying on either side of Tim where he’s sitting against the headboard. 

That’s . . . kinda something he feels something about, yeah, but it’s another one of those “something”s he can’t seem to really pin down, because everything he thinks it’s making him feel is, like . . . not actually something that makes sense for him to be feeling. 

Kryptonite, he remembers abruptly. Right. So like . . . that. That’s probably . . . why he thinks he’s feeling . . . that kind of thing. Like–how Kara was saying, and all. 

Right? 

“Yes, you should be lying right there and letting Tim fuss over you for a while,” Bernard informs him matter-of-factly, crossing his ankles behind himself and resting his chin in one hand. “He likes doing the fussing. Though personally post-subbing is literally the only time I don’t wanna cuddle, I just wanna eat the fridge and pass the fuck out on the couch, so it’s really always been an unfortunate waste of the opportunity for me and also, like, not Tim’s favorite way to spend a scene’s afterglow either.” 

“Oh,” Kon says, mildly bemused by the idea of passing out on the couch after subbing instead of cuddling up with someone in bed. Like–wanting to pass out on the couch, at least. Like, that is just very much not how he feels after subbing, is all. But, well . . . if that’s all Tim needs from him . . . like, it’s not exactly an imposition or anything. “Seriously? Just . . . the fussing?” 

“Seriously,” Bernard confirms with a nod without bothering to lift his chin from his hand. “He literally always wants to do the fussing. Like he is definitely the ‘needs to calm down’ guy, and also the ‘subtly make sure he didn’t accidentally hurt or upset you when you were too high on endorphins to communicate it’ guy.” 

“Yeah, sounds like Tim,” Kon says, lifting his own head a little more again just to spare Tim a wry look. “‘Shit, that went way too well, lemme get all Bat-paranoia up in here and overanalyze the whole thing’.” 

“Better safe than sorry,” Tim says, looking a little wry himself, and Kon–like, yeah, he’s teasing the guy about it, because when would he not take the opportunity to give Tim shit, but he still definitely feels some shit about the fact that Tim would bother worrying about him like that. Like–the “gentle” thing again, he guesses. It’s just . . . not something he needs, and obviously Tim knows that, because a) invulnerable and b) they’re literally just fucking around for the weekend, it’s not like they’re doing anything serious or whatever, but the fact that Tim’s bothering to do it anyway is just . . . yeah. 

He just–doesn’t have to, is all. He doesn’t have to, but he still is. Still is, and still told his boyfriend to be. 

“You are a total Bat, but fuck if I'm gonna complain about scorin’ some free attention,” Kon tells him with a teasing smirk. Even if “getting attention” wasn’t half the foundation of his core personality, getting Tim’s attention would still be a goddamn treat, any time. Like–it always is, seriously. So yeah, Kon is in no way above indulging in a little extra of it. As far as doing something for Tim, it’s basically the easiest thing the guy could possibly ask for. Normally Kon’d say it was the best thing the guy could possibly ask for, even, but given the radioactive gay space rock currently influencing his tastes and his preferred flavor of his favorite pastime, any current contenders for the “best” thing Tim could possibly ask for would definitely need the other’s dick to get involved again. 

Like. To the fucking hilt levels of involved, specifically. 

Definitely to the fucking hilt. 

“Jesus, that noise is fucking adorable,” Bernard mutters under his breath, which is the only reason Kon notices himself purring again, which–oh. That wasn’t, like . . . on purpose or anything. Generally he tries to avoid any of the “don’t sound entirely human” vocal tics, though admittedly he probably does purr the most. Just, like . . . usually he decides to let himself do it, is all. 

“Vegas party favors don’t do ‘adorable’, man,” he hums around another purr, because . . . well, Bernard seems like he’s kinda into the purring, so it’s not like he’s gotta, like–stop, or whatever. And Tim’s heard him do it before and not gotten weirded-out, so . . . so it’s whatever, yeah. No big deal or anything. 

Anyway, it feels nice to, sometimes. Especially when he feels like this does it feel nice to. 

And, like, extra-especially when Tim’s still petting his hair for it. 

“I think I can literally feel the bed vibrating a little,” Bernard says, looking low-key delighted about it. “Definitely tell me how I earn this level of purring while TTK-cuddling, because that is very much my new goal for this long weekend.” 

“Mmm, s’secret lore, man,” Kon hums, letting his eyes close as he settles in a little heavier against the bed with a pleased little buzzing feeling in his gut and along his skin. “You gotta grind enough hours to level up and earn it.” 

“I will grind on you for all the hours that standard-build human stamina can handle and Konami code your ass if I gotta,” Bernard swears, and Kon laughs into his arms. Why is this dude so funny, Jesus. 

“That sounds kinda fun, what’d that involve?” he muses speculatively. 

“Some very specific and very decisive button-pressing, pretty much,” Bernard says, and Kon laughs again. “Maybe some converter cables and a rumble controller.” 

Kon sniggers. Goddammit, the bastard really is so funny, what the fuck. 

“I think the gay space rock’s done plenty of converting, but if you really wanna plug something in . . .” he hums, making a point of stretching out a bit more against the mattress, and accidentally purrs a little deeper without meaning to. 

“Desperately, yes,” Bernard says, sounding very feeling about it. So like, that’s another nice little bit of flattery. “Hey babe, how long do I have to wait to plug and play with your bestie? Like, ballpark it for us.” 

“Maybe eat breakfast first?” Tim suggests wryly. “I hear the chef makes pretty good waffles.” 

“Honestly they’re pretty mid compared to the cake that’s currently taking up a truly impressive amount of real estate in this bed,” Bernard replies frankly, making a point of reaching across Tim’s legs to grab Kon’s ass and give it a pointedly appreciative jiggle as he says “cake”, and Kon laughs helplessly into his arms. But, like–also tilts his ass up into said hand, obviously. Like, just a little. Bernard’s nice enough to give it an appreciative squeeze in response to that, so Kon figures that’s a win. “On that note, Tim, your bed is just not worthy of this long weekend, you really should upgrade. Like, no rush or anything, just maybe by Valentine’s Day. Your birthday at the latest.” 

At this rate, Kon isn’t gonna manage to stop laughing long enough to eat a single damn waffle.

[silhouetteonpaper]

The Rooftop

Summary: The rooftop was like your safe space. It felt even more familiar than the apartment you just moved into. Transitioning to the city wasn’t easy, and you had to do it all alone. But when someone else joins you at your secret spot, who would’ve thought where you’d be by the end of the week? Natasha Romanoff x Reader W/C: 2,985 Warnings/Themes: Angst, fluff, allusions to suicide, combat, abandonment A/N: I just moved to nyc and unfortunately Natasha does not live in the same building :( But it gave good inspiration for this fic I’ve been cooking up! I hope you enjoy! (this fic does contain brief mentions of suicide, but doesn’t outwardly state it. if you are ever feeling down, my DMs are always open.)

Crisp, cool air blew across the red of your cheeks, the partially dry tears making haste to fully evaporate. Puffy red eyelids left in their stead, yet you ignored it to look out at the city below. Your legs dangled off the concrete, a thin coat barely keeping you warm in the winter weather outside. The rooftop provided solace from the world— no matter what was going on in your life, there would be peace and quiet up here. Though, this apartment complex had a different view on the top floor.

Instead of being five or so stories up, this building was reaching for the stars at over fifty floors. You never imagined you’d move to a city where the buildings climbed to incredible heights, but here you were. The cars were smaller this high up, yet the lights were so much brighter. Each little window, each traffic light, each digital billboard traveling for miles into the distance; it all filled the muted buzz below with a warm glow. There was another difference with this new apartment building’s view, but it wasn’t one you encountered on the first night after moving in.

The third night was when this change occurred. A disruption to your peaceful evening, prompted by the redhead who jolted at the sight of your dark silhouette. “Oh, I’m sorry.” You spoke, turning around to see the woman in the low lighting. She had been so quiet when entering the rooftop, it was only the sharp inhale that gave away her presence. As the woman looked you up and down, you hoped she couldn’t see your red teary eyes under the dark night sky. “I stole your spot, didn’t I? I can leave…” But before you could move to get up, she waved her hand outwards to keep you in place.

“No, there’s no need. This is a shared space.” You nodded once, turning back to your former spot. Even in the dim lighting, you could see her lips curve into a soft smile. If you studied her expression harder, maybe there was something else in her eyes beyond that. “Are you new to the building?” The woman asked as she sat a few feet away on the ledge.

You wrapped yourself tighter in your coat. “Yeah, moved in just a few days ago. It’s quite the dream, but definitely more… busy— than what I’m used to.” There was a feeling like you could talk openly with this woman; the words easily formed regardless of your prior state. She made the bold move to not only join you, but spark up a conversation. It felt comfortable.

“Welcome to the city,” She laughed. It was low and raspy, making you smile in return. “You’ll get used to it eventually. I’m Natasha, by the way.” Her eyes met yours, and that’s when she noticed their glassy rim. 

You quickly introduced yourself, looking back out to the city before she felt the need to press. “Nice to meet you.” Her eyes lingered on you for a moment, but eventually her gaze fell back out to the vast streets as well.

“What got you to move here?” Natasha asked, keeping things light. You weren’t sure if she was purposely avoiding asking what was wrong.

You kept your eyes on everything but her. “Work. My new job is in the city, and I figured it would be easier to move all together than to commute.” Were you oversharing? You weren’t sure, and the exhaustion from crying earlier was making you slightly unaware of your words. That’s why you came up here in the first place; to think and to process the harsh transition. For some reason, Natasha was making you question your every move. You didn’t want to ruin her night with your sob story.

“Smart, probably easier that way.” She was likely just playing along, yet you hoped your small talk wasn’t boring her. The conversation would have been so much easier if you weren’t freezing in the winter wind. No matter how close you pulled your jacket, the chill still got into your bones. “You’re shivering. Why don’t you come inside for some coffee?” She was observant, you quickly realized.

Did you hear her correctly? Looking up at her, she was already gazing at you with gleaming eyes and questioning brows. Your lips curved into a sort of half smile; something about her was enticing. She didn’t mention your red eyes, or strange behavior. Natasha just went along with it all and invited you inside. How could you say no? “That would be lovely.”

Her unit was laid out similarly to yours, except she decorated hers completely different. Instead of the homey, cozy ambiance you created in your own apartment with the softest plush couch and all the warmest blankets you could find, Natasha opted for a sleeker, more stylish appeal. She had a leather couch in the center of the living room, paintings that seemed to have large price tags hung on the walls, and a minimalist clean feel on each kitchen counter. It almost seemed like she didn’t spend much time here. There wasn’t much live between the walls and expensive decorations, yet maybe that was the kind of person she was.

“Here,” Natasha handed you a white mug of steaming coffee. Natasha stood behind the counter, nodding toward a stool at the countertop for you to sit. The warmth was relieving as you held the steaming liquid between your hands, offering a nod in thanks. There was a silence, but not necessarily an awkward one.

“So,” You sipped at your coffee, debating what to ask her. Eyeing the paintings, you opted for the usual ‘get to know you’ banter. “What do you do for work?”

Natasha must’ve noticed your prior look around, as she smiled. “I work at a law firm.” That’s why she was so observant, it was likely her job to notice every detail. She poured herself a mug of coffee, but while her eyes were focused on the mug, yours were stuck on her. There was an interesting quality to her; she was forward, yet kind. She was classy, yet seemed humble. The incessant urge to get to know her only grew.

“How long have you lived in New York?” You kept the questions going, savoring the time with Natasha while trying to keep the silence at bay.

“Over a decade now,” She answered, tilting her head as more gears turned internally. “But I’m still learning new things about the city to this day.” Her eyes met yours again, and you smiled in response. Natasha was attempting to make you feel better about your nervous jitters regarding moving to a big city, and it was definitely making a big impact. It was proof that a little kindness could go a long way.

“Can I ask you something now?” Natasha questioned softly, wrapping her hands around the warm mug out of hesitance. You nodded, raising your eyebrows ever so slightly. Assuming she’d ask something taboo, you thought she’d propose a silly personal question that would help her get to know you. Why else would she ask permission? But the next words Natasha spoke made your heart sink. “What was going on before I got to the roof? Are you alright?” You realized you hadn’t even thought about your earlier episode since Natasha appeared.

It was probably quite the sight to walk in on. Someone dangling their feet over a rooftop with tears streaming down their face, protected by nothing but the warmth of their red cheeks. Most people don’t sit on the ledge of a building unless they have grim intentions. You hoped she couldn’t see that much, but her ability to notice even the smallest of details was becoming more clear. The truth was, you were completely overwhelmed. Moving to a new city was one of the scariest things you’d ever done. 

All your life, you lived in a small town where kids were expected to grow up and join the endless cycle of never escaping it. You were different; ever since the idea of graduating filled your mind, you dreamed of a life where you could leave and see the world. Your parents disagreed, and knew the wish would fizzle out eventually. But with perseverance, you got your degree, worked a simple job at home to save up, and finally received a job offer in one of the many iconic places you had dreamed of visiting.

It all sounded so perfect; moving to the city, working a job you loved, becoming the best version of yourself. But that reality was quickly slashed in half when your goodbyes were fronted with your parents cutting you off. They didn’t support you moving away, and you knew they wouldn’t. But a part of you hoped they would change their minds after seeing how happy you were here. So far, they’ve kept up the cold front, but you knew that this was just another hump to get over.

Your apartment was quickly furnished with each piece you meticulously chose beforehand. The cozy safe space was built, and you were ready to face the world outside. But to your dismay, the workforce on this side of the coast was quite contrasting to what you were used to. There was no evidence of a team that worked together, but rather competing employees and constant challenges to prove yourself. The first day of work was so overwhelming, you swore you’d never leave your apartment again. Still, the urge to keep persevering was embedded in you at this point.

Another day of work, and you were completely drained. If only you weren’t so excited to start, and offered to work the second you moved in. The inevitable breakdown commenced the moment you got home from the crowded subway ride; each slow stop into the stations urging your tears to finally fall as you rode back from work. You had no one to comfort you but the serene cityscape that coaxed you to move here in the first place. After sitting in the heavy weight of despair for a few hours, Natasha’s presence was relieving. Proof that people weren’t all terrible, and maybe the city had something good to offer.

You suddenly realized Natasha had been staring at you with furrowed brows for who knows how long; the silence had grown as she waited for you to respond. “It’s been a lot to move here as someone who isn’t used to the city,” You paused, trying to think of what to say. Natasha clearly cared about what was happening earlier, so you knew there was no reason to spare details. “My parents cut me off when I left home, so I’ve been on my own during this move.” You looked down at your nearly-finished mug of coffee. “Work has been terrible, and I’m worried I made the wrong choice.”

There was more silence, but you could feel Natasha’s expression soften. “I go to the roof to think. It’s what I did at my old place. I promise I wasn’t up there for any other reason.” You clarified, looking back up at Natasha to see her smile slightly.

“Good, because there was no way I was letting that happen.” Her tone was back to being direct, just as before. There was an unspoken comfort in the way she listened to you, like she somehow understood— or at least wanted to. You weren’t sure what it was, but you were thankful Natasha had entered the rooftop when she did.

“Is that why you sat with me, and invited me inside?” The question left your lips out of worry. If you weren’t a damsel in distress, would she take back her kindness? Maybe it was your recent anxieties forming in new ways; the abandonment from your parents had to have left a mark.

Natasha tilted her head again, you could tell that meant she was thinking. “Not completely. If anyone is out there crying alone, I’m not just going to leave.” You took a deep breath, offering her an understanding smile.

“Does this happen often, then?” You joked, sipping at the last drop of your coffee. She laughed, shaking her head.

“You’re my first rooftop rescue— in this apartment at least.” She winked, making the red of your cheeks return. “But in all honestly, I’m sorry about your parents. I’m glad you moved here, we have one less cranky neighbor now.” Her eyes lit up as you laughed. “If you ever need anything, I’m right down the hall.” Natasha was truly kind, yet cunning. Whatever this was between you two, you were beyond grateful.

After an exchange of numbers and a few lasting goodnights, you left for your own apartment. Coffee with Natasha was just what you needed, and the guarantee of seeing each other again kept you eager for whatever tomorrow had to offer. Her extended support instilled you with the urge to give living in New York one more shot. If you knew she was just down the hall, maybe living here wouldn’t be so bad.

—————

After you returned from a long workday, you were supposed to have a relaxing evening. The idea of walking down the hall and knocking on Natasha’s door pestered you all day; maybe you two could go for drinks, or have a night in. But you didn’t even get to take your coat off before chaos struck.

It happened so quickly. You put your bag on the bed, then there was a crash in the kitchen. Someone was in your apartment. You didn’t even remember dialing her number, but your only New York contact picked up in seconds. “Natasha,” your voice was quiet as you held the phone to your cheek, tears brimming in your eyes as you hid beside your bed. “Someone’s here, call 911.” Another crash. You winced. Natasha breathed heavily into the phone like she was already running, yet didn’t say a word before the line hung up. You assumed she was dialing the authorities as quickly as possible. You were wrong.

Crash. Your head fell into your knees. This was how you were going to die; not by falling off of a roof, but by being too defenseless to do anything. Smash. They were looting the place, but the next sound you heard wasn’t the echo of dishes breaking— it was the grunt of a woman. Natasha, you quickly realized as something thumped against the wall. She came here to defend you, but why? How could someone be so brave to fight against a few apartment thieves? Why didn’t she just call the police?

Silence. Oh god, how you hoped they didn’t hurt her. Your head was fully in your knees by now, red marks being left in the palms of your hands by how tight you were holding yourself. The bedroom door squeaked open, and your heart nearly stopped. “Are you okay?” The low raspy voice brought air into your lungs— it was Natasha, not one of the perpetrators. Raising your head, you looked up at the redhead who appeared without a scratch. She bent down beside you, her hand resting on your knee as you caught your breath.

“How did you..?” You muttered as tears fell onto your cheeks. “Are they gone?” You looked up to see her nodding and offering a hand. Taking it, you stood on wobbling legs as she took you out into the kitchen. With a racing heart, you didn’t know what to say. Did she scare the thieves off? The silence was ringing in your ears, yet you had no idea what would be lying in your kitchen as Natasha walked you out of the bedroom.

Two intruders, dressed in black, both unconscious and bleeding on the floor. Your hand covered your mouth in shock; it was almost more distressing than the broken dishes and littered belongings everywhere. “What the hell…” You slowly looked over to the redhead, who was fronting a stoic expression. Whoever that woman was, she somehow took out both of the criminals. “Who the hell are you?” You locked eyes with the woman before you who was a friend mere moments ago, but now felt like a stranger. As relieving as it was she dealt with the intruders, you had no clue if she’d be one too.

She inhaled sharply, eyeing both the intruders as if they’d stand back up for another round. “We need to get you out of here, c’mon.” Her hand found your shoulder as she softly pushed you toward the door, her urgency rising.

“No!” You shouted, turning on your feet to face her again. “Tell me what the hell just happened.” With words like ice, you stood frozen as the woman who seemed to be in a rush remained silent for a moment.

“I don’t work at a law firm,” She breathed. “I work for S.H.I.E.L.D.. This wasn’t a coincidence, someone’s after you. I don’t want to wait and find out what they’ll do next.” S.H.I.E.L.D., as in the big organization of trained agents? Natasha was an agent, and suddenly everything was making sense. Her insane ability to read small details; her knack for offering support; her ability to take out two enemies in seconds. You knew it was likely she was undercover, yet you still felt betrayed.

Regardless, the threatening manor of her words took precedence above all else. “Someone’s after me?” You questioned, watching Natasha’s every expression. What could someone possibly want with you? You had only lived here for a few days, yet whoever organized this clearly wanted to take care of it as soon as possible.

She nodded once firmly. “Yes, now move before I move you.” In that moment, you knew you didn’t have a choice— and that above all else, your life was about to get even crazier.

[golden-loona]

tick-tack [j.j.k] | one shot

summary: you've never felt the need to change for someone until now, but will jungkook like your new version?

pairing: jungkook x oc

words: 6,076

inspired by "tick-tack" by illit

"tick tack, ti-tack, thump

it's noisy, my heart"

•

the air in the cafe is bright and bubbly, walls painted in bright pastel colours, stickers of drawings and names of previous customers cover one of the walls. music plays gently over the radio, the only other noise being chatter amongst you and your friends. you're in your element and you love being in it. brown sugar milk tea and tapioca, your usual order when you aren't feeling adventurous. less ice of course, so you get more drink than you do ice. you naturally twiddle the charms hanging from your shoulder bag between your fingers as you and your friends converse about campus gossip. who recently hooked up with who, who recently got in a fight, all the usual stuff. 

"love your skirt, by the way" your friend yeji compliments you, you smile softly and look down at the pink pleated, plaid skirt you're wearing. its as if cher horowitz and the plastics did a clothing line collab, your wardrobe is one all the girly girls die for. "on god, where did you get it? I need it!" hana says with a slight pout, you chuckle softly and sip your tea, "it was a gift but i'll find out!" you were always a girls girl and you still are. that's what your friends like about you, your loyalty and honesty. 

"thought we'd find you in here," the voice of hana's boyfriend rings out as the door of the bubble tea shop swings open. namjoon steps inside with his friends, your eyes naturally search for _him_ and when they find him, tick-tack-tick. your heart thumps for jeon jungkook. he's a computer science major, a total geek but also an utter god (to you anyway). you quickly look away, not wanting to be obvious with your stare. the four boys namjoon, jungkook, taehyung and yoongi all sit down with you and your friends. it's usual for your friend groups to mix, directly at the hands of namjoon and hana's relationship and god everyday you thank hana for being with joon, you wouldn't get to even look at jungkook if it wasn't for her. 

quietly fixing your blush cardigan, you smile politely at jungkook. of course he sits next to you, why wouldn't life just make things harder for you? you pray to god he doesn't hear the way your heart ticks in your chest, that would be a tough explanation. the groups chatter amongst each other while you silently sip your drink, suddenly its harder to formulate words with jungkook around. what if you fuck up? what if you make a joke and it doesn't land? god fucking forbid. 

"are you guys going to jackson's party?" taehyung asks as he sips yeji's drink, she kisses her teeth and lightly slaps his arm in protest. "of course we are, who isn't?" your friend jia remarks, which to be fair is very true. who doesn't go to jackson wang's parties? everyone pretty much crowned him the king of campus and honestly he deserves that title, he throws the best parties. "are you going, y/n?" jungkook directly asks you, your chest flutters hearing the way your name falls from his lips. you stutter, "i- um, yeah," you nod your head awkwardly and already want the ground to swallow you up, "of course i'm going," jungkook smiles and internally chuckles at the way you stutter. 

the truth is, jungkook knows you like him. well everyone knows, its not hard to tell and you're not exactly subtle. the way you look at him when he enters a room like he saved the world from a pandemic, the way your words fumble and your lips numb when he speaks to you, the way you become rigid when his finger so much as brush your skin. you almost had a panic attack a month ago when he took your jacket off for you. you feel you've gotten better at hiding it, brushing things off in a playful way. simply laughing or smiling at him politely. "you look nice," jungkook says nonchalantly, you almost choke on tapioca but quickly hide it by sipping your drink. "thanks- thank you," you reply quickly, blush pinking your cheeks. jia gives you a knowing smirk, knowing exactly what you're thinking and feeling. your friends know better than anyone how you feel for jungkook and its the worst thing in the world but also the best. they give you advice, they wingwoman you but they also tease you to high heavens. 

"it's loud, my heart"

jackson's party is on friday, as usual. the end of the week and of course every friday is a cause for celebration, no classes yay! you decided to try out a new colour today, instead of your usual pink-themed dresses you opt for a lilac bodycon dress, a cream chunky cardigan over the top to keep you warm. once again, your friend groups mingles into its way with jungkook's. you can't help but notice the way he's distracted by another woman, you know her, haseul. she's older and is a lot more.. mature than you are for sure. dressed in neutral colours, her hair is a sleek black compared to your dyed muted pink hair. she looks more grown up, more sophisticated and you can't help the pang in your chest when he settles his hands on her waist, whispering flirting lines into her ear. you pull away from the group and get yourself a drink, yeji follows out of pity. "sorry you had to see that," she apologises, you shake your head. "he's single, he can do what he wants," you defend him and you hate yourself for it, you wish you were haseul right now and it sucks. "not drinking tonight?" yeji asks, watching you pour yourself some fanta orange, you shake your head. "not in the mood for it," you admit before bringing the cup to your lips, yeji nods in understanding. "you can be our ride home then?" she cheekily remarks, hoping you'll agree and of course you do. jealousy sits unkindly in your chest and your head swirls with insecurity, is haseul his type? or is she just a one off? you sincerely hope it's the latter.

the night ends when you all find hana in a bush, completely and utterly off her face. "how many vodka cranberry's did you even have?" you hold her up, namjoon holding her on the other side. "i need to get her home, can you give us a ride?" namjoon asks politely and you nod, "of course i can," you and namjoon struggling to get hana to the car when jungkook spots you, rushing over to help being the gentleman he is. "jesus christ, hana" jungkook grumbles, you nervously chuckle and quickly move to open your car. namjoon and jungkook slide hana into the backseat, namjoon joins her and you close the door. "would it be cheeky for me to ask for a ride too?" jungkook hesitantly gives you a playful smile and you giggle, shaking your head. "get in." 

the drive to namjoon's apartment is comfortable, sort of. jungkook is in your passenger seat and you feel exposed to him in a way you never have before. your car is the perfect picture of you. a pink steering wheel, plushies dotted around the car, a strawberry air freshener, pink interior lights and seat covers, lipgloss and pink water bottles dotted around. its the essence of you and despite your vulnerability in the moment, jungkook actually appreciates it and finds it endearing. namjoon sits in the back with hana, she's flopped onto him and drunkenly murmuring incoherent words. 

you drive quietly and jungkook grabs a plushie thats sitting atop the dashboard, "you have so many of these," he observes. you smile and gently nod your head, "i have more at home," you admit. jungkook chuckles softly and shakes his head, "you're like a child," the words echo in your ear. he said it playfully but, is that why he won't pick you? because he views you as immature and childlike? "i guess so," you awkwardly respond, gulping harshly. you stop outside namjoon's apartment, jungkook helps him lift hana out the car and up the stairs while you wait at the curbside for him. his words continue to rewind and play in your head, your insecurities coming to the surface. it makes your head spin slightly and you suddenly dislike everything about yourself. 

you're pulled from your thoughts when jungkook gets back into the car with a hefty sigh, you smile politely, "ready?" jungkook tiredly nods his head and buckles his seatbelt. for jungkook, the silence is comfortable. but for you? the silence is just absolutely deafening. it makes every word floating in your mind louder and louder. "you look nice," jungkook breaks the silence with his usual compliment, your glossy lips curve into a light smile. "thank you," you mumble softly, eyes on the road. your heart thumps with a slightly erratic rhythm, tick-tack ti-tack.

that night, you get home and all your plushies get swiftly abandoned into a closet. you empty your car of plushies and your bed looks lost without them, the sheets looking a little too vacant. but its for the better, right? keep the childish stuff in the closet, crumple up all the playful doodles. will he like you then? are you less immature? going to bed without at least one plushie on your bed is lonely and you feel slightly cold, but thats just growing up isn't it? worried sighs leave your chest as you attempt to sleep, the constant questions whirling around in your head. you feel a heavy tightness of doubt in your chest, are you really doing this for you? or are you doing this for jungkook? after all, maybe he'll like you now.

•

you and your friends have a habit of having random picnics on the quad, its not even planned it just happens. you all lay out on a blanket and share food, until the boys all invade and suddenly there are no chips left? classic taehyung. you decided to change up a little bit today, taking the cute keychains and small plushie off your handbag and opting for more muted pinks with your clothes, wearing a pair of flared leggings instead of your usual skirt. jungkook lays down on the blanket next to you and you smile softly, ignoring the way your heart ticks in your chest. he looks up at you and a small smile reaches his eyes, you instantly set yourself into a cooler mode. attempting to calm your racing heart, forcing yourself to relax instead of being rigid.

"how are you still hungover?" yoongi remarks, hana pouts and holds her head. "shut up," she groans, the group chuckles lightly. "she drank enough for like 10 people," you joke softly, earning more laughter from the group. you see jungkook's chest shake with a slight chuckle and it makes you smile, you love making him laugh. 

the sound of a shutter opening echoes across the quad and jia automatically stands to her feet, "coffee vans open, who wants?" everyone lists off their orders and she rolls her eyes, you shake your head. "thank god you're not a coffee person, y/n" jia bows with her hands together playfully, "you're very welcome," you mock salute and jia laughs as she steps away toward the coffee van. you remain quiet as the group converses, "i didn't know you weren't a coffee person," jungkook mumbles softly, you hum in response trying to keep your cool. "i prefer tea," you speak sweetly, he smirks, "bubble tea?" jungkook hits the nail on the head and wow he knows you so well, you nod with a slight chuckle. "you look better in a skirt, by the way," your heart stops at his words and you swear you need a doctor, where is the medicine cabinet? should you call an ambulance? holy fuck.

"here, losers" jia returns with cup holders full of coffees and she's joined by.. haseul. of course, of all people haseul had to come and join you all. jungkook sits up and begins conversation with her, it stings. honestly you'd rather be stung by a bee than have to watch this conversation, you can see why he'd like her though. she's beautiful, sophisticated, mature, grown up. everything you think you lack. she's well-spoken and her voice is soft on the ears, another thing you lack. you're playful, slightly loud and not as articulate as she is. you note her sense of fashion, neutral colours and clothes that compliment her body. black flared trousers with a long sleeved beige t-shirt that flows over her wrists. it makes you feel sick, is this what you need to become? is it truly time to ditch the pinks and pastels? 

"i like your hair," haseul compliments you, pulling you away from the whirlwind in your head. you exhale and smile gently, "thank you." haseul nods in response and continues to admire the soft muted pink of your hair, the way it falls on your shoulders, "it wouldn't suit me, i'm too grown up to do that now," haseul comments with a light chuckle, the group laughs with her and you feel an epic halt in your chest. the laughter is innocent and playful but the comment cuts like a knife and you feel suddenly out of place. too grown up. too grown up for pink. "i like your hair, y/n" yeji says sharply, "it suits you," you smile gratefully at yeji. she's always been protective of you and the way people comment on you, like an older sister you never had. you remain silent for the rest of the break, the comment really doing a number on your self esteem. maybe it is time to ditch the pink. 

here you are, in your bathroom at 9pm with a dark brown box dye in your hand. you've been hesitating for 20 minutes now, convincing yourself that this is the right thing to do and you're definitely doing it for yourself, not so jungkook will like you. "time to grow up," you mumble to yourself as you open the box. you sadly look at your reflection, basking in the last moments of having your hair this colour. you run your fingers gently through your hair one last time before gloving your hands and beginning to paint the dark brown dye into your hair, there's no going back now.

your friends are astounded when you walk into the bubble tea shop a few days later, their jaws dropping. you're dressed differently too, in a pair of washed out jeans and a white cropped t-shirt (albeit, it does have hello kitty on the front), your go-to blush chunky cardigan warms your arms. "girl- what? what the fuck happened to the pink?" hana asks confusedly, you sit with them at your usual table and shrug, "i'm over it." if their jaws could drop any more, they would. jia leans forward, brows raised. "excuse me? over it?" she remarks and you nod, digging into your bag for your phone. they all exchange looks like you've grown a second head and realisation hits yeji, "wait.. is this because of that dumb bitch haseul?" fuck, of course she would hit the nail on the head. 

"no, this was not because of haseul," you lie, avoiding the gaze of your friends. her name on your tongue tastes bitter and the insecurity of even thinking of her sits in your chest. "don't let a comment from a random girl make you change yourself," yeji tells you gently, patting your knee. you shake your head, "its just time to grow up," you say dismissively with a slight firmness to your tone, your stomach churns as you say it. your hand tightening on your phone. who are you trying to convince? the girls once again exchange looks and jia sighs, hana hesitantly sips her drink. they know there's no getting through to you once your mind is set on it, no matter how much sadness sits in your eyes. you twirl your hair between your fingers softly, the dark locks swiftly weaving in and out, a lump forms in your throat and you can't help but miss the pink.

"will you like me?"

jungkook very swiftly moved on from haseul and started seeing another girl called yumi. you know her too, a business major around the same age as you. once again she's a girl who seems more mature and sophisticated. a good head on her shoulders, a soft tone when she speaks and she's beautiful. of course jungkook would go for her, looks like he has a type and you don't fit into it, not yet. she joins the group for lunch at the bubble tea shop, you sit down next to taehyung after receiving your order of strawberry milk tea.

"are you sure you don't want anything?" jungkook politely asks yumi, she laughs lightly and shakes her head. "boba? that's too childish for me," she remarks and jungkook chuckles in response. his reaction hits your chest and suddenly you have no appetite for strawberry milk tea. the word "childish" continues to echo in your mind, its all you hear lately and it makes you think thats all jungkook sees you as. childish. 

"well i think it's god's gift," jia says with a gentle smile before sipping the taro milk tea she holds in her hands, her comment eases the tension in your chest and you feel slightly better. yeji too gives you a reassuring smile from across the table and pops the straw into your drink for you. minutes roll by, the group swept up in heavy conversation. gossip flies back and forth across the table, the occasional debates here and there. "why aren't you drinking your bubble tea?" taehyung whispers, you look to your full plastic cup. the strawberry milk tea remains untouched, your tongue craves the taste but your insecurities scream "no!" its too conflicting. "you can have it if you'd like, i'm not thirsty anymore" you slide the cup over to taehyung and he nods, pausing for a second before grabbing it and sipping through the straw. concern holds in his eyes as he watches you. hana catches the interaction but remains silent, not wanting to make you the centre of attention during a moment of potential vulnerability.

the conversation is slowly wrapping up outside, jungkook's hand sits perfectly on the curve of yumi's waist and it makes your chest tight. you swiftly flip your dark brown hair over your shoulder and gently fix your fringe, hana and namjoon chatter with each other and you remain quiet. "are you okay?" hana asks quietly, you pause and look at her before nodding. jungkook joins the four of you and he's alone, "yumi took a cab," he tells us with a sigh. the air feels awkward, to you anyway, like you don't know what to say or do. hana and namjoon say their goodbyes and disappear, leaving you with jungkook and honestly fuck you hana for doing so.

"so you.. ditched the pink?" jungkook asks, a hint of disappointment in his voice, "yeah, i decided it was time for a change," you lie again. you miss the pink, you miss putting your hair in cute hair styles and people saying you look like you belong in an anime, you just miss it. "thats a shame, pink suited you," jungkook voices his thoughts honestly, because truth be told he loved the pink, you looked cute with pink hair. you almost want to slap yourself, suddenly wishing you never dyed your hair in the first place. he liked the pink? you can't believe he liked the pink! no, this was for the better. jungkook likes grown up girls and pink hair is not grown up, no more childishness.

"what kind of me do you like?"

on monday, you ditch your usual bubble tea and go to the coffee van. jia has to do a double take, "y/n? you don't like coffee," she says confusedly, you shrug in response, "i do now." yeji and hana watch from the group's regular spot under the big tree on the quad and they are just as confused as jia, you order a flat white and don't bother with sugar. sophisticated girls drink plain flat whites, don't they? you and jia join yeji and hana on the blanket under the tree, "girl, what are you doing?" hana says curiously, you sit on the blanket and sip your coffee. you grimace because what the fuck? people genuinely drink this and like it? disgusting. being sophisticated is hard work. "what do you mean?" you respond, the bitter taste on your tongue making you shudder. "first your hair then your clothes and what, now you're drinking coffee?" yeji lists off and you lowkey hate your friends for being so observant, "don't think we haven't noticed the lack of plushies too," jia adds and you roll your eyes. "i'm just maturing thats all," you remark, the nausea in your stomach says no, you don't want this. 

"if this is all for jungkook i swear-" you interrupt hana with a shake of the head, "no, no, no." she sighs frustratedly, "we get that you like him, y/n," yeji begins before sipping her coffee, "but you shouldn't have to change for someone's attention," the other girls hum and nod their heads in agreement with yeji, it makes you question yourself and your choices. you're definitely doing this for yourself too, not just for jungkook. it's time to begin being more mature, begin being more serious. "how are people supposed to take me seriously if I'm dressed head to toe in pink? or with hello kitty on my bag?" you question firmly, they go silent at your words and you feel slightly guilty for snapping, you don't mean to snap at them but the ever mounding pressures of your insecurities weighs heavily both in your mind and on your chest. "we're just concerned, honey," jia says gently, you nod and sip your drink again. god this is awful. 

"we're going to jackson's party tonight, coming?" yeji swiftly changes the subject and you silently thank her, wait- a party on a monday? "it's monday, yeji" you remind her and she shrugs, "i'm in the mood for a drink and dance," hana says with a yawn. "you're always in the mood for alcohol," jia remarks and you all chuckle amongst yourselves. "jungkook will be there," yeji teases and you kiss your teeth, "shut up," your cheeks tint slightly and the thought of seeing jungkook again makes you feel a rush through your veins. will he pay attention to you this time? will he notice you?

•

the party is as wild as jackson's friday parties usually are and considering its a monday night, you're surprised. for the first time you completely ditch any pink clothing, opting for a black long sleeved, bodycon dress. no cute chunky cardigan this time. you look very different, not as cute and more mature. finally. you still haven't seen jungkook yet and hana can see the disappointment in your features, "he'll be here," she reassures you, grabbing your hand and squeezing it. music blares through the speakers and you sip red wine from a solo cup, this is what grown ups drink isn't it? it's not awful so you aren't complaining. "hey everyone," that familiar voice makes your ears ring and your heart thumps loudly. tick tack, ti-tack.

you politely smile as jungkook greets the group, he looks slightly sweaty and you thank the universe for making him exist. "hey- you look.. different," jungkook observes, checking out your outfit. you smile politely, "thank you, you look handsome," you say confidently, he nods slowly and then returns to his friends. disappointment sits in your chest and you wonder if he genuinely noticed you or was just being polite. are you not interesting enough for him to talk to? are you too forward? you gulp the rest of your drink, letting the taste settle on your tongue. a familiar face settles next to jungkook.. yumi. the self esteem you built up from looking in the mirror earlier tonight comes crashing down in an instant, you could never meet his standard and it kills you. yumi is everything jungkook wants, polished, confident and effortlessly beautiful. suddenly you don't feel so mature anymore, you feel small. 

•

you return home early from the party that night, tears sting the corner of your eyes as you gaze at yourself in the mirror. who even are you anymore? you feel lost in your own body, staring at the reflection of someone you don't recognise. you're struggling to convince yourself this is for the better, the internal insecurities have amounted too much and you no longer think you can conquer them. the same way you can't conquer jungkook's high standard, you're slowly beginning to accept that you'll never reach it. no matter how many ladders you use. your heart ticks away as tears stain your cheeks, tick-tack tick-tack ti-tack. like a clock. every moment passes and you can't stop crying. who are you now? the girl who loved wearing pink, drinking bubble tea and kept hello kitty plushies on her bed? or this new version, lost, empty and chasing something out of reach?

"which version of me do you like?"

that night was a struggle, but you're determined. one last try at being "mature." you decided to switch up your personality slightly, being less jokey and playful, instead opting to be more serious and less chatty. your friends decided to gather at the bubble tea shop and you arrive with an americano in hand, setting with them in your usual spot. "no boba again?" hana notices, your hand tightens slightly on your cup and you feign a smile, nodding. the girls engage in conversation, you remain quiet, just responding with body language. you keep a good posture instead of slouching, something you mentally noted both haseul and yumi doing. the girls joke about something and the lack of laughter or usual funny comment that comes from you makes them notice and they notice hard. 

"what's up?" jia asks you gently, sipping through her straw, you shake your head softly, "nothing, why?" yeji snorts in response, knowing you're lying. "you're being just.. off?" hana is gentle with her words and you're grateful for it, but you can't help wanting them to stop poking and prodding you like a baby. "is this about jungkook again?" hana adds, you shake your head as you sip your americano, letting the bitter taste melt in your mouth. "you've changed, y/n" jia says softly, the words hit you harshly and you feel a slight pang of guilt. you don't know whether to take it as a compliment or criticism, "i'm just growing up" you say in a small voice, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. the words feel different on your tongue- like a lie you're struggling to convince yourself of. you don't want them to worry about you, not after you worked so hard to change.

the conversation quickly changes and you're grateful, the girls make occasional jokes and you want to make a funny sarcastic remark but the words stay stuck in your chest. the will to be your old self feels foreign and it sends your mind into a whirlwind of doubt, are you doing the right thing? you're snapped out of your thoughts by the store bell ringing, jungkook and his friends step through the door and you smile politely. namjoon gives hana a swift kiss and the boys all sit to join you. you once again remain quiet and poised, watching the conversation. you feel out of place, like you're spectating your own life. "hey, you okay?" jungkook asks you quietly, your heart pounds slightly and you nod. "you're just.. usually chatty and stuff so," jungkook says, his voice slowly drifting off, he looks disappointed and you feel like an idiot. yumi and haseul were both not chatty and only spoke when spoken to, why doesn't he like it when you do the same? what are you doing wrong?

"are you girls going to hoseok's party tonight?" taehyung asks while he scrolls through his phone, your friends all give a chorus of agreements and you stay quiet. "y/n?" jia awaits your answer and you shrug, "think I might skip out" you reply softly, the girls look at you confused and you give them a hardened look as if to not comment on it. yeji doesn't get the memo, "you always come out with us, why not?" you sigh at her words, mentally trying to come up with an excuse but you struggle to find one. "i uh- have plans," you lie, jungkook is disappointed but he doesn't make that obvious. you get up from your seat a few minutes later, claiming you need to go home. 

yeji follows you outside, "not so fast," she says firmly. "you need to spill and you need to spill, now," she orders and you exhale harshly, not wanting this conversation. "you're changing y/n and its not nice to see, you know that right?" yeji adds, all you can do is nod, the lump in your throat is too big for you to even conjure up words. "no boy deserves this amount of change, you deserve to be love for who you are," you hate that yeji can see right through you, she always has done and as much as you finally feel seen, you feel exposed too. "the real me isn't enough," you say sadly, holding the emotion tight in your chest. your words shatter yeji's heart, she wishes you would just go back to being yourself. "i'm growing up now, yeji" you say with a sigh, you want to believe your own words but its hard when you feel like you're losing every piece of yourself in the process. "time to put down the pink." yeji shakes her head, "i feel like i don't even know you anymore," now the tears glass your eyes, even your own friend doesn't recognise the person you've become and it absolutely breaks you. you want to defend yourself, to tell her that this is all for the better.. but even you don't know anymore. 

you watch as yeji returns inside the bubble tea cafe and you feel like an absolute outsider, watching your friends all converse with no care in the world. your eyes land on jungkook and the insecurities surface again, you'll never be good enough for him. not even after changing yourself enough to potentially lose your closest friends. not even after changing enough to potentially lose your sense of self. 

"will you like me?"

you attend hoseok's party after all, dressed in neutral colours, not a hint of pink. soft glowy makeup and your dark brown hair straightened down your back. life now feels like an outer body experience, you're lost and there's no map to show you the way back. you grab yourself a drink, tequila. that should settle the anxious thoughts in your brain. you spend some time alone, people watching, when your eyes land on jungkook and yumi. so tequila didn't fix the insecure anxiety, great. 

"hey y/n," taehyung greets you and you smile gently, "hi tae," you respond. he stands next to you and follows your gaze, "you really like him, hm?" taehyung asks, your body naturally nods, you can't stop yourself from being honest about your feelings for him. "he'll never like me though," you murmur self-consciously, taehyung raised an eyebrow and smirks slightly, "you sure about that?" his question has your stomach churning and you don't know if its a good thing or bad. "what's that supposed to mean?" you ask, thoughts race in your mind and you feel like your body is floating. “find out for yourself,” taehyung tells you with a smirk before leaving you alone again. 

the interaction with taehyung and the affects of tequila give you enough courage to approach jungkook, and yumi of course. you smile gently, “hey jungkook,” his eyes lighten as they land on you, “you came! thought you had plans?” jungkook remarks. you shake your head and swirl your drink gently in your hand, you notice the way yumi’s eyes scan your body and it makes you feel more insecure than ever. “turns out i’m free,” you lie, he smiles brightly and sips his drink, going back to conversation with yumi. you stay, listening to their chatter and attempting to join in, but you struggle. the words stay stuck in your throat. you see the way jungkook looks at yumi as she talks, the way his eyes gaze at her lips. your heart thumps anxiously in your chest, tick-tack ti-tack. 

“i need some air,” you suddenly announce before abruptly leaving the pair, your breath stutters and finally the pressure of your insecurities crush you. you stand outside hoseok’s house and inhale the fresh air deeply, jungkook’s joins you outside and the unspoken words sit heavily in the air. “are you okay?” he asks hesitantly, you’re dismissive and don’t respond. which is weird for you, especially when it comes to jungkook. “you’ve not been yourself lately,” jungkook comments, a chuckle leaves your lips and you swallow harshly. “you noticed?” you say bitterly, jungkook’s senses the heaviness in your voice and licks his dry lips, “of course I noticed.” 

“what version of me do you like, jungkook?” you ask suddenly, he’s confused and words refuse to formulate in his mouth. “I changed myself for you, jungkook. I changed the way I dress, the way I talk, the things I drink,” you list off, you don’t mean to vent but it’s all coming out like word vomit now, and there is no stopping you. “I see the girls you like and I just thought.. if I could be like them, you’d look at me the way you look at her,” your voice breaks as you speak, truthfully you feel embarrassed but you can’t stop the words from flying into the air. your hands tremble softly with the course of adrenaline, the confession lingering heavily in the air. 

“i’ve always looked at you, y/n,” jungkook says softly, your heart races. tick-tack. “what kind of me do you like?” you mumble, all you want is to be enough for the man standing in front of you. that’s the only thing that swirls around your mind in circles. “the real you,” jungkook sighs, stepping closer. he runs a hand through his hair and looks at you with soft eyes, “the real me?” you echo is words in a whisper and he nods. “the you that drinks bubble tea like water, the you that keeps hello kitty in her car, the you that wears pink like its a religion, the you that makes sassy comments,” jungkook names one thing after the other so clearly, like it all lives in his head. you feel your chest stop, your heart still beats quickly but you ignore it. the insecurities still linger in your mind, despite his words. 

“why didn't you say anything, jungkook?” you question him, the heaviness of your feelings for him linger in your words. “i didn’t know you changed for me, y/n,” jungkook remarks, he’s right. he never knew, it’s not fair to claim he’s wrong here. “you knew I liked you though,” a slight pout graces your lips when you speak and his face falters, he nods softly, “yeah, i did,” jungkook admits, a guilty pause follows, "i've always known." your heart hurts slightly, he really did know all this time. you feel like an absolute idiot. 

“why didn't you tell me?” your voice is small when you speak, barely above a whisper. jungkook simply shrugs and you honestly want to shake him, “you’re an idiot, jungkook” you add, he chuckles softly. “I thought you already knew,” jungkook says, making you want to smack your head against a wall. he steps closer to you and gently brushes some of your hair behind your ear, “i miss you in pink.”

your heart pounds. tick-tack, ti-tack, tick-tack, ti-tack.

golden-loona || 2025

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: "Wrapped Up In You"

Marshall sat at his usual spot in the studio, headphones perched on his head, a notebook full of scribbled lyrics in front of him. The low hum of the equipment and the steady beat thumping from the speakers were the only sounds filling the room. He was lost in his work, his mind swirling with new ideas, melodies, and lines that seemed to demand his attention.

But then, he felt a gentle tug on his sleeve.

He turned to find you standing beside him, a slight pout on your face, eyes wide and full of longing.

"Hey," he greeted, pushing the headphones down to hang around his neck. "What’s up?"

You didn’t respond with words, just slipped your arms around his waist from behind and pressed yourself into his back, your cheek resting against his shoulder. You were always affectionate, but today it seemed like you couldn’t get close enough to him. The pull of his presence seemed to wrap around you, and you just wanted to be near him—closer than close.

Marshall chuckled softly at your sudden clinginess. He loved it, of course, but sometimes it made it harder to get his work done.

"Someone’s needy today," he teased, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You huffed, tightening your arms around him, almost like you were afraid to let go. "I just want to be with you," you murmured, your voice quiet and soft, a trace of vulnerability in your words.

Marshall’s heart softened at your tone. He turned in his seat, his hand coming up to gently brush a lock of hair from your face. He could tell you weren’t just being clingy for the sake of it—there was something more. You just needed his presence, his comfort.

“Alright, alright,” he said, his smile growing. “Come here.”

Without hesitation, he stood up, pulling you closer as he slid off his hoodie. He didn’t even have to ask—he could tell what you were thinking. The hoodie was big on him, but he knew it would swallow you up, making you feel wrapped in his warmth.

You smiled at him, the smallest glint of gratitude in your eyes, before you let him pull the hoodie over your head. It was almost comical how the oversized garment consumed your figure, but it was exactly what you needed. You settled into the hoodie, the fabric soft and smelling like him—like home. You felt safe, even with the chaos of his studio buzzing around you.

Marshall watched you, amused. "You good now, or should I just lock you in here and call it a day?" he joked, already knowing the answer.

You didn’t respond with words. Instead, you shuffled closer to him, burying your face into his chest as you slid your arms around his waist, content to just be close.

He chuckled again, his hands gently running down your back. "Yeah, I thought so." He could feel the warmth of your presence against him, how you molded into him as though you were both pieces of the same puzzle.

“I’m not gonna be able to get anything done like this, you know,” Marshall said, leaning back against the desk, eyes darting to his notepad.

"I don’t care," you muttered into his chest, your voice muffled. "Just keep me close, Marshall."

He sighed, half-exasperated, half-amused. But he wouldn’t have it any other way. With one last glance at the studio equipment, he decided to give in, letting the work take a backseat to the warmth of your presence.

“Alright,” he said, finally giving in. “We’ll make this work.”

You smiled up at him from the safety of his hoodie, content in your little bubble with him. The world outside didn’t matter, not as long as you were wrapped up in him, in his love, in the comfort of just being together. Marshall, with all of his bravado and confidence, was a man who could handle the weight of the world—and you, wrapped up in his hoodie, were all the comfort and support he needed in return.

As he picked up his pen to jot down some lyrics, you snuggled closer, resting your head against his chest as the steady rhythm of his work filled the air. And in that moment, you knew, despite everything in the world, you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

And so was he.

[thanossssss]

more nam-gyu regressor/thanos cg? 💜🩵

Regressor! Nam-gyu w/ Caregiver! Thanos

Summary: Thanos makes the mistake of washing Nam-gyu’s special blanket, since he didn’t know he had regressed. Nam-gyu becomes extremely upset when he finds this out.

Contains: Age regression, crying, thumb sucking.

Not proofread.

Thanos couldn’t help but cringe at how loud Nam-gyu was sobbing in his arms. He accidentally made a horrible mistake of washing Nam-gyu’s special blanket, since he didn’t know he had regressed. If he did, there was no way he would’ve washed it, he knows just how attached Nam-gyu is to the thing.

Thanos had tried just about everything to calm him down, but nothing was working. All Nam-gyu wanted was his blanket. He didn’t care about anything Thanos was offering him or trying to give him. He just wanted to have his blanket back.

For a while now, Nam-gyu had been clinging to Thanos while loudly crying. It was to the point where Thanos was starting to get a headache, but he knew denying Nam-gyu comfort would only make matters worse. Even if it wasn’t calming him down, Nam-gyu still needed to be comforted. He would become a lot more upset and stressed out if Thanos just ignored his cries.

Thanos was rubbing his hand up and down against Nam-gyu’s back while softly shushing him. It wasn’t settling him at all, but it also wasn’t making him more upset either. Thanos just wasn’t sure what else he could do, since the only thing that would calm Nam-gyu down is him having his blanket back.

It was in the dryer now, so it wasn’t too much longer Nam-gyu had to wait, but to him it felt like forever. Thanos did feel really bad, especially when Nam-gyu watched him put his blanket in the dryer. He thought he could have his blanket back, but instead it was put into the dryer. It only made Nam-gyu start crying even harder than he had been.

Thanos did try to give Nam-gyu a different blanket, just for the time being. However, that just made Nam-gyu even more upset, which was very obvious when he angrily threw the blanket at Thanos.

So, Thanos didn’t offer him another blanket, since he clearly didn’t want a replacement. Thanos did offer Nam-gyu a stuffed animal though, but that was also thrown at him as well. The only thing that somewhat worked was holding him, even though it wasn’t really soothing him. It was just keeping him from crying harder.

Thanos was waiting for the alarm he set to finally go off, since it meant everything in the dryer would be done. He wanted Nam-gyu to just stop crying, and it wasn’t because of the headache he now had, but because he really did feel horrible about how upset he was.

Though, out of nowhere, Nam-gyu was slowly starting to quiet down. Thanos figured it was only because he didn’t have enough energy to keep on wailing like he was. He began hiccuping and whimpering while curling up against Thanos. He looked at Thanos, his eyes super teary and his face all puffy and wet. He’d been sobbing for almost an hour straight, so Thanos was not at all surprised that the poor guy looked like an absolute wreck.

“My poor little guy…” Thanos frowned as he gently wiped Nam-gyu’s tears from his eyes. A tiny whine left Nam-gyu, his bottom lip quivering a little. “Oh, don’t cry. It’s okay, you’ll have your blankie back soon.” Thanos told him. Nam-gyu only responded with a quiet, choked out sob.

“Shh..shh…” Thanos softly shushed him, rocking him ever so slightly. Nam-gyu sniffled, before placing his thumb into his mouth and letting himself relax a little in Thanos’s arms. Thanos felt relieved that Nam-gyu was finally calming down, but he still knew he was extremely upset. Only difference was that he wasn’t bawling like he was earlier.

Thanos rocked him for a couple minutes, when his alarm went off. It startled both of them, but especially Nam-gyu, who began whining out of frustration and annoyance.

“Yeah, I know it’s annoying, buddy. I’m turning it off.” Thanos said while silencing the alarm. “Come on, we’re going to get your blankie. Are you excited to have your blankie back?” Thanos spoke with a smile as he stood up and carried Nam-gyu to the laundry room.

When they arrived at the room, Thanos placed Nam-gyu down on the floor, then went to get everything out of the dryer. Nam-gyu stood up and toddled over to Thanos. He used his free hand to tug aggressively on his shirt.

“Blankie…blankie!” Nam-gyu impatiently fussed at him. “I’m looking for it, baby. Hold on.” Thanos responded, continuing to pull clothes out while searching for the blanket. Nam-gyu kept whining as Thanos looked for his blanket, but after a few more seconds, Thanos finally got it out.

“Here, buddy. Here you go.” Thanos said, holding out the comfort item to Nam-gyu. Nam-gyu immediately snatched it from him and held the blanket tightly to his chest. He smiled as a quiet and happy hum left him. “Happy now?” Thanos questioned, to which Nam-gyu answered with a quick head nod. Thanos smiled and gently ruffled his hair. “Good.” He said.

Nam-gyu giggled, before burying his face into the soft and warm material of his blanket. Finally, he had the item that brought him the most comfort and feeling of safety. Thanos was glad that Nam-gyu wasn’t upset anymore and was finally happy.

[gothamite-rambler]

Clark and Diana must've had a field day at Damian's existence

*and the rape part was a second canon that I think was retconned again. comics are weird*

Clark: I'm sorry… You have a child… again?

Bruce: Yes.

Clark: And he's yours… like DNA test, yours?

Bruce took a deep inhale and then sighed.

Bruce: Yes.

Clark: And the kid is also related to Talia Al Ghul?

Bruce: Yep… Yep… I thought the condom wouldn't break.

Clark: I… I… I'm— You thought the what wouldn't break?

Diana (amused): I'm surprised you didn't try the pull-out method with that thought process. You had a child with Talia and he's the new Robin, did I miss anything?

Bruce: No... no. You're about right.

Clark: I'm not sure how to react.

Diana: I got you on this. The dark knight, master detective, stoic emo billionaire had a child with one of your arch-enemies? The one you said you'd never have relations with again?

Bruce: …Yep.

Diana nodded and pointed at Bruce, laughing accordingly. The man covered his face, embarrassed.

Clark: Ignore her. You said you weren't even aware he was… alive. That there was a being that shares your DNA? You have plans that can defeat us, but you never thought to check in on the woman you slept with eight years ago?

Diana laughed harder, falling out of her seat in hysterics. Clark shook his head.

Bruce: Okay, at first I was aware she was pregnant, and then she said she lost the baby, so… I never called her about that. You can stop laughing, Diana!

Diana: I can't stop! This is too funny! It’s funnier than when Hermes tricked Zeus into drinking fermented wine. I can't breathe! Wait, wait— when Zeus found out about his child…

Clark (jokingly): Which one?

Bruce: I wasn’t aware he existed! I didn’t know the child I had with a crazy woman was around! Can she not laugh at me? I’m now linked to Ra's Al Ghul! This is a lot for me! Can you show me some pity?

Clark and Diana: No!

Bruce: Why are you judging me?!

Clark: Because you look hypocritical in the funniest way possible.

Diana: Exactly! You had a kid from a booty call. Wait, wait, serious time.

Diana got back in her seat and cleared her throat.

Diana: It was consensual, correct?

Bruce: Yes.

Diana: And you used a condom from where?

Bruce: …A gas station.

Diana: And you thought it would do the job? A gas station condom?

Bruce: I was hoping it would, or at the very least she'd have protection. I didn't know she wanted kids!

Diana (chuckling): You thought the woman who's been wanting to marry you for years wouldn't want kids?!

Clark (laughing): We listen and we judge!

Bruce: I hate you both. Stop judging me. I'm the Dark Knight.

Bruce covered his face, groaning.

Clark: We're just messing with you. I, for one, am happy you took the kid in. I imagine being raised around the Ghuls wasn't great… or safe.

Bruce: Um… okay, he wasn't just raised around them… Jason helped babysit him. He’s known for eight years.

Clark and Diana (mocking him): We listen and we judge!

Diana burst into laughter again.

Diana: I knew there was a reason I like him!

Clark: I'm pretty sure she's happy for you too. Just the—

Bruce (mortified): Yeah, the situation is humorous because it's at my expense and ironic that I fumbled like that. I'm going to be dealing with this a lot now. I do love him, though. He's a cute kid… He's neat, like all my other sons.

Clark: Aww, that's sweet and reassuring, honestly. A rich white man with a baby from a booty call usually doesn’t go well.

Bruce: The fact I know that's true really says something, but thank you for the compliment.

[hyperfixatedimagines]

Home for the Holidays Ch.3- Alicent x f!reader

Summary: You didn't get your happily ever after. Would this Christmas be any different from the last?

A/N: You asked, I answered....very late but better late than never right? Please let me know what you guys think! This will be the last installment for this fic so please enjoy!

It was never going to work out, at least that’s what you told yourself to make Alicent’s reaction sting less. 

It didn’t work. 

The day after Christmas dinner, the morning after you had slept with Alicent, was a cold one. 

After joking around with Aemond you went back up to Alicent’s bedroom, a fresh bottle of water in hand for her. 

You found her crying- sobbing, actually-  in front of her bathroom mirror. 

You watched her for a moment before making a sound. You cleared your throat before you opened the door the rest of the way.  

She quickly wiped her eyes and turned to you. “(y/n).”

You handed her the water bottle. “Is everything okay?”

Alicent uncapped the bottle and took a long drink. “I think we should talk,” she replied as she set the bottle down on the sink counter. 

Your stomach sank. You already knew what she was going to say. 

So you beat her to the punch. 

“You don’t have to say anything Alicent. We can act like nothing happened last night.”

Alicent frowned and looked away from you. “I think that would be for the best.”

You turned around and walked towards the door. Alicent reached out and grabbed you by the wrist. 

“I had a wonderful time last night (y/n) but-”

You didn’t turn back to look at her, you couldn’t. You knew if you did you’d start crying and it would only make Alicent feel worse. 

“It would never work out, realistically. I know that,” you replied in a soft voice. 

Alicent let go of your wrist. Your arm fell back to your side like a load of lead. 

“Precisely,” Alicent whispered. 

You swallowed hard then walked out of her bedroom. 

You barreled toward the guest room where your clothes were. You changed and called an Uber. The cost was outrageous but you couldn’t stand to be in Alicent’s home another second. 

-

After you changed you returned Aemond’s pajamas to him. 

You knocked on the door to his bedroom and waited. 

He opened the door, sweaty and shirtless. “Hey there creeper,” he joked. 

You forced a smile. “I’m here to return your pajamas. Thanks for letting me borrow them.”

Aemond grimaced. “Gods, I’ll have to burn them now. Won’t be able to wear them without knowing what occurred last night.”

Damn, you had forgotten you’d told him the truth. 

You furrowed your brows. “Have you spoken with your mom yet?”

He shook his head. “No, I’ve been avoiding her. I’m not quite sure how to look at her anymore. I mean, are you two dating now? Was it a one night stand? It’s a lot harder to reconcile than I thought it would be.”

There it was, an out. 

“Good,” you told him. “I lied earlier. I didn’t sleep with your mom. I was just teasing.”

Lying always made the bile in your stomach rise in your throat. This lie was especially hard on your stomach. 

Aemond sighed in relief. “You asshole. My anxiety was off the walls at the thought of it,” he said and jokingly shoved you.

You forced another smile. “I couldn’t help myself.”

You swallowed the bile in your throat. 

Aemond took the pajamas from you. He noticed you had collected your things. 

“Are you leaving?”

You nodded. “Yeah, my cousin called and she was able to send a car for me. It should be here in a few minutes.”

Aemond frowned. “I hoped you’d stay through New Years. It gets pretty lonely with it just being my mother and I. Aegon’s gone off somewhere to whore no doubt.”

“Maybe next time,” you replied.

He nodded. Then Aemond wrapped his arms around you. 

“Happy Christmas (y/n),” he said as he pulled away. 

“Merry Christmas Aemond,” you replied. “I’m going to wait outside. Your mom seemed busy this morning so tell her I said goodbye and thank her for her hospitality.”

Aemond nodded. “Will do. Safe travels.”

You turned and made your way down the hall. 

You were almost at the door when you heard Alicent call your name. 

You turned around at the door and there she was, rushing to meet you. You briefly hoped she had changed her mind and was coming to tell you. 

Sadly that was not it. 

She stopped a few steps away from you, a respectable distance. 

“You’re leaving,” she asked. Her eyes were bloodshot. 

You guessed she had continued to cry after you’d left her bedroom.

“Yes. I thought it best,” you told her, not meeting her gaze. 

“Oh,” she replied, a frown on her face. 

A beat passed in silence. 

You gazed outside and saw a car coming down the driveway. 

“Looks like my car is here.”

Alicent stepped closer to peer outside. 

She was close. You could smell the perfume of her shampoo that still lingered in her hair. Cinnamon and vanilla. You closed your eyes and took in the smell. 

It felt bittersweet.

She saw the car then stepped away.

“Right, well thank you for spending Christmas dinner with us.”

“Thank you for having me,” you said and turned to leave.

Alicent reached out and touched your shoulder. 

You stopped. 

Her hand remained on your arm. 

“You don’t have to leave. I- Aemond would like for you to stay, I’m sure of it,” Alicent said, her voice straining against choked back tears.

You looked over at her hand on your shoulder. 

“There’s no reason for me to stay…” You turned around to face her. “Unless there is?” You met her gaze, begging her to tell you to stay.

But you could tell by the sorry look on her face that she wouldn’t. 

“Aemond would appreciate it,” she replied. 

“Only Aemond,” you asked, giving her another chance. 

But you knew she wouldn’t take it. 

Alicent looked away from you.

You nodded slowly.  

“Merry Christmas Alicent,” you said and walked out.

You didn’t look back as you made your way to the car. 

You got in and greeted the driver. You wouldn’t look back. 

You buckled your seatbelt and the driver started to pull out of the driveway. Still, you wouldn’t look back. 

But as you neared the exit gate you caved and looked back. 

Alicent stood in the doorway, her arms hugging her sides.

From your distance you couldn’t make out the look on her face but you figured it matched yours.

Tears spilled down your face and you quickly wiped them away. You swallowed the rest of them and faced forwards.

It would be hard to forget that night, but you knew you had to if you were to remain friends with Aemond.

-

The year that followed was one you could not have predicted. 

Your family came around to your sexuality. They apologized for their behavior and welcomed you back into the family fold. 

As such you were able to get your own flat. 

Moving out was not as hard as you thought it would be. You and Aemond had not fallen out but distance had grown between you. 

There was no direct reason or cause. You had simply spent less and less time together. 

He found a girlfriend in a mutual friend named Alys, and you had found a wonderful distraction in working for your family’s company. 

Graduation only served to further the divide between you. 

It was also the first time you’d seen Alicent since Christmas. 

She looked stunning, that was no surprise. 

What was a surprise was the man next to her the whole ceremony. 

Had she already found a new partner?

When the ceremony ended you found Aemond and congratulated him. He did the same and hugged you. He also affirmed that while you two had become distant his love and affection for you had not. 

You told him you felt the same and hugged him. 

Then he mentioned he was upset to see his mom’s new boyfriend with her. 

Boyfriend, your heart sank.

But you weren’t surprised. A woman like Alicent would not remain single for long. 

Alys pulled Aemond away before you could ask for any more details. Your family had also approached you to congratulate you. 

You didn’t speak to Aemond much after graduation but he always liked and commented on your Instagram posts and you did the same with his. 

You wouldn’t see Alicent again until Christmas came back around. 

That Christmas your family had decided to throw a lavish ball for friends and business associates. 

You dreaded the thought of having to play the perfect daughter all night long but you knew that you would manage with your cousin Elia by your side. 

Unfortunately for you, Elia had gotten stuck at the airport oceans away. 

So you scrambled to find a friend to join you for the night. 

More unfortunate for you, they were all busy for the night with family or their own plans. 

The only name on your contact list you hadn’t called was Aemond. 

You knew he’d be busy with his own family so you didn’t bother. 

Instead you posted a cheeky Instagram story about suffering through the party alone for your close friends list. 

A few minutes after you posted the story Aemond direct messaged you asking if you wanted a plus one that he was available. 

You called him, not wanting to go back and forth over text.  He answered on the first ring. 

After exchanging pleasantries you asked why he was free on Christmas. Weren’t his family coming down like they did last year?

“No, my grandfather and uncles told my mother they wouldn’t be joining us this year,” Aemond explained. 

“Why? If you don’t mind my asking,” you replied. 

Aemond let out a big sigh. “They weren’t too thrilled that my mother broke off her engagement.”

“Engagement,” you exclaimed, confused. 

You had certainly missed that life update.

Aemond chuckled. “Guess I forgot to post that on Instagram didn’t I. Yeah, my mom got engaged to her boyfriend- the guy you saw during graduation- but she broke it off a few days after she said yes.”

Relief washed over you. You knew Alicent would never be yours, but at least she wouldn’t be anyone else’s either. 

“And why did your grandfather disapprove?”

“He was the one who set my mom up with the guy in the first place. He’s an up and coming guy in politics and my grandfather wanted our family attached to his,” Aemond replied. 

You nodded slowly. “I see. Did she love him?”

“Who knows. They weren’t very affectionate but my mom hasn’t ever been big on PDA.”

“Well I’m sorry to hear they won’t be coming. I know you don’t have the best relationship with them but still-,” you told him. 

“It’s alright. I’m not bothered but my mom isn’t taking it as well. Especially since Helaena is going to spend Christmas Eve and day with a friend. So it’ll be just her and I,” Aemond said with an exasperated sigh. 

“What about Aegon?”

Aemond huffed. “He’s in Las Vegas and doesn’t plan to come home.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. An idea had popped into your head. 

A potentially stupid one.

“Why don’t you and Alicent join us?”

“Really? You wouldn’t mind- well, your family wouldn’t mind?” Aemond asked, his voice hopeful. 

Your heart beat faster at the thought of seeing Alicent again. A whole year later and your heart still yearned for her. 

A bit pathetic of you really. 

Or romantic. 

“Of course they wouldn’t. It’s a big party for donors and friends. They won’t care to have two more in attendance,” you replied. 

“Alright then. I’ll speak with my mother but I’m sure she would prefer it to being home alone that night.”

“Perfect. I’ll text you the address. It’s a bit of a drive from Oldtown so if you can’t make it there won’t be any hurt feelings.”

“Nonsense. I’ll see you then,” Aemond replied. 

“See you then.”

You and Aemond said your goodbyes then you hung up. 

You smiled to yourself. The possibility of seeing Alicent again excited you but you tried to keep your expectations low. 

Even if she came that night it wouldn’t change a thing between you. 

You’d still be just Aemond’s friend. 

And she would still be just Aemond’s mother.

What you wanted from Alicent would take a real Christmas miracle. 

-

The night of the Christmas ball arrived. 

You and Elia had spent a great deal of time on Facetime choosing your attire for the night. You wanted to look so good it would take Alicent’s breath away. 

The guests had started to arrive so your parents had sent an assistant to fetch you. 

You walked down to the ballroom and walked over to where your parents stood. 

They were deep in conversation with another family when you approached them. You recognized the family. 

The Tyrells were an old money family like your own, but they had been your family’s sworn enemies for generations. 

That was until your father reached out to the Tyrells with an olive branch and mended the ages-long feud. 

Most of your family didn’t even know how the feud started. You guessed it had been about land. Most feuds boiled down to land disagreements. 

Now the Tyrells were great business allies. Your father had mentioned a desire to have the families united via marriage quite a few times but nothing had come of it. 

The Tyrell patriarch had a daughter and a son but the son had come out as gay a few years ago and the daughter was well known to sleep around with the staff. Your only eligible brother had just gotten engaged to his long time girlfriend Lyanna so a marriage to unite the families was out of the question for your generation. 

Or so you had thought. 

Your father turned to you as you approached. 

“There she is,” he said and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. 

You smiled politely. 

Your father gestured towards the Tyrell patriarch. 

“Mace, this is my daughter (y/n). Sweetie this is Mace Tyrell,” your father said. 

You shook Mr. Tyrell’s hand. 

“A pleasure to meet you sir.”

He shook your hand and smiled. “A firm grip, you’re like your father I see,” he joked. 

Your father let out a laugh. “She’s a real chip off the old block. She started with us this year and has already gone far beyond what we expected.”

Mr. Tyrell looked at you approvingly. “That’s great to hear Manfrey.” Then he turned around and called out, “Margaery!”

A young woman, probably your age or slightly younger, walked over. She was beautiful, the kind of beautiful that turned heads everywhere she went. 

Too bad your heart was spoken for. 

So you admired her beauty the way you would admire a friend’s. 

Mr. Tyrell placed a hand on Margaery’s back. “Manfrey, (y/n), this is my daughter Margaery.”

Margaery curtsied and bowed her head to your father then to you. 

“A pleasure to meet you Margaery,” your father said and gave your shoulder a slight squeeze. 

You turned to him with a furrowed brow then turned back to Margaery.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you told her. 

She met your gaze. “The pleasure is mine (y/n).”

Your father cleared his throat. “I think we should let these two get acquainted, don’t you agree Mace?”

Mr. Tyrell nodded. “Absolutely.” He turned to Margaery. “Have fun sweetie,” he said, then gave her a kiss on the cheek.

You looked at your father, confused, but he just gave you a firm look. You’d seen that look before, mostly during business meetings when he needed you to close a deal with an associate.

You weren’t sure what kind of deal he wanted you to close with Margaery. 

You’d have to ask him afterwards. 

Soon you and Margaery were alone. 

Once her father was out of earshot she let out a deep breath. 

“Thank Gods they’re gone.”

You smiled. “You didn’t have to curtsey. My father might be a duke on paper but no one really cares about that around these parts.”

She returned your smile. “My father would’ve killed me if I didn’t. He told me I needed to make a very good impression with your family.”

A server walked by with a tray of champagne flutes. Margaery turned and grabbed two. Then she handed one to you. 

You took it and thanked her. 

“Why did you need to make a good impression?” You asked her as you took a sip of your drink.

She took a long drink from her own flute before responding. 

“I have no idea. All he said was to make a good impression and get to know you.”

You furrowed your brow. “That’s interesting. I wonder what he and my father are up to.”

Margaery’s smile returned. “My father is always up to something, though he usually involves my brother and not me.”

You clinked your glass against hers. “Cheers to that. My father's go to is my brother as well.”

“Hmm, how curious,” Margaery replied.

The conversation didn’t last much longer. Margaery’s eye had wandered to one of the more handsome servers and yours was constantly checking the entrance for any sign of Alicent. 

After speaking with Margaery you made your rounds with business associates and with family. Your mother had asked your opinion of Margaery, which you noted was peculiar, and your brother had asked if you thought she was pretty. 

Were they trying to set you up with her? Did she even like women?

Your mother and brother would not reveal anything so you knew you’d have to ask your father. 

You spotted him going to his study so you followed him but as you neared you stopped dead in your tracks. 

Alicent was at the door. Aemond was taking her coat and handing it to one of the doormen. 

You walked over to them, as calmly as you could but everything inside of you wanted to run over. 

Aemond saw you first. He walked up to you and gave you a hug. 

“Happy Christmas (y/n),” he said as he wrapped his arms around you. 

You returned his embrace. “Merry Christmas, Aemond.”

Alicent met your gaze over Aemond’s shoulder. The world stilled.

A lump formed in your throat as you pulled away from Aemond and Alicent stepped forward.

”Merry Christmas (y/n). Thank you for extending us an invitation,” Alicent said and approached you for a hug.

The smell of her vanilla perfume wrapped around you and flooded your senses as Alicent neared. 

You stepped away from her. 

Alicent froze.

You cleared your throat and plastered a polite smile. “I’m sorry. I… My father had sent me on an errand for him before I saw you two. It was urgent so I should uhm..I should get back to that. It’s lovely seeing you both.” You looked over at Aemond, unable to bear the weight of Alicent’s gaze. “Have fun.”

Then you walked away as fast as your legs could go. You rounded a corner and stopped to steady your breathing. 

A year had gone by and the second Alicent laid eyes on you. It felt like no time had passed and you were still the foolish girl standing in that bathroom, swallowing your tears and promising to forget an unforgettable night.

Suddenly the door to your left opened and out came the server who had carried a tray of champagne earlier. His hair was disheveled and he was hurriedly buttoning his shirt back on. He caught you staring and turned a deep red. 

“Miss,” he said and bowed his head as he walked away. 

You furrowed your brow and wondered what had happened but the answer came second later as Margaery emerged from the same room. 

Her hair was also slightly mussed. She noticed you and straightened herself instantly. 

“(Y/n),” she started.

Forgetting all about Alicent you smiled at Margaery. “It seems you’ve certainly made a good impression on that boy.”

Margaery eyed you nervously then let out a small laugh. “And on you?”

You held out your arm towards her. “I respect a woman who goes after what she wants.”

Margaery wrapped her arm around yours and smiled. “I knew I’d like you.”

You escorted Margaery back to the party then parted ways when your brother called you over to speak with some foreign investors. 

As conversation of donations and business dragged on, your eyes wandered. You scanned the breadth of the ball room for any sign of Alicent. 

Now that you had calmed down you realized how rude it was of you to reject her greeting of a polite embrace. 

But it was so hard to think straight upon seeing her. 

Especially in the dress she’d arrived in. It was a beautiful shade of green that brought out the deep hues of her auburn hair and amber eyes. 

You found her across the room, next to Aemond and a few old college colleagues. She looked bored. 

Ask her for a dance.

You shoved the impulsive thought aside. You knew better. 

Your brother’s ramblings tore your attention from Alicent back to him and the investors. It felt like torture to be so close and so impossibly far from her. You recalled feeling the same way at graduation. 

At least she was alone this time. You didn’t have to endure seeing her on the arm of some man.

At long last your brother offered to smoke a cigar with the investors and led them away. 

Finally alone you made your way towards Alicent. 

You had to apologize. 

But as you neared she excused herself and walked outside.

You followed her out to the gardens behind the estate. They were expansive but the path immediately in front of you, which Alicent walked on, led to a private bench and fountain. You had spent a lot of time in that secret alcove as a child, running away from responsibilities and your family’s tiring rules. 

Alicent sat down on the bench in front of the small fountain. 

You lingered in the hedges behind her, suddenly reminded of being a peeping tom again. 

“It seems your peeping tom ways haven’t changed,” Alicent joked and turned her head towards you. 

You emerged from the shadows of the hedges and sat down next to her on the bench, careful not to sit too close to her. 

“I wanted to apologize, for earlier,” you explained. 

Alicent looked down at her hands in her lap. “You have nothing to apologize for (y/n).”

You looked at the fountain. “It was rude of me.”

She looked up and over at you. “It’s alright. I expected something like that to happen.”

You met her gaze. “Really?”

Alicent looked away and sighed. "We didn’t exactly part on the greatest of terms last we saw each other.”

You nervously thumbed at a loose strand on your trouser seams. “I was surprised you came.”

“Aemond insisted,” Alicent replied nervously.

“Is that the only reason?” You asked, briefly wondering if you were a glutton for punishment. Asking questions you knew lead nowhere good. 

“Do you want me to say it was because I wanted to see you?” Alicent countered, the warmth and teasing tone of earlier completely gone. 

“Only if it’s the truth,” you replied.  

Alicent let out another sigh and shook her head. “What good is the truth?” She confessed bitterly.

You took a steadying breath before reaching out to touch the top of her hand. “I’ve missed you,” you confessed.

“Don’t say that,” Alicent replied and pulled her hand away.

You turned your body towards her. “Why not?”

Alicent met your gaze. “It doesn’t change anything.”

A knot rose in your throat. You swallowed hard.

Alicent’s gaze softened. “I don’t mean to be cruel (y/n).”

You looked away and turned back towards the fountain. You didn’t want her to see the tears that started to cloud your vision. 

Alicent reached out and touched the top of your hand. “(y/n)..”

“Have you missed me?,” you blurted out.

A true glutton for punishment.

You blinked away the tears that welled in your eyes. 

Alicent pulled her hand away and stood. “I should go back in.” She smoothed her dress and turned towards the hedges. 

You clenched your jaw and softly shook your head. “Do you have any idea how pathetic it feels to miss someone who doesn’t care about you at all…”

Alicent turned back towards you. She stared at you but didn’t say anything. 

You couldn’t tell if the look in her eyes was pity or guilt.

You stood and closed the distance between you and Alicent. “It’s the worst feeling in the world.”

Alicent opened her mouth to reply but was cut off by a servant running out of the hedges. She caught her breath then informed you your father was calling for you. 

You dismissed her then turned to Alicent. “Enjoy the rest of your night, Mrs. Targaryen.”

Alicent’s gaze dropped at the mention of her married name. 

You knew it was petty and childish to call her that but you had been vulnerable with her and she couldn’t even pretend to have cared. 

-

You made your way back to your father. He was surrounded by his colleagues and Margaery’s father. 

He saw you and smiled. “Come my girl,” he called. 

You reached him and greeted the crowd around him. 

“It’s time,” he said and left. 

Your father walked up to the stage at the front of the room then waited as the singer finished her song and introduced your father. 

Everyone clapped as he walked to center stage and adjusted the microphone. 

“Thank you, thank you everyone. I hope you’re enjoying yourselves. This Christmas is a special one. Our family is whole once more, and I’m happy to announce it’s expanding,” you father declared then he asked you to join him on stage.

You did as he said and once on stage he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. 

“(y/n) has not only joined our philanthropic efforts but she has gone above and beyond all expectations. She has truly made the family name proud,” you father cheered. 

Everyone clapped. 

You smiled sheepishly. You could barely make out those standing closest to the stage, the bright lights blinding you to the rest of the room.

Then your father invited Margaery and her family to the stage. 

You weren’t sure where he was going with his speech. What did it have to do with the Tyrells?

Soon the whole Tryell clan was on stage next to you and your father. 

“I am more than happy to announce that after many centuries of feuding, Mace and I will finally put that ancient history to bed and unite our esteemed families,” your father elocuted.

You wanted to look at your father. You wanted to furrow your brows. 

But you knew better than to show any real emotion while in front of the spotlight. 

So you plastered a fake smile on your face and clapped along with the crowd.

“This coming spring my youngest daughter (y/n) will wed Margaery Tyrell and usher our family into a new, prosperous, and progressive era.” Your father gave your shoulder a squeeze.

Your stomach dropped. 

You finally turned to your father. 

The look on his face was a diplomatic one.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to ask anything until you were in private. 

So you turned to Margaery, who seemed just as shocked as you by the news, and smiled at her. 

Your father encouraged you and Margaery to hold hands so you reached out and laced your fingers with hers. 

Her hand shook and you did your best to give her a comforting look.

By the look on her face it brought nothing of the sort. She had gone absolutely pale.

-

After the announcement your father had led you and the Tyrell clan to his office. 

You held your composure as you sat down in an armchair facing the roaring hearth. 

The second the door to the study closed Margaery let out a flurry of expletives and demanded her father tell her the truth. 

Her father explained to her this was the best choice for their family and that they had even accommodated her desire for a nontraditional spouse.

Margaery hurled more expletives then declared she would never marry. 

She stormed out of the study and slammed the door behind her. 

Your gaze remained on the burning fire. 

It didn’t feel real.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get her on board,” Mace said and shook your father’s hand.

Then he and the rest of the Tyrells walked out.

It was just you and your father. 

He poured himself a glass of bourbon then sat in the armchair across from you. 

“You kept your composure out there. I’m proud of you (y/n).”

He took a long drink then pulled out a small box from his suit pocket. He handed it to you. 

You tore your gaze from the fire and looked at it. 

It was a ring box.

You took it and opened it. 

“Your grandmother’s ring, I’m sure she’d be proud,” your father told you. Then he took another drink. “It should be sufficient for the Tyrells.”

You shut the box and pocketed it. Then you looked up at your father. 

“May I be excused,” you asked.

He nodded. 

You stood and started for the door when he reached out and grabbed you by the wrist. 

You stopped and looked over at him. 

He cleared his throat. “You will marry her. If she won’t come around you need to find a way.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Yes father.”

He let go of your wrist and you walked out.

-

You needed air. You needed to be alone. 

So you walked towards the gardens. 

But as you did you passed by the foyer and noticed Aemond helping with Alicent’s coat.

Panic spread throughout your body. 

Had she heard?

You walked over to the door. 

“Leaving so soon,” you asked, hoping the panic didn’t come through in your voice.

Aemond met your gaze and stepped away from Alicent. He walked over to you and put a hand on your shoulder. 

“Mom’s not feeling so well,” Aemond explained. He gave your shoulder a squeeze. “But congrats on the engagement. You didn’t tell me you were seeing anyone you dog,” he joked.

You turned to Alicent. 

She wouldn’t look at you. 

“I..,” you started but didn’t continue. 

What could you say? 

Not the truth. Your father would have your head.

So you stared at her, mouth agape, scrambling for a way to make her stay. 

Thankfully the universe intervened on your behalf.

For once it was on your side.

Your butler came through the front door with a severe look on his face. You looked at him and he met your gaze. 

“My apologies miss (y/n) but your guests won’t be able to leave,” he stated. 

Alicent looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

Your butler explained there had been a horrible landslide on the highway leading out of town. The officials had already been notified and first responders were on the scene but it would be hours before it would be safe to travel. 

Then he excused himself to let the others know.

Alicent turned to Aemond. “We will just have to stay at a hotel in town and leave tomorrow morning then.”

You shook your head. “Nonsense, you two can stay here with us. We have plenty of rooms.”

Alicent finally met your gaze. “You’re too kind (y/n) but we couldn’t ask that of you. We’ll be alright in town.”

“I have to insist that both of you stay. Think of it as repayment for letting me stay in your home last year,” you replied.

You could tell Alicent was trying to form a polite way to decline. 

Aemond looked between the two of you, his brow furrowed. 

You turned to Aemond. “It’s not a bother. I’d really like you both to stay the night.”

“Thank you for your offer (y/n),” Aemond said and turned to his mother. “We’ll stay here for the night then drive home in the morning.”

Alicent started to protest but Aemond had already asked you to lead the way.

-

You led Alicent and Aemond to the west wing of the estate where the guest rooms were. The house staff scurried to ready the rooms.

“Seems we won’t be the only ones staying,” Aemond commented.

“I doubt my father would let anyone try to go home in these conditions,” you replied. 

You showed Alicent her room first. 

She excused herself to freshen up before turning in.

Then you led Aemond to his room. 

It was just around the corner from Alicent’s.

You started to excuse yourself but Aemond reached out to stop you. 

“We have to talk,” he said.

By the tone of his voice you knew it was something serious.

Your stomach twisted at the thought.

You led Aemond inside his room and he closed the door behind him. 

“What did you want to talk about,” you asked.

He leaned against the wall. “I want the truth.”

“About what,” you asked, dread filling your chest. 

He scoffed. “You know exactly what.” Then he sighed and sat down on the bed. “I know something happened between you and my mother.”

Your stomach dropped. “What,” you choked out.

He shook his head softly. “Don’t deny it (y/n). You left our house in such a rush last year and nothing was the same afterwards.”

You remained silent.

Aemond crossed his arms against his chest. “When I told her about the party tonight she got so nervous and she fidgeted the whole way here.”

“I’m sure she was just nervous about what your grandfather would think. He hates my family after all,” you replied, hoping he would accept the lie like he had before. 

“No, I want the truth (y/n).” Then he met your gaze. “You owe me that…we were best friends once, weren’t we?”

Your heart broke at the sound of his voice. You looked down at the floor in shame. “Yeah,” you replied, defeated.

“Then tell me what happened,” Aemond pleaded.

You sighed and sat down next to Aemond on the bed. You told him the truth. You told him you and Alicent had slept together. You told him it wasn’t because of the bet the two of you had made. You had always thought his mom was beautiful and that night…well one thing led to another.

“I suspected as much,” Aemond breathed with a sigh when you finished. 

“I told you it had all been a lie because she wanted us to act like nothing had happened. I had already told you so I thought you’d believe it was just a joke.” You continued, your thumb still toying with the loose strand on your trousers. 

“Is that why you pulled away from me when classes started again,” Aemond asked and turned to you. 

You looked over at him. “Not explicitly but maybe subconsciously.”

Aemond nodded slowly. “I noticed and I wanted to say something but when I realized my mother was also acting strange I just froze. I wasn’t sure what to do or say.”

A moment of silence passed between you.

“Maybe that’s also why I pulled away, especially once Alys and I got together,” Aemond wondered aloud. 

“I’m sorry for lying to you Aemond but it wasn’t my place to out anyone,” you told him.

Aemond looked down at his hands. “Do you have feelings for my mother?” Then he looked over at you again. “Real feelings,” he clarified.

You smiled earnestly. “I do.” Then you sighed. “I haven’t stopped thinking about her once since last Christmas.”

“My mother had a very traditional, conservative, upbringing. If she is bi, or gay, or whatever she might be…it would be hard for her to accept that about herself. It would be hard for her to be anything but what my grandfather had told her to be,” Aemond confessed.

You let out a sarcastic laugh. “I understand that more than ever.”

Aemond eyed you, confused. 

“I didn’t know I’d end up engaged tonight,” you told him.

“Really?”

You nodded. “I just met the girl. I had no idea my father had plans to marry me off.”

“Do you have feelings for her?” He asked cautiously.

“No, but that doesn’t matter to my father.” You sighed and stood up. 

“What are you going to do?” Aemond stood as well.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. She didn’t seem happy about our engagement either but my father has ordered me to get her on board if her family can’t convince her.”

Aemond frowned. “That’s fucked.”

“Beyond fucked,”  you replied with a laugh.

Aemond ran a hand through his hair. “Why not just tell your father you won’t do it?”

You shook your head. “I can’t. My father would never forgive me. They’d disown me again.”

“You lived through banishment once,” Aemond countered.

“Yeah but I had friends. I had you,” you replied then wrapped your arms around yourself. “I haven’t spoken or seen any of my friends since graduation. Half of them didn’t even pick up the phone when I called to invite them tonight. If I lose my family again, I have no one.”

Aemond reached out and gave your shoulders a squeeze. “You still have me,” he said with a hopeful smile.

You smiled back at him. “Thanks.”

A knock at the door startled you. 

One of your staff walked in and informed you that your mother was looking for you.

You thanked her and she excused herself. 

You told Aemond someone would come by with spare night clothes then excused yourself.

-

You found your mother in the hall, showing a few family friends where to find their rooms. She told you to go to your father’s study so you made your way back there.

Once inside you saw Margaery and her family gathered there with your father. 

Your father sat at his desk. He stood when you walked in. 

“Wonderful news (y/n),” he said and instructed you to sit next to Margaery on the chaise.

Margaery’s father informed you that Margaery had come around to the engagement.

“Let’s leave the brides to get to know one another,” your father declared then he led Mace Tyrell out the door.

Margaery’s other family members followed and soon you were alone with her once again.

“Did you know,” Margaery asked in a hushed voice.

You sighed. “No. It was a surprise to me too.”

Margaery looked over at you. “I would’ve never guessed. You handled it so well.”

“My family is all about their image. I’m a well trained dog,” you replied, not meeting her gaze. 

“Why aren’t you angry,” Margaery asked, a pensive look on her face. 

“There’s no point,” you confessed. “My father always gets what he wants.”

Margaery folded one leg over the other. “And what would he do if he didn’t?” 

“Probably disown me, again,” you replied, tired. 

“He disowned you?” Margaery’s eyes widened.

You nodded. “Once. It was horrible, and lonely.”

“That sounds awful,” Margaery said and placed a comforting hand on your knee.

You shrugged. Then you turned to her. “Wouldn’t your family do the same?”

“No, never.”

You furrowed your brows. “Then why are you going through with this?”

Margaery looked away from you then bit the corner of her lip. “Can I trust you?”

“Of course.”

“We’re broke,” Margaery said with a sigh.

“You’re broke?”

“Mhm, and we need your family to help us through it.”

You looked down and noticed the outline of the ring box in your trouser pocket. “I see.”

Your father had probably left you alone so you could give Margaery the ring. You reached in your pocket then turned to Margaery.

When you looked over at her you noticed something in her gaze softened. She titled her head to the side. 

“Maybe we could grow to love one another,” Margaery said and ran her thumb across your cheek. “You’re quite easy on the eyes (y/n).”

You smiled and let out a nervous laugh. “Thank you, but I have to be honest with you. Since you were honest with me.”

Margaery dropped her hand from your face. “What is it? You don’t think I’m pretty?”

You dropped the ring box back in your pocket and put a hand up towards Margaery. Your brows shot up. 

“Oh no, it’s not that. You’re gorgeous Margaery, it's just that…my heart is spoken for.”

“Oh,” she replied, a bit of disappointment laced in her voice.

You smiled softly. “I’m sure we’ll be great friends Margaery, and I’ll come to care deeply for you in our marriage but I could never be in love with you,” you confessed. 

“If someone has already claimed your heart, why aren’t you with them?”

“That’s a long story,” you said with a sigh. 

Margaery stood and poured you both drinks from your father’s bar. 

“Your father said to get acquainted so..” she said and handed you a drink. “Let’s get acquainted.”

So you told her everything. 

When you finished Margaery let out a deep breath. 

“(y/n) you poor, darling, idiot. Fucking your best friend’s mother…even I haven’t done that,” she said.

“I did worse than that Margaery. I fell in love with her,” you replied. 

Margaery wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “A hopeless romantic,” she teased with a small smile. 

You smiled back. “Thanks for listening to me go on and on.”

“What are fiancé’s for?” Margaery joked. Then she gave your cheek a quick pinch. “I think we will be the best of friends (y/n).”

You laced your hand with hers. “I agree.” You gave her hand a squeeze. “And the best part is I will be happy to hear all about your romantic and sexual dalliances during our marriage, as long as you keep them quiet, what with the family image to uphold,” you joked. 

Margaery laughed. “Of course.”

A servant came in and informed Margaery her family was leaving via helicopter. The two of you hugged and said your goodbyes.

You walked out to the ballroom where everyone was slowly clearing out for the night. You grabbed an unopened bottle of champagne and made your way to your room.

-

A whole bottle of champagne later you laid in your bed and stared at the ceiling. 

You were really going to marry a complete stranger.

And for what?

Your father’s pride?

You sighed and got ready for bed.

But sleep wouldn’t come.

You tossed and turned for hours until you gave up and decided to get some fresh air. 

You wrapped your robe tightly around you and slipped on your outdoor slippers. 

Just as you started for the door your eye caught on your grandmother’s ring. You grabbed the box and slipped it in your robe pocket.

-

The night air was crisp. It felt good against your skin.

You took a deep breath as you made your way through the garden.

You sat down in front of the small fountain. The stars twinkled overhead.

You thumbed the ring box in the pocket of your robe. 

You brought it out and opened it. 

You ran your finger over the diamonds. 

Soon tears pooled in your eyes. 

Your future was set.

You’d marry Margaery. Your father would want heirs so you’d probably have kids. You’d work at your father’s company until you retired. Then you’d sit all alone in your estate as your kids and Margaery all lived their own lives. 

Tears started to cloud your vision.

A slave to your family name.

The tears spilled over. You wiped them away with the sleeve of your robe.

You froze when you heard footsteps behind you. 

You stood up and faced the hedges. 

“Who is there,” you asked as you shoved the ring box back in your robe.

It was quiet for a moment.

Then she walked out from the shadows. 

Alicent stopped just short of where you stood. 

“Who’s the peeping tom now,” you joked.

A small smile spread across Alicent’s face. 

But it was gone just as quickly as it had come.

“I didn’t mean to intrude. I couldn’t sleep so I came out for some air. I…I’ll go,” Alicent said and turned her back to you.

You reached out and grabbed her hand. 

“Don’t, please,” you begged.

Alicent didn’t meet your gaze but she gave a small nod. 

You sat back down on the bench and she sat on the other side of it.

“What brings you out here so late,” Alicent asked.

You sighed. “Everything.”

Alicent turned her head towards you. “Are you alright (y/n)?”

You shook your head. Then you brought out the ring box. 

Alicent’s gaze shifted towards the ring box. 

You opened it and showed it to her. “It was my grandmother’s.”

Alicent took it and ran her finger across the diamond. “It’s beautiful.”

“My father handed it to me and said my grandmother would be proud,” you recalled with a sigh.

Alicent handed the box back to you. “I’m sure she would be.”

You pocketed the box and let out a scoff. “What would she be proud of?” 

You stood and walked to the fountain. You looked down at your reflection in the water, the moon high above you. 

“I’m going to marry a woman I don’t know and don’t love for my father’s sake… My grandmother would’ve called me a coward,” you finished and turned to look at Alicent. 

She furrowed her brow. “You don’t know her?”

You shook your head then sat down next to Alicent on the bench, your body facing hers. “I just met her tonight.”

“Oh,” Alicent responded, she looked away from you but you noticed a shy smile prying at her lips.

You looked down at your hands, a smile on your face.

“You know she caused such a scene in my father’s study that I thought her family would break off the engagement.” 

You let out a small laugh at the memory of Margaery cursing in front of your father.

Alicent turned back to face you. “A scene,” she asked.

You nodded. “Our engagement was a surprise to her as well. She was not on board,” you explained. 

“What changed?” Alicent tucked a lock of auburn hair behind her ear.

You remembered how soft her hair had felt in your fingers. You wished to reach out and touch her but you knew better.

So you looked away from her and took a steadying breath.

“I spoke with her, alone, and she explained that her family is in financial hardship and needs my family name to get through it.” 

You looked up and met Alicent’s gaze. The moonlight washed over her porcelain skin. She looked positively angelic. 

“I wanted to explain to you,” you started. “I didn’t want you to think what I said in the garden was a lie.”

Alicent softened. She reached out and touched the top of your hand. “I know your heart.”

You turned your hand over and laced your fingers with hers. You stroked the palm of her hand with your thumb.

After a moment in comfortable silence Alicent let out a breath and spoke. 

“So you’re moving forward with the engagement?”

You shrugged. “What else can I do?”

Alicent brought your hand into her lap. “Surely your father would understand if you couldn’t go through with it?”

“Would yours?”

Alicent didn’t reply. 

You looked over at Alicent. “What did it feel like…being in an arranged marriage?” 

“It’s hard,” Alicent said with an exasperated breath. She closed her eyes. “You try to love them but so much of it feels hollow.” 

Alicent opened her eyes and turned to you. 

Tears had started to pool in your eyes. 

Alicent reached out and cupped your cheek. “I don’t mean to scare you (y/n). Maybe it’ll be different for you,” she said, trying to comfort you.

A stray tear fell down your cheek. 

You pulled away from Alicent and stood back up. 

“It’ll be worse,” you muttered as you walked back over to the fountain.

Alicent stood up and followed you. “Don’t say that,” she chided and placed a hand on your shoulder. “She’s a beautiful girl. I’m sure you’ll grow to love her.”

You clenched your jaw then turned around. “She’s not you,” you confessed. 

Alicent’s brows shot up. “I-.”

“I’m in love with you Alicent. Being with anyone else will be torture,” you told her. You reached out and took her by the hands. You brought them to your lips and kissed her knuckles. “I love you,” you murmured into them.

Alicent turned her head and pulled her hands away. “(y/n), please don’t.”

You stepped closer to her, close enough to smell her perfume. 

“I’m going to marry someone I will never be able to love. Please…please let me tell you exactly how I feel about you,” you pleaded. 

Alicent met your gaze. 

Your faces just a breath apart from one another. 

“It wouldn’t change anything,” Alicent replied.

“You’re right,” you let out a small sigh. Then you looked down and remembered the ring box in your pocket. 

Alicent hooked her finger under your chin and brought your gaze back up to her. “You’ll be alright.”

You looked into Alicent’s eyes, and couldn’t stop yourself from leaning forward. 

Your lips met hers. 

Alicent cupped your cheek and softly pulled away. 

“We can’t,” she whispered. 

You leaned into her touch and closed your eyes.  “I love you.”

Alicent dropped her hand from your face. “Stop saying that.”

You opened your eyes and frowned. “Why?”

Alicent turned away from you and wrapped her arms around herself. She was quiet.

“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable Alicent,” you apologized. 

“It’s not that,” Alicent turned back around. She rubbed her arms for warmth.

You undid your robe and wrapped it around her shoulders. 

“You’re too kind (y/n).” 

Alicent pulled the robe tighter around her.  

“You deserve all the kindness in the world,” you replied, a rueful smile on your face.

Alicent looked up at the sky and shook her head softly. She looked back at you and bit her lip. 

There was something in her gaze you couldn’t quite read. 

“What is it,” you asked her. 

“I love you too,” she declared with tears in her eyes. 

You stepped closer. “What…”

Alicent wiped away the tears that pricked at the corners of her eyes. 

“I have not stopped thinking of you since that night.”

You closed the gap between you. “Really?”

Alicent nodded, not trusting her voice. 

You cupped her face with your hands. “Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you call or text or-,” you rambled. 

“Because it doesn’t matter how we feel. You said it yourself, we are slaves to our family names,” Alicent replied as tears fell down the sides of her face.

You wiped the tears away as they fell. 

“It does matter. It matters to me,” you whispered. 

Alicent leaned into your touch. 

You brought your face closer and leaned your forehead against hers. 

You dropped your hands from her face and wrapped them around her waist.

She buried her face in the crook of your shoulder. 

You kissed the side of her head. “You know, I was never sure if you felt the same as I did. Sometimes I thought I tricked you into sleeping with me and had imagined any affection you had for me.”

Alicent pulled away just enough to look you in the eye. 

“You showed me exactly what I had felt missing my whole life,” she declared.

Then she leaned forwards and brought her lips against yours. 

Her kiss was timid but determined. She wrapped her arms around your neck and brought your face closer to hers. 

You deepened the kiss and pressed her body against yours. 

Desire started to pool between your thighs at the welcomed memory of Alicent's body against your own.

So you pulled away, just enough to speak. 

“I need you Ali,” you whispered, breath ragged and spent.

Alicent stared into your eyes. 

You noticed how dark her eyes had become. 

She nodded and you led her back to your room.

-

Hours, and more than a handful of orgasms, later Alicent laid her head on your chest and smiled as your breathing steadied.

She laced her fingers with yours. 

You smiled up at the ceiling as you ran your hands through her hair. It was just as soft as you remembered.

Alicent lifted her head and looked up at you. “You look lost in thought.”

You looked down at her and smiled. “I’m just so happy right now.”

Alicent kissed your collarbone. “I am too,” she confessed. 

You twirled a lock of her hair around your finger. “You’re so beautiful.”

She buried her face in your chest but you caught the blush in her cheeks before she did so. 

It brought a satisfied smirk to your lips.

The first streaks of dawn started to filter through the heavy curtains of your windows. 

Alicent looked up and realized the time. 

“I should get back to my own room,” she said and started to collect herself. 

And just like that your carriage had turned into a pumpkin.

You sighed.

“Can’t we just stay in bed a while longer.”

You sat up and watched as she put on the pajamas your staff had given her. 

“We have to face reality at some point (y/n),” she said and walked back over to the bed. She gave you a quick peck on your lips.

You caught her arm just as soon as she pulled away. She stopped and looked down at you. 

You threw your legs over the side of the bed and pulled her in between your legs. 

“Who says we have to do that?” 

Alicent smiled languidly. “I would love nothing more than to stay in your bed with you until the end of time but-”

You grabbed her hands and kissed each palm. “But nothing…just stay a little longer,” you begged. 

Alicent let out a deep sigh but the smile remained on her face. “Fine,” she resigned in fake annoyance. 

You gave her hands a gentle squeeze then looked down at them. You ran your thumb over her ring finger on her left hand.

“You know, my grandmother’s ring would look good on you,” you mused aloud.

Alicent pulled her hand away and stepped back. “That’s cruel,” she snapped.

The air in the room changed in an instant.

You stood and followed her. You put your hands on her arms and she turned around.

“I’m sorry,” you started. 

Alicent sighed then her shoulders sagged. “It’s fine I just don’t like thinking of things that can never be,” she reasoned.

You turned and noticed your discarded robe on the edge of the bed. You picked it up and pulled out the ring box.

Why couldn’t it? You thought to yourself.

Your father would hate you.

But you’d have Alicent.

You’d have Alicent…she just needed to say yes.

You opened the ring box then turned back to Alicent. 

She eyed you curiously. 

You got down on one knee.

Alicent’s eyes widened. “(y/n),” she started.

“Marry me,” you declared and held the ring towards her.

“You can’t be serious,” she stuttered. 

You stood and looked her in the eyes. “Now that I know you feel the same as I do, I can’t marry Margaery. The only woman I want to be with is you,” you declared.

Alicent’s mouth fell open. “I- I don’t know what to say. (y/n) we hardly know each other.”

You shrugged. “We’ll have plenty of time to get to know one another.” You got down on one knee again. “So say yes,” you urged.

Alicent walked to the other side of the room. “It would never work,” she argued. Then she started to pace about the room. “I’m a widow with three grown children. What would they say if we married? You have your whole life ahead of you (y/n).” Alicent stopped pacing and looked at you, her anxiety and fear written all over her face. “Your father will disown you.”

You walked to where Alicent stood and smiled at her. “I don’t care what others will say. I don’t care if my father disowns me. I don’t care if they take my inheritance away.” 

“But (y/n),” Alicent started to protest but you held up a hand to stop her.

“I love you. I want to be with you. Do you want to be with me?”

Alicent held your gaze. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “More than I’ve ever been before.”

Alicent bit the inside of her cheek. Then she looked down at her hands, she nervously toyed with them. 

“Everything would change. I’m scared,” Alicent whispered.

“I can be brave enough for the both of us,” you said and brought her gaze back up to meet yours. 

You gave her a tender kiss then stroked her bottom lip with your thumb. 

“Please, let me love you the way you deserve. Let me fill your days with joy and your nights with endless bliss,” you professed.

Alicent let out a great sigh then let out a nervous laugh. “I don’t deserve you (y/n).”

You shook your head. “Yes you do.”

Alicent kissed your lips, then your cheeks, then your forehead. 

You laughed then got back down on one knee. “Let’s try this again,” you joked. 

Alicent smiled down at you. 

You took the ring from the box and held it up towards Alicent. “Alicent Hightower, will you do me the absolute honor of marrying me?”

“Yes,” Alicent replied, tears in her eyes. 

You stood and slipped the ring onto her finger. Then you brought her hand up to your lips and kissed her knuckles. 

Alicent took a steadying breath then wiped the tears from her eyes. She admired the ring on her finger. 

Then her smile dropped. 

She looked up at you. 

“What are we going to tell Aemond?”

“We’ll tell him he can call me Mom,” you joked with a smirk. 

Alicent’s smile returned. She swatted at your arm. “You’re impossible.”

You brought her lips to yours and slowly drifted back to your bed. It would be another couple hours before either of you got back up.

-

Aemond sat at the foot of the bed, stupefied. 

“You’re marrying my mother,” he asked aloud.

You sat down next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’re damn right I am, son.”

Aemond’s face soured at the sound of the word. 

“Do not call me that ever again.”

You laughed. “Fine, but I won’t mind if you call me Mom.”

Aemond shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

Then the two of you went out to find Alicent and break the news to your family. It didn’t matter if they hated you. It didn’t matter if they disowned you. You had Alicent and you had Aemond. You would have a new family.

[ragnarockz]

for the men Strap POV Dialogue prompts... but its agent Vidal/Rio top, if that's ok with you?

1, 5, 8, 13

I may or may not have a thing for desperate top Rio... 🥺 Please and thank you 🤲

-🌟

“You feel so good around my cock.”

5. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

8. “Please let me cum.”

13. “Please. Fuck. Yes. Make me cum. Make me cum deep inside you.”

Ohhhhh yeah; love me some top!Vidal 🥰💚

"You feel so good around my cock,"

Agnes hissed under her breath before moaning loudly. Vidal had taken her seat on Agnes' strap; facing each other. Vidal's legs held tight against the side of Agnes' body, using the grip to grind down harder, deeper onto Agnes. It was one of Agnes' favorite views in the entire world, Vidal sitting high and mighty; filled to the fucking brim with her cock. Tits bouncing as she controlled her own pace, her own needs. Agnes was just a vessel, just a toy for Vidal to use. Every once in a while, Agnes would buck her hips up and throw Vidal off course which elicited a long and deep scratch from the top of Agnes' thigh down to the knee. Vidal didn't like being thrown off her rhythm all that well. Agnes wanted to die every single time Vidal pouted.

Agnes watched Vidal through hooded eyes; watched her bounce and grind down onto the silicone that was planted snugly into the harness. It felt like nothing else mattered in that moment; the outside world melting away as the two of them fucked each others brains out. Was it Saturday? Sunday? Agnes lost track of time every time Friday night rolled around and they decided to 'stay in' for the weekend. Staying in always meant them barely leaving the bedroom; finding new ways to get one another off. It didn't take much; they couldn't keep their hands off of each other.

"Don't stop. Please don't stop,"

Agnes mumbled under her breath; half-conscious as she could feel the friction between her legs; the weight of Vidal on top of her. Her own thighs were wet; covered in sweat and her own wetness. She could feel it seeping out of her; the sight alone of Vidal fucking her silicone cock was enough to make her wet, get her off. She was barely even touched by her, minus the scratching, and it was enough to make her feel like she was burning, aching inside. There was a dull throbbing; a deep aching to be touched or filled or fucked. Agnes let out a deep moan; shifting her hips.

Vidal knew what was happening, knew Agnes all too well. She was getting off by herself; she wasn't going to wait. It happened every time, not that it made Vidal upset or anything. It was obvious from the first time they were intimate that Agnes' libido was much higher, must faster than Vidal's. It didn't take much to get her wet or reach her orgasm. It made waiting and teasing all the more fun, Vidal thought. But here, right now, as she rocked against Agnes she could tell just from that moan that it was all going to end very, very soon.

Vidal's hands found Agnes' thighs again, digging her nails into the detective's skin. Agnes lifted her head, her neck to get a better view of the Agent on top of her. She caught a quick glance at how slick the silicone cock was; obviously doing its job.

"What's the fucking nails for, baby? Jesus..."

"Please let me cum."

Agnes huffed; rolled her eyes as she let her head hit the pillow again,

"No one's saying you can't..."

"I can tell you're just about ready...if you haven't already..."

Vidal's words were low, challenging. They had a hint of accusation in them; tugging at Agnes' conscious that she may or may not have done something 'bad'. Vidal smirked, tossing her hair over her shoulder in a way that made her breasts bounce against her chest. Within seconds, Agnes' hands, her fingers were digging into Vidal's waist. Vidal laughed, how easy it was to make the detective snap. A quick flick of her hair and a titty bounce was all Agnes needed to get a head start.

“Please. Fuck. Yes. Make me cum. Make me cum deep inside you!”

Vidal whined, high pitched and desperate; almost a full scream. Agnes felt like her head was spinning and a low strand of curses flew out of her mouth all at once. She was both focusing and losing herself in the moment; everything blurring and merging at once.

[windsson]

He doesn’t appreciate what Bruno saying that does to him. It shouldn’t! They aren’t even like that- Bruno was talking about touching his face, idiot. What made it more frustrating is Makani has no idea if blushing is visible on him; he knew from people saying it that blushing made you pink, but not only did he have no clue what pink even looked like any more, but he had no idea if blushing made him pink.

He knew he had to be blushing though, he could feel it in his face, remnants of a lightning bolt that went straight from his head down to his toes in an instant. He just prays it dissipates quickly- he was being weird, and he didn’t even mean to do that, anyway. He didn’t want his new friend getting the wrong idea- he was the only friend he had, after all, if he lost Bruno he’d be…alone again.

To try to brush it off, Makani laughs down at the ground, shrugging a shoulder.

“Well, you really can’t get as much information from doing that as you’d think- I mean, I have no idea what I look like, and I can touch my own face whenever I want. But yeah, actually, maybe just for a second, it couldn’t hurt.” He’s trying to play it off casually. Just two bros touching faces alone together, nothing weird about this.

He continues to talk through it as well as another way of making it feel less awkward, or at least that’s how it starts, but Makani’s sincerity don’t let him feel awkward for too long. He did genuinely want to do this, the last time he had was…gosh, maybe 13 years old? He didn’t get to connect with people like this. Makani was always distant from people, in his own world, the only touch he ever received usually being harsh grabs on the wrist from his father (the ring of bruises on his right arm being proof enough of that.) Makani wanted connection, he wanted physical contact, he wanted any kind of belonging that didn’t make him feel utterly left out. He had been in too many rooms crowded with people and felt utterly alone.

“I really am happy, by the way- I’m sorry if you were nervous to do all this,” he says, very tenderly and apprehensively putting his hands on the sides of Bruno’s face to start.

“I know this won’t happen in a day, but man, this is the first time in my life I haven’t been scared for the future. I know what’s coming and it’s- woah, you need to shave, dude,” he stops and laughs.

“I’m kidding! I’m kidding! I wish I could grow facial hair- it never comes in right so I just gave up.” Bruno’s cheeks are more sallow than Makani envisioned- he was entirely smaller to hold than he imagined. His nose felt similar to his own, which Makani thought meant Bruno must have a big nose- his father had told Makani he had a big nose, anyway. He wouldn’t say anything since it sounded like a bad thing, not that it ever mattered to himself.

The yammering to break the tension, if there was any, gets slower and more sparse the longer he goes, concentrating harder and getting a little lost in the sensation, and trying to fit together a mental image of his friend. He stops completely, however, when the back of his hand brushes against Bruno’s hair.

“I’m sure we’ve got a lot to uh, to…talk about, though- with this. I don’t know what your…your family will say, this is weird news to get, and I- woah!…Gosh, your hair is soft! How do you DO this?” He excitedly gets two gentle handfuls of each, his excited-rambling voice coming back for just a second before he realizes how odd he’s being.

Makani let’s go and puts his hands in his lap, clearing his throat and smiling politely.

“I’m sorry- I just said a second and I uh…thank you, in any case-but no, um,” he tucks his hair behind one of his ear, definitely not as soft, continuing,

“This is…wild. I-I mean how is this even going to happen? D-Does anyone even want me here? Where would I be, how does…” he laughs a little, incredulously, “This is so incredible but I don’t know how I’m supposed to be feeling right now. Wh-What do we do now?”

“Dude. That was the greatest thing I’ve ever got to be a part of.”

In comparison to his nervous friend’s upright posture, Makani was catching his breath leaning back onto his elbows, and by the state of his hair, he had been through a tornado. It was wrapped around his face like a fishnet, Makani needing a moment to get some strands out of his mouth.

“I get to stay…I get to- Bruno, are you even hearing yourself? I get to stay!” He crawls over to where Bruno had shuffled off to, intending to reach out to (happily) shake some sense into Bruno, but his thoughts get interrupted when his hand collides with something.

“No matter what, this is good news, I just wish I knew h- ah- oh, what’s this…thing?”

He runs his hands over the glass, feeling the etches on its surface and tracing vague shapes with his fingertips.

“Where did you get this…metal? No, wait…” he taps his knuckle against it, “Glass. It’s like…an upside-down house, and an upside-down pers- wait!”

He grabs the glass plate off of Bruno’s lap and flips it right-side-up for himself, putting it down on his own lap and tracing his fingers as if he were reading in Braille.

“You said it was me, in front of your house, walking down a…yeah! Okay! This is the road, yeah? So this little thing in the middle is me!”

He was so small in the frame, his fingers couldn’t make out a ton of detail in the face, but Makani still eagerly swiped over the picture to try to intuit any kind of information about the drawing.

“Wow, my hair feels long. Do I just keep growing it out?” He laughs a little, chin still raised in concentration to try to turn the abstract feelings in his fingers into something more tangible.

“I know like, vaguely what I look like? The last time I saw myself I was 8 years old, so I’m always guessing- it’s not as important to me as it used to be, but I do still wonder, sometimes,” he chuckles. He does allow himself a few seconds to trace the mysterious hand, fading into a blob of just smooth, unmarked glass. Of course he was curious about that, and he’d ask questions and wonder in due time, but his excitement over this revelation meant the little questions could wait.

I get to stay. I’m safe.

He was going to sorry about the details later; including that it was kind of weird to learn he was about to start living with these people he’s known for a month, whose hand was he holding and why (and trying not to be disappointed with the reality that someone was probably guiding him somewhere, Occam meet razor,) no, right now he was going to allow himself to just be happy and excited for a moment.

He didn’t understand why Bruno was so nervous before, this couldn’t have gone any better.

“I know you probably have some important stuff to tell me about this, but give me just a second to do something stupid before any bad news,” he says with a smile, trying to subtly get across to Bruno that he wasn’t mad, he liked the fortune, no one was in trouble. “Do you wanna hear something stupid about me? Then it’s serious time, I promise.”

Makani puts his fingertips back on the rendering of his face, no way of really being certain if Bruno’s magic-fortune-telling-glass-wind-sand-thingy had actually rendered him accurately. He snickers down by his chest, clearly embarrassed about whatever he was going to say, but wanting to tell nonetheless.

“What I’ve been doing with this thing, trying to like, feel what I look like, I definitely did this to your door before you answered it,” he laughs at himself, “I didn’t know it was carved! And when I realized it was you, I was trying to gather all the I formation I could in…5 seconds. I was just trying to figure out what you looked like…from a door, so probably not super close, yeah?”

[old-knightsvow]

muppet cast for a succession adaptation....

[realbeefman]

i know chase obviously wins the religious trauma competition but can we please talk about how foreman was not only raised by a deeply religious father, but was most likely raised BAPTIST. no wonder he’s so repressed. the baptist experience is like. you’re in church every sunday listening to a man scream about how love is something that should hurt. you believe in a good, loving god - but to believe, you have to accept that true love is painful. that to be a good person, you must suffer. to love is to endure it, to work mercilessly. you’re not worthy of the love of The Almighty, and you never will be, and that sense of unworthiness is fundamental to having faith. when you sin, you don’t just hurt Him, you hurt everyone around you. you make the world worse because you have dared commit the sin of existence — to be human is to be sinful. to be loved is to feel unworthy and pathetic and hopeless. like YEAH no wonder foreman self isolates and is emotionally closed off. he was taught from BIRTH that he is fundamentally unworthy of love, and that in accepting love, he is also accepting that he truly is worthless.

[crabussy]

man its absolutely crazy how far simple politeness gets you. if you are polite to strangers on the internet who hate your guts 9/10 times they will LISTEN to you and TAKE YOUR POINTS INTO CONSIDERATION????? I've have genuinely very pleasant conversations with people whose worldviews COMPLETELY contradict my own and have come away knowing that they're thinking about what I said and may have even changed the way they think about the issue we discussed. it feels like it shouldn't work but it works almost TOO well. if people feel like you're listening to and considering THEIR opinions and experiences, they'll listen to yours too. it goes both ways!!!!

[scalproie]

people will see curly being violently dehumanized and will go "oh no! let me do the same in the exact opposite way!"