#he would have not dealed good with it while Pat is just like: chill i am fine...

[purple--queen]

Just wondering what would have happend if Patroclus had gotten sick doing Apollos plague.

[thekinslayed]

Thou Shalt Not Covet

summary | Aemond is displeased to find his wife alone with his drunken brother.

pairing | aemond targaryen x wife!reader, unrequited aegon ii targaryen x reader

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! oral sex (f), p in v sex, voyeurism, masturbation (m), angst, possessive aemond, aegon is kinda pathetic, Everyone Needs To Chill

wordcount | 5.8k

note | i owe aeg a written apology for this one, im sorry pooks </3 the idea for this came in a peach bellini-induced dream

likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated! <3

(dividers by @targaryen-dynasty)

It was nearing the hour of the bat, you had been sitting on your vanity chair, brushing your long locks when you heard the door to yours and Aemond’s marital chambers open. You perked up at the sound, turning with a smile on your face to greet your lord husband. He had been called away to the Tower of the Hand as soon as supper had ended, dealing with urgent matters of the realm while the king was nowhere to be seen. You jumped when the man standing in your room was not Aemond, but your good brother-in-law, Aegon. His cheeks were flushed, his stance wobbly, no doubt from the amount of wine he had consumed tonight. 

“Aegon!” you exclaimed. You quickly reached for your robe, covering your nightgown-clad figure to save yourself some modesty. “What in the Seven Hells are you doing here?”

The inebriated king jumped at the sight of you and the sound of his name. “Gods be good,” he said while steadying himself. He didn’t feel great, and the sight of you in your nightgown did nothing to ease his disorientation. He leaned a hand against the doorframe, rubbing a hand across his warm face, greeting you, “Sister.”

“Is something wrong, my king?” you asked, concerned with the faraway look in his eyes. You kept your distance still, wary of his grace’s well-known habits when deep in his cups. “If you are looking for Aemond, I am afraid he is still caught up in that meeting with your grandsire.”

“I just needed to get out, staying in these walls has given my mind no reprieve,” Aegon said with what you felt was an honest answer. He let out a heavy sigh, the corner of his lips dipping into a small frown.  “I didn’t mean to startle you. I wanted to ask Aemond about his opinion on something important.”

Aegon could scarcely remember the steps he had taken that lead him to your chambers, the small details of what he needed to say held in the slippery grip of his drunken stupor. The sting from his mother's hand on his cheek and the stabbing tone of her voice led him away from his seat in the council table, where he was needed, and into the tunnels that lead to the familiar path of his refuge. With a cup of ale in his hand and the boisterous ruckus of the alehouse, the king had forged himself a plan.

A ship to depart from the Bay by dawn. Essos. A crown for Aemond.

You were aware of Aegon being at the receiving end of his mother’s ire once more, no doubt escaping to his cups after their fight that had echoed through the halls of the Keep. You approached his leaning figure, coming to stand by the settee, patting down the cushions to invite him in. 

“Why don’t you sit? Aemond might be back in a few, and you look like the slightest poke would send your face to the mud, brother,” you offered. Though your brother-in-law was far from being as proper and honorable as your lord husband, you worried for him. Aegon wasn’t perfect, yet it would be hard to deny that he has struggled to find his place in the family. You have seen the gloom that always clouded his purple orbs, one he had tried to hide when he had sat the Iron Throne and the Conqueror’s crown was placed upon his head.

Aegon did as he was told, sinking into the seat with a heavy thud and a groan. Silence encompassed the room for a moment, the crackling of the hearth filling in the gaps between you and the king. He could feel himself sobering up fast, the fact that he was sitting with his brother’s wife, his beautiful wife, while Aemond was away had him flustered, his senses fighting through the cloudy haze of the liquor in his system.

“Your husband,” he managed, “is he really as praiseworthy as mother makes him out to be?” Aegon queried, his tone casual and light. You approached the seat across from him, pulling your robe tighter around your figure as you sat down.

“What do you think? He’s your brother. You have known what he is like much longer than I,” you responded, smiling at him softly. Your head tilted ever so slightly when you studied the elder Targaryen before you, how his plump cheeks were flushed and the skin under his eyes held perpetual lines of exhaustion. Aegon let out a low hum, twisting his lips while he stared into the fire. 

“Aemond has always been a good man. A bit of a brute, but a good man,” Aegon said, nodding, but then paused to consider his words. “I suppose I want to know…is he kind to you?”

“The most kind,” you smiled bashfully. The thoughts of your lord husband always brought about a warmth that painted your cheeks, especially the ones when his icy cold demeanor always melted around you, an occurrence he said was only possible with your power. A dreamy sigh left your lips as you longed to have him by your side at that moment, still eagerly awaiting his return from his duties. You turned to meet Aegon’s gaze, “I know it is hard to believe, but he is so good to me, your brother. I never expected our marriage to turn out this way. So… wonderful.”

A smile, slight at first, appeared on Aegon’s lips at the sight of your blissful face, whispering a small ‘good’, before returning his gaze to the hearth. Another beat of silence passed you before you spoke up once more. 

“And you and Helaena? Is everything alright?” You asked, inquiring about the state of Aegon and his sister-wife, to which Aegon only gave a small shrug.

 “You know Helaena, I never know how she feels about anything,” he said with a rueful smile on his lips. You frowned at his words, feeling bad with how quickly his smile dropped once he finished speaking.

“Helaena, she…” you trailed off, trying to find the right words to approach the subject. “She is so special. She’s not like the rest of us. She is bestowed with gifts that I don’t think any of us truly understand, nor can she fully carry the weight of. She needs someone to carry that weight with her, Aegon. I know you try for her, but it all just requires time. Give her time to open up to you, brother. Don’t force it out of her,” you advised. The king’s eyes sparkled when they stared at you while you spoke, attentive and awake. The corner of his plump lips quirked up at your words, breathing out a huff.

​​“She does seem fragile, doesn’t she?” Aegon said. You watched as he fiddled with his thumbs, a twinge in your heart at the sight of him. It was no secret the king and queen had an unconventional relationship, with them being brother and sister, coupled with their utterly contrasting personalities. Even with children, Aegon and Helaena had never found their rhythm with each other, and the gaps in their marriage were only intensified whenever it was held in contrast to yours and Aemond’s marriage.

“How do you put up with his moods? Aemond, I mean,” Aegon suddenly asked with a small grin, eager to change the subject. “He’s not a pleasant man when he’s in a temper, to put it mildly.”

The surprise on your face was evident as the conversation shifted back to you, a small chuckle leaving your lips at his words. 

“Oh, believe me, I have tried many ways to deal with that fiery temper of his,” you laughed along with Aegon. “I am no dragon, I find no use in fighting fire with fire, though it has taken a bit of creativity to tame that temper of his.” 

A suggestive glint in your eyes twinkled as you spoke, giggling when Aegon let out a boisterous laugh in understanding. He was visibly surprised by his good sister’s candor, one he had not something he had expected out of you.

“And I bet you’ve been successful at it too, haven’t you?” he asked, cackling when you clamped a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter.

“Quite a bit, yes!” you agreed, a proud smile on your lips. Aegon shook his head at you, his shoulders bouncing with the laughter that bubbled from his chest.

The ease that flowed between both of you took Aegon by surprise. If only he could have more moments with you like this, perhaps he’d be a better man, a better king, even. No wonder Aemond had been so taken with you. His brooding brother had taken on a lightness to him since you had entered his life, one Aegon had first thought was quite bizarre to see in the one-eyed prince at first, but now he understood. You held the power to make any man change his ways with a single smile.

“Gods be good. That man is lucky to have you.”

Your mischievous smile turned into one of fondness at the king’s words, your longing for your lord husband growing all the more the longer he was missing from your side. 

“No luckier than I to have him as my husband,” you responded, earning a low hum from the king. Large round eyes, ones he bore from his mother, turned to look at you, glimmering against the warm glow from the fireplace. You fiddled with your fingers with uncertainty when you caught the change in his gaze, the warmth of his amethyst orbs turning to that of hidden longing. You knew this wasn’t because of love for you, it couldn’t be. You assumed the king merely craved the stability and trust that yours and Aemond’s marriage had, but you couldn’t deny the way he looked at you at times, a look almost too similar to that your husband held for you. 

It was best to probably dismiss your brother-in-law for the sake of being proper, but you just didn’t have it in you to leave him on his own for the night, not when the murky sorrow returned to his eyes, replacing the light your presence had stoked. You cleared your throat, the air in the room suddenly turning prickly. 

“I’m sorry that Aemond is taking so long. Why don’t you lay for a bit while you wait, brother? The daybed is quite comfortable,” you offered. Aegon instantly refused, not wanting to impose in your own chambers.

“No, no, I should go. I will be alright, princess,” he reassured, though the way your face held uncertainty made him falter. There was no doubt anyone who would come upon him in the halls would immediately know of his whereabouts, with his messy silver tresses, half-open doublet, and the smell of cheap mead that he exuded. Hells, when did he lose one of his rings?

You managed to convince him to settle by the daybed, promising to wake him upon Aemond’s return. It took little effort for him to fall asleep, the liquor in his system quickly submitting him to the depths of slumber. You fetched some furs to drape over his sleeping figure, soft snores resonating from the daybed. A sigh left your lips at the state of the elder Targaryen, worried about how he had been coping with the weight of the crown upon his shoulders.

 You were on your side of the bed, engrossed in your reading when your husband finally returned from his duties. You looked at Aemond in worry when he eyed his brother’s sleeping figure, his features immediately merging into one of anger and confusion after finding his wife and his brother all alone at night. 

“What the hell is he doing in our chamber?” He asked, his tone harsh. 

“Aemond..” you said softly, putting away your book before rising to approach him. Your arms came up to caress his biceps, soothing him. “He came looking for you, husband. Your brother is troubled, he waited for your return to talk to you about it,” you explained, hoping your husband would see reason and put away his anger, though his furrowed brows let you know that you shouldn’t get too hopeful. 

“I don’t care what he was looking for. King or not, he should know better than to intrude on my wife,” Aemond spat, his anger still not waning while his voice rose. He was about to say more when you squeezed his biceps, a frown on your features. His own immediately softened, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips. “You shouldn’t be around him when he’s like this.” 

“I know, I know. But I was worried for him. I couldn’t just turn him away, my love,” you explained. Your hands drifted down to take hold of his fisted palms, making him unclench to let you take his hands in yours. “I should have made you aware of his being here. He needed someone to talk to, husband. I told him to lie down while he waited for you, but I fear the wine has gotten the best of him,” you pressed kisses to your husband’s wrists, placing his calloused palms to cup your face. Your eyes met his good one as it studied you, your feet taking a small step closer to his warmth.

“Was there anything he told you?” Aemond asked. You both looked at his sleeping figure. Aegon's snores had stopped, but he still lay peacefully asleep on your daybed. 

“He asked about our wellbeing but that was about it.” You half-lied. You thought it best to keep your conversation with the elder Targaryen between yourselves, something only you understood. 

Aemond’s apprehension of having his brother around his wife was something he did not hide, well aware of his hidden desire and admiration for his lady. The thought of you and Aegon spending time alone in your marital chambers while he was away took all of him not to strangle his sleeping brother if it weren’t for your soft presence. He could laugh at the incredulity of the circumstances, his brother having clearly wasted no time to seize the opportunity in his absence. 

The one-eyed prince stepped away from your grasp, turning away to rid himself of his day clothes. You bit your lip anxiously as he continued to spare glares at his slumbering brother. You approached him once more, standing in front of him. Your hands caressed his chest while he pulled you in by your waist, craving your touch after hours of being away. You planted a small kiss on his cheek for comfort, and another one on his lips. 

“I think it best for you to talk to him, my love. You both understand each other the best, after all,” you said softly. Your husband let out another angry sigh despite your kisses. How sweet you were, nothing but goodness in the fibers of your being. In his heart of hearts, he wished it weren’t so, that this kindness was only reserved for him, your lord husband, that way he would be saved from the many who feel smitten by your charms, his own brother for one. 

“I have no wish to even look at him,” Aemond snapped, looking away from you. He shook his head, knowing what he wanted to say, but being unable to bring himself to do it. “I just don’t like it. He looks at you, covets you.”

“Aemond..” you started, but you sighed as your husband gave you a warning look. “I swear to you, husband. He merely came with the intent to talk to you tonight. He was proper with me,” you promised, cupping his face in trying to reassure him, but his sharp jaw had stayed clenched. Your face dropped, frowning when he still refused to look at you.

“Darling,” you beckoned. You dipped your head to meet his gaze, a silent plea of understanding in your countenance when you stared at each other. You watched Aemond study your face with a cold glint. Seeing your husband still aggravated by your current situation, you knew you had to do something to calm him, lest he did something irrational to the sleeping king in your midst.

Tentatively, you pressed your lips against his in a kiss. You felt him soften ever so slightly, deepening the kiss when his hand caressed your cheek, his thumb tracing over your cheekbone. When you pulled away, you pressed your forehead against your husband’s, his hot breath fanning over your face.

“What was that for?” Aemond asked, his tone still hardened.

“Missed you,” you mumbled against his lips, kissing him once more. It was quick to escalate, with Aemond taking the lead. His tongue prodded its way into your mouth, exploring your warm cavern while a whine emitted deep from your throat at your husband’s ministrations. You felt his hands wander down to your waist to settle on her arse with a firm squeeze. Breathless you pulled away, though your husband’s firm grip bid you to stay pressed against his chest. 

“I do not want this happening again,” he said quietly, a hint of anger still in his voice. His jealousy flared, a heat rising in his head that inhibited him to think clearly. It was irrational, and he hated that it was so, but he did not know how to let it go. “You are my wife,” Aemond practically growled.

You nodded at him obediently, whispering, “I am all yours, Aemond. Always,” before surging forward to kiss him again.

“I love you,” the prince said as the kiss broke. “I am yours, and you are mine.”

You had barely reciprocated the words before Aemond was kissing you again, this time more urgent and passionate as you grew more heated. His lips traveled to your neck, sucking and kissing while his hands gripped your behind. You had almost let your eyes roll back into your skull in pleasure when you barely remembered that Aegon still lay asleep in your chambers. 

“Darling… Your brother….” you trailed off, barely getting the words out while your husband pressed his growing stiffness into your center. “He is still sleeping there, my love.”

“Let him watch if he wants. It’s what he does anyway,” your husband said, his voice coming out with barely any volume to it with his face still pressed into your neck. He had enough for the moment, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold on forever.

“Aemond,” you warned, an unsure glint in your eye. You weren’t sure if this was some sort of sick power play your husband was doing to assert his possession over his wife to his brother, but you were still apprehensive about the whole ordeal. And yet, the heat that pooled in your center coupled with the look the silver-haired man held before you was making your rationality jump out the window. 

The longer you made your husband wait, the more you saw his temper rise again. You quickly kissed him once more, letting your lord husband do whatever he wanted for the night.  You pushed the idea of being intimate while Aegon lay asleep and risked being watched when he woke into the back of your mind, focusing on her and Aemond alone. It would be a lie to say the idea of getting caught and watched didn’t excite you at all. The idea of your prince asserting his possession over you in front of another man made you feel heated, wanted, and highly desirable. After all, Aegon was fully asleep anyway. 

Time to get creative.

Aegon was in fact, not asleep. He had woken up the moment Aemond returned, but continued to lay with his eyes closed upon hearing his brother’s anger at his intrusion. He knew if he were to awaken there was a good chance of a big fight breaking out between them, perhaps of Aemond even killing him right then and there. 

And so, he continued to pretend to be asleep while he listened to Aemond’s rage and his wife’s attempts to soothe him. Even with just listening, the elder could tell how easily the lady’s soft demeanor warmed his brother’s cold one. His heart thumped wildly against his chest, forcing his eyes to remain shut.

Amidst hushed whispers, his ears perked up in curiosity when he heard a wet smacking, then another, and then more. Hushed whispers again, and then the sound of kissing continued once more. From where the daybed was situated in their chambers, He only needed to crane his neck slightly to the side and crack his eyes open just a hair to see you and Aemond in a passionate embrace. Despite the darkness brought about by the dying embers of the hearth, he could still see how his brother’s hand wandered, squeezing and caressing his wife. He saw how you kissed him with such passion, one he was unsure any lady had ever done with him. Jealousy burned within him, while heat pooled in his chest at the sight of the two lovers. He was a fool to continue to listen, to witness what was before him, but Aegon couldn’t find the strength to look away. What the king wouldn’t give for her to be doing that to him, to hold her in his arms. He was sickened with desire.

The younger prince led you to bed, where he bunched up your nightgown to your hips before descending his lips upon your core. Aemond had an inkling that his brother would awaken, a sick desire to show the king what was his overwhelmed him. Lost in the depths of the mindnumbing pleasure that devoured your wit, you were none the wiser with your husband’s little game. He was wary enough to cover your bareness with his body, though the sweet sounds emanating from your lips were hard to stifle. Still, your husband had no complaints. 

Your husband was like a man starved, devouring your sweet ambrosia like it was the water that gave him life. You bit back the mewls that threatened to escape your mouth, though your efforts were futile as they only grew in volume with your impending release.

“Aemond, the curtain,” you mumbled before a moan cut off your words. You reached out to the curtain hanging from your bedpost, urging your husband to cover you for the sake of decency. If he even heard your word, he paid them no mind while he continued to fuck you with his tongue. His nose nuzzled against your pearl, the sparks of pleasure shooting from your nub sending you into a dizzying haze. Your release washed over you like the tide, and you had barely been granted a moment of reprieve to see if Aegon had been disturbed before your husband had freed his cock, sparing no second and breaching your walls. 

You threw your head back into the feather mattress, a breathless whine escaping your lips as he rutted into you at an unforgiving pace. Your hands clung onto your husband’s shoulders while you willed yourself to stay mindful of the noise, yet you couldn’t help the soft whines of your husband’s name that left your lips, much to the one-eyed prince’s delight. 

Aegon’s cock strained painfully in his breeches at the sweet sounds you were making for his brother. His hand twitched to rub at his bulge, and he subtly covered his lap with a cushion to pleasure himself. From his view, he was only granted the sight of his brother’s back while your legs wrapped around his trim waist, but the lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin made Aegon’s skin tingle and his cock jump against his palm. He rubbed himself in tandem with the rhythm of the bedframe’s creaking, praying that the darkness of the room made it so that neither of you would catch him in the act. 

Aemond surged forward to meet your lips in a kiss that was a mess of teeth, tongue, and spit. His pace remained relentless, determined to make you fall apart on his cock while his brother helplessly watched. One quick look behind him and he had seen Aegon, crowned king of the Seven Kingdoms, pathetically jerking himself off to the sight of him fucking his wife. Aemond may have once coveted the crown placed upon his brother’s head and the glory that came along with it, but for once he had something his brother wanted. Nothing else would ever come above the warmth of your embrace and the sweet nectar from between your thighs. As a second son he would be bestowed no lands, no legacy, and no other glory, but what more would a man need than a wife who sang the loveliest melody while he split her open with his cock?

Your nails dug into the hard planes of Aemond’s back as he drove you further into your second peak. It was all overwhelming, the caution of keeping quiet, the mind-numbing pleasure of your prince’s cock driving into your cunt, and his grunts of pleasure in your ear, coupled with the electrifying sparks of his thumb playing with your pearl. 

“Do you like this, dear wife? Making me fuck you while your king lay asleep in our chambers? Is this what you wanted, hm? Is this what you wanted me to do?” Aemond growled in your ear, punctuating each query with a harsh thrust. You could only whine and whimper in response, while the warmth in your belly only grew higher, and higher, until it spread all over like cold water, making you spill around Aemond’s cock while you moaned in ecstasy. 

Behind you, Aegon bit his lip harshly as he spilled into his breeches, the sounds of your release driving him towards his. He pressed his face into the cushion to hide his panting, his skin growing heated with the humid air of sex that filled the room. 

Aemond soon spurted his own seed into your core, the pulsing of your walls milking him dry while his thrusts slowed. He collapsed on top of you for a moment, breathing in the scent of your damp skin while he caught his breath. 

“I love you,” he said against your skin, this time without the anger behind his words.

You caressed your husband’s hair while he continued to lay on top of you, equally feeling as boneless with his weight engulfing you comfortingly like a blanket. 

“I love you,” you whispered in response. “There is nothing else I desire for in this world other than you, my love.”

Aegon felt an odd twinge in his chest at your words. For a moment, just a few seconds, he fantasized you had uttered those words to him, and you were his.

After regaining your senses, you lifted your head slightly to take a peek at Aegon. From the view where you lay, it looked to you that the king remained peacefully asleep despite you and your husband’s activities. Though the darkness in the room betrayed you, making it hard for you to actually see the tear that had streaked down his cheek.

“I guess that didn’t wake him up,” you mused. The prince merely hummed in response, his face still buried in the crook of your neck.

“No, he can sleep through anything. Must be nice,” Aemond said quietly. He bit back the smirk at your blissful unawareness, moving to lay on his back before pulling you to his chest.

“Will you promise me that you will talk to him? On the morrow?” you asked, looking up at him with hope. Your husband nodded, sealing his promise with a kiss on your forehead. He pulled the covers over the both of you, rubbing your back while you drifted off into slumber. Your husband held you tight through the night, pleasantly satisfied. 

You remained asleep when Aemond had gotten up just as the sun broke through the horizon, pulling away from you to prepare for his morning training. After getting dressed in his training clothes, Aemond approached his brother’s sleeping figure on the daybed, nudging him awake. He threw a spare training jacket to Aegon, which covered his confused face, dazed with exhaustion. 

“Get up,” Aemond said coldly, eyeing his brother with indifference. “You’re going to train with me.” 

The kind did not appreciate his brother's prodding. He would have preferred to sleep for another hour if Aemond would allow it, but he also knew his brother rarely allowed things that he, himself did not have a preference for, and so Aegon rose from the daybed with great annoyance, and a deep sense of contempt. He let out a groan when he stretched his aching limbs, the exhaustion from the previous night still coursing through his muscles. Aegon had been talking a little too loud for Aemond’s liking, who turned to his brother to quiet him. 

“Shut it. Do not disturb my wife,” he hissed, eyeing your sleeping figure when you slightly stirred. Aegon rolled his eyes at his brother’s order, though obediently changing his dirty doublet for his brother’s gambeson. 

“You’re one to talk about disturbing others in their sleep,” the king grumbled under his breath. Aemond merely let out a breathy chuckle at his brother’s words. 

This idiot. Subtlety was never his strong suit.

While Aegon finished up the last buckle of his garment, Aemond kneeled one knee on the bed to lean over your sleeping figure, planting a small kiss on your forehead. You let out a small dreamy hum in response, still deep into the throes of your slumber. Aemond pulled up the furs to cover you better, before turning to Aegon and leading him outside.

The morning air was crisp when the brothers descended the steps to the training yard. Few littered about, mostly servants running around in preparation for the day. The surprise in their gaze was undeniable at witnessing their king awake so early, the sight of him in the training yard with his brother clearly not a usual occurrence. 

The brothers sparred together, or rather, Aegon was pathetically dodging his brother’s attacks while Aemond swung at him with a skilled ease. It was clear there was a tension between the two, one they were both well aware of the reason why. With only a few hits in, Aegon had already begun to pant, the years of his negligence in his sword training catching up to him quickly.

“I hope the satisfaction you get from this helps to quench the fire in your cock, brother,” the king taunted, heaving.

“There’s only one person who can quench the fire in my cock, and it certainly isn’t you,” Aemond retorted, indifference coating his tone but a smirk decorated his lips.  “My wife tells me you had something to say to me. What was so important you chose to intrude on my wife in the middle of the night?”

Aegon held up a hand in defeat, dropping his sword carelessly into the dirt before bending over to lean his hands on his knees. He took deep breaths while he willed himself not to vomit, the wine in his stomach not settling well with the strenuous ordeal he found himself in so early in the morning.

Essos. His crown for freedom. All of those now seemed like a faraway dream, with the way his brother looked down on him with an unhidden contempt, the effort would be completely futile.

“I thought we could talk, as brothers. Yet standing here in front of you know, I see that is far likely to happen, Aemond,” Aegon said, resignation in his tone. His brother scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief.

​​“Talk,” Aemond said, his voice filled with sarcasm. He let out a small chuckle, grabbing a rag to wipe his sword. “We can talk,” he expressed, his tone carrying a feigned lightness that perturbed Aegon. “Just not about your little obsession with my wife, brother.”

“My obsession?” Aegon responded, incredulous. He looked at Aemond in utter disbelief, who continued to clean his sword calmly. “If anyone is obsessing about someone here, Aemond, it is not me. You are too quick to anger, too riddled with jealousy of me that you cannot stand for me to be in a room with her. I would almost think you were afraid of being bested by me,” the elder said, his lips curling into a sneer. His brother halted in the middle of his wiping, the hand holding the hilt of his sword gripping the handle tight. Aegon gulped at the sight, wary of the younger’s growing temper. Aemond turned to the king, narrowing his good eye at him.

“I do not fear you, Aegon. Do not pretend,” he said, an eerie calmness in his tone. Aegon took a careful step back as his brother stepped forward, crossing his arms behind his back. “I wouldn’t give a shit about you being around her if I didn’t know your damned thoughts about her. She is mine.”

Aegon’s clenched jaw mirrored Aemond’s. His brother’s words left him with no reasonable defense. His affection for his brother’s wife was now out in the open, and he feared the repercussions. 

“How do you know what I think of her? What makes you think I even want her?” Aegon responded, anger in his voice. 

“It is because I know you, Aegon. You are predictable, you grow wide-eyed at the first thing that you believe would grant you the smallest ounce of affection. It is pitiful, really, especially for a king,” Aemond sneered. Any snark rebuttal Aegon had died on his lips as he shrunk in the weight of his brother’s gaze. The younger prince’s stare was piercing, jabbing through Aegon’s skin, prodding at his bare bones. “If I see you making eyes at her again, I swear to it, there won’t be enough blood left in your body to even cry to the gods that they might spare you.”

Aegon could only stare at his brother, his response sending a chill down his spine. He had never feared the younger prince before, in all his physical prowess and ruthlessness, but as they stood in the quiet yard, he had begun to falter.

“All this for a woman, brother?” Aegon asked, voice low as he could only stare at his younger brother. Aemond huffed, standing tall over his king. 

“Yes,” Aemond said. “Over this woman.”

But I am your blood, Aegon wanted to say, but he could only stare.

“Don’t take it personally, brother. If any other man were standing in front of me, I would have said the same thing,” Aemond said, tilting his head mockingly. The one-eyed prince ignored the nagging in his consciousness, one that resembled his mother’s stern voice.

‘We must protect our own,’ she would always say, though as her sons now stood face to face, they couldn’t be more of a threat to each other. Perhaps he had gone too far, but he couldn’t let the fucker have more than he deserved. He already had the crown, the Conqueror’s name. He loved his brother, the gods know he did, but he would breathe fire onto the seven kingdoms if it meant it kept you by his side. 

Aegon could only sigh in defeat, kicking a small pebble by his feet as he sniffled.

“She is all yours, Aemond, do not fret. You have made that very clear. I shall take my leave, this conversation has certainly been the most… fruitful,” Aegon said, smiling sarcastically. The elder turned before Aemond could respond, walking back into the Keep.

Watching Aegon walk away, Aemond pondered on the weight of his words, what this would mean for you and for Aegon, realizing too late what he had failed to do. 

“Fuck,” he said beneath his breath. He closed his eye exasperatedly, stretching his neck backwards to face the sky. “My wife is going to kill me.”

[hanihaato]

a/n: yandere aventurine x female reader, suggestive, non-consensual touching and forced kisses

“Ah, ah, ah, don’t say a word, darling,” a glowed finger pressed to your lips makes words die on your tongue almost as effectively as the Aventurine’s vivid, piercing eyes. Except for the shallow breaths, you stay in silence, and he glides his hand from your lips to cup your cheekbone. “I must say, you are really bold, testing my connections like that to find you. Being sceptical is a great quality…”

He pushes you onto the bed and lays on top of you, interlocking your fingers together so you don’t ever try to push him off yourself. He stares at you, his smile growing smug with your every try to wiggle out yourself of the embrace.

Aventurine’s head falls on your shoulder. You shiver as he chuckles and his warm breath sends a chill through your spine he muchly adores tracing his fingers on.

“…But not when it comes to me.”

You turn your head away from him. Ugh, you wish you could have at least a full day without him, but you could pride yourself in having a plan good enough to escape the room he locked you up two weeks ago when you first arrived on this planet.

Though, it hurts your ego a bit that Aventurine doesn’t seem to be bothered at all.

He shifts on the bed, and you hate how the sheets that smelled of the hotel’s cleanliness are already starting to stink with his perfumes. The smell you once loved now suffocates you with each breath.

He wraps his arm around your waist so he spoons your back for a second before grasping you tighter and throwing you over himself, having you face him. He entangles your legs before you can think of hitting him with a knee.

You whisper into the pillows.

“…At least I know you are a real deal.”

Aventurine chuckles in a tone you would find endearing if you didn’t feel he laughs at you. When he first started to show you the best parts of the world he’s been living in—the casinos that always had a nice pianist playing on a grand piano, the numerous vine tastings, the breakfasts that make your mouth water, clothing that feels like silk in touch—you could hear the tone everywhere, usually just by your ear. He then told you how he loved how your eyes shone and how much more enchanting you look every day.

You wonder which night he started to plan to cut you off from both worlds, yours and his, to only have him as your everything.

“That’s news to me,” he says, theatrically raising his eyebrows. “You didn’t believe me at all? You must know, darling, that everything I told you after we got together is true. That’s a real privilege right there.”

His finger starts to trace circular patterns on your forearm’s skin. Your heart throbs painfully.

“Aventurine…” Your voice is as demanding as can be the voice of a woman squished in the arms of a man who knows how to use words and guns. “I don’t believe you really love me. That’s not how love looks like.”

The man is still in his position. He blinks, and his eyes are fully on you. You have yet to find out if that look is a warning for you or whether he is enticed by what are you saying. Or maybe he just wants to hear your voice—you know Aventurine is not a man above misleading you into believing you aren’t in a hopeless position just to hear your pleas.

“When you love someone, you want the best for them. You want— You see them as equals. You don’t strip them of what they love to do, and… and people they love. You just… join their life and slowly build a new one together…”

When you fall silent, Aventurine pulls you in and with the other hand brushes hair off your face.

He hums. “That’s an inspiring speech. Oh, and I loved how you looked when you talked about it. Such a view. You must’ve thought about it for quite a while, huh?” He pats you on the head, lingering a bit to loosely twirl your hair on his fingers. “But, dearest, everything you’ve said, well, it all checks out.”

“No.”

“I do view as equals. We have a trade: my everlasting love for a bit of your freedom. It looks like a good deal.”

“It doesn’t look like—”

Aventurine shuts you up with a kiss. You hate, hate, hate this feeling, because in these moments you wonder if you could ever truly fall in love with a man you despise that gives you the hugs you long for and kisses you think about for days.

As he pulls away, with your free hand, you wipe off the traces of the kiss on your lips. Of course, you know it’s meaningless—he kissed you many times, you would have to count in hundreds at least—he will revenge you for that later.

“Awh, don’t be like that,” He says, kissing you again and holding your wrists this time. “You know, I pride myself in being a good businessman. If you are going to put your undying love for me, I will give you the freedom back.”

“You may beg all you want, but with begging you can’t get my love.”

It’s a brave thing to say when you are at the mercy of a man who’s famished for your affection.

“Hm, is that so?” Aventurine chuckles, but for the first time in the evening, it lacks the usual flippancy. He begins to pepper your neck with kisses, and you feel his sturdy hands travel down your stomach and a tugging on your shirt. “Well, say what you want, darling. But since you’ve been by my side for such a long time, you must know I only engage in bets I know I will win.”

[nameless-jamie]

I Want You...Professionally

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing

A/N: A tiny little fluff scenario. Just for the vibes.

It was vacation time for Jamie's favorite assistant. Well, his only assistant. She had organized everything, a temporary assistant for Jamie, a good book she could read while relaxing on her couch, but she obviously didn't calculate Jamie's brattiness.

Y/N had barely been out for a week when the first text came in.

Jamie: Who the fuck is this Jerry lad?

She frowned at the message before another one followed.

Jamie: He’s in my kitchen, Y/N. My sanctuary. What’s next? My fucking shower?

Jamie: If he touches my shampoo, I’m calling the police.

She sighed, rubbing her temple. She had warned Jamie that a temp assistant would be sent to work for him while she was on leave. He probably didn't listen. It was supposed to be a good thing—someone to help manage his schedule, make sure he made it to training on time, and prevent situations exactly like this, all while Y/N could chill for like a week. Just one week, please!

Instead, it seemed like Jamie had decided to make it his personal mission to be as difficult as humanly possible.

Y/N: He’s literally just there to help. Be nice.

Jamie: Define “nice.”

Y/N: Don’t scare him off in under a week.

Jamie: Cannot promise that babe.

It did not take a week.

It took two days.

By that time Y/N got an angry phone call from Rebecca. Jamie had apparently run through the poor temp guy so fast that Rebecca had personally told her, “You need to deal with your idiot. Right now!”

And if the exasperation in her voice hadn’t already told Y/N everything she needed to know, the look on the temp’s face when she arrived at the club to talk to him, spoke louder than words could.

The man looked exhausted. Defeated. Like he had seen things no personal assistant should ever have to see.

"Jerry, hey how are things?" Y/N approached the man carefully and spoke in a soft voice. Damn, he looked like he was about to break.

“I can’t do it, Y/N” he had said, shaking his head. “He’s impossible.”

“Yeah,” she had sighed. “He does that sometimes.”

"He sleeps bottomless. BOTTOMLESS! He told me that I have the energy of a wet paper towel. And he only ever eats protein bars."

Jerry started crying out of frustration and hugged Y/N's shoulder, a little too tight. Nice, her favorite blouse is now tear-stained. Fuckin' Tartt.

Y/N patted Jerry's back awkwardly. "Shit, okay. I'll deal with it."

So when Jamie showed up at her flat unannounced that evening—because of course he did—she was more than ready to deal with him.

“Jamie,” she deadpanned, crossing her arms. “What the fuck.”

Jamie blinked at her. “What?”

“You terrorized him.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You made him cry, Jamie.” Y/N deadpanned.

Jamie scoffed. “I barely said anythin'. He cried over one little comment.”

“You told him he had ‘the energy of a wet paper towel.’”

Jamie shrugged. “He did.”

“Jamie.”

He sighed dramatically, flopping onto her couch like he had just run a marathon. “Nah, you don't get it, t'was a whole nightmare. He was just there all the time. Following me around, tellin’ me what to do, actin’ like he knew me.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You mean like how I do my job?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Not like you.”

“Oh, really?” She crossed the room, standing in front of him. “Because you’ve never had a problem with me following you around before and telling you what to do. But suddenly, this guy shows up, and you turn into a little shit?”

Jamie rolled his eyes. “I am a little shit. Always been one.”

She huffed. “Jamie.”

“What?” He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply before looking up at her.

"Why is it different with me, tell me." She put her hand on his arm lovingly, trying to coax the answer out of him.

Jamie was frustrated. "I don't know. Maybe because you get me and... And maybe I don’t want someone else bossing me around, yeah? Maybe I just want you.”

The words hit her like a fucking freight train.

Jamie must’ve realized what he had said because his mouth snapped shut, his jaw tensing.

A beat of silence.

Then—

“In, like, a professional way?” Jamie said as more of a question than a statement.

“Jamie,” she said, with a warning voice.

He exhaled, shaking his head like he wanted to take it all back. “Forget it. I'll go apologize to the guy.”

“No Jamie, wait.” She stepped closer. "I mean you should definitely eventually apologize, you made the guy cry for god sake! But wait..."

Jamie met her gaze, something uncertain flickering behind his eyes.

She licked her lips, suddenly hyperaware of how close he was. “You want me?”

Jamie’s throat bobbed. “Yeah.”

Her heart stupidly skipped a beat. “In, like, a professional way.”

His lips twitched, but it wasn’t quite a smirk. “Sure. That.”

Her breath caught.

And then, because Jamie Tartt was a menace—because he could never just say something and leave it at that—he tilted his head, voice dropping to something dangerously soft.

“You okay, love?”

She could’ve said yes.

She should’ve said yes.

Instead, she let out a sharp breath and muttered, “Fuck you.”

Jamie grinned and turned toward the door. “Knew it. I'll be off then, apologizing to Berry.”

"His name is Jerry!"

"I knew that!"

The silence that followed after Jamie left wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was full of things left unsaid. Y/N thought about his words and their meaning a lot. Maybe I just want you.

Maybe they weren’t ready for the next step yet, and maybe they were, but for now, they both knew one thing—neither of them was going anywhere.

[cha0s-junkie]

Hello!

I love your Arkuma character so much! Your writing is amazing ❤️ I was wondering how Arkuma would deal with a bratty naughty reader during their first few weeks! Like reader trying their best to fight every little thing from changing to feeding to bedtime. Feel free to ignore this if it's not your vibe!

Love your writing so much once again! Have a lovely day 💖

here is a drabble of that because ppl seem to rlly like this funky guy :)(platonic yan! alien dad oc)

Arkuma is chill, he has so much patience for reader because they're only human. How could he get mad at you! you probably don't even know you're being naughty (you're throwing one of his plates onto the ground on purpose. how tf did you get up there in the first place.) so he'll just wear reader down with his overwhelming affection until they give in.

warnings: infantilization, fluff (?)

--

"Not this again." You groaned as you saw your alien captor walk up to you with pastel colored pajamas in his hands. He was dangling it in front of you and you immediately knew what he was trying to do.

The first night you came into his home, he had changed you into sleeping clothes while you were passed out. Waking up to wearing something completely different made you spiral.

"No. I'm going to change myself." You told him, shaking your head as he got closer to you. "Get away- I said no!" You feel childish but you run away from him anyways, darting into your room and hiding out under your bed.

Arkuma sighs, standing up straight as he balled up your sleeping clothes in his hand. "Every time." He sighs, entering your room.

He doesn't know why you fight him so hard on this, he's just changing you. He peeks his head into your room but doesn't notice you immediately.

"Little one, I'm just changing you. Sleeping in yesterday's clothes isn't hygienic."

Arkuma waits a moment and hears annoyed grumbling from under your bed. He smiles and crouches down, tilting his head when he sees you.

"Found you," You glare at him, almost giving into your urge to slap his hand away when he reaches towards you. "Ah, ah rules are rules. I caught you, now you have to listen to me."

"Fuck you alien- fuuuuuuck." You whine as he drags you from under your bed and out into the open. More crooning before he lifts you into his arms. You pushed against his hold, beating against his chest. Trying your absolute hardest to get out before he changes you again.

But, damn him, he just thinks you're trying to play with him again.

--

"If you eat your food without throwing it onto the ground, I swear I will let you wander around today."

He shakes the food cube in front of you, rambling in that language that you couldn't be bothered to try and understand. Pet food in both earth and this alien planet was apparently inedible. The food cube he offered to you tasted disgusting, like unsalted mystery meat. So no way in hell was that going in your mouth again.

You grimaced as he waved it around, moving it closer towards you. You leaned back as far as you could, almost toppling the chair over. No way that was ever going into your mouth again. Your stomach grumbles angrily, you were hungry. But you'd rather starve to death than eat that thing again.

"Your tummy sounds like it wants to eat. C'mon, open up." He opened his mouth slightly, wanting you to follow him. But you pursed your lips even more. Arkuma brings it to your mouth and you finally swat it away.

It lands with a splat on the ground and he sighs. You expect him to get angry with you but he just looks at you with a small smile. He pats your head before getting the food cube off the ground.

"Does it not taste good?" He mumbled to himself as he inspected it, it doesn't look very good. "Alright. Let's try something more yummy, hm? Something my little human will like."

--

ARKUMA!!! WOO!!1

[mitchellnman]

THE SIMPLEST SOLUTION. PT 1.

MDNI.

Martin x reader x Michael Gavey

Word count: about 3.7k

Warnings: porn with very little plot, afab reader, she/her pronouns, cunnilingus, messy feelings, Martin's chill, Michael's not.

A/n: hi hello welcome to my random unbeta'd fic please enjoy

"I don't fucking get it." You groaned, your fingertips coming up to rub at your temples - though what you really wanted to do, was rip your hair out, and smash the mathematics textbook over —

"I didn't expect much from you, but really."

His head. Michael Gavey. Your math tutor. You had made a deal with him a few weeks ago, and who knew that the unassuming genius would turn out to be the devil incarnate? Certainly not you. It had been simple; his brain, your fingers.

Not like that. He wanted to learn how to play guitar, and you, with your band that played on the weekends at the local pub, considered yourself to be damn good at it. It had seemed fair, at the time. But now, tears pricked at your eyes, and you felt like a child again, sitting across the table from your father as he explained long division to you again, and your brain refused to comprehend it.

"Asshole." You muttered.

He smirked, and set his pencil down. "Perhaps if you spent more time studying, and less time with your greasy boyfriend, you'd understand."

"And maybe if you got laid once in a while, you wouldn't be such a cunt!" You spat back at him. You stared at each other, glaring fiercely, anger bubbling beneath the surface. He exhaled slowly, through his nose.

"One more try. Then we'll call it a night. Deal?" He asked, trying to reason with you.

He liked seeing you angry. It excited him, thrilled him - but he didn't want to make you too angry, and have you leave him. He knew you had a boyfriend, that imposing cryptid that you kissed on the cheek, and the lips, and—

He coughed, mentally wiping his mind of that image. He knew he was jealous, he had come to terms with it weeks ago, after a quick and hot rub of his crotch made him cum so hard he saw stars, face buried in the pillow you had plopped on your lap. It wasn't fair that Mark, Matthew, whatever his name was, got to hold you, got to touch you, taste you, and Michael only ever got to frustrate you.

He knew he was jealous. But you couldn't know that. It would ruin everything.

"Michael, no matter how many times you explain this thing, it doesn't make sense." You said, utterly frustrated with yourself. Your hands did go up to your hair then, tugging.

Michael pressed his lips together, and patted your shoulder. It was the only part of you that he permitted himself to touch, beside your hands when they brushed, knees when they knocked. "Let me try to show you a different method. A new perspective, if you will." He offered, his voice softer, and a touch sweeter.

You agreed - without much of a choice. Despite your reservations - by the end of the night you understood the problem, and Michael even had you explain how to solve it to him. He'd never say it, but he was proud of you, it was written all over his face.

You gathered your things and tucked them in your old black backpack, the one with the straps that you had to resew every six months. Michael watched you for a moment, then turned and started to rifle through a drawer. As you turned to say your goodbyes, he was there, holding a crunchy bar.

"For you." He said.

You smiled, brighter than the moon on a clear night. "You're sure?"

"Of course."

You took it from his hand, your fingers brushing against each other. Michael opened his mouth to say something, but your phone pinged before he could make a sound.

It was a text from Martin, your boyfriend.

[ just got dinner. Omw. ]

You smiled, and shot a quick text back. "I gotta go, Michael. Thank you so much, for the candy, for everything."

You bade a quick goodbye, and jogged down to the parking lot, where Martin was pulling up.

In his room, Michael seethed with jealousy, now that he was free to show his true face. He paced the room back and forth, so hard that he might wear a hole in the carpet - that's when he noticed you'd left your jacket behind. Black, oversized, with some band logo on the sleeve. Martin's, probably. With a twist of his stomach, he thought, you'd look better in one of his sweaters.

Michael plucked the hoodie up by the collar, holding it away from him like it might bite him. He licked his lips. Slowly, he brought it closer and closer, until his lips brushed over the ratty fabric. He inhaled, deeply.

It smelled like you. Not entirely like you, there were still hints of him. Of Martin. Sweat and oil and other godawful chemicals he liked to play with. Him and his models. Michael sneered, but only for a second. He pressed his face fully into the hoodie, smashing his glasses against the bridge of his nose.

He moaned.

Martin greeted you with a smile as he pushed the passenger door open from his side, the hinges squeaking in protest. You climbed in, and he tapped his cheek. With a laugh you obliged him, and planted a warm kiss to his jaw. The car smelled like dinner, ramen from a local place that held many of your memories together, laughter, fretting over bloodied knuckles, all of it.

"How was it?" He asked. He watched you buckle in, and took off once you were secure.

"Well," you said, pulling out Michael's crunchy bar. "I did so well, he gave me a reward."

Martin chuckled dryly. "Wait 'til we get home, I'll give you an even better one." His hand fell from the steering wheel, and onto your knee. His fingers found the holes in your jeans, and he started tracing the skin of your knees with light, teasing strokes.

You shivered. "Don't start, or I'm going to have to start, too."

In response, Martin squeezed your thigh. "I'm a good driver, but I don't know if I'm that good." He mused. "Besides, I couldn't look at you. That's the best part."

After dinner, while you were brushing your teeth in the bathroom, Michael texted you.

[ you left your jacket here. I only just noticed. ]

You swore quietly, and smacked your forehead. "Stupid." You muttered.

[ will you be there tomorrow? I can pick it up in the afternoon. I'm swamped in the morning. ]

You waited for a long moment. Then finally,

[ I'll be here. ]

[ thank you, Michael ❤️ ]

"Everythin' alright?" Martin asked, leaning against the doorframe. "I heard you swearin'."

You nodded. "I left my hoodie at Michael's. He was just letting me know."

"Awful nice of him." Martin mused. "Better than what I'd have done."

"Oh?" You asked, setting your phone down. "What would you have done?"

Martin grinned that evil smile of his, and sauntered closer to you. He was shirtless, post-shower, and just in a pair of gym shorts. You, meanwhile, wore one of his shirts, and a pair of boxers. He leaned down, and flicked the tip of his finger over your chin. "I would have fucked it until it smelled like me." He whispered, so close you could feel his warmth radiating off of his skin. He licked the tip of your nose with his ever-blue tongue. "Every time you wore it, you'd think of me."

His arms snakes around your waist, and brought you flush against his chest. His wet hair tickled your cheeks, like his lizard's tongue did when he had her 'kiss' you goodbye. Martin kissed you then, his fingers pressing into your flesh. You hooked your arms around his neck, and he pushed you against the counter, his desire evident against your stomach.

An hour later, you were both fast asleep, the scent of sex lingering in the air. You were curled against his chest, and his arms were around you, just like they always were - protective and possessive.

The next morning, he drove you to college as usual. You shared a long kiss goodbye, and went about your day. You took notes, studied, did everything a good student should do. Then at about 2, you made your way up to Michael's dorm room. You lifted your hand to knock, but Michael opened it before you could.

"Oh, hello-"

"What are you . . Oh, yes. Hoodie." Michael shook his head, as if to say 'duh'. "Come in."

"I can just grab it and go if you're busy—" you offered. Michael was unusually out of sorts, his hair unkempt, wearing the same clothes from yesterday, his eyes staring only at your neck.

"No, no. That's alright." He said. "I was just going to go to a vending machine for a snack." He met your eyes finally, something simmering beneath the surface. "I see Martin's made a snack out of you."

You frowned. "What do you-? Oh, shit—" You pushed past him and took a look at yourself in the mirror; Martin had left his mark on you indeed, four hickeys in the vague shape of an 'M'. "He knows better, damnit." You sighed, rubbing your forehead.

Michael watched you, and tilted his head to the side. "You don't like it?"

"I go to an ivy league college with a blue collar background, I just —"

"You want to make a good impression on people you'll never see again." Michael deadpanned. "You don't want them to think you're a slut."

You rolled your eyes. "I hate when you do that."

"What?"

"Make a good point but deliver it like an asshole."

He grinned, cheekier than you'd ever seen him. "Your hoodies on the edge of the bed - I had to move it to sit." Michael explained.

You nodded gratefully. "Thank you." You said, immediately tugging it on. You sniffed it as you did - and it smelled like Michael. That made sense, it had been in his room all night. He smelled different than Martin, very clean, with hints of cologne and sweetness. It made you smile, a soft fondness crawling into your heart.

Michael let out a quiet sigh of relief. He hadn't, as Martin said, fucked the hoodie. He'd slept with it, his face buried in the fabric, inhaling your scent as much as he could - and he humped the mattress. For a very long time, longer than he'd realized. He only woke up a half hour ago, and tidied everything in a mad dash, and hoped you wouldn't notice anything amiss.

The little 'M' on your neck made his mouth go dry. For a moment, he pretended that you were his, and that 'M' stood for Michael, not Martin. He swallowed.

"Are you alright?" You asked. You stepped closer to him, brow furrowed in concern. Michael looked like he might be sick. You pressed the back of your hand to his forehead. "Michael, you're burning up." You whispered.

He let out a strangled noise. "I'm fine." He insisted. He took your hand in his, then looked at it like he didn't quite know what to do with it. "I..." He took a breath, and shook his head. "I think I just need to eat. I was up late, erm, reading."

You frowned, not believing him for a second. "Michael, I—"

The world stopped. He pulled you flush against his chest, and he smashed his lips against yours.

You never saw it coming.

Well - maybe a little. The two of you had some sort of tension, but - you had Martin, and Michael didn't seem the type.

You pushed him away as suddenly as he had tugged you in. "What the fuck, Michael?!" He tasted sweet. Like a crunchy bar.

He ran his hands through his hair, his eyes wide. "I didn't mean to, I'm sorry - I don't know what came over me—" As you watched, tears welled up in his eyes. "I'm so sorry." He whispered, his voice cracking.

"Why did you do that?" You asked, hugging yourself tightly. "You know I'm dating Martin..."

"I know." He said weakly. "I know you are, and, and it kills me."

You stared at each other, tears streaming down each other's faces. You didn't know what to say. You liked Michael, you did - he was kind when he wanted to be, smart, sometimes even funny - and sure, he was cute, but —

"I have to go." You whispered.

"Don't tell him." Michael pleaded. "I'm begging you."

You shook your head. "I have to, Michael."

"He'll kill me." Michael said, his hands starting to shake.

"No, he won't, I promise." You wiped your face with the sleeves of your hoodie. "He's not like that."

"He does that ... car-jitsu!"

"He's got daddy issues, not anger issues." You laughed weakly, and Michael's heart broke a little. "I'll talk to you... sometime. I'm sorry." You said, unsure why you were apologizing.

Michael nodded, and hung his head. "I'm sorry." He whispered again, and you knew he meant it.

You took the bus home, and waited on the couch for Martin to get home from work. You tried to stop the flood of tears, but it was all for nothing. When he came home, you were sobbing softly into a pillow, and he curled around you, immediately comforting you.

When you told him what happened - he didn't have much of a reaction. In fact, he chuckled.

"Martin, it's not funny!" You said, smacking at his chest. "How am I supposed to go back there and face him?"

"Seems pretty simple to me." Martin mused, a shit-eating grin on his face. "An easy solution, if you will."

You frowned, and smacked his chest again. "You're not Gandalf, stop speaking in riddles!"

Martin laughed again, rubbing his chest. "What I'm sayin' is, I don't mind sharin'."

You squinted at him. "But I don't—"

"You do. I've seen the way you talk about him. Even if you don't know it, you're sweet on him, just a little." Martin shrugged, totally nonchalant.

"I am not, he's an asshole, and a know-it-all—"

"First, isn't he quite literally a genius? Sort of his job, innit? Second, you're blushing."

You clapped your hands to your cheeks, and were utterly dismayed to find that he was correct. Your face was flushed, and your skin practically burned underneath your fingertips. "I hate this." You whispered, utterly mortified.

Martin grunted. "Eat dinner with me. Sleep it off. We'll go see him tomorrow. What's his schedule?"

You pressed your fingers into your forehead, gently massaging yourself. "It's Saturday, so - nothing. And knowing him, he'd be holed up in his room anyways. He thought you were going to kill him."

Martin laughed. "Poor guy. I bet I could make him cry."

"Martin!"

"I'm kidding!"

You woke up the next morning groggy and sleepy, but feeling a little better than you had last night. Martin kissed your nose, and you smiled, curling into him, burying your face in his chest. He held you there, running his fingers through your hair. You stayed like that for an hour, just enjoying each other's presence.

"Get dressed." He whispered, patting your hip. You looked up at him with a soft smile, and he squeezed your ass in return.

So you got dressed, in jeans, a t-shirt, and the hoodie from yesterday. You ate breakfast with Martin, pancakes and bacon. Then, you got in the car, and drove to college.

"He lives on the third floor." You said, taking Martin's hand to lead him to Michael's room. Your stomach flip-flopped every step of the way, and once you reached Michael's door, you hesitated. "Martin-"

"Go on." He said. "I'll behave."

"Bullshit." You snorted. But, you knocked.

Michael opened the door - he'd showered and changed clothes, you noted. He looked awfully sorry for himself as he looked at you - then he glanced at Martin, and he gulped. "Hullo." He whispered.

"Hi..." You said. "Can we come in?"

"I thought you said he wasn't going to kill me."

"He won't." You promised.

Martin rested his chin on the top of your head, and he winked at Michael. Michael shivered, but he let you in.

"What's going on?" He asked, closing the door behind you two. "I'm sorry about yesterday, I don't know what came over me."

"I know. I get it." Martin said. To prove his point, he kissed you, lifting your chin up with two fingers. Michael watched, his lips parted. "Believe me, Michael, I understand..." Martin purred, his arm snaking around your waist. "It'd be awful rude of me not to share."

Michael coughed, choking on his own spit. "If you're fucking with me, this isn't funny."

"We're not." You said. "I promise we're not. Michael... you don't have to. But you can if you want." You held your hand out to him, the black nail polish on your fingernails chipped.

He pressed his lips together, fidgeting in place. "I've never - I don't know what to do." He admitted, guilt flashing across his face.

Martin grinned. "Take her hand. We'll show you."

Michael stared at the pair of you, and after a long moment, he did take your hand, his palm sweaty. You smiled, and pulled him closer, just as close as he had you yesterday. You kissed him, slowly and softly at first. Michael was slow to reciprocate, but soon enough he was whining against your lips.

"Easy, poindexter." Martin chuckled. He slid his hands up your waist and under your shirt, his hands cool against your skin. "How badly do you want to taste her?"

Michael gasped, his pretty cheeks flushing a bright red. "I - that's -"

"It's a simple question." Martin said, his hands sliding up your chest, to cup your tits. You hadn't worn a bra, and your breath hitched in delight.

"I mean - I suppose I would - I don't know what to do." He stammered.

Martin grinned. "I'll teach you. Hey, get on the bed."

You obeyed, laying down on your back. Martin took your hoodie off, and looked over his shoulder at Michael. "Get in between her legs. Have you ever seen a pair of tits in real life?"

Michael shook his head as he climbed onto the bed with you two, his hands shaking. You smiled, propping yourself up on your elbows.

"Tell you what, if you can make her come, you can touch them. How's that sound?" Martin asked.

You nodded. "I like the sound of that."

Martin licked his lips, equally eager and nervous. "A-agreed."

"Arms up, babe." Martin said. You obeyed, and your shirt was removed. Michael's eyes went wide when he saw your tits, his mouth gaping wide.

"Watch." Martin instructed. He bent down, and kissed your chest, dragging his tongue over your skin. His lips wrapped around your nipple and you moaned, wrapping your hand in his hair. He suckled there for a moment, his hand teasing your other nipple. He lifted his mouth to speak.

"Take her pants off." He instructed.

Michael obeyed. His fingers fumbled with the snap, but soon enough he was tugging them down your thighs, and pushing them to the floor. He eyed your panties, nearly drooling with want.

"Take those off, too." Martin said.

Michael touched you reverently - he was living a waking wet dream, he wanted to savor this. He slid your panties down your legs, and you bit your lip.

"Put them in your pocket." Martin said, sucking a mark into your chest.

Michael nodded, and stuffed them away with a cheeky grin. "Now what?"

Martin chuckled. "Take your best shot."

Michael bit his lip, and slowly lowered his face to your core. He gave you an experimental lick, humming at your taste. He spread your lips, and licked you again - and he clearly knew his anatomy. He rubbed your clit with his tongue, and you moaned softly, your free hand tangling in his hair, too.

"That's it..." Martin purred. "Good boy. Use your fingers, too."

You were already wet for Michael, he was delighted to find. Slowly, he pressed a finger inside of you, his breath hot on your skin.

"Do this." Martin said, demonstrating a 'come hither' motion with his fingers. Michael watched, and committed it to memory. "You'll know if you're doing a good job."

Michael mimicked the motion, and he found your sweet spot with utter ease. Your hand tightened in his hair, and he groaned against you, his hips rocking against the mattress.

It was all so much, being worshiped so feverishly by the pair of them, Martin practically drooling on your tits, and Michael sucking on your clit like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted.

Which, it was.

It didn't take much to coax you over the edge, and you cried out, squeezing Michael's head between your thighs, the cold wire of his glasses pressing into your skin.

Michael made a sudden choked noise, and by the stuttering of his hips - he had come too, whining pathetically against you. You moaned, and forced your thighs to relax.

Michael sat up from your aching core, his mouth and chin covered in your slick. His glasses were fogged up, and he gave you a cheeky smile. Martin lifted his head from your tits, and kissed him. Michael choked, and shoved him away. Then their lips came smashing back together, Martin hungry for your taste on Michael's lips. You gasped softly, watching Martin's blue tongue disappear into Michael's mouth. Martin took Michael's hand and guided it inside of you. They each had two fingers in your wetness, and they found your sweet spot together.

You squirmed and moaned as Martin uses his free hand to tug on Michael's sandy locks, wrenching his head back. Michael groaned, and as Martin gave him a 'M' mark, his teeth sinking into the genius' skin, you came hard, squirting on their fingers. Your hands twisted in the sheets, so hard they might rip. Your back arched as you cried out their names, your vision going white.

As you came to, panting softly, the boys settled in by your sides. Michael's hand squeezed your tit, and he smiled, nosing into your neck.

"Do you think you're up to fuck her? Martin asked, his voice taunting.

Michael gulped.

To be continued...

[bitchysouljellyfish]

Reassurance

Monk Tav is doubting herself. Good thing Tara is there to set her straight.

Border by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Strange how life works.

One day, you're out on a mission for your temple, quarterstaff resting comfortably in your hand as you trek through the streets of Baldur’s Gate looking for an inn to rest your head for the night before setting off bright and early in search of new and bright eyed recruits to send to the Order of the Yellow Rose to begin their training.

And then you’re abducted by a mindflayer ship, have a tadpole inserted into your skull, escape said nautiloid by crashing it, meet the craziest bunch of strangers you'd ever meet in your life, fight countless monsters, fall in love with the man you pulled out of a stone, subsequently save the world and now you're in Waterdeep, resting comfortably on a chaise in front of a roasting fire as the beginnings of winter makes its way through the Sword Coast with a tressym relaxing while you both wait for your fiancé to come back from shopping.

It is very strange how life works.

Tav never would've expected this was how her life would've turned out. She expected to spend the rest of her days in service to the temple, becoming a Grand Master and then training the next warriors of the Era before dying of whatever the gods deemed fit for her. But now? Now she was envisioning a future far from violence and grueling training, replaced with wedding bells, a dress her future mother in law wanted to help her find, and even considering tiny feet with even tinier tails and little nubs for horns.

That was in a not so distant future, however. First, Tav would have to deal with present problems. Mainly gaining the favor of the tressym before her and getting out of her own head.

Tara was like a second mother in law. Don’t mistake her, Tav adored the tressym and she was fairly certain she liked her as well, but there wasn’t much the two had in common. Tav wanted to know everything about Gale's life, and the ones most important to him, but having small talk?

She’d rather spend 12 hours in the Hashi with the grandmasters. It was awkward and so mind numbingly boring! There had to be a better way to get to know Tara better, and by extension, Morena. Nobody wants a daughter in law they know nothing about. Thankfully, sitting by the balcony with a book on her lap about the latest experiments of the thunder wave spell and its effects on the body, she finally had her chance.

Gale was out, getting… something he wouldn’t tell her, but Tara had stayed behind, napping and cozily roasting her feet by the fire to combat the first chills of Waterdeep until a flurry of wings interrupted her sleep. Almost immediately Tara perked up and got into position to pounce on the unsuspecting pigeon. Her wings positioned tight against her body while her rear end wiggled.

Tav had to cover her mouth to stifle the giggles as her own tail flicked back and forth with glee against the couch. That caught Tara’s attention as well, unfortunately, the wide open pupils narrowed into tiny slits again.

“Oh, please forgive me Tara. I don’t mean to laugh,” she says, curling her tail around her feet. “Its just- I love the look on your face when you get so determined like that.”

“Not to worry, Tav.” Tara left the pigeon alone and hopped onto the arm of the chair she was sitting on. “You probably got me at just the right time. I did promise Mr. Dekarios to leave some of the pigeon population alone, but he said nothing about watching the little devils.”

“Gale was probably just worried about any messages being lost.” She says and sets the book to the side. “Are you hungry, Tara? I could cook something for you! Despite what Gale and the others have said about my cooking, I have perfected some dishes.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, my dear.” A tiny paw pats the back of her hand, almost motherly. “Not hungry, just a bit bored I’m afraid. Mr. Dekarios said he would bring something back for the both of us and now it has me sitting on pins and needles.” Tara’s ears perked up before laying flat against her head. “Oh dear, I’ve said too much.”

“No, No, Its ok!” It was nice to hear Gale was planning something. “I promise, I won’t tell a soul you said something, but if you’re bored why don’t we do something together? We could play lanceboard, or um let’s see…”

A soft chuckle came from the winged feline before her, stretching herself out as she climbed onto Tav’s lap. “why are you so nervous my dear? It is just old Tara, we’re all part of the same family. Or will be once you and Mr. Dekarios settle on a wedding date.”

Tav sighed and leaned back against the cushions, hovering her hand over Tara’s soft fur before being granted permission to pet. “but you aren’t just Tara. You’re Gale’s oldest and most dearest friend, practically a second mother to him. I’m just- forgive me it’s silly of me.”

“Its not silly if it’s causing you this much turmoil. Come now,” she hopped off her lap and pulled at Tav’s tail with a quickly conjured Mage Hand-well Paw- to lead her. “Come have some tea. I know Gale bought some of that delicious jasmine tea just for you that I myself have been dying to try.”

Tav fumbled with her fingers as she followed the tressym, feeling more and more like a bumbling fool than a respected monk of the Order of the Yellow Rose. She could beat down goblins, minotaurs, mindlfayers, hell she defeated the Elder Brain and lived to tell the tale!

But Gale wasn’t a problem she could just train and fight away. He wasn’t a problem at all, mind you, but he meant everything to her. Her first true love, the man she saved the world with and the one who encouraged her every step of the way and looked at her with such love she had no idea what to do with it. Tav wanted to make sure she was just as good as he thought she was, the person that he told his family about. Tav wasn’t sure if she could handle them being disappointed in who she really was.

She felt so weak for being like this, but at the same time hated doubting her feelings. For all the good the monks did for her, regulating emotions was not one of the skills taught. Gale had been blissfully patient, waiting while she literally punched her feelings out and comforted her with bandages around her knuckles and a healing potion to amend the damages she’d done to herself.

Gale made her feel like a teenager with their first crush, fumbling over themselves trying to get the feelings out while Gale just… did it. He did it with such ease it made the monk jealous and made her cheeks frightfully warm while all she could do was silence his praises with a kiss that hopefully took his breath away. It was rather ridiculous , as they were to be married some time soon.

Tara showed her where Gale had kept the tea and waited patiently while it brewed, loafing on the table.

“Now, tell Tara what's on your mind. I can guarantee that this conversation stays just between the two of us. “

Tav smiled and poured them each a cup. “Thank you for this. I just…” She chewed on her lip. “I cant help but feel out of my element. Domesticity, peace, tranquility. The monks spoke about it all the time, but it's so different than actually living it. I'm not complaining, don’t misunderstand me, Waterdeep is amazing and I love Gale with my entire being, but…”

“You feel as if you're waiting for the ball to drop.” Tara finished for her. “so to speak?”

Tav sighed and drummed her nails against the tea cup. “Yes. I feel as if Gale will one day realize he wants a real wife, one who can cook without burning a dish, who had a normal upbringing, one who doesn't… doesn't have nightmares about battles long past and can go out for a walk without constantly looking over her shoulder. I’m afraid I’ll be alone again, and I'm not sure I can handle that heart break.”

Tara ignored her cup of tea and trotted over to her side. “My dear, if you think that Gale would ever do such a thing I'm afraid you don't know him at all.”

“Huh?”

Tara put a paw on her hand, “You truly haven't seen the way that man looks at you when you don't notice or what he has done to make you comfortable here. And I don't mean that to sound cruel, I'm sure Gale hid it from you on purpose. Look over there, under the spice rack. That is a cookbook filled with recipes for warriors to keep their energy and maintain their physique. In his desk, he has a book on learning Infernal because he knows you mutter to yourself as you plan your next training session, and he wants to speak to you in your mother tongue. My, when we were out shopping the other day, he stopped a tiefling couple to ask about tail language so he could better understand your emotions.”

As Tara continued, Tav’s face kept getting warmer, her tail beat against the floor with her growing joy and her heart beat ever faster. How had she not noticed any of this? She prides herself on her perception, but all of this slipped past her detection?

“That isn't to say you don't put in the same effort. I've seen the way you clean up his potions, reading your own books on magic and the Weave to understand his passion better. I've also seen the look of complete and utter joy you have on your face when he goes on about his lectures. You don't patronize him, you don't roll your eyes, you pay attention as if you were one of his students. Yes, you two met and went through incredible circumstances, but that means you two have seen each other at your worst and still live each other with everything you have. My dear, Mrs. Dekarios absolutely adores you because you make him so happy! Believe me when I say you have nothing to worry about.”

Tara gasped when two hands went under her front limbs and she was brought into a tight hug with the subtle dampness that was beginning to grow on her fur. She nudged her head against Tav’s chin to comfort her. “Oh no, did I say something wrong? It wasn’t my intention to-“

“No, you said everything right.” Tav sniffed to try and avoid getting about and tears in her fur. “I cant believe- I didn't realize, but thank you, Tara, for everything.” The tiefling set her back down gently, wiping her face as she did. “I… I love him so much, so much so that I didn’t think it was possible to love someone this much. And to have that confirmation makes it all the sweeter. You’re a wonderful friend Tara, and I’m so thankful to be apart of your family.”

Tara rubbed against her face and purred loudly. “I feel the same, Tav. You saved my little love, and I will be forever grateful to you.”

“I’m home!” Gale’s voice echoed through the tower, unintentionally interrupting the tender moment.

Tav didn’t waste any time, pressing a gentle kiss to Tara’s forehead before rushing down the steps to welcome her love home. Tara stayed at the table and started drinking her tea, her purrs getting louder as she heard the subtle noises of a smothering of kisses and gentle admonishes from her family.

“My love, I’m happy to see you too- dearest I’m holding gifts-give me a mome-“

A crash, followed by mirthful laughter from both parties made a chuckle flow from Tara as well.

Yes, she thought, this was a love that would be told about for ages.

[quackity1999]

can you tell us more about your time with karl and sapnap? Sorry if that's a sensitive topic :)

[ quackity buries his face in his hands. sighing. ]

fuck it. why not.

one of my best memories of them was when sapnap set the bed on fire. that was back in the early stages of our relationship, when i still flinched away from karl's hands and sometimes refused to sleep in their bed based off my belief of not deserving it. i was sleeping dead centre of the bed that night, y'know. wings stretched out over their backs. karl screamed like a little girl when i shook him awake, and sapnap was laughing through his apologies while i jumped around like a fucking lunatic. the sheets did not survive.

sapnap used to blow fire on his steak to cook it but it only cooked one side — so me and karl had to help him through food poisoning on the regular, which was kinda funny. karl often casually braided his hair while sapnap was puking his guts out in the bathroom, and i was busy in the doorway judging them. lovingly.

but it wasn't easy to transition into a . . genuinely kind relationship after what i had with schlatt.

i didn't let them preen me for about 3 and a half months. one time i had a nightmare, woke up and was briefly convinced i was back to sleeping with schlatt. ha. awkward. there was moonlight coming in the window; karl moved to sit in it just so that i could see his face and figure out that it was really him. just, y'know. super patient with me, talking about something to distract me, a story or some shit. reminding me of stuff we all did together.

anyway— i had nightmares. i had flashbacks, i would try and sabotage a lot of our relationship to test them, almost.

it wasn't the best approach.

but eventually we figured out ways to accommodate everyone. sapnap taught me how to deal with blazes in the nether. he was encouraging and supportive even if i kept failing. karl and i used to have these, like, pamper sessions while sapnap was being a greasy gamer boy in the living room. i was chilling out in the bath with some red wine in a glass and karl was standing in front of the mirror trying to style his hair — we had those face mask things on and everything.

we used to have game nights that sometimes turned into “who can make up the best pick up line”. and it would end with sapnap losing, storming off with fired up fingers and smoke pouring out of his mouth, sooo, like. karaoke nights were the definitive best option for us.

on that note, karl's hands were always freezing cold, and sapnap's were warm due to the whole blaze hybrid thing; they weren't the greatest at preening my wings for a lengthy time, but they were good at it. sapnap ended up buying gloves so the heat was more contained, and was always more gentle than karl with them but karl did try his best— he'd point out if the feathers were sitting wrong, catch me if i dozed off or just kept up conversation.

karl's eyes used to glow when he zoned out — sometimes he'd get really bad. i had to shake his shoulders a bit, pat his face. croon to him and wait it out. one time i found him at the fridge; he had just grabbed orange juice, right, but he hadnt moved any further from that point. i kept him company, shut the fridge and got him sitting down as best as i could. took around 30 minutes to bring him back.

one thing i do miss is sapnap lighting my cigs with his fingers. pfft. it's a tactic he used to flirt with me back then, and it absolutely worked.

but— uh. yeah. there's some history.

. . they were good to me, until they didn't see the point anymore. that's what it was. despite all of this, despite the love they had, i wouldn't go back. i couldn't.

and i'm never forgiving them.

[dioslesbianwife]

So I have this idea where Reader is a really chill person but their stand says otherwise, and It feels like It’s another person stand yet It is actually theirs, I’m talking about a stand that is an absolute menace to society and acts almost on Its own but they eventually learn how to deal with their stand and control it. So I’m curious how Reader and their stand dynamic would be with the Jojos. To sum it up jojos with a reader whose stand is too dangerous, thank you!

this is a really interesting idea- thank you for requesting and also tysm for being patient, this took a sec cause i got covid last sunday lol

Jonathan Joestar

Jonathan is the type to believe in the good in you, no matter how terrifying your stand is. Even if it acts on its own, he’ll always remind you that you are the one in control.

He tries to be understanding, but if your stand nearly kills someone over something petty (like a waiter bringing the wrong order), Jonathan will intervene quickly.

“Your stand may have a will of its own, but you have a stronger one. I believe you can master it.”

If your stand ever hurt someone unintentionally, you’d probably feel terrible, and Jonathan would be there to reassure you. "You're not a monster. Mistakes happen. Let's work through this together."

The ultimate gentleman, he would stand by you no matter how dangerous things got.

Joseph Joestar

Oh, Joseph is shocked the first time he sees your stand act out on its own.

“W-WHAT THE HELL?!”

He’d probably try to trick your stand into obeying you rather than actually training it- like setting up ridiculous scenarios where it has to listen to you to “win.”

Joseph would totally joke around about it. “You? Chill? Sure, but your stand is out here committing war crimes.”

Deep down, though, he genuinely wants to help. He’ll use his quick thinking to stop your stand if it ever goes too far, but he believes you’ll get it under control eventually.

Jotaro Kujo

Jotaro is not amused the first time your stand goes rogue. He’ll immediately go “Tch.”

If your stand ever tried to attack him, Star Platinum would knock it down without hesitation.

“Control it, or I will.”

But despite his bluntness, he sticks around. He sees potential in you, and he understands how hard it is to deal with an overwhelming power.

He'd help train you to command your stand properly. “The more you hesitate, the more it does what it wants. You need to be firm.”

Deep down, he respects your ability to remain calm despite your stand’s chaotic nature.

Josuke Higashikata

At first, Josuke thinks you’re a cool person to be around- until your stand starts destroying everything in its path.

“H-Hey! Tell your stand to chill! That was my favorite arcade!”

Josuke would 100% try to befriend your stand, like it’s some wild animal.

“Look, I know it’s a menace, but maybe it just needs some love.” Cue him trying to pat your stand on the head and almost getting decked.

But when things get serious, he has your back. If you’re struggling, Crazy Diamond will be there to fix the damage and keep you from feeling guilty.

He also secretly finds it kind of funny that you are so chill while your stand is pure chaos. “It’s like a dog that doesn’t listen to its owner, but, like… really dangerous.”

Giorno Giovanna

Giorno is unfazed. He deals with dangerous stand users all the time, and he sees potential in yours.

He immediately understands that your stand has a will of its own and will help you learn how to coexist with it rather than suppress it.

“It’s not about control. It’s about understanding what it wants and guiding it properly.”

He would use Gold Experience to counter your stand’s actions when necessary, but ultimately, he believes you can get a handle on it.

Giorno probably treats your stand like an unpredictable force of nature- dangerous, but something that can be used for good if harnessed correctly.

If you ever doubt yourself, he’ll calmly reassure you. “You have more control than you think. Don’t let fear dictate your actions.”

Jolyne Cujoh

Jolyne’s immediate reaction: “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY TIMES YOUR STAND ALMOST KILLED ME??”

She’d be frustrated but also determined to help you control it.

She wouldn’t hold back if your stand got too out of hand- Stone Free would wrap it up in string to keep it from causing chaos.

“Look, I like you, but if your stand tries to attack me one more time, I’m gonna kick its ass.”

Over time, she’d start seeing your stand as part of your personality, in a weird way. She’d even tease you about it.

“You act all calm, but I know deep down, you’re just as much of a menace as your stand.”

Johnny Joestar

He wouldn’t judge you for it, but he’d push you to take responsibility.

“I know what it’s like to feel powerless. But if you don’t step up, your stand’s gonna get people hurt.”

If your stand acted up too much, Tusk would be ready to put it in its place. He’s not afraid to use his abilities against it.

That said, Johnny wouldn’t abandon you. He gets that it’s a process and would support you in learning to manage it.

Josuke Higashikata (Gappy)

Josuke finds your stand fascinating but also really annoying at first.

“Wait, so it just… does whatever it wants? That’s a thing?”

He’d have a habit of side-eyeing your stand whenever it moves.

If it ever tried to attack him, he’d respond immediately with Soft & Wet- probably trying to steal one of its abilities just to make it stop.

“Guess I’ll just take away its ability to be a pain in the ass.”

Over time, he’d respect your ability to handle something so wild, and he might even try to get creative with how you use its unpredictability in battle.

[localkeifc]

Scars

Request : Can you do a Hawks x reader with self harm? Like the reader being shy/hateful about the past scars and him being chill/comforting about it.

Requested by : Anon💗

Warnings : Mentions of SH

Summary : The first time Keigo finds out you used to SH and comforts you

A/N : I apologize if anything regarding SH in this is not accurate! I've personally never gone through this, but I've tried my best!

[ Fluff, H/C, Gn!Reader ]

Tags : Hugs, kisses, Keigo being an absolute sweetheart, Hurt/Comfort

Pulling the sweater off of you, you were left in a simple t-shirt, nothing more, nothing less. Prepared to head to the showers, there was an abrupt knock on your window.

You turned to see Keigo, perched by your balcony, top floor of the building, giving you a sly smirk.

You knew the windows weren't locked, and he would easily just walk in. He only knocked for the mere reason of respecting your privacy and to alert you of his presence.

Without thinking twice, you immediately grabbed your sweater in attempt to pull it back on to cover up yourself.

Failing miserably and getting caught in between the fabric, Keigo had already gotten in and was right by your side, helping free you from your misery.

"Woah there, babybird. Easy." He lets out a laugh, setting your sweater on the couch next to him as you swiftly hide your hands behind your back.

"Kei.. you're here." You muster a smile but your voice sounds small in the confined space between the two of you.

He raises a suspicious brow at your demeanor, eyes flicking up and down over your body to make sure you weren't hurt.

"Hey." He says, looking straight into your eyes. You can't bare the compassion, love and worry in his eyes and turn your head away.

"Hey. What's wrong?" Keigo lifted his hand to cup your cheek, turning your head to check if you were still intact. "(Y/n), talk to me, please."

"'It's nothing."

"You sure?" He whispers, pulling you into a tight embrace. You bury your face in the crook of his neck as he gives gentle pats on your head.

"Hey. What's going on?" He mutters. "You're scaring me, my love."

"I'm sorry. It's nothing, seriously."

"Stop saying that. Tell me what's wrong."

He takes hold of both your fore arms, which were by your side, and his eyes flicker over you. He reaches both your arms and his gaze lingers for a bit too long.

He's noticed.

"Those were from a while ago." You tell him.

He simply hums in response, barely acknowledging your words, too focused on the scars by your wrist.

"You did this?" He asked. He didn't seem mad, he didn't seem sad, he was just asking a simple question. Keigo was way to good at hiding emotions.

You nod and he brings your wrist up to his face and gives them both a small little peck.

"When?" This time, you hear the concern as his brows were furrowed as well.

"Before I met you." You whispered. You didn't necessarily like being seen with all those scars, but it was something you couldn't happen to get rid of after many years.

"Well, I'm glad you're feeling better now." Keigo simply says, pulling you into a tight embrace. "Let me know if I'm crossing boundaries, I know you don't like to bring up your past."

"It's not that big of a deal, really. I just don't like them."

"Why not?"

"They remind me of everything I've tried to leave behind."

"Scars tell stories, babybird. You don't have to be hateful about a symbol of your growth." He squeezes you even tighter, finally pulling away to sit on the couch as you followed.

"Still don't like them." You curl up next to him as he wraps a wing around your body.

"I think they look cool."

"Really though?"

"Of course. They're what makes you, well, you."

He kisses you. You smile.

"And I love you."

BACK TO MAIN MENU

[soarelesiluna-ao3]

It's kinda baffling to me that there is NOT a Lucio Corsi tag on ao3 and I'm not quite ready to be the first one to write abt him there yet so yeah I'm gonna leave this thingy here under the cut! For all of you Olly/Lucio lovers like me, this is a bit of a sweet treat! A little untitled thing written at 4 am while listening to chill Lo-fi.

Let's make a deal - if you like it and let me know in both notes and comments, I'll post it to ao3!

Disclaimer: The night of the Sanremo final was a fast motion blur to me (Girlfriend™ and I were busy freaking out abt Achille Lauro and The Kolors not making it into the top 5) so my coverage of the events won't be as faithful as it should. Then again, it's fanFICTION. Also don't go showing this to Lucio or Olly etc etc. You know the drill if you're an avid rpf reader.

Without further ado, let's go!

Lucio felt the ringing in his ears even well after the press conferences and everything had ended. The final night of Sanremo, the curtain drop of a contest that he had always dreamt of, like every young musician does at some point of their career. The one chance to let all of Italy (and potentially, all of Europe too) know who you were, where you stood and what was your soul like.

Tomasso and him couldn't believe their eyes or ears when they saw the final scorings — a fraction of percentage separated him from the winner, the guy he had to wipe tears off and hold before he crumbled like a Jenga tower in the last move. Olly was a gentle soul, despite his intimidating height and serious yet awkward expression. He felt it in the way he spoke and the way his hand wrapped around his fragile waist to give back the hug Lucio had given him. Every single figment of that win was deserved.

"So uh, do you wanna go celebrate, Lu?" Tomasso asked, a big grin on his face.

"You can go", he chose to say, stretching his arms up. "I'll drop by and see how Fede is doing. How he's holding up and such."

"Fine then, I'll go to sleep because honestly, I am deceased", the guitarist let out a sigh. "Man, it's like my bones were spaghetti. Remind me I'm getting old, won't you?", this caused Lucio to laugh.

"I'll try, but you don't really look like an aging guy. Look at my wrinkles instead, I'm the one who should be complaining."

"Nah, don't worry man. Tell Fede I said congrats and stuff. Good night and don't come back too late."

A pat on his shoulder and Tomasso was gone. Lucio sighed and looked at the messages on his phone to scroll up and look for the room number he had been given nights before. They had met up to play some card games and whatnot, but always accompanied. It'd be the first time Lucio would actually be alone with him in the same room.

Gentle knocks on the door triggered the click of the door from the inside to let it open. A smile formed on Federico's face when he saw who it was - the half-smeared mime makeup was so recognizable. Lucio's gentle expression turned into a slight frown when he saw his red eyes. Still, he made his way into the room and took his jacket off to only remain in his mesh shirt. Luckily, the heating was pretty good.

"Something wrong, Fede?"

"Nah, Lu, I'm fine... I'm just... Overwhelmed. Everyone is congratulating me at once and the phone won't stop ringing and then everyone starts asking about Eurovision and I don't even know what I'm gonna have for breakfast tomorrow..." Federico sighed in frustration. "I kinda need a break."

"I can leave if you want to rest up", Lucio was already walking back to the doorway.

"Please, stay. Lucio, I beg you to stay because if I'm alone with my thoughts it's gonna be worse."

"Okay", the long-haired man sat down on the bed, thin arms stretched out. "Hug?"

Federico nodded and slumped right beside him to melt into his arms. Despite being much older, Lucio was so tiny compared to him. The contrast was strange but nice. And the way Lucio held him in his arms felt alright. One squeeze from those arms and all of his doubts and the mental noise were gone in one sweep. The warmth, the confort... It felt so good.

"You did great", the guitarist said, lips pressed against his ear. "You did awesome. I swear you deserve every single bit of this victory. Don't let your head trick you."

"I know... I know. I just... Wish I knew why I don't think that leaving my career on hold for a while in favor of Eurovision doesn't feel right. I mean, I'd be stupid to throw away such a chance."

"Gentle words, please", Lucio's fingers combed his hair. "You are talking to a friend of mine, after all."

"Lucio..."

"Federico."

"Come on now..."

A small smile and chuckle came out of the mime's lips, lifting Federico's head gently until they were looking at each other.

"It's not stupid if you don't feel ready. And you don't need to have your answer right now. I know it looks like a lot. But in the morning you can have a talk with your team and look it over in more detail. You are tired and overwhelmed, and you won't think as clear. "

"Right..." Federico sighed in defeat. "You always have the right words."

"Only for the right people. And you, my friend, are one of the best people I could surround myself with."

Gentle lips pressed themselves against Olly's forehead, in a protective and caring gesture. As if a single forehead kiss could work to scare all bad thoughts and anxieties away, like some sort of sponge that could be wringed out later. It somehow felt like so, though.

"Lucio... Can you stay with me until I fall asleep?"

"Anything you ask me, I will do. But do me a favor first and go take a shower. You need to relax your body and I'm sure the heat will help. I'll be waiting here."

A nod, and Federico stood up from the bed to grab a towel before going to the bathroom to get the water running. He didn't come out for at least fifteen minutes, choosing to heed Lucio's advice and not rush it. Just let the heat relax his tense muscles and reset everything. When he went out of the room, he quickly got changed into his pajamas, a black and gray outfit with pants and a long sleeved shirt. Lucio had taken the liberty to open the sheets and lay on the other side of the bed.

"Feeling a bit better?" He asked as Federico sat down and then laid on the bed. A small frown appeared on his lips as he got up and picked a towel up. "Make sure your hair is fully dry..."

"It's okay, I mean, the room is warm."

"Just let me make sure as well", another gentle touch when those hands grabbed the towel and dried his slightly damp hair, before putting the towel away. When Federico laid on the bed, Lucio turned the lamplight off.

"Man... I like your hugs", the younger man said, which was like asking for another hug indirectly. Lucio got the hint quickly and wrapped his thin arms around his body again.

"And I like yours too. I liked how your hands felt around my waist."

"Like so?" Fede cupped Lucio's waist again, which earned him a small nod.

"You are a gentle soul as well. You just haven't realized it yet. Everyone has gentleness and kindness inside them. But some people are quick to forget..."

"You aren't one of them. I'm grateful for you being here."

"I'll always be."

A small moment of silence passed before Federico talked again. The hesitation was evident on his voice, like if he had been thinking about this question for a long while but was still unsure about the idea.

"Lucio... You'd do anything for me, right?"

"As long as it's legal."

"... If I asked for a kiss..."

Silence took over the room for a while. Federico was already regretting asking the question and was ready to get an apology out, but the feeling of soft lips against his own cut down all his thoughts at once. It was not a long kiss, just a couple of seconds at most, but it was enough to make things right.

"There. Take it as a goodnight kiss."

"We are still friends, right?"

"Oh Fede... That's a silly question. Of course we still are. Friends can also kiss, you know. It's just a gesture of affection. To me, at least."

"... Goodnight, Lucio. Thank you."

"Rest well, champion."

It didn't take much longer for Federico to fall asleep, since it had been a long day full of emotions. So just some moments after that interaction had happened, Lucio carefully got up, pulled the sheets a bit more over Federico's body and walked out of the room as silently as possible to go back to his own.

Being a tough guy was definitely overrated.

Gentleness was what kept the world moving.

And these moments let it show.

[weenwrites]

*sounds of crashing, fire alarm, smoke and chaos in other room, comes tumbling into your ask box falling on my face, quickly getting up and dusting self* hey there! How you doing? Wanted to ask for HC with TFP Soundwave, Megatron, WheelJack with human reader where they switch minds due to some relic or something? (it's temporary or till they get the relic to work again) how would they react? How would the whole thing go? Pretty sure Megatron won't be too pleased lol, established romantic relationship, they been together long enough to know a bit more about each other and be a bit vulnerable.

also a bit of a thing for Soundwave (extremely optional and can just be a line or two) , reader cares about and platonically loves laserpeak, this Minicon deserves love, also feel like it's a given that Soundwave would have a "must care about my child" s/o criteria (Soundwave is usually called a dad for his Minicons and I think they're (minus laserpeak) all dead in TFP? I hope they were just chilling somewhere cause I love these guys) like did you see how quickly he ran to his aid when he sent a distress signal when Ratchet had him pinned down? He didn't even spare a second to try to kill Jackie incase if that second made a difference if he survives or not.

*Magnus yelling in the other room about who did the mess* oh shit... OK thanks have great day byeee *proceeds to hightail it outta there before I get scolded for two hours* "THAT WAS AN AWESOME EXPLOSION BUT MAGY IS GONNA HAVE OUR HEADS" -Me "YOU'RE RIGHT ABOUT BOTH OF THOSE.. GET IN LET'S GO"- Jackie

(lol ignore my stupid just hoping it'll get a laugh from you, laughs are good for you)

[ Please do not repost, plagiarize, or use my writing for AI! Translating my work with proper credit is acceptable, but please ask first! ]

Predaking

He hates this, he's very upset. He dislikes the feeling of being so small and weak, and he inadvertently throws a lot of insults your way without another thought. He'll sulk and sulk and sulk until you point out good things, like it'll be a good learning experience for the two of you, and it could possibly help yourselves better understand one another. Only then will he admit that he sees why you enjoy sitting on his shoulder so much.

Aside from feeling a thousand times smaller, another thing he hates about being so small is the great difficulty that comes with getting around on his own. With his altmode he was able to traverse the sky and land with ease, but now it takes eons to make it somewhere, and he hates it that he gets tired much quicker.

But on the positive side of things, he does take this as a learning experience, and he takes this time to see if somethings he thought about humans are true or if they aren't. Of course he could've just asked you about them, but he was a little shy about it. Some of his questions were about human food, and some are about your home. Speaking of your home, he's definitely poking around out of curiosity. He's gonna pat your mattress and try laying down on it, he's gonna look in your fridge and take a bite of a stick of butter because he thought that was food... He's sorta like a curious cat, minus all the knocking stuff off tables.

Of course after the entire ordeal has been resolved and whatnot, he'll finally truly understand what you go through on a day-to-day basis around him, and he'll respect that you have to deal with such hardships all on your own.

Megatron

Yep. You're right. He's more than upset about this occurrence, and refuses to leave his habitation suite until shockwave finds a way to reverse it. He plans on letting Starscream command the decepticons while he plans on sulking in his room all day. With you in there with him. because he doesn't really want you going out and embarrassing him.

But if you wanna go out and see what it's like to be his height, it'll take a bit of convincing, but he'll allow you to go and walk around only for a bit. Surprisingly, there isn't any need to persuade him to come with you, he's coming on his own accord but only so he can keep an eye on things. It's certainly strange for him to sit on your—or... His? Shoulder? But he does it anyway because he hates feeling so small and weak—but that isn't to say that you are small and weak... He just feels very vulnerable in general.

Ironically, the rest of the Nemesis are a lot more scared about this than you'd expect. It's as if they're walking on eggshells around Megatron because the whole situation has got him in such a bad mood. And, if you have a good reputation aboard the Nemesis and treat everyone nicely, it's certainly baffling for everyone to see their high and mighty lord "Megatron" acting so nice. It's an unusual, but welcomed change.

After the entire ordeal, he certainly has a newfound respect for you. He hadn't realized how difficult and annoying it was to get around the Nemesis at such a small size. He tried climbing onto a table and it took him 30 minutes to get to the top. Not to mention he never truly understood the feeling of being ignored and overlooked the same way you do.

Wheeljack

He isn't as upset about this as other two are, but he's still a bit annoyed. He feels like he's completely stripped of his freedom now, and he thinks that sucks. If he wants to go do something, you can bet he's gonna go do it no matter what he's told. Despite the fact he's like a million percent more fragile and squishy now, his lack of self-preservation remains all the same, and honestly don't be surprised if he agrees to let Miko help him sneak out.

But that aside, he wants you to experience what it's like being a cybertronian (minus the whole war-fighting thing, of course) but the team most likely wants you to stay in the base while they try to find a way to reverse what's happened. Still, that doesn't stop him from trying to teach you how to transform, much to everyone else's misfortune.

Also in the millions of millions of years that he's existed, it has never been easier for him to squeeze into a small spot. With his acrobatic abilities (albeit dampened a little, due to your own strength) and your size? You bet he's milking this for all it's worth. He isn't afraid of climbing up onto things if he has to, or jumping off things because he's used to doing crazy stuff like that. You'll probably have to catch him more than once because he jumps down from a spot that's too high for a human body to escape from unscathed, so honestly at this point you should just keep holding him and bring him around with you as you would a pet.

Anyway, after all this he tries to stick up for your more and support you. I mean he already has ever since the two of you became a couple, but now that he knows how it feels to be overlooked and have so little freedom in your position, y'know.

[hibischush]

omg ty for writing my olric request I love the direction you spun it in with (current, fingers crossed) canon. I would love to see a continuation with your suggestion 🫣

oh my god it has been too long. I know its been such a long time since I wrote part one to this drabble series but I'm back again! enjoy 💗🌺

The arrival of autumn was proudly pronounced by the vibrant, fiery reds that took over the trees in Mistria. With the sun setting and a slight chill in the air, you pull your jacket even closer to you, taking in a sharp breath as your teeth begin to chatter.

It was a Friday night, and like the many Fridays beforehand, the Mistrian tradition of going to the Inn continued strong. You especially enjoyed going-- for one to get your free bowl of soup, and the second to meet up with everyone. Especially one person in particular.

While it had been a few months since March last caught you ogling his brother, as the seasons changed you could not snuff out the flame of affection that Olric so easily fanned. Whether it was his kind nature or his adorable fascination of geology, you couldn't get enough of this man. Being around Olric felt like your heart was a ticking time-bomb (you swear it was going to explode when Olric debuted his "short" shorts the last week of summer), but with March breathing down your neck, it was hard to make your feelings known. And the second-worst part was you had no idea if Olric returned such feelings.

Pushing open the doors to the Inn, you welcomed the rush of warmth. Laughter and the aroma of hot food swam through the air, and a content sigh falls past your lips. Scanning the room, you find Olric laughing joyfully at a table with a group of townsfolk, all of whom have a grim face as they realized that Olric won the round of cards again without trying. A round of beer is distributed around the table, which Olric likely paid for after gathering his winnings. Your heart tugs a little bit. Small things like him being good at cards without knowing what he was doing and then treating his friends afterward was so endearing to you. He was just so good and full of life, how could you not like him?

Olric looked up from the cards on the table and immediately locked eyes with you with a huge grin on his face. You felt your face flush. Smiling back shyly, you hope that he would think it was just the cold from outside. Honestly, he would believe that, but you hope the rest of the villagers at the table would think the same. He beckoned you with his hands. With one last cursory glance, no March was found, so you swiftly cross the room and slide onto the seat next to him that he was eagerly patting, taking the beer he handed you. You took a sip, its rich taste fitting for the atmosphere.

“My friend! How are you? I haven’t seen you since you last came by the shop,” Olric started, grabbing the cards that Ryis was dealing to him. Ryis stopped dealing at you and asked silently if you wished to join the game, but you smile and shake your head, and he continues to deal around the table.

“I've been fine. I’ve been a bit busy with the fall harvest and taking care of the animals, I haven’t found a lot of time to go mining.” Maybe it was the fact that you were tired, but Olric was paying heavy attention to you as you spoke, his onyx colored eyes boring deeply into yours. 

He frowns a bit, lowering his voice for only you to hear. What he says comes out gently, as if he was disappointed. 

“You know that you don’t have to have a reason to stop by the shop to talk to me, right?”

You almost choke on your beer. Terithia hides an amused smirk behind her hand and coughs to cover a cackle, tossing a card in the discard pile. The red dusting on your cheeks come back with a vengeance. You’re thankful that Elsie is nowhere to be seen. He knows that you go to the shop to talk to him, exclusively?

You scramble for a convincing excuse, “Ah, sorry… I just like being able to do something with my hands while I talk. That’s why I’m usually at the forge when we meet up.”

His eyes break from yours for a moment while he muses, before turning and playing a card. Your hand on your thigh tugs on the material of your pants. An awkward tension forms between you two, and you surmise that your excuse wasn’t convincing enough. Hayden and Nora both start discussing whether Olric has a tell while he’s playing. Sighing, you take another sip from your beer as Terithia and Errol squabble about teaming up to take Olric down, who is somehow winning, despite him asking for clarification on a rule. After another play, Olric confidently slams his hand of cards down, and everyone at the table groans in despair as he claimed his victory. You can feel yourself shrinking beside him. 

Among all the laughs of defeat and good-natured name-calling, hesitantly, under the table, Olric’s gloved hands gently fold into your own. You tense, looking back up at him with wide eyes, and you’re shocked to see a similarly bashful expression. 

“If you like doing something with your hands when you talk to me, just hold mine, okay?” He whispers, looking up at you through his eyelashes with a small but nervous smile. 

This man was going to be the end of you.

I hope this was worth waiting for! I wasn't sure what direction to take it, like taking the platonic route and keeping Olric as an aroace icon, but I think this ending is pretty cute! Plus, I love the idea that Olric was fully aware of the farmer's thing for him and totally receptive to that lol

[the-flower-ranchers]

OH OH I have a funny question!

What bad habits do y’all dislike abt each other? Not anything big more like, maybe one of you snores, or doesn’t use coasters and leaves the wet ring on the tables, perhaps Jimmy’s wings knock things over and you have a good laugh until you come home and the keys are on the floor?

Those lil things that just makes living with someone and sharing a space just that more *real* Y’know?

(I can see Scott misplacing stuff all the time but claiming it wasn’t him afterwards jsjsj)

-💜

Jimmy: "Oh, this drives me absolutely bonkers- I'll randomly find them stealing from my closet! Taking my shirts and jackets, and refusing to give them back! I'm pretty sure Tango hissed at me one time when I tried to snatch my coat from him while he was napping."

Tango: "Yeah. I probably did, lol."

Jimmy: "And Scott's constantly mixing up our wardrobes!"

Scott: "Awww, babiieeee! You can't blame me for mixing up our jackets on occasion, they're matching, it's hard to tell them apart!"

Jimmy: "Here's a trick for that, Scott. Mine is in a completely different closet than yours! Plus, its not just the jacket." *shoots a look at Tango*

Tango: "What can I say, rancher? Your big and baggy clothes are perfect to cuddle into <3"

Jimmy, scoffing softly at Tango's grin: "Alright, who wants to go next?"

Scott: "Meeeee. This is probably the first time I've remembered to bring it up, but- Uh. You two sometimes take the blankets from me in bed."

Tango: "Really? I didn't notice, man. Its good we're-"

Scott: "It's really not a big deal, I just thought since we were bringing this stuff up... uhm-"

Jimmy, nudging Scott: "You're okay, darling. Go ahead and give us hell for taking your blankets, we probably deserve it!" *Fluffing his wing on Tango teasingly* "Darn blanket thieves! Hehee!"

Scott, watching his partners in a trance for a moment: "Haha, alright. Jimmy, you've got those big and fluffy wings of yours to keep ya warm, and Tango doesn't even feel cold if it isn't below freezing, so it's kinda silly for the two of you to take the blankets!"

Tango: "Sorry about that, dude! I just kinda assumed that I kept ya warm enough."

Scott: "You do for the half of me facing you, the rest ends up uncomfortably chilled."

Jimmy: "Well we can definitely get you some blankets, darling!"

Scott, smiling, resting his head on Tango: "Anything on your mind, buggie?"

Tango: "Eh, nothing I haven't told you guys about yet. Sometimes when you take a shower you accidentally leave the door open and all that water vapor makes me feel icky for a while, but you're better at shutting the door nowadays :>" *pats Scott on the leg nicely before pinning his ears and looking over at his other foolish boyfriend* "Jimmy on the other hand-"

Jimmy: "The dust baths thing? :<"

Tango: "Yes, the dust bath thing! If you just spent 2 seconds to shake it all off, the entire house would be 56% cleaner!"

Jimmy /j: "You know what they say! A little dirt never hurt!"

Tango: "Tell that to my poor redstone contraptions."

Jimmy: "I promise I'll shake off for a lot longer for your sake, rancher!"

Tango, brightening: "Thank you, partner~"

(Ooc: I am honestly shocked with how long it took me to write this, sorry for the wait 💜! This prompt really hit me with a brick of writer's block lmao)

[mamawasatesttube]

“what the hell were you thinking?” or “dance with me” for the prompts!!

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Tim opens his eyes.

The familiar outlines of the Tower medbay settle around him, all lights and clean lines. His bed is comfortably warm in the cool air, and he scoots slightly down in the blankets; there's a telltale drowsy fuzziness in his head that, combined with the chill in his body, informs him he's coming out of anesthesia. Why was he under...?

His left arm is in a sling. He blinks at it for a moment, then shuffles his general awareness over to his other arm. His right hand is—

Oohhhh. Right.

His right hand is warm and immobile, comfortably sandwiched between both of Kon's palms. He's stripped off his usual fingerless gloves, and his jacket is draped over the back of his chair; his head is bowed down to the mattress, and his grip is slack, and all of these things come together into the slow realization that he must be asleep because he's been here a while, waiting for Tim to wake up.

Tim considers why his left arm is in a sling, looks down at Kon's messy curls, and decides that, yeah, that's probably fair.

Kon has pretty hair. It's all shiny and soft, and the curls are so bouncy whenever he moves his head. Tim kind of wants to play with them. Normally, he'd stop himself, but normally he's not floating on a cozy sea of morphine in a post-op setting, so... that's as good an excuse as any. Probably. Right?

Unfortunately, the moment he moves his hand, Kon's head snaps up. His eyes—inhumanly blue, luminous, beautiful (wait, what?)—are bloodshot and his cheeks streaky, and oh, fuck, he's been crying, why has he been crying, what made Kon cry—

"You're awake!" Kon sucks in a shaky breath, bows his head, and presses his forehead to Tim's hand so reverently that for a second, Tim forgets how to breathe. Kon's skin is warm. "God, Tim, you scared the shit out of us. Out of me. How are you... how are you feeling?"

"Floaty," Tim answers truthfully. Then he thinks about it for a second. "Probably will feel like shit when I'm on less narcotics, though. But it's chill."

Kon gapes at him for a second, a bunch of emotions flickering over his face. What's his deal? What did Tim say wrong?

"It's chill?" Kon repeats, incredulous; he looks away, shaking his head, and scrubs one hand over his face. Tim misses its warmth immediately, looking at the hand still holding his with a pang. "Tim, you could have died! What the hell were you thinking?!"

"Um." Tim squints at him. "Was thinking, oh no! They're gonna shoot Kon! That would suck balls! Or I might have thought it would suck ass? Something like that. And then I jumped in the way."

"You—" Kon groans, but he does take Tim's hand in both of his again, before he bows his head and presses his lips to Tim's knuckles. Tim's heart skips a beat; the beeping goes a little faster. "Rob. Kryptonite is still metal. A kryptonite bullet will still hurt you. Why would you do that?"

"Because," Tim says, confused—is this not obvious? He thought this was obvious. "Otherwise it would have hurt you."

Kon makes a vaguely distressed noise. "Tim."

"What?" Tim pats the side of his palm. With his fingers, since Kon is still holding his hand. Okay, he just sort of wiggles his fingers in Kon's grasp. Close enough! "It was kryptonite. Can't let them shoot you with kryptonite. And I'm basically fine, so."

"Basically fine?!" Kon is somewhere between scandalized and aghast. "It shattered your collarbone! There are four metal pins in your shoulder right now! I'm looking at them!"

Tim hums. "That's why I said basically fine. S'not totally fine, but, like, more or less fine. You know?" He wiggles his fingers again. He's not an idiot—he knows it'll definitely hurt like a bitch later, during recovery, but he can handle a bit of pain. What's important is that Kon is okay.

Kon drops his head to the mattress with a thump. "You're gonna be the death of me, Rob," he mumbles, his voice muffled.

"I would prefer to be the life of you," Tim tells him. And since Kon has so kindly put his head down again, he happily avails himself of the opportunity to play with those springy curls, too.

♥ angst/fluff prompts ♥

[noisyquokka]

Lights Out

PAIRING - Changmin x GN!Reader

SYNOPSIS - Changmin finds out you're a bit of a scaredy-cat and starts pranking you. Little does he know, you have a few of your own tricks up your sleeve.

WORDCOUNT - 1.7k

WARNINGS - Humor, Roommate!Changmin, some cursing, mentions of rodents (although they're fake), this is literally just two roommates testing each other, very sibling coded

A/N - Short n' sweet... also a little silly 🤠 just a funny lil thought I had!

"Fucking hell- Changmin!!"

Footsteps can be heard from down the hall, each one taken with purpose as Changmin counted down to the very last second that his bedroom door would swing open. The hinges protest to your intrusion like they always do, your shadow shifting away from the doorframe. He side-eyes you from his spot on his bed, quick reflexes catching the giant rat that he'd planted in your bedroom hours ago.

"Woah, that's one big rodent!" He feigns horror, patting the rubber rodent's stomach dramatically. Changmin should be a little worried by the daggers you're shooting at him, but he can't be bothered. Even when you grab for a pillow from his bed.

"Quit hiding shit in my room!!" Each word is followed by one hefty wallop. He leans away, bringing a hand up to shield the brunt of them. Still, he continues to tease.

"You found this in your room?!" He asks, wide-eyes flitting between you and the rat. "I told you to clean, didn't I? Rats love junk food!"

"I'm gonna kill you, Ji Changmin." You mutter, and for a moment, Changmin feels a chill run up his spine. You had muttered those words a little too calmly. But he rolls his eyes and waves you off, focusing back on the video game he was playing prior to you barging in.

"At least go and clean your room first. I have a game to beat."

He runs a hand through his tousled hair, grabs the controller and unpauses the game. You groan, throwing the pillow at his head and rushing out of the room. 

For the past months, you've had to deal with this. You'd been evicted from your apartment due to noise complaints from older neighbors and there were no other affordable apartments nearby. Anxiety had reared it's ugly head at the idea that you may be stuck couch surfing for a while, or worse. So when your best friend, Chanhee, had mentioned Changmin's extra bedroom, you thought you'd heard angels singing. After all, you'd met Changmin a few times and the two of you got on pretty well.

What you hadn't known about was his little obsession for horror. All it took was one conversation about how much you disliked scary movies and you knew you screwed up. It was a week after you moved in that Changmin planted the first prank; a whole grudge girl in the shower. You hadn't noticed it until you peeled the shower curtain back, greeted by a mop of black hair and pale white complexion. To say you had been surprised would be the understatement of the century. You had yelped so loudly, that your neighbors checked in to make sure everything was alright. Answering the door with a towel on was embarrassing enough without giving them the reason for your shrieks. To top it all off, he wasn't even home when it all went down. That didn't stop you from chewing him out over text.

And so, days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, each prank getting less and less tame. And you slowly grew restless over the whole fiasco. Sure, it was funny at first. Now it was getting old.

You flopped down on your bed, face down into the pillow. Disgruntled and exhausted. In reality, Changmin was a great roommate. He was never late on rent, cleaned up after himself, cooked on the nights you didn't eat out, and never complained about the friends you had over. He was also a pretty good listener when you needed a shoulder to lean on. The only complaint you were allowed at this point was the constant attempts to scare you. And with Halloween around the corner, you were sure he was concocting something crazier. Most of his pranks had been much too tame when it came to a horror fan. You weren't sure if that was just Changmin being nice enough to keep them that way, or if he was building up for something. Either way, you weren't gonna sit idly by and allow him another chance to scare you.

You roll onto your back, eyes closed as you take a deep breath.

"You want war, Ji Changmin?"

Your gaze settles on the ceiling above, daggers in the drywall.

"I'll give you war."

—

The apartment door shuts with a thud as Changmin slips his shoes off at the door. The bags hang off his arms in a swath, socked feet thumping against the hall floor as he makes his way into the kitchen. The TV in the living room hums the score of a familiar movie, and Changmin turns his head to see you curled up on the sofa. His eyes flit to the TV screen.

"How many times can one person rewatch Piranha in a year?"

"You're cute. I could watch this once a day for the rest of the year, better watch yourself." You quip, glancing over the back of the sofa with a teasing glint in your eye.

The man scoffs, but a quirk of a smirk finds his lips as he sets the bags on the counter.

"Or you could help with putting all this away while I start on dinner..." He says. You roll your eyes but you get up anyway, pausing the movie. "I thought you didn't like horror."

"I don't." You reply, glancing at him with an arched brow. Brown eyes watch as you round the sofa, deft fingers reaching for one of the shopping bags sitting on the counter. 

"You're aware that's a horror movie, right?" He asks, his lips tilting in a sly grin as he begins pulling the ingredients for tonight's dinner from a bag. 

"But it's pretty stupid more than scary." 

"Ah yes, the idea of piranhas eating me alive isn't terrifying at all!" He rolled his eyes, turning to the cutting board on the opposite counter. You mirror his reaction with a muttered, "shut it" that has both of you biting back smiles. The unpacking begins.

You're fairly quick, thanks to Changmin's bagging abilities. Everything is always organized by where they go in the kitchen; pantry items, refrigerated items, frozen items... it makes your job easier. By the time you're finished, the apartment is beginning to smell like a home-cooked meal. The aroma of savory spices fill your nostrils. Your stomach groans, and you glance over to the cutting board where Changmin is busy slicing up vegetables.

"Everything's packed away." You tell him, grabbing a drink from the fridge.

"Thanks. Dinner should be ready in a few."

He's so focused on slicing the carrots he'd bought, but he doesn't miss your presence to his left. Swift fingers that snag a freshly-sliced carrot to the side of the cutting board. He looks over, his eyes flitting to your shoulders as you slink back toward the living room sofa. Back to your pretty stupid horror movie.

It isn't longer than thirty minutes that Changmin's sitting down beside you with two rice bowls in his hands. He slides the bowls onto the table, settling into the cushions with a heavy sigh. You thank him and dig in, watching as the credits roll on the current episode. He takes a bite, brown eyes shifting to you.

"Think we could watch a horror movie or something?"

"Respectfully, Changmin, you watch horror movies all year long." You mumble, swallowing the food in your mouth. "Plus, this is a horror movie. You said so, yourself."

"Respectfully, you've watched this movie like forty times since you moved in two months ago."

You stare him down for a long moment, eyes narrowed.

"Touché..." You huff, reaching for the remote. "Which movie?"

"Train to Busan?"

"Classic..."

"Hey, it's a good movie!" He argues, gaze set firmly on the television screen as you search through the streaming services collection for said title.

"Yeah, I know." You say, a smirk pulling your lips. You bring another fork full of rice and veggies to your mouth, waiting for the titles to load when Changmin goes to sit up.

"I need a bathroom break, hang on."

"Mm, can you grab my phone in my room?" You ask. "It's on the charger by my nightstand."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll grab your blanket to shield your eyes, too." He mutters the last part, but it's loud enough to hear.

"Oh, har har!" You scoff, earning yourself a crooked grin from over his shoulder as he disappears down the hall.

His feet pad down the hall, fingers slipping over the bedroom door that you had left ajar. Brown eyes lock on the cellular device sitting on the surface of the side table, full battery icon on the screen. Changmin pulls the charger from the device and turns back toward the door, stopping short. Brown eyes blink.

In the darkness of the adjacent bathroom, a humanoid shadow stands in the mirror. The bathroom light clicks on, illuminating the space in a warm glow. But the shadow is gone. Changmin's brow furrows, tilting his head as he slowly approaches the door. Slender fingers reach around the doorframe for the bathroom light switch, and the flip of the switch perks his ears, shrouding the bathroom in darkness once more. The shadow reappears, flinching in the glaze of the mirror and Changmin jumps in the slightest. He flips the light on again.

"What the hell-"

The light above the mirror flickers until it blows, and the shadow in the mirror reappears, cocking its head like a dog. Just as Changmin is about to call for you, the figure is jumping toward him.

You hear the thundering footsteps down the hallway, but you can't help yourself. The poker face isn't salvageable. When Changmin rounds the corner, he's panting and ready to tell you to call the cops. That there's an intruder in the apartment. But here you sit on the sofa, doubled over with tears in your eyes and a stomach ache brewing. It's then and there that Ji Changmin pieces everything together.

"You fucking suck, you know that." He tosses your phone at you and you scramble for it before it hits your stomach.

"What's wrong, Changmin?" You ask, wiping the tears from your eyes. "I thought you could handle the horrors and spooks."

"How'd you even do that?"

"Oh, just a little projection device above the door frame." You smirk, clearly proud of yourself. Changmin just stares, mouth open as he goes through the five stages of grief.

"I thought you were scared of shit like that?"

You shrug.

"Guess it changes you when you spend the last two months getting pranked by your roommate..."

It's safe to say you were victorious, as the pranks stopped altogether after that evening.

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