#for the same reason his dress is shorter than it should be

[miles-crow]

I saw the Halloween episode and I immediately knew what to do.

Bonus:

Reference:

Originally Billina (Tin Man's chicken) is the princess, but, uh, no.

[syluscrows]

You catch him trying on your clothes.

Xavier, Sylus and Zayne

Contents: Fem!reader, fluff, humour, written in the perspective of a shorter reader, size differences mentioned

Xavier

He tries on some of your cute pyjama sets out of curiosity.

Poses Infront of the mirror, making kissy faces, acting all cutesy

when he sees your nightdress in the drawer, he giggles to himself, sliding into it.

He has a slimmer build, so your clothes fit quite well on him

And right at that moment that's when you walk in.

He panics, trying to take it off before you find him, hearing you calling his name throughout the house.

When you find him he looks like he is about to CRY.

"I'm sorry, y/n! I was curious!" He says in a whiney tone.

Poor boy feels SO humiliated, you can practically hear his soul being crushed.

You assure him that he looks adorable, and he looks at you with puppy dog eyes "You think so..?"

Since then, he just shamelessly wears your pyjamas - although he gets a bit embarrassed if you bring up the nightdress again.

Most likely out of the three to do this quite often..

Zayne

You catch him holding your bra up to his chest after you notice he's been in the bedroom for a while.

"What the fuck, Zayne?"

He doesn't seem embarrassed that you caught him, just shrugging and saying "I was measuring the difference in sizing of our chests."

This ends with you peer pressuring him to actually put it on fully

You can only do one of the links up, since you're much smaller than he is.

And here he is, squeezed into your bra while you take pictures, giggling away.

At one point he even starts jokingly posing, and you both end up laughing

He often leaves the house wearing your hoodies, he's never seen a reason why not.

Like Xavier, he does occasionally wear your pyjamas, if they fit him. He insists its because its comforting, and they smell like you.

He's tall, so there are some clothes he refuses to put on, like your dresses. Some of your shirts are practically crop tops on him since he has a tall build.

Sylus

Okay, first of all, this is Sylus after you've gotten VERY VERY close. I don't think the Sylus we meet at the start of his storyline would do this, but when y'all are dating he does anything to make his pookie smile :]

Is just straight up putting your bra on in the SAME ROOM AS YOU RIGHT INFRONT OF YOU. this man is SHAMELESS.

"What do you think?" shifting his eyebrows at you

He isn't phased in the slightly that you've seen him doing this.

If you complain, he just argues back "So you're allowed to wear my clothes, but the same doesn't apply to me?"

He can't actually fit the bra around him, since his chest is so big.

"I should get one of these.."

You ask him to put on a dress? done. He just looks smug as you giggle away at the sight

Of course, he's a very muscular man, so this always ends up with your dresses being damaged or ripping, But he doesn't hesitate to tell you to buy yourself a new one.

He would put on your panties...... and LOOK BETTER THAN YOU DO IN THEM.....

However, unlike the others, he doesn't wear your clothes out or your pyjamas, mainly because they don't fit well enough, and obviously for his pride, he is a man with a damn good fashion sense Afterall.

Mostly just wears your stuff as a joke to make you laugh.

[f0point5]

What if I told you I’m back?

This was a request but tumblr ate, you’ll all just have to believe me. Someone asked for a Max POV during the best friend era. So, I decided to go with this one ✨set 16th April 2018✨ the day after the Chinese GP, because I feel like we don’t talk enough about the early friendship.

I hope this finds its way to whoever sent in the ask and that you enjoy it 🫶

Max almost turns around three times on the way to your building.

The first time, it’s when he realises it’s late, gone ten p.m. on a Monday, you might be asleep. He should go home and come by tomorrow. But you’re a night owl, you won’t be asleep.

The second time, he thinks you won’t be asleep, but you won’t be expecting company. He hasn’t even texted, and he should have, but he left his phone in his jacket which he gave to his concierge to send upstairs with his bags. He shouldn’t intrude. But he’s not exactly company, he’s seen you in your pyjamas, it’s not like he’s suggesting you go out.

The third time, it’s the absurdity of the situation that gives him pause. He hadn’t even set foot in his building before setting off to yours. After three and a half weeks away one more night shouldn’t be a big deal. Maybe you’ll think he’s a bit strange. But equally, it shouldn’t be a big deal to just see you for a minute, right? If only just to give you your present.

He’s surprised by much he found himself missing you. It’s not like he hasn’t been used to being away from his friends and family his whole life, it’s not even like you didn’t talk while he was away. You talked a lot. But, he rationalises, he’d got used to having you around during winter break, you’d hardly been apart. You’d even come home to his mum’s with him just before Christmas. Your presence, your perfume, your way never letting him finish a sentence, it was all normal to him now. It wasn’t that he needed it, just that he had had to learn how to be without it, and that had been harder than anticipated. The last time he’d done that he was eight.

It only occurs to him now, as your building comes into view, that you might not feel the same way. You’d said you’d missed him countless times in the last three and a half weeks, but that didn’t signify. After all, he’d said it maybe twice and he here he was, asleep on his feet but at your door because he didn’t want to go home without seeing you.

He should just go home.

“Max?” No turning back now. He turns around to see you, dressed in a pretty blouse and a short skirt, teetering towards him on stiletto heels. “Maxy, Maxy, Maxy,”

You collide with him before he has a chance to laugh at the way you were squealing like a child. He hugs you back, holding you up when you lift your feet off the floor for a second. He’s half expecting you to smell like a distillery, unable and unwilling to comprehend that your reaction is all your own. But all he smells is your perfume, and it feels like Christmas all over again.

“Hey,” he says, lowering you to the ground and finally getting a good look at you. Your hair’s a little shorter, your face is- no, you couldn’t have gotten prettier. You’re a bit more tanned.

“I thought you were still in China,” you say, squeezing his shoulders. “You look so hungry, have you lost weight?”

“I just got back,” he says with a shrug. You’re almost his height in your heels, he notices for no discernible reason.

You take in his no doubt plane-rumpled appearance. “Did you come straight here?”

“Uh,” he clears his throat. He’s not going to admit that when you’re giving him a warranted look of confusion, but he doesn’t want to lie either. “I brought you a present.” He holds up the package, wrapped poorly on the flight home. Even the flight attendant had given him a sympathetic look as she watched him struggle.

“Aw, thanks,” you say, pressing your key fob against the censor and pulling open the door before Max can get to it. “Come up,”

“Are you sure?”

You give him an incredulous look, lit up by the golden glow of your lobby lights. “Of course,”

You tell him about the dinner you were just getting back from when he arrived, all the way up to your flat. Some people would find it odd or even rude that Max has been a continent away, racing the fastest cars on the planet in front of millions of people, and yet you’re perfectly at ease taking time to talk about your overly creamy pasta. Max likes it, relishes it, even. You’ve never seen him or his job as anything special. He went to work, you went to dinner. It’s normal. Just friends catching up.

You let him into your flat, heading straight for the kitchen, and Max takes the same seat at the breakfast island that he always does. He idly wonders if anyone else has sat in it since he’s been away.

“But then it’s not exactly Naples, you what can you expect. Sometimes I think the French sabotage Italian food on purpose,” you say, filling a wine glass with water from your fridge dispenser. “Great race, by the way. Glad my voodoo worked,”

Max scoffs. “So, you didn’t watch it,” he shakes his head as if that will help the memories fade quicker.

“I did. Got up at the crack of dawn and everything. And I cursed your car not to win,“ you say with a mischievous grin, pulling out a can of red bull from the fridge.

Max frowns. “What the fuck?”

“You can’t win when I’m not there to see it,” you declare, handing him the Red Bull. He reaches to take it, but you don’t let go until he looks at you. “I’d have been devastated,”

For the first time in his life, Max is actually half glad he didn’t win a race.

He chuckles, opening the can with one hand while sliding the gift along the counter towards you with the other.

“Well, I want to win,” he says, as you start picking at the copious amount of sellotape. “So you’ll just have to come to all the races,”

He’s surprised how much he means that.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Maxy. Oh my God, you can’t wrap for shit,” you say, finally managing to pull apart first Max’s wrapping, and then the box containing the, “Chopsticks?”

“Very fancy chopsticks,” Max explains. He points to the set of dark wood chopsticks you’re holding, gesturing to the intricate gold figures entwined on the top. “See, one set has dragons and one set has a phoenix? They’re famous in Chinese mythology. The guy said to give It to someone you like, they’re supposed to bring luck. Or something. I didn’t really understand his English,”

You stare at them for a while, a sort of bewildered smile on your face, and Max almost slaps himself. He should have just bought you a handbag. They had a Chanel in China. Why didn’t he just listen to his dad? This sentimental shit is weird and embarrassing and he should have just gone home.

“So,” you say, using the chopsticks to point at Max accusingly as you smirk at him. “You like me now? Who would have thought? After all those years of telling everyone how annoying I was, you like enough to want me to have good luck,”

“You-“ Max fights the urge to argue.

That smug look on your face still triggers him something awful. But behind it is someone who has become important to him. It’s not just that you know things about him that even he’s forgotten, it’s that he doesn’t want there ever be anything you don’t know about him. You him laugh, and he never wants to see you cry, and he’s used to being reviled and admired, and even liked, but you’re the only person who’s ever made him feel this understood.

“You’re my best friend,”

Once, he might have been embarrassed that you don’t say it back, but just like you know him, he knows you now, too. You grin at him, sipping your water as you look at him over the rim of your glass.

“Well, despite the fact that this whole chopstick story sounds like the beginning of an Indiana Jones movie, they’re beautiful, and I love them, and I promise I will only ever use them to eat Chinese food with you,” you say, putting the chopsticks back in their box. “And I’m glad you’re home.”

Max doesn’t say anything, fiddling with the can again, and you sigh.

“When are you leaving again?”

“Um,” he hesitates, like if he doesn’t say it then it won’t happen. He gives up and gives you an apologetic smile. “Thursday. Going to the UK for some work and then straight to Baku,”

“Oh,” your face, falls, and you toy with the stem of your glass, only for a few seconds, before you shrug. “Well, we should have dinner before you go, and then-“

“Do you-“ He cuts himself off, because he knows he should think about this more, but then you’re looking at him and he’s done thinking. “Do you want to come?”

“To the UK?”

“Yeah,” Max mumbles, looking down at his Red Bull as his fingers fiddle with the tab. “And to Baku,” he glances up to see your reaction, “and, I mean, anywhere,” he adds a shrug, because, obviously, the invitation is totally casual.

You shrug back. “Okay,”

He can hear his dad already, complaining about how you’re a distraction, you bring cameras and drama, how Max gives you too much of his attention on race weekends. But there’s worse things than Jos’s moaning, like not seeing you for another two weeks.

He barely has time to think about that before a Chinese takeout menu slides into his vision. He looks up at you, confused. “Didn’t you eat?”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t look like you have in about a week. You are starting to get Cillian Murphy cheekbones,” you grimace. Max has no idea who that is but based on your face he doesn’t want to look like him. “And besides, I want to test out these magic chopsticks,”

[sc0tters]

Enough is Enough | Sidney Crosby

summary: when you push Sidney to his limits, he decides to teach you a lesson.

trope: dads friend

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual scenes, p in v, oral (m receiving!), legal age gap (reader is in college!), degradation, fingering, swearing.

word count: 2.49k

authors note: I’m gonna start this off with saying that the reader x dad friend trope is not one that everyone will like so if you don’t, don’t read it! oh and @hischierhaze should seriously like never leave me unattended ever again, cause this was a lot. To find the rest of the cellly you can see the masterlist here!

This was meant to be the summer of rehabilitation for you.

Your dad wanted you to recover after a year at university that almost landed you in jail on more than one occasion. As he was at his wits end with you lashing out.

Sidney was meant to be someone who could talk some sense into you, but as he stayed up waiting for a fourth night in a row for you to return with not even a word or a heads up to where you were. He realised he was on the end of a losing battle.

Before he’d just remind you to tell him about where you went but tonight as his anger mixed with the whiskey on his tongue Sidney saw your shorts and crop top and it caused him to lose it “where have you been kid?” He asked turning on the light in the living room as you looked like a deer in headlights “out Sid.” It was the same answer you gave him each time “some of the guys wanted to go get drinks.” You explained with a shrug moving to push past him.

Sidney stopped you as he wrapped his hand around your arm “we aren’t done here y/n.” The hockey player shook his head as he looked down at you “you either tell me where you are going or you don’t go out at all.” His voice was strict reminding you about his angry side.

Yet instead you found it amusing as you laughed “you gonna ground me or something?” You smiled rolling your eyes causing his grip around your arm to tighten “really should when you act and dress like this.” His free hands fingers dragged over the end of your shirt.

It made you frown “like what Sid?” You pressed his buttons as you pulled away from him “see you thought of something so say it.” Your arms crossed as you tilted your hips to the side.

Sidney pushed his hand through his hair as his nostrils flared “god you are such a wimp.” You spat shaking your head as he stood in silence watching as you walked to the stairs “you’re acting like a slut okay!” Sidney groaned honestly deciding that you were the reason why he decided not to have kids.

As you both soaked in the reality of what he had said “y/n wa-” Sidney tried to get himself out of the hole he had fallen into you were too fast running up the stairs to then shut your bedroom door with a slam “I’ll show him what a fucking slut is.” You mumbled looking at yourself in the mirror one last time with a smirk on your face.

Over the next few days that was exactly what you did. Sidney knew you were doing it to get under his skin as he watched your outfits grow tighter and shorter as your behaviour grew more present. You were now flirting with guys in front of his face, from the man in the grocery store to the neighbours son. What killed him was how he was forced to bite his tongue.

But when you eventually walked out of your room in this yellow bikini and nothing more than a baseball jersey that you left unbuttoned. Sidney didn’t think he had much more that he could take until he realised an important factor, that bikini top didn’t have cups. So as you walked into the kitchen after tanning outside Sidney knew he had to take defeat “so could you?” You asked waiting for his answer.

Sidney felt his cheeks turn warm as he shook his head “can you repeat that f’me?” He asked realising that he had missed what you said “asked if you could put some sun screen on my back before I go back out?” You repeated yourself as you sucked at the popsicle between your lips.

He nodded looking away as his pants strangely grew tight “y-yeah sure.” Sidney stammered as the first place he looked ended up being your breasts causing you to smirk “they look good in this one don’t they?” You brought your hands brush down your waist.

It made Sidney cough “I saw you staring at them, there’s no need to be ashamed.” You cooed stepping closer to him “we shouldn’t.” His voice was coarse as he tried to step away from you.

But the hockey player stood against the counter now trapped “all I’m saying is that you do what you want and touch them.” You used your fingers to trace over your nipples that were clear under your top “they are just begging for you.” You knew you were playing with fire as your teeth caught your lower lip between them.

Sidney felt himself grunt “my dad said he wanted you to help me out after all.” Your voice was soft as you used your fathers words “you’re gonna get me into so much fucking trouble.” The hockey player groaned nervously lifting his hand “there you go.” You cooed as you helped bring his hand to cup the one side of your bikini.

He loved feeling how his large hand was able to fit your entire breast in it “fuck baby.” The hockey player watched his thumb drag over the aching nub “need more Sid.” You whined placing your hand on top of his.

The hockey player nodded sucking at his teeth “what would your dad say if he saw you begging like this?” It stroked his ego as he brought his other hand up to repeat his actions on your other nipple as well “happy I’m not in trouble.” You found the situation amusing as you smiled “oh but you are baby.” Before you could question what Sidney meant he spun you around and pressed your chest against the kitchen counter.

It made you gasp as his hand kept your torso from pushing up “you think you could get away wearing this?” The hockey player used his opposite hand to hook under the waistband of the panties letting it snap against your skin “answer the question.” He snapped making you whimper “no Sid.” You shook your head struggling to think of where you could put your hands as Sidney moved to stand behind you.

He loved his angle seeing how vulnerable you were in front of him “wanted to piss you off.” You explained in a soft tone trying to stop him from hearing you “and you still think I should make you feel good?” Sidney laughed at your naivety “I can be good!” You nodded excitedly as you agreed “we will see about that.” Sidney mumbled sucking at the lobe of your ear.

It should have made you hang your head in shame how you pushed your ass against his crotch “the last few days have been hell.” He grunted squeezing the skin of your ass before he slapped it “what are you gonna do about it?” You gasped feeling him massage the previously abused skin.

Sidney felt his cock grow even harder as he pulled you back up so you could look at him “gonna finally shut this mouth up.” His hand pushed you to the ground as you dropped to your knees.

Your mouth watered as you watched him undo the strings of his shorts before he hooked his fingers into the waist pushing them to the ground to reveal his cock that stretched out the front of his boxers “look at you all excited.” The hockey player smirked as he watched you bring your hands up to trace your fingers around his boner “don’t tease me baby or else I’ll leave you looking all desperate on the floor.” His words made you whimper as you finally did what he wanted and revealed his cock as his boxers follow the same way his shorts did to the floor.

You knew Sidney would have been big but as you licked the swollen tip of his cock you began to wonder if you could take all of him “thin ice y/n.” His voice grew angry as he stared you down. It made you nice as you wrapped your lips around his cock forcing as much of his length into your mouth.

Sidney groaned feeling your tongue against the bottom of his cock “your mouth is so good.” He muttered watching your head begin to bob “you’re taking me to so well.” The boy cooed bringing his hands to your hair making a makeshift ponytail.

It helped him guide your movements forcing you to take more of him “fuck.” Sidney whined as you swirled his cock in your mouth and your throat constricted around the tip of his cock as you took all of him.

He felt his eyes roll back as you gagged “Sid,” your voice was muffled as your fingers slid down your stomach and into your bikini bottoms so you could tease your clit.

As Sidney began fucking your throat he felt himself grow dazed “looking so pretty down there.” The boy dragged his fingers through your hair to your cheek as you looked up at him through your lashes “finally being a good girl f’me.” Just as the hockey player said that you mewled at the feeling of your fingers against your clit.

It made Sidney think you craved praise but instead when he saw your body shifting over nothing it made him pull you up by your chin “you really are a naughty girl.” The hockey player sighed shaking his head as he pressed his hand against your slick bottoms.

Before you could attempt to apologise Sidney kissed your lips as he picked you up finally setting you onto the counter as you looked at him. It felt suffocating as his tongue slid into your mouth not caring as he could taste some of his salty precum on your tongue “gonna fuck you like the slut that you are.” His hand lay a smack to your ass causing you to jump as you nodded.

Anticipation filled your veins as he peppered kisses down your neck whilst he undid the strings on your bottoms “up.” He offered causing you to force your hips upward so he could move your bottoms away.

His cock stood dangerously close to your cunt as he pulled you to the edge of the counter “you want this baby?” Sidney asked using the tip to tease your clit “fuck yes.” You nodded as he finally decided that teasing you was now too much for him.

You gasped as Sidney bottomed you out, not taking the time to let you adjust “god.” You groaned as your eyes screwed shut “it’s just me y/n.” The hockey player placed his hands on your hips as your legs locked around his waist.

Feeling nice Sidney stopped giving you the moment to let your cunt stretch around his cock “need you to move.” You forced the words out as you tapped his side now feeling him bottom you out “knew this cunt would be just as good as your mouth.” The hockey player kissed your lips as he caught your lower lip between his teeth eating a whine from you.

His thrusts began to quicken as he craved the sound of your moans “all yours.” You moaned pecking his lips “you realised being a slut ain’t no fun now?” Sidney laughed as you cupped your breasts trying to bring yourself more pleasure.

You fidgeted at the bikini material as he shook his head “slut f’you.” You whined as his hands replaced yours “let’s get this off.” Sidney grew irritated as he eventually ended up ripping the fabric apart “Sid!” You scoffed seeing your top now sat in two pieces.

His nose brushed over yours “I’ll buy you a hundred pairs more if you’ll let me rip them like that.” The kitchen felt hot as the windows were open meaning that anyone who walked past would have heard the acts that were going on in there. But somehow that made you feel so powerful “can rip ‘em all.” You nodded tugging your fingers through his curls when he lowered his lips to your nipples.

Sidney swirled his tongue around your sensitive buds making you clench around his cock “you liking this baby?” He locked his eyes with yours as his teeth grazed your nipple when your phone began to ring from the side of the counter.

It made you look with wide eyes “i-it’s my dad.” You croaked making his cock throb “answer it doll.” Sidney used every pet name in his arsenal as you remained frozen “answer or I stop.” His warning was enough to make you reach over to grab your phone.

On the other side you hear your dad breathing as you answered “hey princess how are you?” The cheeriness in his voice made you feel sick as you gripped at your phone “I’m good daddy.” The last word was moaned followed by a cough as you tried to cover yourself up.

Sidney smirked moving his lips from your nipple to your neck “look what do you want?” You complained tightening your legs around Sidney’s waist “just checking in, is Sid keeping you busy?” The hockey player let out a soft laugh as he heard the words “yeah gotta go!” You were quick to hang up as Sidney placed his fingers against your clit.

It didn’t take you long until you arched your back against the counter “you close?” Sidney asked pecking your lips “so close.” You nodded biting your lip as you went quiet “if you want to come you’re going to have to apologise.” The hockey player warned making you nod.

Skin slapping echoed through your mind “didn’t mean to be a bad girl Sid.” You cried as your skin felt hot even with the marble beneath you “promise to be your good girl forever.” The claim was bold but in that moment you planned on keeping your side of it “let me ruin this pussy for all of those college kids back home.” You moaned at his possessive tone.

All you could do was nod “it’s all yours Sid.” That sent him over the edge “milk my cock baby when you fucking come.” His order made you gasp in pleasure.

Your legs shook as incoherent whines came from your lips as you come “fuck!” You cried as you felt Sidney come shortly after you did.

His hand pressed against the counter next to you to make sure that he didn’t collapse “there you go pretty girl.” As the hockey player let his cock slide out of your soaked cunt it was quickly replaced with his fingers that pushed both of your releases back into your core “surely you didn’t think I’d let you misbehave that easily now did you?” Sidney had a devilish smirk as he began to finger you.

You were in for a long day.

[sleepymirko]

. .•°•. . Unspoken comfort . .•°•. .

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Oliver Aiku shows up at your apartment unannounced, noticing he hasn’t seen you around much lately. What he didn’t expect to hear was that your boyfriend cheated on you...

Word count: 1,4k

Oliver Aiku x fem! Reader

Fluff, slight angst, comfort, friends to ??, Aiku is a player but we're not surprised

Enjoy! (and let me know if there's some errors! English isn't my first language!

..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..

It was an uneventful day in the middle of fall, and the landscape was dressed in warm colors. However, Oliver could barely admire it as his view was quickly obstructed by the red locks of his friend, Sendou, who sat next to him in the karaoke room, killing time with some friends.

He looked back at his phone, scrolling on his chats when he came across yours. It was nearly three weeks ago the last time you guys talked, Oliver knew that sometimes you don't answer right away for various reasons but.. why he felt like it was a bit strange? Maybe because you were close friends? Maybe he should text you something?

-Did you join some top-secret hibernation society or something? I swear I haven’t seen you in weeks.-

A girl boldly sat on his lap, looking for his attention as he was too busy to notice her at first. "Who are you writing to?" The girl asked, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "A friend. She's been a bit too evanescent lately."

"Does it matter though? It's not like you have time right now." She said with a sultry smile, gaining the soccer player's attention. "Uh? Really?" He teased as she smirks in response. His phone buzzed and the girl frowned but she was stubborn enough to stay.

-yeah I just don't feel like going out. But I'm doing good-

-you don't feel like it? Sweets I'm pretty sure you barely leave the house-

-..are you bored? Because I'm pretty sure that you remembered me because you were probably scrolling your chats.-

Ouch, that hurt. But now he was sure that something was up.

-ok my bad. I'll be a better friend but you have to remember answering too. This time it was your fault👀-

-I'll be more careful then 🙄-

The interaction was brief enough to make him smile but he thought it was time to check on her. He didn't had to ask the girl to get up that she was already out of sight.

It was definitely time to check if you were going good like you claimed to be. "Already leaving, Oliver?" the girl said, smiling subtly. This girl is resilient, he thought. "Something urgent came up. Really a pity not to have fun with such a pretty thing," he said, smirking as she blushed. "And here I thought I could give you a taste of heaven…" she said, looking at him with her lips slightly pouty.

Oh, what a sweet temptation women are.. he thought.

Somehow, they always managed to make him do what they wanted, but when they were no longer fun, the magic just disappeared. Sometimes, he almost felt bad about it, but the high was too sweet to abandon.

"I'm afraid we have to save this conversation for another day" the soccer player said as he opened the door, leaving a pretty frustrated girl behind. "To me, she seems more than a friend" the girl spat, unable to mask her jealousy any longer. His head turned, but the door was already closed. More than a friend? It wasn't the first time he had heard such words. His previous girlfriends would surely agree—they had said the same thing when he messed up.

But you were a different kind of story. You two were friends because your parents were on good terms, and one thing led to another. You got close pretty easily, maybe thanks to his sisters, who always asked about you. He even taught you how to ride a bike and even how to dye his hair. Strolling through the streets, he glanced back at his phone, rereading the latest messages and chuckling. The walk had been unexpectedly shorter than intended, and he now found himself in front of her door. He knocked and waited for her to open it, confident she would look slightly surprised.

When Y/N opened the door, she was completely taken by surprise. Oliver stood there, unmoving, a signature smirk playing on his perfect features. She noticed he was wearing his soccer jersey, guessing he’d had practice earlier in the day.

“Oliver...?” she half questioned, surprise lacing her voice.

“Who else?” he joked, cracking a smile as she involuntarily mirrored it. She wouldn’t say it out loud, but she loved how effortlessly he made her smile—sometimes it felt like he had a spell over her.

“I’m here to check on you, and I must say, you exceeded my expectations. Can I come in?” he asked, stepping slightly closer to her door. Instinctively, she moved to the side, allowing him in.

“Sure... come in,” she said, closing the door behind him.

They walked into the kitchen, and she offered him something to drink. “Why the sudden visit? I’m perfectly fine,” she said, attempting a casual tone.

“That doesn’t look like ‘perfectly fine’ to me,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m just feeling a bit down, but it happens sometimes. I’ll get over it eventually,” she replied.

“I don’t know if I believe you,” Oliver said, staring at his glass of water, idly turning it in his hands.

“Why is that...?” y/n asked, confused by his skepticism.

“Because you’re not looking at me. And if I need to be more precise, you’re avoiding eye contact,” he said, setting the glass down on the table and scanning her with concern. She felt exposed as his eyes took in the way she glanced everywhere but at him.

C'mon, look at me.. he thought. Just a peek, if you're doing fine, you shouldn't struggle to make eye contact.. right?

There was something about her avoidant mannerisms that he found unnerving, how her hands were buried in the sleeves of her oversized hoodie.

He was craving her gaze, a surging need for her to finally let go of what was holding her hostage.

And then, as if she had been holding her breath for a long time, she finally spoke.

She looked down, her expression carefully masking her emotional state. Her tone was low, every fiber of her being tired and helpless:

"He cheated on me."

How ironic. Of all the people who could have heard her story, it had to be him.

Sure, they were friends, but she knew better than to accept her growing affection for the soccer player. They never talked about love, and she was painfully aware that his lifestyle could easily upset her.

After all, the guy was a cheater too, wasn’t he?

Oliver, on the other hand, was shocked. He should have suspected something, especially with how closed off she had seemed. Now, it felt like an invisible wall had risen between them, and seeing her so miserable stirred an unexpected emotion within him.

He felt an intense urge to punch the guy in the guts for the audacity of pulling such a stunt, but his brain quickly worked against him.

Why are you so mad about this?

You should be the last person to talk.

It's not like you're any different.

He was furious—at himself and at her ex. It was hypocritical, sure, but it made him wonder: would he have done the same?

"Shit, I shouldn't have pressed you. Now I feel like an asshole," he said, running his hand through his hair in frustration.

"It's okay. We broke up two weeks ago. I feel better now," she said, looking at him, not expecting such a reaction from the soccer player.

Was he... upset?

"So you're telling me that you're okay? When you opened the door, I immediately noticed that something was off. You don't have to play tough. Not with me," he said, his tone stern but carrying a hint of concern.

It was enough to make her tears fall, her castle crumbling down. Oliver didn’t waste time, pulling her into a tight hug.

Strangely enough, she felt like she could finally let it all out—the anger, the sadness, the overwhelming sense of betrayal.

After some time, as they sat on the couch with her still in his arms, she finally relaxed, exhaustion overtaking her.

"Oli, I'm really tired right now... I don't know why. I mean, I slept more than enough last night," she said softly, her voice slow and faint.

He chuckled, the sound deep and warm, and she felt her cheeks flush slightly.

"Then sleep, sweets. When you wake up, I'll still be here. For you."

She looked up at him, only to regret it when his gaze held hers, an unspoken feeling swirling in his eyes that she couldn't identify.

Lowering her head slowly, she let her eyes close, giving rest to both her mind and her racing heart.

Please let me know if something doesn't feel right! Thank you for reading!

[lawliet-ryuzaki-ryuga]

The Hunt

Shouma Toriashi X reader ( chapter 1)

Word count: 1163

TW: not really just so strong language…

Summary: life as we know it can change in an instant, and so do feelings and the people you meet.

MASTERLIST

chapter 2

A/N: HEY GUYS this is just a small project I wanted to start! I just got done reading the manga so I’m going to re-read it and hopefully I can better depict the characters better!! I HOPE YOU ENJOY ( p.s. DONT WORRY IM GOING TO HOP BACK ONTO MY OLD STORIES OF L AND LEVI! )

It was another day of school and homework on homework that’s been passed out.. I never understood why they bombard us like we don’t have other classes to work on.i look over to see Yoshino already walking towards my desk, with that I sit up straight ready to hear what she has to say .

“ hey Y/N do you want to come over? Shouma and I are going to study together?” Yoshino asks while putting both her palms flat against my desk and looks down at me.

“ oh yeah sure..” I nod in agreement. Behind me is shouma but he’s usually in his own world .

“Great, well I guess this is where we part ways, we’ll meet at the school entrance after this period.” With a firm nod Yoshino walks away and out of the once shared classroom we had. I stare at the class room door watch as students walk out together all looking the same as the other. Ever since I was younger I saw majority of everyone the same. Bland and simple, each face the same as the last.

At first glance people might look at us and think what an Odd group, then again we are really only each others friends. But it was for the first time that I saw people. I saw character in both Yoshino and Shouma. Deep in thought I shake out of it, and With that I get up and gather my things getting ready for the next class, physical education.

Oh how I dreaded that class, simply because it’s where both shouma and I lose our cool.

“ Hey” you kick Shouma’s chair to grab his attention. “ get up before we miss our last class.” With a look that could kill Shouma glared at me but gets up to follow.

I finally changed into the PE outfit but as always the bottoms are just too short. “ are you kidding Me I literally got then in a bigger size to hopefully be longer!! CURSE YOU ABNORMALLY LONG LEGS!”

You and Yoshino are one of the tallest girls in your class, in the whole school in fact and everything you’ve come to wear has always been an issue with length. With a sigh I muster up the courage to leave the changing room, and to my disappointment none other than Toriashi Shouma is waiting outside the female dressing room.

“Couldn’t find any shorter shorts Y/N?”

“Shut up Toriashi, these are the longest pair I have.” I huff walking away from him.

Today was a game of volleyball, not my favorite but one that i can stand. That is until I found out Shouma is on my team! Ugh I swear if I lose because of him, he’s dead meat.

“ better not fuck this up Shouma.”

“ Don’t worry, maybe if you had a bigger ass I’d be distracted.”

How dare he… that’s it he’s dead. I try to ignore his comment and walk to my center position like the team agreed on, waiting for the game to start.

During the whole game I could feel someone’s eyes on me, analyzing every movement. I should be used to it, considering being friends with Yoshino, she has hundreds of eyes watching her every move anytime we go out in public. But this gaze is different .. much different.

As the game continues on, And like always Shouma and I are fighting for dominance on our side of the court.

“ you idiot, I said it was mine! Why did you jump forward!”

“ because it was clearly in my side Y/N”

“ no it was not Shouma and you know it! You did it on purpose, there was no reason for you to be that close to my back!”

Mid game while we were taking the 3 min break trying to switch sides of the court, Shouma comes up wrapping something around my hips.

“ what are you doing?” I look down at what’s around my hips and up to the person who’s hands are tying The Jacket into a knot.

“ just keep it on”

“ Shouma you’re supposed to keep your arms covered” I whisper yell at him, I swear he never used his brain.

“Just keep it on.” He mumbles before walking away, with a sigh I just brush it off and try to focus on the game. Shouma has always been so annoying like my brother. Always trying to boss me around and oh does it make my blood boil. What makes me more upset is i always try my best to make sure he’s always covered at all times and no tattoos peak through, but he just doesn’t care.

The game finally ends and I walk up to him ready to hand him his jacket back.

“ here take it ba—.”

“ I said keep it on Y/A.”

“ the game is over, I’m giving it back to you now.”

“ No, go change, once you are changed you can give it back.” He grabs the sleeves of the jacket and ties it back firmly around my hips. I’ll be damned if he thinks I’m just going to listen to him.

“ I said take your damn jacket bastard!” I untie the jacket and chunk it at him and walk away back into the changing room. This man infuriates me, it’s not like I wasn’t Thankful but I will not be bossed around, especially by him! Who does he think he is , my father?

I quickly change out of my outfit and back to my regular uniform once I’m showered and clean. With that I grab my bag and belongings and walk out the changing room, that is until I see what looks like a fight about to happen.

“ Keep your eyes and comments to yourself.” Shouma is holding one of our male classmates against a wall. I can only imagine why this is happening.

“ Shouma that’s enough, let's go.” I grab his other hand that was free and pull him away from the poor boy. The thing about Shouma, he’s well behaved for the most part, but there are times where he’s a ticking time bomb.

“ This is why I tell you to cover up your tattoos, if you don’t want people looking Listen to me.”

“ and the next time I tell you to keep the jacket ,listen to me. There won’t be a next time actually, next time you’re wearing my jogging pants.” He fights back with an attitude in his tone.

“ Like hell I am, they are too big on me.”

“ i don’t care.”

“ I’m not going to wear them, focus on covering your tattoos and stop focusing on me.” I bite back with the same attitude.

“ and rather they focus on my tattoos and not on your whole legs!”

“ Hey, what’s going on guys? You guys can be heard miles away.” Yashino walks up to where I and Shouma are standing .

“ He’s blaming me that my shorts are too short. That’s what he’s complaining about Yashino .”

“ Excuse me ? Shouma do you think we want to be this tall where nothing fits!” Yoshino jumps into the argument.

“ I’m not blaming anyone, both you and Y/N need to just wear pants instead during physical education.” Shouma closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

“ you don’t tell us what to do!” Both Yoshino and I yell in unison.

“ you know what… I don’t give a fuck , lets just go home for fuck sakes.” Shouma pushed through, leading the way back to both him and Yoshino’s place.

[cas-backwards-tie]

The Graveyard

TF141 x Reader

Summary: A discussion of the Base’s upcoming Halloween celebration leads to the suggestion that Ghost actually participates this year. The question is… will he?

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: None(?)

A/N: for @vikki-tikki-tavii 💕 thanks for the request! This definitely felt appropriate for this time of year. I also meant to keep it on the shorter side but ahhh!!! I got so caught up in their back and forth, and the whole vibe of it all! 🙈 I hope you like it! Divider by @kodaswrld ❤️

“Any hints as to what you’re goin’ as?” Kyle asks Johnny from across the room.

“I’m not tellin’! No doubt you’d try an’ copy me,” Johnny responds.

“Maybe he just doesn’t wanna show up wearing the same costume,” you joke. Watching the way Kyle’s eyebrow quirks in that telltale way you just know he’s getting annoyed, meanwhile Johnny’s got a wicked smirk on his lips that can only mean he’s up to no good.

“Yeah, right,” Kyle scoffs. He turns back to his paperwork, the three of you in the Command Station respectively doing your menial work. It seems whatever conversation Kyle had tried to stir up about Halloween was fruitless, the room quieting as everyone refocuses.

The familiar sound of heavy footfall matched with the faint squeak of sneakers signals who’s approaching. “LT!” Kyle perks up. The work-related focus didn’t last long, you think. God only knows when the paperwork will finally get done. “You celebrating this year?”

“What? Halloween?” Ghost questions, turning to offer the Captain, who’d only just entered with him, a look. The Lieutenant shakes his head.

“I take it you’re looking forward to this year’s party?” John asks, placing down his water bottle on the counter by the doorway. His brow is still covered in sweat, the two senior officers having been scheduled for their quarterly assessment earlier this afternoon.

“What’s not to like? Handing out candy to the kids, seeing their little costumes-” Kyle leans back in his chair starting to list off all the reasons he loves this holiday.

“Still can’t believe I’m the only one who got Chase from Paw Patrol,” Johnny interrupts, muttering under his breath as he crosses his arms and turns to face the doorway, officially joining the conversation.

“Not all of us have nieces,” you quip, sending him a sarcastic look over your shoulder.

“-The costume contest, and the games? I’ve actually been practicing my apple bobbing the past few days. I’m going to win this year, guarantee it!” Kyle continues.

“Scaring the wee ones takes the cake though,” Johnny chimes in. “Surprised you haven’t signed up to volunteer in the graveyard, LT. Figure you’d like dressing up, all considering,” he jokes.

Every year the Base puts on a Halloween celebration for the community, and while there are different stations where volunteers hand out candy, there’s games, contests, and of course, the makeshift graveyard. It’s akin to that of a haunted house, only, it’s outside, and decorated in mostly lame attempted cardboard headstones, plastic ghosts, and bats. The fog machine certainly adds an eerie element, but what makes it are the volunteers who sign up. While it’s technically only another station to hand out candy, some of the soldiers like to add to the ambiance and scare the people walking through. Johnny definitely seems the type.

Unconsciously, a shocked look crosses your features. Johnny might not be wrong to think so, but to say it?! To Ghost’s face? Oh, hell no. While you look back at Johnny over to Ghost, you find you aren’t the only one shocked. John’s eyes are a little wider than usual, but no one comments.

“Yeah, and what should I go as?” The response from the LT elicits a quiet sigh of relief. You’re glad another physical blowout hadn’t ensued.

A visage of curiosity displays itself across the group’s faces, but it ultimately only takes a moment for people to pitch in.

“Ghostface?” Johnny proposes before shaking his head. “No… too on the nose?” A chuckle follows.

“Thor?” You offer something different.

“Shrek!” Kyle comments.

“I’d rather keep the mask on, if possible,” Ghost mentions.

“Devil?” The Captain questions.

“Death?” Johnny adds, to which you all look at him before looking back at the Lieutenant.

“The Grim Reaper!”

“Grim Reaper,” both you and Kyle voice at the same time. A jovial look is shared before you turn back to the Lieutenant waiting for a response.

“That’s actually quite good,” John approves, arms crossing as he leans against the counter.

“We’ll see,” the Lieutenant responds, not offering up any morsel of rejoice as he takes off his tac-vest and heads over to his locker.

It’s only a week or so later when Halloween finally arrives. And while it’s not the most commonplace celebrated holiday in Europe, it’s one that many have chosen to adopt in favor of its fun and creative festivities. You’d decided to dress up as a cat because it was easy. Draw on some whiskers and a nose, find a headband to go with it, and you’re still abiding by dress code even during the festivities.

Stationed on candy duty with Markowski from the Foreign Intelligence Committee, you both sit by the garage which had been opened up, cleaned, and civilian-proofed for the event. While you’d been chatting with your buddy in hopes of catching up, you spot movement from your peripheral. “Let me guess,” Markowski says, turning on his stool to eye the incoming pair of children. “Rapunzel, and…”

“Pasquel!” The other child shouts excitedly. A smile envelopes your lips as the family approaches and you hand out the candy. “You’re a kitty,” the little girl says to you.

“I am,” you reply. “Have you been having fun?” You ask her in response, yet still attempt to engage the whole family as well.

“Yeah!” Both little girls respond, thankfully. You don’t know what you’d do if they weren’t.

“It’s definitely a lot spookier than last year,” the dad chuckles, “Becca here almost cried because of that Skeleton in the Graveyard,” he teases.

“I thought that was the Grim Reaper,” the mother states, and you laugh despite not knowing exactly. You hadn’t seen all the decorations that the Base had put out this year, but while they never spent the most on extracurricular things like holidays, you know they do tend to upgrade things when the original gets damaged and needs a replacement.

Nevertheless, the family thanks you for your service and heads off to the next group of soldiers stationed at a candy point. It’s only once the night’s getting later that the people start to die down in numbers that you’re able to tag off with Markowski and have a break. Wandering through the grounds you spot people lining up for the costume contest, the cookie decorating station, and the apple-bobbing table.

You decide to go there since you know Kyle happened to get stationed there. Even if he’d been preparing for a few days in advance, you wouldn’t put it past him to keep trying when the line died down. To your surprise, the Captain is there too. “What’re you doing here?” You question, smiling up at the old man. Sure, he didn’t necessarily enjoy these events, but you wondered why he was here instead of watching the game on the telly at home. It’s only so often you all get time off, anyhow.

“I thought I’d pop by after I was done to see what my team’s been up to,” John answers, smiling behind the cup of—no doubt *spiked*—cider in his hands. Part of you wants to chastise him for working on a holiday, while the other part is simply glad to see him. Choosing the latter, a smile graces your features. It’s momentary to, however, as his words dawn on you.

“Wait, Riley’s here?” You ask. It was rare that the Lieutenant would show up to an event, at least that’s what they’d told you. Once you’d joined the team he seemed to make more of an effort, according to the guys. And it was sort of true from what you’d seen. Any time an event would come up, especially a formal one, you’d all have to beg Ghost to join you all. With the promise of free food, drinks, and an early getaway was the only way you’d be able to get him to go.

“You didn’t hear?” Kyle asks excitedly, with a shake of his head. He’d clearly just been dunking his head in the pails considering water flicks off his hair in droplets, hitting your forearm. His eyelashes are wet, and there are still a few beads of water dripping down the side of his face. “He took our advice and volunteered for once!”

“Apparently he’s quite the hit,” John muses, subtly shaking his head at the Sergeant’s silliness. “Did you even manage to get one?” He eyes the pails tacitly.

“Actually, yeah. Won the contest, just like I said I would,” Kyle confesses, holding up the little plastic trophy he’d gotten.

“Guess those kids need to practice more,” you joke, eliciting a laugh from the men. As the quiet settles between the three of you, the sun finally dipping under the horizon leaving you all in the relative dark, your thoughts wander back. “I thought we were meeting at your house to catch the end of the game though?” Even if it isn’t your favorite thing to watch, you enjoy the guys’ company.

“We are, the boys said they’d meet us back here once they cleaned up,” John informs you. With the sun having set, the festivities were definitely coming to an end. It shouldn’t be too much longer.

“I’ve already got it all cleaned up here! Just need to put these back in the garage, if you two wanna go ahead and find them?” Kyle encourages. Considering your station really only had a candy bowl, you’re more than sure Markowski can handle it. Kyle’s partner joins you all, and with the quick emptying of the three pails and a collection of the apples into one, it’d only take the breaking down of a foldable table for them to clean up.

A quick glance at the Captain tells you he’s waiting on you, his brow quirked in that questioning way. He has his answer when you peel off, heading toward where you know, at least, Johnny is. The fog machine is still clearly on as you have to wave your hand in front of your face, the weird somewhat chemical smelling fumes emanating from it turning your stomach. The small plastic fencing is still in place, and while there are maybe one or two fake headstones still sitting around, it doesn’t take long to find Johnny.

“Nice costume,” you compliment, unable to help the teasing smirk from settling on your lips. Eyeing him up and down, he really did put a lot of effort into his costume! He’d clearly cut off the bottom of a pair of jeans, the frayed edges giving it away. Besides the homemade shorts which he’d stuck a tail out the back, he’d left his plaid flannel halfway undone exposing his unruly chest hair, adorned a headband of ears, and a snout tied around his face with a string.

“Why, thank you, Lass,” he responds, sitting the decorations he’d picked up on his hips. “Weren’t we supposed to meet you at Kyle’s though?”

“Yeah, but we got done early, so the Cap’ and I came to get you,” you relay him in on the information. “How was it? Scare a lot of kids this year?”

Johnny chuckles before his eyes light up at the mention of the evening. “Yeah! We actually-”

“Ready?” The Captain’s voice cuts off Johnny’s story as he���d finally caught up. You’d supposed he’d been admiring the details in the decorations.

With a split-second glance over your shoulder you respond. “Yeah! Just gotta find the LT first and then we’re good to go.” Refocused on Johnny and wanting to hear the stories from tonight, his eyes aren’t on you, but over your shoulder on the Captain.

“Found him,” Johnny announces nonchalantly.

“Where?” You ask rhetorically, turning. It’s then that the closeness of a body looming over you sends you reeling back, stumbling, almost falling on your butt. While Johnny tried to catch you, and an embarrassing yelp had left your mouth, you can’t help but purse your lips out of embarrassment as the three men before you cackle.

“Behind you,” the Captain finally answers, coughing in between big breaths of laughter.

Johnny had dropped the cheap decorations, bent over with his hands on his knees as he wheezes in laughter.

However, it’s the loud boisterous laughs coming from the hunched over Grim Reaper before you that does it. The Lieutenant really had taken your advice and dressed up. He’s got a hooded cape on, a plastic scythe, and dawned his usual mask. It’s amusing, really, the way you’d never seen him laugh this hard before, and you can’t help but join in.

“Sorry, I just had to,” the Lieutenant finally apologizes, to which you accept immediately.

“It’s okay, Riley. I’ll just have to get you back,” you taunt. There’s a pat on your back, and you look over your shoulder.

“Good luck with that,” Johnny says down to you before taking the lead on continuing to pick up the last of the decorations.

It’s only as you’ve just helped them get their decorations ready to haul back to the garage when Kyle shows up. Despite it still being a bit foggy, it was easy enough to spot the lot of you. “Did I miss something?” He asks, turning to watch the Captain carry some of the headstones past him.

“Nope,” the Grim Reaper says just behind Kyle’s ear. This elicits the same response it did from you, and you can’t help the laughter that tumbles free.

“He did it to me too, don’t worry,” you finally manage to get out. It’d almost caused you to drop the fog machine you’re carrying in one hand. “Johnny! You’ll never guess what just happened!” You shout after the men a few feet ahead of you, trailing after them. The sooner you’re all done, the sooner you can head to the Captain’s and the usual festivities will ensue. All in all, though, it was a pretty good Halloween, you’d say. It’s not everyday Ghost dresses up, let alone scares half the team.

~~~~~~~~~~

forever taglist: @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo , @ohdamnadam , @penelopepine

[i-am-baechu]

✎ᝰ. Diamond Tears ⁞ J. Jungkook

Summary: Jungkook wants to re-do how he asked Y/N's hand in marriage.

Part of ‘ His Fan Girl universe

The more Jungkook thought about it, the more he realized he never had a proper moment to ask Y/N to be his wife. With everything that was happening, he kind of just asked her and she said yes. There was no special moment between (according to him). He showed her the ring and the rest was history. She deserved more.

He ran his fingers through his hair roughly and Taehyung raised his eyebrow at him, "What's wrong?"

"I need to ask Y/N to marry me."

Taehyung gave him a confused look, "She has a ring? You already did it...so what the hell are you talking about?"

Jungkook let out a frustrated sigh and shook his head, "I need to do it better. I didn't give her a speech...I kind of just asked her. I need to do something."

"Your anniversary is coming up...do something."

Jungkook sat up and clapped his hands, "Tae, your a genius for once in your life."

"Thanks..wait...COME BACK HERE!"

"I have to go to Y/N~ BYYYEEE!"

Three weeks later, Jungkook booked a restaurant that served all of Y/N's favorite food. He felt nervous again. This time it was for real. This time was different.

Y/N fixed the bottom of her dress skirt and walked out of the bathroom to see Jungkook staring at himself in the mirror. She raised her eyebrow at his nervous face and walked towards him. She rubbed his shoulders gently causing him to jump, "Are you okay?"

Jungkook nodded his head and stared down at his shoes. He couldn't look her in the eye or he would just melt, "I'm okay. I'm excited for tonight."

She smiled at this and kissed the side of his head, "Happy three years to us."

He smiled to himself and turned around to face her. He couldn't help himself after hearing that. Three years of being love, how could you not stare at the person you love? She looked up at him and he was met with the same eyes that gave him a home on days that he felt like he had nothing. He pushed some hair back and kissed the tip of her nose, "Happy three years to us. I love you so much, my wife."

"I love you more."

"Impossible. We should go before I change my mind."

"Change your mind?"

He leaned down to her neck to place a quick kiss, "I would throw you on the bed and have my way with you."

Y/N's face felt hot and she hit him on his shoulder, "L-Let's go."

Y/N kept looking at Jungkook with a worried look. She leaned forward and placed her hand on top of his on the table, "Kook. Tell me what's wrong." Jungkook sighed and moved his hand away from hers. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black velvet box. She glanced at the box and then back at him, "What-"

"I love you. I love you so much that...it took me hours to come up with a shorter version with how much I love you. I can't imagine my life without you and honestly before you, I-I was still lost. Thinking back, i didn't have much of a future. I had future comebacks but that's all I was. A idol with a dream but then I realized something...I'm a person that can have more than one dream. Your my dream, Y/N. The dream that I always craved for but never really searched for because I was scared. I was so scared to find that love that could make me a better person. I didn't think I deserved it..."

"Jungkook..."

He got down on his knee and Y/N let out a small laugh, "Y/N, your the reason I survive...if you let me...I'll take your laughter and tears and I'll make them my souvenirs. Your the meaning of my life, L/N Y/N, will you do the honor on becoming my wife?"

She wiped away some tears and Jungkook couldn't help but get distracted with the tears that reflected so bright like diamonds. She let out a small laugh, "Jungkook, I'm already-"

"Y/N..."

She saw the look in his eyes and she smiled at him with tears rolling down her face, "I would love to marry you Jeon Jungkook."

[marvelobsessed134]

R bumping into Thor somewhere and immediately getting on her knees and sucking his big Asgardian cock like a good girl should

A loyal servant

THIS MAN IS GENUINELY SO BEAUTIFUL

Pairings: King!Thor x Servant!Fem!Reader

It’s been awhile since I’ve watched any of the Thor movies (I know 😔) so bear with me on how Asgard works and stuff k?

Warnings: oral (m receiving), power imbalance, size kink (obviously, this man is fucking huge), praise, light degradation, mentions of getting caught (but it doesn’t actually happen).

You were a servant for King Odinson, or while he preferred you to call him, Thor. The blonde liked hearing you say his name so that’s what you would call him. Anything to please your king That included sex, as well. You grown to be Thor’s favorite servant. Beautiful, dainty, and the only one that was willing to give him whatever he wanted. You’d trot around in dresses shorter than what women in Asgard usually wear because that was what he expected of you. And you loved it.

On the way to the palace library to make sure all the books were in the correct order, you bumped into your king. His long blonde hair was flowing down past his shoulders, he was in his casual-as casual as a king can get-wear, and had a hungry look in his eyes you knew all too well.

“Oh, Thor! What can I do for you?” You asked with a peppy smile as you looked up at him.

“Lady Y/n, I was just on my way to your quarters.” You knew what that meant, you knew what he was implying.

Your panties dampened at that. You were always so wet and ready for Thor, another reason why he favored you so much. You bit your bottom lip and your eyes traveled down to his very large bulge. “You need me to take care of that?” All he did was nod in a stoic expression and you sunk down to your knees, undoing his belt and pulling down his pants and boxers, letting his cock spring free. You guys were still in the middle of the hallway, and there was a pretty high chance you guys could get caught. And that turned you on even more.

The king felt the same way because he lifted your chin in his large, calloused hand and said, “Anyone can walk down here and see you on your knees for me. Do you like that, dove? I like it too. Like everyone to see you belong to the King Of Asgard.”

You nodded enthusiastically with a smile before wrapping your hand around his cock and giving it a few pumps before spitting on it and taking it in your mouth. You’ve never been able to fit his whole length in your mouth so you jerked off any part that couldn’t fit down your throat.

The god moaned, tangling his hand in your hair and thrusting his hips towards your mouth. “Fuck, such a good girl. Sucking my cock like a good little whore.” His words made you even more turned on and you were determined to give him his finish.

“Such a tiny little mouth, your pussy is even tinier. Don’t even know how I’m able to get half of me inside.” He groaned, tugging on your hair making your moan onto his cock, sending vibrations throughout his body.

You pulled off of him to give your throat a rest but he wasn’t having that. Thor forced you back down on his shaft, fucking your face into oblivion. It wander long before you felt him twitch in your mouth before he spilled his seed down your throat. His moan came out more like a roar as he released his cum.

He pulled you off of him and jerked your head up so you could look at him, “Go ahead to the library. I will award you later.”

You nodded and stood up, glad your knees weren’t on the hard marbled floor anymore and watched him tuck himself back inside his pants before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips and walking off like nothing happened.

[letsgoletsgetit08]

home for the holidaze

summary: Seonghwa promised Yunho he wouldn't sleep with his half-brother, Hongjoong, while he is in town for an extended holiday sabbatical. He quickly realizes how idiotic of a promise it was to make.

warnings: mdni, dom!hongjoong x sub!seonghwa, recreational drug use

word count: 10,706

ao3 link: home for the holidaze

“Just whatever you do, please don't sleep with my brother.” Yunho warned Seonghwa with a serious expression. Seonghwa rolled his eyes. He remembered Hongjoong from growing up in the same neighborhood as the two of them. Though Hongjoong was closer to Seonghwa's age, he had ended up befriending Yunho instead. Hongjoong had been sent to an elite private boarding school across the country and they barely saw him except at holidays. He was shorter than his little brother (they had different moms) and Seonghwa always recalled him as being rather stuffy, uptight, very serious about doing his assigned reading over holiday breaks, where Yunho and Seonghwa were more inclined to sneak off to smoke weed at the playground.

Seonghwa was only half listening, very focused on Animal Crossing, “Yeah, I get it, no offense but I'm really not interested. He is way too uptight for me.”

Yunho sighed, seeming relieved, “Okay,” he turned towards the door, “Okay. Cool. I'm gonna go get him from the airport, then. You still down to meet up later for dinner?”

“Sure, just send me the location and a time.” Seonghwa said a little dismissively. 

“Sweet!” Yunho walked through the door, calling out over his shoulder, “Later!” 

Seonghwa had virtual trees to shake and rooms to design. It was his day off and he planned to take advantage of it fully by getting stoned and playing Animal Crossing until his eyes were the things crossing instead. Then he would probably re-watch Empire Strikes Back for the hundredth time. He had been a little reclusive lately. His breakup with Yeji was affecting him more than he'd like to admit. He knew Yunho had noticed and had tried to help. He also knew that six months should have been enough time to get over a relationship half that length. But he was really struggling with the part where he was the one rejected. Not to brag or anything, but he had always been the rejector, never the rejectee. It certainly had given him empathy to those he had broken up with in the past. This sucked. And the guilt of that realization - how he now understood how those he had broken up with had felt - also wasn't helping. He wanted to, was finally ready to break out of his funk. At least mentally. But it was like his body wasn't ready to listen yet. He would stare and stare at the dust bunnies on his floor and get so icked out by them that he felt almost angry. But he still couldn't convince his body to get up and vacuum. He was a very tidy person so it made things like that even more frustrating. A layer of dust on the coffee table was holding his attention more than the credits rolling on his movie, his phone lighting up with a notification was the only thing that shook him out of his stupor. 

Yucifer

Joongie picked that ramen restaurant we used to like downtown. See you there in 30? 

Me

Alrighty

Sweatpants had felt like a completely reasonable option for one of their favorite old haunts. That was, until he saw Hongjoong. Looking very put together for someone who just spent nearly ten hours on a plane. Dressed in slacks, an expensive looking sweater, and designer loafers. Intellectual property law was a lucrative career, evidently. What was more surprising was that he looked so stylish. Growing up, he had stuck to polo shirts and khakis with ugly dress shoes that looked like they belonged to someone forty years his senior who shopped exclusively at Walmart. Practical. Already a tiny adult by his early teenage years. 

Seonghwa felt weirdly exposed in comparison, though he was just as clothed as his companions. He ran a hand through his hair as he approached the table, trying in vain to become a little more put together before he was spotted. 

Too late. 

“Park Seonghwa!” Hongjoong called, trying to catch his eye. 

Seonghwa met his gaze sheepishly, feeling embarrassed to be under the spotlight, “Kim Hongjoong. Good to see you, man.”

Yunho scooted over in the booth so that Seonghwa could sit across from Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong’s whole demeanor was different from Seonghwa's memory. Where he had once been full of nervous, high-strung energy, he was now calm, almost intense. Cool and confident. 

It was… something.

If Hongjoong noticed that Seonghwa was currently clawing his way out of a deep depressive cycle, he didn't let on. Seonghwa felt like he was being studied, but not in a bad way. Just maybe in a way that made him nervous that he would break his promise to Yunho. 

Hongjoong was the first thing that had truly piqued his interest in half a year. And he had agreed not to sleep with him. Because he was a fool, probably. 

“When do you go back to Sydney?” The question rushed out of Seonghwa’s mouth before he could stop it, realizing it probably sounded rude. 

Hongjoong laughed, “Ready to get rid of me already?”

Seonghwa blushed, “No, no. Sorry. I realize how that sounded. I'm happy you're here. Staying with us.” His gut twisted at the last part. Hongjoong. Staying into their guest bedroom. Their rooms were jack-and-jill, connected by a shared bathroom. 

“I'll be here at least through New Years. I'm taking an extended vacation.”

Fuck. It was October 3rd. Three months.

Maybe Hongjoong was straight. Maybe it wouldn't be an issue. 

It was an issue. 

Hongjoong seemed to be hell-bent on trying to not-so-subtly flirt with Seonghwa all night. 

“Yeah, work has been hard.” Hongjoong’s foot was out of his loafer, tracing up Seonghwa’s ankle, “My days are long.” A wink that Yunho had conveniently missed. 

He was sure Hongjoong would have stopped if Seonghwa had given any indication he wasn't into it. Unfortunately, he was very into it. His breathing became hard to regulate, cheeks flushing, both things easy enough to place blame upon the alcohol they were drinking over the appropriate place for blame - Hongjoong's foot working its way further up his leg. When it reached the junction of his inner thigh, Seonghwa stood up abruptly, mumbling a mostly coherent excuse about needing the bathroom. 

Once in there, he splashed his face with cold water, trying to get it together. He took a few steadying breaths and washed his hands before heading back out, trying to keep Yunho's voice in his head, asking him to not sleep with his brother. He hadn't expected wanting to so badly when he agreed without second thought earlier. How was he supposed to know Hongjoong had grown out of his awkward stuck-up goody two shoes phase and into… whatever the fuck he was now. Hot. Domineering. Interesting. Confident but not cocky. Did he mention hot? So fucking hot. 

“Everything okay?” Hongjoong asked, eyebrow cocked, sly smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. 

“Oh, uh.” Seonghwa sat down, crossed his legs, gave Hongjoong a look he hoped conveyed that they should cool it for now, “Yeah, all good.” 

���Perfect.” Hongjoong said, “I already took care of the bill. You guys ready to head out?” 

“You didn't have to do that, Joong.” Yunho told him. 

“I know,” Hongjoong looked at Seonghwa when he spoke next, “but I wanted to.” 

Seonghwa wished he had an excuse to not ride back with the two of them, but he had taken the train there and there was no reason to not let Yunho drive him when they were all going to the same place. Hongjoong rode up front, which Seonghwa was grateful for. Though under different (read: literally any other) circumstances, he would have been happy for the man to ride in the back with him. In his lap. Fingers in his mouth, even. 

His mouth watered at the thought of it. 

It was going to be a long fucking three months. 

Once back at their apartment, Seonghwa and Yunho helped Hongjoong carry his belongings from the car into the guest bedroom, the man in question thanking them before saying he was going to go ahead and turn in for the night, citing jet lag as his excuse. 

Seonghwa didn't expect to see him again, and he also wasn't used to sharing his bathroom, so he was quite startled when he opened the unlocked door to reveal a shirtless Hongjoong brushing his teeth at the sink closest to his respective room. He was in thin light blue sleep pants, but his tattoos were the most surprising thing. His half sleeve had been hidden by his sweater earlier, but the design was bold and beautiful, just like its owner.  

Seonghwa was probably gaping at him for too long before he shook out of it, “Shit! Sorry. Not used to someone being in here. I can just-”

Hongjoong stared at him as he leaned down to spit in the sink, breaking eye contact at the very last second, taking his time finishing up before finally wiping his mouth and turning towards the guest room, his bedroom (Seonghwa would have to get used to thinking of it as that), calling a very nonchalant, “All yours,” over his shoulder as he exited. 

All of that lead up for… nothing? 

What sort of mind games was he playing? 

Hands suddenly landing on his waist startled the hell out of Seonghwa as he fixed himself an omelet the next morning, nearly causing him to flop his breakfast onto the burner.

“Smells good,” Hongjoong whispered into his ear.

Yunho was already at work. Seonghwa was closing at the bar that night so he had most of the day free. He had gotten up early after a fitful sleep, and began finally cleaning like he had been trying to force himself to do for a month now. It felt good. 

“Want one?” He tried not to let on what Hongjoong’s touch was doing to his brain. He was probably failing miserably, “I'll make a second one. I don't mind.”

“Mmh, how very domestic of you, dear.” Hongjoong all but growled in his ear. 

Jesus. The butterflies’ wings caught on fire in his abdomen. He subconsciously leaned back into Hongjoong's embrace, pliant in his hands. 

“Do you still take your coffee with half and half?” He managed to get out through shaking breaths. 

“What a good memory you have.” Hongjoong whispered, lips ghosting down his neck, not actually making contact, only teasing, making him shiver. His presence was gone as soon as it had come, leaving Seonghwa feeling almost crazy for thinking it had happened in the first place. 

He finished preparing both omelets and fixed their coffees, setting all of them on their little dining table. Hongjoong chose to sit directly across from him, making sure Seonghwa could watch him enjoy the food he had prepared. 

Hongjoong didn't make any more moves though, and after they were finished, he cleared the table before Seonghwa could protest, thanking him for breakfast, practically dismissing him. 

“I hope I won't bother you by cleaning. I go into work around 3pm so I won't be a nuisance for too long.” Seonghwa didn't know why he was telling him his plans for the day.

“No bother at all.” Hongjoong spoke to him while washing the dishes but didn't look up, “Where do you work?”

“Oh. Um. It's a bar called The Bar is Low. Near uptown. It's not really a gay bar but I guess we attract a certain clientele.” He was rambling. 

“Yes, I can imagine you attract a certain clientele.” Hongjoong said it like he was implying the customers were there for Seonghwa alone. 

“Well. Joke is on them because I'm not interested.” Seonghwa answered dryly. 

“No? You're not gay?” Hongjoong asked. 

“Ha! No, no. I'm definitely bi. I'm just not interested in dating anyone right now. Haven't been for almost six months now.”

“Bad breakup?” 

Seonghwa felt tears well up behind his eyes, which pissed him off. He thought he was done crying about it by now. He answered, hoping his voice didn't sound too thick with the looming tears, “Yeah. Not been the best year for me.” 

“Mmh. Well. You deserve to be with someone who sees your value, Seonghwa.” Hongjoong said it so casually, glancing over his shoulder as he did. 

Seonghwa picked nonexistent lint off of his t-shirt rather than make eye contact, mumbled a “Thank you,” under his breath, trying to swallow the tears down. 

Hongjoong was too damn astute, though. 

“Hey, whoa, I'm sorry,” he dried his hands in a hurry, now finished with the dishes, “Come here.” He rushed over, pulling Seonghwa in for a hug. Seonghwa began sobbing embarrassingly hard, soaking Hongjoong’s shirt, choking out apologies, “God, I'm sorry, I haven't cried about it in weeks. Fuck.”

“Shh,” Hongjoong rubbed soothing circles on his back, “Don't apologize for having feelings, honey. You're okay.” 

“Sorry.” Seonghwa repeated himself despite the instructions he had just gotten, pulling away from the hug. 

Hongjoong reached up to wipe his face dry with a gentle thumb, repeating himself, “You're okay. Hey, look at me.”

Seonghwa obeyed, finding the other's eyes to be softer than he'd seen them so far. 

“I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable. I didn't know about the breakup.” Hongjoong offered, hand still on Seonghwa’s cheek. 

“Oh,” Seonghwa swallowed, “No. Um. I don't mind.” He thought he was probably blushing profusely, using every brain cell he had left to keep his eyes locked with Hongjoong's, “I like the attention.” He admitted, so quietly he barely heard it himself. 

“Noted.” Hongjoong’s thumb traced his jawline, “You’re in control here, Hwa. I want you to know that. Just say the word. Either way. And I'll stop. Slow down. Or… I'll start in earnest. But it's up to you how this goes, darling.” 

“I'll keep that in mind.” Seonghwa managed to choke out, suddenly very aware of how close they were standing. Too bad he was still chicken shit scared, “Um. I'm gonna. Go. Uh. Clean. Sorry about your shirt.” 

Hongjoong chuckled, “Stop apologizing. I'll see you later.” He stepped back, leaving Seonghwa room to step away and head towards his room.

And he did clean. As soon as he got off to the thought of Hongjoong, fingers stuffed in his mouth and music blaring to muffle the noises. Maybe he left the bathroom door connected to his room open just a tiny crack, though. Maybe he hoped Hongjoong had caught a glimpse. 

“Need a re-make for table eleven on the fly, please!” Wooyoung’s voice broke through Seonghwa’s thoughts. He had been drying the same glass for who knows how long, lost deep in thought about a certain new roommate of his. 

“Hwa!” Wooyoung pleaded from the expo area. 

“Sorry!” Seonghwa strided over, “What’s wrong with these?” The martinis looked perfectly fine to him.

“They swear those are gin. They ordered vodka.” Wooyoung explained.

Seonghwa grabbed a cocktail straw and dipped it into one of the martinis in front of him, stoppering the end with his thumb and dropping the liquid into his mouth.

“Oh. Yeah. That’s gin. In my defense, vodka martinis should be criminal.” He said as he began shoveling ice and pouring water into two clean martini glasses to chill them before making the drinks. 

“I like vodka martinis.” Wooyoung defended himself. “Bone dry and slutty filthy dirty.”

Seonghwa scrunched his nose in disgust, “You just like olive juice. And this is why they only let people with good palates be bartenders.”

Wooyoung brushed his split-dyed hair out of his eyes, pouting, “I have a good palate! It’s just different. And you got this job because the manager said he was afraid you’d kill him if he didn’t let you bartend!” 

“And I might have! Fuck waiting tables. Bartender privilege is amazing in comparison.”

“Who was going to kill me?” A deep voice rounded the corner of the kitchen into the bar. 

“He was, Yeosang! Not me. I’d never. You’re too pretty.” Wooyoung batted his lashes at his work crush. 

Yeosang blushed, trying to contain his smile, his face turning pink to match the birthmark by his eye. He tied his neon green hair back into a half-up, purposely avoiding Wooyoung’s gaze, “You really shouldn’t flirt with your manager, Wooyo.”

Wooyoung landed a firm smack on Yeosang’s ass as he passed by, before placing the correctly made martinis on his tray and sauntering away.

They thought no one knew they had been sleeping together. They were stupid. And horrible at hiding it. 

Wooyoung reappeared a few minutes later, “So what’s got your brain on a different planet tonight?” He asked, leaning across the bar, nosy as ever. 

“Yunho’s brother is in town. For like three months” He said, not intending to elaborate, but knowing Wooyoung would pry until he got it out of him anyway. 

“The stick-in-the-mud twink attorney?” 

“The very one.” Seonghwa sighed, resuming his task of drying dishes. It was slow that night. He had mainly been doing side work, not so much actually making drinks. 

“What, is he secretly hot or something?” Wooyoung was stabbing cocktail cherries onto a sword-shaped toothpick. 

“Very astute.” Seonghwa placed the cherries down on the rail below the bar back where they belonged before resuming his task. 

Wooyoung ate the cherries on his toothpick and leaned over the bar to retrieve the jar, “Why is that a problem?”

“Because,” Seonghwa swatted Wooyoung’s hand away, “Hey! Enough with the cherries. Because Yunho specifically made me promise not to sleep with him!”

Wooyoung waited until his back was turned to snatch the jar, hiding it under the bar this time as he fished more cherries out, “So? Just do it anyway. That’s what I would do. Isn’t he just visiting? Do it and ask for forgiveness later.” He tried to put the jar back before Seonghwa noticed. 

“Did you just-?”

“No? Just what?” Wooyoung said around a mouthful of cherries.

“You’re such a little brat.” Seonghwa rolled his eyes. Really, he was quite fond of his coworker. He made it nearly impossible not to like him. 

“You love me.” Wooyoung trotted away to clear the only table they had had in over an hour. Tuesday nights were like this. Yeosang would probably cut him soon and take over bartending for the rest of the night to save on labor costs. And so he could close with Wooyoung and make out in the back. Whatever. Saturday nights always made up for a whole slow week. 

Seonghwa picked up takeout on his way home and had just sat down at the kitchen table to eat it when his phone lit up with a notification. 

Yucifer

Crashing at Mingi’s tonight. Just a head’s up. Feel free to toss my laundry on my bed if you need the dryer. 

Me

Thanks man, later.

He tucked into his food, trying to not let his mind spiral at the thought of being home alone with Hongjoong that night. A few minutes later, his phone lit up again

[Unsaved Number]

Looks like it’s just us tonight.

Me

Hongjoong?

[Unsaved Number]

The one and only

Wanna get stoned and watch a movie

Me

Kim Hongjoong does illicit substances now? Since when?

Evil Man

Shut up. And Hurry up. Shower and brush your teeth and meet me on the couch in 30

Heat coiled in Seonghwa’s gut. He hated how much he liked how bossy Hongjoong was acting.

Me

Aye, aye, captain

Evil Man

Nevermind I decided I hate you

Me

Wait, no, come back. What about “yes, sir”?

Evil Man

Much better.

Me

Yes, sir

Evil Man

Mmh, I could get used to that

Seonghwa didn’t necessarily think Wooyoung gave out the best advice. But after the year he’d had so far, he decided to throw caution to the wind. Two fingers deep inside of himself in the shower, thinking of Hongjoong’s instructions the whole time, he was more sure of his decision than ever. He had never ever broken a promise to Yunho. Sure, he felt a little bad about it, but Yunho would have to understand that he hadn’t felt so alive in months. He needed this. 

He sat staring at his collection of sex toys in his bedside table drawer for too long, wasting time, risking being late, before finally selecting his favorite butt plug, guiding it inside with practiced ease. Another risk, but screw it. 

He finally emerged from his bedroom dressed in the shortest silk sleep shorts he owned. Light silver. A matching silk babydoll shirt, trimmed with black lace, on top, hair wavy and messy after his shower. The outfit was probably too much. Yeji had had a habit of making him feel weird about his good looks, not on purpose, he was sure, but in a way that read as her being intimidated and wanting to be the “pretty” one in the relationship. But he liked feeling pretty. He wanted to be told he was pretty, but he felt silly asking for it. So he felt a little embarrassed as he walked (slightly awkwardly) out of his room into the living room. 

All of his fears were quickly erased at the look on Hongjoong’s face as he emerged. He was wearing the same light blue pants from last night, dark hair swept off of his forehead, the planes of his chest visible through his thin black t-shirt. 

“Oh, darling. Look at you. All of this for me?” Hongjoong asked, beckoning him over, patting his lap. 

Seonghwa nodded as he straddled his lap gingerly, trying his best to avoid jostling around too much or else the plug would be uncomfortable. 

“Use your words, sweetheart.” Hongjoong instructed, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Yes, sir. All for you.” Seonghwa replied, his voice low, a little raspy from his nerves. 

“Lucky me.” Hongjoong whispered, hands roaming Seonghwa’s body, thumb grazing his nipple on its way down, making Seonghwa’s breath catch in his throat, before landing on his hip, which he gave a small squeeze, “You’re exquisite, angel.” His hand continued down, landing on Seonghwa’s ass cheek, fingertips pulling him apart ever so slightly. Seonghwa squeaked out a tiny moan at the sensation, senses heightened with the object he was playing host to. 

“I got myself ready for you in the shower.” He admitted, forehead tipping down to Hongjoong’s as the man kneaded the soft flesh underneath his hand. 

“Trying to be teacher’s pet are we?” Hongjoong teased as his hand found its way under the silky fabric of Seonghwa’s shorts, fingers dipping in the soft crevice before they discovered the exposed part of the plug, “Oh. Well, look at you. A little presumptuous, no?”

“Sorry.” Heat flooded Seonghwa’s cheeks, the embarrassment suddenly almost overwhelming, tears threatening to build in his eyes. 

“No, no, no,” Hongjoong tilted his chin up with his other hand, “Uh-uh. I love it. Don’t get in your own head. I’m thrilled you picked up on my lead and even more so that you’re here, presenting yourself to me like this. It’s so hot, baby. I promise. I won’t tease so much, I’m sorry.”

“‘S okay.” Seonghwa murmured, still recovering.

“We can stop any time, promise.” Hongjoong kissed his cheek to seal the contract. 

“I don’t want to stop. I just feel a little bad because I promised Yunho I wouldn’t do this.”

“Do what? Sleep with me?” Hongjoong asked, petting Seonghwa’s hair. 

“Mhm.”

“Oh, baby. He has been talking you up to me for months now. He didn’t explicitly mention the breakup, but I figured it was something like that.” Hongjoong laughed, “He probably told you that so this would feel forbidden or something. I get the feeling you like to do the opposite of what you’re told, typically. When you’re feeling more like yourself, no? I mean does he have a habit of crashing at Mingi’s? My guess is he thinks this will help you get over your ex. He’s a schemer like that.”

Oh. OH. 

“Well. I feel stupid.”

“No, sweetheart, don’t.” Hongjoong pulled him to his chest, kissed the top of his head, “You’re not stupid, you’re a good friend. You’re just out of sorts. And that’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to make you feel good. You deserve to feel good, Seonghwa. Will you let me?”

Seonghwa steeled himself, sitting up to look at Hongjoong, “Yes. Please. I want that so bad.”

Hongjoong smiled, his eyes beginning to turn back to their original dark, lustful state, “Good. I’m glad. Because you look good enough to eat right now and I might go crazy if I can’t have you.”

Blood rushed south at his words, suddenly nothing felt nearly as important as pleasing the man underneath him, “You can have me. Please have me.” He pleaded, hips swiveling into Hongjoong’s at the thought of it. 

“Oh, I plan on it.” Hongjoong’s hand returned to grab his ass, guiding him to grind down again, “I’m going to take you apart piece by piece and put you back together again so that the only word you can remember how to say is my name.”

Fuck. 

“Yes, please. I want that, Hongjoong.” Seonghwa all but begged, continuing to move his hips as the other guided them, their quickly hardening cocks rolling together tantalizingly. 

“Come here, then, pretty.” Hongjoong whispered, finally pulling him in for a kiss. 

Seonghwa felt his brain go fuzzy. The kiss was deliberate, measured. He wasn't going to give Seonghwa too much at once, preferring to take his time, draw it out. Seonghwa was more accustomed to heated, passionate sex. Clothes ripped off in a whirlwind. Rushing towards the finish line without taking in the scenery. 

Seonghwa tried to lean in more to deepen the kiss but Hongjoong pushed him back gently, “No, baby. Let me. You just let me take care of you. Can you be good for me?”

Seonghwa wanted him so bad, could have taken him in one go right there, easily. But he was very interested in letting him lead, “Okay, yes.” He sighed, “Yes, sir.” He corrected himself. 

“Good boy,” Hongjoong stroked his hair, “So good for me.” 

Seonghwa preened at the praise, leaning into the other's hand. 

Hongjoong reached for something on the table beside the couch, producing a small, light blue intricate weed pipe, already packed and ready to go, as well as a gold zippo, engraved with his initials, “Still wanna smoke?” 

“Sure, if you do.” Seonghwa offered. 

“I do. I want to shotgun with you.” 

“Look at you, Kim Hongjoong! Full of surprises.” Seonghwa teased him.

Hongjoong’s face turned devious, “I'm not the one who is about to be full of something, jagi.” He trailed his hand down Seonghwa's face, thumb tracing over his bottom lip before using both hands to take the first hit from the pipe. Once he freed one hand again, he reached up and pressed at the spot where Seonghwa’s jaw hinged, asking him to open up. He obliged and let his face be pulled towards Hongjoong's, lips so close they were almost touching. He took the hit, inhaling greedily like it was oxygen. 

“Your turn, love.” Hongjoong handed Seonghwa the pipe as he exhaled. 

Seonghwa took his hit and leaned in to pass it along to Hongjoong. Time passed slowly as the high began to hit and he exhaled into Hongjoon's mouth. The latter barely let him fully release the hit before he was crashing their lips together, this time with more need, fervently. Seonghwa blindly placed the pipe down on the table beside them, not caring much how it landed. Nothing else was important right now. 

He felt Hongjoong’s fingers latch into his hair, tugging it slightly as he turned his head to the side, tongue teasing the seam of his lips before finally probing inside, eliciting an embarrassingly needy whine from somewhere deep inside Seonghwa’s chest. Seonghwa's tongue sparred with Hongjoong's until the latter caught it and sucked on it, nearly sending Seonghwa into a dizzy spiral of pleasure. 

Hongjoong pulled back abruptly, “Bed. Now.” He commanded. Seonghwa got up, his thighs shaky from straddling Hongjoong for who knows how long. 

“Mine or yours?” Seonghwa asked as he grabbed Hongjoong'a hand, leading them towards their connected bedrooms.

“Yours, gorgeous. I'm not even unpacked yet.” 

“Yes, sir.” Seonghwa simpered, loving being bossed around. 

“Kneel on the bed for me, darling.” Hongjoong instructed. 

Seonghwa did as he was told, hands in his lap, ass resting on his heels. 

He watched as Hongjoong stripped in front of him, maintaining eye contact as much as was possible, leaving his crisp linen boxers for last, peeling them off slowly, releasing his fully-hard cock. It was lovely, not braggadociously large but well-proportioned, nicely formed, and flushed pretty pink. Seonghwa was apparently staring at it with stars in his eyes. 

“Like what you see?” Hongjoong asked as he stroked himself, walking towards the bed. 

“Yes, sir. Want you in my mouth. Can I? Please?” Seonghwa asked, peering up at him through his thick eyelashes. 

Hongjoong smiled, “Well, since you asked so nicely…”

He climbed up onto the bed in front of Seonghwa, kneeling but raised up so his cock was level with Seonghwa’s eager mouth. 

“You can pull my hair.” Seonghwa offered as he took Hongjoong’s length into his hand, “I like to know if I'm doing well.”

“I'll be sure you know how well you're doing, beautiful.” Hongjoong smiled as he stroked Seonghwa’s hair. 

Seonghwa licked his lips, glad the weed hadn't hit so hard to have given him dry mouth, and began licking the tender underside of Hongjoong’s tip before working it inside genuinely. 

Hongjoong moaned as Seonghwa sucked him in, hollowing out his cheeks, hitting his soft palate. He felt his hair be tugged on, “God, yes, baby. Just like that.” Hongjoong praised from above. 

Seonghwa hummed at the praise, setting a pace, bobbing his head and working his tongue in time with the strokes. He could feel Hongjoong's hips stuttering, trying not to fuck his face, getting close to his release. Suddenly, Hongjoong pulled on his hair, backing up a little, “You're going to make me cum like that, baby.” His hand caressed his cheek, “And as much as I'd like that, I really want to cum inside you.” 

“Yes. God. I want that.” Seonghwa stared up at him knowing he probably already looked fucked out with flushed cheeks and swollen lips. 

Hongjoong chuckled, “Mmh so eager. You're dangerous, little bunny.” 

Seonghwa let himself be pushed back onto the mattress, “Dangerous?”

“Very. You're going to have me tempted to keep you.” Hongjoong's hands grabbed Seonghwa’s wrists, pinned them up by his head as he leaned down to kiss him once more, caging him in, not allowing a reply. He came up for air and dismounted, following a hunch for supplies, looking towards Seonghwa as his hand landed on the drawer pull of his bedside table. Seonghwa nodded, confirming the location of the lube and condoms. Hongjoong gathered them and placed them within reach on the bed beside Seonghwa before climbing back in, kneeling between his parted legs.

Seonghwa gasped as Hongjoong dove in, kissing his neck, making his way down to his chest where he mouthed and licked at his still-covered nipples, the friction of the now-damp fabric driving him insane. His top was gathered up by practiced hands, torso bared for further exploration. Hongjoong's breath was warm as he kissed down his happy trail before coming up long enough to peel his tiny shorts off, tossing them to the side before resuming his kisses, landing everywhere except for his painfully hard, leaking cock. 

“Mmh, look at you.” Hongjoong cooed, “You're so stunning, Seonghwa.” 

“Thank you.” Seonghwa gasped, his breath catching as Hongjoong's deft fingers found his plug once again, grasping the base and teasing it in and out with tiny movements that had Seonghwa’s back arching off the bed. 

“Oh fuck, please.” Seonghwa begged, writhing on the bed at the sensation. 

“Please, what, jagiya?” Hongjoong purred, obviously knowing exactly what he wanted, “Use your words, gorgeous.” 

“Please, need you to fuck me, sir.” 

Hongjoong took his time removing the plug, leaving Seonghwa clenching around nothing, feeling extremely empty. 

“Well. Since you're begging so nice.” Hongjoong rolled on the condom like it was second nature, following it with plenty of lube. 

Hongjoong grasped Seonghwa’s length in one hand, barely applying pressure, and teased everywhere except his eagerly awaiting ring of muscle with his own cock, guided by his other hand. 

Seonghwa was sweating now, desperate in his anticipation, letting out a soft whine. 

Hongjoong smiled knowingly down at him, “Shh, darling. I know. I don't mean to be cruel, you're just so lovely, all strung out for me. But I think you've earned this.” 

Seonghwa thought he might have ascended to a different astral plane at the stretch of Hongjoong pushing inside. It was delectable. He had never felt so precious, so worshipped by anyone before. He took Hongjoong easily, adoring how perfectly full he felt once the man was buried deep inside of him. 

“Fuck, baby. You feel amazing.” Hongjoong gasped, unable to help the movement of his hips as he began fucking Seonghwa in earnest. 

“God, yes, right there, Joong.” Seonghwa gasped as Hongjoong found his prostate. “Not gonna last long like this.” 

“Can you be a good boy and cum for me when I tell you to, baby?” Hongjoong asked, voice strained from the effort. 

“Yes, sir. Please. Fuck.” Seonghwa mewled. 

Hongjoong stroked him in time with his thrusts, his hips beginning to falter as he reached the edge of his own release, “Go ahead, darling. Show me how pretty you are when I make you cum.” 

Seonghwa obeyed, panting out Hongjoong's name as he came all over his hand and his own chest. 

“Fuck, yes. That's it, baby.” Hongjoong worked him through his aftershocks, before trying to pull out. 

“No!” Seonghwa gasped, definitely overstimulated, but needing Hongjoong to follow through on his promise, “Inside! Please. I can take it.”

Hongjoong didn't reply, but his eyebrow furrowed as he accepted Seonghwa’s plea, fucking into him hard and fast before finally reaching his own orgasm, spilling into the condom with a shaky breath. He took his time pulling out, falling to the bed beside Seonghwa, gathering him to his chest and stroking his hair while praising him sweetly, “Thank you, baby. You were so good for me. Took me so well. So, so good.” Hongjoong kissed his head, squeezing him tight to make sure he knew he was cared for and appreciated. 

Seonghwa felt tears escape, warm as they traveled down his cheeks, unable to hold them back. Hongjoong didn't even bat an eye, just coddled and comforted him, “Shh, jagi, it's okay. Let it out. You're okay. I've got you.” 

“Sorry.” Seonghwa sniffled, “I don't know what's wrong with me.”

“Nothing is wrong with you.” Hongjoong tilted his head up to meet his eyes, “Hey. Nothing is wrong with you, baby. You're perfect. It's normal to react like this after sex like that. Especially if it was your first time in a while. Okay? Nothing is wrong with you, Seonghwa.” He kissed the tears off of his cheeks, “Absolutely nothing.”

Seonghwa managed to compose himself and Hongjoong started to sit up, but Seonghwa panicked, “Wait, where are you going? Please don't leave!”

Hongjoong smiled, smoothing his hair, “I'm not going anywhere, angel. I just wanted to go start us a shower. Okay? I can stay here for a little longer, too, if you want.”

“Just a few more minutes? Sorry. I'm a mess.”

“No, sweetheart. You're not. I'll stay as long as you need.” 

A few minutes passed and Seonghwa finally convinced himself to let Hongjoong start the shower, soon returning to collect him from the bed. Hongjoong held him gently as he washed his body, fingers soft as they washed his hair. Seonghwa couldn’t help but feel sad, already mourning the fact that Hongjoong would be leaving in three months. What had once felt like an eternity now felt entirely too short. 

“Joong?” He asked as the other was putting down the hairdryer. 

“What's up?” 

“I'm scared.”

“Of what, honey?” Hongjoong’s eyebrow furrowed once again. 

“I'm scared I'll grow attached.” He took a shaky breath, “I'm scared I already have.”

Hongjoong smiled, a hint of sadness behind his eyes, “It's okay, Hwa. No one ever wants to keep me around for very long. I'm sure by the time I'm leaving you'll be glad for it.” 

“Why do you say that?” Seonghwa asked, suddenly concerned.

“It's just never not been true.” Hongjoong shrugged. 

“And what if I want to keep you?” Seonghwa asked timidly. 

“Then we'll talk about it when we get there. If we get there.” Hongjoong answered simply. 

“Will you stay with me tonight?” Seonghwa asked, reaching for the man’s hand, so delicate and pretty for someone so intense. 

“Of course I will, Hwa.” Hongjoong promised, “Anything you want.” 

Hongjoong fit so perfectly nestled in Seonghwa's arms that he knew as soon as the other fell asleep, he would never be able to bear letting him go. He couldn't stand the thought of him moving back to Australia. Unless he was going in his suitcase. It wasn't like he had a whole lot going on here. Was that crazy? Move halfway across the world to be with someone whom two days ago, he had sworn he would have no interest in sleeping with? He decided to let his subconscious mind work that one out, finally meeting the sweet embrace of sleep. 

“Slut.” Something hit Seonghwa’s face. “Whore.” Again. “Harlot.” Yunho's voice. “Promise breaker.” He was throwing Cheerios at the two of them, still curled up in bed together. “Jezebel.” 

“Fuck off, Yunho.” Seonghwa grumbled, seeking asylum under his comforter. 

“No! You're the Skanky McBetrayerface!” Yunho whined, obviously joking, but still being a nuisance, just because he could. 

“Yun.” Hongjoong sighed, “I told him you were scheming. Now please, fuck off. I'm trying to give your roommate some morning dick.” 

“Ew.” Yunho's voice held genuine disgust, “Fine. But hey, Seonghwa. Don't say I didn't warn you when he drives you crazy in a few weeks!” 

“Please fuck all the way off before I let your brother penetrate me in front of you!” Seonghwa called, already beginning to straddle Hongjoong from underneath the covers. 

“Okay fine. You guys are mean.” Yunho stomped off dramatically, playing the part of youngest sibling remarkably well. 

“Um actually, can I fuck you this time?” Seonghwa asked after removing his mouth from the pulse point under Hongjoong’s jaw. 

“Oh, fuck yeah, by all means.”

Hongjoong was bouncing on his dick and Seonghwa felt amazing but the two of them kept bursting into fits of giggles as they were trying desperately to be quiet for Yunho's sake. Eventually, Seonghwa had to pull out and take him from behind so they could finish, seeing as every time they made eye contact, it devolved into laughter immediately. 

It was proving quite handy for their bedrooms to share a bathroom. 

As the weeks went on though, they pretty much only stayed in Seonghwa’s bed. Hongjoong unpacked very slowly, almost like he thought at any point he would be asked to leave. 

The comment that both he and Yunho had made about getting sick of him kept rattling around in the back of his mind, making less and less sense as he got to know the man better. 

Sure, Hongjoong liked knowing his whereabouts. He could see maybe how some people might find that to be overbearing or controlling. But in all honesty, Seonghwa liked it. He liked that someone cared enough to keep tabs on him like that. Hongjoong liked to read. A lot. He read non-fiction. Historical non-fiction. And the newspaper. He was very serious about the crosswords. He didn’t go out a whole lot. And sure, he was bad about spending his money on clothes rather than saving it. Seonghwa saw what could have been perceived as flaws, but to him, they were endearing. He was growing so incredibly fond. And the sex had only gotten better as time went on. 

Hongjoong came by the bar for the first time on Halloween. He was picking Seonghwa up after work to go to the party his old friend from boarding school, Jongho, had invited him to. They were going dressed as sexy Lincoln and sexy John Wilkes Booth. It was stupid. But it was funny to them. 

“Is that the hot brother?” Wooyoung asked as he waited at the bar for Seonghwa to prepare the drinks for his table. 

“Who?” Seonghwa asked, not knowing Hongjoong was there yet, haven’t having had time to check his phone all night due to how busy they were.

“The Booth to your Lincoln over there at the end of the bar.”

Hongjoong was there looking handsome as ever, if not a little goofy, and nervous for some reason. 

“Oh, Yeah. That is definitely him!” Seonghwa answered, sighing at how adorable he found the man. 

“Okay, yeah. I get it. He’s hot.” Wooyoung leaned in, “Is he like crazy dominant in bed? Because he looks like he would cannibalize anyone who looked at you for too long.”

“I am not dignifying that with an answer.” Seonghwa rolled his eyes, “But. Um. Yeah. It’s kind of incredibly hot.”

“Oh, I get it. Yeosang is territorial, too. I think it’s probably not something everyone is into. Yeosang apologized for being that way a lot when we first started hooking up. But I kept reassuring him that I like it. It’s hot. It’s nice to feel wanted like that.” Wooyoung was staring off into space, obviously deep in thought about Yeosang. 

“Hm. Yeah. That’s exactly it. Maybe that’s what they meant…”

“What who meant?” Wooyoung asked, curious as ever.

“Hongjoong and Yunho. They both said something to the effect of knowing that I would eventually get sick of Hongjoong. I think they were talking about him being possessive. But you’re right. I think it’s very, very attractive.” Seonghwa was actually getting a little hot and bothered just at the thought of it. 

“Okay, ew. Stop drooling. Can you please leave now? I like watching Yeosang bartend and I can’t do that if you’re here. Plus you’ve already made beaucoup tips.” He shook their oversized tip jar. It was true. It was nearly brimming over with cash and he saw plenty of bigger bills in there. 

“Slut.” He fished the cash out, “Okay byeeee!” He called after pocketing his tips and closing out his drawer, collecting Hongjoong on his way out. 

Jongho’s place was super cool, modern and expensive, looking like somewhere a Bond villain might reside, and the man himself was a little cold at first but quickly warmed up to Seonghwa the longer they spent together. Everyone loved their outfits. One man, Jongho’s friend, San, really liked Abe Lincoln, apparently. He kept touching his costume and leaning in, clearly not one to hold his alcohol well. Seonghwa didn't think he was flirting, really, mostly because he had seen him interact with plenty of others the same way that night. He figured the man was just touchy and friendly. Hongjoong spotted them talking and came over to snake his arm around Seonghwa’s waist. “Hi, baby.” Hongjoong all but sneered at San as he spoke, “Making friends?” He asked before pulling Seonghwa in for a messy kiss. Once released, Seonghwa watched as the man’s cat-like features went through a series of emotions, from confusion to understanding to acceptance, walking away with a small wave. 

“Sorry. I don’t know why I felt the need to do that.” Hongjoong said, shaking his head and stepping away from Seonghwa. 

“What? It doesn’t bother me, Joongie.” Seonghwa offered, reaching for him again.

Hongjoong took another step away, “No. I need to stop. I’m sorry.” He turned on his heel and tried to walk away, but Seonghwa caught his arm.

“Hey, whoa. Can we go somewhere and talk about this, please?”

“I know we haven’t been here long but can we go home if we’re going to talk about it?” Hongjoong asked, looking up at Seonghwa apologetically. 

“Yeah, sure, of course. Of course we can, baby.” Seonghwa reassured him. 

Hongjoong stared out the window in the backseat of the Uber the whole drive back to their apartment. He let Seonghwa hold his hand, but that was about it. Seonghwa’s mind was racing the entire way there. When they finally got back, he suggested they get showered and changed and meet in the living room afterwards. Hongjoong nodded, still refusing to make eye contact. Seonghwa showered quickly and changed clothes before heading into the kitchen to put on some water to make tea. Two cups of lavender chamomile with honey. He didn’t know if Hongjoong liked tea, but the ritual of making it helped calm his nerves anyway. By the time he carried the tea cups over to the coffee table in the living room, Hongjoong was finally emerging, face pink from being scrubbed clean, hair still wet, wearing one of Seonghwa’s sweatshirts he had evidently left in his room, looking rather small and vulnerable in it, seeing as it was big on him. 

“Come here,” Seonghwa offered, patting the couch beside him, “I made tea, does that sound good?”

Hongjoong sat down beside him on the couch, not touching him, but nodding at the offer of a hot beverage. Seonghwa handed him the mug carefully, warning that it was hot, trying to study his face, but remaining patient. 

“Thank you,” Hongjoong said after taking a sip, “This is nice. I don’t know why you’re being so kind to me.”

“Hongjoong, no offense, but what the fuck are you talking about?” Seonghwa asked, genuinely confused. 

“I…” Hongjoong finally met his eyes, looking completely distraught, “I don’t know where to start. I have some bad habits that I’m trying to break. But it’s hard. And I thought I was over them. Thought I could control them with you. Obviously I’m just as insane as I used to be.”

“First of all, you’re not insane. Second, can you elaborate? What habits?” Seonghwa dared to place a hand on the other’s knee to try to comfort him. 

Hongjoong took a deep breath, “I had a bad breakup, too. A few years ago. He cheated on me, made me think it was my fault, somehow. I stayed in it way too long trying to be ‘better’, be who he needed me to be to stay happy. But that was never going to happen. I should have known. There was no pleasing him. He swore up and down that he had stopped seeing the other guy but I knew he was lying and I ended up following him to prove myself right. I should have just fucking let it go. But then I confirmed it. After that, the harder I tried to cling on to him, the more distant he got. I wish I would have had enough self respect to just leave, but I was so stubborn. Ever since then, I have been kinda paranoid in relationships. It’s not that I can’t trust, it’s just that everything kind of feels like a threat, I guess. So I like knowing where my partner is. I like everyone else knowing they’re mine. That kind of behavior is typically a turn-off to people. That’s what I meant when I said I would scare you off. And when those feelings came up tonight after seeing you talking to San… I don’t even have any claim to you, Seonghwa. And I still couldn’t hold it together. I’m so fucking frustrated with myself.” Tears streaked down his face at the last part.

Seonghwa carefully removed the tea cup out of his hands, placed it on the coffee table, and pulled the man into his lap. It was his turn to comfort. 

“Oh, Joong. You’re okay, baby.” He stroked his hair, rubbed circles on his back, “Hey,” he leaned back slightly so he could look the other in the eye, “Look at me. No one I’ve ever been with has cared enough about me to ask my whereabouts. They parade me around because I’m a pretty object to be shown off. The possessiveness you’ve shown so far… I like it, Hongjoong. I was just talking to my co-worker about it at the bar when he saw you there, looking like you would happily murder anyone who dared to look at me for too long. Do I see how it could turn toxic? Sure, but I don’t think you’re toxic, Hongjoong. I think we both have some flaws. And I think we’re both adults who can work through them, if we want to. Personally, I want to. Have you balked at all any of the times I’ve been a hot mess after getting emotional? No. You’ve just helped me through it. And I would do the same for you, happily. As far as a ‘claim’ to me goes. Hongjoong. I want that. I know you thought you would scare me off but I knew after that first night, I want this with you. I know you have to go back to Australia and I honestly don’t know what it would look like, but I really, really want to try. I want to be yours, baby. Please. Let me.”

Hongjoong studied him for a moment like he thought he might burst out into laughter and yell ‘Sike!’ in his face or something. But of course, he didn’t. Seonghwa was dead serious. 

“You want me to claim you?” He asked, finally, eyes now dry and turning dark with desire. 

“Yes, baby. Please. Want everyone to know who I belong to.” Seonghwa felt heat stirring deep in his abdomen. 

“So I can mark you?”

“Yes. God, yes. Anywhere you want.” Seonghwa’s hands trailed down Hongjoong’s flank, desperate to touch him. 

“I’m going to make sure everyone knows who you belong to.” Hongjoong growled, pulling them both to their feet, abandoning their tea in favor of heading to Seonghwa’s bedroom. 

Hongjoong had left marks all over Seonghwa’s neck and down his thighs as he opened him up. 

“Are you clean? Can I take you raw? Please?” Seonghwa begged as Hongjoong reached for the condom. 

“I am. Are you sure?” 

“Yes. I said I wanted to be claimed. Want you to stuff me full, get me pregnant, baby. Wanna feel you leak out of me.” He was babbling, but he meant every word. 

“Christ, Hwa.” Hongjoong grunted as he applied lube before pulling Seonghwa into his lap, guiding him down carefully onto his cock, chest to chest as they made love, Seonghwa’s own dick pinned between their torsos. They caught their release simultaneously, foreheads pressed together, panting versions of each other’s names. 

They had to change the sheets after their shower. 

Later, in bed together, Seonghwa tried to confess his feelings. 

“Hongjoong?” He asked timidly from his spot on the man’s chest. 

“Hm?”

“I think I’m falling in love with you.” He said it so quietly he was afraid Hongjoong hadn’t heard.

“Baby… you’re just feeling good from the sex. Tell me again in the morning if you still feel that way, okay? I don’t want you to say something you don’t mean. You still barely know me.” 

“It doesn’t matter. I know how I feel.” He was feeling a little stubborn then, “I will tell you in the morning. Because I mean it.”

“Okay, darling. Get some sleep.” Hongjoong whispered, stroking his back in time with his breaths. 

“G’night.” Seonghwa replied, brain already foggy, half asleep.

“Goodnight, my little bunny.” Hongjoong kissed the crown of his head. 

Seonghwa woke up alone. He knew Hongjoong was gone. He could just feel it. The note on his bedside table only confirmed his fears. 

Seonghwa,

I’m sorry. You deserve better than what I can offer. I’m sure you will hate me for this, but I promise you, it’s for the best. You should be with someone who isn’t an obsessed, paranoid, possessive asshole. I hope you know I cherished every moment we spent together. You’re really something special. You will heal and move on and be glad that you didn’t tie yourself to me. Promise. Take care of yourself. 

-Hongjoong 

Seonghwa called into work that night. 

Then he called into work for the rest of the week, until Wooyoung became so concerned that he came by the apartment to make sure Seonghwa was alive. After explaining what happened, Wooyoung was uncharacteristically kind and attentive, nearly protective of him on their shifts together. It was nice. It made Seonghwa almost feel like a person again. 

November came and passed and he was completely numb to all of it. All he did was sleep, work, and play Animal Crossing. Yunho felt bad, like it was his fault somehow. Tried to make it up to him in little ways. Made sure he was fed and watered. It wasn’t until after Thanksgiving that he forced him out of the house. 

“We’re going to Mingi’s for a late Friendsgiving. Come on. Here,” Yunho tossed him a sweater and some jeans, “Boots and scarf, too, it’s going to snow. I’m not taking no for an answer. I’m serious, Hwa.” He stood in the doorway, ensuring Seonghwa actually got dressed. 

He wouldn’t admit it, but it was nice to be around people. Wooyoung and Yeosang were friends with Mingi, apparently, and although he saw them several times per week, it was nice seeing them outside of that context, curled up together on the couch, able to be openly together outside of the bar. Mingi had pulled him into a big bear hug despite them not being very close, and it almost made him cry. He was a good hugger. And it was the first physical affection he’d had in a month. He was sure he looked rough, haggard, face gaunt, dark circles under his eyes. He hadn’t even been able to call it a breakup this time, but it felt like one. Worse than one. 

But being here, with people who cared for him, and good food, sparkling wine, he began feeling some semblance of normality again. They were half an hour into a game of Catan when the doorbell rang, Mingi's black labrador retriever, Chicken, barked at the noise until Mingi opened the door to reveal Jongho and San. How they all knew each other, Seonghwa had no idea. But the two were holding hands and he realized just how silly Hongjoong had been at the party. Jongho seemed just as surprised to see him.

“Oh, hey. Nice to see you again.” He offered, shaking Seonghwa’s hand. 

“You, too.” Seonghwa answered, not really knowing if it was truthful or not.

“You look almost as bad as Hongjoong has when he facetimes with me.” Jongho chuckled. 

“Oh. You’ve talked to him?” He didn’t know why he was surprised. They were friends, afterall. 

“I’ve definitely talked to him. Well, he does most of the talking. He’s being very stupid, though. I keep telling him he was wrong for what he did and he needs to get his shit together and apologize profusely. He has a job offer here, you know. He’s just getting in his own way. I get it, he’s scared. But I still stand by him being very, very stupid.” 

“He what?” Seonghwa was confused. 

“You didn’t know?” Jongho looked at him sympathetically, “Sorry. Yeah. My company offered him a job. It was part of the reason he came to town. He declined when he fled the scene, but they haven’t stopped pursuing him. He’s like prodogiously good at his job.” 

“What the fuck.” Seonghwa felt even more betrayed than ever. 

“Yeah. Like I said. Very stupid” Jongho patted his arm, trying to be comforting, but mostly failing. 

Seonghwa snuck outside while everyone was distracted by the newcomers and made a phone call. He didn’t know if Hongjoong had him blocked or not because he hadn’t bothered to try to reach out, but he tried anyway. It rang five times before there was an answer.

“Hello?” Hongjoong’s voice sounded groggy but Seonghwa didn’t care enough to think about the time difference then. Fat snowflakes were falling on his face. He let them melt there, not bothering to wipe them away. 

“Kim Hongjoong. You fucking coward. You have until New Years before I block you. I’m so fucking mad at you. Don’t make me fly to Sydney, you son of a bitch. Come home. Take the job. That’s a threat. Come home and beg me to take you back before I change my mind on giving you another chance. I want you, you stupid idiot. Grow up. Get it together. Hurry the fuck up and get here.” 

“Seonghwa? I-”

“I said hurry the fuck up.” Seonghwa hung up the phone, feeling a little smug as he walked back inside. 

It was a beautiful white Christmas morning. Clear and cold, almost two feet of snow on the ground. Seonghwa had spent the whole day before cleaning his depression nest, feeling very confident that Hongjoong would show up any day now. Seonghwa had laid in bed for a while that morning, reading, drinking coffee, and enjoying the sight of snow falling outside the window. There was a knock at his bedroom door. He padded over in his slippers and Christmas tree patterned flannel pajama set to open it. 

Hongjoong stood in the doorway, holding a beautifully wrapped gift in his hand, snow-flecked beanie still on his head, nose pink from the cold. 

“Oh, hi. Took you long enough.” Seonghwa tried to be stern but couldn't hold back his smile. 

“You're happy to see me? You're something else, Park Seonghwa. You should be trying to throttle me right now.” Hongjoong said, a little sheepishly. 

“I should, but I'd like to hear you out first. You're too pretty to die young.” Seonghwa moved out of the doorway so he could come inside. 

“I, um. Made you something.” Hongjoong handed him the box as they sat side by side on Seonghwa’s bed, “It's not much. But I kinda learned how to crochet while I was gone.”

Seonghwa peeled the tape carefully, not wanting to waste the pretty paper. Inside was a box, which he opened to reveal a crocheted hat. It was soft and pink with floppy bunny ears on top. He loved it. 

“For my bunny.” Hongjoong said, giggling as Seonghwa tried it on. It fit perfectly. 

“Thank you, I love it, Hongjoong. But I hope you don't think this makes up for things.” 

“No, no, no. God no. Definitely not.” Hongjoong was practically tripping over his words. 

“Well. You're here. I'm all ears,” Seonghwa reached up to the bunny ears on his head, “Quite literally.” 

Hongjoong took a steadying breath, “Seonghwa. I'm so fucking sorry. I thought I knew what was best for you. For us. I panicked. I know that you said we could work through it. But I got this notion that I needed to protect you from myself. I don't think I would have been so scared had I not liked you so much. Then you said you were in love with me and I started to spiral.” He reached for Seonghwa's hands, eyes pleading as he continued, “But Seonghwa. You were right. I'm such a coward. I never ever should have run away like that. The fact that you had to be the one to call me and snap me out of it makes me sick. I honestly can't believe you'd even consider giving me another chance. But I had to try. My time here was the highlight of my year. I'm-” His hand reached up to caress Seonghwa's cheek. Seonghwa let him, and he continued, “I'm in love with you. If you'll give me another chance, I intend to prove to you every single day just how true that is. I'll call right now and accept the job. I just want to treat you right. How you deserve. And you deserve the absolute best. I can't promise you that I'll be perfect, but I will promise to always do my best. If you need time to think about it-” 

Seonghwa cut him off by kissing him. He didn't need to hear any more. He pulled back before it could get any more intense. 

“Sorry. You made me wait almost two whole months to do that.” Seonghwa scolded him, mostly joking, “I don't need time, baby. I want you right now. I'm still so mad at you, but I know you'll make it right. I'm willing to trust you, Hongjoong. Because I'm very much in love with you, too. I want to hear about your stupid history books. I want to help you with your crosswords. I want you to keep tabs on me and I want everyone to know that I belong to you. And I want you to call and accept that job, but first I want to take you right here on this bed until you forget you ever left in the first place.” 

“Get over here then.” Hongjoong instructed. 

It was just like their first time, Seonghwa underneath Hongjoong, crying out as he neared his release, back arching off the bed as Hongjoong nailed his prostate over and over. He had insisted on keeping the bunny hat on. 

“Come on, baby, go ahead. Let go for me, gorgeous.” Hongjoong instructed. 

“Hongjoong!” Seonghwa cried out as he came.

Hongjoong worked him through it, following quickly behind, “Yes, there we go. Fuck. Seonghwa-” He finished inside, Seonghwa loving the feeling of the warmth spreading uncontained deep in his abdomen.

They lay panting together on Seonghwa’s bed, Hongjoong tracing patterns on his back as they recovered. 

“What's with the bunny thing, anyway? I mean, I like it, I think it's really cute, actually, but it seems a little random.” Seonghwa inquired. 

Hongjoong sat up slightly, “You don't remember?” 

Seonghwa shook his head. 

“It was the only time you and Yunho convinced me to go to the playground with you on winter break.” He chuckled as he recalled the memory, “I took one hit and was a giggling mess. You guys made fun of me relentlessly. Then we saw a squirrel chase a bunny off, away from his acorns, chattering at it aggressively. I looked at you and said ‘I'm the squirrel.’ You nodded and said, ‘I'm the bunny.’ And then this big golden retriever had gotten loose from his leash and chased them both off and we cracked up, agreeing that that was Yunho.” 

“Oh my god, I do remember that! I can't believe I forgot!” Seonghwa sat up to kiss Hongjoong on the nose, “I also can't believe you remembered.” 

“I've thought of you as a bunny ever since then.” Hongjoong admitted.

“That's stupid.” Seonghwa squeezed him closer, “And adorable. I love you.”

“I love you, my little bunny.” 

New Years Eve was spent at Hongjoong’s new apartment, sort of a combined housewarming party. To everyone's surprise, Yunho and Mingi kissed as the clock struck twelve, far too passionately to just be friendly. 

“Are you guys-?” Hongjoong asked them when they finally came up for air. 

“Us?” Mingi asked, “Oh! Yeah. For a while now. We just weren't loud about it because of what you and Seonghwa were going through.”

“Huh.” Seonghwa and Hongjoong said in unison. 

“Well, um, congrats!” Seonghwa raised his champagne glass. 

“Cheers!” Yunho called, “To happy endings and new beginnings.”

“Cheers!” They echoed him. 

Later that night, after exploring every viable surface from which to have sex upon in Hongjoong’s new apartment, they lay in bed together, both too excited to sleep yet.

“What do you think about adopting?” Seonghwa asked as he stroked Hongjoong’s back, who was curled into his chest. 

“Like… a child?”

Seonghwa snickered at the obvious high pitched inflection his voice had taken as he asked the question, “No, silly. I was thinking a cat. Or maybe a rabbit.” 

Hongjoong kissed his chest where he could reach, “A bunny for my bunny. I think that's a great idea.” 

They adopted one the next day. Named her Squirrel because they were so funny. Funny, and very, very much in love.

[marlynnofmany]

Starseed Apples

“Here you go,” I said, putting down the last box. “Uncut fabric, plumbing supplies, and three cases with a fungus biohazard label. Do I even want to know what’s in those?” I cast a curious look at my fellow human as I handed over the signing pad. She was shorter and rounder than I was, dressed in a crisp uniform of a type I didn’t recognize. Big pockets everywhere.

She signed with a wry grin. “Those are dirt.”

“Dirt?” I repeated, looking around the admittedly spotless loading dock of this particular space station. “Dirt warrants a biohazard here?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” she said, handing the pad back. “Organic mulch that could contain anything from decomposed animals to fungus to poop? With uncountable amounts of bacterial life and potential germs? We’re lucky they only focused on the mold aspect!”

“Hm, good point,” I said.

Zhee, who was busy moving boxes off the hover sled, muttered something disparaging. I expected him to complain about how gross it all was, since he was always the first to point out when humans did something to offend his bug-alien sensibilities, but it sounded like he was griping about the strict station rules this time.

The human continued. “We have to keep a clean room between the greenhouse area and everything else. Even there, most things are in pots. We’ve got a great crop from Johnny Starseed right now!”

I’d heard that name before. “Oh, was he the one who sells little potted—”

“Apple trees, yeah,” she said. “Tiny and convenient, but they make an impressive number of apples as long as you feed ‘em quality dirt.” She bent down to pat a box.

Zhee finished freeing the sled. “Reasonable business plan,” he said, sounding almost complimentary.

“The guy named himself after Johnny Appleseed,” I told Zhee. “A human from centuries ago who got famous for traveling around and setting up apple orchards on Earth. Everybody likes a guy who brings food wherever he goes. And drink — I think some of those apples were supposed to be the cider variety.”

Zhee flicked his antennae. “Sounds like a very human thing to do,” he said drily.

“Have you tried the Starseed Reds?” the other human asked. “They’re very good.”

“No I haven’t, but I’d like to!” I said. “I’ve heard good things. I was kind of hoping to cross paths with him at some point. I wouldn’t mind a tiny apple tree in my quarters. Of course, the cat might get at it, and I’d probably have to find a grow lamp…”

She opened a boxy hip pocket, and pulled out the shiniest red apple I’d seen in a while. “Here you go.”

“Thank you!” I said, taking it eagerly. “That’s very generous!”

She waved it off. “Like I said, we’ve got a big crop. And I’ve got a different one that I’m saving for when I get off shift.” From another pocket, she produced a red apple with distinct orange stripes. “Which should be as soon as I get the supplies back to base.”

I laughed. “Is that the booze kind? I didn’t think those were real!”

“Oh yes,” she said with relish, putting it back in the pocket. “Starseed Cider Apples, no fermenting required!”

Zhee cocked his head, faceted eyes looking at both of us. “Poisonous apples?”

“Alcoholic apples,” I corrected, knowing full well that he considered that to be the same thing.

Zhee pushed the hover cart back toward the ship with a dramatic head tilt and antennae swirl. “Now that sounds like a human thing to do.”

“Well, you’re not wrong there,” I said with a smile. I thanked the other human and followed him, taking a bite of my non-alcoholic apple. It really was good.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come!

[superblysubpar]

hi loml

can i get king!steve with the prompt “touch me. anywhere.”

*characters are over 18

A splash of water over your ankles, a holler of ‘turn it up’, the music thumping through the speakers inside the home straining to be heard by the entire town at this point. Warm beer on your lips as your eyes pretend not to roam over the Harrington backyard, searching for the only reason you show up to these sorts of things. 

He leans against the side of the garage, a cigarette hanging between his lips, unlit, rolling his eyes and fiddling with the lighter in his hand. Tommy’s in the middle of telling a story that’s probably false. Wild hands gesturing, a too loud voice and beer splashing from his can onto Carol’s arm as she shrieks. 

No matter how many times you’ve done this with each other, the sting from his eyes never quite meeting yours, the way he’s able to walk right past you all night, it never quite fades. It’s like a bad burn on your skin that never heals, always making you a tad too vulnerable for your liking. 

Which is why your giggle is a little louder and forced tonight, your dress hem a little shorter than normal. Why your hand rests on the chest of the idiot basketball player in front of you, shoving teasingly at his joke that you don’t even remember the punchline to. This time was going to be different. 

The boy in front of you leans forward, and you turn your head, his lips meeting your jaw, then your neck and your eyes meet smoldering ones by the garage. Suddenly the summer night is not the reason you’re feeling too hot, the alcohol not the reason your stomach flips. His arms cross, the muscles in his forearm flex as his jaw clenches. His foot presses to the cigarette he took one single drag of and he pushes off of the wall, slipping through the sliding doors inside. With the excuse of needing another drink leaving your lips, you untangle yourself from the handsy basketball boy, heading inside for a different one. 

It’s easy to pretend that you’re looking for the bathroom, for an unoccupied room. Everyone inside is either too drunk, too stoned, too passed out, or too busy with their lips locked on someone else to notice you tiptoe up the stairs. You find him in his bedroom, swiping at his lips and crushing a can, tossing it into the trash from across the room. 

The door clicks closed behind you as you whisper, “Wow, impressive on and off the court.”

“Don’t you have a throat to go stick a tongue down?”

You look over your shoulder, a hand pressed to your chest and eyes widening in faux innocence, “Me?”

He sits on the edge of the bed, rolling his eyes. The sight of his denim covered thighs spreading wider has your barely covered ones pressing closer together. 

“Don’t be cute.”

A smile tugs at your lips, a timid step forward with the sway of your hips to accompany the batting of your lashes. “You think I’m cute, Steve?”

“Sweetheart, don’t start this shit here.” His words hold no real threat, not when his eyes roam over your body all greedy, not when his palm rests on your hip as you come to a stop between his legs. 

Your fingers ghost over his lips, thumb holding his jaw as you lean forward and whisper in his ear, “Where should I start it then? You know, for future reference. Outside in front of all your friends? How about at the game? In front of your lock-”

The hand on your hip grips you harder, his other tugging on your chin and turning your face so he can look you in the eyes. The fingers so close to your neck has you extending it a little for him, wondering if he’ll wrap his hand around it like last time. But no, he just holds your jaw, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip and tugging a little meanly, but the result is still the same. Thighs slipping together in a search for some sort of friction, your breath catching in your chest just a little. 

He notices. 

He always notices.

Honey and moss eyes that glint with something that’s a little sharp - but never cruel - glance down at the movement and then back at your lips as he leans forward, voice just as quiet. “You’re being pretty fucking smart for someone who was just begging me to touch her, anywhere, in my car only a few hours ago.”

It only takes your lips parting under his thumb a little more when he smooths over it again, the hint of tobacco mixing with beer on his lips hitting your senses, and the buzz of his fingers pushing the hem of your short little dress higher for your hands to fall from his jaw, for the pretend confidence to falter. It’s how it always goes. 

So you shouldn’t be surprised at how your panties grow more damp when he kisses your bottom lip before he juts his out in a fake pout. “Poor baby,” his fingers have climbed higher, his smirk only growing more smug when his fingers brush over the wet lace, “She’s just a greedy lil thing, huh?”

Your whimper is embarrassing, and so is the press of your thighs around his hand. Your fingers curl into the sleeves of his shirt as he pulls away, a silent plea for him to stay.  

Steve leans his arms on the bed behind himself, propping up. He pushes his knee between your legs, nodding towards his thigh. His eyebrows raise, and you want to smack the smug look off of his face when he speaks again, his voice low, tinged with his own greed and want for you that he’d deny. 

“You want it? Take it.”

It’s not a surprise to either of you when you straddle his thigh, his fingers on your bare hips bruising as you rock back and forth. He’s still fully clothed, marking you up with pretty little bites across your sweating skin that you’ll never get to return the favor for. The party only gets louder beneath the two of you, the sky only grows darker, and your ache for it all to go differently for once never dulling.  

There’s always next time. 

[freddie-rus]

Where did you get that Goebbels figurine? He's incredibly well-made.

Hi, thank you for asking!

There are two ways.

1. You can get ready made figure.

Cons. It will look like he's your gym instructor who eats nothing but protein. And it's also kinda overpriced.

Pros. He will have lots of authentic outfits, and his face and body color will perfectly match out of box. Also he'll have brown eyes as he have to.

2. The other way. Go to Aliexpress and find Goebbels' head + body + clothes you wish separately.

Pros. It'll be much cheaper, and you can dress him more informally. Also, you can choose a body of a shorter man with narrower shoulders.

Cons. He still looks pretty much like an athlete (so it's better to get a custom body). The skin tone kiiiinda match but not completely (head has a tan, as it should have, the body too but in different way). The head (for some reason) has BLUE eyes, but they're dark, so it seems that they're dark-brown on many photos (you can recolor them manualy if you want and if you have "direct hands"). I also think that the head is somewhat smaller than it should be for that body.

And the last of cons (the worst imo): the head's neck is a bit too long for the body so we get THIS (that's why he can't wear t-shirts and show a nacked torso. I just hide it dressing him in shirts):

Also, don't try using Ken 1959 BMR body. It's got an anchor and a neck that just don't match Joe's head ;\ The same shit with many of Ken's clothes - they are supposed to be worn by a skinny man, not an athlete :)

In short: type in google "Goebbels 1/6" and you will find what you need.

I'm quite happy with my figure, and consider it more interesting and pretty than that ready made one from the first option.

But if you'd rather prefer Himmler than Goebbels, then I'm 100% sure that it's better to buy a ready-made figure, because it's made really well (also, lots of accessories).

[mammalsofaction]

Okay so,

A couple of weeks ago, I started getting back into my MARVEL phase, and since I had no intention of letting my Phineas and Ferb phase go in the meantime, it's cumulated into the desire of seeing a crossover. Before I remembered that a crossover existed, and it sucked. I DID end up rewatching it, and I fell asleep thinking about how wrongly it represented my favourite characters from BOTH fandoms. Natasha didn't feature, and they didnt even crack Tony out of his iron shell. They made Candace look like an idiot, and Isabella had such a small role as to be almost completely insulting.

I'm now 3/4ths of the way done, and the only reason it isn't is because I'm approaching the end of my semester, and I just got too. Overwhelmed. I really, really want to share what I have so far, because I had a TONNE of fun writing it while it was still going, and I'm already so so close to the finish line.

Context/Tags: Post Civil War, Prior to Ragnarok, featuring Irondad. Human Perry, selective mutism. OWCA is a bit more competent than usual in this fic, and while Fury doesn't completely LIKE Francis, there is an air of respect between the two of them.

This snippet mainly features the interaction between Perry, Francis, Carl, Fury, Natasha and Clint. Seeing (writing) these spies interact is at least half the reason I wanted to write this fic in the first place.

Snippet under the cut, Enjoy!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Natasha liked Perry immensely, the moment she met him.

He stands at attention just a little behind a man she assumes to be his superior; a white haired monobrow-ed man in an olive green uniform. Bartholomew "Perry" Fletcher cuts an intimidating figure, though apparently shorter in person than he seems from afar, just a little taller than Natasha herself. Much like Tony. His naturally teal hair is just as eye-catching as it had been in his profile photo, though it brings out his Australian complexion, and the brown of his eyes.

He’s dressed eclectically, in what she assumes is something of a uniform within the organisation. A brown Kevlar-and-silk waistcoat over a light teal dress shirt, pressed brown trousers and smart, steel-toed loafers, topped off with the ever-recognizable OWCA fedora.

His gaze is sharp, calculating, but not particularly unwelcome. Perry carries himself not with braggadocio, but the familiar confidence of a man who knows his own strengths, and what he brings to the table. A man who knows himself to be good at his job. Natasha should know; it is a look she sees frequently in her line of work, in the company she keeps.

Time will tell if Perry would remain among them.

“It’s a pleasure to meet the esteemed Director Fury in the flesh." Said Francis Monogram, the superior in question, eager and a little bumbling. Natasha could see Perry rolling his eyes, even standing at attention, and Clint hides his chuckle with a well-timed cough.

“I wish I could say the same." Fury says, pointedly ignoring Monogram’s outstretched hand. "You understand this is no social call.”

Francis’ thick mustache quivers unhappily. It reminds Natasha of a fat, old caterpillar. “It never is. We’re glad to be of any service we can, of course. Agent Platypus will be glad to answer any question you have."

“Yes, Agent Platypus." Fury raises his eyebrow. Perry tilts his head when addressed. "Your reputation precedes you. We’ve been told you are OWCA’s finest.”

How someone could look so expressive and professional at the same time, Natasha can’t say. But that was Perry. I do my best, sir. He signs, simple and modest.

His ASL is sharp, quick and fluid, which confirms another point from his portfolio; selective mutism. Clint had been almost delighted to know. She respects that Perry does not pull any punches regarding how well they could understand him.

Nonetheless, a curly haired, freckled child (only a little older than Peter) standing with a clipboard by Francis’ side pipes up. “He said-,"

“We know ASL, kid, that’s not necessary." Clint intercepts gently. He shares a look with Natasha before addressing Monogram. “Sorry, should he be here? Or is he done?”

"Carl is head intern of the organisation.” Monogram answers dismissively, leading the way down from the rooftop where the helicarriers had dropped them off before going their merry way downtown. "I’m afraid he goes wherever I go. He will be responsible for addressing future reports of our meeting.”

Big job for an intern. He shares another look with Natasha, and they both turn to Perry, as if to seek his unspoken opinion on the matter.

Perry gives them a subtle nod.

Natasha chooses to leave it, and follows them down the stairwell.

“I trust you’ve been briefed of our recent little…incident in New York.” Fury starts, as they all make their way through the building. Presumably for Francis’ personal office.

“I’m led to believe it was an accident." Francis says, throwing an indecipherable look over his shoulder. “The Flynn-Fletcher brothers have great untapped potential, and while we’ve had cause to doubt their intentions in light of certain…developments, I am ensured it is not for evil.”

"You think it was an accident.” Fury echoed.

At this, Francis shrugs. "Weirder things have happened in Danville.”

Natasha makes note of the unmistakable coil of tension that grows in Perry’s form with every new mention of the Flynn-Fletcher brothers. Perry clears his throat, loudly.

Francis sighs, as if he had been reminded of an incredibly tedious thing. “Our sources tell us that the boys were only involved peripherally, in any case. The ray in question hadn’t been their fault, even if it had been intercepted and collected in their satellite. The real culprit is a criminal we have been pursuing for years; a Dr Heinz Doofenshmirtz, and his latest Power-Drain-Inator.”

Clint shares another look with her, eyebrows raised. Now this was a new development. “Not the most creative name." He quips.

Francis scoffs. “I assure you, it’s more than made up for in the invention itself, as well as its effectiveness."

Natasha straightens. “So it was effective?"

“Your being here seems tangible enough proof that it was." Francis points out, and she almost hates that it’s a sensible observation. “Doofenshmirtz inventions have a 96% success rate. He is the third most dangerous villain in our database. Agent Platypus, as his nemesis, had neutralised the threat as quickly as he was able-although not quickly enough, as it seems, to fully prevent any harm.”

It is clear that the accusation of failure had been the one to hit a nerve, and Perry looks away, ashamed. Natasha almost felt tempted to reassure him; nothing more upsetting to an agent of their calibre to be accused of failure, after all. But it had a ring of truth-it was only luck that the beam had hit the Avengers after the fight had been done with, and not a second before. Tony, in particular, had been severely incapacitated.

“And where do we find this…. Doofenshmirtz?” Fury asks, as they arrive on the bullpen floor. It is not so busy, but the few OWCA agents lingering don't bother hiding their curious eyes as even when Perry sends a withering glare in their general direction. Carl ushers them all inside Monogram’s office, the largest personal space on one side of the floor.

Inside, the space is decorated with lush carpets and a grand mahogany table, like a high school Principal’s office. There are floor to ceiling windows with a view to the parking lot, as well as a clever viewpoint of the building’s entrances and exits. Not so glamorous, but Natasha could admit it was practical.

Perry closes the door behind them, and clears his throat once again. Carl jumps.

“Yes sir,” He said, adjusting his glasses. “Being a Friday, considering what we understand of his schedule, he should either be at his home address, or shopping for groceries, since Dr Doofenshmirtz gets custody of his daughter on the weekends due to an agreement with his ex-wife in the divorce. However, certain developments were brought to light that it may be…unwise to act so directly.”

Francis, who had been typing away on his computer when they had arrived, swivels the screen around to show them a purple and white themed webpage that is–on closer inspection, turns out to be an encrypted Tumblr account.

“You’re kidding." Clint says. "He blogged about it?”

“He has more professional blogs as well,” Carl says, procuring a tablet from his pocket (Not Starktech. Most networks prefer to use their own developed tech, and Natasha notes that OWCA is much the same) for Fury’s perusal. "It’s almost comically incompetent, but he also knows we stalk him, so we feel some two ways about it. I would like to bring attention to his most recent post, dated this morning.”

"Looks like he’s entertaining company.” Fury agrees, passing the tablet down to Natasha (with Clint looking over her shoulder.) “I assume you have…plans, for detainment?”

"What’s stopping us from apprehending them all at once?” Clint asks, fingers pointing to the background of the picture taken with all of their criminals in frame. "We have tangible proof of their collaboration, written confessions to their criminal intentions, we know where they are-,”

"Doofenshmirtz is a criminal no matter who he chooses to collaborate with." Francis points out. “And we have records of worse collaborations. These aren't confessions–only intentions, not yet acted out. These posts were made nearly an hour ago, where they’ve made plans to tour the Tri-State Area causing general mayhem. By all means, we don't know their plans, we don't know where they are or where they plan to be, especially considering Doofenshmirtz own historically unpredictable patterns and impulse decisions.”

"And apprehending them in public is out of the picture, I assume.” Natasha says drily. Predictably, all three OWCA operatives tense unhappily. "Too much collateral damage, as well as risk of exposure.”

"It’s not like you can do much, without solid criminal charges." Carl mutters. “Not if we detain them in the Tri-State Area. Doofenshmirtz’s little brother is the current mayor, and he’s stupidly well-regarded. His influence is wide-spread. Doofenshmirtz also has an exceedingly amicable relationship with his ex-wife, who owns a very influential legal firm. She even kept his name.”

"So we can’t pin them on jack shit, is what you’re saying.” Clint surmises. “Not until they do something drastic. Not so long they remain in the bounds of the city. And they will remain here. We know they want something from Doofenshmirtz, and they don't know how dangerous he is.”

“And how dangerous is that?" Fury asks.

Francis and Carl simultaneously glance to the side, where Perry had chosen to take position by the side of the door.

"Not much.” Carl says. "Usually.”

Natasha quirks an eyebrow.

Perry coughs, to call attention to himself, and brings his hand up in a see-saw motion with a twitch of his left eye.

He’s unpredictable, Perry signs. We mean that. He’s ambitious, single minded, and persistent, with the genius engineering know-how to walk his talk. But he follows his own rules, and standards of conduct, which are almost admirable. He also has an almost debilitating case of ADHD, prosopagnosia, and PTSD. Trying to follow his sense of logic can be…. difficult.

“I can believe that." Fury defers. "What do you suggest, Agent?”

Perry glances towards Francis, as if to ask for permission. When Francis responds with a brisk nod, Perry wastes no time.

There is a protocol in place. We call it Walking the Dog.

[urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites]

Roasting you based on your outsiders crush ft. Gang + Cherry bc I’m bored

(ITS A JOKE I LOVE THEM ALL)

Horseman Smoker

-Why are you attracted to cigarette boy

-So you see him puff out that cancer causing stick and are like *bites lip* I like my men short with shorter lives

-You tell little boys they’re gonna be pretty when they grow up

-A guy could be a serial killer but loves books and you’d let it slide

-Good luck winning him over from Ed Sheeran Girl/Leprechaun Lady/Fruit Valance

UWU JOHNNY MAID CADE

-Ah… you like your men submissive🥺🥺🥺🥺

-tell me you haven’t fantasized about “saving him from the Socs” at least fifteen times

-pictured him in a maid dress at least once

-✨Whimpering Audios✨

-Dude stop trying to come up with some lame reason of why he’s your favorite character aside from “I want to get him pregnant” 🫃🏽

-you forgot all about “Staying Gold” the moment Ralph Macchio stepped onto the screen istg

Pepsi Cola Golden Retriever

-I bet he’s your sunshine isn’t he, and you’re a black cat

-I see your type and it’s spelled like

H

I

M

B

O

-Also, why are you so into people pleasers?

-though I doubt your crush can spell that for you with the amount of brain cells he has

Expired Milk DILF

-I didn’t know you were so into dairy

-you eat milk and cheese every day

-Also

-Daddy issues

-*cough* SIZE *cough* KINK

-you want to be his housewife/houseband be so fr rn

-you fall asleep to imagining him proposing

-Have thought about massaging him after work at least fifteen times

-he’s just your tired hubby, hmm?

Texas Bad Boy

-hey

-you should be a cop

-because if you chase the same guys they do at least get paid for it

-You either want to “fix him” and make him love you and you only (Along with Johnny bc let’s be so fr)

-or you want him to to stay the same *starts playing Toxic by Britney Spears*

-either way

-you need therapy, love. Seriously.

Mickey Mouse Fanboy Alcoholic

-Serious Black is the only kind of Serious you know

-Ah, You like your men too drunk to stand I see

-you think it’s “endearing” and “cute” that bro watches shows made for 7 year olds

-You need to stop listening to “I love you like an alcoholic” on repeat

-HeS yOuR SiLLy LiTtLe GuY

Sodapops Sexy Chocolate Carman

-Oh, you think you’re special? Liking the one that no one ever pays attention to?

-You want him to pump gas in your car

-you like your men to be bullies of children

-you watch Steve push pony like *bites lip*

-have fun being in a throuple with Sodapop

Ed Sheeran Girl/Leprechaun Lady/Fruit Valance

-ah you like Walmart Ginny Weasley over here

-Fruity Valance

-leprechaun lady

-Ed Sheerans Sister

-I guess your type is firetrucks

-Ask your gf how she actually got rich.

-it’s not from being a Soc

-It’s from a pot of gold

-tbh I can’t roast her for anything other than being ginger so if you like her than good 4 u

[ewanmitchelll]

Imagine Taylor Swift’s songs (III): Ready For It?

Imagine Aemond is sent to seek for Dorne’s support just in the moment you ascend as Princess of Dorne. What's going to be?

Warnings: violence, drama, smut--fluff endings.

***

• Prelude.

If there is something the new Westerosi king detests is the bloody council. But what angers him more is the idea of losing a throne that, in his mind, is rightful his—even if his own father never acknowledged this.

“Lords”, the silver haired young man, in his fourth and twentieth year of life, shorter so the one occupied in the throne, “We have received concerning news that the one who unfortunately is my sister by blood, Rhaenyra, has been gathering support from the East. This can only mean that uncle Daemon’s strength has not dissipated as we were led to believe. As much as I loath to waste my time looking at your ugly faces, I pray some of you will come with a resolution.”

A man named H/N raises his hand, almost promptly. Aegon looks interested at the man.

“We may have failed in bringing Dorne to our Kingdoms, sire, but they can be our allies. Their strength and wit will certainly be a plus to ours.” He carefully adds then. “Dragons will not be enough to win this war.”

Silence seems to reign over the Council Room as the king has all eyes on him, waiting whether he’s about to lazily throw his temper or if he’s buying the idea. It hardly surprises that he looks at his brother, lord Aemond, in look for advise.

“Well?”

“I can go there and do the diplomacy. It’s certainly easy, especially when I have Vhagar with me.”

The same lord H/N clears his throat and says:

“My lord prince, with all due respect, but Vhagar’s own sister was not enough to frighten the Dornish. It would do well to remember they bow to no one.”

Aemond clenches his jaw. Though he sees reason in the man’s speech, he does not like to be put in his place. But the Master of Coins carefully inserted an element few would have remembered.

“Perhaps we better have in mind that right now Dorne is… divided. The former prince H/N has been buried and his daughter, Lady Y/N, has succeeded him. But not many are willing to support her claim.”

Aegon scoffs, detesting the parallels. But Aemond eagerly says:

“I believe we can play this to advance, my king.”

The king, already impatient, waves his hand dismissively:

“Do what you can, Aemond. We need the Dornish.” He says unwillingly.

The Council is thus dismissed.

***

• The Dornish Throne.

You are sitting on the throne room, watching the view of Sunspear with preying eyes. Although the Dornish has long accepted that women are as capable to rule as any other man, a pretender has been trying to make the transition of power difficult for you.

Dressed in orange colors, with a dark veil covering your y/c hair, you wait for the arrival of your council. Having arrived earlier for this meeting, you are too preoccupied to let yourself sleep at peace.

This pretender attends by the name of Dorin and he is the illegitimate son of your uncle, who had been long dead and gone by the time the throne was passed to your father. He now claims that he has a better right than yours, specially considering that illegitimacy in Dorne is not an element to prevent succession.

What worries the council, who’s been loyal to you, is your sweet nature. Most of them have said that an evil will not grow if not cut before it’s rise. Diplomacy, you were told, is not helping your case.

Not intending to be underestimate, though, you know what should be done. You remember that your father, whenever he wanted to prevent a war, ended it before it started by using that sweet weapon most Dornish are known for.

So here’s your chance to assert yourself. You invite the said lord for a meeting. Despite the others desires to a public exhibition of force, you will remember him—as well as others—that sweet you may be, but you are viper nonetheless.

And vipers do not bow, do not bend, do not break to anyone.

***

• Dragons & Vipers.

Knew he was killer first time that I saw him. Wonder how many girls he had loved and left haunted. But if he’s a ghost then I can be a phantom, holding him for ransom…

In the midst of this mess, it’s been spotted a shadow of a large dragon. Your men prepare for worst, unwilling to trust dragon riders as they did for centuries. Your orders, however, are: do not attack under no first sign of threat.

You are very familiar to the situation happening in King’s Landing not to suppose what would be the prince’s intentions. Against your council’s wishes, though, you opt to meet him right outside of Sunspear’s palace, after your people have been safely evacuated.

As Aemond flies, cockily so, he is surprised to meet you and you alone before the opens of Sunspear, waiting for him. Something about your posture gets him off guard: you transmit a sensation of peace, bearing a sweet demeanor, the remaining of innocence in your eyes that reminds him of Helaena… every inch goodness in such a regal person.

Dressed in typical Dornish robes, you feel the eyes of this silver prince, who looks less like a fire dragon than you’d have thought. As his gazes study you, you study his, noticing his rogue posture, the mischief in his semblance—every characteristic that warns you this is a troublesome prince.

Indeed, the impressions cannot be positive to you. The size of Vhagar frightens you, but this is a year where you’ve been taught in the hard way how to play a poker face.

Much to his frustrations, Aemond Targaryen cannot read you.

“Princess Y/N of Dorne”, he greets you respectfully, every inch a lord. “I pray to find you well this day.”

“My lord Aemond of House Targaryen”, you surprise him by already becoming familiar with his name. You flash him a smirk. “A pleasure to meet the kinslayer.”

The silver-haired male has the decency to blush upon hearing the sobriquet out of your lips.

You make me sound like a sinner, princess.

“Gods know there are more to this world than rumours unfairly spred.”

You still feign a courage your soul lacks by responding easily:

“Where there is smoke, there is flame. In your case, literally so, lord Aemond.”

The prince clenches his jaw, the only sign of his irritation.

“Then am I refused the right to present myself formally so?”

“No, not at all”, you smile at him in a sweet way that disconcerts him. “Why’d you assume this easily, sir?”

Aemond ignores your question. Formalities must be followed and had his brother not been in need of Dornish aid, his emotions might’ve had the best of him.

“Princess Y/N Martell, I am Lord Aemond of House Targaryen”, and here he bows rather theatrically, although his one good eye holds yours in such an intent gaze that your face flushes. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance. My brother, Aegon II of Westeros, to short his long titles, has sent me with the due purpose of linking our houses in an alliance.”

“I see”, it’s what you say. “Welcome to Sunspear, Dorne’s main seat for Dornish princes and princesses, Lord Aemond of House Targaryen. I invite you to follow me inside so we can have a supper together. You must certainly be tired after flying such a distance.”

Aemond takes the arm you offer him, eyeing you still. He doesn’t admit how easily you captivate him with that sweet nature and soft voice that make him forget the lady that waits for him back at Harrenhal, whose name has now been turned to dust.

But what do you know?

***

I see nothing better, I keep him forever Like a vendetta-ta… I-I-I see how this is gon' go.

The two of you dinner together this evening and the next one alone in your privy quarters, soon doing too all the following week. Aemond detests to feel he’s been in a different sort of cage, trapped by your naivety, when he forgets that, however good by nature you may be, you are still a viper and he’s in your nest.

“You look bored, lord”, you tell him, enjoying immensely his company.

For seven days he taught you how to improve your archery all the whilst he was impressed by your sharp mind: in all frankness, Aemond was surprised to find a ruler like you completely versed in politics and history—specially the Targaryen’s.

Few would dream to outwit this bad reputed prince.

And whenever you danced, the prince sensed a new jealousy growing in his heart, for he didn’t enjoy sharing his view with other men.

Here he is, therefore, in deadly silence where neither is aware of each other’s thoughts.

“Do I?”

You don’t seem affected by his apparently indifference to you.

“Yes. Like a snowflake, you find yourself understandably an outsider here, under a very heat sun.”

He scoffs at you, but in his playful eyes you see some shade of scorn.

“Am I being compared with a Stark? My princess, a dragon does not shy away from the fire.”

You know however sentimental you are that reason comes first hand followed by duty. Despite shining like the sun, your eyes are cold like the moon.

“You haven’t been burnt enough to call yourself a dragon, sire”, and here a smirk dances in your lips.

“Madame, I am not one to be toyed with”, he advises you dangerously.

But neither breaks the gaze. The spell is done… and the consequences? Unpredictably beginning to burn.

***

All the whilst Aemond hasn’t received a definitive answer for the support to Aegon’s cause, you come to discover some deep scars in your guest’s soul.

Although declining a play in the privy pools of Sunspear, he is there, watching you going with a light gown properly chosen for the moment. But his eyes are now attentive to your curves, his body aching with desire when noticing your breasts—and thanking perhaps the Gods for the indecency view that is, however, so innocently displayed.

“The waters do good to our noblemen”, you invite him, ignoring this rising in your feminine parts at how he looks at you. “Come and join me. I ask you. It certainly will heal your distrust in me.”

As you giggle, Aemond cannot help a smirk, but then he snorts defensively.

“I don’t distrust you, Madame princess. But I’ve been caged here for weeks.”

“We have never forbidden our lordship to depart”, you tell him, tilting your head for a moment before disappearing in diving. “Vhagar is being well looked after and so are you. Isn’t that true?”

Aemond doesn’t respond. He, however, eventually cedes to your arms of seduction and removes partly his clothes. When being aware of your stare, the prince struggles not to smirk.

“You must dive in naked”, you suggest, gently.

“By the Gods”, he snorted. “Are you playing with me, woman?”

You laugh away before diving again, giving the appearances of letting him have some privacy. Forgetting all decency and protocols, he soon dives in, chasing after you.

I know I'm gonna be with you. So l'lI take my time… Are you ready for it?

When being caught by him, the playful flirtation turns into something else.

“You don’t have to hide away from me”, you tell him, smiling at him.

“What is this suppose to mean?”, he asks in his typical husky voice

As you take away the thing that hides away the eye that was once removed, there installed a sapphire, you move your wrist to caress it. Aemond impedes your bold gesture by holding it.

“Don’t.”

You know he’s being serious, threatening even. But that is only because Aemond is frightened for being so exposed at you in this land where vipers are known for so long ago defeating his ancestors.

Is he destined to suffer the same fate?

“I am not your enemy”, you say softly. “Isn’t it why you’ve stayed?”

“You’ve been toying with me”, he presses you against the wall of the pool, holding your thighs up as he inserts in between.

“I have not”, you tell him honestly, so crudely open under his gaze, burning under his touch as his right hand raises to your right thigh all the whilst you feel his erection.

“I am a kinslayer, I have many names”, he then holds your neck, aroused as how easily he dominates such an innocent viper as you. “How can I see love in your eyes?”

“We are not meant to be enemies.”

“No”, he agrees, unable to look away from you. And just like that he inserts a finger in you, making you moan so loudly suddenly. “Ah, so wet for me!”

“Lord, I mus say…”, whatever you are about to tell him dies in hitched breaths.

Having the control over you as his fingers slide curiously in your feminine entrance, pumping slowly as to tease you, Aemond comes so close to your lips where his breath mixes to yours.

“Playing coy with me, aren’t you?” And then he realizes what you meant to say. “And yet here you are with me, a damsel. Isn’t it scandalous?”

But the way you moan sensually, unable to fight away such strong desires tempts him to take you on that moment. And when maybe he’s about to explore your body more, unwillingly so you pull him away from you.

“No, lord prince”, even though it’s so hateful to interrupt this delicious intercourse, you know for the sake of your reputation this must come to an end. “We are a free folk, that is true, but we are unbent, unbowed and unbroken. That should not be forgotten.”

He watches astonished and speechless as you pull an innocent mask again, leaving him where he is.

And just like that the dragon is defeated in his own trap.

Baby, let the games begin. Let the games begin. Are you ready for it?

• The End Game.

Aemond watches in growing frustration that, indeed, the Dornish ought to support King Aegon in exchange for his aid in removing lord H/N out of Princess Y/N’s rule, but you behave graciously as if that intimate moment never happened.

To worse all, he is prepared to sacrifice his duty for you.

“My lord, you’ve received your prize”, a councilor tells him the very next day he could not find you. “We’ve arranged a deal. What else do you want?”

“I want to know where the fuck is princess Y/N!”, the dragon lord says under his breath.

Probably the councilor sighs thinking another one you’ve made fool of, but because this time is no ordinary man, he’s careful with his words. Aware of Aemond’s reputation, he eventually gives in and tells where you are.

Dressed in comfortable robes, you are found at the library, actually interested in this love story—always a romantic—you’ve found. After defeating the pretender and restoring peace to your kingdom, you are fighting away melancholy for you think Aemond wanted to bed you and after all he got, he probably vanished.

“Y/N��, you hear his voice and don’t wait to turn quickly when seeing him coming to your direction. There is pain in him, but also anger. “You played with me.”

Leaving aside diplomatic masks, but remaining your true sweet self, you wring your hands and say:

“I had no intention to. But I had to leave you, lord.”

“Why?”, the prince asks, making sure there is some distance between you two.

“You are taken”, you respond, alluding to Alys Rivers. “I felt fooled and thought that I have been enough fooled this year. You see, Ser, I am not temperamental like my ancestors or most members of my family are. I understand what’s like to be underestimated and learned how to use this to my favor. Like a true viper, I surround, indeed, but am above all a master in poisoning. By that, I don’t mean literally poison, that too, but metaphorically too. I must stand for me.”

You hate how tears rise to your eyes in this moment, but despite the lack of emotion in the prince’s eyes, you continue your speech.

“I shall not bend my heart to a dragon who thinks so easily to conquer me; I will not break before your iron claws and certainly not I will let myself bow to your brother.” You pause. “I am Aegon’s equal, lord. Because that is how it works here. And my maiden hood will not be deflowered by no other than my husband.”

“So leave if you may”, you turn your back at him. “I will endure as many before me had.”

Many words cross this prince’s minds as you speak, but seeing none will suffice to restore the bond between you two, Aemond forces you to look at him and, when cupping your face with his fingers, he says:

“I am yours, Princess Y/N. I will not leave until you have me at your command. Be it as your will. But poets will certainly sing about a viper and her dragon. For you I sacrifice my duty.”

And just like that the game comes to an end. His lips clash against yours and as your mouth opens to welcome his, his tongue slides inside and a fervent kiss comes as a result.

***

In a secretive ceremony, you welcome Lord Aemond of House Targaryen as Prince Consort of Dorne. In unofficial terms, Dorne is incorporated to the Seven Kingdoms, a political decision already contemplated by the Dornish council in their own terms.

Now in your privy quarters, there is no need to play further games. Aemond is aroused just by the lustful gaze you cast as him, eager to help him get rid of his robes.

“Princess Y/N, is there something you aren’t telling me? You surely aren’t a maiden”, he teases you as you kiss his neck and let your hands explore his exposed skin, not taking long to take hold of his manhood.

“I read too much, lord, and heard too much”, you explain. “Though I’ve had my share of fun, I had brains to know where to stop.”

You let him slide your white robes, feeling yourself wet in turn as he eyes you with the eyes of a hunter. No sooner he carries you to bed and there he begins to play with you.

“My wife”, he murmurs as he takes each nipples into his hungry mouth, hands caressing your thighs and hips before releasing one to play with your feminine parts.

“Husband!”, you cry out his name in turn, hands playing with his hair, body burning in flames under his gentle touch.

It doesn’t take more before Aemond dominates you completely. And just as you lock your bodies is the moment where one is exposed to the other. Truthfully. Beautifully so.

“I love you, Y/Nickname”, he smiles as he holds you dear.

“I love you too, my prince”, you mewl under his touch, his devotion, which eclipse every insecurity that has been within your heart.

***

•Epilogue

According to the chronicler of Princess Y/N Martell, it’s been of common knowledge that her reign was one of the longest in Dorne, reaching out exactly fifty years of government.

This was marked by some good deeds:

• The defeat of any pretenders to Princess Y/N’s sovereignty.

• The defeat of some noble rebels of the House Dayne.

• The alliance with House Targaryen that resulted in the marriage with Lord Aemond Targaryen, now acknowledged as Prince Consort of House Martell.

• The retaining independence of Dorne and it’s rule house (which shall not change the surname to Targaryen after the birth of the children, at least not officially: it shall be more like Nymeros-Targaryen-Martell) after incorporating Dorne to the Seven Kingdoms, a deed no fire nor blood of Aegon I and his sisters could have done.

• A golden age for the Dornish which arts, music, theater, chivalry and a love court rose in proeminente at your court without forgetting to sharp the reputation of holding a large and very disciplined army, now under the command of Lord Aemond Targaryen, now remembered as Aemond the Wise for his great contribution as Dornish consort, his participation in battles against the remaining usurpers such as Daemon Targaryen and his wife, Rhaenyra, amongst others.

• The union of Princess Y/N & Prince Aemond resulted in the birth of twelve children, some twins; they were said to have been partially like Lady Y/N, partially like Aemond, like children usually are, taking after their parents.

• Unusually for the day, the twelve children lived to adulthood. These are their names in the following order: Doran, Oberan, Aegon, Jaehaerys, Daenerys, Alysanne, Rhaella, Arthur, Gerold, Gwyn, Elia, Otto.

The chronicler, naturally, registered their lives too as it follows.

• Doran took as wife princess Jaehaera Targaryen, daughter of King Aegon II & the good queen Helaena. They had children of their own and in due time, Doran & Jaehaera became prince and princess of Dorne.

• Oberan opted to become a squire—and his life would be remarkably scandalous, with some saying he took after his royal uncle. Having plenty of mistresses, he produced, if we are to believe, ten illegitimate children. He is, as we are told, a good father to all of them, having recognized each as his. Apparently, he settled down by marrying—ah, scandalous as it is!—a granddaughter of Daemon Targaryen, a Velaryon lady we have no record of name. We also do not record Prince Aemond’s reaction to this fact.

• Aegon rose to become a great knight, serving King Jaehaerys II in due time by upholding no other than the legendary great sword Dawn, being the first of the royal Guard to be entitled as the Sword in the Morning. He was the epithet of honor and duty. Some still say he was his father’s favourite boy.

• Jaehaerys, a very common Targaryen name as one can perceive, chose to live his life religiously. Therefore he never married, although there had been a rumor he fathered an illegitimate child from an alleged liaison with a beautiful sept. Who knows?

• Daenerys, who inherited the charms and wits of her mother, captured her cousin’s heart. To the Dowager Queen’s delight, she saw her two grandchildren crowned overlords of Westeros. This is a fancy way to say that Daenerys Martell in due time became Queen consort of Westeros. She loves her husband as he loves her. Such a love story hasn’t been seen since the days of the first Jaehaerys and his good queen Alysanne.

• Alysanne. We know little of her. She married a Hightower cousin, and there she lives. Sometimes she and her husband are seen visiting Sunspear.

• Rhaella was very beautiful too, and some say she took after her father. She was very close to her parents and therefore married late, a nobleman of House Dayne named Stefon.

• Arthur was another of the Princess and Prince’s boys who was destined to be famed for his military skills. But, a free spirited himself, he declined the life serving at the King’s Guard: possibly, if we believe the gossipers, for fear of being eclipsed by his older brother. Whatever the case, he was given a seat at the Council, took the role that was once Ser Criston Cole’s and lived a good life. He married a younger sister to the lord Tytus Lannister.

• Gerold was renowned for his wit and therefore became a Maister in due time. He is currently in Winterfell. Some say, however, he is a lover to a sister to Lord Cregan Stark. Who knows? The man is too honored for that if I may leave my opinion here.

The ink is drying and my patience in writing is running thin. May the reader be told, however, that the youngest three (Gwyn, Elia and Otto) lived a good life like their eldest siblings. Gwyn married a Dornish nobleman of Starfall; Elia married a Targaryen cousin and Otto rose higher by surprising all and becoming the new lord of Harrenhal.

What a great time to be alive!

Signed: Chronicler Unnamed.