#ch: ruse

[gloomforrestrunes]

Chapter 2, Page 75

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hi. this scene is very short but its a lot. sorry ♥

[the20thangel]

The Dragon and The Raven Ch 4: The Duel

Chapter Summary: Daemon couldn't believe that his daughter was betrothed. As he stared at the Lord of House Blackwood, Daemon decided if Lord Benjicot Blackwood was truly serious about his daughter, he needed to prove it to the Prince.

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Daemon stared at the young lord, watching his facial features, but the boy seemed to know how to mask his emotions. After another beat, Daemon turns to his daughter, smirking tauntly. 

“I think I misunderstood you, my sea dragon -” 

“There is no misunderstanding, Kepa ; I have chosen Lord Benjicot Blackwood as my betrothed.” Aemma clarified schooling her features to be indifferent, knowing that her father would try to get a ruse out of her. 

Daemon’s frown deepened as he looked at his daughter's face. She was serious. “Has your mother given her approval on this boy?” 

Aemma cursed internally, knowing that her betrothal was not officially valid since her mother had not sealed her approval. 

Aemma cleared her throat. “I have sent a letter to let her know of my intentions. She will trust my judgment of Ben—Lord Blackwood. 

Daemon deadpanned at his daughter for using the blackwood boy’s name with such familiarity. Knowing he wasn’t going anywhere with his daughter, he focused on the boy.  

“And you, boy, do you think you are worthy of my daughter? A princess with the blood of Old Vayria?” Questioned Daemon as he stalked towards Benji, who straightened his back, never breaking eye contact with the Rouge Prince. 

“Well…. I think you are just some boy who will piss his pants at the first sight of battle. Do you even know how to fight? Hmmm, boy… where were you when your brother foug-” 

“DAEMON!” shouted Aemma angrily, as she saw Benji grow angrier with each sentence her father said. 

Daemon smirked at seeing the boy break from his poker face, but his smirk fell once he noticed Aemma's anger. She looked just like her mother, returning memories of how he left Dragonstone. Sighing through his nose, Daemon refocused himself. 

“Fine, if you think you are so worthy, I challenge you to show your skills in a duel,” stated Daemon. He noticed his daughter widen her eyes, and the Blackwood boy gave him a crooked smirk. He was either brave or stupid, that boy. 

“I accept your challenge, Prince Daemon,” agreed Benji as he noticed his aunt arriving with his men. “If you excuse me, I need to settle my men, Prince Daemon, Princess Aemma,” said Benji as he bowed and walked away. 

Aemma watched as Benji left her and her father, upset that he once returned to propriety by using her title; she was getting used to being just Aemma to him. Aemma turned to her father giving him the stink eye. 

“What?” Asked Daemon, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he noticed her expression. 

“You could have been nicer or at least given more respect to him, and you trying to ruse him by using his brother, Kepa -” Aemma explained her disappointment but was cut off by her father. 

“I needed to see his worth, and I stopped, didn’t I? Besides, I will know if he is worthy of you from the duel.” Daemon defended himself as he and Aemma started walking towards camp. 

“Are you really going to duel him?” Asked Aemma as she stopped to look at her father in disbelief. 

Daemon paused, looking at her reaction; he chuckled while taking a strand of her hair between his fingers. 

“I will not be the one dueling him… you are.”

Aemma’s eyes widden in shock, “But-” 

“I never told the boy it was me; you and him assumed it would be me. I trained you, and you have bested me a few times. Who else can prove if that boy is worthy of your hand if not yourself?” explained truthfully to his daughter. 

Aemma, understanding her father’s words, agreed and continued walking to the camp. She saw Aly and Benjicot greeting the Wolf of Winterfell. As Aemma joined the group, they bowed to the princess. Lord Cregan Stark gave Aemma a wolfish grin as he took her hand and kissed it. 

“Princess, it's good to see you again. How is Prince Jacaerys? Asked the Winter wolf. 

Unbeknownst to him, Benjicot’s smile turned to a sneer once he saw the Lord of Winterfell kiss her hand. Again, the ugly monster of jealously clawing up his chest. 

“My brother is doing fine at Dragonstone, although I have a feeling he will be joining us soon,” replied Aemma sweetly. Cregan had become a good friend and ally to the siblings. She turned to Benji, and her smile loosened, noticing his sneer. Seeing the princess staring, Benji bowed and turned to walk to his tent. 

“Um, if you excuse me, Cregan, I need to speak with Lord Blackwood. Have you met his aunt, Lady Alysanne Blackwood?” Aemma hurried an excuse as she walked away, leaving them behind. 

Cregan, with his eyes, followed the princess going towards the Blackwood tents before he awkwardly smiled at Alysanne. 

Aemma entered the tent and saw Benji sharpening his sword with hard eyes and a clenched jaw. She walked in to stand beside him, but the young man did not notice as he continued sharpening his sword. Aemma sighed and reached to touch his cheek, which made Benji flinch as he glared up, only to widen his eyes once he realized who it was. Aemma smiled as she lowered herself in front of her betrothed. 

“What’s wrong?” asked Aemma as she held her hand to his cheek, lightly caressing it. 

Benji shook his head and went to turn away from her, “Nothing…” 

Aemma quickly turned his head towards her again, with a frown mirroring her face. “Don’t lie to me, Ben. Let us not start our courtship with lies. What bothers you? Was it my father?” asked Aemma quietly. 

Benjicot sighed deeply before looking at her entirely. She raised her eyebrows and waited for his response.

“I don’t like how familiar he was to you…” Benji finally explained. 

Aemma was confused about who he was talking about when it clicked: he was talking about Cregan. Aemma giggled, which only made Benji’s frown deepen.

“Cregan…Lord Stark is a friend and only a friend, Ben. He and my brother grew close to each other. There is nothing between him and I, and there never will be.”  Aemma explained as she leaned closer to Benji. 

Benjicot wanted to believe his princess, but he just couldn’t; how could Lord Stark not want to court her? She was gorgeous. Aemma sighed, seeing how he didn’t fully believe her words. Feeling daring, she stood up and sat on his knees, her legs on either side, cradling his face. 

“There will never be anything between me and Lord Stark because he does not make me feel the same feelings as when I am with you,” she whispered.  

Instead of replying, Benji reached up, grabbed her face with his hands, and kissed her. His kiss was desperate as if she were telling him she would leave him. Aemma gasped at the sudden kiss, but she leaned more toward him instead of pulling away. She wrapped her arms around his neck as his hands left her face and onto her waist, bringing her body closer to him. The world seemed to melt away as they deepened their kiss, and as much as Aemma was enjoying it, she knew they had to stop before risking it going too far. She slowly pulled away before giving one last peck at the corner of his mouth. 

“We should stop; we can’t risk anything… not until our wedding.” 

Benji smirked before he nuzzled her neck in contentment. Aemma giggled at the sensation, his hair tickling her as she held him in content. Feeling that she could spend hours like that when they heard a slight cough. Both heads turned quickly to see Aly smirking at them at the tent's entrance. Aemma blushed furiously and jumped off Benji’s lap, which made Benji quickly glare at his aunt before standing. 

“ You both are lucky it was just me who found you. Ben, you know better,” Alysanne lightly scolded as she entered the tent. 

“Are you here just to scold me, dear aunt, or did you need something?” asked Benji as he grabbed Aemma’s hand, caressing her knuckles.

Alysanne’s smirk widened, “Prince Daemon is looking for you both; something about our dear Ben proving his worth? What does he mean by that?”  

Aemma stiffened before she released Benji’s hand, “I should go and help him prepare…I will see you there, yes?” 

Benji stared at her but slowly nodded as he watched her leave the tent. He then turned to his aunt, who gave him a questioning stare while waiting for her answer. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In Dragonstone, Queen Rhaenyra was eating her lunch with Jacaerys, Rhaenys, and Baela when Maester Gerardys came in holding two letters. 

“My queen, two ravens came by, one from Princess Aemma and the other from Prince Daemon.” Gerardys held the letters to Rhaenyra before bowing and leaving the room. 

Rhaenrya held both letters before handing Prince Daemon’s letter to Jace, asking him to read it. She was still upset with him and his actions. Then she hurriedly opened her daughter's letter, wanting to know how her time in Raventree Hall was spent. As she read, she was pleased to see that Aemma was accepted, and the people of House Blackwood were grateful. Stopping at the words “I have done my duty…” she was interrupted by Jace asking a question. 

“What does Daemon mean? ‘Our sea dragon has gotten a pet raven.” Jace asked, looking at his mother and grandmother in confusion.

All three women were equally confused regarding the statement.  Rhaenys reached for the letter and re-read the statement, noting that it held no more explanation, just those simple words. Baela, seeing her grandmother’s puzzled look, turned to her stepmother. 

“ Muna, maybe in Aemma’s letter, there will be an explanation of what Kepa wrote. 

Rhaenyra smiled at her and decided to read Aemma’s letter out loud so they could hear it. She started to read from where she left off.

“ Muna , I have done my duty to strengthen our house with allies. If your approval is given, my queen, I have decided to give my hand of marriage to Lord Benjicot Blackwood.” 

Gasps were heard as Jace quickly stood up and took the letter from her, re-reading the letter. Rhaenyra was shocked. She and her daughter haven’t even discussed marriage, yet she stated that she was betrothed in her letter. Baela and Rhaenys were equally shocked but decided to wait before expressing their thoughts. 

“This was not a decision made at the spur of the moment; both houses, Blackwood and Targaryen, can benefit much from our union…I eagerly await your answer at Harrenhall. With Love, Crown Princess Aemma Velayron.” Finished Jace with a sour look on his face. He didn’t know this, Lord Blackwood. Had he forced his sister to make this match? But Daemon would never allow that. 

“ Muna , we must send a letter rejecting the match and telling Aemma to come back home we-” Jace ranted as he reached for a parchment only to have his mother stop him. 

“Jace, we must trust both your sister’s and father’s judgment; if Daemon has not expressed rejection of the betrothal, then we should allow both your sister and her intended the chance.” Soothed Rhaenyra, as she knew her son would not want to agree.

“But..” 

“Jace,” whispered Baela while staring at her betrothed. “We should listen to your mother, sister, and my father. If Kepa likes him, then he must be worthy of Aemma.” 

“How about we allow Jacaerys to meet the lad and get a feel for him? If he approves, we will start making quick preparations for the wedding. We should be quick with the wedding as war is so close. If not, he will return with Aemma to Dragonstone?” proposed Rhaenys, trying to be diplomatic, even though she wanted her granddaughter back in her arms. 

Rhaenyra considered it for a moment before she, too, nodded. 

“Yes, we will do that, Jace; go quickly and swiftly to Harrenhall. Get to know Lord Blackwood and see if he is the best for our sweet Aemma. Baela, go with him in case Aemma becomes difficult for Jace.” 

Both Jace and Baela nodded and left to get ready for the trip. Jace is determined not to give Benjicot Blackwood a chance, as he felt that Cregan would be the perfect husband for his sister. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aemma was finishing her laces when her father came into the tent holding something behind his back. 

“Is everything ready?” asked Aemma as she walked to her father. 

“Yes, the boy is eagerly waiting at the training field, poor fool,” chuckled Daemon. His laugh only grew once he saw his daughter send a glare toward him. 

Daemon grinned widely, “I have a gift for you… rather than using an old sword, you, as a Targaryen princess, should hold a Valyrian steel.” Daemon brought out a shortsword, which took Aemma’s breath away as she took hold of it. 

The sword was light enough for her to swing easily. The handle was a beautiful black, and two dragons were carved on each side, their eyes made from rubies.  

Aemma grinned as she hugged her father, grateful for the gift. Daemon returned the hug and nuzzled her head, whispering, “Do not go easy on him; let all see the true power of the dragon.”

Daemon let go of her, and the two walked to the training grounds, where a huge crowd gathered, waiting for the duel. Benjicot was speaking with two lads, who happened to be heir Kermit and his brother Oscar Tully. Once the Prince and Princess reached the grounds, the crowd turned to them. 

Daemon smirked condescendingly at the Lord of Raventree Hall, “Well, boy, are you ready to prove yourself?” 

Benji returned a rabid grin, his tongue running through his teeth, “More than ready, my Prince; I am eager to duel with you.” 

Daemon laughed, which stopped Benji and brought a frown to his face. 

“Oh, you think you will be fighting me, my mistake, but you won’t be dueling with me.” 

Puzzled, Benjicot looked at the Prince like he grew an extra head, “If not you, then who…” Benji never finished his sentence as he made eye contact with Princess Aemma, who grinned at him, spinning her new sword in her hands. 

“You will be dueling Princess Aemma, one of the best sword fighters in Dragonstone. Beat or catch her in a draw, and you will have my blessing.” explained The Rouge Prince as he sat.

Benjicot’s eyes widened as he stared at his Princess, seeing her getting into position. 

“I wish you luck, Lord Blackwood,” spoke Princess Aemma as she saw him become more confident, giving her a smirk. 

“And to you, my princess,” Benjicot stated before he lunged at her. 

Aemma waited until he nearly reached her to pivot and turn to him while swinging her sword, almost grazing the young Lord, who dropped and tried to kick the legs from under her. Thankful for her quick reflexes from flying, she jumped back, grinning. Benjicot quickly stood, his eyes becoming wilder as he and the princess continued striking and dodging. The crowd stared in awe; it looked like the young lord and princess were dancing instead of dueling, unable to take their eyes off each other. 

Aemma was getting frustrated and bored, thinking the duel should have ended a while ago. Of course, it went to show the skill level Benjicot had with his sword if neither of them could get to the other. In the last strike, Aemma saw Benjicot widen his stance a little too much as he turned to her. Grinning, she pivoted away from him and kicked him on his shin. Causing the young man to buckle, as she pushed him to the floor while kicking his sword away as she swung hers. Benji quickly rolled away and kicked her feet from under her, causing her to lose her grip and drop her sword.  Using this time, Benji promptly reached for his sword, swinging it as he turned to her. Then, everyone inhaled sharply. Aemma and Benji each held their swords to each other's necks, breathing heavily. A pause happened between them as they struggled to catch their breath. 

Cregan smiled, “I believe we have a draw, everyone.” 

This prompted everyone to cheer as they surrounded the lord and princess, who grinned at each other and moved away from each other, allowing them to stand side by side. The cheering then quieted once Prince Daemon walked up to the pair. 

“Not bad, boy. You truly have some skill…  but I have one last question.” 

Benjicot stared at the Prince, making sure never to break eye contact.  

Prince Daemon approached Benji and asked, “Would you give up your life for her if given the chance?” 

Both Aly and Aemma gasped in shock at the question, “ Kepa , what-” 

Daemon raised his hand, pausing her, and continually stared at the Lord of House Blackwood. 

“We are at war and have many enemies who will do everything to hurt her or, worse, kill her, so boy, if you needed to, would you give your life for her to ensure she had the best chance to survive.” 

Benjicot stared at the Rouge Prince as the rest of the crowd stared in tense silence. Finally, Benjicot kneed in front of the prince, who proudly stated. 

“I swear upon the Old Gods of the North and the Fourteen Flames of Valyria that I, Benjicot Blackwood, Lord of Raventree Hall, will love and cherish Crown Princess Aemma Valeyron with everything in my body and soul. To protect and keep her happy and, if need be, lay down my life for her from now until the day I die.” 

During his pledge, Princess Aemma started smiling, her eyes welling with tears, and she looked at her father with hopeful eyes. Daemon stared at his daughter before he sighed; he could never say no to her. Daemon reached out and held out his hand for Benji to take. As he helped raise the young from the ground, Daemon shook his hand. 

“Very well, you have my blessing to continue courting her until the queen sets the day for your wedding.” 

The crowd again cheered as Prince Daemon walked away, allowing Aly Blackwood to hug the princess and the Tully brothers clapping Benjicot on the back with Cregan smiling in the background. Aemma, feeling giddy from the leftover adrenaline, ran to Benji, jumping into his arms and kissing him. Which made the Blackwood and Northern men start whistling.  After a while, she separated herself from him, blushing, as he ducked his head, suddenly feeling shy with all the attention on him and his princess. 

In the distance, two dragon roars were heard, making everyone turn to the sky widely while Aemma and Daemon looked up. 

“DRAGONS!” yelled a few knights as people ran from the clearing. Moondancer and Vermax came into view. Aemma grinned at seeing her brother and step-sister landing as she quickly walked to greet them, with Daemon, Benjicot, and Cregan following her. Once Jace helped Baela off Moondancer, he barely had enough time to compose himself as his sister jumped him. Laughing, he picks her up and spins her around. He had missed her terribly. After putting her down, he smiled at Cregan and nodded at Daemon before he noticed Benjicot. Jacaerys sobered up, looking at the young lord up and down, analyzing him. 

“Lord Blackwood…”

[slayfics]

Unknown Pleasures Ch. 3

You’ve had a crush on Katsuki Bakugo since joining UA, but will another student change your mind?

1.3k words

Chapter links

The following day after your argument, Katsuki was sitting in the common room of the dorms, eating breakfast before classes. He saw you make your way down from the dorms and walk into the kitchen to grab some food.

Once you had grabbed your food you quickly scanned the room and made your way over to take a seat next to Hitoshi. Katsuki blinked, expecting the sight to disappear. Sure, you two had argued last night, but that wasn't an uncommon occurrence. Usually, these fights were forgotten the next day and you'd go back to prancing by Katsuki's side.

Katsuki heard your stunt last night, the way you raised your voice so he could clearly hear you talking to Hitoshi. He knew it was a stunt to try and make him jealous. Why were you still keeping this act up though, he wondered. It's not like he could believe you actually cared for that purple haired freak. The dude looked like a zombie, and he was far behind the rest of your class with hero work. There was nothing admirable about him at all.

Yet, there you sat having breakfast with him. Smiling about something. Katsuki grunted, and decided you'd get over your tantrum eventually and realize your act wasn't working. Katsuki almost felt bad for Hitoshi, who plainly had a crush on you. Didn't you realize it was cruel for you to use him that way?

Katsuki watched as you and Hitoshi finished up eating and made your way out of the dorms together. A sinking feeling hit his stomach when you didn't turn to glance at him even once. Didn't you want to see if your ruse was working? Wouldn't you want to check if Katsuki looked upset by you giving your attention to someone else?

"Hey man you alright?" Eijiro asked, snapping Katsuki out of his thoughts.

Katsuki clicked his tongue, "What the fuck was that about?" he asked, head bobbing in the direction of you and Hitoshi leaving the building.

"Oh, those two? I don't know but they were up late last night hanging out," Eijiro answered.

"Are you serious?" Katsuki snapped. He had heard your comment complimenting Hitoshi's room, but he hadn't heard you stayed to talk to him for any longer than that.

"Yeah, I was going downstairs to get some water when I saw her leave Shinso's room. I know you guys had a fight last night, everything ok?" Eijiro questioned.

"Everything is fine," he grunted.

Eijiro hummed unconvinced, "Ok if you say so, but if you're worried maybe you should talk to her. Apologize," he suggested.

"HAH? For what!?" Katsuki exclaimed.

"I don't know- whatever you two fought about. I’m just saying don’t you want to be on good terms with the person you like?” Eijiro asked.

“I didn’t say I like her!” Katsuki yelled.

“Oh... so you don’t like her?” Eijiro questioned, tilting his head confused. He knew Katsuki well by now and it was obvious to him Katsuki had some type of feelings for you.

“I didn’t say that either!” Katsuki barked, becoming even more frustrated.

“Relax man, but you should probably figure that out though… from what I heard she seemed to be getting along really well with Shinso…” Eijiro stated.

“Tch- whatever,” Katsuki mumbled, then quickly grabbed his bag to head off to class.

The rest of the day didn't go any better. Once he walked into class, he saw you sitting on Hitoshi's desk, idly playing with his lavender locks while you two chatted. Give it up already, Katsuki grunted to himself. Paying no attention to you or Hitoshi, Katsuki took his seat near the front of the class. The problem was, you didn't pay any mind to Katsuki either. Continuing your conversation with Hitoshi without a second thought to Katsuki entering the room.

Katsuki found himself letting out a breath he didn't realize he was holding when Aizawa walked in causing you and Hitoshi to finally separate.

What the hell could eye bags even be talking to you about that was so interesting anyway. The useless shit he learned in general studies?

Throughout Aizawa's lecture, Katsuki found his thoughts wandering off.

Did you not care at all about your fight with him? Why hadn’t you said anything to him all day? Are you actually interested in Hitoshi?

Katsuki expected that by lunch time things would have gone back to normal. However, he couldn’t have been more wrong. When Aizawa dismissed the class for lunch, you bounced right over to Hitoshi. A wide grin adorned your face as you two walked to the cafeteria.

What the fuck?

Katsuki's grip on his bag tightened, and his knuckles whitened. Couldn’t you stop playing around and drop the act already?

Completely focused on watching you and Hitoshi disappear into the crowd, he didn’t hear the perky redhead sneak up behind him.

“You look pretty upset man,” Eijiro observed.

“I’M FINE!” Katsuki yelled, alerting some passing students to jump.

But he wasn’t fine. The pit in his stomach only grew as he watched you scoot closer to Hitoshi at lunch. The two of you laughed at something you showed him on your phone.

The way Hitoshi leaned into you to get a better view of your screen made Katsuki want to scream. Did you intend to keep this up until Katsuki gave in and said something? Or worse… was this real? Were you actually enjoying Hitoshi’s company?

As more time passed, Katsuki found it harder and harder to deny that this act was just a show. His ego argued with him that you couldn't actually be interested in another boy. Yet, there you sat laughing and smiling with someone else.

Then it all came to a head during the afternoon training session.

The training was simple sparing matches. A random drawing decided which two students would spar together. Comically so, Katsuki and Hitoshi were paired to spar.

You felt your breath catch in your throat when the match was announced. Why did it have to be Katsuki? Your nerves stood on end, as the two boys made their way to the designated sparring ground.

It's fine, you attempted to soothe yourself. Katsuki obviously didn't care about you or Hitoshi, right? If he did, he would have attempted to reconcile today after the nasty fight you two had last night.

The whole class was on edge as they waited for the spar to begin. As if everyone was wondering the same thing, Katsuki wouldn't go too hard on him right?

But just as Katsuki had underestimated your feelings for Hitoshi, everyone underestimated Katsuki's jealousy.

Within a few minutes of the spar, Katsuki had Hitoshi on the floor. The recent transfer to the hero course was no match for the experienced Katsuki. Attempting to hold his own, Hitoshi wrapped the capture scarf around Katsuki's wrists to no avail. A strong blast still came his way effectively knocking him out cold.

Katsuki's jealousy and rage getting the best of him, he let out another explosion directed at his classmate despite him being already knocked out on the floor. Aizawa quickly stepped in to stop the now one-sided beating.

Once the smoke and rubble had cleared the gruesome scene came into view. Hitoshi was on the floor, unconscious, fresh wounds across his face, dirtied from the soot of Katsuki's explosions.

The sight elicited a frenzy response from you. Your fists clenched, face hot, and ears ringing you trampled over to the sparing ground. Interrupting the lecture Katsuki was receiving from Aizawa, you broke in between and slapped Katsuki across the face.

Everyone froze, even Aizawa was caught off guard by your behavior.

Katsuki looked at you astonished, speechless for one of the first times in his life.

"YOU DIDN'T NEED TO GO THAT HARD!" You yelled.

The stinging on his cheek, the distraught look in your eyes, and the venom laced in your words made the realization finally hit. It wasn't an act.

"You really like him?" Katsuki mused almost to himself.

sinners: @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @fiannee @derangedmango @reneinii @peachsukii @abadbitchblogs @deluluforcarlos55 @that-one-fangirl69 @pinkpurpledreams

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Five Fics Friday: April 25/25

Happy Friday everyone!! Here are some fantastic fics to get you through the weekend! Hope you enjoy, and give lots of extra love to the Boosted Fics! :D

SIGNAL BOOSTING

Like I Never Came Back by BeanieBugBlue (T, 2,535 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF, Multiplw POVs, Suicidal Thoughts, Hurt/Comfort) – John gets drunk and visits Sherlock's grave, with no intention of coming home again. He's lost everything- his hope, his purpose, his best and only friend. Sherlock is still in London when he's notified that John has finally left the flat after two weeks of isolation. Mycroft has warned him, over and over, how risky it would be to give up his staged death now, but Sherlock knows something is wrong.. and honestly, since when has he listened to Mycroft?

The Sign of Four... Stars on Yelp by dinosaremissed (G, 17,348+ w., 5/? Ch. || WIP || Multifandom Crossover || Only One Bed, Fake Relationship, Love Confessions, Idiots in Love, First Kiss, Love Declarations, Mutual Pining, Vacation, Friends to Lovers) – John invites Sherlock to a romantic couple’s retreat in Scotland after his girlfriend breaks up with him. They pretend to be a couple for the week, joining in on spa days, crepe-making, couples' therapy, and more—hosted by the eccentric Aziraphale and Crowley. What starts as a harmless ruse turns complicated as the line between fake and real blurs, with teasing, tension, and unexpected (and unwelcome) feelings bubbling to the surface.

The Tether by crushedupcashews (T, 19,852+ w., 4/? Ch. || WiP || Post-S4, Angst, Drama, Mystery, Eventual Hurt/Comfort, Anger Issues, Panic Attacks, Autistic Sherlock, Alternating POV, Good-Parent John, Post-Mary) – Sherlock Holmes is trying to keep his head above water, rebuilding his life from the ground up. After Mary...after Culverton, the Baker Street duo is barely making their ends meet. Of course, nothing will change. Sherlock will be fine because it's all fine. John will drink and crack a smile and it'll be fine too. The mantra repeats and repeats. Sherlock knows they can't last like this. And somehow, the universe seems to know this too.

RECENT MFLs

Would I have you in my dreams tonight? by 221Bug (E, 3,444+ w., 4/5 Ch. || WIP || Alternate First Meetings AU || Dreams, Porn Without Plot, Pining Sherlock) – John is having dreams of wild adventures with a madman, which turn out to be great plots for the short stories he’s publishing. Meanwhile, Sherlock is having different kinds of dreams and his marks keep getting away from him.

ANYTHING GOES (BOOKMARKED)

Pleasure to Burn by scullyseviltwin (E, 17,863 w., 1 Ch. || Firefighter AU || Firefighter John / Arson Investigator Sherlock, Slow Burn, Pining, Case Fic-ish) – “If you’d kindly stop knocking about in there and destroying all of my evidence, it would be most appreciated!” John groaned and for a moment rested his head against the side of the truck. Of course he was the only captain left on the scene, which meant he would have to be the one to deal with the arson investigator.

[jakescaravel]

A Lovey Promise

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader

Word Count: 4,718

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, being tipsy, friends to lovers, kissing, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dares, teasing, dom Jake, hickeys, praise, very very slight allusions to pain (only briefly), orgasm denial, 18+ MDNI!!!

Summary: Your best friend, dripping with a level of confidence that slightly annoys you, delivers an offer, a bet that you simply can't refuse...

6 empty shot glasses sit on the coffee table in front of you thanks to you and Jake’s ongoing tradition. That being shots and a movie, always picked at random (that part being very important), at least once a month although it usually ends up being more.

You lay on the couch curled into Jake’s side underneath a warm comforter. Your hand softly rests on his chest, feeling the gentle beat of his heart along with the subtle ruse and fall of his chest. His arm wraps around you, cocooning you in your shared world of peace, calming you in a way only capable by Jake. It’s so easy to feel safe with him like this. Sometimes when the two of you hang out, you forget that anyone else exists at all. Just the two of you in his small, old apartment.

The cuddling is entirely platonic of course. Not many people understand you and Jake’s friendship, but to the two of you, it makes perfect sense. Sure you guys cuddle and hang out constantly, and maybe you’ve shared a few makeout sessions after having one too many, but those were just “mistakes”. He’s your best friend. And nothing more.

You’re definitely feeling the alcohol and Jake must be as well due to his slightly slurred speech and uncensored Jake commentary.

“Whaddyou think ‘bout the movie Lovey?”

You can feel his head turn towards yours when he speaks, chin resting atop your head, although you can’t see his face. His use of your nickname warms your heart. Especially because of the way it floats off his adorably inebriated tongue. You had earned that nickname after buying a boyfriend of yours flowers years ago- an act Jake thought to be silly and just plain backwards. (“You’re such a hopeless romantic, you’re so lovey dovey, it's honestly sickening. What, does this guy not buy you flowers? Do I need to have a talk with him? Bet he doesn’t fuck you right either…)

The name stuck ever since, but of course you love it. 

“I don’t really know what's going on to be honest.”

“Yeah… itsnot very good.” He states matter of factly before a yawn passes his lips. “Oh look, they're kissing, finally some action!”

Huffing a laugh at his almost childlike revelation, you sit up a little taller and turn your head back toward the screen. The two characters, nameless due to your lack of attention, sit on a couch, hands chasing after each other. She moans into the kiss, parting her lips for him as he lays her down on the couch. Your thighs clench together on their own accord and you could have sworn it’s subtle, but Jake lets out a giggle.

You decide to ignore him completely with your eyes still glued to the screen. Jake’s remarks have stopped, telling you he’s watching just as intently as you, and all of a sudden you’re very aware of how close you are to him. His breathing, his hair ticking your face, his smell. He always smells so good, fresh and clean, but buried below a layer of sweat and musk. So Jake, so perfect. 

You wonder what he's thinking about. Maybe if he too notices the proximity of your bodies, or the way your breathing has slowly picked up.

The man’s hand drifts down as the girl let’s out another overly dramatic moan. Of course the screen doesn’t really show anything, but it sure leaves a lot to the imagination, letting your mind wander without hopes of stopping. 

Jake shifts on the couch, his hand falling from around your shoulder to land around your hip. He pulls you closer to him and speaks again, but this time the playful quality to his voice is gone, and all that’s left is a low grumble.

“Do you think she’s enjoying it?” His other hand comes to your chin, pulling your face to look at him.

“What?” You try to look away from his eyes, the heated stare overwhelming you in your current flustered state, but his grip tightens forcing you to stare straight into his piercing brown eyes.

“Do you think that girl is having fun?” His lips curl into an alluring smile when he sees your slightly panicked state, releasing his hand from your chin, but not before quickly letting his thumb dart over your cheek.

You force yourself to maintain the contact, his dark gaze pulling you deeper into your thoughts and he offers you a smile that too closely resembles a smirk. You curse the heat growing between your legs at just the sight of that stupid smug look you want so badly to wipe from his face. Taking a grounding breath, you answer as if he hasn’t affected you at all. 

“Yeah I mean she’s moaning like a pornstar so it can’t be that bad.” 

He turns back to the screen nodding slowly, his lips pursed. “Well this guy is clearly not experienced.” 

You look back to the screen, questioning it for yourself. You guess you haven't really been paying attention to the details. It’s funny how anything slightly erotic just shuts off the brain, causing it to act like a horny sex zombie.

“Yeah this guy has no idea what he’s doing.” He states again, an air of confidence in his tone that amuses you. 

“Oh really? And you’ve got it all figured out right?”

“Well yeah.” He quips back.

You can’t help the laugh that trills out. All guys think the same; they all think they’re the best in bed, and they all think they make their girl cum when really… they never have.

“What, you don’t believe me?” A stupid grin paints his face and he pokes your cheek, making them instantly flame.

“No Jake, I don’t think you could please a woman any better than this guy.” You point to the small screen again, rolling your eyes.

“Oh reallyyy.” He drags out the last syllable as he sits up to face you.

You turn to him, cutting your eyes at his sneering face. He reaches for the bottle of vodka on the coffee table, taking a swig straight from the bottle. You force your eyes away from his bobbing adam's apple as the liquid goes down. He doesn’t even wince.

“I could make a girl cum with just my fingers.”

You roll your eyes again, trying to ignore the warmness that has made its way to your cheeks. When you look back to Jake, you can tell that he’s made no joke, no silly remark. He’s being serious.

“What, you don’t believe me?”

“No.”

“I could prove it to you.”

You let out a slow shaky breath after realizing you had been holding it in. You extend your hand to reach for the bottle. Taking a generous swing of the burning liquid, you return your attention to the man in front of you.

“You could prove it to me?”

“I bet I could make you cum with just these.” He holds up his hand, wiggling his fingers in the air.

“Bullshit.”

“You really don’t believe me huh Lovey? You’ve never heard what they say about guitarists?” He raises his eyebrows suggestively.

His voice is low, dripping with sex and his tongue comes out licking a slow line along his bottom lip. He smirks when he notices you staring. And god, that little nickname, what used to seem so innocent now having a playful bite.

“I bet I could make you cum three times with just my fingers.” He holds them up again, reaching out to touch your face. You jump back and he laughs at you.

He stares at you, waiting for a response. Your mind is racing along with your heart. There’s no way he’s being serious… but the look on his face tells you otherwise. He raises his eyebrows again in question.

“Is that a bet?”

“Maybe it is… and you know I never lose.”

He’s referring to his competitiveness by nature. It’s true that as long as you've known him, he won’t stand losing. It’s a part of being a Kiszka you’ve figured out by now. They always bend the rules in their favor, making sure they’re on the winning side of whatever bet, whatever contest. 

“I don’t think you’re winning this one Jakey.” You mean for it to come off as condescending but the second you hear the words come out of your mouth you wish to pull them back in. You can tell he’s taken them as an even further challenge as his eyebrows raise in question.

He leans forward on the couch, planting his hands on his knees until you can feel his breath.

“Well I wouldn’t lose, but just to humor you, I’ll bet you whatever you want.”

A low tingle has formed inside your stomach. A familiar feeling - the anxious excitement. The thrill of the flirt, although you still can’t tell just how playful it is, and that thought alone makes you want to hurl or pounce on him, you still haven’t decided. 

“I get whatever I want?” For some reason, confidence is building inside you. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you - so sure of himself that you have no choice but to match the energy. Or maybe it’s because deep down, you know you want whatever he’s thinking of giving to you.

He gives you a slow nod, smiling again at your new slightly eager tone.

“I want you to admit that you’re not some guitar god, you’re just another guy. You need to stop acting so full of yourself, you need to be humbled.”

He laughs again, a genuine laugh that reminds you of your best friend, although it doesn’t seem that’s the person sitting in front of you right now.

“Sure y/n, and if I win, you have to call me ‘The Sex God.’ ”

The nervous laughter bubbles out of you as you cast your eyes to your feet. The worst part of this is that he’s acting like such a douchebag, but you don’t hate it. In fact you find yourself wanting to know what it’s like to sleep with the sex god, as stupid as it sounds.

“Why do you want to so bad Jakey?”

“Well first of all, don’t act like you don’t want to, I can see it written all over your face. You forget I know you better than anyone. And second, don’t act so naive.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, simultaneously nervous and excited for the answer.

“I love you and care about you, so much, you’re my best friend, but don’t act like we’re above all that. We’ve kissed before y/n, you really think we’d never go farther?”

“Well… I’m not really sure. I guess the thought crossed my mind… maybe I thought it would happen eventually.”

Your own confession slightly shocks you, but as soon as you say the words aloud, nothing has ever made more sense. You look back to him and he looks almost proud of you, and it makes you want to jump into his arms and suck the praise right out of him.

“That’s my girl.” He smiles again, flashing you all his teeth, making your heart melt all over again.

“Come on, don’t overthink it.” 

He starts to stand up, making the whole situation seem very, very real. You close your eyes for a moment, just in case this is some sort of dream, but when you open them, you’re even more sure that this is what you want. You want him. You want your best friend, and as wrong as it might be, it's the truth.

He extends his hand, a simple gesture, an invitation, and you take it, letting him lead you into unknown waters.

He pulls you in front of him, letting you lead the way to the room you’ve slept in a million times. His hands meet your hips as you walk, the touch feeling searing hot and trickling down until you can feel the wetness between your legs.

Your mind is simultaneously racing and completely empty. How is it that an act so forbidden could feel so right? So simple?

The curtains are pulled back on the window allowing a sliver of moonlight to poke into the room. Aside from that, the lights are off and you almost ask him to turn them on but then decide it’s probably for the best.

Once he reaches the bed, he turns to face you and his features start to come into view as your eyes adjust to the darkness. He wears a smug grin as he extends his hand for you to grab once more. He sits on the bed, shuffling backwards as you grab his hand, letting him pull you to meet him. 

He rests his body along the headboard and you crawl closer, stilling in front of him on your knees, unsure of your next move. Thankfully he does the thinking for you.

“Turn around.”

Without second guessing it, you turn around so that your back is to him, and impatiently, he pulls your hips back, reminding you of his strength so that you rest, slotted in between his extended legs, back flush against his chest.

Taking a deep breath, you allow yourself to melt into his touch, after all, it is familiar. Your head lays back in the crook of his neck and his lips ghost over your ear.

“Can I take off your shirt?”

His voice is barely above a whisper and sends a shiver down your spine. Without saying a word you lift up your arms and allow him to slide off the thin fabric. Having chosen to skip the bra this morning, your chest springs free to which he hums in approval. 

“Can I touch you?”

“Please.”

Carefully, his fingers slide against your skin, trailing along the top of your breast before kneading into the soft skin. He emits a low growl in your ear as your back arches, chasing his touch.

Before he has the chance to ask, you lift your hips off the bed to slide your pants down, along with the lacey panties you had chosen this morning - such a shame he isn’t able to see them. Upon your eager initiative, Jake grants you a kiss to the exposed flesh of your neck, traveling up to whisper in your ear.

“Good girl.”

The proximity of his voice, the words he speaks, the rush of it all makes you utter a small moan that doesn’t go unnoticed. He seems to suck it in along with the small mark he makes just below your ear. You savor the feeling of his wet mouth on you, hoping it never leaves as his hand starts to slide down your stomach.

Your legs part for him as his hand reaches your mound, stilling there, garnering anticipation that makes you hold your breath, releasing it when he slides an inch further.

Finally, like the first gasp you take upon emerging from water, his fingers slide over your clit to your entrance to gather up the evidence of your arousal. A small moan is muffled through your gritted teeth as his fingers slide through you, he laughs against your ear. 

“All this for me?”

His breath tickles you and in an act that makes your head spin, he sucks gingerly on your earlobe while plunging his middle and ring finger deep inside you. The sudden pressure causes your head to push back even further as you arch away from him. His other hand wraps around your waist, pulling you back to meet his chest as his fingers push in even deeper, testing the limits of your tight walls.

Whines and moans surpass your lips as his fingers start to curl inside you, pulling in and out as they tuck in. Have his fingers always been this thick? This heavy? Watching him play guitar they always seemed so nimble but now, now you aren’t so sure. 

The mere stretch of only two of them makes you wonder what it would feel like to have a third, a fourth or perhaps to have his cock instead. How it would feel stretching you out even further.

With his hand picking up a steady rhyme, his lips are back on you, biting and licking their way up to your ear to whisper sweet praises. He moves back to the skin of your shoulder, marking you in a way that may make you feel ashamed tomorrow, but today, all you feel is the pure ecstasy he’s supplying you with.

“How does it feel, baby?”

“Good.” You manage to choke out, hardley comprehending what he’s saying as his fingers jolt inside of you.

“Just keep on feeling, I'll get you there.”

He licks a stripe up to the skin behind your ear, circling it there as you push your head deeper into his touch. Your legs start to tremble, feeling as if the pleasure is too much while being not nearly enough. The slow build starts in your stomach and travels to your chest, tightening while your muscles contract, flowing to your toes as they gently curl and flex. 

“That’s it, just give it up baby.”

Your moans become sporadic and in mere seconds you feel almost there, except he slows his fingers down to which you whine in protest. His low gravely laughter hits the shell of your ear going straight to your core as he picks the pace back up, reminding you of how close you were.

Your hips arch away from him again but this time his hand travels to the flesh of your breast, squeezing and pulling you back to him. It almost hurts as his fingers pinch around your nipple, but at the same time, pain feels like a foreign concept entirely. You scoot back too, feeling his rock solid cock threatening to burst from his pants. You want to see it, want to touch it, taste it. However your thoughts are cut off when it finally explodes inside of you.

You can’t hear the sounds you’re making as your legs thrash against the sheets, head turning and arching as his fingers work away inside of you. It washes you over, seeming like it has no end, making you feel like this was the best decision you’ve ever made. 

However as soon as it starts, it slows, letting you still feel the pleasant buzz as your legs calm down, still twitching and jolting with every slowed movement of his strong fingers.

“Number 1.”

He hums in your ear. He sounds amused, like you're only a toy he gets the pleasure of playing with, however you have no problem with that if it means you get to feel like this.

“Can you give me another?” He poses it as a question, but you know it's really a demand.

His fingers don’t stop inside you, threatening to pull you into overstimulation as they continue to deliciously curl inside. You turn your face to his, whining against his lips which he presses into yours, for just a split second before pulling back - like he regrets the action, however you don’t have enough time to process it.

The fizzling orgasm picks back up, this time coming from deeper within, almost sizzling white hot, making your legs shake even harder. It hasn’t started yet, but it’s coming. Bubbling up slower so that you hope it can be over with, to save you from the burning anticipation. 

“Jake I- I can’t… it’s too much.”

“No it isn’t, just relax, feel it. You’re so close, let me have it, I want it.”

Fuck. The greed he so shamelessly emits. The greed for you, for your cum. It’s enough to make your mind go blank as you force yourself to just feel the feelings he’s giving you. 

He pushes his hand back so that the crook of his thumb rubs against your clit with every drag of his fingers. One of two swipes and you’re rocking your hips into his them, chasing the feeling as it washes you over again.

His name falls from your lips until it’s the only word you know, and in the far distance you can hear his own struggling moans of pleasure, his own ragged breathing as you tremble against him.

When it becomes too much, your legs shut around his hand, but his feet lock over your ankles, pulling your legs apart and overpowering them with his weight until you’re spread even wider while his hand finishes the job. 

Finally, before you would have fallen into the waters of bliss, drowned forever, his hand slows and fingers gently slide out of you. You watch them, glistening with the moonlight as they rest on your heaving stomach. 

Your legs are still open as they jolt and shudder. A single nip is given to your neck before a kiss is placed in its spot. “You did so good for me, so so good.”

A small smile makes its way across your face, although he can’t see it. You want to find the right words to let him know how good he can make you feel, better than anyone else, but your lack of words must do for now. You can’t help yourself as you turn your face to tuck into his neck, breathing in his intoxicating scent.

His other hand pets your hair as you take a few deep breaths, grounding yourself. Before you’ve barely regained your footing, his hand is drifting lower, you can feel the wetness it leaves in its path before a single digit circles your swollen clit. You yelp in surprise as it presses in further. You bite the skin of his neck, listening and reveling in the hiss he makes that flows out of him like a soft whine. It’s delectable and reignites that flame inside you.

“Can you give me number 3?” He whispers to you, like he’s scared to wake you even though you’re far from asleep. You give a slow nod and pick your face up to watch his soaked fingers drag further down your slit until three of them tease at your entrance. 

You bite your bottom lip as they start to slide in, stretching you with every inch, stinging in the perfect way when he pushes them deeper in, relying on a little force to press them all the way in. A chokes out moan struggles out of you, filling the room in a way that should make you feel ashamed, but in this moment, you feel nothing of the sort. 

Once his fingers reach in as far as they'll go, he wastes no time in picking up a merciless pace. It's hard to even register the speed as they pump in and out, filling you up in the most satisfying way you’ve ever experienced.

His mouth is on you again. Hot. Wet. And strong as he licks and sucks with no real purpose, only to satisfy his needs through watching you like this.

“Cum for me Lovey, make me win, I wanna watch it come out of you, soak my hand even more. Come on, let me have it… fuck Lovey…”

It’s something about that stupid nickname falling from his lips so desperately as his dominant demeanor falters, showing you his true need for you. It’s not hard to give it up as it builds faster than before. It feels like it springs out of nowhere until you're screaming into the otherwise quiet room. You’ll surely get strange looks walking from his apartment in the morning, but it doesn't matter, nothing matters. You feel on fire, perfect, fulfilled.

His teeth drag along your skin as your head thrashes in the crook of his neck, legs threatening to break free from his grasp as he struggles to hold you there. His hand works relentlessly as you moan and whine while your hands twist into the sheets, toes curling, eyes rolling back as you lose sense of the world around you.

His other hand snakes down to tease over your sensitive clit as his teeth bite into the flesh of your neck. Your whole body is numb the second he touches you there. The white hot pleasure is enough to make you cease to exist. You’re just a body floating in a colorless void with sounds in the distance you aren’t sure you're making. 

His voice raises in volume until it breaks through your void, allowing you to hear him. He’s choking on his words through a cloud of lust, “Come on Lovey, you can give me one more, give me number 4.” It sounds like he’s never wanted something more in his life. Sounds like he needs it more than you do. His voice is quivering through painted breaths as his hands move even faster, working you with perfect opposition. 

His tongue darts out, licking into your ear before teeth come to bite around your earlobe, enough to make it sting, enough to make you want more. And then it burst out of you. The only sense - touch, the warmness seeping in from under you. Your legs threaten to break the bed as they break free from Jake’s grasp, clenching around his hands that show no sign of stopping. 

You feel it around your legs too, the warmness, the flow, the wetness. His breath is on your neck again, you can hear him moaning into your ear. 

“That’s it Lovey, good girl, good girl baby. Just give it up, come on, that’s it, soak me, yeah just like that…”

A few more seconds and he slows his movements down until your legs fall from around his hands. They lay defeated on the bed as he removes his fingers from you. Your chest is heaving up and down as you come back to earth to find a dark spot sitting on the bed beneath you.

When you realize what it is you cast your eyes away, hiding once more in the crook of his neck, but he sits you up taller to pull your face away.

“What's wrong y/n?”

You don’t answer, don't speak. There's nothing you could possibly say to him, that is until you meet his eyes, once dark with lust now turned sweet, and you can almost see them shine in the moonlight.

For some reason, in this moment, the air of seriousness breaks and your face erupts in laughter. It doesn’t take much for him to join in and soon you’re laughing together, just like old times, but it doesn't feel wrong. Not in the slightest.

“I’ve never done that before.” You finally speak up, looking back to the ruined sheets.

“Well that. Was easily the hottest fucking thing i’ve ever seen.” “Really?”

“Yes. Without a doubt.”

You stare at him for a moment, letting yourself blush and smile as he repeats the action. The sweet moment is short lived however when he turns it back to the bet.

“So if making you cum 3 times makes me the Sex God… then what does 4 times make me?”

“Oh shut the fuck up Jake.”

“Well I won the bet. You better uphold your side of the deal.”

You stare at him angrily before muttering under your breath, but of course that isn’t enough for him. His smile, despite being covered by shadows, lights up the room with his pride, flowing off of him like sex.

“You’re The Sex God.”

“What was that? Couldn’t really hear you.”

“You’re The fucking Sex God Jake, I swear to god if you make me say it one more time.”

“Okay thank you. I’m satisfied. By the way, do you want to put some clothes on?”

You look down, blushing once more at your exposed skin. Before you even have time to have any shred of decency to cover yourself up, he's lifting his shirt up and handing it to you. You thank him and slide it over your body before stealing a quick glance to his smooth chest. You quickly look back up to his smirking face, and roll your eyes once more.

“Oh uh by the way.. I know this isn’t the best timing but uhh I don’t have any extra sheets so we’re gonna have to sleep on the couch…”

.

.

.

.

Part 2

[wrongcaitlyn]

checkmate, i couldn't lose - ch 2

day 4 of @solangeloweek - Free day! and definitely not the second chapter of a fic i started *last* solangelo week. oops

rating: general audiences chapters: 2/2 words: 17,249 summary: The Scholars Program of Olympian High School is a complete hoax. It’s a ruse. It’s not actually beneficial to their education; it’s just a bragging right, to be honest, and a completely lame one, too. Nico hasn’t done anything with the other “Scholars” all year other than share classes with some of them, and now this trip. They’re not even looking at colleges, for fuck’s sake. He doesn’t even know why he’s here: lugging a duffel bag on one shoulder because the cross-body strap is broken, music blasting through his ears, and scrolling through his weather app as he walks in through the front door, Mr. Chiron gesturing for him to go inside and showing him to a table where all the seats are filled. or another solangelo hs au, but this time they're all nerds.

[presidenthades]

Here’s the behind-the-scenes for Lavender Ch. 6!

Usual disclaimer that these thoughts aren’t necessarily canonical to the fic verse until/unless I write them into the actual story.

Aegon’s undercover adventures are some of my favorite things to write. If this chapter weren’t monstrously long, I would’ve written a lot more about what exactly Aegon did while sleuthing. Editing for concision is painful. 🥲

Aemond being terrible at going undercover is another of my favorite things to write ahahaha.

In the books, Dorne is very ethnically diverse. You have salty Dornish like the Martells who tend to live near the coast, sandy Dornish who live in the desert, and stony Dornish in the mountains who look and act more like Andals than like the Rhoynar. So it’s possible for Aegon to pass as a stony Dornishman (the term isn’t coined until later in the timeline, so I don’t use it in the text) as long as he doesn’t draw too much attention.

Originally I was going to make Aliandra extremely flirty with Aegon, to the point that she brazenly crosses the line of propriety. Then I realized that would play into the “promiscuous sex-centered Dornish” trope that’s prevalent in fandom, so I backtracked. I also looked critically at how Aliandra is described in F&B. Although I usually think the “unreliable narrator” part of the Dance is exaggerated, I think it is plausible (and probable) that in-world maesters would not write about Aliandra, a foreign Dornishwoman, in a sympathetic light. She’s depicted as coming onto Alyn Velaryon, who is depicted as being brave and noble and true to Baela. But Alyn is a serial cheater, so if something happened between him and Aliandra, I doubt he was totally innocent. So instead of making Aliandra a homewrecker, I just made her flirty and a bit boy-crazy for Valyrian men. She’s a rebellious 16yo, so I think her doing the medieval equivalent of putting up band posters of her family’s ancestral enemy tracks. 😂

S1 Mysaria joins the spymaster business as a way to make money off of rich people willing to pay for her info. In this verse, she gets so good at it that she has a few of Viserys’s personal servants on her payroll, hence her ability to find out about the journal etc. Of course Larys doesn’t like this, because a) she’s infringing on his turf and b) if she knows about his scheming with Viserys, she might tell someone. He acts against her after the moon tea, so she has to flee quickly and ends up in Dorne. But she has limited resources and she gets sick (something like tuberculosis), so she grows desperate enough to broker a deal with Aegon. She’s realized she can’t return to KL as long as Viserys (and Larys) is in charge, so she hopes allying with Aegon will give her a fighting chance.

“It may shock you to hear this, but I don’t know every YiTish who lives in King’s Landing.” This was my wry little joke about the IRL microaggression where people sometimes say, “Oh you’re [insert racial/ethnic minority]? Do you know [insert name of person also in that racial/ethnic minority]?” Aegon wasn’t really asking that; it was a ruse to see if she’s lying about Myranda. But I imagine Mysaria gets asked about all the YiTish people in KL a lot. To be fair, the YiTish community in KL is probably very small in this era, but it’s not like they have social media to keep tabs on each other.

“Old men, young men, rich men, poor men, hale men, crippled men.” It’s not a coincidence that Mysaria mentioned the last one re: “tempting even the most calculating man to act unwisely” around Jace.

Larys’s spies have orders to stop Aegon and Mysaria at all costs from spreading news about the plot against Aegon. When they realize Aegon and Mysaria have found each other, the spies take advantage of the Dornish people’s anger about the Targs and foment further unrest. Larys also has spies inside Sunspear, who are the reason it’s so easy for the mob to infiltrate the castle.

Mysaria’s parting message about Aegon being “Lord Protector of the Realm” rather than just the Highborns is another foreshadowing of Aegon the Smallfolk King. Also, even though she’s been on the run, she’s heard bits and pieces about the Smallfolk in KL favoring Aegon, which contributes to her decision to ally with him.

Qoren is barely a character in this fic, but he is yet another example of one of the themes in this story: parents are (or should be) willing to sacrifice everything for their children. His only scene is him giving himself up to the rioters to buy his kids time to escape.

The assailant is of course on Larys’s payroll (lack of tongue is the big giveaway). He also uses show!Jace’s trick at Driftmark of throwing sand in Aemond’s face to temporarily blind him.

Sunfyre is the MVP, carrying five people in his saddle. Bro needs a back massage after this.

Vhagar and the Martells’ face-off makes me cackle. They are all definitely remembering the first Dornish War.

One of Viserys’s first journal entries is about being “pissed about something Daemon did in a brothel.” This is of course a reference to the S1E4 brothel scene with Rhaenyra. In this universe, Otto doesn’t immediately tattle to Viserys about it. Instead Otto leverages the information to persuade Viserys that he can’t keep Rhaenyra as heir.

Viserys really loved Lyonel Strong. Larys takes advantage by pretending his Lyonel 2.0, which helps win Viserys’s favor. Larys also hands over a supposed copy of Daenys’s Dreams and Portents, left behind by Queen Rhaena at Harrenhal. Is this a real copy? It could be! Some of the prophecies are very prescient from an IRL reader’s POV, particularly about the false Aegon (the alleged Aegon VI in the books who’s probably actually a Blackfyre, sponsored by the Golden Company) and the mother of dragons (Daenerys, obviously).

I’m of the belief that prophecies in fiction are best utilized to make things WORSE, not better. So here, Viserys’s obsession with TPTWP almost wrecks his own family, when all he needed to do was nothing and things would be fine on their own.

Aegon casually demanding Dornish subservience on a whim is so on brand for him. 😭 He has a good instinct for when opportunities arise for him to seize. The problem, as highlighted in this chapter, is he doesn’t always want to seize those opportunities. He would rather be selfish and go home to Jace. But she’s his conscience now, and he thinks she would want him to secure Dorne. (TBH she would want that; most people would not foresee Viserys disinheriting Aegon for it.)

Otto would 10000% have come up with the best PR campaign of the century if he was able to see the Dornish treaty first.

We don’t get a canon description of Rhaenys and Visenya’s crowns, so I took thematic liberties. Aegon ends up giving Rhaenys’s crown to Jace, so I wanted it to be something suitable for Jace. The OG Targ trio had a Velaryon mother, so I figured Rhaenys may have decided to honor their mother with her crown.

Ravens are trained by maesters in Oldtown, and then they’re cared for by maesters. Sunspear has a maester, but Dorne and the Reach are such historical enemies that I can’t imagine maesters/ravens being prevalent in Dorne before Dorne joins the Seven Kingdoms. So it’s hard for Aegon to receive news from KL before he returns to Sunspear.

Aegon intentionally used Jace’s handkerchief as a white flag to her father and grandmother because symbolism. Who says he isn’t a politician!

Viserys never tells Aegon about the song of ice and fire because he doesn’t really want Aegon as his heir. But him only mentioning Rhaenyra as “mother of dragons” in his journal shows that he never particularly wanted her as heir either; it was all a means to fulfill the prophecy.

When Aegon offers to make Rhaenyra his Hand, she plays with some of the roses in the room because she’s thinking about what Jace would want. 🌹 Also, I feel like Rhaenyra would genuinely be happiest living an independent life. She doesn’t want the throne because she wants to rule, she wants it because it’s validation that her father loves her. So Rhaenyra doesn’t immediately accept Aegon’s offer; she doesn’t actually want to rule as Hand.

“I am not so precious to him.” Rhaenyra plays with the Daemon necklace when she says this, so “him” doesn’t necessarily mean Corlys.

Aegon doesn’t trust Viserys (for good reason) so he refuses to go into the Red Keep where anything could happen to him. Instead, our Smallfolk King insists on having everything happen in the open, to be judged by the people. Also, witnesses are a good safety measure.

“Kings must place the greater good above our own wants. We all must make sacrifices for the sake of the realm.” Viserys doesn’t actually exemplify what he preaches—but Aegon does in the very next moment, when he offers to give up his claim.

“I do not hate you.” Viserys genuinely believes this, though he can’t bring himself to say he loves Aegon. He didn’t condone Larys sending the assassin after Aegon—but Viserys didn’t ask Larys for details either, so he’s not a paragon of fatherly virtue. As long as Viserys keeps his hands clean, he can claim innocence.

As one commenter said, “Daemon jumpscare!” Daemon has haunted the narrative thus far, but he hasn’t really been a character in this fic. As readers know, Daemon never has a chance to cause trouble in Lavender…but maybe in a sequel. 👀

Aegon’s efforts with the walkway project and general willingness to hang out with the plebs pay off this chapter. I love the scene where all the Smallfolk give him little gifts to try to make him feel better. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s the best they can afford to give away, which says a lot. Compare this to Aegon’s highborn “friends” who don’t even reply to his messages…

Rhaenyra is baffled by how much the Smallfolk love Aegon because, as evidenced by S1E4, she’s never been one to mingle with Smallfolk.

Jace hears about the party that Aegon is throwing on his dad’s front lawn and decides to help him out. People love free food, so she sends Gyles to stir up the crowd in Aegon’s favor some more.

Alicent has a small scene where she holds Aegon’s hands and stares as if counting his fingers. This is a reference to how lots of newborn parents like to count their babies’ fingers and toes.

Jace sees Gyles and Ronnel every day when they serve her pies, so she’s able to plot with them without attracting suspicion. Aegon’s friendship with the Smallfolk leads to Viserys’s downfall. So poetic.

Hippocras is a spiced wine that book!Viserys enjoys drinking. It was also believed to have aphrodisiac qualities. There’s the unspoken implication in this chapter that when Viserys drinks hippocras, he usually asks Alicent to come over for a sleepover. 💀 Jace knows this. Usually Jace would sympathize with Alicent, but right now Jace is thinking,“Alicent, Aegon is your son, please stop crying for 5 minutes and DO SOMETHING to save him.” Now that Jace has her own son, she is a bit more brutal about pushing Alicent to make sacrifices for her children. I wouldn’t be surprised if Jace actively arranged for Viserys to be served hippocras… 👀

At the very end of this chapter, Alicent FINALLY gets her Green Dress moment in this universe. She’s stopped dressing in black as if she’s in pseudo-mourning. Now she’s waging war against Viserys, and boy is she efficient at it. She’s described as being in disarray and dressing less modestly because she seduced Viserys, waited for him to fall asleep, then held a pillow over his face. But Alicent is very religious, so she feels guilty AF about it and has a breakdown in public.

See Chapter 7 commentary here.

[milkypompon]

The Ruse Ch. 1

pairing: Nathan Bateman x CompanyRival!Reader

summary: Nathan wants to buy out your father's business, but the latter is skeptical of closing the deal with the BlueBook owner. The solution? He's going to seduce you.

content: 18+ mdni, thoughts about sex and kinks, enemies to luvrs

wc: 2.4k

a/n: As requested by a wonderful anon!! THANK YOU, I've been on a bald, billionare kick

beta read by the amazing and adorable... @lovable-liar

|| Next >

Ex Machina || Main Masterlist

“Look, you provided tech parts to BlueBook for almost a decade. Then, you up and left to start making phones, tablets, etcetera with my ideas. And I get that it’s a family-run business. It’s adorable, really.” Nathan sighs and clicks his pen, “But I have to say, in a lack of better terms, you’re running an absolute shitshow.”

Your father leans back on the swivel chair, only one of the twelve occupied because Nathan was pacing around the room, and the other board members weren’t privy to the conversation. 

He was fuming, but he knew that Nathan was right. 

The said shitshow was a repeated cycle — inevitable karma, if you will — that Nathan Bateman, a genius and billionaire, and your father, a now sorry excuse of an entrepreneur, experienced it to the highest degree.

But truthfully, the latter was hit the hardest.

In the past year, your father’s employees designed and crafted the high-end electronics at NovaTech. Over time, they used it as a stepping stone to build their own companies from the ground up, evolving into something worthy of praise. 

He couldn’t keep up with the competition, especially now with the brightest minds walking out.

“I’m doing you a favor by buying you out instead of watching you sink into bankruptcy.” Nathan continues, “Call it an act of a good Samaritan. Or, if you’re not into the hippie bullshit, just see it as me taking back what’s mine.”

Your father frowns. “I bet you’ve been bribing my employees to start working for you, eh?” He throws his hands up in frustration, struggling to find the right words. “It’s all part of a stupid, elaborate plan to drive me out of business!”

Nathan drops the pen, it clatters onto the glass table. He says in a low, steady voice, “Do you seriously think I have time to fuck around?”

He grumbles a “no” and swipes the buy-sell agreement from the manila folder.

“Look at you! Finally coming to your senses.” Nathan opens his arms, an agreeable and friendly stance, though it was anything but that.

“I’m just reading over it again, Bateman. Just making sure you’re not ripping me off.”

“God, it feels like I’m trying to get divorce papers signed.” He tucks the document back into the folder. “Think about it, man. You could throw a retirement party with the greens and have more than enough to tan your ass in Bora Bora.”

—

The next night was the BlueBook Ball, Nathan has a way with words, but it’s a glorified event for rubbing elbows, sickening niceties, and serving tooth-achingly sweet mixed drinks for the wives of big names in the tech field.

Nathan could play the nice guy for only so long. 

He’d been breathing down his own neck to get the documents signed. It was a one-way ticket to the clientele who turned him down because of their loyalty to your father.

In hindsight, he should’ve dealt with the meeting the morning after the gathering while your father was hungover and loose-lipped, ready to nod along with his plan for the buyout.

A perfect yesman. 

Nathan was a scientist first and foremost. 

Hypothetically, he knew it could’ve worked.

And he was a businessman second. 

Technically, he knew others played just as dirty.

Nathan ran a hand down his beard and reminded himself, Just one more night of persuading him and I’ll back down from NovaTech.

Can’t keep on wasting my time.

–

You’re accompanying your father tonight. He stated that it was a gateway to understanding the social aspect of running a business. 

Deep down, you knew it was a sloppy attempt to get you out of your studio and away from tinkering at the new prototypes. 

You begrudgingly agreed because at least it was a chance to abuse the open bar and cling to the side as a wallflower after snagging a few drinks.

But there was the issue of the black-tie attire. In other words, slipping on a tight dress paired with red-bottom stilettos could cause a twisted ankle if you took the wrong step. 

Or danced too hard.

Surely, Nathan Bateman wasn’t the type to throw it back and party like that, right? 

You shake your head, not in a professional setting. 

A faint buzz from the intercom beside your bed draws you out of the bathroom. 

“Hey, sweetie! The helicopter’s here to pick us up.” Your father reminds you.

You check the time on your phone and frown slightly, then press the button on the intercom to reply. “Dad, you said we weren’t leaving for another hour.” 

Another buzz.

“I’m sure they can send another one for you when you’re ready.” 

“Alright, fine. I’ll see you there.”

–

The helicopter ride wasn’t your first, given your father’s affinity for buying new and shiny things for you in hopes of proving that his late hours at the office during your childhood were all worth it—a weak compensation for being raised by maids and butlers.  

The green land and the snow-capped mountains stretching on for miles was a distraction from the thought of showing up without the person who was supposed to be your guide for the night. 

Everyone would be nameless for the time being or blurry faces you’d soon forget. 

You pull the aviation headset over your ears, a thought dawning over you. 

You don’t even know what the host looks like. 

He was surely an enigma, sitting on a fat pile of money and keeping his head down to work on god-knows-what in a facility you were headed to located in the middle of buttfuck Alaska.

Photographers rarely shot photos of him due to his constant refusal to participate in panels, and overall, there were few published sightings of him on the mainland. 

Even then, it was like he took down the photos.

Perks of being one of the wealthiest men alive, you suppose—a false sense of privacy.

The landing, as gentle as it could be from a helicopter, didn’t help to settle the churning at the pit of your stomach. 

A voice from the earpiece cracked to life, “Follow the path. You’ll know when you’re there.”

Before you could ask about the lack of people in sight or even the distant sound of music, the pilot answered your question.

You carefully step out, noticing the stupidly rolled-out red carpet on top of plants and fallen branches. The least he could've done for someone with more money than he could spend was pave a sidewalk.

This must be a sick metaphor. Struggling to walk in nature to find a haven built by a human.

Your ears perk up after about fifteen minutes of walking at the muffled sounds of talking. There were finally signs of life apart from trees and birds. 

No way could you keep walking the last stretch without a break, especially with your calves on fire. All you needed was a hard drink, a bench to sit on, and maybe even a bed for a quick nap. 

The tree stump nearby was the best you could do for now. You veer off the velvet path before your right heel sinks into a mud puddle.

“When I see that man…” you mumble under your breath. Then you were quickly reminded that you wouldn’t recognize him even if he were in front of you.  

There was no point in stopping now; you were late, and now, your right shoe was dirty. 

You trudge on for a few minutes. Standing before you was a wooden facility with glass panels reflecting the foliage. If you looked the right way, it almost blended in, but there were far too many edges and faces. 

A little too perfect. 

Squinting your eyes at the windows inside, you find the guests milling about, politely throwing their heads back to unfunny jokes. A few men were clean-shaven, while others had a trimmed beard. They all had their shoulders rolled back with a champagne flute in hand.

Any of them could be Nathan Bateman. 

Maybe he was close to being six feet under, white-haired with a few loose screws in his head. 

How else was it possible to survive in a place like this?

You surely wouldn’t. 

You unclasp your clutch to find your phone and shoot a text.

Dad, where are you?? 

The message flickered green…

No cell service

He was supposed to dumb down the guests for you tonight, teaching you the whosits and whatsits. But that was the least of your problems.

You’re sure that you’re going to be murdered without a witness as the sunset dips below the horizon. The branches cast shadows against the neighboring trees, a disturbing illusion of a dismembered figure.

You could already imagine the headlines. 

Daughter of NovaTech Gone Missing in Buttfuck Nowhere Alaska!

There was a light chuckle behind you, making you flinch. “Are you lost? There should be a map for a place like this, huh?”

You flick your head back quickly, and a stocky man with a piercing gaze set behind a pair of glasses stares back at you. But his eyes weren’t any less pointed, even with the obstruction. It was as if he knew things you didn’t, keeping the cards close to his chest. Or more like he knew something about yourself that you were only beginning to grasp.

For an audience like this one, he was dressed plainly. A crisp white shirt, taut across his chest, paired with black slacks. You had to give it to him for having the guts to throw the required attire out the window.

Maybe you could get along with this guy.

A non-conformist. 

It’s refreshing.

You offer him a smile. “Yeah, this asshole had us walk what felt like a mile to get here.”

Oh my fucking god… She doesn’t know who I am. The corner of Nathan’s lip twitches up by a degree.

“Yeah, tell me about it. I stripped halfway through the walk.” He plays along with a smirk.

“Explains the whole lax look?”

Nathan pauses for a moment. 

“... Sure. And you?” He cocks his head toward your muddy high heel tucked behind your other one in an attempt to hide it, a cute curtsy, almost. “Is that horse shit?”

“God, I hope not.” You grimace and look down.

Nathan could count on one hand the amount of people that didn’t see him as a potential business partner or an escape during nightly escapades. 

He mentally shakes his head. Maybe having contact with an actual human being was getting to him. Besides, he has to set things straight…

He takes a few careful steps near you as if placating you. When your eyes meet his again, and you don’t pull away, he places his hand on the small of your back.

You could feel the heat through your thin, silk dress. 

“C’mon, I’ve been here a handful of times. Let’s find you a bathroom.”

“And a map while you’re at it.”

He grins. “Like little fold-up ones you find at amusement parks?”

“It’s the only thing that would work around here. God forbid there’s cell service here or something.”

“Dude who owns this place must be an asshole to cut it off like that.”

“Right?!” You bob your head alongside him, grateful to have someone who didn’t feed into the billionaire's bullshittery. 

–

You hate to admit it, but the estate was straight out of Architectural Digest. 

Nathan steers you toward another building. It was a simple square, detached from the main facility, but still held the similar reflective panels, this time on all sides. 

“What’s this?” you prod, dodging a patch of dirt, “A fancy portapotty?”

He fishes out a slim silver card from his back pocket. 

“Is that what I think it is?”

How this man you just met knew the way around the place was beyond you, but you’d do anything at this point to remove the cakey, stickiness of the mud clinging to you.

“Yeah, a keycard. Every main guest gets one, and you haven’t?”

“No, I’m just my father’s plus one tonight, so I’m technically not listed.”

You don’t have to tell him.

Nathan knows exactly who you are.

In his defense, he greenlit the guests tonight by running a background check. He even went the extra mile by requiring them to walk through a metal detector. Especially after the experimental happenings of the Turing test, he wasn’t going to cast a blind eye to an android coming in to hack at him again. 

Or worse, a jealous competitor. 

And that’s exactly what you are. 

Well, not you, necessarily. 

But your father, so by extension, you were a part of whatever plan your father was stirring up. Or at least that’s what Nathan garnered. 

Nathan swore to himself that he wouldn’t act like a petty teenager. But he needs a safeguard to protect his company and decrease the chances of his clients or sponsors from pulling out after they found out about one of his androids going rogue. 

His ego was a liability. Sure enough, to be the cause of his death.

But it also brought him this far, along with his craftiness.

He’ll agree with a quip or two about your annoyance with the BlueBook owner, so you’ll lower your guard. Then boom, bam, thank you, ma’am — dial-up his sweet talk and ease in, persuading you that Nathan fucking Bateman is a trustworthy guy. 

You’ll put in a good word for him to your father. 

“You rarely go to these things, huh?” He tilts his head. 

“Is it that obvious? I usually stay in my studio, drafting up concepts.”

“You’re a designer,” he observes. 

“Something like that.” You shake your head. “But if my dad had a hand deeper into my life, I’d call the shots in NovaTech later down the line instead of playing with paint and wires, or at least that’s what he says.”

And there it was.

“A tortured artist and daddy’s girl,” he takes note.

“Well, how about you? I’m sure you got a sob story of the century to give yourself a buzzcut,” you tease back.

“Smartass.” Nathan presses the keycard against a wall. There was no indication of a slot to insert itself in or tap on—a sleek design hidden from plain view. 

The soft click of the door unlocking brings his attention back to you. “Go ahead, I’ll wait out here. Gotta have you looking your best when we get in there.”

A simple ruse from yours truly.

pt. 2 coming soon (lmk if you'd like to be tagged!)

I'd love to hear your thoughts and my inbox is always open for requests or if you want to chat!

[gloomforrestrunes]

if i remember correct ruse had eye scars in old design but doesnt now. is there a reason why you removed them? just curious

they're still partially/mostly blind if thats what you're wondering. the ritual was able to remove the scarring around their eyes, but cant make any difference to their eyesight itself.

[henriettarhippo-hrh]

Ch.7 Forbidden Fruit 🍎

Title: Forbidden Fruit Rating: Explicit

Chapter 7

Excerpt:

“I take it you don’t actually need my help getting a book down,” Aziraphale said.

Muriel spun around, their eyes gleaming with excitement. "No! It was a ruse to get you alone," they declared triumphantly.

Aziraphale smiled with affection. “And a very good one it was.”

“Thanks!” Muriel chimed, practically vibrating with energy. They took a few quick steps towards Aziraphale, then paused to double-check the door again before closing the distance between them and leaning in conspiratorially. “So, Aziraphale. Guess what?”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, playing along. “What?”

Muriel beamed. “I think Anthony likes you!”

Aziraphale struggled to maintain his composure. “I’m sorry?” he squeaked.

Or read from the start

Shout out to the amazing @riverstyx125 for the beta!

@goodomensafterdark

[luvly-writer]

XOXO

Ch. 19 Every corner of this house is hunted

-•-

Author's note: There is just something so satisfying about writing angst while listening to sad music. I'll try to not break your hearts too much. Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST Taglist: @w31rdg1rl @mxtokko @loonymoonystuff @grandstrangerphanthom @1lellykins @cangosleepnow @dreamspectrum @its-maemain @tamimemo @nightw-izhu @trasshy-artist @gabriiiiiiii @cassini-among-the-stars Masterlist:

-•-

"What?" Tim was taken a back by what I said, "What do you mean over, Y/n?"

I take a deep breath and exhale, it is a little shuddery. "This entire thing, Tim. Our ruse of being a couple, it is over. We can end it. We aren't tied to each other anymore. We won, right?" you say

Why does it feel like I'm losing then?

"I don't understand," Tim said, "We-"

"We were never a couple, I know, I know, it was just acting jaja! I know that, silly! I..Ok let me clear thing's up. We are done acting of course, you don't owe me anything anymore, you know. You are free too! I mean um, I um, ok give me a break" I panicked. Of course. Y/n don't be dumb. He knows you weren't a couple. He was just acting. He didn't see it the same way I did..

"Do you want to come inside so that we can talk about this better?" He asks concerned.

"No! It's okay, I...uh... have to go, so I..let's.. make this quick. I um, Tim...Thank you, for helping me. You didn't have to, now knowing you better, you could have gotten out of it and found a loophole easily but you still chose to go through with this..with me. Thank you, I have never had so much fun with someone in my entire life the way I did with you and that will always always mean something to me, you will always mean something to me...always, Timmy, and we won, Tim. We won. I am free and OH! So are you! I made sure to delete all the files on you know what and it is all clear, I can bring you my laptop and you can check I have nothing on it. You can finally say it, I am no longer holding something over your head, and we won, Timy, we did a great job, frankly we made a great team and-"

"Wait, wait wait wait, Wait! Y/n Vanderbilt is this you saying goodbye" he said incredulously, "Cause if it is, you are being a real shitty person right now and I know that's not who you are. I know you."

"I don't know," you say dejectedly, "I don't want it to be, Timmy. I appreciate your friendship way too much for me to say goodbye. I lo...I...I care so much about you and want you to be in my life, any way I can have you"

"Anyway?" Tim said, hope in his heart. The last few weeks have been fucking hell if he were to be honest. He missed her. He missed her scent on his clothes, on his sheets, on his apartment. He missed her touch, her caresses. her lips, her hands on his. He missed her so much that he thought he was dying. Dick and Jason like to call him lovesick because of how much he was moping. It's funny how two months can make someone become such a strong part of your routine. He missed talking with her before going to sleep. Whether it was by phone when she was in her apartment, or in person when she stayed at his, the point is he missed her voice. He had come to terms with how much he loved her after Christmas and was so happy to tell her because he thought it was reciprocated. The way she looked at him, their connection, their conversations, their inside jokes, their trips, the movie nights, it was real. He was a little grateful they hadn't had sex yet...he wasn't sure he would be able to recover if he ever felt her body on his and got to explore and adore every single part of her and then have it taken away. He felt it was real. It was real it had to be. All of that for her to be finally here, frankly he thought she was part of his imagination at first. He had been having so many dreams of her that he couldn't believe it was her at first until she started talking and shattering his heart...but she said she'd have him any way she could right. Ask away, Y/n, I am yours, utterly, completely, from head to toe, from heart to soul, mind and body...please ask.

"OH!" Fuck..He is thinking of a relationship and the way he opened his eyes is telling me he does NOT want it... "You know what I meant, Timmy, as friends! I mean if we can't fake date, why not stay friends. I haven't been able to connect with anyone else like this ever and I...well...you are my first friend who has been such you know a friend! Of course" She said nervously. Dig a hole and bury me in it. I don't want to deal with this..

"Of course, yeah, no no, I definitely got you. Cause you know, you are right, of course" He said sending her a tight smile. "It's alright, we are alright. You know we will always be alright." He says as he feels his chest tightened. Of course. Of fucking Course. She wants to be friends. "This won't ruin us, Angel, I'm still here for you"

Y/n smiled, "And I'm still here for you, you know"

Do you hear that? It is the sound of two hearts shattering. Y/n nods, holding her tears back and whatever is left of her dignity. Tim looks up, holding himself together enough to not show her. They both know the other person is not okay. But would they cross the line? She takes a step back and whispers one soft see you later and gets on the elevator. Tim watches the doors close and closes the door. He places his back on it and slides down, breaking down because fuck his heart hurts and he feels like he is suffocating. For once, he is not drowning himself in work, for once he won't turn to cases to numb the pain. For once, he just wants to let the pain out and feel it because God damn it, she is not his, and every fiber of himself is hers.

Y/n walks back to her car and once the door is closed, she just lets it out. All of the pain, all of the yearning. Her heart is entirely his and she will have to settle for just friends. What a time to be alive. The great Y/n Vanderbilt was brought down all because she liked a boy. Her driver had the decency to give her the privacy to mourn the feelings that do nothing but grow. She gets to her apartment, tears still rolling down the apple of her cheeks. Once inside, she drops all of her stuff and preps a hot bath. She soaked in it, crying until she felt numb. Tomorrow she was going to call the girls, she needed their company.

—•—

Week one:

It had been a week since Tim and her broke their agreement. Everyone close to them knew the truth of it already. They had both made a public statement that they had "broken up" but remained best friends. The public had shared their sentiments, after all, the most beloved couple in Gotham was done. There was no bad blood they assured from both parties. Clara and Satine stayed for a few days and let her mope for a little. Classes were starting soon and she needed to get it out of her system. Dick had assigned everyone to do a routine check-up on Tim. They were taking care of the cases, Wayne Enterprises, and patrol. They too were letting him get it out of his system.

Week two:

Classes had begun. Y/n, having something to distract herself began her routing as usual. Wake up early, eat breakfast, go to class, exercise, do homework, meet with contractors for her new gallery, call Mom, call Aurora, call Charlisse, call Grandma, call Dad, play tennis with Clara, have lunch with Satine, dinner with whoever invited that day. Everyone seemed to be on high alert on trying to take care of her, but she insisted she was fine.

Tim had gotten back to Wayne Business, still not cleared for patrol yet. His secretary, and elderly woman who used to work for Bruce, looked at him with sympathy, it was as if almost everyone did these days. He had been back on taking pills to get his sleep schedule checked again. He had moved to the manor for some time per Alfred's and Bruce's request so that they could make sure he was eating and getting better. He insisted he wasn't a child.

Week Three:

The first time, Tim and Y/n saw each other. She was exiting the same coffee place where they had met. They smiled at each other and made small talk. They never did small talk. They knew the most vulnerable points of each other, they never did small talk. Tim swore she gets more radiant every day. Y/n claims she never noticed how intoxicating his perfume was.

Week four:

They crashed into each other whilst Tim was going on a run through Gotham Central City Park. Satine had taken Y/n to do a yoga session in the park. This time the conversation was less small talk, a few jokes were exchanged even. Has her laughter always been such a melody? Have his eyes always been this blue?

Later in the week, he called her by mistake. They went 3 hours talking on the phone about everything and anything.

Week five:

They spent 4 days in a row talking on the phone at least once a day. He knew her schedule by heart and she knew his patrol route as if it was the back of her hand. Why does talking to you feel like a breathing air after being underwater for too long?

Is it because my lungs are filled by my love for you?

Week six:

They finally made plans to have lunch. The paparazzi caught them and everyone is speculating and hoping for them to get back together. Someone pointed out that the two of them haven't erased their pictures together. Neither have the guts to delete them, neither want to.

They have been seen together more often. Y/n's mother is convinced it is because they are meant to be. They call each other on the phone more often. Tim called her when she was having dinner with Satine and Clara. They both wiggled their eyebrows at her and teased her. She insists they are just friends and is just happy to have him back as her friend. "Friends, my ass" "SATINE!" "She's not wrong."

Why is is that when something happens, you are the first person I want to tell?

Week seven:

He crashed at her place after one rough patrol. They spent half of the night laughing. He was helping her with some of her homework. The way the light hit her eyes and illuminated her face stole his breath away. Have your lips always looked so soft?

She was so close to kissing him quite a few times. His smirk when was able to help her with something successfully made her dizzy.

I'm yours and I'm fine with that.

She finally visited the manor, everyone was elated to have her back. The entire day, everyone was witnessing how obvious and oblivious they were. When are you both coming to your senses and seeing that the love of your life is right in front of you?

That night, as he was walking her to her car, he mentioned that the Wayne's were having another charity ball. He invited her family. It would be their first official appearance as "exes who are now friends". That night, she said yes and kissed his cheek goodbye.

—•—

extras:

One thing Y/n always wanted for Tim was to take care of himself emotionally and that meant feeling his actual emotions instead of analyzing them and shutting them out. He honors her by doing exactly that

He literally worships the ground she walks on, don’t know if you guys have noticed.

Everyone is trying to get them to realize that they are meant to be but they don’t see it. Bruce and William even started to do business together so that Tim and Y/n would realize that they belong together. They are dumbasses cause they didn’t think it through (Tim is not focused on that and Y/n doesn’t want anything to do with the family business). They are dumb your honor, but they mean well.

Aurora, Charlisse, Grandma Margaret and her mom have been throwing hint after hint on how Tim is the perfect fit for her and there is no one else. Charlie and Aurora even got their husbands on board.

The batfam is trying to make a plan for them to get back together. Damian actually came up with the idea because as much as he denies it, he is a child who cares for his older brother and Tim has not been as witty as he normally is so it bothers Damian because they don’t have their normal banter:

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi Steph! I hope you’re doing well. I don’t know if you accept self-submitted fics for recommendations, but I just posted my very first fanfiction and I’d be really honored to get some feedback from people who love fics as much as you do!

It’s called “The Sign of Four... Stars on Yelp” and it’s a multi-fandom fic with a Sherlock/John focus, featuring characters from Good Omens, Falsettos and Our Flag Means Death. There’s fake dating, only one bed, idiots in love, and lots of other shenanigans you can expect from a non-couple staying at a couples resort.

Here’s the link if you’d like to check it out:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64778599/chapters/166459045

Thank you again for all the wonderful fic recs over the years—they’ve introduced me to some of my favorite stories :)

The Sign of Four... Stars on Yelp by dinosaremissed (G, 2,894+ w., 2/? Ch. || WIP || Multifandom Crossover || Only One Bed, Fake Relationship, Love Confessions, Idiots in Love, First Kiss, Love Declarations, Mutual Pining, Vacation, Friends to Lovers) – John invites Sherlock to a romantic couple’s retreat in Scotland after his girlfriend breaks up with him. They pretend to be a couple for the week, joining in on spa days, crepe-making, couples' therapy, and more—hosted by the eccentric Aziraphale and Crowley. What starts as a harmless ruse turns complicated as the line between fake and real blurs, with teasing, tension, and unexpected (and unwelcome) feelings bubbling to the surface.

=====

Hi Lovely!!

I ALWAYS encourage y'all to submit your own fics or your friends fics for me to promote!! I love letting people know about new fics, and I love that you guys give me stuff to post, hee hee!!

This sounds like a super fun read, so I hope everyone will give this one a read and subscribe!! <3 <3

Thank you for sharing!!

[plasticfangtastic]

American Royalty. Ch. 3

A Homelander X F! Reader and Dadlander fic.

A/N: Cuz somebody asked 'bout taglist... I'll be including one for those interested, if you want to be in it please leave a comment on the fic and i will include you in the next update as I be working on 'Of the same poisonous ilk' this week thus meaning next ch. of A.R. will come out next week. Plz check My Pin Post for previous chapters!! thxs for reading

Tags: mild gore, angst, slow burn, fluff, oc characther, child neglect, dadlander, romance.

Chapter Three

White.

He followed you for two weeks, in that time he had made up his mind about putting those doubts at rest– he knew Helena wasn’t his. She looked nothing like him. You had to have been lying about the V, some clever ruse that you came up with on the spot, but that doubt now cemented itself, digging and clawing deeper in his brain… that perhaps he had been  mistaken.

So he followed you, making notes about your predictably sad routine– you worked six days a week. The hours varied but you were always working (except for saturdays and most sundays you only did half days), you worked at Lucci’s four days, and as a cook and waitress at a local diner five days for really short shifts at a time either mornings or nights, it was frankly a nightmare to follow. Your skills almost wasted as you broke your back making corned beef sandwiches and serving tables. You usually seemed to make it home by 9 pm, and Kaleem (your boss) and his wife took care of your kid, you seemed close to the family of four that or they liked that your daughter tutored their kids for free, even their 17 year old relied on her, your neighbor also babysat in exchange for dog food and groceries, and money on the occasion.

Your daughter attended a local public school, already attending tenth grade at her tender age. Usually making her own way home or heading straight to your boss’s house, it was bizarre and frightening to see such a small child walk alone in dangerous Brooklyn streets but she didn’t seem afraid in the least, Homelander wouldn’t dare Ryan do that in Manhattan, he could see the tabloids headlines and a dozen dangers.

She entered a small park, resting by a bench for an awfully long time just not doing much until she looked up and stared back at the sky, she waved her tiny hand at Homelander, aware of what building he had been watching her from.

Helena scooted over giving him an open invitation, something he nervously accepted.

That day after seeing you for the first time, he had done his homework ordering a crew of interns to canvas all files for information partaning every child that was given compound V around the time of Helena’s birth, to check any discrepancies in old inventory records, and cctv footage that remained of those days to see if they’ve been altered, he worked them past clock off hours, and after a week they’d come empty handed, no child was given V that matched her description, he had found the hospital you’ve given birth and found no record of Vought’s grimy fingers, nor of any rogue scientist feeding kids V that was operating or suspected to operate around that time, His team also found that you never entered Helena on any casting calls, pageants or events. She had no superhero name registration or trademark, Vought manager or caseworker, or appeared on Vought’s records in any capacity, he clung to hope that maybe the information would come to light but the twenty people on the case were having no luck.

He entered the lab where a young recruit who had the least to lose handed him the results. He dared not read them outloud and instead took a step back as Homelander slumped against the wall.

So here he was staring at this little girl.

“You’ve been following my mother. I don’t really understand nor care much, but following me is a tad creepy, sir.”

“Could you hear me from over there?” He asked surprised, trying to look imposing with his stiff shoulders.

“I sensed you… I keep my radar on when heading home, that way I can keep an eye for treats– in the absence of super senses.”

“What sort of treats?” he said with ignorant concern.

“You don’t come down to the projects very often, do you?” She found his stiff posture interesting, wondering how much of it was habit versus the suit– so how may I help you?”

“I had some business with your mother.”

“Then how does it pertain to me?” she scoffed.

“Your mother never registered you with Vought. All super-abled children whether they choose to pursue this career or not– have to be registered at some point. I couldn’t find any records of a Helena L/N or your Superhero persona”

She chuckled lightly.

“Sure. That’s something the boss handles instead of some mid-level intern… So you think my mother stole some compound V while she was under your employment? I guess after a bunch of Supervillains began to come out of thin air– it is concerning that there’s unregistered Supe’s wandering around.” She stands up– If my mother had stolen compound V for profit do you think we would be living in this place?” She leaned back trying to control that shit eating grin teasing her lips.

“A cover story.”

“I think I was right about you.” She fixes her backpack, jumping off the bench, he follows her as she begins to walk away– "I always liked A-Train more than you. Out of the whole lot you look the most maladjusted, sir.”

“You have quite the mouth there, little missy.” His irritation was more than visible, he scrunched his hand, and the girl could only raise a corner of her thin lips in disbelief– "Your mother failed to teach you manners didn’t she?”

“I have manners. I reserve them for people who aren’t peeping toms, you clown.”

Homelander eyes glittered red, trying to control his anger, he looked away, squeezing his eyes– she was just a little girl with a mouth afterall, she could afford to be a brat.

As she walked away before he could take a step to pull her– Helena had disappeared. Everything about her was gone, he looked around finding nothing, the air hadn’t been pushed so she hadn’t run at hyper speed, he looked up to see if she had taken flight finding nothing, not even a shadow out of place– she had simply vanished.

He was left perplexed, his senses unable to pick up on anything nearby.

He was back at the tower, looking at the pile of documents they had gathered of you, your finances were a wreck, he hadn’t even remembered asking for any of these things done to you. His chest heavy as he noted just how thorough Vought had been, but that meant nothing, he had money to spare. Helena had a bad mouth but what child wouldn’t be hardened by living in the slums? What child wouldn’t come out damaged if they lived so poorly and without a father? By a mother that had done nothing but neglect them. 

He could fix it.

“What are you doing?” Ryan asked, entering his father’s studio as he read– I saw this movie was out and I thought…”

“Just work, tiger.” He pushed his work down– we can go see a movie… let me see if Ashley can reserve the cinema for us.”

That wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but it was something.

Homelander could barely contain his excitement, he was certain Ryan would be happy when he could deliver the news.

Now he was at your workplace once again, just an hour before opening. It was only you, another cook and your boss doing all the prep-work, he was out in the back as you stood out to drop some rubbish, your apron covered in flour and you reeked of san marzano tomatoes and shampoo.

“We need to talk.” He said firmly.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” You said weakly, feeling bile burning at the bottom of your throat– I… I have to go.”

“Helena is my daughter so we need to talk.”

You froze, your eyes so wide they could pop out of their sockets if you opened them any further, you looked at the door and closed it wishing nobody else heard him, not even the rats and roaches.

“There’s nothing to discuss. I told you… I told you back then she was yours! And you ruined my life for it!” 

“Don’t be so dramatic, I just dumped you.” he waved his arms to match his scoff– now–

“You… You… You don’t remember what you did? God I really didn’t matter to you…” You couldn’t hold back the flow of tears– You took everything from me!!”

The gap between you two was broken by your own feet, your knees shook but hatred kept you standing.

“You had me blacklisted from every fucking restaurant in the country! Most of my savings were frozen by the fucking FBI over some bullcrap investigation, and I still can’t even touch my own fucking money!! My insurance was canceled somehow! and then your fucking company bought my apartment building and evicted me!!” You growled and shouted, your spat on his face as you pushed him to no avail– I was pregnant living in my fucking car with a few thousand dollars in the most expensive city in the world!!”

Homelander had nothing to say, feeling the spit drip down his cheek.

“I… I lost everything. And just to hurt me you made Helena a Supe… did it make you happy? Did it make you happy when I had to sleep in a shelter with a newborn and 30 thousand dollars in debt!?” You took a step back trying to clean the tears clinging to your eyes– You don’t get to talk about my daughter.”

“The one you barely see.”

“WHOSE FUCKING FAULT IS THAT!!?” you pulled on his suit forcing him to see you straight in the eyes– We got nothing to talk about. Helena is mine, you abandoned her! you don’t get to waltz into her life as if you deserve it after all you did! She doesn’t need you! Not when all the pain you cause wasn’t worth it”

“I didn’t know I could have children.”

Becca had looked at him with fear and disgust more than anger, but your words reminded him of her, he had made a mistake then, now Ryan had to live with the weight of killing his mother. Had he played his cards less impulsively, she would have relented. 

“I was told I was infertile. That I had nothing down there, not even wonky swimmers! Why would I believe you…?” He bit his lip grabbing your hands as he had gently done so in the past– my whole life I was told I could never have a family, the one thing they failed to do when they made me… until I discovered Ryan… back then… back then I–

“Don’t touch me.” You pulled your hands but his grip is solid– I don’t want to listen to you.”

“I am sorry!”

His eyes were hurt, he softened his grip as you took your bruised hands back.

You wanted that apology but this wasn’t it. It didn't matter at the end, you wanted him gone but you would regret this later, as you saw those hurt blue eyes, all you saw was his daughter, it was as if she had a copy of his expression tattooed on her dna.

“... Come to my house by midnight tonight…”

You left him there.

Thinking of Helena’s tear filled blues.

You were becoming insane, the whole day at work you stayed silent, quietly building pies and cutting pizza, just another busy day. Calling the diner telling them Helena’s sitter had called in sick, and nobody could watch you kid.

Helena seemed happy to have the extra time with you even if all she did was do her homework and listen to some free college classes that she had somehow managed to enroll in (probably thanks to her teachers) while you watched TV. You looked at the recording discussing thermodynamics which she seemed to be struggling with. By ten she was in bed and you waited, finding yourself baking a Torta della Nonna while waiting for a man you weren’t sure would show up, taking a short nap until something tapped at your foot.

“Helena…?” you said groggily.

“No.”

Looking at him in your home woke you up harder than an earthquake, you jumped on your feet quickly to make distance.

“You could knock on the door! Did… Did you come through the window?”

“Didn’t want to wake up Helena.” 

“Please don’t pretend you suddenly care about her. Look… I will listen to you… I need to know why you made her a Supe.” your words are low but fast.

You took to the kitchen, taking a small pot, honey and saffron.

“I want to know what you want so YOU can move on, and leave us alone.”

He stood by the entrance arms tucked behind his back with a look of indignation, as you took the milk out of the fridge.

“I made cake… still like milk?”

You heated the milk, infusing it with a pinch of saffron and a dash of honey, you seemed happy to serve this, this was what you served Helena when she had too many bad days.

“Helena is a very special girl… she’s so smart but I think she’s lonely. Her powers make it hard for her to have friends, being a super genius makes it hard for her to relate to kids… then on top of that there are the other powers– she really lucked out there but I can’t afford to make her into a Supe.  You wasted your time there.”

She was your pride, you wanted to bolster to anybody about how special your daughter was, she was all you had after all, the only thing that kept you going. You wanted to shove it in his face just all the good that he had thrown away, and will never experience.

“She can teleport.” He said taking the cup, the taste was sweet and delicious, it would help him sleep soundly tonight– pretty impressive.”

“Teleport?” You look puzzled then your head shakes as you laugh lightly– no, silly. She can’t teleport. I gathered you talked to her– don’t do that again. But… no she can’t teleport… Helena can turn invisible like Translucent but better… She can make her clothes invisible too, and make psionic force fields. What you witnessed was her putting herself in an invisible bubble and making the bubble float away from you.”

You tried to contain the panic inside you with a stiff grin, boasting calmed you down.

“I didn’t hear her heartbeat.” He argued back.

“What happens in the bubble stays in the bubble… including sounds. Trust me I’d sat down and watched her experiment.” 

“That’s impressive.” He smiled proudly.

“Until she runs out of oxygen.” you moved past him wishing you had space for a dining table, all you had in your living room was a coffee table, your couch, the TV and two large floor cushions, you and Helena ate on the floor in front of the TV and your seating options felt too intimate but alas is the floor– she has two types of force fields…”

“Can she fly?”

“Technically no but yes if you ask her, the second type of bubble… she can float inside it, but I won’t let her test the limits of the bubble.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want my daughter to end up splattered all over the sidewalk!” you hissed.

Homelander followed you, taking his place on the floor too excited to talk about this to care about being asked to sit like a dog 

“So she’s out there with the best… When she was three she told me her superhero name was ‘Ghost Girl’ but that died quickly. So it's your turn to talk, Homelander.”

Homelander was unsure where to begin, taking a long sip of his drink, you had stopped calling him by his name, you had taken John and made it your own, but he had taken it back as he ended it all.

So he told you quite a story, about how he learned about Ryan, about all the secrets Vought had kept from him, how they had kept Ryan trapped in a cage, about the lies he told you about his parents, and his actual upbringing. You sat in silence unable to respond as he told you the horrific things he endured with a straight face, as if you were speaking to somebody else, about how much he had wanted a family and about how he felt when he believed you’d betray him.

Homelander had been happy, he thought he had finally found somebody to have a life with, he was angry, he wanted to hurt you, and after it was all done he pushed your memory aside.

But above all how he now regretted it all.

“I was awful to you, but now that Vought belongs to me that means they will never hurt Helena.”

You stared at him coldly.

“So Ryan was born with powers… So no matter what– Helena would have always had powers?”

“I don’t know. Her powers are nothing like mine, and she’s still young so she might…”

“God I certainly hope not. Look I’m sorry all of those things happened to your son, and you. I’m glad Helena is safer now, and I thank you for that— but cut to the chase. What is it that you want? You want me to tell her about you? She never wanted a father, heck I don’t think she needs me!” You snapped, trying to force the empathy out of your system.

“Why would you say that?”

“Helena is… different… I dunno what is happening in her mind ever.”

It stung to say those things, your love for her didn’t change things, but it was a pervasive thought you endured… awful thoughts about your daughter.

“Helena was a quiet baby… hardly ever cried. I took her to several doctors and nobody could figure out why my baby didn’t cry, why she seemed to live inside her mind, why she always stared at nothing… When she started to talk, the more she absorbed, the more she learned, the less of a baby she became– my daughter is an adult trapped in a baby’s body.” You took a quick bite but it was hard to swallow– the first time she showed her powers… the force fields… we were walking home when some drive-by took place. We had only gone for a stroll, I wanted to save on gas so we walked to the grocery… we… when the bullets stopped in front of my own eyes.”

You could see that sunny afternoon so vividly, the random kids doing their thing until some gray car drove by, the thunderous sound of bullets, and a wounded boy staring at the bullet that would’ve taken his life had your daughter’s forcefield hadn’t enveloped the whole sidewalk.

With a slight flick of her wrist the bullets were returned, two men lost their lives and one was wounded, the group of kids on your sidewalk survived and the boy who almost bled out, your boss’s nephew helped you get your job.

“Helena didn’t care.”

Those two lifeless bodies rotting slowly before you, hadn’t mattered to her, she simply scoffed and asked if the police were going to arrest her before the ice cream melted.

Homelander now had something to work with in terms of records but he didn’t need them anymore.

“I love her… but I worry she’s…”

“She just needs to be with more of her kind. Y/N I want to offer you a job… your job back…”

“No.” You jumped back on your heels– I don’t want anything to do with you, Homelander.”

“I don’t want to repeat the same mistakes I did with Ryan and her mother! I want to be in her life and you need me to be in her life…” He bore his fangs– with her powers you cannot provide her with the future she deserves. You would never clean enough tables and scrape enough tips to get her what she deserves–

“So you’re just going to wave money at me and act like that fixes everything?” There was so much disgust in your face, even he grew silent– I… I don’t want your money and I’ll make sure Helena has all she needs, if you want to give me money why don’t you start by unfreezing MY bank accounts so I can move the fuck out of this place! If you are so concerned about your daughter’s wellbeing all of a sudden… then let me take care of her.” You growled at him.

“Would that be enough for you to let me be in her life?” He looked so vulnerable right now trying not to anger you further– If you take… if you take the job at Vought you’ve making four times what you make at your two jobs”

“I don’t want to owe you anything.”

You hated yourself, your ego and your honor had been bruised and never healed, you clung to those broken limbs hoping you had it in you to deny him but that look in his eyes and his crazy story told you he wasn’t ever going to stop until he got you to agree.

You knew what man he truly was, you could still see the red, hear his screams and the smell of blood. For once you had to be a hypocrite.

“... You… You can’t tell her… until… until I think it is okay… I won’t work for you… not the job that you’re offering me… I can quit my second job and take yours part-time. I’ll choose my days! Only three days tops, same pay! and Helena can have access to Vought training resources and daycare.” You sank on your shoulders– her powers are only going to get stronger and if she ever loses control… it’ll be my fault if somebody gets hurt again.”

The request was absurd but Homelander was on his feet taking your hand, a beam in his eyes and a shaky smile.

“Your son… he might take it badly if you suddenly bring another kid saying is his sister, you have to be gentle or he’ll get hurt. We can try figure this out… just don’t hurt my kid or yours.”

Your concern was genuine, and his heart began to melt as he saw the worry in your eyes for a child that wasn’t yours.

“Thank you… can… can I come tomorrow to discuss the details?”

You nodded, unable to look at him in the eyes any further, shocked when you received a strange short lived hug, as he parted and headed to the door where your daughter slept soundly, he peered through the crack for quite some time.

You hated him but you couldn’t deny you needed the help, he owed you seven years of child support, he had made you sleep in your car, he had made you fearful of sleep as you slept in shelters and filled you with shame as you jumped from couch to couch with the world's quietest baby.

So he had his usefulness, money wouldn’t fix anything but it would make Helena's life easier.

Taglist: Hi 'cuz you asked here you go @fromforeigntofamiliarity

[jelliikiss]

Growing Pains CH. 11

Tokyo Revengers Masterlist - Growing Pains Masterlist

- (Hanma x Reader x Mikey)

Summary: An unlikely friendship with troubled Hanma Shuji, introduces you to a world you never knew. As you navigate the challenges in front of you, you're forced to confront the things you previoudly knew to be true. Intergang friendships weren't wrong, however your sudden friendship with Mikey Sano seemed to contest that idea. Unexpected cliches plague you in the best way as you deal with what it means to be an adult.

Warnings: Profanity, Drinking

Previous Ch. /// Next Ch.

________________________________________

Your fingers moved across your keyboard clicking away at the letters, forming the thoughts you couldn’t leave unsaid. The essay needed for your group mock publication was due soon, so you and Hina locked yourselves away in the university library for the day.

Taking frequent breaks for phone breaks, snacks, and complaints about pesky classmates, the two of you cut through your work eager to get enough done to head out. Pausing to reread what you had written, you allowed your study playlist to relax you. As you scrolled down your doc, a chime coming from your headphones gave you more than enough reason to take a break. The notification beaming from your lock screen was a pleasant surprise, moving your fingers you unlocked your phone to respond.

(Mikey): Hey

(Name): Hi

(Mikey); sorry about the other night

Staring at the message on your phone, you drowned out the music playing on your headphones. Having last texted Mikey two days before the run in with him and his friends, you were a little nervous to message him after it. Overthinking if you should text him or not, you decided to wait for him to write first which took a couple days. Assuming he probably thought it too troublesome to continue a friendship with you, you tried to pretend you didn’t care. Which was obviously a ruse easily visible from the upward curl of the sides of your lips. Looking across, Hina worked diligently on her essay ignorant to the smile on your face. Reeling yourself in a bit, you pulled yourself together to avoid any questioning from your perceptive friend.

(Name): Hey it’s like I said, it’s okay. He apologized too and nothing bad happened so we are all good!

(Mikey): You sure?

(Name): Lol it’s all good.

(Mikey): I guess I trust you.

Just don't lie and beat me up or something.

(Name): Haha whatever. I don’t think I could. I’ve never been in a fight before.

(Mikey): Really?🤣

(Name): Yes really🙏

“Hey Imma head out. Michy is taking me out for lunch.”

Tossing your phone out of surprise, you watch Hina hand it to you laughing.

“Lol, you startle easily. Don’t give yourself a heart attack okay?” Hina muses, shaking her head.

With a watered down iced coffee in hand, she waves goodbye as she makes her way out of the library. While you wanted nothing more to relax in bed at home, you pushed the temptations and sly promises of ‘I can just finish this at home’ from your head.

You promised to finish at least the draft in the library and you were close. Scrolling through your doc, you reread a few highlighted portions to see what you needed to fix. As you fixed some spelling errors, your phone chimed again.

(Mikey): Wyd

(Name): Im doing hw in the library. Wby

(Mikey): Im taking a break from working on a car right now.

(Name): Cool. How’s that going?

(Mikey): Not bad. Just an oil change, general maintenance inspection, and tire rotation.

(Name): Hearing all that reminds me that I gotta take mine into the shop.

(Mikey): You got a car?

(Name): Yea, I just don't drive it much. I enjoy walking and public transit too much.

As you hold your phone waiting for his message, you go to shuffle your music. Fate has other ideas however as your phone slips through your hands causing you to almost drop it on the hard library carpet. You're happy with your save until you hear the sound of ringing from the headphones on your neck. Your heart drops as you glance at the ticking bomb in your hands. Calling Mikey was sprawled over your screen. Before you could end the call, you hear a husky voice pick up on the other end.

“Hi.”

Fuck.

“Hi, sorry. I didn’t mean to call you.”

“Ouch.”

“Oh my gosh, you know what I mean.” Your cheeks redden as you roll your eyes through the phone.

“Ha Ha. I know. It’s good though. Works better for me right now than texting. Boss said I gotta get back to work.”

“Oh okay.” You sat with headphones on listening to the sound of him clanging tools. You’ve texted before but never called him. It was weird but nice. You were a little worried though. You hoped you were not directly breathing into the phone.

“What are you working on for homework?”

“Just a paper for a journalism course.”

“Paper on what ?”

“Oh. Um, it's a paper on the importance of self-education. Just on how, we can’t expect everything to be spoon fed to us. We have to find stuff out ourselves as well. ”

“Sounds smart.”

“Thanks. I'm almost done, I was just taking a break.” scrolling down to the last couple of paragraphs you worked on, you bit your lip. Seeing a section that was disrupting your predetermined outline, you dragged it where it could fit. You really needed to organize the essay better.

Through the phone, you could hear grunts and the sliding of wheels.

“Would you let me read it?”

“Wat.”

“Read it. Would you let me read it?”

His random question took you back from both how different it was and how shy it made you feel. You barely liked reading your own writing and had just gotten used to getting peer reviewed.

“Ew. Your kidding. Right.”

“No lemme read it. I wanna know.”

“What how bad a writer I am?”

“You’re funny. Lemme read it for real.”

Why would he even want to read my paper? No one before had asked to read your paper outside of a school context. It wasnt that you werent a good writer or anything. You earned high marks thanks to all your caffiene fueled writing sessions. It was just that it was so foreign for someone outside of school to care enough to read some random paper for a random course.

“I don't know. I’m not sure it’s any good and I’m not done with it.”

A pause of the other line was filled with the sound of tools and background music playing in the car shop.

“Look, I dont read much so even if it was bad, I wouldn't know. When ur done lemme read it for real.”

“Come on.”

Fighting with the pencil of your tablet filled with notes, you attempted to resist his pleading, which was unexpectedly hard.

“Alright. Maybe.” Laughing at his silly proclamations of thanks through the phone, you shook your head. Reigning himself in to continue his work, he chuckled.

“You going to the meet tomorrow?”

“Yes actually. Draken is picking me and Emma up.”

“I’ll see you there then and at the after party right?”

He pauses on the phone awaiting your confirmation. It’s stupid but you feel a little excited at your new friendship. Mikey was someone you previously wouldn’t have tried to befriend, and likely vice versa. But as you exchanged messages, you were glad that he seemed to want to talk to you as much as you did to him.

“Yes.”

“Cool. I gotta go n bill this guy. I’ll see you there. Don’t be a stranger then.”

“Never. Bye” Jeez. Was that trying too hard to be cool. Ugh whatever. I think I’m done for the day. Clearly I’ve fried my brain.

Saving your work, you shut off your computer and placed it alongside your other belongings inside your bag. Even though you weren’t done, you had made good progress and were ready to feel the freshly washed comforter under you. Besides, you had a busy day awaiting you tomorrow. After having breakfast with your mom, you were supposed to head over in the afternoon to Emma’s to get ready for the night. Usually heading to the meets with Hanma, he rain checked this time allowing you to accept Emma’s invite. It was different but not an unwelcome change of pace as you had not gotten to get ready at her place for a bit.

Emma was excited as well as she wanted to try to style you for the night, as the first step of you putting yourself back out on the dating scene. Your mother would be so proud, you thought as you made your way to the train station.

The light blue in the sky was slowly being overtaken by the light pinks and oranges of the setting sun. While there was a slight chill, it’s prickling on your skin was cooling and refreshing. It was nice. Your life was nice and you felt good. Graduation and post grad uncertainty loomed over you being about a year out. While intimidating, you didn’t find it as much of a worry. At the moment, life was beautiful, your friends were everything, and you and your mother had a date tomorrow. Everything felt just right.

Maybe the colors of the sunset got into your head, or you were in reality unknowingly, experiencing a mental break. Either way, you didn’t care. All that mattered to you as you sat on the train was that you were excited about what tomorrow would bring.

_________________________________________

Authors Note: hey yall sorry for the delay. I had a surprisingly busy day yesterday with family over all day. It was nice but a lil hectice 🤣. Hope you enjoy the chapter. Now we moving more.

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

CS Winter Bingo--Square 5 (receiving a terrible gift): A Match Faked for Christmas, ch. 4

Hi there and happy holiday season!  In an attempt to continue procrastinating my season 4 rewatch drabbles–and to not feel guilty about it–I decided to participate in the CS Winter Bingo event.  I received nine winter/holiday related prompts arranged in a square like a bingo card.  My mission is to make a bingo by writing at least three of my prompts before winter is over, but I’m hoping to do better than that!  I’m hoping to finish all nine!  Given the nature of the event, you can expect a lot of fluff (but then what else would you expect from me, after all?)  I’m hoping to keep them short as well, but I’m usually not nearly as successful at that.  And without further ado, let’s play CS Winter Bingo!

Rating: G

Word count: 1933

Today’s prompt: Fake Dating: Holiday Edition

Other chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (6)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Killian adjusted his tie and then glanced in the mirror as he artfully mussed his hair.  Giving himself one last glance, he nodded and then headed out the door.  They’d made it to Christmas Eve, and it was time to pick Swan up for the Nolans’ annual Christmas party.  

A pang went through him at the thought.  They’d nearly reached Christmas, which means it was nearly time to end the ruse.  Oh, they’d never made firm plans about when they would “break up”, but it seemed to be understood that their dalliance wouldn’t last into the new year.

They’d laughed together as they’d strategized exactly how the break up would happen, each proposing more outlandish suggestions for the cause and manner of their relationship’s demise.  It had seemed funny a week ago as they’d trimmed the tree or gone out for coffee or watched a cheesy Christmas movie.

Now, with the reality of it looming so soon, the humor was gone and all that was left was the depressing reality:  Despite his better judgement, he’d fallen in love with Emma Swan.

Oh, he’d been attracted to her from the first–even before this sham relationship started–but this past week, getting to know her, getting glimpses of the real her behind the wall she built, spending time with her, had shown that he didn’t merely fancy her.  He loved her.  He could envision long years ahead with her as his lover and best friend, and it was a future bright with promise.

Instead, within a few days time, it would all be over.  Their break up may be no more genuine than their relationship itself, but the pain….well, that would be real.

He shook his head, letting out a long, slow breath as he knocked on Emma’s door.  Those were sorrows for another day.  Tonight, he had to convince Mary Margaret and David that he and Emma were blissfully happy together.  No difficulty there!  He wouldn’t even have to act.  In fact–

All thought left his head the moment she opened the door.  Emma Swan dressed casually in her jeans and leather jacket was beautiful.  Emma Swan dressed up for a Christmas party was positively dazzling.  After several moments he literally had to force himself to breathe again.

“Swan,” he finally croaked, “you look–”

She smirked.  “I know.”

She wore a sleeveless red satin dress embroidered with sparkly snowflakes.  Her hair was up in a high ponytail, and candy cane earrings hung from her ears.

“So you ready for our big performance as ‘couple in love’?” she asked, as she reached for a white lacy shawl and matching handbag.

He blinked, forcing himself to snap out of it and (hopefully) avoid making a complete idiot of himself.  “I think I’m up to the task.  Where’s your gift?”

She looked at him blankly.

“Swan, don’t tell me you forgot!” he said. “Mary Margaret mentioned a Dirty Santa exchange in the invitation.  We’re all supposed to bring a gift.”

She groaned, slapping a palm to her forehead.  “I can’t believe I forgot.  Now I need to find something…”

She looked around, rummaging through a bit of the organized chaos on her end table, and then landed on a large, rectangular brick of what looked like it was once fruitcake.

“You think this will do?” she asked holding it out to him.

He took the thoroughly unappetizing confection into his hand and grimaced at its weight. “As what, a holiday delicacy or as a festive paper weight?”

She laughed, taking the fruitcake back and tossing it haphazardly into a gift bag. “Giftee’s choice, I suppose.”

He laughed with her this time.  “Well, I suppose half the fun of a Dirty Santa exchange are the…less than ideal….gift options.  Where did you even get that monstrosity?”

“Cleo handed them out with our Christmas bonuses this year,” Emma said, referring to her boss at the bail bonds company.  “I’m pretty sure they’re regifts from last year–or before, given how hard and stale this thing is.”

“Well, let’s hope the proud new owner of said fruitcake chooses to go with the paperweight option rather than attempting to ingest it.  So Swan, are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” she said, putting on a large winter parka.  Killian helped her on with her second arm, and then gently pulled her hair free from the coat.  It was so soft, so silky, he longed to bury his fingers in it as he pulled her close and kissed her until they were both breathless.

He pulled his hand away and curled it into a fist.  Best not let his thoughts head in that direction. He opened her door and gestured her to precede him, before closing it behind them.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Nolans’ Christmas party had been fun.  It had been a relatively small affair.  Aside from Emma and Killian, they’d invited Ruby and Graham, along with Granny, who was doing the catering, Leroy and his brothers, Astrid and Blue, and a handful of others Killian didn’t yet know.

It had been a night of good food, good company, and lots and lots of laughter.  There had been only one awkward moment when Astrid had asked how they’d met.  He and Emma had answered in unison.

“In the produce aisle at the store, over a grapefruit.”

“I brought him a plant when he first moved in.”

Killian saw David give them a confused look, but he managed to play it off by putting an arm around Emma’s waist, pulling her close, and saying “Well whenever it was we officially met, it was the most fortunate moment of my life.”

She’d smiled up at him then, and if he didn’t know better, he’d say the look in her eyes approached affection, maybe even adoration.

The Dirty Santa game had been a raucous affair replete with all manner of holiday larceny.  In the end, Leroy had received Emma’s epicly bad gift.  He’d scowled at his misfortune, and then shrugged.  “Well, sister, at least now I have something to use to bash people over the head when they annoy me.”

But it wasn’t until the end of the evening when things really took a turn.

“Well look at that!” Ruby drawled, pointing one well manicured finger above the spot where Emma and Killian were standing together.  “It seems someone has found the mistletoe. Pucker up!”

Killian shot a startled glance above his head as his heart started pounding.  Sure enough, there it was, a big, bountiful sprig of mistletoe.  He heard Emma gasp beside him, and he looked down into her eyes, which had suddenly widened almost comically.

“I…uh…um, well, we–” she began babbling a bit inanely.

“I think what the lass is trying to say is that we’re not big on public displays of affection,” Killian answered, his voice not quite steady.

She shot him a grateful look, but if he’d thought that statement would mollify Ruby, he was sadly mistaken.

“Sorry,” she said, sounding anything but. “You get caught under the mistletoe, you plant one on each other.  Them’s the rules.”

Killian glanced at Emma’s red lips, his breath catching and his heart beating so quickly it couldn’t be healthy.  Kiss Emma Swan? He’d do so in a heartbeat. He’d kiss her over and over and never stop if he had his wish.  But above all, he was a gentleman, and mistletoe or no mistletoe, he wouldn’t push her for more than she was willing to give.

He moved his glance from her lips to her eyes, wordlessly asking her permission.  She was still for a long moment, merely looking into his eyes, and then she almost imperceptibly shrugged.

It was all the urging he needed, he touched his lips to hers, so lightly and gently the kiss was barely there at all. He pulled away almost immediately.

Only to have her surge forward and capture his lips with her own.  He groaned, his arms coming around her, hers burying themselves in his hair as she pulled him closer, closer.  The rest of the world fell away as her lips parted and he eagerly accepted her invitation to pillage and plunder.

It was only long moments later when the cheers and catcalls all around them brought Killian back to his senses.  He pulled away, chest heaving and, no doubt, cheeks flaming.  He brought two fingers up to his lips in awe, as he looked into Emma’s startled eyes.

“That was…” he whispered.

“Not anything I expected to happen,” she answered, voice breathless and far from steady.

It took Killian several moments to compose himself, but finally he turned back to Ruby.  “Well, did we satisfy the laws of mistletoe?”

She grinned saucily.  “Anymore, and you’d have needed to get a room.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

David Nolan put an arm around his wife as they sat together on the sofa before their Christmas tree several hours later.

“Congratulations on another successful Christmas party, honey.” he said, turning his head to kiss the top of her head.

“It did go well, didn’t it?” she asked.  “And my other project–setting up Emma and Killian.  It couldn’t possibly be going better!”

David gave her a curious, slightly uncomfortable look.  “Mary Margaret, I hate to point this out; I really do, but surely you realized the two of them are no more actually dating than Leroy and Granny are.  The way they didn’t know basic facts about their relationship.  The deer in the headlights look they both had at the prospect of kissing under the mistletoe…”

Mary Margaret waved a dismissive hand. “Well of course they’re not actually dating. Yet.  That was never the plan.”

“What?” he asked, pulling away and looking at her in surprise.  “It wasn’t?”

She laughed.  “Of course not!  I knew they wouldn’t actually fall for my little Christmas card ruse.”

“So you…don’t….want them together?” he asked in utter bewilderment.

“Of course I do, you silly man,” she said.  “I just knew I needed to play a little 4-D chess to accomplish my goal. They needed a shared purpose, a reason to be in each other’s company.  What better way than to team up to defeat the over-eager matchmaker?”

David shook his head and laughed.  “Let me guess.  You figured they’d fake date, but the time spent together would make them realize their feelings were real.”

She snapped her fingers.  “Exactly.  And did you see that kiss?  That was not the action of a couple of people who are indifferent to each other.  I’d say we have somewhere between a few hours and a few days of denial, and then voila.  The fake relationship turns thoroughly and beautifully real.”

David leaned over and kissed her, laughter still in his eyes.  “Mary Margaret, I love you like crazy, but I’ve got to admit.  Sometimes you scare me.”

She grinned cheekily.  “It’s a gift.  Now the only question is where to turn my matchmaking attentions once Emma and Killian are settled and happy?  You know, I thought Leroy and Astrid looked pretty cozy at the party tonight…”

Notes: We are approaching the end!  Only one more chapter to go!  Up next: Emma and Killian have to confront the truth of what that kiss exposed.  Is Mary Margaret right?  Will their sham relationship turn real, or will they have their planned public breakup?  (If you don’t know the answer to that, I might have to question your intelligence, hehe.)

–Bingo note:  And with this one, I’ve officially gotten a bingo!  I’ve covered all three squares on the right side!  Let’s see if I can get another one before this fic is over!

NEXT CHAPTER->

[livwritesstuff]

🔮 I am a sucker for a Co-stars Fanfic ♡

Also, I hope you have/had a good long weekend and relaxed a bit :)

thank you!! my weekend has been positively lovely so far <3

here's a snippet of ch. 2 of ultraviolet (teensiest bit of a content warning for references to past childhood trauma, but nothing overt)

Eddie pauses, looking down at a loose thread in his sweatpants.

It had been very early in his childhood, earlier than he can even remember, that he'd been taught, conditioned, to never breathe even a word of what happened behind the closed doors of his family’s home, heard horror stories from his father of they’ll take you away and then you’ll find out real quick how good you have it here compared to them foster people, boy.

So Eddie had stayed quiet, because despite how long it took him to graduate high school, he can be a quick-learner when he really needs to be. He stayed quiet about all of that, out of necessity at first, but later out of habit because the ability to be vulnerable without feeling like there was a gun pointed between his eyes was squashed out of him a long time ago.

Eddie knows that the way he is – the way he acts all intense and loud, the metalhead thing, the thick chains and the bulky rings, the devil horns he likes to flash and the satanic metaphors he slips into his lyrics pretty much just for his own amusement at this point, the glares and the fearless obstinance – it’s all a lie. Or – maybe not a lie, but a ruse at the very least. A defense mechanism, a tactic of survival, and it has nothing to do with the fame, the media, the fans, the critics, the tabloids, because it predates all that because, fuck, he learned it in his own fucking home, learned that any sign of weakness, pain, emotion would be weaponized against him, and now it’s intrinsically tied with who he is in a way he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to fully shake.

And Steve had seen through it all in practically an instant.

Eddie remembers the first interview they did. He remembers What were your first impressions of each other? and he remembers The second I met him…it was pretty clear that he’s one in a million, and for the first time ever, he feels like maybe there is someone he could drop all of that for, someone he could unlock the way his ribs are guarding the weakest parts of him for and give up a bit of what he’s carrying for them to hold. 

Just for Steve though. Only if it’s Steve.

pls bully me into writing during my long weekend